#(but amazing writing as always though!!!!!!)

[nicksolemnlyswears]

JUST TEASIN’

summary: you call joel an old man…amongst other names

pairing: joel miller x reader

word count: 4.4k [i need to learn how to keep things concise]

warnings: 18+, cursing, spanking, p in v, fingering, oral (male receiving), age gap? totally legal though, joel's in his early 40s and reader is in her early 30s, joel is an ass guy which is strange cause i always make my men boob guys, idk i guess this is pretty tame

a/n: as a joke i tend to call pedro and joel peepaw cause he’s older and a total dilf but i love these men so fucking much. i'll be the first to get on my knees

thought i’d make a sweet oneshot about how they’d react to you calling them old. it’s a mix of fluff and smut. a little something for everyone!

also don’t judge me, this is my first time writing for joel 🥺

there’s a little nudge to another favorite fictional men of mine

i want to thank @yxtkiwiyxt for providing me with all the pedro pascal pictures and gifs and movie trailers and for ranting with me all day every day about how amazing this human is… if anyone is to blame about this oneshot it’s her ❤️

It’s one of those lazy Sunday mornings where everyone sleeps in, leaving the Miller household at complete ease. There are no responsibilities to tend to and nowhere to go.

You’re the only one awake, singing quietly under your breath and flipping pancakes until they’re nice and golden. Joel will come seeking you out soon, missing the warmth of your body and Sarah will follow when Joel cracks her door open to let the sweet smell of batter waft into her room.

No matter how hard you try you’re always the first one up. Sometimes you stay in bed with your husband, tracing figures on his bare skin until he pulls you into him and kisses your head good morning, raspy voice begging you for five more minutes.

But most of the time you decide on getting up and having an early start to your day, which includes making breakfast and sorting through your work emails.

The puppy Sarah adopted a couple weeks ago, sits on your feet, licking your legs as if begging for the fluffy sweetness of the pancakes. He had a taste of it when batter dripped on the floor, he licked it up before you had the chance of cleaning it.

Lost in your little world, singing to the tune of Lana del Rey you fail to notice your husband coming down the stairs. Joel leans against the kitchen island admiring you in your distracted state. The loose brown curls in a disarray at the top of his head.

His eyes scan you from head to toe, noting your messy hair pulled up to a half ponytail half bun thing he can’t begin to explain. Down they go to the cropped tshirt with his company’s logo on the back. The frayed edges are the byproduct of your use of kitchen scissors to crop it yourself.

Joel bites his lip as he ogles at your ass and thick thighs framed by the tiniest cotton shorts he’s ever seen. They fail to cover the bottom of your butt cheeks, exposing a sliver of the indigo panties and the crease where thighs meet butt.

Unable to stay away, Joel wraps his warm arms around your waist as he presses a kiss to your temple. He squeezes you to him, bodies pressed flushed to reveal the stiffness in his pajama pants.

The puppy wags his tail in the presence of his favorite human, standing on two legs to call his attention. The man didn’t want him in the first place but was out voted by the females in the household.

“Morning,” Joel murmurs, placing kisses all over your cheeks and down your neck until he finally presses a warm kiss on your shoulder where he rests his chin to look over at the stovetop.

“Morning old man,” you say with a giggle as his scruffy beard tickles your skin. Your lips press against his in a quick kiss, muffling his sigh of disappointment.

“Don’t start, sweetheart,” he warns. His lips brushing against your ear. Joel’s hands find themselves under your tshirt, his thumbs ghosting over your underboob. At the same time the fingertips of his other hand teasingly dip on the waistband of your shorts.

“Or what?” You say with a bite to your lip, flipping over the last batch of pancakes. Couple more seconds and they would’ve burned—that’s how much he distracts you.

“It’s too early for this!” Sarah’s high pitched voice yells. “Not in the kitchen and not in front of the baby, please!”

The puppy scrambles over to Sarah, jumping into her arms. He recognizes she’s the one who will cave and give him scraps of food.

Joel, startled, takes his hands off of you, facing Sarah with an apologetic smile, not that she sees it as she covers her eyes with a hand. “Are you decent? Can I look now? I’m really hungry if you don’t mind.”

You laugh loudly, shaking your head at Sarah’s dramatics. She takes after Joel and is well on her way to beat him at his own game.

“We’re not doin’ anythin’,” Joel mumbles, sitting on one of the kitchen island stools and petting the pups fluffy head, and the ear that flipped over cutely.

“Not yet,” you whisper to him as you place his stack of pancakes in front of him.

“I heard that!” Sarah yells, covering her ears this time. Joel laughs, nudging her shoulder and telling her to pass the syrup.

You lean across from them, grabbing a sliced strawberry to plop into your mouth. Sarah takes over the conversation as you and Joel share a glance. This is far from over.

Later on the day you head outside with a tray of lemonade and pie in your hands. You’ve gotta take care of your dear husband before the Texas heat gets the best of him.

You nudge Joel’s leg with your foot. He’s under the beat up truck, fixing some odd part. He has the means to replace the old thing but he likes to remind you that ‘Betsy,’ as he’s named his truck, is a part of the family and will never be replaced.

“Thanks, darlin,‘“ he drawls, wiping his dirty hands on a random rag he found on the bed of the truck.

Joel takes a second too long to get up from the floor. You see the hesitance in his eyes as he tries to think the best way to stand without hurting or pulling a muscle.

This is your chance. “Need help there, grandpa?” You pipe up, resting the tray on the portable table scattered with tools.

Joel openly glares at you while you smile broadly at him. It’s not often you make fun of his age, or rather, the age gap between the two of you. It’s only when you’re feeling a particular sort of way.

The age gap between the two of you isn’t the craziest but it’s large enough for people to notice. Joel is easily through the first half of his fourth decade, while you are barely entering your third.

“Watch your mouth,” Joel warns you, standing up quickly despite the cracking of his knees and the ache on his lower back.

Your eyes spark when he grabs the glass of cool lemonade and begins chugging it. The drops of sweat sliding down his neck and into the damp collar of his shirt stealing your attention and any innocent thought you’ve might’ve had about him. They weren’t many to begin with.

You clench your thighs together as you imagine licking that same trail, tasting his salty skin. Say what you want but you love a man that works with his hands and gets all dirty and grimy.

Joel catches onto the glazed look covering your eyes and grasps your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. His body gravitating towards yours as if nature demanded it.

You’re overly conscious of the motor oil covering his hands if not you would’ve sucked his thumb into your mouth, reminding him just exactly you can do with your tongue.

“What’s in that pretty lil head of yours, darlin’?”

Him. It’s all about him. He’s always interrupting whatever sane thought you have. Scenarios of you being bent over the hood of the truck as he sinks his aching length from behind. You riding him in the front seat as you’ve done on more than one occasion, fogging up the windows. The time he was knuckles deep inside of you, teasing fingers drenched during his lunch break.

“How good gray looks on you,” you reply, diverting the conversation somewhere else entirely. A delicate fingers wraps around the charming curl that constantly falls over his forehead, twirling it around.

Joel doesn’t take kindly to your comment, rolling his eyes and clicking his jaw as he lets go of you to return to the truck. Your hand which had been playing with his curl drops to your side as you cock your hip to assess him.

He’s much too aware of the age gap, it makes him insecure. Like you’ll one day realize you’re with an old man and leave him for someone younger.

Except in your eyes he’s the most perfect man alive. The grey streaks of hair that mix with the typical brown of his curls give him an air of authority, making him look dashing in all ways. A silver fox. Strong muscles from working manual labor most of his life are now covered with a healthy layer of fat but remain strong nonetheless. Warm brown eyes that sweep you off your feet every morning as soon as they open.

That man is aging like fine wine and he doesn’t begin to realize it. You feel extremely lucky to be the only one to enjoy it…squeaky joints and all.

Joel is experienced and mature and loyal. He simply wants to have a nice life with his family. A family you’re now a part of. It’s all a woman could ask for.

“You know I love you,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around him as he leans over the hood.

“Love to torture me,” he scoffs, taking hold of one of your hands affectionately. He can never stay mad at you.

“I don’t know what you mean? I brought you lemonade and even that apple pie you love so much,” you feign innocence, pressing a kiss to the middle of his back.

Facing you with a sigh, he lets his heavy hands fall on your hips, “What’re you playing at?”

“Me? Nothing,” you say with a wicked smile, “I’m gonna go with Sarah to the mall to get her homecoming dress. Will you be alright here with Ghost?”

He’s quickly distracted by the words Sarah and Homecoming. His babygirl is growing too fast, starting High School and going on dances with boys. She hasn’t told him yet if she’s been invited by someone and he hopes it stays that way.

There’s no way he’s letting her go with a date and you can’t convince him other wise. If she wants a date she can take the puppy she adopted, Ghost. Joel is determined to teach the ball of fur how to defend his daughter.

“Here,” he says, pulling out his wallet to hand you his credit card.

“No, it’s my treat!” You say, pushing his hand away.

“Take it,” Joel insists, trying to slip it into the tight pair of jeans you’re wearing. Fuck. How didn’t he notice until now.

It should be illegal to wear jeans that make you look THAT good. The blue material hugs your thighs tightly and lifts your perky ass to heaven—not that you other wise need it.

He doesn’t hold back and slides his palms on your back pockets, giving you a firm squeeze. You stumble, falling onto him with a weak protest.

“‘M so fucking lucky you’re my woman,” he groans, taking another feel. Temporarily forgetting the conversation at hand, yet another comment directed at his age snaps Joel back to reality.

“Honey, I know I married an older man but it wasn’t for your money,” you tease again, patting his cheek and removing his hands from your pockets—credit card and all.

A sharp slap to your ass, startles you, eliciting a cheeky giggle. All this teasing and you’re leaving him home alone with the mutt.

You don’t apologize, you’ll never apologize for teasing him. Unless it’s in the right circumstances…in his bed.

Towards the end of the night you finish pushing him to the edge of no return. Remember, opportunities are always around when you’re determined.

“Dad, can you sign this for school?” Sarah comes into the living room where you and Joel are watching a movie. Ghost’s head is plopped on his lap, where Joel had been ‘forced’ to pet him.

“What’s this for?” Joel tries to read the paper but has to keep it at arms reach to be able to read it. Failing, he searches for his glasses until Sarah points at his head where they’ve been resting for half the night, nestled between his curls.

You stifle a laugh as you think of what to say. “Sorry Sarah, good old peepaw needs his glasses to read.”

It’s clear you’re pushing it far as Joel freezes only to glare at you. If looks could kill you’d be six feet underground. Sarah laughs until her belly hurts, repeating the word peepaw between breaths.

“You two are bullies,” Joel shakes his head in disbelief, signing the permit and handing it to Sarah who is wiping her tears away.

“I’m heading to bed, goodnight old man,” Sarah tells a pouting Joel, kissing his cheek and running up the stairs. “Come on, Ghost. Bedtime!”

“Peepaw? Really?” Joel raises his eyebrows at you when both Sarah and Ghost are gone.

You shrug feigning innocence, hiding your smile with the edge of the blanket. ”Yeah, peepaw. It’s cute.”

“It ain’t cute,” Joel kisses his teeth before turning off the TV and standing from the couch, leaving you behind.

“Where are you going?” You call after him.

“To bed,” he dryly responds, shutting off the lights and climbing the stairs. He only leaves the lamp by the couch on. How considerate of him.

“What? Joel it’s barely 10!” Hiding your satisfaction is difficult. Joel’s ticked off, a day of calling him old will do that. It’s exactly what you hoped for.

“Guess that’s what old men do, darlin,’” Joel says sarcastically half way up the stairs.

With a hand over your mouth, you follow him, “Honey, come on. Don’t be angry, it’s harmless teasing. Are you really heading to bed?”

Joel turns at the top of the stairs, glaring down at you, “You really think I’m an old man?”

“Technically speaking you are an older man,” you quip, scrunching your nose cutely.

“You know that’s not what I mean.” Joel crosses his arms, reprimanding you for your cheekiness.

“I dunno why you get like this, you should know I love my older men,” you say sultrily, although it falls on deaf ears as Joel retreats to the bedroom.

When you step into the bedroom you’re instantly pressed against the door, slamming it shut. Joel’s sneaky hands lock it. “You’re playing a dangerous game, darlin.’ Don’t make me bend you over my knee and give you a spanking.”

The thought alone makes you shudder in delight. Wetness instantly seeping into your underwear. You’ve finally succeeded. You have him right where you want him.

With your hands braced on his chest you deliver the final blow. “You sure your knees can take it?”

Disbelief flashes in Joel’s eyes, “That’s it!”

Grabbing your arms Joel leads you to the bed where he sits on the edge. He roughly pull down on your jeans, panties and all, leaving them pooled on your knees, limiting your mobility.

With another tug he lays you face down on his lap, holding your wrists behind you in a tight grip. Joel shakes his head at your upturned ass that’s waiting a little too eagerly for his touch.

Delight bubbles out of you and Joel is determined to take you down a notch or two. Let’s see how you handle this after fucking with him all damn day.

The first swat comes without warning, eliciting a gasp from you. It’s sharp and borderline painful. A red handprint magically appearing on your left butt cheek.

Joel massages and paws at the skin, getting ready to deliver another one. “Cat got your tongue?” He questions at your sudden silence.

You try to look over your shoulder and say, “Is that all you got?”

A sarcastic chuckle leaves Joel’s mouth. Then, three fast slaps are delivered, successfully earning him a whine from your pretty lips. He rubs on the sweltering flesh, easing some of the sting.

Finding their way to your thighs his fingers dig between them to cup your pussy. It’s no surprise that it’s warm, messy and slick. Clear strands extending from it to the inside of your thighs and covering his digits.

You’re a fucking vixen who loves to torture him for your own fucking pleasure and he’s the damn fool who falls for it each and every time.

“Touch me,” you huff, wiggling on his lap to grind on his hand, hoping to gain more contact with his coated digits.

“Touch you? Oh, darlin’ you’re not getting off the hook so easily,” Joel mentions darkly, retrieving his hand and landing yet another smack to your ass, making it ripple from the impact.

“Ow!” You flinch yet remain in the same position, expecting more. You fucking love when Joel gets rough with you. It’s a shame you have to gauge it out of him like this.

“Wasn’t this what you wanted? Hm?” Joel’s asks and when he doesn’t get a response his hand flies down once more. “What was it you called me?”

There’s a beat of silence before his hand strikes, this time aiming towards the middle. “Gra-grandpa,” you stutter at the small burst of pleasure.

“Mhm, what else darlin’?” He prompts again. His middle finger tracing the slit of your pussy, feeling you grow impossibly wetter. His pretty little wife is always so reactive to his touch.

“Old man.”

The stinging in your skin grows warmer, no doubt turning a considerable shade of cherry red. Yet the ache in your cunt obscures it all. The scraps of attention only makes your arousal worse.

“I think there was one more,” Joel hums, urging you on. His slick finger teasing your weeping entrance.

“P-peepaw,” you gasp when Joel pushes it in until his knuckle meets your delicate skin.

“That’s right, peepaw,” Joel repeats absentmindedly, pushing his middle finger in and out. Listening intently to the squishing sound your pussy makes.

He’ll have you calling him something else by the end of the night.

Tight walls grip his finger like a vice, refusing to let go. Soft puffs of air tumble out of your mouth and he knows your eyes are closed as you concentrate on the minimal pleasure he’s providing you with. It’ll never be enough to make you cum but it’ll keep you bothered.

“Get up,” Joel orders with a softer smack to your bottom, wiping his slick covered finger on your skin. He helps you up from the restrained position he kept you in and makes work of taking off your clothes.

Joel pulls and tugs on your shirt roughly, throwing it mindlessly across the room. He palms your tits briefly, pinching one of your nipples to make you whine his name. With cracking knees he kneels on the floor to help you out your jeans and underwear, kneading your thighs with his big strong hands.

He catches a glance of your reddening skin and feels a prickle of pride at the mark he left. Most of it will fade by morning but you’ll feel it nonetheless.

Sitting back on the edge of the bed he wordlessly motions you to get on your knees. A wicked smile spreads on your cheeks as you do as you’re told, kneeling between his spread legs.

Eager hands grasp his belt, undoing the worn leather to get to the button of his jeans. He provides no help, leaning back on his hands and simply watching you with hooded and expecting eyes.

You pull down on his jeans and underwear, revealing the happy trail that comes down his navel to the patch of brown at his pelvis.

