#otp: memories you bury or live by

[tirsynni]

If we're asking about BotW/TotK ships, any thoughts on Revalink? Asking mostly just because it has been living in my head rent-free for months and I constantly desire more people to talk about it.

Anonymous asked:

Sorry for asking about your opinion on Revalink without even checking to see that you had already written Revalink fics, feel free to ignore previous ask

Oh, honey. I am always happy to talk about Revalink. They are absolutely my BotW/TotK OTP. I also adore Revali and I hungrily devoured even the slightest mention of him in TotK and have multiple WIPs scribbled on my laptop finding out ways to have him actually in TotK.

(Do I still feel a little cheated? Maybe. I wasn't expecting much, but ow, TotK.)

This ship has an insane amount of potential, especially since we have so few of Link's memories available in BotW. Maybe it was always just brutal tension between two fucked up young Champions with far too much weight on their shoulders (with most of it being self-imposed!). Maybe they quietly figured out something, just for Link to forget or maybe he didn't even forget but it didn't matter because the Link of then and the Link of now are so different. Ack! So much potential!

...but anyway.

Pre-Calamity, these two had so much weight dragging them down and not a single positive communication skill in sight. Link was buried under the title of Champion and Hero to the point he could barely see the sky anymore. Revali pushed and pushed and pushed himself to the point of collapse. He was absolutely driven and stubborn and passionate and snarky and desperate for validation. Link was silently begging for everyone to not look at him and Revali was silently begging for someone to fucking see him.

Specifically, he wanted Link to see him.

That's what absolutely kills me about that pairing. We don't know what Link saw or thought. We got everyone's journal but his. Hell, even his memories seemed like they were from an outsider's perspective (especially the last one). But we got Revali's journal and we got to hear Revali speak (and snark and yell) and so it baffles me when people paint him as an asshole who hated Link.

Doubtlessly, Revali would have pushed himself forever without external validation, but it didn't change the fact that he was thirsty for it. Where do we see it most? In his interactions with Link. In his journal talking about Link. It was a constant chant of "See me, see me." Link was strong and skilled and we saw in his limited memories that he pushed himself, too. While Zelda quietly mused in a safe, dry spot, Link stood in the rain and continued to practice with his sword. He threw himself at hordes of monsters and Zelda scolded him for being reckless. For their own reasons, Revali and Link actively pushed themselves arguably long after almost anyone else would have stopped, and I think Revali saw that in Link -- saw a possible peer who valued hard work and sweat and determination -- and desperately wanted Link to see him, too.

When they reunited one hundred years later, for all of Revali's snark about Link making him wait, nothing can convince me that Revali wasn't happy to see him again. We won't know what happened in those final days before the Calamity or what Revali knew about Link during those hundred years, but the fact that Revali specifically told Link to avenge him will forever be telling to me. Revali -- fiercely independent, determined Revali -- recognized that he couldn't avenge his own death. He also didn't expect the fight to be impersonal for Link, for it to be another thing for Link to check off in his quest. He didn't want Link to kill the Blight on his behalf: he wanted Link to do what he couldn't, he wanted Link to treat the fight as something personal, he wanted Link to fight in Revali's name. He wanted Link to avenge him.

(And in return, he gave Link wings and personally lifted him into the sky. <3 With an adorable little flourish.)

I also love the dialogue choices during the fight, and they are part of my argument for why Revali isn't hateful: he's snappy and snarky and is absolutely the guy who shows he cares about by calling his love interest an idiot for failing to appropriately care for himself. He spends that entire fight scolding Link and cheering Link on and snarking at Link and fretting over Link, depending on how the fight goes. He gets so worried for Link. Not because Revali won't be avenged but because Link is hurt and he checks to see if he is okay. ;_;

On Link's half? If Revali is the bird who is desperate to fly as high as he can, Link is absolutely the trapped, muzzled songbird. There's one scene where the king is scolding Zelda and Link is kneeling beside Zelda, absolutely forgotten by both of them. He's pretty much part of the scenery in that memory. His head is bowed. His face is expressionless. He's disregarded butterly as the king berates Zelda and Zelda focuses on vainly defending herself. That exemplifies so much of his backstory: he's the silent Knight. He's the Wielder of Evil's Bane. He's the guy who effortlessly claimed his destiny by pulling the Master Sword while Zelda struggled fruitlessly to call upon her sacred powers. I would argue (and this isn't a slight against Zelda, who is clearly a traumatized, overburdened, and royal teenager in all of these memories) that when Zelda finally sees Link as an actual person and not just another symbol of her failure, she still struggles to see him as a true individual and not another way for her to deal with and understand her own problems. For most of the characters in those memories, Link is characterized by his role and his duty, not as an actual overburdened teenager himself.

Except Revali, who never shows any indication that he gives a damn about titles and destiny and all of that bullshit, sees Link and wants Link to see him. Revali wants a response. Revali wants Link.

I've also written briefly about this before, but in regards to symbolism, Revali is also the closest in-game parallel to things normally associated with the Heroes of Courage. Courage is Farore green, courage is Farore's Wind. In Skyward Sword, Link rides upon his loftwing, a sacred creature which connects the Hylians to the Goddess. In Wind Waker, well, do I need to say it? The other Champions fit well with Din/Power (Urbosa and Daruk) and Nayru/Wisdom (Zelda and Mipha). Revali? Fits great with Farore/Courage. Revali, who pushes Link and gets so pissed (and hurt) when Link doesn't push back. Revali, who tells Link to watch him as he flies and grows so upset when Link doesn't react to that magical moment at all.

To leave the Great Plateau and begin his journey, Link needs to take a leap of faith and glide through the sky. Link needs the wind. Link needs to fly.

I could keep going for a while, but I think I should stop. lol I've written plenty of meta about these two before, though, so feel free to check out my Revalink tag. Always feel free to ask about these two (and fandom and such in general). I love rambling about them and people IRL tend to look at me like I'm crazy when I begin talking about this stuff. :D

#revalink #meta #anonymous ask #i have FEELINGS about these two okay?

[dayraiser]

Hello :D I found you through your former blog, and as an older Ninjago fan, I'm asking for a friend, would you happen to know the ancient fandom lore regarding the creation of Citrusshipping? (Echo x Morro) Perhaps even the origin of the name, how the ship came to be, reception, any secret trivia lost to time, etc?

oh wow what a surprise! haha well i'm not quite the expert i may have been before, but i'm sure willin to tell you what i do remember.

i believe as far as origins go, citrus was, y'know, a crack ship. no basis in canon. i believe the oldest post i could find for it was a moodboard from someone who created them for their ninjago ships, and as far as i can infer, that person in particular liked creating rarepairs/crackships and such. you can find the moodboard i'm talking about buried at the bottom of the citrus tag! not sure if the creator's blog is still active, though

again, all inferences, but i believe the citrusshipping name comes from a concept of sweet and sour, oranges and limes, echo and morro.

reception was fairly lukewarm, but i believe most people either never stumbled upon it or simply shrugged it off as a not-a-chance-of-canon crackship (though i do have to shoutout sensei-wus-beard, someone who created citrus content who i really looked up to back in the day) and although not many people were, y'know, championing it as their otp or anything, i do remember recieving fair amounts of notes for my fanart of them, so it's not like anyone was actively against it either! and y'know personally i was just drawn to the idea of two very lonely people (/ghost/robot) finding solace in each other. i still think their dynamic is fun!

as far as secret trivia, i'm sorry to disappoint, but i was never a part of that, if it even existed. i never interacted with the original creators of the ship and i don't think it ever did get big enough for that sort of thing

i'm sorry if you were seeking answers that i couldn't provide. i left the fandom for very personal reasons and my memory is fuzzy at best, so apologies for any inaccuracies that arise because of that. i do still hold a special place in my heart for them, though, and i do so hope that they aren't forgotten, silly of a ship as it may be

anyhow sorry for the rambling 😅 i hope i could answer at least some of your questions! best wishes to you, hope the fandom lives for much longer ❤️

#whew #ninjago #anon #diem says things tag

[z-haven]

Unacceptable

When past loves end tragically, and future loves want a chance, how does it all work out for Chloe.

(NOTE: Now Chloe got engaged during the Apocalypse AU episode and hearing that he (Carlo Marks) was returning, had me pretty excited and hyped up. Also I don't know why but somehow a group of us ended up calling him George for some reason. Anyhow, so this was written before I watched the Warrior episode so, Steven, as he's called here, is a real adult - no kid, no magic. However later in the actual show we find out about the kid catastrophe and that felt like a kick in the gut after what the writers did to Chlavis. Yeah my OTP got dragged through the mud. Good times huh?

To the Chlollie fans - I love you guys and I love your enthusiasm over your ship. I'm not a shipper (romantically that is, more like Teammates - Professionals, etc) and I had my heart set on Chloe/George after Chloe/Davis).

Chloe Sullivan had woken another morning to find that she was yet again, alone.

Some random witchy woman named Saunders and her minion Petersen had told her that her life would be so wonderful.. That her arc overreaching and into the depths of inspiration.

She did live an interesting life. A life that was full of her investigative endeavours, requited and unrequited loves, death threats, matyrdom, sacrifices, hero-based co-ordinations and humanitarian services.

She remembered it was just yesterday they both professed their love and there she was backing away, needing space.

She had an answer, or at least she thought she did.

Oliver Queen.

When she first met him, she would literally crush on him in her head. She hoped her best friend Clark (first love gotten over) wouldn't use his x-ray vision to see into her mind. He was just WOW and unavailable. But the novelty had worn off - he was unavailable and belonged in the circle of the rich and famous - a place she had no need to be.

But all the shallow playboy and business deals were just a front. The guy was all green and hero. He was courageous with absolutely high moral standards, protecting others that couldn't defend themselves. Clark was like that too.

Maybe that's why she loved both of them. Except that Oliver she didn't feel for until he went through all the highs and lows of his morally challenged year. She had pulled him out of it with almost murderous consequences yet in the back of her mind, despite his gratitude she felt a bit off.

But she felt so off that it became normal and she buried herself in her work. She told herself that she and Oliver were teammates, that he was still pining after her cousin Lois and was the boytoy of Tess Mercer.

For God's sakes she was still getting over J*mmy and she finally admitted it - Davis.

She had gotten up from bed and opened her little treasure chest. No fools gold in here except memories. She looked at J*mmy's ring and remembered how panicked he looked when he had proposed. But even Sinatra couldn't save them from the constant tensions that she thought was all her fault.

She knew the relationship was flawed and just when she was letting go of Clark and holding on to J*mmy, Davis came along. She had to avert her eyes and tell herself that the attraction was nothing more than a magnetic pull to his gorgeous personality, sweetness and self sacrificing nature. She would take J*mmy, the unresolved faults of their relationship and all, and make it work.

But it couldn't work and no matter how much J*mmy lashed out at Davis she knew that the turbulence of their relationship had started way before. She and J*mmy were on and off, on and off until the whole system crashed.

She found herself absentmindedly holding the stick that remained of the chocolate lollipop heart Davis had given her when they decided to load up the car and never look back. She told herself she was leaving her life behind her to protect Clark but even she knew it wasn't true. She wanted to protect him too from the life he chose not to have but had anyway. She knew he tried everything and that she was his last hope. She was in love with him. Why she took so long to admit it, she didn't know but now it was too late to fix anything.

So while Clark was out playing house with Lois she buried herself in her work. Oliver would be her companion but not her confidant. Not yet anyways.

And just when she thought the sky was falling - well a smaller toy version of Saturn and yet large enough to give her brain damage was about to drop from the ceiling - there alights Steven who dressed as Warrior Angel swoops down and saves the day. Except that he wasn't a real superhero (some other witchy woman, that same witchy woman who hexed her and turned her into Lois, made him a guy with powers). But Chloe wasn't discriminating, he did save her life.

Their friendship started slowly and she could see in him a little bit of Clark, a bit of Davis and a bit of J*mmy. He was like Clark or who Clark used to be because she remembered how much he valued his family. Clark was adopted and Steven's dad had died when he was 2 and his mom remarried when he was 18 and off to college. He was like Davis because he was a magnet to the underdog - although Davis was a paramedic, he was a cop and yet they were both drawn to the areas where people were outcasted from society and got no help. Also he dressed like Davis too. Plus like J*mmy he was cute. Okay, he was damn cute.

So two years passed and she and Steven were getting serious. But she couldn't tell what was up with Oliver. She wanted to tell him deal with it - dammit - she sees him more that she sees Steven. They work together, tease, argue, makeup, crack jokes at each others expense. Chloe couldn't remember the last time she laughed. Oliver was full of himself and full of anecdotes that she didn't even know he had. Maybe the absence of Clark in her life brought that out in him. But she still felt saddened by his absence.

But she started seeing the looks - if she was unreadable, Oliver was an open book. She saw the smiles when she came to work early or stayed overtime. The frowns when she left or mentioned Steven. Then she put her foot down and told him to grow up. His response was to shrug it off.

Then later that week Steven had asked her to meet him at the corner of Brine and Paxton and just when she was about to turn the corner Oliver appears. She just thought it was coincidental that he was there at the same time. He needed to talk. She said okay and listened.

Chloe felt she needed an extra pair of ears or Clark's brain power. Oliver's words were coming a mile a minute and yet she understood every single one. He knew her for almost a decade - they knew where they were and how far they came. He admitted that you never miss the things you love until you lose them and he knew he was losing her. She didn't understand what he meant until he decided to grasp at the last straw and kiss her.

Chloe broke away, literally supersped or wished she did, around the corner and bumped into Steven. She couldn't catch her breath and he was like honeywhat'swrong and she joked that he knocked the wind out of her.

Fast forward to later that day and they were back at her apartment. Steven had pulled out all the stops. Dinner, candlelight and his full attention. He was getting serious - it was two years and he felt that the intensity of their relationship meant something. He knew other people would have roles in her life and he wasn't insecure enough to let that bother him. He felt she was so blessed that she had people depending on her.

Steven had gotten down on his knees and proposed and Chloe couldn't answer. But Steven was in no hurry, wasn't going to push. He knew that so much had happened to her in so little time but he wanted her to know he would always be there for her. Chloe was now holding Steven's engagement ring that he told her to keep. It was gold and simple. She didn't get the time to answer because time had sped past and stolen him away from her. She remembered that night he proposed. After he left she just crawled into bed on her side, unable to sleep while replaying Oliver's words over and over in her head.

Yet she was back at work and Oliver was there apologetic and saying that he shouldn't have come on too strong. Chloe told him that maybe it was time he started really speaking his mind but for now they should get to work.

Before they both knew it, Oliver was already donning his Green Arrow suit and she was in Watchtower mode co-ordinating the JLA's every move. Apparently a gang had taken over a bank and JLA was in position. Then the cops came and Chloe could only think Steven!

The JLA knew they had to be careful since the cops thought they were working alone to get the criminals out and behind bars. And it was going well until Chloe heard Oliver exclaim.

BOMB.

Now Chloe was watching two headstones that she demanded were side by side. She had directed her attention before to the headstone of J*mmy Olsen and one erected as a memory headstone for Davis. But they were not side by side because even in death she knew the sad significance of the whole situation.

