#let's keep writing these boys

[whatdiditellyouflawless]

Day 1: Reunion

Here's a breezy summer read for you, a WIP (I will convert this into something publishable as a YA book so I promise I will finish it!). It's set during a summer between Seblaine's college years. It follows merrily along with one of my favorite books, "Carney's House Party." This is my first full length fic I've started exclusively for Seblaine Week. As it's the end of an era, the effort felt merited!

For all of those who thought Blaine’s move back to Ohio to teach at Dalton felt like a contrivance…this fic assumes canon until that point. Right after the end of Blaine’s stormy first year at NYADA, Klaine break up.

But they don’t get back together because Blaine never goes to Dalton. He is braver, he goes west and crashes on Cooper’s couch. After year of recovery and development, he starts school at one of the best music programs in the country. The archenemy of my own alma mater: The University of Southern California (I actually worked there and it’s an impressive school, worthy of our dear Blaine).

Kurt and Blaine do talk again, but aren’t silly enough to try long distance. They keep in touch as friends. So after two years of being apart, Kurt is the biggest question mark in Blaine’s life. Fighting with Sebastian after the Season 5, episode 01 proposal maybe be his biggest regret.

Unlike my other stories, I decided to bring Hunter Clarington into the fray. Will Hunter help or hurt Seblaine’s chances of getting together?

(pic hunted up by the Blaine to my Sebastian, @nanthebookworm)

#seblaine week 2022 #Seblaine #seblaine fanfic #seblaineaffairs #seblaineweek2022 #my fic #sw2022 #love you guys #let's keep writing these boys

[viperwhispered]

Rest

Guess what? I've got more Jamil x reader for y'all. You can also find this on ao3. No warnings, just 866 words of kinda fluffy(?) caretaking stuff with gender-neutral reader.

At this point, you know Jamil’s schedule almost as well as he does. So, when you have the chance, you head to Scarabia’s kitchen, hoping to spend some time with Jamil while he and the other students prepare dinner. 

However, when you enter, it takes you but a moment to notice Jamil’s uncharacteristic fumbling and the tired look in his eyes. The way Jamil’s chopping the vegetables has you worried about him cutting himself with that knife he’s usually so adept with, and it seems it’s only force of habit that’s keeping him on track.

You frown, and when your eyes meet Jamil’s, you can already see him put his guard up.

So he knows what state he is in, huh? And still, here he is.

It seems Jamil is reading your thoughts, all of him telling you drop it before any words are even said.

At least he still lets you lean in and give a quick kiss to his cheek in greeting.

“Hello love. Do you still have a lot on your agenda for today?” you ask, keeping your tone low for at least some semblance of privacy in the busy kitchen.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” is the response you get.

Of course.

It takes a little more pestering before Jamil actually answers your question. Your lips purse. That list is far too long to your liking.

You take a moment to think, juggling your own plans and to-do list against the urgency of the things Jamil mentioned.

“Will Kalim be eating from that?” you ask, pointing at the food Jamil is preparing.

“Yes.”

“Alright, I won’t be touching that one, then. I’ve gotta do a few things but I’ll be back when you’re done here.”

“Don’t,” Jamil says with a glare, clearly aware of what you’re thinking.

Yet even his disapproving look doesn’t have the usual weight behind it.

“Yes. I will,” you say firmly, even as your heart curls inwards with another bout of concern.

Really, when did he get so tired?

And how did you not notice it earlier?

You leave the kitchen before Jamil can protest further, hurrying through the dorm corridors to find Kalim.

Soon you have an enthusiastic – and concerned – supporter for your plans. You have Kalim point out a few reliable Scarabia students to help with a few of the most urgent matters Jamil mentioned – cleaning up the common areas, delivering some paperwork to Crowley, preparing some dorm-wide notices – while you see to Kalim getting his school supplies in order for the following day. You even recruit a couple of third years to help Kalim with his homework.

You’ll see to the rest tomorrow – after all, you do also have a boyfriend to look after.

Your conversation over dinner can hardly be called anything else than an argument – despite Kalim’s best attempts at acting as a moderating force between you two. It is very tempting to ask Kalim to tell Jamil to take the rest of the day off – it’s not like Jamil would be willing to openly disobey a direct order. Still, you really don’t need to remind Jamil of his position on top of everything else that you’re already doing more or less against his wishes.

Eventually, however, Jamil’s had a square meal, the most urgent things on his to-do list are being taken care of, and you’ve managed to drag him to his bed.

“I really wish you wouldn’t push yourself so hard,” you murmur, your arms wrapped tightly around Jamil. You’re telling yourself you really do just want to cuddle, to offer some respite to Jamil. Still, there might also be a part of you worried that if you were to let go, he’d just jump up and get back to working himself to the bone.

Yet, for all his protestations, just the fact that you’ve gotten Jamil to lay down with you speaks volumes of his current exhaustion.

“I can’t just leave my duties, albi. You know this.”

“Making yourself too indispensable, is what you’re doing,” you protest.

Oh, you know it’s not so simple. Not with his background, not with all the expectations and assumptions.

But sometimes you really wish it would be.

Jamil merely scoffs in response to your words.

Still, it is undeniable that he is slowly beginning to relax in your arms, slowly bringing his head closer to yours. His eyes are starting to flutter, too.

“I will still need to help Kalim with his homework, at the very least.”

You wonder who he is trying to convince more, you or himself.

“Amin and Khalil are helping him. They’re basically top of their classes, aren’t they? I’m sure they’ve got it.”

Still, Jamil frowns.

You sigh. He really is not letting go, is he?

“Do you want me to go supervise?” you ask.

And leave you, unsaid yet hanging there right after your words.

“Don’t,” Jamil eventually says, the word barely more than a breath.

It seems he has accepted his fate.

You softly caress Jamil’s hair, listening to his softening breathing.

And when you wake up, wholly unaware of having been lulled to sleep in the first place, it’s to the lightest of touches from Jamil’s fingers.

Tagging @diodellet @twstgo @crystallizsch @jamilvapologist @jamilsimpno69 as per request If you'd like to be tagged for any future works, let me know!

#twisted wonderland #jamil viper #twisted wonderland x reader #jamil viper x reader #woop it sure has been quite the burst of creative energy lately #especially since this has apparently been sitting in my drafts since last august #but now you have it #I certainly can’t promise to keep up with this rate of writing (in fact I can promise I won't) but hey let's enjoy it while it lasts #and yes I’m hopping on the “jamil using arabic terms of endearment” train #I’ve read so many fics doing that that at this point it feels more natural than english ngl #even if english would probably be more canonical #also is it a *good* way to go about it to just pretty much just force someone to rest like this? probably not #is it sometimes the only way to get stubborn people to stop for a bit? perhaps #and is it something I might do? #...possibly #also oh boy can you tell that I'm avoiding jamil's dialogue like the plague lately? #I really need to reread so much of his stuff to get a hang of his voice again #(also if you notice typos pls tell me because they always bug me) #(or other wonkiness because I'm not a native speaker and sometimes things just go silly) #anyways hope y'all enjoy!

[itsdefinitely]

i wanna know more about the jerries/jeris

do you want to know the most horrific thing about them?

the lords did nothing to make them the way they are.

yes, the jerry jr was turned into the axeman because of the witchwood, which does what it does because of the lords, but everything leading up to that is just human nature. i see the "girl jeri is nibbly" or "they were influenced by a lord to do the thngs they do" and i need people to understand that that's just. not true. they're just like that. they were taught to be like that by their parents and, more accurately, their church. it's horrifyingly accurate how religion has shaped them into non-functional human beings, who would rather potentially lose their child to the many, many dangers of the literal woods than admit that they had sex outside of marriage.

it's only because it's hatchetfield that jerry jr grew the way he did. there was no lord's intervention in their decision to keep the baby, or to drop out of school to care for him, or to keep him seperated from any other people, or to revolve their lives around the idea that they'd committed a sin and needed to pay by pushing celibacy rather than. i don't know. properly raising their child. it was the way they were taught. the toxic pushing of overexaggerated christian ideals is what molded them. can you imagine being in their place? being a scared teenager and knowing that if you told any of the people you care about most your secret that they would shun you and disown you?

the only people they felt any kind of safe around were each other; of course they're going to be codependent. and even then, they're disgusted by each other for leading them to sin. they're stuck together unwillingly, because without the other, they're alone.

#definitely an ask #and thats not to MENTION what kind of stress they were under when jerry jr started getting less and less human #imagine being completely and utterly alienated from everyone and everything except your parents who pretty much hate each other #and learning one thing: abstinence before marriage #that would do something to your psyche #and im gonna be quickly mentioning my minotaur stuff because im insane #people are terrified of the minotaur purely because he was born the way he was. and he was put in the labyrinth for no fault of his own #in which he THEN became a monster. not because he was one from birth #but because people treated him like one. and youre built by those around you #can you see the connection here #boy jerry #girl jeri #the axeman #abstinence camp #nightmare time 2 #hatchetfield #you guys severely underestimate how unwell i am about them #i keep. trying. to draw. but all my hands want to do is write paragraphs about the jeri/rys #anyway working on an axeman drawing godbless #lets hope this makes sense and im not just pulling words out of my ass #I KEEP FORGETTING HE HAS A NAME OTHER THAN LIL JERRY AND CALLING HIM THE AXEMAN. SORRY LUMBER AXE

[butterflysonnets]

yes i'm rooting for m*leven breakup because byler is neat but mostly? i'm rooting for m*leven breakup for the sake of el and mike.

to me, their romance was always a puppy love born out of a combination of social pressures, naïve curiosity, and a lack of true understanding regarding intimacy and romantic love and what it really is. it was real in that they do truly, deeply care about each other and they are close friends, maybe even shared an attraction, but a maturing romance is so much more than that. they've grown up and out of being boyfriend/girlfriend, and that's okay! i think television/film needs to show more often that most of us don't have definite "soulmates" or first childhood loves that we spend our whole lives with. it doesn't mean these relationships meant nothing and didn't impact us, it just means they've run their course and that something else is in the cards, and this is part of life!

i've always felt el was at her best and most confident self when broken up with mike, discovering who she was and what she liked alongside another girl her age instead of just relying on mike for mentorship on how to live in the real world. she deserves more of an opportunity to find herself, her autonomy, and her independence, and to love who she is, and she's made it clear she's felt insecure in the relationship with mike because she isn't being loved and understood the way she wants, needs, and deserves from someone who is her partner.

also, it's okay if mike doesn't love her in "the way he should". he is not obligated to love her romantically and stay in a relationship with her just because she's a girl, because she "needed someone", or because he cares about her a lot. he shouldn't be pressured into a romance if it's not truly coming from his heart. he deserves freedom to find out and honour who he is, too, instead of just staying in his non-functional first relationship — one he got into as a child, essentially — and defining himself that way because it's what's expected when a boy and a girl are close. he loves her in some way, yes, but it's okay if he doesn't feel comfortable or secure being her boyfriend anymore, for whatever reason that is. he's felt insecure too, and that's valid and it matters.

they are their own people and are steadily growing and changing every day. they need time to figure out who those people are, and it's become clear (at least in my opinion) that those people aren't meant to be a couple at this stage.

they deserve freedom. they deserve to grow up and be authentic to themselves and not feel like they need to lie for the sake of a relationship. they deserve to move on from this version of their relationship that isn't making them happy and rekindle the best part of their bond: their strong, beautiful friendship. they don't have to be a couple if it doesn't make them stronger and better and happier people.

i think it would be healthy and wonderful for a show, especially one consumed frequently by young adults, to show a relationship starting, progressing, and ending on good terms in this way. sometimes things don't work out, and that is okay.

