fic by me


When Bitty told Jack they should go to sleep, he meant it. He had no intentions of staying up any longer than necessary–despite Jack’s admittedly very sweet and very romantic gesture, it was five in the morning, and Bitty had been asleep, and he was tired. So Bitty got Jack a dry shirt, and a towel to get the worst of the rain out of his hair, and then he promptly suggested that they both get some sleep before they had to get up again. And he meant it.

Now he’s not sure exactly what he was thinking. Because, lying in bed with Jack’s arm wrapped securely around his middle, he’s fairly certain it’d take a hard check to knock him out. If he was tired before, he’s positively buzzing now; his veins feel like they’re pumping pure adrenaline and with every rise and fall of Jack’s chest against his back, an unsettling thrill shoots up his spine. It’s all he can do to keep from letting his legs restlessly kick around under their shared duvet.

It’s just that, Bitty’s not delusional. He loves Jack, he does, and it was so incredibly sweet of him to drive all this way, and to propose coming out to the boys, but–but Bitty knows what’s more important in the long run. And it’s not the boy Jack has been dating for less than a year, it’s not a long-distance relationship that no one can guarantee will last.

It’s not a sad thought–at least, Bitty’s trying not to let it be. It’s just an honest one.

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Everlasting Party - Mystic Messenger Time Loop AU (pt 10)

<- Previous Chapter | Chapter Index |

Summary: You’re caught in a time loop during the 11 days leading up to the RFA’s party unless you can do… what, exactly?

10+ Tiny spoilers for Day 7 of Zen’s route.

Note: In this fic, all of the characters are Korean (as they are in canon). Therefore they are in South Korea and speak Korean as their first language (even though the fic is written in English). TOEIC (Test of English for International Communication) is a standardized test that measures how capable an individual is in reading, writing, and speaking English.


Snip, snip. Brown locks fall to the floor. It’s been a long time since you last cut your hair. It’s been even longer since you tried cutting your own hair. But, well, you’ve got a lot of room for error now.

A long braid sits on the bathroom counter in front of you, the first casualty of your scissors. It was much harder than you’d thought it would be to hack through the thick bundle of hair, and your cuts were extremely choppy. In trying to straighten it, your hair has been getting shorter and shorter – you could probably consider it a pixie cut at this point.

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zendelai  asked:

Jellyfish for Hawke & Fenris?

 jellyfish: a thousand little stings

I wanted to do a literal approach to this prompt, and the result was 6000 words worth of fenhawke merfic


She’d once heard heartache described as a wound best healed undressed – to leave it open, untouched; to let it breathe and mend on its own, not suffocated with distractions, or drowned with drink.

But Maker, what she wouldn’t give for a distraction. Or better yet, a pint.

It’s not the broken engagement that stings the most – her pride might be a great and terrible thing, but she’s always carried her social losses with grace (and not a small amount of insufferable cheek, much to her late mother’s chagrin). No, the worst by far, Hawke thinks, is that she’d started to care. And affection for someone who’d toss you to the sharks without a second thought, now that is not a wound so easily suffered.

A whole month since the debacle, and the rumour mill keeps churning, but it’s not the whispers that get to her – it’s the seeming indifference, the unshaken calm of the man who’d treated her heart like a small, insignificant thing, as though Hawke herself was small, and irrelevant beyond being a stepping stone to a considerable fortune. Turning up at the same social event is one thing – turning up at one hosted at her own house speaks of a disrespect so vivid it’s bordering on the absurd.

She’s escaped the festivities with most of her dignity still intact, only one, albeit generous glass of wine in her belly, and her former fiance’s pilfered pocket-watch tucked away in her skirts for some nefarious plan she’s hoping the sea will help her hatch. Her family’s manse (hers now, after her mother’s passing, but she keeps forgetting between one grief and the next), lies in the cradle of a secluded cove, behind which Kirkwall sprawls. A sliver of beach curls almost all the way around the cove, and on the far side twin rows of cliffs cut sharply into the dark waves of the Waking Sea, the great jagged shapes like a hundred fins arching from the surface. And there’s a wildness to it that calls her forward now, away from the clink of glasses and muted laughter drifting out of the open windows, and she wanders along the beach until she’s out of sight of the house, dragging her skirts and her wounded heart, and only when she’s by the water’s edge does she allow herself to stop.

