#luke writes

[nukaacola]

New fic!!

- hollanov

- multi chapter (ongoing)

- mistaken identity

- background svetlana/rose

[too-close-to-the-sea]

summer - @wolfstarmicrofic - 101 words

Sunshine.

Homemade lemonade.

Quidditch practice near the woods.

Owling letters back and forth with Remus and Peter.

There was something magical about summer, something magical about the way that Sirius felt free.

Free to play, to be a kid, to brainstorm pranks in the dark with James.

Free to show emotions that were his, not just the ones he was taught to show.

Free to talk about Moony, his Moony.

Free from his mother's grasp.

Free to love James' mother as if she were his own.

He was free, in the summers.

He should've known it wouldn't always be this way.

[frozenpipedreams]

just published the first chapter of my fic Neck Full of Mockingbirds! the title is from a boygenius song and it's a jerejean-centric fic with a lot of focus on jean's recovery, featuring a lineup of (dearly beloved) trojan ocs i created before the tsc announcement :)

[dangergays]

dance practice

damien x reader (freelancer)

readers pronouns: they/them

i wrote this bc of an exchange with @1small-frogs and @kremepuff about damien being a dancer on the d.a.m.n. dance team so i had to write it

Damien appreciated being able to have a constant in his life. That constant being dance. He loved having the security of knowing that no matter how hectic his life would get, he would always something to fall back on. He loved having something that he knew backwards and forwards that he genuinely liked to do.

He picked up his bag and started to head out to the studio when he heard a knock on his door.

"Fuck." He grumbled and went to answer it, finding his favorite freelancer on the other side. "What are you doing here?"

"Well hello to you too, Damien." He noticed they had all their books with them.

He winced, "Shit, I said we were gonna study, didn't I?"

"You did." They looked to the bag on Damien's shoulder. "And I assume you have plans?"

"Yeah," he sighed, "Sorry."

"Where are you going?"

"I have, uh-" he grumbled, "I have dance practice."

The freelancer's jaw dropped. "You're a dancer? Since when?"

Damien cursed under his breath and left his apartment. "I'm already late. If you're gonna ask questions, ask them on the way there."

"Does that mean I can hang out with you while you practice?" They followed him down to his car as he made half hearted complaints under his breath.

"It means that I won't kick you out if you decided to tag along."

On the way to the studio, Damien was bombarded with dozens of questions about his hobby, all of which he acted annoyed at (though he was secretly happy that his friend cared enough to hear his answer.)

***

When they got to the studio, Damien changed into his dance clothes and shoes while his friend chatted with the rest of the team before they were pulled off to the side so the actual practice could commence.

The freelancer watched him as he danced, all grace and beauty and Damien in complete control of his body and his craft. His movements were mesmerizing, and he was more content than they'd ever seen him before.

In this moment, no one watching him would've guessed that he was a fire elemental. The way he was moving right now was more akin to water, flowing and coursing through him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And he was smiling. Fuck, he was smiling. He was grinning so genuinely the freelancer thought their heart would melt. They were in awe. They would do anything if it meant they could see Damien this genuinely happy all the time.

***

Afterwards, they approached him while he was drinking from his water bottle. He still looked amazing.

"I should come to these practices more often," They laughed.

(tagging redacted mutuals bc i can)

@1small-frogs @daviah @planticusp @salad-bar-but-better @cat-arsenal @rook-writes-words @teddybasmanov @kremepuff

[scvcnbuttons]

you don’t know what it’s like, to feel so sad and afraid that you don’t know what to do anymore. that nothing seems to stop the aching in your head that even your own twin can’t help because it’s a memory that is haunting you, one you want gone. so, you go off to a party because someone told you there was one then there is a liquid handed to you. downing it and you just continue to do so until the memories are no longer there. that they’re just a blur. it works, and you feel fine - until it’s gone and they’re back again.

images of your friend chocking right in front of you, of your father running in and destroying your fun. of you scared out of your mind as you wait in the car. counting; 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. one for mum, one for dad, one for stevie and one for shirl. the one for theo and the one for nell and me makes seven. it’ll keep you safe. you repeat it until you can’t anymore and it’s all too much.

