#his character arc.. oh. can you hear it. the sound of my heart breaking.

[seastawright]

wow. The beast.

everyone's favorite manifestation of the human hope 🫶 LOOOVE YOU MR MORGANA

#persona 5 #morgana #fanart #dude i havent drawn fanart since 2022 of DE im THRIIIIVING. happy my new mega fixation has a cat that a cat artist like me can draw LMFAO. #I LOVE HIM.... he is beloved. little brat cat and bitchass mf but he is so special to me. #his character arc.. oh. can you hear it. the sound of my heart breaking.

[gold-rhine]

Sub afab! Kaeya x GN Dom! Reader

Repost bc my previous blog got shadowbanned.  Part two of this fic, can be read as standalone, but follows the emotional arc from the first part, so I think it’ll feel more rewarding to read them in order. But you do you, ofc.

Warnings: nsfw, bondage, fingering, oral (character receiving), vaginal and anal sex, overstim, graphic description of a panic attack. It’s a bit intense and angsty at one point, but it gets better, I promise

Wordcount: 4k

Trust me/ You can be sure

You kiss him, enjoying the languid and sensual way his tongue moves against yours, low sweet hum deep inside his throat. His hands are tied to the bedframe above his head, and his body is completely in your power when you slide down, pepper him with kisses, he’s beautiful and silken and arching under you.You suck on his clit briefly and then slide your tongue into his cunt, and his hips lift under your mouth, his legs shuddering and falling apart in pleasure, but his voice is still cocky and ironic, if just a little breathless

“I’m so sorry, I’m afraid that’s a wrong hole. I thought we wanted to try the other one.”

“And I think someone wants to get his smart mouth gagged.”

“You won’t,” he says with an arrogant smirk. “You like hearing me talk.”

He’s gotten more used to the compliments, but that only means he now sounds smug when fishing for them instead of bitterly sarcastic. You still can’t help but indulge him.

“I do,” you smile, straighten up to sprawl next to him, catch his chin in your hand to bring his face next to yours. “But there are ways to shut you up for a few moments without a gag.”

“Oh, you mean with a kiss?” he grins wolfishly, reaches up for you despite the cocky tone. “That’s chea…”

Holding his gaze, you slide two fingers into his cunt and watch him choke on his words, then smile wider and start caressing him in a way you know can drive him crazy in seconds, - thumb roughly at his clit, fingers hooked deep inside him, stroking his sweet spot with slow, methodic pressure.

“I would never cheat like that,” you tell him and you can feel his face heating up in a blush from how close you are. “Not when your mouth looks so pretty gasping for air.”

He blushes brighter and bites his lip harshly to stop himself from gasping, but can’t stop his body from betraying his desire, how he clenches around your fingers, turns from glistening to soaking wet so fast. It’s a different kind of powerlessness from just being tied, helplessness from how well you know him, how precisely you can break him, and he loves that you know it, care to remember it, even if he'll never admit it.

You can tell from experience when he’s about to come, when the thrusts of his hips first turn frantic, then his entire body arches up, desperately lifting off the bed, tense legs spread at the bent knees and breath held. You slide your fingers out before he can finish and he crashes down, glaring at you indignitally and catching his breath before he can speak.

“Oh, sorry, you said something about a wrong hole? I’ll leave it alone then,” you say with a feigned innocence. “Anything you want, as always.”

He groans, rolling his eyes.

“You were not such an insufferable tease when we first met.”

“I’ve learned from the best”, you grin and kiss the corner of his scowling mouth.

You use both lube and his own slick from his throbbing, soaked cunt to coat your fingers, then slide them down and start massaging the tight ring of his asshole.

“Babe,” you tell him softly, “remember, we’re just experimenting for fun. If it doesn’t feel good, tell me, we’ll do something else.”

He flushes, looks away and drawls with pointed irritation.

“Ugh, I wouldn’t tell you I haven’t tried it if I knew you'd make such a big deal out of it. It’s fine.”

Here’s the thing, you know sometimes he tries to hide his own discomfort if he thinks it’ll disappoint you, and also that he only gets so rudely defensive when you hit his sore spot. You can hear his heart racing in his chest even as his voice is confident. The time to be most gentle with Kaeya is when he tries his damnest to be the most unpleasant.

“Okay, just don’t hesitate to say something if it changes,” you bring your mouth to his ear and whisper quietly. “You are more than enough as it is, baby..”

He takes a shaky breath, still refusing to meet your eyes. You don’t pressure him, draw a trail of sloppy wet kisses down his neck, then on his fast rising chest, tense stomach, until covering his swollen clit with your mouth. It doesn’t take long of playing with it to make both of his holes twitch, pulsing open. You press one finger inside and he clenches around it immediately, his entire body tensing up. You glance up to see him arching, his chest with hardened peaks of nipples rising up feverishly in quick frantic breaths.

“Baby, are you okay?”

“Yes, don’t stop,” he says, sounding strangled, and then you catch a barely audible, tiny “please…”

You grin against his pulsing flesh and get to eating him out, with your finger slowly moving inside his tight, tense ass. When you start picking up the rhythm, he moans, hips bucking up to meet your lips, knees shaking and falling apart, toes scraping at the bedsheets.

“So you *do* like it,” you smile, actually relieved at this undeniable display of pleasure, no longer needing to worry that he tries to hide his discomfort for your sake.

“Can you…” he swallows harshly, still doesn’t look at you, even though his hips are rising eagerly to meet your movements. “I want you in my cunt too…”

You smirk and slide your thumb into his wet, trembling entrance, suck on his puffy clit. He lets out a choked noise, something between the strangled moan and a needy whine, his pussy clenches, gushing with wetness. Hiis legs jerk up to press his knees to his chest and offer himself better to you, toes curling in the air.

“Oh, so you *really* like it, hah?” you smile, move your tongue along his beautiful quivering folds and sliding another finger into his ass, eliciting another moan, his legs raising even higher up to expose himself. It’s humiliating, but he can’t help it, wants to be open for you, loves this feeling of being filled by you, wants even more, wants you in his mouth too, even if he’s too proud to admit it, having already openly asked for too much.

But you see him lick his lips and bite them, gasp, opening his mouth wider than he had to. You slide two fingers of your free hand into his mouth, and he shudders, tenses up, looking up at you paralyzed, like a deer caught in headlights. Before this moment, he didn’t know he wanted this so badly, but now it takes over him, how good it feels to be so open, all of him in your disposal, all of his holes, and how you still look at him with such a hunger, like you want even more, like you want all of him  

“Fuck, look at you. You’re so beautiful. And you’re mine,” you fuck into him, his cunt, his ass, and his mouth, and he trembles and arches, eyelashes fluttering helplessly. “Everything you have, I’ll take you whole.”

He comes harder than he’s ever had before, scream muffled by your fingers in his throat, cunt squirting on your hand, his mind completely black and blank, nothing but the waves of pleasure. You let him ride through orgasm until he goes limp, slide your fingers out and move to untie his hands, but he arches up into you feverishly, closes his legs around you.

“No, please, don’t stop yet,” part of him is embarrassed of how quickly he came, even larger part wants more of this thoughtless bliss, but there’s an unspoken, shameful undercurrent that aches to be held, can’t stand the thought of losing the feeling of being wanted so completely. (you offer him aftercare after every session and he shrugs it off, too proud of being in control, confusing genuine care for pity, because despite being brilliantly smart, he is sometimes a complete idiot) “I want more. I want you to fuck both of my holes, hard.”

“Are you sure you can take it right now?” you pause, looming over him. “It seemed pretty intense for you, baby. We can always try it next time.”

“No, let’s do it now.” He smiles seductively, his voice turning into a purr, but with a wry edge. “Come on, don’t you want me? Haven’t you promised me so many times, “anything for you”?”

You do want him, especially because he’s begging, so openly needy, arching and rubbing against you, without any irony or performative flirting. Here’s another thing. You think he has experience and knows his limits, so you can trust him when he says he can take it, and he thinks that being traumatized in other areas somehow makes him tougher in this one. This is, of course, not how it works.

You get the harness that lets you add a strap in addition to the first starp\cock. He’s on his knees in front of you, tied arms bent at the elbows, back arched and ass high in the air, exposing his soaked cunt. You cup it with your hand and stroke his swollen, pulsing clit, and he bites back a needy moan, rubs against your palm desperately, the slick petals of his folds visibly trembling open.

“Just fuck me already.”

“You can’t blame me for enjoying the sight. It’s not every day I see you begging to be used.”

“You could be,” he says quietly after a small pause.

You raise an eyebrow and make a mental note to bring it up later. You haven’t discussed many terms outside of the bedroom, and from his independent and flirty attitude you’ve assumed he wouldn’t want to be exclusive. He still didn’t tell you that he hasn't slept with anyone else, for which he has completely rational reasons, such as why would he go try some untested swivel when he already has a source of delicious wine, it makes complete sense without bringing feelings into this. And also all of the time that you’re not fucking him, he’s very glad that you don’t ask him to be yours, because that’s just more convinient for everyone involved, and the fact that he feels like dying if you don’t say it when you’re inside him is just. Hormones. Or kink. Or both, but who cares, it doesn’t matter.  

For now, you align the heads of both cocks against his entrances and carefully press into him. He shudders, gasping, an unfamiliar overwhelming sensation of both of his holes being stretched at the same time. You move slowly, give him time to adjust before every thrust, run your hand soothingly over the tense muscles of his back. He’s usually not very loud, but now he moans with every movement, tied hands clawing at the bedsheets. He feels so full, like there’s no way he could take any more and yet every time you push deeper, until both of your cocks are buried inside him to the hilt.

You lean down, gently move away the long strand of midnight blue hair to kiss his stiff shoulder, whisper into his ear, sweet and dirty. His forehead, damp from sweat, is pressed to the sheets, eyes squeezed shut, mouth opening silently in gasps for air. You hold him from behind, your chest against his back, one of your hands caresses his throat and then trails down to play with his nipples, another hand slides in between his thighs to stroke his swollen clit. He turns his head abruptly to catch your mouth in an characteristically clumsy, awkward kiss, his entire body writhing against you with needy abandon, his mind too far gone in pleasure to be concerned with pride. He comes like that, just from the feeling of you all around him and filling him up.

It’s so rare to see him unraveled so completely for longer than a fleeting moment after which his defenses go up again. You want to fuck him so badly, he’s so pliant in your arms, sweet and wet and open, but you contain yourself to ask

“Hey, baby, are you okay? Do you want more?”

“Yes,” he says immediately. He’s dizzy and breathless, but all he knows through the fog of pleasure is that it feels so good and he doesn’t want it to stop, doesn’t want you to let go of him. “Don’t stop.”

You don’t need anymore encouragement, start fucking him, slow at first and then raising the pace. He screams, choked and so unlike himself that you’d be worried he’s in pain if he wasn’t screaming “Yes” and “Please”. You dig your fingers into his hips, enjoy the obscene sounds of skin slapping on skin, of his gushing wet cunt being fucked.

It doesn’t feel like usual orgasm for him, not the tight knot in the pit of the stomach, but lightning bright currents rolling through his entire aching body, turning him raw and overwhelmed, like he doesn’t even belong to himself anymore, filled and used so deeply by you. After a little while, he loses both his mind and control completely, his mouth going slack and his eyes rolling, his body trembling and shaking helplessly under you. He almost blacks out when he comes, his screams turning more and more desperate until you stop, slide out of him.

You only move away for a minute to take off the harness, thinking he’s too far gone to care. He doesn’t exactly come to his senses, but the deep-ridden survival instinct urges him to take control. His mind is still blank and dizzy, black rings under his eyelids and heart drumming in his ears, and all he knows is that he’s alone and weak, so weak and helpless and TIED, he can’t move, so he struggles, pulls at his ties, but can’t break free and he’s horrified.

You turn back at the high clinking sound and see the icy crystalyne shield forming around him.  It looks fragile like cut glass, but the thought of forcefully smashing it, while he’s curled inside, scared and desperately trying to break free, is sickening. He’s weirdly quiet, he screamed in pleasure while you held him, but now he’s biting his lip and struggling silently, his eyes shut, his heart beating way too fast and his ears ringing, like he’s so sure he has no no one to help if he calls.

“Kaeya, it’s me, it’s okay, baby,” you touch the shield and it freezes your fingertips, but you don’t move away. “You need to drop your shield, darling, it’ll be okay, please, my love, you have to let go...”

You keep talking and gradually it gets through the ringing in his ears, he still can barely understand the words, but he can recognize that it’s you. All of his survival instincts scream to not trust you, not trust anything you say, because anyone can turn on him at any time, so he can never let his guard down. …but it’s your voice asking him to let you in.

He chokes on the breath, his arms tense and wringed in the ties, and drops the shield.

You move immediately, scoop him close to your chest, hold his shivering body with one arm, and clumsily try to untie his hands with the other. It’s not easy, but you’re afraid to let him go, and he’s shaking against you. You finally manage to free him and he curls against you, only now starting to sob. His wrists have deep red marks from the ties from where he pulled too harshly on them, trying to wring them out. You gently kiss the sensitive bruised skin of his inner wrists and keep telling him that it’s okay, he’s safe, you’ve got him.

He actually comes to his senses some time after, and the first thing he thinks of is how embarrassing this is. There’s a difference between being seductively helpless and horribly pathetic and he never intended to cross that line. He pushes you away, stands up, determined, if a little wobbly, and stumbles his way to the bathroom, holding onto the walls.

“I’m fine,” he snaps when you try to help him, but it’s hard to be pissed at his tone when he’s still so visibly weak and disoriented. You help him settle in the bathtub as the warm water fills up to cover him when the subject comes to him leaving after this.

“Are you kidding me? You cannot leave like that,” you say incredulously, and his gaze suddenly sharpens, turns cold blue.

“Why? You think you can actually order me around?” he drawls, voice dripping with sarcasm, but you don’t take the bait. You cover his hand with your own, look him in the eye and say slowly

“Kaeya, don’t be ridiculous. I won’t let you go alone in this state,” he visibly bristles, tensing under your hand and you continue calmly, “You can sleep on the sofa and never talk to me again after this if you want, but I won’t leave you alone like that.”

He looks away and tenses up, quiet for a long time, until he finally says “Okay, fine. Can you leave me be for a little while here at least?”

“Of course,” you squeeze his hand and stand up, fighting the urge to kiss him when he’s so obviously closed off. He still doesn’t look at you when you walk out of the bathroom.

You prepare the sofa for him and go to bed. He appears on the threshold of the bathroom sometime after, wearing your oversized t-shirt. Kaeya is someone who can make a potato sack look good, quite literally. Illuminated by the orange light from behind, ruffled hair and long slender legs and just a little of a curve of his ass visible under the baggy shirt, he looks incredibly hot.

He turns the bathroom light off and walks out to the other room with the sofa. He lingers at the threshold, glancing briefly back at you. You’re not sure if asking him to come to you will help or only spook him away, so you keep silent. After some hesitation, he walks out of the room and vanishes out of sight. You sigh and close your eyes.

Few minutes later, you look up at the quiet sound of the steps. He walks up to your bed slowly, a silvery silhouette, illuminated by the moonlight, but his eyes are invisible in the shadows.

“I thought if I’m staying at your place, I might as well enjoy the best sheets, which you will obviously have at your own bed,” his voice is confident, even cavalier, but he wavers in front of your bed, uncertain of your response.

“Of course. It’s the least I can offer you,” you smile at him in reassurance. He gives you a small, barely noticeable in the dark smirk, and finally climbs into the bed. Despite his arrogant tone, he freezes at the very edge of the bed, his back to you, visibly trying to take as little space as possible. His silhouette is sharp and tense in the moonlight and he pulls just enough of covers to put over his waist, laying exposed otherwise. It breaks your heart for some reason you can’t quite articulate at the moment, how lonely and guarded he looks just next to you, and you want to just reach out and pull him closer, but remember the cold crystalline shield and don’t do it. Instead, you carefully pull the bed cover onto him. After a few minutes, when you close your eyes and start to adjust to the cool air without the covers, he scoots over to you, bringing the sheets back to cover both of you.

