#i honestly never expected anyone to draw clip

[crabsnpersimmons]

I hope you don’t mind, but I was bored and drew Clip :)

live crab reaction:

oh oh oH OH OH !! I LOVE IT!! you got all his details so well! i just wanna leap into his arms for a hug! thank you thank you!!

I NEVER mind! i still remember the eclipse drawing you did before! i love them both!

let's see what Clip thinks!

live Clip reaction:

i think he likes it too! he's just been bouncing around my head since i got your submission yesterday!

#gift for the crab #other people's art #dca fandom #fnaf eclipse #dca oc #Clip New Do Same You AU #New Do Same You AU #i love this i love this so much!! #Clip too! #thank you thank you!! #i honestly never expected anyone to draw clip #mans just a walking continuity error #he laughs in the face of my perfectionism and maybe that's exactly what i need #he is living embodiment of “it doesn't need to be perfect it just needs to be” #which is exactly what i was telling myself as i drew him so this works out #crab art #traditional art #fnaf sun #fnaf moon

[thebelladonnaofbuffoonery]

❀ BANDAGES ❀

i HATE reading angst but oh lord do i LOVE writing it -especially for dazai.

CONTENT: one shot, dazai x reader, 902 words, hurt-comfort, canon relevant self harm, insecurity about said sh, real men cry, slightly ooc

you’d never spent much time wondering what dazai looked like without his bandages. admittedly, earlier on in your acquaintanceship, you had thought about it but quickly felt ashamed at how intrigued you were about something so personal to him -about someone you barely knew.

though you didn’t “barely know” him anymore, your intrigue had not resurfaced, but a desire for him to understand that you still cared about him grew daily. he shied away from your touch if the bandages were loose, had anyone but you dress his wounds after a fight, ran you countless baths but always sat on the cold hard floor beside it… you were starting to worry he might never trust you enough to relax completely around you.

“dazai,” you asked softly, one day as you’re laying against his chest while he’s tracing your palm.

“hm?”

“you know you can trust me, right?”

he chuckled and nuzzled his face into your neck, “why, i trust you with my life, my darling! honestly, i’m offended you need reassurance.”

you smiled, a warmth growing in your chest, “it’s just, i want you to know… well i feel like you don’t, sometimes. not with everything.”

he sighed, his patterns on your skin slowing to a halt, “is this about my bandages?”

“well, yes, but i don’t want you to think i’m saying this because i need you to take them off in front of me–”

“no, i understand that,” he said, returning to drawing in your palm with his slender finger. “in truth, i am a horrid beast underneath it all, i might turn you to stone if you saw my true form.”

you huffed, but couldn’t fight the smile he brought to your face, “dazai.”

“no it’s true!” he insisted.

“nothing about you could be so horrid,” you reasoned.

“you’d be surprised.”

it fell into a comfortable silence once more between you before you finally suggested what you’d been yearning to ask for months.

“let’s have a shower.”

“...together?”

“yeah.”

“i didn’t know my mere presence turned you on that much.”

“not like that,” you clarified, rolling your eyes at his playful nature, “just… come on.”

and he let you. he let you get off of him and pull him to stand, your gentle force guiding him to the bathroom.

“you don’t have to do this, if you really don’t want to,” you said, meeting his eyes as you shily took off your shirt. they softened under your gaze. he brought his large hand to the back of your head and pushed your forehead to his lips.

“i must warn you,” he said, drawing back and beginning to unbutton his shirt, “i’m a ghastly looking bastard.”

you merely rolled your eyes and helped him finish unbuttoning, meeting him halfway and allowing the garment to fall away. his bandages ran from his palms all the way to his chest and up his neck, held together at various points by elastic clips.

you took a step back, allowing him to undress them himself, one by one placing the little metal hooks on the bench and loosening the bandages.

he met your eyes only once, a shaky glace before the white fabric began to slip away.

underneath it all was nothing you hadn’t already expected; various types of burns, cut scars and marred skin. the amount of damage littered across his skin did surprise you a little, knowing dazai as someone without a tolerance for pain.

“hideous i know. most are from a time where i cared little for my comfort,” he said softly. you didn’t know how to respond, what else could be said that was not either glaringly obvious or out of touch at best? instead, you just continued to undress, taking garment after garment which soon dazai followed with.

wordlessly, you turned on the water and gently pulled him in with you until your back was pressed against the tiles and you could see him, all of him, in front of you.

“you’re handsome, dazai,” you told him softly, letting go of one of his hands to push his dampening hair from his eyes.

“i know,” he said deflective with his charming smile.

“you’re handsome,” you repeated.

“i know,” he said again.

“all of you,” you said.

he looked down at you, watching your eyes rake over him and sighed. he leaned into your touch, arching to rest his head on top of yours as your hands made their way up his back, fingers gently dragging over his damp skin.

you turned your cheek to place delicate little kisses over whatever skin you could in your position, his chest, his collarbone, his neck… painting his skin in a layer of affection. his hands squeezed your shoulders tighter and his body shuddered as you continued to place kisses against him, until finally he relaxed under your touch, and his arms dropped to wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

his body shuddered again and you realised, much to your dismay, he was crying. you tried to pull back but he just clung to you tighter. so instead of questioning it, you welcomed his hold, your hands continuing their motion across his back, running over his skin in soothing movements as he silently cried into you. the two of you stood in each other's arms for what felt like forever until dazai muttered in a deep, quiet voice,

“thank you.”

a/n: i was so worried this would turn saviour-complexy so i really hope it didn’t come off that way. i just tried to think about how i would respond if someone did what the reader did, hopefully that was sensitive enough.

#bungo stray dogs #dazai x reader #bsd dazai #dazai x you #dazai x y/n

[indigosunsetao3]

Some of My Headcanons

While my stories may not mix together all the characters still have the same little quirks in all of them. Just a fun little thing to list out and honestly help myself remember them all. I'll add to this as I think of things or remember them.

Alex Keller

Coffee - His favorite coffee flavor is blueberry. Everyone on the team thinks it's disgusting and tastes like burnt blueberries but Alex gets it whenever he can.

Computers - Alex can figure his way into just about anything. Give him a computer and reliable internet he'll find what he needs, even if that means some illegal hacking or questionable methods.

Language - Alex learns languages easily. He may not be able to write them all but he can read and interpret quite a few. If it's a new language he doesn't know yet give him enough time he'll be able to speak enough for basic communication.

Rules - Everyone thinks that Price is the rule breaker of the group and no one suspects the polite American boy. That's to their own detriment. Alex will break any and all rules if he thinks they are wrong. To the point Price has had to reign him in or throw him on the sidelines when they work together.

Singing - Alex can sing. He never did it seriously, like joining a band or singing in the school choir but he definitely has the talent. It's just something he likes to do and came naturally to him. He does it mostly when he thinks no one is listening because he's not confident in it despite what people tell him.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Artist - Despite Horrible handwriting Soap can draw extremely well. It started as a pastime as a kid that turned into a coping mechanism and hobby as an adult. He doesn't often share his works with others so when he does, consider yourself lucky.

Handwriting - His penmanship is chicken scratch that over time the team has learned to read but good luck to anyone else.

Notebook - He has stacks of notebooks full of his old sketches and field notes. None of them are ever tossed, just packed away somewhere in his townhouse. All the books are different but what always stays the same is the worn out leather cover that he uses to protect the current one he's using. He looks at it as his good luck charm since it's always on him and he always comes home. It was a gift from his mother.

Touch - Soap is a person that shows attention, affection or support by physical touch. It can be a simple pat on the shoulder, leg brush under the table, hug or even hair ruffle. No one is excluded from this, even Price. Ghost took a while to get used to it and would swat or shove him away but he's accustomed to it now.

John Price

Body Language - Price is always careful with his words, knows what to say and when to say it. But his body doesn't get that message, you can always tell the his mood by how he carries himself; good or bad.

Football - He owns season tickets to Chelsea but he works so much he barely goes. Yet, he can't quite give them up either. He tells himself one day he'll be home enough to enjoy the game.

Sleep - He goes from one extreme to the other. He will either find a chair, corner of a room or a vaguely quiet spot for a nap as often as possible because he's just so exhausted all the time. Or he goes weeks with barely sleeping a handful of hours a night, but functions just fine. There is no in between.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Clothes - Gaz will look for an excuse to dress up. He loves a good suit, cufflinks with matching tie clip, pocket squares and shined shoes. If he's not dressing up you can still expect his look to be coordinated and impeccable, nothing out of place and always sharp.

Dancing - Gaz took dancing lessons as a kid with his sister that he continued through as a teenager. He danced competitively in ballroom and swing placing in a few championships.

Football Fan - He and Price bond over their love of football. He and his sister go to games whenever he is on leave at home since her husband is not a fan.

Smoking - He's tried to quit multiple times but it's just a habit he can't shake. He doesn't smoke as much as he used to, tired of Ghost riding his ass about it. But if he's stressed or needs to clear his head he'll sneak away for a quick smoke.

Snoring - Gaz snores. It’s not the cute kind and it’s definitely not quiet. Everyone hates being bunkmates with him because he’ll keep you up or wake you up. It’s been this way since he was a teenager, his mother even took him to the doctor but they found nothing medically wrong. Mans just loud.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Alarm Clock - Ghost has an internal alarm clock that wakes him up the same time every day. Whether he went to bed eight hours ago or two.

Patterns - Ghost is ridiculously good at spotting patterns. No one likes watching movies with him because he guesses the ending ten minutes in. But he's also the first one to sense something is wrong or feels off because humans follow a pattern by nature even if they don't realize it; Simon does .

Reading - Ghost reads. A lot. But it's all non-fiction. He always wants to learn and will pick up just about any book he finds, sometimes nicking them from others barracks, before replacing them a few days later when he's done with them.

Smoking - He hates smoking. He rides the teams ass for it. In the early days he'd punish the Sergeant's with running laps if he caught them but now he just yells. He doesn't get on Price but that's only because he's the Captain.

#cod headcanons #headcanon #call of duty #call of duty fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 writer #ao3 author #alex keller #kyle gaz garrick #johnny soap mactavish #john price #simon ghost riley #cod gaz #cod soap #cod ghost #cod john price #cod alex

[dballzposting]

Vent Post

This is the best gift I ever received and so funny and crazy as well becasue when I was young there just WASNT toys or clothing or any merchandise available for Cartoons or Vdoeo Games or what have you. If you wanted to see your favorite character you would have to go to Google Images on your DSi (wi-fi permitting) and look at the same Deviantart drawings over and over

Super Mario and Pokemon plushes were like items of royalty (other than Pikachu. Pikachus were highly respected but nonetheless common. Kind of like cats in real life). They were rare and impossible to find and my brother had some Mario pluishies and we wer elike WOOOWOWHWOWHWO HOW DID YOU EVEN FIND THOSE ?!?!?! Honestly we probbaly just didnt know how to use the internet. But nonetheless that was the first impression of life that i got when it came to video game or cartoon stuff. What you wanted most just simply did not exists

Nopwadays of course it's completely different and I stil find myself reeling. You can go online and customize stickers and clothing EASILY !!!!!!!! You can go to the mall and find a store that sells Waluigi plushies like it's No Big Deal. They propbably have him in 3 different sizes

So when I got into dragon ball I was delighted (and contonue to be delioghted) at how EASY it is to just ... FIND IT ANYWHERE ??? You go into any random store and there's a chance of finding some sweatshirt with goku on it. For no reason. AND I'M ALWAYS THRILLED TO SEE IT !!!!!

And I was disappinted but Not Surpised when I find out that they just dont really make Goten & Trunks merchandise like they do with anyone else. Plenty of Gohan, plenty of Future Trunks, and that's swag. But you're not gonna find little Goten or Trunks (with the exception of those crappy 1999-2000 series figurines of them WHICH I DID ACQUIRE two years ago at my local Goku store and yes I did immediately tear the original packaging asunder. Actually I'm not religious but tearing them open did feel like a holy and careful thing to do and so I felt strongly compelled to get in the shower and thoroughly wash my feet first???? I don't now why. But I did do that)

And when the Superhero movie was announced it was like AIEEEEE New Goten & Trunks designs !!!

But then even a while after the movie came out I was struggling to find screenshots. No official art was even appearing on google images for a while and the movie wasn't on any of my sites, but I did find some yourube videos with them in it. But I wanted better refs of Goten & Trunks and I was just having trouble. But then a while after that they DID start appearing on Google Images and that was enough to MAKE ME HAPPY!!!!!!!

But i wasnt expecting MERCHANIDSE. Like OF COURS ENOT !!! Like DBZ is crazy popualr but you can't find EOZ merch anywhere, OF COURSE I won't find Goten & Trunks mercfh.

But I mean. THEY WANT TO MILK THIS CASH COW FOR AS LONG AS THEY CAN !!!! They put Goten & Trunks in the manga. Merchanise of them started to appear and i was stunned when my attention was directed toward it but it was still few. A month ago I acidentially found a blind bag of DBS:SH bag clips online and Goten & Trunks were there and I was like OOUGH...HAA....HUH !?!? I recovered thoguh and did not buy any.

DESPITE THE GLARING EVIDENCE THOUHG I JUST DIDNT BELEIVE THAT I COULD EVER ACQUIRE A NICE FIGURINE OF GOTEN ????

I Did Not Know this existed and I don't think it has existed for long. Most thoughtful gift. I'M SO THRILLED !!!!

Very funny to receive JUST Goten. It's never JUST Goten. It's a;lways Goten & Trunks. Goten & Gohan. Goten & His GT Girlfriend. It's never JUST Goten. BUT HERE HE IS!!! JUST HIM!!!!!

And he looks Dumb too he looks stupid the shadows on his face make him look ill. He's got shitty doodoo hair. This is so dumb but they are milking this cash cow baby. AND I'M SO GLAD TO HAVE HIM !!

It's COOL becasue it's a unique design for him. That's probaby why theyre putting out DBS:SH Goten & Trunks merchandise. Becasue there's something to put out there.

Goten only had like 2 designs that were unique and interesting. Here's what I mean:

When he's little he has a few differnt outfits that are colorful and interesting but we don't remeber them and they don't stand out becasue he's not in them long. Gohan had some different outfits throughout his childhood too but we don't remeber them for the same reason.

Goten's most recognizable outfit is his gi and he looks pretty much exactly like Goku so no one cares.

In DB Super he's got an outfit that we';ve actually seen him in beforer only now he's wearing it 24/7. This is more noteworrthty but there's still no merch of him (EXCEPT FOR A BAG CLIP THAT I WAS FORTUNATE ENOUHG TO ACQUIRE.. FOREVE RTHNAKFUL...). Ultimately it's not necessarily UNIQUE becasue like yeah his mother dressed him so what. It's nothing we haven't seen before already

His GT appearance is ..... SO... UNNOTEWORTHY. The whole appeal of his character is that he has a phone and a gilrfinred. HE LOOKS LESS VISUALLY INTERESTING THAN THE TOWNIES. It's especially comical when you see him standing amongst the rest of the cast. PROOF

When i saw his scene I had to pause and laugh for a while. HE'S SUCH A NOBODY!!!!! HE LOOKS LIKE A RANDO WHO JUST WALKED IN. Like some store clerk or something

HIS ONLY INTERESTING AND UNIQUE DESIGNS ARE:

HIS INFAMOUS "SON GOTEN" SHIRT, which he wore for ONE EPISODE at EOZ. Noteworthy mostly due to his new height and long hair

HIS DBS:SH OUTFIT. Noteworhty becasue he's FINALLY growing up and his hair is getting long.

... ^ WE DIDNT GET THE LATTER UNTIL THE SUMMER OF 2022. All we had for a long time was his purple man jeans in GT and his SON GOTEN pride shirt in EOZ. And there's NO merch of those, in all of these years.

