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sebsxphia · 9 months

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ptolemaea. | the family tree in god’s country.

preacher!rhett abbott x reader.

￫ description: you and rhett have finally found peace within your home, and rhett wishes to reassure you that he’ll protect you forever.

￫ word count: 3.5K.

￫ c/w: heavy religious themes, knives, blood, death and preacher!rhett abbott.

￫ a/n: as always, i’d highly recommend listening to ‘south alabama (god’s country demo)’ and ‘family tree’ by ethel cain when reading! a huge thank you to @sunblchdfly and @becks-things who continually encouraged and inspired me. i love you both very much! there’s only one more chapter left after this! and… i’m sorry <3 this is part of ‘ptolemaea. | the verses.’ my main masterlist can be read here! 💌

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The coastline of California, though far off in your line of vision, sparkled with what appeared like crystals dancing above the waves as they crashed against each other. That was your line of sight for the next three days that passed in your final resting place of the last Motel you would ever stay in.

On the drive out West, when you poked at your Preacher and asked him what the plan was when you couldn’t drive further, he would simply squeeze at your cheeks and tell you, “Don’t y’ worry your pretty little head.”

Momentarily, it was a softening blow to your anxieties of having no real plan. Instead, Rhett guided you to pray with him and trust that he, and God, had a plan for you.

During your last night's stay in the Motel room, he came through the front door and kicked it behind him with his boot heel as he spoke on the phone, signalling that it was coming to an end.

“Thank you, thank you. I’ll see y’ tomorrow. God bless.” He tapped on his phone screen to end the call and threw it onto the Motel bed. A long exasperated sigh left his lips. It was the sound of tiresome relief as he ran his hands down his face. When he caught your gaze, his lips quirked up into a smile and he took several strides over to you on the bed to pick you up by your waist and spin you around.

You let out a squeal and playfully batted on his shoulders. “Rhett! Rhett! What is it?”

“I got us a place t’ stay, sweet lamb,” he placed you back down on the ground but still kept you close. “It’s Arizona, a small town called Green Bowl, but ‘parently they nickname it the Dust Bowl. I need to meet a guy in the mornin’ ‘nd then we’ll drive over.”

You mirrored his smile with your giddiness and buried your face into the crook of his neck. He pulled you in close to his torso, warm from the California heat. A sigh filled with content escaped your lips and your eyes fluttered close for a moment. You matched Rhett’s relief and you could feel his heart pounding in time with yours as rested against his chest, him swaying you gently.

“Our own home. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Your voice was hushed against the fabric of his shirt. “It’s all God ever wanted, right?”

Rhett swallowed thickly and one of his hands came up to trail his fingers through your hair. “Right, my sweet lamb.”

When the morning came, you packed up your few and scattered belongings from the Motel room and let Rhett drive out to a nearby diner.

It was just a Thursday. The morning sun was beating down on Rhett’s truck. It was nowhere near the hottest point of the day, but the morning dew heat wouldn’t let up nonetheless. The streamlines of sunlight bounced off your passenger seat window as you watched your Preacher make his way into the diner. It wasn’t right for you to join him. He told you he had to do this himself.

But, there was concern in his voice when he climbed out the driver's door. He left you a pack of his favourite smokes and a note. “If somethin’ goes bad, read this ‘nd fuckin’ drive.”

You had a complete view of the windows to the diner and you opted for people watching. An elderly couple was sitting together and peacefully enjoying their morning breakfast. A cop was sitting up high on a stool and presumably sinking his third coffee of the day. There were a handful more odd people dotted around, some who you suspected were truck drivers and now being five hours into their twelve-hour shift.

The mellow tune of some local gospel radio station was playing quietly as your gaze drifted back to Rhett and followed him. He cocked his fingers upwards to wave to a man at the opposite end of the diner. The stranger nodded back and walked down the length of the windows towards him. The cop was situated four seats down from the front door where the stranger had now met your Preacher.

Rhett lifted his Stetson off his head and held it between their torsos. You saw him reach out his arm to presumably shake the man's hand. They were exchanging words and polite smiles. It all appeared amicable and you consciously let the anticipated breath you were holding go. You were so close to having your own home with your Preacher. Somewhere that was quiet and where you’d never be disturbed by any judgmental and wandering eyes. You were hours away from living in peace with the man you loved. You couldn’t help but feel on edge.

You blinked and the meeting was over. Rhett exited the diner quicker than he went in. He careered round to the driver's side and hopped in, his boot pressing quickly to the accelerator and pulling off from the diner. He had planned for a car chase down the highway if necessary.

He chewed furiously at the inside of his cheeks for a while before snapping back to his reality where his little lamb was sitting next to him and hanging off his words. He swallowed thickly and bit back a grimace with a faux smile. “All done. On our way to Dust Bowl. Say goodbye when we hit Route one-two-two.”

Rhett’s voice was extremely rugged. His breathing matched in frantic gasps. He sounded as though he was underwater when he spoke to you. He was gulping down seawater and spluttering over his lap. You were none the wiser to the fact that Rhett’s pocket pistol was sat snuggly against the waistband of his jeans and it had just been pressed against the stranger's torso to steal the key to your new home.

You flashed him a comforting smile and let your head fall to the glass pane of the passenger window, watching the road move at speed. The rhythmic hum of the engine and the knowledge that you were some time away from your new home, gave your body the excuse to allow your eyes to droop and fall asleep.

As fast as the road was moving in your eye line, was as fast as it took until you were comfortably moved into your home. It happened within the blink of an eye.

It was a rickety house far off from the dusty roads or any traces of life. There was an old barn that was falling apart, but it sat upon acres of country land, stretching as far as your eyes could make out. Between the barn and your house sat a pond. Nature had overtaken most of it with reeds sheltering all the edges, except for one small gap that sat in line with your back porch. Rhett dipped his feet when he arrived on the first day and declared that it was clean enough for you both.

Your home was delicate, but it didn’t take long for you and Rhett to do it up and make it your own. Old furnishings left over were drawn up and cared for, restored to life by the nimble craftsmanship of your Preacher. Other odd pieces of furniture were found on the side of roads, or in lonesome antique stores. Several empty rooms lay dormant, but you had made out your kitchen, bathroom, bedroom and a small living space where you could lay on a scratchy sofa and watch fuzzy television.

The final room that lay empty was the basement at the bottom of the house. You rarely went down there. Rhett had insisted that the stairs leading down were too old and he wouldn’t want you to slip and fall and hit your head. Due to the cool conditions of the basement, he kept a freezer down there for some food and other than that, he kept the door bolted shut. A silk pink ribbon that was yours, was wrapped in a neat bow around the lock.

The days were peaceful. You created an ebb and flow between you both of repairing the house where it needed it most. You would smile lovingly at Rhett as you washed your hands before sitting down to eat at your kitchen table, and he would mirror back the same lovesick smile.

Heavenly peace.

But behind the wall and above your bed, one of the wooden panels had come ajar. It was enough room for Rhett to store his pocket pistol and hunting knife, far from prying eyes.

At night he’d go down to your basement and pace the cold floor, muttering the same verse repeatedly. He would fetch a glass of water and return to your sleeping frame, but not before staring coldly at the panel and back down at you. They were dead eyes shining bright within the darkness of your home and yet, you were none the wiser to your Preacher finding his Heavenly peace.

One piece of furniture that you managed to salvage was an old dresser. The paint was peeling away off the wood and the mirror was clouded as you sat on the stool, three weeks into living your newfound and Holy life.

You were adorning the same set Rhett had filmed you in. You had only come upstairs to grab a plaid shirt from your bedroom, but you spotted it laying in the perfect place at the end of your bed and it reminded you of something. You admired yourself in the reflection of the mirror and you were presented with more marks blooming from your Preacher. Some were new from the first nights he had you in your bed, but the rest were old and fading against your skin. They were all over your body and as you sat in the lingerie set, they came to remind you of who you used to be.

A lost little lamb who gave themselves up from the herd and gave yourself to Preacher Abbott in the offering. When he spoke, he would demand his silence against you. You were guided by him and you knew, after he disclosed to you about his past that he had taken the noose off himself and had it wrapped tightly around your hand. You would follow him wherever he would go, like a lamb to the slaughter. But Hell didn’t scare you, not when you had Rhett.

You rested your elbows on the dresser top and clasped your hands together. Your eyes closed and you muttered close into your flesh, “Father Abbott, forgive these bones I’ve been hiding and the bones I’m about to leave. Take me down to the river and bathe me clean—”

A creak on the floorboards in the hallway startled you momentarily and you lifted your head and put your praying hands into your lap. Rhett was leaning against the doorway frame with his arms crossed over his broad chest and a sinful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He was still wearing the white t-shirt from his day, but stains of dirt and grass were splattered over it, mixed with the heavy musk of labour induced sweat. His hair at the back of his neck was licked upwards in the same sweat and he held his cap in his battered hand. His eyes reflected off the setting sun of a Thursday evening and his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip.

“My sweet lamb,” he purred with intrigue. “You’re dressed for the slaughter again, ‘nd you look so pretty.”

Your cheeks failed you as they turned a rosy blush and you bit down on your bottom lip.

“I just saw it, lyin’ there and I want—”

Rhett shushed you tenderly and pushed himself off the door frame, stalking over to you with intent in his strides. His large hands squeezed at your sides and lifted you off the stool with a small yelp of laughter from yourself. He buried his nose into your neck as he carried you to your bed, and inhaled your familiar scent deeply. He brought you down to the bed with him, lying on his back and having you straddle him over his jean-clad waist, his belt buckle ever so slightly digging into your bare thighs.

His calloused hands never left your hips and his fingertips dug into your flesh, lightly pinching at you. Occasionally his thumb dipped downwards to trace the scarring of R.A., still etched on you. One of his hands roamed upwards and curved along your ribs, still pinching at you. His eyes intensely followed the movement of his hands and they burned into your skin. There was still a faint trace of the Heavenly smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, but it was fading.

“Look at you. You are s’ precious to me, little lamb. I love ‘nd cherish you from Heaven to Hell. On our trip, I’ve always protected you ‘nd now, I truly can, forever. No one can hurt you anymore, lamb.”

His words were kind, but his eyes were flooding colder.

“Every night I’ve repeated the same verse,” Rhett continued. “The one who does what is sinful is of the Devil because the Devil has been sinnin’ from the beginning.”

Your eyebrows furrowed and your head cocked slightly to the right in confusion. His roaming hand snaked over your shoulders and brushed over your neck, moving your stray strands of hair to sit behind you.

He was still like that for a while. His eyes never left the sight of the flesh on your neck. It felt as though time had stilled completely, and all that could be felt in the world was the moment of your Preacher’s hands resting lovingly on you.

Your body jumped an inch when he took in a deep gasp, as if to stir himself awake and that he had been sleeping with his eyes open. His thumb found his mark on your hipbone again and his eyes finally locked back to your concerned gaze. He moved the pad of his thumb over the scar in consistent circles.

“Y’ trust me, little lamb? To always protect you? Always keep y’ safe?”

You flinched again as his thumb left your hip to reach underneath the pillow where his head lay. Your breath hitched tightly in your throat and got caught in your lungs. Your rib cage constricted around you and your eyes went wide as they scanned the broad blade of Rhett’s hunting knife.

You could hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Your eyes scanned frantically over your Preacher’s eyes, to try and find something you knew as familiar, to try and locate where Rhett was.

But they were cold and his Heavenly smirk was wiped from his features. Only a Devilish smirk lay on his lips. The same face you had witnessed in the forest.

“Rhett… Preacher Abbott, I do trust you. I know you’ll always keep me safe, here, in our home. Hell don’t scare me.” Your voice started to plead with him and came out barely above a whisper.

You were fearful of losing him.

“Please let me stay with you forever.”

“You poor thing. Sweet, mournin’ lamb. There’s nothing you can do, it’s already been done.”

The slice of the blade from Rhett’s hunting knife was thin and precise across your neck. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as you had imagined, not when God’s hands were holding onto your waist tenderly to keep you upright.

The first thing you saw was the blood. Your neck was spraying the crimson colour like the food court fountain in your home town. It splattered mindlessly across Rhett’s face and trickled down his intact neck, to stain his musky-coloured t-shirt. It wouldn’t stop pouring from your own, wouldn’t stop coating your neck and chest. It dribbled continuously onto your hand and down your forearms, as you clutched feebly at your neck with one hand. It was on instinct, you suppose.

The corners of your vision were growing bleaker with each passing second. Your eyes were piercing into Rhett’s own. He didn’t twitch or blink for the passing moments. Just a cold-blooded stare, except for the faint trace of that smile on his lips.

He mouthed something, but your hearing had all but gone by this point. It was draining out as the blood drained ceremoniously from your neck.

“I love you, Rhett,” You replied in thought, as you felt your hands and feet become unresponsive, the rest of your body turning cold.

Rhett watched as his hunting knife was quickly drawn across your neck and as your soul drained from the slit and fell into his lap. You were about to be his, forever.

“I’ll always love you,” Rhett spoke out loud.

“I love you, Rhett,” you gargled out between mouthfuls of your blood, some of it splattering further onto Rhett and coating him with you.

His hands on your waist were there to steady your chilling body as you limply fell forward onto him. He manoeuvred himself to slide out from underneath you and lay you down on the bed, to look as though you were sleeping peacefully to any passersby.

His hunting knife was laying next to you with your blood shining off it and coating it whole. He picked it up and twisted it in his hand, the reflection catching in the setting Arizona sun. He lifted it to his lips and his tongue darted out to catch the first, fresh droplets. They dripped down to the back of his throat and when he swallowed, his teeth were stained once again with your blood.