#eve text #elmike #stranger things #byler #only tagging byler because i feel like yall will like this take lol #tagging tagging tagging WHAT ARE EVERYONE ELSE'S THOUGHTS #god i can't believe i'm making a post about stranger things. this feels like poking a bear #i'm not particularly anti m*leven but like... they'd have to do something pretty special at this point for me to feel like it's viable #i'm seeing the bts of s5 and it's got me Having Thoughts #elmike friendship is something i am so passionate about #even before i ever liked byler (didn't ship at all until s4 even though i knew it was a thing before) i've felt this way about elmike #i always believed they were close friends at heart and needed to break up #the romance part of them felt very distinctly young and very much “he was a boy she was a girl” to me #and it hasn't deepened into anything more mature and i don't see how it could based on the current state of the writing... #the fact that lumax exists — a young relationship that is actively maturing and is healthy — makes that clear to me #and the “love confession” in s4 and how disingenuous and miserable it felt was just the nail in the coffin #also the fact that will (who is IN LOVE with mike) was instrumental in making it happen? ... uh... okay... interesting choice… #fucked up and reductive if they make it another queer unrequited love sacrifice for the sake of pushing the heterosexual agenda YUCK #so i really hope the speculation about a m*leven breakup is real!! i think it just makes sense for their characters but who knows #i don't believe in the notion of love at first sight or one true love and i think the writers don't too??? #love to me is an accumulation of experiences and we inevitably choose it at some point rather than fall into it... but idk #tv is so fixated on keeping couples together... sometimes it's just not reality guys especially with young people... LET IT GO... #like i said though i'm not 100% sold that they're going to give up their “golden couple” LMAO #stranger things hasn't historically subverted too many tropes if i'm being honest #anyway i seriously need this season to come out quickly... i'm so bored and getting my master's is crushing my soul #i need frivolity #ALSO btw i won't respond to hateful messages about this so please don't bother. it's not that serious. this is a netflix show

[sisyphusdraws]

Fan art of @i-drop-level-one-loot ‘s darling Kirtch <3

He’s just such a cutie. I’m sure he would take better care of his books, but consider this one a dog-eared copy from his childhood🪲

#yandere x reader #I kind of made up a lot of detail that I couldn’t see in your original sketch so I’m really sorry if he doesn’t match the vision #but I love me a shiny scaly beetle boy #tbh if he gave me art supplies and let me pretend to be an academic writing books on human culture and physiology I’d be in heaven #no shock collar necessary #I keep forgetting I have this blog lol

[hella1975]

it's been pointed out on here before that a lot of terf arguments are actually rooted in sexist idealology that feminists fought and died to unnormalise decades ago and that's its own kettle of fish but one thing i also find very frustrating about this so called 'radical' feminism is that it's so... defeatist? like the moment you categorically label an entire section of society as Bad and Inherently Evil then there's also the implication that nothing can be done about it, and it completely takes all accountability away. saying all men are evil is just another way of saying boys will be boys. he raped her because he's a man. he hit her because he's a man. he didn't listen because he's a man - it's almost offensively oversimplified. there's no point trying to fix this issue in society because men are just Like That, okay! so now what? it's not like they're going anywhere, so you just accept that 50% of the population are evil and will forever treat you terribly and there's nothing to be done about it bc they're biologically predisposed to it? like is that fr the argument here? you're soooo radical for that

#this is coming from someone who used to very genuinely be a misandrist #ironically it was only when i started actually analysing my own feminism that i got MORE confrontational with men #and started respecting my boundaries a lot better BECAUSE i started holding them accountable again #like when men treat me like shit nowadays i dont just write it off as 'what did you expect? he's a man' i get MAD about it #because i EXPECT BETTER FROM THEM even if it's just tiny shit women have to deal with daily #i hold them to just as high a standard as im held to and i make them take accountability when they dont meet that #and whether you realise it or not even on a subconscious level the MOMENT you black-and-white blanket statement all men as bad #you stop holding them accountable. #like it is literally just boys will be boys. do terfs seriously not realise they're sending feminism BACKWARDS #like if a girl came to me with her trauma and people - other girls no less - tried to comfort her with 'yeah all men are evil' #id be fucking furious. like no he did that because he was a piece of shit that had it normalised to him that women arent to be respected #dont you dare let him off the hook with something as simple and uncritical as 'he's a man' #i promise you men like that will MUCH prefer a blanket statement such as 'all men are as bad as each other' #than actually being point blank told they're an abuser or a rapist. because being lumped together is comfortable and even empowering #wheras isolating their behaviour with words that are Bad and Ugly (LIKE 'rapist') is not comfortable at all and has heavy connotations #idk i dont think radical feminism is always bad on its own it can be v liberating. just terfs and misandrists that i have a problem with #dropping this post in a piranha tank and closing tumblr knowing im gonna have some thirty year old karen yelling at me within 5 mins #i probably wont respond to any terf comments bc they literally mentally exhaust me with their stupidity #but that also depends on my mood and ability to keep my mouth shut LMFAO we shall see

[hcdragonwrites]

Good Memories

(a @semisolidmind Twice as Bad Au Fic)

Ok I wrote another one. This one I focused more on Wukongs perspective ! A happier memory, a happier moment- even in this twisted and messed up bad ending. Because there has to be some sweet moments … right ?

Inspired by this ask!

The noise of the stone corridor was quiet. The silence was a peaceful breath of welcome here where Peaches hardly got a moment of true peace. The roar of the waterfall drowned much conversation here so the foot traffic of the mountains subjects was lessened. Except for the patrols of troops, the top ranking officials and guards, the eyes here were light.

A chance to escape had come. Of course escape wasn’t to leave the mountain. Peaches had learned that long ago. To attempt to get down the mountain- to get to the sea that kissed the beaches below- was foolhardy. She had tired once. Once in that far away time when the trauma of abduction has been fresh, when the desire to be anywhere but here drover her to staying awake at night and planning.

Now, years later, the escape was not to leave Flower Fruit Mountain. Though she desperately longed to do such a thing. Hope though was a hard bird to kill even when caged and clipped. So, to circumvent the need to escape- to release some of the pent up agitation- she had found another way to escape.

The patrol passed the alcove Peaches had huddled herself into without a look. She waited. One. Two. Three. Once they rounded the bend she made her move. Peaches snuck out of one of the many side entrances of Water Curtain Cave. She slunked from shadow to tree, avoiding the eyes as best she could. Once beyond the courtyard, beyond the orchards she felt her spirit take wing. It was the bubble of freedom that she had to take as medicine for the true longing she couldn’t - wouldn’t- ever feel.

Not as long as she had her husbands about.

Like a horse turned to pasture, Peaches kicked up her own heels and ran. She ran for the joy of it and for the enjoyment of it. She let herself believe that she was back in the village. That she was back in her home, beneath its peach trees and with its terribly creaking timbers. That this was only a jaunt out to the woods to enjoy the day foraging and finding morsels.

It was a delusion but it was like a balm to her soul. Too much time inside the mountain and among the talks of conquests and bloodshed dampened her. Her husbands never demanded that she attend councils between other Immortals or Demons but Peaches knew when she attended there was far less work for the servants to do. For one, there was less blood to be cleaned from the stone floors. Of course it would take some of her own energy to be apart of these conversations.

Peaches would dress in the courtly and lordly garments bestowed upon her by The Monkey King and The Six Eared Macaque. Gifts they called them. Blood gifts, Peaches knew. Dressing the part as Queen always put the two demonic monkeys into better moods. Of course, whenever she was present it also became a game of keeping.

This game all depended upon the placement of the two heads of Flower Fruit Mountain. They always were placed in strategic spots- to better intimidate or to better please whatever guest they were entertaining. If there was a demon of hungry standing there was always roasted meat and wine a plenty to drink upon. These times, Sun Wukong would be seated closest to the doors. If she entered the room he would catch her wrists, her hand, her waist. Those claws would grip and tug, and she would be in his lap. Wukong would keep her there. If the King was in the middle of a conversation he would simply stop and lavish compliments upon her. Wukong was more of a earnest love then his darker counterpart. She would be forced to stay in his lap, feeling his hands and the soft admonishments if she tried to move, as the conversation continued.

Peaches wished she could have said it was always unpleasant. In the years of captivity, in the moments of stuck between hope and despair, she had come to find a balance of some sort. After so long being molded and worn down by their attentions, Peaches had begun to tolerate the attention. Wukongs attentions helped establish her as something of importance and a person not to be touched. It helped when those demons had an inclination for human flesh.

Too many times she had been told not to touch the food, the meat, when it was presented on the council table.

If the sworn brothers were entertaining an immortal being with no bloodlust for humans the positioning was different. More lax in some ways but no less imposing. Sometimes Peaches would be able to actually sit in a seat beside or between the monkeys. Other times, Wukong would claim her to his lap and tug and tease at her, a game to turn her to blushing of what things he would whisper into her ear. And, in those moments when Wukong did not claim her it was Macaque who stole her into his seat. He was more touching, less outwardly loud praise. But still enough to burn her cheeks, to make her wish to dissolve.

Water Curtain Cave fell behind her as Peaches rushed forward into the woods and away from her husbands. Macaque was away, on some errand or other again. Wukong would be occupied until late into the evening. A conglomerate of would be allies wished to pledge themselves to the King today, and it would take much of her rowdy husbands time and energy to entertain. It would also boost his ego and, with no worry of bloodshed (unless someone was foolish enough to insult) Peaches had taken her leave.