His hard cock springs free once you’ve worked his pants down enough. A throaty groan coming from above you at the release of tension.

“Mmm,” you hum, grasping his length in your fist. His eyes meet yours when you look up to press a kiss to the tip, your hand pulling the thin skin back to reveal it.

“Stop with the teasin,’” Joel growls audibly, chastising you.

You rolls your eyes obnoxiosuly, “You’re no fun, g-“

A hand flies to your hair, gripping the roots tightly. Your eyes fly open, starting up at Joel. “You sure you want to finish that sentence, babygirl?”

“Maybe not,” you shrug with a pout, your hand mindlessly pumping his length.

“That’s what I thought.” Joel keeps his grip on your hair, pulling it back to see every detail of you taking his cock into your pretty mouth.

Your tongue goes flat against the underside of his shaft, tracing the vein that runs along his length and letting saliva drip all down and into your fisted hand. Joel watches intently as your lips wrap around the angry red tip of his cock.

You start off slow taking more of his length with each bob of your head. Your eyes never leaves his face, observing every small reaction he makes. The sharp intake of breath when your tongue grazes his tip, the furrowing of his eyebrows, the bobbing of his adam’s apple as he fails to keep his moans in.

The sudden jerk of Joel’s hips causes your eyes to water and screw shut. The initial intrusion of his cockhead unexpected yet welcome. Joel throws his head back, “That’s a fucking good girl.”

Those magic words make everything worth it as you messily continue to suck and lick every inch of his cock. Neither the tears in the corner of your eyes nor the saliva dripping down his length stop you from tasting him.

You swear you’re dripping on the floor as your pussy flutters at his pleased words. You could touch yourself but all your energy and attention goes to pleasing the man above you.

The pain of kneeling hard wood floor for an extended period of time doesn’t bother you and the ache on your jaw is barely noticeable because all your concentration is on Joel and making him feel good.

Joel continues to set the pace, his grip tight on your scalp. “Fuck, just like that,” he moans when you tease the crown of his cock expertly.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Joel’s voice lilts in a reprimanding voice.

A string of saliva connects you to the tip of him as your hand continuing to work on the rest of his length.

Joel takes note of your red rimmed eyes and flushed nose as well as in your swollen lips and moussed hair. The picture of you completely filthy and sexy.

Joel cups the back of your neck, bringing you up to his height. He brings you into a sloppy kiss consisting of teeth and tongue and saliva. Joel loves that can taste himself in your mouth. A job well done.

You straddle his lap so his cock grazes your dripping pussy, tugging needily at his tshirt. “Take it off,” you beg. Your lips separate for a brief second as the shirt comes off before they smash back together.

He complies but quickly reminds himself that this all started because you were calling him old. He can’t be quick to reward you.

You foolishly believe that’s it and you get to have him. Eagerly you try to sink into his cock but he holds you still, not letting you take him to the hilt.

“Who’s the tease now?” You pant against his lips, stealing another long kiss before whispering in his ear begging him to take you, to use you.

“I like to see you begging for it.” That’s Joel’s response as he pushes you off of him.

You protest but fall silent when he removes his remaining clothes. God you’re like a teenager desperate to fuck with clothes and all.

It drives Joel nuts the way you look at him with lust filled eyes. You bite your lip as you take him in all his glory, hands reaching to touch his chest.

He pulls you back to him, his cock wedged between the two of you. The saliva covering it, sticking to your skin. He cups your face, “You have something to say?”

“Nope.”

Joel to cos his head in disappointment, pushing you into bed and maneuvering you till your head is buried in the pillows and your ass is high in the air. It’s tinged a dozen shades of pink and red from his hands.

You wiggle your hips offering yourself to him. Air hits your pussy, giving you an idea of how aroused you are. That’s what happens whenever you have the pleasure of going down in Joel.

Joel grips himself, spreading his pre before pumping his hand. Smack. His hand flies down to strike your ass once more. Your back arches when Joel teases your entrance with the tip. He runs it up and down your slit, wetting it with your slick. He lightly pushes into you so only the tip is inside before he pulls out again.

“Please fuck me,” you plead breathlessly, attempting to rock back to get more of him inside you.

Joel laughs. “Now you’re nice and polite. Is there something else you want to tell me?” He asks expecting an apology.

“No,” you repeat stubbornly.

He’ll get you soon enough. There’s no way you’ll resist.

Joel’s cock brushes against your clit, making you jump and moan. He does it again and again. Your pussy clenches desperately wanting him inside of you.

“You sure? You don’t want to apologize?” He gives you another chance. Sinking his cock deeper into you to give you a taste before he pulls out.

You huff and pout but you can’t take it anymore. You need him. “I’m sorry!”

“Now, was that so hard,” Joel grunts, pushing his length all the way in, rewarding you.

You bury your head into the pillow, stifling the guttural moan that rips from your throat. You could die like this suffocated and blissfully impaled on Joel’s cock and be happy.

With a tight grip on your waist Joel fucks into you at his own pace, watching how easily you accept him, covering him with your essence. It feels fucking fantastic.

His skin slaps against yours rhythmically. You swear you can cum at that moment but Joel knows all your tells and he slows his pace, pushing into you only when the tip remains. Long, slow strokes keeping you from cumming.

“I wanna cum,” you cry out frustrated but he ignores you, edging you.

“If you want to cum tonight you have to stop calling me old,” Joel grits. This is torture for him as much as it is for you.

“I said I’m sorry,” you sob into the pillow, your back arching as you try and take matters into your own hands. Smack, another spank, warning you to stop.

“Will you stop calling me grandpa?”

You have the audacity to fucking hesitate. He’s serious about not letting you cum but he’s confident he’ll get you to cave in.

Joel pulls out his cock when you refuse to answer. He instantly misses the warmth and tightness of your walls. His cock is soaked with your slick, a creamy white substance covering him from root to tip.

Licking his middle and ring fingers he replaces his cock, feeling your walls clench around them. He pumps them angling them downward to reach that spot inside of you, his other hand pressing on your lower back so you arch more.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp when this thumb presses on your bud. An orgasm quickly building. “Please Joel.” You wanted to cum around his cock not his fingers but at this point you’ll take anything you can get. Your mind is completely clouded and years for release.

“Did you reconsider what you wanted to call me?” Joel curves his fingers, quickening the pace.

“Yes,” you whine as your hips grind against his hand.

“And what’s that?” His fingers are sticky, your essence dripping down his hand.

“Please, daddy,” you cry abashedly, hiding your reddening face in the pillows.

“I didn’t hear ya’ darlin’. How about you look at me when you speak?” Joel dares to say while his fingers continue to drive into you.

Fuck, your legs are shaking and the knot continues to tighten in your belly. You have to say it or Joel will stop. You turn your head to meet his eyes, “Please, daddy.”

“That’s more like it,” Joel’s raspy voice says, removing his fingers when you’re at the cusp once more.

You audibly groan in frustration but it’s interrupted when Joel eases his cock back into you Fucking you just as you want it, hard and fast.

The bed sheets are fisted in your hands as you hold on. Your nipples brushing against the bed with each thrust. It doesn’t take long at all for you both to titer over the edge. Your pussy squeezing tightly around him, milking him for all he’s worth.

When Joel pulls out you fall to lie on your stomach, catching your breath. He lies beside you doing the same. Sharing a glance you both start laughing.

“Next time you want it rough just tell me,” Joel shakes his head at you. He knew all along and yet it still pissed him off.

“It’s not the same, honey,” you sigh, kissing his shoulder. The nearest part of him you can reach without moving too much.

The following morning you wake up with a kink in your back and Joel being the ever loving husband brings you painkillers to bed where you’re lying still, “Take these grandma. They’ll make you feel better.”

He won’t ever call you ‘grandma’ again. The daggers you sent him were fucking terrifying.

listen...typically i'm not the biggest fan of the daddy kink...but when it works, it works

[aftgficrec]

My Personal Favorite Fics EVER!! All Neil/Andrew

I hope I am doing this right! I just hit the share button on my bookmarked fics. Idk if any of these have been on here before (I have read a lot of fics and it gets confusing to know which ones I found on here bc there are so many good recommendations, or ones I found on my own. But these are 3 of my favorite fics that I feel like are the most well done!

• Everything's Alright by DarkD: This fic is unfinished but so worth the read!! It is a soulmates au, and in it Neil and Andrew are looking out for eachother since they are 6 and 7 years old. It completely changes their dynamic but manages to keep the characters realistic. I love the direction it was going, I hope the author finishes it, but even if they don’t what they have written so far is worth the read.

• If I Knew You by AceSirenSinger: This fic is soooo amazing!! It was posed pretty recently (starting January 2024 and finishing in May) and It shows a different direction with Aaron and Andrew’s bonding, and different reasons for them having problems with each other. It features writer/author Andrew and Law Student turned police officer Aaron. The writing is so high quality and it is a completely finished fic!! The writing to show the writing of the book Andrew has written alone is impressive enough to get you to read it. I love it so much, it also gives a more realistic approach to Neil’s life and trauma as well as gives you more of a perspective on the problems of Aaron’s life. (Even tho it’s an au and doesn’t show his life during AFTG)

• Deep blue ( but you painted me golden ) by Jeaneil_22: This fic is not finished but completely captivated my attention when I saw it. I was surprised I had not read it before (because I am obsessed with Raven Neil fics, and this is one of them) but then I realized it was posted within the last year or so. It’s completely underrated. It does have a lot of hits but the kudos count not being in the thousands is a crime against humanity. The realistic take on. Neil’s trauma and different things going on as he is still connected very heavily to the Moriyama’s is sooo interesting. And if you are looking for a fic where Neil is a victim of SA/Rape this fic is also a good one for you. (Though it does have a lot of trauma so mind the tags) I know a lot of people are looking for fics like that tho and it’s hard to find bc there is so much SA trauma in AFTG 😔

Thanks for the recs and for sharing your thoughts on the fics! Readers, all of these stories lean toward the darkest themes of AFTG. -A

Everything's Alright by DarkD [Rated E, 182901 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2023]

Previously recced here

Souls weren't meant to be left alone, so they split, always looking for their other half. No matter how long it took, the moment a soul existed, it sought the one that would complete it. The main indication is, when one of the halves of the soul turns seven years old, an identical mark appears on both parts. Along with that comes a set of unique abilities that soulmates can only use with each other—for protection, for finding each other. Soulmates would never be alone.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: child abuse, tw: torture, tw: blood, tw: gun violence, tw: homophobia, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: murder, tw: canonical character death

If I Knew You by AceSirenSinger [Rated T, 43145 Words, Complete, 2024]

Previously featured in this long andreil + aaron angst ask, our staff recs writers post, and as a random rec

Neil is imprisoned at sixteen years old for being the Butcher of Baltimore. Andrew obsesses, and Aaron obsesses because Andrew does, and everything goes wrong and raw and painful. Feat. the twinyards breaking each other’s hearts, and a decent amount of shade on the American justice system.

tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: recreational drug use, tw: implied/referenced violence, tw: implied/referenced torture

​​Deep blue ( but you painted me golden ) by Jeaneil_22 [Rated M, 163298 Words, Incomplete, Updated Sept 2024]

After the horrific incident that happened in the nest and the sound of Kevin crying, Nathaneil made the hard call and bargained with his life to get Jean and Kevin out, having no slight idea about the storm that was heading his way And after being missing for two years, Jean and Kevin swallowed the hard truth that Nathaneil might be dead somewhere To their surprise one day he appears out of the blue looking so much like their brother but nothing like Nathaneil at all Or Nathniel went on the run with his mother when he was 9 years old but three years later Nathan caught up to them and threw Nathaneil in the nest So we can say some things went a bit different .

NB: playlist for this fic

tw: dark, tw: gang rape, tw: dubcon, tw: human trafficking, tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: assault, tw: flashbacks, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: abuse and torture, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: medication addiction and withdrawal, tw: recreational drug use, tw: nonconsensual drug use, tw: vomit, tw: homophobia, tw: canonical character death

[callalillywrites]

Shooting His Shot Part 2

Here is the conclusion of Shooting His Shot, and I really hope you enjoy this little AU as much as I had in writing it.

Please let me know what you think and if you might want to see more of this universe with the other characters featured here. Seriously, it wouldn't take much to convince to create more. Also, would love some suggestions on a good name for this AU if you've got any.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Other notable characters: Bucky Barnes, Jake Jensen, Sam Wilson, Ari Levinson, Natasha Romanoff, Peter Parker, and honorably mentioned Curtis Everett

Word Count: 3880

Summary: Steve owns a steakhouse that you used to frequent before your ex came into the picture. Now, your ex is gone, and you're ready to head back to the one place you've always felt welcome and wanted. What neither you nor Steve count on is his staff, led by Bucky, launching a full-one assault effort to get you two together. It's time the two of you realize your feelings for one another.

Warnings: abusive ex (Reader's), pining, so much pining, fluff, two ridiculous idiots in love, a whole bunch of matchmakers

A/N: This is a completely self-indulgent story made like one of those cheesy rom-com which is my bread and butter at this point. It's proofread, but any mistakes are my own.

I also do not give permission for my work to be copied or posted on other sites or fed into an AI machine.

*****

Coming into the room, Steve can’t help taking in the changes himself.

How they managed to clear out the old office and transform it into a decent private dining area is amazing. The amount of time should’ve been far greater than the natural lull between lunch and dinner service. Yet, his staff somehow pulled it off.

“Nick work,” he murmurs as he passes Jake and Peter on his way to the small table.

His words are enough to puff up both their chests and bring pleased grins.

They barely wait long enough for you and him to sit before they approach the table once more. In seconds, they have his and your drink orders before hurrying off.

“I hope they aren’t neglecting their other tables,” he can’t help mumbling though he knows them well enough.

Peter’s been so grateful for the promotion and has been working hard to prove himself. As much as Steve and Sam have continued to praise Peter and his skills, it doesn’t seem to have sunk in yet with the younger man. They’re not giving up as they’re sure he’ll eventually get there and realize they aren’t messing with him.

As for Jake, Steve’s never really had reason for concern. Jake can be a bit awkward, especially around the prettier clientele, but he’s always maintained his professionalism. That awkwardness has even worked in Jake’s favor a time or two from what Steve can tell. He’s certainly drawn in a few of their regulars between his professionalism and his natural ability to put others at ease.

Without Jake, Steve’s not so sure he would’ve met you or had you coming back.

Little does he know that it’s his kindness and his own awkward shyness that made you a regular.

“I have no doubt they’re handling them just fine. Sam and Nat would never let them live it down if they weren’t. You have a good team here.”

Hearing your praise, Steve can’t help but exhale a little. While he knows how good his team is, it’s nice to hear you defend them. Your opinion matters. Maybe more than it should, but then, you matter to him. Since that first day you walked in, you’ve mattered.

Not that he’s ever let himself show you for fear you might not be interested.

It’s why he’s let so many years of silence sit between you when he might’ve taken a chance. Sure, he can blame it on his honor of not hitting on customers. Then again, you haven’t really been considered a customer by him or his staff for the longest time now.

When you brought Brock into the steakhouse almost a year ago, Steve believed he lost his chance. The way you looked at Brock was the same look of love and adoration Steve wanted for himself. He couldn’t help disliking the guy though he’d done his best to remain professional while you and Brock dined.

You only came a few more weeks after that first dinner with Brock before you stopped.

At each of those meals, Steve couldn’t help noting how you said less and less. Your bright friendliness and warmth dimmed more and more though you never stopped being nice to the staff. It didn’t take a genius to see the cause of those changes within you.

Brock.

He’d grown more brash and rude after that first meal. No matter how much you tried to intervene and beg him to stop, Brock not only didn’t listen, but he tried to verbally annihilate you.

It was during that last meal that Steve had had enough. Not only had it been clear that Brock had taken away your confidence and your happiness, but he’d also taken away your ability to fight for yourself.

When you’d gone to the bathroom, Steve had stepped up to the table and asked Brock never to return to his steakhouse. He also made it known that such behavior towards his staff and towards you were not only unwanted but punishable.

As much as Steve wanted to deck Brock, it was one of the only times he’d kept calm. Because of you, he didn’t do what he’d done in the past. Brock got to walk away with his nose intact and his skin unblemished. There was a promise that if Brock ever returned, consequences would follow.  

What Steve hadn’t counted on was not seeing you again until all these months later.

Glancing at you across the table, he can see your quiet confidence and bubbliness has come back. The dark cloud looming over you is nowhere to be found. It makes him happy to see you hadn’t let Brock keep you down. That would be the real shame.