While your blood was still warm, his index finger dipped in between the incision and gathered up some more. It painted his finger his favourite colour and covered it whole. He eagerly popped it into his mouth and groaned as he tasted the bitter, yet sweet, metallic taste of his little lamb. Once removing his finger, he admired how it glistened in the low light cutting through his thin, lacy, bedroom curtains. Your blood had stained the tip of his finger, perfectly. It was like a piece of artwork you entrusted him with, which he would treasure forever.

With his hunting knife still in hand, he squatted down and reached under your bed to retrieve a ziplock bag. The knife fell heavy into the plastic and he zipped it shut and placed it carefully next to you.

A deep and guttural breath was inhaled through his nostrils, before he exhaled and sat down on the edge of your bed, next to your dead body. His hand didn’t shake as he reached up to your forehead and twisted a piece of your hair behind your ear. Another heavy breath left him before he spoke out into your now, empty home.

“Your dumb luck got you into this place, little lamb. You’re gon’ be with me forever now, trapped inside the stomach of the Devil. For even the Devil is a liar, ‘nd no wonder, for even Satan, disguises himself as an angel of light.”

You were “a little Daughter of Abbott,” as Rhett had described, who lied to their father about where they were going every evening. He knew that you were unsure about what you were doing with your life, and how your belief in your faith needed some guidance.

Rhett always knew. He just loved scratching it out of you. Scratching you to the surface. You were compliant and listened to him. You were his perfect Angel in the Garden of Eden. A true Daughter of Abbott.

They were just mundane Thursdays when you’d climb into the back of his truck under the night sky. He would shed his plaid shirt in a hurry, desperate to sink his teeth onto your shoulder and taste you, the salty summer sweat still lingering on your flesh.

He’d drop you off home in your backyard and say goodbye. You’d close the door and as you’d lean in to catch the lock, you’d kiss him through the screen door on the back porch. Your father was none the wiser, only calling out from the living room that it was a pleasure to see Father Abbott and he was so grateful he was providing you with such Holy guidance. If your father saw Rhett touching you as he did through the screen door, he’d scream, “Lord! Help me!”

Every Thursday you’d climb into Rhett’s truck. Every Thursday he would sink his teeth into your skin. Somewhere like South Arizona was looking better every week. Somewhere where Rhett didn’t have to kiss you through your screen door no more. You had always dreamed of running there, to those great big hills where the great big blue sky would tower over them and continue until they met the high Heavens.

Through the mesh screen door kisses, you had tasted love and it tasted sweet.

And now you were here, but Rhett had drank your blood and bit the meat of your flesh. But his teeth were sharper now, and it hurt. You didn’t want him to sink into you with his blood-stained dog teeth no more.

You wanted to beg and plead with him. You tried so hard.

“Baby! Please!”

But your attempt was futile. Your words never came as your body lay cold on your bed. How could you be so naive to the one good thing you know, in God’s country?

taglist: @beachbabey @tallrock35 @currentlybradshaw @unmistakablyunknown @iloveprettyboysblog @wkndwlff @flames-thebitch @randomfandomgirl97 @kmc1989 @peachystenbrough

tagging those who may be interested: @rhettabbotts @hangmanapologist @lewmagoo @bradshawsbitch @sugarcoated-lame

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msfcatlover · 5 months

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Moonbeam Cass (Reverse Robins)

As Duke's successor, Cass will of course be iterating on his design. Normally, this would've taken a lot longer to put together (as you've probably noticed, they tend to be multi-day designing marathons.) However, I had a stroke of inspiration last night that I absolutely love, and everything else came together very quickly after that, so let's start the ball rolling with Moonbeam's new helmet...

...a gold-mesh saber mask! Cass wraps the top in cream-colored fabric, so that it's an off-white helmet with a gold mesh bubble in front of her face. She also wears a white neck gaiter under it to further conceal her identity, even when the light does hit the mesh just right for someone to see through it.

I feel like Cass would go back to the demi-cuirass, but she'd change it up; now it's a cream-colored leather piece worn over the brassy/golden chainmail tunic, which obviously goes very well with the new mesh mask.

(This, but in off-white & without the tie. Its job is a little extra protection and displaying Moonbeam's symbol. On a meta level, it also helps visually break things up & keep them interesting.)

The Moonbeam symbol is still an iridescent white circle, but Cass's version is definitely ringed in gold.

The chainmail tunic hangs just past her knees, but splits into multiple panels (3-6, though I'm sure some people would draw it as individual strands, which while not practical, is a hell of a look that I absolutely support!) at the tops of her thighs.

Cass actually wears 2 utility belts, in that complete-fantasy way where they hang at a diagonal to form an X at hip-height. You know, the kind that would just fall off if anyone really tried to wear them that way, but looks so cool in character design?

(I'm so annoyed that I can't find a reference image for this, so here's a super-quick mockup thrown together in GIMP. Thanks to the base maker for saving me here.)

The undersuit Cass wears is white, but is only really visible on her legs; the chainmail is full-sleeve (fitted, rather than hanging loose.) It looks like she's wearing lightly padded white leggings, though they are, of course, made of the most flexible stab- & tear-resistant fabric Bruce could get his hands on.

Continuing down, Cass wears sturdy brown motorcycle boots, probably with a little pocket or two, under the same greaves she briefly wore in Red Robin (2009), but the greaves are the same golden as her mask.

(These boots but maybe a little taller, an example of pockets, and the awesome costume she wore for all of one single issue and then we never saw it again.)

Bouncing back up real quick, I'd give Cass her Orphan pauldrons, specifically this iteration of them where it looks like they have a little gold moon on them, but with a cream background instead of black.

(I want to say she has tiny matching elbow pads worn over the chainmail sleeves, though that's another detail I feel would disappear fast if anyone actually had to draw this costume for a comic. Possibly for good reason, I worry they might be just a little bit too much.)

Finally, Cass's costume is topped off with a pair of gauntlets; the metal is once again that creamy-white (this time with gold edging) and the leather base matches her boots perfectly.

(Source 1, Source 2. You'd be surprised how long I looked to find a style I actually liked for this costume.)

The Moonbeam circle that Duke wore on the back of his hand is now inlaid at the center of Cass's palm, and is rigged to actually work as a flash-weapon if she needs it to. This helps her pretend that Moonbeam still has Duke's powers, acts as a last-resort surprise in a pinch, and I'd like you to imagine her holding out her hand to help someone with a shimmering, inviting glow lighting up her palm.

(I also want you to imagine her standing next to Shadow!Steph, since they're basically a matched set. I was not actively working to have their costumes compliment eachother, since that wasn't the in-universe plan when Cass took up the mantle, but I think they'd compliment eachother nicely.)

That's all for this one. Thank you for your time.

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imthepunchlord · 2 months

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Which miraculous are in each set? What each of the bagua gives?

I am still feeling out placements for the numbered groups, but should soon figure it out now that I have some themes and ideas to work off of.

Spoilers ahead and it's a long post, it's all under cut.

The Twelve I am not going to share as that's still now a work in progress. That's going to take some time. But the rest I can share.

For the Eight...

Bear works off foundation, family, and ancestry. This Miraculous is meant to help you reconnect to your roots, find a rock to stand upon when you are lost, and assure you that you aren't alone.

Fish works off prosperity, abundance, and fortune. Whatever the needs be, this Miraculous will provide and secure success and a chance to thrive.

Rooster works off fame, reputation, and recognition. It promotes honesty, leadership, and confidence, inspiring others to have faith in you.

Crane/Dove/Swan will work off love, connection, happiness, and partnership. Those who have someone they desire, this Miraculous will assist in making that connection and pave a way to a promising union. Whoever goes here, the rest/other may be moved to the Twelve, Seven, or Five, depending on who gets cut.

Spider works off creativity, projects, and life. For those who are lacking inspiration, this will inspire the imagination and prompt unique animation.

Horse works off travel, benevolence, and assistance. Anyone who is feeling isolated and feeling helpless will find mobility and connections and friends.

Deer works off purpose, possibilities, and new beginnings. This is meant to help people pave the way forward, reflect and discover who they are. Though I will say, depending on how I do the Twelve, it could be moved there and something else could be brought into it's place.

Lastly, Pig works off self-cultivation, knowledge, and wisdom. This works off those that are need of self growth, to promote intellect and cognition, and to roll with experiences and how to bounce back. Discover your own capability.

So with now established themes to work off, protection of humanity and preservation of nature, I can now work off the possible groups, factoring in powers and roles they play.

Butterfly is with the Seven as it's power stems from connecting with other people and literally empowering them.

Ladybug's whole aspect is stepping up for the defense of humanity, to be the champion of all. So it easily fits into the Seven.

While Monkey could easily be apart of the Zodiac, the ties to Sun Wukong is what puts it with the Seven as he was a hero and helper of people, stepping up to face demons that others couldn't fight.

Wolf is going to play off the "lone wolf" and "big bad wolf" aesthetic more, which set it up to be a nice counter to the "social butterfly". And it's powers could be beneficial in the defense of humanity, similar to Cat's.

Cat is the destructive combative defender and as counter to Ladybug, is here by default.

Turtle with it's power of protection and themes of security easily fits into this group (and I'll commit to turquoise Turtle). It's also set up to be the neutral of the 7, which I kinda like.

Atm, Peafowl I could see going either way, and I have yet to think of an alternative blue for either group. Peafowls are often associated with positive themes for humans, but it can also have ties to nature, symbolizing a coming of life and revival.

Bee is with the Five as bees are heavily tied to nature, order, and preservation. And with its powers, it doesn't feel like it's for the defense and protection of humanity, and would better fit into caring for nature.

Fox is with the Five as it's powers also doesn't work off protecting humanity, it's more designed ti manipulate humans. Also, nature in myth has been tied to illusions and mystery, so Fox easily fits there.

Tigers are often thought to be kings and protectors of mountains and forests, so that's a solid point for nature. It's powers are also designed to be chaotic and disruptive to humans, so that's another solid point for the Five.

Lastly, Snake is with the Five largely due to it's heavy ties to nature, and it's views and presence in various human myth and views. It's also not entirely designed to defend humanity. Sometimes snakes are protectors and saviors of humanity (like Mucalinda who shielded a meditating Buddha from a storm, snakes being a healing symbol), and others times, they're forces of danger and destruction (the association of wicked dragons, forewarning of venomous snakes, ect.). With all of that, it's easy to apply Snake to the Five.

#ask Punchie #miraculous changes

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the-passenger-if · 1 year

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I have read through The Passenger now so many times since it was released, having known nothing of it prior to its release date, and have now read through your entire tumblr. I might be obsessed, and I am perfectly okay with that! I love these characters that you have created, and have had so much fun playing the game!

I also got inspired by so many of the great asks you've answered and would love to request a snippet of Livvy babysitting MC and Horizon's kid(s). I just adore Livvy's sibling energy and Horizon deserves happiness with their eldritch abomination family and cult.

Prompt about baby Newman-Escudero here; prompt about baby Newman-Brandle here.

Prompt under the cut.

Livvy doesn’t like the ranch. There’s something deeply off about the way people here—Horizon’s flock, that’s what her sibling called them—smile, and talk, and just… look at her. Window dressing. That’s the expression Squirt used to describe their partner’s ‘job’ and that had been all good and well at first, but now, seven years later, her sibling is married to and has a kid with this unconventional (con artist) person.

Her Squirt doesn’t seem to mind the stares as they stroll down the courtyard, nonchalantly talking about their kid and assuring Livvy she will have no problem looking after them for a week, while they, Horizon, and not a small size of the flock are attending a seminar.

“They are a bit fuzzy in the mornings,” Squirt is saying, “but once they’ve had their breakfast they go back to normal. Just give them space and don’t force them to interact.” They chuckle a bit, the expression of the closest (cultist) member of the flock goes from a dizzy smile to an ecstatic grin at the sound her sibling makes. “I should know; Horizon is a lot like that in the mornings too.”

When Livvy feels Squirt watching her out of the corner of her eye, her gaze jumps from the elated look on the person’s face to her sibling’s soft smile. “Uh… yes. I mean,” she offers them what she hopes is a casual shrug, “there was no way to make you mingle if you didn’t feel like it either, so they might take after both of you.”

“Yes,” they reply, their eyes only slightly narrowed now. So, they did catch her staring. If she had any doubts, they vanish the moment Squirt looks over their shoulder. When they turn to stare straight ahead, Livvy notices the flat expression on their face before it’s replaced by another carefree smile. “Look Livvy,” they say, “I know the flock can be a bit… peculiar. But only a few will remain here, the rest is either coming with us, or going away for a week. The ones that stay were handpicked by Horizon and me, and will be giving you a hand.”

“Sorry,” she says glancing at her shoes, anything else seems too tricky to stare at right now. “It’s just,” she hazards a look at them; the soft smile is still in place, but they are making intense eye contact too: their I've-made-up-my-mind look. “They give me the creeps. I know you can take care of yourself, I suppose Horizon can too. But a baby? You let this… this flock around your kid?”

“They are harmless, Livvy.” The shift in their smile would be imperceptible to anyone that didn’t know them the way she does. There’s something half feral, half amused there. “They would die for my child.”

The chills that run down Livvy's spine are impossible to suppress.

Her sibling’s dangerous smirk shifts once more, turns into something amicable, bashful even. “But there’s no need for that,” they say with a shrug. “C’mon, that’s our cabin right there.”

As they approach, Horizon emerges from inside beaming at them. They are wearing flowy pants and a linen t-shirt, looking the part of a yoga instructor. Their long black hair bounces around them as they close the distance.

