#merlinisnotover

[homobiwan]

songs for your gender playlist

they/them/theirs by the worriers

FTM at the DMV by Schmekl (actually everything of theirs)

Queer as in Fuck You by Dog Park Dissidents

I'm Not "Supposed" to be anything by she/her/hers

Boys will be girls by We are the union

Andy You're a Star by the killers (can't really explain this one)

Ty bestie <3

[rodansey]

ooo for the follower giveaway, can i have 15. trembling hands with gansey?

Aurum hits 200 | still accepting

[Some Bluesey feelings for you! Thank you for sending this!]

15. trembling hands ~ Gansey/Bluesey

Gansey unlocked his phone. His list of contacts lit up the screen, right where he’d left off the last time. He stared, his thumb hovering over one in particular, but never connecting. He stared some more until the screen dimmed. Then it went dark.

Gansey unlocked his phone.

Blue watched him do it, lingering near the kitchen doorway, where she had a clear line of sight to him. Adam and Ronan had driven into town to pick up a part for the Hondayota, leaving the two of them alone at the Barns. This was the first day he’d touched his phone since they’d brought him back from the side of the road, since they’d brought him back to life. Before he’d sacrificed himself, he’d been subjected to numerous texts about missing his mother’s fundraising event after Raven Day. It had been impossible to impart the knowledge that their son had not only discovered Glendower was well and truly dead, but that he’d given up his very life to save the world. So Blue had texted them that he’d fallen ill, and was recovering so he could return to school. When they called to speak to him, Henry took over, telling Gansey’s parents that he’d nearly passed out at Raven Day, and hadn’t gotten better since.

Well, none of that was actually a lie.

Gansey had gone on in a fugue state for days after, sleeping for hours on end, waking in a daze enough to have food and water pushed on him, then slept some more. No one really wanted to say it out loud, but they were worried that fusing him with Cabeswater might mean this was the Gansey they would live with forever. There would be no explaining that to his parents.

Gansey unlocked his phone.

His eyes were bright now, and while his back was turned, they’d all breathed a sigh of relief. He was still their Gansey, with his delightfully old-fashioned speech, and an inability to keep his love for them inside himself. But when it came to this, the moment where he’d have to face his parents, Blue thought this must have been what it was like for him after being stung. Needing to apologize for things out of his control, desperate to make things right. It broke her heart.

She finished drying the last of the breakfast dishes and wandered out to him, her bare feet barely making a sound on the old wooden floors. Gansey looked up, offering her a warm smile that curled pleasantly in her belly and spilled out to her fingers and toes. She smiled back, something he made so easy now that they didn’t have anything to hide anymore. Sitting next to him, she put her hand on his arm, felt him moving, even if he’d been sitting still. Now that she watched him this close, the process of him unlocking his phone, hovering over ICE Marion Gansey, she could see that his hands shook terribly.

“I should call them,” he said out loud, as if her physical contact turned the volume up on a mantra he’d only been saying in his head.

Blue chewed on her lower lip. She’d never considered how much easier it was to tell her mom what had happened. It helped that Maura had been part of the whole ordeal, but even if she hadn’t, somehow Blue imagined she could tell her far more than Gansey could tell his parents.

“You should,” she agreed carefully. “Maybe when you’re ready?””

His laugh was quiet, unpleasantly devoid of actual humor. “If I wait for that, Jane, I’ll be the estranged son, if I’m not already. They just won’t understand. With my luck, they’ll be seeking a doctor’s note, and there just isn’t one for battling a demon who would destroy your friends while you watched. Perhaps Lynch could dream me one.”

“You don’t need a doctor’s note, Gansey. It’s okay to have been sick. It’s okay not to…not to come when called!” she huffed.

“They never asked much of me, especially not while I was hunting Glendower. I could have encountered far more resistance for some of the things I did. And the one time they really needed me, I let them down.”

“You saved them, Gansey,” Blue insisted. “Whether they realize that or not, you need to know it deep down.” She put her other hand on his chest, over his heart. “You saved all of us. Whatever they think of you from this point on, you know you’re not alone. You have us.” Her voice softened. “You have me.”