And to scream at the very top of her lungs the loudest, most outrageously colourful expletive she can think of.

The water doesn’t answer, nor does the sea beyond the cove, and in the resounding silence Hawke huffs a self-satisfied breath. She toys for a moment with the idea of tossing the pocket-watch into the depths – a final flourish, to top off her rather impressive vocal performance – but she decides against it when another idea presents itself in its stead.

It takes her a moment to consider the thought – another for that one glass of wine she’s allowed herself to give her the go-ahead, and then she’s stripping off her boots and stockings, fingers trembling from the slight chill making her hands fumble on the laces of her dress, before she’s discarded it on the beach along with the watch (and her inhibitions and good sense, clearly). And then she’s running for the water with a whoop of delight that’s cut off rather abruptly by the shock of cold that hits her, and wraps around her like an iron vice.

If anyone sees, they’ll say she’s gone mad – broken heart and broken mind, and she’s used to making public spectacle of herself, isn’t she? – but it’s hard to remember the party and the stares and her hand wrapped around the stem of her glass, imagining his throat bobbing with that insufferable laughter. A few quick strokes take her away from the beach, until all she can see is water on all sides and the dark sky above – like she’s floating, suspended in a void, dark and cold but honest, at least, in its unforgiving nature. Unlike some, she thinks, but the thought is a very small droplet, quickly swallowed by a bigger pool of indifference, and it’s a strangely liberating thing, being bared like this – just Hawke, and the water.

Something brushes against her bare leg, a deceptively delicate caress. It takes her a moment – a millisecond, to register the pain.


The rest of the oath is drowned by a mouthful of water, and she’s flailing, lungs screaming as panic clamps around her windpipe, and now she really can’t tell sky from sea, or even the bottom of the cove from the surface – can barely think past the agony that’s gripped her leg, like fire under water, and a pressure so great it’s hard to force her thoughts past it, to the actions needed to keep her afloat.

A hand on her elbow then, strong fingers digging into her skin, hauling her up (is it up? or down?), and the last thing she sees before the dark water and unconsciousness swallows her whole is a tiger’s pattern of iridescent stripes, like the moon glinting off the surface of a rippling pond, burning against her retina a bright and brilliant ghost of blue, blue, blue

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anonymous asked:

boxer!calum coming home with cuts and bruises and you help clean him up :O

“Please stop doing this to yourself.” You mumble against the warmth of his sun-damaged skin. The smell of his cologne would have inclined you to kiss him by now if it hadn’t been for his wounds waiting to be cleaned up.

“I’m fine, really. Just a couple of scratches. I’m doing this for us, y’know.” Calum replies, his fingers tracing patterns on the dip of your back. 

Ripping away from his grasp, you feed him a frustrated glare. You were done playing games. Watching your boyfriend stumble in half past one after a warehouse fight every other night was not something you were willing to be put through. 

“Do you have any idea what I have to go through every day? Staying up late not knowing if you’re going to come home. Not being able to focus on university because I’m too worried that you’re going to die out there! This isn’t fair and you know that.” Bitterly, you tell him, watching as his face hardens at your sharp words.

“You think I don’t know that?! You think this is just some game to me, Y/N?”


Calum’s face falls and you know you’ve gone too far. You know he’s only doing this temporarily in order to pay off a debt, and you’re grateful for his determination. You just wish that he could find some other way to pay back his acquaintance, something that’s not life-threatening. 

“Really? That’s what you think of me?” Calum asks, the hurt obvious in his tone.

With a big sigh, you shake your head, both hands resting on your hips as you make eye contact with the bathroom tile. Moments later, you glance up at your boyfriend of two and a half years, watching as he attempts to clean up his knee scab.