His outfit in DBS:SH is sort of superb in how it links the tradsitonal clothes he's always worn and the cityboy fits he gravitates towards later. His mother picked that shirt out but you know that he bought those pants at Kohl's

He's just so funny .... This figurine is so funny .. It came with bubble wrap wrapped ONLY around his head like a bag of shame and im honestly gonna put it back on becasaue he is so ugly.

PEACE AND LOVE !!!!

#dballz posting

[kolbisneat]

MONTHLY MEDIA: September 2023

Oh yeah the air is getting crisp and the coats are getting heavier. I'm ready for fall and here's how I spent the month of September!

……….FILM……….

Hook (1991) There's so much to love about this (the sets! every single pirate! And I truly do love the story here) but taking away nostalgia, it really feels like a B movie. And I kinda forgot just how awful adult Peter is. I mean that's the point, but even the stuff with Rufio feels mean-spirited. But Pirate baseball and the croc clock more than make up for any of that.

A Night At The Roxbury (1998) Having never seen it, this was pretty fun. Maybe not as strong as some of the other SNL-inspired movies, but it ended so strong that it more than makes up for anything else.

Strays (2023) Slim movie pickings at the beginning of the month but this turned out to be way better than expected! I was worried all the decent jokes were in the trailer but it was consistent throughout. And a 1.5 hour runtime? The dream.

……….TELEVISION……….

Love is Blind (Episode 4.13 to 4.16) The beauty of missing the first 12 episodes of a season of reality tv is that they replay important clips so frequently that it's like I watched it. Still baffling that anyone signs up for these shows after seeing what happens to folks that go on. Is it hubris? Do they think they'll be different? Truly bizarre.

……….YOUTUBE……….

How Our Property Tax System Robs The Poor to Pay For The Wealthy by Strong Towns and The Suburbs Are Bleeding America Dry | Climate Town (feat. Not Just Bikes) by Climate Town Hey can you tell I'm into city planning and how to move away from crummy design? Can't stress enough that suburbs are a blight on society and it's making cities broke, contributing towards climate change, and ruining good spaces. Push your local councils to move away from minimum parking limits and towards multi-use buildings and public transit. VIDEO (Strong Towns) VIDEO (Climate Town)

when green screen actually makes the movie better by CinemaStix When folks complain about green screen (me included), I think what we're really complaining about is seeing a tool used poorly for the wrong job. Sin City (or another fave of mine, Speed Racer)wouldn't have worked if not for green screen. VIDEO

Why Policing in America has ALWAYS been Broken. by F.D Signifier A thoughtful and thorough crash course on policing in America. VIDEO

……….READING……….

Cultish: The Language of Fanaticism by Amanda Montell (Complete) The beginning is promising but the book is so casual and leans so much on the author's own experiences that I can honestly only recommend it as a loose introduction to cults. I really wanted a deep dive into language, psychology, and sociology but this isn't that. Hey if you know a good book about weaponizing language, let me know.

The Road to Oz and The Emerald City of Oz by L. Frank Baum, Eric Shanower, and Skottie Young (Complete) Finished rereading the omnibus collection of Oz comics and it really is a joy. Young's drawings and Shanower's writing does a lovely job at capturing the whimsy and warmth of Baum's books. Really really great adaptations.

……….AUDIO……….

Guts by Olivia Rodrigo (2023) Listening to this reminds me of what it was like when small problems felt like the biggest problems in the world and there's a sweet comfort in that. Realizing that those troubles passed means that maybe these current ones will too.

Punk Tactics by Joey Valence & Brae (2023) This hasn't hooked me the way that the Underground Sound ep did but I'm still going to give it a bunch more listens before I decide if the Beastie Boys schtick has worn off.

……….GAMING……….

Oz: A Fantasy Role-Playing Setting (Andrews McMeel Publishing) The Mof1 Crew is dealing with the aftermath of causing some light domestic terrorism. So the usual.

Neverland: A Fantasy Role-Playing Setting (Andrews McMeel Publishing) Drama with the rival elves is ramping up and who knows what will happen next! You can read about it here.

And that’s it. See you in October!

#Monthly Media #Kolbisneat #andrew kolb

[chibi-pix]

Chibi watches V3D 15

Time for an episode of Voltron: The Third Dimension!

Fifty billion inhabitants in the moon-cities!?!?! No thanks. That is way too people-y for me. Oh look, it’s Haggar. Bringing to life robot dinosaur things. I mean. It’s effective. “Yes, by all means, go away. Far away.” Yeah, I feel that on a daily basis with folks. I love the Voltron force, but dudes, I feel like I’m vibing with the space witch more.

Yeah sure, strike a black hole to mess with the gamma energy or whatever. That sounds safe. I get that it seemed to go well for the team, but still. It does not feel safe. Well, whatever. It worked.

I don’t trust Lotor with a white flag… Oh look, he wants to return Zarkon. Can’t he just keep him? “I’m in agreement with blue boy here.” Lotor, was that a reference to Lance’s uniform having been blue back in DotU? Or is he just colour blind and thinks red looks blue? Allura’s plea for Lotor to not attack the Troika moons because there are innocent folks and children there. Honey? Did you really expect him to reconsider at that? Sweetie, bless your heart.

Amalgamus really considering the destruction of the robot lions. Does he not remember the trial? It’s been pointed out that, more or less, Voltron doesn’t belong to the alliance or serve it. They serve the universe. Jeez. Someone scrap this calculator. Oh wow. This show actually says the word “massacre”?! A children’s show actually says that word?! I’m amazed.

“Will the alliance leaders decide to destroy the Voltron lions?” They have no right. Right? The lions aren’t theirs to do with as they please. And these people are dense, ready to make the sacrifice. Do they really think if the lions were destroyed that Lotor will just turn over a new leaf, be good, and no longer attack anyone? They have not seen many shows to think it’s a good idea. Bad guys NEVER play fair.

Pidge reminding Amalgamus that the lions don’t belong to him, but to Arus. Yeah! You tell him, Pidgey! Oh… Allura is ready to turn the lioons over. And Lance being pissed about things. It’s intriguing that Lance feels that they’re betraying the lions by turning them over to be destroyed. And you know what? He’s right. Honestly, I side with Lance on the matter big time.

Poor Red having to be towed. Almost seventeen minutes in, I really hope that even without her pilot, Red decides to act out, refusing to give up. C’mon, baby! Reflect your pilot! Follow his lead and not be down with this bullshit! “I keep thinking that somehow someone’s gonna stop it.” Hunk, babe. Lance is unaccounted for, with reasons, and the lions might be sentient? If Lance isn’t secretly in Red ready to cause trouble and be defiant, then I bet the lions are gonna make their opinions on the matter known. Oh, Lance wasn’t in Red at the moment. But he’s definitely fighting to defend her! Good job, Lance! Show that loyalty! Lance getting shot down, my draw dropped. And Lance is pissed with the others, calling them ex-friends.

Okay, watching the lions be wrecked and dismantled, I actually feel like I wanna cry. “What have I done?” I dunno, Allura. Maybe just betrayed the lions who were nothing but loyal and faithful to you guys and doomed the universe?

Oh. Voltron lights just shot off. Hoo boy… I wonder where they went.

Yeah, it’s no surprise that Lotor’s fleet is turning back around and not gonna be destroyed. Amalgamus should have seen this coming. He. Is. Flawed. Stupid calculator.

The team better find a way to make things up to Lance and then find out where those lion lights went and make it up to them and get them back. Otherwise? Bye bye Alliance HQ.

Okay, all in all? I'm intrigued. I may have a vague idea of what kinda happens in the next episode due to some clips shown in the past in a discord server, but, we'll see on the next time I watch an episode. Also, as much as I vibe with Haggar's little comments, I also vibe with Lance's wit and logic. The man holds the brain cell it seems. Good for him.

Anyway, that's it for the night. Until next time!

#chibi watches #chibi watches v3d #voltron the third dimension #v3d #chibi writes #I'm oftentimes a pidge supporter #but lance has my attention in this voltron iteration

[five-rivers]

Three Twilights

Can be considered a loose sequel to Deep Sea Diver (same vibes).

Warnings: Soft body horror, Danny totally ignoring objectively horrifying things

.

.

.

“I was thinking,” started Maddie over breakfast, “we could start observations of that island that came into view last week, the blue one.”

Danny shook his head. “You’ll have to use the Speeder, then,” he said. “I’ve got an errand to run.”

There was a pause as both of Danny’s parents looked at him, confused. He didn’t blame them. Danny rarely went out as a human anymore, and certainly not for anything like errands. Looking like he was still fourteen after all this time made doing anything even remotely official difficult.

But this wasn’t a human errand. “Yeah,” said Danny. “In the Ghost Zone. I’ve got to go to Three Twilights.”

“Where?” asked Jack.

“It’s, um, a city,” said Danny. “Well, three cities, I suppose, depending on how you want to group them. One Realm. On the shores of the Celestial Sea. I’m sure I’ve put it in your files.” Probably a direct copy from his files from before he came clean to them, but still. He stirred his cereal counterclockwise, letting his ice powers chill the milk.

“Yes,” said Maddie, “but there are a lot of places in there. I’m not sure we’ve had a chance to properly look at them all, much less memorize them.”

“Okay, yeah,” said Danny. “I guess that makes sense.”

“What kind of errand are you running, Danno?”

“I’m picking something up for a friend. A book,” he clarified. “They lent it to someone there, but they need it back.”

“A book,” said Maddie. “For the Library of Tongues?”

“No, they’ve got a contract service for overdue loans.”

“Contract service?” asked Jack.

“Yeah. Moonlighting bounty hunters mostly.”

“For a library?”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” said Danny, shrugging. “They’re really serious about their work.”

“If it isn’t for them, who is it for?” asked Maddie. “The princess? Wulf?” Wulf had actually been over a few times, and his parents had… Well, saying they got along would be an overstatement, they didn’t really have anything in common beyond ripping portals in the fabric of the universe, but everyone had been civil. “The boy at the school?”

“No,” said Danny. “Wulf would just get it himself.”

“Who, then?” pressed Maddie.

Danny put a spoonful of cereal in his mouth, delaying. Maddie hadn’t eaten anything since Danny had mentioned the errand. The errand was, in fact, for Clockwork. Danny was always more than happy to do anything for Clockwork. The older ghost had saved him too many times for him to be otherwise. But Jack and Maddie were wary of Clockwork. Danny didn’t get it, but talking about it hadn’t been productive so far.

He didn’t want to lie to his parents. Not ever again.

“It’s for Clockwork,” he said.

Ah, yes, there were those suspicious looks. The ones Danny could have interpreted even without being able to almost literally taste emotions.

“I see,” said Maddie.

“Anyway,” said Danny, quickly, “if I haven’t shown you Three Twilights yet, it’s really cool. I don’t want to take the full rig, but maybe the little ectocam would be okay? The one that I can clip on.”

“Why not the normal camera with an ectofilter?” asked Jack. “That has more features, and it’s easier for us to get data from.”

“Three Twilights. It’s dark there,” said Danny. “It might work in Civila, but not so much in Naŭtika and Astronomia, and I sort of want to go down to the beach and see if I can find any star pearls, and that’s really dark, so if you want to see anything properly, it’ll have to be the sonar setup, which I’m not doing, the noises that thing makes are offensive, or the ectocam.”

“And the Fenton Phones?” asked Maddie.

“Sure,” said Danny. “But I always bring those.”

“Yes,” said Maddie, after a moment. “You do.”

“Great. It’s settled, then.”

.

Most of the journey to Three Twilights could be made by air. Or, rather, what passed for air in the Infinite Realms. But when the rocky edge of an island came into view, Danny touched down. Further in was a blue wood, and Danny walked under its inviting branches.

The atmosphere started sunny, summery. The leaves and needles of the trees were the color of a clear blue sky. But as he got deeper, the leaves were touched with sunset colors: golds, reds, oranges, purples, and pinks. They fell to the ground, crunching beneath Danny’s feet. The sunset grew longer, deeper. The leaves on the trees grew sparser, revealing patches of sky.

By the time only bare branches framed the sky, it was a dusky, dim, purple. A few lonely stars twinkled in the sky.

He passed out of the forest. The city of Civila rose above him. Windows glowed in the near dark like eyes.

Danny had changed, too. His aura had dimmed. The whites of his suit were now dark gray, and patterns swirled on its surface like camouflage, like wind-twisted clouds, like nebulae.

Shadows bled around the corners of the city buildings like ink in water. Will-o-the-wisps bobbed, casting pools of illumination in lieu of streetlamps. Ghosts walked up and down the streets, or floated only a few meters up.

The buildings glittered. Everything was dark, vibrant, colors. A sharp, sweet scent filled the air, something dark and rich beneath it.

The canals in the center of the street were filled with flashing fish. Or perhaps serpents. Or perhaps worms. Between how fast they moved and the dimness of the light, it was difficult to tell.

Danny could feel his irises contracting, shrinking down to needle-thin rings. His teeth were sharp. He matched the other ghosts around him. This was how the Civila liked it, how things were in this part of Three Twilights.

Everything in order. Everything peaceful. Everything civil.

Danny walked through the market square, and bought some charcoal-colored cherry pastries from a vendor who looked like someone’s nightmare demon with a chip of ghost ice.

Much to his parents’ protests. They didn’t care for him eating ghost food.

There were seven bridges to Naŭtika, which was built half underwater and half on boats that floated both on the water and in the air. As the dark waters of the inlet lapped at his feet, Danny felt the changes ripple across his skin. To a human, he would look pure black, except for the faintest glimmer of rim lighting and the stars of his eyes. He and the other ghosts moved silently, cutting through the waters like shadows.

To Danny’s ghostly senses, the place was alive with emotion and force, energy loud and crackling against his senses.

“We’re solely on the ectocam, now,” said Maddie. “You were right about that.”

“Mhm,” said Danny, half distracted by a whispered sea-shanty backed by a choir of not-voices and not-sound that wove together with the mastery of a hundred years of practice.

He glided up a rope net, and began to navigate the ropes to the taller ships. The very tallest, the ones that scraped the ever-darkening sky and blotted out uneven sections of stars, moored the glass-like ships that floated above. He’d need to reach them, to get to Astronomia.

“What’s that?” asked Maddie, breaking his concentration on his path.

“What’s what?” asked Danny, whisper soft, drawing some looks. He turned, slowly, on the spot, planks barely creaking under his steps. A gentle wind ruffled his hair.

“There,” said Maddie. “By the ghost that’s registering red.”

It had taken Danny a long time to learn what color on the ectocam’s artificial sensor signified what, but he had, if only to reduce the guessing when they played this game.

“Star pearls,” said Danny, eyeing the ropes of stone that glimmered brighter than his eyes currently did. They were one of the only reliable forms of light, out on the Celestial Sea, although they were valued for other things, too.

“They’re putting out a massive amount of energy,” said Maddie.

“You mentioned them before,” said Jack. “You wanted to look for some?”

“On the shore,” said Danny. “Out past Astronomia.” He wanted to find his own, rather than buy them.

Partially because they were expensive. He didn’t really want to think about how much unmelting ice he’d have to conjure up to equal one of them. They were usually bartered in exchange for… more significant things.

The ghost by the pearls beckoned him closer, clearly hoping to make a sale. Danny shook his head, broadcasting regret and admiration for his wares. Speech might be faster but, under these circumstances, it would not be polite.

When Danny left, the social rules of Three Twilights would only leave the faintest impression on his mind. But, for now, they were a heavy, but not uncomfortable weight. One he could shrug off if necessary, but which was currently useful.

“What are they?” asked Maddie, as Danny turned away.

“They happen when big enough things fall into stars,” said Danny. “They’re all the memories of what they used to be… and the imagination of what they could become, when the star dies. Well, that’s what they’re supposed to be. I don’t think anyone really knows for sure.”

“And you can just… find these? Lying around?”