You smile and softly kiss the back of his neck. He doesn’t say anything, but leans back against you, so you throw an arm over his waist and fall asleep, holding him close.

When you wake up the next morning and start stirring, the first thing you see is him looking up at you sharply, like he’s reading your reaction to seeing him. He only relaxes when you smile and say “Oh hey there, gorgeous.”

He grins and presses against you, sprawled at your side, catches your mouth in a kiss. He’s eager to prove to you that yesterday was just a fluke, that he can compensate for all the trouble, that he’s certainly, undoubtedly worth it.

He has nothing under his shirt and when you slide your hand up his thigh, it rides up, exposing his naked ass. He throws his leg over you, grinds against you a little too aggressively, when through the fog of morning sleepiness and lust you finally remember what happened last night and stop moving.

“Wait, I think you should rest up for at least a day, baby, let’s wait.”

“Ugh, I’m fine, don’t be such a bore.”

“You said you were fine yesterday and then almost gave me a heart attack. Sorry, I’m not risking it again.”

You say it in a light tone, so you don’t expect his response to be heated, but he abruptly moves away and glares at you, tensing up.

“So what, you’re just going to throw me out like that? Fine, I’ll go and finally fuck someone else then.”

“Kaeya, what the fuck are you talking about? Of course I won’t throw you out.“ He still stares at you incredulously so you throw an arm around his shoulders and pull him down on the bed next to you. “Come here. It’s way too early for this, babe.”

He freezes up against you, staring at the ceiling, your arm that’s holding him close burning him like a hot iron, but he can’t move. The sprouts of tenderness crawl under his collarbones, insidious and unwanted, his calculating mind frantically searching for any motives that aren't caring about him for you. He watches dust dance in early rays of slanted sunrise and wills himself to move away, to leave, but can’t. Fine then, if he can’t bring himself to leave, it’s not like being left instead was ever hard for him to achieve.

You start dozing off, your cheek pressed against his soft hair, when the thought of what he meant when he said finally fuck someone else crosses your mind. But before you can think about it any deeper, he plants his arm across your face.

You catch his wrist and gently move it away, squinting at him.

“Kaeya, are you trying to be annoying enough to make me throw you out to prove a point?”’

“No,” he grins pleasantly, his voice sweet. “I’m trying to find out “how” annoying I have to be to make you throw me out.”

“I won’t ever throw you out,” you tell him almost solemnly, holding his gaze, that is anxious under bravado if you know him well enough. Then you smirk at him. “But I might be forced to whack you with a pillow if you keep this up.”

He looks over you intently, his eyes searching, questioning if you really meant it, but then he grins back.

“Then I have to warn you that I’m ruthlessly proficient at pillow fighting, being an undisputed champion at the dawn winery except for the five months after Diluc hit the growth sprout first and his strategy of falling down like a cut tree log was paying off due to the sheer size advantage.”

“Hmm, it doesn’t sound like you’ve been winning due to skill then, maybe you’ve just never met a worthy opponent.”’

“Well, now I’ll have to defend the honor of my doofus brother. I can call him useless, but other people can’t.”

“I need to take your threats seriously then,” you catch his chin and gently rub under it in a way you know makes him melt. Then you kiss him and reach around to steal his pillow while he’s distracted. “So I better make sure you’re disarmed.”

He gasps in exaggerated dismay, not even trying to hide a grin at the same time.

“I cannot believe you’ve backstabbed me like that,” he says, sounding delighted, and breaks into laughter. It strikes you that you’ve never seen him laugh so carefree and openly, without reservations, not just a wry chuckle or a smirk, and how lovely and happy he looks like that. “I hope you understand that you leave me no choice but to retaliate just as ruthlessly.”

You smile at him, hoarding both of your pillows behind your back.

“Of course. Anything you want, as always.”

#rhine writes #rhine writes filth #sub kaeya #genshin smut #sub genshin #kaeya

[prettypei]

“IS THIS OUR LAST GOODBYE?”

plot: goodbyes with suguru; angst!

reader: gn! Reader

warnings: big spoilers for teen years! suguru and shibuya arc, reader is an orphan in this, mentions of blood and violence

(a/n): he’s such a well written character

GETO SUGURU hears a knocking on his door. One fast, two slow. "Come in, (name)." You open the door slowly as you step in his room. "Hey! How was the mission with gojo?" You flop on his bed. You had just returned from overseas and were excited to see your boyfriend. However, something about him seems a little off. "It was...fine." He doesn't look at you, as he's still staring at his hands. He's changed into a white shirt and baggy pants, and his hair's still dripping from the shower he took earlier. "Your tone indicates it doesn't sound fine." You turn your head too look at him. "What's wrong?" He doesn't answer, as he's still staring at the floor. "Suguru?" You're genuinely concerned about him now, your eyes practically begging an answer from him. Suguru had changed. You noticed the dark eyebags and weary posture and the way he looked so...helpless.

"(name)." "Hmm?" "Did you ever think about why you became a jujustu sorcerer?"You ponder for a minute, thinking about his words. "Well...I wanted to help everyone. I...my parents suffered when I was still young, and I never want to see anyone go through what I went through when I was young." There was a pause. "I see." "Hey." You scooted closer to him, putting your had on his lap. "I don't know what happened but...I'm gonna be here for you, okay? You don't have to tell me now or ever, but... you know. I'm still your lover." The slightest flicker of emotion flies over Geto's face as he smiles, making your heart start beating again. "Yeah. Thanks."

-

"Uh-wait a second." You were fumbling with your wallet, searching for your credit card, until you remembered that you left it in your room. "Shit." You think, offering an apologetic smile to the cashier who wore an unamused face. "I-I am so sorry I forgot to-" "I'll pay." A taller gentleman stepped in front of you, thrusting a couple of dollars to the cashier. "Keep the change, by the way." You breathe a sigh of relief as you leave with your items. "Thank you so mu..." Your voice trails off as you get a good look at his face.

Suguru.

"Hello, (name)." He smiles a genuine smile at you while you were frozen in your spot. "Wh-wha-what-" "Why am I here? I'm buying stuff for my adopted daughters!" What...what was he doing here? You still remembered the day when Yaga broke the news to you, as you were too shocked to comprehend the news. Suguru? Killing people? It was too absurd to believe, so you went with your best coping mechanism: burying yourself in your work so you would forget about it eventually. But now, just when you were getting over him, he appears? "Well, that's not completely true." He offers you a bashful chuckle. "I came here to see you! I heard from Satoru you were here shopping, so I decided to come visit you, and recruit you!" "Recruit?" You were genuinely confused now. "What do you mean, Geto?" "Awwww no first name basis, babe? Alright, alright. What I'm saying is..." His tone takes on a more serious one.

"Join me."

"JOIN YOU?" You gave him an incredulous look. "You killed all those innocent people! I-I was so heartbroken when I_" "You don't get it!" He snaps. "AND YOU LEFT ME ALONE! You fled, Geto. You fled and left me, all alone." Your voice is breaking now, your eyes threatening to spill out tears. His eyes soften slightly. "Oh, (name), that's why I'll never leave you again if you join me. You can still be my (name). Us! Together with my family!" "Y-You killed your own family, Geto." You choke on your own words, angry at how unbothered he is with the situation. "You-You're sick!" "Don't say that," He smiles at you once again. "My family consists of more of them now. So, whaddya say, angel?" He chuckles. "You still look the same after all these months."

"N-no."

His face falters at those words. "No?"

"No, Geto, I won't. Too many are suffering now, and-and I'll save them, I have to, it's my duty." You feel yourself clenching your fists. "I-I can't do it."

"I see." His face darkens. "That's how it is." He turns his back.

"Is this goodbye...again?" You whisper. You were so close, so close to your Suguru once again, but you had to let him go.

"Yeah." He pauses for a second, thinking about what he should say to you.

"I love you. I've always loved you. And I will continue doing so, (name)." He pauses, expecting you to say it back. "next time we meet, I won't be your lover. I will be your enemy."

"Yeah." You whisper. "Me too, Suguru."

-

“well, well.” You turn yourself to face the man whom you loved so many years ago, but this… was not geto suguru. He was being possessed. “If it isn’t the famous (name). I’ve heard about you, but your abilities are weak. The only thing that’s keeping you here is because of your long years of training overseas. You won’t be an obstacle.”

“You sure about that?” You grin as you brandish your katana. “If I go down, I’m gonna go down beating your ass, kenjaku.”

“Are you sure I’m not your darling suguru?” Kenjaku smirks. “You know, he’s still trying to reach out to you. I can still hear his thoughts in my brain. That dumb fuck still thinks he can contact you with telepathy.” He scoffs. “Weak.”

Your body stiffens as you hear his words. Suguru… He grins at the sight of this. “Oh my. I have hitten a sore spot, haven’t I?” You snarl in reply, charging towards him with your weapon in hand, determined to kill your dead lover.

#pei writes 🖋️ #jjk geto #jujustu kaisen #jujustu kaisen x reader #jujutsu geto #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto angst #getou suguru x reader #jjk suguru

[undeadbanjos]

So... About the Engie theory

Don't.. Don't shoot yet.

So. If you read ALWY you saw the chapter I posted today.

The chapter that had the base of my idea for

Who the hell is this guy in the lore?

If you haven't read ALWY. Well. I don't blame you. It's ending with 80 chapters. Yes I'm insane. And this might sound stupid. But oh well.

Here's the basis.

This moment was the start of it. The moment you, the captain are holding on to Mark for dear life. The moment you are making the biggest decision of the run. The moment where

Actually, where everything went to shit in the first place.

What made me start thinking was something Mark said during the in space explaination

Which yes, that is the center of what Mark's CU boil down to as like... A theme.

But BEFORE that. He says this:

He goes on to say that with the multitude of different universe, this can be the bridge to all of it coming together. That while, yes this story takes place in the future, this moment.... may not That Engie, creating the warp core and catastrophic worm hole is what created this entire cinematic universe. That our Engie, dangling over the rift in space time with you holding on to him, is accidently creating universes in which you and he, have a role. His personalities split, and so do yours.

"Okay Banjos you lost me."

Hold on. Hah. Hold on. But seriously.

Mark says in this that Actor, Wilford, and Dark are more so different parts of his personality. And well.

Engie has his moments that represent... All of them.

Engineer Mark is the most complicated character, probably the one we spend the most time with. He has multiple arcs. Sometimes we come across us and he's gone mad. Sometimes he's melded well within the universe he's in. Sometimes he's murderous, sometimes he's overly confident, sometimes he's a big ol sweetie heart.

No. No. I'm not saying Engie is actor. That's already debunked. Look up at the last screenshot silly goose.

I'm saying Actor is part of Engie.

And so are the rest of them.

"Well what about Illinois, Magnum, Murdock, Yancy-"

Okay okay yeah. I don't have evidence to back up all of those. And they might not be connected. But. I... I always found these parts of Space Part II...... A little weird.

You as the captain can break Mark into doing whatever the hell he's doing and just.

Remember.

I think these are just parts of him thrust into different stories. Not full blown parts of his personality. But

Another Mark. In another situation. In another what if-

This is.... Making less and less sense. But I think the very basis is there.

It's... Something. Im not stomping my foot and saying

This is it and I don't want to hear anything else.

And I mean. This is just based on things that Mark said. I am very likely not the first person to like. Pioneer this. I really didn't want to bring it up until I did in my fic.

And now THAT'S done so.

I dunno. Discuss. Yell at me. It's just a theory

A SPACE THEORY

Okay I'll see myself out

#iswm #engineer mark #markiplier egos #mark cu #in space with markiplier

[hummingbirdsinjune]

My School President Ep 12 thought dump (there are spoilers)

- The relief that Tinn's mom didn't force him to come out is astronomical. There is a very clear difference in Gun's comfort with his mom, and Tinn's reservation with his own parents. It's so so so important for him to come out on his own terms and a very big step for her to realize that when she saw how nervous he was.

- Tinn's mom forever. I'm actually glad we meet her as his mom in MSP before MLC because I have a feeling we really won't like her in MLC.

- That honest conversation queer youth has about knowing not everyone is accepting. So important coming from Gunn, to support Tinn after Tinn has supported him all this tim

- I don't know if I can watch this because Tiw's faces are too funny

- That's right Tiw take the credit you deserve

- The girlies returned!! Sob they're so cute

- Tinn entering his angry at the world arc in the last episode is wild. Now that he doesn't have Gun's success to focus on, I imagine he's going to dismantle the government.

- not the TANDEM BIKE on god that's the wildest thing in this show

- Tinn really said "you miss 100% of the chances you don't take"

- AH. AH. NSKXKGKSKSIC WHAT.

- Sigh. I hope the stress doesn't last long lmao

- "Sound and I have no secrets" excuse me while I go cry

- Pat lmao right to the point. Por being so dumb. Yo finally using his 1 braincell. I love these kids.

- Gunn's friends 🤝 love, support, and happiness

-;Gun trying to help Tinn like just break my heart already

- oh yes more umbrella gays

- no I don't like crying gun I physically can't handle it

- aww so much of the school being supportive even though it's very weird to take and share photos of people without them saying it's okay but w/e you know for the sake of fiction

- literally stopping every 30 seconds to laugh at Chinzilla cooing over each other

- damn they really called us out about GunTinn or TinnGun lmao (yeah yeah Gun said GunTinn but of course he would. I'll stick with TinnGun)

- Obviously we knew from the preview that the comically bad guidance counselor is actually a close minded, judgemental person but it doesn't stop it from being shocking

- OH MY GOD IT WASNT TINN THROWING HANDS (screaming into the void)

- See this is why I refrained from saying anything bad about Kajorn. He's always been ripe for a character arc.

- Tinn's mom took her development in strides. I've been disappointed in her, and I am very proud of her. She just needed the time to adjust how she was looking

- I will live and die for happy Kajorn he's been uptight this whole series

- hehe SoundWin

- Here I was in my feeling about this being almost over and I'm not actually in part 4 yet lmao

- ep 12 is long AF lmao

- my soul. The TiwPor glances

- did they never get juniors? LOL the music club is doomed

- ayyyye Win get your man yes sir 🤭

- the contrast of kissing in this episode compared to the entire season has me like 😳 y'all I'm GROWN

- aw Pat 😂

- sound just?? Left his guitar?? that HE brought to school instead of a backpack?