She leaned up to kiss his cheek, then lay her cheek against his shoulder. Blue wouldn’t let him do this alone. Gansey sighed, turning to kiss the top of her head, nuzzle into her unruly hair. His hands still trembled under her touch, but he freed up one hand so he could put his arm around her. She tucked into him, marveling as always about how well she fit against his frame. Blue draped herself partway into his lap, kissing over his pulse next.

“You’re more than this moment, Gansey. More than what you’re afraid they’ll say. I promise.”

“I adore you, Jane,” he murmured. “Do not ever believe otherwise.”

Gansey unlocked his phone.

He called home.

[tedddylupin]

Congrats on 2k!!! could you do Bluesey for 46. “Hey, have you seen the..? Oh.”? Thank you!! - kirani

“Hey Jane?” 

Blue rolled her eyes. Gansey sounded distracted and she said nothing as she laid out on the couch like it was her own. 

“Have you seen the..?” Gansey looked over and found her laying on the couch and his eyes widened. “Oh.”

She gave him a pointed look. “Yes? Spit it out.”

He pointed to the book in her hands. It was one of many he had lying in disarray after some sort of manic research stint done at 2 in the morning. She had chosen one at random to occupy her time before she had to go back to her own manic mess.

She looked at the cover. Welsh Myths and Monstrosities. She frowned at him and raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? You want this one?”

“Yeah I--wait. Are you...are you judging me very official research right now?” His mouth twitched into a lopsided smile as he put his hands on his hips somehow making a middle aged mom pose look interesting. 

She sat up and handed the book to him, not making eye contact. “At least give me another one to bide my time with.” 

“I’ll do you one better.” He said, voice close to her ear. She jumped back, rubbing the spot where his breath left a whisper of heat. She glared at him but still took his hand, standing up on the couch and climbing over the back of it like the heathen she was. Gansey said nothing about it. He led her into his room, dropping her hand like it was nothing and pointed to the most messy of corners. “If you want something to do, try organizing those into a semblance of order by region.”

It wasn’t a suggestion, more of a demand but coming out of Gansey’s mouth she didn’t raise her hackles at it. Instead she sat down and let herself do the work. Even if she did keep getting distracted by Gansey flipping pages madly and the way his brow seemed to furrow as the shadows stretched across his face. She supposed this was a good use of her time. 

Thanks for joining in my 2k celebration! Requests are now closed.

[playedwright]

KAT MY WONDERFUL FRIEND MAY I PLEASE HAVE 70 FOR HOLSOM ILY

70. “After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?” from this list

ari i’m not going to lie to you, i started writing this and forgot i had a prompt to include until i was like… already 500 words in, so now it’s this… behemoth… ANYWAY ENJOY ILY <3

ALSO this is the unintentional then semi-intentional prequel to this prompt i filled a little while ago! 

*

Here’s the hard part about being in love with your best friend:

You can tell them you’re in love with them a thousand times. You can show them you’re in love with them a million different ways.

But the line between platonic and romantic is not as thin as a wire; sometimes it feels like a fucking fence, and it’s impossible to convince the other person to climb over.

God—this metaphor is getting away from him. He spent too much time working on that stupid ten-page English essay last week and now he can’t stop comparing things. He slumps forward until his forehead hits his notebook.

“Coral reef?” Holster asks from next to him.

Ransom lets out a long groan and lifts his head just to drop it back down heavily. “No,” he says moodily. “I’m just whining.”

Holster pats his back. “As is your right, bro.”

And that—that. That’s the whole root of his damn problem here. Here’s Holster, the best dude in the world, in Ransom’s humble opinion, and here’s the way he always remembers to touch Ransom’s back instead of his head because Ransom doesn’t like people touching his hair, and there he is half a second later calling Ransom bro.

As far as standards go, Ransom knows that’s setting a low bar.

In his defense, at least, Holster checks off a lot of his other boxes too. Tall, athletic, smart, musically inclined, funny, kind, hot…

Ransom sighs and turns so he’s resting on his cheek instead of his forehead. Holster gives him a sympathetic glance before going back to his homework. Sometimes, in moments like these, Ransom is struck by how quietly beautiful Holster is.