She rarely got moments alone and she laughed, some of the tension sloughing off like snow in a spring melt.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sun Wukong rarely had patience with beings that held incompetence. He was seated in his spot in the council room, upon his golden gilded throne. The warlord was in full regalia, armour polished to a blinding sheen and staff set beside him. However all the splendour about Wukong couldn’t distract from the loathsome thing huddled at the foot of his dais, blubbering and sniffling like a slug.

The demonic monkey felt his teeth grind and clip in his mouth as the weakling worm of a dragon sniffled and bowed its head in a kowtow. Disgusting. This beast had come asking him to slay his brothers and sisters in the western sea so he could be appointed heir. Wukong raked his eyes over the diminutive fellow, taking stock.

Scales as thin as moonbeams. Teeth as square as a cows. Mane bedraggled and unclean. How filthy. This little worm couldn’t even clean himself before grovelling for my help.

A poor ally if he choose to anger dragons in an ocean a world away. Weak of claw and fang.

“It’s obvious you cannot even keep yourself fit let alone keep a kingdom if I gave it to you.”Wukong waved his hand, bored. “Leave my sight. Maybe once you’ve actually wet your muzzle and had a scrap or two I’ll consider. Get out.”

“But -“

Was this Dragon also weak of hearing? Was it slow of wit? He had dismissed the stupid beast. His eyes flashed.

“Get. Out.”

The thing moved now, scattering loose scales in its speed to escape. They fell like toenail clippings and Wukong hissed in disgust. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose and felt the patience in his body diminish. The king raised a bell and gave it a ring, summoning several servants - not monkeys these creatures were those foolish demons that had imposed themselves in the paths of Flower Fruit Mountains conquests- to clean up the mess of scales.

Wukong had a full itinerary for the day. He had already met with his southern vassals and those positioned in the East. They were reporting movement from a would be upstart exorcist, one that deemed himself a demon slayer. A blood hungry pup. If it was blood he craved then Wukong would deliver it to him. He had set Macaque to the East, tasking him with bringing the man to heel. He had given his brother free reign. If the six eared demon wanted, Wukong wouldn’t stop him from making the exorcist into a gift - of flesh. Maybe I should have sent this whining worm to the East. Macaque would have shown him the ropes of turning an enemy into a boon.

“Foolish idiots.” Wukong grumbled, irritated. The other appointments had been his people which he took gladly. His own residents of the mountain were precious to him. They only asked for the numbers to help in the forest grove harvest. It was apple harvesting time and some of the trees were showing signs of damage from the deer and other beasts. The other group had been some now turned immortals begging for teaching in the east of shape changing. Wukong had dispatched them with ease, tossing their heads to the sea. He would send their corpses off to the visiting Swallow Heart- an upstart creature with a good three hundred beastly birds- as a peace offering.

His mood would have been better if his Wife had attended his talks. Wukong had kept glancing to the side, looking to the opulent doors and hoping they would open. Or her scent would waft in from the corridor, announcing her approach. Wukong felt his mouth salivate a bit at the thought of her. Oh he was lucky. His little Peach. Wukong and Macaques of course. Not just his morsel. Though today… with Macaque away. ..

She was all his to adore and hold and to make squirm with his praises and his demands.

“Trouble my King?”

An attendant asked of him, waking him from his daydreams. The monkey was by his side, face curled in worry. Wukong let the thinly held patience fall away as he gave into rubbing his head. Too much courtly affairs. He usually didn’t mind the task. In fact, he enjoyed pitting his mind against that of the estate he ran, the duty he held. Wukong had an iron will for ruling. He enjoyed the fruits of that labour, the rewards of conquest. One of the best rewards was here in the caves, walking the halls all alone …

“Trouble that can be easily cast off.”

Thoughts of his Peaches, and the irritation of his last meeting, decided it for him. Wukong rose out of his throne and stretched. Though he was a monkey originally of stone it didn’t mean he didn’t get sore in his throne. Popping his back, Wukong motioned to the door. “Walk with me.”

“Yes my King.” The servant walked beside Wukong as he stalked down the Halls. His people dipped and bowed. The servants who had been brought to the mountain and had been forced to serve kept their eyes downcast. Wukong paid them no heed. He had one goal.

“Peaches!” Wukong sang through the palace. He looked in her usual haunts. She had a tendency to stick to habit and Wukong made it his goal to know all of his little sweets habits and places of hiding. The kitchens, the scroll rooms, the bedroom and other such places deep beneath the mountains stone.

“Peaches?” Wukong now questioned. Usually she was so near he could hear and track her just from knowledge of her habitual motions. But there was a lack of her today in Water Curtain Cave.

“Where has my wife gotten to?” He mused aloud. Wukong would have been more worried in the early days of her life on the mountain. Peaches had a tendency back then to plot and scheme and attempt every sort of trickery to escape the brothers. She had tried tricking (Macaque had been present for that one where he had kept her trapped in a riddle game for hours), sneaking (again a foolish thing due to the number of ears between her husbands numbered eight), drugging (Wukong had thought it cute to see her try and ply him with so much wine he became inebriated. That had led to … other things however.) and finally just running.

Running had led to chasing. Wukong had tried to terrorize her just a small bit to discourage the action. Having her run off while he was in the middle of meeting and for him to rise and say “Excuse me gentlemen” and then rush off had first been an inconvenience. He would never punish his Peaches. No, never. When he talked of the terror it had been more to scare her of what could snatch her up. Tigers, leopards, wolves and their ilk. Taking her back to their rooms and tucking her in and locking the door was the most he did. If he had time, if he could ignore the work of the day he would wear her out in other ways. It would either be both or one and the other who would keep her attention. Wukong was a King but he wasn’t a tyrant.

This didn’t deter his little wife. She seemed … more determined, however, to attempt it. Peaches had learned over the years that running away was useless but that didn’t stop her from taking to flights of fancy. Which lead to a different kind of chasing. A pursuit that called to the raging hunger inside him, to that predator. Peaches had given him and Macaque a new game- a game he craved almost as much as he craved her scent in his nose and her body in his arms.

After opening their closet and seeing the small little nest she kept in there empty as well, Wukong felt his tail give an excited lash. The fur on his spine began to rise up in anticipation. It practically shook through his blood. Made his mouth grin and his body begin to buzz as if drunk upon fruit wine.

“A game is afoot. A game all for myself~” Usually these games of hide and seek with their wife became a race between him and his sworn brother. Macaque would enjoy the competition as he had a unfair disadvantage. His keen hearing compounded on his shadow ability let him take a lead that Wukong wouldn’t be able to close normally. But with his brother away from the mountain… Wukong laughed to himself, beginning to shed his courtly attire.

“Do you require anything, my king?” The servant asked from his shoulder. Wukong passed the servant his crown and those few glittery vestments he bore to impress the lesser demons who came to grovel for his power.

“Clear the rest of my meetings for the evening.” Wukong commanded. Where could my sweet have gone off to? To the grove? The stream? Did she perchance head to the woods? The thought of the hunt was already consuming his mind.

“My King that would mean dismissing the Swallow Heart Demon and his Entourage.” The servant set the items delicately on Peaches armoire, being careful to not tip any of the bottles, brushes or powders there. Macaque had sent for that armoire for their Wife. It had cost a pretty penny to have it brought in with the paints and brushes.

It was a warm memory in Wukongs mind, seeing the pure delight in her eyes. That night had been filled with the boys teaching her how to use the more expensive bits of makeup and had led to her learning to paint war paint upon their faces. The warm memory set a second shiver up his spine. When he caught Peaches he wouldn’t let her go- he would let her know how much he cherished her. The happy memories of her face were becoming more numerous now. It set his tail to swaying like a cat who had caught a canary.

“They are birds yes? Tell them to find another place to roost for the evening.” Wukong stretched his legs one at a time. He waved one hand to the servant, trying to rush the discussion along. He had a wife to find.

“I will meet them in the morning when my mood returns to better and more … harmonious thoughts.” All he could see in his head was her. Her skin shining in the light, her hair in his hands so soft. The rush of feeling hit him low in the gut. Was it love ? Was it possessiveness ? Was it possession? He didn’t know but it had his heart thundering. To think a mortal women could bring such a change through him so rapidly…

“I will see it done sir.” The servant bowed.

“Good.” Wukong stretched his arms, pulled his back straight. He had removed all but the trousers he wore. The glory of Sun Wukong had been set aside. Armour wouldn’t slow him- he was the Sage that had rebelled against Heaven. Had almost won. Armour was little hinderance in his silence or his ability to move. It would however limit him to capturing his intended target. Peaches was soft, pliable and would not like a tackle from her husband if he was wrapped all in his battle regalia.

He bounced on his heels. The excited energy wanted to be unleashed, to be set free. Wukong left the servant in their rooms, swiftly walking to the entrance of Water Curtain Cave. His generals saw him and bowed, continuing their rounds. Smaller monkeys, the children of his people came and clambered for his attention. He smiled at them and turned them back to their mothers promising attention later.

The waterfall came into sight and Wukong grinned. Just like he had when he first had been crowned King, the monkey lord bent low a palm pressed to the floor and launched himself through the torrent of water. He was out on the other side in a spray of water. Once on the ground again he looked, listened, smelled.

Wukong was an expert tracker. He could read the signs of his mountainous home. He knew every blade of grass every bend of the leaf in the trees above. Wukong looked for the signs, the telltale notes his wife would leave so lovingly in nature for him to find. There ,beneath the shadow of a tree. Wukong moved swiftly and lightly, faster then the long spotted cats to the far west. The press of foot too large to be a monkey, to heavy to be a cat.

I got you~

Wukong followed her path, enjoying the exertion and the feel of the sun on his fur.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Peaches had found herself a nice little patch in the wood, a small trickle of a stream ran through a copse of tightly packed willows. It had a few gooseberry bushes in its shade and she plucked them eagerly.

She had brought her small bit of knitting, a book, and a change of clothing if she wanted to take a dip in the water. The gooseberry’s were a plus, having been ripened and their red flesh sweet. Peaches didn’t have a snack- running into the kitchens would have alerted the staff she was going out and she did not want a retinue of guards on her tail. It was nice and pleasant to be alone. Hearing the soft babble of the water over the stones, the wind sighing in the leaves. It was peaceful. She could fall asleep. In fact a nap didn’t sound bad—

Snap.

Her head snapped up, eyes widening. That had been too loud to be a simple little bird or just the sound of a branch falling from the wind. She felt her calm wash away in a rush of icy fear. Though Flower Fruit Mountain was possibly the safest place in the world, it did still have the occasional predator. Bear or tiger were the largest creatures to have been spotted on the mountain. Wukong and Macaque assured that the worst of those beasts kept to the lower plains of the mountain.