- actually not hearing Tinn sing more is a crime

- Tinn's dad is such a dad lmfao

- Tinn 🤝 Tinn's Dad 🤝 The Thunder

- Gun you menace

-GUN

- no official TiwPor 😭

#my school president #my School President spoilers

[babyboybokuto]

hiii cece hope you're having a great day/night ♡ i wanted to return the favor and ask you something !! sooo i wanted to know your favorite characters of all time, like your top 5, and if u want to i would like to know why !! i just think u can learn a lot from someone by their favorite blorbos lol

OOOOOO this is a good one, ok in no particular order (because I just can’t I love them all so much) I’m gonna say my top 5 are

1) Bokuto (obv, that’s my sunshine cinnamon apple)

My best friend was the one to get me into Haikyuu and the first character I actually loved was Nishinoya, but when this himbo ball of light came on screen my heart was like “him, that’s our boy”

Also fun fact I’m actually such a hater lowkey because in my first year of college (before I was into anime) my ex was actually watching Haikyuu and I walked in on her crying over an episode and I looked at her like 🤨 what is wrong with you crying over some pictures (oh how the turnt tables am I right)

2) Gon and Killua (you can’t separate them)

My babies my sons my everything’s , HxH had such a big impact on me and it took me FOREVER to watch it so it was a part of my routine for a while and it sounds silly to say I was inspired by some 12 year olds but genuinely I was I absolutely love their characters and their development throughout the story

3) Nobara (best girl)

From the moment she showed up on screen I have loved this girl so much she’s so sassy and funny and she is so sure about herself her sense of self is something I can only dream to have and she’s such a fucking badass her technique is incredible and I miss her so much GEGE BRING HER BACK

4) Gojo

Riding that jjk train still it’s actually really funny because I actually hated Gojo when I first watched season 1, I found him to be arrogant and annoying, and then I read the manga and I realized that the reason I hate him was not really because he’s arrogant and annoying (which he is) but it’s because I saw myself in him (tragic I know) and then especially after I read Hidden Inventory arc my entire perspective changed and I realized he’s actually a character I treasure very much and I love him

5) Zoro and Sanji (another package deal sorry)

Now hear me out right I am like 0.000001% of the way through one piece (I’m on like episode 140) but the way these characters have stolen my heart is insane, and do I happen to also simp for both of them?? Yes, but the point is that their actual characters are so amazing to me and I know there’s still more of Sanjis backstory that I haven’t really seen and it’s most likely going to break me but I just have such a love for them and their dynamic so I’m gonna say they’re top five for me; the way that Zoro is so dedicated and loyal is something I find to be an incredible aspect of him (not to mention his talents as a swordsman), and Sanji cares so deeply for people and is such a caretaker and the fact that he is able to fight using only his legs is also incredible to me

So those are my top 5 (7?) favorite blorbos and a little bit as to why , idk why I stuck specifically to anime because I definitely have favorite characters from other forms of media but this is just what my brain wanted to supply at this very moment

thank you for the question carmen 🥺🫶🏼

#🫧 cece’s answers 🫧

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Hi! I stumbled upon your "Happy Cry" story in the "Ringing Silence" series, and my day is instantly brighter!! 🥰 I was going to put this in a reply there but ran out of space so I'm sending it in an ask instead 😅 (hope that's alright). It was adorable—such wonderful spatial brother fluff and hurt/comfort with so many great little details! 💖 I love this idea of talking about what happened in Spade being a catalyst for Langris & Finral beginning to rebuild their brotherly relationship. I can absolutely see Langris overthinking it and running in circles trying to understand Finral’s actions. I imagine that growing up in an environment where he was denied unconditional love and forced to “earn it” by living up to his parents unrealistic expectations (and even then, still never being enough) makes it difficult for Langris to believe that there is such a thing as love without strings attached, and you did such a great job of capturing that in this story. It was so clear in your writing that he was confused and wary of the love that his brother clearly has for him. Finral loves his brother with everything he has—without strings and without expecting anything in return, and I just adored how almost automatic his reassurance is in your story that yes, of course he loves his brother. He doesn’t even have to think about it, just like he doesn’t even have to think about jumping in to protect him. Also, can I just say, Finral being so generous with his words and his verbal affirmations of Langris was just perfectly in character! After all, Finral himself can live for years on a good compliment, so I can absolutely see him trying to build up Langris in a similar way by telling him that he loves him and is proud of him. (Finral’s thought that it sounded like something Vanessa would say was just the cherry on top! I love the circle of positive coping and words of affirmation!! Yami builds up & encourages Vanessa when he breaks into her tower (and the memory helps her build her own confidence & save her friends in the Forest of Witches) —Vanessa builds up & encourages Finral (at the Royal Knights Exam and probably other times too) — Finral builds up & encourages Langris in your story! This is good stuff!! 😄) I was really struck by Finral’s reasoning behind it too—that he’s telling Langris the words he would’ve wanted to hear, and I really think that, even if Finral wouldn’t know it, Langris would want to hear these same words himself. I think because Finral is one of those characters who wears his heart on his sleeve and is one we get to spend a bit of time with in the canon, it’s easy to see that his story and character arc is really marked by a deep desire for the unconditional love he never recieved as a child (arguably even his penchant for excessive flirting is a symptom of the fact he is really just starving for real love and acceptance), but I really think you’ve just perfectly hit the nail on the head with Langris in your story in that he also is starving for that kind of unconditional love, he just doesn’t think he deserves it and unlike Finral, he is looking for it in accomplishments, successes, & achievements—really trying to “earn it” by being the best and failing to understand that love is given, not earned. I don’t have words for what it did to my heart to have him realise in this story that his brother loves him and had really loved him all along without him needing to earn it. That line “Finral was the first, along with Finesse, to accept him as just who he was. He didn’t need to earn it.” was everything!! Oh my heart!! 💗 This is already getting super long so I won’t ramble too much about this, but I am positively just giddy and delighted that you’ve included Finesse in there as well! She really does care for both of her spatial boys very much, and though she & Langris got off to a bit a rocky start (at least on Langris’ side), I have always gotten the impression that they do care for each other and are friends so it’s nice to see that included here too! 🥰 Thanks so much for writing this!! I loved it very much!!

Hiya!

Yeah, it's absolutely alright! ^^

I sometimes have a habit of taking an event in canon, and based on that start to formulate my view of the characters in question. And Finral's and Langri's brotherly relationship is one of those.

In a way, writing these fics is an exploration into canon for me, and I didn't really have a plan while writing it, but I absolutely agree with everything you said. Actually, the "it sounded a lot like something Vanessa would say", was something that... well, while writing, I wrote down the line, and went "I like this line, but it's not... 100% Finral to me". But it did sound like something he might say, while quoting someone. So I decided to keep it, and I'm super glad to hear that you thought it to be "the cherry on top"!

Langris is yet another tragic character in BC to me, and it didn't really click with me until I sat down to write a piece for him (In the Sing a Song series, in case you're interested), and I realized the very same thing. He has had to earn the "love" he got from his parents.

But um, long story short; I am absolutely delighted that I made you giddy with the story! ^^ Thank you very much for the lovely feedback!

#acacia #flamelets #black clover fanfiction #fic feedback

[rottenbrainstuff]

BG3 - The Iron Throne, Ansur, and the Steel Foundry

My kids weren’t here this weekend so I did a binge, spoilers below.

The Iron Throne… mannnnnn… I guess nothing in Act 3 is easy anymore. Even on my easy-level ass with two whole extra turns, I still found this a pain in the ass. Took me three complete back-to-start reloads to get my strategy right. (strategy was - bring lots of summons and make them do all the fighting, send Shadowheart to get the Duke so that you can heal him before he dies from Mizora’s spiders (if you didn’t have Wyll re-sign a contract, that is), send Astarion and another companion to the right (west side) to release prisoners and Astarion can book it down the hall and loot the two chests, and send your tav and Scratch down the chamber straight ahead (south) to release prisoners, and your tav can book it to Omeluum. By the time I attempted it a third time I had things pretty figured out, and I even managed to grab loot and books. (in case you didn’t, the notes and books indicate they’re doing fucked up psionic / medical experiments on the prisoners, and are soon just going to get rid of them all)

Ulder Ravengard, man. I’m glad we got a chance to explain things to him and him and Wyll have patched things up but DAMN I was not impressed with what a dick he was being. Damn Wyll I’m so sorry.

Omeluum is so cute, acting almost surprised we even bothered to save it. I really like it, it’s such an interesting contrast to the Emperor. On the one hand we have a mindflayer who appears quite alien and speaks in an unrelateable detached way, but its actions are genuinely helpful. Everything it does really does seem to indicate it has quite genuinely given up traditional evil mindflayer pursuits, and it’s even attempting to research a dietary substitute for brains. And then you have this other mindflayer who makes a great big song and dance about being relatable, being trustable, oh it’s an adventurer just like us, look at all these little sentimental objects from its past, oh it wants the same things as us, oh it can show us even a whole different level of intimacy and power… but (in my opinion) this is all standard mindflayer 101 behaviour, 100% just grasping at ambition to eventually situate itself as its own elder brain eventually, and I don’t trust it it at all. Friendship ended with the EMPEROR: now OMELUUM is my best friend.

(it’s so hard using “it” pronouns for the mindflayers! “It” is usually a pronoun for inanimate objects in english, “it” just sounds so rude, I have a hard time saying it, I kind of wish they used “they” instead. I’m trying!)

After that we snuck back in to the Wyrm’s Rock prison and did the Ansur stuff. I think it’s neat that the Emperor is a complicated character and there are some players who like it, but me, my tav is done with its bullshit. More lies by ommision, more babbling about illithid superiority. I told it that it sounded like being an illithid was more important than any of its friendships and it said, quite bluntly, yes, it is. And it keeps blabbering on about its wonderful illithid potential and how it could achieve so manny great things, but I haven’t heard it talk too much about what its ultimate plans are, because I’m assuming its plans are along the lines of “one day become an even more powerful elder brain”. Poor Ansur. Look I know planning to kill your good friend / more than friend??? is not… nice… but I’d personally love to hear why Ansur thought that was the only option available. And I get the whole, how heart breaking it must be that your closest person in your life can’t accept you after something has happened to you, but… once again… it very bluntly said, being an illithid is more important than its friendships. So. Fuck that. My tav is done. No more squid bullshit. In his head, my tav is planning out how and when they’re going to go and show the orphic hammer to Voss.

So…… after all of this…… I guess Wyll gets what is supposed to be the big conclusion to his arc. Wow. Damn I’m sorry, Wyll. I see now why everyone is complaining about his character. The conversation I had with Wyll was so bizarre and weirdly written… first he’s despairing because Ansur is dead and he feels hope is lost. The Emperor says well look at it this way, you guys are the heroes who have come this far and done all these great things, Baldur’s Gate doesn’t need a dragon, you can be the winning tide! And then Wyll, immediately, is like oh wow you’re totally right, wow we’re heroes, everyone will hail us as heroes, wheee maybe I’ll even be an arch duke! I didn’t know what to say to him, this bizarre conversation and this sudden lust for power from a character who has never expressed an interest in that regard was weirding me out, so I was like man Wyll, just do what your heart says. And then Wyll was like yeah you’re right. Scratch that, third option, heroes are out of touch and so are politicians, imma go hunt devils! Wow ok. And then after that, you go back to camp and have the exact same conversation with Ulder, as if you didn’t talk about any of it.

That’s really unfortunate. Wyll is a really nice character, and his story moreso than anyone else in the party ties in directly to what’s happening to the city, but he gets written a bit blandly, and then he barely gets a proper conclusion, just some weird buggy dialogue and an unsatisfying choice.

BTW: I know duke is positioned as the “bad end”, I think, and I know that you have to be the Blade of Avernus to get Karlach’s best ending, but… Honestly? I think Wyll should be a duke. Running around hunting devils is certainly *exciting* (though how he plans to do that without his warlock powers, I’m not really too sure…) but I feel like, after the big battle is finally over, joining his father to rebuild the city is the best way to help the people. The First will be in disarray, Gortash has left a big power vacuum, the city, I am assuming, will need major repairs, and someone needs to effectively help the refugees that have been piling up at the city edge. I think that would be amazing for a good-hearted, idealistic young man to step up and help rebuild. Plus I think it’s a nice little conclusion to his issues with his dad - his dad can finally see all the good his son has done, welcomes him back, and works along side him now. But nope! This isn’t the right ending. If you do it, the companions all grumble about politics and corruption, and then (if you haven’t romanced her) there’s no one to convince Karlach to go to Avernus at the end, so she burns. Not too happy. Oh well. It’s a shame Wyll, you’re a really sweet guy, I wish your story had time for a bit more polish.

(and btw - feeling disappointed is fine - HARASSING THE DEVS ABOUT IT IS NOT FINE, please don’t fucking do that)

After that, I went to go blow up the Steel Watch Foundry. Should be easy right? Man nothing in act 3 is easy now. UGH. I’m not sure how this plays out differently if you do the watch first before the foundry? I heard the Gondians don’t attack the banites and help in the fight? Man, freaking… like, sneaking in was annoying, the main floor fight was whatever, but fuck me, the fight in the basement… I spent hours reloading that, hours. In the end I got rid of all the banites and the steel watch in two turns, but my god, every single action in those two turns had to be absolutely perfectly calculated or it fucked everything else all up. Least fun fight of the whole game. After that, it was fun to explore around and read the books and notes. For some bizarre reason, they decided it was important to include a sex journal that one of the banites was making notes in, also it’s nice that there’s still more gross things the game can surprise us with - the steel watch being controlled by harvested brains was a total surprise to me. My absolute favourite note was the guy on the nightwatch who said the brains in the console start to SING at night. He found it so horrible he’s considering cutting off one of his own fingers to be excused from work. I also found the piece of Lenore’s clockwork. I’ve heard people say this implies maybe she was employed by Gortash to work on the steel watch - personally I don’t think so. The note says that Ketheric found the clockwork piece in the underdark and sent it to Gortash because it looked like the kind of clockwork bullshit Gortash likes. If anything, this implies that KETHERIC did something to Lenore, not Gortash, unless I’m missing more notes in here. (though in early access it is implied she was eaten by her pet bulette)

After this, Wulbren walks out slow clapping at me. He’s lucky Barcus is there to suggest a peaceful conclusion because otherwise I would have yeeted that fucker straight into the ocean. I’m so proud of my buddy Barcus that he finally realizes he can’t fix this toxic man, and stands up for himself and for the Iron Hand gnomes. It’s been really fun watching him warm up to my tav, and so sweet to watch him awkwardly express his gratitude and friendship. A+. Less sweet - I was really looking forward to seeing the Gondians reunite with their families, just like we did at Last Light Inn, but apparently there’s no reunion. I can’t find any of them anywhere in the city now, and online says they just disappear and there’s no scene. That’s too bad!

Man. I can’t believe I’m almost done the game now. All I have left to do is kick Gortash’s greasy ass, then kick Raphael’s, and then that’s it, then I have nothing left to do except for the big final fight.

A NOTE ABOUT GAY COUPLES IN THE GAME: I try (usually futilely) to look up information online for questions that I have, and rather like how all tapes left in a car eventually turn into a Best of Queen album given enough time, all Baldur’s Gate 3 topics eventually lead to the same stupid discussion if you look far enough, and that fucking discussion is, the game is shoving gay couples in our face. Or even, I have seen claimed multiple times, there are only gay couples in the game. Just because this is constantly and continually pissing me off, I’m almost spitefully motivated to restart a playthrough and keep a tally of the number of gay couples and the number of straight couples, and give people a fucking concrete number they can be forced to look at. Because, ever since I was aware this was a thing the pissbabies were crying about, I’ve been paying attention, and YES there are a lot of specific gay couples in this game, but there’s also a lot of straight couples too. There aren’t even more gay couples than straight couples. It’s just that you don’t even notice when there’s a straight couple, because that’s just like white noise to you, and you fixate on the gay couples and cry about why you have to exposed to the fact that people with different sexual orientations than you exist.

Like, I have to ask: they think it’s in your face in the game, ok. What should the ratio be, then, that would make them stop complaining about it being in their face? What is the ratio of gay couples vs straight couples that they would accept? I sort of feel like it’s not actually that they object to it “being in your face”, it’s that they wouldn’t accept anything that wasn’t “one or possibly two at the most token relationships that are there to show yes ok see here’s your gay representation, and now everything else in the game is straight”. I DO feel like there’s a lot of gay couples in the game, but I also know there’s a lot of straight couples too because when I think about it, I can remember them, so I’m really curious about what the actual ratio is. On my next playthrough I might be motivated to keep a tally.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 playthrough

[hopefullystillatheatrestudent]

i'm so excited about you taking asks again ahhhh okay so. if you'd absolutely had to choose. what would be your top 5 cockles moments, and why? thank you ily <3

here’s the thing: there are so many routes i could go down with this, because cockles moments come in all shapes and sizes and formats. these include moments from their panels, their bloopers, the footage we get when they don’t even know they’re being recorded, stories being passed down from photo ops & autographs(one of my personal favorite ways to get cockles, tbh, because they’re all insane), and social media(tweets to each other, instagram posts & comments, etc.). 