Like, the guy is built like a tree and there’s no denying he’s hot. But there’s something about these moments, where Holster’s wearing his glasses and a hoodie that’s a little bit too stretched out at the neck and there’s still traces of sleep in his eyes and his tongue pokes out occasionally as he works through a problem set. These are the moments that really only Ransom is privy to; he covets them, in a way, but he also knows that these are the times where Holster could take anyone’s breath away if they could see him like this.

“Seriously, Rans, you good?” Holster finally asks, breaking Ransom out of his reverie. “You’ve been staring at me for like five minutes straight. I know I’m dashingly good-looking, but you seem pretty zoned out.”

Ransom raises his head. There’s an indent from the corner of his notebook edged on his cheek. He rubs the mark self-consciously. “I’m good, Holtzy. Swear to god these semesters get longer every damn year. Shouldn’t it be time for finals? I feel like it’s time for finals.”

“We have, like, over a month, bro,” Holster reminds him. “It’s just gonna get worse before it gets better.”

“At least we only have one more semester after that.”

Holster frowns. He taps his pen against the edge of his textbook, an anxious habit that Ransom recognizes. There’s a faraway look in his eyes that spikes nerves in Ransom’s gut. “Can’t believe we’ll be done by this time next year.”

Ransom forces his shoulders to relax. “Yeah, but isn’t it exciting? We could be anywhere next year.”

“You could be anywhere,” Holster corrects. There’s still an unhappy look on his face. “I’ll most likely be in Boston. That’s where all my job interviews have been, anyway.”

Something about the way Holster says it sits uncomfortable in Ransom’s stomach. He’s already worked himself anxious several times before at the thought of living somewhere without Holster. He hates the idea that they won’t be together, even if they aren’t together. “Dude, I interviewed at, like, at least half of the same places.”

Holster wrinkles his nose. “Yeah, as a Plan B. You’re going to get into med school, Ransy. You’re hella smart and charming and they’d be dumb to turn you down.”

Ransom doesn’t know how to tell him that he’s not ready for medical school yet.

He doesn’t know how to tell Holster a lot of things, if he’s being honest.

“How lame would it be to ask you to apply for jobs in the same cities I’m applying to?” he asks instead, because even though he’s wearing his heart on his goddamn sleeve it’s still safer than asking anything else.

“What, you aren’t sick of me yet?” Holster asks with a grin.

Ransom scoffs. “After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?”

It slips out without him meaning to say it.

His heart stops beating in his chest.

Holster is quiet for one, two, three too many beats, before he smirks and drops his eyes back down to his paper. “You better love me. Best bros for life, right? Holster and Ransom! Ransom and Holster!”

“Adam,” Ransom breathes out. His voice sounds strangled.

Holster’s expression softens. He puts a hand on Ransom’s knee when he glances back up. “I’m just giving you shit, man. I know you love me. And I hope you know I love you too. E-specially after everything we’ve been through. If you really want me to apply for jobs in the same cities as you, I will.”

Ransom swallows thickly. He could take his beating heart out of his chest and offering to Holster right now and it still wouldn’t be a clear enough sign. This is the hardest part; this is where the line they toe becomes a chasm between them.

“You serious?” he asks.

Holster squeezes his knee. “On my Bubbe’s life. And you know I don’t say that lightly.”

Ransom nods twice. His eyes feel hazy, like he could cry if he’d let himself. He covers Holster’s hand with his own and squeezes once. He tries not to think about what it would feel like to actually hold Holster’s hand in his own.

“Chyeah!” Holster cheers. He gets a sharp glare from another patron of the library, down a few tables. “Sorry. But chyeah dude! We could get an apartment or some shit. We could have infinite best friend sundaes!”

Despite it all, Ransom can’t help but laugh. It’s hard, sometimes, being in love with his best friend; and it’s weird, too, how easily he can skyrocket from anxious and sick to his stomach to content and happy just to be spending time with Holster. Maybe that’s what makes it worth it. Ransom knows Holster’s worth it, anyway.

After all, he wouldn’t trade Holster for anything.

[leviathan]

If you’re still doing zimbits prompts, can you do a bed sharing trope fic? Maybe there’s a room mix up on a roadie, or maybe chowder needs to crash in bitty’s room and jack offers to share his bed? I just love bed sharing.

