#this is such a mortifyingly long post

[fandomfluffandfuck]

I’m back to those posts about Steve drawing his own dick for Bucky…

Bucky for sure would have Steve do a series of like 5 drawings/paintings of Steve’s own cock. The series would go from a completely soft cock to fully hard and all the stages in between. Bucky would frame them and put them over the bed.

And maybe Bucky realizes that Steve finds it easier to draw the blue pictures than to say the words. So he has sub!Steve draw the fantasies he can’t bring himself to say out loud.

Steve folds the drawings and leaves them out for Bucky to find. And Bucky is blown away at how Steve draws him. THIS is how Steve sees him? He looks so…sexy, kind, nurturing, and of course dominant. Bucky gets a big ego boost from those drawings of himself doing dirty things to Steve, as well as lots of scene ideas!

related to these two posts

Okay, if you're at all into oviposition, I HIGHLY recommend you check out "Day 29: Alien dildo/Oviposition" by pandafish on AO3. It's only 3k words and so good! It relates to this prompt because Steve's drawings are what reveal his oviposition kink to Bucky 👀

You're so right, though! Bucky definitely has the whole fucking collection--proudly framed, conviently stuffed into his wallet, or otherwise displayed. Drawing after drawing of Steve's sweet, cute, lil flaccid cock but hoards of drawings of Steve's cock so hard that it's emboldened by throbbing veins, the head engorged, fat, dripping wet from how long he's been aroused, his whole dick and balls stained dark red-purple, too. Further, he has drawings of all the stages in between those two extremes; soft and vulnerable to hard and temping. He's fascinating and gorgeous. So much so that Bucky could and does stare at his pretty dick for hours, on paper as well as when they're stripped down together, time stretched to the limit.

Steve could have drawn all the drawings on different days, and it would've been much easier on him--easier on his mind, body, and soul--but he didn't. It wouldn't be nearly as much fun for Bucky if he'd done it that way with the collection built up over weeks. But because Steve modeled for himself all day, all in one day, it means that by the time dusk rolls around... Steve comes tumbling out of his home studio, his head fuzzy, eyes hazy, feeling too big for his own body, unsure of what to do with his limbs, his skin buzzing with electricity. A crackling, faint fire burning through him, smoking up the whole studio where he had been holed up.

He's dazed by the hours and hours he's spend curled up with his sketchbook, a pencil in one hand, his cock in the other. Examining himself. Detailing every inch. Keeping himself at each stage, entirely soft to throbbingly hard, through sheer self-discipline. His head is mortifyingly full of his own dick. It feels self-obsessively, heat prickling at the back of his neck, sending shivery feelings down his spine. He, he... he feels like he isn't anything but his dick. Like nothing about him exists at all but his dick; he doesn't have a brain, he doesn't have thoughts, he doesn't have a voice, he doesn't have arms, he doesn't have legs, he doesn't have a heartbeat except for the one pounding through his dick like bass shaking the whole foundation of a concert venue. Pounding. Steve doesn't have anything but a dick.

Speaking of his dick--

The moment Bucky finds him tripping over his own feet, tumbling forward, falling more than he's walking, Bucky is grabbing him by the cock and guiding him toward their bedroom. A cute, tiny whimper drips out of Steve's lips, his mouth statically open, head all spacy. He's mush.

Similarly to that adorable little noise, Bucky keeps his voice hushed, gentle as he leads him by his cock, hard as hell. Steve can hardly understand him anyway, so it doesn't matter what he says. He just needs some stable direction because, otherwise, he's aimlessly floating--swimming through the glittery clouds surrounding him. A whole day of forcing himself to stay soft, denied, then controlling his cock and keeping it hard, ramping up to be harder, harder, and harder denied differently, will do that to a man. He's broken open. Too sensitive. Lost to the mercy of such an enticing sensation.

They make it to the bedroom with no help from Steve at all. He's bonelessly laid out on their king-sized bed, spread flat like sweet, sugary jam melting onto warm, crispy toast. Then, just like that, Bucky dares to drag his hand up his shaft real slllllllllow. After, too soon for his poor, little Stevie doll, Bucky strokes down just as unhurried and just as devastingly tight so these big, wet tears well up in Steve's hazy, blue eyes--it makes him look like he's near drowning. But immediately, those sizzling tears spill over, and suddenly, he's pouting, shaking, sobbing. Outright blubbering.

He doesn't even know what he's begging for. He's not making real words. He's too simple for words right now. He couldn't even tug and pull at Bucky's hands to show him what he wants when he's like this. He really is a doll, posable, sweet, and anything that Bucky imagines him to be. He's Bucky's.

Bucky's to touch.

It's agonizing. Does he want Bucky to keep stroking him off? Does he even want to cum? Does he just want his dick to be left alone? Does he want this to stop? Does he want to float here forever? Never coming down? God! It huuurts! He feels all swollen and sensitive, it's almost like Bucky is pressing on a fresh bruise. There's this fucking rush to it, the endorphins shimmering too brightly through the pain, but it's painful and tender, too.

It's so much.

Steve is sobbing, crying so much that the tears are dripping into his mouth, salty and wet. As hard as he's blubbering, the baby, he's not shaking, nor is his chest heaving because he can't.

Steve can't even writhe, thrashing side to side, because he's so drained from a day of nothing but dick. His fingers twitch, hands aching from all that drawing. His cock can't twitch or jerk, it just drips, overflowing, making a puddle on his weakly clenching stomach--the flat, smooth muscle of his abs and the shallow dip of his belly button. All he can do is stare up at Bucky, those big, puppy-dog eyes foggy, his head is empty. Mouth agape. Dumb. All he knows is Bucky.

BuckyBuckyBuckyBuckyBuckyBuckyBu--

It's not his fault he can't admit his fantasies. They're just so dirty and m-mortifying, and words are so hard. For such a delicate thing like Steve, it's so much. He gets needy, and he dissolves, cotton candy into water. It's lucky that his hands are smarter, and his drawings don't just turn into indistinguishable scribbles.

I didn't actually mean to write that... it just happened 💀💀

#asks #anon provided writing #fandomfluffandfuck #bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #big sub steve #dom bucky #artist steve rogers #artist steve

[lisztcmania]

My heart is waking up and for the first time in a long time I feel alive. A week ago my bestfriend for 2 years became my girlfriend. She is as radiant and lovely as she always was and more, and I am fumbling and tripping over every puddle I find myself in (the contrast, in my head, is quite funny). I’d be lying if I said the prospect of change doesn’t continue to scare me everyday. Even though I laid out all my cards to her and pulled out every disclaimer I could think of about how I’m absolutely going to be very much the same genre of person (this is because I am ace, continuously figuring things out about myself, and awkward), I am beginning to think there’s so much more to me and so much more to us than I’ve ever thought. I’m less scared of the change in our dynamic, more scared of the change in me. I find the need to channel every bit of limited, fair weather, literary power I have to accurately display every shapeless, complicated, complex, feeling I have about the urge to shout to everyone I have a girlfriend and she is amazing despite me being the most rigid, simple and lame person known to man. Hence, making this post.

I am actively dealing with change by fully embodying the change. What that means for me is choosing the mortifyingly vulnerable path to resemble being alive. I’ve learned that running from it has caused me to be dissociative, so, I won’t shield myself from all of that anymore in the hopes I get to at least be in my body when I’m experiencing devastating, wonderful things. My girlfriend is open, cheesy, affectionate in all the ways I lack and severely want. So I’ll try to one-up her by being embarrassing, honest, and openly affectionate in the only way I know how --through writing. 

Where the faulted normalcy of my outer shell fails, the commended silliness of my literary inner being succeeds at. All of that is proven in every lyric and poem I’ve written and lied to her about and said they were about general concepts when really they were all about her. In every song I sent spewing blabbery analyses and media parallelism when in reality they only reminded me of her. In every info dump I do when we talk about media that made me vulnerable, that really just meant I trusted her with every bit of me, hear me, see me, I adore you. In every time she’d lay her head on my shoulder and her breathing sounded like waves crashing to the shore, back and forth. In every time I allowed myself to feel so much for her and my words fail to give something unsayable, I compare the feeling to a cliff dive to the sea --and how I wish I could tell my hesitant self that you did it, it’s fine, the water is radiant and warm and it glows when you’re around. 

You’re alive but you’re terrified, for how can someone who used to be so desperate to pushing down the heart ever feel like there’s something beating at all? There is no reference point. The beating feels alien and it doesn’t feel normal...until ultimately, with patience, it does. Until it feels familiar. Until it feels welcoming and captivating and all I want is to chase it even if it means embarrassing myself in front of my girlfriend and whoever is reading this. This is my gift to her, this is my gift to the version of me who has it a bit more figured out than I do now. 

May you be as silly, as serious, as passionate, as cheesy, as bold and as silent in power.

And to her, I love you very much and you know this already because I tell you every time you tell me. This is the least I could say as the unsayable amalgamation of what I feel. I want to give you the world. This is the new, innate thing that has awakened along with my heart. It’s all for you and me to share.

#personal

[thatbirdrestaurant]

iwaoi/oiiwa fic list

Warnings of Omegaverse.

No, I'm not really ashamed.

These are all found on ao3!

fluff:

A Flower to Make You Smile by hereismyhappyplace | Teens and Up Audiences, Omegaverse (non-explicit), Fluff, Mpreg A bouquet of flowers and bag fulls of goodies isn't a lot, but Hajime does his best to try and comfort his mate when he's feeling low.

Or Tooru's parents are really good at bring out all of his insecurities and Hajime is pretty over them doing it.

i just wanna be yours | Teens and Up Audiences, Omegaverse (non-explicit), Fluff, Mpreg Seeing the omega son of doctor Oikawa Ryou and lawyer Oikawa Mei being whisked away by a lower-class alpha on a motorcycle went down as well as you would think.

Which is, not at all.

baby, my heart’s on fire by xlvi (homelander) | Teens and Up Audiences, Married IwaOi, Fluff “They were saying all this shit about their own wives. How they were always being nagged, how much they hated being married, that kind of stuff.”

Oikawa stays silent.

“Tooru.” Iwaizumi’s voice is rough. He takes Oikawa’s hand and clutches it like it’s the last safe port in a storm. “If I ever—if I ever start talking about you like that, I want you to leave me."

Iwaizumi's coworkers are kind of assholes.

The Finest Feline by FindingSchmomo | Teens and Up Audiences, Bakery AU, Married IwaOi, Pets, Fluff Iwaizumi kind of wants kids. Oikawa kind of hates kids. They get a cat.

iwaizumi hajime has a ring by chocomelon | General Audiences, Outside-Point-Of-View, Canon Compliant, Married IwaOi Iwaizumi Hajime has a ring on his finger.

A simple gold band with modest silver trimming resting snuggly on the fourth finger of his left hand.

Hajime is only 23 years old, is only in the midst of the second year of his post-graduate degree, and to Charlie’s apparently outdated knowledge, has been single at the very least since his move to America a little over a year ago.

Imagine his surprise when the dude came waltzing back after a month-long break, with a wedding ring on his finger, legally wed, and not speaking a word about it.

In which Hajime gets married and his friends in California have no idea who the lucky woman is.

Anesthetic truth by valiantarmor | General Audiences, Established IwaOi, Fluff Iwaizumi wakes up after getting his appendix removed, and the anesthesia leads to an interesting conversation.

Share my life, it’s yours to keep | General Audiences, Fluff, Established IwaOi "But this particular quirk persists, long enough that Hajime picks up on it. At some point, Oikawa had started deliberately matching his clothing to Hajime’s own outfits whenever they went out. They are never quite the same outright, but once Hajime starts noticing it, it’s hard to not see how Oikawa’s choice of clothing complements his own, enough so that one could safely pronounce them a matching set."