“Not… not really,” said Danny, slowly drifting towards a crow’s nest. “It’s like that one national park. That one where you can collect diamonds? You never really find anything good, but you can look.”

“I see,” said Maddie. “So, you don’t expect to find one?”

“Yes and no,” said Danny. “If I don’t expect to find one, I probably won’t. Unless the sea is feeling ironic, which it usually is, apparently. I mean, it’s an ocean and the stars. And prophecy is, like, ninety percent irony, but mostly for an outside observer. Which honestly makes sense, I think. An observer, not an Observant. Those are different things.”

The kind of silence on the other side of the line was the one that emerged when Danny used too much ghost logic.

“Anyway,” he continued as he scaled the crow’s nest and started traversing the glass ropes and chains to the all-but-invisible glass ships, “no, I don’t really expect to.”

The path to Astronomia was a staircase carved from moonstone harvested in October, when the moon was full and orange-red. It burned Danny’s eyes to look at and feet to walk upon. Like many ghosts who fixated on things like astronomy, he adapted quickly and thoroughly to the spiritual dark.

This darkest twilight was built of delicate bubbles, whorls, and arches of glass, any of which could cradle a ghost, all of which could be phased through with impunity. There were no true roads here, but certain places were easier to travel through. Addresses were carved in the glass in glimmering, holographic sigils made from glass-caught starlight that humans would never be able to read, but Danny could understand with a glance. It was not silent in Astronomia, the high wind sung through the glass like the immense instrument it was, playing ethereal and eternal music that mirrored heaven.

As always, Danny was enraptured. Perhaps the stars here were not true stars, only their memory and imagination (or simulacra made from stripped ghost cores, he remembered with a shudder), but he felt so close here.

“Danny? Are you still with us?”

Danny started to reply, but realized he had forgotten, once again, that he had no mouth here.

A phantabulist played a story for a group of not-quite-children, characters made of carefully constructed light chasing each other about with vigour. Danny stopped for a while to watch the story, a parable about spiders and fish. They were common here, storytellers who plied their craft this way. The stories could be pressed into glass prisms and orbs that served as books and viewed even in other environs of the Ghost Zone.

He moved on, passing through a glass bubble full of ghosts that snatched at and stroked him as he passed by, leaving stars and dark clouds to swirl across his skin. His suit had long since smoothed over and sunk in. His skin was a thin surface, a membrane holding in liquid night. He was like smoke, like vapour, thin and easily overlooked.

The places he passed were homes, places of business, warehouses, and hotels, organized without any apparent reason. A phantabularium glowed like a struck match, snatches of story visible inside its walls. He walked by.

Eventually, he reached the palace at the city center.

The ghost who lived there was old. Older, perhaps, than Pandora. She filled the vessels of her palace in placid pools connected by crystalized threads and looping tubes. Seven round-bottom flasks, radiating outward, like the spheres of heaven. The music here was almost deafening.

This was Urania, Muse of Astronomy. Astronomia was her city, and subordinate to her will before all else.

Danny resisted the urge to kneel. He was not here as a supplicant, and they both knew it.

The lowest pool bubbled, and slowly a glass prism, a dodecahedron, floated to the top. Danny took it with careful hands and left Urania’s direct presence as quickly as possible.

Being near her was always difficult. She was the Muse of Astronomy, and she felt he did not indulge his second Obsession as much as was proper.

Indeed, she thought it should be his first.

(The starlight inside him pulsed. He was never sure how much influence Urania could exert on him when he visited Three Twilights, never sure how much the relationship between his passions shifted when he was here. He loved it here too much to stay away forever.)

Astronomia did not end all at once. Instead, as one walked farther from the palace, the delicate, clear glass was replaced by black sand. When Danny had feet again, and could feel the grains beneath them, he knew he was no longer in Astronomia, but on the Shores of Night. The Isles of the Moon were faintly visible in the distance, sea-spray framing them in silvery halos.

He felt human here. His breath moved in his lungs, and his skin rose in goosebumps, the sleeves of his t-shirt fluttering in the wind. The sea and the sky were the same, and twice as beautiful for it.

“Sorry for going silent on you there,” said Danny. “I keep forgetting I don’t have a mouth there.”

“How do you forget that?” asked Jack.

“I don’t know.” Danny shrugged, even though he knew Jack couldn’t see him. “Do you think the ectocam might be able to spot buried star pearls?”

#danny phantom #ectoberhaunt 2021 #ectober 2021 #ectober #ectoberhaunt treat #danny totally ignoring objectively horribly things #worldbuilding

[dragonologist-in-the-making]

Paper Rings

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Summary: On his first ride to Hogwarts, James befriended the girl who was obsessed with shiny things. Over their schooling together, their friendship turned into so much more.

A/N: lmao I suck at summaries. Also I’m back sorry for the random hiatus (and sorry that posting will almost definitely not be consistent after this either). I had this idea months ago, inspired by Taylor Swift’s Paper Rings, and I only just got around to writing it asdfghjkl. Still obsessed with James though rip me I just want someone to love me like this.

Warnings: Mentions of eating (briefly), otherwise just a lot of fluff.

Wordcount: 4k (wow)

...

Little James Potter waved goodbye to his parents as the train took off from the platform, nervous about his first journey to the infamous Hogwarts, but excited to discover all the great things his parents had told him for himself. First though: finding a carriage.

Trying not to show his nerves, he wandered along the corridor, peeping into the carriages to see if there was one he could join. For the most part, he found them all too full, too loud to juggle his nerves, or the students too old and intimidating. The days would come where James would rule the corridors of the castle, but the eleven year old boy on the train was just hoping to make a friend he could share this new adventure with.

As fate would have it, he found just that and so much more. In a carriage to herself sat a young girl, his age, her face turned away from him looking out the window. The only thing he could see was a petite sparkling bow, sitting neatly in her (y/h/c) hair.

Without thinking about it, he knocked gently on the compartment door, sliding it open as she turned to look at him inquisitively. Her (y/e/c) eye’s glittered as her lips pulled into a smile, creating a complete sense of comfort for James to ask. “Do you mind if I sit?” She nodded eagerly, gathering up a few books she had dumped on the opposite seat and dropping them into her lap. “I’m James.” He smiled.

“(y/n). It’s nice to meet you.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a short while, listening to the laughs of older students, friends reuniting after a summer apart, and watching the landscape whip by them out the window.

“I like your bow, by the way.” James spoke up, feeling glad he did when an excited smile broke across her face, looking as if he’d told her she’d won the lottery.

“Thank you! I love the way it sparkles.” She said, gently pulling it from her hair and twisting it in the sunlight, showing how rainbows danced in the glitter and were thrown across their compartment. Satisfied, she used it to clip back the hair that was now falling into her face, and their conversation moved on, following each and every thought they were having, becoming fast friends. James didn’t think the journey could get any better until two boys showed up at their door and asked if they could join them, setting everlasting friendships in stone.

As the train pulled up to Hogwarts, any nervousness James had been feeling was gone. Instead, the only thought he had was that he couldn’t be more glad he sat in the compartment of the girl with the sparkling bow.

…

Their first year passed in a blur, and the Marauders spent the majority of it in each other’s company, laughing their days away.

Now, summer had come and gone, and their second year at Hogwarts was in full swing. They walked into their charms class together, laughing about a joke Sirius had made at James’ expense. (y/n) sat next to the curly-haired boy at their desk, as Remus Sirius and Peter sat at the one adjacent to them.

“Hey, it’s not my fault I didn’t make the team last year! No first year has made a house team in like 80 years! I’m telling you though, I’ll make it on this year, and I’ll be the best chaser this school has ever seen.” James protested, huffing as he put his textbook in the middle of the table for him and (y/n) to share. She laughed at him softly, hand patting his shoulder as the other boys got lost in their own conversation.

“I know you will, Jamie. And I’ll be there cheering you on every step of the way.” His cheeks redenned at her words, but luckily their attention was turned away by Professor Flitwick.

“Now students, the charm I’ll be teaching you today is more of a fun one to start off the year than anything you’ll likely need in your everyday lives. As always, I don’t expect you to create chaos by using these charms” – he turned his gaze to a particular group of students at this point who were all busily looking elsewhere – “but simply to enlighten yourselves and to show you what magic can do. So, the charm we’ll be learning today is how to make things glitter.”

James heard an almost inaudible gasp next to him, and he could feel the excitement radiating off (y/n). He chuckled, expecting nothing less; he’d known her for a year now, and if it wasn’t the bow in her hair there was always something shiny on her at any given time.

Flitwick talked about the details of the charm, how it could be applied subtly, only giving a faint sheen, or how it could be made much more obvious. Finally, he gave them the charm and told everyone to repeat after him. “Now, like I said, just because this is a fun charm doesn’t mean it’s an easy one, and I don’t expect you to get it on your first attempt. Just keep repeating the charm and-oh!” He broke off suddenly, just as James’ vision went hazy. Once he’d focused, he saw he was surrounded by a cloud of individual glitter specs floating around them, almost as if they were in their own galaxy. His gaze shifted to its centre, shining most brilliantly of all as her proud and excited smile dazzled him, making him forget entirely they were still in their charms classroom.

“Well done Miss (y/n)!” Flitwick’s voice broke through their bubble, and slowly each star seemed to fade out of existence, until they were back in their regular old classroom, thirty pairs of eyes trained on them. “You certainly felt the spirit of the charm and went above and beyond. 10 points to (y/h). Now, if you could help Mr Potter whilst we all get back to it!”

Chatter burst out the classroom almost immediately, partners working together trying to enchant an object of theirs to take on the glittery effect. Sirius turned to her, rolling his eyes half-heartedly.

“Becoming a teachers pet now are we, (y/l/n)?” She rolled her eyes back, waving her wand to produce a cloud of glitter that settled in Sirius’ hair, contrasting sharply against its darkness.

“It’s sparklesSirius, what did you expect? Now c’mon, this is the one lesson I won’t let you not do the work in. Make some glittery greatness and I’ll bake you all some cookies when I next steal James’ cloak to go to the kitchens.” With those words, the three boys turned their entire focus to the task at hand, while James still seemed slightly awestruck next to her. “You alright, J?”

“That was amazing (y/n/n). I had no idea you could do that.”

“Well I guess you can’t know until you try.” She shrugged, picking up her quill and placing it in front of him. “Charm my quill.”

“Why me? You could just do it yourself.” James asked, confused why she didn’t do it herself since she was clearly more than capable. Once again, she shrugged, looking into his eyes as she uttered the words so nonchalantly that would stick with him for years to come.

“Well, Flitwick said you needed to practise. Plus, it’ll mean more to me if every time I look at my quill I know that you’re the reason it’s shining.”

Within a heartbeat, James had uttered the incantation and a subtle shimmer had settled over the feather, imperceptible until it was moved and caught the light. The smile he saw when he looked over at (y/n) made him vow to himself that as long as he was around, she would never have an ordinary quill again.

True to his word, every time she brought out a new quill, he was quick to snatch it from her and place the simple charm on it. It became an unspoken promise between the two of them, and every time James saw that sparkle from the corner of his eye, he couldn’t help but smile to himself.

. . .

True to her word, (y/n) was there for all of James’ games, cheering him on from the side of the pitch, always the first to reach him when the game was over. High or low, win or lose, she was always there to remind him that he had played amazingly, and that she was proud of him.

After one such game in their fourth year, Gryffindor narrowly losing to Slytherin, she was at his side so quickly that he would have thought she had apparated if he knew this wasn’t possible. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly, feeling the slight shaking of his shoulders. “Oh, James.” She quickly ushered him off the pitch before he attracted eyes, assuring him that Sirius and Remus would collect his things from the changing room and bring them back to his dorm. Once they reached his dorm, she sent him to shower, promising that she would be there for him once he was back.

Sure enough, he came out of the shower in fresh clothes and damp hair, and she was still on his bed, patiently waiting for him. She held her hand out to him, a silent invitation, and as soon as he took it she pulled him to her side and once again enveloped him in a hug.

“I’m so proud of you, Jamie.” She whispered, squeezing him momentarily before drawing back and looking into his glassy eyes.

“Shouldn’t be.” He murmured, avoiding her gaze. “We lost.”

“And yet you scored more goals than anyone else the entire game.” She pointed out, sincerity lacing her voice. “It’s just because the snitch is worth a stupid amount of points, honestly the game has a lot of flaws.” James smiled weakly, they often had these debates about Quidditch and it always ended in some silly way.

“I did hit Malfoy in the head with a Quaffle.” He admitted, and (y/n) could see the weight falling off his shoulders.

“The highlight of all our years.” She laughed, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a little box. “I got you something.” She handed it to him, and he pushed it back to her, head shaking, doubt returned.

“No I didn’t do anything to deserve it. Keep it.”

“We already had this argument and I’m not taking no for an answer.” She shoved the box into his hands and folded her arms across her chest, waiting for him to open it.

Reluctantly, he pulled the lid off the box to reveal a snitch, the snitch he normally kept on his person at all times, now shining with a slight iridescence. James looked up at her, thankful but a little confused at the present.

“I’ve actually been saving it for when you lose a game. Which has been hard because that’s hardly ever.” She broke off to give him a playful glare along with her words, quickly broken by her soft smile. “I know you play with the snitch when you have a lot on your mind, and when you start to doubt yourself. I wanted to remind you that you’re incredible and you should believe that yourself. So, when you see the snitch and you see it sparkle, you’ll think of me, and you’ll remember how great you are.” He was speechless, and in the silent air, she did what the two of them did best, and started to nervously babble. “Well, that’s assuming you think of me when you see sparkles, and quite frankly after all this time I’d be slightly offended if you didn’t-oof” her rambling stopped when James tackled her into a hug, knocking them both back onto the bed.

“Thank you.” Was all he said, but she could hear the emotion behind each word, everything he was trying to communicate. All she did was hold him tighter.

It was then that Sirius and Remus walked into the dorm, carrying all of James’ equipment from the game, causing James and (y/n) to jump away from each other. Blushes arose on both their faces, not that the other would have noticed, each too busy looking at opposite walls of the dorm. Sirius and Remus exchanged a knowing look, but decided to let it slide, knowing there was an inevitability to it anyway.

…

Once again, (y/n) was boarding the Hogwarts express for another year of school. She knew this year would be a stressful one, with their OWL exams coming up, but she also knew that as long as she had her boys by her side, she would be absolutely fine.

Speaking of her friends, she was currently walking along the train trying to find them. She knew that Lily and Remus were prefects now so they’d be at the front of the train, but she was struggling to find anyone else. Eventually, she found James, sitting in a carriage by himself, absentmindedly watching the view. She chuckled to herself at the situation, the reverse of their meeting all those years ago.

She slid the door open, catching his attention and his ever-so-addictive smile. “Got room for an old pal?” She asked, sitting next to him when he patted the seat, his hand enveloping hers as soon as she had, a silent communication. I missed you.

“I was starting to think you’d gotten cool and forgotten about me.” He joked, nudging her playfully.

“Piss off Potter, I was always cooler than you.” She teased back, glad to see that nothing had changed despite their time apart. It never did, they were always James and (y/n), inseparable no matter how hard anyone tried. “Where is everyone?”

“Lils and Moony are doing prefect duties, and Sirius enlisted Peter’s help to try and sneak into their carriage and get the insider information.” He rolled his eyes light-heartedly, forming air quotes around Sirius’ words as (y/n) laughed, eyes closing in amusement. “What’s that on your eyes?” James suddenly asked, stopping her laughter short as she tried to figure out what he meant.

“Oh!” She remembered. “I went to see Lils in the holidays and she was showing me this glitter eyeliner that muggles wear! Why, do you not like it?” She suddenly felt self-conscious, wondering if it really was too much despite Lily’s reassurances. It was a subtle white, but still, it was glitter on her face.

