#but I didn’t know I was bisexual until like January of this year

[renkenako]

✦ KENTO YAMAZAKI, CISMALE, HE/HIM ✦ REN KANEKO the TWENTY-SEVEN year old has been in willow’s edge for THEIR ENTIRE LIFE and was an EX-BOYFRIEND to JUNE, from the deceased family. whispers on the streets are that the MECHANIC AT ONE-STOP AUTO who lives in WILLOUGHBY COMPLEX are said to be CANDID and SELF-WILLED but i guess we’ll find out for ourselves.

tw: family issues, alcohol mention

full name: kenako ren

date of birth: january 30th

star sign: aquarius

place of birth: willow's edge south carolina

family: kaneko osamu (father), nakamura miu (mother)

sexual orientation: bisexual

religion: atheist

tattoos: dueling rabbits on either thigh, flames above his left ankle, broken glass around his left elbow, a very meta tattoo with question marks above his right elbow, skull / mechanic piece on his right calf, a fat bird above the crook of his left elbow, ladder above his right ankle, "whatever forever" on his left shin, a double-headed rat on his left bicep, and a broken bone on his left forearm.

style: linen button-ups, vans and converse, vintage beer t-shirts, light-washed dad jeans, carhartt jackets, miscellaneous trucker hats, short-sleeved button-ups or bowling shirts, grey jeans, white basic tees, well-worn nike sneakers, five inch inseam gym shorts, distressed jean jackets, a canvas messenger bag, headphones as a necklace, silver rings, dark brown cargo/utility pants, and doc martens.

[ aesthetics coming later because i am tired ]

ren grew up in winslow as an only child in an upper middle class family. his mother, miu, was a stay at home mom and an artist in her free time— though most of her paid work tended to be painting storefront windows in town. his father, osamu, now works as an office administrator but back in his heyday, he was the manager of willow suite's.

while both of ren's parents are more reserved, he broke tradition and even from a young age was the kid constantly being asked to change desks at school or earn a sideways glance. make no mistake, he's not the loudmouth demanding the spotlight but he's undoubtedly the loudest in the kenako bunch, standing out just enough to stress out his father.

his father expected ren to grow out of his tendencies and mature. but the more ren got told to quiet down or to grow up or 'stay in line', the less he wanted to. at a certain point, it wasn't so much his natural instinct but a choice made of spite.

maybe that was a factor in how things went with june. having grown up around the suites given his father's job, he'd gotten to know the willows well enough. it wasn't really until that one summer— ren was twenty and working at the hotel as a bellhop, having opted not to do the whole college thing (another decision made to spite the status quo). at some point, june and him had just gotten closer. it felt a bit forbidden. boss's daughter. father's boss's daughter. they hadn't taken it public when his father had found out in a moment of wrong place, wrong time. immediately, he didn't approve, calling it inappropriate. worrying about his job, how mr. willow would see him, what he'd think. june and ren hadn't lasted too much longer after that. even though ren refused to listen to his father's demands to end it, staying in a relationship where you're not feeling very welcomed... it made sense. ren never faulted her for that. — [ together for four months, mostly private but became more public knowledge after it ended ]

after not going to college, the initial plan (from dad) was for him to follow in osamu's footsteps and work at the suites, eventually making his way up the ladder. that dream never really took off and officially died after that summer with june. it was then that ren went to trade school to become a mechanic. he'd preferred the idea of a hands on type job and, to be honest, the grim of it seemed appealing. can't be all prim and proper with oil stains. it helped too that ren had always liked cars; hot wheels were his toy of choice as a kid. now he mostly collects speeding tickets.

owns a black 1967 chevy impala that he restored himself. it's his pride and joy.

moved into willoughby complex when he was twenty-two. he had a roommate for two years before moving into his own one bedroom.

loves a capri sun. he's a fan on most flavors but his favorite is obviously pacific cooler and he cannot and will not touch the grape. at a bar, he'll either grab a simple beer or a classic rum and coke.

loves music and doesn't go anywhere without at least some type of ear buds, though he prefers headphones. — [ greta van fleet, mother mother, the black keys, ren, rainbow kitten surprise, noah kahan, creedence clearwater revival, maneskin, k.flay, tamino, etc... ]

big fan of sitting anywhere but a chair: the hood of his car, the roof of willoughby, a tall stack of tires, counters, also the floor.

general connection ideas: best friends, friends, ex-friends, pseudo siblings, ex-roommate of two years, childhood/family friends, coworkers (now or once-upon-a-time), exes [ 1. non-serious childhood "girlfriend", 2. high school girlfriend, 3. june, 4. ex from early twenties, 5. recent ex. ], fwb, one night stand, dating app match, one-sided crush, old crush?, enemy, annoyance, drinking buddy, bad/good influence, extended fam… others that i cannot think of

[ PINTEREST ]

#intro #about #bio #willowsedgeintro #this is all for now #i don't know what proofreading is

[tctteredwings]

[ leo woodall, cis man, he/him ] — whoa! LEO DARBY just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for 8 YEARS, working as the OWNER OF KITTY AND BREW. that can’t be easy, especially at only 30 YEARS OLD. some people say they can be a little bit ABSENT-MINDED and IMPULSIVE, but i know them to be COMPASSIONATE and HONEST whatever. i guess i’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to BROOKLYN! 

IN A NUTSHELL; yes that is cat hair on your sleeve, a strong cup of tea constantly in hand, scuffed-up timberland boots, the battle scars of a life lived with love, bedhead at any time of the day, a far-off look in your eyes, the worn pages of an old bible.

tw: bullying

Name: Leo Darby Nicknames: None Age: Thirty Date of birth: 1st January 1994 Birth place: London, UK Occupation: Owner of Kitty and Brew Romantic/sexual orientation: Heteroromantic/bisexual

ABOUT.

Leo never knew his parents, not really. His father walked out the moment that he found out Leo’s mother was pregnant and she — well, she was deemed an unfit parent shortly before his second birthday. He has never been told the full details and still isn’t entirely sure he even wants to know.

Placed into the fostering system, he moved back and forth between families for the next seven years. It was always said that they’d find him a ‘forever home’ but for some reason it took time. It took so much time that it reached a point where he found himself convinced that nobody wanted him —- that he’d be bounced back and forth until he turned eighteen, when he was forced to go out into the world alone. For a child, it wasn’t the greatest start in life to have.

But he was resilient, and at nine, he was adopted by a young couple, who also happened to live in the town he had been born in. From that moment on, his life changed considerably. Finding himself in an extremely religious family, Michael following a calling to ministry, Leo found it almost impossible to stay bitter. From the moment the Darbys adopted him, he was loved unconditionally and always free to make his own decisions in life.

As the days went by, he chose to attend church services with his newly found parents, celebrating along with the rest of the family when his father was appointed as vicar at their local church.

A year or so after his adoption, they also adopted another child and for the first time in his life, he found himself with a sibling.

Before long the family moved from the small flat they had been living in and into a four-bed house, one that was much closer to the church. Leo was fourteen at the time and, unfortunately, his pride in his father wasn’t seen as cool in high school. Seen as only the vicar’s son, he was often thought of as somebody to corrupt, to drag down as far as possible. His teen years were the worst of his life, finding himself bullied daily, the other children in town intent on ruining the perfect life he’d built up over the last four years.

And so Leo became withdrawn, he began to only spend time with children much younger than him, knowing that they didn’t care where he came from. But, despite the aversion to how he was being brought up by other parties, he knew that he wanted to follow in a similar path to his father once he left school. Perhaps not ministry, nothing quite so serious, but just some way of helping out in the world. He would spend night after night in front of the computer researching, clicking through website after website until he found the answer. Missionary work seemed like the perfect solution and so, after finishing high school, he found himself a placement and travelled to Zambia.

Living and working in Africa certainly wasn’t something he’d thought he would do when he was a child, heart set on being a firefighter when he was five, but he couldn’t have asked for anything more rewarding than being able to help the children out there. Perhaps the job he had out there wasn’t as impressive as some might have thought, but for him, however, the fact he was doing anything to help was enough. He couldn’t have waited another three years to pick up a degree before travelling out there; he only knew he needed to help as soon as he possibly could.

Following two placements, both around two years long, it was time to finally come home again. A decision partly spurred on by a breakup with someone he had met while out there. He hated that it was something so fickle that caused him to leave, but the pair couldn’t have gone on as they were. Living out of one another’s pockets when things were so awkward wasn’t something he could have lived with for more than a couple of months. He left abruptly, choosing to take six months out to travel around Africa, taking in the sights for the first time and even going on safari for a while.

After almost five years away, he knew that moving back home again would be difficult. He didn’t have many friends there anymore, nor a career to speak of, and aside from his parents and his siblings, it was going to be a little like starting over. So in the end, he chose not to go back, he'd caught the travel bug and that was how he ended up in New York City.

Starting over was something he was familiar with, but that didn't mean the move was easy. To begin with, in fact, he was bouncing back and forth between different apartments, working three jobs at a time, anything to keep himself afloat.

The combination of cats and coffee came around four years into his move, a labour of love brought about after spending countless hours at the local adoption centre. He knows Kitty and Brew isn't exactly known for its coffee, but he hopes the tea is at least up to scratch, as well as the opportunity to meet a new feline friend to take home one day. Rehoming has always been at the heart of the business.

In recent years he's been looking into his biological parents and made the discovery that his father had another family when he was born. He was never really destined to be in Leo's life. Along with the discovery was the realisation he had other siblings, something he's been wrestling with ever since, trying to decide how to move forward.

HEADCANONS.

One of Leo's proudest moments was when he swam with sharks while out travelling around South Africa.

He owns four cats, all adopted from the local shelter, named Athos, Porthos, Aramis and D'Artagnan.

He loves to read and even has a used bookshelf at the back of the coffee shop for people to borrow books and donate books.

#boroughs.intro #✧ leo ( about ) #bullying tw

[lucxboyce]

                ❝ I like storms. they let me know even the sky screams sometimes. ❞   ❝Oh, we’ve got to hold on, ready or not.                                                              You live for the fight when it’s all that you’ve got. ❞ 

Is that THOMAS DOHERTY? no, you’re mistaken, that’s actually LUCAS BOYCE {  cis man, he/him }. He is/are a 27/150 year old HELLHOUND. He is an TATTOO ARTIST can easily be found at SCARLET ROSE PEIRCING & TATTOO or GRAFITTI SKATE PARK. He is known for being STUBBORN, SARCASTIC, and REBELLIOUS but also ENERGETIC, CHARMING, and LOYAL. You could probably bribe them with A RARE VINTAGE VINYL or piss them off by BEING A GENERAL ASSHOLE. { marie, 27, est, she/her }  .

Stats

Character Name: Lucas James Boyce

Nickname: Lu, Luke, Luc, LJ

Age: 150 (27)

Birthday: January 18th, 1772

Gender/Pronouns: Cis male, He/Him

Sexuality: Bisexual

Face claim: Thomas Doherty

Occupation: Tattoo Artist/Shopkeeper at the record store

How long they’ve been in Santos: 150 years

Currently Lives: Sunnyside - roommates with Damien Ardeleanu

Inspo: Spotify | Pinterest

Personality

outspoken

dauntless

energetic

rebellious

stubborn

sarcastic

Key Points:

Lucas was born into a family full of trouble and dismay - unwanted. His parents tossed him to the side and he found himself part of the foster care system which had only started about twenty years prior in 1852.

It was hell - he was given to one family after another, each one finding a reason to give him back. He was too loud, too aggressive, too temperamental, too hyperactive.

Eventually, Lucas landed with the Boyce family that took him in when he was twelve and adopted him into their household located in Saints, Alaska. He became one of three kids, the youngest of all.

From that point forward, Lucas finally felt like he somewhat belongs but still, he always searches for the unfilled need to be wanted. Perhaps it’s something he’ll never have.

Growing up in Saints meant that the supernatural were not anything new or different. It became quite normal and Lu had made friends with various supernatural creatures.

He had one great love when he was twenty but the person completely broke his heart. They were a werewolf and Lucas had fallen entirely in love with them. So much so that after being together for two years, Lucas decided to become a werewolf so they could be together forever.

The change didn’t go as planned, however, and Lucas died in the process of turning. But the kicker was... he didn’t stay dead.

Lucas came back as a hellhound - an abomination.

His partner left and Lucas was unwanted and alone.

It took him a long time to find his footing and it wasn’t until he met another hellhound  that helped him figure out his new life that he was able to settle into his life.

However, in the process of readjusting, Lucas has taken more lives than he cares to even think about. Feeding without killing was absolutely impossible and he was so grateful when the knowledge of blood bags came to his knowledge. It doesn’t sate the inner monster in him but he doesn’t care.

Lucas has travelled in and out of Los Santos through out the years but for the most part, he’s stayed in town and made a life for himself and is known in town.

He lives a pretty solitary life - partially due to his new nature but partially because, once more, he feels unwanted. unwanted by humanity, vampires and werewolves.

He currently works at the tattoo shop under Damien and as shop keeper of the record store.

More to come, i'm sure!

Head Canons:

A flirt through and through but anything more than sex is a no-no. You can’t be hurt if you keep a distance!

Will forever think that the 90′s were the best years of humanity. He wears typical 90′s grunge 85% of the time and is stuck in 90′s rock era.

Absolutely - absolutely - plays Livin’ on a Prayer in the tattoo shop whenever he can get away with it. On repeat and gives zero fucks. Come at him!

Is a skateboarder and loves to skate.

A chronice silly tattoo person - his tattoos are all over the place and have no central theme. He gets what he wants regardless of how dumb it is. This man has a tattoo of a cartoon cat licking itself and like 5 SpongeBob tattoos. 

Music snob - he will love to bond over vinyls

Lucas hates being a hellhound and rarely shifts because of it, outside of the new moon. He absolutely refuses to show any one his hellhound form. Not even his best friend has seen him. 

Can speak English, Latin, French and German.

Wanted Connections:

CLICK HERE FOR THE FULL LIST OF HIS WANTED CONNECTIONS

His Ex and The One who Turned Him: Lucas thought he had found the love of his life. They have been dating for a few years and Lu was on the verge of marriage with this person but he wanted to be turned to share their life together before that. Their partner agreed, eager and excited. What neither expected was that the bite would ultimately end up killing LJ. However, he didn’t stay dead. Shortly after, Lucas was resurrected as a completely different being - a hellhound. With the hatred surrounding the species, his partner couldn’t stick around and left him behind. Leaving a heartbroken and lost Lucas to fend for himself, that was the start of Lucas building walls sky high around him.

Hellhound Mentor: Though often solitary creatures, this hellhound took pity on the newly turned Lucas and began to teach him the ropes of his new life. Starting with, teaching him to shift back from his form to human. Though they wouldn’t call each other a pack, they do look out for one another and it’s the closest thing to a pack he has. 

Hunter who might have been after him: TAKEN BY DOUG AND CHARLES

Family friends

Childhood friends

Co-workers

Enemies

Hook ups

One night stands

GIVE ME EVERYTHING

#santos.intro #intro

[spreadssheets]

I posted 307 times in 2022

106 posts created (35%)

201 posts reblogged (65%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@ayyyyysexual

@autisticharrywells

@chadfarsight

@starcitysirens

@blackbeardsblanketfort

I tagged 297 of my posts in 2022

Only 3% of my posts had no tags

#marvel - 58 posts

#marvel comics - 57 posts

#ofmd - 46 posts

#the infinity queue - 36 posts

#our flag means death - 34 posts

#mcu - 27 posts

#steddie - 24 posts

#fanfiction - 17 posts

#the swamp - 16 posts

#stranger things - 15 posts

Longest Tag: 125 characters

#01101101 01100001 01101001 01101110 01110100 01100101 01101110 01100001 01101110 01100011 01100101 00100000 01101101 01100101

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Okay hear me out

Steve and Eddie start having threesomes. Because they're Good Bros.