Iwaizumi discovers that he and Oikawa appear to be wearing couple-clothing whenever they go out, due to Oikawa's determination to match his own outfits to Iwaizumi's. He decides to test the extent of that determination.

The PDA Jar | Teens and Up Audiences, Canon Compliant, Oblivious IwaOi “What is that thing for?”

“I’m glad you asked, captain. This… is the Public Display of Affection jar. Or PDA jar for short.”

“Now whenever you do something that may hurt our children’s innocence, you’ll have to put money in the jar as a punishment."

angst:

Never Thought I’d See The Day (When We Parted Ways) by exoticmind | General Audiences, Angst, Break-Ups Oikawa Tooru never thought he’d see the day when his best friend, his lover, his everything, says goodbye. And yet he did, and now he’s too messed up to even answer his damn ringing phone.

Perpetual-Foot-In-Mouth Disease FT. Iwaizumi Hajime by SeijohTrash | Teens and Up Audiences, Angst, Canon Compliant, Angst with Happy Ending When Oikawa confesses to Iwaizumi, it’s safe to say he’s a little shocked. However, he’s more shocked at his own reaction, which is a mortifyingly quick acceptance of his confession.

What’s more shocking is how Iwaizumi can’t find it in himself to tell Oikawa the truth—that he doesn’t have feelings for him.

At least, he hopes that’s the truth.

Always, My Pillar of Strength by starlitcities | Mature, Angst, Unrequited Love, Cheating, Angst, Angst, ANGST “Oikawa,” Matsukawa mutters, surprised more than anything. “It’s two in the morning, what are you—?”

“What’s wrong with me, Mattsun?” Oikawa pulls at the hem of his shirt, the sopping fabric clinging to his skin and leaking water onto the doormat. “Anybody, everybody I know would kill to have me. And the only one I want to feel that way won’t even look at me.”

smut:

deep inside by lesbiantrait | Explicit, Bottom Iwaizumi, Omegaverse "Iwaizumi had been barely aware of anything happening with his own body before he felt the slow trickle of slick down his thighs at the sound of Oikawa calling for his mate.

He did become intensely aware of everything as soon as Oikawa’s eyes snapped open, looking as startled to find Iwaizumi in his room as he felt, as if he didn’t walk in freely on his best friend fucking a fleshlight.

His movements halted. Iwaizumi didn’t dare even breathe.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa’s voice was raspy and Iwaizumi wanted it injected in his veins, “you’re in heat. You need to leave.” "

or, Iwaizumi presents as an omega when he smells Oikawa's rut for the first time.

Cup of Sugar by oikawshoyo | Explicit, Bottom Iwaizumi, Canon Compliant "After about a month of his time in Irvine, the first package arrives. It’s standing there, on the table, big and heavy and exuding a familiarity that nearly brings tears to Hajime’s eyes.

“That’s really sweet,” Kevin says, eyeing Hajime’s valiant attempts to cut into the cardboard with a knife, “from your family?”

“My boyfriend,” Hajime clarifies, eyes not even straying to the return address. “That idiot’s the only one who would send me something after one month of being apart.” "

Tooru and Hajime go long-distance, and Hajime contemplates whether he's accidentally become a sugar baby.

picture perfect by zumiluvr | Explicit, Bottom Iwaizumi, Semi-Public Sex, Three-way “Iwaizumi? Oikawa?” A voice cut through the curtains. They tensed up, recognizing the person on the other side. Oikawa wrapped his arms around Iwaizumi defensively, loosening his hold when his lover delicately stroked the arms holding him.

“Ushijima.”

-

Where Iwaizumi and Oikawa let a special guest join their photo shoot

POV: you’re watching Oikawa Tooru fall (in love) by Mystrana | Explicit, Hockey-Figure-Skater AU, Falling in Love, Roommates, College AU Figure skater Tooru’s new dorm mate Iwaizumi is hot, strong AF, and allegedly pretty smart. There’s only one problem.

Iwa-chan plays hockey.

Come join Tooru on his adventure of navigating college life and training for Nationals with a hockey bro roommate (whom he wants to bone).

Better Than Porn by ShrimpyChan | Explicit, Phone Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Bottom Iwaizumi there's a first time for everything :)

#iwaoi #oiiwa #iwaoi fic rec #oiiwa fic rec #iwaoi fluff #oiiwa fluff #iwaoi angst #oiiwa angst #iwaoi smut #oiiwa smut #fic rec #ao3 rec

[leatherbookmark]

mm the thing with madam qin and jgy and honestly a bunch of situations in mdzs (which is why i love it so much!) is that no matter what choice you make, everything still sucks. there's a chance that everything won't suck, but it's as likely as winning the lottery.

mme qin have been raped by an incredibly powerful man who's also her husband's admired superior and political ally. a woman being raped is not only mortifyingly humiliating for her, but also for her husband. what certainty did mme qin have that qcy wouldn't have divorced and cast her out, or even killed her, after finding out? even if he was the best man in the world and he assured her she's the love of his life and nothing would ever change that, the sect is still subsidiary to lanling jin. they can't do shit.

and this is the societal and political side -- we can't forget about the woman herself, about her trauma, about the fact that she gets pregnant and gives birth to a child, a daughter, and lives with her. if jgy can't stand to be in one room with his son, a product of surprise incest, but nonetheless a loving relationship, then how must she feel, knowing that this little girl beloved by everyone is a child of rape?

i get being frustrated with her as a character whose acts contributed to a tragedy, i've been there too and now rereading that one post i regret it because it's kinda unnecessarily aggro towards mme qin! but literally what could she have done? and let's not assume she just sat and did nothing. jgy says he and qs had to fight for the permission to marry; mme qin was probably doing her best to stop them from doing that, but what ammunition did she have other than "son of a whore, i don't trust him", something that qs would have immediately disregarded and qcy -- disregarded after either seeing or jgs agreeing that his son is a hardworking, filial good man? nothing.

same for jgy's side, the "he should have told qs" -- okay, but when? and then what? what certainty did he have that she wouldn't have flipped out, panicked, said the same things she said to him when she got the letter from bicao? of course, there was a chance of her freaking out at first, then calming down, deciding to end the pregnancy and live as siblings, but how big this chance was? how safe and effective would it be to secretly take a mix of herbs from an unknown source? how soon would everyone start wondering why is she not expecting, is jgy impotent, is she barren, did she change her mind, is he so diseased and disfigured that she ran away screaming, etc, etc?

i've seen people calling jgy all sorts of names for talking about reputation and the conference, but while it sounds monstrously uncaring to qs and shows in a twisted, sad way how changed jgy's priorities are from those of a "normal" person, he's... not actually wrong per se. he's just bypassed, packed all the emotions one would normally feel in this situation and squished them into a dark locker at the back of his mind, and went straight to Trying To Stop The Worst From Happening. because it really IS the end for both him and her if the incest news get out, and someone -- two people, possibly even more, but he doesn't know that -- is out there, KNOWING it. they can do whatever they want with this information, and once they do, suicide or faking your death and running far, far away is the only option. and qin su KNOWS THIS. this is why she kills herself, aside from shock and grief. once even one (1) more person knows about her situation, everything is ruined. hell, i can't imagine how qcy must have felt when he returned from his trip. his son(s?) must have been either at the conference or at home, but there's no mention of them at the meeting in the lotus pier. i wonder how they managed it later on, when everyone knew.

and finally, if mme qin told qs -- then what? qs would be shocked and confused. she'd hate it. she'd ask why her mother waited for so long, if her father knows; depending on the timing she could already be pregnant. EVERYONE INVOLVED WOULD HATE THIS SITUATION SO MUCH.

and like... i kinda get why mme qin "waited" until the last impossible moment. she may have begged jgy to call the wedding out, but she must have known it was too late. but had he and qs not been so intent on getting married no matter what, qs wouldn't have been pregnant, and while this reveal would still be shocking and miserable to jgy, at least he would be able to tell mme qin he won't touch her. and i feel that maybe she was hoping for something like that? maybe they could sit qs down and tell her, or maybe jgy could pretend he's not interested in sex or even kissing and qs would spend the rest of her life in a sexless and childless marriage that's nonetheless as happy as it can get. but it was impossible! that's the tragedy, no matter what angle you look at it from, everything sucks and is horrible.

there's no way out! mdzs is full of situations like that that don't involve characters taking insane risks and being 100% confident in predicting the other characters' reactions, and also society getting cool about a bunch of things real quick

#i remember seeing people saying that qs wanted to tell everyone about what jgy has done to her -- does anyone have a source? #idr seeing something like that in the novel but maybe it was another adaptation #shrimp thoughts #but also something re: the remains of the qin family -- before i read the extras i've only heard a couple of times that there's a qin-gongz #*gongzi and i was EXCITED because omg! qs's family! ......lmao. as if. THANX MXTX

[monsterthalia]

Happy Friday Thalia! I would love to see something for this from the sappho sentences: ‘your sweetness is more cruel than your hurt.’ for whichever pairing you think fits best!

Thank you for the prompt! Have some post-breakup Solas/F!Lavellan.

For @dadrunkwriting Rating: T - contains canon typical violence Pairing: F!Lavellan/Solas Words: 1681

The Cradle of Sulevin appeared so suddenly out of the trees that Rowan knew they could have walked within a hundred yards of it without even knowing it was there. One moment they had been trekking through the endless Arbor Wilds - sweating, itching, Varric telling yet another story to drown out the awkward silence - and suddenly it was there amongst the trees, exactly where the dead elves’ notes had said it would be. Varric’s story died on his lips and they beheld their destination in silence.

“So this is where the Sulevin Blade was lost,” Rowan remarked softly.

“Lost or misused?” Solas’s voice still made her heart skip, but these days it was out of anger. “There is a reason it was never reclaimed.”

Just over ten words after a long journey in silence, and she already wanted to snap at him.

He’d already expressed his reservations over the mission when she’d first - grudgingly - asked him to accompany them back at Skyhold. He might be a stupid heartless know-it-all who thought it was reasonable to remove an elf’s vallaslin before dumping them with no explanation, but the ‘know-it-all’ was the relevant part there. He was still her resident ancient elven expert, and she’d have been irresponsible not to take full advantage of that when this blade could make a difference - not just in the war against Corypheus, but to the Dalish as a whole.

“The Sulevin Blade?” His eyebrows had gone up in surprise, and for a moment he seemed more like himself, more like the man she had come to know, than he’d been since Crestwood - before the impersonal professional mask descended once again. “A remarkable find, if true,” he’d gone on, “but perhaps one best left where it is.”

Old Rowan would have eagerly asked for more information, begging for stories and insights. Old Rowan was an idiot. New Rowan just rolled her eyes. “Big surprise, Mr I-don’t-consider-myself-to-have-much-in-common-with-elves doesn’t think it’s worth recovering a Dalish artefact.”

“That’s not-”

“Let me guess, you already saw it in the Fade?”

“That is not the issue here,” he cut in, and she got a petty satisfaction to see he was annoyed, that she could still provoke a reaction out of him. “It was lost on purpose. Perhaps it is more danger than it is worth.”

“Like the Vir Abelasan?” Rowan snapped at that. 

“Exactly so,” Solas had snapped right back, “You do not know-”

“Oh, please, Solas, keep telling me all the things I don’t know. I don’t know what vallaslin really mean! I don’t know what the Creators were really like! I don’t know why we can’t be together! I just don’t know anything, I’m so lucky to have you here to tell me these things!”

A ringing silence followed her outburst, and she was mortifyingly sure that Leliana was up in her aviary hanging on to every word. But she refused to back down, to look away, and was gratified that Solas broke their eye contact first.