But what if— what if I went too low?

Her ears strained, her eyes blown wide to see. Nothing revealed itself from the emerald green foliage or the berry bushes. Her hair stood on end as something shuffled in the undergrowth. Behind her. Peaches spun, holding a knitting needle out—

To air.

Another brushing sound, like that of claws across wood. Peaches took a step back, away from the sound. Her heart was in her throat and all the peace of the day was gone in the rush of animal instinct that screamed in her mind.

Freeze of Fly?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sun Wukong followed her trail easily to the copse of trees. His Peaches had much to learn if she wished to our pace him in his tracking ability. The path she took was such a massive trail he could see it from miles away. The demonic monkey crouched low, keeping close to the earth.

She was sitting next to the little stream at the foot of a great willow. His Peaches. Her fingers were red with gooseberry juice, her hair down in the heat. She was the picture of peaceful, the very image of serenity. Wukong felt a desire to grab her to hold her close, to take the juice of the berries off her fingers and hear her laughter and voice.

Gods he craved her.

He held off leaping, held off and observed. Magic would make it easier to drop in on her but he liked the challenge of keeping his current shape. So Wukong lay low, watching. The brothers had a practice of watching their Peaches when she thought she was alone. It was in those moments they learned the most about their mortal heart. How she would sigh, how she always got itchy if she wore too much of the powder upon her face. It was how Wukong learned Peaches preferred bangles over rings. How Macaque gleaned that her favourite foods involved a doughy treat called cinnamon rolls. Little things. Silly things. Treasured things that the brothers would go over and strategize on how to make their precious fruit the most comfortable. To win her favour. Her love. Her attention.

Sometimes she would cry in these moments and the game would have to be put on hold as they made themselves known beyond her field of vision. Wukong hated when she was upset. He knew, somewhere in his twisted heart, that he had caused these tears. That he was to blame for the sorrow that weighed heavy on her.

I can make her happy. No one else saw her sparkle like we did. She’s ours. Forever if I have my way.

But right now he had a game he was in the middle of. The immortal peach he was keeping for her would have to wait. Wukong stalked forward, through the brush. Peaches had laid herself back, body flat to earth and completely relaxed.

Wukong took a branch in his hands and snapped it.

His Peaches lifted herself up and whipped her head in the direction. Wukong had already moved, speed on his side as he circled beyond and behind her. The terror on her face made something stir in him, a protective urge. He would sooth her worry when he caught her. He would pet her hair, hold her close and tell her how foolish she was to leave his safe embrace. She had nothing to fear from him. Only his little sweet fruit didn’t know it was him. Not yet at least.

Wukong let his tail tussle the dead leaves beside him then darted off. He raked his claws over a bit of bark and then zagged back to a new hiding spot. Peaches turned like a doe, alert and eyes wide. Her face was full of fear, full of such open prey-like terror that Wukong couldn’t resist anymore. He rumbled, mimicking the sound of a big cat. Sweet Peaches stared right at the spot he was hiding.

Run little wife, he urged. Come on. Run for me.

At his second snarl, she obliged him. She spun her back to him and took several vain attempts to run. Wukong smirked. And leapt.

He caught her in several bounds barreling full into her body and taking her off her feet. His hand had her by the back of the neck, the other about her middle. They rolled in the air but Wukong angled himself, curling her into him and taking most of the fall. Peaches cry rang in the trees and sent the birds flying. Wukongs laughter was loud and shook through his body as he landed with her. The demon caged her in, setting her hips between his legs so he straddled her. One hand had both her wrists held above her head. The other angled her face to him, the eyes firmly shut.

“Caught you~” He purred.

“WUKONG!” Peaches gasped, opening her eyes to stare right into his face. Wukong felt his heart give a squeeze as the fear melted into ease. Ease with him. It sent a trill of joy up his spine. “You gave me a heart attack. I thought you were some tiger.”

“No love.” Wukong mentally took note of her. No scrapes from their tumble, no bruises. A perfect capture. “A tiger wouldn’t have toyed with you like I did.” Here he stretched his free hand, claws on display.

Peaches laughed. A laugh for him. His tail was swaying, his face inching closer to hers. “I’m glad I’m not getting devoured then.” She said, breath still catching up with her shock.

“Oh my Peaches, I may not be a tiger but I’m going to devour you all the same~” he let the words sink into her, enjoying the blush that coloured her face before he bent down and kissed her. She tasted of gooseberries, of laughter and the earth and ever of peaches. Her lips were soft against his. Wukong moved away from her mouth, wanting to taste her throat, her cheeks, her nose. Kisses he planted along her most ticklish spot on her neck, eliciting giggles and cries of mercy.

The Monkey King felt like he was drinking wine, head getting lighter and lighter while his body relaxed over hers. Only with Peaches had he felt so at peace, so blissful. It’s why he could never let her go. To rob himself of this? Never. She was his and he was hers and that was it.

Peaches pressed a kiss to his nose and he swooped back down to capture her lips. How could someone so soft and small consume me so? He felt starved. He felt parched. Here Peaches was, a bountiful feast and and overflowing cup. He couldn’t get enough of her.

Wukong nipped her neck, tugging her into his teeth to elicit a squeal. She laughed and tried to worm her way out of his grip. “Wukong please! Let me up, let me up!”

“Only when you tell me how well I caught you. Lavish praises on me.” He grumbled. He didn’t want to let her out of his arms. If he could he would keep her here and live in this bubble of joy forever. Peaches blew hair out of her face.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…”

“I assure you I’m not. So tell me.”

“Wukong your pride is insufferable.”

“And your beauty is unconquerable.” He countered and was rewarded with a scarlet Peach. “Now tell me.”

“Ugh. You caught me. You startled me so badly I thought I had gone too low on the mountain.” That had Wukong grinning wide as he now rolled over taking her onto his chest.

“Go on~”

A snort. Peaches was open in only the brief times when his and Macaques earnest attentions had worn down her barriers and aversions to nothing. Here was his adoring and adorable wife. One he wanted to bring treasures and conquer worlds for. I would burn this whole place to the ground to please you.

They spent a time there, the two of them in that grove of trees. Wukong kissed the gooseberry juice from her fingers and Peaches tried to see the good in this moment. Wukong was, a murderer. He was a monster who had taken her from her village. He had killed the villagers. Laying on his arm, feeling his voice and laughter in her body, seeing the tender way he held and touched her…

His love was hard to deny. To match up to the truth she knew so well. He was a murder. The soft glow as his eyes alighted when a butterfly landed on his hand. Wukong would kill again. He set the butterfly on her hand and they both marveled at the changing colors.

Peaches felt a bit more of her resolve break. Wukong and Macaques love was an ocean slamming into her. It was eroding the coastal cliffs she had within her. It had been a constant, driving force these years. She didn’t … she couldn’t remain so indifferent in the wake of such attention. Of such open love. She would never fully be at peace here. However … she was finding a balance.

Maybe that was the closest she would be to the love she originally had showered them both in. Or maybe she would fall head first into that roaring surface and loose herself in their love.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Wukong tugged the brush through Peaches hair, listening to her sing softly in the night air of their bedroom.

Suddenly- the ground became black and Peaches squealed as she disappeared into the earth—

—and popped up in Macaques arms.

“Save some of her for me, Wukong.” Macaque drawled, hands wrapped around her middle in a possessive gesture. They were back in their room, the night air wafting cool tonight. Wukong and Peaches had spent the rest of the day in that copse of trees and upon the mountain. They had walked hand in hand, visited the monkeys and the new babies that had been born to the family’s farthest from the caves.

It had been a day of sweet gestures and, whenever Peaches had turned eyes inward or far off, he had pressed her with tender affection. Drawing her back to the present. If Wukong had learned anything over the decade it was to keep his Peaches in the present, to keep her away from the drifting worry of the past.

They had returned home only when the first stars had begun to spark in the dark sky. Wukong had carried his tired wife all the way back to Water Curtain Cave. He whispered how he would make a necklace of the stars and give them to her and teased out of her sleepy laughs.

Maybe tomorrow will be full of hardships. Maybe she will hate me for what I did. This though- I would kill a thousand villages if I could get a single day of joy like this.

Macaque had returned shortly after dinner, coming into their room to Wukong holding Peaches in his arms and biting more of her neck between brushes. Of course Mac had wanted a bit of her to himself after being gone for a day. Wukong obliged, not bothered one bit.

His brother in arms was still dressed in armour meaning he had probably just arrived back from the East. Not a speck of blood was on his clothing. Wukong would ask him later about how the trip went, when Peaches was asleep. This moment was meant to be a memory of joy. He would not drag kingly duties into this moment.

“I caught her fair and square.” Wukong sniffed, growing a bit jealous at Macaque. He had stolen his prize from beneath his nose- right when he was getting to Peaches too, in her sleepy state. Macaque blinked then stared between the two, his purple eyes flashing.

“You played the game without me?” Wukong heard the bit of hurt and, though he was sure part of it was drummed up for sympathy, felt a bit of guilt. Only a splinter of it. He didn’t regret acting on his own. The game was his to play when he was away. However it had the desired effect on their Wife.

“Oh Mac- no I didn’t know Wukong would be coming after me.” Peaches was so easily guilt tripped. She kissed the darker demons cheek. The sudden flash of confusion and delight passed over Macaque features. His eyes stole towards Wukong, questioning.

Is she happy? Is she giving without teasing? Wukong nodded, the smile on his face like the soft warm dawn. Peaches was happy and that’s all that mattered. She was happy and would give to them.

“He did have a full schedule of meetings.” She bemused. “What.. happened to them?”

“I cleared my evening.”

“Of course you did.” Macaque snorted, half heartedly irritated. His fingers were already brushing through Peaches hair, grooming.

“Nothing was getting done beyond my latest meeting.” At the raised eyebrow of his six eared brother, Wukong waved a hand. “I’ll tell you later but for now- why don’t we have another game of tag.”

“A-another one?” Peaches sat up a bit, looking outside to the dark and moonlight beyond.

“Well you owe Macaque a chance to catch you. And I want to compete again. We will give you … thirty minutes.” Wukong grinned. “No going outside. Just find one of your hidey holes in the Palace, Love.”

“What if I’m too tired for this game?” She pouted and Wukong smirked. Seeing her pout brought the urge to tug her close and erase that pout from her lips all the stronger. He had been hoping she would say it. It’s why he had one of his chefs cooking a very special sweet treat.

“If you play you’ll get a reward~” Wukong crooned.

“That sounds ominous.”