“Do I have something on my face or something?” you ask, breaking the brief silence.

Steve shakes himself before shaking his head. “No, you’re perfect, bijou.”

Butterflies erupt when you beam at him.

*****

Jake and Peter return with your drinks and a sampler platter that you didn’t order.

“Ari made you a fresh mocktail since Sam swept you away before you could finish the other one,” Jake says with a small wink, setting your drink in front of you. At least some of your training on flirting hasn’t left him since your absence. “Said not to worry about it, either. It’s on Sam.”

“Bucky also sent us out with this platter. Said he wanted your thoughts on a few new items he’s been considering for the menu.” This came from Peter who set the platter carefully next to the tiny vase of flowers. The platter contains several different foods from cheese sticks and poppers to some tiny ribs and wings.

You’re quite impressed by it all, yet you can’t help saying, “This all looks so wonderful, but I really hope you’re not going through a lot of trouble just for me.”

“No trouble, future Boss Lady.”

You hear Steve choke on the drink Jake just gave him though he recovers quickly enough.

“We’ll be back soon with your order,” Peter says, giving Jake an exasperated look. He shoves Jake from the room, muttering words too low for you to make out.

Neither notice when you call after them, “But we haven’t ordered yet.”

When they don’t come back, you turn to Steve with what has to be a comical expression as you ask, “Future Boss Lady? The free drink, the hugs, and everything I’ve gotten since I walked in. Are they…”

You pause in the hopes of Steve finishing the thought for you.

He sets his hand on the table, palm up and open in invitation.

There is no hesitation when you place your hand in his, relishing the warmth and the soft callouses that line his fingertips. Working man’s hands as your father used to call them. You have never appreciated the feel of another’s hand until that moment.

The soft smile you’ve grown to love over all the years you’ve known him peeks out as he finishes your question, “Trying to woo you for me? Yeah, I think they are. Well, that and they have genuinely missed you these last six months.”

That has your attention.

The answer isn’t something you expect because you’re still so sure that Steve isn’t interested in you. As if to prove your previous belief correct, you ask, “What about you? Did you miss me?”

A part of you wonders if he’ll even answer the question. You’ve never really been so straightforward with him before. This changes the little dance you two have done since that first meeting a few years back. You’re not even sure you’re ready to hear his answer.

Not that you’ve given yourself a choice.

He doesn’t keep you waiting long. His thumb runs over yours while his gaze meets yours. His voice is low, conspiratorial as he admits, “Mon bijou, the last 187 days have been the longest of my life.”

You suck in a breath as his words wash over you. It’s the first time he’s ever added ‘my’ to his nickname for you. Before, you were always ‘jewel’ and you liked it, but this is something else. It gives you the courage to press for more.  

“You’ve counted the days since my last time here?”

Pink tinges his cheeks while his other hand comes up to rub at his neck. Despite the embarrassment of his confession, he doesn’t seem all that upset about having admitted it. In fact, he nods.

An almost hysterical type of giggle escapes as you admit, “I counted them, too.”

New tears, happy ones, burn at your lash line and threaten to spill over.

His hand tightens on yours. “Please, don’t cry.”

“I’m not,” you say though your conviction is shaky to say the least. “So, if I were to ask you to join me for an art show next week, you would…”

“Love to go,” he finishes without hesitation.

“Ugh, Mr. Rogers, you’re supposed to ask her out, not the other way around,” Peter grouses from the doorway before Jake can cover his mouth.

The two grapple for a few seconds, earning them a raised brow from both you and Steve.

“Apologies, Boss Man,” Jake finally manages when he’s got Peter in a loose chokehold, his hand firmly over Peter’s mouth, “but he’s not necessarily wrong. Smooth finish though. Mentally noting that with all the training future Boss Lady’s given me.”

You turn your face away before your laughter escapes you. To help, you even cover your mouth to keep the giggles in. It’s taking all your ability to keep yourself from just losing it in the moment. Your love for this group of people is overflowing with how much they aren’t subtly trying to help you and Steve out.

When you finally regain your composure, you meet Steve’s equally amused expression as he asks, “Did you two need something? Forget something perhaps? What about your other tables?”

“Checked them. All good, Mr. Rogers. We did forget to take your orders earlier, but Mr. Barnes says he’s got it handled.”

“Of course, he does. Thank you, Peter. Why don’t you and Jake head back to your stations?” His gaze softens the longer he looks at you. “I think we’ll be okay here for a bit.”  

Heat suffuses your cheeks, but you nod, happy to have more time with Steve alone.

Peter and Jake hasten back to their stations, content they’ve done their parts for the moment. You can see their happiness in the way they smile at you before disappearing down the hall. Jake even sends you a pair of thumbs up and a wink.

“I apologize for them.”

You shake your head. “Oh, please, don’t. It’s nice they care so much about you. You’re a good boss. Maybe even the best out there from what I’ve learned over the years.”

“What have you learned?” He arches a brow as he leans forward. His hand still holds yours on the table; his thumb has taken to rubbing a steady path across yours.

With a sip of your new favorite mocktail, you offer him a smile before diving in. “Well, I know that you and Bucky have made it so everyone starts at a living wage. From your dishwashers to your managers and even yourselves, you pay each and every employee enough to live without having to necessarily fear paying their bills each month. I also know that you and Bucky aren’t greedy with your earnings, either. You two are never making more than five times what your lowest earners make. You’ve even lived on zero salaries during some of the leaner years, so you could keep all your employees.”

Rather than the challenge he’d given you earlier with one raised brow, both are now touching his hairline as you reveal all you know.

But you’re not done yet.

“You’re also generous with paid time off and sick days compared to almost any employer out there. While you do occasionally ask your employees to help cover each other, you don’t guilt them or make them feel bad if they can’t cover. You’re not above rolling up your sleeves and stepping in when necessary. Hard work doesn’t scare you from bussing tables to managing customer complaints. I don’t think anyone out there has a negative thing to say about you or Bucky. You have their respect and their devotion. It’s why your restaurant has the lowest turnover rate in the city.”

You take another sip of your mocktail, needing a moment to catch your breath.

“So many companies tout the whole idea of their employees being family to them, but they’re empty words. Used as a manipulation technique. That’s not the case here. You and Bucky really have created a family here. You celebrate your employees’ victories and help them through tough times. You care about them and their lives outside the restaurant. It’s not because you want to pull more work out of them, but because you actually care about their well-being. Do you know how rare and precious that is? Is it really any wonder that I have had the biggest crush on you since forever?”

It takes less than a second for you to realize what you’ve admitted.

Now, you just need the floor to open and swallow you whole.

*****

Steve’s heart leaps at your last few words.

You have a crush on him.

That’s something he thought not possible despite his ever-deepening feelings for you over the years.

Yet, that’s nothing compared to how much you’ve learned about him and the steakhouse. He’s not sure how you came by all this information, but he’s certain he doesn’t care. The fact that it’s enough to impress you with all he’s firmly believed in doing for his staff makes it that much easier to fall for you even harder.

“You really noticed all that?”

You nod, your gaze lowering to where he’s still holding your hand. “Yeah, mostly from Jake and Nat, but also reading what are supposed to be puff pieces about the place. I think I might be a little invested in the success of this place.”

He tightens his hold on your hand, needing to know you aren’t some figment of his imagination. No other woman he’s ever met or been interested in has ever been so deeply sincere as you’re being with him now. They certainly hadn’t cared about the vision he and Bucky had for their restaurant so much as what they could get out of it for themselves. You care about his staff almost as much as he and Bucky do, and he can’t help loving you even more for it.

“I know I should’ve done this ages ago,” he swallows, then pushes on, “but do you think you might have dinner with me?”

Your gaze bounces to his before you motion toward the table and the appetizer that’s still sitting between you.

He chuckles. “Not this dinner. I mean a real one. I pick you up, hold the door open for you, and woo you properly. No assistance or machinations from others. Say, Monday night?”

“If I say yes, does that mean this one has to end? I’ve really, really been looking forward to one of Bucky’s creations and seeing everyone here, especially you.”

“Nah, I don’t want this one to end, either. Besides, it looks like the others have gone to a lot of trouble to make this happen. Don’t want to let their hard work go to waste.”

That earns him a beaming smile, and he’s more than ready to make it happen as often as he can.

“We should probably eat this before it gets cold.”

Nodding, you pick up one of the cheese sticks and take a bite while he chooses one of the poppers.

Both of you have to bite back moans, but the food is worth every bit of praise that’s sure to pass through both your lips before the night is over.

Talk soon turns towards the food and how good it is. You even offer Steve a sip of Ari’s latest concoction since he hasn’t been allowed to try it until your return. He finds it delicious though maybe not as much as you do. Every sip you take, he notes the little happy wiggle you do. It’s another thing he’s missed seeing these last six months.

Your enjoyment of the food and drinks the steakhouse offers is nothing short of wondrous to watch. None of it is faked to spare hurt feelings. The rare occasions you don’t like something, you share your thoughts with great care, couching your criticisms with plenty of positive feedback and constructive notes.

When the food is gone, Steve glances to find you biting your lip before you seem to come to a decision. Your gaze meets his as you say, “I, uh, I know this is one of your usual nights off. As are Mondays. Can I ask why you’re here really? Is it really to catch up on paperwork and handle payroll? Seems like those would be handled as necessary during the few hours between lunch and dinner.”

Steve blows out a breath.

He wonders how long you’ve been holding onto that information and which of his staff might’ve revealed this little tidbit to you.

Knowing you’ve revealed something deeply held, it’s only fair he does the same. If he wants to prove he’s all in, then he needs to step up and do it.

Another breath, he admits softly, “This is the day you usually make a reservation. Your early victory for surviving another week. Has been since the day you graduated with honors from university. So, it’s become a tradition for you to come each week. Your chance to spoil yourself. Since meeting you, mon bijou, I’ve found myself not wanting to miss an opportunity to see you again. Even if it’s in snatches on Thursdays, I’ll take it. You’re the greatest highlight of my week.”

Your eyes widen at his confession, but then, he’s certain he did the same with yours.

Though, you seem to recover quick enough as you ask, “Does this mean we’ve been pining for each other this entire time? Are we really those idiots in love you see in those Hallmark movies?”

Steve chuckles and nods. “I think we might be.”

“Oh, you most definitely are, but we love you both anyway,” Nat says from the doorway, her signature smirk in place. “Dinner will be out shortly.”

She takes off then.

When his gaze meets yours, you both burst out laughing.

“Well, my fellow idiot, I have one more question before I finally answer yours.”

Steve grins. “Lay it on me.”

“Why do you call me ‘bijou’? I know it’s French, and it means jewel. I’m just not clear on the why.” You prop your chin on your free hand and lean across the table towards him. 

The desire to lean in, to close the distance between you, is overwhelming. He longs to learn how soft your lips are against his, but he swallows the desire. Maybe one day real soon, he’ll have earned the privilege. All bets will be off then because he has no doubts that he’ll never want to stop kissing you.

“I took French in high school. Second language requirement. I ended up really liking it. Still pretty decent at it though I don’t practice half as much as I should. Back then, I really wanted to see Paris and be in the City of Love, you know? I got that chance with the army. Spent about a week between tours there and got to see some of the sights, but I’ve always wanted to go back. To really see all the sights. Share it with someone I really care about.”

He stops then, needing the moment to gather himself. For what, he can’t really say. It’s not lost on him that his next words have the power to either woo you or send you running in the opposite direction. All he wants is to keep you as close as you’ll allow for as long as he can.

“When I first saw you, I thought you were an angel. You certainly looked like one that night, but you were also so precious, rare. You took your time that evening learning about Jake. The tip you left was more than generous, even by normal tipping standards. Not once did you ever make someone feel inferior to you. I saw the way you stood up for Peter when that customer tripped him. I’ve never been more impressed with someone who wanted to do what’s right and not for what they might get in return.”

Your hand tightens around his, temporarily stopping him. He sees you blink rapidly. Your attempts to stop the tears are unsuccessful.

Reaching across the table, he gently swipes at the corners of your eyes and offers a smile.

“I don’t think you know how much of an impression you made on all of us that night. You were the most precious jewel I’d ever seen, and I’ve seen the English Queen’s jewels on a brief layover in London once. You don’t know how much I fell for you that night and having been falling ever since.”

His fingers continue to try and stem the flow of your tears leaking freely down your cheeks at his confession. The sweet smile on your face is almost as wondrous as you nuzzling your cheek against his hand, seeking his touch.

With a sniffle, you ask, “Do we really have to wait until Monday for that date?”

“It’s my next day off,” he says with a soft laugh, happy you’re agreeing to go out with him, “but I promise to make it worth the wait.”

A loud round of applause and several whoops echoed through the room.

Steve’s head shot towards the doorway where his entire staff are watching. Bucky stands at the head of the group, two plates in his hands and a wide grin on his face.

“Bout time you finally shoot your shot, punk. Doll here is a real saint for waiting on you so long.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t refute Bucky’s assertion.

“Kiss her already, man,” Sam hollered from behind Nat and Jake.

Before they can start chanting because they would, Steve leans in close to you, whispering, “Is it alright if I kiss you? Not because of these fools, but because I want to.”

Your smile contains a hint of mischief even as you nod.

When he’s within a breath of your lips, you let him know exactly what’s on your mind, whispering, “You know I’m an interior decorator, who’s just gotten a promotion. I could do wonders with this room of yours.  Maybe make it a place to turn the tables on these matchmakers you seem to have.”

“Mon bijou, you can do anything you want as long as I can call you mine.”

His lips touch yours, and you both forget about everything but each other.

Well, at least until Bucky sets your plates down on the table and sends everyone back to work. He’s the first to congratulate you both with hugs and well wishes for your long and happy future together.

*****

Main Masterlist

[creatingblackcharacters]

I have a second submission for favourite Black characters!

Barbie "Brooklyn" Roberts!

So back in 2021, Mattel introduced a second Barbie Roberts to the animated universe as a main character - a Black Barbie! She and the white Barbie share the same name and end up roommates together in the first movie they share. To differentiate each other, they take on nicknames of where they are from, white Barbie is "Malibu" and Black Barbie gets "Brooklyn" (I'm gonna call Brooklyn "Barbie" and white Barbie, "white Barbie").

Barbie is a badass young woman. She's a go-getter who loves to schedule things, do as much as possible, and plan for every future she wants to go for. She loves working on her community, playing guitar, writing music, doing ballet, singing, hanging out with her friends, and trying to become a rockstar.

Barbie is an incredibly kind soul, and while she often jumps to conclusions, she's very capable of taking a breath, realizing she was wrong, and correcting her mistake. She's not afraid to apologize, but she's also not afraid to take up space and demand what she deserves. Barbie is part of tons of clubs and initiatives and is always trying to make her school and community a better place. She's organized a trash clean-up, a beach clean-up (I think), and tons of different events at her school. She also makes friends wherever she goes.

And she's an amazing problem solver. I wish I had half of her skills at problem solving.

She and white Barbie make up The Barbies, a pop duo. The two started out as both rivals and besties, and while they were competitive it was always to lift one another up, not tear each other down.

Barbie has an incredible singing voice, courtesy of Tatianna Varria, and I love her dance moves, her clear passion in her voice, and her love for finding outfits for their shows.

In the Mermaid Power movie, both Barbies and white Barbie's sisters get to become mermaids and gain magical powers! Barbie ends up with fire powers and she ends up using the power of music and bad puns to convince an angry teal mermaid to become her friend instead of her enemy.

She is genuinely my favourite character in the entire Barbie universe and I love absolutely everything about her. She got me back into the universe way after I left the target audience and I could watch her all day.

Brooklyn and Malibu is wild lmao but I can see doing that. And I know that's right 😤 she's BARBIE! So often everything we do gets called "Black ___" (and that's the nice, slur free approach) as if we can't just be the character. No one calls all the white people cosplaying Naruto "white Naruto". So... Racism!

Omg I've organized trash clean ups and have good problem solving skills too 🥺🥺 Barbie! This sounds so magical and I'm so happy. I didn't know they were doing this with Barbie 😭😭😭 I might have to watch a couple animated movies again. I used to love the movies as a kid, though admittedly I was more a Bratz kid.

[shatcey]

No sidekick…

I just realized… Leon doesn't have a sidekick. I mean… he had, but after a not very pleasant situation... he was left without him… It was tough. Never thought it would be so difficult to write without specifics...