“I will, of course, accompany you,” he said, smooth and unruffled. “I will be ready to leave when required.”

She’d wanted to yell at him then. She wanted to yell at him now. But instead she took a breath, exhaled, and said brightly, “Well, we didn’t come all this way to leave it lost now. Let’s go inside.”

“What do you reckon’s in there?” Varric asked brightly, “Spiders? Undead?”

“I’m hoping a sword,” said Blackwall flatly, swatting at a bug that had landed on his face.

“I think demons. Five silver on demons, any takers?”

“No bet,” said Rowan and Blackwall in unison.

-

“Told you!” yelled Varric over the repeated thunk of Bianca firing, peppering the walking corpses with bolts as they kept on coming.

“I didn’t argue!” Rowan yelled back, pausing to lob an Antivan Fire grenade into the horde and ducking behind some rubble to shelter from the blast.

“Yeah but I still want official Inquisition record to say I was right!”

“You basically write the official-”

Something cold, something unforgiving, clamped around her middle, and before she could think or move or even look, she was yanked off her feet - the room flew by in a confusing rush, or was she the one flying? - she hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of her, arrows spilling from their quiver, and she could distantly hear the others, but why did they sound so far away, she was right next to them -

She blinked, and the looming figure stood over her swam into focus. A Revenant. It was so tall, so imposing, as it raised its sword -

It was raising its sword - 

The blade plummeted towards her face just as she rolled to the side, just in time, the hefty broadsword plunging into the ground an instant later, right where her head had just been. She came out of the roll up onto her feet, grabbed her daggers from her belt, not taking her eyes off the Revenant where it raised the sword and looked to her again. She couldn’t take this thing alone, but she couldn’t glance away to see how far away Blackwall was.

“Inquisitor!” she heard Solas cry, like he was afraid for her, like he actually gave a damn, but she couldn’t glance at that either. Not when the Revenant was swinging its sword at her again, and she was going to have keep moving to not get skewered.

The blade whistled towards her and she dove sideways. The Revenant turned to follow her, and she pinned the blade with a dagger whilst vaulting over it. It stabbed at her, and she ducked, twisted, staying one moment, one breath ahead of it at a time, buying the seconds for Blackwall to get across the room to her -

In slow motion, she realised she hadn’t moved far enough this time, and then the blade was plunging towards her, piercing her side and sliding through her flesh like it was nothing. She felt the warmth of her blood pouring from the wound, but then cold, horribly cold, and then cold was all she felt.

She opened her eyes and she was on the ground. The sword was no longer in her, but she still felt cold, her clothes sticking to her with the wetness of her blood. She dimly remembered she was supposed to be doing something important but it all felt very far away. She was just aware of her body, how heavy and cold it felt, and wondered if she could just go to sleep.

“Stay awake, da’len,” a familiar voice was saying urgently.

Ugh. She was so sick of him telling her what to do. She’d say so, but she was so tired.

“Stay awake, da’len. Don’t you dare leave us now.”

“Shut up,” she mumbled.

She heard him laugh, a short, desperate laugh. “Yes, that’s it. Stay here to yell at me. Keep telling me how awful I am. You’re the only one who can.”

Solas. It was Solas. He was crouched beside her, restorative energies rolling off his hands across her whole body, glowing intensely around the wound in her side. She was starting to feel something there besides the cold - a warming, accompanied by a deep ache, which started softly but got worse and worse until she instinctively try to roll away from him.

One of his hands moved and clamped to her shoulder, pinning her to the floor, holding her in place as he kept healing. “Oh no you don’t.”

“It hurts,” she protested. Every nerve in her side seemed to be screaming, and she wanted to scream with them, if it hadn’t felt like it’d take too much effort.

“I know.” His fingers squeezed on her shoulder, once. “Just hold on.”

The pain built and built, until she thought she might just scream after all - until it abruptly banked and faded, leaving the strange sensation of the sudden absence of pain. She still felt exhausted, and continued to lie still as Solas’s restorative energies continued to roll over her. She’d been healed enough times to know that compensating for blood loss was just as important as mending the wound itself. She could be a good patient and wait.

His hand was still resting on her shoulder, but gently now, and his eyes flicked from the healing to meet hers. “You must be more careful,” he said softly.

She wanted to laugh. She wanted to roll her eyes. She settled for snorting. “I get stabbed and you still make it my fault.”

He huffed an annoyed breath through his nose. “You are too important to be lost to a careless blade.”

“Oh sorry, I’ll try to remember that the next time I’m being stabbed, ‘oh no but what about the Inquisition-’”

“I was not speaking of the Inquisition,” he snapped. She stared at him, and when he met her eyes again, the impassive mask was completely gone. There was a depth of raw feeling she had not seen since their encounter with Wisdom. A depth that mirrored, equalled that of what she carried around in her own heart every day, which he otherwise hadn’t let her glimpse.

A pang of longing cracked through her heart. She chose to bury it in fury. “No,” she said.

“No?”

“If we’re done, we’re done.” She fought to keep her voice firm even as her body began to tremble. “You don’t get to say we’re nothing to each other and then say things like that. I can handle us being colleagues, but I can’t-” Her voice broke. He waited. A breath. “I can’t handle you being kind to me.”

He took this in. It took a moment, but the impassive mask slid back down, hiding his own feelings so completely she could easily believe they had never been there. “As you wish, Inquisitor.” A few more moments, and the magic pouring from his hands ceased, and he brushed them together in a business like way. “You are healed.”

Hardly, she wanted to snark at him. But, she allowed, at least she was getting to her feet.

#dadrunkwriting #dragon age

[spockandawe]

Hmm! Let's try to dissect this and work out a path forward while sleep still eludes me. I think the root problem here is that I overdid it on the crafts, timed it well for a holiday season that was going to be socially intensive, and then just did a marathon session with a very long, very emotionally intense book on top of it, and all systems are crashing.

What Do I Want To Do With Myself. Realistically, this should include some kind of creative pursuit, because I start crumbling the longer I go without making something, we're already pushing those limits, and this is not emotionally ideal, but I don't have much room to correct here. Ah, but the many craft events that stretched me to this point, I might reply! Yes, but now I'm past the fresh exhilaration, and I'm mostly stressing about how I'm still mortifyingly amateur at wood, and fretting that I've maybe done a terrible job with the start of the last silversmithing project and I'm going to Ruin it and waste everything.

(did i post the little bookshelf? i don't think i did, i'll have to get to that. i love it, i'm going to stick with it, but i'm smart enough to recognize just how little i actually know about anything)

So I'm bad at wood, I'm embarrassing myself at silversmithing, I showed up at a blacksmith guild meeting and was too shy to even consider touching a forge while there were actual people present. I have Stagnated at books and it's simply FAR too embarrassing to post things there when I'm no GOOD at any of it (patently untrue, still can't stop flinching away). I am having real trouble shaking the feeling that whatever book I make next, I just won't like it, and that sucks.

This maybe suggests another handcraft I have things for lying around. Sewing machine maybe needs some repairs, I've been too overloaded to confirm that, so it's out of the picture. Long furby is probably not worth it by hand, even if I unearth all the pieces. Marbling needs a better work zone in my apartment. Pyrography probably needs me to clear a workspace by my balcony. Maybe I should go back and order some whittling things, but I may be competent at pyrography and I definitely won't be at whittling, and I'm a little baby, I've already pushed my ego on how much I can gracefully and cheerfully be Bad At Things.

Cross-stitch and blackwork have been neglected for a while. This would also have the benefit of letting me maybe reengage with CR and its painful length, I want to consume so bad, it's been very good, but I get worked up trying to figure out how I'll manage to make the time. Giant starscream project would be nice, or the blackwork sal i signed up for and touched zero times. Crochet wouldn't be bad, especially if I can use up some of this goddamn yarn. Knitting will be a struggle since I know so little and I have standards for good yarn work, but I need to learn the stupid thing eventually. Not in a good state to figure out nalbinding. Leatherwork is something I would be bad at, but maybe in an acceptable way? I would lose my shit if I did a bad job quilting right now, but I think I could accept a bad wallet, or whatever. That's one to consider.

Realistically, i should do something with books. I have at least one big typesetting project I need to get somewhere on, I have a separate editing project I stalled on, I have some presents I owe that shouldn't be that hard, I can make a basic book without too much trouble, or even mental effort, but I am so! deadlocked! and it's all mental!!!!!

Speaking of deadlock, I would desperately like to write or draw a little, those are foundational to me, even more than cross-stitch and crochet, and I'm perpetually poised on the verge of it, but then I don't do it and don't do anything else either. I have ideas! wips! I went back and reread some of my own writing in preparation for writing something new! and then I did a whole NOTHING with it!!!!!!

Something consumption-driven is always an option, even if I start getting antsy. I could read, I've got a ton of mangas lined up since I'm apparently in that kind of phase again. There's cnovels I have saved that I haven't gotten to yet, or cnovels I haven't bound that could use a fresh pass through as I typeset. Television is probably out right now. But I did just reorganize my bookshelf and cull it a little and I think I have a library app half-sorted to track my to-read commitments. Those would be good for me, I think, but it's so hard to tell. If there's a way to fix the fucking electric piano, it wouldn't be bad to get on there regularly, especially if i can get blorbo music. I could play some real video games, and not ad-fueled tappy games on my phone.

This is, foundationally, very stupid. I hear often in both admiring and teasing ways that I do an impressive number of crafts. But you see, it doesn't count, because none of them are good enough. This is a terrible and bad standard that I would not subject anyone else to, and is tangled up in identity and self-worth standards that I would also reject in other people, but that also doesn't count, because it's me. But for the moment, just practically speaking, I'm terribly deadlocked, and that always panics me.

Realistic options

Leather onlays. I'll have a paring whatsit soon, and I probably have all the other tools I need. It will be agonizing to be bad at this when my materials are limited, and I don't have inspiration, but it's a practical skill

Bind a cnovel with some frivolous flair, like edge art or a ledger binding or whatever. It won't stretch my brain that well, but it might get me back in motion

The big typesetting project. It's good weather to sit in bed on my computer. I want the project to happen. It's just a bad time to feel that stationary and boring.

Chip carving. Yes I got overloaded and bailed on the shopping yesterday, but STILL.

Draw the stupid bone butch love of my life, or whatever. I should be able to find nicely aesthetic things in that series that won't make me miserable with how out of practice I am

Write write WRITE. If I can just get going, I ought to be able to get somewhere. I've always been embarrassingly hyperverbal, surely if I can just get some purchase on a story, it'll all come spilling out of me again.

Makeup deep dive - Outside option, probably won't eat up my FULL time hole, but not a bad way to force myself to zen out and do skilled work with my hands, and probably a good enough baseline level of skill that I won't rage quit.

Doublures, maybe. Or fancy, weird boxes. I need to change something up structurally, my enclosure was fine but it's suddenly much too small and I'm starting to feel it.

But this is so frustrating. There's literally no reason for my All Of This, but I think four craft in four day was a bad plan, I was already sleepy and stressed, and then social obligations have kicked in and I can't recharge. But how do I recharge when I can't settle into any of my craft holes? This is just... terrible. But maybe in the morning that will look like a reasonable list to filter through

#delete later

[voxofthevoid]

Teeth🦷

*bites*

Teeth: share a snippet that was difficult for you to nail down/required a lot of revisions.

