justanothermess



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    The next time Arthur doesn’t say thank you, Gwaine puts his hand on Merlin’s back, stroking down the long length of it, from the short curls of hair at the nape of his neck to the neat cinch of his waist.

    “Thanks,” he praises, throwing a wink to an agape Arthur as he does. It’s wonderful.

    So wonderful, in fact, that for the next fortnight, for every brusque word that spills from Arthur’s lips, Gwaine spills three sweet ones.

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    09 Dec 2025

    Bookmarker's Notes

    “I want to win tournaments,” Gwaine muses aloud, letting it bloom behind his eyes, “and give Merlin the wreath. I want to be the sword that stands between him and his enemies. I want to swear an oath to him, and be in his service and wear his colours for everyone from here to Caerleon to see.”

    Arthur swallows, his shoulders slumping. His blond fringe hangs over his eyes, but something like fresh hope sparks there as well. “Merlin hasn’t got any colours.”

    “Yeah,” Gwaine sighs in agreement, letting the curl of amusement he feels find its way to his voice, “so I’ll just have to wear yours until he does.”

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    He should have been a moth rather than a snake.

    There's something inside him that can't resist the light.

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    18 Jun 2025

    Bookmarker's Notes

    She sheds her clothes like he sheds a skin, pulling his hands to her, letting him touch her for what he knows will be the last time. “You weep as a woman weeps,” she tells him, her hands in his hair, her thigh hitched over his hip.

    “How’s that?” he asks, tries to keep from choking on the words.

    “As if the future rests on your hips,” she says, “and you must walk it forward."

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    It was supposed to be Jennifer.

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    18 Jun 2025

    Bookmarker's Notes

    Needy lowers herself, nosing Jennifer’s hair out of the way to scrape her teeth against Jennifer’s neck, and what the absolute shit is she doing. “Are you scared?” Needy asks, the first words she’s said since showing up and acting like a total freakshow.

    Her first instinct is to lie. It’s always to lie. But Needy is covered in blood and they both still smell of fire and she can’t hear her heartbeat and Jennifer doesn’t have a fucking clue what’s going on, so she’s honest, for once. “Always.”

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    Crowley is just following orders.

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    21 Jan 2025

    Bookmarker's Notes

    “Can you just stand by and do nothing?” she presses. “All it takes for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.”

    “I’m not a man,” he says, because he isn’t, no more than she’s a woman or She’s a woman or any of them are anything. But they’re close enough, he supposes, in the grand scheme of things.

    “You’re good,” she insists, and tears prick his eyes at her conviction, at what should be an insult to him now.

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    A realization that’s been lapping at the edges of Sokka’s mind all night finally crashes over him in a wave. “You really hate yourself,” he says slowly, as the cold understanding sinks in.

    Zuko’s glare could melt glaciers. “You wouldn’t, if you’d done all the things I’ve done?” he says, which would be fair, except — it’s not just about the things Zuko’s done, is it? It’s also about the things he hasn’t. Zuko hates himself for things that are his fault, and things that aren’t. For who he is, and who he hasn’t managed to be.

    And Sokka can see, with sudden, sharp clarity, that if he were to plot the strength of Zuko’s self-hatred alongside the strength of his bending over time, the two lines would hug in almost perfect sync. Which leaves Sokka with only one question: whether someone’s self-loathing could run so deep and unrelenting that it sustains their bending for the better part of a decade.

    The night before going in search of Sun Warrior ruins, Zuko starts to doubt that hatred is the source of his bending after all. Sokka helps him figure out what it really is.

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    09 Jan 2025

    Bookmarker's Notes

    Sokka scowls. “So you what, hunted him for sport? For fun?”

    Zuko scowls right back. “What part of any of that looked fun to you?”

    “Then why did you do it?”

    “Because my father told me to.”

    “And that was enough?”

    “It wouldn’t be for you?”