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natalievoncatte · 7 months

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“We don’t have a friendship, Supergirl.”

It took a moment for it to sink in. Lena stood before her, chin proud, staring her down with enough force to that Kara knew she wasn’t the most powerful woman in the world, no matter what they said. She wasn’t even the most powerful woman in this room.

Kara could push press an attack submarine. She could move between the ticks of a clock, perceive things so small and so fast they could barely be said to have happened at all. She’d bested foes that had humbled the Man of Steel. She’s outclassed even him.

Yet in this moment, she was all but powerless. There was nothing she could do with all her strength. All of this had been about weapons. Kryptonite. Lena needed neither to destroy Kara. She needed only cutting words.

“U-understood,” Kara mumbled.

She felt her shoulders draw in and sag, felt herself shrinking back into her own skin. Supergirl was banished instantly, and suddenly a defeated, frail Kara Danvers stood in her place, feeling silly in her cape and skirt. Her boots pinched her feet and everything was too tight. She could barely breathe.

“Ishouldgo,” she gasped out, fleeing, running, getting the hell away from here. She took the fastest available route until she was airborne, slipping the burly bonds of Earth.

The rush of pressure and the concussive wave built up around her skin and cut loose, releasing a rolling boom over National City. By the time Kara slowed and came to a hover, she was over the Pacific Ocean, calm blue seas stretching out in an endless expanse.

She relaxed, hanging impossibly above the clouds, absorbing pure sunlight.

Bitterly, she remembered when she’d tried to abandon Kara Danvers, not long ago. It had seemed that a life outside of Supergirl, outside of endless battles and self-sacrificing service, was pointless, and hurtful. Fitting in brought pain, forced her into a world that was all angles and wrong turns, lying to everyone around her and forbidden the simple concepts they all had. She was a stranger in a strange land, always seeking acceptance and understanding of peculiar customs, dogged by an incessant need.

It was one she barely admitted, but it was there, always there, just over her shoulder and ready to lead the assault when the walks came closing in.

Why her?

Out of all her people, her entire race, why was she the lone survivor? And she was, because while Kal was Kryptonian by birth, he had escaped Krypton. Kara had survived it.

Survival offered no escape.

For him, his birthright was a joy. Incredible powers, a sacred calling, a love of adventure and excitement. Kara could only imagine how wonderful it must have been for him when he discovered it all.

Oh, he mourned, or tried to. Kara bitterly indulged his laments for his lost world; a world he’d never walked, customs he’d never shared. His parents were a blessing to him, but to her they were her aunt an uncle, real people that Kara had lost.

Being Kara Danvers was difficult and painful. Being Supergirl was difficult and painful- now with the world killers, it seemed to Kara that Earth might have been better off had Krypton never noticed this yellow star or the beautiful blue world that orbited it.

Maybe Krypton was meant to end, and maybe Kara…

Maybe Kara…

Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them away. She’d ruined everything. Lena Luthor was kind, and good, and had spent weeks risking her life trying to help a friend, and what had Kara done? Made it about her. She’d wrapped everything around herself. She’s torn Lena’s relationship apart because she just could not believe that her best and most trusted friend wouldn’t hurt her.

It made sense when she was doing it. Was she not doomed? Had she not watched her world die? Kara had been a little girl one day and the next she was trapped in hell, her mother’s touch still felt on a tear-scored cheek.

Kara screamed. Red-sun fury exploded from her eyes, burning the sky itself. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair!

When the scream faded from her throat, leaving it ragged and dry, her eyes aching from the wild energy blast, she was still hanging in the air.

A terrible inevitability settled within her chest. She knew what she had to do, but she didn’t know if she had the strength. She could overcome any foe, break any barrier, reach any height. She was Supergirl. She could do anything.

“I have to take responsibility for what I’ve done,” Kara told the sky.

The sky didn’t answer her. She closes her eyes and absorbed Sol’s warmth. Sometimes, Kara really wished these stars were gods, that the golden light that gave her limitless power could give her answers, that Sol could be a nurturing mother, taking in a wanderer so far from Rao’s grace.

It wasn’t. It was a superheated ball of hydrogen undergoing nuclear fusion. There were no answers in the sky. There were none anywhere. She’s have to find them on her own.

Kara first went back to her apartment, resolving to do this right. She changed into one of her favorite outfits (Lena had once made a curious compliment about Kara’s biceps, the last time she’d worn it) and texted her best friend, asking to meet soon.

Lena, predictably, replied that she was busy.

Kara thought of Lena, not as Supergirl, but as herself. Lena toiling in that lab in desperation, not feeding herself

She was tempted to say that Supergirl told her about the lab and the situation and beg to be allowed to help, but there had to be a better way. An honest way.

I know you’re busy. I just want to make sure you get something to eat and you’re okay. Just a few minutes.

The reply came a moment later.

Oh, alright. You know I can’t say no to you.

Kara’s heart leapt and crumped at the same time. She let out a slow breath and decided to grab something on the way, something she could leave if Lena threw her out.

When she arrived, Lena had moved to her office. She was sitting behind her desk, and as much as she’d look remarkable out together earlier, she was showing her fatigue now. There were bags under her eyes and she’d changed into a loose sweatshirt, and Kara thought she might fall asleep on her desk.

When she looked at Kara, her face lit up with such admiration and affection that Kara’s heart could have burst in her chest. In the fading afternoon light, most like that of her lost star, Lena seemed impossibly beautiful and perfect, the sharp-tongued being of cold fury replaced by someone small and soft that Kara simply had to cup in her hands and protect and…

Oh.

Oh Rao.

FUCK.

Kara almost dropped the bag of donuts. She couldn’t do this. Not now. Not today. She couldn’t do this she couldn’t, she couldn’t lose… couldn’t lose…

Lena.

It was like seeing her for the first time. Kara sucked in a drawing breath and had to let it out very slowly, as a new and perilous understanding took root and changed everything.

“Do I look that bad?” Lena said, but there was no heat in it.

“You look beautiful,” Kara answered in a breathy voice, before she could stop herself.

Lena smirked. “You’re too nice. Are those donuts?”

Kara gently placed them on the desk, and she looked. Stared.

One of the gifts, and curses, of Kryptonian physiology was an eidetic memory. This moment would live in her mind and heart until the day she died, so she dragged it out for as long as she could, to keep it. To keep the sight of this woman who truly treasured Kara. Just Kara.

“Kara?” Lena said, confused and maybe a little scared.

“I have to tell you something,” said Kara.

“What is it?” said Lena, always so eager to help.

Kara’s hands balled into fists, arms trembling. The tears broke before she worked up the will to say it.

“Earlier today, you asked me why it’s so important to me that we be friends.”

Lena stared blankly for a too-short moment, and then her eyes went wide. She rocked back in her chair as if struck, then bolted out of it, rounding the desk. Kara stood still, unable to face her, and watched it all reflected in the desk.

“Look at me.”

Kara didn’t move.

“Look at me!”

Kara looked. With shaking hands, Lena grasped the frames of her glasses and pulled them free, setting them aside. Kara then flinched as Lena reached behind her, the gesture so much like an embrace, so curiously intimate that Kara’s own body betrayed her, her heart hammering in her chest.

Lena released Kara’s hair and it spilled in curls around her shoulders.

“Oh my God,” Lena whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Kara whimpered, the tears hot on her cheeks. “Lena, please, I’m sorry.”

“It was all a lie. You were lying to me the whole time.”

No, she wanted to scream, I never lied, I didn’t, you had no right to know, I was protecting you. A hundred futile excuses crashes through her mind and when they were gone only the truth remained.

“I was scared,” Kara choked out. “I was so scared and then I messed it up and I was even more scared and I just kept trying to fix it. I’m sorry.”

Lena was crying, too. The tears fell freely, though her expression remained still, calculating.

“I would do anything for you. I would die for you. I don’t know why I did what I did…”

“You pretended to be another fucking person and talked my boyfriend into spying on me while pretending to be my friend.”

“I wasn’t pretending,” Kara pleased. “I am your friend. You mean so much to me, more than I’ve ever told you and I was scared.”

“Of what?” said Lena. “That I’d make Kryptonite and kill you with it? Make weapons to kill you? I thought you really believed in me, Kara. I listened to your bullshit and I believed it and you were just fucking… you were… you bitch!”

Kara stood, transfixed, as Lena came apart in front of her.

“Why did you have to do this? Why did you have to tell me now? Why did you take my Kara away from me when I needed her most?”

Kara sucked in a shuddering breath and hugged herself.

“Because I deserve this. You deserve the truth and I deserve the consequences for what I’ve done. I did hurt you just like you said, and I thought I could just smooth it over and charm my way into fixing it, but I can’t. I’m a fuckup. I make things worse just by existing.”