“The opposite!” James was quick to answer, rushing so much to not hurt her feelings that he wasn’t thinking about what he was saying. “I think you look really beautiful (y/n/n), with or without the makeup. Besides, the glitter brings out your eyes.”

At this point, they were both blushing furiously, and James was still holding her hand, neither of them willing to let go. (y/n) couldn’t help but smile to herself, and remembered to thank Lily for the recommendation the second they were in the dorm together that evening.

…

James climbed the last step into the astronomy tower, seeing (y/n) leaning against the railing already, gazing into the night sky, a blanket and an array of snacks out on the floor behind her.

It was a ritual they’d started who knows when, a chance to wind down and escape the chaos of everyday life, to enjoy each other’s company and to feast away on whatever snacks they had managed to stow away for these evenings. Tonight’s selection looked to consist mostly of cauldron cakes and chocolate frogs, with the occasional sugar quill hidden amongst the rest. “Heavy on the sugar tonight, I see.” He broke the silence teasingly, settling himself so that he was sat at (y/n)’s feet, still able to see the clear night sky above them.

“If I don’t consume my own bodyweight in sugar I think I’ll pass out I’m that exhausted.” She commented back, sinking down next to him. Automatically, his arm wound around her shoulder, pulling her into his side and resting his chin on top of her head. There weren’t words to describe the feeling of pure content as she melted into him, completely at ease.

She reached out and grabbed a chocolate frog, unwrapping it and handing the card to James with a sigh upon seeing it was one already in her collection. She bit into the chocolate, her gaze on the night sky as his was unable to break away from her, the way she settled so peacefully against him.

“The stars sparkle too, you know.” She broke the silence, voice quiet but still holding its signature melodic tone. James finally broke away from looking at her, joining her eyeline and looking at the constellations above them. Even though he wasn’t taking astronomy as a NEWT, spending so much time in the tower with (y/n) as she mapped the sky meant he knew precisely what he was looking at, and traced the constellations with his eyes.

“You know, six years of friendship and I don’t think I ever asked you why you like shiny things so much. I always just accepted it as a part of who you are.” A smile graced her face as she unconsciously twiddled her fingers.

“Don’t laugh.” She warned, and he solemnly shook his head. “I think there’s something so entrancing, so beautiful about them. I think it serves as a reminder that even the most seemingly dull thing,” she picked up another chocolate frog box at this point, waving her wand to create a light sparkle over it, “is wonderfully brilliant if you just remember to look at it in the right way. It’s a lesson we should all carry with us, and I try to remember it whenever I can. Everything is beautiful if you give it a chance.” The sparkles on the box faded in the moonlight, as (y/n) finally looked up at James, only to find him already staring back at her.

Body thinking quicker than brain, seeing her (y/e/c) eyes glimmering up at him, James leant down and pressed his lips to hers. She stifled a gasp, quickly moving her lips back against his as her hand wound gently around the back of his neck. He poured all of his admiration into the kiss, everything he had been feeling for her since he didn’t even know when, feeling his heart soar to be here with her in that moment.

Eventually, they broke away for air, and a breathy laugh fell from (y/n)’s lips, blush rising on her cheeks as she turned her face away. James reached for her hand, interlacing their fingers and gently rubbing circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. “I’ve been drawn to you since the day I saw you in that train carriage. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, your soul. I didn’t even realise the outside matched until we came back from that summer you spent with Lily. But god, every day since then I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I like you, (y/n/n). I really like you.”

Around them, a shimmering cloud exploded simultaneous to a wide grin spreading across (y/n)’s face. It was their own galaxy, just like all that time ago in the charms lesson, but she was still in the centre, still giddy with excitement. “I like you too, Jamie.” Her smile turned a little sheepish. “And sorry, I think my emotions got a little out of control.” The star-like sparkles slowly dissipated around them until there was nothing left, and this time it was (y/n) who leaned up to James, connecting their lips one more time.

“You taste like chocolate.”

“I’m sure that must be awful for you, Potter”. Nothing had changed, and yet nothing would be the same either.

…

James was sat on the floor of his dorm, textbooks open in front of him, although this late in the day he was struggling to pay any attention to them. What he was focused on instead was his girlfriend, tucked into the alcove of the windowsill, absentmindedly writing away on a piece of parchment.

Her (y/h/c) hair was in plaits down her back, and in the candlelight the silver threads that James had helped her braid in this morning were casting light across the room that shifted with every little shake of her head or shrug of her shoulders.

“You’re staring again, Jamie.” She chastised, although the humour was clear in her voice. He pushed himself up from the floor with an exaggerated groan, making his way over to her and pulling her gently into his chest, pressing a soft kiss into her hair.

“Can’t help it love, you’re an actual angel.” He didn’t see it but he knew she’d be rolling her eyes as she buried her face in his chest to hide the blush that was forming on her cheeks.

“Stop being so cheesy.”

“As if you don’t love it.” She pressed a kiss into his chest, resting her head against him as she went back to her writing. He tried not to pry, but he couldn’t help but catch notice of his name and his interest piqued. “Who are you writing to?”

“Euphemia.” She replied nonchalantly, not pausing her actions as he took a step away, face scrunched in confusion.

“My mother?” she paused at this, looking up at him with false exasperation.

“Do you know many other Euphemias?” She deadpanned. He shrugged, admitting her fair point, moving back to her side where she immediately snuggled back into his warmth.

“How long have you been writing to my mum?” She paused for a second, contemplating.

“Since the start of term I think. She sent an owl, I responded, we haven’t really stopped talking since. Oh, I’m coming over for Christmas by the way, she invited me. Said it wouldn’t be Christmas without the whole family there” (y/n) looked up at him, flashing a mischievous grin, expecting him to whine childishly like he normally would, complaining that he was supposed to ask her. Instead, looking more solemn than she’d seen him in a long time, he crushed her against him, holding her so tightly before he leant down and connected their lips. The kiss was bruising, but it was packed with adoration, and it left (y/n) slightly breathless. He broke away, leaning his forehead against hers as she tried to catch her breath back. “What was that for?”

“I love you. So much. You’re absolutely perfect, and I swear, I can’t wait until the day I can put a ring on that finger and make it official, make you a Potter for real. I promise, it’s going to be the most sparkling, dazzling gem you’ve ever seen. It’ll shine just as brightly as you, and it’ll always remind you that you’re beautiful, in every way, and just how much I love you.” Her hand had come to rest on his cheek, smiling throughout his little speech, parchment cast aside and forgotten about at this point.

“Don’t be silly, James.” She laughed, stroking his cheek with her thumb. “I love shiny things, yes, but I don’t need one to be reminded of how amazing you are, or how much I love you. Hell, you could ask me to marry you with a paper ring and I’d still say yes in a heartbeat. I’m saying yes to you, to a life. You don’t need to win me over with some ridiculously expensive piece of jewellery.” He nodded slightly, pecking her lips before moving back to where he had been sat on the floor.

(y/n) picked her parchment back up, continuing on to the letter she had been writing to Euphemia Potter, unable to help themselves from planning the Christmas festivities despite it being early November.

Deep in concentration, she startled slightly as she noticed movement coming from the corner of her eye. She looked to the side to see her boyfriend once again, although this time he was knelt before her, holding up a piece of parchment that he had hastily fashioned into a ring, coupled with a sheepish smile.

Laughing merrily, she hopped down from the windowsill, pulling him up by his jumper and kissing him passionately as she slid the piece of paper onto her finger, looking forward to the day when they were older, when they could promise this for real, knowing that they had the rest of their lives ahead of them to love each other unconditionally.

When James first stepped on that Hogwarts train, he was hoping to find a friend he could share every moment with for the next seven years. He had found that in her, a best friend, now a lover, for seven years but for so much longer. The girl with the sparkling bow turned out to be his soulmate, and he sent a prayer of thanks to the stars every day.

#harry potter #harry potter fic #james potter #james #potter #james potter fic #james potter fanfic #james potter x reader #james potter fluff #prongs #prongs x reader #marauders #marauders era #marauders x reader #james potter x you

[monochromemedic]

I had been stuck in the Dark World for who knows how long. The days didn’t seem to matter down here. No sun, no moon, just the vibrant green grid that coated the sky that would twitch and surge with occasional frequency.  When I first got here, I fought hard to get back to the surface, to fight for any sense of normalcy, for home but after a while the dream began to fade. The options began to run dry when compared to the dangers that surrounded me. And so I settled. I survived. I searched for food, begged for shelter from kind Darkners. I did what I had to to live. The Queen was not an option. Whispers from Darkners told me how I was just what she was looking for, that would help her expand her reign to the Light World. As much as that would probably help me, I didn’t want to ruin the lives of others for the chance to see my family, as much as I missed them with every passing minute. The sound of bustling cars and the blinding lights of neon signs stung my senses, my palms pressing into my eyes to drown out what I could. Damn it this place never slept did it? There was always something, some sort of noise. Whatever bags I had under my eyes were probably made cartoonishly drastic with the lack of pure rest I was getting. ‘Supose it was better then being dead... My body felt heavy, and I knew I’d have to find a place to rest or I’d fall asleep mid crossing of a road and get run over by one of those goofy cars I’d seen. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad... I recalled the time one of the car’s rear bumped into a fire hydrant (or at least I thought it was) and made a squeaking sound. The darkness of a certain alley called to me, the silence a sweet lullaby to the roaring around me. Was it dangerous? Oh yeah. Was it stupid? No shit. Was I going to do it? The shadows the engulfed me were perfect and if it wasn’t for the underlying stench of garbage it’d probably be ideal. Still beggars couldn’t be choosers and if tonight was good enough I would have to consider having this as my permanent sleeping spot. My back slid against the cool wall across from the dumpster, eyes half lidded as they read the advertisements littering above. Why the hell did the Queen have ads anyway, if she wanted she could monopolize any products she wanted... Despite the quiet I couldn’t shake the feeling that creeped down my spine. The presence of something other then myself around me. I tried to close my eyes, I was in the city after all. It’d be concerning if I didn’t feel like people were one second from crawling up my ass. Though I had to admit I didn’t expect to actually feel something begin to touch me. My eyes snapped open, elbow prodding into a blurry shape that yelped and tumbled backward, it’s grasp my on shoulder tearing a hole in my already worn shirt in the struggle. “Hey! What the hell?!” I barked, standing over the perpetrator. My shoulders slumped when I saw what looked to be a doll staring up at me with wide eyes, an over exaggerated smile permanently spread across it’s face. The creature’s jaw opened wider with a clack, it’s small body shooting upwards to stand on it’s small pointed feet. “WOAH WOAH WOAHAH- [Live worms]!”   The darkner’s voice was deafeningly loud, a shrill tone that cut the air like newly sharpened blades. “ I THOUGHT YOU WERE [Roadkill]. NICE TO KNOW I WON’T BE [Sleeping with the fishes] T0NIGHT!!” Well he had a certain way of speaking that was obvious. What the hell was going on with him, he talked like he was constantly being cut of random clips of other people speaking. He talked like a youtube poop or any other shitpost that would randomly shove memes into them for a quick laugh. “You thought I was dead? I was just... I was... uh.” I looked around me, eyeing the dirt and debris. “I was... going to sleep... here.”  Dammit, telling people I had to sleep in such ratty places were always a blow to the ego but I suppose it was better then saying ‘Oh I was just sitting down here to die’ The puppet shook his head and waltzed over to the dumpster, his small hand smacking the side with a sense of pride. “ [Finders keepers, losers weepers] HUMAN, YOU PICKED A GOOD SPOT. TOO BAD [so sadd] I GOT HERE FIRST. THOUGH FOR A DEAL I SUPPOSE I COULD [Share the love~]” “Got here first... what are you talking about?” The Darkner let out a laugh, distorted echoes filling the air as he leapt inside, a solitary hand popping out to beg me to come closer. This was a terrible idea, but despite my best judgement I followed, and witnessed what I could only describe to be a makeshift bed inside.  The puppet laid on top of musty mats and raggedy rugs, a single stained pillow resting just beneath his head. My god was he living in here? The creature continued his laugh, lurching only a few inches away from my face. “ [Sweet deal] ISN’T IT? J3ALOUS, [baby]?”  I shirked back, cheeks reddening at the tone of his last word. I was most defiantly not jealous, in fact I was filled with remorse, something his pride did not help with. “It’s... uh something. I guess this means I’ll have to find another alleyway um, sorry for bothering you-” “SPAMTON.” “What?” His hand shot out towards my chest, fingers wiggling for a handshake. “SP-SPA MTON G SPAMTON, [Number 1 rated salesmen 1997]” He announced, an extra flair of bravado laced his titled. His hand was surprisingly warm for what it was made of but nothing that would be described as body temperature.  “Jenna. Also 1997.” “WHAT A YEAR. LISTEN LIGHT nER, I AM DEALSMAN [yes/no?]” “Um... y-yes? I don’t-” “THEN LET ME MAKE A DEAL YEAH? FOR ONLY [many] KROMER, YOU MAY STAY IN MY [Privately owned] ALLEY. IT’S A REAL [steal] YOU’RE ROBBING ME [deaf] HERE!” My brows furrowed as I searched his face for any context clues for what the hell he was trying to say. Kromer? What the fuck was ‘kromer’? The only thing I knew of currency down here was dark dollars not kromer... even if he did ask for dark dollars he didn’t name a price, he just said many. And the amount of dark dollars I had was zero. “Uh I don’t have kromer. I don’t even have dark dollars I’m kinda broke Spamton, in case you couldn’t tell from uh...” I trailed off realizing saying that sleeping in an alley wasn’t a very smart thing to say to someone who slept in an alley.  He seemed surprised by my words, beginning to tug on my coat, flipping my pockets to see if I was really lying. I had to push his mitts off me a couple of times, to which he eventually got the idea the way his hands began to rub at his extended jaw. “NO KROMER... WHAT CAN YOU DO?” “What do you mean?” He seemed to sense my change in tone, his grin beginning to wobble nervously “[Whoopsie daisy!] LET ME START AGAIN. DO YOU HAVE A [trade]? A [skill] TO [Exchange for goods and services]?” he croaked. I eyed the ground, rubbing the back of my neck. What the hell was I good at again? “I mean, I can draw, I suppose...” “ARTIST? WOW OWOW!” Spamton’s face lit up before digging in the dumpster, pulling out a few napkins and a ball point pen and shoving them into my hands. “WHAT A [trade] TELL YOU WHAT. YOU DRAW A [one-of-a-kind masterpiece] AND YOU CAN STAY THE NIGHT!” “You’ll let me stay... if I draw something for you on this napkin. Am I getting that right?” The doll nodded feverishly, basically hovering over my shoulder as I played with the pen. This was certainly the weirdest way to pay someone that I could imagine... well no but one that was in the realm of reality. I had to ask Spamton to give me some space a few time, the feeling of his breath on  my neck making me more then nervous as I drew. God he was like those kids in school that would ask for drawings but ten times worse with the amount of personal space he’d give you. Besides I needed something to draw and with nothing on the mind why not draw the most interesting thing in front of me. I held the finished doodle out to Spamton only to have it snatched out of my fingers so fast I swore we could have started a fire. “WOAH...” The puppet sank inside of the dumpster, his face softening  as for once in what seemed like forever the alley way grew silent. “THIS IS... ME?” “Yeah. Sorry I didn’t know what to draw, you kind of put me on the spot. Besides everyone likes drawings of themselves right?” I shrugged, being pulled away from my thoughts by an overdramatic sniffle. Was he... crying? Not quite, just damn well close. Spamton’s shoulders quaked as a warm smile returned to his cheeks, slipping the napkin into his pocket with glee. “SO GOOD... THANK YOU.” “It’s really nothing, honestly that was a pretty shitty drawing.” “WHAT? YOU’RE [&#!^]ING ME! THAT WAS [BIG SHOT]” He was screaming again, hands gesturing wildly about. “It wasn’t but thank you. I wish I was better to be honest. I’m not very happy with my art, not at all.” I turned away from his gaze, unsure of why I was overcome by a choking sensation building my throat.  Why the hell was I telling this stranger this sort of stuff anyway? I mean I could hazard a guess it was the fact that this was the longest conversation I had had with anyone since I had gotten down here but with how things were it could be some magic power the doll possessed to tell him my deepest darkest secrets. “YOU DON’T THINK THIS IS [Big?]” “No.” “WHY NOT?” “I don’t know. I just... I think it doesn’t look the way I want it to. Doesn’t look good to me, and I don’t know how to fix it. Which I guess is a little funny considering how long I’ve been drawing. Just keep... drawing and drawing and never improving, least not how I’d like. It’s just garbage to me.” Spamton’s face seemed to fall, his glasses fading to a dark inky black.  “YOU FEEL? NO GOOD AT WHAT YOU DO? YOUR [passion]?”  “Yeah.” A laugh ripped from his chest, his head lolling back with each chuckle. I felt my soul began to crack, a shame flooding my body with how hard he seemed to laugh. Did he find this funny? Humorous?  I felt tears prick my eyes as I snapped my head back to glare at him, his head glitching back to stare back at me. “YOU’RE JUST LIKE ME, JENNA. A [slime] A REAL [slime]!” With a quick motion the puppet jumped to the ground, his hand resting against my arm as he spoke.  “YOU’RE A REAL [BIG SHOT] YOU KNOW THAT? STAY AS LONG AS YOUR [Greasy little heart] DESIRES!” Well... that was unexpected. He’d really let me stay here as long as I want cause I was pathetic? Or did he just feel sorry for me? What was going on? And why was he calling me a slime... or us a slime?  “Oh... uh thanks? I didn’t think I was being  much of a big shot whatever that is but I apricate it. Really.” His head clacked with every little nod, leading me to a pile of cardboard boxes and patting them with the grace of a car salesman. “BEST [Seat in the house] ALL FOR YOU. [Night night forever]!” Spamton beamed, awkwardly swaying side to side before stumbling back to the dumpster a few inches away and crawling inside of it, much like a wild animal. I couldn’t help but laugh a little. This guy was weird. Kinda creepy but also kind of funny. I honestly couldn’t pinpoint a feeling on him but at least he didn’t want to hurt me just make weird ass deals and make me ‘big’. Did that mean famous? Was this guy so into my art he wanted to be some sort of manager? I rubbed my eyes and let out a yawn, the excitement of the day finally beginning to fade. God I forgot how tired I was, that little guy made me feel like I was gonna go into fight or flight.  “Hey Spamton?” “YES?” his voice echoed from inside the metal container. “...Thank you.”