Hell yes my dude bed-sharing is my shit. Thanks for the prompt!CW: very briefly touches on Jack’s relationship with medication and past Jack/Parse.ALSO playing it especially fast and loose with the tense on this one so sorry in advance :P

So here’s the thing.

Jack has always slept better with another person in his bed.

It started when Jack was little. Even then, he was nervous. He’d clutch his blankets to his chin but he couldn’t bring himself to look towards the shadows lingering outside the glow of his nightlight. His mom or dad would curl up with him after reading a bedtime story, and he’d be out like a light. But that didn’t last forever.

His parents stopped reading him bedtime stories. He stopped crawling into his parents’ bed after a nightmare. He looked towards the shadows and the shadows looked back.

Even on a good night, sleep became harder and harder to find.

Then came Parse and Jack was good for a while, but they were young, and reckless, and more gifted than they had any right to be. They were a forest fire; they burned and burned and burned, but every fire has its ending.

The medication helped until it didn’t and Jack was left in a flimsy gown in a room that smelled like antiseptic and in a haze of half-sleep that was somehow worse than no sleep at all.

Parse was gone after that and Jack thought he’d never get a good night’s rest again.

Then came Samwell.

And with Samwell came Shitty, and Shitty Knight was unlike any person Jack had ever met before or would ever meet again. Jack had been in a single, technically, but by the end of his first semester it seemed like half of the stuff in his room was Shitty’s.

It started when Shitty was sexiled the first time. Shitty whisked in and collapsed on Jack’s bed after discarding most of his clothes on the trek over. Jack, only mildly unsettled, carried on with his work. When he was done, he glanced over at Shitty, who’d made himself at home—he’d pulled Jack’s covers completely over his head. Jack closed his textbook and shifted awkwardly. It was his bed, after all, but Jack had absolutely no idea how to kick Shitty out of it.

“Dude, I can feel you staring at me,” Shitty grunted and poked his head out from his mountain of covers. He patted the mattress from beneath the blankets. “Are you getting in or what?”

“Um…” Jack replied, feeling warmth rise in his cheeks.

“Listen, Jack, I love you like a brother and would never lift a finger to harm you, but if you don’t get into bed right the fuck now I’m gonna start throwing pillows. Which, why in the goddamn fuck do you have so many pillows?”

Jack wanted to point out that it was, in fact, Jack’s bed that Shitty had made himself at home in, but a bigger part of him had already warmed up to the idea of sleeping with someone again.

“I’m pretty sure checking counts as harm,” Jack chirped, but it was a weak one. With what was definitely far too little protest, Jack slipped in next to Shitty.

The dorm bed was certainly not built with two hockey players in mind, but it got the job done.

Before Jack knew he’d fallen asleep, his alarm was blaring.

It became a thing. Shitty would come over and pass out in Jack’s bed and Jack would slip in beside him. They didn’t talk about it because there was nothing to talk about. When they moved into the Haus it was like Fate Herself had waved Her hand and put Jack and Shitty in connected rooms.

It tapered off after a while, the sleeping together, but by then they’d gotten so close that they could read each other’s moods. Jack liked to think that he kept his emotions fairly close to his chest, but somehow Shitty always knew when Jack’s world got especially dark. On those nights, Shitty would make himself at home in Jack’s bed and Jack would slide in next to him and the next morning wouldn’t be bright, but it would be better.