I don't think it's a problem for Leon to find another one though (if he wanted to). People like moths are attracted to him, he's incredibly charming… Even with all his desire to keep secrets and "I love the whole world" attitude, he must have someone… but there's no one around him.

Actually I decided to check all the princess and came to the conclusion that half of them have no one. But it's easy to explain.

From the oldest to the youngest

Jin doesn't need anyone. He seems lazy and doesn't want anything, but he is one of those who prefers to do everything himself and is not used to asking for help. So… It's pretty obvious why he doesn't have anyone.

We skip Chev and Clavis. The Chevalier has Lucien. Clavis has Cyran, and after Belle got into picture there are two more boys, Hugo and Kai (sorry guys that I couldn't remember your names at first, just don't cry).

Leon… the man in question.

Yves. He just stays away from people with his pretended pride. No one would dare approach him. To some extent, it was his decision.

Licht. I would say that all his soldiers are his sidekicks. They all adore him, but… Licht doesn't let them get too close. And don't forget about Yves… May I called them each other's sidekicks? Hmmm…

Nokto. The same as Jin. Actually I never thought they had anything in common before…

Luke. He's just a newcomer. He'll definitely find someone. There were people at his previous job who loved him very much. So I think it's quite possible.

And the princes of other countries

Gilbert has two of them. He and Clavis are probably competing.

Keith has a butler. An amazing sarcastic butler.

And Silvio has Carlo. I love Carlo. He always made me smile.

Azel has a guy who "helped" him… However, I do not know if he will appear anywhere else besides this event…

I cannot imagine anyone with Kagari… for an obvious reason.

And I know nothing about Matias. Maybe.

I almost forgot about Sariel and Rio…

Sariel. No. If you call yourself the devil, no wonder people try to stay away from you.

Rio. Well.. let's say he's too obsessed with Belle to has time for anyone else. But… I still think he's a really good team with his older brother.

So… I can explain everyone except Leon.

I feel a bit offended on his behalf...

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[ckret2]

Decided to shake up the constant Gravity Falls asks on the blog (even though I adore them). What is your favorite transformers continuity? And what's your favorite character from that continuity?

Tough call, but probably IDW1. The comics had room to get expansive in ways the show-based continuities couldn't, and I like that feeling of bigness to the universe. It introduced a lot of my favorite Transformers lore: forged vs cold constructed bots, Functionism (especially as a critique of marrying religion to conservative politics), empurata, really creative uses of holoforms, conjunx endura & amica endura (and queer bots, let's give it up for queer bots!!), the complex network of lost colonies, the idea that the gods definitely officially existed BUT they were just guys, the DJD...

All the work that went into immediate pre-war culture with the turbulent corrupt senate and the corrupt Primes was terrific. LSOTW and SOTW are just so damn good, MTMTE up through Remain In Light was brilliant, and Getaway's coup was great. I'm thrilled we got a look at Cybertron's relationships with the rest of the galaxy and it turns out they're hated, because that makes perfect sense but we never really see that. The post-war politics on Cybertron were really fun. I was skeptical IDW could pull off writing about a post-war Cybertron—I assumed within a year they'd default back to restarting the war—and then that ended up being when the whole series really started to shine.

Introduced some characters I love—Drift, Tarn, Stardrive, Windblade, and Pharma stand out off the top of my head. Amazing artwork, especially whenever Milne had the pen. ABSOLUTELY LOVED seeing Starscream get to rule Cybertron. Even though they had trouble committing to it, I appreciate that they had the balls to make Optimus morph into a well-intentioned villain. Love the tragic former senator Shockwave characterization. Love the lonely logical Prowl who can see the Autobots' flaws too clearly for his own good and in his desperation to compensate for the rest of the army morally compromised his way into becoming the villain. Love horrible amoral Tarantulas with his small shining moments of love and tenderness.

Although by the end it was getting really bloated with other Hasbro property crossovers, I did like some of the crossovers they introduced: GI Joe slid in pretty seamlessly—probably helps that TF & GI Joe crossovers have an established history—and I was surprised a how much I liked Rom. And even though the sheer quantity of crossovers got tedious, the concept of going "they've all been dragged into this story because they were all affected by Cybertron's past colonialism" is GREAT.

Love that they ended the story by swinging from "yay look at all these fun new colonies for us to play with!" to "oh my god the Autobots are colonizers." LOVE that they ended with Unicron—every longform Transformers series could end with Unicron and I probably wouldn't complain—and that they let him eat some planets, let him eat half the cast, LET HIM EAT CYBERTRON... and characterized him not as some random bogeyman but specifically as the karmic vengeance for Cybertron's past colonial crimes. Love that the only way to stop him was not by killing him, but by acknowledging that Cybertron was wrong and showing him compassion.

IDW didn't always get things right with their attempted grand messages about politics and injustice and oppression and colonization—but, hell, even when they didn't quite hit the bullseye I love that they were playing with that dartboard.

Favorite character from IDW is Prowl (albeit not without stiff competition). I'm a gleeful Prowl apologist. Yeah he did those terrible things but he was right tho. I started picking up RID & MTMTE right when Prowl got Devastatored, and that was both the thing that made me go "oh hold on the comics are doing something interesting" and the thing that made me take notice of Prowl as a character for the first time in my life lmao. BIG fan of his messy lovelife. (Personally I go "he's too good for Chromedome" and then ship him with the Constructicons and Tarantulas, who are objectively far worse than Chromedome.) He's endlessly fascinating to me, one of my favorite characters to read and one of my favorite characters to write.

Right up there is Starscream—averaged out across all continuities, Starscream's probably my #1 favorite Transformers character, and IDW Starscream is my favorite Starscream, a perfect blend of the bombastic G1 campy villain and the wary, competent, resilient TFP schemer. And Tarantulas rounds out my top 3, I loved him in Beast Wars and then SOTW 3 happened and I had to stop at nearly every panel Tarantulas was in to go "oh my god, this is canon? They got away with that??" Read like a fanfic in the best possible way. "We were each the muse to the other" still has an iron grip on my heart. "I want YOU. I want US." God. SOTW 3 is a masterpiece of literature. Here, do you want a 130k no-war AU where Prowl and Tarantulas are paranormal investigators together? You can have it. For free.

I just spent a lot of time singing the praises of IDW but shoutout to Armada and Energon/Super Link (I preferred the fansub over the dub) for getting me into Transformers, wouldn't be in this fandom today if not for Starscream's beautifully melodramatic redemption arc in Armada. I'm not saying they're good. I'm saying I love them. Totally different thing.

[greenconverses]

I’m big time upset about annabeth’s characterization in these new books. She looked for Percy for a year or something, did everything she did in HOO, she’s so amazing that she caught up on all of her school work (in fact she’s back on track to go to an ivy if she wants after everything that happened to her), she has all this extra time for Percy (having a boyfriend is time consuming enough without his quests), and then she’s so good at socializing with mortals and so popular…. Just to go to New Rome University (wtf is new rome university) and live in new rome. It makes me sad for her because I feel like RR won’t let her be bad at anything or awkward anymore and she just has to be this hyper competent angel gf all the time…

Oh also the way Percy is contrasted against annabeth in this new series makes me nauseous. I feel in some ways she only exists as this hyper-competent angel gf so that percy has something to "aspire to"… as though he hasn't proven himself a million times and deserves to constantly measure himself up against annabeth. It really just robs them both of their depth and motivation and mutual respect for each other that was so painstakingly built up in the original books.

I was telling @perseannabeth last night that while Annabeth had a lot of pagetime in Wrath, she felt like an utter non-presence other than the last couple of action scenes. And yes, it's because he keeps writing Percy as the only one with all the problems and Annabeth is the perfectest, smartest angel who is always right and can do no wrong, unlike stupid idiot Percy. Ha. Ha.

I do think a lot of the character issues in these books come from him avoiding or only introducing easily resolvable conflict with the main trio. Part of what makes Percy and Annabeth, well, Percy and Annabeth is that they have conflict. Conflict doesn't mean they have to be mean to each other or something terrible has to happen to them, but having them at odds with each other over something (anything) allows for interesting character development and growth.

Grover and Annabeth each get moments of "aw I kinda fucked up" in Wrath that are resolved with basically no effort because Percy shrugs it off or blames himself for their actions. I couldn't even begin to tell you how Annabeth's hubris played a part in the third act ghost fight, but apparently it did, so that's a thing he can brush off because teamwork is all that matters in the end, kids!

And the thing is, Rick is actually setting up a really good conflict with Percy constantly bottling up his rage and messy feelings, but he's too much of a coward to pull the trigger on it. Grover destroying the house and releasing the animals was the perfect spot to actually pursue that conflict and give everyone something to do other than mini quests. Percy could've yelled at Grover and Annabeth for failing to do what they had promised him, and then everyone could deal with the consequences (both of the initial mistake and the fallout of his anger) and make amends in a meaningful way. Instead, Percy has to grit his teeth and fucking apologize to Grover instead. (I'm gonna do a separate post about this because boy howdy do I have THOUGHTS on that.)

By making Annabeth the perfectest, smartest girlfriend ever for dumb dumb Percy, RR is basically removing the conflict that makes them interesting together. There's also the matter of conflict being one of Annabeth's main drivers. Conflict happens to Percy ("I didn't want to be a half-blood."); Annabeth looks for it. And now she's just along for the ride... as long as it doesn't mess up her studying schedule! Her job is school now. Don't get your hopes up.

Also, super controversial opinion ahead, but I think the show casting has contributed to how he's writing Annabeth now. He's deliberately avoided describing her in these books. It's all very vague impressions of her, to the point of Percy describing her having a "human face, human hair" when she turns back after the animal transfiguration in Wrath. No blonde hair. No gray eyes. It's weird.

(Note: I'm not saying the TV cast is wrong or weird, I'm saying it's fucking insane that this man is trying to retcon 15 books worth of character descriptions so his dumbass "actually we never SAID annabeth was white, you just perceived her as it!!!!" defense holds some water.)

[deadhands69]

Something More

Katsuki Bakugo x gn reader

Eventual smut/afab

Setting: mid-time skip, Senior Year of College. Reader did not attend UA high, just joined for university. Enemies to lovers.

Warnings, etc: series contains eventual smut, slight angst, light violence/injuries but it's bnha soooo, drinking/intoxication, swearing.

This is part 1; more parts coming as soon as I get a break from work and homework :)

Earlier today, you would never have dreamed you’d be stuffed in a closet with your rival, Katsuki Bakugo. Nor would you ever have imagined you’d enjoy that. But being here, pressed against his chest with his arm wrapped around you - it could be a lot worse. 

Yesterday Morning

It felt like nothing could go right. You overslept, waking up groggy and angry at the world. Your shoelace broke, you dripped toothpaste down your shirt, your phone died on the charger (hence the lack of alarm to wake you), and the weak coffee you chugged on the way out of the dorms did absolutely nothing to improve your mood. 

That’s all before walking into the classroom.

Earlier in the week, you were assigned a term-long project detailing your partner’s quirk. Pros, cons, good/bad match-ups, how your quirks work together, what you could learn from them to improve your own progress. You hoped for Izuku Midoriya, with his notebook full of information already, but you were paired with Katsuki Bakugo. 

Aizawa must hate you.

The two of you had never gotten along. Sure, he was warmer towards his friends, who he'd known for years, but never with you. That’s fair though, you also hated everything about him. You hated how cocky he would act. His stupid face when he thinks he’s right. How he always got away with his bullshit. You hated the way he treated the girls who swooned over him (all because he defeated some nerfed villain a while ago.) Then, you hated him even more when you saw the constant stream of faceless fangirls being shuttled in and out of his room in the middle of the night like no one noticed. Most of all, you hated the lack of respect he always had for you.

Unfortunately for you both, the assignment would involve a lot of back and forth, questions, explanations, etc. Considering the relationship you had with your partner, the two of you opted to work on your pieces alone, exchanging in the mornings. And, well, it’s the morning. Time to interact.

“Hey, Backfire. Ya get that work done?” (he’d always chosen to call you this, over your hero name “Echo.”)

“Yeah,” you handed him the paper detailing what you’ve observed about his quirk in practice.

He barely looks over it before adding his critique, “this is garbage. That part’s bad too. Are you trying to make me sound weak? Not like your shitty quirk is that great. Redo it.”

Not happening.

“If you have a problem, why don’t you do it then? Here’s a pen, there’s the paper. Be my fucking guest. Tell me alllll about how amazing the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamite is,” your biting words saccharine sweet as you pretended to fawn over him, “or should I just ask the girls lining up to crawl into your bed every night to write it?”

“What, jealous? God, you need to get laid. It’s a shame no one pities you enough to help out with that,” he responded with fake sympathy.

This wasn’t too far from a normal conversation between the two of you. Any other day, you thought. Any other time and maybe you could put up with his shit. 

But absolutely not today.

Before you could think, you smacked him. Hard.

A hush fell over the class as everyone watched for his reaction. Your next move.

To be honest, you surprised yourself with that one too.

You were always the “good kid.” Maybe standoffish and mouthy but you got good grades, always turned your homework in on time, and, mostly, tended to follow rules when it mattered.

But the bigger elephant in the room: no one actually fucks with Bakugo. Sure you’d all throw his words back at him and argue but physically? Between his strength, personality, and explosive quirk, no one touches him.

His face reddened in anger, hiding the puffy pink outline your hand left. “Do you wanna die??” he yelled before Aizawa shuffled to his desk in his yellow sleeping bag to start class.

Class went by as usual, despite the lingering tension in the air. Before you knew it, it was over. The teacher said something about randomly assigned partners for sparing in the morning then set you free. 

“Do it better,” Bakugo asserted, shoving the paper back at you. The imprint of your fingertips still dotted his face. 

“Fine, as long as you fix your half too. I am not getting a bad grade because of you,” you spit the words out like they would burn your tongue if you held in thoughts of him any longer. 

The rest of the afternoon, you stared at a blank sheet of paper. No matter how hard you tried, the words just wouldn’t show up. At seven, you gave up and went to Jiro’s room to hang out and watch music videos while discussing what you’d wear to Mina’s friend’s party the next day.

This Morning

Aizawa’s monotone voice carried through the training area. “We’ll be sparing today, as mentioned yesterday the matches are already set - the list is posted on the door. If you have an issue with it, don’t bother me. Otherwise, find your partner and make a plan.”

“The fuck,” you exclaim upon seeing your name next to Minoru Mineta’s with a match against Katsuki Bakugo and Shoto Todoroki.

The team pairings were randomly drawn from a hat but the matches were chosen. Aizawa must still be set on making your life hard when he made the list.

It would have been hard anyways, it’s not a fair fight. They’re the two strongest in the class and you were paired up with the weakest. They’re also both assholes when it comes to things like this so you know they won’t go easy on you. Not that they should. Your rebound quirk sends their attacks back at them, making you a difficult match for anyone who relies on their quirk. Generally, most of the class you are sparring against are resilient to their own powers to an extent so they aren’t at risk of being massively injured but that doesn’t make it any easier for them to take you down to win. You typically just have to stay out of the way. However, using your ability takes focus. With years of practice, you still weren’t sure if you’ll be able to go up against them both at once. And Mineta wouldn't be much help. 

In spite of the difficulty, you’d still have to give it your all. You’re lucky you even got into the hero course, honestly. Getting the points in the UA University entry exam wasn’t easy. Interfering with other potential students to bounce their quirks at the fake villains allowed you to scrape by. 

“Match one, get in place,” Present Mic’s voice rings through the building. 

Preparing on the other side of the room, your rivals didn’t look happy being paired with each other either. 

“We just have to get the flags off their belts,” you mumble down to Mineta, “throw your balls to trap them and I’ll walk up and take them. Oh, and don’t-” you pause, thinking of the last time you worked with Mineta on anything, “don’t do anything weird.” 

“And go!”

Immediately, Minetta covers the hall behind you in sticky purple balls. You rush to the other side, taunting them to chase you. 

“Hey, Todoroki, what’s this I hear about Endeavor in the news? You must be so proud, right? Come over so I can congratulate you!” 

The air cools around you, got him. Gliding with his ice, he rushes towards you before getting stuck on the trap you’d set. He immediately shoots a stream of ice, pinning your sparring partner to the wall.

You’re on your own now. That’s fine. It’ll be 1v1.

You turn to take Todoroki’s flag but only find his shoes. He’s in his socks, taking Mineta’s instead. You can still win this, you think. You’ll just have to be smart. 