#self insert #spamton #vent #idk im just thinking #just wanted something to do

[the-bau-quinjet]

Round 2: Tik Tok

Bucky x reader

Part 2 to Round 1: Fruit Snacks

Summary: You enlist Peter to help you prank Steve, Sam, and Bucky.

Warnings: Language!

Word Count: 1795

a/n: Ahh, part 2! Gotta love tik tok. This entire part was inspired by the first Chris Evans tik tok I linked... I linked all the tik toks I referenced, but the descriptions in the fic have been edited a bit to better fit the scene!

Masterlist

"Peter!" You called to him from the other end of the hallway as he entered the elevator. "Hold the door!"

He smiled back at you, holding the doors open as you ran down the hallway.

"Perfect. I need your help." You whispered as the doors closed, never knowing if a super soldier could hear you or not. You had an evil glint in your eyes that clearly said you were scheming.

"Oh, okay. What do you need Ms. L/N?" His eyes were wide, never having seen you this devious before.

"Peter. How many times have I told you to just call me Y/N? You make me feel old, and I am not old." You huffed, stalling for time.

"Right, Y/N. Got it. What do you need my help with?" He asked as the elevator doors opened.

You peaked your head, looking both ways before exiting. You gestured for him to follow you, exiting the compound and walking toward the gate where May was picking him up after a date with Happy.

"I need you to play the video on this flash drive at Tony's next party." You said when you reached the end of the driveway, handing him the mentioned flash drive.

"Why?" He took the device, albeit with a bit of hesitation.

"Because, I'm pranking Steve, Sam, and Bucky. They tried to get me the other day and failed miserably. Honestly, just watching them on edge has been great, but it's time for payback." You smirked, knowing the prank wouldn't do any real harm.

"Oh, Mr. Stark told me about that!" His eyes were wide with recognition. "Good job with the fake crying, I would've loved to see it."

"Well, you can help me get them back if you play that on the projector screen at Tony's next party." You nodded toward the flash drive, wanting to confirm the plan.

"What is it?" Peter looked nervous, unsure if he should get involved.

"Don't worry, it's nothing bad. Just a few tik toks I found from fans. Three for each of them." You smirked, already picturing the blushes. This would really get Steve and Bucky more than Sam, but when you came across the first video you couldn't not do it.

"Alright. I'm in!" He smiled, happy to help you. "But, why can't you just play the video?" He questioned, obviously not well versed in the world of pranks.

"Because, if they see me doing anything out of the ordinary at the party, they'll know something's up. I have to act normal, so it's a surprise." You outline the plan, explaining the need for two people.

"Why me?" He asked again, genuinely curious.

"Because, they won't think I'd go to you for help. They think you'll do anything to get them to stop teasing you, so they won't see it coming."

Peter nodded, understanding your logic. "Wow. You've really thought of everything." He smiled as May pulled up.

"I know. It's going to be great." You smirked, turning and running back inside before anyone could see you.

-

The night of the party, it took everything in you not to wear the world's biggest smirk.

Sam, Bucky, and Steve have been on edge ever since your warning, waiting for you to strike. They were huddled by the bar, appearing deep in conversation.

"Hi boys." You greeted them from behind, causing them to jump at the intrusion.

Sam recovered first, smirking at you. "Y/N. We've got a theory."

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

"You warned us about your next prank, and then planned nothing." You bit your lip, trying to appear deep in thought.

"Interesting theory. What do you have to support it?" You tilted your head to the side, waiting for more of an explanation.

"It's been a week, and you haven't done anything." Steve started, less confident than Sam, but still sounding sure.

"I haven't?" You questioned, enjoying watching them squirm. "You sure?"

Bucky shook his head with a grin. "You're doing it again. Trying to make us paranoid."

Your gave them your sweetest smile, running your hand up and down Bucky's arm. "Whatever you say, dear." You said it with mock reassurance, then walked away grinning.

The three men shared a look, trying not to seem overly paranoid, but failing.

-

You felt eyes on you for the entire party. There was never a minute at least one of them wasn't watching your every move. You were fairly certain they were even keeping tabs on Wanda and Nat, just to make sure you hadn't enlisted their help.

You chatted with Nat, Wanda, and Pepper, danced for a bit, and ate some food, all while ignoring their stares.

Around 9:30, Peter managed to get the video queued up. All eyes were on the projector screen at the sudden noise.

A tik tok started playing, flashing different images of Steve as the music played.

"Hush hush hush, blush blush blush, you are now my big fat crush."

Steve's face grew redder as the video played, turning into a tomato by the end.

"Love me, and hug me, and touch me. And well, fuck me."

Another video immediately started playing, also featuring pictures of Steve.

The caption read "Let me present to you: Steve Rogers Walking" backed by some sexy music.

"When marimba rhythm starts to play, dance with me, make me sway."

Clips of Steve walking, whether it be in uniform from a news clip or in suits from press events, graced the screen.

He was hiding his head in his hands, too embarrassed to even think you could have done this. He had been watching you all night, you couldn't have set up the video.

Bucky and Sam laughed as a third video started to play.

The on screen text read as follows:

"People: how do you sleep at night? Me:"

A girl fell into her bed, swaddled in a blanket covered in pictures of Steve.

The screen flashed black for a few seconds, making everyone think the impromptu display was over. That is, until a new video began playing.

A heavy bass started thumping as a girl appeared on screen, counting down with her fingers along with the sound.

"3, 2, 1."

Sam appeared on screen, a plethora of his most used interview and press clips being played.

He was enjoying the praise, although slightly embarrassed at the video being played in front of all these people.

Another video began playing, showing Sam acting out different Avengers in a game of charades.

"Oh!" It was highly edited to draw attention to his amusing sound effects.

Finally, a clip from an interview Sam did with Steve and Scott came up.

"The problem isn't the kids, the problem is the parents."

You knew he wouldn't be embarrassed by the same things as Steve, so you chose a few random videos you found to call him out for not always thinking before speaking.

The screen flashed black again, transitioning to videos of Bucky.

A clip that had gone viral from Sam's account was edited with new music, resulting in the crowd hearing Bucky say:

"Suck my dick!" Followed by the song "if you gave me a chance, i would take it."

These videos were really just for you. You watched them so many times while looking for the three best ones.

Although, Bucky's wide eyes and rosy cheeks definitely didn't hurt.

The next video began with Sexy Back by Justin Timberlake.

"Take it to the chorus. Come here girl."

Pictures of Bucky flashed across the projector screen, showing off his physique. You don't know where fans find this pictures, but you loved them for it.

The last video of Bucky was a pov someone made about yours and Bucky's relationship. Although the two of you were flirty, nothing had been discussed.

Maybe that's why you chose this one.

You and Bucky were having a fake conversation that went as follows:

Y/N: "Bucky, I like your last name."

Bucky: "Oh thanks, that's sweet."

Then, in sync with the music in the background:

Y/N: "Can I steal it from you?"

Bucky: "Of course, doll."

Y/N: "What'd he sayyyyy?"

The crowd laughed at that one, knowing how the media and fans speculate about your relationship.

Finally, the screen went dark, no more videos lined up to play.

You made your way over to the guys as everyone resumed their normal party activities.

"What a show guys. Really well done. Don't forget to thank your fans." You slow clapped, enjoying their flustered faces.

"How long were you planning that?" Steve, blush just beginning to fade, questioned you.

"I've had the video made for 6 days. I started planning the second you left for the store." You grinned, enjoying the high of a good, harmless prank.

"We've been watching you all night. How did you manage to queue the video?" Sam questioned, eyes narrowed.

"I had help." You shrugged noncommittally. You wouldn't give up Peter's role in the prank unless he wanted you to.

"From? We had eyes on Nat and Wanda." Bucky questioned further, but you just shook your head.

"I can't reveal my sources." You laughed again at their matching looks of annoyance.

Suddenly, something clicked for Bucky.

"So, you chose all of the videos?" He sounded so curious, you couldn't help but fill him in.

"I did. It didn't take long. The internet is full of videos of the three of you. They were pretty fun to look through." You laughed at a few videos you opted to leave out of the montage.

"What's this about you liking my last name then?" Bucky had a new confidence about him with this question.

Having expected this question at some point, you had already thought of how you would answer.

"Well, the fans want what they want. Maybe we should give it to them." You stepped closer as Sam and Steve awkwardly shuffled away.

"You think so, doll?" Bucky relied, hands moving to your waist.

"I don't see why not." You closed the distance, pressing your lips to his in a moment you had been thinking about for months.

You moved together, pulling each other closer even when you were already chest to chest.

Eventually, the sound of a throat clearing caused you to break apart.

Tony was playfully glaring at the two of you.

"L/N, if you ever use my protégé to pull a stunt like that again, at least include some videos of me." He whined.

You laughed at his statement, having expected him to be annoyed at you interrupting his party.

"Can do Stark."

He walked off as you turned back to Bucky, whose mouth was hung open like a fish.

You gave him a questioning look as he sputtered.

"Parker helped you?!"

Permanent tag list:

@averyhotchner

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #sam wilson #steve rogers #peter parker #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #pepper potts #tony stark #mcu #marvel #marvel fic #avengers x you #avengers x y/n #avengers x reader

[lilyharvord]

If you get the chance can you write a short fanfic about mare having baby fever? LOL the idea just popped in my head of like all her friends having kids and baby clara making it extreme and at first shes all like no kids and suddenly is like to cal gimme like 10, and ofc hes happy to do so :)

I love conflicted Mare. :))))

Baby Fever Drabble

“He’s gorgeous Lou.” Ruth announced as she held her fifth grandchild, and bounced him until he cooed and then gurgled. Turning to face the window so the light shone down on the massive blanket she was cradling, Ruth glanced him over again. The room was mostly empty, a majority of the cousins had been shuttled out to the little café downstairs to grab breakfast, and the rest of Mare’s family had gone with them. It was just her, Tramy, Lou, their daughter Elowyn, Bree’s eldest son Wes, Clara, Farley, and Ruth. It was nice though, the room had been so loud a couple minutes ago. Silence was precious by this point.

Glancing over her shoulder, Ruth grinned at her daughter. “Mare have you held him yet?”

Glancing up from listening to Wes as he chattered her ear off about the frogs he’d caught over the weekend with Kilorn, Mare shook her head. Next to her, Clara was napping in Farley’s lap after trying to stay awake all night waiting for her cousin to arrive, and stirred before sighing and settling again.

Before Mare could protest Ruth had already slipped the baby into her arms. “Oh, um, I—” He was heavy and Mare had to stifle a grimace as she imagined how much Lou’s back must have hurt the entire pregnancy. She seemed pretty content now though, and Tramy looked more like a bird puffing out it’s chest, as if he did anything for the past nine months. Their daughter Elowyn was napping in his arms exhausted just like Clara. How had her family gotten so big in the past few years? It seemed like the number of nieces and nephews had multiplied exponentially when she turned her back for a day. First Bree and Tora had Wes, and then Elowyn came along, and then Bree and Tora had announced the twins, and now there was this new baby. Even Sara and Julian had one of their own, a toddler now who stared at her like Julian used to over his desk. Everytime she turned around there was a new baby, and she would be lying if she said she hadn’t felt an… itch.

Because that was really all it was for a bit, just an itch. She scratched it by watch Wes and Elowyn, and babysitting Clara for a day. But after the twins and this baby, that itch was like a crawling wave all over her body. It drove her insane that she was thinking about it all the time. She’d think about it for hours while lying in bed, just watching Cal sleep. She’d think about it while making coffee, and while she showered and while she trained. She had started noting any new baby at the little market near her apartment every time she went. And a week ago, she’d almost not taken that little white pill that ensured everything stayed exactly as it was. When she had done that, she realized there might be a problem.

Her nephew yawned, stretching tiny pink lips into a perfect circle before closing his eyes. Ruth had been right, he was gorgeous. With little tufts of bronze hair, and delicate cheek bones that no baby really needed. Honestly, it was surprising Lou had let anyone else hold him. If this was her baby, Mare wouldn’t have let anyone near him. Her baby would be a lot prettier, she decided right then and there. Not that it mattered, she wasn’t planning on having a baby… ever. Mare Barrow was not built to be a mother. She was a wonderful aunt, because she could give the baby back whenever she needed to, and she could leave for the front whenever she was called for like she had to do. A baby did not fit into that mix.

But a baby that was half her and half Cal? She’d been thinking about it again yesterday while Cal was leaned over the sink shaving. It would be a boy, she decided that while he ran the razor over his jaw. He’d have Cal’s height, and build, and maybe a few of his other features. Those amber eyes wouldn’t hurt, and that smile? Well, maybe not the smile. That smile is what made her fall in love with Cal, and she could not deal with a string of broken hearts trailing her son around. Because without a doubt he would have her track record in that department. He’d have a face that was impossible to say no to, and a laugh that made her world a little bit brighter every time he let it loose. She’d name him Shade. It had been something itching at the back of her mind ever since her brothers had decided not to name any of their sons that.

“Now that is a sight.” Farley teased, making Mare startle and wake the baby in her arms.

Glaring at her friend, who smirked in response, Mare grumbled. “What’s a sight?”