Then came Bitty and with Bitty Jack’s whole world once again tilted on its axis.

~~~~~

It starts when there’s a mixup in rooms on a roadie.

“I know it’s not ideal but there are only two singles left and Chowder gets weird when he has to share a bed,” Lardo says with a frown. She has her arms crossed in front of her chest and is standing with one hip jutting out—her “I’m not taking no for an answer” pose.

Jack sighs. “Did you ask Bittle?”

“Yes, Jack, and he’s fine with it.” She gets an odd look on her face that Jack is unable to read.

Jack shrugs. “Whatever. Fine.” And it is, really—Jack would have done anything to keep their goalie happy and well-rested. He contemplates asking if they could do a swap-around—ask Shitty to room with him and stick Bitty with Nursey instead—but that sounds like too much effort for something that shouldn’t really matter all that much. Right?

So Jack heads up to the room, key card in hand.

Bitty is in the bathroom brushing his teeth when Jack swipes in. Jack drops his stuff on the far side of the bed and is halfway through unpacking his toiletries when Bitty collapses on the bed with a loud sigh and buries his face in a pillow.

Jack arches an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. He glances up and his eyes linger on the exposed strip of skin where Bitty’s shirt has ridden up.

He feels his cheeks heat up and his eyes skitter away.

After his nightly routine, Jack has nothing left to do but slip into bed. He clicks off the one remaining light and the room is thrust into darkness, broken only by the dim blue light leaking in from the bottom of the curtains.

It’s a queen bed, but it still feels unbearably intimate when Jack slides under the covers. From his breathing, Jack had assumed Bitty was asleep but now Bitty shifts so he’s facing Jack. Bitty’s eyes are open slightly but downcast, his long lashes heavy against his cheeks. He yawns and it’s all Jack can do not to curl an arm around Bitty’s waist.

“G’night, Jack,” Bitty says sleepily.

“Night, Bits.”

~~~~~

Jack wakes up first. It’s a gradual thing. He approaches consciousness and is vaguely aware of something warm and solid. He wakes up a bit more and realizes he’s curled up around another person, their legs tangled together and Jack’s arm around their waist. He wakes up a bit more and he realizes the person is Bitty.

It’s Bitty’s hand curled in Jack’s shirt, Bitty’s breath ghosting on Jack’s collarbone, Bitty’s ankle hooked between Jack’s.

Tabernac.

Jack holds his breath and starts counting backward from fifty, first in French, then in English. Once he trusts himself not to do something really stupid, he starts untangling himself. He manages to tug his legs away, but when he moves to pull the rest of the way back, Bitty’s hand tightens in Jack’s shirt and Jack goes absolutely still as his pulse skyrockets.

Bitty’s eyes are still shut and his breathing doesn’t change so Jack knows it’s just a reflex thing, but that doesn’t alter the fact that all of the blood in Jack’s body seems to have been redirected downward. He closes his eyes and swallows hard. Carefully, Jack brings his hand up to gently pry away Bitty’s.

Finally, finally, Bitty lets go. He huffs a bit and curls in on himself and it’s the cutest fucking thing Jack has ever seen and it’s too goddamn early in the morning for this.

Jack takes a very long and very cold shower.

[ricekrispyjoints]

Yuri/Viktor 11. “I thought you didn’t want me.”

I’M SOFT AND SO ARE THESE BOYS fjkdlsmf 

One day, Yuurithinks he might look back on the banquet with a good sense of humor.

Sitting inthe hotel room that night in Barcelona, though, is not that day.

[read on ao3] 

They’vejust gotten back from dinner with everyone where Yuuri had gone several shadesof crimson as Chris, Viktor, and Yuri showed off photos of Yuuri’s pole-dancingexploits and other drunken shenanigans.

He’sdefinitely going to have nightmares about things he saw in those photos, aswell as what he may have done that wasn’t captured on camera.

(The wayChristophe had winked at him leaving the restaurant has him quite nervous.)

He and Viktorhad walked home quietly, murmuring to each other about the upcomingcompetition, but as they had gotten closer to their hotel, they had fallenquieter and quieter.

But thetime Viktor is setting the room key down on the dresser with a quiet clank,they’re silent.  

Viktorremoves his jacket, hanging it on a hook on the back of the door.

Yuuritosses his on the back of a chair, and then they both sit on one of the bedslike a couple of middle schoolers at their first dance: tense, hands on theirknees, stealing little glances at one another, but neither one willing to makethe first move.

With a deepbreath, and surprising even himself, Yuuri breaks the silence. “I feel likethings make a lot more sense about the first time you came to Hasetsu.”

Viktor letsout a very tense laugh that eases as he gets a few has out. “Now youknow why I was so insistent on your eros. Which, by the way, you hadinside you all along.”

“Oh, stop,”Yuuri says, swatting at Viktor, but he’s grinning too.