She heard it all - Oliver and Steven had worked together on the situation and while they saved everyone they couldn't escape.

Chloe held in her hand Oliver's mask and all she could think was hero. Steven's ring was on her finger and all she could think of was her love now lost.

She closed the chest and realised how fucked up her life was. It was damn unacceptable and she wasn't going to let it get the last word.

#z-haven posts #ink_haven fics

[winterdrifting]

Lady Dahlia for the meme?

Lady Dahlia is a character I have never really given much thought of! It’s been a while since I last played Curious Village so let's see what I can come up with!

Favourite thing about them: I suppose the tragedy in her character? And with how much her existence is defined by other people she still gets kind of left alone? I mean she was literally made to replace Viola, and when that then upset the Baron, her personality was changed. And when she met and immediately terrified Flora, she was pushed away by both of them. She couldn't really fulfil the role she was made for, but continued to exist in both of their lives, if just to haunt Viola's family, or to be haunted by Viola's memories herself. She cares about Flora, a care that she had probably no choice in, and in the end of CV lets the last reason for why she even existes go, just like all the other robots let Flora go. Because she loves Flora. Because all the robots in the Village were built to love Flora. Because the village and its people were built to be left by Flora one day. The tragic difference is that one of the robots wears the face of Viola.

Least favourite thing about them: The more I think about it, the more I wish we could have gotten some more info about the relationships between the Reinholds. Like did Baron and Flora just avoid Dahlia?? The entire time?? (Now that I type it out wow that can be a parallel to Flora's fate in the series huh) And what's up with the other relatives? Are they based off of actual people too?

brOTP: Uhhh at least she has Claudia? With the way she is presented in the game I imagine she has a hard time making friends. 

OTP: I don’t ship her with anybody, but when I think about it, Baron/Dahlia could be super interesting if you focus on Baron’s inability to properly grieve (robo wife), his disregard for Dahlia's feelings (he literally calls her “a thing” and “It” I think??), and the complete control he has over her (he has already changed her personality once, theoretically he could have done so again). In a darker narrative Baron could basically insist that everythings fine, while Dahlia could have her agency programmed away at any point and only have “dreams”  left that could give her just an inkling of the truth. It sounds incredibly toxic, and would lend itself incredibly well for a horror story from Dahlia’s or Flora's perspective.

nOTP: I don’t even know if it exists but obviously Dahlia/Flora, but besides that Baron/Dahlia if the narrative that depicts it completely glosses over what makes it unhealthy I guess? 

Random headcanon: To be a perfect copy of his late wife, Baron insisted that even her imperfections are immortalised in Lady Dahlia, including things such as minor injuries or scars that never truly faded. It later leads to Flora feeling disgusted by the attention to detail (as well as other thoughts that crop up when your father builds an indistinguishable copy of a person and wondering if he would ever do the same to you without you even knowing (I really, really want to try this oneshot one day…)). It also leads to Dahlia looking at a scar in the crook of her arm. A scar that has existed for as long as she could remember. She can't remember how she got it, it's in a circular shape, not something Claudia could have caused. It doesn't really matter, she thinks, and buries unimportant dreams of exhaustion and a crying girl in the depths of her mind. It's barely visible and her shawl covers it anyway.

Unpopular opinion: I honestly don't even know the popular opinions of her. I guess I like that she is a major character who is mainly rude? A lot / most major women in the series are nice/pleasant people for the most part, so as an exception to the rule it makes her character stand out?

Song I associate with them: Uhhhhhhhh Reinhold Manor from the soundtrack?

Favourite line/ picture of them:

Honestly girl go live beyond what your creators have intended for you to be. Live your best widow life, pet your cat, do some cool robot shit.

Anyway this was fun! I wouldn't have guessed that I would write so much about Dahlia, but there is a lot that could be explored with her! 

#my post #professor layton #dahlia reinhold

[vhenadahls]

the remnants of the life i used to live here in eden

After Tali is exonerated, she decides to give Pippa Shepard a tour of the Rayya.

G, 2600 words.

“Tali’Zorah, in light of your history of service, we do not find sufficient evidence to convict. You are cleared of all charges.”

Admiral Raan’s voice is still steady and professional, a proper admiral’s voice, but it’s lighter than it’s been the entire time they’ve been on the Fleet. Tali sags forward against the railing in front of her and Pippa, relief exuding from her entire body. The garden plaza erupts with a buzz of chatter, blotting out both Raan’s and Shepard’s next words - not that Tali is sure she would’ve heard them anyways, her own heart is beating so loud. She hasn’t been exiled, and Shepard hasn’t revealed her father’s treachery, and when she woke up on the Normandy today she definitely had not expected this to be the way her day went.

The admirals end the trial, and people start to stream out of the garden plaza, still buzzing with conversation and gossip and thoughts and theories. Tali drags Pippa over to speak with each of the admirals, pointedly keeping the conversation with Admiral Xen blessedly short, and to thank Reegar and Veetor yet again for speaking up for her. Eventually they make it back to the corridor outside the plaza, Garrus trailing behind them. Looking up at the achingly familiar patched-together entranceway, she makes a split-second decision. “Garrus, you go on back to the Normandy. We’ll catch up.”

Garrus looks at Pippa for confirmation. She glances back at Tali, who knows her body language is telegraphing her excitement but that Pippa and Garrus won’t know what it means. After a moment Shepard nods, and Garrus walks back up the corridor to the docking bay the Normandy is in.

Pippa turns to face Tali full-on, a wide grin visible through the viewscreen of her helmet. “Well then, Miss vas Normandy, what’s got you so excited?”

Okay, maybe Pippa’s not so bad at quarian body language as she thought. She pushes that aside and bounces from foot to foot “We’re on the Rayya. It’s my birth ship. I thought I’d take you on a tour.”

Pippa’s mouth drops open behind her viewscreen - Tali’s learned this one, a display of shock or awe for many species, not just humans. “A tour? Really? Is that allowed?”

Laughing, Tali links her arm through Pippa’s and steers her towards the trading plaza. “Probably not, but I doubt they’re going to say anything after today.”

The trading plaza, just a short walk down the corridor from the garden plaza, is also achingly familiar and almost just as she remembers it. The people and items in it are different, of course, but it’s the same design as always. Bank of lockers on the back wall, all different sizes, all full of things someone didn’t need but someone else could use. Rows of desks for anyone to hawk wares, services, whatever it is they can do or make or trade that others might want. It’s loud, crowded, full of people speaking Khelish, people she can still understand if she turns off her translator. A wave of homesickness washes over her, even though she’s standing right in the middle of the ship she grew up on. She won’t live here again, not on the Rayya, even if she does come back to the Flotilla.

Trying to disengage from that feeling, she turns back to Pippa, whose grin has spread even wider. “Where are we now? It looks like a market.” Her eyes dart back and forth across the plaza, head turning so rapidly she looks like a top.

“Kind of,” Tali says, leading the way to the stall of a quilter she remembers from before her Pilgrimage. “We don’t use credits within the Flotilla. Needs like food, water, and medicine are doled out as needed, and you trade for other things. Trade your work, your surplus supplies, information, whatever you have. That’s what this is for - this is where people trade what they can. The lockers on the wall,” she points, “are for people to leave items they don’t want anymore, and someone else can take them. Other people make things to sell here. Quilts, suit adornments, and so on. And musicians and storytellers and dancers can show off their skills.” She points again, to a musician and a dancer attracting a small audience in the opposite corner.

“No credits? How?” Pippa slows, trying to watch exchanges between traders and customers while continuing to follow Tali. “Even when I was a kid on the streets, creds were king. That’s what will for sure get you food in your belly and a safe place to sleep.”

Tali’s heart squeezes painfully, the way it always does when Pippa mentions her childhood before BAaT and the Alliance. She’ll have to ask about that someday. “We don’t have to worry about food and shelter - everyone gets food, everyone gets shelter. You know that’s why we don’t have an incarceration system and our highest punishment is exile - we can’t support those who don’t work to provide for the community, because everyone is given those things by virtue of being quarian. But this sort of thing - things that aren’t necessities, things that make your life happier or easier or the like - those we trade for, because what better thing to offer than something else we value?” They’ve reached the quilt-trader, and Tali holds up her hand in greeting. “I’m Tali’Zorah, and this is Pippa Shepard.”

The quilt-trader nods. “I remember you, Tali’Zorah.” She turns to Pippa, holding out a hand with her palm facing forward, fingers slightly bent, so Pippa can interlace her own with them - a first-time greeting. “Welcome, Pippa Shepard. I am Chenah’Ayyal.”

Pippa looks back at Tali, probably confused, but holds her hand up - Tali would never have doubted she’d be a good sport. The quilt-seller interlinks their fingers, and Pippa won’t be able to tell, no matter how good she’s gotten at reading quarian body language, but Tali can almost feel the approval wafting off Ayyal.

“What brings you to the Rayya’s trading plaza, Shepard?” Ayyal asks, pointedly re-fluffing one of the quilts on her display. It’s reminiscent of Rannoch, qorach and canyons and wide-open sky, in shades of blue and purple.

Rather than answering, Pippa shoots a sidelong glance at Tali. The meaning is obvious - she’s going to let Tali do most of the talking, let Tali choose how others will see a human wandering around one of the Fleet’s most precious ships. She can spin this however she wants.

“I’m taking her on a tour,” she says. No spin. “I want to show her where I grew up.”

Ayyal’s stance becomes guarded, but not angry or mistrustful. Honestly more than Tali had expected, and her stomach unclenches just a bit. She draws one finger down the neat and even stitching of the Rannoch blanket. “This is beautiful. Your stitching is every bit as lovely as I remember. I’ve never seen it fray.”

With the disgusted sound Ayyal makes deep in her throat, the air clears even more. “How can you say that?” she asks, dragging the cloth from under Tali’s hand. “See here, the stitches are off center - everyone will notice! How am I supposed to be happy with anyone displaying this in their quarters? I’ll be a laughingstock!”

Tali tries her very best to muffle a laugh, and the hacking cough suddenly afflicting Pippa spells the same. “Just like a craftsperson,” she says, unable to contain a final huff of laughter. “Thank you for talking with us. Until I return.”

“Until I see you again,” Ayyal replies, and holds up her hand again to Pippa, who readily interlaces their fingers again. “And you, Pippa Shepard,” she adds, and Pippa’s answering grin could power the Flotilla for a week. At least.

 Grinning too, Tali links her arm back with Pippa’s and steers her back out of the trading plaza and into another corridor. “So that’s the trading plaza, obviously. Most of what’s right around here is also community areas - a school, an infirmary, you saw the garden plaza, and those sorts of things.” She points out the places they pass as they go, places where she spent her childhood and adolescence. “Schools are clean rooms, because children don’t have suits yet. They’re bubbled - like Raan talked about - but when there’s that many children together, it’s better for the space to be clean too. Infirmary too, for obvious reasons, so those are usually right near each other for efficiency.”

“Name of the day on a ship, any ship.” Pippa peers in through windows when they exist, nodding at each quarian they pass. Tali’s heart skips yet another beat as she watches her. The Rayya might be one of the Fleet’s most important ships, but it’s still dingy and patched-together and shabby compared to the least Alliance ship, let alone the Normandy. But Pippa doesn’t look out of place or uncomfortable at all. She looks excited, interested. She looks like she fits in.

There’s only one reason Tali could be worrying about whether Pippa fits in on the Flotilla, and she is not ready to interrogate that quite yet. Instead, she pulls Pippa down a side corridor, so suddenly that Pippa yelps from being knocked off balance. “This way is to hydroponics - the reason these are called liveships.”

Pippa might be an entire handspan shorter than Tali, but she sure can walk fast when she’s excited about something. “Oh, man! I know I’m not going to understand any of it. But it’s so cool! You figured out how to grow enough food to support seventeen million people in space! Three hundred years ago!” She’s pulling Tali now, stopping dead when they reach an intersection. “Which way?”

Their footsteps echo on the metal floors, familiar and comforting, as Tali leads Pippa through the maze of cobbled-together corridors to the hydroponics observation deck. When the doors open, Pippa hurries over to the windows, pressing her faceplate against the glass to peer at the leafy green plants below. “Look at it! That’s all food!”

Laughing again, Tali joins her at the window. “We all take turns volunteering there, not just those of us who live on the liveships. So everyone has a chance to be part of how and where food comes from and is distributed and all of that.” She gestures to a corner on the far end of what they can see. “I always worked in that corner over there. Helped plant, check irrigation systems, whatever needed doing.”

“Wish I’d had something like that.” Pippa’s smile this time doesn’t actually reach her eyes. “Didn’t really think, as a kid, about where food came from before I nicked it.” Her voice is wistful - the opposite of nostalgic, whatever that is. Tali squeezes her hand, and Pippa turns away from the window.

“Show me where you used to live?” she asks. “If you want to.”

“That was my plan. It’s a deck down, so we’ll just go through here…” she lets her words trail off as they head back into the corridor maze, find the stairs, and go down to the deck where she spent most of her life. The designs painted on the walls, the quilts hung to muffle sound, someone in a familiar suit in literally every corner of the ship - it’s almost like she’s stepped back in time.

She stops in front of the door to her family’s apartment, the apartment that was her home until two years ago. The blank door beckons, but she doesn’t knock. “It belongs to someone else now, another family. They moved my father once I transfered to the Neema, gave him a space more conducive to one person alone and gave this to a family that needed more room.” Her voice is as devoid of emotion as she can make it, trying not to let Pippa hear how draining this is to be back in these spaces that hold memories of her father. And her mother.

Pippa’s hand appears on her shoulder, and Tali looks down at it, trying to let it pierce the haze of remembering. “Hey. It’s okay. It’s alright to be upset.”

It’s alright. Tali snorts. “My father wouldn’t agree. We don’t have time for sentimentality. We didn’t have time to come here at all, honestly. He would’ve been upset with me for letting my feelings overcome my duty.”

“Hey.” The hand on Tali’s shoulder slides down her arm to interlace their fingers together, three and five. “You’re allowed to care. He cared about you. He didn’t know how to show it, but he did. You care about him, still. You care about your people, about our crew. And that’s a good thing. That means you’ll do what you can to protect as many of them as you can.”

“They didn’t want me to come home.” An unfamiliar person emerges from the apartment door, looks between the two of them, and heads off down the hall without a word. Tali moves back up the corridor, Pippa trailing behind, so they won’t be right in front of someone’s door anymore. She tries again. “They didn’t want me to come home. They were using me as a prop, a piece in someone else’s game.” Her voice is rising, and she doesn’t care to stop it. “They stripped my ship name, Shepard!”

“I know. But you don’t have to accept their reasoning for it.” Pippa leans against the wall below a sign in Khelish telling her not to do exactly that.

Tali narrows her eyes. “How do you mean?”