Lena shuddered and formed her hands into fists. “Don’t you say that. Don’t you say that to me ever again.”

“This is my fault. I made this happen. I should have told you after you saved the world. The first time, with Medusa. If I trusted you, you could have come to me and we could have saved Sam together. You trusted me and I hurt you.”

“Are you going to ask for forgiveness? Is that where this is going?”

“No. I don’t deserve it.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Let me help you with Sam, and then I’ll leave you alone. I know I can’t come back from this. I can’t fix it. I don’t know what else to do.”

“Leave me alone?” Lena snapped, jabbing a finger into Kara’s chest. “What the fuck? You think you can just crash into my life like this and then just leave?”

“I… I…”

“How about this,” said Lena, stepping closer, her green eyes full of fury. “How about you ask me what I want instead of telling me?”

Kara swallowed.

“What do you want?”

Lena stepped back.

“I want to save my friend. I want Ruby to have her mom back. I want to fix the world. I need your help to do that, whether I want it or not.”

“And then?”

“And then…” said Lena. “Then I want to know why. I want to know why you did this to me and what the hell you really want, and then I’ll decide if there’s anything worth saving with you, or if I’m going to go back to Metropolis and rebuild my life.”

“That… that’s… I’ll help.”

“What do you want?”

Kara swallowed.

“I… I ummm…” Kara reached for glasses that were no longer there. “I want to try again. I want to be your friend again, as my whole self. There’s so much I could share with you.”

Lena swiped the tears away from her eyes, and stilled herself, regaining her control.

“I’ll be in the lab. I’ll call for you when I need you.”

Lena heard for the door, stopping at the threshold.

“Kara,” said Lena, without turning.

“Yeah?” Kara said, thickly.

“The night Edge was trying to set me up… the plane. Would you really have dropped the chemicals if I couldn’t make the jump?”

Kara took her glasses from the desks, turning them in her hands, and drew in a breath.

“Yes,” said Kara. “I’d have found a way to fix somehow, but if it was the only way, yes. I’d have let them fall, but I’d never let you fall. I said I’d always protect you, and that was the truth. I always will. No matter what.”

Lena hesitated at the door, then left without a word.

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firenati0n · 1 month

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cause you're classic, and i'm reckless

by firenati0n on ao3

T | 5.4k

tags: actor au, first kiss, fluff, alex pov, banter, falling in love

“I've, actually, uh. I've never done this before.” At this, Henry stops short, takes a second as his gaze moves up and to the left, trying to recall something. “I've seen your films. You most certainly have done intimate scenes.” Alex clears his throat. He hopes his nerves aren't completely obvious, the slight waver in his voice about to give him away. “Yeah, well. Never with a man, so. Not at this scale, anyway.” “Would it help to, er, practice?" Henry winces a little as he says it, which does not inspire confidence. But Alex is shocked nonetheless. What the fuck?

xoxo roop

P.s. this was absolutely inspired by THEEEE ryan gosling/rachel mcadams MTV 2005 video. You know the one.

also tagging some folks who expressed interest in this don't mind me <3 ilysm

@sail-not-drift @onward--upward @suseagull04 @littlestar2911 @welcometololaland @dragonflylady77 @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @ninzied @sherryvalli @piratefalls @indestructibleheart @onthewaytosomewhere @heybuddy-drabbles @priincebutt @cactusdragon517 @junebugclaremontdiaz @kiwiana-writes @rmd-writes @eusuntgratie @cha-melodius @bigassbowlingballhead @getmehighonmagic @celeritas2997 @nontoxic-writes @porcelainmortal @4rthurfox

#rwrb fic #fics #rwrb #rwrb fanfiction #roop writes #fic: kissing as practice #hope you love it xoxo #my longest fic yet #kind of came tumbling out randomly and unplanned #thank you to my friends for always uplifting and encouraging me #i love you guys so much

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etchy-a-sketchy · 3 months

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He’s home!!!! o7

Y’all I spent so long on this piece but I drew it before I wrote the chapter and now it doesn’t work quite right ;w; I put too much into it to change it and I’m hella proud so I left it as is- even tho this is more so how it should look-

#my art #etchy’s sketchys #dreamworks trolls #trolls #trolls band together #floyd #branch #trolls floyd #fanfiction #a long road home #hope y’all like this chapter! it’s the longest yet!! :D #as always comments make my day <3 #two left feet series

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domaystic · 1 month

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It's Domaystic 2024!

Hello, hello! This is the third year of DOMAYSTIC, a domestic trope based prompt event running in May :D

This is the main post for the event and in the picture above there are the prompts.

They're 31 prompts (no alts this time), but they are also divided in three main categories, which I loosely labelled as "people from everyday life" from 1 to 10; "things from everyday life" from A to J; and "general-container-stuff that can be bent to one's own desires" from roman number I to X. Plus, at the very end, a free choice option (we never had one and the days are not even ahahah).

List of prompts

Category: people from everyday life 01. driver 02. shop assistant 03. plumber 04. public servant 05. teacher 06. receptionist 07. mechanic 08. health professional 09. baker 10. landlord

Category: things from everyday life A. konmari B. me/us time C. shopping points D. odd appliances E. building renovations F. frozen G. memento H. wild animal I. ritual J. dreadful weather

Category: general-container-stuff I. proverb II. tutorial III. poll IV. numbers V. emergency VI. quiz VII. cliché VIII. art IX. official document X. song

* free choice

Guidelines, tags example, AO3 link under the cut!

General rules and guidelines

Domaystic is open to any fandom or original content.

Any kind of media is welcome. You choose your way of expression.

There are no limits/restrictions on how your fill should be.

There’s a total of 31 prompts for 31 days.

To join the event one can do a prompt a day following the list as it is; or following the sequence they prefer; or only the ones of their liking, even just one.

Or, and this is my challenge proposition for anyone who wants to take it: try to combine one prompt from each one of the three categories + the free choice. Which in total would produce 10 fills + 1 if all are done.

Share your work anywhere you want or keep it to yourself, that's fine. If you share it on tumblr and tag this blog, I’ll reblog it.

If you also want to combine these prompts with another fandom event, that's okay.

Domaystic runs actively throughout May; if you join or tag the blog on a later date, that's fine too, I just reblog on a lower pace after May is over.

In case of lengthy posts on tumblr, use the "read more" option: ctrl-shift-k on rich text; [[*MORE*]] on html (remove asterisks)

AO3 collection

The domaystic2024 collection is open from May, 1st: click here - info and prompts are also on the profile page.

Tagging your tumblr post:

Mention the blog in your post @domaystic - tracked tag: #domaystic2024

State the fandom name or if it is original content

State if it is sfw or nsfw

Please, always TAG PROPERLY for any trigger warning. I will base my own reblog on your tags so, please, take even a moment longer to carefully tag it. I hope all participants to stay safe in this event.

Here’s an example:

It took me 2 nights to write this @domaystic, look at my stuff! #domaystic2024 #[fandom name or original content] #[sfw or nsfw] #[trigger warnings that I get from your post] tw

And this is it! For any question, doubt, etc. the askbox is always open :)

Hi @thebigbangblogproject, can you reblog this? Thanks :D

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muffinlance · 5 months

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I really do love your writing and Salvage gets me through when I am sad or depressed. However, I was wondering, how do you cope when someone who wrote a review didn’t like your writing? If you’ve had this before… I had one today and I am dejected. I’m working through my perfectionism and I keep telling myself, “my writing isn’t for everyone and it’s okay.” Any advice?

If it was unsolicited, especially on a fanfic? Delete it, block the person if you feel like, then go do your rage activity of choice before forgetting about it forever. That person is rude and doesn't deserve your time anymore than someone bumping into you on the street.

I've also found it useful to actively think of my fanfic as writing practice, and not even my brain expects perfection from writing practice. It also frees you do Try Cool Things.

Now take this digital blanket and cup of hot chocolate and go reread your nice comments.

#most readers are absolutely lovely #But yeah I've gotten these too because there is always someone on the internet who thinks they are Right and Smart and that those things #Are more important than being kind and polite #Fic Reader Etiquette 101: the only writers looking for crits on a fic are the ones that explicitly asked for it #The only potential exception is for typos that impact reading clarity and even then varies by author #I love having any and all typos pointed out but I know some writers Don't Want To Hear It #My worst comment was the person who wrote essentially:#Wow I remember loving this story it had a huge impact on my life but now I reread years later and it's shit #...Honey. HONEY.#please realize that your personal growth and resulting resonance or lack thereof with a story's themes #have literally nothing to do with me #and I hope your next bit of character growth involves internalizing your self-reflection instead of outsourcing it to fanfiction

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zanniscaramouche · 4 months

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January 01, 2023 - December 31, 2023

Stats for 2022 | Stats for 2021 | Stats for 2010-2021

#one direction #1D #1 Direction #1D fanfic #1D fanfiction #one direction fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 stats #zanni stats #Louis Tomlinson #Harry Styles #Niall Horan #Zayn Malik #Liam. Payne #the way this programme I've always used now watermarks their stuff so you pay for premium #kiss my ass #had to crop em so they're eeeeeh #not my best #any way hope you enjoy!