JJK, time travel: The opening scene had me slaving over it for an unholy amount of time, and I'm still not all that satisfied

The air is still quivering with the long, meandering explanation that gave away less than any sane person in this situation should while revealing just enough that the accusations that’d been writhing in Satoru’s throat from the moment the interloper walked through the door have been replaced by a hundred burning questions. But that flimsy blindfold doesn’t hide anything from Satoru, and behind it, the interloper’s eyes—Satoru’s eyes in perfect duplicate, blithely defying the laws of this world—are bright and hooded with an expression Satoru has never seen in a mirror, and he finds himself briefly, mortifyingly tongue-tied.

“Time travel?” Suguru is the one who recovers first, and Satoru is only dully surprised at his own lack of surprise. It’s gratifying in a mean sort of way that even Suguru couldn’t come up with anything of substance, only a weak whisper that’s more statement than question.

“Time travel,” the interloper confirms needlessly; he just explained at length, with way more words than necessary, that it’s time travel.

“Are you really Satoru though?” Shouko asks; her eyes are the most focused Satoru has seen outside of healing.

Ask in response to this post

#actualalligator #ask game #i keep tagging ask games as tag games someone lend me some brain cells #jjk snippets #goyuu

[aurorawest]

Title: Afterimage Author: @aurorawest​​ Rating: M (language, violence, sexual content) Relationships: Loki & Stephen Strange, Loki & Thor Major Archive Warnings: Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings Word Count (so far): 19.7k Summary: Loki has a ship, a crew, and a welcome lack of people trying to kill him. Life is good. Life is uncomplicated. At least, as long as he can ignore Thor hinting he wants to return to Earth permanently. But still…uncomplicated. If he repeats it enough, it can be true. It has to be true.

So of course, a certain Doctor Stephen Strange—who Loki has definitely not been dreaming about, thank you very much—has to show up and ruin everything. Strange is calling in a favor, and as the two of them undertake a mission together, it calls into question too much of what Loki thinks he knows. Is he wrong about Earth? Is he wrong about Strange? Could there be a place for him in New Asgard after all?

Fic is complete. New chapter posted every Tuesday.

Thank you to my beta, AsgardianHarmony!

Chapter 4, You May Be Allowing Your Personal Feelings to Cloud Your Judgment, is posted!

Then, mortifyingly, Strange reached out and awkwardly patted Loki’s shoulder. It took Loki so much by surprise that he didn’t jerk away. “We’ll figure it out,” Strange said.

“We?” Loki asked, because he didn’t know what else to say. Strange’s touch had been brief and light. Fleeting. Somehow, though, he could still feel it, the brush of Strange’s fingers, a pressure that had hardly been any pressure at all. Momentary contact. Nothing, which lingered like something.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

#loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #thor odinson #thor fanfiction #thor #brodinsons #stephen strange #stephen strange fanfiction #froststrange #strangefrost #afterimage #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #fanfiction

[omoghouls]

It’s so funny you rb’d that post about aftercare because all day today I’ve been thinking about Ed crying and peeing (Not necessarily in that order) (Oh there is definitely something wrong with my brain) Like, something special happening that day but he’s in agony hyper aware of how badly he needs to pee, he *swears* he can feel his bladder stretching and the piss swirling and sloshing around in there but he doesn’t want to miss anything or maybe there’s just no opportunity for him to go, he almost makes it through the day but he and Stede finally have a moment alone that evening and the second the cabin door closes behind him his body gives out and he drenches himself in horror, it takes a mortifyingly long time for his bladder to empty and he just feels lower than dirt for so many reasons…He squandered what should have been a wonderful day suffering instead of enjoying it, he lost control of his bladder when the bathroom’s just a few steps away, he’s pissing himself in front of the person whose opinion of him he values the most, he’s probably going to leave a stain on the nice rug…Tears just won’t stop running down his cheeks, he’s getting closer and closer to openly sobbing, and when Stede gently puts his hands on him to console him he just bawls into Stede’s shoulder.

ACTIVELY CRYONG IN THE CLUB OMG??????🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️ (And don't worry nonny, no one here has a brain in the normal range you're safe here xD)

But a a a omfg he probably starts thinking about how he probably came off as crabby or off standish that whole day, probably ruining the day, thoughts that are flooding his mind as he's actively flooding the floor-

Alll those tears just adding to the puddle beneath his feet, Ed is trying his best to not start sobbing. But, feeling Stede's gentle hand rubbing his shoulder, hearing the gentleman pirate's voice, how calm Stede's voice is- oh god he can't stop the strangled sob that leaves his throat as Stede pulls him in.

Ed tries to babble out how he's disgusting and doesn't want Stede to ruin his clothing. But Stede just shushes him, saying how things can be washed, right now, he's focused solely on his Ed ;u; The two stand there for a few minutes, Stede rubbing Ed's back as Ed cries, knowing it's best to let the other man cry it out, get allll those feelings out

You know after Ed calms down, he is exhausted from this whole day and ordeal ;×; So Stede gently guides Ed to the washing room, helping Ed out of his sodden clothing, treating Ed like a delicate flower as he is ever so careful with this. Then, filling the tub with warm water and plenty of bubbles- letting Ed settle into the tub while Stede goes to place the wet clothing into the wash bin before returning to Ed and just, sitting on the stool by the tub.

Tracing is fingers over Ed's arms, peppering Ed's face in kisses as he is constantly reassuring Ed that nothing was ruined, accidents happen, especially since he wasn't able to relieve himself throughout the day ;u;

It's, calming for Ed, feeling so much love he probably starts tearing up again, feeling so overwhelmed with this kindness- Stede wipes away the tears with his thumbs as he holds Ed's jaw as he smiles♡

#m #omorashi #omocute #fandomo #stede bonnet #edward teach

[newpersonblog]

[cis female, she/her] Welcome to Aurora Bay, [MAIA WOLF]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [ASHLEY PARK]. You must be the [THIRTY THREE] year old [LIFESTYLE BLOGGER]. Word is you’re [BUBBLY] but can also be a bit [VACUOUS] and your favorite song is [YOU GOTTA BE by DES’REE]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [CRYSTAL COVE CONDOMINIUMS]. I’m sure you’ll love it! [indi, 29, gmt, she/her]

Building yourself up to someone who seemingly has everything when you come from literally nothing is a talent in itself. So when people ask Maia if she has any skills she replies with a resounding yes, because that’s exactly what she did. 

Born in Brooklyn to a single mom she was only six months old when they were evicted from their home and forced to move into a women’s shelter to avoid having to live on the street. Janet Wolf was a good if slightly detached mother to her two children. The oldest being Cory Wolf who was two years older than his baby sister, Maia Wolf. People always remarked when Janet’s youngest was born that the girl seemed like a fighter - almost two months premature she was only 3.5lbs when she made her entrance into the world, totally unexpected but that would later become a bit of a trend for her.

Spending her entire childhood moving between shelters, temporary housing, and foster care Maia was never really anywhere long enough to get accustomed to stability. It was a lot for a little girl to cope with so she would often slip into her own fantasy worlds that she created in her mind, a form of protection, somewhere she knew she could always go no matter what else was taken away from her. Even her schooling was disruptive as she was moved from place to place which meant her grades never managed to get above a C+ on a good day. Not that she minded, her sights weren’t set on anything academic, rather Maia wanted to build for herself all the things she’d never had. Fortune, notoriety, stability, and security. She thought it would come via her singing talent and in a way she was right, but it wasn’t that she rose to become to superstar musician she thought she’d be. 

At twenty and with no formal training at all she took a risk going to some open auditions that were being held for a new off Broadway musical, Heathers. Desperate to situate herself under the bright footlights of the theatre she gave the audition her all but mortifyingly came up short, being turned down after managing to get through three rounds. So close and yet so far. But her upbringing had instilled a sense of tenacity in the young woman so she instead started her own ‘lifestyle’ instagram, full of fictionalised shopping trips and stays at five star hotels. That trick you’ve seen on TikTok of using a toilet seat to simulate an airplane window? Maia might as well have coined that technique because you would be forgiven for thinking after a look at her social media that she was constantly jetting off across the world rather than sitting in a studio apartment in the Bronx covered in black mould and patches of damp. 

It turns out though, she did catch the eye of one of the producers at that one time audition she chanced, and not long after her twenty fifth birthday she was contacted to come in for another audition. This time for the musical adaptation of Mean Girls. It turned out the social media following she’d gathered was an added attraction to the production team and in her very own Anna Delvey style she managed to land the role of Gretchen Wieners in the original cast. From that moment on things went from zero to one hundred overnight. The fictional life she was posting on her instagram started to become a reality, her follower count skyrocketed, and she was finally on stable ground financially. It was a dream come true. 

All the press for the show lead to her being noticed by modelling scouts and soon Maia was signed up with agents in New York, Los Angeles, and Paris. Being called in for photoshoots to be put in magazines everything became a lot more glittery, and the best thing of all was no one knew where Maia had come from. Of the way she had manipulated her image back when she had nothing to make herself seem like a someone, and now it didn’t matter, because she truly was a someone. 

Chancing on Aurora Bay when she was doing a swimwear shoot about six years ago Maia fell in love with the quaint little town that was just a stones throw from Los Angeles - it was the perfect middle ground for her idyllic lifestyle persona. Launching a blog in conjunction with her instagram there was nothing Maia couldn’t sell to the chronically online masses, photos of her perfectly decorated house coupled with homemade cakes (I mean… not by her, obviously) and glamorous modelling photos she had really captured the eyes of the nation. A socialite of a sort, she had made the claim both her parents had passed to make her facade easier to manipulate. 

Vivacious, larger than life, and always with something to say there was really no escaping Maia when she was in the general vicinity. Her laugh was boisterous, her opinions outrageous, and in general she was just a lot. The woman found it often distracted people from getting to know her too deeply if she flashed around treating them like social magpies. With no knowledge of what ended up happening to her mother or her brother she tries to repress all thoughts of them in order to focus on this new life. Under the glitter lies the secret of who she really is and her fear of that ruining everything she’s managed to build is enough to keep her tossing and turning in bed each night. 

[cuefog]

tog/khunbam fic rec

this is for @cannottranslate​ because you asked for it and i am grateful for the excuse to make a fic rec post

i expect this will be a long post so i’ll put it under read ↓ 

i’ll be leaving my own thoughts and comments under each fic (im sorry in advance for rambling too much)!! if you want the full summary and other info please click on the link provided lol

!!webtoon spoilers beware!!

♡ = one of my favourites

canon timeline

(these will be the ones that are set in the canon world and follow major plot events, even if there some changes in the details and relationships)

♡ deep sea blue by Feyren ♡

please read everything written by feyren!!!! lovely prose, wonderfully written khunbam emotional tension. khun braiding his beautiful hair accompanied by symbolism and perfectly crafted metaphor. bonus earrings.