“The ones who voted to strip your ship name wanted you to feel like you didn’t belong. Like you had no home, no one to stand with you. But you do, Tali, you have so many people who stand with you! And multiple homes!” So quickly she looks like she’ll topple over, Pippa stands up straight away from the wall, hands spread for emphasis. “Raan did what she could for you, Reegar and Veetor spoke up for you. They gave you the Normandy in your name in quarian fashion - that’s not a thing any other species does, you know that. You belong in both places. Both, and. Not neither.” Embarrassed, like she wasn’t expecting that speech to pop out of her, she leans back against the wall.

You belong in both places. No one’s ever made it sound like that could be possible. You go on Pilgrimage, you come home and you stay home. Or you don’t, and you never come home again. But Pippa - the same ridiculous human that Tali followed by chance two years ago, who’s come back from the dead at the hands of a terrorist organization Tali couldn’t hate more if she tried - Pippa thinks it doesn’t have to be like that. She can have a human ship name, an entirely non-quarian crew...and still belong to the Fleet. Two homes.

It’ll take some time to get used to that idea.

“You stood for me, too.” She nudges Pippa with her shoulder. “Don’t forget yourself.”

Another blush spreads across Pippa’s pale cheeks. “Well, yeah. I thought that was a given. Or at least, it’s a given to me.”

“It means a lot, though.” Tali takes a deep breath. “I’m glad to be part of your crew.”

The blush deepens. “I am too, Tali. Um, glad you’re part of the crew.” She looks back at the apartment door, closed now. “You ready to go home? Wait, shit, sorry. You ready to go back to the Normandy?”

Five minutes ago, Tali would’ve appreciated the correction. It still grates a little. But…

“Let’s go home.” She can have both. Or at least she can try.

#mass effect #tali'zorah #shepard #shepard x tali #shali #pippa shepard tag #otp: memories you bury or live by #logan writes fic

[liaromancewriter]

The Lightning Strike

Premise: Max and Sienna celebrate the joys of being in love and engaged, but they soon learn that a single moment can change everything.

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Sienna Trinh x Max Valentine (OC) Rating/Category: Teen. Fluff and Angst Format: Text and pic fic + prose Words: 1,975 View Series Masterlist

A/N: I know I said the Maxenna "And then there was you" series concluded, but it was starting to feel incomplete as I re-read the last chapter. So, please excuse my error and enjoy this new finale of their love story. Again, I will write more Maxenna in the future, but I wanted their initial story to be complete first and also to take time to write for my OTP, Cassie & Ethan.

Submission for @choicesseptemberchallenge21​ Prompt Day 28 “Challenges”

Part 1: The Calm

Part 2: The Storm

Between Cassie and Sienna...

A short while later...

Part 3: Safe Harbor

The ticking of the clock in the waiting room on the surgical floor was loud. At least that’s how it felt to Sienna Trinh who watched the hands of the clock move, one by one, tick, tock, tick, tock. She willed time to hurry, but she knew that’s not how it worked.

Hands clasped tightly in her lap, she took deep breaths to control the tears that were never far from the surface. All she could think was, not again. She couldn’t lose someone else she cared about in a freak accident. How could lightning strike twice?

She knew WHC was an excellent hospital, but she would have preferred if they were at Edenbrook. There, she knew her friend Bryce Lahela, surgeon extraordinaire, would have done everything possible to save Max. First, because he was a patient but also because he was hers.

Here, she didn’t know anyone. She had never felt so alone as she did right now in the empty waiting room.

Her mind kept replaying all the memories she and Max had made these last few months. The travel, quiet days at home enjoying each other’s company in bed and outside of it, exploring DC as he shared his favorite haunts with her.

The moment when he had proposed. She had been so overjoyed that she couldn’t speak so she kept nodding yes, hoping he understood.

The night they’d attended their first society event as an engaged couple and how they’d come home slightly tipsy on love and alcohol. Giggling like little children, they’d tip-toed, arm in arm, down the hallway past their neighbor’s door, all the while shushing each other but failing miserably when laughter won out.

Once the door to their apartment closed behind them, he’d pressed her against the wall, kissing her slow and deep as they undressed each other.

All Sienna could think was every time was as magical as the first. It couldn’t end like this. After everything they’d been through, this wasn’t how their love story ended.

With her being needy because she missed him. She’d always known his work was important, just as hers was. He was working late because he had wanted to clear his weekend for them. She should have understood more. She should have said I Love You back. She should have…

“Sienna?”

She looked up at the sound of her name to find Max and Cassie’s cousin, Tony Valentine standing in the doorway. Sienna knew that he lived in the area, but their paths hadn’t crossed much. She always felt awkward around him since the time she’d told him she wasn’t available because things between her and Max had started to change.

“Cassie called me,” he said, taking the chair next to her and placing his hand on top of hers. “She told me what happened and that you were here alone.”

The dam erupted and Sienna turned towards him, burying her face into his shoulder as the tears broke free.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” said Tony, his hands rubbing up and down her back in comfort. “I know Max and I needle each other, but he’s my cousin and I love him. He’s strong and he’ll come through this.”

It was almost two hours later when someone from the surgical staff walked into the waiting room. Sienna was sipping coffee that Tony had fetched her from the cafeteria. Years of drinking hospital coffee had made her immune to how horrendous it could be. It was warm and the caffeine strong enough to keep her awake as the night dragged on.

“Ms. Trinh?” queried the surgeon, tired lines fanning from her eyes.

“Doctor Trinh,” corrected Tony, coming to stand next to Sienna as she stood up.

“Sorry, they didn’t tell me,” said the surgeon, fighting back a yawn. “I’m Doctor Adams. Are you patient Valentine’s wife?”

“Yes,” said Sienna, not wanting to get bogged down in hospital policies. “Is Max…?”

“He’s fine,” said Doctor Adams quickly seeing the dread on Sienna’s face. “He’s in post-op and they’ll move him to a room shortly. You’ll be able to see him then.”

“He suffered a distal radius fracture in the left arm, mild concussion, contusions and a ruptured spleen,” explained the doctor when Sienna sagged in relief. “As you know, the latter was the most pressing injury. Luckily, we managed to repair it, but infection is still a concern. So, we need to monitor him for the next few days. Barring complications, we expect him to make a full recovery.”

A few hours later, Sienna was sprawled on a comfortable chair in the private room where they’d moved Max. Her eyes never left him, watching his chest rise and fall, taking comfort from the fact that he was alive. Her hand rested on his uninjured one, mindful of the canula and drip lines running from it but wanting that connection, nonetheless.

She’d texted updates to Cassie periodically and knew her friend was likely having a restless night too waiting until morning for flights to resume. She knew Tony was somewhere in the hospital. He’d promised Cassie that he wouldn’t leave until she got here, and he was sticking around.

In that moment, Sienna was grateful for the Valentines. Max had been right. They were always there for each other, no matter what.

She didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep, her head resting on the pillow next to Max, until Cassie shook her awake. The light outside the window told her it was morning.

Without a word, Cassie folded Sienna into her arms, letting her friend cry tears that she didn’t think she had left.

“He’s going to be okay,” whispered Cassie, over and over again. “He’s strong and he’s a fighter. He won’t leave us.”

Sienna refused to leave his side until he woke up, so Cassie went to arrange for food and a change of clothes for Sienna. She found Ethan standing in front of the vending machine, perusing the options. She put her arm through his, resting her head on his shoulder.

“He’s still asleep, but his vital are strong,” said Cassie.

“I spoke to his attending,” said Ethan. “They’re recommending minimum eight weeks rest.”

“That makes sense,” nodded Cassie, letting Ethan support her weight as she felt the exhaustion and worry from the last twelve hours catch up. “The ruptured spleen is serious enough to warrant that. The fracture and concussion on top of it make it tricky.”

“You should eat something, love,” he said eventually, placing a kiss on her forehead.

Cassie laughed when she saw the familiar candy in the machine. Without another thought, she fed money into the machine and made her selection.

“What’s that?” asked Ethan.

“Chuckles Gum,” she smirked. “Surely you remember, Dr. Ramsey. They write jokes in the wrapper. See? This one’s even a doctor joke.”

“If it’s about the Type O blood type, Rookie, they need new material,” he said dismissively. “It wasn’t funny then, it isn’t funny now.”

“Got you to notice me,” she retorted. “I think that makes it very funny.”

Cassie went still when she saw Sienna standing dazed outside Max’s hospital room. She rushed over to see the huge smile on her friend’s face.

“He’s awake,” she said, holding out her hand for Cassie. “He’s still groggy and in pain, but he’s awake.”

Two days later, Max was recovering well and expected to be discharged the following day. Sienna had left him for brief periods only, always returning as soon as she could, not wanting to miss out on anything. His concussion was still bothering him, and Sienna adjusted the ceiling lights so that they weren’t as bright.

“What are you thinking about?” asked Max when Sienna returned to the chair that was jutted up against his bed, looking lost in thought even as her hand came to rest on his.

“I want to get married,” she said, her hand turning in his to lace their fingers together.

“Didn’t I propose already?” he joked. “Otherwise, that ring on your finger is a problem.”

She smiled, glad to see his old self slowly returning after the last two days. He’d started cutting back on the painkillers this afternoon, preferring to ride out the pain for as long as possible.

“I know we said we wanted to enjoy being engaged, but I don’t want to wait,” she told him. “I almost lost you…”

“Hey, I’m still here,” he said softly, squeezing her hand.

“I know, but once again someone I love was almost taken from me,” she said, swallowing hard to keep the tears at bay. “It made me realize how short life is. I don’t want to spend another minute without being yours, officially and legally.”

“I want you to have the wedding of your dreams, Si,” he said, hesitant. “Your family around you, your friends, a large party on the grounds of Oak Alley.”

“We can do that later, can’t we?” she countered. “We can get married first and have the ceremony later. We haven’t even set a date, so who would we be disappointing?”

“Are you absolutely sure?” he asked. “I know the last few days have been a shock, but I’m fine. We’re fine.”

“I didn’t tell you that I loved you back, that night” she sobbed. “If something had happened to you, my last words to you would have been in anger. Because I was upset that you were working late. I said I understood, but I didn’t. Which is stupid because if there’s anyone that knows how work can take over your life, it’s me.”

“Can you please come closer?” he pleaded, tightening his grip on her hand as he shifted to make space for her on the bed.

“Please, Si,” he added when she hesitated at the thought of hurting him.

She kicked off her shoes and climbed into the bed, making sure not to jar him too much. She lay down nestled into him, her head resting on his shoulder as his fingers absently played with her hair.

“You know our love isn’t one conversation, right?” he said finally. “We’ve been friends for too long to let that be it. It doesn’t matter if you didn’t say it once. I always know you love me, and I hope you know how hopelessly in love I am with you.”

“You would have to be to put up with my moods,” she giggled.  

“Your moods are the best part about you,” he teased. “When you stare down inconsiderate people at bars, the joy in your eyes when you laugh at something silly, how you tremble in my arms when we’re about to come together. Each and every part of you was made for me, for the possibility of us.”

“I want to be yours, for us to belong to each other completely,” she said. “I want to start the new year knowing you’re mine and I’m yours, forever. Nothing else matters.”

“Okay, then that’s what we’ll do” he agreed, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. “But I refuse to get married in a hospital. And we’re not doing this without your parents. Call and tell them the plan. Cassie will make all the arrangements to bring your family here.”

Sienna raised her head off his shoulder to look him in the eyes. “I love you, Max Valentine.”

“I love you, Sienna Trinh soon to also be Valentine,” he said, eyes never leaving hers.

“Sienna Valentine?” she murmured, testing the words on her lips. “Hmm. I like it. I like that a lot.”

Four days later and a week after the accident, Max Valentine and Sienna Trinh stood facing one another in the living room of his parent’s beautiful home. Surrounded by their families, they only had eyes for each other as they said their vows. And with those words, they were bonded for life.

Tagging in reblog

#sienna trinh #sienna trinh x oc #sienna trinh x max valentine #open heart choices #sienna x max #open heart fics #choices september challenge #choices open heart

[fandomsilhouette]

So a lot of people have been talking about sentiAdrien, and @arcadeology​ brought up the point that many times, the very thing that someone is hurt by is what is part of them to begin with: 

Those of you who’ve read this delightful fic will understand exactly why this post about pigeon feather allergies has prompted me to write. 

cw: sentiAdrien crack theories, pregnancy, miscarriage, blood, illness, Gabriel AgrestexPigeon Man crack OTP, crack taken seriously. 

Emilie married Gabriel Agreste for the money. 

It’s not a bad thing. He was sweet to her, attentive and kind if a little too coldly distant for her tastes, and Emilie was a model girlfriend-turned-wife in more ways than one: doting, flirtatious without being scandalous, affectionate, the picture perfect face for his up and coming fashion brand. 

Besides, she was 24 years old and hadn’t even had a crush yet, and her sister loved magic so deeply Emilie was worried this mystical “career” would leave Amelie destitute. Gabriel was soft to her whims, and rich enough to support another family. 

Emilie was just being practical. 

Mr. Ramier was anything but. He was wildly passionate about anything and everything he loved, pigeons most of all. He dreamt of flying free, wild rebellion and dogged pursuit in the name of love. He was the best kind of crazy. 

No one ever imagined he’d be crazy in love with a married woman. 

He certainly never imagined she could love him back. 

Emilie had always been practical, that’s all. So when the offer of a warm body came, a man who made her heart patter in her chest and bring to life the flutter of feathers taking flight in freedom as her wings, she fell into bed with him and loved and laughed and lied to keep her marriage safe. She loved Mr. Ramier for every reason she could never love Gabriel Agreste: he loved her back. 

It’s just such a shame that practicality never prevented accidents. It’s such a shame Emilie could see herself loving this bastard baby enough to be impractical enough to keep him. 

It doesn’t matter. Practical can mean anything, as long as it keeps her-- and now, her lover and her child-- safe. Magic, whispered her sister. Magic, she followed. 

Gabriel, ever devoted servant of his wife, follows obediently. 

Half buried in snow, fingers moments away from permanent frostbite, Emilie unearths her first treasure. It’s not half of what she wanted, neither wishes nor creation nor cat, but the butterfly and peacock miraculi wink and shimmer against snow, and the drop of blood that spills when the brooch pricks stands stark red against the fluffy white. She kicks black pebbles over the trodden snow to cover her tracks and grins, triumphant. 

It’s a promise, Emilie whispers. Red for the ladybug, black for the cat she’ll have in her hands. 

Promises are not practical, she remembers six months later. With every experiment on the brooch, Emilie finds herself coughing up blood and bile, black and red and horrible, horrifying. 

It doesn’t matter. Emilie makes do with what she’s got. Gabriel searches harder, goes on longer trips and calls them business, because it’s his business whether she dies, whether she lives to represent his company, or to keep him company. He’s in Tibet when she succeeds, or manages something close to success. He has no idea the baby’s been lost. 

He’s never known it wasn’t his, anyways. 

Gabriel isn’t due back home before the baby comes; there’s a baby in her arms to greet him at the door and she’s made it herself. He praises her new choker, pigeon feather dusted in gold and glitter hanging down past her throat. 

It’s the last time she’ll ever see Mr. Ramier. Emilie is practical, and her love is not. This gift, though, she will cherish for far longer than her own life. 