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hearts-hunger · 7 months

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affection || jake kiszka x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Standalone in the Cabin Fever universe

Summary: Nothing hurts when you're with Jake.

Pairings: Jake x Reader | Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, non-graphic smut | Word Count: 1k | Warnings: light talk of depression, non-graphic smut (minors begone!)

A/N: My very first standalone fic for Jake and Sparrow! I hope you like it! ♡

Tick, tick, tick.

In the darkness of your bedroom, you listened to the quiet sound of Jake’s pocket watch and tried to settle your breathing to the rhythm of it. Usually the sound was soothing, a reminder of the way Jake had filled up the quiet parts of your life and your home with a heartbeat of dependability and comfort. You tried to remind yourself of that now as you listened to the soft coppery music of it, but even its steadiness didn't help quiet the knot of sadness and anxiety in your chest.

You didn't know why you felt like this. Sometimes it just crept up on you, a tangle of feelings that had no explanation or obvious cure. They’d come less frequently with Jake, but nothing could stop them completely; you just had to ride it out, hanging on to what you knew was true, letting it wash over you until it was through.

You turned towards Jake, saw the soft curve of his bare shoulder in the moonlight filtering though the curtains. You didn’t want to wake him; you knew he was tired from a long day at the studio, and he needed his rest. You moved close to him, pressing against his back, wrapping an arm around his waist as you tried to get warm against him.

He moved his hand to rest over yours, holding you securely against him. Even in sleep, he was attuned to you; you felt a sob catch in your chest and rested your head against his back.

“Sparrow.” His voice was gravelly with sleep, soft and soothing. He drew your hand up to rest near his heart.

“Sorry,” you said softly, even as you felt the sting of tears. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

He turned his head towards you a little. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lied. “Go back to sleep, honey.”

“Are you sick?” he asked. “Bad dream?”

You shook your head. “Just...” You felt so guilty for waking him, for not even having an explanation when you did.

“I don’t know,” you said brokenly. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

He turned to face you then, pulling you close, tangling his legs with yours under the blanket.

“You’re crying,” he said, brushing tears from your face. “Are you sad?”

“I guess,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t feel good, Jake.”

He hummed and brushed your hair back from your face. “In your body? Or in your heart?”

You couldn’t help a wobbly little smile, endeared to the simplicity of his questions while he was still half-asleep.

“In my heart,” you said. “I can’t sleep. I’m sorry I woke you.”

He didn't say anything for a few moments, and you’d thought he’d gone back to sleep. You didn’t hold it against him; you knew he was tired, and you knew this didn’t constitute a real crisis that he needed to be awake for.

Then, with a sleepy sigh, he pulled you close and hugged you tight.

“I think you need a hug, sparrow,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” you agreed, moving close to him.

You were a little surprised when he pulled away then, and you were confused when he sat up and started to pull up the hem of your sleep shirt.

“It’s like that kangaroo thing,” he said. “We should try that.”

Bemused, you let him ease your shirt off until both of you were in nothing but your underwear.

“What kangaroo thing?” you asked, wondering if he was maybe still asleep.

He lay back next to you and drew you as close as he could, your bare chest against his. His skin was warm and soft, and just the contact made you feel better.

“You know how they do for babies right after they’re born,” he said, running his hand up and down your back. “I think it’s called kangaroo care. Skin-to-skin contact.”

You gave a soft laugh, finally understanding. “Oh. Yeah, I guess you're right.”

“I’m always right,” he said. He kissed your face. “Is it helping?”

You nodded. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

You lay like that for a while, chest to chest, listening to the rhythm of each other’s breathing in the quiet of your bedroom. It was intimate, tender, patient; as he knew it would be, it was exactly what you needed. Gentle touches started to wander, and you eventually felt him warm to your touch.

“Jake,” you said mildly.

“Yeah, I know,” he said with a slight grimace. “Sorry. Ignore it.”

You smiled. “What if I don’t want to ignore it?”

You drew your leg over his thigh and heard his sharp intake of breath.

“We don’t have to,” he said, and you knew he meant it. “I wasn’t trying to get frisky when I started this. I just wanted to help.”

“It is helping,” you said softly, pressing your mouth to his in a gentle kiss. It wasn’t what you’d planned either, and you knew his intentions had been innocent, but you couldn’t think of anything you wanted more than to be as close to him as you could.

His hands moved lower on your back, trailing between your legs, slow and patient.

“We can stop any time you want,” he reminded you. “Really, sparrow.”

You kissed him again. “I know. I don’t want you to stop.”

You enjoyed long moments of his touch, warming to your desire, comforted and soothed by the tenderness with which he traced you like a beloved thing. When both of you were completely bare and vulnerable to the other, he moved to hover over you, cradling you close with one hand on the small of your back, tucking you into the protective lee of his body.

“Go slow,” you said.

“Of course, my love.”

He eased into you slowly, patiently, never thinking of himself as he filled you and held you close. You breathed a sigh of relief as he settled, awash in the comfort and familiarity of the feeling of him inside and out.

“Thank you,” you said. You held him close. “I needed this. I needed you.”

He kissed you. “My sweet sparrow. You always have me, you know that.”

He kept you there for a while, waiting patiently for you, telling you how much he loved you, his voice a lullaby.

“Beautiful,” he said softly, peppering your face with gentle kisses. “You’re so beautiful. I love you, Sparrow.”

“I love you,” you said. You started to move against him, and you loved the way his breath caught.

It was slow and soft and gentle, pleasure cresting with all the tenderness of a wave against a shore. You felt tears come again, your chest tight with love for him, and he brushed them away with a soft touch.

“Don’t cry, sparrow,” he said, his voice soft with compassion. “Are you alright?”

You kissed him, trying to tell him in more than words how much you loved him, how thankful you were for him.

“I’m perfect,” you said. “Thank you for loving me like you do.”

He sighed, relieved and tender for you, kissing you with every gentleness, and his touch eased every bit of the tangle in your chest until all you felt was warmth and safety.

“I love you, Jake,” you said softly.

He kissed you again.

“I love you too, sparrow. More than I could ever tell you.”

(i'll reblog with the taglist tomorrow bc it's late and i'm lazy! <3)

#i've had this idea in my head forever and i liked how it turned out and i hope you do too!!#i like how i always write jake and sparrow being so soft and tender with each other :')#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszk fluff #jake kiszka fanfiction #gvf fanfiction #greta van fleet fanfiction #jake x sparrow #cabin fever fics #maddie writes stuff!

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itsjaywalkers · 5 months

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i will take the sun in my mouth

jegulus | explicit | 33k | for my beloved @imdamagecontrol <3

Regulus is nothing if not a liar. And a really damn good one at that. Or he tries to be, at least. You see, making mistake after mistake isn't as easy if you don't have a certain amount of delusion. How do you think he manages to stay on that stupid branch until it breaks each time? Of course, it doesn't really work with Sirius, because his brother has always been able to see right through him. And as luck would have it, James Potter also appears to be somewhat of an exception.

#hello again #back with this au yes #what can i say they have me in a chokehold #this was supposed to be done a while ago #but work became busy #and as u can see . this turned out to be a lot longer than planned #it's also filthier than last part #as always!! mind the tags!!#hope u enjoy mwah <333 #jegulus #james potter #regulus black #sirius black #remus lupin #jegulus fanfiction #jegulus smut #fic: i will take the sun in my mouth

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ratinayellowbandana · 4 months

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Hound "baby boy" of Ill Omen for prompts!

first off, thank you for carrying this whole ship on your back. you are our strongest soldier and we appreciate you.

second, even more thanks for sending this my way! I hope this is something like what you had in mind!