“That face tells me you’re weighing the consequences and options.” Farley at least had the decency to drop her voice when she said that. It still brought all the blood to Mare’s cheeks at the insinuation, and the fact that she had been so obviously caught. She recovered quick enough that she wasn’t completely embarrassed though.

“What consequences and options?”

“Nine months doesn’t seem too long anymore does it, Mare?” Farley shrugged as she shifted Clara and went to rise from the plastic couch they’d occupied for the better part of three hours. “And besides,” bending down so her next words were for Mare only, Farley tilted her head in mock consideration, “Making it will probably be the fun part for you.”

If she didn’t need both hands to hold a baby, she would have actually slapped Farley for that. Mare’s neck joined her cheeks in burning bright red, and she tried to shrink away from that searching smile.

“You were thinking about it.”

“I wasn’t thinking about anything.” Mare grumbled before getting up as well, forcing Farley back a step so they didn’t smack foreheads. She stole across the room and deposited Tramy’s son in Lou’s arms, before trying to slip out of the room at the same speed. But Farley knew her too well, and Mare cursed her short legs once more when Farley’s strides caught up with hers.

“Just admit it, you have baby fever.” Farely teased as she shifted Clara to a better hold so she could nudge Mare’s shoulder. Not expecting the push, Mare stumbled to the side, and glared as Farley laughed.

Crossing her arms and standing her ground, she looked Farley up and down. The general was still beautiful, and would remain that way for the rest of her life probably. Even balancing a child on her hip, she was imposing. Mare twisted her lip at the thought. With a baby on her hip, Mare knew she would be far less terrifying.

“I don’t have baby fever because I don’t want kids.”

“For someone who doesn’t want them, you spend an awful lot of time staring wistfully at your husband while he plays with them.” Farley raised a brow, and smothered another smile which only made Mare raise her chin in argument. Even if she was right, she didn’t have to state that out loud within earshot of anyone.

“I don’t stare wistfully.” She argued, the words clipped and sharp. Like Farley, she had her own military tone now. It normally refuted any argument before it could begin, but Diana Farley had never been afraid of her. And that was not going to change with a few sharp words.

Rolling her eyes with a mocking nod, Farley turned on her heel to continue down the hallway. “Of course Mare.”

“I don’t!” Mare shouted at her back, drawing the attention of a nurse at one of the stations. Glaring in the woman’s direction, Mare stomped after Farley. It was pointless to refute whatever thought her friend had, because she wasn’t wrong. Mare just refused to admit it. She did sometimes catch herself sitting on her parent’s back porch watching Cal play with the horde of cousins. He never got tired of it, and the way he laughed when he was with them sometimes bit at her heart. They all adored him, and followed him around as much as the young Ardents had at the Notch. She knew he’d caught her watching a few times, and had given her a knowing, bittersweet smile she never returned.

And sure they’d… talked about things like that. But never seriously. It was always after one too many glasses of wine when they were sprawled out of the couch half-dressed and teasing. Fantasizing about kids was fine then, because they still didn’t physically exist. And Cal had never made an overt moves or comments to tell her that he wanted to have kids right this second. What if she was the only one feeling the itch this strongly and he shot down her idea? He was just as practical, if not more than her sometimes. They both knew the truth and the risk of having a child far outweighed the idea of having it. There were too many variables they couldn’t control, too many horrible outcomes that they’d face. It was better to just fantasize.

“It’s too dangerous.” Mare spoke quietly, and even though she thought her friend wasn’t listening, it got Farley’s attention.

Pausing so Mare could catch up, Farley raised her brow again. “What isn’t dangerous in this life Barrow?”

“This would be even more so. The Silver Secession has not let up, and with the State still in a precarious position—”

“The States will always be in a precarious position. It’s the nature of that mess of a country.” Farley argued with a huff. She wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t change the fact that Cal was always going to be running back and forth to uphold his duties as a general.

Pursing her lips in irritation, Mare glanced to the side to avoid Farley’s stare. No matter how many times she faced it, it still cut her to the core. Those diamond hard eyes were too perceptive, and they always found the truth, even when Mare buried it deep.

“I think there is something else keeping you. You’ve never been worried about the Secession and you’ve never been worried about Cal and the States.” Farley tilted her head to the side before shifting Clara again. The young girl blinked awake, honey eyes still dreamy as she looked at her mother and then at Mare. “But you’re obviously not ready to talk about it.”

Shoving her hands in the pockets of her jacket, Mare fidgeted with her ring. She knew there was a truth, a deep one she didn’t want to admit. A fear that ran deeper than the pestering Silver Secession and the nagging worry when Cal was gone in the States. It had haunted her for her whole life, and it would probably continue to do so.

“When you want to talk about it,” Farley whispered, her voice slipping into that gentle tone she so rarely used, “I am all ears Barrow.”

Mare considered it for half a second and opened her mouth to say something, only for the doors to burst open next to them and the twins to race by her, shouting like banshees. Clara perked up immediately, and squirmed until Farley sighed and set her down to race after the rest of the cousins. They all skidded around the corner together, pushing and giggling as they went. Craning her neck to make sure they went the right way, Farley sighed before turning back to Mare with an expectant eye.

Bree’s shoved his way between them though, grinning down at Mare and saying, “Pardon me, didn’t see you there.”

“Very funny. The short jokes died when we were ten, Bree.” Mare let a few sparks snap at his elbow as he tried to avoid her. Yelping at the sensation, he rubbed the spot and glowered like a child at her.

“Glad I’m not the only who gets that punishment.” Cal’s warmth always proceeded him, and this time was no different. Sliding an arm around Mare’s shoulders he pulled her close. “Is Lou finally sleeping?”

Pushing Bree along when he tried to linger, Farley responded for her. “Doubtful. The baby will want to eat, and then he’ll have to be passed around like a sack of potatoes for a little bit longer before she can sleep.”

“Sounds miserable.” Cal’s hand slid along her shoulders until his fingers brushed along Mare’s neck, tracing scars that he knew like a roadmap. The touch sent a shiver down her spine, and brought goosebumps to the surface. Glancing up, she considered him for a heartbeat. Maybe he hadn’t been joking when he told her she’d look lovely pregnant, when she’d insisted she wouldn’t. Maybe he had been serious when he said they should consider moving to the same neighborhood as Bree and Tora. Maybe he had been feeling this insatiable itch just as long as her.

When she finally dragged her eyes away from his profile, it was to see Farley struggling to hide a smirk. Even though it was completely childish, Mare stuck her tongue out at her bitterly.

“I obviously missed whatever just happened.” Cal’s hand slid away from her, but not before Mare caught it and laced her fingers with his.

“Farley’s being annoying, which is why we’re leaving.” Mare announced before pulling him toward the doors. Farley only laughed in response to her.

Throwing one more good glare over her shoulder as she pushed Cal through the doors, Mare stuck her tongue out one more time.

#(*ask lily*) #(*shut up lily*) #love me a good Mare and Farley relationship #snaps for Mare having baby fever #cause she would #and her family would be fucking massive #give me ALL the cousins #red queen #glass sword #kings cage #war storm #broken throne #post broken throne #technically this is a drabble #right? #its shorter than everything I normally write #But its still sweet ((: #also #I've got smut for ya'll #its coming #marecal #THE eternal ship #cause they did it ya'll #they made it through all the bullshit #I'm the captain of canon now #and I say there are 50 million Barrow cousins

[pumpkinov]

Where the Dust Settles

This chapter is a little weird, but there's lots of things I need to set up. Bear with me, I promise, we're heading somewhere with this!

You can read Chapter 1 here

Portia Collins, the sole survivor of Vault 111 has lost more than most. With the Institute defeated, she sets her sights to the next big jobs - unification of the Commonwealth wastelands and the large warship docked at the Boston Airport. More work for the General of the Minutemen, who is finding herself increasingly alone as her companions move on with their lives. John Hancock, the Ghoul Mayor of Goodneighbour is struggling to find his footing in the new political climate of the Commonwealth, and is finding a surprisingly vocal supporter in his local Minuteman General.

Chapter 2. I can hold a grudge like nobody’s business

There is an important meeting, Piper chain-smokes and Hancock climbs a heavy set of stairs.

He fucking showed.

“Well, fuck me.” Portia exhaled in surprise, as the red figure approaching her across the quiet square held his arms out wide. There was an interesting leap in her chest as he grinned. Fuck he was smug. But it was hard not to smile back, despite the almost constant urge to hit him.

Mayor Hancock was an anomaly.

“Good morning, General.” He whipped his tricorn hat off his head and held it to his chest as he dropped into an exaggerated bow.

“Good morning, Mayor.” Portia offered him a cigarette, which he accepted. They stood in silence for a moment, their breath fogging between them. It was still in the square, it had snowed overnight and the ground beneath their feet was covered in a soft powder that would no doubt turn to a dirty, watery sludge by midday. The air was crisp, and Portia’s nose and cheeks were already turning red. The sun lay in bars across the ground as it rose through the buildings.

Hancock exhaled smoke. “You’re surprised to see me, aren’t you?”

Portia raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t pick you for an early riser.”

He shrugged, flicking the ash off the tip of his cigarette. “I don’t sleep much.” He paused, then grinned wickedly, “Bed serves a different purpose these days.”

Portia opened her mouth to scold him, but was interrupted.

“General?” She turned to see Preston walking down the steps of the Rexford. He was in better shape than she expected, honestly. He had a dark hickey on the side of his neck, but his eyes weren’t bloodshot and he wasn’t swaying.

“Good night, Preston?” Portia asked, reaching to adjust his scarf. He grinned broadly, and batted her hand away.

Hancock snickered, and pitched his cigarette butt into the gutter. “Should we get this freakshow on the road?”

Preston hummed in agreement, slinging his laser musket across his shoulder.

Portia’s rifle was strapped to her back, her pistol strapped to one leg, and her combat knife strapped to the other. She eyed Hancock, who appeared weaponless. He waved an arm towards the entrance of Goodneighbour. “After you!”

The streets of Boston were quiet this early in the morning. The regular patrols of Minutemen and traders helped keep the path between Diamond City and Goodneighbour relatively safe, though all three kept their heads on a swivel as they made their way through the shell of the city.

Hancock moved slightly ahead of them, and Preston fell into step next to her.

“How did you convince him to come?” He asked, quietly. Preston had spent a good hour trying to convince the mayor to accompany them to the council meeting the day before.

Portia shrugged. “I appealed to his better nature.”

Preston hummed a little, “You wore him down.” Portia knocked her shoulder against him, causing him to sway a little. He grinned back at her, before adjusting his hat. “I’m glad he’s here. I know he’s a pain in the ass, but-”

“He’s a wildcard.” Portia muttered. “I’m not sure if he’s going to dazzle them all, or stab them all.”

Preston shrugged. “It’s the Commonwealth, General. That’s a risk we’re always taking.”

Hancock stopped, spinning on his boot heel. A shotgun had appeared in his hands, and his face was serious. “If you two are done gossiping, we have company.” A bullet whistled past Portia’s side, and she heard the garbled cry of the supermutant who had shot it. The angry green face attached to the cry peered out from the side of a building just up ahead. Portia whipped her rifle off her back, as Preston cranked his laser musket. She aimed and fired off a shot, clipping the mutant in the shoulder. He cried and stumbled, before letting another bullet fly, at Hancock this time. The mutant’s aim was off, and Preston dispatched him with ease.

Another mutant appeared in the doorway of the building, running headlong at Hancock. She heard his rough laugh, before he unloaded a shell into the green creature’s face. He disappeared from her view in an explosion of blood and gore, both Portia and Preston breaking into a run to reach him. He was standing over the headless body of the mutant, his face pulled into a snarl that made him almost unrecognizable. Portia reached for him, her fingers brushing his coat.

“Hancock, are you-” She faltered a little, his eyes were wide and wild. There was a flash of memory, Portia; fresh out of the deep freeze and entering Goodneighbour, Hancock sliding a knife between the ribs of a man who had threatened her. The face was the same. Hancock took a breath, and adjusted his hat. The fierce look started to melt out of his eyes as he looked at her, his breath rising hot in front of his face in the crisp air.

“I’m fine, sister. And you two?”

“We’re fine.” Portia realised she was still holding onto his sleeve, and released it. Preston clapped Hancock on the shoulder.

“Excellent spotting, sorry we were late on the draw.”

Hancock smirked a little, looking more like himself. “Lucky I have my cat-like reflexes, Garvey.” Preston grinned ruefully, “Look I’ll take that. I’ll spot the next ones.”

“Good man.” Hancock gripped Preston’s wrist tightly, eyes shining.

The rest of the way to Diamond City was uneventful.

There were two familiar figures standing at the gates to the city. Piper was smoking furiously, pacing back and forward. Nick Valentine stood straight and still, watching for their arrival. Portia’s chest warmed at the sight of the pair. Preston raised a hand in greeting, and when they were in earshoot Piper pitched her cigarette and broke out into a jog, colliding with Portia and smacking a loud kiss on the side of her head. “Blue!” Portia laughed and wrapped her arms around Piper, lifting her feet a little off the ground. Piper reached for her battered red hat to stop it sliding off her head, “Put me down!” she shrieked. Portia released her as they moved forward, keeping a hand on Piper’s arm as she staggered a little.

They reached Nick, who shook Preston’s hand warmly before enfolding Portia in a hug. His metal hand pushed briefly between her shoulder blades before he released her. His yellow eyes landed on Hancock, who stood slightly aside from them.

“It’s good to see you, John.”

“Likewise, Nicky.” Hancock rasped, his eyes crinkling again at the corners. Piper pursed her lips, another cigarette already clamped between them. Portia squeezed her hand, before turning her attention to Preston.

“Are we ready for this, Garvey?”

Preston met her gaze. He looked nervous, but resolute. He nodded. “Yes General, I think we are.”

Portia smiled a little, trepidation twisting through her stomach. “Right, let’s get this over with.”

Hancock hesitated at the steps. He watched the welcome party climb the stairs ahead of him, talking excitedly. He took a deep breath - the place looked almost unchanged. His sense of smell wasn’t the strongest these days, but he could still make out the smell of Takashi’s noodles, the scent of paint and dirt. Diamond fuckin’ City. He never thought he’d come back here. He took a deep breath, and stepped onto the first step. The rest were easier to take.

McDonough’s old office had been stripped bare. There were chairs gathered in a semicircle, with Piper set up at the desk in the corner. There were settlers clumped in groups around the room, Hancock stood to the side, leaning against the wall, observing. Trying not to notice the bloodstain in the corner where the synth (his brother?) had died a few months previously. The floor was wet from the melting snow off everyone’s shoes. His eyes followed Portia as she moved around the room, greeting people. She was smiling, touching people, remembering names and faces. He didn’t really recognise any of the people in this room, except for Wiseman, who ran The Slog. Their eyes met, but there was no flicker of recognition in the old ghoul’s eyes. Wiseman remembered a different John, in a different lifetime. Eventually Portia arrived at the front of the room, and it fell quiet. She cleared her throat, and glanced up. Her eyes met Hancock’s for a moment. He felt a smile stretch the corner of his mouth up, and she bit down on her bottom lip, smiling in response. There was warmth in those eyes, despite how cold she could be. Lady will be the absolute death of me he thought idly, his eyes drifting down her frame as she started speaking.

“Welcome, everyone. This is the first time in a long time we’ve had a meeting like this. The people in this room represent the settlements of the Commonwealth, and for anyone in this room who may not know me, I am General Collins, leader of the Commonwealth Minutemen. This is my second in command, Preston Garvey, and I’ve bought you all here today to discuss the future of Diamond City, and the future of the Commonwealth as a whole.”