♡ hollow moons by NoteInABottle ♡

please also read everything by noteinabottle!! equally lovely prose, wonderfully written khunbam emotional tension. khun wearing earrings and giving them to bam, accompanied by lots of symbolism and perfectly crafted metaphor. you could probably consider this a companion fic to feyren’s deep sea blue. both of these fics gave me a Thing for khun’s earrings (>_<;)``

take my hand (take my whole life too) by RadiantAshe

our dear ashe has written lots of great stuff but i think this is my favourite!! so much khunbam softness, very classic s3 vibes <33

Chestnuts at Nighttime by khunfounded (ongoing)

khun with a cat who loves him very much, and vice versa. that’s all the explanation you need. this fic overloads my heart with cute soft fluffy feelings!!! (bonus khun and bam dolls with little hands made of velcro so they can hold each other’s hands (ʘ‿ʘ✿) please i can’t take any more of this, somebody help my heart is gonna explode)

a thousand paths to you by LiannaAila

set during the time of khun’s coma. bam travels to a parallel universe and meets an alive and awake khun. this fic is exactly what it says it is and it’s so lovely <3

oh no he’s hot (and other earth-shattering revelations) by Bird_of_Dreams

tldr; bam being thirsty over khun

khun aguero agnis and his growing competency kink by chuuyaya

tldr; khun being thirsty over bam

motion by smokeandwaves (rated Explicit)

set during hell train, khunbam focused. this one is really popular in the fandom!! it’s well written, and if you consider smut a genre i would say this is the best one in the tog tag. lots of emotions, and a wonderful flow of feeling!! also it has a few sequel fics in the series, ‘obedience’ in particular being all about sub!khun,, which is,, (*ﾉωﾉ)

sometimes when i look into your eyes i pretend you're mine by agueros (minamis)

residents of the tower ship jue viole grace and khun aguero agnis and write fanfiction about them (i love these types of fics lmao)

From: Khun by AngrySheepProject  and To you who lies with my heart under the sea by Strawbellie666 (ongoing)

khun messaging bam’s pocket when he thought he was dead in s2

canon divergence + future canonverse

(future fics means it’s set in the future of the current canon, which at the nest arc rn)

♡ A World Without You by Breaking_Formation ♡

this one might be my favourite out of all of them. i know it says major character death but it happens in the beginning and there’s a promised happy ending so don’t worry!!! this one is a beautiful 20k word masterpiece.... seriously..... this fic is set after the nest arc, it has lots of Plot and plays around with the world and the lore of the Tower, so it’s already fascinating that way, but the real heart of the story is in the emotions!! if you love witnessing khun’s endless devotion to bam, this is the fic that shows you that devotion reflected right back at khun. it might bring you to tears :’)

♡ Our Hearts Are Made of Stars by Ruinous ♡ (ongoing)

out of the 5 or so other time travel au fics in the tog fandom, this one is definitely my favourite!! time travel aus are all super fun to read, but this one stood out to me especially because it hits all the right spots!! it’s written well and i love the level of foresight, and the emotions detailed into this, it really feels like the friendships and bonds are at the heart of this story and all the fighting stuff will turn out just fine, and everything will be ok :)

♡ enough by Feyren ♡

future fic, set in a cocktail party on the 87th floor. this is so well written!!!!! again, please just read everything written by feyren. the prose is wonderful and everything going on in this fic feels so well-crafted and carefully executed with just the right amount of subtlety in all the emotions. i think it’s gorgeous.

fire and ice by soundscape (ongoing)

set vaguely in the future. still ongoing, and the story feels like it’s just started, but very intriguing plot!! premise is people trying to separate khun from bam + the team trying to deal with shady fug plots

dig down deep by milkywxy (ongoing)

this one is a plotty one!! diverges from canon at the hidden floor arc. bam decides not to let rachel go with them. im super interested to see where this story goes!!

where the current leaves us by macrauchenia (ongoing)

this one is a Plotty one, still in the early stages of plot development but the premise is super interesting!! basically khun takes bam’s place in the bubble with rachel, during the administrator’s test on the 2nd floor. i’m excited to see where this story goes :D

special mentions for “bam climbs the tower” remix concept fics that you might like to check out (this is for you dango, since you said you like togverse canon divergence :D)

Moonlight by Shadow_to_rant (ongoing, khun meets bam in cave instead of rachel)

Timeless Existence by Jazebeth (Barrattiel) (ongoing, time travel au series)

Second Chance by Shadow_to_rant (ongoing, time travel au)

Never Let You Go by eternus (ongoing, time travel au)

Il Principe by euludey (ongoing, bam with different backstory/origins)

Night Never Falls by TripleTurtles (ongoing, au where rachel doesn’t succeed at pushing bam off the bubble on the 2nd floor)

Child of Arlene by MoodleNoodle (ongoing, bam is adopted by jahad before canon timeline)

au

♡ the king and his lionheart by chuuyaya ♡

khunbam royalty au with bam as king, khun as a genius war strategist. bonus pda in front of a whole courtroom. what more could you want?? this was soooo satisfying to read, i enjoyed it a lot :D (please also check out chuuyaya’s other fics if you like khunbam aus!!)

if there's anything in this life ive been waiting for (its you) by trueaguero (ongoing)

fascinating au where everyone is outside the tower and the tower is part of history. perhaps you could call this a “post-tower au” ?

if my heart was a house by The_Winged_Warrior

very cute magical fantasy au!! khun runs a potion shop and bam is an adventurer

aus are pretty self explanatory so i’ll put the rest in a list:

you are the magic in me by silverinerivers (ongoing, hogwarts au)

hope and legacy by chuuyaya (figure skating au)

♡ jump then fall (i'll catch you) by agueros (minamis) ♡ (figure skating au, consider it a prequel to ‘hope and legacy’, this is a beautiful 13k-word love letter to figure skating <3)

of social media and turtles by chuuyaya (celeb au with social media bits)

i am the last olympian by argenteas (percy jackson au)

who else is there to love but you? by khuns (college au, very soft pining!!)

Lucky coin by bothersomepotato (ongoing, college business majors au)

Greedy Turtles by Alien_ships (ongoing, on the surface it seems like just a pet shop au but there’s a lot of care and attention paid to the characters and relationship dynamics :D)

and i will come to you at every first snow by aguerobaam (khun is a magical doll in a toy store)

the heart heist by paused (ongoing, cyberpunk au)

khun special category

(it’s all about khun here)

♡ all the blue in the world won’t do, without you by NoteInABottle ♡ (ongoing)

multichapter fic set on khun eduan’s 111th floor!! if you’re too impatient to wait for the khun family arc, you should just read this fic. it’s still ongoing as of the time i made this post but it’s already looking to have all the elements i want out of a khun family arc. it’s written so so well too!! noteinabottle is one of my favourite tog authors :D

Brothers and sisters, I'm an atomic bomb by gleek_runner (ongoing series)

a wonderfully well written series of fics focusing on interactions between members of the khun family!!!! im just a sucker for the khun kids and im always starving for khun family content

He Wonders if He Still Breathes by Chocolatesandblood

khun and ran interactions!!

putting his resolve to the test. by soundscape

khun and hachuling interactions!!

Autumn Angel by XprincessxofxspadesX

khunbam meets maria and a series of complicated and fascinating interactions occurs. this was very nice to read ;w;

#trying to stop myself from regurgitating all of the fics on ao3 here #im holding back i swear #this is such a mortifyingly long post #i think i mightve went overboard #hope this is helpful #tog #khunbam #long post #mine #i'll come back and add to this occasionally maybe

[june-again]

genshin masterlist !

「　spotlight　」

a chasmic mistake. childe x lumine; completed series. tartaglia was the last person she would like to be stuck in the chasm with.

「　by region　」

MONDSTADT : ⋆ sleep tight, dandelion knight. 0.6k. jean. reverse comfort.

⠀you come into her office late at night to apologize.

⋆ good enough. 0.8k. kaeya. songfic, angst.

⠀kaeya had no business being so interested in a criminal.

⋆ you say you see them as the main character. (1/4) seperate voiceline-style headcanons. platonic fluff/interaction.

LIYUE : ⋆ you say you see them as the main character. (2/4) seperate voiceline-style headcanons. platonic fluff/interaction.

INAZUMA :

⋆ enchanted. 0.8k. kazuha. meetcute, songfic.

⠀that night, kazuha kaedehara saved your life.

⋆ lent. 0.7k. kazuha. angst, songfic.

⠀whether he would admit it or not, kazuha was running.

⋆ you say you see them as the main character. (3/4) seperate voiceline-style headcanons. platonic fluff/interaction.

⋆ lightning on the sunniest day. kazuha. 12k.

⠀you are the endo clan’s heir. your life has been spent within the walls your home, preparing for your fixed destiny. but then you meet kazuha, who, despite being similar in carrying an honorable family name, is your opposite in many other ways. he seeks the unknown, and enjoys sleeping under the stars with the night breeze. by the time you realize you’ve fallen for him, he’s about to join a sailing crew and be gone from your life forever. if you can’t change his mind, you’ll have a decision to make. ㅤㅤㅤ↪ wind on the calmest eve. 2k. epilogue. ⋆ on the view of liyue harbour. 500w. kazuha. fluff, scenic.

⠀danger is always on the wind when you and kazuha travel together.

SUMERU :

⋆ walk home. 500w. 4ggravate. platonic.

⠀"do you want us to walk you home?" ⠀you break down into tears unexpectedly when trying to say goodbye to your friends for the night.

⋆ you're so tired. 400w. kaveh. platonic.

⠀but a sunset and an architect give you hope.

⋆ why do you hate him so much? 1k. kaveh. platonic.

⠀this was not what you expected from a coffee date.

⋆ the beautiful implications of his missing hairbrush. 0.4k. kaveh. fluff.

⠀he can't wait for you to come home again.

⋆ you say you see them as the main character. (4/4) seperate voiceline-style headcanons. platonic fluff/interaction.

⋆ following a long day. 0.5k. kaveh, comfort.

⋆ kaveh birthday post. 0.3k.

⠀brainrot about his face.

⋆ chronically ill!reader. 0.4k. kaveh. comfort (headcanons).

⠀he believes you when you say you're in pain.

⋆ poison tree. 0.7k. tighnari. songfic, platonic.

⠀you would never be at home in teyvat.

⋆ will he change his mind about you? 1k. alhaitham. platonic.

⠀you've been meaning to ask him this for awhile.

⋆ he does your hair. 400w. kaveh. platonic, fluff.

⠀how does he do this by himself every morning?

⋆ those who trespass. 2k. cyno. adventure, platonic.

⠀even a lie can cost a life. or save it.

⋆ deliver me. 3k. tighnari. adventure, pining.

⠀who is saving who now?

⋆ second life. 1k. tighnari. whump.

⠀after you confess your feelings to tighnari, his reaction warrants your move across sumeru to start a new life. and yet you are forced, mortifyingly, to see him again.

⋆ something tremendous. 1k. tighnari. platonic.

⠀how quickly strangers can become something more.

FONTAINE

⋆ a radiant feast. 0.7k lyney, etc. platonic.

⠀ lyney asks you for a favour.

SNEZHNAYA

⋆ his type. 400w. tartaglia. fluff.

⋆ childe-ish. 150w. tartaglia. angst.

「　collections　」

⋆ they give you a new necklace. (kaveh, lyney, zhongli)

⠀and they offer to do up the clasp.

⋆ a visit to the library. (kaeya, alhaitham, thoma)

⠀...never goes as expected.

HOME

#gi x reader #genshin x reader #kazuha x reader #zhongli x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #junenav

[wee-chlo]

Canon divergence where Elktaur and the Princess got together and a deertaur came up to them one day (I picture she looks like Glendale for fun; this references a post that went around on Tumblr long long ago in the before times that I cannot find but is amazing):

"So, Mr. Prince-Consort, I've been thinkin'."

"Oh?"

"You and the Princess are what we in Centaurworld like to call.... cuddle buddies, right?"

The Elktaur wonders if this is some kind of nightmare. The Princess wonders if Christmas came early.

"Yes," she says before the Elktaur can collect himself. "That is absolutely what we are. Among other things." The deertaur beams and nods while the Elktaur seriously considers going on the lam.

"Well, I was thinkin', humans and centaurs aren't super compatible when it comes to cuddlin'," she brandished a sketchbook, mortifyingly filled with sketches of a centaur on a bed with a human pinned beneath it. One such picture looks alarmingly like the Elktaur and the Princess, with a small speech bubble that said "Ow, help, my bones!" nearby.

The Princess makes a sound not dissimilar to a squeaky wheel on a wheelbarrow, and the Elktaur feels her lean her head against his back as she wheezes.