Two small steps later and your chest is pressed up against his once again, your hands reaching to cup his cheeks. His brown eyes meet yours and you give him a small grin.

“Let me help you.” You offer, and after a few seconds of gazing he gently places the gauze in your hand, along with a couple Q tips. Crouching down, you clean up the gash with ease and wrap it up all within one minute.

“You’re good at that,” He whispers, motioning to the now wrapped knee and admiring your clean up work. “You’re almost too good at it.”

He looks down, and you know he’s feeling ashamed. Grabbing at his face once more, your eyes meet in a locked stare, the only sound ringing through the room is your steady breathing and the dripping sink.

Calum cracks a smile. You smile back.

“I love you.” His voice is soft, and the words hold more meaning than you could ever imagine.

“And I love you,” You reply, taking the time to kiss his chin. He shivers underneath your touch, unable to control himself. His arms find their way around your waist, your tank top riding up ever so slightly. “Even if you are a pain in my ass sometimes.”

Rolling his eyes, Calum can’t help but to chuckle at your additional commentary. His lips find your own, reaching up to grip the back of your neck. He wanted to kiss every inch of you right then and there, wanted to drink you in and tell you not to worry. He wanted to reassure you that it would all be okay.

So he did.

“Don’t worry babies,” He murmurs against your mouth, his words suddenly caught in his throat. His nose nudges the start of your cheekbone, taking in your scent. “It’ll turn out alright, you’ll see.”

“You think?” Leaning in for another kiss, you ask. He complies, holding you tight against his body. If lips could kill, he thought.

He pulled away moments later, pushing a loose strand behind your ear.


In which Lance falls asleep on Keith and Keith doesn’t have the heart to move away even if he’s uncomfortable and his favorite shirt is being drooled on (featuring Lance in tmnt pjs)

Based on this fic ^^

the straight walk home (preview)

Let me tell you a story, about a vaquero named Vasquez….

September 5, 1875

The sun slipped down in front of The Walrus Gang as they raced further across the plains.

Blinded by the fierce light and the sand kicked up by their horses, the gang followed the trail left by their traitor as best they could. Although none of them had any lingering doubts as to where the traitor was headed.

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anonymous asked:

do you maybe have any jerejean fic recs?

okay here we go! 
HIYA nony!  I do have some but I (surprisingly maybe for some) don’t actually read much fanfic… But here’s a few that I have read and do love!

lats kick of with the original jerejean longfic:
Ask The Messenger by Matis_Ink

soul mate AU done exceptionally well and full of lovely characterisations and jerejean goodness

Eyes Wide Open by jaylocked

ARTIST!JEAN feat. Napoleon the service dog and teacher Jeremy (I LOVE THIS FIC OKAY! It made everyone in spacegays freak out)

speaking of spacegays:
This Ink Is Still Drying - Shannon/ ghostqueen / @sourpastels

That hella angsty but wonderful Tattoo shop AU with a good dose of The Foxes and one of my favourite Alvarez scenes in anything 

and the WIP that keeps me waiting for more:
The Smell of Honey - Kaya/ lilaliacs / @goldrosen

did I hear you say soft coffee shop Au? If so here’s this gift.
Imagine Jeremy never played Exy but Jean still ended up in LA and there this family run coffee shop that he starts to frequent. (KAYA BRO! I will finish ninej if you finish this!)

and then the first (and only for a long time) nsfw jerejean courtesy of Renae
Leveling the Playing Field - Renae / Liarielle / @liarielle 

Jeremy Knox has a tongue ring, Jean is horribly distracted by said tongue ring and Alvarez is a terrible wonderful friend   

Both parts of And I Wanna Come Home To You. - Redhoods / @redhoods

just good slow burn jerejean character stuffage :3

Je Reviens by Lazarusthefirst

One of the first jerejean fic on AO3 and still such a goodun

Please be Gentle (and on tumblr) and You Make Me Smile by Britt/ @wesawbears 

Alone (and on tumblr) by elenawrites / @jeansmoraeu 

There’s also my Jerejean fic tag  
and the AO3 Tag

also sorry if I missed the tumblr tags/links for any of these I’m so bad at remembering which fic are on both AO3 and here.. 