SO! since many a list like this has already been made, and i want to stand out from the crowd, what i’m gonna do is definitively give the number one spot to each of these five categories.(i might even throw in honourable mentions because they’re so despicably in love that they warrant that. i really put my whole pussy into this, guys, i hope you’re happy.) 

disclaimer: these are my own personal opinions. but that also means i’m right. so. enjoy. 

number one: top cockles panel moment

so we’re starting off with a bang, because how do you even BEGIN to rank what atrocities jensen and misha commit at jibcon. every single one they’ve had is damning in it’s own right, for different reasons.

however, considering just how much unabashed fuckery they’ve given us to sift through, it’s a good thing i do have a personal favorite despite it all. it’s heartwarming, the sweetest thing i’ve ever seen, AND it’s jarringly cinematic - mainly because it has a whole ass arc to it that was years in the making. it might even be surprising to some people, but my favorite cockles panel moment, and what i consider the one that encompasses their entire gut-wrenching journey from 2008-2013 in the most sweepingly romantic gesture possible, is this one.

i want this burned into my retinas. i am not even joking. when i'm through with my explanation, let me convince you why this is thee most romantic cockles moment of all time.

first, some history: people call this the resume off, but many seem to forget the botched attempt at a resume off a year prior. and yes, you guessed it: it's during their break up. it's a juicy time period for a reason, guys. it came across as exceedingly one-sided and VERY awkward. let me refresh your memory as to just how bad it was, and just how hard jensen was trying and ultimately failing at winning misha over: the funniest part of the whole resume off in 2013??? every joke/bit had literally already been made/done. they were just going through the motions again, but the difference THIS time...is that misha reciprocated jensen's energy. it. is. fascinating. i want to get into it more detail in another post, and i'll link it here when i'm done, but the main takeaway, i think, and the main difference that showcases how much they've grown in a year, is that in jib 3, misha flat out refused to do an accent, and this time around, he indulges jensen for literal minutes. when i tell you they're crazy, they're crazy. i can't wait to actually dive into it later.

ANYWAY, the resume off culminates in this moment here. and, like, a million things happen in this gifset. actually, more like a million and one. the music starts playingneediremindyouthatthesongissingingintherain(h e l p), misha starts dancing, jensen 'perpetually fake grumpy' ackles lets misha think he's not going to join, misha sits down defeated, but no!!! that was jensen's plan all along(look at his stupid fucking smirk) and he offers his arm to his dance partner who immediately grins like a fool, jensen then leads misha into their kick step, they perfectly synchronise and let loose, and are then very clearly having the time of their lives, hanging off of each other with joy and ease. from their expressions alone i can tell that this moment is so. so. so. so! much more than what initially meets the eye. i mean-misha is fighting back the biggest smile i've ever seen. to me, it reads like jensen is offering something to misha, something that misha kind of gave up on expecting, and him offering his arm like that is like, a surprise to him in the best possible way(and it's so not platonic, let me just say that.) as soon as jensen did that, it ushered in a new era of cockles. this panel is jensen and misha's favourite for a reason, and i think this moment is the biggest clue as to why.

whew!!! ok. that took a lot out of me and that was only point one. moving on,

number two: top cockles blooper moment

cockles bloopers hold an extremely special place in my heart, because it shows just how fucking disastrous jensen and misha are. they are so goddamn infatuated with each other that they HOLD UP PRODUCTION ALL THE TIME TO FLIRT WITH EACH OTHER(???). let me repeat. let it sink in. jensen ackles; arguably one of the most professional actors on that show who puts everything he has into each scene, with mountains and mountains of notes to prove it: would rather hold up production to flirt with misha collins. this sounds fake. it's not. he does it. all. the. time. and here's the thing guys!!! i'm gonna let you in on a secret!!! misha loves it. he loveesssss it. on top of that-misha collins: overlooked because he's pranked and people assume he's unprofessional as well, but his only pranks are in retaliation/off-set, and he rarely if EVER causes problems if he can help it....lets himself get carried away when it comes to jensen making kissy faces at him!!! are you actually kidding me!!! i mean. misha. it's just a face. you've seen it a million times. i don't buy that it triggers something in you that strongly....you like it, and you like jensen's reaction. you can't fool me!!! lisa berry's face in that one gifset shows just how fed up the crew is with their gross, coupley boyfriend antics.

i could pull up so many examples. sooooooo many. but my favourite was sealed since the moment i saw it.

i actually already wrote an analysis on it but i can't find it :(((( which SUCKS because i really unpacked the whole thing. i'll try to summarise.

basically, a backstory is part of this too!!! jensen and misha both had a really really hard time with this scene(because it's explicitly romantic there i said it), they sat down for hours and poured over their scripts together, they were super super nervous going into filming, both of them, jensen especially, were super hard on themselves for their performances not being true to their characters but they both complimented the other's work(boyfriend moments fr). so, yeah. they weren't confident going into shooting. and how do they get themselves to feel better???? by cuddling each other, apparently.

a lot. a LOT. happens in this specific blooper. to the point that i saw it years before i knew about cockles and it raised all sorts of flags for me.

1) stop pulling my face towards your crotch(as a thinly veiled request that misha would, in fact, move jensen's face towards his crotch, considering it was jensen moving himself there in the first place. also, why so comfy down there guys???) 2) you're my baby daddy i know(in the most intimate voice i've ever heard please) 3) i know, i know, i love you too i didn't say i love you i know but you wanted to say it etc. misha's right, of course. that's what jensen meant.

it just reeks of comfort, familiarity and intimacy between the two, and it's a moment that is extremely sweet and silly at the same time. they're so <3

number three: top cockles found footage moment

WONDERFUL category. truly the culmination of the cockles experience. many people have said that shipping cockles doesn't work because 'they're just onstage you dummies!! they're playing it up for the audience!!!' here's the thing, love. i could not disagree with you more. once you climb your way up the cockles ladder, you soon learn that they are, in fact, playing their dynamic DOWN, not up. they really are just Like That™, and they could not care less about the paying audience, if we're being honest, considering how much time they take to giggle with each other and refuse to let the audience in on the joke. and i love them for it <3

anyway, my point is that this category is for all you naysayers out there, all you 'jensen and misha's relationship is just for show and is real life queerbaiting'(?????lordhelp???) oh yeah? ok, explain this.

he. he. he calls jensen sweetheart. literally enough said. there's nothing to really add here, except, misha and jared then immediately engage in damage control. jared's method is distraction and misha's is retconning('get out of the car, dude') this was what got me to buy into the cockles dumpster for GOOD good. you don't call your buddy sweetheart accidentally and sound so completely earnest while doing it! especially not when that buddy is jensen ackles!!! you think he would let any of his friends call him that? do you?

one more thing; if it was a slip of the tongue, little mouth thing or whatever, you think jared wouldn't have jumped on it immediately??? i can hear it now. 'did you just call him SWEETHEART???' yeah. that's what i thought. you know why he didn't? because it was too revealing.

number four: top cockles autograph moment

i mean, i think we all know what it's gonna be, and if you don't, well, do i have the piece de cockles resistance that is gonna send you over the edge.

if you haven't heard of this story by now, as a cockles, truther, i'm gonna go ahead and get you to read it, because there is no possible heterosexual explanation for any of it, and you're fooling yourself if you think otherwise.

spoiler alert: it's the story where phones weren't allowed in an auto session, jensen nuzzles himself in misha's hair, leans his full body weight onto him, holds his hand, etc. etc. i'm imploding just repeating this back, actually. also, just, the sheer amount of stories from photo ops where they tackle hug each other or slap each other's asses or sing romantic songs to each other or almost kiss is, frankly, a lot. if i could wish for anything, it would be to witness them in person.

and finally,

number five: top cockles social media moment

this one is super difficult, because there's obviously a lot to choose from. but you know what? full send, i'm going with this one:

i just. what to say about this. how often do misha and jensen watch sunsets together for it to qualify as ‘always’ ??? why are sunsets synonymous with their relationship??? that’s like??? a very romantic thing????? ‘this guy’??? the fact that it’s a CANDID??? i don’t know guys.

that could have been better but i am TIRED so. there you go rose ily

#cockles #cockles ask #liz answers #i really just. spend hours. writing about misha and his boyfriend. #why. why do i. do that #long post for ts

[punemy-spotted]

The Price You Pay Chapter 4: Breach

Pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader, Senator!Andy Barber x Reader

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con elements, Dub-Con, Dark!Fic, Abuse of Legal System, Murder, Character Death (minor, possibly major), Love Triangle, Political AU, Mafia AU, Workplace Sexual Harassment, Abuse Mentions, Possessive/Obsessive Characters, Other Chapter-Specific Warnings May Apply, Possible Dead Dove: Would Not Eat

Chapter Warnings: Angst; Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse; Betrayal; Lies; F!Reader’s Age Kind of Finalized; Specific Reference to Age; Blackmail; Crying; Slight Panic Attack; Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Chapter Summary: Even the truth can’t set you free.

Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3

Notes: And we’re back to pain. My outline got derailed for this chapter so bear with me, sometimes revelations need to be hammered in. No smut here for now but I also needed to get this arc finished so I can start on the next.

Also I know I keep jumping forward — I swear I will write about their relationship growing.

Thank you all for reading and commenting! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated, even if you’re yelling at me.

Not beta-read, these sins belong to me and me alone.

All of my work is 18+ Only, Minors DO NOT INTERACT. I do not consent to my work being posted anywhere besides Tumblr or Ao3 and I post my work there myself. Do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content.

The air is…

Shifted.

Shifted enough that the whole office notices, avoids yours, avoids the glare Steve Rogers fires at them the moment they approach the door, avoids your eye. Shifted enough that you miss the before, the pressure of his presence demanding your attention, the smugness in his endless eyes you denied looking at.

Shifted.

Counsel.

What?

We need to talk.

Is that not what you’ve been avoiding doing all morning, Captain?

You swear you can hear his molar crack in the dead silence, but your eyes never flit upwards from the contract you’re poring through, red pen in hand.

Focus.

It’s a job, this life, and this is a part of it, the presence of him, the pressure of him. It’s a job, and he calls on you to do your duty and you do but no one has ever asked you to be kind and no one has ever asked you to smile as you bear it so you don’t.

It’s a job, this life, and this is a part of it.

You. Are a part of it.

Counsel.

It’s a bark, an order, an annoyance and you shouldn’t let his stubborn fury be the thing that derails you. This is your domain. Your palace of glass and steel, remember? New York buzzes behind you and you surge forward on the tightrope of his affections, teetering dangerously close to his temper and always, always daring him to pull you down.

Try it again.

Fine, with a sigh and a setting down of your papers, You’re closer to the door.

And in your defense, he is, seated on your couch as stiff as a board, scrolling through his phone on occasion and — previously, at least — deftly ignoring your inquiries about the status of his office and why he needs to spend his morning in yours.

He fixes you with a look you do not name and proceeds to stand anyways. The door clicks shut and stays that way — both of you have learned.

Do you still talk to him?

Excuse me?

The Senator. Are. You. Still. In. Contact.

He spreads out every word like an accusation and every word turns you a little colder. You’ve been avoiding this. Avoiding him, distracted by work, the both of you but now you are back in each other’s orbits and this…

This cannot be avoided.

I haven’t spoken to him beyond to tell him I returned home safe that night.

Not. For lack of wanting.

If he’s hurt you, just say the words.

There’s nothing you can say.

It’s been a week. Almost two.

He’s been kind, stayed away, kept his distance but that… that will not last. Only as long as whatever conference has his office busy and then you know what comes next and then you know what comes after.

The bruising may have faded but the memories remain, after all.

They always do.

Steve Rogers is not Andy Barber, is not warm-eyed concern or a soft-voiced invitation, is not trying to save you from the horrors you cannot name, is not to be trusted but Andy Barber is also not Steve Rogers, is not exactly the man you expect, is not the answer to your dilemma, is not the devil you know and you…

Are still testing your wings.

Get up.

Get up and walk away from the prison of your desk, see how far you can get before you shackle yourself to your own ambition. Get. Up.

Blue eyes watch you like he’s calculating the next angle of his attack and technically you know that’s exactly the case but let’s pretend a moment he doesn’t have his claws out and you aren’t trapped in a cage for him to batter.

Delude yourself into the power you think you have, and keep him there, across the room where he cannot show you how effortlessly he strips you of it and how deeply you enjoy it.

Don’t.

You may be in bed with the mob but you are not asleep to his crimes and this is just an interim, a plan, a moment.

You stood me up, Counsel. After we made our deal.

It was a week ago and you ever-so-kindly taught me my lesson — don’t wince as you speak, don’t let him know you remember, don’t let him think you actually learned from his hand, hard against your body.

He hasn’t since, after all.

He says your name.

He says your name and your blood runs cold and you freeze by the coffee machine you keep in your office and you turn. Senator Barber is a friend.

A dangerous friend. I won’t even ask if you know his stance on —

On the Syndicate? Oh I know. I know who he shakes hands with.

Then you know why I’m asking.

Are you loyal?

Are you?

Is it loyalty that keeps you here?

Don’t let your hands shake when you look at him. Don’t let him see the slide of your eyes, the glance outside, the wondering how long before your window would be a portal and that tightrope would snap.

You are not a fool.

This. Is not loyalty.

I keep to my ethical duties, Captain.

You’re sleeping with your boss.

Oh that one makes you laugh, sharp and cruel and you do look at him then, fix your eyes onto him and raise an eyebrow and watch. All that power, all that smugness, wrapped up in one body and how does he contain it, do you know?

I believe the actual term is serving at your pleasure.

It’s back to the game, the dance, the ruse, the steps you take around each other, the blades he digs into your chest the reminders he gives you you are a whore you are a whore you are a whore and you lift your chin up, dare him to look at the bruises his lips leave on your skin and ask him in the silence and what will you do about it.

You could hate him. You do, technically. You hate that you could love him in the early hours of the morning, when his eyes seek you out and soften at the reminder you’re still here. You hate that his invasive presence in your office is a shield as much as it is a virus, a comfort in the silence and you hate most of all that the way he looks at you with that open desire women might normally have just dreamed was possible makes you want to return it.

You hate that he is dangerous. That he has bound you to him like this, chained you to the idea of his warmth and that there is a sick sort of safety in the binding.

You hate that he looks at you now with something like hope, with something like obsession, with something like vulnerability and you hate that it strips you of that cold armor as effortlessly as his hands strip you of your resistance.

And he could hate you too, in the whispers he leaves on your shoulders when he thinks you’re asleep. He could hate that you are soft, that you are sweet on his tongue that you…

Are his.

Could hate that he has thought of nothing else but the very theory of your betrayal and you know none of these things but his eyes are not so inscrutable as he thinks and so—

He twists the knife.

I talked to your Judge, by the way.

You did what?

You heard me. Interesting conversation.

Excuse me?

You really sold yourself to me for a lover’s spat, Counsel? I thought you were better than that — woman of the law and all.

A lover’s spat? That’s what he told you?

Just what would you call it, if not that?

He’s daring you, back to somewhere between smug and angry, as if disappointed you made him waste his time and all you can do is feel your heart sinking, feel yourself back in that place again, the decade-long sting of control over your body, the painful reminder of the girl you once were.

Where is he?

Did you think I’d clean up your dirty laundry for you? I’m not a breakup counselor, and you nee—

You left him alive!? The panic in your voice is so palpable it stops him in his tracks all over again, suspicious and surprised and you step back to reach for something — steady yourself steady yourself steady yourself you are not safe you are not safe you are not safe.

I’m not killing your ex-boyfriend without a good reas—

I was nineteen!

The world tilts, shifts, your knees are buckling, that’s tears in your eyes and you.

Are that girl again.

Too small, too scared, too naive to know better, too easy to mold and break and manipulate and you promised you’d never be her again, you promised you’d get her justice and you promised it wouldn’t be like this over and over again, promised he wouldn’t sink his fangs into you a third time.

What? He sounds smaller. Or is it faraway? You are too busy trying to stand, trying to still the shaking of your hands, the cold chill in your veins, too busy feeling your knees surrendering, too busy sliding to the floor and staring blankly into your memory.

Counsel. What. Did. You. Say. He repeats himself, and then he’s crouching before you, holding your chin in his hand and when did you start having tears on your cheeks for him to wipe away?

I was nineteen, you repeat, blank and broken, not seeing his brow furrow, not seeing the regret flash over his expression, I didn’t want it. I never wanted it.

What are you saying, sweetness? How dare he sound so soft? How dare he sound like he actually cares, when he’s the reason you’re here, on this floor, barely resisting your breakdown yet again?

You know better.

I was nineteen, a third time, I needed a job, something to give me experience, and he — he used me. That was my experience.

He’s starting to understand, but it doesn’t matter to you, not when you’re staring too far into the past, into a sneering face and cruel hands.

(I can ruin you or I can help you, Intern, so you make your choice. You need me.)

It never stops. Not after the first time — but you know that.

But you know that. That’s your knife, the one you twist into his chest and the realization sinks in heavy as an anchor, the thing he’s done.