They are opening their arms now, and maybe they see something in Livvy’s face, because they stop in front of her. “Livvy,” they say and their gray eyes shimmer, delighted. “Is it ok if I hug you? It’s been a while.”

“Uh, sure.”

“It’s fine if you don’t want to,” Horizon assures her. There’s a small frown between their styled brows, a subtle worried look on their face.

Livvy can’t help the twinge of guilt in her stomach. Horizon might be a con artist, and maybe that should be enough to keep her from trusting them at all… but they’ve been nothing but a sweetheart every time they’ve met, and she knows how much they love her sibling and nibling.

“It’s ok,” she tells them. “Don’t mind me.” She even smiles, the faint gesture turning earnest as Horizon beams and envelopes her in a comforting hug. She has to laugh when they rock her side to side.

“You smell like a tea shop,” she tells them when they take a step back.

“Oh? I hope that’s a good thing?” Horizon throws her sibling a confused yet amused look.

“It is,” Livvy assures them. The tension that has been building on her shoulders since yesterday diminishes a little bit, and then, when she glances at the entrance of the cabin, it ebbs off a bit more. “Hey, baby.” She grins at her nibling.

The kid watching her is thin and tall for their age. And, although, their face blends her sibling’s and Horizon’s features beautifully, Livvy sees so much of her Squirt’s young years in them that her heart turns into a warm puddle inside her chest.

“Hi, aunt Livvy,” they mutter, stepping out to stand beside Horizon.

Livvy crouches down, opens her arms. Her nibling looks up at Horizon, and Horizon nudges them gently. Their gray eyes shine like sun rays on the surface of a pond as they watch their child.

Squirt’s baby is shy but they give amazing hugs. “Did you miss me, hon?” Livvy asks with her face buried in their hair.

“Mh-hm.”

Squirt mentions something about their luggage and Horizon and they disappear in the cabin, but Livvy isn’t really listening; her attention is wholly set on the little kid in her arms.

—

Inside the cabin

They are smirking at Horizon.

“What?”

“Since when do you offer hugs?”

Horizon can feel the smile tugging at the corner of their mouth. “She looked like she needed one.”

“You’re so manipulative,” they say but there’s no heat behind their words… or at least not the bad kind of heat.

Horizon chuckles through their teeth. “It isn’t manipulation if I’m honestly trying to make people feel better, my love.” They steal a kiss. “At any rate, I don’t need to influence Livvy.” They watch their sister-in-law holding hands with their child, face bright with adoration as she listens to their chatter. “There’s nothing to convince her of.”

Part 2 here.

#ask #tp horizon #tp livvy #this ended up more livvy getting freaked out #than livvy babysitting #but that’s where my brain decided to go

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carcrash429 · 11 months

Note

HI you read the circle of magic books??? I am so excited I love that series (although haven't read them for quite a while)

YESSSSSSS I love that series

HONESTLY everything by Tamora Pierce lmao all of it was so so so formative for me

she does SUCH a good job at portraying people who just go absolutely "FUCK society's expectations I am going to be my best authentic self" and it's SO inspiring and gratifying

Like Okay, Sandry - -constantly treated like she should be a delicate flower noble and instead uses her nobility to stand up for people she cares about LITERALLY starting like the first time we see her?? where she's like hey Daja I know everyone else is a racist asshole here, how about we be friends -called a stitch witch derogatorily and then OWNS it like "Yeah I do magic with stitching WHAT ABOUT IT" and then uses those same skills to do absolutely UNPRECEDENTED magic things -Genuinely wants to just help, CALLS IT "JUST HELPING" WHEN SHE'S BASICALLY RUNNING A KINGDOM FOR HER UNCLE Briar - -legit the little scene where he decides his name?? Briar to be outwardly tough and then MOSS BECAUSE SECRETLY HE'S A SOFTIE even though he pretends otherwise for at least like the whole first couple of books lmao -uses his "street urchin" skills for extreme good, liberating a dying plant cause he could feel it was sick, maintains contact with the girl that ends up sick and works himself to the bone trying to keep her from dying 😭 -goes through a FUCKING WAR comes out the otherside with serious PTSD and STILL shows SO MUCH compassion and empathy for Zhergorz and Tris when other people are like wtf Daja - -loses her whole family, horrifically, loses her whole PEOPLE, devastatingly, somehow does NOT give up goes on does her thing becomes an absolute LEGEND to those same people who outcast her -probably ALSO has PTSD from that whole thing where she made a thing that someone she cared about used to hurt people 🙃🙃🙃 yet never stops CARING: see again, Zhegorz (a legend in his own right, but this is already a long ass rant and I'm sticking to the main 4) -falls in love stays in love GIVES UP THAT RELATIONSHIP to stay true to herself and her morals and her family TRIS - (Probably my favorite although it's close between her and Briar and ESPECIALLY the way they complement and reflect pieces of each other is so so so cool) - has a fucking TEMPER and I love her for it because she's fucking RIGHT like 90% of the time go off girl - got bounced around her family 💔 got betrayed by her family 💔 makes her OWN family dammit and cares about them when by all right she could've just hardened her heart (see reflecting briar in being outwardly tough and inwardly a softie) - is so SO absolutely powerful and REFUSES to contradict her morals and use her power for what "people" think she "should" use it for and plans to just get a regular medallion and do regular magic - ALSO has PTSD from the fucking pirates and their slaves that she smashed to absolute smithereens please someone give these kids A BREAK

oh my god I could go on for ages lmao thank you for this ask honestly if you have the time the books are Well worth a reread, especially the Circle Opens and Will of the Empress imo

wait shit I almost forgot to mention:

not only does she show all of these people being amazing and incredible

BUT ALSO

THEY ALL MAKE MISTAKES

THEY FUCK UP

and then they realize, or someone calls them out, and they apologize and/or *change* and get better

Like DAMN that just feel refreshing you know??

#circle of magic

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graceful-starker · 6 months

Text

Peter's Boyfriend ch. 4

Chapter Four - Moving Forward

Summary: The gang is back from Thanksgiving Break, and they have stories.

Warnings: Drug use, alcohol use, panic attacks, nose bleeds, mentions of past violence. (If I missed anything please let me know! I think I covered it all).

Word count/rating: 9.3k, rated M.

Notes: Massive shoutout to Kimsberly on ao3 who left a great comment on this fic and gave me so much inspiration to continue.