if anyone else sees this and would like to toss a little prompt my way, feel free :)

wc: 934

cw: body horror…kind of? it’s just canonically what the good boy looks like

~~~

Imogen loves Laudna. She does. Quite a lot, in fact.

Because it is a fact.

It may as well be written in stone. In the stars. Recorded on one of those dusty scrolls in elegant script and stuck on a shelf in some stuffy library for the next bored student who may happen across it and learn of two witches who saved the world.

Laudna, it must be noted, is a woman of many quirks.

And Imogen, it must be noted, adores her for them.

They are just as much a part of Laudna as the angle of her nose, the brightness in her eyes. As are her projects, macabre and scrounged as they often are, and so Imogen adores them, too.

(If it takes her a moment to come around, Laudna must never know. Each new creation, presented to Imogen with all the glee of a child in a sweets shop, will only ever be met with enthusiasm. Laudna, she knows, has spent too long squirreling away the odd parts of herself. Imogen is determined to recover them.)

“Come here, darling,” Laudna calls, and the flesh-and-bone creature that scared the everloving fuck out of Imogen the first time he burst from his maker’s chest trots happily to her side, tongue lolling from a fleshless snout.

The hound twines between Laudna’s legs, and she lifts her skirts to allow him through. He leans heavily against the inside of her knee, and Laudna beams. She bends at the waist to wrap the creature in spindly arms. His back arches, and Imogen can hear the vertebrae curving, clacking, as Laudna scratches behind his one intact ear. The ichor-tipped remnant of a tail begins to wag, shaking them both with the force of it.

He spots Imogen several paces away, and his green eyes glow, peering at her curiously.

Laudna has stopped her scritches, and the hound tilts his big head. Laudna looks up, meets Imogen’s fond gaze, and her lips split into a wide grin.

“Go on,” she pats the creature’s sides encouragingly, “say hello if you like.”

The hellhound bounds forward, released from his command.

Imogen recalls the day he learned his tricks.

Laudna had found Imogen lounging beneath a copse of trees one afternoon, just as the sun was beginning to sink, casting the forest in dappled shades of orange and gold. The festering hound loped diligently at her heels. His paws colored the leaf-strewn ground iridescent black in their wake.

“Look!” Laudna had said, chest puffed. She turned to her newest creation and pointed one finger. “You’ve been so obedient all afternoon. I’ll see about giving you something from my collection if your other mom approves of your skills. I should have a deer leg that will suit you nicely.” She contemplated for a moment. “Ready?”

The hound stretched into a bow, muscle snapping over exposed bone, yawned, and shook. Drops of blood and ichor spattered the clearing, but Imogen hardly noticed, too caught up in Laudna’s casual statement.

She had said it nonchalantly, as if she hadn’t just gifted Imogen something extraordinarily precious. As if Imogen’s senses hadn’t suddenly gone askew. As if she hadn’t just sent Imogen’s worldview slip-sliding into something new and dangerous and so welcome that it felt like a homecoming. Her mind spun until she was almost giddy with it. She wondered, then, how something said so simply could feel so significant. If Laudna understood what she had done.

She had appointed Imogen the caretaker of a fragment of her soul. Of a creature that had been born of her, born from her. Crafted from the essence of her with whispered words and a desire to protect.

“Imogen?” Laudna had said then, “Are you ready?”

And Imogen had glanced between Laudna and her hound, who sat on bleeding haunches and looked expectantly at his mother, and it was all she could do to swallow the creak in her throat.

“Let’s see what you can do.”

Now, as the hound nearly bowls her over, Imogen cannot find it within herself to be mad at him. Not even at the dark stains on her dress. They’ll come out with a prestidigitation or two. She knows from experience.

She falls back in the grass and stares down twin emeralds. A broad tongue laps the side of her face, and she laughs, trying to dodge a cold, wet nose against her cheek. Her hands come up to cup the sides of his muzzle.

“Hi, baby boy,” she coos. She rubs at his ears, and he presses harder into her palm, groaning loudly. She can feel the vibration in her chest.

Laudna scolds, “What have I said about knocking people over?” Her hands rest firmly on her hips. “Honestly, Imogen, you could at least discipline him. How will he learn?”

Imogen rolls her eyes, shrugs. “I’m the fun mom. He comes to me because he knows he can’t get away with anything when you’re around.”

Laudna huffs. “I’m sorry that I want our son to be civilized.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” The hound flops to the ground, sprawling over Imogen’s outstretched legs, and she lets out an oomph of surprise. “Are you going to join us down here?”

Laudna sighs and settles beside Imogen, resting her head on Imogen’s shoulder. She runs her hands over the creature’s exposed belly, avoiding the biggest of the perpetually oozing wounds. His jaw unhinges happily. His tail thumps a steady rhythm against her shin.

Imogen presses a kiss to the top of Laudna’s head, and Laudna relaxes into her.

A soft smile spreads across Imogen’s lips.

#this was written in an hour on the highway so please forgive any mistakes #I adore the baby boy #but for real many thanks for letting me take a stab at this #always honored to see you pop up in my notes :)#hope this works!#prompt fill #my fic #imodna #imodna fanfic #critical role #laudna #imogen temult #hound of ill omen #fic #cr3 #critical role fanfiction #ask #horse-immorality

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helpimstuckposting · 8 months

Text

Part one | part two | part three

Artwork

—

Robin and Steve went up to sing a few more times, though Steve was still emotionally rattled a bit. Give me your phone, Eddie had said, come to the show any day this weekend, he said, just text me and I’ll come out to give you a pass. What the fuck was Steve’s life right now? Once he told Dustin about this, Steve was going to have bragging rights for the rest of their lives, the kid would never have the high ground again. No matter what his ego said.

Eddie was back at the table with his band mates. Jeff and Gareth, Eddie had introduced them. Steve was just a little bit tempted to do a Corroded Coffin song to fuck with Eddie, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to pull off the vocals anyway. The band had refused to go up at all, said they had to rest before their show tomorrow, that causing a commotion wouldn’t be a good idea either. Steve was a little bit sad he wouldn’t get a personal show in such close quarters, that would have really made Dustin jealous. As it was, Steve could probably claim this as the kid’s birthday gift for life. Not that he would.

He was almost more excited just to tell Dustin than he was to go to the show at all. Though, he was very excited, this all still felt like a hallucination. Robin had pinched him multiple times, just to check he wasn’t dreaming. Not that he asked her to, she just did.

He couldn’t tell what Eddie was saying to his band mates, but Steve could still see the wide smile on his face, and for once Steve didn’t choke on his words or skip a breath.

Across the bar, stage lights in his eyes, he could see Eddie throw his head back and laugh - the pull of his skin making Steves mouth water. He was so drawn to Eddie, to the soft edges and eyes that held fireflies, and sure he was nervous around him, who wouldn’t be? But at this point, Steve could either not do anything and he’d never see Eddie again, or he’d shoot his shot and if Eddie rejected him the outcome would be exactly the same; Steve had nothing to lose. If he had to wrap himself just a bit in King Steve in order to finish the song calmly and walk over to Eddie, that was his business. Everyone needed armor now and again, and growing up the center of attention taught Steve exactly how to pull that armor out and engulf him.

After their song, probably the last of the night, Steve marched right up to Eddie’s table with a new-found determination. He had nothing to lose.

“Hey Eddie, can I talk to you?” He asked, lightly brushing his fingers against Eddie’s forearm. He didn’t want to grab and seem too forward or pushy, didn’t want to seem crazed or too much.

“Sure!” Eddie replied, glancing once over to his friends (who shot him mocking looks and little smirks) and leaned heavier into Steve’s touch. He followed Steve over to the dark hallway past the stage, the one leading to the bathrooms. It was a bit dingy, but perfectly quiet and out of the way for what Steve wanted to say.

Steve turned around to face the rockstar, felt closed in with him in this little space. The worst Eddie could do was take back his offer to go to the concert this weekend, that’s it. Steve kept repeating it over and over again in his mind, trying to convince himself he could really do this. Before, in school, Steve had been so cocky and so confident. It didn’t matter that Robin always told him to cool it, to humble himself, he was a Harrington, he was King Steve, all the girls wanted him and all the guys wanted to be him, it was easy.

But then a high school girlfriend, one he was genuinely serious about, had called his love bullshit. She said he wasn’t worth it, that it was all an act and their relationship was another bullshit dance their parents had pushed onto them. He never felt like King Steve after that, not really. He felt the mask and the act and the character he played but he never felt like that person again.

Here, in the back of the bar with the lights dimmed and the music from the stage dampened between the close walls, with Eddie looking at him with so much patience for someone he only met yesterday, he felt like it didn’t matter if he had the kings mask on or not. He could be Steve and that would be okay.

“Steve?” Eddie asked when Steve hadn’t said anything. His fingers trailed lightly against Steve’s forearm, gently gliding into the palm of his hand. Steve clasped onto the soft touch, turning his palm into Eddie’s.

“I was wondering how long you were going to be in town?” Steve said, his inflection pitching up into a question.

“Tuesday we’ve got another show about two hours from here. Going back to our roots, so to speak, and after that we’re back on the road,” he replied. So, four days. They had performances Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, and Steve worked the weekends anyway. He could take Dustin to the show on Friday and then maybe… if Eddie was free, maybe Monday…