She’ll cherish it long enough for her son’s. 

Adrien is a perfect boy, a model boy modeled after his cousin and delightful to every sense; he grows in strange spurts and jumps, and Gabriel is too busy to notice. Emilie keeps her boy home, safe and protected and easy to mold. 

It’s not enough. She sends Gabriel pacing the earth for the miraculi she craves, experiments desperately on the one she has until she’s coughing up more than blood: strength, memories, hope. It doesn’t matter. Anything is too cheap a price to pay for her baby boy, for the love she lost by the hand of her own folly. 

When she gives up the last of everything, Adrien turns into a real boy: hard coded to love and grow and... rebel. He finds his own wings as his mother loses hers, and Gabriel goes mad in his grief. 

After all, he’s lost the two people he’s ever known all at once. 

When his empathy butterfly phases into Mr. Ramier, Gabriel is awash in a type of furiously determined love he's only felt twice.

Once from his wife...

And once upon a time from his son.

#Notte Writes #Miraculous Ladybug #ML Fanfiction #sentimonster Adrien #Gabriel Agreste x Pigeon Man OTP #Adrien is the true pigeon heir #Prince Pigeon

[lumiereandcogsworth]

Otp questions 1, 4, 6, 7, 12, 14

1. Who likes to sit in the other’s lap?

ooooooh my gosh belle likes sitting on adam’s lap and adam LOVES it. he loves it so much he didn’t even realize how much he loved it until the first time she did it. he just loves having her right there. he loves having his arms around her waist or one hand on her waist with the other on her legs. he loves looking up at her just a little bit and she loves feeling safe in his arms and wrapping her arms around his neck and looking at him and leaning down to kiss him and gosh. yeah.

4. How would they describe each other to loved ones who haven’t met their partner yet?

oh my goodness. when belle talks about adam she gets this cute little smirk on her face. like she’s just smiling she doesn’t even realize it. she tells them that he’s brilliant. and goodness, so kind. she jokes that he’ll be particular about the food and the atmosphere and he’ll definitely come across like this is the last place he wants to be but it’s all a facade. he’s so sweet, really. he may never let you know it but oh, he’s got this wonderful heart. it’s buried under 30 layers of pompous opinions and sarcasm so you may not get to see it but no, it’s so worth it once you do. oh and he’s so funny. he said the funniest joke yesterday….

when adam talks about belle he’s got such pride on his face, he practically glows. he tells them she’s the smartest woman you’ll ever meet. she’s incredible, have you seen her plans for the school? or her work on the recent amendments? god, she’s a genius, really. she’s gorgeous out there, isn’t she? she’s an incredible dancer too, you know. stunning. isn’t she wonderful? so thoughtful. i swear, she never thinks of herself, always others, she’s so terribly kind. she’s got this beautiful heart that you just… you can’t ignore it, can you? she just makes everyone’s lives better. where would the world be without her?

6. Who makes a scrapbook of all their memories to give to their partner for a special event? Ex- anniversary, birthday, etc.

(modern au) oh BELLE absolutely. she totally scrapbooks. she has so much fun with it and she loves capturing memories whether it’s trips or holidays or the kids or anything. i don’t know if she’d make them gifts specifically for adam on occasions, because i think adam would be very aware she was making them because she makes them in a very haphazard manner and you can see the trail of stickers and glitter from room to room as she needs to change locations so she has better lighting or so she can “think better.” but she always shows adam first! she sits him on the sofa and they flip through it and adam has his arm around her and kisses her temple looking fondly at this wonderful life of theirs.

7. Where would they go to get away from everyone else and just be alone?

ooooh i love this question. well the master chambers, at the tippy top of the west wing, that’s certainly their little haven. the only other people allowed up there are the kiddos. but besides that, i think they like to go for long walks and/or long horseback rides to the far ends of the estate. they find little lovely spots and they’ll just sit awhile. belle definitely brought snacks and books and sometimes they’ll just sit and read their books silently or they’ll talk and joke and laugh. or sometimes they’ll start dancing and just holding each other and being away from all their responsibilities and everyone, just for a few peaceful moments.

12. If they each went to go buy an outfit for one another, what would they get?

(modern au) HAHA i also love this. i think adam would buy her a REALLY fancy pantsuit with exquisite jewelry and shoes to match because gosh she’d look so hot in that and he wants to SEE IT. he’d also buy her some lovely dresses!!!! belle would be very tempted to get him something SO stupid like overalls or plaid or a polka dot shirt just to see him screaming internally but ultimately i think she’s just buy him a bunch of comfy sweaters because she loves when he wears sweaters and he doesn’t wear them enough.

14. What memories do they share together that will stay with them forever?

oh good GOSH. their first dance, of course. their first kiss and that entire crazy magical completely unreal day. just that whole like, 48 hour period of time. was that even real?? how could they ever forget it.

i think they both hold fondly the first time they laughed together in the library. it was unexpected and timid and they looked at each other stunned like did you also just laugh???? but they also felt a certain peace from it. a first inkling of their souls beginning to tangle together, just a touch.

they remember a night when they were courting after the curse was lifted. laying outside under the stars on a blanket, looking at each other. belle was falling asleep and adam couldn’t take his eyes off her. he couldn’t believe any of this was happening.

they remember their wedding day and how beautiful it was and how neither of them ever stopped smiling.

they remember the day each of their children were born and a thousand million memories watching their children grow up.

they’ll never forget that one really stormy night. worse than they’d seen in years. lightning struck and thunder clapped so loudly against the castle walls they both woke up at the noise. like clockwork all three of the children came running into their room. they clamored onto the bed without a single word or thought and piled under the covers between their parents. their son maurice, just four or five at the time, was entirely on top of adam. the girls nestled in between, belle wrapping an arm around them both. the family huddled together as blankets were bunched up and there wasn’t an inch of room left. adam hugged his shaking son close and looked over to belle. they smiled at each other in the very dim moonlight and kissed their children’s heads, closing their eyes and promising they’d be safe here.

#if i wasn’t so sleepy i’d be crying #i love this beloved family beyond all words #adelle #batb headcanons #long post #modern au adelle

[homeformyheart]

*cough cough* 40. for the uh the LT route? :)

i am so so so sorry this took so long but inspiration suddenly hit around 10pm and finished it 3 hours later. i hope whichever anon you are gets to see this, since it's been months 🥺.

author’s note: this one hurt and takes place long after the events of the current books (and long after my canon relationship storyline). i hope the switching of tenses isn't too jarring, but it's sort of needed here given the POVs. enjoy! copyright: all characters, except the oc detective, are owned by mishka jenkins @seraphinitegames. series/pairing: the wayhaven chronicles – adam du mortain x f!detective (lyra kingston) x nate sewell (LT route) rating/warnings: 14+; angst based on/prompt: OTP angst prompts // 40. “I’m still not over you.” (in bold) word count: ~1k summary: after months spent trying to bury her feelings for nate and adam, lyra gives in before giving up.

time

nate glanced up from his tome at the large grandfather clock, the antique façade indicating that it wasn’t quite late enough for bed. he held back a sigh – time seemed to move slower these days.

he used to count down the days, when the only way to tell time was to follow the watch schedule and listen for the bells. sometimes it made the endless days at sea a little more tolerable.

other times, it was complete torture.

to know that life was passing by and yet being unable to move forward with it. he had never hoped to experience anything like that again.

and now time is one of the few things he no longer has to worry about.

time in essence, is the quintessential part of human existence that he has no right to claim.

instead, it speeds past him.

pushing the world around him toward newer heights and frightening changes, the awe-inspiring advancements never failing to strike him with renewed hope and fear.

it’s not that time is accelerating the world around him, but that he is no longer able – or perhaps willing – to go with it.

but today – and yesterday, and the day before, and so on, and he’s sure it will be the same tomorrow – he wishes he could fast forward by a decade or a century. maybe more since he’s not sure how much time it will take for the deep-rooted ache in his soul to heal.

maybe it will take nine hundred years.

his longest and dearest friend comes to mind. adam is staring out into the darkness, unmoving in body and in spirit. for a split second, nate wonders if that’s what he needs – the ability to lock away the hurt and let the centuries grow protective ivy over it.

he chases the notion away with a shake of his head, knowing that the hurt was just collateral damage for opening himself up to the possibility of a truly special kind of love with lyra.

adam tenses and nate dutifully returns his gaze to the words in his lap. a brief apology and easy forgiveness said to each other in passing months ago should’ve been enough to mend the rift between them.

but nate knows too well that time doesn’t heal all wounds. he knows the origin of the saying is locked away somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, but he’d rather not think about how much he’s lost because of time.

it doesn’t heal, but it does provide distance.

a human-sized distance he desperately wishes didn’t exist.

* * * * * lyra’s done nothing but put unit bravo out of mind for the past few months, working diligently with agency researchers and hoping that space and time would force her feelings to pass.

for the most part, she thought she succeeded. it was easy enough to bury her head with work. in the windowless rooms she practically lived in, it was even easier to lose track of the days that turned into months.

but time still has a way of simultaneously moving too slow and speeding up when she least expects it.

and for brief moments, she thinks she understands her mother a bit better.

shut out an old life and it distracts from the pain.

she supposes there’s no need for the agency facility to track time in human hours, considering most supernaturals don’t need to sleep and everyone generally works around the clock.

truthfully, she enjoys the hourless days, her watches and old personal phone buried in a duffel bag somewhere.

except in those moments where time decides to remind her of its hold over human life and pull her down the road to memories shoved behind a door with loose hinges, creaking in the wind.

time, the friend who never calls except when they need something that takes too much, shoves memory after memory in her face and reminds her of all that she turned her back on – without a word of explanation.

just her leaving behind a couple of two-word sentences hastily scrawled with nate’s favorite pen and all of her things put into storage.

it’s a not-so-gentle reminder that time won’t let her forget and that the memory of a person is not beholden to their material possessions.

she knows this to be true when seeing a thick tome makes her long for those nights spent curled up in the library and walking by the training rooms takes her back to those combat lessons.

lyra presses her eyelids down to ease the stinging in the corners. the tears were supposed to stay behind with her things, that was the deal.

she wipes furiously at her cheeks while walking briskly towards the exit. she lets pure instinct take her down the familiar winding and hidden road through the woods, stepping out of her car just before the turn that would bring the warehouse into her sight.

she can feel their presence as she steps closer to the outside entrance, its dilapidated façade still the same and yet it now mirrors the ache in her chest.

the ache carries her forward until she’s speeding through to the inner doors, desperately seeking an answer to questions she’s still too afraid to ask.

but it isn’t fear that has her throwing the door open and panting to catch her breath, oblivious to the conflicted emotions swirling in front of her.

“i’m still not over you.”

the words ring loud and true in the otherwise quiet living room, both vampires attuned to her rapid heartbeat and pointedly avoiding each other’s gazes with practiced ease.

adam makes to leave, fists clenched tightly at his side and the movement helps nate find his voice.

“who were you speaking to, lyra?”

her name tumbles with hesitation from his lips, the tender familiarity of the sound is one he hopes to remember in its purest form, when he used to punctuate it with darling.

acknowledging the distance between them might begin to taint it but he says it anyway, his heart leaping slightly at the glimmer of hope in her eyes before dread quickly draws it back into place.

nate’s warmth and adam’s steadiness immediately draw her in and lyra grips the doorframe a little tighter in futile resistance. she knows now without a doubt that no amount of distance will lessen the pull.

but maybe time will.

after all, time is a human construct. creating the space to heal, to grow, to learn, and to love.

and vampires have all the time in the world.

* * * * * taglist: @kelseaaa; @anotherbeingsworld; @wayhavenots; @gingerbreton; @gloynporslen; @sosolenoo; @writer-ish; @alyssalauren; @takemyopenheart; @pearlsandsteel; @babycracker; @mevnraels; n sewell: @missameliep;

#twc #the wayhaven chronicles #wayhaven #wayhaven fic #my writing #my prompt fill #my twc prompt fills #twc lt #my detective #detective lyra kingston #adam x nate x detective #adam du mortain x detective #nate x detective #adam x detective #oc: lyra kingston #nate sewell x detective #adam x lyra x nate #adam du mortain x lyra kingston x nate sewell #love triangle #twc fic #twc fics #not choices #i finally finished an old prompttttttttttttttttt #the tenses are all over the place #also realized this is the first true LT thing i've written that wasn't mainly detective pov #in case it wasn't clear i f*cking hate the saying time heals all wounds #bc it f*cking doesnt and is one of the worst things you could say to someone grieving

[mimisempai]

I want you to know everything about me

Summary:

The sight of a blanket causes an unexpected reaction in Loki... Loki and Mobius open their hearts on their feelings about those who betrayed them.

30 days OTP challenge Day 14: Telling secret

Notes:

Honestly, I don't even know how I got Mobius and Loki to talk about Sylvie and Ravonna. I think a lot about Mobius who has not yet had time to realize what the truth meant to him. I wonder how Loki would handle Sylvie's betrayal. In my Lokius universe, I like to think that they can get through this together. https://archiveofourown.org/works/35391337

1183 words - Rating G

Loki stared at the green blanket with a shaken look on his face.

It was a blanket that they had had at the foot of the bed since they lived together, but only now, after so much time, the color reminded him of another blanket with which he had covered his and Sylvie's shoulders in the Void.

-I don’t know how to do this.

-I don’t even know what we’re doing.

-I don’t have friends.

He was caught off guard by the force of the realization that hit him.

As if he only now understood that he had lost Sylvie.

His friend. One of his first friends.

Not the first. He had lied when he told her he didn't have a friend, because at that time he already had a friend, one who had never doubted him. Mobius.

This brought him back to the beginning of the conversation he had had with Sylvie that day.

- Mobius isn’t so bad.

-Or so good.

-I think that’s why we get along.

-He cares about you.

The whole conversation was a sweet memory. The beginnings of something that could have been a beautiful friendship.

The difference was that at that time, Loki had already started to change, to see beyond himself.

Then Sylvie had betrayed him.

By kissing him. By tossing him out. By killing Kang. By finally not trusting him.

He thought of the pain of that moment and couldn't help but clutch at the blanket. He could feel Mobius trying to understand next to him.

He himself did not understand the pain that went through him at that moment. But he didn't struggle and let the emotion take over.

Mobius' arms wrapped around him and held him tight against his chest. Waiting for the storm to pass.

A solid, reassuring, warm presence around him.

"I'm sorry," Loki whispered in a husky voice once he had regained his voice. He let go of the blanket, turned in Mobius' arms to bury his face against his chest.

Mobius ran his fingers through Loki's hair and said softly, "Loki... Sweetheart, don't be sorry because you are expressing your emotions. If you can't do it when we are here, just the two of us, then where? We've been through enough together, seen enough of each other."

"Thanks... I just..." Loki takes a shaky breath "I guess I didn't really realize how much of an impact what she did had on me. Until now."

Mobius' hands paused in Loki's hair.

"Are you talking about... Sylvie?"