The thing he’s done to you.

So why wait until now?

I would have waited forever.

You hid the letter. Hid it well enough even he wouldn’t have found it rifling through your things. Hid the threat in those typewritten words and the casual signature swept across the stationary, unaffected.

Men like him never face consequences. Only you, only the women they make use of, the ones they turn into commodities for their enjoyment. Who would care if you’d made it public, if you showed the world the kind of man he was — he was appointed for life, he was friends with the Governor, he was powerful and you were never going to be strong enough.

(You wouldn’t want anyone in the District Attorney’s office knowing just the sorts of things you’re willing to do to get your way. I can still help you be an exceptional lawyer, Intern.)

What are you? Ambition and drive and skill but what does it all mean when it can be reduced to plaything and pet project and whore.

I helped him get appointed. He helped me get into law school. Introduced me to… To Andy Barber, who calls you Sunshine and watches out for you and comes to New York despite having no power in the state just to see you again because he worries, because he cares.

You pay.

And sometimes that payment bounces back.

You pay and you pay and you pay and you struggle but what is the culmination of your strife is it the sight of you finally broken on the floor, is it the moment he’s been waiting for, dragged off your pedestal why couldn’t he have left well enough alone didn’t he know the horse was for your protection and not his pride?

No.

They never do.

They never do, do they, always so wrapped up in themselves and even now he kneels in front of you and wipes your tears but he has no words to say to atone for what he’s done and you know he can never.

I need you to leave.

The words come out without your control.

You know what you are. You are fury made flesh and you will not be manipulated again, not by the pressure of his hands on your face, not by the way he almost hugs you, he lied he lied he lied he lied.

Sweetness…

No. You don’t get to call me that. Not anymore.

You could have tolerated it. You could have accepted it you could have let yourself become the prize he took, owned his defeat by defeating you, you might even have enjoyed it but no.

No.

I held up my end of the bargain.

#steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #andy barber x reader #mob!au #political!au #dark!fic #steve rogers smut #andy barber smut #dark!steve rogers #angst #series #mob!steve rogers x reader #i really am gonna die here

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 310: A Tale of Two Kacchans

Previously on BnHA: Flashback!Deku was all, “hey, you know what sounds like a good decision? Abandoning my studies at the safest place in the country so that the bad guy who wants to find me and kill me has literally nothing standing in his way of doing that.” All Might was all, “I fucking knew you were going to say some bullshit like that so whatever, but I’M COMING WITH YOU and I’m also going to invite the Hawksquad to come with us, mostly so that I can steal Jeanist’s car.” Jeanist was all, “okay fine you can borrow my car, All Might, but only if you wear jeans.” All Might was all, “okay sure” and he wore jeans and also sunglasses and a leather jacket and it was pretty rad. Anyway so now they’re out there fighting crime and hunting down the LoV and stuff, and absolutely none of it is going to end well, I’m just letting you know now. But I guess we’ll let them enjoy it while it lasts.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “happy belated Kacchan’s Birthday makeste, here’s the flashback you really wanted at long last,” and proceeds to pull the old vestige flashback out of the kitchen drawer and upend its contents all over my Friday afternoon without the slightest bit of warning. OFA III is all “WHAT’S UP I’M JUST SOME GUY, HELLO,” and okay?? Hello yourself. OFA II, on the other hand, is all, “okay yeah I have different hair and stuff, but I’m like 98% sure I’m either Bakugou or his goddamn twin, I mean look at me.” Which, yeah. I looked, and he really is though you guys. Anyway though, so he and OFA II basically just showed up in the First (who goes by Yoichi now)’s prison cell one day all “HEY THERE, WE’RE HERE TO SAVE YOU, APPARENTLY, ALTHOUGH WE SEEM REAL CONFUSED ABOUT IT TBH BUT HEY.” And so they saved him, and Yoichi was all “hey nice to meet you do you want to join my super-exclusive Saving The World Club”, and so they did, and then the chapter ended lol. I would have said yes too.

oh my sweet lord?? I didn’t realize we were getting a color page this week, but LOOK AT THIS

this could have been a fucking volume cover. I’m almost mad that it wasn’t, lol but I mean fkldjslklk just look at it??! Horikoshi out here spoiling us and making sure we’re well fed since next week the manga is on break for Golden Week. well this will certainly help to tide me over. hot damn look at those colors

so now it’s raining on some dumb building in the middle of somewhere

is this where the Hawksquad has set up camp for the night? or are we actually cutting back to the League? that’d be unexpected (but not unwelcome)

ffff nevermind dammit it’s just more random citizens under attack

feels like this is the third or fourth scene we’ve had of civilians being Under Attack since this arc started. I mean no offense, but I think we get it by this point. it’s the end times, etc. etc. we’re well aware that things have gone to shit

so apparently these two guys are facing off against a girl with a mutant quirk. and she’s telling them that she’s not a monster and she was just scared, oh shit. I believe her btw, you can see it in her face

but these assholes don’t believe her at all and they’re pointing what looks to be some type of support item gun at her

you know what’s interesting, is that this kind of random quirk discrimination is the exact kind of thing PLF and the like were swearing up and down they’d put a stop to with their glorious revolution. it’s almost like those guys were completely full of shit. huh

so yeah, fortunately for this woman someone is stepping in and intervening before she can be blasted to bits by this trigger-happy asshole for absolutely no fucking reason

looks like a hero actually stepped in and saved her?? but no that can’t be, heroes are the ones that ruin everything and make everything worse, or so I understand. lol where did all of this sarcasm come from out of nowhere dlkdsjlk I’m sorry guys I just suddenly got swept up in the hypocrisy of certain people’s philosophies out of the blue idek

anyway so it is of course Deku saving her, and now he’s trying to talk thess jerks down all diplomatically instead of just kicking their asses, which is certainly a choice

MOTHERFUCKER I’M

fucking impossible to miss the real world parallels here. shit. this woman nearly died for her crime of Walking While Having A Mutant Quirk huh. and meanwhile Deku is just letting this guy scurry away and even letting him keep that fucking bazooka of his, like, ????

fucking hell she’s crying!!

lmao this chapter is actively trying to make me mad now huh. that’s some genuine righteous anger I’m feeling on behalf of this fictional ferret lady whom I only met two minutes ago. girl you are not the one who needs to explain herself here!! you didn’t do anything wrong holy fuck. everything about this situation sucks so much

fkKJKLMMMHFGH

“I’m sorry I made you upset, please enjoy this panel of tiny!floating!Deku hefting this lady’s massive beach umbrella up for her like the fucking gentleman he is” well okay then thank you sir

and JUST LIKE THAT the tension is broken and I’m entirely incapable of taking the rest of this conversation seriously because Deku’s trying to be all calming and authoritative, but now the illusion has been broken because I know he only comes up to like her knees

“well thanks again for saving me young man. I’ll leave you to it, I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do like protecting your Lucky Charms cereal from all those greedy children”

oh hey All Might

you wouldn’t have just let that guy with the bazooka just walk away to commit more attempted murders would you?? man

OH MY GOD DEKU IS IMMEDIATELY DITCHING HIM AGAIN

I ~CANNOT STAY HERE~ oh, well, sorry to keep you detained I know you’re busy

dfslkjlk oh my god

fucking told you Deku didn’t pack any food lol. it’s literally all notebooks in that bag you guys. he couldn’t just leave them all in his dorm room when he left, because what if someone tried to read them and came across one of the pages where he absentmindedly doodled Kacchan’s name surrounded by little tiny hearts oh gosh

AWWWWW

I needed this Horikoshi. thank you for this wholesome soul-cleansing interaction after all of that bullshit earlier

so now Deku’s climbing up this tall building to eat his lunchbox more dramatically. Tokoyami would be proud

and Banjou is saying that society right now is just like in The Good Old Days (read: bad old days) when quirk society was even more of a mess than it is now

which is exactly how AFO likes it, no doubt

so now Deku’s having a whole conversation with Banjou seemingly out loud lol, weird. and he’s basically saying that they don’t have any clues as to where TomurAFO and the League are hiding right now, and none of the Tartarus escapees they’ve found knew anything either

mmmmmfmhm, marge simpson noises

but you think you can?? you, alone, by yourself?? you think you stand a chance?? I just need you to think this all through a bit more kid

Deku it is NOT JUST YOUR RESPONSIBILITY ALONE, PLEASE REALIZE THIS ALREADY. YOU MAY BE THE CHOSEN ONE, BUT EVEN THE CHOSEN ONE NEEDS HIS FRIENDS BY HIS SIDE GODDAMMIT

and of course my pleading is all in vain, because he’s a fictional character who can’t fucking hear me, and also because I’m pretty sure there’s only one character who is going to actually be able to get him to hear reason here. I’ve been saying it, and I’ll keep saying it lol. so until then I guess I’ll just have to be patient

anyway so it appears we’re segueing into another flashback??? HORIKOSHI PLEASE GIVE ME SOME BAKUCRUMBS BEFORE THE TWO WEEK BREAK, I BEG YOU

dlKSDJLFKWJELKGHSLGKLEKJLFKHLGK

YES, THANK YOU, I KNOW WHERE THIS FUCKING IS LOL, IT’S NOT LIKE I’VE BEEN OBSESSED WITH FINDING OUT WHAT HAPPENS IN THE REST OF THIS SCENE OR ANYTHING LMAO. BUT ANYWAYS DON’T MIND ME, YOU WERE SAYING??

oh my god oh my god I’m not readyyyyy, but also FUCK YEAH I AM SO FUCKING READY LOL LET’S DO THIS

YOU GUYS

I’M ABOUT TO STEP IN THAT ROOM AND YEET ONE OF THOSE FUCKING CHAIRS AT YOU ALL

NOOOOO

I’M ABOUT TO GRAB BANJOU’S GOGGLES AND STRETCH THEM OUT AND SNAP THEM BACK SO THEY SMACK THE SHIT OUT OF HIS FOREHEAD!!! IT’S WHAT HE DESERVES!!! I’M ABOUT TO MOVE TO JAPAN AND GET A JOB WITH DOORDASH AND FIND OUT WHAT HORIKOSHI LIKES TO ORDER FOR LUNCH SO I CAN BE THE ONE TO DELIVER IT SO THAT WHEN HE OPENS THE DOOR I CAN FINALLY ASK HIM “HEY WHAT THE FUCK” IN PERSON

AHHH NO EVERYBODY SHHHHH STOP TALKING!!!!

SOMEONE PLEASE TELL THAT PERSON SCREAMING AT THE TOP OF THEIR LUNGS IN THE BACKGROUND TO SHUT THE FUCK UP, OH WAIT, THAT’S ME

(」゜ロ゜)」 щ(゜ロ゜щ)

LOL THIS FUCKING ASSHOLE!!! LOOK AT YOU!!! YOU’RE NOT KIRISHIMA OR SHINSOU OR IIDA IN A WIG OR ANYBODY LOL. YOU’RE JUST A DUDE. BROOOOO ABOUT FUCKING TIME, WHAT’S GOOD

I CAN’T SCROLL DOWN AHHHH BUT I HAVE TO BUT IT’S TOO INTENSE AHHHHHHH

I CAN SEE THE TOP OF HIS SPIKY HEAD, IT’S FINALLY THAT TIME AHHHHHHHH OKAY I’M GONNA DO IT HERE GOES

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

IT’S HIM. IT FUCKING REALLY FUCKIGN IS HIM OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. WHY AM I SO SHOCKED LMAO I’M THE ONE WHO’S BEEN SAYING THIS THE WHOLE DAMN TIME LMAO. OH GOD. O H MY FUCKING GOD

well okay then sir. so are you an ~ancestor~ or a Kacchan from another timeline or so what’s your deal then

YOICHI WHO IS YOICHI

YOICHI ALWAYS KNOWS WHAT’S UP. LMAO WHO IS YOICHI

(ETA: I’m going to punch myself in the face lmao. he’s Yoichi. he, the First. that’s his name. name reveal at long last what what!!)

MORE IMPORTANTLY SHOULD I BE IMAGINING NOBU’S VOICE RIGHT NOW BECAUSE LMAO I AM ANYWAY BUT YEAH

(ETA: I actually think he’s going to end up being voiced by Nobuhiko whether he ends up being Kacchan or not, just because it fits right in with the general “identical in almost every way” aesthetic he’s got going on.)

TUMBLR HOW WE LIKING OUR ANGSTY ALTERNATE UNIVERSE KACCHAN?? EVERYONE HATED YOU SO MUCH BEFORE THEY EVEN MET YOU, BUT THEY FORGOT TO CONSIDER THE POSSIBILITY THAT YOU MIGHT BE HOT LMAO WHAT A TWIST

“some bright-eyed brat” oh come on. IT’S GOTTA BE HIM LOL

oh my god you all are probably TIRED AS FUCK of all my screaming but I’M SORRY IMMA HAVE TO DO IT ONE LAST TIME BECAUSE...

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

that face. that expression!! THE FACT THAT HE’S OUT HERE OPENING DOORS WITH HIS FEET, LIKE HOLY SHIT!! JUST ADMIT THE JIG IS UP ALREADY

and so they really are the ones who busted First out of his jail cell huh

so how did they know you were in the room?? why did they come and break you out?? and how, pray tell, did they know to get you to transfer OFA to them?? hmmmMMMMMMMM

oh MY GOD

you guys. oh my god. it’s too much. every last bit of it lines up exactly with the Bakuverse theory sdkjfj I’m short-circuiting. it’s really fucking happening oh my lord

HELLO SEXY ALTERNATE UNIVERSE KACCHAN WITH HIS SEXY FUCKING SCAR, FUCK YEAH WE REALLY ARE EATING GOOD THIS CHAPTER

HELL YEAH WE’RE GOING. WE’RE GOING FULL SPEED YOU GUYS. LMAO I’M SO FUCKING HYPED RIGHT NOW I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MYSELF WEFKJLDKFFFF

SO, EVERYONE, LET’S RECAP. -- ACTUALLY NO, I STARTED TO WRITE UP A LIST, BUT I IMMEDIATELY REALIZED IT REALLY JUST NEEDS TO GO IN ITS OWN THREAD. SO I MADE IT AND POSTED IT, AND NOW I’M FINISHING UP THIS HOT MESS OF A RECAP POST. SO NOW WE’RE BACK TO THIS ONE FINAL PANEL OF DEKU EATING HIS KATSU ALL SERIOUS

YES SIR. YES SIR, WE GOING, FULL SPEED AHEAD, WHATEVER, IDK WTF IS HAPPENING BUT YES!!

lol, anyways so as I said in my other post, mysterious sexy guys with tragic pasts are what bring us together as a fandom, so whatever your thoughts are on the rest of it, let’s just rejoice in that. it’s what we deserve

#bnha 310 #midoriya izuku #ofa prime #ofa ii #bakugou katsuki #MAYBE??? #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

[northofdespair]

Well. This was going to be a 500-character anonymous ask. I had no plans of using this forgotten Tumblr account. And then I wrote 2k in one sitting this afternoon.

So, Clem, this is for you! Hats off for drawing me out of the abyss to pen a little pseudo-fic for my favorite pairing of all time. Forgive (m)any mistakes and the informal style, I suppose I really could have refined it, but I wanted to get this out here before it went to collect dust with the rest of my 30k+ of Obikin WIPs due to crippling perfectionism. 😅 I will say it’s a bit angsty and a departure from Anakin finding Obi-Wan’s fighting nothing but sexy… there is nothing to say he didn’t in the past, but my brain just went on auto-pilot and this is what happened. Hope you get a little enjoyment out of it anyways! 😘

For those of you who have not read it yet, you’ll get a lot more out of this post if you read @obiwanobi’s posts here, here, here, and here. <3

~*~

So Fight Club AU, right? What if Ahsoka and Anakin make their way down to the lower levels, following a lead on their latest undercover assignment. They decide to split up to search for what they’re looking for and Ahsoka soon finds herself weaving through the cheering and jeering crowds of a club that is far too loud and flashy. She peeks curiously over the tops of various creatures’ heads to see what they’re shouting about and sees a human and a Devaronian trading blows. A fight, whatever. They happen all the time in the lower leve-IS THAT MASTER KENOBI?!