Meanwhile Eddie, who knows he's bisexual, is completely in love with Steve. And Steve, who doesn't know he's bisexual, is completely in love with Eddie and has no idea that what he's feeling is romantic and sexual love for his friend.

So they hang out a lot and keep ending up in situations where they end up together with a woman between them. Usually when the tension snaps taut between them because this is the only thing Steve understands.

Until one night they're just alone together and Steve is frustrated and blurts out: "it would be so much easier if it could just be the two of us. No one else."

And Eddie is like...what.

Because STEVE ARE YOU SERIOUS.

Just like. A thought or whatever.

88 notes - Posted September 27, 2022

#4

See the full post

100 notes - Posted February 1, 2022

#3

No one:

Me: *slaps the top of Steve's head* this bad boy can fit SO MUCH TRAUMA

118 notes - Posted August 9, 2022

#2

See the full post

145 notes - Posted January 4, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Best of Dasey: An Essential Fanfiction Reading Guide

I read every single fic in the Dasey tag on AO3, so you don't have to! Instead, here's my guide to the best of the best Dasey fics in the tag.

This guide does not include Derek/Sally/Casey, only Derek/Casey. So, if one is missing that you think should be here, that's probably the reason.

(Note: if a fic has a * at the end, it's a sequel and the first in the series will be above it.

If a fic has ** at the end, it's unfinished, but it's on this list because it is THAT GOOD.)

Best of Casey Goes to New York

this damage you did to me

by theredhoodie | rated E | 12,403 words

It’s been over a year since Casey left her life in Canada and moved to NYC. Derek shows up unannounced at one of her performances wanting to talk about his feelings, while in contrast, Casey’s all about avoiding those feelings.

Who will win this fight, and is there even a fight to win?

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 5/5 stars

-

Best of Dasey Sharing a Bed

break the silence

by illicitaffair | rated M | 12,368 words

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 5/5 stars

"Prove it.”

There was a beat of silence as Casey stared up at Derek in confusion. “What?”

“If you really have your life planned out and you’re sure you wouldn’t have any fun engaging in some teenage rebellion, then prove it,” Derek said. He drew in his bottom lip to bite and Casey inhaled sharply.

alternatively: three times derek and casey share a bed and one time they make out instead.

Your Heart Says Otherwise

by abitofstardust | rated G | 10,023 words

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 5/5 stars

"Derek and Casey were doomed to hate each other for eternity, or at least pretend to do so. Falling in love with her stepbrother was never in her plans, and she hated when things escaped her control. Except this. She didn’t hate this. Not one bit."

See the full post

387 notes - Posted January 30, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[burthayes]

introducing burton hayes...

something touched me deep inside the day the music died

I. STATS

full name: burton gregory hayes

gender & pronouns: cis-male, he/him

age & birthday: twenty-five, january 3rd, 1952

place of birth: los angeles, california

orientation: biromantic, bisexual

occupation: bartender indigo’s lounge, aspiring actor

skeleton: american pie

full stats

II. BACKGROUND

trigger warnings: pregnancy, substance abuse, plane crash/death mention

full biography

burton was born to a single mother who had moved to los angeles from georgia in pursuit of stardom. his biological father was this man who pretended to be an agent only to hook up with aspiring actresses and of course, sheltered ethel hayes fell right into his trap thinking he was going to make her a star and believing he was madly in love with her. as soon as ethel announced her pregnancy he was out of the picture.

as soon as he was born, she realized that she had to put her dreams on hold and grow up faster than she would have imagined. yet, she never complained of the cards she'd been dealt. everything happens for a reason. that was her way of seeing things. ethel worked two jobs and also managed to get her high school diploma, all while raising a child.

they didn’t have much but his mother made sure to always make time for her son and so she used to take him to the movies every weekend where they would spend hours. that’s how his love for cinema/pop culture was born. 

eventually his mom got a better job as a secretary and when he was eleven years old, his mother married to a successful dentist and war veteran. his little sister arrived when he was fifteen and pretty much his life changed for the better —even if he didn’t really have any complains about his previous life. 

academically he did pretty good, but he excelled at sports and played for the varsity baseball team. he also starred in most of the school’s plays and overall was considered pretty popular among the other students. he dated the same girl (cherry bomb) throughout high school until she left him on prom night which crushed him.

he was accepted into ucla where he majored in drama. his first year coincided with the on-campus protests after nixon’s announcement to invade cambodia. burton joined the protests, was arrested a couple of times and he became part of many student organizations. his professors either loved his guts or hated them, either way, they all could agree he had potential. for what? that was to be seen.

except that once graduation happened he found himself without a plan, just watching everyone transitioning smoothly into adulthood.

perhaps in a state of panic, he made the rash decision to move to new york where he lived in a small apartment with three other starving artists, one of which helped him get an agent. 

he booked a lot of commercials during the first months, some print ads but they all seemed to lack substance to him and they were nowhere near as interesting as the parties that happened until dawn, or the substances that helped him to forget that he was one of those who had peaked too soon in life.

his lifestyle stopped him from booking roles as he often missed auditions but his agent didn’t give up on him, convinced that he could make it if he only put in the effort. and so, it finally paid off. he booked the leading role in a play on broadway and it was supposed to be his breakthrough. he did everything right until the opening night. his nerves got the best of him and one drink turned into who knows how many. he woke up the next morning with no recollection of what had happened and an article on the newspaper retelling his drunk performance and the whole mess he caused. his agent dropped him and it was pretty clear that that was the end for him in new york.

he came back to los angeles about a month or so ago, got a job as a bartender, a new agent and he’s trying to clean his reputation as well as staying out of trouble and acting more like an adult than a teenage broncin' buck.

III. PERSONALITY

burton is fully immersed in the present moment, savouring all that life has to offer. he is frequently preoccupied with quick gratification that he fails to plan ahead which can be very frustrating to people because it seems that he doesn’t take anything seriously which he does but only when it’s time to. in a way, he relies a lot in luck and he takes life as it is without complains. he is an extremely social person and gets most of his energy from being around people he cherishes, he loves talking about everything and nothing but he’s especially passionate about films, music and books. burton loves the spotlight, and he’s the kind of guy that would try to bring the party back to life when it seems to be dying. he’s normally a very chill person and rarely gets upset but he’s extremely sensitive and when he believes someone is questioning or criticizing him, he has a hard time viewing such criticism as constructive. often he reacts to this with rage and bitterness. aside from that, he’s pretty conflict averse and he will try everything to avoid uncomfortable situations. burton as well is very nostalgic. if he’s not living in the present he’s reminiscing of the past and the better days, this mostly applies to pop culture but also sometimes to personal experiences. however, he simply denies the existence of the future and refuses to think about it even if deep down he knows he should. 

IV. HEADCANONS

he was named after his mom’s favorite actors, burt lancaster and gregory peck.

speaks broken italian and this is because while his mother was at work he was babysat by their italian neighbor whom he used to call nonna. 

for his seventh birthday, his mother gave him a guitar as he used to be obsessed with elvis. 

his step-father got him a 1964 turquoise chevy truck (which he still drives) for his 16th birthday which he paid him back in a year.

first concert was the 1966 american tour of the rolling stones. the last concert he went was fleetwood mac’s rumours tour in philadelphia before he moved back to los angeles.

as a teen some of the posters that were around his bedroom were: a barbarella one, jane fonda, james dean, one of the film le mans. as you can see growing up his celebrity crush was jane fonda but currently it’s probably farrah fawcett which is not original at all as everyone does. 

only attended ucla because he read that james dean did as well.

V. EXTRAS

pinterest

playlist

#thisis70sintro #the way this took me two centuries

[spy-7]

First blog chapter 1: How I first met my Girlfriend

I met her at high school I was a freshman and she was a junior we both had speech class together which is where we met. Nothing much happened in this time because we only saw each other a few times and I was straight at the time but I did wanted to be her friend. After that year it was my sophomore year which was in year 2020 where Covid happened and the schools were shut down and we couldn’t see each other anymore and I didn’t had her social media so I thought I was never going to see her again. At this time I discovered that I was bisexual. Fast forward to 2021-2022 my senior year. I had a dream somewhere around mid 2021 where it was first day of school but it wasn’t my school. It looked like a different school and it was big and it had dorms. It was time for lunch so I went down and I saw some friends sitting at the table and one of the girls ask to get her a bagel since I’m going to be on line for food. So I went on line and the line was long and it was like all you can eat buffet. There was so many options and I try looking for the bagel the girl wanted but couldn’t find it. At the end of the line I had to pay so after I payed I saw the cafeteria was empty and only this one girl (my future girlfriend) name Destiny. We sat to together and I ate and we talked then after she show me around the school then went to one of the dorms and we kissed. That was the end of the dream. Fast forward to January of 2022 where I was on instagram and saw that someone named Destiny followed me so I follow back but it was private so I didn’t know who exactly was since I know two Destiny’s from school. After she confirmed the request to follow I saw her pictures and it was the Destiny from school that I saw in my dream(future girlfriend). So I went to her dm’s and said that I was (my name) from high school. She didn’t remember me so I show her a picture of me and she remembered me. So we talked from there and I noticed that she seemed like she likes me. She ask about my relationship status I said I’m single and told her that I’m bisexual. After like getting to know each other she told me that she likes me and I said I like her two but we didn’t got in a relationship because I was 17 and she was 20 so she wanted to wait until march my birthday to turn 18 but we was in love so we couldn’t wait so she ask to be her girlfriend on February 26. So before her being my girlfriend I told her I had a strict mom who doesn’t let me go out by myself or with anyone and my mom didn’t know I’m bisexual. She responded that she don’t mind being patient and that she didn’t want to rush the relationship.

That’s the end of this chapter I we’ll continue about the relationship in the next chapter

#same sex relationships #first blog #high school #in love #lgbtq #love story

[milfjensenackles]

.

#UHHH okay so I haven’t really talked about this much on here or in general #but I didn’t know I was bisexual until like January of this year #and the reason I figured it out is because of supernatural which is So fucking embarassing #seeing cas’ confession and the whole ‘happiness is in just being. it’s in just saying it’ really stuck with me #and then seeing everyone talk about dean being bisexual and me being like oh wow I really relate to dean and then it hit me #so yeah I don’t know I’m just thinking today about how yeah supernatural is garbage representation but at the same time #just seeing a character confess his love for another man meant so much to me that it allowed me to finally figure some shit out #cas means the world to me and he is the reason I was brave enough to tell my therapist and my boyfriend about it #I wish they would have gone all the way with the deancas storyline obviously but misha I love you and thank you for what you’ve done for me #it’s literally like the domino meme where the top is ‘misha does a gay sit on deans bed in 2008’ and the bottom is ‘me coming out as #bisexual in 2021’ #it’s been a long long couple of months dealing with this and coming to terms with it #but I’m comfortable enough now to talk about it freely even tho my family doesn’t know LOL #but yeah woohoo okay goodbye #personal

[joyful-witch]

I would like to preface this post with a disclaimer. This is in no way meant to offend anyone. I know there are good Christians out there. This is just about my experience as well as my journey into paganism.

I went through years of religious trauma as a child. My parents knew nothing about said trauma until later years. So I will not fault them for that. We were taught not to question authority. So I didn’t. And I didn’t ask my parents any questions.

I was raised by conservative Christian parents (who are good people. They accept me for who I am. Besides the whole paganism part) so I grew up going to a church with a very toxic kids program that taught us from the very beginning, “you must blindly follow God”, “God is the most important thing in your life. Even more important than family”, and the classic “All gays are monsters that go to hell”.

I knew deep down from a young age that I was not straight. I was not “normal”. And I hated myself for it. I tried to have crushes on boys. I tried so hard to fake crushes for them thinking “this will make me straight”. I even thought about killing myself in middle school because of it (and other problems that I will not go into detail about here). I finally accepted myself for who I was in high school. (And though I am in a “hetero” relationship which is my first relationship. I am still queer. I am still bisexual). My gender issues also started in middle school. Which I basically ignored until this year, when I finally came out as genderfluid.

Needless to say. I will not deny that being queer and suffering religious trauma has affected how I view religion. But I think I would have still ended up here even if I wasn’t queer.

I was always drawn to paganism. And I had been developing a growing interest in it for a while. And then, January 6th happened. That pushed me to finally take the plunge. And after spending almost all my free time researching, I finally converted in February of this year. The pagan community was so welcoming and accepting right away. I had never received this much love from any community before. And I continue to experience an insane amount of love from everyone.

I’m still a “baby witch” as some may call it. And I’m still for the most part, “in the broom closet” when it comes to anyone that is related to me. But that hasn’t stopped me from exploring my craft.

In June of this year, I began worshipping the Celtic Irish Goddess, The Morrígan. Funnily enough, She was trying to get in contact with me before I even started practicing my craft (and though this is just speculation, there is a chance She had been trying to contact me since I was very young, seeing as I’ve always had a large obsession with Crows, Horses, and Wolves). She sent me countless of signs for months and when I received the sign of dead birds 3 times in a row within only a few days of eachother (2 of them on the same day), I finally took out my pendulum and pendulum board, and asked questions. I eventually figured it out. And after a few days of researching, I decided to start worshipping Her (I definitely was not and still am not ready for actual deity work).

My experience with The Morrígan has been great so far. Though She is normally depicted as a scary goddess of death and war, She is also a goddess of sovereignty. And She has most definitely helped me embrace my own sovereignty. She has been nothing but kind, caring, and compassionate to me.

Despite the fact that I do not “work” with Her and only worship Her, She still talks to me (through tarot. Though I’m hoping to work on astral soon. It would be nice to have an actual conversation with Her and get to thank Her face to face), She still sends me signs and warnings (which I haven’t been the greatest at listening to but I’m getting better at it), and She still sends me support whenever I need it. Despite the fact that I haven’t had much time for Her during the past few months due to college and just the stress of finally being an adult, She’s still there for me. She knows I am stressed so she doesn’t ask anything of me other than to take care of myself.

I suffer a chronic illness and disability called Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, which causes severe chronic joint and muscle pain. And that can feel very lonely sometimes. But when I’m feeling at my worst She is always there. I have had…bad thoughts over the past few months. And She always manages to pull me back. Whenever I have these bad thoughts, I can feel Her presence right away. I can feel Her at my side, telling me it will be okay. Hell, a couple of weeks ago, I injured myself badly. I dislocated my knee, hip, and SI joint. And I felt very hopeless, and apathetic. But She was there for me. Every time I went outside, even if the weather was horrible, I would either hear very loud crows, or see crows everywhere I looked. Or I would look up and see an entire Murder flying overhead.

When I was “Christian”, I never felt this cared for. I never felt any connection to God. I never experience any communication with God. It all depended on blind faith. But with The Morrígan it’s different. She is here. We communicate. And honestly, though it’s been rough the past few months (health wise), I have never been happier spiritually.

Once I graduate college and have my own place, I will likely start working with the Morrígan. And once I have enough money, I will definitely take a trip to Her sacred sites. And eventually, I might even become a priestess of The Morrígan. Though that is many many many years in the future. I don’t know if I’ll even have time when I become a teacher. But it is something I have considered. And who knows where the future will take me?