Loki knew this was a sensitive subject for Mobius. He had been honest and told him about the kiss. About that moment, that tiny moment when he had wanted to give in to it, that moment Sylvie had used to trick Loki.

"I... yes. She was... we were..." Friends, Loki stumbled over the word. That's what they could have been. "-close. Despite everything."

Loki looked up at Mobius' face. He couldn't decipher his expression.

"Mobius, say something."

"Sorry, sorry. I just... I know you two were close, but... I'm having a hard time... forgiving her for the way she treated you."Loki can hear from the inflections in Mobius' voice, that he was really affected for Loki by what Sylvie had done.

"I haven't... forgiven her. I can't... not yet. But that doesn't mean I don't regret our relationship, complicated for sure, but genuine, or at least that could have been, if she had chosen another path. Now... I don't know."

Mobius answered softly, "It's still early, don't make any hasty decisions, after all, you did forgive me for what I did to you at the TVA. And Sylvie is not dead, is she? If you had a chance to make things right between you, wouldn't you do it?"

Loki knew Mobius was right, because he knew where Sylvie had come from, what she had been through, what had made her make that decision.

"Of course I will." Loki said softly. "But what about you? Would you also be willing to forgive her?"

Mobius didn't answer because he really didn't know.

His instincts told him no, that she had hurt Loki, but his reason told him to be compassionate. This is what he said to Loki.

"I really don't know, Loki."

Loki understood and said nothing. The simple fact that Mobius understood how he was affected was more than enough for him.

Calmed, soothed from having a weight lifted from his heart that he didn't know he had, his eyelids began to close.

Lulled by Mobius' steady breathing through his hair, he was about to drift off to sleep when Mobius' voice broke the silence.

"Did I ever tell you about my friendship with Ravonna?" His voice was low, barely above a whisper.

"No, although I may have noticed that you two had a... special relationship."

Loki spoke in the same way as Mobius. Though alone, they were both whispering.

Loki in turn literally wrapped himself around Mobius, as if it was his turn to protect Mobius from what he was about to reveal.  This seemed to give Mobius the courage to continue talking

"I feel like I've always known her, I don't know how much of that is true, since I don't remember my past before the TVA. I've always respected her tremendously, she was always that safe rock in the chaos that we might encounter.I was the one who sometimes took the sideways route and she was the one who put me back on the right track, so to speak. So to learn that she knew everything, that she had hidden this from me all these years, that she was complicit with those behind it..."

He paused, Loki said nothing, he just stroked Mobius' back waiting for him to continue.

"Is it wrong if I can't forgive him?" His voice was so far from the confident, composed voice Mobius had under any circumstances.

Loki had never felt as close to him as he did in that moment.

"You realize I'd be a bit of a hypocrite if I said it was wrong. I still haven't forgiven Odin and I don't know if I'll ever be able to," Loki replied softly.

"Yes, but she's not my family, I should-." Loki held him tighter, preventing him from continuing.

"Mobius... You don't have to do anything. As you told me, give yourself time and if you never forgive her so be it. But don't force your heart. Whatever your relationship was. You were betrayed by someone close to you. The fault is not yours. Whatever you do, forgive her or not, I won't look at you any differently."

"Loki..."

There was a silence, time for each to absorb what had been said.  Each drawing comfort from their mutual embrace.

"Thank you, Sweetheart." said Mobius softly.

Loki simply hummed in approval into Mobius' hair.

They basked in the moment when each felt understood and accepted by the other.

Exhausted by the intensity of their emotions, sleep did not take long to take them away, and that night neither of them let go of the other.

_________ This is my interpretation, I don't force anyone to see things the way I do. I don't feel any hatred towards Ravonna or Sylvie.

As always, bear with me as it is not beta'd and english is not my native language I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless🥰

Next day : One of them is sick Challenge List here

#lokius fics #lokius #loki series #loki #mobius m. mobius #moki #wowki #lokius rights #lokius forever #loki x mobius #fluff #mobius m mobius #tooth rotting fluff #established relationship #30 day otp challenge

[bring-the-storm]

Rated: T

Word Count: 1833

written for @mlcorefour appreciation week

After accidentally panicking and telling basically the whole world that she's dating a member of the hero team, Ladybug must someone to fake-date her, and fast. Of course Carapace suggests the obvious solution: she can just date his girlfriend for a few weeks. As the plan dissolves into chaos, the four learn what it means to be the heart of a team, while also getting into more shenanigans than humanly possible along the way.

---

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Those were the first words to tumble from Chat Noir’s lips, his smile too overeager, too happy to be genuine. 

“I didn't-”

“Girl, you have GOT to be kidding me,” Rena Rouge interrupted, whirling on her the second her feet touched the rooftop. “I thought we were friends!?! Who is it? Pegasus? Viperion?”

“I thought he was dating Ryuko,” Carapace jumped in.

“I’m not-” Ladybug opened her mouth to explain, only to be interrupted. She couldn’t really blame Alya (who only had fifteen Ladynoir pinterest boards and showed them off to anyone who so much as mentioned the superhero duo). 

“Oh, right,” Rena Rouge nodded. “Otherwise she totally would’ve been my next guess.” The fox heroine turned to her desperately. “Please don’t tell me it’s Tigresse. I’ve been working on my Tigerella fanfic for months.”

“Guys, can you calm down for-”

“King Monkey, maybe?” Carapace guessed as Chat plopped down on the edge of the building, failing at not looking miserable. “He doesn’t really seem like he’s her type, but you never know.”

Rena Rogue cut her off again. “I swear, if it’s Vesperia and I didn’t see it coming…” The heroine buried her face in her hands. “Ladybug you better explain. I don’t know what to do with my life anymore!”

Instantly, three sets of eyes locked on her, begging for clarification. Ladybug took a deep breath.

“Guys, I’m not dating anyone.”

“But you said-” Rena protested. 

“I know and I’m sorry!” she cried, trying not to look at Chat as her face heated. Not that it meant anything. Obviously.  “The reporters kept asking all these questions and I just wanted to get out of there and it slipped out.”

It was hard to miss the flash of relief in Chat’s eyes.

“So, let me get this straight,” Carapace said, staring at her incredulously. “Your grand plan to get out of a stressful press conference was to tell everyone in Paris on live television that you’re dating someone on our team?”

It sounded a lot worse when he said it out loud.

“I panicked,” Ladybug admitted with a wince.

Carapace breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, at least you can just admit that and everything will go back to normal.”

Rena Rouge and Chat Noir glanced at each other knowingly and almost simultaneously burst into giggles, as if he had said something hilarious.

“That doesn’t sound like a good sign,” Ladybug swung her yo-yo in an anxious circle.

“Trust me when I say it will not work out like that,” Chat Noir smirked somewhat bitterly in the light of the setting sun.

Rena waved her hand across the sky as if she could already read the headlines written on the clouds. “Shocking Reveal - Ladybug Tells All.”

“I could just tell them the truth,” she tried to protest.

“Heroes Attempt to Cover up the Truth,” Alya finished, stopping the yo-yo’s frantic circle with her flute.

Ladybug groaned, wanting to kick something, preferably Hawkmoth’s stupid face.

“And of course it's right around the anniversary,” Chat Noir reminded her.

“Uh, no it’s not,” Carapace glanced at her partner like he was crazy. 

And he kinda was. She distinctly remembered a picnic with a certain kitty on the rooftops near where she ‘fell from heaven’ as they watched a parade of small children stream by, wearing Stoneheart cosplay only a few months ago.

“Not that anniversary,” Chat Noir deflated a little. “I was talking about Oblivio.”

Her brain screeched to a halt. 

“This just keeps getting better and better,” she groaned. 

Carapace and Rena exchanged a glance. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“After a certain Ladyblogger posted a photo of me and Chat,” she locked her gaze on Rena, relishing the moment a little too much. “Some of the fans seem to have gotten it into their heads that Kitty and I are destined to get together on that day.

“Generally involving a week full of frustrated Ladynoir-shipping akumas,” Chat jumped in. “And one exhausted and pointedly not together bug and cat.”

Ladybug giggled. “Okay, you have to admit, some of them are kinda funny.”

The cat hero snorted. “I wouldn’t call Aphrodite funny.”

“What about the fanfic style one?” she nudged his knee playfully, trying to see if banter would help cheer him up. “You have to admit, throwing mugs at the akuma during the coffee shop AU was the best.”

A hint of a real smirk flickered across her partner’s lips. 

“You called me sweet when you dumped all that sugar in my hair,” she reminded him.

“It was an accident!” he protested with a grin.

“Yeah, right,” Ladybug crossed her arms. “You were supposed to throw it at him. You totally did it on purpose!”

Chat clutched his chest, pretending to wipe tears from his eyes. “I can’t believe you would have such little faith in me, m’lady!!”

Both of them somehow missed the knowing glance their best friends shot each other.

All their weapons buzzed simultaneously, doubtlessly with an update from the news. Chat Noir flicked open his baton and sighed, showing the headline to the rest of them.

“Which of Our Heroes is Ladybug’s Boyfriend?”

Her partner scrolled through the article, grumbling under his breath.

Carapace raised his eyebrows under his hood. “Bold of them to assume you don't have a girlfriend.”

“I wish I could say that it’s bold of them to assume I’m dating anyone at all,” she sighed. “But I kinda started this so I guess I can’t blame them.”

“THAT’S IT!” Rena Rouge leapt to her feet, nearly knocking her boyfriend’s shell over the edge of the roof.

“What?” Ladybug glanced at her comrades to check if they had the slightest idea of what was going on. 

“You told the press that you’re dating one of us on the hero team, right?” the fox heroine asked excitedly.

“Yes?” Ladybug answered hesitantly. “You were there too.”

“Not the point,” her friend waved the comment off. “The only solution that doesn’t end in even more akuma attacks is fairly obvious.”

The other three glanced at each other to see if they had gotten it.

“COME ON GUYS,” Alya sighed. “Ladybug just has to pretend to be dating one of us for a few weeks. Think about it. They go out on a few dates, cue general excitement from Paris about the first official hero couple, tragically break up after a few weeks and everything goes back to normal.”

Ladybug shrugged. “I guess it could work.”

“Why does this sound way too similar to the basic plot for any fake dating fanfic?” Chat Noir hissed in the nearby turtle hero’s ear. 

Or hood by where his ear should be. 

“Probably because that's exactly what it is,” Carapace whispered back. 

Rena smirked.

“And I happy to know of an available cat who would be happy to take-”

Her triumphant Ladynoir wingwoman grin fell from her face as the duo shook their heads in unison.

“Bad idea,” Chat Noir admitted. “I don’t want to think about the worldwide catastrophe that could occur after out ‘breakup.’”

“It would be like last Valentine’s day, but infinitely worse,” Ladybug jumped in, wincing at the memory of yet another love akuma that nearly burned Paris to the ground in its mission to make its OTP kiss.

Not that kissing Chat was such a bad thing. He was kinda good-

She cut off that mental track before it could get anywhere.

“Well, who else are you going to fake-date?” Alya asked. “I mean, I would totally be up for the job, but…”

She gestured at her boyfriend.

Carapace’s silence spoke for itself.

“Uh, babe?” Rena nudged him with her boot.

“Yeah?” he said with a grin.

“You can’t actually be considering this.”

“Why not?” he shrugged. “It’s not like anyone in Paris will know any better.”

“Hawkmoth could target me!” Alya pointed out. “He knows where I live!”

Carapace shrugged. “I mean, he could do that anyway.”

“Still, this could…” her voice trailed off. “Uh- why you aren’t fighting me on this.”

The turtle hero shrugged. “I guess I don’t see a problem with it, dudette. As long as both you and Ladybug are cool with it, then I’m not going to stop you.”

“You’re supposed to be my voice of reason!” Rena Rouge stared at him like he had just admitted to secretly being Chloé’s BFF. “Are you secretly a sentimonster or something?”

Nino raised his hands innocently. “I’m just trying to be a supportive boyfriend and help you reach your dreams.”

“By handing me off to the first bug who wants to date me?”

Carapace fell back dramatically. “Babe, did you see Ladybug today,” he cried in an impression of his girlfriend's voice. “The way she stuck that landing and then she winked at me and I swear I died. No offense babe, but if Ladybug ever asked me out, I would break up with you in an instant.”

Rena turned bright red.

Ladybug giggled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You’re cool with this?” Rena spun on her.

“I mean, if Carapace is,” she smirked. “Sounds like it's the closest to a realistic relationship I’m going to get.”

Rena Rouge buried her head in her hands. “Hold on. I need to go scream on a rooftop.”

“Take all the time you need, babe,” Carapace called after her.

Ladybug smirked, grabbing her hand and kissing it like Chat would sometimes do for her (which totally didn’t leave her in a stuttering mess afterwards. Obviously.). “Yeah, babe. Take all the time you need.”

Rena Rouge turned red and fled.

“Whoops,” Ladybug turned back to Carapace with a sheepish grin on her face. “Too much?”

“Just because you’re fake dating my girlfriend doesn’t mean you can steal her,” Carapace nodded. “Don’t worry. She’ll be back in a few minutes and fully on board with this.”

“I should go and talk to her,” Ladybug said as she bit her lip nervously. She waved to Chat in a TOTALLY NORMAL WAY as she leapt over the rooftops.

***

The ribbons on her pigtails fluttered in the evening wind as Chat Noir watched her vault over the rooftop after her possible future fake-girlfriend.

Carapace whistled. “Dude, you’ve got it bad.”

Adrien’s face heated as he punched the turtle hero's arm. “Shut up.”

“Have you considered telling her that, you know, you still love her?”

Chat Noir laughed bitterly. “And watch her heart rip in half as she tells me yet again that we could never be more than friends? No thanks.” He glanced away. “I’d rather give up my miraculous.”

The sounds of the city that echoed off the rooftops awkwardly filled the void between them.

Finally, Chat Noir asked. “So, wait, are we actually doing this?”

Carapace nodded. “We’re superheroes. It’s our duty to protect Paris. If the only way for us to do that is for my girlfriend to pretend-date yours, then it’s a sacrifice we have to make.”

#mlcore4 #miraculous #miraculous fanfic #chat noir #rena rouge #Ladybug #carapace #*waves nervously* hi how are you guys doing

[destielfanfic]

My First Destiel Fic, vol.3

Thank you guys for sharing your memories! My First Destiel Fic is a nostalgic survey open to any destiel fan and has a simple goal - to celebrate fics that were our gateway into a wonderful world of destiel shipping. Thank you, fic writers, you are our heroes!

from @nextheirofslytherin

my first destiel fic was “In This Secluded Spot I Respond As I Wouldn't Dare Elsewhere” by RhymePhile. the girl i liked who got me into supernatural in middle school recommended it to me, so it always has a special place in my heart 😅 it was the first fic i read on ao3 too! i read it while i was watching s3 (cas hadn’t even shown up yet!) but the show was in its 9-10th season

All fic titles link directly to the fic, when it’s possible, we have added another link to our review or submitted rec post.