Seeing a corner, you decide to duck into it. This will allow you to bounce back any attacks head on until they tire out. 

Red and white hair blurred towards you before the room froze. By focusing your quirk, you were able to shove his ice back ten while he attacked. You noticed his feet slide slightly back as well from the recoil. What you didn’t notice was Bakugo dropping behind your back and blasting you point blank into a wall of ice.

This Afternoon

“It’s because he hates me,” you groan. 

Recovery Girl had revived you, after mending quite a few broken bones and burns. She was still baffled by how beat up you came in from a “friendly” class match. A broken arm, two fractured ribs, burns on both wrists, and the entire back of your hero outfit had been blasted off, leading to even more burns.

“Hate is a strong word, he’s your classmate. I don’t think he hates you,” she continued while bandaging your arms.

“Definitely feels like it,” you mumbled looking down at your wrapped up limbs.

Once she finished patching you up, she told you to stay here for the day to rest then take it easy the next few days. She was leaving to visit family over the weekend but your condition is stable enough. You slept through the rest of the afternoon.

Earlier Tonight

9:05pm, the numbers on your phone illuminate the dark room.

Your hero costume had been sent in for repairs. Fortunately, your best friend has an extra key to your room. Jiro dropped off one of your hoodies and a pair of pants while you slept. She texted that she didn’t want to wake you but she’d see you at the party later tonight if you’re up for it. You pull the clothes out of the bag and get dressed, carefully avoiding your sore arms.

Feeling rested enough, you texted her back that you’d be there before throwing your boots on and heading out. 

In the dim waiting area, a black clothed figure was slumped over the chair. He begins to stir and rubs his blonde hair out of his eyes as you pass before he jumps up to follow you.

“Let me guess, is apologizing and walking me home your punishment?” you ask.

“Yep,” Bakugo responds.

“Got it,” you say walking out the door. The cold winter air burns your face.

After a long pause, he began to apologize. “I really am sorry though, I didn’t mean to actually hurt you. I should have known better and that’s on me,” his words puff out in clouds.

“I just figured it was because I slapped you yesterday.”

“It wasn’t out of retaliation,” he pauses before continuing, “I’m really not that mad about you hitting me. I mean, I was mad, but more shocked than anything. No one in our class ever treats me like that.”

“Well, someone has to. It’s one of the things I hate the most about you - people just let you get away with anything. It’s infuriating.”

“Hey, that is not true.” he side eyes you, “also, the thing you hate the most about me is how other people treat me? Really? That’s not even about me.”

“No, the thing I hate the most about you is how you treat me.”

“Well, someone has to,” your words felt icier thrown back at you.

As the conversation slipped to silence, you realized this was the first time you’d ever spoken to him alone. He almost seemed sincere, but you still weren't friendly. The rest of the walk continued like this. The dead air between you grew in tension until you reached the building. 

“Hey, you’re friends with Raccoon Eyes too. So you’re heading to that party off campus, right?” he asks, while you walk to the stairs.

“Mina’s friend’s party? Yeah I’m going.”

“I’ll walk you there. We can talk about our project on the way. Besides, everyone else has already left.”

You nodded, not having any excuse.

“Meet you here in twenty.” 

Fixing your makeup and hair took no time and you even added a little extra eyeliner. Clothes were another story.

Here’s the issue: all of the cute outfits you’d discussed wearing earlier in the week didn’t work unless you wanted to show off your massively bandaged arms. Out of time, you panicked throwing on a baggy long sleeve shirt with the skinny jeans and boots you were already wearing. Grabbing your sweatshirt to throw over the top, you ran out the door. Frumpy but at least no one would ask questions.

“Wow, it’s like you didn’t even try,” his voice calls out from the lobby.

“Oh, fuck you Bakugo! Half my body is covered in gauze because of the burns you gave me. Nothing looked cute.”

“You’re talking to someone who is covered in scars. No one cares. Besides, if anyone does say shit about it, I’ll kill ‘em. I owe you that much.”

"You covered the scars on your arm with tattoos though, doesn't count."

Ignoring this, Bakugo’s red eyes looked you up and down once more before running up the stairs past you.

“Now come on, Backfire, I’m not walking into a party with you if you look like that. Let’s pick something else.”

“Oh, treating me like one of your arm candy girls now? So fucking sweet of you,” you rolled your eyes but still followed him back up the stairs.

“If you were 'one of my arm candy girls', I wouldn’t have to drag you back to your dorm to change. Have to say, this is a first.”

“Ughh speaking of which, it’s ten - shouldn’t you be hooking up with someone by now?”

“Pretty hung up on that, huh?”

“On the way you treat women? Yeah, you’re disgusting.”

“Am not. I’m not leading anyone on or making anyone do anything.” 

“What if they end up wanting more?” you asked while pulling out your keys.

“Then I ditch ‘em, like I said I’m not leading anyone on.”

“Wow, you’re such a gentleman. Bet that’ll never come back to bite you.”

As you flipped the light on in your room, you were glad it’s relatively clean. Except for the pile of clothes you’d created on the bed but it’s not like you were trying to impress him of all people. 

Not missing much time, he practically dove into the discarded items you’d tried earlier. “This is cute,” he said holding up a tiny tank top, “and this one. I didn’t even know you owned stuff like this,” he said before handing you a stack to try. 

You almost commented about not wanting to take fashion advice from him before you realized actually looked good. He was wearing a grey jacket, tight black v-neck, and pants that fit really well. Fuck him.

Carefully, you put on the first shirt before looking up at the mirror. It’s a strappy black crop top. You bought it online over the summer but so far you hadn’t had the occasion (or the confidence) to wear it anywhere. The outfit, as a whole, looked cute but it really contrasted with the white cloth wrapped around your arms. 

“I look like a mummy,” you said as you walked out of the bathroom to show him.

Saying nothing, his eyes analyzed you. “No, that’s the outfit,” he said, continuing to stare critically, “do you have a sweater or something?”

“Yeah,” you said while picking a thick oversized grey cardigan, “you sure I don’t look like a little kid on halloween?” Why are you even asking his opinion, he’s probably just fucking with you. 

“No, you don’t,” he laughed.

The walk off-campus wasn’t the worst. He seemed to genuinely feel bad for hurting you so he got every door for you (which felt uncharacteristically nice but you decided not to get used to it.) You brought up the project from class and after a quick discussion, you both agreed it would be good to work together on it. Phone numbers were exchanged and you decided to meet tomorrow on “neutral territory”, the library. It wasn’t until you walked in the door of the house, that you realized the two of you were accidentally matching. 

Not wanting to look like Bakugo’s date of the night, you split off fairly quickly and found Jiro and Mina outside. 

“Hey, [y/n]! How are you feeling?” Jiro yelled before hugging you.

“I”m okay - thanks for dropping off clothes, that was a lifesaver!” you turned to give Mina a hug as well, “thanks for the invite! This party is awesome.”

“Of course! You should grab a drink and catch up to us!” Mina slurred back. You turned when Jiro grabbed your shoulder. 

“Oh. And as a heads up, Mineta’s been looking for you,” Jiro mumbled under her breath.

“Thanks for the warning!”

He probably just wanted to recap after what happened in class today. That could wait until Monday - he could be tolerable in moderation when he was sober, but dealing with Mineta after a few drinks? Absolutely not. You made it three steps through the door when a glint of purple entered your peripheral vision and you booked it. Rushing between people, you ran down a hallway.

Now

Seeing a door to your left, you take a chance. You reach for the handle when it flies open and you collide with Bakugo, who is also cramming himself in what you’re now realizing is a closet. His arm wraps around you, pulling you against him to shut the door.

“Ouch, fuck,” you grumble after he grabbed the still raw burn on your back. Shifting back slightly, you hit a bunch of coats, leaving you pressed into his chest.

“What the fuck are you doing in here??” his hushed voice interrogates you.

“Hiding, obviously!” you respond in a whisper.

“Hiding from what?” 

“Mineta. I think he wants to talk about today but.. Ugh I can’t deal with that little creep right now.”

Upon further thought, being in a closet with Bakugo isn’t ideal either.

“You know what, I think I’ll take my chances,” you begin to press the door open when he grabs your hand.

“No, you don’t. If you open this she might see me.”

“She? Who's ‘she’??” 

“A girl in the support course. It’s so fucking stupid. I hooked up with her last week, now she thinks we’re dating.”

“So you’re hiding in a closet? So much for being direct and not leading anyone on.”

“Oh, I forgot. You’re just sooo much better than me. I’m not in the mood for a lecture,” he shifts against you, “you know what, fuck it. I’m going out there.”

“Wait!” you whisper yell at him, fighting the urge to say you told him so, “fine. I’ll drop it. Now wait a few minutes, if you open this door, I’m sure Mineta will still be lurking around.” 

“Fine.”

Taking a deep breath, for the first time since entering the closet, you become acutely aware of how good he smells. He smells clean, like laundry and shampoo, but there’s another smell. Something more subtle that really draws you to him. Not that you could be drawn much closer. In this tiny space you feel the warmth of his body, the movement of his breathing. His arm still wrapped around you. This isn’t so bad. What the fuck are you thinking?

Bakugo breaks the long silence.

“This is the worst game of seven minutes in heaven,” he jokes, in an attempt to break the tension.

“No, it could be worse. Last year I got shoved in a closet with Denki. He was wasted and pretty handsy.”

“Really? I can’t picture you playing that game, you seem-”

You laugh, “I seem what?”

“I dunno, like you’d be too good for that or something.”

“Too good for that?”

“Yeah, like. You don’t even date,” he responds.

“You don’t date either.”

“You know what I mean. You’re basically asexual.”

“Oh my god, I am not,” you reply, “ I’m just busy, that’s all. I’d love to have more fun but it takes a lot of work to keep up in school. My quirk’s not all flashy like yours.”

He pauses. 

“None of this is easy,” you almost feel like you’re imagining things when his thumb subtly rubs your shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m hard on you because I didn’t think I’d beat you otherwise.”

“I’ll tell that to Recovery Girl next time.”

“I promise there won’t be a next time. I went too far. And I got lucky. If you’d directed your quirk at me, I would have slammed into the wall and been in there with you. It was a risky move anyways and I shouldn’ have done it.” He squeezes your shoulder, “I’ll make it up to you. Come on.”

Pressing out of the closet door, you really hope no one notices you stepping out of the small space with Katsuki Bakugo. He takes your hand, pulling you down the hallway.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“Kitchen. That little runt’s afraid of me so you’re fine as long as you stay close.”

Approaching a counter of liquor, he opens a bottle of tequila, pouring both of you a shot. He slides it to you.

You pitch an eyebrow up at him, “you think I’m taking a drink from you?”

“Oh come on, I’m not a perv. You said you wanted to have more fun and I owe you.” 

Skeptically you agree. “Okay, but I am not going home with you.”

He laughs, “who said I’d wanna go home with you? Besides, I’m still not convinced you’d ever relax enough to fuck anyone.”

“Oh fuck off, Bakugo. Clearly you don’t know me at all,” you say before downing the shot. It burns but you don’t let yourself react.

“Clearly,” he responds slightly smirking before drinking his own.

A few hours after you first started drinking with Bakugo, the two of you are sitting on the kitchen floor with the bottle between you. You’d started shot for shot but at some point managed to lose the shot glasses and switched to passing the bottle back and forth. Your sweater and his jacket piled in a ball between you.

“Okay. So,” you slur, gesturing vaguely at him, “you want to be a hero because of All Might?”

“When I was a kid, yeah.” He puts a hand on your shoulder to steady you, “but now I have more reasons, not just him. You didn’t answer my question though! Who’s yours?”

“Who made me want to be a hero?” you’d slightly dodged the question because, even in your inebriated state, the answer is a bit embarrassing. “Okay, I’ll answer but you can’t make fun of me for it.”

“That’s no fun, I already answered and you’re definitely gonna make fun of me.”

“If I was going to make fun of you, I already would have. You’re wearing All Might socks,” you lightly kick his ankle, the blue and red socks showing where his pant legs slid up. He glances down before his head lolls back towards you, staring expectantly.

“Okay, fine. Mine’s Eraserhead.”

“Eraser? Like our teacher?” he laughs, “no, that makes a lot of sense. You totally have a crush on our teacher!”

“I do not!” you lightly shove his shoulder. Unfocused, your eyes rake over him. You’d never noticed how pretty he is until now, he’s beautiful. He bumps back into you.

“Is that why you try so hard in class? You should tell him!” he picks up your phone from the floor.

“No! But also kind of?” your hand reaches towards your phone, missing his entirely, “I don’t have a crush on him but I want him to like me.” he raises his eyebrows at you, “NOT LIKE THAT!” you pause before continuing, “how would you feel if All Might didn’t like you?”

“He doesn’t dislike you.”

“He made me work with you,” you blurt out without thinking.

Bakugo flinches slightly at the honesty, but he seems to get it. “He’s not stupid, [l/n]. He’s had almost two years to see that we fight all the time and he just wants us to get along or something.” 

“If only he could see us now,” you laugh. To a stranger, you probably look quite close right now. Your leg over his, his arm over your shoulder, leaning in towards each other.

Wait, fuck.

His glossy crimson eyes light up, “wait! I’ve got it, that’s what you should send him!” he says while sloppily swiping the camera open on your phone and flipping the screen to a selfie. Pulling you in closer, your head falls onto his shoulder. The screen of your phone flashes lightly and he drops the arm in front of you, but you can’t be bothered to move. Tipping your face into him, your eyes closing. He really does smell so good.

 “Aww it’s like we’re friends, he’ll love it,” he says, nudging your phone into your hands.

Prying yourself up, your eyes adjust to the screen. As your doubled vision merges with itself, you notice the notifications in your group chat with Jiro and Mina.

Jiro [where’d you go??]

Mina [we miss you!1!]

Mina [okay, we’re looking for yuo]

Jiro [re3alyy where r u?]

“Oh shit,” you say, “my friends must have texted when we were in the closet.”

You [omggg just saw tghhese]

You [not dead]

Tipping your phone away from Bakugo, you add

You [hes so hott6t]

You [shuold i kiss himn?]

Mina [oooooooo]

Jiro [who.?]

You [image]

Jiro [no]

Jiro [defnitly not]

Mina [🚩🚩🚩]

Mina [babe, ur SLOPPY]

Jiro [is that a kitchen?? we’re otw!]

Jiro [dotn do anythng!!]

Abandoning your phone on the floor, your head droops back into his shoulder. He leans into you, pressing his cheek into your forehead. Taking the bottle from his hand, you sip idly - unable to feel the burn anymore. You wonder what it would be like to kiss him, gazing longingly at his lips that are now only inches away. 

“Blasty, you’ve been hiding [y/n] from us!” Mina’s voice fills the kitchen as your friends pile to the floor next to you, Kirishima in tow.

Jiro takes the bottle before grasping your hands and pulling you upright. “Hey, you alright?” she asks soothingly. 

“They’re fine,” Bakugo asserts, “and I didn’t hide shit. We’ve been here most of the night,” he yanks the tequila back from Jiro, polishing the bottle off in a final gulp. “All of you just suck at looking for people.”

“Come on man, get off the floor.” Kirishima urges, “let’s go kick everyone’s asses at beer pong!”

“We need to get up and go too,” Jiro adds as she and Mina collect your belongings. 

Staggering slightly, you follow your group out to the living room before everyone begins to part ways. 

“I’m gonna stay with them!” Mina whispers to you, “Eijiro will walk me home later,” she adds with a wink.

“Bye, have fun!” you hug her before turning to Jiro.

“Don't forget about tomorrow!” Bakugo yells over his shoulder, following his friends.

“One o'clock, I'll be there, ” you yell back, your words still slurring together.

“What’s tomorrow?” Jiro asks while guiding you out the door.

“School project we have to do,” you respond. 

“That makes more sense, but still. Maybe next time we go to a party you can find a boy to sit on the floor with who didn’t try to kill you earlier.” 

[bestjeanistmonster]

hey I always wandered why do you chose certain characters in roles for your DC au like sonic as Harley Quinn or knuckles as bat man?

also I love your content btw!

usually i just choose what character roles i think would be interesting to explore for that character, or just what would be most fun

like when you think of Sonic in the dc universe you would instantly think ‘ok he would be the flash’, and its true that he would probably make a pretty good flash and a good story could come out of that, or maybe making Amy ‘harley quinn’ and again lots of character stuff you could do with that

But those options kinda just. write themselves tbh, its a bit too easy for me to just choose those options and call it a day cuz just looking at them you’d get their entire deal.