All in all. I want to say thank you. Thank you to 8th grade me for not taking her own life. Thank you to everyone who has supported me and helped me through this journey. Thank you to my boyfriend who, despite being an atheist, doesn’t discourage me or belittle my views, and encourages me through this journey. Thank you to my friends and dorm mates who have been supporting me through the past few months. And thank you to The Morrígan for being so patient and kind, and for always being here for me.

I look forward to continuing this journey with everyone <3

#celtic paganism #oministic paganism #pagancommunity #paganism #the morrigan #the morrígan #deity worship #religious trauma #queer #lgbtq #lgbtq+ #genderfluid #she/they #bisexual #my post

[eury--dice]

history, huh?

chapter 5: incipio

(ao3 link in notes)

Ronan and Adam met at the 2016 Rio Olympics.

Adam was merely a presidential candidate’s son then, not the First Son, and Ronan was in the height of his rumored rebellious phase. They shook hands, exchanged polite smiles, and then Ronan turned to the man that 21-year-old Adam could recognize as Mr. Gray and said, “Can you get him the hell out of here?” No preamble. No further conversation. Just a voice full of prickly English aristocratic politeness and his head turned to reveal a sharp and deadly jawline, the barest hint of a black tattoo peeking out from the back of his neck like poison.

Adam had seen Ronan before, of course. Everywhere. Trapped between the covers of a magazine, blowing up his Instagram feed, even sneaking into his 538 daily emails. Ronan had always made him pause what he was doing and stare for a moment as though making sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him, that this was a real person who existed. He thought it was an annoyance at Ronan’s perfect life and his ability to throw it away without any care for what he may be giving up that made him unable to look away.

And 21-year-old Adam, eyes locked on the GLAAD informational page about bisexuality and the memory of Ronan’s lips seared onto his mouth, just barely knew better.

Tweet from Madonna Wanna-Be (@chengheirapparent)

1 January 2020, 7:13 AM

and we take to the skies! after a fantastic weekend with @AdamParrish and the rest of the white house gang, we’re off back to england. nothing makes this puppy - sorry, prince - quite as tired as a 7-am across the Atlantic

*ronanpassedoutonplane.jpg*

Sometimes, when overwhelmed by the reality of his life, Adam wandered around the living areas of the Residence.

Three years into his mother’s term, he didn’t do it as often as he had. After first moving into one of the most historic buildings in the United States, navigating classes at Georgetown, and being under greater media scrutiny than he ever had been, he made the trip often. To settle his mind or acclimate himself, he wasn’t sure; all the same, a nice aimless stroll around the hallowed halls of the White House never failed to calm his nerves and clear his thought process.

Well, not until mid-January, at least.

As far as ways to start the new decade went, kissing his proclaimed enemy and diving headfirst into a game of 4D geopolitical chess he wasn’t even aware he was playing was one of the worst. Between that and the crisis over his sexuality, he couldn’t get his mind to settle one bit. Much as he tried to turn his thoughts to the campaign or his steadily-growing pile of work, they relentlessly strayed back to the garden, Ronan’s ghost of a smile, the prayer lingering in the spaces between their faces, heat and shocking cold and everything all at once.

It wasn’t exactly conducive to doing good work, and his one and only trick was failing him.

Adam slowed at the unmistakable sound of keys clacking on a keyboard, drifting to him from the music room. At eight PM on a Wednesday, there was little question of who it could be. It would be all too easy to move on and away and stew in his distractible mood alone.

Letting Blue distract him, however…

Well, it was probably easier.

“Unless you have yogurt, I’m not interested,” Blue greeted as he slid through the wide double doors to the music room.

He entered anyway, shutting the doors behind him. “I can’t indulge your sugar habit.”

“Asshole.” Blue hit the enter key in her laptop with a bit more force than strictly necessary. She sat on the floor, her laptop balanced on her knees as she curled with her knees pulled to her chest.

“I know that’s the only reason you keep me around, but you’ll have to adjust.”

“Luckily for you, you’re not expendable, so I guess I’ll have to keep you around anyway.” As far as expressions of emotions went, that was a pretty good one to come from a Blue Sargent absorbed in calculations.

From one of the tabs of Blue’s computer came the unmistakable sound of Colin Greenmantle’s voice, wide and expanding and pretentiously even.

“Are you running numbers for anyone or just yourself?”

“Nate Silver and I can serve the same purpose.”

Adam smiled. “Of course.” After a moment of letting her type, he continued, his tone a little more serious, “Is there any way it’s anyone but Greenmantle?”

Blue sighed. It was a tiny, resigned thing. “Not unless he drops out, and even then we’re facing write-ins - he’s already priming the ‘affront to Democracy’ act.”

“Jesus.”

“If only.”

Just being in the same room as Blue was comforting. There were few people Adam even felt comfortable enough around to be alone with, but Blue had been a comforting force since they were kids.

If anyone could provide clarity for this situation, it was her.

“Blue,” he said suddenly, falling back against the wall. “How do you… I mean, how do you normally know you like someone?”

That got Blue to look away from her spreadsheet. She blinked, swiveling her head to look at him. “Is this about Gansey?”

“No, of course not. Not everything is about him, you know.”

“I know that. I sometimes wonder if you know that.”

“You’re one to talk,” he muttered. “No, I just… I’m curious?”

“Have you officially forgotten how human emotions work? Is that what’s happening?” She cocked her head to one side before he could reply. “Well, shit. Um. Okay, so sometimes you see a person and you’re like “oh, them - I would let them shove me into-”

“No!” Adam yelped, sliding down the wall to balance in a half wall-sit. The burn was welcome; it distracted him from the mortifying idea of having this conversation. “Absolutely not. I don’t mean the concept. I just mean the actual realization.”

Blue turned back to her laptop, one chunk of her short hair falling back into her face. “I don’t know, Adam. It’s different every time. Gradual. Sudden. Mundane. Dramatic. It can be anything.”

“Right, but, I mean…” He trailed off, trying to find the right words. It wasn’t like he never thought he might be bisexual. He knew himself well enough to realize that he had probably known that for a long time. But actually feeling something for someone else beyond passing attraction - because if it were just passing attraction he wouldn’t be so goddamn distracted - was more foreign to him. Especially for a boy. Especially for his enemy. “Tell me to shut up and leave if you want to. But when you liked a friend for the first time, or you liked… a girl for the first time, how did you know it was different?”

Everything was silent for a moment. Blue’s fingers had stilled on her keyboard.

“Someone caused your gay awakening, didn’t they?” She said, her voice carefully still, probably guessing that any big emotions would spook Adam off.

“It’s not a - I mean. Maybe.”

“You keep pulling out the ‘I mean . ’ I say yes. Who’s the lucky man?”

“No one said there was a-”

Blue was staring at him. He wasn’t sure when she’d started. His knees finally gave out from his wall sit and so he let them buckle, sending him to the floor. Blue’s eyes followed him, reminding him of where he was. This was Blue. They’d been joined at the hip since they were five. If he couldn’t tell her, he really had no hope.

“At New Year’s,” he began instead, “when I disappeared for a while, out into the garden - I didn’t realize Ronan was there.” He ignored the grin slowly spreading over Blue’s face, fiddling with his fingers in a nonsense pattern. “He kissed me.”

“Knew it,” Blue said.

“How? Have you been running statistics on my love life?!” Adam demanded.

“No,” she replied. “You’re just obvious.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“So was he g-”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Adam warned.

Blue let out a little sigh. “Good. I just felt like I had to ask. I don’t want to know. Have you seen him since? What’s he said?”

“No, and I don’t know. We haven’t spoken.”

“What’s there to say? ‘Hey, I’m a member of the British monarchy and I’m gay?’ I don’t know what you’re expecting here, Adam. Take your bisexual crisis and move on with your life.”

“He’s not gay,” Adam said automatically.

Blue threw him a look.

“What?” He demanded. “He’s not. He’s always going on dates-”

“And every good date has a full camera crew involved and a blessing from the Queen. Honestly, Adam, use your brain.”

“But-”

“Why else would a date be in People?”

She had a point, but Adam wasn’t ready to concede defeat. “He’s never said anything.”

“Why would he? He’s not exactly in a good position to come out or anything.”

I might as well be wishing for the stars, Roman had said that night. As though entering space was a more realistic possibility for him.

“Okay, so he might be gay,” Adam conceded. “Still. I mean. We…know each other. Dated.”

“Good memory. Thanks for the ensuing nightmares the resurgence will inevitably cause me.”

Adam frowned. “It wasn’t all bad.”

Blue shook her head, a chunk of hair freeing itself from her clips and falling into her eyes. “No, but we sure were dumb about it.”

“I’ll give you that.” Adam drummed his fingers against his knee absently. “I’m not…sure that that’s what I’m feeling, is all I’m saying. And you kind of know that side of me.”

“Oh, we’re still there?”

“Still where?”

“Admitting your crush on Ronan,” Blue said as though it was obvious. “Your rival act was a little too forced, you know. No one jumps to pure hatred that quickly. And he always seemed more uncomfortable than angry.”

Well.

It was obvious, wasn’t it?

“Shit,” Adam breathed, letting his head drop against his chest. His heart sunk painfully with it; each beat felt sluggish and slow. “There’s no way for this to end well.”

Blue reached over to pat his hand comfortingly. “At least you’ve got the public eye watching your every move.”

“Yeehaw, God bless the press.”

“It can’t be all bad, though, right? It was just one kiss.”

“You’d think.” Adam laughed, the sound bitter even to him. “As I said, we haven’t spoken.”

“It’s been two weeks, Adam.”

“That’s a record.”

He felt her eyes, pitying and warm, familiar, on the side of his head. “Don’t you have work to be doing? I never thought we’d see the day where I had to motivate you to do work, but here we are.”

“I’m sure I do.”

Blue’s gaze weighed heavily on the side of his face, but she knew better than to call out that contradiction to his personality directly. “Right. Distractions are out, then?”

“Productive ones.” He huffed out a thoughtful breath. “Is this what insomnia is like? I’m always too tired to know.”

Blue shrugged. “Gansey’s the insomniac. Your boy, too.”

“What would Gansey do to focus?”

Blue peered off into the distance, her expression thoughtful, one unruly tuft of hair falling into her eyes. She blew it away with a gentle huff. “Ride with Helen in her helicopter?”

“Too obvious. Water his mint garden?”

“Nah, he does that anyway. If anything it’s a distraction.”

“Of course it is,” Adam said, stifling a smile.

“Build models of towns?”

“He did that at Monmouth. I’m pretty sure they’re still there.”

“How did I miss that?”

Adam shrugged. “You weren’t about to mess around in Monmouth.”

“You had the fridge next to the toilet.”

Adam raised his hands. “That was not my choice. That’s your man.”

Blue wrinkled her nose, offset by the humor lined into the corners of her eyes. “Remind me to bring it up later and make him flustered.”

“Of course, you’ve gotta make him sweat in his polo.”

“Gotta turn up the heat on that rich boy,” Blue said, slipping into a full rural southern accent.

Adam laughed, taken aback and pleasantly surprised. “At least we have that to look forward to.”

He wouldn’t ask her what he should do - of course, he never did - but it was as though she heard the question anyway.

“Give it some time,” she said. “That’s all anyone ever needs. Time.”

“Right,” Adam said, his gaze unfocused on her laptop screen. His mind snapped back to the present as he said “right” once more, before rising and nodding his goodbye.

iMessage chat to WASP man

Resumed 17 January, 2020, 3:17 pm

Heard a big thud over there, everything alright?

Yeah just dropped my laptop.

Also my mental stability but the laptop isn’t broken so it’ll be fine for now.

Want me to send articles about idiots who blame their poor homeowning on ghosts?

Actually yeah.

Thanks, Gansey.

Of course :)

Adam was nothing if not patient - a lifetime of low incomes before his mother’s political career took off had promised that particular part of him develop - and so, as January turned into February, he really had no problem waiting.

After his talk with Blue, everything had a funny way of steadying out. Maura only had to send him away from the weekly briefing once. He managed to suffer through his work for the Press and the Presidency course. He even managed to convince Noah to let him look at a few of the bills coming up for a vote. He thought of his phone, utterly devoid of any new messages from the HRH shitty bird boy, but it was nowhere near as all-consuming.

His first breaking point came in his cubicle at the campaign office.

From the moment Adam met his cubicle mate, a late-twenties man by the name of Jesse Dittley who seemed averse to speaking at anything lower than eighty decibels, his immediate thought was that Gansey and this man would probably get along very well. For all of Dittley’s practicality and good work, his desk was positively covered in tabloids at all times. They made a funny contrast to Adam’s side of the cubicle - completely bare, save for what was necessary to work - and was cluttered in more ways than one, with giant family photos and the consistent, low volume of The Pogues constantly emanating from his monitor. After Adam saw Jesse in animated discussions with Blue over by the statistics department, who normally could never be torn out of her own head when it came to numbers, he gave up on deciphering all of his coworker’s eccentricities.

It did not, however, stop him from seeing some of the tabloids.

Adam, bone-tired due to the February chill and his heavy course load, slid into the cubicle around six at night. He’d already been there for two hours, running by the grace of coffee and trying desperately not to think of Ronan or the macroeconomics problem set waiting for him back at the Residence. Naturally, his eyes snagged immediately on one of Dittley’s tabloids.

Ronan’s face was plastered across the front, a smattering of candid and nearly-posed shots. He sat across the table from a girl with sheets of blond hair, his not-dangerous but not-pleasant smile affixed firmly to his blank face. A dozen or so of those shots lined up, right next to each other. Them close together, her lips on his cheek, his hand on hers.

Suddenly he was back in the cold night air with Ronan’s lips on his for the barest, briefest of moments.

His first thought was doesn’t People have something better to report on? And his second thought was oh, so it really was fake this whole time.

He must have paled or gone still or stared, because he was broken from his reverie by his cubicle mate. “Everything alright there, Parrish?” He said, so loudly Blue probably heard it by the statisticians.

If his face betrayed even a fifth of the anger and sadness coursing through his veins, Adam wasn’t surprised Jesse was concerned.

He forced a smile. “Yeah, ‘course,” he said, his hand clenched tightly around his coffee mug. He set it down, indifferent to the few drops of coffee that splashed out of it and onto the desk. “Just tired, is all, and I’ve got more coursework tonight. I might dip out.”

“Of course,” Jesse nearly shouted. “Do whatever you need to, little man.”

It was a strange nickname, but Jesse stood close to seven feet and Adam had been called much worse, so he let it slide in favor of packing up his things.

Calla trailed from not far behind him as he hurried his way back home, and for once he was glad it was her rather than Persephone. Although Calla’s presence often felt like more of an unpinned grenade than a reassuring and necessary safeguard, she never initiated conversations when they could be avoided. While Persephone would already be asking cleverly disguised questions, Calla just let him stew in his emotions alone, trailing him like an ever-silent shadow. He thought that if anyone asked him if he was okay he might just shatter into a thousand pieces.

By the time he stepped into the wing with his and Gansey’s bedrooms, most of his anger had burned off. He remembered Blue’s assertions of Ronan’s sexuality, remembered his Press and the Presidency professor remarking that anything that made it into People was meant to be there, just like Maura so often said. It was possible that, as he thought, he’d misread the situation, misread Ronan himself.

It was also possible that People magazine - or, no, the rest of the world - had misread the situation, had been fed the complete opposite of the situation.

In a sudden burst of energy, he veered away from his own door and made a sharp turn to nudge Gansey’s.

Gnasey looked up as soon as the door started to open, his brows furrowed and hand poised over a well-worn notebook. Adam stood stock-still in the doorway for a moment; he’d shaken Calla off sometime after entering the Residence, but he still felt vaguely as though someone was standing behind his shoulder, watching, waiting. On any other day, he would have waited to be invited in like some kind of sad vampire unable to cross a threshold without prompting, but it was not any day.