umm yeh.. hope there’s something in here you like and of course this isn’t a conclusive list :)


hummingbird heartbeat - pt 11

( part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8 - part 9 - part 10 - AO3 )

Setting a padded envelope on his desk, Bitty grabbed his bag and ran for his door – he was already late for his afternoon class. He’d gotten postcards from Sweetie before, but an envelope was new. The weight of it suggested a present and it was postmarked two days prior, but Holster had forgotten to give it to him when he’d signed for it. Bitty hesitated for a moment, looking back at his desk before sighing. He was already late! He didn’t have time!

It was a busy day. Every time he thought about running back home to open his present, there was something else he just had to do. Bitty struggled through his classes, eyes on the clock. He tried his best to be attentive during hockey practice, but knowing they had the kegster that night kept throwing him off. If he wanted to get anything done in his kitchen he’d have to do it beforehand, and that included hiding all the good dishes. It would be impossible to get in there once the kegster started, and Bitty knew the Haus kitchen would need an extreme cleaning after the kegster before it could be considered suitable for baking again. By the time he was done with everything he needed to do and ready to sit down and open his mail… someone was hollering his name up the stairs.

And the kegster? The kegster was… mind boggling.

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anonymous asked:

MSR 10?

sry i went a little nuts and this morphed into something other then what i intended but it runs on a deadalive-empedocles timeline

10. “I needed someone and… you were the only one I thought of.”

April, 2001


It’s taken her nearly eight years to believe in the impossible, and it’s still easy to revert to old habits. She believed for Mulder when it seemed vital, when it was imperative that if he couldn’t be there that someone be there to fill his role in his life’s work, to take his place, but she didn’t believe when it really was vital. She never imagined him coming back from the dead, always thought it was impossible. If she ever imagined them raising the baby together, she imagined a reality where he never left and her life didn’t crumble to dust. 

She tries to tell him early the morning after their reunion, but she can tell he’s already noticed. He’s quieter, won’t meet her eyes. “Mulder, I got my miracle,” she tries, immediately regretting the singular pronoun. She slips her fingers through his, and lifts his heavy hand to press against her abdomen. 

“I’m happy for you,” he says, almost devoid of any emotion, and that’s when she feels like she’s lost him again. 

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heartofadeadman  asked:

You asked for SilverFlint prompts? I know this is probably a pretty common thing to write about when it comes to silverflint but I could never get enought of it - Flint meeting 'Captain Flint', Silver's new best, feathered friend, for the first time, please?

“What the hell is that.”

“Ah, Captain, have you finally grown bored of your juvenile attempts to ignore me?” Silver grinned as Flint kicked his cabin door shut behind him.

“I’ve not been ignoring you,” Flint scowled, though at the bird rather than Silver. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

“Ah right, you’ve just been avoiding me for four days. Honestly James I’ve been in your cabin every night, where have you even been sleeping?”

“I’ve not been – oh for fuck sake just tell me why you have a brightly coloured bird perched on your shoulder.” Flint was all but massaging his temples, it was nice to know that even after all this time Silver still had an uncanny ability to annoy him.

“Well, as you would know if you hadn’t been ignoring me, this is a parrot.” Silver explained, his metal leg thudding on the wooden floor as he approached Flint, shifting the bird to his hand and holding him out to Flint, who eyed it suspiciously. “Really James it’s only a bird not an English conspirator.”

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anonymous asked:

Can you do the zip me prompt with QuiObiAni Sith Au please. You're writing is amazing

OH GOSH I just realized you requested QuiObiAni AU stuff! MAN. This is just regular Obikin fic but I’ll be sure to add some clothing specific stuff to the AU. I’m sorry anon. <3 

Obi-Wan stared at himself in the mirror, eyes narrowed. A delicate chain stretched across his forehead, disappearing into his hair. His robes were pale blue and made of heavy brocade, the silver pattern shining dully in the bright lights. The sleeves, by contrast, were pale, thin gossamer; every move Obi-Wan made showed glimpses of skin.