In This Secluded Spot I Respond As I Wouldn’t Dare Elsewhere by rhymephile [M, 34,000 word count, posted 2010] (our review)

It's 1995, and Castiel's high school years are destined to be difficult: home-schooled until eighth grade, he is awkward, shy, and socially inept. The weird kid with the funny name would rather isolate himself and draw in his sketchbook than deal with the constant bullying he faces every day. Things only get worse in his junior year when he excels in home economics class, leading the captain of the baseball team, Alastair, to start taunting him for being gay. Then new student Dean Winchester arrives at Flour Bluff High School, sharing many of Castiel's classes. Castiel has seen his type before -- handsome, athletic, arrogant, and sure to be the most popular kid in school. But Castiel eventually learns that he and Dean have more in common than he thought, and they form an unlikely friendship.

from @deansbff

i joined the fandom in the beginning of 2019 and molting expectations by tricia_16 was the first fic (over 11k words) that i read. it really made me fall in love with deancas because i realised i didn't need them to be in the canon!verse to be so wonderful, their relationship was amazing in whatever universe they were in and it was always intriguing to read about!!

Molting Expectations by tricia_16 [163,100 word count, posted 2019]

After having trouble coping with a traumatic incident on the job, Dean takes his little brother's advice and leaves everything behind to go stay at the old family cabin in Colorado. Nobody's been there for years so it needs some major work, but it's secluded, and that turns out to be exactly what Dean needs in order to start to feel at peace again. Now in the mountains with nothing but nature to amuse himself with, he takes up bird watching and plans a hike into the mountain range across from his cabin in search of a golden eagle. High up in the mountains, he discovers human footprints. Thinking someone is in danger, he follows them into a cave and quickly becomes familiar with a form of wildlife he never could have imagined: winged people who call themselves angels.

from @bornonathursdayinmarch

I actually started out in the fandom against Destiel. I mean, it was pretty clear that Dean Winchester was not into men. But then I read “Redemption Road” by accident around 2015. I didn’t know it was Destiel. But I got really into it and this fic totally changed my mind on Dean/Cas. I have since read hundreds of Destiel fics and I am more into the ship than ever. My absolute favorite fanfic is “Sweaters and Cigarettes” by lemonoclefox. I love how shy, caring Dean softens cynical Castiel and how in love they are despite being so different. It makes me smile when I’m down.

Redemption Road by spnredemption (the fic is a collaborative effort of a group of destiel writers and artists) [NC-17, 650,000 word count, 24 episodes, posted 2011-12)

With Castiel having set himself up as the new God, drunk on power and volatile as a nuclear reactor, Dean, Sam, and Bobby find themselves on the run from the jealous, capricious monster wearing the face of their friend. Desperate for protection and wary of his brother’s mental state since Castiel unlocked Sam’s memories of Hell, Dean knows Castiel must be defused before he can wreak further havoc in Heaven or on Earth. Although Bobby advocates for destroying Castiel by whatever means necessary, Dean is convinced the Cas he once knew still remains, buried somewhere beneath the mass of poisonous souls and calling out for help. Determined to save the angel who once rescued him from Hell and redefined his purpose in life, Dean himself must resist the allure of the false deity vying for his obedience, and come to terms with the knowledge, long-suppressed, that his feelings for Castiel run much deeper than brotherhood. It is this bond, and the dubious distinction of the Righteous Man, that will ultimately grant Dean access to where Castiel’s grace languishes in Purgatory. However, what Dean brings back with him is broken, angry, and only half-angel, certainly not the Castiel he remembers—and nor is it the only thing that returns to Earth with them…

Sweaters & Cigarettes by lemonoclefox [NC-17, 150,000 word count, posted 2014]  NOTE - the fic was deleted from ao3 by the author, please see our review for more details

Dean Winchester is in high school, crushing hard on Castiel Novak, the unbelievably hot goth who Dean does his very best to convince himself he hates, despite the fact that he can’t really stop staring at him. Dean tries, but when the two of them finally cross paths, their first conversation takes a surprising turn. And suddenly, they both find themselves falling harder and faster than they ever could have expected.

from @iamasphodelknox

Hi! The fic that made Destiel my OTP was The Walk series by Persephoneshadow. It blew my mind and I hadn’t even started watching Supernatural yet. 🙈 I started watching the show last year, just as Season 15 was starting. I’m a newbie but this comfort ship felt like coming home. I also read a turn of the earth by microcomets just as I got to season 4 and it is one of the best things I’ve ever read, fic or no. :)

The Walk by Persephoneshadow [NC-17, 190,000 word count, posted 2017]

Castiel tells himself it was a one time thing, even if his night with a hooker named Dean changed his whole world, but he can’t keep away from the man fate keeps throwing in his path. Castiel is married and he knows his sexuality is an affront to God and everything he’s ever been told is right. Dean tells himself he doesn’t care about the weirdo with blue eyes, but every time they meet he gets a bit closer to something like hope. Dean’s nothing but a homeless waste of space with a brother in foster care a world away and a father in the wind. As the connection between these two lost men deepens, it threatens the carefully maintained lies their lives are built on in a story of faith, mistakes, and the journey of love.

a turn of the earth by mishcollin microcomets [NC-17, 95,300 word count, posted 2015] (our review)

Dean’s your typical half-orphaned, monster-killing 22-year-old until a trenchcoated stranger crashes into his back windshield one September night, claiming he’s an angel that knows him from the future and that he’s on the run. Frigging fantastic. (Or, in which Castiel gets stuck in Dean’s timeline pre series and Dean kind of hates it—until he doesn’t.)

If you enjoyed the fic, please drop by the archive (AO3) and let the author know with your comments and/or kudos! And if you found our recs useful, let us know by Liking and/or Reblogging our posts!

You can find all My First Destiel Fic posts under this tag!

#destiel #destielfanficnet #my first destiel fic #hey guys #these are all submissions we received #if you don't see yours here #please contact mod flyingcatstiel directly #nextheirofslytherin #deansbff #bornonathursdayinmarch #iamasphodelknox

[gotnofucks]

Parts of Whole

(No images are mine, but I did edit them. If anyone knows the owners, do let me know so I can credit them)

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes, Sam x Steve (platonic)

Summary: Steve would see his OTP’s ship sail, even from across the grave.

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: mentions of death (nothing graphic and not very sad), language, angst + fluff

A/N: I saw the trailer for tfatws and I just had to write this. This is also my entry for the amazingly talented @sagechanoafterdark and @sweater-daddiesdumbdork challenge (pic prompts above). Thank you for hosting this and being wonderful. The beautiful dividers are made by @firefly-graphics . Huge thanks to @the-inquisitive-hobbit for beta reading and giving me her very valuable insight.

 It never felt right in his hands. It was his to wield, his to claim, and yet it never felt more foreign. The concentric red and white circles with the star embedded in the blue center glared back at him from the mirror. It had been months, but Sam had never taken this shield with him to any mission. He couldn’t.

It felt starkly cold in his hands, lifeless and materialistic. It was Steve’s symbol of strength and hope. It used to hang on his back, warmed by his body heat. Now, it seemed like the shield only existed to remind him of Steve’s absence. This shield was made for Steve. It belonged to him, it always would. How could he ever stand where he stood? How could Sam ever be the captain that Steve was, take this shield that held more power than a crown on a head?

He put it down again, covering it with a cloth before shutting the door on it, leaning heavily against it. He missed him, he missed him like a throbbing wound that refused to heal. If only he could see the sun shining on those golden locks again, have those baby blue eyes smile at him again. What wouldn’t he give for that.

He didn’t notice he wasn’t alone until a heavy hand was on his shoulder, squeezing gently. Sam didn’t open his eyes, just let the weight of it anchor him, let it bring him back from the chaos that was his mind. The cold metal hand felt like a relief against the overwhelming burden of grief that penetrated his being whenever he touched the circular shield.

“I miss him too.” Bucky said, and Sam opened his eyes. Bucky’s eyes were blue too, slightly grey where Steve’s were green. He could see himself reflected in them and he straightened, looking away, hiding his weakness.

This mantle of Steve Rogers that he was supposed to assume, this legacy he was supposed to take forward felt like cheating. His friend, his mentor, his brother was no more. How could people just expect him to move on? But they did. It didn’t matter he was emotionally compromised, it didn’t matter he wanted to drown, like Steve nearly had at the Potomac all those years ago. The world didn’t wait to create one disaster after another. They needed Captain America then, and they needed him now. Like Fury said, trouble always sticks around.

Sam cleared his throat, making sure he was collected before looking at Bucky again.

“Everything loaded in the Quinjet?” He asked and Bucky nodded. They’ll be leaving for another mission soon, and Sam was glad he’ll have the sounds of battle to drown the war in his heart.

“Sam.” Bucky said once Sam started leaving. “Take it.”

Sam looked at Bucky over his shoulder, his gaze equal parts pain and accusation. Of everyone, Bucky shouldn’t be the one telling him this.

“I’ll meet you in the jet.” He said firmly and quickly marched to his room, shutting the door behind him. He hated coming back to the compound, the lingering memories of their fallen warriors whispering in his ears every time he was here. He preferred his little house in the woods where it was only Bucky and nature with him.

He took out his tactical gear, laying it on the bed and getting out his wings when he heard it.

“You are punishing yourself Sam.” Came his voice.

It was this moment where Sam broke, sliding down the wall and letting a few tears escape. He was gone but he never left him.

“How could you have been so selfish Steve. Why?” He asked, looking up to glare at Steve. Even dead he looked so handsome, so put together with his hands on his hips. He didn’t look like the old man they had buried a month after the battle. No. He was their Steve, their young, beautiful Steve who left them behind.

Sam didn’t know why he saw him. He didn’t know if this was a ghost or a creation of his mind. To him, it was Steve. It was Steve and it was a beautiful suffering to see him again every time he reappeared.

“I am sorry.” Steve said and knelt before Sam, looking apologetic. Sam didn’t try touching him. Not when the first hundred times his hand just went through him.

“You are? What for?” Sam asked. “For leaving behind your shield and title, for leaving me behind, or for abandoning a best friend you promised to walk till the end of the line with? What are you really sorry for Captain?”

Steve didn’t answer, he never did. He let Sam take out his hurt and anger, and Sam cried. In the privacy of his walls, he cried. He was so tired of pretending to be strong, to be happy. He hid behind his jokes and smiles, fooled the world which was so ready to move on while Sam was buried somewhere with Steve in the cemetery, half dead, half alive.

“I am sorry Sam, for everything.” Steve insisted. “But you need to stop punishing yourself for mistakes you never made. You can’t live this way.”

Sam snorted a laugh for even in death Steve was a humanitarian bastard. He didn’t come back to haunt his enemies; oh no the centenarian came back to help his friends. Why didn’t people see that he could never be Steve? That Sam Wilson can never, won’t ever be the Captain that Steven Rogers was.

“I hate you so much Steve, I really do.” Sam whispered, wiping his nose and getting up. Steve watched him getting changed, no barriers of shame between them from that side of the grave.

“You always said that. I have never heard a ‘I love you’ more pronounced than I do in your hate.” Steve commented with a soft smile, it widened when Sam gave him a half-hearted glare. It was amazing how they could go from having a painful conversation to joking, but that was how it worked with Steve. He knew Sam, he knew everything that made him laugh and made him smile.

“What are you doing here anyway? Don’t you have a tea party with Gandhi or some other do-gooder like you in the afterlife?” Sam grumbled, tightening the belt in his suit and attaching his wings to it. Steve chuckled, sitting on the chair and watching Sam with a relaxed smile.

“They are too uptight for me. Mother Teresa tried to adopt me the other day” Steve said, and Sam laughed. His wings were the colours of American Flag, a new change. He grabbed his weapons and fixed Steve with a look, hating and loving him for being so him.

“I’ll see you after the mission?” He asked tentatively. He would never admit it, but he feared one day Steve would disappear again. It was crazy, it was not normal to see dead people, but Sam would rather have a shadow of Steve than just a memory.

“I’ll be here as long as you need me Sam. Always.” Steve said, a sad smile on his face when he saw Sam leaving without the shield.

Sharon greeted him in the jet, talking to Bucky and the other agents over the blueprint spread before them. Sam nodded his hello, snatching the half empty pack of Cheetos from Bucky’s hand and munching on it.

“So now you want to steal the show and my food. You’re such a dick Wilson.” Bucky said, poking Sam in his shoulder and Sam poked his tongue out at him, a gap-toothed smile on his face. Their previous somber interaction would not be mentioned, filed again like so many inside the neglected corner of their minds.

“Bitch, I paid for grocery this month. This is technically mine.” Sam replied, making Bucky scowl. Sam knew there was a 70-30 chance he’ll find his bed crawling with centipedes when they got back home.

“Charming, boys.” Sharon remarked rolling her eye. “What are you guys doing for Christmas? Must be nice to have a holiday.”

Bucky shrugged, sharing a look with Sam. It was their first Christmas without Steve, a 6 feet 2-inch void always between them.

“Nothing special. Stay home, watch movies, eat a lot.” Bucky said. A lot remained unsaid, but they rarely needed words to communicate anymore. Sam bumped his shoulder in his, offering him some Cheetos to munch while he silently grieved.

“Well, I’ll leave my address here for you to deliver your presents to me.” Sharon joked and Sam laughed softly, mentally making a note to get her something.

“Alright then, and I’ll just casually remark that my phone and laptop are both in serious need for an upgrade. Just saying.” Sam said. “Hey Buck, what are you going to gift me?”

Bucky crumpled the empty chips packet before sending Sam an amused glare, flipping him off.

“A ball gag, so that I can hear something other than your stupid voice.” He snarked.

“Damn dude, at least ask me out for dinner before getting kinky.” Sam winked and Bucky swelled with indignation, pointing an accusing metal finger at Sam.

“I cook dinner 3 times a week you bastard, and I don’t even burn it!” He protested making Sam laugh louder than ever. He loved making Bucky mad, teasing him into an incensed rage that usually ended in a pillow fight or sometimes with Sam’s head in a headlock.

They straightened as they saw the incredulous looks on the new agents’ faces, baby agents as Bucky liked to call them. It was times like these, when both the battle-hardened veterans missed their lost teammates, the inside jokes that were shot around with as much precision as bullets and arrows on the battlefield.

They got to work again, discussing the mission and its details with the other agents. Sam would run point on scaling the territory and fly down to the enemy base with two agents while Bucky would guide him from up here and take out potential threats. They just needed to secure a technological innovation and it didn’t seem too like much work. As Sam poured over the briefing, his eyes subconsciously went over to Bucky who was fiddling with the equipment, making sure everything was in working condition.

If someone had told him a few years ago that Bucky would become his anchor, his solace in his darkest hours, Sam would have punched them in the face. But as it happened, they came to lean on each other, the only unchanged part of their older lives, the only person who made each feel that were still real, still alive. They were still annoyed by each other, but the arguments were more of a routine than an actual expression of resentment.

He didn’t realize he was staring until someone deliberately coughed behind him.

“He is so pretty, isn’t he?” Steve asked, though it was a rhetorical question. Bucky Barnes was a beauty, from his blue grey eyes to the new golden streaks running through his new arm. Sam tried not to notice the way Bucky’s armor clung to his muscles, his face looking almost boyish as he forgot the world and focused on his task.