“Everything alright, Adam?” Gansey said, his voice perilously soft, as Adam crossed the room jerkily and sank to the floor with his back against the wall, hair ruffling against long-dried paint.

“Peachy,” Adam replied.

“Weren’t you going to work on the campaign?”

“I was. And then…”

As though he could sense that Adam needed to gather his words properly, Gansey set down his pencil and fully swiveled to see Adam properly. He just sat, the scent of mint hanging around him, and let Adam think for as long as he needed to.

“It was irrational,” he said finally, forcing the words out. “Something made me feel…irrationally.”

“In what way?”

Thankful that the question wasn’t what caused it, he replied, “Angry. Sad. Maybe something else.”

Gansey sat back a bit in his desk chair. “I see. Probably for the best you left, then.”

“Yeah,” Adam agreed tightly.

Gansey turned back to his notebook, tapping his pen against the side absently. Outside of the window, a corner of the Kennedy Garden peeked at him.

“You love her, don’t you?”

The room froze. Without the dull taps of Gansey’s pen, it was almost too silent for Adam to bear. He didn’t require a response to continue his blunt - well, questioning wasn’t the right word. There was no question of Richard Gansey loving Blue Sargent. Maybe there was a question nestled inside of it, but it was not a question itself.

“How do you know that you love her?”

For a moment, Adam thought Gansey wouldn’t respond. But of course he did. Gansey has never been able to deny Adam much of anything. “She makes me quiet,” he admitted, his voice almost an undertone. “Calm, I suppose. No one else does. I know there’s supposed to be…butterflies and fireworks, and I suppose there can be. But mostly she’s…” he dug his nail into the side of his pen. “She’s like taking a deep breath and walking through the door home.”

It was very Gansey, but somehow, Adam understood anyway.

“Something happened that shouldn’t have,” Adam said, and Gansey didn’t look fazed by the change in topic. “With someone it definitely shouldn’t have.”

Gansey blinked once. “Okay.”

“And I…it’s been different ever since.”

“Right.”

Adam pressed the tips of two of his fingers together, trying to keep the sudden swell of emotion inside of him at bay. “I don’t know how I know that this thing is something that I want. That should happen.”

“This doesn’t sound like something you can micromanage.”

He tried to hold back a withering look. “Forgive me for simplifying.”

Gansey waved a hand for him to continue.

“This is a bad idea no matter what, probably. And it would be even worse if…feelings were in consideration.”

“Aren’t they always?” Gansey mused, but Adam didn’t think it was really directed at him. “So you wondered how it’s different when they are?”

“Yes.”

“Right,” Gansey said, then “right” once more. “Well, I know you’re not exactly one to know people casually.”

“I-”

“You have three friends, Adam. Four at a generous count.”

“I have more friends than that.”

Gansey pinned him with a look. “And how many of them really know you?”

Adam shrugged, feeling the itch of irrational anger in him claw a little deeper. “Point taken.”

Gansey sat back, fixed Adam with a stare that seemed to stare right through to the painted wall behind him. “Does this person make you happy?”

Adam couldn’t lie. Certainly not to Gansey, and certainly not about Ronan. “Yes. They do.”

“And it’s…good? This thing? Despite the moral qualms.”

The answer sprang off his tongue. “Yeah. It is.”

“Then…you should go for it, right?”

“…I guess so.”

“Don’t do anything you’re not comfortable with,” Gansey said, picking up his pen from where it had rested on the desk. “But Christ, Adam. You deserve a little bit of happiness, even if there’s a risk to it.”

Adam wasn’t so sure of that, but he would have to take Gansey’s word for it.

Adam could have happily thought over the incident for the rest of his living days. Not exclusively, of course - he had an education to finish and a political career to begin - but he certainly felt no particular urgency to see Ronan and act on anything, feeling inclined to dizzying self-reflection in the stead of decisive action.

But then there was the tiny problem of them being contractually obligated to fake a friendship. And Maura, always nothing if not fantastic at her job, executed their plans perfectly, which is how Adam and Ronan ended up seated next to each other at a state dinner for the new English Prime Minister in late February.

After a solid five seconds of eye contact in the entrance of the dinner, they’d slipped back into their routine from the England trip. There was a stiffness in the set of Ronan’s shoulders inside of his perfectly tailored suit that hadn’t been there before, and Adam was sure his smile was fraying at the edges like a worn rope, but they fell into their rhythm all the same.

“The boys are back together,” joked a photographer, and Adam drew his arm around Ronan’s shoulders, flashing another smile.

They didn’t dare speak a word to each other, but there was something in their silence that felt almost like an accusation along with the general resignation coming from their situation.

“You’ve been well?” Adam managed sometime after they were seated directly next to each other.

Ronan nodded stiffly, but clearly didn’t know what words to say. He remained silent over his appetizer salad, mouth shut, no attempt at eating or making conversation.

“It’s nice to know you’re alive, of course,” Adam continued.

Ronan grunted, doing his best to mimic a conversation with a brick wall. Adam thought his head might explode.

He kicked at Blue’s foot under the table sometime after the main course was cleared away. She nodded at once after his slight jerk of the head in Ronan’s direction. He rose from the table at once, making quick work of folding his napkin to settle it on the tablecloth. His eyes scanned around the perimeter of the room until he saw Calla standing along with several security and Secret Service agents. As he set off from the table, he heard Gansey’s voice swell in conversation about a Welsh myth, and he stifled a grimace.

Adam halted by Calla’s side, impossibly aware of the teeming mass of people he’d just emerged from. “I need to see Ronan alone.”

“Sorry,” Calla replied, her eyes never looking at his face but instead out at the crowd. She examined the packs of politicians and foreign dignitaries with her normal, hyper-focused look of clinical disinterest. As always, she looked poised to pounce at the slightest hint of trouble. “No one can leave the dinner. I can clear it with his security and escort you both out to the terrace-”

“No,” Adam said firmly. “Alone-alone. Privately”

She finally looked at his face, her near-black eyes sliding over his features, at once quick and discerning. “No. Sorry. Can’t be done.”

“Please,” he said. Her resolve must have shattered because something in her eyes shifted calculatingly, and she lifted her hand to drum her long, dark fingers across her cheekbone.

“Five minutes.” Before he could thank her, she said, “Five minutes only. That’s the best I can do. Not a second more.” And she stalked away before he could say anything else, leaving him with the sight of inky-colored leather.

Noah appeared at his elbow, flashing his congressional smile. “Some members of the subcommittee on foreign affairs with an interest in meeting the new Prime Minister,” he said by way of explanation, beginning to steer him towards another group of blazer-clad politicians with a hand rested casually on his shoulder. “They’re always looking for young people to be interested in them.”

“Of course,” Adam muttered in reply, but he quickly had to cease speaking and affix a smile of his own to his face.

Dinners such as that should have been more important to Adam. But, truthfully, he wouldn’t have enjoyed it even without the looming possibility of speaking with Ronan and demanding an explanation. Adam loved politics, but he tended to enjoy the policy part rather than the, well, political aspect. The networking, nepotistic, incestuous side of Washington never appealed to him because he never felt like he really belonged. Not white enough, not old enough, not rich enough or charming enough. Events like state dinners were made for specimens like Gansey, bred to act well in those situations. Even Blue often fared better than he did, never caring enough to let the opinions of the stuffy older side of politics bother her. But for Adam, every bit of his energy was placed into appearing like he genuinely wanted to be there.

Luckily, a familiar press came at his shoulder blade. Calla. “Excuse me, sir,” she said, more for the show of excusing Adam from his group of congresspeople than out of any desire to use the title. Calla was more of an aunt to him than anything; she was more likely to call him any variety of choice words than any title of respect. She guided him from the group and towards the end of the ballroom. “I’ve already got the prince in place. Five minutes and that’s it.”

“Thank you,” Adam said a little breathlessly, just as Calla pulled him to a stop just outside the doors he recognized as the Red Room. She shoved him through the door before he could think of bracing himself.

Ronan leaned against a small side table, looking all manner out of sorts, his eyes scattered and wild like shards of ice. He looked up at Adam’s arrival, but if he wanted to say anything or ask what Adam was doing, he hid it well. Adam normally found the presence of portraits in the White House to be unsettling, as though the inhabitants could read his thoughts, but he barely took notice of the ornate frames hovering above the red and gold adorned chairs and couches. He would have moved to sit on one, but after-dinner refreshments were set to be served in the Red Room and he didn’t want to leave any trace. The lamp on the table beside Ronan reflected onto the royal red of the wall behind him, creating an almost ethereal red glow behind his head, a devilish halo. Ronan looked very near to a portrait himself, the noble set of his jaw and the intimidating posture he held even half-slumped on a table, eyes ice and a clear fire in his veins.

“Hi.” Adam said, breaking the silence. He squared his shoulders, adjusted his stance to stand more securely, drawing himself to full height.

The edge of Ronan’s mouth quirked ever so slightly. “Hi.”

God, they really were useless. Standing only feet apart with two months separating the truth from them and they couldn’t speak beyond single syllables.

“What the hell happened?” Adam blurted. The words reverberated off the walls, accidentally loud. The portrait of Alexander Hamilton would probably wake in its frame with how harsh his voice struck.

Ronan rolled one shoulder, eyes anywhere but Adam. “Do you really not know?”

“Of course I know. But I don’t know anything else.”

He blew out a breath. “Well, I was shoved rather unceremoniously in here after my security informed me I might be asked for a chat.”

“We only have five minutes, and I’d rather spend them actually doing something productive instead of squabbling and pretending we don’t understand each other.”

“Aw, Parrish, but we’re so good at it.”

Adam could feel a muscle tick in his jaw. “Yeah,” he admitted. “We are. We’re also pretty decent at communicating.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Adam leaned against the wall, arranging his features into his most passive look - one that had been described by the press as intent, as intimidating, as professional. It was a face that he knew Ronan wouldn’t be able to stay silent under for long. “Fine. I don’t understand what the fuck happened.” Summoning every bit of his patience and poise, he folded his hands over the buttons of his blazer, settling his eyes on the edge of Ronan’s tattooed neck.

Ronan remained a fierce competitor in silence, but his resolution must have cracked under Adam’s persistent gaze.

“I’d think it was rather obvious.”

“Explain it to me, then. I’m slow.”

“Shut the fuck up, you’re not.”

Adam waved his hand, ever conscious of their five-minute limit.

Ronan cleared his throat. “Alright, then. I was a pillock and I did something stupid involving my own feelings without any regard for yours and I dragged you into everything, and now all my secrets are laid bare and I’ve fucked it all up. Happy?”

Something cold slid down his throat and dropped to his toes, just like it had in his and Jesse Dittley’s cubicle.

He shook his head slowly, a shadow of a movement, one he wasn’t even sure if Ronan could see. “You think you fucked this up?”

Ronan hoisted himself fully onto the table with his arms, indifferent to his suit. “I don’t know what else it would have done. I’m the bloody Prince of England. There aren’t a lot of options, you know. And you’re the son of the President.”

Adam shook his head, prolonging it to ensure Ronan saw it. “The only way we fucked this up is by not saying anything,” he admitted softly, wondering at their stupidity.

Ronan’s gaze was unwavering and challenging, just as it had always been. “We?”

Adam pushed off the wall, trailing closer to Ronan. “You didn’t kiss yourself, Lynch.”

“But we implies…well, rather a lot. An us. A this.”

He stopped just in front of Ronan’s hanging legs, fixing him with a soft smile. “Couldn’t there be? If that’s what you want.”

A pause. “If that’s what you want,” Ronan repeated.

“Good,” Adam replied. “Because I think I’ve wanted this for a long time, and I think you have as well.”

Ronan nodded, and Adam was once again struck by his pale skin illuminated in the warm light.

Adam placed the tip of his finger at the inner edge of Ronan’s knee, coaxing a space for himself. Ronan acquiesced fairly quickly from his perch on the table, although his face remained guarded and uncertain. He was sure to keep his eyes trained on the catch of Ronan’s cheekbone rather than his eyes themselves, sure that he’d be caught in their icy depths forever. But he felt the ice of Ronan’s gaze all the same, melting a bit at the edges as though making leeway for him. He stepped into the gap between Ronan’s knees, his long, graceful fingers making quick work of straightening a crease around the buttons of Ronan’s shirt. His pulse jumped into his throat so he could taste it on his tongue, metallic and rich. Under the tightly-woven material, heat radiated from Ronan’s skin and his breath hitched.

Adam dragged his gaze up the two inches to Ronan’s eyes at that sign of emotion, entirely unprepared for the look in them. They were wide and open, expectant, afraid. Like Adam held his life in the palm of his hands like Ronan had once held a baby raven, and he had the capacity to crush it in one fluid movement or breathe life into it. Like he was coming apart at the seams just wondering which one Adam would do, his stitched-back-together wounds on the brink of tearing open.

He couldn’t blame Ronan for wondering, of course. But it was achingly, tragically laughable how incapable Adam was of doing Ronan any harm.

Adam breathed in and out once, twice. Ronan matched him, breathing the opposite breaths and sharing the opposite space like two puzzle pieces slotting together. The silence pressed against his ears, and Adam lifted his hand to press against the corner of Ronan’s jaw with the calloused tip of one finger. Ronan relented easily, letting his face be guided ever so closer to Adam’s. He let his gaze trail down to his lips for an extended second, shared one breath, two, heard the whispered fragment of Ronan’s prayer - pray for us sinners now - and he leaned imperceptibly closer to let their lips touch.

Where Ronan’s kiss had been immediate and impulsive and demanding, Adam’s kiss was controlled and steady and slow. Gentle, almost, although neither could claim to be gentle in any capacity. It was barely a brush at first, the scantest hint of touch sending a shiver up Adam’s spine. But then Ronan’s hand slid along Adam’s face just as it had on New Year’s and he pulled Adam even closer, gripping his hips tight with his knees. The pressure almost bruised, but Adam welcomed the feeling eagerly. Like the first time, everything narrowed to Ronan: to the tug of his hands in his hair, the cascading beat of his heart, the infinite heat billowing from him. Adam Parrish, First Son, knew that their clock was ticking and the dignitaries in the dining room were ready and waiting to ruin everything. Adam Parrish, the boy, the broken, the saved didn’t know anything at all besides the boy in front of him.

A sharp knock startled them out of their solitude. Adam spun his head around at once, but thankfully the door remained firmly shut.

“It’s been five minutes,” came Calla’s crisp voice. “You’ll need to be out in the next sixty seconds.”

“Shit,” Adam muttered, backing reluctantly away so that he was no longer circled by Ronan’s knees. Thoughts became a little clearer once he only had the air touching his overheated skin. Ronan and Adam exchanged a glance as if to say where the hell do we go from here.

Adam raked his fingers through his hair in a desperate attempt to smooth it down, taking careful attention to not looking at Ronan in his attempts to smooth his clothing back down from where Adam had rumpled it. “Shit,” he muttered again, simply because it made him feel better.

“‘Shit’ is right,” Ronan said, any semblance of gentleness gone from his face. He slid down from the table with the grace that probably came from years of dismounting high objects - planes, horses, his family’s reputation.

Adam did not need his thoughts to go down those routes at that moment.

“We need to talk about this. Actually. Face-to-face.”

“Is that what you call it?”

Adam pulled a face at Ronan’s back. “Come to the East Bedroom at eleven, if you think you can make it.”

“I can find my way in a big house, Parrish.”

“Good,” Adam said, just in time for Calla to come through the door and escort them back to the dinner.