Obi-Wan should have expected something like this. This marriage was a statement of power for Anakin. The entire affair would be over the top, an excuse to display his wealth and and splendor, as well as an excuse to show off his new pet Jedi.

Wincing away from that thought, Obi-Wan looked down at his hands. All but his fingertips were covered by the thin fabric. A good way to make fighting more difficult, Obi-Wan thought, although the force inhibitors would do the job well enough.

When he looked back up, Obi-Wan realized he was no longer alone. He held his surprise well enough, he thought, and met Anakin’s gaze in the mirror.

Anakin held the heavy, opulent tunic that was to go over his robes. Obi-Wan noticed, bitterly and ashamed for it, that the tunic didn’t have sleeves; it seemed he would have to come to terms with his nearly bare arms.

“Surely all this isn’t necessary,” Obi-Wan said but submitted to having the robes draped over his shoulders. Arguing wouldn’t change anything.  

“Necessary, no,” Anakin said, reaching around to knot the tie at Obi-Wan’s waist. “But desired, yet. And what I desire, I get.” His hands smoothed down the thick fabric of the tunic before landing on Obi-Wan’s hips. Anakin leaned forward, a line of heat down Obi-Wan’s back, and cautiously nuzzled against his hair, careful not to disturb the chain. Obi-Wan froze in his embrace, although he kept his face carefully blank. When Anakin finally pulled away, it was only to take Obi-Wan’s shoulders and turn him around.

Obi-Wan shuddered at the intensity of Anakin’s gaze and he frowned, finding it difficult to meet. “What are you doing?”

Anakin smiled. “Admiring my consort.”

Obi-Wan fixed his gaze at a point over Anakin’s left shoulder. “Oh, of course,” he said. “Don’t bother asking how your consort feels about being manhandled.”

Laughing, Anakin leaned closer. “Such a flair for dramatics,” he said, which Obi-Wan thought was an outrageous and downright hypocritical claim. “This certainly doesn’t count as manhandling.” He cupped Obi-Wan’s cheek, thumb stroking over his cheekbone. “When I manhandle you, you’ll know it.”

Despite his resolve to not allow Anakin to get to him, Obi-Wan felt his cheeks heat up and he turned his face to the side. Anakin forced Obi-Wan to turn back to him, eyes narrowed. “Don’t hide from me.”

Obi-Wan blinked. “Am I not allowed the privacy of my own thoughts and emotions?” he asked tonelessly.

Anakin pulled away and Obi-Wan despaired to know he was deciding how to answer the question. Anakin stared at him for a moment before cocking his head to one side. “While there is to be no secrets between us, you are allowed to have your own thoughts and emotions.”

“How magnanimous of my lord,” Obi-Wan said, and immediately regretted the snark when Anakin’s eyes darkened. 

“You agreed to this!” Anakin said. “You know me better than anyone else in the galaxy, Obi-Wan, and you agreed to this.”

“For the good of the galaxy,” Obi-Wan said. “I didn’t agree because I wanted to, to belong to you! I agreed because this was the ultimatum you ordered, Anakin! This is what you wanted. If it weren’t for that….” Obi-Wan paused, taking a deep, trembling breath. “If it weren’t for that, I would never have come here. I would never be yours.”

There was silence between them for a moment. “That’s where you’re wrong, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said. “And we both know it. You’ve belonged to me for a long, long time.” He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Obi-Wan’s, his hands heavy on Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “Remember how it was, when it was just the two of us against the universe?” he murmured. “When we were constantly on missions and had no one but each other. We belonged to each other, you and I. Do you remember?”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes but he could still feel Anakin’s heat, his breath against his face. “Of course I do. But things are different now-”

“They don’t have to be,” Anakin interrupted. “I’m doing what I’ve always done. Whatever’s best for the galaxy. I know you don’t believe me now but you’ll understand soon.” He cupped Obi-Wan’s cheeks in his hands, smiling. “I’ll make you see.”