“It’s innocent. I have some delicious sweets being made as a treat. Just a few short rounds and all of them can be yours.”

“Are they …. Cinnamon rolls?”

The Monkey King felt like he had caught her all over again. “Yes”

“… two games. Then no more. I’m tired..”

Macaque kissed her temple and set her free. “Go on darling. When I find you first I will tell you of the sights I saw.”

“You have to get to her first brother.” Wukong challenged. When he got to Peaches he would make her laugh again, demand kisses and more.

“And I will!” The six eared demon grinned eyes flashing. Peaches stood a bit uncertainly until Macaque leaned forward and gave a kiss to her temple.

“Go Peaches. And don’t stop running till you are in one or both of our arms.”

Peaches ran.

#hcwrites #writing stuff #hcfanfics #twice as bad au #fanfic for semisolid #OK THIS ONES A BIT HAPPIER #I Hope i still captured the boys. #I wanted to write something more of a happy memory- even though in this bad end I don’t think there’s too many #did I make Peaches like cinnamon rolls ? yes #also I use peaches because it is nicer then using y/n. it just feels better #jttw au #jttw fanfic #jttw x reader #six eared macaque #this is the only SEM I let slide past me that I like #the other ones I know (stares at Kiri and Kaiju) are bastards #not saying this Macaque can’t be - but like. at least he has a redeeming quality. #wrote this with music yes. lord Huron love like ghosts was for the end but. #for the first part it was Rule27 drunk on pride by Fish in a Bird Cage #the best helped keep the tempo for what I wanted to convey #semi if I didn’t get it right tell me I will LEGIT FIX IT #I just have been meaning to write for you again but I got bogged down with stuff #good luck with college btw #yes this one’s more Wukong centric #sorry you Macaque lovers #it would have been too long to write if I included both of them #maybe I do a seperate one for y’all #jttw tag #bad end wukong #jttw sun wukong

[jankwritten]

Jasico Bingo Challenge: love letter

A sheet of paper, folded into thirds, dotted in places with what must be water and grass stains. The handwriting is legible in some places, and shaky in others. In the margins are small doodles of birds, clouds, trees, and other miscellaneous, abstract shapes, as if the writer’s mind kept wandering. 

TO: Nico di Angelo 

FROM: Jason Grace 

Hey, Nico. If you’re reading this, something probably happened to me. Maybe I hit my head again and lost my memories, or something, and you went through my stuff to try and find things to remind me of who I was. Maybe this fell out while we were hanging out, one day, and you saw it was addressed to you and you picked it up. Maybe I died—

However you found this, I guess, surprise! :) 

First thing’s first: I’m sorry for leaving. I know I begged you to stay, and then turned around and left, and I really hope you understand - I didn’t leave because of you. I needed to find Leo, and leaving with Piper was the easiest way to do that. I had to try and get him back. 

I wanted you to come with, but you were still healing and things were going really well with you and Will. I hope things still are, in fact. Wherever I am, I’m so proud of you for how far you’ve come, and how much I’m sure you continued to grow even after I left. 

I really love you, man. I never got to tell you that, but you’re one of my best, closest friends. You mean so much to me. You showed me a side of the world that I never would’ve seen otherwise, and gave me a space to be myself, and I will never, ever know how I deserved that. How I deserve you. 

Is that out of left field? Haha it definitely is. Sorry. 

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Nico. I didn’t want to leave. I’m so sorry for leaving you. I’m sorry I had to go and I’m sorry it had to be me, but it couldn’t be her, Nico, it can’t be her, it can’t be. It has to be me. 

It has to be. 

Here, some of the words are smeared from the water marks. Lines cross through some words that have then been re-written, as if in after-thought the author realized they were too important to delete. 

If you really are reading this, after the worst case scenario, I understand if you’re angry. I understand if you never want to think about me again, after what I’ve done. I’ll understand if you storm to your father’s palace and demand I be placed in the worst of the worst punishments for being so stupid. 

Gods. Gods, Nico, I’m never going to get to tell you how I really feel. About all of this, about everything I’m going through, I’m never going to be able to tell you and that hurts. It hurts more than knowing I’m going to die, it hurts more than getting stabbed and poisoned. I’m going to die loving you and you won’t even know until it’s too late. 

Maybe this is a stupid bad idea. Maybe I should let it die with me. Is it cruel, to tell you how I feel if I’m gone? Does this make me an awful person? 

Shit. I think I’m an awful person, Nico. I’m awful and I’m selfish and I can never choose things for myself, it always has to be for the greater good, so this is it. This is as selfish as I can be. This is all I can be for you. 

I want to see you on the other side. I want you to punch me for getting myself killed and hate me for being a hero and I want you to know that I didn’t want this but it needed to be me. It has to be me. 

I’m still wrapping my head around it, but it has to be me, okay? So if I’m really gone when you’re reading this, okay, you have to let me stay gone. Please. If you get hurt, if you die, and it’s my fault, I could never— 

Here, the letter abruptly stops. Then, it continues: 

That’s all I wanted to say, anyway. That I love you. I love you in any way I can, and even if I’ve done it silently, and stupidly, from a distance, just know that it was there, the whole time. It’s still there, wherever I am. Dead, or lost, or whatever. I love you, Nico. I’m sorry.

-- Jason Grace :)

#jasicobingochallenge2024 #love letter #tw major character death ment #tw suicidal ideation #i haven't read TOA so I don't really know what Went Down with this shit but I think Jason did journal-type letters to people #he wrote down whatever it was he wished he could say to them before he died #I think there's one to Piper about how much he loves her and wishes things could've been different for them #I think there's one to Leo where Jason pours his guts out about how much he hates him and needs him and wishes he hadn't died #(the irony of that is lost on him) #he writes one to Reyna about how he wishes they had more time to be friends again #He writes one to Hazel begging her to keep an eye on Nico. pleasing for her forgiveness because he knows she'll be so angry #one to Percy and Annabeth in a similar vein. #i thik Jason just had a lot of feelings that he never let himself feel until he decided to die for everyone #and in that moment his dams broke and he realized that he was never going to have the chance to be himself #not really #he was destined for this. he was destined to be the son of jupiter champion of hera sacrifice of olympus. #who knew the boy raised by wolves was really a lamb for the slaughter #ANYWAY. :) #pjo #jason grace #hoo #nico di angelo #jasico

[skitskatdacat63]

Rn if I could make f1 drivers do any challenge, I'd make them play pool against each other's teammates. It is the ultimate rich boy sport! It's so addictive but infuriating. I just want to watch them slowly devolve into cheating and raging against each other when the other person makes an insane unbelievable shot. It says a lot about a person how they react when the other person wins dhfjkg at the last moment ....

#like i think the dynamics would be interesting okay #if one person is better do they take pity on the other and let them cheat and give them tips? #or do they just sadistically watch as the other person keeps failing a shot #and what if the game goes down to the wire #do they collapse onto their knees as they realize the person has a perfect ending shot? #i have a lot i could write abt this LOL #whenever i pick up a new hobby im like ...time to put the boys in new situations #this and frisbee 😭 #one day ill draw one of them in a sexy pose w a pool stick and wearing a tight suit dw #catie.rambling.txt

[p0rchc0ll4ps3]

random harry / jean pre-martinaise thoughts. headcanons mostly since the game doesn't give Much to go off. wrote this to gather my thoughts for how to write the jean/harry dynamic.

warning for suicide mentions and also dora is underage (17) when harry meets her. also abusive toxic relationships and domestic violence. also brief nsfw mention (just "they fuck" and that's it, nothing in-depth). also these people r homophobic

so jean:

Partnered with Harry from '46 to '49

officially met harry after dora left harry in '45. Never met dora. was aware of / had talked to harry b4 then, but they didn't work together

Partnered w Harry after a previous partner left Harry.

Only guy left (along with trant but jean forced trant to stay)

then Harry timeline maybe:

Met Dora when he was 23 and she was 17 in ’30. They lived together for 3 years. The first 2 years are perfect, happy, out of a dream.

Cracks start to form in the facade about year 3, but they try to work through it. But she’s young and naive. She convinces him to join the rcm bc he cares so much for revachol it hurts. Stop wasting your potential being a gym teacher, be a cop. Save the world

And he does he goes and joins. But then they start to run out of money. And he starts to lose it

Joined rcm in ’33 when he was 26

Did so many cases probably coz of stimulants + alcohol

Has had amnesiac blackouts in the past

In the beginning Harry's GOOD. Hes SMART. He manages. And then they load case after case on him. And hes already manic depressive as fuck (bc i hc him with bipolar i). So hes already working up a healthy alcohol addiction. Bc he and dora argue a lot.

After the first year or two, the arguments start to get more and more frequent. They’re not good for each other, but you don’t just Leave someone. You have to stick with them. And maybe dora also had hope he’d get better

But towards the end it’s toxic as fuck, she hits him, he hits her, they yell at each other. Toxic environment breeds toxic out of both of them.

She basically matured around him, under his influence, so it’s VERY abusive, and she starts to come into her own person and demand independence, and fight back, and he doesnt like that. And she also doesnt like it when hes sad and she TELLS HIM that. And he doesnt like that. Bc shes SHIT with his mental illness and not patient or understanding at all. Plus he's drunk and high so much, so as far as she’s concerned that’s why he’s like that (his manic and depressive; she blames it on the drugs and the drink) (ignoring the fact that he’s been this way since the beginning bc the first two perfect years remain without issue in her mind, even tho there are plenty of issues there)

Dora left him in ’45, 12 years after he joined the rcm.

She’s 38 in ’51, he’s 44. 6 year age gap. Were together for 15 years

Had a previous partner in the rcm from 33 to 46. 13 years working together!!!!!!! (Harry was 26 to 39; old guy (born in ’85) was 54 to 67)

Maybe an older guy who mentored harry. Like a real noir type of guy. Gets partnered with this new young guy bc hes really good at his job and harry can keep up. Was like. Yeah no I dont want to work with anyone anymore, but then theres harry and he needs a partner and the older guy is like fuck. I like this one lemme grab him. Bc he sees harry’s potential. They work REALLY well together. Old guy teaches harry a lot of shit. hes super bitter on the outside and hardened by life, and harry gets a lot of his vices from him. The guy’s a drunk old cranky bastard and no one wanted to work with him and they all thought oh this guy won’t lighten up. But he picks harry. And harry opens him up.