“Would you go to dinner with me?” Steve asked, tugging on the hand still held in his own. He pulled Eddie toward him just a step, letting the musician get closer if he wanted to. If he chose to.

Edit took a step closer, then another, the tips of their shoes stopping against one another.

“I’d love to,” he whispered between their shared space. “Does Monday night work for you?”

Steve huffed out a laugh, “Monday is perfect,” he said. “I’ll probably stop by your show tomorrow, if that’s okay?” Steve still wasn’t quite sure he was awake and not hallucinating, that he wasn’t drugged and unconscious in a hospital bed somewhere. He just wanted to double, triple and quadruple check that he was fully awake and welcome to just show up at this concert without a ticket.

“I said any day this weekend, of course you’re allowed to come tomorrow.”

“Well, sorry for kind of not believing this is actually happening after a rockstar I met yesterday said I could just show up to his concert completely unannounced without a ticket and waltz right in like some kind of famous lunatic or something!” Steve shouted a bit more than he intended to, quieting quickly and glancing around to make sure he wasn’t causing a scene.

Coast clear, his eyes darted back to Eddie who was pulling a strand of hair over his lips, and very clearly trying to hold back his laughter. Steve rolled his eyes. He couldn’t believe how quickly he was thinking fondly of this rockstar, like he knew him, like was comfortable being around him.

“Sorry, sorry,” Eddie laughed, “I promise it’s allowed. Just text me when you’re outside and you’ll be lead into the venue, okay?”

Steve nodded, tugging on Eddie’s hand just to remember the feeling.

The two groups dispersed shortly after their conversation, Steve and Robin heading back to their apartment while Eddie and his band mates went back to their hotel or bus or wherever musicians on tour stayed while in town. It was late, around 1am, but Steve couldn’t wait to tell Dustin the news. The little twerp would be awake anyway, Steve was certain.

He called the second they got back to the apartment, Dustin picking up on the second ring.

“What’s up, what’s wrong, what happened, are you okay? Is Robin okay?” He answered in a panic.

“What, I can’t call my favorite duckling just to talk?” Steve replied, trying to lighten the mood so Dustin wasn’t worried.

“Duckling? Steve what the fuck, it’s one in the morning!”

He rolled his eyes, though Dustin couldn’t see, “oh what, like you were asleep? Tell Suzie I say hi.”

“Hi, Steve!” a soft voice crackled through the line. Dustin and Suzie always FaceTimed until one of them passed out, talking about nerd things until some ungodly hour. He smirked down the line.

“Yeah, okay, whatever. Why are you calling?”

“You’re gonna want to sit down for this, Buddy, are you sitting? Are you planted firmly on your ass?”

“My ass is firm,” Dustin joked back, a small ‘very firm’ chirped in the background.

“I… did not need to know that, never ever say that to me ever again. I hate you so much.”

Steve could practically hear Dustin rolling his eyes over the speaker. The kid was predictable, Steve could probably guess his every move on the other side of the phone.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m the love of your life, what do you want? Why do I have to be sitting?”

“Robin is the love of my life and you know it,” Steve said. He took a deep breath, preparing to give the best news of Dustin’s life. “So you know that band you’re obsessed with?”

“Do I know the band I’m obsessed with? Yes, Steve, I know Corroded Coffin.”

“Okay, you keep up this little attitude of yours and I won’t tell you I just got tickets for their show tomorrow,” Steve blurted out. He was half expecting Dustin to continue through more arguments about his attitude, completely bypassing what Steve just said. Of course, Dustin was never one to miss the important information.

It was silent on the other end.

Steve pulled the phone away from his ear, waiting a few seconds before the inevitable scream from the other end. He could hear Dustin yelling back and forth between asking Steve questions and relaying the information to Suzie. He wasn’t loud enough to hear any actual words or questions, but there was no way in hell Steve was going to put the phone back to his ear with Dustin going berserk on the line. He didn’t want to ruin his hearing before even stepping foot inside the concert venue, how ironic would that be?

“Dustin!” Steve shouted into the receiver to no avail, “Dustin… Dustin! I swear to god I will answer your questions but you have to ask them one at a time, bud.”

There was a deep breath, a few muffled reassurances from Suzie, and then it was quiet again. Steve hesitantly placed the phone to his ear, waiting for the first question.

“Steve… how the hell did you get tickets? The show was sold out! All the days are. I know, I checked!”

“Okay, so I… didn’t technically get tickets,” Steve cringed.

“… WHAT? YOU-,”

“Dustin! I swear to god, I’m getting us into the concert tomorrow.”

“How, Steven?? HOW are you getting us into a sold out concert tomorrow for the biggest band to perform in Indy in years, the day before opening night?”

“Okay first of all, never call me Steven again. Ever. You got that? Never ever. And second…,” he paused, mulling over his choice of words, “I uh… I know a guy who’s working the venue.”

Steve could only hear Dustin’s breathing over the speaker. He didn’t know if he broke the kid or if he was trying to decide if Steve could be trusted after nine years of friendship. Maybe Dustin thought he was delusional, he wouldn’t be the first person to think that tonight.

“Is this a rich person thing?” Dustin finally asked.

“A rich- Dude, I make $20 an hour, no this isn’t a rich person thing, Jesus Christ,” Steve muttered. A snort like a lawn mower revved from behind Robin’s bedroom door, and Steve contemplated the pros and cons of shaving her head in her sleep for the third time that night.

“Well sorry! Forgive me for not believing you!” Dustin shouted sarcastically, the earlier hysteria bleeding into his words again (though thankfully not as much as before). Steve told Dustin to take another deep breath before continuing.

“He told me to text him when we got there, they’ll let us through. I already told him we’re going tomorrow, he’s prepared and reassured me like three times that he’ll personally make sure we’re let in. Do you want to go or not? I swear to god, kid, I could still rescind the offer.”

“Steve if you take this back I will shove my hand so far up your ass-”

“Oh like you could take me, Henderson, I don’t think-”

“You lost to Jonathan, I think I could do just fine.”

“Sounds like you don’t want to see a concert tomorrow, I think what you mean to say is ‘Oh my god, Steve, this is the best news of my life, you’re the greatest guy ever, I can’t believe I know someone who can get me into a concert for my favorite little rock band’,” He taunted, raising his voice to a pitch that absolutely wasn’t Dustin’s, but he knew it would rial the kid up anyway.

Henderson’s put-upon sigh crackled through the receiver, and Steve couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. Dustin could be exasperated all he wanted, Steve knew this was going to be an amazing experience for him, even if they had the shittiest seats possible.

“They’re metal, Steve. Metal.”

“Yeah, yeah, pick you up at 7!”

“This better not be a trick, or-,” Steve hung up before he got caught in another round of banter. Cutting Dustin off always brought Steve a sick kind of pleasure, the kid could go on and on and on, honestly it was self preservation. He headed to his room to finally sleep, kicking Robin’s door as he went. She would be spared from a buzz cut tonight, he was in a good mood.

—

I’ve started tagging these as ‘the upside downers’ because that’s what I’m naming Stobin’s band, if you want to follow that tag specifically! I also always tag helpimstuckwriting for any of my writing

Tag list:

@weirdandabsurd42 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @snapshotmaestro @youraveragemushroom @stxrcrossed186 @remuslupinisthevoiceofgod @notfrogsunderatrenchcoat @irethsune @m-owo-n @phantomcat94

#i hope I got the banter right #i always feel like I’m terrible at dialogue #i like writing it but the ‘he said’ ‘she said’ tags are so awkward #sorry if it sucks lmao #stranger things #the upside downers #stobin #steddie #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #dustin henderson #stranger things ficlet #stranger things fic #famous eddie munson #fanfiction #helpimstuckwriting

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casdeans-pie · 9 months

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Part 3 of Flustered Castiel Accidentally Explodes Lightbulbs And Causes Power Outages Especially When Dean's Fingers Are In His Hair

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4. Thanks to everyone for their enthusiasm for more parts of this silly lil thing I wrote, I really appreciate it sooo much and you all keep me writing!

This accidentally gained a part 4 I'm sorry ! So the next chapter will actually be the final

Tags for: @dreampencil (thanks again for the initial idea I can't believe how this keeps growing aaa), @mymisfitsbabe , @fivefeetfangirl , @kerryweaverlesbian , @give-bucky-his-boyfriend-back , @mooshroomister as always let me know if you want a tag for the final part!

-----Read on AO3-----

---------

It had happened twice already, and Dean felt confident he knew why: both times Cas had jumped in surprise. He looked like a weird little guy in a trench coat, who frowned too much and hadn’t slept properly in a week, but he had all that powerful Angel mojo stuffed inside, so it made sense that startling him could set it off.

Sometimes if you shook a bottle too hard the cork would fly out, that’s all.

Of course, now Dean absolutely had to shake the bottle on purpose to see what happened.

------

The piles of papers scattered across the long table looked random, but Dean knew from experience that they were organised by a system that only Cas understood. Books were opened onto pages with complicated diagrams and words in languages Dean didn’t know, while more books and papers were piled high in boxes by his feet.

Sam sat on the opposite side of the table with a similar setup – both reading in silence except for the rustle of pages.

Dean placed a bowl of steaming, freshly popped popcorn onto the table between them with a flourish and sat on the edge of the table. “You know what goes great with research?” He grabbed a handful and threw them into his mouth. “Snacks,” he said, slightly garbled from all the popcorn, as he grinned at them both.