He believed it. Obi-Wan could tell, from the quiet fervor in his gaze and the resolution in his smile, that Anakin absolutely believed what he was saying. Obi-Wan found the delusion terrifying. But was worse than Anakin’s perfect belief was Obi-Wan’s momentary desire to accept it.

But he would not. He was not falter at the face of this seduction. As Anakin offered his arm, as Obi-Wan took it, as they walked from the dressing room, Obi-Wan chanted quietly in his mind that he would not get swept away.

And once again, he ignored the quiet voice that suggested this was the best possible way to drown.

5am adventures

Yahabae 5:14 AM

You (kyou) 5:16 AM
Why /the fuck/ are u awake

Yahabae 5:17 AM
Cat woke me up
Why are YOU awake

You 5:17 AM
I’m nocturnal I get a free pass on this
You 5:18 AM
Also insomnia is a bitch

Yahabae 5:18 AM
Wait so you haven’t gone to sleep yet??? Are you going to be okay for morning practice

You 5:20 AM
Stop being such a mom
not like it’s the first time its happened

Yahabae 5:20 AM
We both know Watari is the mom friend but still dude
Yahaba 5:21 AM
At least that explains why you always look tired and pissed off

You 5:22 AM
Fuck off

Yahabae 5:22 AM
Just being honest

You 5:22 AM
Your honesty is not welcome at this time
You 5:23 AM
Anyway why’d you text me instead of going back to sleep? What do you want

Yahabae 5:23 AM
Why do you assume I want something

You 5:23 AM
I know you value your beauty sleep

Yahabae 5:24 AM
well I know something I want that would help me get to sleep faster….
Yahaba 5:24 AM
A pair of big strong arms to hold me tight ;)

You 5:24 AM
do I even want to know
You 5:24 AM
You 5:24 AM
I’m too tired for your sexting nonsense

Yahabae 5:25 AM
Yahabae 5:25 AM
Yahabae 5:26 AM
Yahabae 5:27 AM
but seriously though I kind of do feel like cuddling a bit

You 5:27 AM
you texted me at 5am because you’re lonely and want to be spooned

Yahabae 5:29 AM

Incoming call from “Kentar-Hoe♡”

Eruri Fic: Cardamom - No Regrets

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 10

(Apologies for the funky chapter numbering.  I split the first chapter in two when I posted this on AO3 so the chapter number has been out of synch.)

For everyone who wanted to know why Levi took so long to reply to Erwin’s messages…

This is Levi’s point of view from the moment Erwin leaves the Middle East until he finally gets his act together and texts Erwin back. He’s a fuck up. What else can I say? 

Levi walks away without a backward glance. And keeps on walking, one hand clenched into a tight fist in this pocket, all the way back to the short stay car park where he’s left the Landrover. He unlocks the vehicle, climbs up into the driver’s seat and sits forward, resting his forearms against the wheel. He closes his eyes and exhales a long breath.

Idiot. What a stupid, stupid, fucking idiot.

When he opens his eyes his right hand is still balled into a fist. He stretches out his fingers and gazes at the back of his hand, at his wrist, half expecting to see a mark there, a brand, a wound, something, where Erwin’s fingers reached out and grazed his skin. He can still feel it, the lightest touch, full of promise and regret.

There’s nothing there.

Not a mark. His hand looks the same as always; small, clean, scarred across the knuckles. The nail of his thumb is black from where he caught it against a rock when he was last out in the field.

It’s over and done with. There’s nothing there.

Continue reading on AO3

Let’s think about teenage Dean who’s battling with himself over his sexuality. Like, he likes girls, he knows he does, but that Tom in his class is sorta really hot?? But he can’t be gay, he really does like girls. All those conflicted thoughts and “what will dad say”s and what would little Sammy think of big brother then?! “There must be something seriously wrong with me,” he thinks.