He’s really good with harry’s manic episodes. But it’s like. They bounce off each other, balance each other out. But also maximize the shit. Encourage the bad habits in each other

Old guy is shit with the depressive episodes. Harry says I feel like killing myself, old guy says go ahead and do it nothing in life matters

Harry got manic sometime in that time frame in the year and a half after dora left him and said FUCK this old guy. Fuck your cranky bitter awful ass youre dragging me down. Youre too old. You cant keep up with me. I want that one other guy (jean) bc he’s smart he’s young hes capable he can fix me. Fuck off, im working with jean now (maybe he and jean have had a case or 2 in the past that helped harry realize jean's potential)

So the old guy quit. He just ditches he’s like ok suffer whatever see if I fucking care. Imagine your partner of 11 years starts getting super pissed at you and now getting emotionally dependent on you and clingy as fuck the old guy just COULDNT handle that

harry was manageable in the beginning. it started to seriously go to shit when dora left him bc before he would go home and take it out on dora. so his work didnt see his bad side until he lost her. She was his anchor, his life, his rock, and when he lost her he had no fucking idea what to do. started to take out his issues on his coworkers instead

Jean again:

Jean has been in the rcm for a while, maybe since he was 20 in ’37? He’s a sensitive sort of guy in there, he feels how the world hurts, so he wants to help. But also he joins bc it makes him feel tough. He can push people around. Gives him an excuse to be a bully. See dad? IM TOUGH. Fuck you (he has major mommy/daddy child abuse issues. bc i hc him as having been a very sensitive kid who cried a lot. and got bullied by everyone for it, family especially. now he has a major superiority / not-man-enough complex)

Hes also Really good at his job. Hes happy doing housework!!! He likes patrolling and giving people tickets and doesnt want to do much else. plus he's very bonded to his horse. therapy horse

Jean is diagnosed by the lazareth for depression when he’s 27 bc he slips a little on his copwork I think.

Harry grabs him in ’46 when jean is 29, so jean does horse for 9 years, then 5 years of homicide with harry where he goes thru the absolute stress of his life getting thrown into lieutenant position completely unprepared for it

Jean is ok with harry at first bc he has hope, jeans a guy who hopes, and hes like ok harry will get thru this hes smart, but slowly jeans like ah fuck nope. This ones a lost cause. They work together for 4 and a half years!

Harry helps jean thru a breakup and is genuinely nice. I think harry slips into a manic episode when first working with jean and jean knows that side of him first, then he stabilizes, then sinks into depression again

In the 4 years they work together:

In the beginning of working with harry, jean breaks up with his girlfriend of like. 6 years. Who he’s known since ’40 when he was 23 (it’s '46 now and he’s 29). Harry helps him through it and jean gets really attached to harry coz of that

About 3 years in (in '49) they have homosexual relations. Ie they fuck. Bc harry gets really awful. Really starts slipping

And the case load is a LOT for jean. And he’s been thru 5 girlfriends in three years since that other one and it’s been shit. They’ve all left him bc he has to choose work over them (and also coz he's a crybaby but also coz he's super pushy and controlling)

And jean’s lonely as fuck. And he’s starting to drink too bc of harry. And bc of his influence. And they fuck and jean gets obsessed with him and he’s like fuck this is gonna’ wreck everything (there's a lot of internal homophobia here too). He really tries to be professional but it’s HARD when harry’s got so many ups and downs

Bc jean genuinely is there for and DOES help harry. Harry just. Keeps relapsing. Constantly. But jean keeps coming back bc Harrys so clingy and genuinely nice to him etc

Jean’s dealt with harry suicide attempts like so many times in this time period. Countless

But in ’49 b4 they fuck, harry tried to make a move on jean bc he really was getting obsessed with him, and jean denied him bc jean’s homophobic as fuck

A week later harry kills himself. Or. he’s supposed to be dead, but he doesn’t die somehow

That’s when he goes missing for a few days and jean finds harry in his apartment half dead. Tried to hang himself

They get SUPER codependent after that. And it gets toxic. Bc jean hates being emotionally vulnerable with another man and bc harry can get violent when rejected or just violent unexpectedly

There may be a jean suicide attempt in there too, but something like passively suicidal: doesn’t have a regard for himself or a sense of self-preservation. Harry’s had to save his life before, help him out of danger (and vice versa tbh)

Jean is more trigger happy than harry, so part of the reason harry has so few kills is bc jean took them. But also jean is really good at stopping harry. And ALSO harry just. Really doesn’t want to kill people. He talks first, shoots later (unlike Kim who shoots first, talks later). Hes a really competent cop, its just that his unmedicated bipolar ass and his work stress and his breakup issues and the jean codependency really drown him

i know there's definitely more going on here, and i could go earlier about harry (he's a child of divorce and learned a lot from his parents about how to treat a partner (ie yell and shout at her), he has a lot of trauma from working child labor and also from watching his friends die in his teens) but these r my basic vague thoughts rn

#anyhow #c4rg0f1l3s #disco elysium #disco elysium spoilers #ig? yeah maybe for dora? it's mostly headcanons #my writing #kinda' #harry du bois #jean vicquemare #dora ingerlund #do i need to put this under a cut?? #disco elysium headcanons #i might get slack for this. ITS FINE. im trying to keep all my hcs very revacholcore im ngl #theres a specific way the game sets up its characters n i wanna try and capture that #scary still. lets see how it goes #marfă din elysium

[finnpeach]

Hunt

(T/HRONE OF GLAS$ SPOILERS AHEAD! IF YOU HAVEN'T READ PAST Q/UEEN OF SHADOW$ BE WARNED!)

My love for R/owan is boundless, and the series would be infinitely better if he was sick.

This is a multi-part fic of A/elin and R/owan training on a mountain and YEAH! HE HAS A COLD!

not much sneezing yet but it will come I promise

likes comments reblogs always loved and giggled over <3

****

Aelin stalks through the underbrush with lethal silence. Leaves covered with dew from the early morning mist streak across her face, dotting her cheeks. Her prey, a mountain hare the size of her head, nibbles on the sparse grass a few yards away.

She knocks her arrow, slipping in a breath. She can’t wait to see the look on Rowan’s face when she brings back a hare this size. Slowly, she pulls the bowstring back, kissing against her face. The hare turns, startled, breaths coming fast. Now or never–

“hh’rZzSHHh’uh!” 

Aelin gasps at the sound that echoes around the mountain. It cracks like a whip, scaring even the crows nesting in trees. The hare takes off and she desperately releases the arrow after her prey. The point finds its home in the thick trunk of a tree rather than the soft neck of the hare.

There goes breakfast. Her stomach growls pitifully. Seething, she rises from the brush and goes to retrieve her arrow. 

Five minutes later, Aelin stalks back to the makeshift camp she and Rowan had assembled the night before. The Fae prince had forced her to run from the castle to these distant mountains, shifting in and out of her Fae form to master control, where he then informed her they would be camping for a week out in the elements. And she was to hunt their every meal in between training.

It was a pathetic time, especially with the rain that has settled across the mountain. Damp and cold to her bones, Aelin approaches their campsite. Rowan, appearing much drier than she, sits by the fire she had sparked earlier that morning. He looks oddly run down, like he hadn’t slept much the night before.

Aelin is sure he hadn’t. The mountains were too misty to sleep outside without waking up damp, so they had packed just one tent to keep their baggage light. Lying beside Rowan, last night she had been the private audience to his tossing and turning, grumbling, and finally his snoring. 

“You fucking bastard. You scared off breakfast,” she hisses as she approaches, throwing her bow and bundle of arrows down by the tent. Rowan does not look up from the dagger he cleans in his hands.

“And how – snf! – pray tell, did I scare breakfast from here?” He grumbles. Aelin catches the way he sniffles thickly, his nostrils twitching up with the force of it.

She drops her satchel, full of only a bundle of pathetic berries.  “You sneezed.” She tries not to give in the warmth that pools in her lower stomach at the memory of the sound. It’s the first time she had ever heard him sneeze, and she was not disappointed. “For someone so keen on silence, I expected you’d know how to sneeze more quietly.”

Rowan doesn’t even grace her taunting with a reply, or a snarl. He just continues rubbing a cloth down the length of his dagger. Strange. He must be feeling really tired if he didn’t bother to punish her for such a remark. 

She sits down across from the fire, on a log they’d rolled over so they didn’t sit on wet grass. Feigning interest in destemming the berries she’d picked, she studies him through the crackling flames. 

His white hair is loose around his shoulders, creating a curtain that shields the dark tattoo running along his tan face. The tips of his Fae ears poke out just behind the white strands. After weeks of training with him, sleeping out in the elements beside him, she’s learned that he prefers to tie his hair up. It’s so rare to see him with it down.

“More hand to hand combat training today, or magic training?” She asks, breaking the silence that is only marred by the crackling flames.

Rowan sets the dagger aside. “Your job was to hunt. And since you still haven’t caught anything, your job is still to hunt.” He settles his sharp green eyes on her, brows set. If he didn’t piss her off so much, she might actually tremble under his gaze.

She raises her palms in defeat. “Fine, fine. But if you sneeze and scare off my prey again, I won’t be sharing the catch with you.” Even if she’d very much like for him to sneeze again, she’d rather eat first.

In one swoop, she picks up her bow and arrows and satchel again before setting off. With her Fae senses, she could scent a herd of deer in the southwest. Now that would show Rowan. Perhaps she’d bring back a buck, and spear him with its antlers.

As soon as she leaves the camp, nearly out of earshot, she hears the same thunderstrike from before. Perhaps Rowan had been waiting for her to leave.

“hhzjHSHHhieWw!”

A shiver runs down her spine as more startled crows caw in the trees.

****

Two hours later, Aelin returns with a small doe slung across her shoulders.

It’s mid afternoon. She had been lucky a herd was still grazing so late in the morning down by the clearing. She’d been even luckier that Rowan had either gotten his sneezing under control, or learned how to be quiet, because nothing had startled her catch this time.

“Lunch,” she declares to Rowan, dropping the deer to the grass. He hasn’t moved from his spot by the fire. “Is served.”

“It was supposed to be– snf! Breakfast,” he mutters, reaching the dagger at his side from earlier. His voice sounds dulled, like he’s congested.

Aelin rolls her eyes. “Well, it’s not like you helped. And I got us a catch to last us days.” She pats the stomach of the doe proudly. It isn’t very old – there’s still a sprinkling of fawn spots across her back. Aelin feels a twang of guilt for not singling out an older one.

Rowan pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing through his mouth. Aelin hardly has time to prepare before he jerks down towards his crotch, a light mist spraying across his trousers.

“hiHh–... yHhZzSHhhyuu!” A familiar, rushing heat spreads through Aelin’s gut. She swallows, watching as he rubs his nose on his wrist and glares up at her. Is he going to get mad at her for his sneezing?