So when im choosing character roles im basically asking myself, not just ‘what sonic character would fit in this dc role the best’ but ‘what would this specific sonic character have to do/go through to become some version of this character’ or ‘what how would this dc role have to be moulded to fit this sonic character’

lets take Shadow for example!

he was the first person i made Shadow would obviously be batman, just looking at him and his backstory he would make an amazing batman, he fits that pretty well no question

but at the time i made Shadow poison ivy, i was reading the the comic series ‘Poison Ivy: The Virtuous Cycle’, it went into detail into Ivy’s hatred for humanity and how they’re destroying the planet, and how she plans to kill all of them off (including herself) in order to save it. It was so interesting to think about her hatred for humanity this way, so interesting that my brain was like ‘wow if when shadow woke up from his cryostasis and learnt all this he’d probably wanna kill humanity even more lol’

then i thought about it more, Poison Ivy cares deeply for the environment and basically wants to kill all humans cuz they’re destroying the planet and giving Shadow that role kinda adds another layer to that because human’s are destroying the world that Maria so desperately wanted to see and he can literally feel the planet dying cuz of that plant connection + the fact that he was created artificially in a lab by humans (plus alien deadbeat) away from the planet and having that intrinsic connection to that planet below the Ark his whole life, a direct connection to the planet that Maria loved so much, a connection that he would’ve never fully known the extent of if GUN hadn’t raided.

So what if wanting to destroy the planet, he wanted to save it and to save it he had eradicated a certain ‘infestation’, humanity.

that was super interesting to me to explore as a concept so Poison Ivy!Shadow, the first character in my dc au was born!!!

it’s important to me that though im making Shadow and Ivy have the same role im not just copypasting Ivy’s backstory onto Shadow, they’re different characters and those backstories aren’t necessarily interchangeable, different things happened to make them who they are and one might not work for the other.

And if i do make the backstory similar, i wanna make changes so i can justify why they made these choices, like with what i did Sonic

Sonic’s dc au backstory follows similar beats as Harley Quinn’s backstory, but i added some details make it more believable for me to understand how Sonic could ever became what Harleen Quinzel became. So i started him out Nicky from the sonic manga, an insecure, weak, nerdy kid that’s easy for people to beat up and pick on, so he’d be someone with vulnerabilities and insecurities. Then i had Tails and Amy be his number 1 protectors cuz he can’t protect himself, his insecurities deepening cuz of this (not only can he not protect himself, he doesn’t even have the strength to protect them), he lived in the worst place in gotham, etc. Basically a lot of stuff that Eggman could use to exploit and manipulate him.

this made it really interesting and fun for me to delve into his mindset and see how he would tick!

then from Sonic’s kidnapping came Tails and Amy’s motivations to become vigilantes, to save their friend, people like their friend and to stop people like the joker from hurting them

other times times i just make the choices based on vibes and what would fit the plot <3

this character exploration and thinking process is why i personally don’t allow ppl to make character suggestions for any of my aus, cuz its really a personal process of picking out roles and dissecting them in my brain

but yh that’s pretty much why i picked who i picked lol

ty for the question!

[jhoneybees]

I love you all so much.

I genuinely love all of you lovelies so much, you're all so fun to talk, laugh, cry, drool and dance with and I'm so glad SO SO glad that I came across a YouTube short of the Elvis movie that afternoon because if I didn't? I wouldn't have thought to myself "Hm, I could watch that." and watch the movie three times to understand what the characters are saying(because the movie's too quiet👀) and go onto Wattpad to see if there's any Elvis fanfics and find one of little!Elvis getting grumpy and tired of recording, read it and enjoy it then come across a link to someone's Tumblr and find all these wonderful stories you write and spend countless nights reading and giggling and deciding to make an account to post a gif of Elvis and soon write and upload 'Feeling anxious'.

(sorry for all the and's lol)

I want to thank the heavens, the universe whatever it could be that brought me to such an amazing, incredible, strong, loving, caring, fun, unbelievable community.

I love all of you and I mean it...

Every. Single. Individual.

I love YOU.

And I want to thank Elvis for what joy and happiness you bring me. You showed yourself to me in some way and I understood and cherished it in my heart and will always cherish it, even when I'm grey and old. No one can stop me from loving you and I'm serious about that.

You're a friend, a lover, an angel to me even though we have never met and never will until I fly up there to the heavens or become a star or a flower, I don't know, that's when I'll get to meet you and give you the biggest bear hug you could ever imagine.

I love you.

[sw33ti3pie]

Heyyyy could I have more info on your s/I? I'm curious to learn more about her!

YEP! I put together a little bit of info on my self insert so imma just use this question to post it all! [hope u don’t mind]

I tried my best to make the story comprehensible sorry if my writing isn’t the best I have problems with writing but I love telling sweetie’s story so I hope I did okay! ^^

General information!

The not so sweet story of sweetie swirl’s cutie mark:

Sweetie swirl was ur average foal raised by mrs and mr swirl. Mrs swirl always highlighted the importance of being elegant, kind and well, sweet!

Mr swirl saw her babblings about kindness and sweet things rather sour. He thought if everypony was soooo kind nothing would done. Negativity was was a tool, a motivator.

Sweetie thinks they’re both nuts, they’ll find their own way.

The hard way.

Since sweetie was in primary school they found it impossible to make friends. Or even talk. Often hiding their face under their long dirty blonde hair, unable to make eye contact with their peers. Though there was one pony ...

Scootaloo , they wey the only pony to try an strike up a conversation that wasn’t just purely insulting.

Sweetie was coloring in their brand new wonderbolts coloring book and scootaloo basically ran to them

“Hi, uhm is that wonder bolts”

Sweetie hesitantly nodded putting their crayon down

“…mhm wonderbolts”

Scootaloo’s face lit up as they looked at the half colored page

“Woah you did that??” Their mouth agape

“Can I try??”

Sweetie had smiled for the first time at school that day, after meeting their first ever friend.

Come next school year everyone was starting to get their cutie marks. Scootaloo and sweetie were subject to the teasing that came with being blank flanks or “late bloomers”. Sweetie swirl couldn’t stand the attention that was put onto them they’ve used anything they could to cover their blank flank. Hoodies, blankets, Even restored to using bandage wrap for the most part.

One day scootaloo introduced a new friend. Sweetie bell, They all agreed to sit at lunch together and play together. Strength in numbers y’know. But soon scootaloo would start hanging out with sweetiebell more and more than they come to school with another blank flank friend, Applebloom. They called themselves the cutie mark crusaders! And sweetie swirl was kinda just hung around. They never really got invited to hang out . it was clear they weren’t part of the group.

Over the next few years, the cmc had finally gotten their cutie marks. The anger from the teasing that was only getting worse and feeling rejected by their only friends stirred inside of sweetie swirl, they were almost a teenager and still didn’t have a cutie mark. Their self confidence was at an all time low when they got a visit by the cmc. They offered to help sweetie get their cutie mark! The cmc introduced sweetie to all their friends incubated the mane 6. Sweetie felt alive again! Picking up on the mane 6’s amazing personalities and learning that hate won’t get them a cutie mark and will only really drive people away. Pinkie helped them laugh off the bullying and embrace themselves for who they are! and fluttershy taught them how to be kind in the face of harassment and handle bullies passively. Through these amazing friendships and lessons sweetie swirl finally got their cutie mark! A heart shaped lollipop, representing staying sweet and having compassion for others!

Sweetie swirl changed it’s name to sweetie pie after getting married to pinkie at age 17

[skeletinmoss]

The curse of the dark Phoenix

Chapter 13: Memories to share

First chapter | Previous

Also go follow @lovelivingmydreams because she's awesome and her writing is amazing. And I have no idea how I convinced her to work on this story with just one drawing.

Enjoy reading:

And then he was in the middle of a little village. Nothing like any village he’d seen before though. The way the houses were built, the clothes the people wore… It was so different from what he was used to.

A little boy rushed past him.

“Virgil hold up!!!” a young boy’s voice shouted.

“Sorry Michael!” the little boy said. “I just want to show mom the flowers before they go bad,” the little boy said to the bigger kid that was catching up to, what Roman assumed to be, his little brother. The boy who would grow up to be the High Mage of the Night Flame.

“If you pick them, they usually last longer V. Now take my hand and lets walk home together. At least pretend I’m looking after you,” Michael insisted.

Roman studied them both. The little boy’s hair looked lighter and shorter than what he was used to seeing from Virgil. Other than that he could definitely see this as a past version of him.

He looked so happy and carefree. As only children can.

“Welcome to the village of my youth.” Roman looked beside him and saw Virgil standing next to him. “It doesn’t exist anymore. Nothing bad. People just left for greener pastures and the village got forgotten to time. I went back a while ago, it’s nothing but open fields now. I still remember it like it was yesterday though,” he continued.

“I… It looks lovely,” Roman said, not sure what to make of it.

“I figured we could combine our options. Get the most out of this dream. I’ll teach you along the way,” Virgil promised before turning his attention back to the memory and speaking the way he did whenever he taught them anything.

“It was named RiverFort,” Virgil stated. “Because of the nearby river and the fort that was built by the guild on the other side… The magic guild that is. Mages were a rarity and ascended mages even more so. Which is why I often find myself older than everyone in the room combined these days,” Virgil joked. “This is Axilla, long before we really named ourselves that. The guild aided the villages within this unclaimed territory and in exchange we all provided what we could…” Virgil nodded ahead and they saw a man and a woman greet Virgil and his brother. The woman was pregnant. Little Virgil kissed his mother’s belly and handed her the flowers.

Then little Virgil went to greet his father who ruffled his hair before continuing a conversation with a gentleman in robes.

“You really got us out of a pickle there Remy. Any idea why those wolves left their territory to snatch our sheep?” Virgil’s father wondered. He seemed like a kind man. And an animal lover with the way he gave the mage’s horse an apple and pats while talking to his rider.

“Not a clue Francis. But I’ll figure it out and make sure I won’t have to come back. If I may pick up a few blankets and a traveling cloak on the way back? Have it set aside if I don’t. Emile is in the north and he’s super capable but negotiations are always a bit iffy,” he shrugged carelessly.

“You be careful too alright. By the grace of the stars, we will see you soon,” Virgil’s father insisted.

“Bye mister magic man!” Virgil said cheerfully. The mage, Remy knelt and looked at him. “Hmmm. Getting bigger huh little man? I get a feeling we’ll be seeing more of each other,” he stated, booping Virgil’s nose to which the little one mock complained. Then he got on his horse.

“Bless your days in the kingdom of the sun,” he bid, and rode off towards the woods.

The family headed inside to listen to Virgil’s story about his day with his big brother.

“Remy was right. He ended up being one of my teachers. And he’d been around the block a few times by then. You’d like him,” Virgil chuckled.

Things shifted. Very briefly Roman saw a little bigger Virgil accidentally levitating a pot that was falling from a stove, much to the amazement of his parents and now two siblings. The little sister he’d mentioned before was an adorable toddler in this one.

Then Remy was back, performing a magic aptitude test, looking not surprised in the least. And then Virgil was being picked up by a carriage his mother tying a no doubt handmade scarf around his neck, the family wishing him luck and praying for the stars to guide him.

Roman noticed that the young boy and his teacher both had applied colored shadows under their eyes.

He got in the carriage, and the family and the village disappeared. Instead they were riding down a long stone rode in a bustling city. Though it didn’t seem as big as the capitol Roman remembered. Little 11 or 12 year old Virgil was looking around nervously.

“It’ll be alright squirt,” Remy, who’d apparently been his escort, assured him. “You’ll make tons of friends and have loads to write to your family about. And just think of all the ways you’ll be able to help them out when you get back for the breaks?” Remy pointed out.

Virgil nodded, still withdrawn from nerves. A stark difference to what he was like when in a familiar environment.

Roman looked at the passing buildings trying to find the academy.

“The one you know won’t be built for a while,” Virgil reminded him. Right… Was this even the current capitol?

“This is what you know as Lumen. One of the bigger cities at the time,” Virgil explained as time sped up around them and they found themselves on the edge of the city up a winding path towards a large building, nestled against the forest.

Then Virgil got out and showed to the dormitories and his room.

“There were ten kids in my group, all of varying ages,” Virgil stated as they watched him put his things away, hug his scarf tight and going outside. “And in a strange moment of bravery, I left my room to go and meet them right away,” he chuckled as they reached a playground where a lot of kids were playing. Most were around Virgil’s age, though there were a few late bloomers there too.

Little Virgil looked around and found a kid sitting by himself, reading.

Roman squinted. Was that Gustav?

“Hi,” little Virgil greeted.

The kid looked up, and Roman was a bit surprised to realize it was indeed a younger Gustav.

He also had shading under his eyes. It must have been the style at the time. It was kind of cute that Virgil still did it though.

The young arch mage looked at Virgil's offered hand curiously.

"Um... I'm Virgil."

Gustav gave Virgil a careful smile and accepted his hand. "Gustav," he said. Virgil visibly relaxed at the successful introductions.

"Can I sit with you, please? I promised my mom I'd try and make friends," he said softly.

Gustav giggled. "Well. I didn't, but I guess I don't want you to break a promise to yours," he said, making room on the bench.

"I almost forgot about this part... looking at it from this angle... I guess I get why he didn't like J and Remus all that much," Virgil mused next to Roman as little Virgil sat down and asked about the book Gustav was reading. The conversation seemed to be going well when suddenly...

"CRACK!"

"Woah!"

"Hey!?"

"Hi there," another boy greeted them. Which would've been fine if he hadn't fallen from the sky accompanied by a broken off tree branch. Right on top of Virgil.

Both were now on the ground with the new boy looking down at Virgil.

"You wanna play tag?" he asked.

"Shouldn't you start with: Are you okay? Or: I'm sorry? Or something like that!?" Gustav scolded as he pushed the new boy off from Virgil and helped him get up and dust him off. "I'm fine. Just... caught me of guard," Virgil assured both.

Gustav was not satisfied, though.

"What were you doing up there anyway? Spying on us?!" he accused.

"Napping, until you two woke me up... after that, a bit of spying," the boy admitted.

"That's a weird napping spot," Little Virgil said. Amused.

"Those are the best kinds," the boy argued.

"I like you. I'm Remus," he decided. Holding out his hand. "Virgil, and this is my friend Gustav," Virgil introduced, making Gustav hold his head up a little higher at being called friend.

"What on earth is all this commotion about?" A new boy wondered as he joined the group.

"Mister bright idea climbed a tree. Took a nap, we heard a snap, and then he bruised a knee," Gustav huffed. The group stared. And Roman chuckled. "Was that on purpose?" Virgil asked. Gustav shrugged. "Not at first," he admitted.

"Impressive," Virgil said.

"Well. I am Janus. And you all are...?" The new boy wondered.

"Virgin, Gus and Remus!" Remus screeched.

Gustav made a face. "Gustav and Virgil..." he corrected.

"You talk fancy. Who's your daddy?" Remus wondered. Making Virgil hide his face to stiffen a laugh. Gustav just rolled his eyes. Glancing at Virgil nervously.

Owch. Yeah. Roman wouldn't have liked two random kids stealing the show right when he was making a proper friend. Especially if it ended in him and said friend never getting close.

"My uncle, is high Mage Remy. Eternal lover of the smoldering heart. so my talent was spotted rather quickly. How about you three?" Janus wondered.

"My parents have like, a ton of stores so they paid for an aptitude test so I’d be out of their hair," Remus shrugged. "Jokes on them. I'll be even more of a menace when I know magic,” he added with a grin. Roman noted that both Virgil and Gustav felt a bit self-conscious now. Virgil glanced to Gustav, realized he was not alone in his worry and found courage. "My parents are tailors, and um... I caught a pot without touching when it fell. So when mister Remy... your uncle, came by to check on our village, they told him. And he checked, and now I am here," he said. Making Gustav relax.

"It's just my mother, and I. She helps one of the farmers who has no children to help him to get by. One day, I made a mess of her nice dress, and I wished it was clean, and then it was." He said, feeling more confident now that he and Virgil seemed to have more in common.

"Cool," Remus grinned.

Someone rang a bell. "Oh, class in session! Come on! You gotta sit with us!" Remus insisted dragging Virgil along, followed by a bemused Janus and a dejected Gustav. That must've stung.

"Your friends seem fun," Roman decided. It hadn't seemed like they were deliberately pushing Gustav away. But the young arch mage clearly hadn't felt comfortable around their big personalities.