“Do you know what goes even better with research?” Cas asked drily, without even looking up from his papers. “An extra pair of hands.”

Dean nearly choked with the force of his laughter, and in response Cas finally looked up at him from over the top of the paper he was currently reading. The corners of his lips curled up into a fond smile.

“Cas,” Dean managed, as he got his laughter under control and swallowed forcefully. “You wound me. Here I am, providing sustenance for you both-”

“I don’t eat.”

“-and you’re giving me the cold shoulder?”

Cas opened his mouth to say something, but Dean jabbed a finger towards him before he could speak. “Do not tell me your shoulder is ‘perfectly room temperature’ or whatever. I can see it in your eyes.”

Cas’s smile grew a fraction wider before he hid it behind a pile of papers in his hands. “Okay,” he said, “I won’t tell you.”

Dean rolled his eyes affectionately and reached over for another helping of popcorn. He paused when he noticed Sam looking between them both with his eyebrows hiked up to his hairline.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Sam said with a soft smile, returning to his book.

So, Sam knew that he was flirting. So what. It wasn’t his best flirting, even he’d admit, but it’s not like it mattered when Cas didn’t even see it like that anyway. Did that make it worse? It’s not like he meant to flirt with him (badly) so much anyway, it always just kinda happened.

Dean ran a frustrated hand through his hair as his gaze flicked back to Cas before he could stop himself.

Cas had his eyes narrowed at the stack of papers in his hands, as if he could absorb the information through intensity alone, and Dean felt a wave of warmth in his chest. Okay, maybe the flirting was happening more than ever recently, and maybe he did mean to do it.

He turned away and picked at a loose thread on his jeans, trying to hide his small secret smile.

When they first met, he’d been on the receiving end of those kinds of stares, like Cas was trying to look inside of him, and see right to his core. Back then he probably could.

Thinking about Cas’s Angel powers reminded Dean of what he’d brought the popcorn in for in the first place. He shook himself out of his thoughts and cleared his throat quietly, making sure his back was to Cas.

Sam immediately looked back up.

Dean pointed over at Cas and then the lights. Sam frowned and shook his head. Dean wiggled his eyebrows and nodded. Sam's frown intensified.

The brothers’ silent argument continued while Cas researched obliviously, until Dean rolled his eyes, and in one fluid motion picked out some popcorn, turned around, and flicked it.

Cas jumped so hard that the current collection of papers in his hands slipped out of his grip and his elbow knocked over a whole stack beside him.

Even through the sound of the pages scattering across the table and the floor, Dean could hear Sam’s disappointed sigh as he made his way over to Cas to help, and plucked some popcorn out from where it had got caught on his spiky hair.

Cas apologised for the mess and thanked him, while Dean waited expectantly and with a growing sense of disappointment.

The lights stayed perfectly normal. Not even a flicker.

But that didn’t make any sense…

Cas had definitely been surprised – he’d jumped like he’d been hit with a taser – so Dean couldn’t think of what had gone wrong. The whole place should have been flashing like a nightclub.

Dean eventually jumped off the table and stooped down to pick up some pages that had slid across the floor, but when he placed them back on the table next to Cas, he turned to see two sets of glares directed at him. He pushed his tongue between his teeth and grinned. “I slipped,” he said with a shrug.

“You slipped?” Cas repeated, his eyes narrowing.

“Yeah, and then the popcorn just flew clear out my hands.” Dean’s grin widened. His experiment had failed, but at least he’d been able to see the Squint Of Disapproval. “Speaking of – Sam missed a bit.” Dean reached over to flick out a rogue piece, but Cas immediately ducked away out of his reach.

It was so unexpected that Dean froze mid-action.

“I’ve got it.” Cas’s voice had a strange, strained quality to it as he fluffed both hands through his hair, far away from Dean.

Something painful twisted in Dean’s chest at how quickly Cas had moved away from him. His hand was still suspended stupidly in the air, so he lowered it down to his side and tried to ignore the hurt – Cas could be weird about stuff, and he had just thrown popcorn at the guy. He shouldn’t read too much into it.

Dean forced out a little laugh at the bits of yellow popcorn still trapped in Cas’s hair. “It’s still there, just let me-” He took a step closer.

Cas flinched back. “No, I’m fine, I’ll use a mirror. Excuse me.”

He left the room so quickly it reminded Dean of when he used to be able to fly away and disappear.

“Maybe we should all take a break from research anyway?” Sam suggested, looking at Dean with a deep, concerned crease between his eyebrows.

Dean stared after Cas, a mixture of hurt and confusion and guilt swirling in his gut.

Sam sighed. “I told you messing around with his powers on purpose was a bad idea.”

“Yeah, well. Give me stick and I’m gonna poke the hornets’ nest. ‘Cause apparently that’s just what I do.”

------

And then it kept happening.

For weeks.

They were never in a room alone together anymore because Cas would leave if Sam wasn’t there. He would stand up if Dean sat too close to him, muttering something about somewhere he needed to be, or that he suddenly had something to do that he’d forgotten about. He wouldn’t even take anything directly out of Dean’s hands if he handed something over, making some kind of excuse for Dean to put it down first before he took it. It got so bad that if Cas spotted him walking down the corridor in the bunker, he would turn around and walk the opposite way.

It was getting ridiculous. And it was driving Dean insane.

He’d only wanted to know what triggered Cas’s powers to go all screwy with the electrics like an Angel sneeze or something. It was supposed to be funny.

He wasn’t supposed to lose his best friend over it.

After the disaster of the first experiment, Sam told him that he wouldn’t help him with anything else, so Dean was on his own, and rapidly figuring out that maybe Sam was right, and it had all been a bad idea.

A couple of times Dean had even considered talking to Cas about it… but then he’d have to admit to trying to mess with his powers on purpose and acknowledge how badly their lack of interaction affected him. He also wasn’t sure how he could talk about how much he wanted them to go back to how they were, without also admitting that he’d kinda like them to be more than how they were.

So, he stewed in silence and hated the rift growing between them. Dean had never really been touchy-feely – the few times they’d hugged could probably fit on one hand – but God it was like… he missed Cas. And he was right there.

He had to get him back.

#I am having sooo much fun writing this even though I'm always nervous everyone is going to stop enjoying it after every update lmaooo #hope you enjoy the lead up to the final chapter!! sorry I had to split them but it was getting Large #please as always let me know what you think!!#destiel #destiel ficlet #destiel fanfiction #deancas #castiel's angel powers #castiel headcanon #pie's projects #my fanfiction #flustered!castiel

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a-stitch-in-time-and-space · 10 months

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kira's ongoing narrative in relation to cardassia and post-genocide complication of easy stories -- not, of course, that it was not genocide, but that some people she thought of as enemies were allies, and many people who were a part of the oppressing forces, were later, in turn, the victims of a mass attempted-genocide

and the idea that she, personally, cannot hate every individual cardassian, because she genuinely wants to build and heal and what that looks like, versus many (understandably) traumatised bajorans who are still and will always be at war

it's such a complicated, ongoing, twisty-turny storyline that returns again and again, with dukat, with garak, with ghemor, with damar, with ziyal, with rugal (although he and kira don't really interact, but in terms of the wider complexity of bajoran-cardassian interactions), with marritza (I've forgotten characters I know it -- there's natima as well, although I don't think she and kira interact?)

and then her ongoing narrative related to healing vs punishment vs power with -- yes li nalas and bareil, with winn and opaka (battle lines really is the first realisation I think of kira's needs and ongoing journey), with the people she was in the resistance with, some of whom are trying to create new lives some of whom cannot, ziyal again...

i also wonder about a stitch in time, and the knowledge that cardassia's rich, spiritual life was all but stamped out by a military dictatorship, and how kira would feel about this/whether she would feel a connection with the underground religious space that survived despite it

i think the reason it (mostly, let's not go into the storyline with her mother) works is that it's something her narrative returns to over and over, like a worried tooth, not necessarily in a single straight line, but via individual stories from many directions, with this understanding that she's at the centre of this massive change and she may have to take on a leadership position in order to facilitate and hold together bajoran ideals and culture and history and pain and hope through that, and bit by bit she grows into that role. and in some ways it doesn't come across as conscious, but it builds up slowly like drops accumulating, until there's a picture there

it's so so good, and imo the most complete/successful storyline given to a character in ds9 (I think nog-and-rom as a somewhat more intimate ongoing push-and-pull storyline, and also benjamin sisko on a macro spiritual level have a similar kind of thorough exploration, if different in focus, and also - to an extent - odo). my one big thing with kira's narrative is consistently how they handled ziyal, that is my personal biggest detractor. shocking because -- perhaps with benefit of hindsight, perhaps with a little less sexism idk -- there were so many ways they could have gone with ziyal, it seemed obvious while i was watching, and yet