Rowan chooses not to comment on it, something Aelin is secretly grateful for. “You were– snf! instructed to catch something small. We’re moving camp this afternoon.” He angles the pommel of the dagger towards her.

“What?!”

“Rain is coming tonight and will flood this area. I told you this morning. And now you’ve wasted a young doe’s life.”

A flame of rage flickers to life inside her chest. This is all his fault. “Well, I wouldn’t have wasted jack-shit if you hadn’t ruined my catch earl–”

“Aelin,” he growls, a no-nonsense sound. The tips of his canines poke past his lips. Aelin shuts up immediately. 

He stands, crossing the camp in two strides, and shoves the pommel of the knife against her stomach. She glares beneath his gaze. “You missed the catch because you did not act fast enough. Now you can either carry the doe across the mountain, or… hhH—!” His breath snags, eyes looking off into the distance for a split second. Aelin’s heart hammers in her chest.

He quickly recovers and sniffs again, much to her disappointment, and focuses his gaze on her. “Or you can leave it and realise you wasted a young animal’s life for your pride.” 

Before she can retort, he turns on his heel and she offers a middle finger to his large, muscular back. 

As if sensing her, he says over his shoulder, “And– sNf!– pack up the tent.”

#hey I didn't proof read this im just posting blind #I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM #I can't wait to make him snz more #anyway lets hope no vanillas find this bc I will shoot myself in the fucking face <3 #if you're a vanilla KEEP SCROLLING NOTHHING TO SEE HERE!!! OKAY!!!!M #you know im serious ab keeping it in this community when I put goddamn slashes in the names lmfao #normally I don't care #but I do not want anyone finding this and making me feel weirtd #weird* #anyway #ENJOY! this will probably be a 2 parter #2.5 if you include the fight scene #but mmm yeah lemme know what y'all think if there's anything you wanna see #THE MATCHA FIC IS COMING I PROMISE! I WONT LET THOSE BOYS DIE! #hey guys did you notice how I actually write out the curse words and don't write vulgar gesture every 2 paragraphs nor do I write the word #marked #WHY DOES SHE DO THAT #she ought to take notes #oh and a/elin has the fet. obviously. what else would she have

[l223m0nade]

Quiet Bucky Who Doesn’t Live With Steve bc he’s still a little feral and WS-y sickfic

Steve didn’t like bad guys messing with New Yorkers, but he did like being able to protect his city. And for the last few months, there had been another reason to enjoy hometown missions.

“Tell our mystery pal thanks for the assist,” Sam said dryly as he finished his sweep to confirm everything was contained, which it was, in part thanks to perfectly aimed shots winging the two jerks at separate control stations directing the big insectlike robots. Clint hadn’t been available for last-minute sniper support, but Steve had said “I might know someone,” and everyone had sort of nodded in vague acceptance and ignored his possibly over-eager tone. The Winter Soldier was still officially at large, whereabouts unknown. Unofficially the search had petered out.

“Thanks for the help,” he murmured into his earpiece— set to an encrypted channel. “Specially on short notice like this.”

After a short pause the reply came, soft, “…You had ‘em on the ropes.” Steve barked a surprised laugh, unable to stop himself from scanning nearby rooftops though he knew he’d see nothing. “Was in the neighborhood anyhow.”

“Feel like sticking around?” Steve tried for casual. “Got nothing going on after this myself. It’s soup weather.” It was freezing, and drizzling in a way that looked light from indoors but soaked you if you were out in it for more than a few minutes. He bit back the words where do you stay, is it warm and dry enough there, just come home with me, but he thought them loudly.

A longer pause this time, but then, “It is, huh. Yeah. Yeah, alright Rogers,” and Steve couldn’t help the grin stretching across his face. Wherever Bucky was hidden, he was clearly in his sights, because he heard a husky chuckle. “Sap,” came the parting shot. “See you there.”

“Roger that,” Steve said, mock-serious, and won the sound of another laugh starting before the commlink cut out. He was allowed to be a little happy, he thought as he hopped on his bike and headed to his Brooklyn apartment. He hadn’t seen Bucky in over two weeks. Trauma and justified paranoia and unfairly dubious legal status combined to mean that Bucky couldn’t yet handle anyone knowing where he slept. For a long time Steve’s only contact with him consisted of mysterious sniper shots obliterating enemies about to get the drop on Steve and Sam as they hunted Hydra remnants down, but over the summer by tacit agreement they had both settled —for a given value of the word— back in New York. And now they talked on the phone, and sometimes Bucky provided don’t-ask-don’t-tell overwatch on missions, and sometimes he came by Steve’s place for meals and company. Steve worried about him constantly, and missed his steady physical presence as he had since before the ice, but Bucky was getting by the best way he had, and he would respect that, no matter what.

If Bucky hadn’t picked up his call or agreed to come over he probably would have spent the night staring at the cold rain out the window, but that was nobody’s business but his own. He opened the door to his apartment, nudged the thermostat, and began pulling out the ingredients for simple chicken soup, feeling warm inside and out.

Before long there was a soft breath of chilly air, the sound of a window closing, and a quiet throat-clear. He turned and there Bucky was, in the corner of the living room, looking a little tense and sheepish as water dripped from his coat. The sight of him in his apartment gave Steve the immediate sense of all being right in his world. “Hey, pal.”

Bucky gave a small smile in reply. “Sorry, I—” he cleared his throat again, “drippin on your nice floor.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” said Steve, hearing his accent come out stronger as it always did around his oldest friend. “I got plenty of towels. I’ll get you some.”

He came back with and armload of fluffy towels as Bucky shrugged out of his coat. “Warm in here,” he murmured, with a little shiver as his body adjusted to the cozy temperature Steve had set.

“Sometimes I’m still surprised at how I can just make my place any temperature I want,” Steve chuckled, “I sure coulda used that back in the day.” Bucky just nodded, a hint of wonder in his face as he took the towel Steve offered. “I pulled some clothes out for you, you may as well let your things dry out while you’re here.” Wet clothes had been one of Bucky’s favorite fussing subjects back in the day, he couldn’t begrudge Steve this.

He did go to change after only a moment’s hesitation. Steve went back to the kitchen area but just hovered there. He wasn’t eavesdropping, he just had super hearing. There was another throat-clear, a sniff, and a husky cough as Bucky changed behind the closed door. He came out a moment later, rubbing his nose absently, wearing the crew neck sweater and thick soft black pants Steve had left out, and quirked an eyebrow. Steve blushed as he realized he’d been staring at the door waiting for it to open.

“I missed you, sue me,” he muttered as he moved toward him. He looked so soft, and still cold. Steve telegraphed before going in for a hug, but Bucky just moved into it with a little sigh, pressing his face into Steve’s shoulder and rubbing a little. He seemed tired. Steve wrapped his arms around him with his own sigh. He was so glad he was here.

Suddenly the shoulders he embraced tensed up with a quiet but sharp inhale, and before either of them could react, a silent “mmp!” of a stifled sneeze was pressed into Steve’s shoulder. Bucky pulled back but only had time to blink once in surprise before his nose visibly twitched. “Dish!” This sneeze, tiny and only a little less held-back, went more or less into Steve’s left pec.

They stared for a second, arms still loosely wrapped around each other. Bucky sniffled, rubbed his nose, muttering “Jesus, sorry” at the same time Steve said “bless you” with a little nonplussed smile. Steve’s cheeks felt warm and Bucky was blushing. His nose was also a faint pink, and he looked pale, with a particular tiredness around his eyes. Steve tucked his damp hair behind his ear to see more clearly, and Bucky shifted under his scrutiny, clearing his throat again with a rasp.

“You sound like— are you sick?”

Bucky started to roll his eyes at Steve, but he had to sniffle, and then his breath caught and his expression changed from exasperation to mild surprise as he stepped back and lifted his bent arm to muffle a soft strong sneeze. “EHh-tschuhh!”

“Aw, Buck,” Steve tutted, sounding like his mother.

“snfff, It’s nothing,” Bucky tried for a casual brush-off, but after a moment under what Sam called his Piercing Earnest Puppy-Dog Gaze he deflated, rubbing his nose on his wrist like it still tickled. “It’s been cold and wet for a week,” he groused in explanation, “sff, guess it got to me.”

“And you were out on that rooftop for hours,” Steve clucked, moving to the kitchen instead of wrapping Bucky up again and not letting go, “siddown. Lucky for you I was already making chicken soup.”

Bucky sat at the counter to watch Steve finish throwing ingredients into the pot. “Ooh, the one meal Steve Rogers can cook? Lucky me is right.”

“I can make breakfast!” Steve replied indignantly. Bucky scoffed, which turned into a little cough and sniffle. “Fine, well, I can make oatmeal. And meatloaf!” He said in triumph.

“Sez y-you...heh,” Steve glanced over to see him blinking up at the kitchen light and scrunching his nose ticklishly, but the sneeze abandoned him at the last minute and he buried his nose in his sleeve to rub itchily with a little growl. It was all fairly adorable.

They kept up the banter as Steve set everything simmering and cleaned up. Bucky kept having to sniffle and rub his nose, which was turning completely pink, and he had to pause with hitching breaths a few times. Steve remembered the war and all the years before— you could always tell when Bucky had a cold and not just a tickle in his nose because he’d spend the first few hours being mercilessly teased by sneezes that refused to manifest and left him blinking pinkly and sniffling like mad.

Eventually Steve took pity on him and rooted around a drawer until he found his small stash of clean folded handkerchiefs. Bucky glanced at what he was being offered with plaintive eyes, trying to get the sneeze to finally come, head tilted up and his metal hand pressing gently on the bridge of his poor nose, taking big, hitching inhales, building up torturously, “ehhHehh…hehhhh…hehh—HEH—…...HEHdjtcschOOoo!”

He’d been unable to focus on anything but the sneeze, so it just got aimed at his wrist and ended up sort of everywhere. He snatched the handkerchief in the second he had before another tickly spraying sneeze overcame him, and caught this one in the soft cloth. “HIHHDtsschuhh! Ohhh, mby god.” He groaned dramatically and blew his nose with relief. Once he’d gotten cleaned up he slumped down to the counter.

“Alright fidne, I’mb sick,” he sighed. Steve felt sorry for him, but he was caught up in warm nostalgia as well. Bucky never held out long with the tough-guy act before getting a bit pitiful. His mom and sisters had loved to fuss over him the rare times he was poorly, and after token resistance Bucky had lapped it up. When he and Steve lived together the dynamic was always Bucky mother-henning him, but Steve had reveled in the few times their roles had reversed. Bucky acting pitiful and Steve coddling him in his sharp bossy way had been one of the ways they flirted when neither really understood what they felt.