"But that's not fair!" The deertaur continues, because of course she does. "So I tried to figure out how the two of you could cuddle." She starts turning the pages as the Princess tries desperately to collect herself. "Kinda hard since you're so gangly and got those big ol' horns, no offense, but I think I got it!" With a flourish, she brandishes her art.

A sort of... three quarters bed, with a section cut out on one side for a fully grown centaur to lay in and able to rest the top portion on the bed. Two differently colored sketches of the Elktaur and the Princess spooning showcases precisely what the deertaur is picturing.

The Elktaur has to hide his face in his hands before he simply implodes with embarrassment, but the Princess is thrilled.

Two weeks later, a prototype of the bed is in their bedroom, and the Elktaur has to admit it's perfect. The Princess curls up in his arms and all is right in the world.

And then she starts snickering.

"What?"

"Help! My bones!" She chokes out.

#the elktaur #centaurworld #spoilers #canon divergent au

[daydream-believin]

MERLIN’S APPRENTICE & MERLIN’S CHAMPION || trollhunters

warnings: swearing

a/n: if rott gave me anything it gave me this idea

I KNOW I SAID “JUICY” BUT REALLY THAT WAS JUST THE ANGST POTENTIAL,, THAT IM NOT INDULGING IN THIS POST IM SORRY LMAO

OKAY WHAT IM REALLY TALKING BOUT HERE IS A GOOD MERLIN/ARTHUR BUT IT ACTUALLY WORKS

no sorry i haven’t seen bbc merlin don’t come for me i’m ignorant

OKAY SO

we know douxie kept an eye on the human trollhunter and co

but douxie’s really having a hard time convincing himself he’s just doing his job

he’s actually enjoying this a little too much despite how boring staying in the shadows is

and he’s kinda worried?

so he’s got this bright idea: you know what would better help him keeps tabs? if he befriends this person

and so he does

fuck merlin’s shadows

sod the rules

ofc he’s very up front about knowing they’re the trollhunter and that he’s merlin’s apprentice

we wouldn’t want that to become a huge festering secret that eats douxie from the inside out until the inevitable reveal when merlin calls them both to help with the arcane order and they realize they’ve both been lying to each other’s faces for months/years and neither of them know if they could ever trust the other again, right? — phew *catches breath*

but before you know it, mr. casperan and mx. trollhunter are best friends

he’s basically the toby to your jim

and you’re very happy to have a best friend like douxie

he understands that monster hunting hustle

he’s the only person you can vent to and actually talk about what’s going on without sounding like a loon

and douxie likes being able to tell someone all his frustrations with merlin, since you’re also in that boat with him

you spar sometimes. it’s fun, but you’re very careful not to accidentally hurt your friend (he’s extremely careful not to hurt you or wound your ego by effortlessly wiping you out)

ofc, there’s the occasional, brushing of hands, faces a little too close together, accidentally winding up on top of one another, purposefully winding up on top of one another 👀 you know how sparring be

you and douxie are a duo. a duo who have become trollmarket’s resident troublemakers, to vendel’s exasperation

you guys tease each other a lot

you do a lot of stupid shit, cause hey, now you have magic armor and a magic sword and a magic best friend, did you think you wouldn’t get up to some shenanigans?

douxie is your impulse control and he’s not a very good one, as he’s just as bad

truthfully archie has the brain cell

and pranks? gods the pranks. you two are always either pranking each other or you’re teaming up to prank some other troll who said smth mean to you in the pub. vendel had to personally put a stop to it (read: chew you out)

doux thinks the world of you tho, you’re such a noble knight, and likes to tell people about how you’re a cinnamon roll, so innocent, so pure

and then they meet you and you directly contradict those statements

trollhunter: i’ve never done anything wrong in my life, ever

douxie: i know this and i love you

(spoiler: you’ve done lots and lots of wrong)

doux spends an awful lot of time slinking around trollmarket now, and he’s in the know for everything that’s happening

(no more being kept in the dark for this wizard apprentice)

and doux knows merlin won’t completely approve of this, but hey, it’s not like he’s helping and thus directly disobeying

really, he’s not helping you at all, it’s really fucking annoying

okay so mayyybe the occasional healing spell. you’ve got those puppy dog eyes he can’t say no to

but you understand his sense of duty, or whatever it is that drives a follower, technically being a follower of merlin yourself

you respect the old geezer (as you have not been turned into a half-troll yet) as a wise mythical figure, and as your best friend’s father

and what a perfect match you are for each other, champion and apprentice, mutually being screwed over by a guy you both think has all the answers

you and douxie help each other grow in your self-worths, that you two are more than the chances merlin has given to you

unfortunately, mortifyingly, you have caught feelings.

douxie has also caught feelings, and is saying nothing yep you have enough on your plate without him putting this on you so he’ll just quietly pine and suffer don’t mind him choking to death in the corner when you take off your helmet and throw back your hair

y’all’s problem really starts manifesting itself as protectiveness. you are really protective of your wizard and he is really protective of his knight

lots of things said that are Not What Friends Say but neither of you really want to be the one to point that out

lots and lots of i love yous that slowly get more and more serious until it’s not exactly platonic anymore

and it’s just really nice to have someone to get coffee (or your favored hot drink) with at four in the morning after a tussle with a troll

and that’s basically how you and douxie spend the bulk of trollhunters, just vibing

as much as you can vibe, with all the changelings and shit trying to murder you all the time

then merlin wakes up and shakes up your world

you are aware of your impending doom

you’re aware of it

merlin keeps looking you up and down like he’s mentally making up the measurements of your coffin

and tbh the idea of fighting gunmar freaks you tf out

and you’re supposed to win that fight?

gods

you’re preparing for your nightmares coming true soon

truthfully you knew your fucking job had a 100% mortality rate

you don’t want to die with regrets

so

you spill

you spill all the things you’d wanted to tell him and how much he means to you and that you couldn’t bear it if you were a goner before he knew

miraculously, douxie feels the same and tells you all the things he’d been holding back and and what you mean to him and how much he wants to protect you, that you’re gonna make it, if he had anything to say about it

and everything is perfect for one night

now you have a real reason to win

not that saving humanity isn’t a big responsibility on your shoulders and definitely A Reason

but knowing douxie’s waiting for you, for the life you’ll build together after this, the peace you’ll both have, it’s absolutely a big motivation to give your all and come out victorious and survive

hahaha loser you don’t know about the arcane order

and then merlin uses your microwave to cook a weird potion

you and merlin are alone in the house, but there’s no real mind games necessary. you may have grown past thinking he was a god, but in the end, you’re still a follower of merlin, and if merlin thinks this could give you an edge, well, who are you to question his methods

doesn’t mean you aren’t nervous as your master hands you the bottle

yet you don’t even hesitate to drown yourself in the black abyss of the tub

whatever it takes amirite?

and now you’re a half-troll

a sexy half-troll, if you do say so yourself

yeah, no ‘i’m a monster’ angst here, you’re loving the power-up

you’ve got to treat it like a cool new power-up or you will cry actually tbh i lied about the no-angst thing a new body is disorienting

your only real concern is douxie

not concerned for long tho, he sees you and the first thing out of his mouth is “nuclear!”

and he senses your concern, so he does go out of his way to assure you that boy, girl, enby, or half-troll, he loves you for your soul, darling

also again half-troll! you is hot as hell so he’s not really losing anything here 👀

he makes sure you know that too, not to let any insecurities fester

him raking his eyes up and down you gives the opposite effect of the dread merlin sent down your spine doing it

anyways,,,

doux helps out a lot more in the eternal night

like helps merlin re-defeat and re-seal morgana

he’ll do it again in few weeks but with a bigger role you know, this is practice

thank merlin for that edge YOU ARE THE LAST TROLLHUNTER YOU ARE VICTORIOUS YOUVE GOT GUNMARS HEAD IN YOUR HANDS HAHAHA

but now you’ve got to go to new jersey

douxie’s been instructed to stay in arcadia tho 🥺

it’s okay, you’ll see each other again soon

sooner than you realize

and until then you talk each other to sleep every night over the phone <3

merlins glad, actually. he’s glad hisirdoux found some solace. even if it is with the lamb he was raising for the slaughter. maybe things will go okay for them. the time map suggests it might be so

hisirdoux may have done things in a way he didn’t quite approve of, but that’s because he’s becoming his own wizard, and merlin is proud

#okay okay i’m done #see you in wizards #douxie x reader #hisirdoux casperan x reader #tales of arcadia x reader #tales of arcadia imagine #douxie imagine #hisirdoux casperan imagine #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #douxie casperan x reader #tales of arcadia #my writing

[hermannsthumb]

"different young (rebound) hunk on his arm every week…newton geiszler who?" CAN YOU WRITE THIS FIC PLEASE? Hermann as the new heartthrob of the science world, cheekbones that can cut glass, baby gay scientists everywhere using appalling math-related pick-up lines in an attempt to be the booty call of the week. Newton catches a glimpse of him at a fundraiser and the Precursors have to stop him from crying with lust.

so tragically I plotted a whole fic for this and then came back and realized this prompt involves PRU but I liked my idea too much so unfortunately I won’t be filling the PRU part 😔 but I DO love heartthrob hermann sooooooooo. this can be pre-PRU if you want to make it sad actually CW for drinking and mild allusion to not sfw stuff. when will these boys talk about their feelings?

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

Hermann doesn’t like going out to bars at the best of times, least of all after he’s had the sort of exceptionally long day he’s had today (fighting his way through airports and hotel lobbies, fielding interview questions, having not even a minute’s break from Newton), but even he will admit that the one Newton has dragged him along to tonight could be far worse. The sorts of bars Newton fancied throughout their stint at the Hong Kong Shatterdome tended to be far hipper, far more becoming for a man of his (and, admittedly, Hermann’s) age, and likely aimed at tourists: pounding music, dark rooms, neon lighting, overpriced drinks, an inability to navigate through throngs of dancing bodies without bumping into at least half a dozen people. For that reason Hermann’s blood practically ran cold earlier that evening when, fresh out of their latest television interview, Newton insisted that Hermann needed to unwind a little. That Newton would help him unwind a little.

Hermann was pleasantly surprised to find that though the music (a live band) is still loud, and drink prices are still inflated, at least he can see Newton, and at least the few people dancing are dancing far away from them. And, well, perhaps it’s made him more amenable to (mostly) matching Newton drink-for-drink, and to indulging him in knocking back not one, but two rounds of the most disgusting-looking pink shots of all time, and— “Look, dude,” Newton declares, tossing an arm around Hermann’s shoulder. He’s shouting and leaning in too-close to Hermann, not because he’s intoxicated, but rather to be heard over the band, which has launched into a rather enthusiastic cover of some song Hermann’s sure he’s heard blaring from Newton’s iTunes before. His stubble tickles the shell of Hermann’s ear. “Just say it with me. It’s that easy. R-e-t-i-r-e-m—”

“We are thirty-five,” Hermann says. “We can’t just—”

“We absolutely can,” Newton says. He nudges his cocktail glass into Hermann’s chest, sloshing a bit of hot pink Watermelon Crush on his neat button-up. Hermann stifles a sigh; the shirt is brand new, bought just that morning for the interview, and will already be needing a wash. And smelling like liquified hard candy for the rest of the evening. “You and me, lying on a beach somewhere, sleeping in until noon every day, learning how to—to fish, or paint, or whatever the hell we want—”

“Not a beach,” Hermann says immediately. “I’m bloody well sick of beaches. Oceans, lakes, bays—no more."