And then along comes this chick from upper classes, in all her bisexual glory and bright attitude and “I’d fuck you any day, but won’t cuz we’re friends now” and just helps Dean deal with his newly discovered bisexuality, offering advice and support when needed. The motherly type. And they become like best friends and spend time together and everybody thinks they’re dating, when in reality the girl is trying to hook Dean and “Tom” up and it’s the best time Dean’s had until they have to move to another hunt and will probs never see each other again

anonymous asked:

daud/corvo was like the rarest but THE BEST of ships in dishonored

honestly. HONESTLY. like, i got the potential/inevitable popularity of the outsider ridin’ dirty on everyone, but daud/corvo had this potential in fandom to be this fantastic aggressive revenge-come-redemption arc that wrestled two massively complex men with emotional constipation who in the end need each other but haven’t quite figured out in what aspect yet. and like, by golly if jessamine wasn’t the best cornerstone for it all; because you got snippets of corvo being doting, soft and under the covers with affection for her in the rare note, but then compare and contrast the massive, undulating bloodlust that can (in canon) take over corvo, and how he can (in canon) just drop it all and leave him to walk. and the complexity of turning a cheek to daud in the flooded district is this massive jump-off point to how corvo might start parsing what his powers are and how he really wants to use them and blah blah blah. ANYWAY, i’m rambling, but god, yes. daud and corvo are definitely two of the same coin, and esp in high chaos when theyre both victims of blind loyalty and personal flag-waving for a just cause. just imagine the sudden shock of realizing he’s forgiven daud one night, hands damp, bolts up in bed, stares at the heart on his bedside table for 4 minutes straight as if jess had heard his thoughts. gets up to open the window in his chambers to drown out his own mind, the real reason being that he needs to drown out whatever he thinks next

like c’mon, jesus theres such good shit in their potential interactions WEW LAD

anonymous asked:

I wonder if you've read "Yours is the Earth (Hold On, Hold On)" by chickenlivesinpumpkin? I found it on accident and it is an absolute treasure, comparable to Chaos Theory or even works by lettered! It's so good I just had to share it with you!!

Aw, it’s so sweet of you to share this with me! :) I have read this fic, and I love it (it’s actually one of my favorites)! It made me sob hysterically and want to clutch Draco to my chest and keep him safe forever. It hurt my heart so terribly, but it was so worth it. I’m so proud of how strong Draco was in it and how he kept fighting to get his life with Harry back!

Mikey was small and silent beside the new grave, amber eyes hidden beneath a curtain of dark hair. Raph stood next to him, and their heads were bowed together, and their hands were clasped tight.

They were both twelve years old the day Mikey’s mother died.

Mikey’s brother, a tall young man that Leo had never seen before, with long brown hair and tortoiseshell glasses, flew in from the east coast for the funeral service. He was Mrs. Oroku’s son from a previous marriage, and lived with his grandparents in New York City.

“He wants to take Mikey with him when he goes home. He loves Mikey, even if he hates Mikey’s dad,” Raph told Leo quietly over dinner that night, picking disinterestedly at his food. “But Mikey said there’s no way, his dad would never let him go. I dunno, though, Don seems pretty smart. I bet he could figure something out. I think he should at least try.

“What? You want Mikey to move to New York?”

Leo couldn’t keep the stark disbelief out of his tone, couldn’t even if he tried. From their very first day of kindergarten, Leo’s little brother and Mikey Oroku were inseparable. They did everything together. They practically spoke their own language.

“‘Course I don’t,” Raph bit out, bright eyes snapping. “But it’s better than him being stuck here, isn’t it?”

Leo frowned. He felt as though he was missing half of the conversation. “Why shouldn’t he stay here with his father? They’ll need each other now more than ever.”

Raph snorted at him, an ugly, humorless sound. “Shows what you know,” he muttered, and got up from the dinner table without eating.