so you use a temporary fix because you can only use it every now and then. but you still feel like there is something wrong with you, with your mind because it’s feeding you lies. you don’t believe the memories, and then you’re in your twenties and someone offers you a better fix then the liquor you use. and it is. it gets rid of the evil thoughts. makes the horrible images disappear into NOTHING and you just feel numb to the world, and that is so much better then feeling like your mind is racing with all those horrible things.

one injection; she’s not foaming at the mouth anymore. two injections; your mother is hugging you. three injections; your family is still together. four injections; no more bowler hat guy. five injections; there was no one down in the cellar. six injections; you’re not crazy and it’s not dark anymore. seven injections; you’re safe.

you inject yourself with this poison because it takes away the bad shit you’ve been through. you know it’s poison, you know it’s killing you from the inside out but it’s so addictive. it’s so addictive you lose sight of your family as you bleed them dry. you lie and steal. you watch as they grow tired of your shit, and stop helping you feed that addiction of yours; or helping you to get better because you’d just relapse again. because that temptation is too much. you take another hit and you never make it past 30 days before another hit. one time, you make it to sixty days - but you ruined it by fleeing the coop to try and make it to your sister’s wedding.

but, your older sister kicks you out before you step foot in the place because you needed to get high to be able to get through the day without one of those stupid nightmares. so, to respect your twin you go. you take the money and do as shirl suggests and shot up the rest because what else is there to do? it’s all you need to do.

your siblings, they don’t want you. your father, he’s an asshole who never gave you the answers you needed. you’ve wronged them all, you’ve burned them all trying to feed this ugly monster inside so that it can keep those god awful images out of your head.

you feed the addiction so much that coming down, it’s hell. you feel so god dam cold, so fucking stiff and your whole body hurts. its cold and you feel sick to your stomach, but you can’t inject yourself this time, because you have to deal with this all. deal with the shivers, the vomiting and the aches. as you ride it out, but even then, you’re still not done with it. you’ve still got the steps. you’ve still got the temptations but now you’ve got the will power because you need to bring back your sister’s brother. you need to bring him back, and then maybe you can start mending the bridges. but you will never know if they’ll accept you, or believe you. 30 days. 60 days. 90 days. it goes on, and every day remains a struggle.

[nukaacola]

New hollanov fic

- <5k oneshot

- Ilya POV after the tuna melt scene

- episode 4 missing scene

[dangergays]

hello redacted mutuals i would like to present an angsty sam wip

Three times.

Three times Sam had patched them up after a fight.

Two times they'd won.

And one time they'd lost.

Sam only made it in time because they called him. In any other circumstance he'd be happy that they were able to get over themselves and ask for help, but this situation was a little more life-threatening.

The door was open when he got there.

The wolf he'd grown so fond of was barely alive. They had collapsed flat on their back in the middle of the already bloodstained carpet.

He did his best.

[too-close-to-the-sea]

limits: a black brothers microfic; word count: 219

When he was little, Regulus was constantly trying to figure out where his limits were, seeing just how far he could go. Pedaling harder and harder on his bike, seeing how long he could hold his breath underwater. Calculating how long it would take after a meal for him to get hungry again. He was a kid, learning how the world worked, and how he was meant to live in it.

But when he entered Hogwarts, there were no more childish ways in which Regulus was discovering the world. And yet he found himself testing the waters every time he talked with Sirius. Every joke a harder pedal, every insult another second submerged. With every playful shove, another hungry hour gone by. And every time there came the snap. The limit. The breaking point. The crash and the scraped knees, the gasping for air, the stomach pains. The dirty looks where there once were laughing eyes. The toe over an unknown line causing the switch to flip within a second. The moment Sirius started to ignore Regulus. When playful jests turned into snapping in the hallways. Why was every interaction with Sirius a test to see how far he could go?

But at least Regulus could test the limits back then. Now, he has no choice but to obey.