"Yeah," Virgil smiled.

"Now. Your turn. Show me something about you," Virgil instructed, catching Roman of guard.

"Me?" He asked.

Virgil nodded. "Pick a memory. Focus on it. And share it like how you shared your emotions with me the past two days," he instructed.

Okay. Doable...

Roman took a breath. Focused and...

He was home. Just the sight of it nearly made him tear up. How had Virgil kept it together when showing his own. "I was prepared. You are doing great," Virgil assured him. Roman nodded gratefully and led Vigil to the play room where he and his friends were bowed over books on magic.

"And then he single handedly tamed the beast of Zimmer and sent it back into the woods!" Young Roman told his friends. Much to their amazement.

"I wish I could do something so amazing," Patton sighed.

"But we can. We just have to get into the academy," Logan stated wisely.

"Don't we have to pass an aptitude test for that?" Roman asked, more intrigued than skeptical. "Yes, but I found an old book in your parents' collection, one from before the plague, and in it, it says that magic is a skill you can learn. Like cooking and art. Talent helps, but it is not our only way to pass the test. It even has the instructions. Are you two with me? I am confident I can do it, of course, but I'd rather not be by myself," Logan said formally.

Young Roman grinned and threw an arm around his friend's shoulder. "Of course, big brains. Where do we start?" He stated. "Yay! We're going to change the world together!" Patton cheered, hugging his friends who chuckled.

"Admirable attitude. It is correct, of course. Even if you didn't have talent, which, for the record, you all do, you could learn to connect with your own mana 'the hard way' as they say."

Roman smiled at the reassurance. He had felt a bit insecure about that.

"Well, you didn't meet your friends at school so I’ll go again," Virgil offered showing a classroom with young Virgil flanked by his friends. Gustav a row behind them.

"Why are we seeing this from this perspective? The memory of the ball was like looking through your eyes," Roman suddenly realized.

"Because this talks easier. The details out of sight are filled in through reasoning. I remember Gustav was behind me and I now realize what first meeting Remus and J might've felt like for him. So I, subconsciously make assumptions based on that. We are watching an unreliable narrator. Especially when paying attention to what happens out of sight," he explained as the teacher paced in front of the room.

“So, who can tell me why we need herbs and minerals and animal parts for casting?” the teacher wondered. Looking over the crowd.

“Remus?” he pressed. Remus rolled his eyes. “So we don’t get tired when doing spells,” he said.

Janus snickered at his friend’s deadpan tone. “Care to elaborate Janus?” the teacher challenged.

Janus sat up straighter. “Spells cost energy like climbing a set of stairs would. Using the mana in outside sources when we can, keeps us from draining our own supply,” he stated.

The teacher nodded. "Why can’t we use whatever we want then? Why, by example, do we use Merick’s leaves and not aloe vera in pain relief spells and potions?" The teacher asked.

Virgil perked up a little, looked around to see if anyone else wanted to answer and carefully raised his hand.

"Yes." The teacher acknowledged.

"The mana in the plants is less flexible than the mana within ourselves. Pushing it beyond their natural form would cost us more energy than we would save. Pain is a symptom unrelated to actual damage. Aloe vera needs something to fix. Mericks leaves soothe and relax." Young Virgil stated. Roman cocked his head. Spotting a difference in their education.

"Indeed. You can learn the components needed for each individual spell or you can learn what those components actually want to accomplish with their mana. That will allow you to truly blossom as mages and push the boundaries of magic,” the teacher explained.

Gustav leaned over his desk and tapped Virgil on the shoulder. “Gotta be you, I’m starting to think you can look at a brand new plant and immediately tell what it’d be good for,” he whispered. So some time had passed. And Virgil had made an impression it seemed.

“Is that why you’re being such a suck up?” Remus teased. Gustav turned red and fell back into his chair. “Whatever, freak,” he huffed. Virgil was clearly uncomfortable caught in the middle of the argument.

“That’s enough of that,” Virgil decided.

Roman agreed and focused on a memory of his own to relive.

His own experience with his chosen field of study.

They stood in a different classroom. In a different building. Students were filing out and joking about. Logan and Patton hesitated by the door as a young Roman approached the teacher.

“Um… Sir?” he asked.

“What is it?” the teacher said, the enthusiasm for teaching Virgil’s teacher had nowhere to be found.

“Um… Well the dean said that we should talk to the teacher specializing in our chosen discipline about… Well specializing and I…”

The teacher perked up. “You want to specialize in herbology?” he asked. Surprised, skeptical, hopeful.

“Y-yes. I mean. Plants and their uses always interested me. And well… Being able to recognize them on sight seems like an important skill. So…” he explained awkwardly.

Now the teacher lit up. “Then I will do my best to teach you all I know,” he promised.

Roman turned to Virgil. “Herbology wasn’t very popular the past fifty years,” he shrugged.

“Well, they never taught you the cool parts so I’m not surprised,” Virgil shrugged.

The memory shifted to his teacher’s private office late in the evening. Young Roman was bowed over a few books, several pots of herbs set up before him.

“It is said, that in the time before the dark plague, there were herbologists who were so in tune with the mana of living beings, that they could sense the ingredients of anything they ate, even down to the exact amount of salt crystals.”

Virgil chuckled. “Slight exaggeration,” he assured him.

Roman wanted to ask him to elaborate, but he figured questions could wait for the road. Virgil might appreciate a distraction while they traveled.

“Sadly, the methods with which they achieved this ability have gotten lost after the plague,” teacher sighed wistfully.

“Sir… I don’t understand these instructions,” young Roman told his teacher.

“This healing spell calls for Mint root, but that feels wrong? In this one,” he pointed to another page, “the revitalization spell, mintroot is combined with Lilly pollen. And it just feels like the Lilly pollen would be far more effective for the healing spell?” young Roman pointed out.

Virgil looked to Roman with a bright, proud smile. “Good eye,” he praised.

Roman’s teacher looked at Roman’s notes and hummed. “I understand your concerns. But Lilly pollen is too potent to use on its own and any deterrent would render the benefit entirely useless. It is a level three after all. We can’t use catalysts in reckless abandon, that is what caused the plague,” he explained gravely. “But good eye Roman. You clearly have talent,” he praised. Young Roman smiled but didn’t look too convinced.

“Do my eyes spy a spark of rebellion?” Virgil gasped.

“I may have started using Lilly Pollen where I felt it was appropriate whenever I wasn’t supervised… I’d say don’t tell Logan but I think he’s thrown all caution to the wind since you made him great wizard mage,” Roman admitted.

“Following your own gut over a teacher’s instruction isn’t such a trivial matter though. That took courage,” Virgil complemented before taking charge of the memories again.

Leaving Roman no chance to react.

Virgil showed a few snippets of memories of him and his friends growing up at the academy. Laughing at Remus’ antics, debating ethics and technicalities with Janus. Going home and showing all that he had learned to his family and using it to help around the village.

And then they were inside a room with a familiar layout. It was round. The floor and ceiling decorated with mosaic representing the night sky, the magically glowing stars the only light source.

Virgil was sat in the middle of the room. Meditating.

Roman could hear the instructions echo in Virgil’s mind, the only sound in this silent room other than Virgil’s breathing.

“Focus on the flow of magic within you. Until it is all that is left. Let it show you your power. Do not waver. Do not turn away. Welcome it. It is part of you. Yet it also is a life all its own. Let it show you, who you are meant to be.”

Roman felt something stir inside him at those words. “That’s a better pep talk than I got,” he whispered to Virgil.

“Do I want to know?” Virgil wondered.

“Try not to die,” Roman surmised.

“… Roman, I never asked. How many Great mages has the academy produced since the plague?” Virgil asked.

“Um… Us?” Roman admitted.

“So… You outrank the council?” Virgil concluded. “Uh… I never thought about it like that… I guess?” Roman mused.

Virgil frowned but focused back on the memory. Also choosing to keep questions for the road.

The stars seemed to go out, and a purple glow appeared inside Virgil right at his heart.

Not a glow… A flame.

Virgil opened his eyes and stood up in the void. Looking for a light, an exit. Something.

He reached for his chest and touched the flame, held it in his hand, and set it free.

The magic spread into the room, creating new stars. Constellations Roman didn’t recognize, and was fairly certain Virgil didn’t know either. So it wasn’t just that he didn’t pay enough attention in astronomy class.

Young Virgil stared on in awe and stepped back in surprise as his magic fire returned to him and burst into an inferno, revealing a phoenix made of purple flames.

Virgil hesitated and bowed. The Phoenix let out a majestic cry and flew straight through Virgil, making his robes flare up and his hair blow back. It was much shorter at this time in his life, but long enough to be affected. Virgil looked behind him and he was back in the meditation room, the door glowing with his magic and opening.

His classmates streamed in.

“That was wicked cool!” Remus exclaimed as he threw an arm over Virgil’s shoulder.

“Uh… What was?” Virgil asked.

“Let’s just say for a moment I thought there’d be a phoenix permanently burned into the doors to the ascension chamber,” Janus smirked.

“Indeed. Congratulations. Virgilious, fate spinner, Mage of the dark phoenix,” their teacher allowed.

Roman looked at Virgil.

“My first nickname. Based on my ability to weave any sort of spell into fabric. Cleaning was my first one but I perfected it to a point where I could integrate three different spells into one fabric. After building a proper reputation as a high mage I got the name Night Flame,” Virgil explained.

Roman looked to the crowd and spotted Gustav standing by the edge. Observing with a closed expression.

Though past Virgil wasn’t looking directly at him so that wasn’t necessarily how he looked at the time.

Past Virgil was too busy feeling bashful about the attention and the title.

Roman felt a little bad for the young Arch mage. If things had gone just a little differently, he would’ve been part of the past few memories rather than a figure in the background.

“Gustav. I believe you were next?” The teacher stated. Now Virgil’s attention did go to him. Gustav hid some kind of expression and nodded formally.

“Watch him get a gnome,” someone whispered in the group, making a few others laugh and Gustav flush.

“What would be wrong with that? Gnomes are mischievous but creative and in tune with nature. There is no such thing as a bad guide. Only shortsighted, immature mages who probably shouldn’t be getting theirs yet,” Virgil scolded his classmates who looked sheepish at being called out like that.

“It’s alright Virgil,” Gustav said, finding his confidence. “Who knows? Maybe I will get a less popular guide. I’m not stupid, I know that is more in line with my standing,” he noted, strolling to the center of the room. “Then again,” he stated as he turned around. “Maybe I’ll be the dragon who will unite the lands under one crown. And you’ll all wish you’d tried a little harder to get my favor,” he smirked as he dropped himself into a cross legged position. “Well, most of you,” he finished.

The teacher guided the group out of the room. Virgil looked back briefly and found that Gustav had dropped the bravado and looked nervous. And then the door closed.

“We don’t need to see every ceremony. There was no dragon that year in any case. But I had learned that if I was going to ever become a high mage, I’d have to come to terms with the fact that I’d have to learn to fly. Remus tried pretty much the day after the ceremony to ascend. And Janus had started daily meditations in preparation for a serious attempt a month or two later.

I was nowhere near mentally ready to even think of that. So… I practiced.”

Roman looked up and they found themselves in a small clearing in a forest. Virgil was pacing the forest floor.

“A bird. Of course I had to be a freaking bird… That’s fine though. I can prepare. This time tomorrow I’m not going to be held back by something as silly as a fear of heights.”

Past Virgil stood still in the middle of the meadow and retrieved a feather from his satchel.

And then his form shrunk and changed. And before them stood a falcon, moving his body experimentally.

“Changing shape gets much easier once you ascend. As you might have noticed. When ascending you essentially abandon a physical form, and become magic yourself. And magic, can take any shape it needs to with ease. Before that… It feels a bit uncomfortable to shape your body in a form that is not its own,” Virgil explained.

“So, changing your looks wouldn’t be as uncomfortable as becoming an animal,” Roman concluded.

“Yeah. Depending on how much you change, but I suppose even changing yourself to an entirely different body type is more doable than becoming a different species,” Virgil agreed as his past self-made a few clumsy attempts to get up on a fallen tree to have a launch platform.

“What you see next stays between us alright?” Virgil asked.

Roman nodded. “I wasn’t going to share a second of this with anyone anyway,” Roman promised.

Virgil smiled at him and then focused on the memory again where the falcon took off. And fell out of the sky almost immediately. Roman blinked and the falcon was back on the tree.

Took of once more, and fell again.

A few more minutes went by. Though Roman never saw the impact. Just the moment that Virgil lost the fight with gravity and then he started over again.

“You fell a lot,” Roman observed.

“I was much too stubborn. Getting tired made it harder,” Virgil huffed.

The memory showed an exhausted falcon, falling asleep on the forest floor… That didn’t seem safe.

Indeed. The sky grew dark and something emerged from the bushes. A fox.

Luckily Virgil woke up just in time to doge it’s attack. He cawed in warning but the fox must’ve been very hungry or in need for some food for their cubs perhaps, because it tried to attack again. Virgil, rather than turning human, fueled by adrenaline, launched himself skyward, and this time, managed to remain there. Flying up above the treetops, elated at his success, and from the looks of it he soon found himself at home among the winds.

He flew past the forest edge and made his way into a familiar village. He returned to his human form on the pathway and was immediately greeted by his family who’d been worried since he hadn’t come home before sundown as he usually did. His father had been about to go look for him.

It was a sweet display.

Then the memory shifted to inside the home. The family was gathered and an older man and two young adults were measuring them. Much to the delight of Virgil’s little sister.

“We did well for ourselves after I figured out the self-cleaning fabric thing. So, when the time came for the introduction ball of the new great mages of that year, we decided to splurge on some new clothes. We didn’t usually do anything fancy so I had a tailor from the city come to make us all something fitting for the occasion.

And, I met the guy who taught me to… appreciate dressing up,” Virgil admitted. Fondly looking at the young man who was clearly trying not to be weird while taking a great mage’s measurements.

“What happened to the lyre player?” Roman asked curiously. Recalling what Virgil said about the first man he kissed while they were sitting at the loom.

“Oh, that was years before this. I was… Sixteen. He was part of a traveling band, but they ran into some bad luck and needed a lot of repairs, so they stayed the summer and did odd jobs to pay for their repairs and necessities and such. We… hit it off. But at the end I had duties in the city and he went back to the road,” Virgil recalled.

“How old are you at this point?” Roman wondered. Virgil had been around Roman’s age when he stopped aging. And he was a great mage in this one, so this couldn’t be too long before that.

Virgil hummed.

“Well, gosh, I haven’t thought about that for a while… But I was 18 when I became a wizard… 19 when I became a great wizard. And… Yeah about 25 when I became a mage.” Roman nodded. That wasn’t an unusual timeline.

“I think… I think I’m 27, almost 28 at this point,” he decided.

Roman observed past Virgil exchange a smile and a joke with the apprentice, making him laugh and relax. He looked cute.

They watched just a little longer. Seeing the young man start to gush animatedly about his passions and Virgil starting to get intrigued.

Then Virgil showed him his next memory.

They were in a large room, lit up with various types of magic lighting. Making for a festive atmosphere. There was music playing and there were people dancing in gorgeous suits and gowns in styles entirely unfamiliar to Roman.

So far he’d seen Virgil and the others wear robes and the casual fashion of commoners that didn’t change as much. He almost wished Virgil had shown him a local festival so he could’ve seen what they’d worn for such an occasion.

He spotted Virgil and his family. The ladies looking lovely in purple gowns with feather’s in their braids. His mother’s hair in an updo and his sisters and another woman Roman didn’t recognize in a lovely half up half down. Their gowns had high collars, tiny glass beads sewn in into the fabric to make them shimmer like the night sky. Their sleeves long and widening from the elbows down. Their skirts flowing delicately with every move. Virgil, his brother and father were all wearing a similar costume consisting of a dark purple shirt with black pants and ties. His father and brother wearing a decorative feather shoulder piece on opposite shoulders while Virgil wore one on both. All the men had the shadows under their eyes, most men at the party did. It really was a fashion trend.

They looked great, and excited to be there.

They greeted a few people at the door. Virgil was predictably dismissive of his teacher’s praises and his family’s pride. He introduced his brother Michael, his sister in law Penelope and his little sister Mariane alongside his parents, Francis and Evelyn. Once he felt there’d been enough introductions he took his sister to the dancefloor she’d been eyeing since the moment they got in.