That is DEFINITELY Master Kenobi and boy, she’s never been one to rat out fellow Jedi, but even if he’s grinning like a madman, he is hurt, and oh she is getting Anakin right now, because she doesn’t know exactly what to do, and Force knows that if Obi-Wan will listen to anyone, it’s Anakin. He’s not far away, and when she drags him into the club, he goes a little pale at the sight of Obi-Wan in the ring, standing victoriously over his opponent. 

 She thinks that he’s going to go get him, pull him aside and do something to fix this, but suddenly someone else in the crowd spots him. Suddenly the cheers and taunts are directed at Anakin, and Ahsoka has no idea what the kriff is happening. All at once Anakin is being pulled and pushed, and then both of her Masters are in the ring, eyeing each other up and down and squaring off. Obi-Wan flirts with Anakin as though he expected him to be there, as though he were an enemy, and her jaw drops as Anakin flirts back. Anakin quickly glances at Ahsoka over the crowd, and they begin.

 It is both everything and nothing like watching them spar at the Temple. She sees all the ways in which they are familiar with each other’s strengths and weaknesses, but here the graceful arcs of lightsabers have been traded for brutal, bare-knuckled blows. They sweep under and over each other, deftly avoiding blows as much as landing them, and the crowd loves it. She spares a glance at the bookie, who looks like the tooka that caught the mouse-droid.

 As the fight goes on, Ahsoka realizes two things. 

 One, this is not the first time that they have fought in this ring. Even for Jedi–an identity that they are suppressing extremely well considering the circumstances–they are altogether too at ease with the brutal hand-to-hand combat. The way they dance around each other and strike viperously quick would be beautiful if it weren’t so horrible. It is certainly awe-striking, and while all Jedi are trained in hand-to-hand, she’s never seen them fight like this.

 Two, Obi-Wan is incredible. Anakin is holding his own and powerful in his own right, but even after knocking that Devarionian to the floor, bruised, bleeding, and tired, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a force to be reckoned with.

 In a flurry of movement, Obi-Wan pins Anakin to the ground, just managing to overpower his former student despite his injuries. Ahsoka can barely see over the crowd as he sits on top of his Padawan, then offers him a hand up. She can’t discern their expressions, but they do not say anything to each other and make their way out of the ring, going in vaguely the same direction. 

 Ahsoka presses her lips together and follows Anakin to demand what in Sith Hells just happened. Suddenly the mysterious bruises that Anakin had started showing up with–the ones that he thought he was hiding well–make some sort of surreal sense.

 She catches up to him in an abandoned alleyway seven blocks or so away from the club and opens her mouth to lay into him, but before she can draw breath, Obi-Wan’s figure melts out of the shadows from the other direction. Neither man has seen her, and something about the intense look on Obi-Wan’s face makes her slip into the shadows herself. 

 She has to slap a hand over her mouth to tamp down on a surprised squeak a second later as Obi-Wan takes Anakin by the shoulders, slams him into the wall, and kisses him hard. Anakin kisses him back, hands coming up to scrabble at Obi-Wan’s shoulders, and breaks the kiss to get out, 

 “Wait, Obi-Wan,“ he gasps as Obi-Wan bites at his neck and Ahsoka wants to flee, but she feels rooted in place. “Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, she- hhhn- stop, would you?” He finally brings his hand to the side of Obi-Wan’s face, catching his attention for long enough to realize that he’s serious, if a little dazed. “Ahsoka saw us fight.” 

 His voice is quiet, but Ahsoka has always had good hearing, even for a Togruta. Obi-Wan freezes, and the two stare at each other for a long moment, breathing heavily into each other’s space. 

 “She led me to you because you were hurt,” Anakin whispers, and the tender concern on his face as he brushes a thumb over Obi-Wan’s swollen cheekbone is enough to cause Ahsoka to avert her gaze. 

 “Anakin, you know-“ Obi-Wan’s voice is different from any time she’s ever heard it, deep and rumbling with an emotion she doesn’t... quite want to think about, but Anakin cuts him off. 

 “I know, Master. I know. But she was worried, and I don’t... think she was wrong to be,” it comes out hesitant, and she looks up to find that Anakin looks like he’s prepared to flinch away from a blow. 

 Before tonight, Ahsoka never would have thought that her Grandmaster was capable of dealing any such hit to Anakin, but Anakin’s split lip and blackened eye prove her wrong. She still can’t believe it, and her heart tells her that even now he would never hit Anakin outside of the ring or the training salles, but it’s a hard thought to reconcile with as her Master stands before her with such prominent injuries.

 Obi-Wan stares at Anakin again before sighing softly. “You don’t want to fight. You don’t want me to fight,” he says, and it’s a flattened-out question. Anakin bites his lip, wincing at the painful reminder of the cut there. 

 “Not- not like this,” he whispers. “Obi-Wan, I... I know that this is an escape from everything. I’m not saying it’s even bad, Force, I’d be one hell of a kriffing hypocrite to tell you that. I know I’ve given in to my own methods of escape, but Master, I-“ His voice cracks and he breaks off, working his jaw as he stares at Obi-Wan with an expression so open that it hurts. “I have you now, and you’re- you’re all I ever wanted. You’re all I need. Obi-Wan, if I’m not- if I’m not enough, then tell me how-“

 Obi-Wan cuts him off with a kiss, raking his fingers through Anakin’s golden curls and holding him there. Anakin’s eyes flutter shut as he lets out a whimper from the back of his throat, and Ahsoka has to avert her gaze once more. She’s intruding on something so viscerally personal, but she still cannot command her feet to move. 

 So she listens to the sound of lips parting for little kisses that make a larger whole, that bring a low moan from Obi-Wan’s throat in answer to Anakin’s desperate pitch. She listens until they part, and then risks a glance up at her Masters. 

 They are somehow closer than before, foreheads resting together with their eyes shut, breathing each other in as Obi-Wan strokes Anakin’s hair and Anakin shivers. 

 “Dear one,” Obi-Wan whispers. “You are enough. I… was afraid, my love.” Anakin’s eyes open in shock as the confession falls from Obi-Wan’s lips. “I was afraid that this... was the only way I could have you. It’s different down here. What happens here stays here, and I thought-“ 

 “Obi-Wan. I only ever came down here in the first place because I want you. All the time. Force, I want you so badly it hurts. I don’t want this to stay here. I- do you really-“ 

 “Yes.” 

 Anakin chokes a laugh and fixes Obi-Wan with a fondly exasperated look. “You don’t even know what I was going to say,” he accuses, resting his head back on the wall. 

 Obi-Wan leans forward to pursue him, placing a gentle kiss to the side of his mouth, then another directly on his lips. “I do, darling. Of course I do.” 

 And as Ahsoka watches Anakin’s expression change from incredulity, to wonder, to overwhelmed adoration, she knows that her Grandmaster was not simply speaking of knowing the question that never left her Master’s lips. 

 “Me too,” Anakin whispers, voice thick, and Ahsoka can see the shape of Obi-Wan’s grin even from the severe angle that her perspective offers. 

 Anakin smiles back and flinches again as his lip pulls taut. Obi-Wan hums and reaches up to brush his thumb over the wound.

 “Not a good look on you, is it, darling,” he remarks. 

 Anakin scoffs, rolling his eyes playfully. 

 “You should see the other guy,” he smirks. 

 “Ha, ha,” Obi-Wan intones dryly, and Anakin laughs. 

 They sober quickly, and Ahsoka holds her breath as the air and the Force around them seems to charge once more. She knows by the look on Anakin’s face that he’s working towards saying something, and Obi-Wan runs bloodied fingers through his curls in patient strokes.

 “I won’t tell you to stop,” Anakin finally speaks quietly, looking down between them. 

 “But you want me to,” Obi-Wan matches his volume and sincerity. 

 After a moment, Anakin nods quietly, still averting his gaze from Obi-Wan’s face. Her Grandmaster lifts Anakin’s chin with a gentle hand, and their gazes meet once again. 

 “I meant it when I said you are enough, my dear. This habit... if I’m honest, it started when I failed to release certain feelings into the Force. The fighting cleared my mind and it was a good physical release. I don’t need it. Not if I have you.” 

 Anakin’s eyes grow wide, and Ahsoka thinks that she sees tears glimmering in his eyes in the low light. 

 “The Code, Master,” he croaks softly. 

 Obi-Wan shakes his head and strokes Anakin’s chin before tapping it lightly and resting his hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. We’re good at that, you and I. And we shan’t break the Code if we’re simply in a relationship, you know that.” 

 Anakin squeezes his eyes shut, and tears at last track down his cheeks. “It’s not just a relationship. Not to me. I- I love you, Master. I’m atta- attached. I’ve struggled with this all my life and I can’t let go. Of you, or Ahsoka.” 

 Her heart skips a beat at her name, then warms with a sad fondness for her Master. Oh, Anakin... he really thinks that Obi-Wan doesn’t know? That she doesn’t know? They do and they love him right back just the same. Ahsoka hadn’t truly known about the nature of her Masters’ feelings for each other before tonight, but she had suspected. Both she and Obi-Wan love Anakin with all their hearts.

 “Oh, Anakin.” Obi-Wan pulls him into his arms, and Anakin clings to him desperately and buries his face in his throat. “Dearest, love is no trespass, and attachment can be conquered. It is a part of human nature. It is nothing to fear. I am sorry I ever led you to believe otherwise, Padawan.”

 Anakin gasps a single, muffled sob into Obi-Wan’s throat, and his Master presses a kiss to the top of his head. They stay like that for a while, rocking slightly back and forth and holding each other tightly until Anakin’s breathing evens out.

 “You’ll stop fighting, then?” Anakin asks softly. 

 “Yes, dearest. I’ll stop,” comes the quiet affirmation. “And Anakin,” he steps back slightly so they are both looking each other in the face once again before murmuring, gentle as a spring breeze, “I love you too.”

 Anakin’s face crumples before a smile overtakes his expression and he lets out a tiny, overjoyed laugh. Obi-Wan’s hands slide up to frame his face once again and draw him into a gentle kiss that slowly deepens. They break apart to smile at each other before coming together more urgently than before, and Ahsoka knows that it’s time for her to go.

 She lets out a little breath–hopefully silent–and steps backward out of the alley. Once she has crept well away, she slumps against the wall herself. She... she’ll probably have to tell Anakin what she has witnessed. She really hadn’t meant to eavesdrop for so long, but she had needed to hear that promise from her Grandmaster almost as much as Anakin himself. As it is, she breathes out a sigh of relief knowing that for the moment they are both safe, happy, and that better times are coming. For all of them.

  They’ll figure this out together.

#and then they had sex in the alley #i could #maybe be tempted into writing that bit #now that Ahsoka has removed herself from the vicinity #maybe #obikin #outsider pov #Clem's fight club au #*slams laptop shut and hides after first blog/writing post in over a decade* #north writes

[greenhappyseed]

BnHA 324 - Review, parallels, and comparisons

Ochako time again! Play to the crowd with your big hit sound! (See the lyrics for “Break It Down Again” by Tears for Fears; it’s 80s/90s new wave goodness.) Since The Speech is proving divisive, I’ll split it up a bit.

The good:

Screen time for Ochako! And fierce Ochako at that. Personally, the speech feels OOC to me, but then again, Ochako does that sometimes. Remember when the series mocked her “inconsistent characterization”?

Ochako’s not making decisions due to her crush. It’s pretty clear she’s acting as a hero and thinking about saving a fellow hero as part of a mission with her class.

If Izuku and Ochako are building towards a romantic relationship, then I think Izuku watching her be a strong hero is a prerequisite. Let’s be honest, Izuku only swoons for heroes.

This is the first time a hero saves someone who looks like a villain and citizens think is a villain. True, Izuku isn’t actually a villain, but if the crowd accepts him then it’s “one step” towards redeeming the actual villains.

Like last chapter, some of Ochako’s words (“he has a lot to learn”) can be read as insulting to Izuku. But it works. She called Izuku a plain-looking boy early on and has always seen his strengths and weaknesses up close (as 324 reminds us, they first met when he fell flat on his face and she caught him before he hit the ground). He’s not a perfect hero, or even a “complete” hero, but he’s worth saving all the same.

The bad:

It’s the spontaneous ramblings of a 16 year old and could never, on its own, persuade any rational adult. If the chain continues and we have more people speaking up to vouch for Izuku, and we end up going full Spartacus, then we might have something.

From a structural perspective, these chapters are broken up into tiny shards. One moment is spread over 3 (soon to be 4) chapters, interspersed with flashbacks from different characters and multiple narrators (Nezu and Ochako being the main ones, but Izuku takes over at the end of 324 and Iida has a bit too). Just figuring out who is talking — and when in the timeline they’re talking — is challenging and breaks up the flow.

It feels like every few panels is trying to hit a thematic beat and then assign that beat to a character rather than build out how each character reacts to a theme.

The pros and mentors are infantilized to a pretty extreme degree. Hawks wowed the crowd at the billboard rankings; Thirteen is a rescue hero skilled at managing disaster zones; Present Mic is a radio DJ and entertainer as well as a pro hero; and Jeany used to give speeches in Vigilantes about heroism. But in a series that has taken great pains to show the technical skill of the top adult pro heroes, it feels like they’re being nerfed to give Ochako her moment.

The …maybe?:

Ochako’s message calls back to the Top 3 press conference in Ch.306 (which she narrated). In 306, upon being challenged that he didn’t understand the pain of the average citizen, Endeavor asked if heroes showing their exhaustion and tears would fix everything. The reporter representing the “angry mob” said no, heroes need to take down every last villain. Endeavor agreed that action and a finding path forward was the right thing to do. He basically admitted heroes wear masks to hide their true feelings so they can focus on their jobs. But now in 324 (right side below), Ochako takes the opposite approach. She says she can’t reassure the crowd because she, and all the other heroes, are scared too. I can see how that helps the heroes, but not how it calms the crowd. Maybe Ochako’s speech is better read as a rallying call for others who will do the actual crowd persuasion.

Seeing 2 panels of Endeavor when Ochako talks about a hero hurting and heroES hurting is … a choice. My guess is it’s a nod to Endeavor as #1 and his failing to ever put people (including fellow heroes) at ease. When heroes are hurting and the pro hero profession is under criticism, it was, traditionally, on his shoulders to fix it as the #1. But it really shouldn’t be. If a coordinated raid of hundreds of heroes failed, then it can’t be on one man (who is himself a hero and not a strategist or administrator) to protect them all.

Ok, let’s talk about some non-speech bits!

Hell YES it’s Izuku’s hero academy and he’s earned his place there for the rest of his life just like All Might. (I suspect this means if he loses OFA at the end, Nezu will still accept him at UA). It’s a good reminder that Izuku still needs to hear that he has become a hero and he belongs with other heroes. Actions matter first and foremost, but words DO matter too.

The “smile together again” motif has been bothering me because it’s repeated by several characters. But IIRC it comes from Nighteye, and only All Might, Mirio, and Izuku think of “smiling” as such an important thing. Iida and Ochako weren’t a part of the Nighteye storyline aside from Ochako evacuating Nighteye post-injury, so it’s odd to hear them so focused on smiles. Same for Bakugo — the remedial class taught him about saving hearts but the smile thing is much more an All Might/Nighteye concern. The other mention of smiling this arc has been Endeavor and Hawks taking about AFO, who is always smiling.

Aizawa is in the hospital alone (sob!). His friends and coworkers are all off doing their duty, sacrificing a personal connection for the greater good. But…is he looking at a tablet? Like is he FaceTiming???? I want to know for real, but I’m also feeling spicy and want to see wrong answers.

The guy in the All Might shirt is fascinating. Last chapter he was dismissive of Izuku’s special power (not realizing Izuku is All Might’s handpicked successor or that Izuku’s power IS All Might’s quirk). This chapter he’s asking if the heroes expect him to be covered in filth. The irony here is that All Might very much expected Izuku to get dirty and do the unglamorous work of cleaning a beach as the “first step” to gaining entry to UA. (Oh, and Izuku was wearing an All Might T-shirt at their first beach meeting.)