Bucky sniffled and Steve could hear the building congestion. He continued grumbling, “ya happy ndow?”

“Well, not that you got a cold, but yeah, Buck, I’m real happy you’re here. No point in a swanky heated apartment if I can’t put you up once in a while.”

“Hmmb.”

“Now cmon, blow your nose again and eat some soup. It’s not Ma’s but it’s as close as I can get it.”

Bucky picked up the crumpled hankie, grimaced, chuckled, then quietly gasped into a smaller sneeze, “hhh-hhh-hHMptshh, ugh, this ain’t gonna last much longer.” He blew his nose thoroughly and it left him alone while they ate their soup, side by side at the counter, elbows and knees nudging.

#AAAAA YAY I WROTE IT DOWN #this has been in my head forever and ever i thought i was gonna write it MONTHS ago and then the sprites abandoned me #i really want to keep going i have more but i also just want to post it before i have to go do stuff today #cuz with my writing motivation who the fuck knows #anyway i hope you like it plz let me know what you think!!!!!!!!!!! #snzfic #snz kink fic #cute sick bucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #soft sickfic #understated stucky but it's def there #stucky #soft boys #lol i'm so stoked to be able to post something yall

[seokmatthewz]

SEOK MATTHEW ✧ LOVE KILLA ✧ 230323

#boys planet #seok matthew #ultkpop #kpopccc #underratedidolsedit #iri.gifs #flashing tw #kazlook #usermairin #useroro #i went completely insane this weekend abt him i do not think there has ever been a survival show contestant (snoo excluded) #who ive been this invested in its ruining my life #hes so PRETTY whoever styled his hair im kissing u on the mouth like u dont understand. he sso.............. #amn who is so dear to me if the y keep evil editing him im going to attack mnet like i will scratch w my nails so much #pls vote for matthew also thank uuuuuuuuuuu <3 #also kaz can attest that i went insane bc he witnessed it i sent him no less than half an hour worth of voice messages KFLDSKLFD #anyways i need to take a nap this was my indulgent moment before i write my two assignmentsfkdsklf #matthew let's debut my beloved guy!!!!!!!!!!!! i believe in u sm #zerobaseone

[h0estar]

dawg, one thing abt me is that i've always been an advocate for yukine and yato's happiness.... so i'm just curious.... WHEN EXACTLY WILL ADATCHITOKA PAY FOR THEIR CRIMES AGAINST THIS KID AND HIS SILLY SELF-PROCLAIMED DAD 😭 LET MY BOYS REST MAN DAMN

#NO BC THIS ABSOLUTELY WRECKED ME #YUKINE HOLDING ONTO YATO AFYER HE SAW HIM FADING AWAY I CANT DO THIS #BRO HAS JUST BEEN THROUGH IT AND NOW HE'S GONNA LOSE BOTH YATO AND HIYORI AT THE SAME TIME ATCYALLY GONNS #naw i gave up on the direction of this manga ever since father decided to create his lil nation #i ABSOLUTELY DISLIKE THE DIRECTION THEY WENT FOR #and SEKKI SHOULD'VE FINISHED OFF FATHER NOT HAKKI I SAID WHAT I SAID #but anw LET MY BOY REST FR HE'S BEEN THROUGH SM SHIT ADATCHITOKA U CANT KEEP GETTING AWAY W THIS #i'm actually sobbing this part hurt me sm 😭 #noragami #yato #yukine #noragami spoilers #i still love noragami despite the writing. i've just been way too emotionally invested in the story and characters for years #save my boys bro #they've had enough fr #no bc wHAT HAPPENED TO YATO 😭 #ion even wana think abt it bro. i see nothing but tragedy and absolute pain in the next & last chapter #adatchitoka is so gracious giving us a whole month to prepare for what's to come 🥰 #man i hope yato is okay 😭 i doubt it tho 😭😭😭���😭 #mine

[recitedemise]

MODERN VERSE. (the number of worlds as infinite are as the cosmos.) Gale Dekarios, hailing from Waterdeep (or England, all Greek heritage if it's rooted in reality), is a professor with a doctorate in illusionary magics (or, if magic isn't real, then astrophysics) in the University of Baldur's Gate (or Berkeley). He's incredibly decorated, a prodigy in his field turned a credited pillar in the realm of academia. Gale is of accomplishment, a recognized voice among his peers, and that, as rumors claim, is for his relationship with Mystra, the department head of magic (or the natural sciences) of the university where he currently teaches. Unbeknownst to most everyone, Mystra had first met Gale during his last year in further education taking some pre-college courses. At the time, an impressionable, bright-eyed eighteen year old, his grades, resume, and notable accomplishments had very unfortunately caught her interest. There, Mystra lent her aid, offering to tutor and mentor him to entice him to join the University. Of course, being an academic with no small amount of renown, the offers she presented weren't at all necessary; Gale, ensnared, was thoroughly convinced. From there, he pursued his degree under her very close supervision. One thing led to another, and a very unprofessional relationship cropped up between them, but considering the nature of said unprofessional relationship, no one, not a person, knew of the pair. Still, Gale was in love. Gale thought his love was returned. But during a project Mystra had forbade him to pursue, Gale, over-confident, had erred considerably, and for his troubles, found the netherese orb. Panicked, Gale went to Mystra, cursed tome held feverishly in his hands. Mystra, with cold eyes, told him she'd very plainly warned him, and without a care in the world, she took the book from his grasp, ended their relationship, and barred his growth. Now, Gale is chronically in pain, a deep throb pulsing around a cruelly-grooved chest. Mystra, of course, knows how to balm his ailment, but she very much believes one must live with their mistakes--and so, Gale, disillusioned, is left remarkably alone. He's living alone again. And his projects have been pulled. In fact, he's now no longer allowed to teach any field beyond illusion, and in the lowest point in his life, Gale is worn threadbare as anything, frustrated, confused, and incredibly stressed. Sensing a hostility between them, even the faculty can't help but to give their laughter. Now, they ask him where he'd scurry off to if not for Mystra's coat tails. Between that or the looks of passing sympathy, to be honest, Gale can't say which he hates more.

In a world without magic, the netherese orb isn't there to hurt him. Instead, Mystra breaks things off for his unauthorized research, something she calls a clear demonstration of his blatant disrespect. He has no book, and he has no magical ailment eating at his nerves. Rather, he'd rushed out of their then-shared home, clamoring into his car when she ordered him to leave. Utterly distraught and thoroughly distressed, it was shortly after this that Gale found himself struck by an inebriated driver, both glass and warped steel gnarling his chest. After some weeks, he'd recovered, of course, but not without a terrible scar above his sternum. Hurt flashes from it often, something in the manner of a phantom pain, and though finally recovered, Mystra's still barred him from progressing in his field. In fact, she'd not visited him once. Gale feels that keenly.

#MODERN VERSE. #I really got into this... It's my ONLY AU so y'know. Let me indulge. #You know I think I did a pretty good job translating all of Gale's story beats to a modern verse. Very pleased. (wrings my hands together) #I nerfed the netherese orb. We are just keeping that bad boy to chronic pain because Mystra isn't a goddess here... #Though I CAN play it as her still being a goddess. I am versatile. : ] But for now these are what I wrote up. #Mystra is maybe...10 years older? Smth like that. #Also a tangent but I had to write about Gale being groomed. I hate how obvious it is. #It's obvious in canon and yet some ppl still think he wasn't abused. When I write it out like THIS though I wonder how many can deny it

[hella1975]

you ever have a fic get you in such a chokehold you start pacing your room and talking to yourself

#THIS FIC WAS WRITTEN FOR ME SPECIFICALLY #BURN IT ALL DOWN BY DOROTHYCANFLY ON AO3 THIS IS GENUINELY ONE OF MY TOP 5 FICS OF ALL TIME EVER #IT'S GOT THE BEST DABI CHARACTERISATION IVE EVER COME ACROSS IT'S GOT REALLY WELL WRITTEN DABIHAWKS #THAT FITS BOTH OF THEM LIKE THEY'RE MEAN AS HELL ABOUT IT AT FIRST #IT'S GOT STUPIDLY DEVOTED TOUYA-SHOUTO IT'S GOT PROTECTIVE BIG BROTHER TOUYA #IT'S GOT MENTAL ANGST WRITTEN LIKE A DREAM THE WRITING IN GENERAL IS INSANE #IT'S ACTION PACKED BUT DONE WELL SO THAT IT'S NOT TEDIOUS IT'S FUNNY IT'S GOT TWISTS #IT'S KEEPING ME ON MY TOES I NEVER KNOW WHAT'S COMING OR HOW FAR THE AUTHOR IS WILLING TO GO #IVE LITERALLY READ 300K WORDS IN TWO DAYS AT THIS POINT LIKE I AM ABSOLUTELY FINISHING THIS TONIGHT #WHAT THE FUCK EVEN AM I GONNA DO WITH MYSELF AFTER THIS #EVERY NEW THING THAT HAPPENS LITERALLY HAS ME GETTING UP TO PACE ABOUT #I CLOCKED OUT OF MY MUM TELLING ME OFF EARLIER BC I WAS THINKING ABOUT THIS FIC #DO U KNOW HOW DANGEROUS THAT IS BASO JUST SIGNED MY DEATH WARRANT BUT I DIDNT CARE #losing my goddamn mind respectfully <3 if anyone has read this pls yell with me about it #and if anyone knows mha and wants a fic rec PLEASE let it be this one it's my fav mha fic ever and ive read A LOT #it gets quite smutty in the middle but if that's not ur thing the author tws very well and u can kinda just scroll #so that u still get the important character developments without it being just pure smut lol #god this FIC. holding it in my fucking fist and squeezing the everloving life out of it im going INSANE #i cant remember the last time a fic got me this way im literally giggling about it all #HE FOUND A REASON TO LIVE AGAIN THEY TOOK THIS MANGLED BLOODY BOY AND SAID WE LOVE YOU #YOU ARE GOOD YOU CAN STAY YOU CAN REST NOW WE'LL TAKE CARE OF YOU AND HE CHOSE THEM! HE CHOSE THEM! #OVER HIS REVENGE AND HIS RAGE HE CHOSE THEM! IM GOING TO BE VIOLENTLY SICK #like the author LETS DABI BE A CUNT. the first chunk of the fic he's actively not a good person #and his coping mechanisms are shot to shit and we WATCH HIM GROW FROM THAT i have cried several times over the most mundane shit #goddddddddDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDAKSJFJKAGSFIUAHGJKAKG #mha #fic rec