“I thought you said I’ll see you after the mission.” Sam muttered, taking care that no one noticed him talking to air. He hurriedly looked away from Bucky when their eyes met, a heat rising in his cheeks that made Steve chuckle.

“I said I’ll be there when you need me. And it seems like you do.” Steve commented. He took the seat next to Sam, so near that Sam swore he could feel the heat emanating from his body.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Sam snapped, the smug look on Steve’s face making him wish he could touch him if only to be able to punch him. Stupid blonde best friends with perfect teeth and beautiful smiles and an ass that looked just as round after being dead.

“Oh, I think you do.” Steve said, shifting his gaze to Bucky. “I liked his hair longer but the shorter is going well with the new arm. Don’t you think?”

Despite himself Sam found himself nodding, admiring Bucky as he’d done a thousand times before. He liked his longer hair too, but without them falling in his face, he could see him better. And the arm. The new arm that gave Sam tingles in the most delicious ways, it had him flustered for three whole weeks after Bucky first showed up with it on him.

He didn’t know when it started, but Bucky had somehow become the most beautiful person to Sam. From the way he would make him the perfect mug of coffee to their little kitchen garden they started to keep themselves busy, he loved everything about him. Those moments where he would sense the turmoil inside Sam and silently slip his hands in Sam’s to assure him that he was there, these little moments endeared him even more.

Sam had lost count of how many times Bucky and he had woken up on the couch, sharing a blanket, both silently afraid to sleep alone. He had forgotten how many times he had spent kneeling at Bucky’s bedside, coaxing him out from a nightmare. Every moment spent in each other’s company, laughing, joking, mourning together, it brought them together in a way Sam had never imagined before.

“Tell him” Steve said, a wistful look on his face as he looked at his best friend. “He feels the same. I know.”

Sam shook his head, tearing his eyes away from Bucky with reluctance. He’d already lost so much, he wouldn’t lose Bucky too. Not because he has a minor, very minor teensy tiny crush on him.

“Man, shut the hell up.” He snapped.

“Who’re you talking to?” Bucky called out from across the jet and Sam’s head snapped up, mouth parting a little before he mumbled out a ‘no one’ and focused on the papers in his hand. Sometimes he felt guilty for keeping Steve a secret, for keeping Bucky away from his best friend. He knew Bucky cried into his pillow at nights, he knew because he’d held him then, tried his best to fill the cracks that appeared in the walls of Bucky’s heart as well as his own.

But then, Steve chose to come to him. Chose to talk to Sam. And he was afraid that telling anyone would disturb this magic, whatever this was. That he would once again have to bury Steve. So, he kept quiet. He buried this secret in the deep recesses of his mind, the initial worry of insanity long forgotten in favor of seeing his friend again.

“Do you even have a plan?” Bucky questioned, watching him prepare for the jump. Sam had a job for every agent accompanying him, but the idiot had not outlined anything for himself.

“I do.” Sam said, and when Bucky looked unconvinced, he lightly punched his shoulder. “You’re my plan, my backup. I scream, jump down and get my ass back up.”

Saying this, Sam jumped, the exasperated look on Bucky’s face imprinted behind his eyelids as his wings flared out and he floated.

Everything that could have gone wrong on this mission did, and Bucky was hysterical even before Sam’s call for backup came. He was going to kick Nick Fury’s ass, but before that he was going to bring his friend back in one-piece and chew him out for giving him a heart attack.

Sam’s wings took most of the weight of the fall, so he came back with a sprained ankle and bruises. Bucky was getting increasingly irritated when they came back home, their little secluded spot in the woods welcoming them with the smell of pine and wild grass.

“It’s not my fault Fury gave us shitty intel.” Sam groaned, “You can stop being salty now.”

Bucky remained quiet, the silent treatment going for almost the third day in row and Sam was at his wits end. It was stupid and ridiculous because Bucky almost always pulled the stupidest moves in the field, like stopping a bomb with his hand or listening to the villain’s evil monologue.

Steve was grinning as he leaned against the edge of the table, and with every suggestive wink he gave Sam, the new Captain America resisted the urge to throw a vase at him.

“He cares so much that he’s speechless.” Steve commented and Sam flipped him off. Dickhead has been giving running commentary of the thick tension in the air since they came back, and Sam was on the verge of calling for an exorcism.

“Why do you do that?” Bucky asked suddenly and Sam was so glad to hear him talk again it took him a while to understand the question.

“What?”

“This thing, looking somewhere and talking to yourself, or – I don’t know, you keep being weird.”

“You’re the one with the cyborg brain and arm and I’m weird” Sam tried deflecting. Bucky frowned, coming closer to sit near Sam, leaving abandoned Christmas decorations scattered around them. Clint had delivered it for them but neither had the heart to put them up.

“Sam.” Bucky deadpanned, and Sam sighed, resting his head back and avoiding eye contact. He looked at Steve who was still smiling, his beautiful face like a slap on the face and caress on the head at the same time.

It was more difficult than one would assume to explain. Why did Sam see Steve, and why did only Sam see Steve? Was it a hallucination, or his spirit? Would Steve go away if Sam confided in Bucky? Would Bucky be mad he didn’t tell him? There were so many questions, so many doubts, and yet as Sam looked into Bucky’s eyes, shining like sapphires, he couldn’t keep it to himself.

“Its…Its Steve.” He said, looking down and playing with the soft lint on his blanket. He didn’t hear Bucky say anything but moments later a metal hand gripped his, stopping its nervous movements.

“Steve?”

Sam gulped, the coolness of Bucky’s hand in his warming his heart, swelling it with hope and an emotion Sam was too afraid to acknowledge.

“Steve, he – he talks to me.” Sam confessed and tentatively looked at Bucky whose eyes were brimming with emotion. He expected him to call him crazy, or to get mad, but what he did not expect was Bucky to shift closer and take Sam’s other hand in his too.

“He talks to me as well.” Bucky said. Sam was breathless, both by the slight smell of cinnamon that came from Bucky and the way Bucky came even closer, close enough that he could count the flecks in his eyes.

“He does?” Sam asked and Bucky nodded.

“I don’t know how he does it with you, but whenever I need him, miss him, I feel him speak to me from here.” With this Bucky placed one of Sam’s hand on his chest, the beating heart under thumping strongly. Unconsciously, Sam’s hand caressed Bucky’s chest, mapped its muscles and the jagged scars that bulged under his left shoulder.

“I see him.” Sam admitted, unable to look away from Bucky. “I can see him”

Tears blurred his vision until they dropped on his cheeks, sliding down, and forging a river down, leaving a trail of hurt, betrayal, and loss in their wake. Bucky’s hand came up to wipe them away, staying on Sam’s cheek, playing with the soft hair on his chin.

“I see him too. In you.” Bucky said and they didn’t know who moved first, but their foreheads were touching and then their lips met in a chaste, hesitant kiss. Sam melted into his touch, molding himself to fall into Bucky’s larger frame, his arms circling his waist and pulling him closer. They kissed as if they had walked a hundred miles just to kiss each other, as if they had saved every last breath just to live this moment.

“I – I, Buck –” Sam began but Bucky shushed him, pulling him into another soul-searching kiss before pulling away.

“I know.” He murmured.

As Sam relaxed in Bucky’s warm embrace, lost himself in the blues of Bucky’s eyes, he noticed Steve from the corner of his eyes. There was sadness on his face, the pain of a goodbye in the creases around his eyes. But when he smiled, he smiled with genuine love and happiness. The two parts of his soul he’d left behind seemed to have found themselves, and with them Steve felt himself complete.

“Till the end of the line pals.” He whispered.

Sam never saw Steve again.

Their Christmas was not very festive in terms of decoration. There was still too much pain, too much suffering in their hearts. Steve and Nat’s pictures beamed at them from the walls, and Sam sent Pepper the confirmation that they’ll come over for New Years.

It was a beautiful thing about human nature, about how one rises from the ashes to become stronger. Sam and Bucky lost someone, but they found each other. In the shared grieve of their hearts, they discovered the love long buried in there, eagerly waiting to be spread and shared.

They stayed warm under the blanket, wearing oversized sweaters that they wouldn’t be caught dead wearing outside. The sweaters may or may not have been Steve's; the soldiers mutually decided to hold Steve close in this way. Sam’s heart was tripled in size, as his head rested in the crook of Bucky’s neck, the smell of chocolate and cinnamon melting together to make a little world of their own. Sam wondered if he would mind growing out his hair again.

“So, what did you get me?” Sam asked, knowing he wouldn’t mind if Bucky did get him that ball gag. Part of him almost hoping for it.

“How rude Wilson, here I’ve given you all of myself and you still thirst for more.” Bucky mocked and Sam tackled him into a hug, peppering kisses all over his face.

“Bitch, you’re lucky I lo-” Sam cut himself off, suddenly shy. The smirk on Bucky’s face melted into a smile, a hungry look in his eyes.

“Say it” Bucky ordered. And Sam did. The Captain obeyed his Sergeant without hesitation.

“I love you. I love you so freaking much! I got us the cheesiest gifts.” Sam said in excitement. He pulled away long enough to grab his gift from under the bed, giving it to Bucky to open. He watched with his bottom lip between his teeth as Bucky opened the box to pull out two chains, each dangling with a rectangular pendant.

Dog tags.

Their dog tags. Bucky raised his eyes to Sam’s, fisting his hand in Sam’s t-shirt to pull him closer into a searing kiss, all tongue and teeth and moans, hips grinding as passion merged with love and emotion.

“I love you!” Bucky growled and kissed Sam again. “And I got you chocolates that look like dicks. I didn’t know this would happen between us when I bought them, and I was going to give you a hint with them.”

Sam’s laughter echoed around their small house, the dopey smile on his face remaining intact as they ate candy and burnt sparklers into the night. In the colourful light that played on their faces, they held hands together, filling the void that was there with the warmth of each other.

“We can use the shield as a sleigh until you’re comfortable using it as a weapon.” Bucky mused and Sam smiled into his neck, thinking of a certain blond asshole who may have gone away, but will never be lost.

Permanent Taglist: @what-is-your-wish @shooting-star-love @stanmysoul @sweeterthanthis @scentedsongrebel @muralskins @rayofdawnworld @donutloverxo @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @angrythingstarlight @rockyrogers @slothspaghettiwrites @nerdygirl8203 

CE & Steve : @littlegasps @bluemusickid @harrysthiccthighss @abeyyaaar @slytherinandoutasgard @empath-bunny 

SebStan & Bucky : @sebastiansthot @its-izzys @harrysthiccthighss @empath-bunny

For this fic : @barnesandco​

#ssholidaychallenge #sambucky #sam x bucky #sam wilson x bucky barnes #sam x steve #tfatws #fluff

[thebreakfastgenie]

josh for the character asks lol

favorite thing about them

This is such a hard question to answer. I selected Josh Lyman as my favorite in his very first appearance, when the vacuum cleaner right next to his desk doesn’t wake him up but the phone ringing does. I think my favorite thing about him is his complexity. Josh is willing to play dirty because someone has to do it, but he doesn’t always enjoy it (then again, sometimes he does). He has an idealistic streak, though we don’t get to see it that much, because he’s defined by his loyalty and commitment to people. He just cares so deeply. “Every day he thinks somebody he likes is going to die and it’s going to be his fault” is such a good summary of him as a character. 

least favorite thing about them

He spreads ketchup all over his fries instead of making a neat little puddle to dip them in, which is disgusting. 

(Donna stole those fries from him right before this) favorite line

“5 White House staffers in the room, I’d like to say to the 1.6 of you who are stoned right now that it’s time to share.”

brOTP

Josh&Sam, but I’m also a ride-or-die for Josh&CJ and Josh&Toby and it’s really the full group dynamic that I love so dearly. 

OTP

Josh/Donna. Can’t mess with a classic. I’m open to other ships, though. 

nOTP

Josh/Amy, but I actually think their relationship is super interesting. I just also think it’s a disaster and it’s a good thing they broke up. 

random headcanon

Josh Lyman eats frosting out of the can. Source: there is a can of frosting in his fridge and there is no way in hell that man has ever baked anything in his life. 

unpopular opinion

This is flying in the face of not only nearly the entire fandom, but also Bradley Whitford, but Josh absolutely would not raise the kids while Donna had a career. They’d be two working parents. I do think he slows down a little after Santos leaves office, but I think he’d take some time to figure out what to do next and be a parent and go absolutely nuts within six months. He needs to work. 

song i associate with them

Code of Silence by Billy Joel gives me big Josh Lyman Noel vibes.

Everybody's got a million questions Everybody wants to know the score What you went through It's something you Should be over now Everybody wants to hear the secrets That you never told a soul before And it's not that strange Because it wouldn't change what happened anyhow But you swore to yourself a long time ago There were some things that people never needed to know Guess there's one that you keep That you bury so deep No one can tear it out And you can't talk about it Because you're following a code of silence You're never gonna to lose the anger You just deal with it a different way And you can't talk about it And isn't that a kind of madness To be living by a code of silence When you've really got a lot to say You don't want to lose a friendship There's nothing that you have to hide And a little dirt Couldn't hurt no one anyway And you still have a rage inside you That you carry with a certain pride In the only part of the broken heart That you could ever save But you've been through it once You know how it ends You don't see the point Of going through it again And this ain't the place And this ain't the time And neither's any other day So you can't talk about it Because you're following a code of silence You're never gonna to lose the anger You just deal with it a different way So you can't talk about it And isn't that a kind of madness To be living by a code of silence When you've really got a lot to say I know you well enough to tell you've got your reasons That's not the kind of code you're inclined to break Some things unknown are best left alone forever And if a vow is what it takes Haven't you paid for your mistakes After the moment passes And the impulse disappears You can still hold back Because you don't crack very easily It's a time honored resolution Because the danger is always near It's with you now But that ain't how it was supposed to be And it's hard to believe after all these years That it still gives you pain and it still brings tears And you feel like a fool Because it's part of your rules You've got a memory But you can't talk about it Because you're following a code of silence You're never gonna to lose the anger You just deal with it a different way But you can't talk about it And isn't that a kind of madness To be living by a code of silence When you've really got a lot to say

favorite picture of them

#sorry this took 9 years #and you were anon so you won't get notified :( #hope you see it!

[mypersonmyg]

here. | knj

pairing:  namjoon x reader

genre: angst, fluff

rating: pg-15

wc: 2k

warnings: angst, the stripping of clothes

summary: he just wants to take you to the cider mill OR namjoon draws you a bath

a/n: day 2 of drabble month! i’m actually not sure how i feel about this, i keep meaning to write fluff but somehow there’s always ANGST !!!! anyways, enjoy

prompt 2. B - Bath. The otp+ share a bath or shower, or bathe as in swimming or sunbathing.

november drabbles masterlist

main masterlist

The crackling of distant flames fills the canals of wind-kissed ears, temperate hands singing praise against the reprieve of mugged cider. You glance slides to the window nearest, the patter of rain the backdrop to an otherwise uneventful afternoon. Your hand falls mid-sip to the flash of your screen, contact bringing a smile to your face as the device is eagerly pressed to your ear. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, sorry I didn’t pick up earlier, I was--”

“Busy?” 