(And remember, Izuku’s literal first step on the UA campus was when he fell and Ochako saved him.)

Finally, the umbrellas. Did anyone notice how the citizens started sharing their umbrellas at the end of this chapter? The guy in the All Might tshirt was offered shelter by starshirt dude. And the front line citizens who were previously pumping their umbrellas in the air and holding hands to stop Izuku are now bringing umbrellas down and using them for cover while their hands separate. Also, Mitsuki shares an umbrella with Inko. It’s like, I said I'll always be your friend, took an oath, I’mma stick it out til the end. Now it’s raining more than ever, know that we’ll still have each other. You can stand under my umbrella. Eh?

#mha #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha 324 #mha 324 #ochako uraraka #uraraka ochako

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Diary found in K---D--- : Part 2

So, here's the next little part of this :D

Imagine by @lathalea is indented!

Enjoy <3

Taglist: @shrimpsthings, @mulasawala (so you see where I'm going with this lol)

(Yes, there will be MORE artwork coming, stay posted...)

Fandom: Hobbit

Characters: Ori x OC

Rating & Warning: Fluff and silliness

His name was Ori and he was a scribe in Erebor. It turned out he visited the forest often to sketch the animals and plants. You spent the rest of the day together. In the evening, you exchanged campfire stories, sharing a meal. At one point, he shyly asked about where you came from. Blushing, he admitted, almost whispering, he never saw a person with such beautiful hair before.

You told him that you came from another world, from a region called East Asia, where many people looked similarly to you. He was very curious about your homeland, your culture and your world. You spent hours telling him everything about it and he listened to you in awe.

“Ori.” He replied, his lips quirking a tiny bit as if he was not used to speaking his own name. “I’m a scribe. In Erebor. The Mountain.” He pointed to a tree beyond the clearing.

Thankfully, I was familiar with the Lonely Mountain and did not think that he didn’t know the difference between a living organism and a pile of minerals.

“I have never seen you, neither here nor in that Mountain.” I replied, for I went into the halls sometimes to translate for travellers, but for the most part, I let the king be his grumpy, glorious self.

“I come here often, to sketch, but I seem to have lost my way.” He admitted with a tiny frown. Ah, a real dwarf. They only knew up and down seemingly and if there was no way into a hill, they’d stubbornly trek up until they tumbled off the other side again.

As if to prove to me that he was not lying – dear reader, he had a face that was utterly devoid of malice or dissimulation – he showed me rather good sketches of the fauna and flora of the dense forest surrounding us. “That is really good, Ori, the scribe, from under the Mountain.” I commented which made him blush with a fierce and, apparently, unexpected pleasure.

In an expression of indescribable cuteness, he literally wiped his face with his sleeve as if he could clean away the rosy hue like a stubborn ink stain from under his skin.

“What are you here for?” He then asked, pushing out his chest heroically. As a reminder, he was the one who had lost his way, but apparently, he wanted to defend either the forest from me or the other way around.

“I am here to think…in silence.” I replied; he retreated a few steps. “Oh? I’ll leave you to it then, I guess. It was great to make your acquaintance…”

I gave him my name, after all, he had given me his, and he chewed on it for a few moments before his face split into a smile that was like the sunlight breaking through the cloudy afternoon sky: tentative, warm, and strikingly beautiful.

“Stay. I like your face.” I heard myself saying. Maybe, it was my teasing, mischievous streak acting up, but I had liked his embarrassment so much that I couldn’t help wanting to coax more of these blushes out of him.

“My…face?” In that weird dance he had been engaged in for the last few minutes, Ori stepped closer again, shuffling his feet in the heavy boots dwarrows insisted on wearing.

No, your ass, I thought, but bit my tongue; Ori the dwarf looked like someone who would die on the spot if I said anything even remotely inappropriate…as I was wont to do when nervous.

My sarcastic thought spurred my own interest though and I examined him a little closer: he was indeed swaddled like a babe, beads of sweat pearling down his temples on account of the steep climb and the stubborn blush powdering his nose and cheeks with pink blotches.

“Sit down, you’ll get a heat stroke.” I invited him and pointed to a patch of moss beside me while rummaging in my pack for the flask of ale I had brought.

“Thank you ever so much.” He plopped down in a cascade of earthen-coloured wool and awkward limbs. He did smell warm, I noticed, a blend of cinnamon and comfort.

Also, he had one of those faces that only became better when seen up-close, I admit freely; there were golden stars dancing in the depth of his dark eyes and he had the most adorable freckles as if some outlandish fairy had sprinkled gold dust over that heart-wrenchingly handsome face.

“Are you thirsty, Mistress?” He asked, nodding at the flask in my hand.

Handing it to him rather abruptly, I realised that I had spent the last moments intently staring at his face as if I had never seen a male dwarf before in my life.

“I have work to do.” I snapped, feeling immediately guilty for taking my own embarrassment out on him, but he merely nodded and pulled his sketching supplies into his lap.

Strangely enough, Ori did not disturb me. If anything, the silence felt fuller, richer, deeper with him by my side. As I translated a letter, as a spinster I had to support my family and my insufferable sisters as best as I could, I felt like the chirping of the birds and the vibrancy of the colours around me were even more enjoyable now that I shared them with someone else.

…

The sun crept along its never-changing arc slowly and yet, much too fast.

As I looked up, I wished I was a better painter myself, for this dwarrow was made for sunsets.

The way the last golden hurrah of a perfect day exploded in a halo of warmth around his figure, the way all the greys and the blues seemed to bleed out of the world to leave nothing but warm tones behind, and the way his smile was the perfect expression of this mellow, unhurried mood…it struck me deeper and more violently than a thunderstorm in all its booming rage would have.

“Will you join me for dinner, Ori?” I asked gently, “I shall escort you back down.”

“It would be my honour.” He nodded, tearing out a page of his notebook and handing it over.

“It was an invitation; I do not demand payment.” I said seriously, for the sketch of the doe was so good, it might have been worth actual money. “Oh…” His nose crinkled at little at that.

“I wanted you to…have something beautiful. I have seen you work very hard.”

Of course, he was a scribe as well, he would consider the scribbling work, I thought and gave him a thankful smile. “You’re beauty enough for one day.” I shrugged.

He gasped, bringing his notebook up to his face as if to shield himself from my words.

“You’re having me on, aren’t you? Dori has warned me that girls do that sometimes.” He sounded utterly dejected. “I am not having you on. Has nobody ever told you that you’re handsome?” It was my turn to be wide-eyed with shock.

“And who is Dori?” I followed-up when he didn’t really reply to my question even though I thought I had seen his braids move like strings of pearls in a draft. The minutest of shakes of the head, a quiet admission of inadequacy that sunk ugly, ragged claws into my soft heart.

“He’s my brother. I have two of them. Dori…and Nori. They’re…” – “Older than you.” I completed. “Protective.” He supplied.

He was still holding his drawing out to me, and, after a moment, I took it gingerly and put it between the pages of my own writing supplies. I would hang it in my room and look at it daily.

Nowadays, there were but very few gifts for me; all the money went to my two younger sisters who were still nubile and would, if Mahal willed it so, be able to make a good match.

Busying my hands with making a fire, I asked him to tell me about his brothers.

“Oh, Nori is…agile. He’s…funny and brave and resourceful.” Ori started, his voice warm with affection and admiration. He sounded like a proper rogue to me, and as it turned out, he was, but he also deserved every single ounce of the deep-felt care Ori held for him.

“Dori is…fussy. He’s polite, he’s very caring, and he’s exceedingly proper.” Ori went on as I waved a hand for him not to stop. I enjoyed hearing about the life of other families than my own.

“So, is he the one who raised you to be this…warmly clad and gentle?” I asked, turning to place the foodstuffs I had brought up and stored in the cool lake water on spits to roast over the fire.

“Warm? Oh yes…I was a sickly pebble and he’s been worried ever since. I hope I have behaved in a way that would not make him disappointed in me.” Again, he worried his lip.

“Let’s see, you’ve startled a bird and an unsuspecting dwarrowdam.” I listed with a wicked gleam in my eyes; his face fell, and he looked properly guilty.

“Then, you’ve kept me company, and the best company I’ve ever had, it has been, on my grandmother’s grave, I swear.” I went on and that treacherous blush was back with a vengeance.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” He then said in a low voice. “Great beauty is always startling.”

“I am hardly Thorin Oakenshield.” He laughed. Readers, you cannot imagine that sound just by reading my words. If flowers blossoming had melody, if the sun setting on the eternal sea had a song, if autumn leaves dancing on a gale had a tune, they would have sounded like nails on scree, like cats having their tails trampled, and like kettles going unheeded compared to Ori’s laughter.

“There’s beauty in the doe as much as in the wolf.” I replied gently.

“May I…can I ask where you’re from? I don’t seek to be rude, but I’ve never seen anyone quite like you; your hair looks like those fabrics the Elves weave. It…seems so soft, so liquid, so smooth.” He blushed a darker shade yet.

This might well have been the first time that someone had asked me about my origins without making it sound like an accusation; there was honest fascination in his demeanour.

“My family and I have come from the Far East. I have travelled a lot, Ori, I have seen landscapes entirely made up of rock and sand, I have walked forests so stiflingly hot and moist it felt like being underwater, and now, I am here in the land of tall trees and taller mountains.”

I said, surprised by my own frankness.

“That sounds amazing.” He took the food I offered readily enough, and I told him about the people I’ve left behind to be stranded at the other end of the world.

“This is good, is that a recipe of your homeland?” He asked, looking down on the piece of meat I had seasoned with herbs I had grown myself in our small backyard.

“It actually is. I’m glad you like it. I had not planned to have company, otherwise I’d have brought something more palatable to the local tongue.” I apologised quickly.

“No, I like it. You should definitely trade some recipes with Dori…and Bombur…oh, and if any of your delicious herbs are medicinal, Óin.” He laughed again when he saw my dumbfounded expression.

“I make a good honeycake, if I can interest you in that? Maybe…” He fell back into silence.

…

A look at the sky told me that it was too late to go down in the inky darkness.

“We’ll have to stay here for the night.” I mumbled, slightly uncomfortable at the idea of spending the night with a dwarrow who had not lost a single word about a wife.

“Are you married, Mistress? Will that endanger your wedlock?” He asked shyly.

“No, I am not and I have no name to lose…It’s a long story.” I didn’t feel like blurting out my disgrace, lest it give him strange ideas after all, especially as he would easily have been able to overpower me if he so chose.

“Neither am I. I don’t know about my name…Doesn’t look like I’m going to be married either. There’s not enough dwarrowdams as it is, and I think the royal line has a prerogative there.” There was no resentment in his tone; he seemed to accept this as a fact.

How could someone that sweet not be married, I wondered. He was courteous, he was cute, and he would have made the fortune and happiness of someone.

“Well, in that case, I think we can risk our reputation rather than our necks.” I grinned, rolling out a blanket I kept tied to my pack for emergencies and stretched out next to the fire on the moss.

“Erm, yes…Good night…” He mumbled, fidgeting around with his different layers of clothing. Apparently, he was deciding which one he needed least on his body to use it as a bedroll or blanket.

I eyed the proceedings with interest and a good deal of amusement.

“I can offer you my cloak to lie upon…the ground will grow very cold and wet soon.” He said in a low voice, not sure if I had already fallen asleep or not.

“Alright, I can offer you a spot under the blanket then?” I extended my own graciousness.

“With you?” No, with the red bird, I thought, rolling my eyes internally.

“Yes, Ori the scribe, with me. I will not eat you, as you have witnessed, I have had dinner.” Not that he did not look good enough to devour, standing there with his cloak in his hands and his face all crunched up in embarrassment.

“Hmmm…I guess.” He muttered doubtfully, spreading out the cloak and sitting down on it carefully. Impatiently, I scooted over and spread my lousy blanket over the both of us with a flourish.

“Sleep!” I commanded as I turned around only to find him staring wide-eyed at the spot where the back of my head had been only a second ago. Now that he was presented with my face, only inches away from his, his eyes grew even rounder and bigger in wordless distress.

“Friend…Have you never lain with a woman? And I literally mean, lying next to one?” I laughed for there had been friends and cousins aplenty in my own life and the feeling of having another body so close to mine was not a new experience for me.

“Well, I fell down on the battlefield once, next to a foe…I’m pretty sure that was a Lady-Orc. She was dead. There was a…” He gestured, indicating a spear or a lance sticking out of his chest and brushing against my own with the back of his hand. Dear reader, he flinched back as if I was a tiny Durin’s bane wreathed in flames.

“A Lady-Orc, indeed…” I mused; no doubt, he could hear the smile I hid in my voice for his face crunched up in embarrassment.

“I am sorry.” He sighed, rolling his eyes, and thinking – there was not a shadow of a doubt about that much – of his brothers who would have mocked him mercilessly for his stammering.

“There’s no need to be sorry” I tried to reassure him, but I admit now that there were things that I did not tell him right away then. We had only just met, and he was blessedly unaware of my shameful past.

How could I have made him understand – without hurting his feelings – how much I enjoyed that air of purity about him that I had squandered myself on an undeserving fiend? As a daughter amongst others, I had been used to dwarrows coming to court or to seduce, their eyes ablaze with greed and their hands wandering.

He would not have comprehended how much the absence of that voracious hunger that had plagued my youth and had ended up destroying my promising future meant to me.

“Sleep.” I repeated, unable to put into words how miraculous and precious the things he seemed to be most ashamed of were to me.

“Good night, Mistress.” He breathed with a soft smile that was nowhere near the wolfish baring of fangs I was used to and so, it was easy to return it.

You who may or may not have stumbled upon this ludicrous account of the most important story in an otherwise unimportant life, you shall hear another confession I did not make at the time.

I was fiercely aware that – had I but leant forward a little – I might have pressed my lips upon his; I was young still at that time and, despite what had happened, parts of me, that should have withered and died in the aftermath of my botched engagement, were much alive.

He smelled like our dinner and warmth, and the gentle reticence of the curve of his smile was more inviting than any flashing grin I had ever seen before.

Yes, in that very moment, on this very first evening, I had already been conscious of the shrewd attraction this self-effacing dwarrow held for me…and it scared me half to death.

…

Part 3

#Fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ori the dwarf #Ori #OC #Fluff #Diary #1st person

[morihaus]

Folklore

Two apprentices make their way to the shore of the Isle of the Wise, basket and blanket in tow, already chattering away with one another. Although the College of the Sapiarchs has a reputation its rigorous and cutthroat academic atmosphere, even its most studious pupils are encouraged to take reprieves from their works, if not for their own benefit then for the benefit of the hardworking staff, those who have earned their own breaks from instructing and professing, as well as those who have important duties and research of their own to attend to.

Runalenwe and Pannolaire each possess their own cutthroat reputations, so it is with some surprise that their peers observe them taking these personal allowances of unstructured time not to get a leg up on their competition, but to get out from the halls of learning and into the natural splendor of the wild. They always take their breaks together, ostensibly to keep an eye on their most spirited and contentious academic rival, but also in the spirit of camaraderie; even as they have butted heads over their decades-long apprenticeships, they have found themselves rather transfixed on one another, interested, entertained, some might even say 'enamored.' It's true that they might consider themselves lovers, but they were not young or carefree, rather their love was ennobling and constructive, a means to an end- they would say- and all the fun they have along the way is merely incidental.

Runalenwe reaches what she considers a good place to rest, a nice shady spot under a tree, waves lapping at the shore before them. She unfurls the bright sheet they've brought at, inviting Pannolaire to take her seat before her, to which the other woman smiles and sets herself down very prim and proper. As Runalenwe joins her, she sets their woven basket down beside them, and continues on with their line of dialogue.

"Quite the ambitious project, a catalogue of Tamriel's famed magical artifacts," Pannolaire says. "Was her 12-page dissertation on the Flask of Lillandril not enough?" Her dark crest of brown hair seems to shimmer with life in the sun's light, as does the dress of decorative feathers and scales that she's donned instead of her apprentice's garb. Her companion thinks she cuts a figure rather like a bird of paradise, head held high against her collar of colorful plumage.