Portia had been right all along, Hancock mused to himself, this meeting had been important. And deeply, deathly boring. They discussed trade routes, infrastructure, and people brought up grievances both imagined and real. He tried to listen, he really did, but similar to his brief foray into education he found his mind drifting. He slid a box out of his pocket, and placed a mentat on his tongue. As he was trying to surreptitiously close the box again, he glanced up and caught Piper’s eye. She frowned at him disapprovingly, and he fought against the childish urge to poke his tongue out at her. He glanced out the window and saw that the sun was already heading back down again in the sky, how the fuck was it late afternoon already? His gaze fell down to the market below them, watching the small smudges that were the citizens of Diamond City go about their business. It looked the same from when he was younger. Except it wasn’t the same. Not anymore.

Portia was still standing in the front of the semicircle of chairs. She had tied her long brown hair back off her face while Hancock had been staring out the window, and he realised he’d never seen her with her hair up. The back and sides of her head were shaved. He wondered idly how those shaved parts would feel against the palms of his hands and grinned quietly to himself. He felt the mentat starting to work as it melted in his mouth, he was finding the words coming from the General a lot easier to follow. She was discussing the upcoming election for the new mayor of Diamond City.

“I think we’ve probably covered enough for one day,” she smiled, rubbing the back of her hand across her eyes briefly. “We’ll meet up again tomorrow, to discuss the Diamond City election a little more before this meeting is completely adjourned. Are there any questions before we call it a day?”

There were murmurs as a negative response to her question from the rest of the settlers, but Hancock found himself pushing his upper body off against the wall and stepping forward.

“I have a question, actually.”

Portia’s eyes met his from across the room. Her eyes were no longer warm, they were tired and guarded, but she still inclined her head.

“The floor recognises Mayor Hancock, of Goodneighbour.”

Heads turned to stare at him, and he found himself smiling, not in a particularly pleasant way. He fixed his stare on Geneva, sitting in one the chairs closest to Portia, his idiot brother’s old assistant.

“I’d like to know what plans are in place to remove the Anti Ghoul Decree of 2282?” He swirled the mentat around his mouth languidly, feeling it spike in the back of his skull. “Since both myself and Wiseman here are standing in the former mayor’s office, I would assume it has been retired at least in a non official capacity?”

Geneva looked at Portia, then Preston, then met his gaze. “Diamond City currently has only a small council, no changes to policy can be made at this time.”

Hancock raised a bony ridge where an eyebrow would be. “And is there discussion to remove it once there is a new mayor?”

“I - uh -” Geneva trailed off, looking back at Portia for assistance. Portia sighed, and stepped forward.

“That’s an excellent question Mayor, let’s table it and add it to the agenda to discuss tomorrow?” Her eyes met his again, this time pleading.

“I’d really like an answer now.” He smiled. She took another step forward.

“Mayor I don’t believe anyone has the capacity to answer this -”

“It’s a simple question,” he stepped backwards, opening his arms wide and looking around the room. “I just want to know if there’s any plans to allow the ghoul’s who used to live here to come home? The ones who survived, of course.”

The silence was heavy in the room. No one would look at him except Wiseman, whose face was emotionless.

“Good to know.” Hancock returned his gaze to Portia, and smiled. “Good to know. That’s all I had General, thank you.”

#fallout 4 #fanfic #John Hancock #Hancock #hancock/sole survivor #hancock/female sole #Where The Dust Settles

[rowyn-writes]

Cinnamon and Sugar

Chapter Three

Warnings: language, fluff, mentions of a toxic relationship, small angst

Characters: Dean, Reader, Benny Lafitte (mentioned only)

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Dean let you sit in his car until the rain let up a bit. "God, I hate the rain." He grumbled.

"I love it." You whisper, your eyes wandering the parking lot. "When I was younger, and there was a thunderstorm, me and my siblings would make a fort and huddle underneath it together. We loved it when the power would go out. We would light candles and grab flashlights and play board games in the dark. Sometimes Andrew would read to us. But uh - it would be scary stories," You smiled. "He would scare the ever living crap out of us. Lena and Josh would would cuddle into my side, no matter how much I hated it, they would still do it."

"You really love your siblings." Dean noted, swallowing hard, memories of Sam flooding his head.

"I do." You nodded. "They're all I have. Sure, I have my parents, but it's not the same, you know? Growing up, my siblings and I fought like dogs and cats, but we knew each other better than anyone, even our parents. Even when I go months without seeing them, when we all get together, it's like we're still little kids, ya know? We goof around, we argue, we joke. It's like none of us ever grew up."

Dean stayed silent for a moment, and you weren't sure if your message was getting across. "Look, I know we don't know each other very well, but what I'm trying to say is, call your brother. I don't know what happened between you two, but it's obvious that you love him. You shouldn't waste all your time worrying about whether you should contact him first or if he's angry with you. Time is a precious thing and people often waste it."

"Damn, you're wise." Dean gave a quiet chuckle. "But you're right. I will call him soon, I'm just not ready yet." And with that, the Impala was enveloped in silence again. That is, until Dean's stomach let out a loud rumble. "Sorry," He apologized with a sheepish grin.

"Don't worry about it." You shrugged. "It looks like the rains letting up. Do you want to come inside and I can fix you some food?"

"Oh, I don't want to impose." He shook his head.

"Nonsense. You gave me a ride home, this is the least I can do."

Dean silently debated whether or not he should take you up on the offer, but ultimately agreed, seeing as he was starving. By the time you were under cover, you were both soaked.

As soon as you opened the door to your apartment, you were met with a warm blast of heat. A pleasant shiver ran down your spine.

You began to click your tongue, calling out for your moody cat. "Storm, c'mere buddy." Your cat glared at you stubbornly from his place on the window seal. You rolled your eyes, slipping off your jacket and hanging it over the back of the chair.

"Sorry," You apologized to Dean. "My cat's being a little bitch." The man let out a laugh at your comment. "I gave him a bath and clipped his claws yesterday; now he's pissed at me."

"How in the hell do you cut a cat's nails?" He questioned, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Very carefully." You noticed that Dean was shivering. "Let me grab you a towel. I think I have some of my exes clothes. You're about the same size."

He was going to object when you silenced him with a look. You went to your room and began rummaging around in your draws, eventually finding a pair of black sweat pants and a grey hoodie.

"Try this," You said, handing Dean the clothes. "They should fit. You can change in the bathroom; it's the first door on the right."

While Dean went to change, you did the same. You exited your bedroom dressed in a pair of black leggings and a UK sweatshirt.

You noticed that Dean still wasn't out yet, so you went to start some food. You contemplated on what you should cook before ultimately deciding that mac and cheese would do. It was a comfort food, after all.

It would take a bit longer than usual, since you were making it from scratch, but Dean had said earlier that he had nowhere to be.

"Smells good in here." Dean noted when he walked out of the bathroom. Seeing him in Michael's clothes made your heart stop for a second, and not in a good way.

Dean and Michael had many similarities, the hair color, height, demeanor, etc. And you didn't want to be reminded of that man.

"Thanks," You said nonchalantly. "It's nothing special, but I thought you'd like it."

"So," Dean started, leaning against the counter. "This is a nice little set up you've got here."

"It's not much, but it's home." You shrugged as you stir the pot of noodles. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Storm sneaking around the corner of the kitchen, hoping for some food or a treat.

"How long have you lived here?" Dean asked.

"About five years." You informed him. "Ever since I turned eighteen I've been living on my own."

"How come?"

"You know the thing parents always say? 'As long as you live in my house, you follow my rules'? Well, I didn't like their rules so I got myself this apartment and I've lived here ever since."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, my old man was like that too. I actually did the same thing as you did. 'Cept I came back 'bout a week later." He laughed. "I was too dependent on my dad and brother. I have never lived alone before then; and to be honest, I hate living by myself. I still do."

"You never got roommates?"

"I had a few. There was Mick and Cas. Of course, I can't forget Benny." He grinned. "But they're all gone now."

"Benny?" You mumbled. "As in Benny Lafitte?"

"Yeah, why? You know him?"

"Do I?" You rolled your eyes. "That idiot's my cousin."

"Really?" Dean said excitedly. "I haven't heard from him in ages, how's he doing?"

"He's loving by the coast, and the last I heard, he met some girl named Andrea and he is head over heels in love."

"That's great." Dean smiled. "I really happy for him."

"Yeah, I expect to get an invitation to his wedding so enough. The way he talks about her, you would think he's known her his entire life."

"That's sweet. Benny seems like the guy that falls hard after one date."

"Oh yeah, he definitely is." You giggle. "He calls me after one date and says, 'Y/N, I think I'm in love. If I sent you a picture of a wedding ring, would you look at it and tell me what you think?'"

"No way!" Dean laughed.

"Yes! I had to talk him down from buying an engagement ring! I told him to wait for a year and a half, and then revisit the subject of marriage. Times almost up and he's still fawning over her. But I'm happy for him, he definitely deserves this."

You sprinkled bread crumbs on top of the Mac and cheese before popping it in the oven for a few minutes.

"You put break crumbs on your mac and cheese?" Dean questioned.

"You don't?"

"Never tried it." He shook his head.

"You caveman." You sighed. "I will just have to train you." Dean gave a harmonious laugh, which, in turn, made you laugh as well.

You grabbed a towel and pulled the mac and cheese out of the oven. You scooped some onto a plate and handed it to Dean. Both of you sat down at your small kitchen table and began to dig in.

"Oh my god." Dean said, his mouth full with food. "That is the best mac and cheese I've ever had."

"See? Told you it would be good."

"I'll never doubt you again." He mumbled as he shoveled more into his face.

You ate in a comfortable silence until there was a knock at your door. "I'll be right back." You told Dean as you opened the door.

"Mr. Pierce." You said nervously. "What can I help you with?" You knew what he wanted. And you sure as hell didn't have it.

"You're behind on rent, Y/N. I need the money, or I'll have no choice but to evict you." You felt your heart drop to your stomach.

"I-I don't have it right now. My hours have been cut and I-"

"I'm sorry, Y/N. You're a good girl, but I need someone who will lay rent on time every month. I really hate to do this, but I want you out in two weeks."

"I-It's okay, Mr. Pierce," You assured him shakily. "I understand." And with that, he was gone. You gave a shaky breath as you leaned on the door.

"Y/N?" Dean called, approaching the living room. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"I will be." You nodded.

"What happened?" Dean questioned gently.

"I just got my eviction notice." You deadpanned. Dean's mouth popped open in shock. "I have to be out in two weeks."

"Crap, sweetheart. I'm sorry. What are you going to do?"

"Couch surf for a while, maybe? I know Jo will let me stay with her for a couple of days, but if her landlord catches me there, he'll throw her out too."

"What about your parents?"

You gave a cold laugh. "No, they'll never let me come home. I would stay with my older brother, but he's overseas right now. So honestly, I don't know what I'm going to do."

Dean stayed silent for a moment before speaking up. "You could come live with me." He suggested.

"Dean, I really appreciate the offer, but I can't impose on you like that."

"It's okay," He assured you. "I have an extra bedroom. And it's not imposing if I'm asking. Besides, like I said before, I hate living on my own."

"Dean, we barely know each other." You tried to reason.

"Hi, my name is Dean Winchester, I'm an Aquarius, I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky women." You let out a loud laugh. "There, now you know more about me."

"Dean-"

"Just think about it. If you can't find anywhere else to live, my door's always open. I have to go, but here's my number," He said, writing down his phone number on a sticky note. "If you need anything, call me." Dean gave you a small smile before he walked out the door.

You flopped on the couch, staring up at  ceiling. Storm jumped up on your chest, purring loudly. You gently scratched his back. "What should I do, Storm?" You asked. "Would you want to live wYou flopped on the couch, staring up at  ceiling. Storm jumped up on your chest, purring loudly. You gently scratched his back. "What should I do, Storm?" You asked. "Would you want to live with Dean? You seemed to like him." Storm gave a tiny meow, his eyes closing shut. "Real big help there, buddy."ith Dean? You seemed to like him." Storm gave a tiny meow, his eyes closing shut. "Real big help there, buddy."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Tag List:

Cinnamon and Sugar Tags

@vicmc624 @lovememisha @supernatural-jackles @laycblack

Dean Tags:

@akshi8278​

And if anyone else wants to be added to any tag list, let me know!

#deanwinchtser #dean winchester imagine #dean x reader #dean winchester au #dean winchester x reader #Sam Winchester #sam winchester imagine #castiel imagine #benny lafitte #supernatural fluff #supernatural #supernatural au #dean winchester x yn #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #supernatural imagine #supernatural x reader #coffee shop au #jo harvelle #Kevin Tran #jack kline #castiel #ash #bobby singer

[struwwelzeter]

I’m surprised yet I’m not surprised that I haven’t seen anyone on tumblr talk about the Balenciaga collab. Twitter and Instagram are almost universally panning the move and are quite pissed off at it. Personally I think the collab was a dumb and tone deaf move on the management, but I can’t fuss about it too much because of a lot previous musicians I liked ate these kinds of designer streetwear brands up and I just had to turn a blind eye to it eventually.

😕 I was really happy tumblr largely ignored it because I expected the outrage and dreaded it. My take is not gonna be a popular one, and I am sorry it’s probably not what you hoped to get. I’ll try to explain why, but I do have big feelings about this and I don’t know how articulate i can be.

The thing I am seeing in all of these comments, and what I think you refer to when you say it was tone deaf, is a lot of hurt. And in a way I completely, 100% understand that. The problem is, I think, that it’s misdirected when it is directed at the band. The fact that some well off fashion victim can drop what some of us earn in a month on a hoodie, hurts. It hurts that people that have been with this band for years and years, have saved any and each magazine clipping they can get their hands on and struggle to save up for months to buy a concert ticket while other people can do that - that shit hurts. And I understand that. I really do. I feel it too.

The thing is though, and this is where I fear what I say could be taken the wrong way: Rammstein doesn’t owe anyone anything. They don’t owe anyone to stick with only accessible merch, they don’t owe us some weird class loyalty where they turn stuff like this down. They just don’t. Why would they? Why? Because the thing that is hurtful about it is systemic, and they don’t owe us to fix systemic unfairness. They don’t owe anyone to not take advantage of it either, when it is offered to them, because they aren’t exploiting anyone but the exploiters, if that makes sense. They just don’t. Sorry. They are a well off band, but they aren’t rich enough to fix capitalism. I am gonna ask you very honestly, would you say no to becoming successful in a system that by it’s very nature devalues what you do, makes it a huge lottery draw if you can even make a living of what you do and takes advantage of you wherever it can? Rammstein got very lucky, and worked very hard for longer than most people on this website are alive. But in general, the way this society treats people like them, yes, even a large potion of their fan base, is a disgrace. They are a 1 in I don’t know how many cases of people who took the same risks and had the same passion and didn’t make it. And I think they know that too. I am sorry, but they’ve earned it.

I grew up far below what is considered the poverty line in my country, in a community of artists, and I feel very strongly about this one thing: The same person that will drop a 6 figure number on a painting will tell you not to go to art school and get a real job instead, because you can never be “successful” that way (whatever they mean by that.) Please read that sentence again.

Society doesn’t give a shit about artists. And when I mean “society” I actually mean fans, too, because ... I could write an essay about this, but basically because they complain more about not getting a ticket refund than the fact that currently thousands of artists fall by the wayside and won’t make it through this pandemic. I repeat, society, AT large, don’t give a wet fart about artists. It pretends it does, because they want to look cultured, but it really doesn’t. Every now and then they lift one up into the heights of the glittery temples of fame and stardom, to circle jerk with their art criticism and their champagne events and photo ops. And it’s disgusting it works that way, yes. But again, that is systemic. And what I need you to understand is that the majority of people who turn to the extremely precarious lifestyle of trying to paint or to make music for a living, take up with how the world is treating them, take the risk of falling of the grod financially, take the degradation of being asked to “work for exposure” and the “why are you still doing this, wouldn’t it be easier to —— it’s clearly not going anywhere” questions year after year after year for ... they do it for that one tine little chance to be that 1 that gets lifted. This isn’t about the passion — you don’t make art to be “successful”, there are so much easier ways. It’s about taking the merciless grind and maltreatment for that one shot to one day be seen and recognised as worthy people and to get out of the grind. And when it happens, they are supposed to turn it down? Why?