I have two prequel fics coming out in the next few days, one to delve into the messiness that is the Nat/Bruce/Clint situation, and one that goes into the Sam/Bucky/Steve situation.

~~~

Peter bounces excitedly on the balls of his feet, checking his phone yet again to make sure Wade said he would be here. He’s been back on campus literally only ten minutes-only just long enough to drop his stuff off in his dorm room before he booked it here.

The door opens, and Beck is sneering at him. “Oh. You.”

Peter doesn’t let it get to him; he’s just excited to see his boyfriend again. “Beck,” he greets softly. “How was your break?”

“Don’t talk to me,” Beck says rudely, and Peter’s eye twitches. “Wilson!” Beck stands aside and lets Peter in, and Peter just skirts past him shyly. He doesn’t get why this dude dispises him, but whatever.

Wade thumps down the stairs loudly, and the smile on his face is so bright and beautiful that Peter almost swoons. “Peter!” He greets, before tackling Peter in a bear hug.

Peter giggles happily, wrapping his arms around Wade’s neck and letting himself be twirled. Wade always makes him feel so special; like he’s priceless. Like Wade is the one who can’t believe they’re together. “I missed you,” he giggles, smiling up at Wade once he’s put back down.

Wade connects their lips excitedly, and pulls Peter into his body. Beck makes a gagging noise behind them, so Wade pulls back and flips him off. “Go be lonely somewhere else, you’re pissing me off.”

Beck scoffs and rolls his eyes, but he thankful leaves towards the kitchen area.

Peter laughs and looks back to Wade, a giant smile fixed on his face. “Let’s go to your room,” he suggests, moving his hand down Wade’s arm to intertwine their fingers.

Wade grins and nods, starting to lead the way. “I didn’t know if you had eaten yet, so I ordered some pizza for us to munch on.”

Peter giggles, following just half a step behind Wade. “I had breakfast but it was an early one, the drive here is annoying as hell,” he jokes. They go into the room, and Wade shuts and locks it behind them.

“It’s on my desk if you’re hungry. I already had a slice-sorry,” he says cheekily, ducking his head.

Peter only smiles, grabbing himself a slice and sitting on Wade’s desk chair. “How was your break?”

“It was okay,” Wade says, sitting on his bed and stretching his arms over his head. “I stayed here, looked after the house and all that. Most people go home during breaks, so it was kinda lonely.” He gives Peter puppy dog eyes.

Peter grins after swallowing a bite. “Poor baby. Why didn’t you go home?”

“Don’t like my parents all that much,” he says, shrugging. “What about you, how was your break?”

“It was good,” Peter says, putting his slice down and dusting his hands off. “I uh…I came out to May,” he ducks his head, feeling a blush start to slowly form. “I told her about us. She says she likes you already,” he looks up at Wade from under his lashes, biting his lip.

Wade is smiling, his eyes warm. “What lies did you tell her about me to make her like me?”

Peter laughs, looking up fully and smiling back. “Just that you make me happy and you…” he blushes, but he laughs breathily and continues. “You make me feel likle you…”

Wade stands up, slotting himself between Peter’s legs and smiling down at him. “Like I love you?” he whispers.

Peter’s eyes widen, and his breath catches. “You love me?”

Wade nods, one hand sliding under Peter’s chin to gently convince him not to look away. “I love you, Peter Parker.”

Peter stares at him for a second, eyes wide and jaw slack with awe. Peter. Wade loves Peter. He actually loves Peter, actually wants this relationship. He makes Peter feel so unbelievably happy all the time, just by being himself-and he loves Peter. Peter surges up, making Wade stumble just a bit but niether of them care. Peter connects their lips in a fierce kiss, one hand tangling in the back of Wade’s short hair and the other cupping the back of his neck.

Wade makes a surprised noise, but his hands go to Peter’s hips and he gives as good as he gets back into the kiss. He pulls Peter with him back to the bed, letting himself fall back so he’s sitting on the edge and Peter is standing between his legs. “Peter,” he mumbles into the kiss, not pulling away enough to really get the name out.

Peter hums softly, smiling into the kiss. “I want you to fuck me,” he whispers, letting his hands cup Wade’s neck gently.

Wade pulls back, breath hitching and eyes dark. “Really? You’re sure that you’re ready? We don’t have to go all the way, you know I like what we-”

Peter laughs breathlessly, kissing Wade again softly. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life,” he says, only pulling back enough to actually see Wade’s eyes.

Wade swallows thickly, surging up to connect their lips one more time before starting to kiss down Peter’s neck. Peter tilts his head to the side, climbing into Wade’s lap and humming softly. Wade puts his hands on Peters hips, helping him balance, and then pulls away to smile at Peter. “You’ll let me know if you want me to stop, right?”

Peter nods, even though he’s almost entirely sure he isn’t going to want Wade to stop. “Promise,” he whispers, before connecting their lips together again.

Wade picks Pete rup by the back of his thighs and turns them around, resting Peter gently on the bed on his back, the pillows under his head. Peter blushes and smiles up at him, running his hands along Wade’s body. Wade starts to get undressed, and Peter half watches him and half attempts to get himself naked.

He’s done this part before. They’ve fooled around some; blowjobs and handjobs and even a very fun night where Wade fucked his thighs. But he’s never done this part with anyone at all. He wants to do it with Wade so bad, though.

Wade smiles and crawls over Peter, running his hands over Peter’s body before ducking down and connecting their lips. “Beautiful,” Wade whispers.

Peter blushes and runs his own hands along Wade’s body. “Wade,” he whispers, gasping when Wade’s hand wraps around him.

“You’re absolutely sure?” Wade asks again, kissing Peter’s nose.

Peter grins, moving his hands up Wade’s sides and nodding. “Yes. I want this-I want you so bad.” He spreads his legs apart, moving them so his knees bracket Wade’s hips. “Say it again,” he says, brushing his lips against Wade’s again.

“I love you,” Wade says easily, slotting their hips together and kissing Peter passionately.

Peter feels like he’s on cloud nine. His first time with Wade was about as close to perfect as he coud have hoped for, it was every bit as romantic and good as he imagined it would be.

He walks into his bio lecture and doesn’t even care about anything else; he doesn’t care that Tony is going to ignore him and sit on the other side of the room. He doesn’t even care what Tony said about him, or thinks about him. He doesn’t care that all his friends think it’s Peter’s fault Tony is being an asshole. Nothing matters except for the way his legs are still kinda wobbly and he’s just the perfect amount of sore to make him feel warm and floaty.

Peter is so lost in thought about how much he doesn’t care about Tony anymore that he almost doesn’t notice Tony coming to sit next to him until he’s taking the desk.

Peter straightens up, holding his pencil just a bit tighter. He looks at Tony from the corner of his eye, his leg starting to bounce anxiously.

“Did you have a good break, Pete?” Tony asks suddenly, and it’s said so casually. So normally. As if Tony never said anything wrong, as if he doesn’t even remember ever fighting with Peter.

Peter turns to look at him, blinking slowly. “What?”

Tony shifts, rubbing his thumb over his pencil nervously. “I asked how your break was. You went to see your aunt, right?”

Peter stares at him, long enough that Tony starts to squirm. He rubs a finger under his nose, before scratching at his beard. “You’re just going to pretend you didn’t say all of that to me?” he finally asks.

Tony squirms, clears his throat, and adjusts his notes on the desk. “I’m sorry I…” he turns to look at Peter, chewing on his lip. “I don’t think that way about you, Peter. I think you’re…” he looks away again, over his shoulder. “I miss you, Peter,” he whispers.

Peter frowns, looking back to his own desk and sighing. “You made me feel like shit, Tony. Like nothing. You-”

“Alright, everyone, quiet down. I’m sure you have lots to catch up on with each other from the break, but you can save it for after my lecture. Now, before the break, we left off on…”

Peter sighs softly and picks up his pencil, getting ready to take notes. He notices Tony shifting restlessly next to him, and towards the end of class he gets up and leaves. He doesn’t take his notes, so Peter assumes he’s just going to the bathroom or something. He comes back just before the end of class, seemingly more settled.

“Alright, that’s about time. Don’t forget your assignment is due before next class period, not 11:59 like it usually is. Have a good day guys!” the professor ends, starting to pack up her stuff.

Peter starts to pack his own stuff up, but as he’s standing Tony stands in front of his desk. “Peter?” he asks, looking down at his feet.

“What, Tony?” he asks, sighing heavily. He just wants to go and meet Wade in the student union, so they can grab some food and hang out.

“I really am sorry. I was a dick, a massive one, and you didn’t deserve any of it. You didn’t deserve the way I ignored you, you didn’t deserve any of the things I said to you, and you didn’t deserve the way I treated you right before break. I’m sorry, Peter. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want to keep-” he curses softly and brings a hand to his nose.

Peter’s eyebrows furrow in concern. “Shit, is your nose bleeding? Do you need a tissue?”

Tony sighs, tilting his head back and shaking his head. “I don’t want to keep being an asshole, and I don’t want to keep-keep…I want to be your friend again, Peter. I miss you, and I’m sorry I was so awful to you.”

Peter pulls a tissue out of his back pack and hands it to Tony, who sighs and takes it reluctantly. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you apologize before,” he mumbles.

Tony laughs, folding the tissue and keeping it to his nose. He’s gotten blood all over his face and hand, and he looks so pitiful that it makes Peter’s heart hurt. “I don’t usually care enough about what people think to do it,” he answers honestly.

Peter gives him a sad smile. “You’ll have to work really hard to make it up to me, Tones,” he says, but uses his old nickname to show he’s mostly forgiven.

Tony smiles, eyes lighting up with hope. “I will, if you let me. I’ll be the best friend ever, I swear. I’ll-I’ll do whatever it takes to make you trust me again.”

Peter blushes a bit, but cocks his head to the side. “Come on, we need to get you cleaned up. You got blood all over yourself. And what did you do to your eye? You're a whole mess.”

Tony laughs, a bit awkward, and starts to walk towards the bathroom. “I wasn’t paying attention and walked into a doorway. But if anyone asks, say it was something cool. Say I won a fight or something.”

Peter giggles, turning on the sinks and grabbing some paper towels. “Sure, you got into a fight with some rando back home. You should see the other guy.”

Tony grins, wiping his face down and sniffing, inspecting his nose. “Yeah, the other guy.” He turns and smiles at Peter, throwing the towel away. “Fuck that guy.”

“Got what was comin’ to ‘him,” Peter agrees, adjusting the strap on his back pack. “You hungry? I’m meeting up with Wade for lunch, if you wanna come.”

“Nah, I’m not hungry,” Tony says, looking away. “I should probably get some homework done, I barely did anything over the break.”

Peter rolls his eyes fondly. “No one did anything over the break, it was break.”

Tony huffs and looks back up at Peter. “I don’t wanna intrude, it sounds like a date.”

“Nah,” Peter says, bumping shoulders with Tony and starting to lead the way. “It’s just meeting up, he’s taking me to dinner tomorrow night after his practice. I bet a couple of his brothers will be there, at least Matt. Come on!”

Tony hums, following at Peter’s side. “Alright then, if you’re absolutely sure he won’t get pissed that I’m there.”

“He’s chill,” Peter says, smiling at just the thought of Wade. “You would know that if you had talked to him by now.”

Tony winces, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Pete,” he mumbles.

Peter knocks their shoulders again, giving Tony a smile. “Come on, he’s already waiting.” They start walking, Tony talking about their bio assignment due before next class. They’re halfway there when Peter stops walking. Tony almost keeps going, has to turn around and give Peter a confused look. “Can I tell you something? It’s-it’s about Wade. But I want to tell someone, and you’re my best friend, and-”

Tony smiles at him, nodding encouragingly. “You can tell me anything, Pete.”

Peter smiles, takes a deep breath. “Wade told me that he loves me, yesterday,” he says, and he can’t even stop the fluttery giggles that escape from him. Even just thinking about Wade saying it makes him feel so warm and fuzzy.

“That’s-” Tony’s eyes widen, and he forces a smile. Peter knows it’s forced, but if Tony really wants to be his friend again, he’s going to have to be willing to listen to this stuff. “That’s great, Pete. That’s exciting!”

“Yeah,” Peter says dreamily, starting to walk again and letting Tony fall into step beside him. “I can’t believe it. Someone loves me, Tony. My boyfriend loves me.”

“I can believe it,” Tony mumbles, and Peter chooses not to look at him. “You’re the best person I know. I’m surprised more people aren’t tripping over themselves to try for a chance with you.”

Peter blushes a bit, ducking his head. “I don’t know about all that, Tones.”

“Nah,” Tony says, and his voice is lighter now, more humorous. “Prettiest boy on campus, and you just so happen to also be the nicest and you’re super smart. And now you’re dating a football player, so you’re taken–line around the block, kid.”

Peter blushes and giggles, shooting Tony a giant smile. “Shut up,” he says, pushing Tony just enough to make him stumble a step.

“No, seriously. There’s nothing about you to not love.” Tony shoulder checks him gently, and his eyes are half sad.

“We slept together,” Peter blurts out, having to look away from Tony’s expression.

“You-you lost you-” Tony’s eyes are wide.

“Yeah,” Peter says, smiling at the memory of the way he felt. “It was like I always wanted it to be. He was-he was great.”

Tony is grinning again, and he shoves Peter playfully. “Look at you! They grow up so fast.”

Peter blushes and laughs, shoving him back. “Shut up,” he says, turning them to the sidewalk leading to where they’re meeting Wade.

Tony snickers and opens the door, letting Peter walk through first. “Hey, now nobody can make fun of you anymore. You aren’t even the most innocent person in the group now!”

Peter blinks and looks to Tony, leading them to the area Wade said he would meet him at. “Who are you thinking of?”

“Wanda and Vis,” Tony says, furrowing his brows. “Obviously.”

Peter smirks and shakes his head. “You’re delusional if you think they aren’t fucking.”

Tony gasps, putting a hand over his heart. “Nah, nah. No way. They’re babies.”

“Tones, they went to high school together. I’ll bet five bucks they lost their v-cards under the bleachers at some football game junior year.” Peter spots Wade and smiles widely, waving at him. “Yeah, see? He brought Matt. Come on, you’ll love them both.”

Tony is seemingly in a disturbed trance at Peter’s news about Wanda and Vis, but follows Peter anyway. “No way…” he whispers.

Peter rolls his eyes and gives Wade’s cheek a kiss before sitting across from him. “Hey Matt, Wade! This is Tony, he’s my friend.”

Wade side eyes Tony, likely wondering what’s changed since the last time Peter cried about his best friend ignoring him. But he smiles and nods to them both. “Hey, baby. Nice to meet you, Tony. You feeling alright, Peter?”

Peter blushes a bit, but he nods and smiles. “Yeah, I’m good. Great.”

Matt smirks, cocking his head to the side. Peter is always just a little freaked out by him; it’s like he knows things. Like he sees things everyone else can’t even though he’s blind. “Nice to meet you, Tony. Is Tony in your biology lecture, Peter?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, stealing a fry from Wade’s tray. “We just came from there.”

“Well, you guys should go get in line. I think we’re about to get flooded with students.” Matt turns his face towards the door.

Peter bolts up, grabbing Tony by the arm. “Come on.”

“What?” Tony asks, looking confused. “There’s no one here.”

“Matt is never wrong,” Wade supplies, munching on a fry and grinning. “Oh look, here they come,” hen nods to the window facing out, and it’s like a whole building of classes let out at once.