Ronan switched places to engage in a better discussion with the English Prime Minister, and Adam breathed a silent sigh of relief.

“Have any engaging conversations?” Blue asked once he’d returned, one eyebrow raised in suggestion.

“Plenty,” Adam said tightly. From across the room, Ronan threw back his head and laughed, a gesture so barely Ronan it ached.

Eleven couldn’t be soon enough.

#history huh #rwrb au #pynch rwrb #pynch #pynch fanfiction #adam parrish #ronan lynch #rwrb #trc #the raven cycle #richard gansey #blue sargent

[inevitably-johnlocked]

30 FAVE BOOKMARKS of 2020

Happy New Year’s Eve-Eve, everyone!! 

And welcome to the Last Fic Rec Wednesday of 2020! No one asked for this at all, but I enjoy making unprompted lists for everyone, and I’ve been doing this list since January 2020 :P

I’ve read some FANTASTIC fics this year, and now seems like a good time as any to share with y’all some  of those amazing fics I’ve added to List of Love! I had to even whittle it down today to get it to 25 – the number I like as a “top xx” thing, so I am very disheartened that a lot of my bookmarks this year didn’t make the list :( It’s been a long time since I’ve done a “last XX bookmarked fics” list, maybe I’ll do one of those soon.

First off let’s start with 5 honourable mentions of Other Fandom fics, because I spent a lot of my summer indulging in my renewed Rimmster ship so I have a few amazing RD fics y’all should read LOL

FIVE OTHER-FANDOM HONOURABLE MENTIONS

Réveillon by Big_Edies_Sun_Hat (T, 6,431 w., 3 Ch. || GOOD OMENS || Christmas Eve, Angst, Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, Established Relationship, International Travel, Moments in Time, Historical / Biblical Interpretation) – After a gloomy history with Christmas, Aziraphale shows Crowley how he has learned to seek out the good in it by traveling around the world on Christmas Eve. Highlights include: the Annunciation; potholes; international teleportation; peace and hope; arson; Lupe gets a doll of her very own.

Out With It by Clipped_Ionian_Vowels (T, 10,255 w., 1 Ch. || RED DWARF || Post-Ace, Reclaimed Slurs, Getting Together, Sexuality, Coming Out) – Rimmer finally comes home, hangs up the wig and decides to set the crew 'straight' about one thing; he's not. And neither, it transpires, is Lister.

Standards by Kahvi & Roadsterguy (E, 11,725 w., 2 Ch. || RED DWARF || Hard Light Rimmer, Bickering, Humour, First Time, Over-Protective Kryten, Cranky Rimmer, Exploring Derelicts, Arguing Leads to Awkward Flirting, Showering Together, Intense Orgasms) – Yet another supply raid on a derelict leads Rimmer and Lister to an argument, which in turn leads to... something that's still fairly close to an argument. You get lonely in space, but you do have standards.

speed limits (and how to break them) by darcylindbergh (E, 13,750 w., 4 Ch. || GOOD OMENS || POV Crowley, UST/URT, Mutual Pining, Romance, First Kiss/Time, Crowley’s Anxiety, Gift Giving, Humour, Touching, Awkwardness, Love Confessions, Sussex, Fantasies Become Real, Marriage Proposal, Sensuality, Bottom Crowley) – There is a trick people do with a mint candy and a bottle of cola which results in a small eruption, and something very like it, for much higher stakes than a laugh in a car park, is about to take place in Aziraphale’s back room. Or: what happens when you finally unscrew the cap on a six thousand years of repression, and drop in Valentine’s Day.

Hand in Glove by lizardkid (T, 14,223 w., 1 Ch. || RED DWARF || Post-S9, Internalized Homophobia, Repression, Hurt/Comfort, Lister Whump, Worried Rimmer, Ableist Language, Cuddling) – Lister is mortally wounded in an accident. Rimmer is forced to reassess everything.

------------------

AND NOW: The reason y’all are here! Please know I love EVERYTHING I’ve read and bookmarked, just these ones have really stuck with me and I’ve already re-read a few of these, so yeah, please do enjoy. 

Please note that these fics aren’t all necessarily NEW fics for 2020, more like they were new to ME, and ergo, I bookmarked and started reccing them this year! There are a few newer fics, though, so yeah, apologies if you were expecting only new things.

Hope you all have a good New Year’s Day, and I hope this list makes the long weekend a great one until my FIRST Fic Rec Sunday of 2021! I might do two on Sunday just to celebrate the new year, hahah. <3 Love you all!

TOP 25 JOHNLOCK BOOKMARKS OF 2020

SEE ALSO:

Top 20 Bookmarks of 2018

Top 25 Bookmarks of 2019

The Imminent Danger of a Tumblr-Night by Loveismyrevolution (T, 2,135 w., 1 Ch. || Tumblr Fics, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock is Out of His Depth, Humour, Fluff, Pining Sherlock, Military Kink, POV Sherlock) – Sherlock gets into trouble when he pretends to know all about John's favourite social media site - tumblr. To save face he seeks help from one of the bloggers and gains more answers than he had aimed for.

Living Musical by VeeTheRee (G, 4,149 w. 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Hobbies, Summer, Song Fic, POV Sherlock, Painting, Play Fighting, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Love Declarations, Hair Petting, Promise of Forever) – A one-shot of John and Sherlock being domestic during summer. There is paint, fluff, and music from Imagine Dragons, namely from the album 'Speak To Me', specific song in this one-shot is 'Living Musical'. Part 1 of the Happy Fluffy Johnlock Time series

Stranded by BeautifulFiction (T, 5,798 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss, Communication / Relationship Discussion, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, BAMF John, Doctor John, Case Fic, Drinking, Huddling For Warmth, Friends to More) –  When stranded on a derelict barge at high tide, John and Sherlock reconsider their friendship.

Bridges by sussexbound (M, 6,602 w., 1 Ch || Post-TLD / S4 Fix It, Love Confessions, Mending Relationships, Moving Back In, Pining Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Past Abuse, Shaving) – The silence between them is deafening, interrupted only by the hum of the traffic outside, and the soft click-clunk of the plastic cups Rosie is playing with on the floor beside them. It is the first time they have been alone together, since Sherlock’s birthday. It’s only been two days, but it feels huge, important, like there is a precarious bridge stretched out before them both that they need to at least attempt to traverse.

To be loved by Strange_johnlock (E, 12,436 w., 8 Ch. || Post S3, Established Relationship, First Person POV Sherlock, Pet Names, Soft Sherlock, Mild ADHD, Protective John, Captain Watson, Body Appreciation, Bottomlock, Rough Sex, Travelling for Holidays, Introspection, Sherlock Loves John So Much It Hurts) – John is so deeply integrated into the work, both as my conductor of light, and as a great shot with a vicious right hook who tackles men -and women- no matter their size all in my defense. He protects me with all he can without question, and this loyalty is surely more than I deserve. Or: Sherlock is counting his blessings.

On The Fence by BeautifulFiction (T, 13,770 w., 1 Ch. || Fencing, Case Fic, First Kiss, Insecure John, Pining John, Hug, Greg Finds Out) – The murder of the King's College fencing champion leads to revelations about Sherlock's past. Will it be the point that tips them from friends to lovers, or will they remain on the fence?

The Invocation of Saint Margaret by Ewebie (E, 15,831 w., 1 Ch. || POV John, Crossing Timelines, Light Angst, Fluff, Series 3 John / Series 1 Sherlock, The Matchbox, Mushy Romance, First Time, Bisexual John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Sensuality, Emotional Love Making, Snippets of Time) – When Sherlock Holmes opens the matchbox from The Sign of Three and John finds himself years in the past, back to that first dinner at Angelo's with a much younger Sherlock Holmes. Is he dreaming?

Permanent Fixture by vitruvianwatson (E, 18,836 w., 9 Ch || Post-S4, Parentlock, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, They’re Good Parents, Blushing Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Explicit Consent, Sexual Content, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Big Feelings, Crying, First Kiss, Fluff, Anxious Sherlock, Inexperienced Sherlock, Emotional Communication, Love Confessions) – Now, as Rosie sat curled up against Sherlock’s side, John watched and wondered exactly how he had ended up here. Domesticity had never suited him before, not at any point in his life. His disastrous marriage had been proof of that. But somehow, here in the warmth and safety of 221B Baker Street, here with Sherlock Holmes reading medical jargon to his daughter, Sherlock’s bony feet nudging against his leg, John couldn’t imagine anyplace that would make him happier.

Division by MrsNoggin (E, 19,542 w., 11 Ch. || Coffee Shop AU || First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Barista Sherlock, Clingy Sherlock, POV John, John’s Limp, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Sensuality, Touching, Virgin Sherlock, Insecure John) – John likes mysteries. And every morning he dips into the local independent coffee bar with his newspaper and ponders another... one Sherlock Holmes.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

Inscrutable to the Last by DiscordantWords (M, 48,842 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, Alternate S3, John’s Blog/S3 is a Story By John, Divorce, Marital Difficulties, John is a Mess, Emotional Reunion, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Grief / Mourning, Pining John, First Kiss, Adorably Clueless Sherlock, Nostalgia, Love Confessions, Eventual Happy Ending) – He wasn't Sherlock, he couldn't work miracles. All he'd ever been able to do was write about them.

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

A Goose Quill Dipped in Venom by Polyphony (M, 52,748 w., 16 Ch. || Celebrity John AU || Alternate First Meeting, TV Host John, Supermodel Mary, Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Case Fic, First Kiss/Time, Meddling Mycroft, Drug Abuse, Doctor John, PDA, Deductions, POV Sherlock, Toplock, Sexual Tension, Angry/Rough Sex, Hopeful Ending, Asperger’s Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, is called in to a very ordinary although brutal murder. Something is badly out of tune with the whole scenario and Sherlock finds himself becoming more and more obsessed with the crime - and also with the victim.

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary's wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn't exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues -- just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

Lunar Landscapes by J_Baillier (M, 57,046 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || S3/TAB Fix-It, Slow Burn Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Confessions, Drugs, Pain, Medical, Injury, Sherlock Whump, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Romance, Secrets, Tragedy, Trauma, BAMF John, Doctor!John, Drug Addict Sherlock, Injured Sherlock, Grieving John, Idiots In Love, Protective John, POV John Watson, PTSD Sherlock, Sherlock is a Mess, Medical Realism) – An accident forces John to face the fact that Sherlock's downward spiral had started long before his flight to exile even left the tarmac.

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater /  Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John "Five Oceans" Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”  

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Asexual Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Flashbacks, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Case Fic, Sherlock’s Past, Awkward Conversations, Anxious Sherlock) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU ||  BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

#johnlock fic recs #long post #my fic recs #fic rec wednesday #fave fics #red dwarf fic recs #good omens fic recs

[bluejayblueskies]

agape

n. selfless, sacrificial, and unconditional love; love that motivates action, often for the sake or care of others 

Words: 2.3k Relationship: Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood Tags: AU - Tea Shop/Bookstore, Fluff, Asexual Jonathan Sims Warnings: internalized acephobia/biphobia (minor,), fear of homo/ace/transphobia (brief, unfounded)

|| Ao3 ||

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Martin remembers, with crystal clarity, the first time that he saw Jonathan Sims. Martin’s tea shop opens at seven in the morning to accommodate the morning commuter crowd, but they’re really busiest in the afternoon, which is when most people deign to take a break from whatever work they’ve got for the day.

 Jonathan Sims is not most people. At promptly seven, the jingle of the little bell that Tim had hung over the door once as a joke but that had lingered out of sheer practicality had cut through the gentle humming of the kettle, the small one that Martin preferred in the morning as it took no time at all to heat and the small volume of customers generally didn’t warrant the larger, stainless steel water heaters that sat along the back wall. Martin had had a box of loose-leaf English breakfast in his hand as he turned; he remembers the way the bitter smell of the leaves had mingled with the cool blast of winter air that swept through the door, carrying with it the scent of something acrid and ashy.

 Cigarette smoke, his mind helpfully supplied. Then, Martin’s eyes found the man who had entered the shop, his mouth forming the automatic greeting the bell always elicited from him, a well-trained habit that made him feel not dissimilar to Pavlov’s dog.

 “Welcome to Blackwood Blends! What can I get started for you?”

The man—and the likely source of the burnt smell still lingering in the air—startled slightly at the sound of Martin’s voice, like he hadn’t been expecting to be addressed directly. He was wrapped in a comically large scarf, knit from chunky yarn and laced with warm yellow and midnight black, and he looked like the kind of person who might blow away in the wind if he wasn’t careful. His hair, long and brown, was streaked through with grey and seemed to be fighting a losing battle with the hat that was currently struggling to keep it contained. There were at least two jumpers of startlingly different colors peeking out from underneath a heavy black pea coat that was missing a button near the bottom.

 He was also quite possibly the most beautiful person Martin had ever seen.

 He was there and gone before Martin quite knew what was happening, cradling a steaming travel mug of Ceylon close to his chest like it alone could drive away the January chill, and Martin found himself watching him through the café window as he crossed the street with barely more than a cursory glance in each direction, fumbled with something in his pockets for a moment, and finally vanished into the building across the street.

 Beholding Books & Antiquities, the sign above the door said in curling calligraphy, barely visible from this distance.

 Martin wondered, briefly, if they had poetry.

 Martin knows now that they do, but that the man—whose name, he’d learned on the man’s next visit to the tea shop, is Jon—wrinkles his nose when people purchase them like they’ve caused him some great offense. He knows that Jon never gets the same tea twice in a row, and though he’s cycled through every possible blend that Martin’s shop carries, he’s not a fan of herbals and finds himself returning to earthy greens and floral blacks. (Which, unfortunately, includes oolong, which may be the only kind of tea that Martin can’t stand.) He knows that the bookshop opens at ten in the morning (but that Jon never arrives later than eight) and that unlike the surge of afternoon customers Martin’s shop gets, the bookshop receives a steady trickle of local customers and curious tourists throughout the day.

 He knows that Jon smiles like it’s a secret he can’t quite decide if he wants to share and that Jon’s fingers are warm and soft when they brush against Martin’s as he hands Martin his new purchase and that he might be just a little bit in love with Jon.

 He spends quite a lot of time browsing for books nowadays, to Tim and Sasha’s eternal amusement. But he can’t bring himself to mind.

 Now, the nip of winter air is far behind them, and the lovely warmth of June seeps in through the cracks in the windows and in bursts as the door opens and closes. He always gets more business in winter, when the promised warmth of a cup of tea lures customers in from the cold, but it’s steady enough in the summer. And though Martin’s always been a lover of bulky jumpers and drinks that warm you from the inside out and breath that fogs in winter air, he can’t help but love the onset of summer, because it brings with it June and his favorite yearly tradition: Pride month tea blends.

 Martin finishes scrawling the various specialty drinks onto the chalkboard he keeps propped up on the counter, feeling a little burst of pride at the new tea blends he’s selected for this year. He creates them all himself, making little changes from year to year and brewing cup after cup for Tim and Sasha to try until he thinks they must be sick of tasting ten different versions of fruity Earl Greys. It just feels nice, to put a piece of himself into each cup he makes, and beyond that, the shyly excited looks some customers get when they order a certain blend fills him with a warmth that tingles in his veins for hours after.

 It feels nice, to take care of people this way. To let people find themselves in his tea and to share a bit of himself in kind.

 So when the bell jingles and Martin glances up from the blackboard to see Jon standing just inside the doorway, blinking as his eyes adjust to the dimness of the café, the thrum of affection that always overtakes him when he sees Jon is magnified tenfold, accompanied in equal part by a bite of nervousness. Because, he realizes, for all that he and Jon have talked about their jobs and favorites and hobbies and everything in between, they’ve never talked about this.