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” Namjoon sighs, tone saturated with disappointment. 

“You already said that,” Your words accentuate a forthcoming giggle, not the least concerned with pushed plans. You don’t miss another heavy sigh, your own following suit when you realize how distant this feels. “It’s raining, we would’ve gotten soaked anyways.”

“Yeah, but the mill is closing soon and I promised you we would go,” Namjoon looks for permission to blame, his words not untrue. Plans were made at the head of the season, the leaves only midway through routine transformation. It was before life made appearance, the two of you still on high from a summer filled with romance renewed. Now your schedules seems to perfect the dodge of time, one busy whilst the other remains free, a continued nuisance on your chilly plans.

“Joonie, it’s okay! There’s still time and even if we don’t go this year there’s always the next.” You’re aware that your words impact little, the determination of your dimpled lover never easily swayed. He doesn’t respond, the crackling of fueled flames continuing to drift through the air around you. “Joonie?”

“Yeah, I’m here, sorry.” The taste his words leave are bitter, tone resigned to failure, the imagined drop of his shoulders causing your lips to do the same. “Um...I have to get to class soon. I’ll talk to you later?”

“You could come see me…” 

“I can’t, I’ve got a lot of work and...yeah.” Your suggestion is met with immediate hesitance, your heart plummeting at hurried rejection and a half baked explanation. Suddenly the comfort of drops against the misted glass are simply a reflection, demeanor greyed without pause. 

“O-Oh, that’s okay. I should probably do some shopping anyways, my cabinets are screaming to be filled.” Your attempt at a natural humor sounds flat in your own ears, chuckle falling short. “Okay, well I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah...I love you.” Even coated in sincerity it feels off, spine tingling with a discomforting chill. Even so you respond in hum, a ‘you too’ drifting down the line before it altogether goes dead.

Your phone is tossed, hands immediately falling to a trace against the edge of your mug half-filled. The cider is lukewarm, it’s spiced appeal now no more than a withering tang. Your eyes fall shut, immediate images of flowered fields and tandem bikes taking you back to the season long past. You begin to wonder if affection fled just as soon, phased like newlyweds though you were far from such fantastical slopes.

You push up with a sigh, though your words were dropped from a hat your cabinets remained rather bare. It was usually at Namjoon’s insistence and begged accompaniment that you would float through the aisles of the grocery, haphazardly filling the cart whilst he sifts through with care, making sure all of your bases are covered. Now as you step to the door, galoshes shoved to feet and windbreaker covering sleeved arms you can’t recall what the bases are.

Your drive is silent, radio filled with festive cheer left on mute as thoughts race and worries bubble over a surface left unsteady. Your trip through silent storelanes is much the same, the ringing at the register leaving you uncertain if your purchase contains any objects of use. 

When you’re pulling back into your lot, it’s the realization of fatigue. Your skin is heavy and the dragging of your heart has made it even more so. You’re not unaware of your own dramatic curve of emotion, but it’s a symptom unshakable. Your own autumn fever, a nonmedicinal cold. 

The beat of rain against the windshield keeps you firm, desire to lug bags through the spill less intriguing than the snug of heated leather. Your train of thought is derailed by the cup of hands against the driver side glass, familiar rounds staring through breathed fog. Your hand his quick to roll the window, Namjoon’s hooded head peeking through.

“What are you doing?” He immediately ponders, glancing at your door and back. 

“Me? What are you doing? I thought you had homework,” You counter flinching at the drop of cold seeping around Namjoon’s towering form. He regards you for only a moment, pupils tracing your features, attention tunneled. 

“You’re upset.”

“What?” Not false, but you feel the relax of your muscles, sure that nothing external gives way to your inner storm. 

“You didn’t say it back...you’re upset. Come on, it’s freezing out, I’ll help you take your things in.” 

“You don’t--” He doesn’t leave room for counter, already rounding to the boot of the vehicle, easily scooping up a hefty sum. You retrieve what little remains, legs hurrying to grant access to your darkened home. Namjoon’s navigation is quick, if not a little clumsy, the clatter of bags followed seamlessly by the flick of a switch. 

“Can I use your bathroom?” Namjoon floats near the doorframe, feet shifting beneath him. Your face pulls to a confused squint, question sudden if not completely ridiculous. 

“Um...yes?” He takes not a moment, dashing off without another word. Your focus shifts to the unbag and refill, almost forgetting altogether that Namjoon inhabits the depths of your home. It’s only when you’ve placed a solitary bag of rice that your attention shifts. 

You enter the living room, the expectations of a muscled giant occupying the better half of your couch left unfulfilled. You traverse to the bathroom in the far hall, muffled mutters and the knock of a bottle from the counter telling enough that Namjoon is still inside. You raise to knock at the door, hands daintily tapping at worn wood.

“Are you okay?” 

“Uh,,,yeah. Are you done with the groceries?” He sounds just beyond the barrier, as if he’s pressed to the frame much like yourself.

“Yeah, I just-you weren’t in the living room so I wanted to see if everything was--”

“Everything is fine!” Namjoon yanks at the door, the sound of his displeased grunts at his own lapsed memory accompanying the twist of the lock. In his reveal, he’s smiling down at you, cheeks stretched to capacity. “Come in.” 

You do as told, eyes on Namjoon as you enter the decently sized space. The spillage of goop beneath your shoe draws your gaze and from there the overflow of bubbles from your bathtub. You surprise yourself with the laughter that spills without pretense. 

“Joon, how much did you put in here? It’s not a swimming pool,” You tease, frame turning to him once more, the blush of his cheeks heightened under low lights. Your hands easily find purchase around his middle, face burying into the fabric of his tee. “You drew me a bath.”

“I wanted to make you feel better,” He explains in short, sizable hands tracing the line of your spine. You inhale, his pine-like scent mixed with the wash of rain and a hint of bubble bath fills your senses. You’re almost content, the stiff of your limbs still apparent, Namjoon’s hold on your shoulders telling you as much. 

His hands travel to the hem of your shirt, easily lifting it over your head to be tossed from view. He takes only a moment to absorb your bra clad form before the gentle pull at your shoulders turning you from view. His fingers expertly unhinge the clasp of your bra, the material falling to the floor. Your hands take it upon themselves, sliding into the waist of your bottoms, sending them and your panties to the tile flooring. 

You grip the tubs edge, feigned porcelain cool against your fingers. The gentle dip of a toe falling to rippled waters as you shiver with intention, the rest of your body eager to dive into the satisfying grips of liquid warmth. When you’re fully submerged you breathe with content, head pushed to a backward tilt and eyes closing for the briefest moment until the click of a shoe forces you back to current.

“Are you not getting in?” You stop Namjoon mid step in the opposing direction, his lips pulled into surprised pucker hand tracing hollowed cheeks. “Get in.” 

You create space behind you, Namjoon watching you for only a moment before quickly stripping himself bare, sliding in behind you, arms immediately pulling you against his chest. Like this you remain, silent, surrounded by warmth and worries respectively. It’s the tightening of arms against your waist that breaks the spell, Namjoon’s voice deep, his breath fanning your neck.

“Are you okay?” You feel his timber in your core, head falling against his shoulder. You can only hum, though it’s unsatisfactory, “You seemed off earlier and...you didn’t say it back.”

You force yourself to shift so his face falls to view, those same words from earlier peaking interest. “What are you talking about, what didn’t I say?”

“I said I love you earlier and you said ‘you too’” It had seemed inconsequential in current time, your own emotions plunging you into freefall, but you can hear the hurt in his words and the tension of his grip. “And you didn’t really seem happy to see me.” 

“I was-I am happy to see you,” You assure, loosening his hold to an interwoven hold of your hands. “I was just upset.”

“About the mill, I know.”

“No. I told you I wasn’t upset about that and I wasn’t lying. I was and am upset that you just shut down on me! You made up some lame excuse so you didn’t have to come over and it upsets me that you think you have to lie or that you can’t tell me how you’re feeling.”

It wasn’t planned, your spill of words, but there they sit, floating upon a sea of bubbles and a tender silence. It’s with regret that a fragment of you imagines the loosening of limbs and Namjoon leaving you to sulk. You’re aware of the issue, but resolution has yet to present and you’re unsure if it ever will.

“I’m sorry.” You sigh at repetitive words, the direction of conversation looking familiar. “I just wish I could be better for you.”

You start at the revelation, attempt to turn to him in comfort rejected as he hold you still in a grip soft and steady..

“Namjoon--”

“No. Just let me finish...please.” You settle once more, water already turning luke around you, a heavy silence stewing you in heavy thoughts. “You say that things are fine and that you’re happy and I believe you, I do, but I also know that you hide your struggles just as much as I do. You hide them better, but I know you’re struggling.” 

No response appears adequate, the words you wanted to speak not moments ago dead against your vocal chords. Your anger seems hypocritical when he says the words, your ability to cover your fears blinding even you to your two faces. 

“I know that you wanted to go to the mill because it’s something that makes you happy and when I couldn’t give that to you I guess I started questioning whether I could give you what you deserve.” Namjoon continues when he realizes you won’t speak. “I started to get in my head and I knew you wouldn’t tell me that you were hurting and figured it was my job to pull away.” 

“Well it’s not,” You breathe, finally finding the will to speak. “I don’t want you to pull away or feel like it’s your job to make me feel better because it’s not. Not to mention that you leaving or creating distance only makes me feel worse.”

“I’m--”

“Don’t.” You stop him before he can conjure the words. “Don’t be sorry, I don’t ever want you to be sorry. Just be here. Be here for me and know that I’m always here for you.”

“Okay,” His lips find your shoulders, a series of kisses against smooth skin. After a moment he speaks once more in a hush, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#bangtanhq #bangtanarmynet #bangtanuniversity #bangtanidx #ficwithluv #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x reader #knj x reader #namjoon fanfic #bts fanfic #namjoon drabble #namjoon angst #namjoon fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #bts november drabbles 2020

[vhenadahls]

Pippa - Omnia vincit amor; et nos cedamus amori.

LOVE CONQUERS ALL; let us too yield to love [from this prompt list]

Pippa bounces on her toes in the elevator, trying to drain off a little of the excess energy she’s been carrying for what seems like forever. The route to engineering is one she’s walked many many times, by now, and she practically skips along it. Coming back to talk to Tali every so often, getting more and more frequent, has always been a highlight of being on this damn Cerberus ship.

But after their last conversation - after Tali had readily admitted she trusted Pippa enough to link suit environments, and then stumbled over an explanation of the custom signifying a desire for further intimacy, and they’d both clumsily come around to admitting crushes on one another - and after their tour of the Rayya, Pippa’s already energy-filled body has been going on the double. The door takes too long to slide open, and Pippa finds herself bouncing on her toes again.

She falls to flat feet when she sees the dejected slump in Tali’s shoulders. “Tali?”

Turning around, Tali’s masked face tilts down until Pippa feels like they’re looking right into each other’s eyes. “Can we talk?” she asks, and nearly before Pippa’s nodded an answer she’s pulling her into the back of the room, where the noise of the drive core will mask their conversation.

Once they’re nestled in the back, both leaning on the railing, Tali takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry about before. It was unprofessional, and I...I was selfish.” She sags a little against the railing.

Blinking confusedly, Pippa reaches out to put a hand on Tali’s wrist. “Selfish? Sorry? Why, Tali? I told you I feel the same way! You’ve never been selfish in your life - you spend more time thinking about others than anyone I’ve ever met. Might be time to start thinking of yourself first sometimes.”

“Maybe that works for humans, but that’s not how quarians are.” She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “If we don’t think of the whole crew, someone could get hurt. Or killed. And you...you deserve to be happy with someone. I can’t do that, can’t be that for you. I...I could get sick. Jeopardize the mission.”

Pippa slides one hand along the railing. “I don’t understand. How would us being together get you -” A lightbulb goes off in her head, and she cringes.

“Shepard? Are you all right?” There’s Tali, always worrying about others before herself.

“I’m fine.” Taking a deep breath of her own, Pippa forces her eyes to open again and her shoulders to relax. “I wasn’t expecting to have this conversation quite yet, though, so this might be pretty scattered. But uh. I don’t know if this is a thing quarians have, but I’m what humans call asexual. I don’t experience sexual attraction, not to anyone. Humans, quarians, asari, turians, male, female, other genders, I just don’t. I do feel attraction, like romantically.” Her cheeks flame red, and she knows this is a human body language thing Tali has learned to read exceptionally well from her own ghost-pale skin. “Definitely still have crushes, uh, pretty obviously. But it’s not sexual for me. And not all asexual people are like this, but I personally don’t want sex at all. I understand intellectually why other people like it, but it just...doesn’t do it for me.” There’s more - a lot more - to it than that, but she doesn’t want to get that deep into it on the first explanation.

Tali doesn’t respond, and Pippa’s heart sinks. “I didn’t want to get into it right away because I didn’t want you to feel pressured to act any which way, because I didn’t know how far we’d want this to go. But...I just don’t want you to feel like I’d be unhappy being with you if we couldn’t have sex. It honestly would never have crossed my mind. And if sex could hurt you, I doubly don’t want it - your safety is paramount, for me.”

Anxiety pools in Pippa’s stomach when Tali still doesn’t say anything. “If you’re not comfortable with trying this out, then, I understand. Lots of humans aren’t either. I wasn’t trying to hide anything from you. I just didn’t know if we’d get to a point where we’d need to have this conversation. But I guess I really don’t know anything about quarian romance beyond Fleet and Flotilla, so I shouldn’t have assumed -”

Laughing, Tali rests a hand on Pippa’s arm. “Shepard. Pippa. It’s okay.” She shakes her head. “First, how did I not know you like Fleet and Flotilla? We will have to talk more about that later. Second, I...I think I brought this up earlier than I needed to. Everyone talks about relationships with other species like that’s what you have to be most careful of. Like no one else will think it’s real without...without sex. And I got a little caught up in that, I think. Even though you’re not like anyone else I’ve ever met.” She slides her hand down Pippa’s arm, linking their fingers together. “I still want to try this. Us. Whatever we might be. But,” she gestures to her mask, her suit, “I worry you might not see the real me.”

Pulling on their joined hands, Pippa pulls her into a hug, drawing another startled laugh from Tali. “I do. I see you. And I’m glad you want to, too.” With a grin, she rises onto her tiptoes and plants a wet, silly kiss on Tali’s faceplate.

“Hey!” Tali gently bonks her helmet against Pippa’s head. “Works for me.”

“Good.” Extricating herself from the hug, Pippa squeezes Tali’s hand again. “Now, will you tell me about quarian romance customs and how they’re different from Fleet and Flotilla?”

“Oh!” Tali stands up straight again, hands flying through the air. “So of course that relationship is between a quarian and a turian, not between quarians…”

#thank you!! #mass effect #tali'zorah #shepard #shali #pippa shepard tag #otp: memories you bury or live by #logan writes fic #dearphelia