Indulging Newton’s ridiculous little fantasy, even for a moment, is a mistake: Newton’s face lights up in a grin, and he tucks his arm around Hermann’s shoulder to pull Hermann flush against him. Hermann’s barstool wobbles dangerously. “Okay, no beaches. Far away from any coastline. The mountains, then.” It’d be just their luck, Hermann thinks, if the next Breach reopened far away from the ocean, too. Like it followed them somehow. “Let’s move to Switzerland or something and buy a log cabin or a cave and become weird recluses. I’ll learn how to ski, and you can grow a beard, and we can buy all our furniture at Ikea—” He frowns. “Is Ikea from Switzerland? Sweden? I haven’t been since college.”

“I don’t recall ever agreeing to move anywhere with you in the first place,” Hermann says, “let alone retire to do so. What on earth makes you think I’d follow you to Switzerland? I’ve no interest whatsoever in Switzerland.”

“Uh, because we’re best friends?” Newton says. “Anyway, what else would you do?”

“Anything,” Hermann says. He begins to tick off all the possibilities on his fingers while Newton watches him, unimpressed. “I could stay in Hong Kong—I’m sure they’d appreciate help monitoring what remains of the Breach. Or I could move back to England and resume my old teaching post, if they’d have me.” Hermann knows they’d have him; they’ve already sent him at least a dozen emails practically begging him to accept tenure. “Or back to Germany, with my parents.”

“I could totally do all that, too,” Newton says. “Well—not the Germany thing. No offense, dude, but your parents kinda suck. I don’t think I want them as my roommates.”

Hermann decides not to mention that the odds are very high they would not want Newton as a roommate, either. He’s tempted to ask Newton if he meant what he said about them being best friends—for Hermann can’t recall the last time someone called him their best friend, if ever—but Newton’s arm is slipping from his shoulders, and Newton is pulling out his mobile phone and tapping away frantically at it. Hermann feels strangely bereft without his touch. “Okay,” Newton says, his eyes scanning the screen, “Ikea was founded in Sweden, but they moved headquarters in—”

“Excuse me?”

Hermann and Newton both startle, Newton nearly dropping his phone, and the bartender who’d interrupted them smiles apologetically. He’s holding a pint of what appears to be beer. “Sorry to bother you guys,” he says to them, “but this is from the young man over there in the pink shirt.”

At the sight of the drink Newton brightens and puffs out his chest visibly. Bloody perfect, Hermann thinks. Just want Newton needs—another boost to his ego. “No sweat,” Newton says. He tosses his mobile to the bar counter casually and reaches to accept the glass. “Please tell him I’m super flattered, but—”

“Actually, sir,” the bartender interrupts, and—to Hermann’s surprise—slides the glass away from Newton’s grasp and over to Hermann. Hermann takes it without a word, not quite daring to believe it. Down the bar, out of the corner of his eye, he can see the flash of a bright pink shirt, but he can’t quite make himself turn to acknowledge the mystery admirer. Is that rude of him? No one has ever sent him a drink before. He’s not quite sure of the etiquette. “It’s, um, not for you.”

Newton deflates like a popped balloon. A blush spreads across his cheeks, barely visible beneath his freckles, which have come out again in the spring sunlight now that they’re not spending all their time in the Shatterdome basement. Hermann likes the look of them; he thinks they’re sweet, and that if he traced his fingertip across them they’d make a pattern of some sort, like a constellation. Not that he ever would, of course. Newton would surely ridicule him. "Right, duh,” Newton says.

He waits until the bartender is gone to round on Hermann. “Dude!” he says, almost accusatory, “Fourth time this week!”

“It is not,” Hermann protests. It’s weak to his own ears: even he isn’t thick enough to miss the sudden influx of attention he’s gotten since their first television interview last month. Hermann was never exactly popular, never exactly the sort the drive people wild with lust or romantic longing, yet it seems as if he can’t go anywhere these days without turning a few heads (including mid-twentysomething heads, mortifyingly enough) and getting a few cellular numbers slipped into his hand. Yesterday, a young man on the metro asked Hermann if he might like to see a movie some time. The day before that, another man wearing a jean jacket full of enamel pins stepped up to Hermann in a Starbucks and asked him if he could ­call-cu-later. Last week, a starry-eyed college student stopped Hermann outside a hotel to ask him to sign his Calculus 3 textbook, excitedly telling Hermann he switched degrees to astrophysics not a few days prior after reading an interview with Hermann in a rather obscure pop science magazine, and had blushed when Hermann thanked him. Newton had laughed at that one, and advised the young man to give biology a shot instead. (Newton had gotten very cross when he was promptly ignored, and in referencing the incident later, rather bitterly called the student an annoying little punk.)

This is to say nothing, of course, of the multiple news articles (listicles, as Newton calls them) Newton has forced him to read about himself on something called Buzzfeed, which have apparently helped to cement Hermann’s fifteen minutes of fame. One was called Twelve Times Dr. Hermann Gottlieb Was A Fashion Icon and was accompanied with a rather embarrassing array of candid photos of Hermann. Newton has been particularly incensed over that one.

“It is,” Newton says. “At least third. You know, I think the worst part is that you’re not even getting laid. Dudes are throwing themselves at you left and right—”

“Am I meant to go home with any random stranger who shows me the briefest bit of attention?” Hermann snaps. “I like to think I have somewhat higher standards than that.” I’m not like you, he nearly adds, but decides that it might perhaps be too cruel, especially considering that Newton has not gotten a fraction of the attention Hermann has over the past month. He remembers what it used to be like in the Shatterdome, is all; Newton seemed to like anyone who would give him the time of day. Most of his romances didn’t fare well for that reason.

“I’m just saying you could, and you’re not,” Newton says.

Hermann taps his finger against the pint glass, watching bubbles release from the side and rise to the top. When he finally takes a sip, it makes him wrinkle his nose. He’s not usually much for drinking. “I don’t like IPAs,” he says.

“I’ll take it,” Newton says, and the corner of his mouth hitches up in a grin, “as long as your boyfriend won’t get offended.”

Considering that Newton has only just finished following up his two shots with a cocktail, Hermann questions the decision, but slides him the glass anyway. Newton starts on it at once. Hermann wonders if he’ll need to call them a rideshare back to their hotel tonight; he’s not sure he can manage guiding a intoxicated Newton through the streets of the city on foot, especially not after a day that’s been rather unkind on his hip. “Only I suppose I have trouble believing it,” Hermann admits.

“Believing what?” Newton says.

“That they’re genuinely interested,” Hermann says.

To Hermann’s surprise, Newton snorts. “Nah, dude. You’ve got—” He taps Hermann’s chest, and leaves his hand there. “—sex appeal. You’ve got the, like, soulful eyes, and the movie star eyelashes, and the cheekbones and—” He drags his fingertip along Hermann’s jaw, and Hermann masks his sharp flinch in a cough, hoping Newton can’t feel his face heating up. He doesn’t remember if Newton has ever touched his face before. It feels shockingly intimate. “People think it’s super hot.” He takes another sip of Hermann’s drink. "Plus, you’re so—like—uptight. It makes people wonder what you’re bottling up.”

Hermann arches an eyebrow. “Bottling up?”

“In a sexy way,” Newton clarifies.

He settles his hand back on Hermann’s chest. Hermann licks his lips. Has Newton wondered those sorts of things about him, too? “You’ve had—too much to drink,” he says.

“A little bit,” Newton agrees. “I’m right, though. I like this shirt, by the way, it’s a nice cut on you.” He toys with one of the shirt’s buttons, and when he speaks again it’s in a low voice that makes Hermann’s mouth feel strangely dry. Hermann has never heard it from him before. “Wanna go back to the hotel and rent a movie or something?”

He’s peering at Hermann through his eyelashes, smiling in an odd little way. How terribly close they are to each other, Hermann realizes. He can count every tiny scratch in Newton’s eyeglasses, every fleck of gold in his eyes, every freckle on his cheeks. He wonders if Newton really wants to rent a movie; he wonders what Newton would do if Hermann closed the inch between them, and... “I,” Hermann stammers, gaze fixed on Newton’s mouth (stained pinker from his drink), “er, yes, only—only I feel as if I ought to thank the gentleman who sent me—”

At once, Newton drops away from him. His face hardens. His smile hardens, too. “Oh, right. I forgot,” he says. He inclines his head down the bar. “Pink shirt, right?”

Hermann casts his eyes about, searching for the pink-shirted stranger. When he doesn’t immediately spot him, a small bubble of relief swells within him. Perhaps he left, perhaps he decided he’s not interested in Hermann after all, perhaps Hermann is free to go back to the hotel with Newton and watch a film and argue about retirement and… “Oh, there,” Newton says. A man catches Hermann’s eye and waves timidly. He’s wearing a pink button-up.

“Bugger,” Hermann mutters. His admirer is not unattractive—in fact, he’s the opposite, with curly hair and glasses even thicker than Newton’s—which Newton seems to notice, too. He claps Hermann on the shoulder, hard enough that Hermann sways with it.

“He’s totally cute,” Newton says, “and he’s totally into you. You gotta at least get his number.” He takes another large sip of Hermann’s drink. “Better yet, get yourself laid. You could use it.”

Hermann feels the oddest sense of whiplash. Just a minute prior, he was about to kiss Newton (and he was pretty sure Newton was going to kiss him back), and now Newton is practically throwing him at another man. Hermann does not want to get anyone’s phone number—he wants to fall asleep in his stiff hotel bed to some absolutely awful science-fiction movie Newton picks out. “Newton,” he says, “weren’t we going to—?”

“No biggie, we can do movie night tomorrow instead,” Newton says. He nudges Hermann’s calf with the toe of his boot, and holds out his cane to him. Hermann feels his heart begin to sink. “I won’t wait up for you. Just give me a heads up if he wants to go back to our place, and I’ll make sure to stay out longer.”

“I’m sure it’ll only take a moment,” Hermann says. He’ll make sure it only takes a moment.

“No biggie,” Newton repeats. He raises his glass to Hermann in a mock toast. “Good luck!”

When Hermann looks back over his shoulder, halfway to the man in the pink shirt, it’s to see Newton’s stool vacant, and the back of Newton’s leather jacket swishing out the bar doors.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

[say-the-name-sebongie]

Princely Problems

Synopsis: Where a princess-love-story-unbeliever meets a prince-like gentleman named Joshua

Pairing: Joshua x fem!reader

Genre: tiny bit angst, fluff somewhere at the end

Warnings: drinking, harassment, violence

Word Count: 3k words

Fairytales were fictional. _____ had already had that down. Princes that saved princesses from abnormally high towers or mad dragons didn’t exist and love stories weren’t what Disney had made them to be. Those fictional movies just made little girls hope for something that could never exist: a perfect love story

Out of all the relationships she had been in, not one of them proved to have a Disney-like fairytale happy ending. In fact, none of them had happy endings. Men only pretended to be princes that would swoop in to save you when you needed it. But even that façade only lasted so long. Men only wanted you for a night, a month, or not at all.

This was why _____ wasn’t fazed (or as fazed as she would like to admit) when the epitome of gentle princely men knelt down beside her, asking if she was okay after her fall on the sidewalk from running too fast to catch a cab to work. He didn’t seem to care that some strands of his perfectly styled hair had fallen down over his eyes as he looked over her for any injuries.

“I’m fine, seriously.” She said as she got up while holding onto the lamppost beside her and pretending not to notice that the guy had held out his hand to help her, taking note that her left ankle was definitely sprained. The boy’s doe-like eyes looked into hers and it took all of _____’s willpower not to nervously swallow under his stare.

“My name’s Joshua and I don’t think you’re okay.” The boy— Joshua— said as he slipped an arm behind her and led her to one of the houses nearby.