“Damn,” Tony says, laughing. “Come on!”

Peter laughs and leads him towards a line at a burger place, grinning. It feels almost normal, and he couldn’t be happier.

Peter sighs and leans against the wall outside of Bucky and Steve’s apartment. “Well I wouldn’t sound so sad if you just came with me,” he mumbles into the phone, knowing he’s pouting but he can’t seem to help it.

“We’re initiating this semester’s new freshman,” Wade says for what’s probably the tenth time, and Peter can practically feel the impatience rolling off of him through the phone. “I can’t miss this.”

“I know,” Peter whines, crossing his free arm over his torso. “Still.”

Wade chuckles softly, and Peter hears someone start the music in the background. “I’ll make it up to you,” he promises lightly. “I’ll blow your mind when you get back tonight.”

Peter feels himself shiver, and a grin grows on his face. “Promises,” Peter says, voice lilting with laughter.

“Yeah, I promise,” Wade says, a grin evident in his voice. “And I’ll keep you in bed all weekend too, you’ll have jelly for legs by Monday.”

Peter feels his face heat up, and he giggles softly. “Stop it,” he whispers, as if anyone could hear them.

“You won’t be saying that again all weekend,” Wade promises, and Peter can almost see him wiggling his eyebrows at Peter.

Peter laughs and pushes himself off the wall, sighing heavily. “I’ll hold you too that, babe. I’ll see you later tonight,” he says.

Wade hums and laughs softly. “See you later, sweetheart,” Wade says, before hanging up.

Peter sighs and pockets his phone, taking a few deep breaths before opening the door. “Hey guys!” he calls, and follows the sounds of greeting to the living room.

Bucky and Steve have their apartment set up differently than Thor or Tony, who have lots of couches and loveseats scattered around. They have exactly one couch in the middle of the room, which can seat four people if you squeeze. When they all meet at this apartment, they drag the chairs from their kitchen table in, as well as their desk chairs, and everyone has to make do with those or find a comfy spot on the floor.

Peter’s finds it cozier. It reminds him of May's apartment.

When he walks in, it seems like they decided to forgo the furniture, as the couch is pushed back slightly and there are no chairs. Instead, there’s a ton of blankets laid out on the floor and a few pillows scattered around. The coffee table stays in the middle of the room, and there are three cases of beers and two bowls of chips resting on it. “Well this is fun,” Peter says, smiling.

Steve looks up from his spot leaning against the couch, smiling at Peter reluctantly. They haven’t spoken since Steve told him about Tony, other than Steve texting him apologies. “Pizza is on its way too. Bucky thought this might be more fun, since we’re catching up and all.” He pulls a can of beer out and offers it to Peter.

Peter hums and looks around the room. Bucky is on Steve’s right, talking to Sam on his other side. Rhodey is sitting on the curve of the circle next to Sam, on his phone, and there’s an empty space on his other side. Natasha is sitting on Steve’s left, half in Clint’s lap, who is next to her. Thor is on the other curve, talking to Bruce who’s next to him. Wanda and Vis aren’t here yet, and neither is Tony. He takes the beer and opens it, thanking Steve.

Not really wanting to talk to Rhodey or Bruce right now, he sits in the middle of the circle, surrounded by empty spaces, and smiles at Sam and Bucky. “Do you guys have your anth midterms back yet?” he asks across the coffee table, just to say something.

Bucky groans dramatically, leaning into Sam who’s put an arm around Bucky’s shoulder. “Why would you even bring that up?” he pouts.

Peter laughs, grabbing a chip and nibbling on it. “I’ve gotten all of my midterm grades back except for my intro to philosophy class. But I’m convinced he’s just high all the time and probably forgot he’s a professor anyway.”

Sam snorts at that, shaking his head fondly. “You have that class with Vis, right?”

Peter nods while taking another bite. “Yup. I don’t wanna ask him about it though, because he’ll start telling me about his answers and stuff. I’m only taking it for the humanities credit!”

Bucky grins at him. “You mean you don’t want to debate for hours who the better philosopher was between Aristotle and Plato?”

Peter makes a face that gets the both of them laughing, and he scoots a bit closer to Rhodey so he’s more facing firmly in between the couple. “Half the time when Vis talks, I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about. Like I think he’s speaking English, but I’m just nodding along and hoping he doesn’t ask me what I think.”

“No one will make you feel more stupid than a philosopher,” Sam agrees lighthartedly. He takes a sip of his own beer.

The door opens and Wanda walks in, pulling Vis with her by the hand. “Hello everyone!” she greets, and then smiles as she takes in the circle. “Oh, lovely!”

Bucky waves at them. “Hey Wanda, Vis. How’s it going?”

Vis chooses to sit next to Bruce, so Wanda sits next to him and leans into his side. “I’m good, but all my professors decided to assign a million assignments first week back from break.”

Bruce laughs, turning to face the couple. “Dr. Stephens actually gave us a whole packet he wants us to get done this weekend. Six pages full of stupid physics equations, just shoot me now.”

Wanda grins and looks over Vis to talk to him. “We should set up a time to work on it together,” she suggests. “When do you work?”

“You mean, so you can ask me questions and copy my answers,” he teases her, shaking his head fondly. “I work all day on Saturday, but I get off at 4:00 on Sunday.”

“Can I come over to your apartment around 5:00, then?” she asks with a cheeky smirk, not denying his accusation. She grabs a couple beers, passing one to Vis before taking a sip of her own.

“Yeah, sounds good,” he grumbles, but laughs and leans back again. Peter can’t help but smile; his friends are all so…interesting.

The door opens once more and Peter turns his attention to the last newcomer, smiling softly as Tony walks in. “Hey everyone!” Tony calls, walking in and smiling. He shuts the door behind him. “Caught the delivery guy on the way up, so I bring weed and pizza.”

The group whoops as a whole, and Tony sets the pizza boxes down in the middle of the coffee table, on top of the beers. Then he sits in between Peter and Rhodey, rummaging through his pockets before pulling out a blunt and lighter. “You wanna go first, Pete?” Tony asks, offering it to him.

Peter doesn’t really smoke, and he thought Tony would know that by now. He’s eaten a special brownie once, but his trip was…not fun, to say the least. “Uh…”

“That’s your attempt to make up?” Rhodey hisses, soft enough it might have meant to not be overheard. “Give me that,” he says louder, shoving the blunt between his lips and shooting Tony a look. “Where’d you get the shiner anyway?” Peter thinks they must still be fighting themselves, if Tony hasn’t seen Rhodey all week.

Tony blinks and looks from Peter to Rhodey, making an annoyed noise. “Got in a fight over break,” he says simply, and seems to start a silent conversation with Rhodey.

“A fight?” Natasha asks, drawing attention away from them. “That doesn’t sound like a relaxing break. Who’d you get in a fight with, anyway?”

Thor snorts, grabbing a slice of pizza with one hand and keeping the other in his lap. “I’ll bet ten dollars I had the worst break.”

“Nah,” Bruce says, staring jealously at the still unlit blunt in Rhodey’s mouth. “I spent my whole break getting yelled at by my mother and working. You wanna know what I had for Thanksgiving dinner? A turkey sub from that place on 6th.”

Rhodey finally lights the blunt when Tony looks away, taking a long drag before passing it straight to Bucky who smirks at Sam before starting his own hit. “Don’t look at me, I had a great break. Food was great, my family is great.”

“My parents forgot I was coming home,” Vis pipes up, grabbing two slices of pizza and handing one to Wanda. “They apparently booked a trip to Hawaii. I spent the whole week alone, and I had stale chips for Thanksgiving dinner.”

Bruce shoves Vis’s shoulder lightly, sticking his tongue out at him. “Fine, you beat mine.”

Bucky passes the blunt to Steve, and Steve takes a much longer hit than he normally does. He wheezes just a bit on the exhale, but passes it on to Nat without a coughing fit. “I almost wish my parents forgot about me. I spent the whole week lying through my teeth about my entire life.”

Bucky frowns, turning a bit to look at Steve. “What’re you lying to Sarah for?”

Steve groans, shooting him a playful glare. “What am I not lying to her about? My major, my religion, my relationship status…”

“Dude,” Bucky says, eyes wide. “You haven’t even told her you’re not seeing Peggy anymore? That was two years ago!”

Steve ducks his head. “She makes Ma happy,” he mumbles.

Clint is already passing the blunt onto Thor by the time Peter breaks the silence after that. “I had a good time to May. I came out to her,” Peter pipes up.

Tony beams and pats Peter on the shoulder. “Hey, congratulations!” he says. Peter smiles back at him, feeling more relaxed. He grabs himself a piece of pizza while the group choruses their own congratulations.

“Where is pretty boy?” Nat asks, stealing the slice from Clint’s hand and taking a bite, much to his visible annoyance.

“His frat is doing initiations or something, I don’t even know.” Peter rolls his eyes, but his smile is still in place. “Seems a bit late in the semester in my opinion, but whatever.”

Bruce finally gets his hands on the blunt and takes his time with it before passing it on to Vis. Wanda steals it and takes a smaller hit before giving it to back Vis, blowing the smoke out and humming. “I had a great time, I got to see my brother. We don’t do thanksgiving, though, so no dinner. I think Vis is still winning. Sorry, Steve.”

Vis hands Peter the blunt and grins, kissing her hair softly. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” he whispers into her hair.

Peter stares at the blunt for a second, contemplating. “What about you, Bucky? Got any war stories?”

“Nah. Well-” he grins, turning to Sam. “I did have my life threatened. Thrice.”

Sam scoffs, finishing his bite of pizza and rolling his eyes. “Sure, but they bought you ice cream right after, so I don’t think you qualify for worst break.”

Bucky chuckles softly and leans in to connect their lips chastly, bumping their shoulders. “What about you, nothing to complain about?”

Sam smirks, eyes alight with joy. “Nope,” he says, popping the P. “Don’t get an ego about it, though.”

Steve shifts away from Bucky just a bit, playing with a loose thread coming out of his sweater. He looks so sad and pathetic, Peter thinks.

Peter puts the blunt between his lips, gaining a gasp from a few people and making Steve look up to see what caused it. His eyes go wide, and Peter hopes he sees this as the peace offering it is. He takes a deep breath and immediately starts hacking up a lung, his face going bright red.

“Amateur,” Bruce teases, grinning at Peter. “You’re fine, breathe through it.”

Tony takes the blunt from Peter and passes it to Rhodey, looking at him with concern and patting Peter’s back. “Jesus, Pete, right in the deep end, huh? You ever heard of baby steps?”

Peter flips him off, but leans into his touch so he knows he isn’t really mad. “My lungs are on fire,” Peter croaks.

Natasha laughs, shaking her head fondly. “Virgin lungs,” she tsks.

Peter takes a deep breath, coughing once more and clearing his throat. It still feels like it’s in his lungs, and he wants to get it out so bad. “Jesus. I don’t think I ever need to do that again.”

The rest of them start laughing, even Tony who still looks a little worried.

“What about you two?” Rhodey asks, passing the blunt back to Bucky. “You haven’t told your horror stories yet, are you really gonna let Vis win?”

“Well Tony hasn’t gone yet, he just mentioned the fight,” Clint says. “And he’s our only hope, because me and Nat had a great time. I love Yelana, she’s such a little-”

“Angel,” Nat finishes, stealing the slice from his hand again. “But we did have a good time, so you better have had a terrible time, Tones.”

“Thanks,” Tony says drily, rolling his eyes. “I mean other than existing under the suffocation of daddy dearest, not really. I’d rather they had forgotten about me and fly to Italy or some shit, does that mean I win?”

Vis hums. “I dunno, I would have rather spent the holidays with my family, even if they don’t particularly like me.”

“Tony wins,” Rhodey says, shaking his head. “I’ve met his parents. He wins.”

Peter frowns, looking at Tony with sad eyes. Tony squirms and stands up suddenly, clearing his throat. “Where’s your bathroom, Barnes?”

“Down the hall,” Bucky says, pointing over his shoulder.

Tony nods his thanks and heads that way, and somehow the blunt is back in Peter’s hand. “How’s it my turn again already?”

“You spacing out there, Petey?” Wanda teases, grinning at him.

Peter sticks his tongue out at her. “I’ve been high before. Once. It sucked.”

“Is it sucking this time?” Steve asks, smiling softly.

Peter smiles back, and is happy that their little fight can just be behind them now. “Not yet, anyway. What do I do with this?”

Rhodey takes it from him. “Tony hasn’t had a hit yet, but normally you’d just put it out and leave it somewhere.”

“Well,” Tony says, sitting back down and sniffing. He grabs the blunt, holding it between his fingers. “Thor, you made the bet. Do you owe me ten dollars?”

Thor smirks, one arm hanging over Bruce’s shoulder. He shows off his other hand, covered in a bandage. “I’ll give you each one guess as to what happened.”

“You burned yourself taking out the turkey!” Nat pipes up, grinning from ear to ear.

“Nope,” Thor smirks. “We don’t celebrate Thanksgiving.”

“You burned yourself cooking something else?” Clint asks.

“Nope!”

“You sprained your wrist jacking off,” Tony guesses, putting out the blunt. When did he take a hit? Peter doesn’t remember.

“Stark,” Thor says, scandalized.

“You tripped down the stairs,” Bruce guesses.

“Nuh-uh.”

“You scraped it climbing a tree,” Rhodey says unenthusiastically.

“Not even close.”

“You slammed it in a car door,” Sam offers.

“You slammed it in a regular door,” Bucky counters without waiting his turn.

“No and no.”

“You were the person Tony got that black eye from?” Steve offers, grinning.

“Rude,” Tony mumbles, rubbing his nose and grabbing a beer.

“No,” Thor laughs. “Closer, though.”

“You got in a fight with your brother,” Vis guesses.

“Closer,” Thor says, leaning foreword.

“Loki stabbed you because you annoyed him,” Wanda guesses, shrugging her shoulders.

“Closest!” Thor says, pointing at her. “I got stabbed by my secret sister I never knew about, because she killed a family while drunk driving and it broke up my father and her mother’s marriage.”

The room goes dead silent, and then Peter starts to giggle inappropriately. His giggles bring out everyone else’s slow laughter, until even Thor is holding his belly as he laughs about it. “Holy shit, Thor,” Peter says thorugh his giggles. “You win.”

“A secret sister?” Wanda asks, shaking her head. “Damn.”

“Wait, how old is your dad?” Nat asks, leaning her head on Clint’s shoulder and squinting at Thor. “If your dad started a whole new family after she was old enough to drive drunk?”

“Ancient,” Thor says, grinning. “He’s a lot older than my mom, like 12 years or something, and she was 35 when I was born. Loki was a miracle baby, she was 43.”

“Can we play messiest family?” Clint asks, eyes sharp with mischief. “I think this could be fun.”

“Thor’s already won, though,” Bucky challenges. “What’s messier than a secret sister from your father’s secret first marriage?”

“Your parents were just teenagers, that’s a lot less messy. Messy, but less messy,” Natasha says, grinning at him. Bruce is staring at them, a sad look in his eyes.

“My parents,” Peter starts, and then laughs as he realizes what he was about to say. Changes his mind, and instead says, “Are dead.”

Wanda starts to giggle hysterically, making Peter laugh as well. “Peter,” Wanda says, still giggling. “Most people don’t get that joke.”

“What joke?!” Bruce asks incredulously. But he’s looking at Peter now, so it worked out. “He just said a sad fact.”

Peter and Wanda both burst out laughing again, and the rest of the group slowly starts joining in, if only to diffuse the awkwardness.

“You guys are fucking weird,” Steve says, shaking his head fondly.

“Shit,” Tony whispers, making Peter turn to look at him. He quickly grabs a napkin and puts it to his nose.

“Nose bleed?” Rhodey asks, and he has an expression on his face that Peter can’t really read.