 Martin’s never been shy about it. His jacket is plastered with rainbow-striped patches, his bag adorned with enamel pins in purple-black-white-greys and in blue-pink-whites. He knows Jon’s seen them. Jon has to have seen them. He’s just… never mentioned it. And Martin gets the brief, terrifying, and completely unfounded worry that it’s because Jon is bothered by it.

 He shakes the thought off as quickly as it had come. No, he knows Jon. He knows that behind the prickly exterior, Jon is kind—so, so kind, and that he cares more about other people than he lets on. With a small, anxious laugh that Martin barely keeps contained beyond a brief exhalation, Martin realizes that he also knows that Jon is possibly also the most oblivious person Martin knows. It’s infinitely more likely that Jon hasn’t noticed—or has noticed and has decided not to say anything—than that Jon is somehow a completely different person than the one Martin’s gotten to know over the past five months.

 “Are you all right?”

 Martin startles so badly that he drops the chalk. It rolls dangerously close to the edge of the counter before a thin-fingered hand captures it mid-motion and holds it out toward Martin, the dusty white stark against his brown skin. Martin takes the chalk with a sheepish smile and says, “Ah, sorry—got a bit, er. Distracted.” Then, in a quasi-professional voice, because he is at work: “What can I get for you, Jon?”

 Jon doesn’t even glance at the menu; Martin’s almost certain that he has it memorized by now. He taps a finger on the counter, and as he thinks, his eyes wander downward, landing on the chalkboard that’s still laid flat against the counter, the bottom left corner slightly smudged. “Are these new blends?” Jon asks, eyes bright and curious. He tilts his head, trying to see the words better, and Martin quickly stands the chalkboard up on its wooden feet and returns it to its spot on the counter so that it’s easier to read.

 Well, no time like the present, I suppose.

 “They’re, ah, my seasonal blends!” Martin says with a smile he hopes doesn’t look as nervous as it feels. “I always do them in June.” He lets out a little, disarming laugh. “My own way of celebrating Pride month, you know?”

 Jon’s eyes are scanning the chalkboard with an intensity that makes Martin shift from one foot to the other at a pace far too quick to be casual, his hands finding the edge of the counter and gripping it like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. He can’t read Jon’s face; there’s something there, just below the surface, but he can’t get a handle on it. It keeps slipping away like wet bar soap when he tries too hard to get a grip on it, and eventually, he just gives up, waiting for Jon to finish with his heartbeat sitting high in his throat.

 Finally, after a period of time that feels just shy of an eternity and certainly too long to have been simply considering the merits of one tea blend over another, Jon looks at Martin with an expression that feels strangely vulnerable. “I… I can’t decide,” he says quietly, like this decision carries the weight of the entire world. He points a thin finger at the middle of the board, where bisexual berry is scrawled in spiraling letters that constitute Martin’s attempt at calligraphy. It’s an herbal blend, with bits of freeze-dried blueberries, raspberries, and strawberries. “I like most of this blend,” he says, “but er. Not on its own?” His finger moves down, nearly smudging the words asexual almond as it comes to rest atop the ingredients below them—Assam tea, almond flavoring, cinnamon sticks, and little white blossoms that Martin includes purely for the visual effect. “Some people think that black tea wouldn’t go well with herbal,” Jon says, studying the board like it has the secret to life itself scrawled upon the dusty black, “but they’re really not that different at all. It’s all tea, and- and liking one kind of tea doesn’t preclude you from liking another kind, right? So asking me to- to decide between one kind of tea and another is—well, it’s just ridiculous. There’s tea that I like and tea that I don’t and I don’t have to pick just one.”

 Jon’s still staring at the blackboard, his forehead creased in what could be concentration but could also be irritation. It’s still early enough that the tea shop is empty save for them; Tim and Sasha don’t come in until after noon as usually, Martin can handle the morning crowds by himself. And Martin is really quite sure that this isn’t about his tea at all. So, in the gentlest tone he can muster, Martin says, “You can order more than one kind of tea, you know.”

 Jon jerks his hand back, almost like he’d forgotten Martin was there. “I—what?”

 Feeling significantly less nervous than before, Martin adjusts the sign so that he can see it better and says, “These are all just suggestions, Jon. Blends that I like and ones that I’ve found that other people like too, but they’re not set in stone—people have all kinds of preferences, and when it comes down to it, it- it’s all just tea.” Then, because apparently he’s feeling bold today: “I- I can make a new blend if you’d like? One that, er.” Just say it, Martin. “One that’s for you, specifically. Whatever you’d like.”

 Jon’s eyes are as wide as saucers as he stares up at Martin, and Martin can’t help but shift nervously under his gaze. Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that, that was weird, what a weird thing to say when someone’s coming out to you with bad tea metaphors, fuck fuck—

 “If- if you’d like,” Jon says quietly, slamming Martin’s thought spiral headfirst into a brick wall and nearly knocking him off his feet as he registers that Jon just said yes. “I’d like that. Though I- I do enjoy the flavors of berries and almonds together.” He smiles then, a wry thing that sends Martin’s pulse into the stratosphere and his stomach aflutter with butterflies whose wings gleam an iridescent rainbow against the backs of his eyes. (Not his best bit of poetic imagery, to be true, but he’s a little too busy being utterly in love with Jonathan Sims to think about much else.)

 Martin makes the tea, choosing the black over the herbal because elaborate metaphor or not, Jon really isn’t a fan of herbal teas. Blueberry is a strong enough taste to pair with the bitterness of the black tea and it couples well with almond and cinnamon, creating a flavor profile not unlike that of a blueberry muffin. And because Martin can’t help but think of Jon every time he smells it, he switches out the Assam for a Lapsang Souchong and Earl Grey blend—smoky and floral, smooth enough that it won’t overbalance the other flavors but robust enough to stand out.

 When Jon accepts the mug and takes his first hesitant sip, his face lights up in a way that Martin wants to see all day, every day for the rest of his life. And when Jon smiles at him, says, achingly soft, “Thank you, Martin. I love it,” and cautiously, gently places his hand over Martin’s where it sits on the counter, Martin thinks, for the first time, that maybe he can.

 Wouldn’t that be nice, he thinks. And the smile he gives Jon in return feels like a blank-paged book, waiting to be filled.

#tma #tma fic #the magnus archives #aspecarchives #jonmartin #asexual jonathan sims #asexual martin blackwood #(among other identities) #my fic #my writing #i'm trying out a new fic posting format to see if people are more likely to read it! #now that i'm actually posting the body of the fics themselves on tumblr and not just the ao3 links #let me know if yall like it :)

[unmaskedagain]

Gabriel Agreste Must Die

I have no idea what inspired this but I just thought this would be funny. It Salt towards Gabriel. So enjoy. Warning Gaslighting ahead

Nino never thought that, out of everyone in the entire world, he would be the one to figure out Gabriel Agreste was Hawkmoth. Granted, it wasn’t like he had done he any searched or used any expert detective or journalism skills. No, instead he had been hanging out at Marinette’s; getting his butt handed to him in Ultimate Mecha Strike III. Alya chilling as she scrolled through her phone. Chloe, who they somehow managed to become friends with, was taking selfies in Marinette’s newest design outfits.

Nino knew it was because the blonde had proven herself to be a good hero and loyal ally. So when Marinette, the new Guardian now that Fu was gone, that more permanent heroes were needed, she brought in Chloe, along with Nino and Alya. It was then that Ladybug and Chat Noir revealed their identities to them and to each other.

It had been one hell of a shock. But they all became really good friends. Though any crushes the original heroes had died. It turned out Marinette thought of Chat Noir as a brother. And Adrien just couldn’t see Marinette in that light. It was for the best. Alya had been pissed about the love square thing.

That had been over a year ago, and the heroes had all become really good friends; banding together against anyone (Lila or Gabriel) who tried to tear them apart.

They had been talking about the recent akuma attacks, when Nino got a text from Adrien apologizing for not being able to hang out.

“Adrien can’t come,” Nino glared at the screen. “His dad’s got him working late.”

“Again?” Alya asked. “He does know what child labor laws are right?”

           Chloe scoffed, “Like he cares.”

“Still, we should do something,” Marinette frowned as she rapidly pressed buttons on her controller. “This isn’t right.”

“Like what?” Nino asked, already gracefully accepting yet another defeat. “He’s Gabriel Agreste. He’s as big of an asshole as Hawkmoth; and I didn’t think that was possible.”

           As soon as he said those words, something just clicked. Everyone in the room suddenly paused as they processed the words in their minds.

           Nino slowly put down her controller, “It’s not possible, is it? That level of asshole-dom can’t possibly be reached by two different people in the same city, at the same time, in the same universe. There’s no way.”

“Even my mom left once Gabriel took power,” Chloe added. “And she’s a total bitch but she knew that Paris couldn’t handle both a Queen Bitch and the King of the Assholes fighting it out.”

           Marinette’s eyes narrowed as she considered everything they knew about hawkmoth and Gabriel Agreste, “When did Adrien say he last saw mom.”

“Three years ago,” Chloe answered. “Sometime near the end of January, I remember. It was before Valentine’s day as I had been planning yet another amazing party.”

“Alya, when was the first akuma attack?” Marinette asked.

“One sec, I’ll look,” The glasses-wearing girl said and as she frantically researched. When Alya was done, she looked up at them with a dark expression on her face. “February 4th, three years ago.”

“Gabriel has a book on Kwami,” Marinette told them. “He uses it for ‘inspiration.’”

           After that, suddenly they were recalling all the little ‘coincidences’ they overlooked involving anything Agreste related and Hawkmoth; it all added up to something no one could deny.

“Gabriel is Hawkmoth,” Alya whispered stunned. “Adrien’s dad is Hawkmoth. We always said Gabriel was a monster but damn, really?”

“What do we do?” Chloe asked. “What can we do? Hawkmoth is too powerful; especially with Mayura on his side.”

           Marinette nodded but there was a thoughtful look on his face, “Hawkmoth is strong but Gabriel is human like the rest of us. He has his flaws, his weaknesses; cracks in his facade.”

“Mom always said Gabriel was nuts,” Chloe said. “On the edge of his sanity. One good push…”

           Marinette shrugged, “If we can’t defeat the villain…”

“…Then we break the man behind the mask,” Alya smirked,

           Nino growled, “Gabriel Agreste Must Die.”

…

…

           The next day after school; the heroes met up again at Marinette and sat Adrien down to talk.

It turned getting Adrien on board with the plan was difficult. He wasn’t hard to convince him that Gabriel was Hawkmoth, though it did take a while for him to stop throwing up. However, there was thing the blond boy wouldn’t budge on…

“You’re not killing my dad!” Adrien told them.

           Nino nodded calmly and folded his hands on his lap, “I get where you’re coming from, dude. I totally do,” He told his best friend. “But hear me out. Your dad? He really sucks.”

           Adrien shot his friends an incredulous look, “And you think that’s a good enough reason to kill him?”

“Well, yeah,” Nino shrugged. “I mean we talked about this before.”

           Alya pushed her ex-boyfriend turned one of her bestie out of the way, “You’re dad is a megalomaniac magical terrorist that’s been destroying Paris, turning people into monsters, and killing innocents. Sure the damaged gets reversed but the victims, who aren’t Akumatized, still have to deal with the freaking trauma.”

“There are support groups for it,” Marinette said. “People remember dying; drowning, burning, crashing; it’s terrible.” She sighed, “However, we can’t just murder someone. It’s wrong.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It would be wrong not kill him,” Chloe told them. “The amount of time and effort it would save us is nearly too much to count. And the amount of relief all of Paris would feel knowing he was gone is out of this world.  We can stop SO many people from getting hurt if I call my mom’s guy Fredro, and Gabriel has a little ‘accident’.”

           Nino shot up, “See! Chloe agrees,” He shot a victorious look at Alya and Marinette.

           Alya snorted, “Chloe thought burning Gabriel at the stake was good idea.”

“What?!!” Adrien looked at his oldest friend, shock on his face. “What?!!”

           Chloe shrugged, “There’s no such thing as a bad idea. And It was a suggestion..”

“A good one,” Nino added. “And why does it sound like your mom has a hitman on speed dial?”

           Chloe scoffed, “Hitman? Don’t be so crass. Fredro is former MI6. My mom used to work with him. He’s so good even Shield only had the slightest idea he exists.” She looked at her childhood friend with a softest expression anyone had ever seen on her face. “No one would ever know. If you want, he doesn’t even have to feel like a thing. Gabriel goes to sleep one night, and doesn’t wake up in the morning. It’ll look like a heart attack. Trust me, my mother only works with the best.”

“I have a lot of questions about your mother,” Alya said. “And what type of work she did with a former MI6 agent. But we’re gonna circle back to that. That fact is, Adrien, it’s up to you.”

“He’s your dad,” Marinette agreed. “Plus; its two to two. Me and Alya who don’t want to go to prison. And the two psychos who are more than willing to.”

           Nino huffed and moved to stand next to Chloe, “Well, I’m feeling a little called out right now.”

“I told you we should’ve just handled this last night,” Chloe crossed her arms. “Just the two us. Ditch the Halos at home,” She motioned to Marinette, who didn’t like the idea of killing, and Alya, who didn’t want to make the choice with Adrien’s approval. “Bury that asshole alive.”

“Nah, they’d have known it was us,” Nino shook his head. “The second Gabriel doesn’t show up for something he’s supposed to, Marinette’s knocking on my door. I’m always a suspect. Gabriel nearly got killed by a falling headlight during a fashion show in New York, and Alya still gave me suspicious looks for days. Jerk’s literally on the other side of the world, and I’m still the primary suspect.”

           Chloe looked contemplative, “…Didn’t you say you had a cousin in New York?”

“You a cop?” Nino asked. “No? Then stop asking so many questions.”

           Adrien sighed, “I’m sorry, guys; we can’t kill my dad.”

           Alya nodded firmly, “Then option two. We’re rip apart his sanity, destroy his reputation; tear apart everything that makes Gabriel Agreste, Gabriel Agreste until there’s nothing left except the miserable, sorry excuse for man and father, that he really is.”

“Oh but I’m inhumane?” Nino glared. “I was just gonna cut the breaks in Gabriel’s ride. Take him and Nathalie out at the same time. But, yeah, sure, breaking him to the point where he’s ripping out his own hair and locked away in a padded room is a noble cause as any.”

“And yet we’re the evil ones? Really?” Chloe rolled her eyes. “Fine. Whatever. Let’s gaslight the bitch.”

           Adrien looked up at the ceiling just so freaking done with world. “What we do first?”

“Your dad’s a total control freak,” Alya said. “We got to make him feel like he’s losing control.”

           Marinette looked over Adrien, “You’re gonna need tight leather pants, chapstick… And how do feel about piercings?”

“That they look like they hurt!” Adrien protested.

           Chloe shoved his shoulder, “Beauty’s pain, woman up!”

“Why do I need chapstick?” Adrien whined.

“You can’t make out with Scott with dry lips!”

“Make out?” Adrien’s face turned bright red. “And who’s Scott?”

           Nino shook his head, “You’re asking a lot of questions for someone who was against the Murder plan.”

           It turned out Scott was Marinette’s cousin. His mom Melissa was Tom’s half-sister. He was handsome tall sixteen-year-old with olive brown skin, curly dark brown hair, and a crooked jaw. When Adrien met him he was wearing a leather jacket and big happy smile on his face.  Adrien couldn’t stop looking at him.