"Oh, I'd be fascinated to hear how many she can turn up." Runalenwe replies as she gets comfortable, propping herself up with an elbow against the blanket. "The research will be interesting- and her reports are always wonderfully detailed to be sure. The problem is by just 20 years time, I'm sure we'll be made aware of several new artifacts, or new qualities to the ones we already know, and all her work will be made obsolete. That's the problem with such presumptuous 'catalogues', better to channel your focus on just one thing. She clearly wishes she could be Sapiarch of just about every discipline!" She laughs, a few strands of her curly straw-colored hair swinging free of her top-bun. It's a noble laugh, haughty and mocking, yet it touches Pannolaire just the same as the warm bubbling laugh that came out of her honestly, most often when they were alone.

Pannolaire unpacks the food she'd brought, laying out the small spread as they continue to speak. Rolls of bread, fresh fruit, aged wine, and shellfish. "Which single artifact would you focus on?" Pannolaire glances up as she hands her a warm roll. "Some destructive staff? A weather worker?"

She chuckles, taking a small bite and clearing her mouth before responding. "Oh, Pannolaire, I've more interests than just shocking the daylights out of things! It's funny you should ask, actually."

"It is?" Pannolaire says.

"Yes, and I'll tell you why." Runalenwe grins.

Pannolaire smiles as well, cracking into a shellfish with practiced grace. "Please do."

"You are, I'm sure, familiar with the Ring of Phynaster? Artifact created by the ascended Aldmeri sorcerer Phynaster, great explorer and adventurer, a hero of the High King Aurthelel's court?" Pannolaire nods, not speaking for modesty as she samples some fruit. "It provides the wearer with protection against magics and poisons- it's popularly believed to have been created to facilitate in Phynaster's daring yet dangerous lifestyle, and even to have aided in his mythical long stride. But this story has been confused with time- it is misunderstood by so many of the scholars of Tamriel, those who forget that Phynaster was once one of us, a mortal, with mortal wants, mortal acquaintances."

Pannolaire watches Runalenwe as she orates, every word uttered with such a poise to belie rehearsal, and yet her character is so spontaneous, like an arc of lightning from a hand, or the first crackle of thunder. These qualities make her quite the speaker to spectate, and so she hangs on her every word.

"Phynaster himself was quite a cautious sort- his stride wasn't simply long, it was measured, well-conceived through careful calculation. His safety and longevity was more or less the product of a wise and careful mind. He did not forge his famed ring for his own sake, but for the sake of a lover." Runalenwe's lips curve into even more of a satisfied smile, the kind that tells Pannolaire she's hanging knowledge over her head right now, a coy mocking gesture. She shoots her a look as though to say 'don't leave me in suspense', and the other apprentice continues on. "A certain firebrand, another mage of Aurthelel's court, the oldest and most venerable court of Alinor, composed of only the most respected ancestors; Phynaster, Syrabane, Ruilil, Peregrine- even noble Trinimac brushed shoulders with her and counted her as his peer, as well as his comrade in arms. She was Eeartora the Tempest, queen of the skies, her words commanded storms and her spells sundered coral citadels to the depths of the sea, all to be forgotten as her own legend grew. It was she who caught the first Alinor Sunbird and brought it, unscathed, to the feet of King Aurthelel, and it was she who first mounted a great gryphon and rode it, as Welkynar, into battle."

Her audience of one helps herself to some shellfish as the other sings the praises of this noble and venerated ancestor. Runalenwe considers herself a woman of action, but Pannolaire finds her waxing lyrical on the matters of magic, of magicians, and most anything having to do with her noble clan of wizards. "That certainly sounds like the type of woman who could benefit from such a ring." Pannolaire remarks, smiling and discarding the now emptied remains of her morsel, golden eyes locked on her companion.

"Indeed!" Runalenwe agrees heartily, laughing softly to herself. "And that is what he must have thought, for with her in mind he endeavored to create the powerful artifact that we know today. She was its first holder, and she would go on to bequeath it to her descendants, before ascending to join with her lover in Aetherius..." Her smile lingers, Pannolaire can feel the purposeful pause she is taking and raises a hand to her lips as she chuckles for her lover's theatrics. "Eeartora's line would follow in her wake, living as war mages, welkynars, and studious heroes of their eras. What's more," She raises her chin proudly at this, the rays of sunlight giving a glow to her tan skin. "Her line leads directly to yours truly."

"Ah, I see... no wonder you were going out of your way to flatter her to such a degree." Pannolaire remarks, smirking behind her gloved hand.

Runalenwe scoffs, but smiles. "I can't be shamed for honoring my ancestors, can I?" And with that, she reaches down and helps herself to some fruit, satisfied with her piece.

Her lover gives her a moment's rest, then says something with no other goal than to prod at her ego. "I'm not sure I believe you. I mean, such a famed and legendary ancestor- I've known whole hosts of wizards who give her worship."

Runalenwe, true to form, almost chokes on her apple. "You don't believe me!?" She asks with raised brows, somewhat aware of the game they now play, somewhat genuinely scandalized.

"I'm not sure if I believe you." She corrects her.

"I'll have you know there are extensive genealogical records in my family's tomb!"

Again, Pannolaire laughs behind her hand, and her lover's eyes trace the glimpse of her lips. "Well then, you must take me there on our next sabbatical."

This time, Runalenwe's laugh is brash and untempered, her grin wrinkles her freckled face and her shoulders bob up and down. "Sabbatical! Oh, how rich- what are we, twelfth years???"

Pannolaire laughs along with her, laying beside her, sharing this bright and tranquil day all to themselves. Their hearts are light- they race when they stack their projects up against one another's, when they give presentations knowing that the other is watching, whenever they hold formal dialogue with their peers and mentors watching. How odd it is that their hearts race now, alone together, wearing no uniform and beheld to no observation, no assessment, free to be as they are. Runalenwe's hand finds its place in Pannolaire's, and after an interlude of silence and pecking at their meal, one speaks back up.

"...I'm no good with enchanting, but," Pannolaire says, dark lids drooping as her eyes wander out to sea. "I'm a fool for such romantic gestures... I would love to make you something, something just for you." With these words she shuffles up against Runalenwe's side, leaning against the other woman.

Runalenwe raises her arm to wrap around Pannolaire's waist, pulling her closer still. She leans in to press her head against the other's. "How sweet." Her forehead lies against her temple, her lips hover about her ear as she speaks softly. "What would you make for me, Pann?"

Pannolaire thinks on her skill sets, shifting about with a small bubble of nervousness. She lets herself fall closer against Runalenwe's soft embrace, letting out a long sigh. "A book on etiquette, perhaps."

The other woman chuckles. "I'm classically trained, love."

"In Aldmeri, sure. But would you know how to say 'good day' to a Nord?" Pannolaire retorts.

She laughs again, and for lack of a response presses her lips against her cheek. Pannolaire laughs too, forgetting the lunch they'd packed and shifting about to bury her face in the crook of her lover's neck, leaving a couple of black marks where she plants her kisses. Arms wrapped around her, Runalenwe replies. "Do they have those- good days- in that frigid country of theirs? Honestly, I'd be shocked if they see the sun."

Pannolaire pulls away only to smile and laugh at her peer. "Of course they see the sun!" The two chuckle on that point for a moment, before she settles in once again. "Well, actually, there is an interesting phenomenon that occurs at extreme northern latitudes- sunless days- they only happen at select parts of the year though..."

Runalenwe, content to hold her lover's body as she goes into a long tangent about novel astronomical phenomena and the Nordic holidays that coincide with them, closes her eyes and smiles. Her hand slowly traces Pannolaire's side, gentle and unobtrusive, as not to distract her from her speech.

She easily goes on for nearly half an hour, and it's only Runalenwe's reminder of the cooling food that makes her take pause, before the two resume their dialogue. They continue on like this until the sun dips down, embraced by the sea.

#tesfest21 #mori writing #oc: pannolaire #oc: runalenwe

[the28thofseptemberr]

helloooo!! i didn't do a fic rec last month because i was so busy with my exams and barely had time to read, so this month's post is going to comprise of mostly fics i've read in june but also some i've read in may.

thank you to all of the incredible writers, please go support them!! and remember to read all of the tags and possible warnings before reading the fic! here is the list of fics (mostly below the cut):

read

•° — led by your beating heart by @missandrogyny 29.4k | E | famous harry/non-famous louis

Nick leans over. "Oh," he says, his voice smug. "Who is that?"

Harry just blinks at his phone. "Um," he manages to stammer out.

"Who's that, Harry?" Nick asks again, but this time he raises his eyebrows and smirks. Harry knows Nick is just teasing, and that he's not really looking for new Harry Styles gossip, but, um. He might have found something. Accidentally.

Harry opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is another 'um'. He really needs to work on translating his thoughts into words. But then it probably wouldn't be any help right now, would it? His mind is as blank as a newly erased etch-a-sketch.

"Oh," Nick says again, this time gleefully, seemingly having picked up on Harry's distress. "Looks like we've got a story here! Are you going to call or delete her number?"

Her number. So Nick thinks it's a girl. Well, Harry can't blame him: 'Lou' is kind of an androgynous nickname. His stylist's name is Lou.

But this Lou, well, Louis, he's kind of, really, really not a girl. He's really pretty though, which, is something.

(Or: AU where Harry's in One Direction, Louis isn't, and they reconnect over a game of 'Call or Delete'.)

note: this was so funny and cute and well written, and everyone was characterized so perfectly!! i adored the chemistry between louis and harry, this fic kept me smiling for the whole time while i was reading <3

•° — sounds like love to me by @neondiamond 14.6k | G | kid fic

“Do you want to hear the heartbeat?”

Louis watches as Harry’s face falls with the realization that this is one of those things he won’t be able to experience. For a second, Louis considers saying no, to show Harry they’re truly on the same boat through all of this. But he nods in the end, reaching over for Harry’s hand as the doctor flips a switch. Noise fills the room then, and it takes a few seconds for the sound to become clear enough for Louis to make out the baby’s fast heartbeat.

“It’s really fast,” he voices his thoughts out loud as he uses his thumb to tap against the back of Harry’s hand, replicating the rapid rhythm of the baby’s heartbeat. It takes the younger man a little while to figure out what Louis’ doing, but a huge grin breaks out on his face as soon as he does.

“Is that them?” He signs with the other hand, his own eyes starting to tear up when Louis nods.

OR: Harry is deaf, Louis is pregnant. They figure it out.

note: i'm not a fan of mpreg or kid fics in general, but i stumbled across the fic post for this on my dash and the summary sounded really intriguing to me, so i had a go at reading and it did not disappoint!! it was really sweet and fluffy but also so touching and heartbreaking in some parts. plus, i really enjoyed how harry and louis worked together and supported each other.

•° — this restless dream by @afirethatcannotdie 5.6k | NR | first meetings

“Hiii, I called earlier about the dogs?” he asks, taking a few steps closer to the desk where Louis is standing. He’s taller than Louis, with a dimple when he smiles and bright green eyes. There's a cute eagerness about his whole presence. “Do you have any puppies?” He’s a bit like a puppy himself, actually.

AU. Louis works at an animal shelter and Harry wants a puppy. Things don't go quite according to plan.

note: this was so so adorable and soft, especially since i have a soft spot for h&l with pets. i also have a soft spot for h&l being oblivious lovesick idiots and this was perfect!!

•° — all i see is you, lately by @runaway-train-works 2k | G | first meetings

Harry noticed him for the first time three months ago. He couldn’t not, really, what with the man being so pretty and all, and Harry remembers it well because it was three days before his birthday and he had joked to himself that seeing someone so gorgeous for three days on the trot must be an early present from the Gods.

Or

The one where Harry has a crush on a fellow commuter.

note: this one was quite short but so sweet and perfect and lovely!!

•° — the things i'd do to wake up next to you by orphan_account 36.1k | M | amnesia fic

AU. Harry wakes up to a pregnant Louis Tomlinson and a wedding band on his finger.

note: this fic was incredible, i'm always up for an amnesia fic and this one was heart-breaking and realistic but also sweet and fluffy as well :)

•° — this glorious mess by theweightofmywords 14.2k | M | post-breakup

His head lolls to the side, and his eyes float open to focus on what used to be his bedside table.

It’s empty now, devoid of the framed photo of the two of them. And Louis knows that he has no right to feel hurt, but somehow, this only confirms what this really is.

“This is the last time,” he cries, his voice breaking both from pleasure and pain.

“I know, baby,” Harry breathes, burying his face in Louis neck.

note: this is the third mpreg-centric fic i've read this month and... i don't even like mpreg?? but god the premise of this fic intrigued me so much, and it was lovely and emotional and beautifully written.

•° — BLAH BLAH BLAH there's a moment you know (you're f*cked) by @mercurial-madhouse 3.2k | M | spy au

Anyone impulsive enough to betray their country is either foolish or overly-confident. Louis’s too cunning for the former. So his inflated ego tips precariously close to the edge between pride and hubris. In sum: He may be an expert, (as proven by the .32-cal Beretta Alleycat Harry found strapped to his back) but ex-agent Louis Tomlinson will explode like a busted bullet misfiring in a broken gunbarrel if Harry can find his trigger.

___

Or, the spy AU in which Harry thinks he's prepared to meet Louis only to find he's not.

note: the banter and tension in this fic was so good and so fun!! i need moreee

•° — every lonely place by @ham-palpert 38k | E | time travel/alternate lives fic

Facing the fact that he’s been prioritizing his career over his relationship, Harry proposes to his longtime boyfriend Louis on a whim. But when yet another work emergency takes precedence over their plans, Louis decides he’s had enough. Harry goes to bed drunk and alone, and when he wakes, he finds himself in an entirely different world. Over and over again, Harry visits a lifetime he’s once lived, across time and dimensions. And wherever there’s a Harry Styles, there’s a Louis Tomlinson.

note: this was such a unique fic! and such an emotional one too, love the message it sends and the character arc and development was so good

•° — tick-tock by bubblegumclouds 6k | G | soulmate au

When Louis was born to Jay Tomlinson with a tiny 2 years on his clock, it starts the most beautiful love story. Even if things are missed, fate finds a way to make it work.

note: this was just so, so cute and fluffy and sweet! i loved it

•° — baby baby, you're a caramel macchiato by @missandrogyny 3.2k | T | coffee shop au

So, yeah, Harry doesn't think it's that far of a stretch to call himself a good barista. There are some particularly bad ones, and some particularly good ones, and, with his work ethic, his skill, and his charm, he'd probably be lumped in with the latter group.

note: this was so lovely, and i especially really loved the little section talking about louis' name and how it suits him!

re-read

•° — one shines brighter by @afirethatcannotdie 11.8k | T | wedding fic

“Hi, baby. You doing anything fun today?” Harry shrugs. “Dunno. Thought I’d see how I was feeling before making any plans.” “You wanna get married?” Louis asks. Harry’s face breaks into a smile, and he nods. Louis’ lips are just brushing Harry’s when Gemma appears in the hallway. “You two are in so much trouble.” Harry's wedding was never supposed to be the happiest day of his life. No, that was going to be the day after, when he finally got to start his marriage. Unfortunately his family (and Louis) have other ideas.

Featuring a pair of moms who only want the best for their kids, meddling sisters with too much time on their hands, and a groom who gets caught up in the fairytale.

note: i adore this fic!! it's so so so adorable and so soft and well written, and you can feel how in love h&l are with each other. so so good!

my own fics

•° — under your bed in new york 33.4k | T | exes to lovers

"We know you're still in love with Harry."

Louis' nostrils flared up. "I'm not—"

"Louis."

"I'm not!"

there are many things louis likes to tell himself. we broke up for a reason. it's been so many years. and of course, the classic: i’ve definitely moved on from him. but when he suddenly finds harry back in his life after three years, louis realizes he might be a little less moved on than he thought.

au; spilling coffee onto an ex, being set up on dates, and having a nosy puppy might be all louis needs to find love again

note: i didn't actually write or publish this one this month, but i did edit, revamp and make a fic post for it this month so i thought i'd put it in here anyway. reblog the fic post here!

#28th appreciation #tracksintheam #trackinghome #hl source #1d source #fic rec #my fic rec #2021 recs #fic list #june rec #june 2021 rec #* #sched