“It’s fine,” Tony mumbles, tilting his head back.

“I had a nose bleed just the other day,” Thor says, looking at his beer in thought. “My mother said it was something to do with dry weather, but I thought that was one of those things moms make up.”

Clint snorts, pulling Nat more firmly into his lap. “Like an old wise tale?”

Sam barks a laugh. “Uh uh. What did you say?”

Clint frowns, narrowing his eyes. “What? An old wise tale.”

Sam snickers, and Bucky shakes his head fondly. “Wives’, Clint. An old wives’ tale.”

Clint’s jaw drops. “Shut up!” He says. “No, that doesn’t make any sense! It’s wise, as in wisdom.”

“No,” Steve says, a grin on his face. “No, an old wives’ tale means gossip, urban legend, superstitious. That type of thing.”

“‘S sexist,” Wanda mumbles.

“Nuh uh, I don’t believe you,” Clint says, taking his phone out and jostling Nat. He looks it up, and gasps loudly. “No fucking way.”

Everyone dissolves into a fit of giggles, and Peter feels mostly floaty, but a small part of him is too busy thinking about how this is the second nose bleed Tony has had in a week, that Peter knows of. He looks to Rhodey, who’s also looking suspiciously at Tony. When Rhodey looks up and sees Peter staring, he looks away and starts drinking more beer.

Tony stands up, wiping his nose and sniffing once to test if it’s really over. “I’m gonna throw this away and wash my hands, anyone need anything while I’m up?”

Giggly ‘no’s are all he gets in response, so he leaves. Peter watches him go, forgetting why he was concerned but still feeling concerned.

Peter sighs happily, putting his drink on the table before climbing onto his boyfriend. “I missed you,” he mumbles softly.

Wade laughs, wrapping his arms around Peter’s waist. “You saw me like just a few hours ago,” he says playfully.

“Yeah, but I still missed you,” he pouts, kissing at Wade’s neck.

“Did you get high?” Wade asks, amusement in his voice.

“Maybe,” Peter says, kissing up Wade’s neck and nibbling at his earlobe. “I had a little hit.”

Wade chuckles softly, moving one hand to rub up and down Peter’s back. “You said you don’t really do that,” Wade half asks.

“Not really,” Peter agrees easily. “Listen, I seem to remember you promising to turn my legs into jelly.” He licks at the shell of Wade’s ear, earning a shiver.

“Why did you decide to smoke?” Wade asks instead of responding, nuzzling Peter’s hair.

Peter pouts, kissing back down Wade’s neck. “We were just having fun. Everyone had dramatic ass stories from break and I just wanted to chill.”

“Yeah?” Wade asks, moving his free hand to rest on Peter’s hip. “What happened?”

Peter huffs in annoyance, starting to rock his hips into Wade’s. “Well, Thor got stabbed.”

Wade gasps, stilling Peter’s hips. “What?!”

“Yeah, he discovered he has a secret sister who killed a whole family or something and she stabbed his hand for some reason. He’s fine.” Peter whimpers softly, still trying to move his hips. “Wade, please!”

Wade laughs softly, kissing Peter’s hair. “That’s crazy, Pete. What else happened?”

Peter grunts, resting his head against Wade’s shoulder. “Well Bruce was all sad because Natasha and Clint are back together, and they went to her family’s house over break.”

“Why would that make Bruce sad?” Wade prompts.

Peter pulls back, scrunching his nose to showcase his displeasure. Wade only grins fondly, pushing some hair behind Peter’s ear. “Because he’s in love with Nat. They always fuck when she and Clint are off again, but it’s a secret so really I shouldn’t tell you.”

Wade’s eyes widen. “Damn.”

“Yeah, but that’s nothing,” Peter says, a smile starting to grow on his face. He doesn’t usually gossip, but it’s fun, apparently. “Steve’s in love with Bucky, but Bucky started to date Sam. And Sam took Bucky home over the break to meet his family!”

Wade blinks rapidly, shifting under Peter. “Steve is the one who slept with your best friend, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, but we made up. Me and Steve, and me and Tony. Tony apologized during class so we’re good now. But I think he might be getting sick or something, because he got a nose bleed.”

“A nose bleed?” Wade asks, grabbing Peter’s water and handing it to him. He doesn’t comment on the incoherency of that last story.

Peter hums his thanks and takes a sip, and then nods. “Yeah, d’ya think that’s something to worry about? I don’t think I’ve ever had a nose bleed.”

“I get them sometimes, if the weather is bad,” he says, shrugging. “Your friends are…a bunch, aren’t they?”

Peter nods proudly, starting to giggle. He drinks more water and then hands it back to Wade. “It’s never boring, that’s for sure.”

Wade hums, moving his hands up Peter’s sides. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah!” Peter says, smiling happily. He leans in and hovers his lips just above Wade’s. “You should fuck me.”

Wade laughs breathily, connecting their lips softly before pulling back just a bit. “You’re high,” he mumbles. He puts Peter’s water back down.

“Yeah, and?” Peter asks, connecting their lips again. Wade allows it for a little bit, before pulling back again. Peter whines in annoyance. “Waaaade. At least lemme suck your dick.”

He earns a gasp out of his boyfriend, but only that. “I’ll fuck you extra tomorrow,” Wade bargains, nosing under Peter’s jaw and kissing there softly.

Peter gasps and tilts his head back, cupping the back of Wade’s neck to keep him there. “What does that even mean?” he asks breathlessly, biting his lip.

Wade chuckles and kisses his neck more, ignoring the question. He turns the lamp off and moves the both of them on their sides, kissing Peter’s neck the whole time.

“Feels good,” Peter gasps, holding onto Wade.

“Yeah?” Wade whispers, moving his lips up to Peter’s jaw.

“Yeah,” Peter says, his eyes drooping as he starts to feel sleepier. “Don’t stop,” he mumbles.

“Won’t,” Wade says, his lips moving along his jaw. It feels good, and Peter is so happy and floaty, and he doesn’t even notice the way he slowly drifts off to sleep.

Tony scratches at his face, eyes twitching almost violently. He did way too much, he used twice as mich as he usually does. But he woke up with a headache and a crippling urge to use, and it’s Saturday so he has no where to be and no plans to keep, so he thought it was a good idea at the time.

Tony feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest. He’s fucking stupid. He shouldn’t have done this. There’s so many things he shouldn’t have done. He shouldn’t have slept with Steve. He shouldn’t have hurt Peter with his words. He shouldn’t have ignored Peter. He shouldn’t have let Peter date Wade, he should have told Peter how he felt. And now he’s gone and fallen in love with Wade, they love each other, and Tony is stupid.

He’s fucked up, he’s fucked everything up. He’s done irreparable damage to all of his relationships, all of his friends hate him, he’s going to die alone.

He’s going to die, right now. His heart is going to give out, and he’s going to die in his apartment, all alone. How long will it take for anyone to even notice he’s dead? Is there anyone left who would care? Has he driven everyone who cares about him away?

He’s dying. He’s actively dying. He’s dying, and-

“Tony!” Rhodey yells, and when and how did he even get here? Rhodey looks angry-no. No, he looks scared. “Tony, please! Please, just breathe. You can’t hold your breath, man, you have to breathe.”

Tony gasps in a desperate breath, and immediately starts hyperventilating. He feels tears streaming down his face, and he can’t tell if it’s snot or blood that’s pouring out of his nose but he can’t breathe either way. “R-R…R-”

“Breathe,” Rhodey says, grabbing Tony’s hand and holding it to his chest. “Breathe, Tony. Like me. In…Out. Come on, Tones, you can do it. It’s a panic attack, you’ve had one before. It’s just a panic attack. Breathe with me. In…”

Tony is shaking. He’s shaking, and he doesn’t think that he can actually breathe like Rhodey wants him to. But he’s here, at least. He looks like he would care if Tony died right now. So he isn’t completely alone, at least.

“You’re doing great, Tones. You’re breathing, see? You’re breathing. Keep doing it. In…out…With me, just like that. Good job. Keep breathing,” Rhodey says, using his free hand to cup the back of Tony’s neck.

Tony sobs brokenly, his hands shakily coming up to hold onto Rhodey’s shirt. “Rhodey,” he croaks. He’s still shaking, still can’t breathe right.

“I’m here,” Rhodey says, squeezing the back of Tony’s neck in a way that sends calm through him. “I’m right here. Keep breathing.”

Tony takes in the deepest breath yet, letting it out shakily, and then does it again. He does it five more times before Rhodey finally gives him a shaky smile, nodding once. “Rhodey…”

“We’re talking about it,” Rhodey says, an edge to his voice. “But we’re getting you cleaned up first, and you’re going to drink some water, and we’re waiting until you’re breathing evens out.”

Tony nods slowly, unable to keep eye contact. He lets Rhodey clean his face up with some tissues first and then washes his face with water, careful not to let it splash all over his front. Then Rhodey hands him a water bottle and Tony takes slow sips from it until it’s half gone.

“Better?” Rhodey asks, once they’re sitting on one of Tony’s couches.

Tony nods, running his thumb along the lid of the bottle. “I’m sorry, Rhodey,” he whispers softly, looking up with tears in his eyes. He doesn’t want to let them fall anymore, though. “I’m sorry. Not just for-for this. For today.”

Rhodey lets out a shaky breath, and puts a hand on Tony’s knee. “You’re a fucking asshole, Tony,” he starts, shaking his head. “But you’re my asshole. You’ve been my best friend forever, and short of trying to kill me personally, there’s nothing you could do to change that, okay? I’ll always be here. I’ll always forgive you.”

Tony feels one tear push over the edge, and the mix of guilt and pure, unadulterated love courses through him. No one has ever loved him like this, other than Rhodey. Not his parents; that’s a fucking joke. He would say Ana and Jarvis, but they were paid to be there, and they wouldn’t have been if they weren’t getting paid. Rhodey is the only one who loves him this way, unconditionally and without incentive. “Rhodey-” he starts, chokes.

Rhodey smiles and shakes his head, squeezing Tony’s knee. “I know. And the way you feel right now, the words you can’t say out loud? That’s why. That’s why I stay. I know, Tony.”

Tony puts his own hand over Rhodey’s, holding it shakily. He wants to be able to say it anyway, but he doesn’t have words to express the way he feels. Maybe one day he will. For now, he’s just going to trust that Rhodey is telling the truth and he knows what Tony feels. “I don’t deserve you,” he says instead.

Rhodey sighs dramatically, tilting his chin up-but his smile is still there. “I know,” he says. At Tony’s laugh, he turns back to Tony and nods. “Okay. Now we talk about it.”

“I…how long were you there, before I noticed you?” Tony asks.

“A few minutes. Enough to hear something about Peter, fucking everything up, and how you’re going to die,” Rhodey supplies.

Tony winces and then sighs, looking to his lap. “I slept with Steve,” he starts, and can’t fight his smile when Rhodey chokes. “I know, bad decision. Probably gonna do it again.”

“Do-do not-Tony!” Rhodey chokes, half incredulous and half highly amused. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Steve Rogers?! Perhaps the only living person left on this entire planet more emotionally constipated than you?”

Tony barks a laugh, looking up at Rhodey with a shaky smile. His high is already starting to wear off, and he hates it. “I dunno, honeybear, I think Bruce might be up there. And Clint.”

“Nuh uh, they’re stupid,” Rhodey says, shaking his head. “They know how they feel, and they can talk about it. They just keep staying in the situation anyway. You can’t even talk about your feelings, or even label them most of the time.”

“Shut up,” Tony grumbles, wiping his cheek from the wetness. “Whatever. It was a mistake, I shouldn’t have done it. He came to my apartment all upset because he saw Barnes kissing Wil-Sam, and I was upset because Peter is always kissing Wade, and…I dunno.”

Rhodey sighs, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his chest. “Jesus Christ, Tones.”

Tony shrugs, sniffling and rubbing under his nose. “And then he went and blabbed about it to Peter, of all fucking people-” Rhodey whips his head around to look at Tony, eyes wide. “Yeah, I know. What the fuck was he thinking? Whatever, doesn’t matter. He told Peter, and so Peter came to my apartment like a week later or something, right before we all left for break. And he started saying all this stuff about how I hate him, and he just wants me to tell him what he did wrong so he could apologize, and I…I…”

Rhodey narrows his eyes. “What did you say?”

Tony pulls at his fingers nervously. “Okay, I admit to being the most emotionally constipated person on earth.”

“What did you do, Tones?” Rhodey asks, sounding tired and wary.

Tony scratches the back of his neck. “Well, what I meant to say was that I’m no good for him, that my life is hell and he shouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole. That I want to love him and be in a relationship with him, that I’m not only interested in fucking him.”

“But you didn’t say that,” Rhodey guesses.

“No. I…” Tony groans and puts his head in his hands. “It’s so much worse now that I’ve had time to think about it!”

“Tony…”

“I said I’m not allowed to date him because I’m expected to marry a rich heiress and have a bunch of pretty babies to carry on my family name,” Tony says quickly, letting out a shuddery breath at the end.

“Tony,” Rhodey says, scandalized.

“He said, ‘What a relief to find out that you don’t hate me, you just think I’m a worthless nobody!’” Tony leans back on the couch, rubbing a hand down his face. “And I didn’t know how to tell him that he’s the…that he…fuck,” Tony shakes his head, still not able to find the right words. “It’s the wrong way ‘round. I’m the worthless one, he’s the one that’s too good. Way too fucking good for me.”

“Tony,” Rhodey starts, changes his mind. He rubs a hand down his own face, before shaking his head. “I’m not going to sugar coat it, Tones. You fucked that one up. You’re lucky he forgave you.”

“I know,” Tony mumbles, rubbing under his nose before pulling his knees to his chest.

They let the silence sit for a while, but then Rhodey sighs. “Are we going to talk about your newest problem?”

Tony winces, resting his chin on his knees. “Dad hit me,” he says softly, and hears Rhodey shift to face him. “Told me I that if I was going to disappoint him by doing drugs, I could at least choose one that makes me productive so I’ll be a little less worthless for an hour at a time.”

Rhodey’s hand clenches into a fist on his thigh, and his jaw works. “If I could get away with it-”

“He’s right, though,” Tony says, digging his fingers into his legs to help him not cry. “It makes me a lot more productive. More sociable. I’ve managed to not massively piss anyone off for a whole week, that’s a new record.” His voice fails him at the end, turning the joke more sad than he wanted it to be. “All my assignments are done and turned in, I’m sure my professors suspect something,” that jokes lands better, pulling a pity laughs from Rhodey. “I feel better, when I’m on it. Usually. Happier.”

“It’s not really happiness,” Rhodey argues softly. He puts a hand on Tony’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “And it’s dangerous.”

“I know,” Tony mumbles sadly. “But I don’t want to stop yet. I need…I need to know I won’t drown, when I stop. I need to know I’ll be okay after. I can’t…I don’t want to feel that low again, when I was on break. Right after he hit me, and I thought Peter hated me and you hated me and everyone else was going to hate me soon.” He looks to Rhodey, his heart pounding for a new reason. “I don’t wanna feel that way again. I felt like…like there wasn’t a reason to keep going.”

Rhodey’s hand tightens on Tony’s shoulder, and his breathing starts to quicken. “Tony-”

“I’m not-” Tony shakes his head, taking a deep breath. “I’m not going to- do that. I just…I don’t want to feel like it, even if I won’t do anything about it.”

“You need to talk to someone,” Rhodey whispers softly.

Tony smiles sadly, pushing his shoulder more into Rhodey’s hand. “That’s what you’re for, sourpatch. Free therapy.”

“Tony,” Rhodey warns, a lecture on the tip of his tongue.

“I’m Howard Stark’s kid, I don’t get to go to therapy. I buck up and bury my feelings. It’s the Stark way,” he says sadly, shrugging. “I’ll figure it out, eventually. I’ll be fine.”