Sorry, but no.

I understand that this is an inflammatory take. I do, in a way, understand why people get angry. I just don’t agree with the direction of the anger - at all. The thing is, if you look at it in a more innocent way, the creative director of Balenciaga, as I understand it, was a civil war refugee who somehow managed to become the leading designer on one of the biggest name in fashion. Do you think it was likely for him to get there? Do you think it was ever easy for any boy to become a fashion designer against a backdrop of constant teasing and a probably even smaller chance of “making it” than musicians? But he did it, and turns out he is a Rammstein fan. So he does what he loves. Big deal. To be clear: I think the existence of brands like Balenciaga is stupid to me too. But still - the same person that will drop a 1000€ bucks on a raincoat will tell you not to go to fashion school, you know? Rammstein also have a history of being in the high fashion world. They had 3 exclusive photoshoots with zoo magazine in the time they had like, idk, 1? With Rolling Stone, they were in fashion magazines first in the US, they had runway shows in their early career ... this was a long time coming. I WAS surprised it was Balenciaga. I hoped it would be something like Givenchy or McQueen but I guess they’re not that classy - what do you expect from a bunch of guys who wear sandals with tracksuits.

Another take I see quite often is the whole “well now there will be knock offs and people that don’t even know the band will start wearing it” and while that is a huge pet peeve, I have to think of Flake writing about that in his book and being all awed by how anyone could become that big - and just feeling a but of a misty eyed satisfaction of “they made it.”

I understand people are angry. But maybe consider of you’re really angry at the band - or simply the fact that we live in a world where some people have to make a living for weeks off the same money someone else drops on a t-shirt.

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Tracing Time

Again a tiny mention of the hate crime in the first few paragraphs here, just as Sander is thinking of the last clip.

Thursday, 12:03

Song: Agnes Obel - Island of Doom

“Oh my god, Gilles, can you please just stop for five minutes?”

Sander’s not sure where the outburst comes from; he regrets it instantly. He feels better today, after the shit-show that was last night. He’s stopped thinking about punches and bruises and pain and lies and Robbe curled up on the ground. Or at least, he’s stopped thinking about it enough that he can breathe easier again. He had never even really noticed the weight, until he’d spoken to Jens the other night. Until then, it had been about Robbe. Robbe being okay, Robbe feeling safe and not missing out, Robbe not hating himself for loving Sander. Robbe moving on. Recovering, healing. Forgetting.

They’ll never forget it entirely, he knows that. But he sees it in Robbe, and he can see it in himself now, those times when it leaves them for a moment. When the universe shrinks back down, and centers them in its orbit, and blocks out the rest of the world. They can forget, for more and more moments.

Once they admit that they haven’t, it becomes easier to try. Ignoring it hasn’t given it less power; it only makes the memory scarier when it pops up unexpectedly.

He’s allowed to curse it. To hate faces he doesn’t even remember. It’s all that anger, that spark of spite, that lights a fire in him and allows him to grow bigger than it. He should have known, with how long Agathe has been ingraining the thought process in him. Giving voice to it, letting his words be carried away on the air, shifts the concrete away to prod at the core, which is only as heavy as damp, rotting leaves. If he speaks at the right moment, the wind will be strong enough to sweep them out.

Maybe the right moment should have happened before last night. Maybe it should have come a year ago. But he’d woken up this morning with such an unexpected sense of light and relief, and he thinks that should count for something, no matter the time.

Then he’d gone to class, and the usual restless-and-bored feeling kicked in, and then he’d settled himself down at one of the picnic benches outside. Now, he’s still there, with the addition of his friends, and the good mood he’d woken up in is dissipating quickly the longer he tries to work on this assignment.

And the longer Gilles keeps distracting him from it.

They’re looking at Sander now from right next to him like he’d just slapped them across the face, and the regret deepens, twists itself into something gnarled and jagged that hooks and tugs at his ribs. Thomas and Emilie have gone silent and, effectively, so has Gilles. They open their mouth only once and quickly snap it shut again.

“I’m sorry,” Sander says quickly. “I honestly didn’t mean it. It’s just—“ he gestures to his laptop “—this fucking assignment.”

Gilles wipes the surprise away and forces a smile, giving a tiny nod. “Yeah, I know. I get it. I can keep it down. Actually, I think I’m gonna go get something to eat, anyway.”

They begin to rise from the bench as they speak, and Sander quickly latches onto their arm and gives a pleading tug. “No. Gilles, I’m sorry. Please, don’t be upset.”

“I’m not,” Gilles waves him off. At Sander’s unconvinced look, they insist, “I’m not.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Sander tries. “Don’t leave.”

Gilles just shakes their head. “I’ll come back. Compromise, yeah? You asked for five minutes.”

Sander slowly lets his hand fall, feeling lost. He can’t just keep apologising, but he doesn’t know what to actually say to make it better. He’s hopeless in such situations. He glances at Thomas and Emilie for help, but they both seem disappointed, too.

“Sander.” Gilles sets a hand on the back of his neck as they finally stand and gives a gentle squeeze. “I get it. It’s fine. I’ll...try to actually help you, or just be quiet whenever I get back, okay? Whichever you want.” They duck down and press a firm kiss to his cheek, and he barely has time to lean towards them before they hoist up their bag and walk off.

Sander wants to call out, but he still can’t find the words, and Gilles won’t be dragged back if they want to go. Instead his mouth opens and closes as helplessly as a fish’s, and Thomas slowly packs up his things and stands instead.

“I’m gonna go…” He juts his thumb over his shoulder, hovering by the table hesitantly. “I’m sure it’s fine, but, you know. But it’ll be fine, Sander.”

Sander’s shoulders slump, but he nods, and Thomas smiles at him before running to catch up to Gilles. Sander pushes his laptop back far enough that he can plant his elbows on the table and drop his head into his hands with a sigh.

“Hey,” Emilie breaks through his thoughts, voice soft. “Gilles is a big boy. They’ll get over it quickly. They really know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

“It was still shitty,” Sander sighs.

Emilie gives him a sympathetic smile and slides across the seat to sit directly across from him, where Thomas had been a moment ago. “What’s going on?”

Sander huffs. “You mean why am I being a dick?”

She ignores him. “The assignment can’t be that bad. Maybe give yourself a break from it, get something to eat as well. Come back to it with a clearer head.”

“It’s not that easy,” Sander says, frustrated. “Just because you can pass all this stuff without even trying, doesn’t mean it’s the same for all of us.”

“Okay, wow, you really do have a stick up your ass today.”

Sander shrinks back, effectively admonished. He, again, didn’t mean to be so harsh. He probably should just stop speaking altogether. Which means he probably should stop writing this essay, too, at least for a moment, until he gets his head under control again. Chances are it will be more strongly worded than he intends if he continues at this rate. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

Emilie stares him down for a moment, then sighs. She reaches out and carefully pushes his laptop aside, and Sander doesn’t even attempt to muster the energy for a protest. Emilie lays her hands over his and doesn’t hold them, but massages the pressure points between each thumb and forefinger as she speaks.

“You know, it would take me a full month to do the kind of art you can pull off in like, a day. And I’m no smarter than Tom. It’s not just easy for me, Sander. I work my ass off to be here as much as anyone else.”

Sander curls in on himself a little more, nodding. He could mumble another apology, but he doesn’t quite see the point. He knows it’s not what she’s looking for. “I know,” he says instead. “I didn’t mean to discredit you.”

“I know.” She gives his hands a squeeze and sighs, leaning in closer to catch his eye. “And I would never discredit you, either, because I know none of us would be here if we didn’t deserve it. It’s not supposed to be easy. But we can do it. That’s the whole point.”

Is that true? It’s something Sander would like to believe, certainly, but at times like this...he doubts his abilities and his choices. What if he’s just not meant for study? In that case, what is he supposed to do?

“And you know it’s okay,” Emilie continues softly, “to ask for help when you feel like you can’t do it.”

Of course she sees right through him. He smiles weakly and works one of his hands free to draw his laptop backs towards him, angling it towards Emilie. “Will you help me?”

She huffs now, but smiles. “If only you’d had to ask one of us that last week. But when it comes to practicals you’re a pro. Otherwise we would’ve realised you’d gotten mixed up.”

“Are you saying,” Sander asks slowly, “that I messed up because I’m too good?”

She grins at him. “Exactly.”

“Cute. Just say you want help with your piece too and be done with it.”

“I want help with my piece, too.”

“At your service,” Sander smirks.

He feels only mildly anxious as she quickly skims through what he has already done, and relieved when her first response is a question that unexpectedly prompts him onwards. He’s typing away again within moments, ignoring the girl’s smug smile as he flicks between tabs and documents and his own thoughts.

When he’s completed another, rather lengthy paragraph, Gilles and Thomas return.

Sander is surprised enough to stop immediately; he hadn’t actually expected the two to come back. But Gilles perches next to him again with only the slightest hesitance and passes him a small, white paper bag with two croques tucked inside.

Sander instantly wraps an arm around their waist and leans into them in a hug, mumbling another apology. It’s all it takes to have Gilles beaming and pressing a kiss to his temple.

“You’re both so easy,” Thomas muses. “Remember this, Em. Just give Sander food and Gilles affection and they’re fine.”

“Or the other way around,” Gilles offers, to which Sander immediately nods.

“Both,” he agrees. “Both is good.”

They’re all halfway through their food when Sander remembers the other thing he wanted to talk to them about, and a smile is stretching his lips before he actually speaks. “So, what did you guys think of Luca? She’s pretty fun, right?”

Gilles and Emilie choke on the same bite, with Gilles falling into a dramatic coughing fit and Emilie just politely clearing her throat with the back of her hand pressed to her lips. Thomas’s sandwich is held halfway up to his mouth as he freezes and examines the scene, the top rim of his glasses cutting his eyes in half as he widens them at Sander. Sander simply laughs, shaking his head at the two culprits and remarking on all their old comments about him being the one lacking subtlety.

As if.

~^~

previous/next

#wtfock #sander driesen #sander season #tracing time #gilles visser #emilie de vries #thomas aarden #one clip left now

[inmyarmswrappedin]

i am catching up on some of your posts from yesterday and i wanted to add that i don’t think that the remakes have exactly tarnished og skam, but maybe more like watered it down in some viewers’ eyes? a lot of people saw og skam as unique in its format and way of portraying teens along with important topics. but after three years of the same stories being repeated across the remakes, it seems like some people have just gotten tired of those same stories and that then gets translated into people forgetting that they were actually new and unique when just og skam was airing. i don’t know if that makes sense? the stories got wrung dry, honestly. which is why i so wish that the remakes had just used the skam format and told their own stories, so that the universe could expand in terms of who is being represented and also so that og skam could just stand on its own once again.

Hi anon! 🍒 This is an interesting ask (btw thanks for the thoughtful asks you guys have been sending me all this time! I genuinely enjoy not just reading your asks, but giving them a platform and discussing them). I feel you in some aspects, but maybe not others.

I agree that the remakes have watered Skam down for some viewers, but I wouldn't say they have watered down the stories per se. I think it's more, like, for some people Skam is simply a show that drops in clips during the week with yellow timestamps and a lead character. That is all that Skam is and nothing else. But if you've been reading my tumblr long enough, you might've caught discussions about how Skam made use of the illusion of "realism" to actually show idealism and hope. However, for some viewers, Wtfock is just as realistic as Skam even when it is continually cruel and disdainful towards its characters. This is a way in which (certain) remakes have watered down Skam, because Skam had a very specific mission statement and feel and intention, that people don't think it's an essential part of Skam that should be kept throughout the versions. And this also goes for aspects like showing a character's vulnerability, for instance. (@lightsandlostbells explained how that was lost in some remakes because they cast actors who, simply put, were too old and self-aware to convey teenage vulnerability anymore.)

I also feel like Skam was really good at finding very specific and personal moments that hadn't really been shown on mainstream TV before, like Isak taking that gay quiz for instance. That was the first time I saw a gay character do that on a piece of media, and yet soooo many people resonated with it! It's small stuff like Noora losing her shit over the fish cakes, which was such a poignant portrayal of controlling one's intake of food not to lose weight (as EDs are often portrayed on TV), but to have control over something when your life is unraveling. I feel like this kind of scenes came about as a result of the extensive research NRK did before sitting down to write the show, like I genuinely feel they listened to the people they interviewed and sought to be accurate and respectful of their experiences. (However limited by their own views as white feminists/white moderates they were.) The remakes, for the most part, have lost these small moments, because they're more focused on dropping as many clips as possible to keep tags alive, more focused on having lots of things going on, maybe to make up for shorter, less intimate clips.

This is how I feel the remakes have watered down Skam (and tbf, the extent to which the remakes have watered down Skam varies as far as I'm concerned, like I don't place Druck and eskam and Austin with Wtfock, France or Italia, and I don't think anyone will be surprised there). Because I think if the remakes had focused on truth over spectacle, I genuinely feel people wouldn't be as tired nor the stories as wrung dry. I feel like they focused more on telling the story than telling the emotional truth behind the story.

At any rate, I feel like if a story is adapted well, it can be adapted over and over and over. Like, how many versions of Romeo and Juliet are out there? Or Pride and Prejudice? But not every version of these stories is equal, which I also feel was something the wider Skams fandom had issues with facing for a while. Like, it was kind of verboten to like one remake more than another, and even more so to like a remake better than Skam. (And for as much as this ask is all about how the remakes watered Skam down... Here's the thing: Some people like those remakes better anyway. And that's fine!)

You could say, "well, people don't just mainline 8 versions of P&P in a single year, maybe those stories would be wrung dry if people did." And like, while I do think all the remakes try to capture international fandom to a bigger or lesser extent, or at least enjoy the international attention... I also don't think any team is expecting people to watch all 8 versions lol. I don't think all that many people involved with a Skam (whether crew or cast) has watched all 8 versions with all of its seasons. So like, that's on us for feeling like we have to watch everything or we're somehow being unfair to a remake or another. And it certainly doesn't help when stans of a particular remake will be like, "well, you're just looking for reasons to dislike this remake, Sander forgave Robbe so idk why you're still talking about it!!" as if I had some sort of vendetta against the Belgians or some shit.

I do miss Skam (or when Skam was at its best rather, like I don't miss Noora's season lmao, though it had its small moments like I've mentioned), but I also feel like... Maybe the people who enjoy the "watered down" remakes never really enjoyed Skam for all that it was, but only certain elements of it. And like, I can certainly relate to that!! Because I definitely enjoyed certain elements of Skam while not liking some other aspects and liking how the remakes did them more (like, for instance, I MUCH prefer how eskam did Nora/Alejandro over Noorhelm and idc that it's "watered down" Skam and that we don't see as many small moments with Nora G as we did with Noora). And I get that Skam stans (or, like, evak stans, because I truly only see this sentiment about wishing that Skam hadn't been wrung dry from evak stans, sorry, I've never seen it from Noorhelm or Sana stans, and Mohnstad stans seem to be angrier that none of the remake P-Chrises capture Herman's raw sexuality (LMAOOOOOO) than anything else) got to have a fandom without comparisons to other evaks or without complaints that evak was too white, cis and male. Honestly, when people draw certain comparisons between Isak and a remake Isak, I too want to scream. But otoh, without the remakes, I wouldn't have David (or Shay, Jo, Cris, Joana, Eva V, Nora G, Amira N, Lucas R, and many others) so you know... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#ask #Anonymous #skams adjacent discouse #my inbox has become a refuge for bitter skam stans and ykw I'm cool with it #because I hope to see YOU ALL here when I start posting about skam scenes #(and compare them to the remakes but dw I'll only really be mean to skam for the isak/sana bench scene)