           He had come out as bisexual to his friends months ago but had only briefly experimented with Luka in the kissing department. Marinette had stumbled upon and quickly squeaked, turned red, and scampered off. Though Adrien did have to deal with her grumbles about having dips. To which Adrien replied, “You snooze, you lose.”

Scott was with a brown haired, pale skinned, gangly guy, with lots moles and a rather pretty redhead.

“Oh come on!” The pale guy complained when he saw Adrien. He looked at Scott. “What leprechaun did you sacrifice so that you got the fucking luck in the world? First the Disney princess Alison, then badass ‘she could stab me and I’d thank her’ Kira, and now Apollo’s freaking love child. No! It’s not fair.”

“Dude!” Scott complained. “Stiles, you’re dating Derek.”

           Stiles suddenly looked really smug, “Yeah I know,” He smirked. “But this isn’t about us. This is about all the other Scotts and Stiles’ of the world who are still growing out of their loser stage. Give them a chance, bro.”

           The redhead rolled her eyes, “Hi I’m Lydia!” She introduced to the young heroes. “The loud moron is Stiles. The moron who’s been drooling since he saw you is Scott.”

           Scott reared back, and started to quick wipe his mouth, “Man, am I drooling?”

“A little,” Stiles shrugged. “I just thought it was moon thing, you know?”

           Lydia ignored them, “I love your dress. It’s an MDC, yes? Up in coming designer, so chic!”      

           Marinette smiled, “Thanks. It took forever to design this.”

           The redhead paused, “You designed?” She looked stunned for a moment before glaring at Scott. “Is your cousin MDC? Did you not tell me your cousin was MDC?”

           It was a little hilarious how quickly Scott stepped back in fear of girl a foot shorter than him.

“About why we’re here,” Alya decided to intervene before blood was drawn. “Adrien, this is Scott. He’ll be your boyfriend for as long as he’s Paris.” She looked between Scott and Adrien and smirked. “And I have no idea who I should congratulate.”

“Me,” Scott let slip as he stared at Adrien in a daze.

           Pictures of Adrien Agreste making out with Scott were everywhere an hour later. Adrien tweeted his response, “I’m Bisexual. So what? To quote Taylor Swift: You need to Calm down.”

           The tweet was the first thing that made Gabriel realize something was very, very wrong.

           Adrien went home and was met the angry expressions of his father and Nathalie. It was time for step to.

           Before either could yell at him. “I quit,” Adrien said. “No more modeling. No more anything I don’t want to do. This is not up for debate. I’m not asking. You can’t make me. And if you try to take me out of school; my friends will public with all the evidence of all times you broke child labors. And if you think I’m bluffing, a copy of the evidence was sent to Nathalie’s email.” He gave them hard looks. “You will go to prison. Try me. It’s over,” Adrien told them but didn’t add that it was in more ways that one.

           He walked passed them; only sparing a glance to see the stunned looks on their faces.

           Adrien knew his father wouldn’t back down. This was only the beginning.

           Unfortunately for Gabriel, he would be far too busy putting out the fires of his burning empire to have any time to rein back in his son.

           During the middle of the night, while everyone was sleeping, an anonymous user *cough Alya* released videos of Gabriel verbally berating his employees for the smallest things, and firing them. It was not a good look.

           The Gabriel brand took a hit. The first of many.

           Over the next few weeks; Gabriel found himself forgetting things. First he found a box of imported silk that Nathalie swore he called her himself to have her order, and he saw the call logged in his phone but for the life of him he couldn’t remember making the call. Then it was scheduling meetings, ordering lunches or coffee that he couldn’t remember doing. Then he forgot where put things.

           For example, one time Gabriel swore he took out his sketchbook from his briefcase and sat it on his desk and left for a meeting. However, when he returned, it wasn’t there. And He nearly went raving mad trying to find it. Only for Nathalie to take it out of his brief case.

           The suit he had laid out for him the night before would be an entirely different color than the one he remembered putting out but then Nathalie would tell him that he ordered her himself to have it pressed.

           It was little thing and big little just slightly out of place that started to grate on his nerves.

“The stress,” Nathalie told him. “It’s getting to you. Perhaps a vacation is in order”

“I’m fine,” He waved her off. “How is the plan to pull Adrien back in?

           Nathalie frowned, “Nothing. He’s still going strong with his boyfriend, a young Scott McCall. Every time we try anything, a new video of Adrien, uh, at work, is released to the media. CPS and the police knocked on our doors three times already. Next time, I fear, they may take him. Amelie Graham de Vanily has been spotted in town, speaking with several lawyers. My sources say she will attempt for custody if CPS deems you unfit.”

“Nothing of the sort will happen,” Gabriel sneered. “I will not lose my son; not to my sister in law, and not to some American boy. Tell Adrien, we will have dinner together. I will talk some sense into him myself.”

           That was his plan at least.

           However, Gabriel found himself waking up in the morning, in his pajamas, utterly confused. “Nathalie, when did I go sleep?”

           She looked confused, “Around midnight, sir. You had dinner with Adrien, and then had to rush off to take a call from Audrey.”

“I… had dinner with Adrien?” Gabriel asked. “Are you sure? I don’t remember. And I didn’t talk with Audrey, did i?”

           Nathalie suddenly looked very concerned. “Sir, I was there. Adrien and you had a lovely conversation about his school and him going back to modeling. Adrien decline. You tried to protest but Audrey called. You two argued for an hour. I was there the entire time. You really don’t remember?”

           No, Gabriel didn’t.

           A week later, after a series of incidents. One of which apparently he had ordered Nathalie to take him to a salon and walked out with blue hair, but couldn’t remember when he woke up the next day. And swore he hadn’t.

“I’ve scheduled a meeting with doctor,” Nathalie told him. “We’re going to get you looked at, okay.”

           It was the first of many, many doctor visits. Until one day Adrien came home and His aunt was there with Nathalie. They told him that his father went on a little “vacation” for a while.

           It turned out the vacation was a very luxurious mental institution.

#ml fic #ml salt #gabriel agreste salt #marinette dupain cheng #adrien deserves better #adrien agreste #alya sugar #nino sugar

[sugamontana93]

Tony Montana (18+) BTS FF Chapter 1

You can also find this story on wattpad @SugaMontana93 

https://www.wattpad.com/user/SugaMontana93

"Highly Elusive and Dangerous Chinese Mafia Boss, Yong Go Sil, was found murdered four days ago in ShangHai. It is rumored that he had ties to Seoul via family, but nothing has been confirmed. He has been wanted by the Chinese Government, along with South Korean and American agencies due to the wreckless drug sales, senseless acts of violence and murders spanning from continent to continent over the last twenty years. Police believe that another crime family, also known as Blood Kings, were responsible for the mafia leaders' demise. If you have any tips leading to The Yong Mafia and The Notorious South Korean mafia 'The Blood Kings', please call our hotline at XXX-XXX-XXXX. This is Park Reina with Seoul Now News."

Yoongi smirked as he turned off the news and settled down on the leather couch in Hybe's conference room. The other members smirked at each other before their manager, Bang Si-Hyuk, entered with a stern face. Their manager, no matter how wholesome and sweet he was in the public, knew exactly who and what BTS were behind the scenes. He was the one who passed it on to them. Yoongi's knowledge of Daegu sealed their fate the day they signed the contract with Big Hit. At the beginning, not a single one of the seven knew what was happening until Bang approached them with more opportunities that life as simple idols wouldn't be able to give them. Namjoon may be the leader of BTS, but it was Yoongi that dealt with the rest.

"I see you went through with it," Bang said as he sat down at the head of the table. "Mind telling me how you managed to find him in such a short amount of time?"

"I did it," Taehyung smirked as he looked at his manager. "Yoongi gave myself and my soldiers access to some of the things you left behind. The asshole was slick, I give you that. If it wasn't for Jungkook's keen eye, I would have never gotten Hyunsoo to tail him for as long as I had. Seokjin-Hyung pulled the trigger himself."

"And you managed to go to China to do that," Bang lifted his brow. "I don't see how that's possible."

"We didn't go to China. He was here. In Seoul," Seokjin added. "We don't know why he was here, but he knew he had been made. It was actually quite easy to get rid of him."

"How'd you get his body to Shanghai?"

"Jungkook's soldiers. Most of them are based in China to keep an eye out for other mafia that may come as a threat to us."

"For him to not fight is strange to me," Bang murmured. "Yoongi, are you going to look into this?"

"Already on it, sir," The mafia leader smiled back. "I should have some results by the end of the week."

"Even though I'm not the boss anymore, please keep me informed. I want to keep the authorities away as much as I can."

"Of course, sir."

"Now," Bang said while clapping his hands, "let's move on to more calm matters. Yoongi, your stylist Jaenie has put in her notice to leave the company. She and her husband have just found out that they're expecting twins and she'll need to be on bed rest due to her pre-existing health conditions."

"Aw, babies," Jungkook cooed, making the others laugh. "Good for her. I heard her telling Yoongi-hyung that they were trying."

"I'm happy for her," Yoongi grinned. The stereotype that surrounded Mafia leaders wasn't how Yoongi was. How you saw him on stage and on candid footage, that was him. Truly him. He wasn't mean or heartless to people that worked with him, his elders, his family or anything of the sort. The only time people knew how dark he was, was when the mafia side kicked in. He had his own persona. He was the infamous 'Tony Montana of South Korea' afterall. He only made people fear him when they needed it. That's why no one was brave enough to cross The Blood Kings.

"Which brings us to our next point," Bang said while pulling out a file. "Your replacement stylist will be starting tomorrow."

"But I thought Jaenie Noona would be here for two more weeks?"

"I told her to take these extra two weeks early. I'm paying her quadruple her usual salary and a hefty bonus to help with any things she needs for the babies. I also started them a trust fund because Jaenie has been one hell of a good employee."

"She dealt with Yoongi's hormonal early teenage years. You should have just given her the presidential medal of honor," Seokjin snickered. Yoongi shot him a go to hell look and then sighed.

"Yeah, you're probably right," he chuckled. "So, who is she?"

Bang opened the file and pulled out her resume.

Name: Grei Romano

Age: 29

Birthdate: January 1st, 1992

Born: Sicily, Italy

Parent's: Luca and Soleil Romano

Graduated Seoul School of Arts 2010, Licensed Cosmetologist and Esthetician 2011, Bachelor's Degree in Communications 2015.

IQ: 148

Current Residence: Seoul, South Korea

Languages: English, Cantonese, Italian, Korean, Japanese, Spanish and French.

Marital Status: Single

Children: 0

Bank: Seoul National Bank

Bank Account Balance: 1,425,504.00₩

"Damn. Are we hiring a stylist or recruiting someone into the mafia," Namjoon whistled as he looked down at all of the information. "She's smart."

"And broke," Taehyung said while crossing his arms. "She has two licenses and a huge degree. Why so little money?"

"She lives in Hannam, so it's all got to be going to normal bills. Relax, Taehyung. I checked her out and did a thorough background check. You know how I am about hiring people that know who you are as BTS." Bang pulled out her photograph and slid it across the table. "This is who will be coming tomorrow. I've given strict instructions to the staff if anyone else comes and does not match this picture, we'll be calling the police. I can't have you all exposed to crazy fans coming in here again or have anyone snooping in BK business."

Yoongi stared at her photograph and his mouth watered. She was exquisite, breathtaking. Nothing could come close to describing how beautiful she was. Her eyes were what drawed him in. They were beautiful...but somehow familiar.

"Hyung, pick your jaw up." Jimin bursted out laughing and snatched the picture from Yoongi's clutches. "She's hot."

"Coming from you, I know not to worry about you getting yourself in trouble with her," Bang said as he looked over his glasses. "Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi possibly. But not you."

"How do you know I won't try anything with her, Bang-ssi?"

Si-hyuk crossed his arms and lifted his brow. "I've known you for eleven years, Jimin. I also know that you and Hoseok are dating." Jimin and Hoseok are still in their chairs and look at the other members with wide eyes. "I also know that Namjoon and Jin and Taehyung and Jungkook are dating. You boys trying to hide everything from me has been a sight. Now stop pretending." Bang motioned from them to speak while six of the members looked like their manager had just shot their dog. "Look, I don't care what you all do. Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook, I know you're gay. I'm your second father. I know these things. Just like I know that Hoseok is bisexual, Jin and Namjoon have never thought about dating the same sex until they met each other and Yoongi's pansexual. You all know this about each other. I'm sure you've all had your private talks. It's my job to know these things, boys. I don't care. You're all happy right?"

They all nodded in response.

"Great."

Yoongi's phone began to ring, jerking everyone out of the awkward atmosphere. "Fuck," Yoongi growled as he answered his phone. "What is it, Han?" Yoongi's hand gripped the table as Han related valuable information to him. His knuckles were white, face as cold as stone as he listened to Han break down everything that has happened over the last hour. He slammed his phone down and closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. When they opened, Yoongi was gone.

The Mafia Boss was standing still as stone in his place, eyeing the members and his manager as he tried to steady his breathing.

"What is it, son," Bang said while standing up.

Yoongi chuckled and adjusted the rings on his finger.

"Seems like Yong Go Sil has someone taking over his mafia."

"Who?" The rest all stood waiting for further instruction.

"His daughter."

#bts #btsau #minyoongi #junghoseok #parkjimin #kimtaehyung #jeonjungkook #btssmut #btsmafia #taekook #jihope #namjin #btsfanfic #agustd

[stvpidinlove]

[ OLIVIA HOLT, SHE/HER, CIS WOMAN ]  —  [ REGAN MORGAN ]  is a child of  [ MORPHEUS ]  with the power of  [ PRECOGNITIVE DREAMING ] .  they were born in  [ 1995 ]  and have been in nemean lion since  [ 2019 ] .  with the change, they  [ ARE TRAINING IN ]  the  [ AMBASSADOR ]  role which makes sense since they’re usually  [ SCROLLING HER CURSED TIKTOK FYP & CONFUSING HER FOLLOWERS ON TWITTER ] .  if you’d like to meet them try the  [ MOON ]  building .

tl;dr she’s a deranged menace to society

BASICS

hometown: milford, pennsylvania

eye color: brown

hair color:  blonde

height: 5′3

sexuality: bisexual

birthday: january 19, 1995 ( capricorn )

BIO

regan’s mother was never the type to settle down. before meeting morpheus, her longest relationship had been three months. so when the guy seemed commitment-phobic, that was perfect for her. until, of course, she found out she was pregnant. she didn’t want to get married but she was at an age where the idea of motherhood...didn’t repulse her. so she wanted to keep the baby, at which point the father of her child didn’t get down on one knee, he started to explain the kinds of responsibilities she’d face as the mother of his child.

having the child of a god in her womb inflated her ego, which was pretty impressive considering how big it already was. see, regan’s mother was a southern belle without any of the class or manners. she’d breezed through the pageant circuit as a teen, winning a number of titles with minimal effort. her talent was essentially crying on demand and looking pretty while doing it. knowing she’d slept with a god, like an honest to...god felt sort of fitting. like, duh, who else would she have her first child with?

this also led to a brief but intense fixation with shakespeare, who name dropped gods like it was his job, which led to her choosing the name regan from king lear.

she moved to pennsylvania with regan when her daughter was only four years old, because some guy practically begged her to let him take care of her, and she had nowhere better to go. until, eventually, she did, thanks to the world of avon. her mother started selling out of boredom but then it turned out she was good at it, so good that she could easily buy a place once she got bored of her rich boyfriend, and move out with regan.

thankfully, her mother got out of the pyramid scheme before she got in too deep. she was hired by an actual, reputable cosmetics company and given a desk job to work in sales, which she was still a natural at. because she had a full time job now, regan spent a lot of time with nannies...and that’s nannies plural because regan was one of those kids who drove her caretakers to quit on a regular basis.

but not because she was a handful. she was pretty self-sufficient, actually, and totally well-behaved, she was just kind of...weird. she’d leave her room for dinner with all of her clothes suddenly on backwards and say nothing as if it was normal and act confused when her nanny asked about it. she’d stare at the tv when it was off, she’d spend one day only speaking in whispers, she’d write vaguely threatening messages on the mirror with her mother’s red lipstick.

all of this was because regan knew it was scary to adults, which made it fun for her. she wasn’t, like, actually disturbed. well, aside from the dreams she had sometimes. she’d have a dream about a baby bird falling from a nest, she’d watch its chest move for minutes before it died, then she’d wake up the next day and find a dead bird outside the sliding glass doors to the backyard.

for a while she thought they were coincidences. then she thought she was making things happen in her sleep, and that it was her job to stop bad things from happening, to save every baby bird that asked for help in her dreams. it took her a few years to accept that just because she sometimes saw the future didn’t mean she had any power to change it. she was warned so she could prepare herself, which only made her feel more powerless.

but being regan, she chose to cope with this aspect of her life with avoidance and humor. she doesn’t want to pick and choose what she worries about and what she doesn’t, so she decided a long time ago not to take anything seriously.

for reasons unknown, regan’s mother actually decided to have another child after regan. but she was unconventional, too, hence regan being...the way she is, so she never actually married the father of regan’s half-brother, but they have been together for the past 15 years, so.

her brother is eleven years younger than she is, so in regan’s mind, a baby. whenever left with the task of babysitting him while the two were growing up, it would be regan who suggested ice cream for breakfast and sock sliding around the living room at dangerous speeds.