“What the heck! Where are you taking me?” _____ panicked. Joshua just laughed, the sun shining on his glorious face as he threw his head back. “This is my house and no, I’m not going to do anything to you. I’ll leave the door unlocked and open if that makes you feel safer but that sprained leg needs to be iced.”

Needless to say, the boy made this “prince” thing look very natural.

Over the next few days, Joshua continued to keep up his princely façade. It was like he was actually born from royalty. The amount of grace and politeness that exuded from his form made _____ gag. He was almost too perfect. Everything he did was considered kind. Helping old ladies cross the street, holding the door open to let the pregnant lady into the shop, carrying groceries for that old man that lived at the end of the street, and basically any action kind and princely. He was just mortifyingly nice.

Not only that but he was mortifyingly nice even to _____ who turned down his many attempts to be of service to her. She didn’t let him open the door for her when they coincidentally went to the same café, grabbing the door handle along with him to open it herself. Nor did she let him help her change her car tire. _____ was fooled once, okay maybe more than once but she wasn’t going to be fooled again. Not by a guy who pretended to be nice. Not by some kind boy who lived a few houses over and made her heart do parkour routines in her chest every time they met. Not by Joshua, and that was final.

So far, Joshua hadn’t gotten tired of her refusals. He was still as nice as he was when they had first met. _____ pitied the girl who would fall for him. There weren’t a lot of people who wouldn’t believe that Joshua was just pretending.

“Joshua sure is one good actor,” she mumbled to herself as she walked.

“You should wear a jacket if you’re going out today.” Speak of the devil. _____ turned around and saw the embodiment of princely behavior graciously standing with a leaf blower in his hands, yard nearly rid of any leaves that had recently started falling. “It's autumn now so the nights are gonna be colder.”

She didn’t miss the way his eyes drifted to her legs, exposed by the short dress she was wearing, before coming back up to rest on her face. Typical men. They just can’t help themselves can they, _____ thought scoffed. The neighborhood prince’s face was contorted with worry as if he was afraid that she’d get cold. _____ gave a laugh in response. “I can take care of myself.” She told him before going her way.

-----

Getting drunk was part of the plan. _____ had agreed to go out with her friends from work to get her mind off the angelic creature that had been reaching out and offering his help bothering and pestering her all week. The bar was full of people, music, and alcohol. No princes and no Joshua. Just what she needed tonight.

Her friends immediately went to the dance floor, their eyes wide open and hunting for someone to take home for the night. _____ sat at the bar and watched them as she took shot after shot, drowning any thoughts of Joshua. One shot. Princes didn't exist. Another shot. His real personality would show itself sooner or later. Shot glasses gathered up in front of her as she drank alcohol as if it was water.

"That's enough alcohol for you sweetheart. Why don't I take you outside for some fresh air?" An unfamiliar man's voice said. _____ turned to her right and saw a man reaching for her thigh, his oily hair slicked back and his wild eyes peering over her form. Even in her dunked stupor she noticed that he wasn't looking at her face but at her chest and thighs.

Disgusted, she pushed him away and stumbled to the dance floor in search of her friends. The man followed her closely, his invasive eyes never leaving her body. People bumped and pushed against her, making it hard to make an escape from the man. Soon enough _____ found herself stuck in the middle of the dance floor with the man pressing his pelvis against her back.

"Go away! " she tried to shout at him, but the loud music and chatter drowned out her cry. The man smiled behind her as his hands went lower towards the hem of her dress. _____ pushed hard against him and bolted out of the bar.

She ran out of the exit and was met with the ice-cold air of the night. That apparently was not enough to make the man stop pursuing her because he was still hot on her trail. Desperate to get away from the man, _____ managed to stumble to the main road when suddenly her heel got caught on a stone and she twisted her ankle rather painfully. The girl let out a loud cry of pain.

"Get up, hurry." a new male's voice came as the speaker's warm hands softly gripped her forearms, pulling her up. In the light of the moon, _____ looked up at Joshua’s face. His usually warm eyes were now boiling with anger as he stared at something behind her.

"Josh, my ankle," _____ whined, the alcohol hitting her again and momentarily forgetting that she didn’t want anything to do with Joshua tonight. Light and shadow blended together. The boy sighed and removed his jacket, wrapping it around her legs before positioning his arms around and under her to lift her up.

This was the first time that she had seen Joshua up close. Of course, every time he tried to come near her, she just pushed him away. Her eyes focused on the lines of his face as if it were a camera. He was so annoyingly nice and attractive that her heart started beating faster.

"Come in girlie, let's have some fun at my place." the man said as he came running towards _____. Joshua stood up protectively in front of her. If a fight broke out between him and the man, it was obvious Joshua would win. But the man was too blinded by his desire for pleasure to think straight. He barreled towards _____, reaching down to touch her when Joshua grabbed his arm, pulled him to eye level, and stared him down.

"Leave. Her. Alone." he threw the man to the ground and kicked him for good measure. It was surprising to see this side of Joshua. The warm man who seemed like he couldn't even hurt a fly was now inflamed with anger and beating up a stranger. The fire in his eyes didn’t subside even as he kicked the man over and over.

"Joshua, stop," _____ said as she reached up to tug on his shirt, letting out a yelp as she accidentally moved her ankle. Joshua looked back at her, his wide, warm, worrying eyes meeting hers as he came to her aid. "Don't beat him up, it's not worth it."

"Sorry, it's just that guys like him disgust me," he said as he scooped _____ up and headed off. She heard a car beep before he laid her in the passenger seat of his car. He then went to the driver's seat and started the car.

"You followed me?" _____ asked him, earning a smile from the man beside her. "I figured something would happen to you, especially in that dress." his warm, gentle voice washed over her. He looked up at her and winked. The girl rolled her eyes and looked out the window. Joshua was too attractive for her own good. _____ really had to get him out of her head or she might end up falling for a prince again.

-----

_____ woke up with the worst headache she had ever had in her life. She was still in the dress from last night, her foot bandaged and Joshua's jacket draped over her.

Joshua's jacket?

That woke her up. Clearly, she was in her house and sitting on her couch which meant that Joshua had come into her house but had the decency not to go into her room. The fact that she was still in her clothes from last night meant he hadn't tried to undress her.

Why did he have to be such a natural gentleman?

Getting up off the couch, _____ made her way to the kitchen where she found a post-it note sticking on the refrigerator door.

I put some of the hangover soup my mom made in here. Heat it up and eat that when you wake up. Call me if you need anything. - Shua

Below the last sentence was a series of numbers. _____ smiled and saved the number into her contacts. As much as she didn’t want to have anything to do with Joshua anymore, she would have to thank him sooner or later. She had to admit, he was really thoughtful to have done all this. The familiar warm bubbling in her chest from last night came back. _____ shook her head.

It's not real, _____. Don’t start falling for him now.

A knock on her door shook her out of her thoughts. The face of the prince greeted her when she opened it. His kind eyes immediately looked down at her injured foot before the scolding started.

"Why are you already walking around? You're injured, for goodness' sake." He demanded, grabbing her arms and pushing her back into the house.

"Joshua I- Wait-"

He dragged her inside and sat her back down on the couch. Joshua placed down the paper bag he was holding and went straight to the kitchen and brought out the hangover soup. _____ felt like her chest was about to burst. She knew this feeling and this was something she promised herself never to feel again.

He’s not a prince. He’s not a prince. He’s not a prince. He’s not a prince.

"Aren't you tired of pretending to be nice Joshua?" _____ huffed as she crossed her arms over her chest. The girl couldn't wait for Joshua to snap, to prove her wrong so she could go back to believing that Disney stories were plain fiction. With that, she would have enough reason to not like him and go back to her normal life.

"What do you mean pretending? This is how I always am though?" Joshua said, his head peeking out of the kitchen. When he saw that _____ wasn't convinced, he walked over to her and looked her in the eyes.

"Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?”

Feeling guilty, _____ looked down at the floor. To be perfectly honest, there was nothing Joshua had done that would ever even make her question his kindness. He has been nothing but kind to her and to everyone around him. However, her belief still stands.

“You should probably stop being so nice and princely to me. I don’t believe in those Disney movies that say men will sweep you off your feet and carry you to happily ever after. I’ve been through enough to know what men are truly like. I know you’re not Prince Charming and you can’t make me think otherwise.” _____ hissed before pulling him to the door.

“Thank you for bringing me home last night and for bringing me the soup but I’m not going to fall for another nice guy like you, Joshua.” And with that, she closed the door leaving a stunned Joshua staring at her peephole.

For the next few days, Joshua left _____ alone. No greeting when they passed each other on the street. Heck, it was like they didn’t even know each other. The boy continued to be of help and service to the other people in their neighborhood but he had cut all contact with _____.

The change made _____ happy. Her feelings for Joshua had faded away and she was able to go about her life without that fake prince tempting her with his sweet words and actions. Or so she would like to think.

After kicking Joshua out of her house, he invaded every second of her time. She couldn’t think of anything but him. _____ couldn’t admit it, but she missed having someone greet her in the morning on the way to work. She missed him coming over to her house once in a while to give her some mashed potatoes because he had made too much. The girl lay in bed at night haunted by the warmth of a person she had pushed out of her life. Though _____ wouldn’t admit it to anyone, she missed Joshua.

Christmas time came around and the snow had started piling up in her yard. Shoveling snow was the only thing she could do without thinking of the boy that lived a few houses over so she did it every time she could. _____ shoved piles of ice out of her yard banning all thoughts of princes and boys. It was just her, the shovel, and the ice. Right now, nothing matters, she thought to herself. Her shovel got stuck on a rather large chunk of ice. She pushed with all her might but the ice stubbornly stood its ground.

The sound of footsteps on the snow made her look up to see the very face she had been avoiding to see. Joshua was standing at the edge of her yard with a shovel in his hands. “Do you need help?”

His offer took _____ aback. This was the same guy she kicked out of her house a few weeks ago, right? The guy who she had called a fake. And here he was, offering his help to the girl who had done all that to him.

“It’s fine. I don’t want to bother you.” She gave a forced smile and hoped he would leave her alone after that.

I don’t want to have to kick you out of my life again.

The boy shrugged his shoulders. “You could never bother me _____. If it makes you feel better, you can help me shovel my yard too.”

Seeing that he was adamant about helping her, _____ gave in. The two worked side by side in silence. After finishing Joshua’s yard, he offered her some hot chocolate to which _____ only agreed to because her teeth were already chattering.

As she sat in his living room, looking around at the Christmas decorations already put up. A fire was roaring in the fireplace. She could hear the tinkling of the teaspoon hitting the mugs as Joshua mixed the hot chocolate.

“Don’t you hate me, Joshua?” _____ asked him, nervously fiddling with her hands on her lap.

The boy’s laugh rang in her ears, making her cheeks turn red. Weeks of trying to forget him went to waste as her feeling came back to the surface. “Why would I hate you?”

“Didn’t you get offended that I kicked you out of my house after you were only trying to be nice to me?”

“Of course, not. You had a perfectly good reason to be suspicious of me and I figured that you just needed time to sort your feelings out.” He handed _____ a glass of hot chocolate.

“Feelings?” Did she accidentally tell him something? _____ didn’t remember ever telling anyone, even her own friends, about how she felt for Joshua.

“You probably don’t remember but you’re kinda talkative when you’re drunk. Plus, you called me a prince that one time so it was safe to assume that you probably saw me that way.” _____ turned to the side to hide her blush. Curse the drinking habit she had to have.

“And for your information, I like you too,” he said, turning her head towards him and forcing _____ to meet his glittering eyes as the girl nervously swallowed. There was no turning back now, their feelings were out in the open. All that was needed was their decision on what to do with them.

“Give me a chance to prove you wrong, princess.”

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