Rhodey rubs at his face, shaking his head. Then he sighs, squeezing Tony’s shoulder once more. “Okay. Okay, Tones. But you have to call me if you’re feeling like this again, okay? I don’t care what time it is, and I don’t care how sure you are that you aren’t going to do anything. You call me.”

Tony feels that surge of warmth again, and nods his agreement. “Promise.”

Rhodey lets him go, leaning back in the chair and staring into the distance. After what feels like the most comfortable silence they’ve shared in a long time, and scoffs “Steve Rogers?”

“Shut up,” Tony laughs, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s stupid and annoying, but he’s also hot as fuck.”

Rhodey shoots him an unimpressed look. “You fuck hot people all the time, you couldn’t find a different one?”

Tony sighs and leans back, letting his head fall to the back of the couch. “I’m gonna do it again, too. I just know it.”

Rhodey scoffs again, scratching at his cheek. “You are hands down, by far, the most self destructive person I’ve ever met.”

Tony smiles sadly, but then it disappears and he turns to Rhodey with genuine anxiety. Enough to make Rhodey tense. “But you’ll always be here to pick up the pieces,” he whispers, somehow able to keep it from sounding like a question.

Rhodey sighs, but he nods. “Always, Tones.”

#starker #my writing #fanfic #my college au #spideypool #tw: blood #tw: violence mention #tw: drug use #tw: panic attack #tw: alcohol #tw: unhealthy relationship #tw: unhealthy coping mechanisms

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phanfictioncatalogue · 2 months

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Hate Comments (3) Masterlist

part one, part two

A message from Dan to the Hater's (fanfiction.net) - Kittykat0989

Summary: Small one shot from Dan's POV in like a message way. Written due to all the hate I've seen lately towards Phil. Warning: Hurtful words and phrases.

disinterest in what the critics say (ao3) - pour_bot_hem2009

Summary: Phil doesn't normally let rude comments online bother him, but they really start getting to him one night

"Don't fuck with him." (ao3) - Misha_with_wings

Summary: People have been hating on Phil and shoving him around more than ever before and Dan was done with people hurting his best friend.

How To Save Two Lives- The Fic (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Inspired by the one-shot "How To Save Two Lives", I've decided to write it into a longer fic. So here goes!

Hate comments. Everybody gets them. For some people, the comments bounce right off their shoulders, leaving them seemingly unaffected. Those people would be Dan and Troye. Those people are not Phil and Tyler. For Phil and Tyler, the comments dig through their skin like razors, all the way to the bone, leaving them chilled and gasping for breath.

Tyler and Phil are running on a slippery slope, and they've lost their footing. Now, it's up to Dan and Troye to save them.

I'll Take Care of It (ao3) - mooksie01

Summary: Phil is excited to introduce his fanbase to his long-time boyfriend, Dan. Of course, not everything always goes as smoothly as we hope it will, and Phil is just a little disappointed when they hit a few bumps in the road. Warning for homophobic language and slurs!

massage your soul (ao3) - CapriciousCrab

Summary: When online comments have Dan stressed, Phil steps in

Not all fun and games (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Dan starts to take his viewers' comments to heart. He knows that they're usually joking, but it still hurts, and Phil is there to comfort him.

Promises Of Love On His Lips (ao3) - luckysam78

Summary: In which Phil isn't feeling the best due to hate comments.

Sticky Notes (ao3) - auroraphilealis (peachrayne)

Summary: When Phil realizes Dan spends so much time in the bathroom telling himself off, he decides to take matters into his own hand’s and starts leaving Sticky Notes to cheer his best friend up. TW: Self-Hate

You Little Tease (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: “Dan remember, don’t give a fuck about the hate comments”

(Dan and Phil comes out to their viewers)

#phanfictioncatalogue #phanfiction #phanfic #phan #masterlists #hate #hate masterlist

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tathrin · 1 year

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🎨 + 🤲

From this ask meme. (I know you asked these last night, I'm sorry for running out of time to answer them before. I hope you didn't worry that you'd been forgotten!)

These are the last asks in my inbox so if I haven't answered yours yet, then they have been lost/forgotten sorry please resend.

🎨 How do you feel about fan art of your stories?

I WOULD ASCEND BODILY INTO A HEAVEN I DON'T EVEN BELIEVE IN IF SOMEONE DREW FANART BASED ON ONE OF MY STORIES OH MY GODS. Ahem I'm fine, very chill, nbd. Fanart is awesome.

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

I'm going to combine this with another ask and answer them both together since they touch on the same topic:

So @katajainen has gotten me thinking about zombies in Middle-earth courtesy these amazingly awful fics here, and now I find myself lost deep down a world building rabbit hole (inspired also by @roselightfairy and @deheerkonijn's incredible Modern LotR AU) for a Modernized High Fantasy Zombie Apocalypse story and setting. Here's a bit of it.

The sound of the engine, which has been their steady accompaniment for so many hours now that it feels like the rumble of it must be baked all the way into their bones, finally fades. The silence that follows is so strong that it almost rings, feeling somehow louder than the engine for a moment.

Then it is broken by two car doors opening and closing, and the heavy stomp of dwarven boots across rough ground.

"Ahhh!" Gimli says, holding his arms up over his head and stretching all the way up onto his toes before bending over and grabbing for his ankles. His spine crackles in relief. "That feels good!"

"Don't go tumbling head-over-heels and rolling back down the mountain, now," Glóin chides him teasingly.

Gimli rolls his eyes and stomps off into the brush that lines the overgrown road for a few moments of very specific privacy. Behind him, his father snorts into his beard and then goes groping for a handkerchief. Dwarves are not people of sunlight and trees, and the pollen of so many plants is making his nose drip.

That doesn't mean that Glóin can't appreciate the view a little, as he turns to look back down over the land behind them. From this point of the High Pass, he can see great fields of green and brown stretching out behind him. Sunlight sparkles off the curve of distant rivers, and birds that he cannot name twitter in the sparse trees that dot the steep mountain earth around him. This is not a place for dwarves, outside in the sun with nothing around but green plants and feathered, flying things; but it is still a mountain, even if they stand on the outside of it rather than within. It is still a good place, in its own way, even if it is not a dwarven one, and Glóin takes a few minutes to appreciate the sights around him.

Also it is nice simply to be out of the car for a little. Glóin always thought the seats of the [DWARVEN CAR MAKE] to be the epitome of comfort, but after three days of being crammed into one as the car jolts and bounces its way up an unpaved mountain road, he is beginning to revise that opinion. Like Gimli, Glóin stretches out his stiff muscles a little, but he does not have his son's enthusiasm—nor his youthful flexibility. He contents himself with smaller motions, working the bones and joints as much as anything. Even dwarven bodies, which are stiff and stony by nature, can become uncomfortably rigid after too long confined in one tight space, and it feels good to ease that stillness and get the blood flowing again.

Glóin groans happily as he sinks down onto the warm bumper of the car, luxuriating in the feeling of stretching his legs out before him without pedals to interfere or the press of a belt across his chest to draw him back. He listens to the crackling sounds of Gimli stomping through the brush, at this point finished with his moment of privacy and now just giving his blood a chance to wake up too. Glóin glances over and sees his son shooting glances over the edge of the mountain, clearly also taking a moment to enjoy the view, and he smiles and ducks his head before Gimli sees him watching and accuses him of getting sappy.

Gimli is too young to understand, but he will someday. Sappiness is an inevitable side-effect of fatherhood, and not something that any dwarf stands much chance of resisting in the end.

He scratches absently at the bandage that sticks out past the end of his rolled-up sleeve and lets himself wonder what being a grandfather will be like. The day is many years away of course, if it should come at all; but out here in the warm sun with the air blowing past crisp and clean on the side of a high mountain, it is a nice thing to contemplate. Certainly better than the ugly plague they left behind in Erebor, the grim knowledge that cannot be forgotten and which drives the urgency of their travel.

Glóin catches himself scratching harder and makes a face into his beard. The itching is a good sign, he knows, a sign that the wound below is healing; still, that knowledge does not make the itching pleasant. With a sigh, he pulls his hand away before he can dislodge the soft white cotton or do some damage to the oozing scabs that lie concealed beneath.

He still can't believe Kili bit him when he went to hug his poor, feverish nephew goodbye.

Glóin sniffles and curses the pollen all around them. He wipes his nose again as he hears Gimli laugh. "You all right, da?" his son calls from the other side of the car.

Glóin looks down at the handkerchief in his hand and feels a chill run up his bones suddenly, despite the warmth of the sun overhead. "Fine," Glóin barks, staring at the spots of blood on the pale cloth. "Just a bit stuffy from all this damned greenery."

Gimli chuckles and returns to whatever he was doing before—more stretching, Glóin thinks absently, from the sounds of soft grunting and shifting cloth—and Glóin shoves the bloody handkerchief deep into the pocket of his jacket. He shivers, despite the warmth of the day.

"All right, time's wasting," he declares, taking care to make his voice as cheery and boisterous as though he were calling a crowd in for a feast. He shoves himself to his feet and unrolls the sleeves of his jacket against the sudden chill. "We aren't out here to sight-see, after all," Glóin says, and is abruptly reminded of the sight of Dori coughing into that bloody handkerchief of his back in the dim and empty council chambers. Is he well again by now, or has he succumbed like so many have to the disease, to be lying even now in a feverish stupor in a bed lined with chains in the increasingly-crowded hospital rooms? Are the dwarves they have left behind getting better on their own, or are they still getting worse?

Has anyone died yet?

Glóin shivers again and pulls his jacket tighter, buttoning it up high beneath his beard. As anxious as their hurried trip has been so far, he feels more than ever now that they are running out of time. "Back in the car," he orders.

Gimli grumbles good-naturedly, but he doesn't hesitate. He understands the urgency of their journey too, after all. He walks back to the car, taking the chance to stretch his arms up over his head and tug at them one last time before climbing back inside. His shoulders protest the movement but they revel in it, too, and some of the ache of travel lifts from his muscles.

Glóin's aches do not lessen. The stone of his bones is too old, the boulder of his heart too heavy. "In fact," he says slowly, "why don't you take the wheel for a while."

Gimli freezes with his hand on the door. "Da," he says, "are you talking pyrite?"

"No." Glóin shakes his head. He tosses the keys to Gimli. "Go on, if you're going to."

"But you hate my driving," Gimli says, even as he hurries to the other side of the car and slides into the driver's seat before his father can change his mind.

"Eh, well," Glóin shrugs. "Nobody else on the road all the way out here, is there? What better time for you to drive."

"Da," Gimli groans, "that was one time and I was barely sixty. I'm not going to hit anything now."

"Certainly not if you don't get moving," Glóin says mildly.

Gimli curses him affectionately and starts the engine. As the car rumbles off up the mountain pass, Glóin turns his face to the window and discreetly wipes his nose again.

His hand comes away bloody.

#ask meme #lotr fanfiction #my writing #gimli #gloin #zombies #lotr au #lotr #zombie apocalypse au #lotr zombie au

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kittylover776 · 5 months

Text

A New Duty

Decided to post one of my own fics here as a test-run. It’s a quick short-story as well as an origin tale for Mrs. Donatelli, and I plan to make a full version of it, but this is a piece that I have so far. I’m hoping to make a full-series based on The Princess Switch someday, so I hope this is a decent start.

I have a story For Stacy and Edward in mind that takes place right after the events of the first movie (though before the wedding), but I’m still trying to write it. For now though. I hope this will be enough.

I’d like to thank @aellathedreamer for the inspiration. This is is for you! 😁

Donatelli could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she stood lengths way from large, arching doors. She had been called down to the Duchess’s chambers by Duchess Anne herself, and she wasn’t sure wether this was a good or a bad thing. For months, the young woman did her best to appeal to the Royal Academy, including appealing to the monarch herself, as well as her five year old daughter, who had taken accustomed to her surprisingly enough. Now, here she was, contemplating her life choices as she forced herself not to faint from on-coming pressure.

The guards nodded as Donna approached the doorway, giving a small knock as she awaited access to enter.

Without hesitation, the doors opened from the inside, a servant from within greeting with an almost stern look as the two said nothing, their eye contact being the only communication they needed.

Suddenly, a soft but stern voice broke the silence as it bellowed across the room, an echo accompanied it as it bounced off the walls.

“You may come in, Ms. Donatelli.” Duchess Anne said calmly.

Donna gulped. ‘Here goes nothing.’ She thought nervously, the hairs on her neck sticking up as she hesitantly shuffled inside.

As soon as the doors shut behind her, Donna looked up to see the royal facing a large window, her posture perfect as she had her hands folded in her lap.

“Y-You called me in, your grace?” The young woman asked, giving a shaky bow as her eyes struggled to remain focused on the woman in front of her.

Anne looked over her shoulder, noticing that the young employee was looking anywhere but towards her. She gave an amused grin as she patted the seat next to her.

“Yes. Come here please, Donna.”

Donna obeyed, slowly but surely walking over and taking a seat beside her. She could feel their arms touching as the two sat in silence, not really knowing what to say as the tension began to weight on her.

Finally, the duchess broke the silence between them. “I heard about the little escapade you and Margaret shared.” She said, noting soon after her companion’s face turning pale. “A guard informed me he saw you two leaving the castle. Care to elaborate on that?”

Donna gulped nervously, feeling herself shrivel up. “I-I was just…giving young Margaret some fresh air.” Her voice wavered. “She wanted to explore outside the palace, so I agreed we could for a little bit before she was called in.” When she was met with a stern look, she tried to elaborate. “I know what I did was out of line, and I should have spoken with you first, but she just seemed so happy for once, I just-“

“Enough.” Anne raised a hand to stop her from talking a million miles a minute. She suddenly formed a smile as she placed a hand on her shoulder.

Donatelli looked complexed. She wasn’t mad at her? Why? Surely she would be fired after stealing away the duchess’s daughter without permission. Why wasn’t she angry?

“I brought you here, to say ‘thank you’.” The duchess said in an uplifting tone.

The young woman blinked. “You…are?”

“Of course. After you two returned, Margaret couldn’t stop raving at how you took her into town disguised and showed her around, despite the fact you’ve never been in town much, either. I haven’t seen a true smile on my daughter’s face in a long time, and you somehow lowered her shyness and broke her out of her shell. None of the people I hired for her previously managed to achieve that. I’m impressed.”