The lightglints off the ring on his hand and he feels a little flutter in his stomach. Hesort of wanders if this revelation is going to change anything.

ConsideringViktor has known all along, the only thing that would change is if he himself wantssomething to change.

Before hecan think too much about it, Viktor speaks again, ducking his head in anattempt to meet Yuuri’s eyes.

“Butseriously, if I had known that you didn’t remember, I—”

“Don’t,”Yuuri interrupts. “I… I’m glad it happened the way it did.”

“You are?”

“Yeah. Imean, I needed the time. To get to know you. Gradually. Properly,” Yuuriadmits.

They’re bothsilent a beat.

“After thebanquet, you never contacted me. No phone call, no texts… nothing.”

Guilt makesYuuri’s heart squeeze painfully, but he can’t think of how to reply. What couldhe say that would make that better? He had no idea he was supposed tocontact Viktor.

“I thoughtyou didn’t want me,” Viktor whispers.

“Viktor, I’vealways wanted you,” Yuuri says, and Viktor inhales sharply.  Yuuri reaches out and grabs Viktor’s hand and meetshis eyes for a moment.

The warmthand hope in Viktor’s big, slightly watery eyes is almost too intense for Yuuri,and he looks away.

“Longbefore… I’ve always wanted you,” Yuuri says, voice cracking. “And now that Itruly know you…”

Yuuri pauses. He can hear the faint buzz of the bedside lamp in the breath he takes beforehe continues.

“Now that Iknow you, I can say that not only do I want you, but I love you.”

He risks aglance back up at Viktor whose tears brim over with what Yuuri sincerely hopesare happy tears.

“Yuuri,”Viktor says, voice thick with emotion, and he surges forward to kiss Yuuri, abit off center at first that they quickly adjust.

Yuuri isonce again struck by how few kisses they’ve shared so far, despite the rings ontheir fingers and the words that just came out of his mouth.

There’s noroom for misinterpretation anymore, no matter what Yuuri’s anxiety-brain can comeup with.

He kissesback with every ounce of conviction, the corners of his mouth turning up in asmile he can’t fight.

When Viktorbegins smiling too much too, they pull apart. When their smiles fade, Yuuri remembersthe hurt in Viktor’s quiet whisper.

“I’m sorryI made you feel like you weren’t wanted,” Yuuri says.

“It’salright. I know now, and it was a small price to pay if it brought me this.”Viktor kisses Yuuri’s knuckles, caressing the gold band.

“I’ll justhave to make it up to you,” Yuuri promises. “I’ll remind you how much I wantyou every day.”

[cashew-butter]

#1 for the fic asks?

1.  favorite fic you wrote this year

—

You know, I’ve written so many fics this year. It would be accurate to say that all of them were written in 2019.

But, I don’t think I can pick just one? These fics are my babies and I can’t pull favorites!

Cashew’s Top 4 Fics of 2019 (All on ao3)

1.  Some Assembly Required - Because my brain wont shut up about details and overthinks concepts that are briefly discussed, I wrote this. It’s a Tales from the Borderlands fic with mentions of elective brain surgery and cutting one’s arm off. It got serious for a game with constant humor, but that’s how I do things. It sort of feels like a character study at times?

2. First Step - This Gansey-centered TRC fic became deeply personal to me, despite the fact I don’t go to therapy myself. I see a lot of myself in Gansey, who would rather put his friends first and himself second. This was mostly me exploring and expanding on some headcanons I had.

3. Meet Me in the Woods - This was the first Raven Cycle fic I wrote after finishing the series. My friend and I were discussing our local cryptid, The Jersey Devil, and I had those books on the brain and it turned into something interesting. While I had issues with it after I first posted it, I grew to love it and considered expanding on it. 

4. Chronos - After Avengers: Endgame, I was a mess. A good one, but a mess nonetheless. Steve Rogers is my favorite Marvel character and I wanted to write him how I saw his storyline and character development. If it included some of my ship too, why not? I still stand by this Steve, the Steve I watched grow in the last 10 years. 

[karin848]

Some BittyParse featuring clothes swapping and Bitty teaching Kent how to bake!

Thank you @merlinisnotover for the prompt!!