RANDOM FACTS

i want to v*mit saying this but.....she’s kind of like........the female version of stevesuptic. except for she’s cute <3

her entire twitch account is kind of satirical, like it’s very hard to gauge what her actual personality is. i don’t think her viewers bully her the way they bully steve bc she would bully them back LMAO but they ask her a lot of random ass super weird sometimes borderline disturbing questions and she answers them like it’s normal

she def has weird/creepy drawings whenever playing gartic phone tho /:

ig you could say her channel is like shit posting but make it a streamer. she has a really nice set up and she always looks made up in her streams but then the content is her playing like a cat dating sim for four hours

she’s actually pretty shit at most games that require any level of skill and her following comes entirely from her personality and her Brand ig, she’s just entertaining to watch bc she says and does the most ??? things. like she’s not a gamer girl and doesn’t say she is she just has a twitch and plays games for the attention

also she has a cat named muffintop (best part of the muffin, not the offensive term for a woman’s stomach, though she will say that’s what it means if someone asks) who she regularly posts memes of and like most of her twitch emotes are her cat. you can find examples on her pinterest board lmao

i think it’s pretty hard to get an actual vision out of regan? she mostly keeps those to herself and just lies about her dreams. she’ll just be like, “yeah actually i had a dream you were gonna choke on some oatmeal so stay safe out there.” she’s also only partially sure when a dream is actually about the future.

her like <3 symbol that represents her is butterflies, she has a ton of butterfly shit

POSSIBLE CONNECTIONS

idk if i am requesting a roommate for once, idk if i wanna subject anyone to that

someone naive who believes her any time she says something is Going To Happen, no matter how stupid it is and no matter how many times things simply do not happen??

a bestie because...............................i just feel like she wormed her way into someone’s inner circle and they’re just stuck with her now

#idek how to describe her so this is not helpful actually #nlintro #𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴𝙳 𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁 ( 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐 ) * regan #this is such a fever dream

[yellowmagicalgirl]

memories for when morning comes

An average afternoon and morning for Claire after ae stopped the Eternal Night.

This fic was, for the most part, written to spite an asshole on FFN who was complaining about how I use ae/aer pronouns for when I decide to specify that Claire is nonbinary in a fic, as opposed to they/them or she/her pronouns. Guess what? Ae/aer pronouns were first used in 1920, and even if they weren’t that old then one should still respect pronouns (especially for real people, though if this person is complaining about my pronoun choice for a fictional wizard I worry about how they’d treat real people who use neopronouns). (The other reasons I had for writing this were my own personal gender frustrations as well as just how it’s been a while since I wrote Claire.)

Title comes from “Welcome to Wonderland” by Anson Seabra, aka a song I found on a nonbinary pride playlist ;)

This fic isn’t Wizards compliant

Content/Spoiler Warning: Isolation, hopelessness, implied/referenced self harm, and introspection on misgendering and death

AO3

FFN

Claire wrapped aer arms around aerself and winced as even through the fabric ae could feel just how frozen aer hands were. That was the problem with having small, thin fingers. Aer circulation was pretty bad in aer hands. Sometimes, when aer nail polish was chipped, Claire’s could see how the natural color of aer nails changed to a pastel blue-violet tone, as opposed to the healthy pink that aer nails were supposed to be.

Speaking of supposed to be, where was Jim? He was supposed to be here ten minutes ago. Claire fought the urge to check aer phone again. He would be here any minute now, and if he had gotten caught up in some sort of trollhunting business, he wouldn’t be able to tell aer at the time. But, ae was tempted to go find a bench and pull out aer homework. That way, ae could at least do something useful instead of just waste aer energy shivering and feeling anxious.

Ae shouldn’t be so anxious. They had saved the world years ago, and aside from the occasional goblin nest or gnome uprising there hadn’t been any problems. Jim had retrieved the stone that allowed him to walk in the daylight, and had found out that he didn’t have to actually change as much about his diet as he had planned. It was small things, like coating his salad in dressing and eating his steak rare. The supernatural world was at peace. Morgana was dead and would never be able to hurt anyone ever again. But, sadly, Claire had been diagnosed with anxiety long before ae had learned the truth about the creatures that lurked in the shadows. Ae sighed before walking over to the nearest bench. It was warm underneath the late January sunbeam. Ae pulled out aer phone, but ae didn’t check the time. Ae placed an earbud in each of aer ears, reaching up at the same time to run one of aer hands through the fade of aer hair before reaching the curly faux hawk at the top and curling aer fingers into it. Perhaps it couldn’t be considered a proper fade, not anymore, not when Claire had decided to let it grow out for the winter months so the chill wouldn’t permeate so directly into aer skull.

Claire let aerself become pulled into the loud rock music blasting from their earbuds as ae pulled out a textbook from aer backpack and began to read. Ae didn’t notice anyone approach aer until a blue, four-fingered hand stopped aer from turning the page.

“Oh,” Claire said, pulling out aer earbuds. Aer boyfriend stood in front of aer, one hand behind his back. “There you are.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Jim said. “Mom was trying to cook and, well, it was going well until the kitchen towel started catching fire. But, I have something to make up for it!” He thrust his arm out from behind his back, revealing the bouquet of violets.

“Jim, I, thank you,” Claire said, tracing the softness of the flowers.

He smiled down at aer. “Of course, anything for my handsome Juliet.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a vase or anything, would you?”

Jim scratched the base of his horns sheepishly and opened his mouth, probably to say that no, he hadn’t planned that far ahead for their date.

And ae woke up.

All of Claire’s dreams were bad dreams. Some of them were memories, and they happened more often if Claire fell asleep in front of the haunted TV that showed all of the times that ae had been scared. Some of them were an amalgamation of horrible things that ae had heard about and things that Morgana had done or intended to do to her victims.

The worst type of dream, though, was neither of those two. No, the worst type of dream wasn’t bad when it was happening. It was a wonderful, beautiful, pleasant escape from the horrible reality that Claire had doomed aerself to. Ae would wake up in the Shadow Realm and know that Jim was dead and everyone assumed that Claire was dead as well. That their beloved friend had died to save the world. Or worse, their beloved daughter or sister.

Claire had died before ae had come out to anyone except for Enrique. It was after Jim had rescued aer brother from the Darklands, but before Morgana had taken a hold on Claire’s body and mind. Well, a stronger hold than Claire merely just using the Shadow Staff.

Ae had been alone, and ae had started talking to him. Practicing how ae’d come out to aer friends and family and boyfriend, even though ae hadn’t been ready. Enrique was the only one who knew who Claire really was, and he was a baby. He wouldn’t understand, and he wouldn’t remember Claire talking to him, and he would grow up hearing about the sister he once had who never actually existed in the way everyone thought Claire had.

(There was a possibility that there was one other person who knew the truth about Claire, but ae didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to think about how the woman who called Claire Child instead of Daughter might be doing so as a sign of some horrible mimicry of respect. Really, Claire would have rather have had aer bodily and spiritual autonomy respected and be misgendered than for Morgana to respect that Claire wasn’t a girl but then turn around and treat aer like ae wasn’t a person, just a weapon.)

Enrique wouldn’t remember his older sibling’s monologues about aer gender frustration. Perhaps it was for the best. Claire hadn’t been meaning to actually tell aer brother, or else ae would have gone to NotEnrique instead, because out of the two brothers ae had the changeling was the one who actually knew more than ten words. It was just easier to talk to a listening ear than aer stuffed animals or a mirror (and that was before mirrors were a reminder of aer trauma). It had been practice for something terrifying that Claire would never have to do. Never get to do. Hadn’t been ready to do. Ae had never gotten around to deciding upon a more specific label than nonbinary. Between the dread that came with the possibility of someone finding aer trying to do research, and all of aer responsibilities, ae had never really had the time. And of course, ae knew that their were plenty of people who didn’t want a more specific label, but ae wanted one. Ae wanted a more specific label, if only so ae could list out all the reasons and point to something that explained that Claire wasn’t the only one. And instead, ae had waited too long and no one would know.

The trolls would have probably reacted well, since trollish gender was rather different than human gender. Jim and Toby probably would have been okay with aer as well, since they had reacted well to aer being bi and they were respectively bi and pan themselves.

Mary and Darci? Back in middle school, Darci had followed Claire to a few GSA meetings but as far as Claire knew she was there as an ally. And while Claire had seen the way that Mary sometimes looked at Shannon, Mary had never done anything else to indicate that she was anything other than straight and cis.

Aer parents? Claire knew that they loved aer. Besides, they wouldn’t have thrown aer out, if only because Ophelia was a politician on the left end of the political spectrum. But, aer family was Catholic, and ae wasn’t even out to them as bisexual, and that was at least something they might believe aer on. Aer dad might even be more relaxed if Claire had a (cis) girlfriend than with any boy ae could date, trollhunter or otherwise. And if aer dad was on aer side, then maybe he could convince aer mom to accept that their child was bisexual. Maybe, considering just how many arguments Claire had had with aer mom about how Claire couldn’t be her perfect daughter. How could Claire possibly convince aer parents that ae wasn’t their daughter at all? Granted, there was the possibility that they’d be to ecstatic to care about the gender binary when Claire escaped -

No. Ae was never going to escape the Shadow Realm.

Ae slipped out of bed, undoing one of aer long white braids. It had always had the tendency to get horrifically tangled, and that was before aer magic made it so aer hair moved in an otherwise imaginary hurricane. It would tangle enough to make aer cry. Braids were easier. Braids, or short enough hair that Claire wouldn’t have to worry about it tangling, but ae didn’t trust aerself with blades so close to aer own skin.

Ae had mastered walking around aer house as silently as possible. Perhaps ae had become a shadow of aerself here. Silent, and trying not to cause a stir, not to draw attention to aerself.

Claire gazed out aer window to the dark landscape of the Shadow Realm. Morgana was out there.

Or, maybe, ae had become more of aerself here. The shadows obeyed aer will, after all. So had the Shadow Staff. Aer will, and not Morgana’s. It had been so surprisingly easy to steal away the scepter of the Eldritch Queen. Perhaps it had been seeking a monarch as shadowy as itself.

Ae hadn’t had the time for researching and trying to find the perfect label to describe their gender. Now, ae had nothing but time to think and solitude to not worry about someone walking in on aer research. Now, ae had no access to anything that could give aer answers. Ae had tried, but there wasn’t a WiFi connection in the Shadow Realm. Ae couldn’t look anything up online, and it wasn’t like there were any books in the Nuñez household to help aer find the perfect word to describe aer gender.

And yet, Claire felt that ae could call their gender a shadowy void and ae would be incredibly accurate.

A/N: Is Jim actually dead in this? Probably not; Claire is probably just making an assumption because the last time ae saw aer boyfriend he had just jumped in the way of a magical blast that had been meant to take out Claire and aer friends.

#jlaire #claire nuñez #jim lake jr #troll!jim #trollhunters #tales of arcadia #nonbinary!claire #my writing

[ironmandeficiency]

things that happened to me in 2020 (minus january and parts of february bc i have no recollection). they’re in a somewhat cohesive order but some are just thrown in there for a little extra ✨spice✨ (heads up this is a p long list bc i had a wild year)

in 2020 i:

got my first tattoo

got a drastic haircut (from two feet long to an almost-buzz cut)

moved out of an abusive house

spent my first spring break somewhere not at home

found my life becoming an irl found family trope

didn’t go to work from early march until mid august bc of the covid pandemic

ate an edible for the first and last time

celebrated my birthday (heyo)

started writing fanfic on tumblr again for both a main and a collab account after not using tumblr for over a year

got back into star wars, joined the fandom, and started writing fic

discovered my new gender identity & a new name to go along with it

realized that yes i am still a bisexual

got absolutely shitfaced for the first time, forgot how to speak english, and had my first hangover

started making playlists for EVERYTHING

started college classes

had covid and ended up okay but also ruined my college classes

went back to work

went thru a change in my position at work and difficulties w coworkers that were eventually overcome

started watching the mandalorian and discovered pedro pascal

joined the pedro fandom and started writing fanfics for his characters

changed religions

acknowledged toxic behaviors of ppl i know and started to build the courage to call them on it

became a devout plant parent instead of just someone who has plants

had 2-3 relationships that i care abt very much

found a growing sticker obsession with no foreseeable end

had a tonsillectomy

watched john mulaney’s “kid gorgeous” so many times i can now say the jokes with him

got a kitten (goose) and she is literally my baby i love her to the moon and back and would murder for her

but most importantly, all the new friends i made helped keep 2020 from being anywhere near as bad as it could have been. i love you all and would do anything for you fabulous ppl whether i’ve known you from the beginning or if we’re just starting our friendship. even if we haven’t talked in a hot minute, i still love you a hell of a lot. even if you’re not tagged, i still love you. here’s to a 2021 filled with love and positivity and friendship, y’all are precious

@filthybookworm @valkyrieofthehighfae @capricornrabies @hounding-around @catsnkooks @catfishingmorales @scribbledghost @dindjarindiaries @a-dorin @goldafterglow @pikemoreno @morganas-pendragons @clonewarslover55 @klay97 @jadetheaverage @persaloodles @battletales @felucians @beskars @jangohshit @icedcoffeeandgays @obirain @hellotherekenobi @ohhellokenobi @simping-for-fives @wolffescadet @tintinwrites @sacred-things @sunshinepascal @pedropasscals @browneyes-djarin @blue-space-porgs @cherrykenobi @roseofalderaan @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @huliabitch @bitchin-beskar @frannyzooey @anakin-danvers @anakinswhore @nelba @anstarwar @alderaani @leias-left-hair-bun @crimson-dxwn @just-some-girl-92 @ollovae3 @max--phillips @majorshiraharu @mudhornchronicles (and jojo please know that i tried like five times to cheat the tag limit ilysm)

#jj’s on the dumb bitch juice #jay’s 2020 recap #holy shit