“I…uh..” Donna didn’t know how to respond to that, but cleared her throat nonetheless as she thought up a reply. “…yes, well, she is a child after all. I was just giving her an opportunity to explore her surroundings and learn about the kingdom she most likely will help rule in the future.”

“I couldn’t agree more. And that’s why I have a new proposition for you.”

Donatelli looked intrigued by this. “A…proposition, your grace?”

Anne nodded. “Yes. How would you like to be Margaret’s official advisor?”

The younger woman’s eyes snapped wide as her mouth slacked. She wants her to officially advise her daughter?! Donna couldn’t believe her ears at the news.

The duchess almost chuckled at her companion’s bewildered expression. “I’m taking that as a yes?” She asked, giving a smirk. “Of course, if you’re not interested I could always find-“

“No, no! I’m honored, really!” Donatelli gave a wide smile, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “I won’t let you down, your grace.”

The monarch gave a proud grin. “I know you won’t.”

#I’ll most likely made edits for this in the final story (having ADHD makes you a bit indecisive 😅) but I’m at least satisfied for now #Also for ‘Telli’s name Donna is simply a nickname and she doesn’t really tell anyone of her real one so she goes by ‘Donna’ most of the tim #“Donna Donatelli”. Pretty creative am I right? XD #mrs. donatelli #Duchess Anne Delacourt #the princess switch

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cerealmonster15 · 9 months

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Hi Cereal!! For the ask game, maybe 41, 42, and 43? :]

hi sand!!!!

41-Who’s your favorite character you’ve written?

pours one out for donut rvb he was my fave to write about for so long... most of my early fics were about him before i Didnt Write For A While lol. i also loved writing tango omgcp... whether or not they were accurate is another story sdfjlkfes... and then my brain fell asleep for a while

in my CURRENT ERA of fic writing. well. 🤔 lol it kinda goes hand in hand with my doodles actually lol my fave characters to both doodle and write are twst boys... cater diamond + jamil/azul <- those two are a SET. caters fun and i Love Him, but also writing jamil and azul like, it's DIFFICULT bc theyre very smart and complex characters [everyone in twst is complex and it's intimidating to write LOL] BUT in my silly ha ha nonserious [usually] realm of things, they are VERY fun to write together for bouncing off Funnies... they make me literally audibly laugh in the actual game and i try to harness that energy a lot of the time when i write for them. but they have a lot of potential for jokes, and genuine soft sweetness, but also some angst? like theres a lotta ways to go with them and it's fun exploring them TOGETHER!!!!!!!

Same with cater ive just had jami/azu on the brain for like a day

also writing normal was fun, ive only done it once but in terms of doodles he fits the blorbo slot that donut/tango/cater have for the dndads realm, so i could see him being my fave to write for if i get more dndads fic inspiration in the future!

^ questions that literally require like one word to answer and i gave multiple paragraphs LOL SORRY

42-What’s your favorite title that you’ve come up with?

ough. i dont like most of my titles LOL JSKLFJDS they are always SO last minute and the part i think the least about. i think i'd go with "The Comfort of Familiarity" [twst, jami/azu] or "New Memories in Good Company" [twst, riddle&cater friendship fic]. those are also i think some of my fave fics ive written in general so maybe thats why i also have titles i like more than others LOL

43-Is there a trope or idea that you’d really like to write but haven’t yet?

OOH. thats a good one hmmmmmmMMmmmm. ok so two sides of the spectrum here - on one hand i LOVE LOVE FOREVER LOVE my usual silly cute fluffy goofs. i love those. i wish to keep writing those forever. HOWEVER. i also sometimes get embarrassed about being Too Cliche so maybe sometimes i feel like im holding myself from doing More Of That Full Blast kfldsjfel i dont have a specific rn bc my brain is static but. sometimes i want MORE corny cheesiness.

BUT ALSO. that doesnt really answer the question jkslfj AND on the other hand i do think i also want to like... sometimes i want to try writing more charged serious drama w/some angst? nothing too crazy serious and heavy bc still At My Core im a goofy lil guy who likes to feel good and i wanna make people feel good. but like that lovesong [dndads] fic idea i talked about a while ago... that one would be a bit more 'serious' in tone and a lil more steamy [but in more of like a fade-to-black way jsklfd im still not into writing explicit things] themed thing. it would be very different than what im used to which is why im SCARED to try lol. im afraid i wont pull it off and will look silly for trying >.>!!!!!

but one of my more recent [twst] fics was a lil more serious in tone so i am trying to branch out a little!! it still had a mix of some goofs and was overall a comfort fic at the end of things so im like, easing my way into different things klsfjfls

OK SORRY I TALK FOREVER THANK U SAND!!!

[fic asks!]

#asks #abeinginsand #i appreciate all the questions getting my mind off everything 2day lol

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the-cryptographer · 11 months

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Anders, Oghren, Leliana, Sten for 002.

Woohoo! Thanks for the ask!

002 | Give me a character: ANDERS

How I feel about this character: Ugly baby. Perverted old coot. I love him. He is like... simultaneously the most self-absorbed bastard and the most selfless giving person. Absolutely beautiful. I think Anders is a man/character of dichotomies, and I think despite some issues the narrative really gets that across well.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Merrill. Fenris. Justice. Hawke. Not sure if the canon version of this romance is any better than any of the others, but it’s definitely awful in a funnier way for me personally. And noncanon Hawke you can of course do great things with. Carver. Bethany. Basically whether these two end up in the Circle, or with the Wardens, you have an immediate in for thematic relevance and shared experience with Anders. He’s my favourite person to ship each of them with. Sigrun. I don’t have a justification for this one. Just think it would be cute. Nathaniel. Mmm, same. I’ve seen other people write this well in a way that makes me want to say I ship it, but I can’t exactly pin it down. Leliana. I mean, they don’t talk in canon. And I don’t think I can ship her Left Hand of the Divine self with Anders. But, like- canon diverge before that? Think about it. They both wanna be Andraste. They’re both wildly heretical Andrastians talking about love and compassion and justice. They need to kiss about that.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: I’m going to say Justice? Like, I think their connection is romantic, but it’s sometimes hard (for me anyway) to get that across when they’re sharing a body, so I don’t think of it in quite the same way. I think despite all the dysfunction in their relationship, Justice and Anders really managed to be what the other needed through some hard times and I think there is some genuine longing there where Justice loved that Anders’s hedonism could coexist with the goodness of his cause and his compassion, and Anders was inspired by Justice’s courage and sense of morality and responsibility. I’m glad Anders has Justice, even in playthroughs where everything else goes wrong for him. I guess also Isabela? In the sense that I think they’re fun to put in a room together and bounce off one another. I think they make good friends-with-benefits too, but I don’t think they especially want to be emotionally intimate with one another. Anders doesn’t really respect Isabela and I think Isabela has very little patience for Anders’s drama so :/ But I like that they seem to manage to coexist in a working relationship quite well despite that. I like how Isabela seems to know how to handle him without taking his shit personally, and see the good in him without enabling him overmuch.

My unpopular opinion about this character: Idk, he’s a jackass, but I don’t think he was wrong about bombing the Chantry if it helped end/stymie the prison labour system in Southern Thedas? I guess something more specific? I don’t think he’s a character that’s easily satisfied. I think he’s reckless and self destructive and loves testing people’s boundaries. I’m writing a fic where he’s cheating on my OTP for all of the above reasons. I feel like ‘Anders would cheat on my OTP’ is probably an unpopular opinion, but it probably says more about me than him, lmao.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I think there are probably a couple answers I could give to this but I think #1 is just better acknowledgement of who Anders was and what he was up against? I dunno. The real thing I want is for da4 Fenris to wryly talk about how much he hated Anders in Kirkwall and now he’s essentially become Anders - a freedom fighter raging against an uncaring slave labour machine and aggravating the people he talks to with problems they don’t know how to help - and isn’t it strange and wonderful and awful where life takes you? I think it would be ironic.

my OTP: Anders/Merrill & Anders/Fenris. I often ship them simultaneously in a polyamorous sense, but not always. I talked about both of them in this post.

my cross over ship: N/A.

a headcanon fact: There’s canon dialogue reasons not to, but I think most people headcanon Wynne as Anders’s teacher in the Circle, and I’m no exception. I feel like her ‘boys will be boys’ attitude in Origins really jives well with a lot of Anders’s worse qualities, lol.

002 | Give me a character & I will tell you: OGHREN

How I feel about this character Worst boy, best boy <3 What a pathetic old war veteran who got chewed up by the system and spat out and left for dead. Also he’s terrible!

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Nobody really. No one deserves that, especially not Felsi. Okay, I lied. Wrote a fic once where he had a thing with Stroud and a fade spirit named Fury. Also he totally has a weird little crush on Nathaniel Howe (and maybe Anders too). It would be nice to explore more of that in ways that would cause brain damage for everyone involved >:)

My non-romantic OTP for this character: He and Zevran have a funny little set of banters going. I like how amused Zevran is by Oghren trying to negotiate this grudging respect for him. And I like Zevran trying to get him to laugh with the joke about an elf and a human and a dwarf talking about wiping the piss off their hands. Also Branka, to be honest. Theirs was obviously a very unhappy marriage, but I do genuinely like Oghren’s involvement in Paragon of Her Kind, and how he obviously seems to love and revere this woman and care about her when everyone else has given up on her. I love the way he’ll unreservedly call her a genius, and genuinely be upset if the Warden elects to kill her. Pity she doesn’t seem to return any of that affection.

My unpopular opinion about this character: I like him. I think he’s great for the duration of Paragon of Her Kind, as I said above. I think he definitely overstays his welcome after that though, between the rest of Origins and Awakening. Especially since Origins itself is saturated with a lot of Warrior characters when you really only want one in your party to draw fire.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I wish he’d gotten a little more depth following Paragon if he was going to stick around. I think it’s frustrating that the writers seemed to think he was hilarious when the rest of us seemed to only see a sad pathetic alcoholic who takes out his disappointments with the world by sexually harrassing the people around him. I’m not even sure what I expect because I don’t even *need* him to get better, especially when he clearly doesn’t want to. But I wish there was a way to engage him less shallowly.

my OTP: N/A.

my cross over ship: N/A.

a headcanon fact: He thinks that Chasind honey mead is TOO SWEET and obviously for PANSIES & LITTLE GIRLS. But he still likes it. He sips it in secret at night and thinks of the honey termites in Orzammar.

002 | Give me a character & I will tell you: LELIANA

How I feel about this character: She is... the first character I romanced in this series. But I’m not sure it left me with many strong feelings about her. I think the back and forth the first game has about whether she fabricated her vision of the Maker entirely was interesting. I find her need to mythologise the world and the events of her life kind of frustrating, especially where it concerns turning Marjolene’s abuse of her into a tragic romantic epic. Though I think she is allowed to make sense of her life that way, if she chooses, I do find it alienating. I also think her association with the Chantry as a spearhead for its Imperialism is frustrating in DAI and subsequent additions to the series. Not that I consider it out of character, but it is a slap in the face imo for people who romanced her as Amell/Surana/Tabris/Mahariel. Definitely grounds for divorce.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Morrigan. It’s definitely fun to contrast their worldviews. And, of course, to get Leliana to use her comparative savvy and experience to get Morrigan begging >:) Zevran. It’s fun since they’re both bisexual killers for hire who like shoe shopping. Warden. I think most of the backgrounds can be done well with her (discounting DAI). Wynne. I do like how Leliana seems to see through Wynne’s old lady act a little, and point out that she herself is older than she looks. I think this could be fun. And I brought up Anders up there ^ as a potential crackship >:)

My non-romantic OTP for this character: I don’t think I have one? Or, rather, I’m open to all the things I discussed in the shipping section being explored nonromantically.

My unpopular opinion about this character: I think there’s a lot of potential for her and Josie and Cassandra to be the villains in a DAI playthrough tbh. They are the ones kind of controlling the narrative about what the Inquisition is, and using it to further an agenda I do not feel is particularly in the interests of the Inquisitor in many cases, let alone most of Thedas.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: Leaning more into her villain potential in DAI should have been an option imo.

my OTP: Any permutation of Leli/Morri/Zev/Warden is okay by me, given the writing to back it up.

my cross over ship: N/A.

a headcanon fact: This is very fix-it of me. But Tug made it out of the Arl of Denerim’s Estate alive, but without working legs. Leliana thought it was more romantic to write about him dying and giving Sketch his axe. Ableism abounds. Sketch is not done being pissed off at her about it.

002 | Give me a character & I will tell you: STEN OF THE BERESAAD

How I feel about this character: Another dumb bitch traumatised war veteran <3 I like him. I think he is the source of the best character work and worldbuilding this series has done on the Qunari. And he’s fun and rewarding to watch open up. Discovering that this really hardened and murderous bastard, with this totally foreign social perspective, likes cookies and art - it feels lovely.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Warden! I don’t go here often enough, but I have seen some really cute fics about him bonding with Wardens of different kinds and showing them his nice and soft sides <3 I think him and Morrigan troll flirting with one another is also really funny and great, lol.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Zevran, maybe! I’m disappointed that follow-ups to the series never did anything with Zevran considering going to Par Vollen with him and checking out the Qun. And Dog <3 I feel like Sten is really that war vet guy who needs a service animal.

My unpopular opinion about this character: I’m not sure what counts as an unpopular opinion. I suppose I think it was terribly out of character for him to declare Alistair ‘basalit-an‘ in the comics. He clearly has absolutely no respect for the guy in Origins.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: Egh, I think I’m pleased enough with what we get from him in canon, excluding the comics jank.

my OTP: I still think him and Warden could be cute together.

my cross over ship: N/A.

a headcanon fact: He got promoted to Arishok because he introduced Mabari puppies and cookies to Par Vollen and for no other reason.

#anders #oghren kondrat #leliana #sten of the beresaad #dragon age #this is the last of these #sorry it took me so long anon

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