Nico: Why Aren’t There Any Gay Movies Out There? Gods, I’m Sick Of Watching Hetero Romcoms

Part One   Part Two   Part Three   Part Four   Part Five   Part Six   Part Seven

Sometimes you gotta be blunt.

Next parts will update on my Patreon as I complete them.

Reyna: gods it’s so hard being in charge of an entire legion by myself, trying to prevent a massive war, flying across the entire ocean to help other people save the world

Nico: hi

Reyna: *pulling him towards her* great, now I’m a single mother too

Fedyor: Ivan, we get to meet the sun summoner! Zomgz!

Ivan: So.

I love them. Fedyor fanboys and Ivan is not impressed. You can write this. You know, if you wanted to. :)

“You know,” Fedyor says, as they leave the dining hall after supper. “You could be a little nicer to her, Vanya.”

“What?” Ivan is preoccupied with the news from the messenger, the mounting casualties on the Fjerdan border, and the way their great vaunted hope, their so-called living saint, is sitting and giggling with her girlfriends and eating figs. “What are you talking about? I told her that she should be training more! That was not inaccurate!”

“Maybe it wasn’t,” Fedyor says patiently, “but she is the Sun Summoner! And she has only just learned that she is Grisha. If you helped her feel more at ease, perhaps she would learn faster or – ”

“It is not my job to coddle some orphan from the country who cheated her way out of her power being discovered as a child,” Ivan interrupts brusquely. “Everyone else in the Little Palace treats her as if she is made out of pretty porcelain. She is a soldier in the Second Army now, no more, no less. Did she not learn that in the First?”

“She was a cartographer, darling. Not an infantryman.”

“I don’t care!” Ivan barks, causing a nearby Squaller to jump, look at him anxiously, and scuttle away. “If it was up to me, she would be sleeping with the rest of the recruits in the barracks, not given her own lavish room and all the servants who fetch and carry whatever she wants! No more special treatment, no – ”

“Has anyone ever told you what a terrible grump you are?” Fedyor drapes his arm on Ivan’s shoulder as they reach the staircase. “I do have to wonder.”

“Yes. You. Frequently.”

“I mean, anyone aside from me.”

Ivan shrugs. “No idea. Why should I care what other people apart from you and the general think of me?”

Fedyor grins. “You know, if everyone wasn’t so scared of you, I swear you would have been murdered in your sleep by now.”

“Good. They can be scared of me.” Ivan reaches up and links his fingers through Fedyor’s. As they climb to the top of the stairs and step out into the hallway beyond, he asks, “Do you really believe that only one girl in all of Ravka can banish the Fold?”

“I don’t know,” Fedyor says, suddenly serious. “But you know that I grew up only twenty miles from Kribirsk. I saw the crossings, I heard about the people who died, I was put to bed at night with scary stories of how the volcra would eat me if I was not a good boy. Once on a dare, I went all the way to the edge with two of my friends. We were... seven? Eight? When my mother heard what I had done, she tanned my arse so hard she broke her best wooden spoon. She was... she was scared.” He pauses. “I saw it in her face. The Fold is real, Vanya. And it’s terrifying, and terrible. If Alina can banish it – ”

Ivan feels an oblique prickle of guilt. He grew up in Chernast, far from the Fold’s frontiers, even if he heard about the Unsea like everyone else. But until he was recruited into the Second Army and became the general’s right-hand man, he never saw it for himself, not in the same way Fedyor does, and did. It is an abstract to him, a simple problem of military strategy, and he is impatient with people who treat it as some great divine judgment. “You know I am not a believer in the Saints, Fedya,” he says, more gently. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea to trust one girl more than this. More than us.”

“You know.” Fedyor tilts his head back, a smile playing across his lips. “Underneath all the gruff, you’re really a bit of a romantic.”

“I’m not,” Ivan says, failing to frown as totally as he usually does. “You’re mistaken.”

“Mm.” Fedyor links his arm around Ivan’s waist, kisses him on the cheek, and they walk the rest of the way to their quarters in comfortable silence. As they close the door and get ready to sleep, then crawl into bed together, Ivan thinks that General Kirigan, and indeed all of Ravka, can keep Alina Starkov and her magical hands. He has all the sunlight he needs, right here in his arms.

OMFG the guy who plays Hardin in After played young Tom Riddle

15x18 - Despair

Incorrect quotes: Alec and Jace Edition

Me watching I Don’t Dance from High School Musical 2 as a kid: oh my gosh they’re such good dancers that looks like so much fun!

Me now:

This is a Saracen/Dexter fic.

(Saracen’s POV) (All the dead men are alive and Ravel didn’t betray them)

We’d fought for centuries side-by-side. I find it ironic, now, that we are side-by-side in the end. The earth is burning up.

We always knew we wouldn't be able to stop it one day, but now that it's here, I'm trying to remember why we ever fought in the first place. We weren't fighting for our own benefit; we were fighting for the benefit of the mortals. I still believe in the cause I fought for, but was it really worth my life? Was it really worth it to lose all of my friends?

Dexter and I lay on a silent lifeless hill, watching apprehensively. There was no one I would rather be next to me.

All my weight was leaning against him, and our hands were clasped tightly together. His arm wrapped around my chest.

We weren’t scared. We had resigned ourselves to the inevitability of death long ago. During most of our missions, death was always close by, watching and waiting. Despite this, there was still a sort of heaviness in my chest. Our situation wasn’t sad, but bittersweet. The world may be ending, but at least I am with the person I love the most. At least we won’t be alive to mourn for each other. I hate that I can imagine years into the future without Dexter, when the pain will be mild, and the memories will be dull and lacking in everything I once felt.

I may not be scared to die, but there is a small part of me that worries about what will happen afterwards. Will Dexter and I lose all our memories and feelings along with our bodies? Is this the end of us?

I turned my face up to Dexter. He was lost in thought, and his eyes were unfocused. He was staring at nothing in particular. I pulled his face down to face my own to grab his attention.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked. His eyes were locked onto mine.

“I wish,” he whispered, “that we didn’t spend so long fighting.”

“I wish we had more time together,” I agreed.

The heat was reaching us. It came mildly at first. The heat was hot enough to make me sweat, but it didn’t hurt yet. We only had a few minutes left though.

“I love you,” he breathed. And I told him I loved him back.

I am painfully aware of how small we are right now. There must be thousands of others spending these last moments with the love of their lives. Like I was. All of the sorcerers know about this, but we kindly kept the mortals out of it. They would spend their last few minutes confused and in pain, so maybe we should have let them be with their loved ones. I wasn’t sure what I would have wanted.

The heat was beginning to hurt. There was a burning sensation on my skin. A searing pain shot into my skin, and I cried out. Dexter was holding me harder than he ever had before, and I was doing so to him. was burning hot, and the pressure of his body made it hard to breath. Still, I didn’t let go. I couldn't.

It felt like time was slowing down. I was aware of every single sensation: the smell of sweat and burnt flesh, the feeling of warmth in Dexter’s chest, and the scalding pain. Even though my eyes were closed, shades of red and orange blurred into my vision. I could hear Dexter and I’s breathing. I could hear our heartbeats. I could hear sizzling. I could hear our cries of pain.

My skin was being burned off now. I couldn’t see it, but I knew. I could feel it. I was holding onto Dexter for dear life. His body was on top of mine, taking in most of the heat.

I wanted to look at Dexter again, but the pain was so unbearable that I could.

“Dex-” I managed. He didn’t answer me. “Dexter?” I choked. There was no answer. His arms had loosened around me.

He was probably dead, I realized.

(I wrote the happy ending on ao3)