#am reminded as i write that i literally wrote fanfic about these things #but i have not finished any of it #i wanna go back to having time and brainspace #thematically ds9 is to me so much kiras and siskos stories as the main main #ramblerambleramlbe #this is not a proper meta it's just... there really was so much focus given to this #in a way that i think some stories need so badly #vs a single linear progression #lot of changes happening in tv in the near future -- one of my biggest hopes is that something can be made to fit the format #rather than attempting to consistently squash everything into one size #i just imagine if michael burnham had been given this kind of space to really delve into her #we'll always have fanfiction ofc

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fearandhatred · 1 month

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oh hi. this did not in fact take only an hour to write but hey it's done! any support is so so appreciated <3

also thread of me lowkey liveblogging myself (not) writing this lmaoo

Summary:

A fun little side perk of being a demon is that Crowley only gets to see the world in shades of grey. That is, until that world is touched by one particular angel.

They say that it's not the fall that hurts, it's the landing. That's a partial truth, at least for him. The landing did hurt—his bones had shattered almost methodically, travelling through his legs and up his spine like a shiver; the whiplash from his head hitting the ground had felt like an explosion of guts in his mouth. But the fall had hurt, too. Because the wind had cut into his useless wings like knives, his skin and grace peeling away under the friction, and he had been looking right up at the multicoloured and unreachable expanse of sky just to see it fade from his eyes into dull greys. And that was that. For the indiscriminate time afterwards, he and all the other demons wandered Hell's corridors like strays, lost and trying to adjust to a new life where hope looked just as bleak as despair. They wore all black, because the identifiability of that darkest shade meant that they wouldn't have to worry about clashing colours. An inconsequential problem, maybe, almost laughable in its insignificance, but it was the one piece of self-dignity they could still control. Back then, that was everything.

#fearandhatred #fearandfics #fic: sunflower fingerprints #honestly i feel like i could do/have done so much more with this #but i don't wanna overthink it lol i didn't even have the time to write this fic #also one reason this took longer to write was because i did research!! into the hindu festival of colours #i knew about it already and i've always found it magical but i wanted to make sure i got my facts straight before writing about it #i hope i did it justice #honestly a coincidence that i remembered this festival existed while writing this lmao. and it turned out to be so significant to the story #so yay!#oh and if you saw my thread. update i'm not even going for the test lmfaooooo good riddance #good omens #good omens season 2 #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #crowley #aziraphale #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #good omens fic #writing

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osamusriceballs · 5 months

Text

The Accident - Part VII

Atsumu x fem reader

Warnings: None

Words: ~ 2k

About: You talk to your mysterious friend and finally part from Atsumu.

Part I II -> Next part

"It's me. I'm okay- please don't worry. I'll be back soon."

"Where have you been? I was worried sick; I've tried calling you all night! You just texted me that everything's alright at 4am, but what's going on? Where are you?"

The voice comes out of the phone, quickly and fast as always, and you hold the phone a bit further away from your ear. "Please, I'm okay, I promise!" You can hear a few deep breaths on the other side, probably the attempt to calm down, and then the voice speaks again.

"Where are you right now? I'll come and pick you up, and then you can tell me everything."

"I'm at the—" you hesitate and then look at the name on the towel and read it out loud. "Do you know where that is?"

"Give me a second." You hear typing noises on the other side and then a little gasp. "That's an expensive hotel! One night costs 500 bucks, and the suits are literally thousands of dollars per night!"

"What?!" you're speechless for a few moments, realizing just how much money Atsumu might own—you are in a suite after all and you definitely did not pay for it.

"It will take some time to get there. I'll be there in an hour? I'll send you my location. Is there someone else with you?" Your thoughts drift to Atsumu, and you hum. "Yes. And I need to ask for a favor. Do you have a lawyer? Or do you know someone who maybe knows someone who can help me with a divorce for cheap?"

"A divorce? Who needs a—wait. Are you talking about yourself? Did you get married?" The voice is so shrill and loud that you almost flinch, and you find yourself regretting revealing that fact already. "I'll tell you the details later. Please don't worry about me." You try to sound as calm and soothing as you can, and after a few shocked gasps, you hear silence again on the other hand. "Hello? Are you still there?"

"Yes. I'll come and get you, and then you'll have to tell me everything."

You agree, and after a few more times of you repeating that you'll be fine and that you're being taken care of, you hang up. You take a deep breath, and without thinking too much about it, you quickly undress and go into the shower.

It's like heaven. The warm water feels soothing on your skin, and there are more products in the shower than you have ever used so far, but you find yourself drawn to the pretty bottles and decide to spoil yourself. It's not your water bill after all, and if Atsumu is paying for it, you can go all out and spend a few more minutes in the shower. The towels are fluffy and warm, thanks to the towel warmer, and you find yourself pressing your face against the soft fabric and inhaling the fresh and clean smell. The mirror is foggy by now, you probably showered at too hot a temperature, but the warm water just felt so good on your skin.

A soft knock on the door brings your attention back to reality, and you find yourself stepping closer to the pompous wooden door. "Y/n? I put the clothes in front of the door. Samu and I will wait on the balcony; you can get them anytime."

"Thanks!" you respond and hear footsteps leaving the room and a loud sound that's probably the window closing behind them. You wait a few more moments just to be sure that they are gone, and then you open the door a little bit to take the small pile of clothes.

It's a shirt with the hotel name, surprisingly tasteful due to the minimalistic logo of the expensive establishment, as well as a matching pair of sweatpants as well as a pair of socks. The fabric is soft, and you quickly put on the new clothes, only regretting that you have to wear your old panties, but there is not much you can do about it.

You take one last look at your phone, quickly checking your appearance one last time, wishing you'd have the time to wash your hair too, but you'll do that when you're back in your hotel room. You're just glad that you feel clean and warm now.

You step out of the room, feeling a little better and more alive already, and look around. You find Atsumu and Osamu standing on the balcony, both of them busy in a heated discussion, and you watch them for a few moments from your position after you noticed that they are not looking in your direction yet.

They are undeniably related. You can find similarities in the way they speak, in the way they use they hands when they talk and in the way they stand. They are both very attractive—something that you can freely admire now that they haven't seen you yet.

A notification on your phone informs you that your friend will reach you in a few minutes, and when you look up, you see that the twins have stopped talking and instead watch you through the window in silence. You pause momentarily and then lift your hand to wave at them. Atsumu's eyes take in your new clothes, checking you out from head to toe, and he gives you an approving thumbs up and a grin. Osamu rolls his eyes at Atsumu and simply pushes the door open.

"Hey. I'm glad the clothes fit." He comments, and you look down at yourself at his words. "Yeah, me too. Thanks. I appreciate it a lot; I feel so much better already."

Atsumu also steps into the room again, making sure to bump his shoulder against Osamu's when he passes him, ignoring the curse of the dark-haired male.

"Ya look better already. Feelin' alright again?" His voice is still tinted with the slightest bit of concern, and you smile at his words.

"Yes, thank you. I'm sorry for being so weird before. I was just a bit overwhelmed." Atsumu shakes his head and buries his hands in his pockets. "Don't sweat it. That's normal. Gettin' married like this is a pretty unusual thing after all."

"Right. Uhm. My friend will pick me up soon; I'll get downstairs and wait there. I'll give you my number, and then you can call me as soon as you find out more?" You look at him questioningly, and he is quick to fish for his phone in his back pocket. "Sounds good. I'll wait with ya till yer friend arrives." He watches while you type in your number and quickly save it. "Oh, you don't have to. I'll find the way on my own, don't worry." You shake your head, but he quickly wraps an arm around your shoulders and leads you to the door. "Nah, I insist. Where are your shoes?" You let him guide you, his arm around your shoulders feeling somewhat heavy but comforting while you look around for your high heels from last night. Atsumu guides you to the chair next to the door and ushers you to sit on it while he grabs the black shoes from the ground. "Do ya think they'll fit with the socks?" He asks with a frown, and you just shrug your shoulders as a response. "I hope so. I don't want to leave without socks; I don't even want to wear the shoes, to be honest."

His brows furrow while he looks at your feet. "Sorry, I wish we had some other shoes for ya." You quickly shake your head. "It's fine. It's just for the way downstairs. It's okay." He nods and kneels in front of you, and you subconsciously slide back on the chair as far as you can to create some distance between the two of you. "What are you doing?" He takes your left foot and places it on his thigh, and you feel every single muscle in your body tensing at the sudden contact. "Helpin' with yer shoes. Stay still for me."

You're at a loss for words while he slips the shoe on your foot; all you can do is stare at him while he secures it around your ankle. Surprisingly, it fits around your socked foot, and he nods before he lets go of your foot and reaches for the other. It doesn't take him long to get it on your foot too, and you shortly admire how skilled he is with his fingers, and then he places them both on the ground. "There ya go." He hums satisfied and gets on his feet, quickly offering you his hand to stand up. At this point, you just accept it and take his hand, allowing him to lead you to the door.

"Uhm. Bye, Osamu. See you. Maybe." You turn around and wave at the dark-haired twin who had made no attempt to come with you, and he nods acknowledgingly. "See ya."

You follow Atsumu through the door, who seems to be familiar with the hotel because he is quick to lead you to an outrageously big elevator. It's silent on the ride downstairs. You're standing each on different sides of the elevator, leaning against the walls, your bodies no longer touching. You don't really know what to say to him; you're too deep in thought right now, and he seems to feel somewhat similar.

"The exit is right there." He motions to the other end of the hall as soon as you get out of the elevator, and you hum while you follow him to the doors. You're lucky that there are barely people around because you certainly feel a bit underdressed with the clothes from the shop, but Atsumu doesn't even spare a glance to anyone you're passing. The receptionist greets you without batting an eye at your unusual attire; you're fairly certain that you both give a very unusual sight. Atsumu with his formal dress pants and half-opened dress shirt, and you with the hotel shirt and sweatpants and heels from last night. Surely not an everyday sight, but professionalism prevents her from looking longer at you.

It does not take long until you both stand in front of the hotel, just far enough from the entrance not to bother other guests but still close enough to see everyone who enters the building. You both stand there for a few moments in mutual silence, until you look up at him with a faint smile. "Thank you for showing me the way. I'll manage from here on. You can get back to Osamu; it's alright."

He frowns at your words and looks around.

"Can I really leave you here?" He looks a bit worried, and you nod with a tight smile. You really need some time to think about everything. "My friend will pick me up soon. You can go back to Osamu; it's fine, really!"

He hesitates for a second, probably not fully convinced that everything's fine, and the next thing you know is that his big arms surround you and pull you into a hug. You're stiff at first, unsure how you should react, but the comfort and familiarity that he is radiating by now makes it all too easy to melt into his touch and to hug him back. "Y/n. I meant it. I'll take care of ya, okay? Everything's gonna be alright. I'll make sure of that."

"Hmm." You hum against his shoulder, deeply inhaling his comfortable smell, and his grip tightens around you. "And if ya need anything—anything at all—call me. Anytime." You nod, hoping that he can feel your response and your gratitude because you don't trust your voice right now. You know you should probably pull back, but it feels too good to be in his arms, too good to be close to him, so you just stay, and he seems willing to let you.

"Y/n!" You hear someone yelling your name behind you, and you quickly pull yourself out of Atsumu's arms. You turn around and face a familiar face with big brown eyes which flicker from you to Atsumu with a surprised expression.

"Wait—Atsumu Miya? What are you doing here?"

Your jaw drops, and you turn your head back to Atsumu, who looks equally surprised to see your friend.

"You know each other?!"

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu fluff #I feel like I'm stretching a few things here #but I just enjoyed writing the details rn somehow #I hope you enjoyed it too! <3 #I feel like it's always easy to guess my mood from my writing #I was in no rush and relaxing today #because I'm a bit sick and spent the day in bed #I already started writing the next part #I might be able to post it tomorrow #I hope you're excited to meet y/n's friend! <3 #it's definitely someone you know #and someone you maybe wouldn't have expected #but I wanted to show some appreciation for that character <3 #I wanted to keep it a surprise until the next part

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imaginethezeldaverse · 5 months

Note

Hello! I don't know if you write for the more obscure characters in Botw/Totk but I figured I'd ask just in case ☺️ Could you please write something about Tauro, Purah, Sidon and Zelda dating a Sheikah s/o who's chronically ill/disabled? It'd be great if you could make them specifically have weak bones and be really short too, and they're often upset how people keep babying them because they might fracture or break something. But if you want to keep it more open-ended that's fine too!

Thank you so so much, you're probably my favorite Zelda blog on Tumblr! Your writing and ideas are always like *chefs kiss* 😘! Have a good day and drink lots of water!

Whenever people tell me I'm their favorite anything it literally shocks me because there are SO many fantastic zelda fic blogs on here that I feel are vastly superior - but I thank you nonetheless! 🥰

I'll write for pretty much any character - I just keep romance and nsfw content for adults. So I'd be happy to!

Tauro, as well-mannered and good-natured he is, is amongst the mass where he needs to be reminded that while you are disabled, you aren't incapable of doing normal things. He tries his best to remember that, but his rambunctious and steadfast nature leads him to be righteous and helpful, even when it's not needed. Plus given his height, he always just assumes that people tend to need help to reach things in tall places if he's ever around. He does try his best to be sensitive to your needs and wants, however, tapping his hand to his chest when he catches himself doing too much. Instead, he makes an effort to remind himself to wait for you to ask him should you need anything. Very affectionate, otherwise - he enjoys making you smile and wrapping his big ol' bear arms around you (albeit, he's careful not to actually squeeze you too hard because he does NOT know his own strength) and is very attentive on the days that you specifically don't feel well and your body leaves you in a weaker state than normal.

Purah, being the research fanatic and accomplished scientist that she is, is already aware and well read on your illness. That, however, has never stopped her from being absolutely smitten with you. Where she is boisterous and outlandish, there is a careful resilience to you that she keeps close to her heart. She sees your frustration often with the townsfolk who treat you with unnecessary delicacy, and while she understands the "good-intent", she feels as you do: chronic illness should not beget differential treatment. When you express your frustrations, she's an open ear always. Purah is never one to explain why the people of your community act this way that leans in their favor, but rather why their attitudes should not portray you under a fragile light when you are anything but. She empathizes with you greatly, knowing exactly what it's like for your own people to treat you like you're something you're not (her experiences with de-aging left quite the mark), but she assures you that you've always got her on your side.

“I’ve never much like everyone else…and neither have you,” Purah muses, tapping her recorder in her hand. She lifts her glasses, her crimson eyes blazing in your direction with admiration and sincerity, “I guess that makes us a cut above the rest, now doesn’t it?”

Sidon is about as bubbly with you as you can imagine. That sharp smile completely alight when you're with him. His height difference compared to yours doesn't bother him considering he towers greatly over just about everyone he meets, so as long as you don’t care (which he secretly hopes you don’t!) then all is well. When he learns about your chronic illness, he’s at first admittedly worried, but he sees how much you value your independence and doesn’t push you to do less than anything you’re up for. Sidon, having learned his healing capabilities from Mipha, will actually offer to “bathe” with you whenever you’re not feeling especially strong, letting the softness of his magically imbued water immerse your body and take any pain or pressure off of your form for a while and bring you some ease. You don’t take him up on it often, half because you don’t feel it’s always necessary, and half because you don’t want to impose - though of course Sidon would refute you ever being an imposition upon him. He chooses his words very carefully, making sure to give you the impression that he’s willing to do whatever you need should you need something from him, but without overstepping and making you feel incapable.

“You’ll never be without, my darling,” Sidon whispers, taking your hand, those slit-pupiled eyes softening as he brushes back a lock of your silver-white hair, “But I will never claim to know you better than yourself.”

Zelda has always been a ball of curiosity, that’s one of the things you love about her. She has an awfully curious mind, so when you explain to her about your chronic illness for the first time, she of course asks you a lot of questions. You laugh thinking about back then, how she felt terrible for borderline prying into your life though she wanted to know everything about you at that time. You remember assuring her that it was fine, and it made you incredibly grateful that Impa had introduced you before she stepped down - it allowed you two to get close. The times that you’ve gone to town together, Zelda takes notice of how people tend to treat you akin to porcelain: delicate, fragile, some even giving off the impression that you’re a lost cause because of your Sheikah heritage. Combined with your stature (with Zelda herself being on the shorter side of an average Hylian’s height), it’s enough to infuriate you both. You two tend to bounce off of one another: shes sticks up for you when you feel like someone’s unnecessarily babying you, and you put your two cents in whenever someone is overly cautious and hovering due to her status, even after proving herself beyond capable. Ultimately she too understands your plight of people looking at you differently because of who are you or what they know about you. She recants the days when her father treated her as helpless and small, hyper focused on keeping her in line rather than letting her be her own person. She takes your hand, intertwining fingers with yours and lending you a genuine smile.

“But we are not weak. We are not frail or easily broken. I am not defined entirely by my title,” Zelda kisses the top of your hand before gently covering it with her other in an endearing move, “And you are not defined by your illness.”

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