“Don’t worry,” he assured her when he saw her look at the crowd. “It’s all in the lead. So I’ll be the one looking bad if something goes wrong.” His sister rolled her eyes and stepped on his foot on purpose, much to his amusement.

Then he took her in a spin around the room. Mariane looked like she was having the time of her life. Dressed up and dancing at a ball.

And then a handsome young man tapped Virgil on the shoulder, interrupting their dance.

The young man was a bit flushed as he took in Mariane before turning to Virgil.

“My apologies, mister Virgil. Would, either of you,” he glanced hopefully to Mariane, “Mind if I cut in?” he asked.

Virgil smirked and looked at his sister who was clearly taken aback by this turn of events.

“Mariane, this is one of Janus’ cousins, Vincent. Vincent, this is my beloved little sister Mariane. Do you mind keeping Vincent company while I look for his cousin and Remus?” Virgil asked.

Mariane shook her head. “Not at all,” she breathed. And so Virgil handed her over with care and left the floor to look for his friends.

He found them soon. Both dressed even more lavishly than Virgil was. Remus a collage of styles and suits that were all demanding attention. Janus seemed to have pieces of scaled leather incorporated in his suit. Probably showcasing their guide.

Roman noticed Gustav talking to a few noble looking men with a woman at his arm that must’ve been his mother. His suit was modest if not for the ornate pieces of jewelry added to it.

Remus and Janus praised Virgil for his suit and they talked about old times and their plans for the future. Virgil laughed with them but kept glancing at the dancefloor.

Suddenly something startled him and without a word he made his way back towards the center where Roman also spotted someone trying to cut between Vincent and Mariane. Something neither seemed interested in.

“Excuse me,” Virgil announced putting himself between the pair and the third wheel.

“… Great mage Virgil. Good evening. I merely wanted to honor your sister with a dance,” the man assured Virgil.

“The honor would be yours entirely, if she was interested, which she isn’t. Go find someone who is Philipe,” he warned.

“Ah, so you know who I am… Wouldn’t you agree that it would be in your family’s best interest to…”

“I would agree to no such thing,” Virgil interjected. And Roman could feel power build even in this memory. Clearly mister Philipe hadn’t expected that reaction.

“In fact, I think you’ll find it would be in you and your family’s best interest not to anger me any further. I would be very careful of angering the Dark Phoenix. For they are loyal and reliable and inspire such traits in those they meet. I have friends Philipe, and those friends might have more influence than you’d like,” Virgil warned.

“Virgil… You are…” Mariane said softly behind him.

“Is that a threat mage?” Philipe challenged.

“It is a promise that I am not afraid to put you in your place in front of this whole party,” Virgil growled. And around him people gathered, looking at Philipe like his judgement had already been passed. And it wasn’t favorable. Vincent had escorted Mariane to her parents and they all looked on while Virgil laid down the law.

Philipe seemed nervous now, looking around the room and seeing no support. He was about to say something else but then backed away in fear. Virgil’s building power was more obvious now, his clothes and hair flaring and moments later, it erupted with a protective fury from his being.

For a moment Virgil was completely gone. Only a shapeless mass of purple flames in his space.

“Virgil!” his family called, and as if in answer to his name, the flames took the shape of a bird, and then a man, and then Virgil reemerged from the flames. Reborn as a high mage.

[thatgirlwithasquid]

letters that i can never send

words: 25,571

Chrissy/Tina | Teen and Up Audiences | POV Tina | Ghost Chrissy Cunningham | Letters | Right Person Wrong Time | Unhappy Ending

beyond excited to get to share my fic for @sapphicstevents' stranger things sapphic mini bang!! writing it definitely fought me for a while but i'm really proud of this fic.

so here's the first chapter and a cover i threw together to post it with! the whole fic is up on ao3 here, and @hullomoon has been amazing and created a podfic of the work for anyone interested in listening <3

---

Chapter 1 : A Pack Of Green Scrunchies

words: 5,739

June 20th, 1986

Dear Chrissy,

I wish I had known you before everything went mad. 

I think I told you that before, but I mean it now more than I meant it then. It feels so crazy to think that we went through school walking past each other in the halls and not even glancing in each other’s direction. I know that I did the same thing to other kids but it still feels impossible.

My mom took me out to the mall the other day—there’s a mall in this town, not like the destroyed one in Hawkins. It’s full of people and stores and it's loud. I didn’t like it. I always used to find it annoying how quiet Hawkins was sometimes, but I hate how loud it is here. There’s too many people talking and smiling and I can’t see them without thinking about how oblivious I was before I met you.

They were selling scrunchies in one of the stores. My mom was looking for a new purse but I stopped to look at them instead. I bought a pack of green ones because they made me think of you. I wonder if that’s what you would smell like; cotton fabric and lingering perfume from my wrist.

I miss you. 

Tina.

—

The lights in the hospital waiting room hum with an electric static. Even under all the anxious chatter and background noise of the hospital, it’s the only thing Tina can hear. Well, that and the fading ringing in her ears.

Her hands clench and unclench around the hem of her shirt as she watches the minutes tick by. Beside her, her dad’s leg bounces up and down. She’s not sure if he’s aware of her watching him. The man stares ahead down the crowded hall through the chaos as if her mother will suddenly appear there, good as new.

Tina doesn’t say anything, just reaches out and entwines their fingers, letting out a sigh of relief as her father squeezes her hand back. She needs his strength to lean on. It doesn’t matter that, rationally, Tina knows her mother’s injuries from the earthquake were far from the most severe that came through those hospital doors today.

She’s never been more scared than she was when her dad came stumbling out of the rubble, shirt bloodied and with her mom’s arm over his shoulder to support her weight. Tina had been so frantic that she can’t even remember if her mother had been conscious at that point. She was out cold during the drive to the hospital, though; the sounds of ambulances and firetrucks and police cars responding to the destruction weren’t even enough to break her from her state. Her father had somehow remained stoic then, too.

Thankfully, it’s not too much longer before a nurse lets them visit her mom. After hours of waiting, they’re more than ready to see how she’s doing. 

With all the trouble caused during the disaster, her mom is crammed into a room with other people, separated only by a flimsy curtain. Around them, the relieved reconciliation of other patients and their families fade into the background as Tina reaches her mother’s side and grasps at her hand where it lays atop her blankets. 

IVs poke into her skin and wires trail off to monitors she doesn’t even begin to want to look at. Instead, Tina focuses her gaze on her mom’s weary face. She looks tired, eyes rimmed with dark circles that are only accentuated by the pale colouring of her skin. But she seems okay, all things considered, and Tina sighs out in a relieved whoosh of breath.

The nurse goes over her mom’s condition with her dad, but Tina hardly takes in a word—the moment the nurse confirms that her mom will be okay, she tunes her out entirely. Instead, Tina drinks in the sight of her mom, brushing a careful thumb over her scraped knuckles and almost tearing up when her mom gives her a small smile in return.

Eventually, the nurse hurries off again and Tina’s dad slumps into a chair beside the bed. Tina barely glances his way, too scared to look away from her mom, convinced that if she so much as takes her eyes off her, something terrible will happen again.

“Tina,” her mom sighs. “I’m okay. You don’t need to look so worried.”

Tina shakes her head.

“I was so scared,” she manages, voice cracking under the tears she spent so long suppressing. They finally rush down her face in a flood of emotion, tasting salty where they converge in the corners of her mouth.

“Oh, baby,” her mom says, voice softening. “It’s going to be okay now, okay? Why don’t you go and get some rest, you look exhausted.”

Tina can’t help but laugh at that, an ironic, choking thing. “I look exhausted?”

“Well,” her mom smiles before shifting slightly and doing her best to smother a wince. “I’m already laying down and getting rest. I’m more worried about you.”

Guilt stabs Tina’s heart like a blade. Her mom’s the one in a hospital bed, with doctors and nurses hovering around outside to help if needed, and yet Tina’s the one acting like the world’s weighing down on her shoulders. It’s shameful in its own way. 

Tina always thought she was strong enough to be her parents’ equal. She did well enough in school and had plenty of friends; her parents saw how grown up she was and even helped her plan her Halloween parties; her mom told her everything—every annoying thing someone at work said, every snippy little complaint about her dad forgetting to hang the washing out…

And here she is now. Comforting Tina like she’s a little kid in need of a nap and not a seventeen-year-old who should be better than this. So, she shakes her head, plastering on a smile even as her eyes sting with another wave of tears and, admittedly, exhaustion.

Before she can put up much protest, her dad pipes up to agree with her mom. It doesn’t leave enough room for anything more than Tina going along with what they want. Her dad almost follows before he hesitates, catching her mom’s eye. She nods back at him.

“Why don’t you see about finding some dinner for us two? I won’t be far behind you, I just need to have a talk with your mom.”

What is Tina supposed to do about that other than leave? She’s obligated to listen to her parents, even if she wants to stay. Besides, she’s sure she’ll be visiting her mom as often as she can until she’s discharged. 

So, it’s fine. All this is fine.

When she gets to the door, Tina turns and looks back at her parents one last time. With all the other people talking in the room, she can’t make out what her parents are discussing. What she can make out is the way her father’s face pinches into a concerned frown. 

Whatever it is they wanted to talk over without her must be serious. Resigned, Tina sets off in search of the cafeteria. It feels strange, pushing on through crowds of the distraught and the injured. Against her better judgement, her eyes catch and linger on the horror around her. 

Nothing will ever be the same after this, not in Hawkins at least. Too much bad has happened, too much to even let herself think about.

By the time her dad finds her in the cafeteria that evening, the dinner that Tina bought them has long since gone cold.

—

School doesn’t reopen until a week later—a week filled with funerals and clean up and searching for anyone still buried under the rubble. During that time, Tina recovers what she can from her trashed house to cram into some other girl’s bedroom. She should probably count her lucky stars that its usual inhabitant left for college a year ago, otherwise she would be knocking elbows in this little space—seemingly so much smaller than her own room was.

She longs for home: for her corkboard of polaroids of herself and her friends, for each marker line creeping up her door frame dedicated to a year of her life, for her fuzzy blue blanket, and for so many more little comforts that she had taken for granted. Staying here, in someone else’s bedroom while her dad stays on the pull-out downstairs, makes her feel strangely like a jigsaw piece jammed into the wrong puzzle.

There’s nothing to be done about that, with the roof of her house half-collapsed it’s not like they have much choice other than this. She is grateful that her dad’s work friend—Mr. Daniels—took them in, but that doesn’t stop her longing for what she’s lost.

Returning to class brings back none of the normality she longs for, either. Sure, the cracks in the road outside have been hastily paved over for the most part and the classrooms have been deemed safe to return to despite whatever state the earthquake had left them in, but everything has so clearly shifted…

All Tina sees, everywhere she looks, are the empty seats. The ones from kids whose families fled the town are one thing, one type of grief for the friends she’s not sure she’ll ever see again. The rest are something else entirely, vacant seats that will never be filled; those seats offer no question to their absence in Tina’s life.

So far, she has been to eight funerals. Three of them were some of her best friends. She didn’t sleep the nights after any of those. After the last one, she hasn’t been able to bring herself to attend any more; it turns out that there’s only so many bodies you can handle saying goodbye to within such a short period of time.

Mr. Clarke clears his throat, trying to recapture the forlorn attention of the room. Even he can’t seem to muster a genuine smile so Tina doesn’t know how he expects the students to care about any of this. Honestly, she’s surprised the school has even bothered swapping teachers to fill in for staff absences with how little chance they have at passing their exams after all this. If their grief wasn’t enough, having a teacher so clearly unprepared to deal with older kids isn’t going to help them learn at all.

She remembers Mr. Clarke from middle school and almost, very briefly, feels bad for thinking poorly of him. He’d been a nice enough teacher. She’s sure he’s still nice enough, but she just doesn’t have it in her to care about stuff like that anymore. Not after everything. She’s not sure how she fits into this new, broken version of Hawkins; how the hell should she be able to care about how everyone else fits in?

Slowly, the eyes of the class do raise to the man where he stands, squirming at the front of the room, backdropped by the chalkboard covered in scrawled science Tina hasn’t understood a word of. She can’t help but think that their usual teacher would have explained it in a way that made so much more sense to her.

She doesn’t know if that teacher is one of the leavers or worse.

Everyone sits quietly as Mr. Clarke stumbles his way through telling them about the commemorative assembly that is going to be held in the gym. Both schools will be coming together in a few days time to remember their lost friends, or at least that’s the plan.

Silence hangs in the air for another excruciating moment. Then the whispering finally begins. Names get thrown around, ones Tina is sure must belong to the dead.

“Jason,” someone whispers.

“Carol,” says another.

“Nicole—”

The whispering gets cut off abruptly by the scraping of a chair as it’s shoved out from under its desk. Some kid launches himself to his feet and stalks out of the room, eyes red-rimmed. Behind him, the classroom door slams shut on a spluttering Mr. Clarke.

Whispers start up again in the wake of his sudden departure. This time, Tina tunes them out. Instead, she sets her thoughts adrift, steering away from anything too dour to think on. She doesn’t want to deal with this today. They’ve only been back at school for a day. 

She isn’t ready for this yet. It doesn’t feel like there has been nearly enough time for any of them to come to terms with this. How the hell are they going to get through these last two months of school and—

“Tina!”

Blinking back to her senses, Tina looks up, across the lunch table and to whoever called her name. It’s Vicki, looking at her with wide, concerned eyes. She probably should be concerned, Tina can only vaguely recall walking to the cafeteria, she’d been so trapped in her own mind.

“Sorry, what did you say?” she asks.

It’s just the two of them, perched on the edge of a sparsely populated table. Their group used to be a lot bigger.

“I—” Vicki starts, hesitates, and then leverages a painfully forced smile onto her face. “I asked if you figured out what you wanted to do at college yet.”

She wants to wince, to cringe away from the inane topic. It makes her feel sick to pretend that everything is normal. People died, other people got hurt, the town is a mess. Why would they be worrying about stuff like this as if it means anything at all anymore?

“I don’t know. With my mom in the hospital everything’s changed. I haven’t had time to think about it.”

Vicki squirms uncomfortably at her confrontational tone, looking chastised. It makes her deflate a little, feeling suddenly very cruel. Just because Tina doesn’t know how to play at being normal, doesn’t mean she has to be such an ass to her friend over it. She still cares about her and being a bitch is only going to drive a wedge between them. It’s not like she has many friends left after everything, either.

Her hands tremble in her lap and she shakes them out as if that might banish some of her simmering nerves. It doesn’t. With a tense kind of control, Tina pushes up to her feet. Vicki’s eyes swivel up to her, surprised by the abrupt shift.

“Bathroom,” Tina chokes out, trying to tamper down the frustration in her voice.

“Tina…” Vicki starts but Tina is already walking away.

The lighting in the bathroom is dingy and off-putting, and yet the electric buzzing of those fluorescents still puts her in mind of sterile hospital walls. Her mom’s been making a great recovery, she reminds herself. She’ll be home before she knows it. Maybe then everything will start going back to normal.

The porcelain basin of the sink stares, glaringly white up at her as she leans over, splashing her face with metallic-tasting water from the old taps. Her ragged breaths send speckles of water back into it as it drips in trails down her face. She’s probably smudged her makeup now, and it didn’t even help at all.

With a choked sob, Tina turns her face upwards, meeting the paled expression of her reflection; eyes wide, droplets of water clinging to mascara-tinted lashes. But that’s not all she sees.

A sick feeling of horror settles deep in her stomach as she notices something from the corner of her eye—something hovering behind her, in the corner of the bathroom. The room had been empty when she came in. Heart hammering, startled by being snuck up on, Tina whirls around to see—

Nothing.

Just an empty, dingy, school bathroom. The green doors of toilet stalls stare back at her impassively as she clutches a hand to her chest, willing her racing pulse to settle.

It was nothing. It was her mind playing tricks on her. It had to be nothing. Because if not, how could she explain that fleeting glimpse of the ghost of Chrissy Cunningham?

—

Tina’s pen taps restlessly against the Daniels’ kitchen table, the only sound in the eerily silent house.

Sharing a living space with another family comes with all the chaos one would expect, with each of their routines clashing loudly and incompatibly as they stumble around each other each morning and night. And yet the quiet moments like this are almost worse, when everyone is out working or visiting the hospital or whatever else it is these people do. Aside from Tina, it’s empty. Abandoned, almost, like the rest of this god-forsaken ghost town.

She scratches a frustrated line through her pitiful homework attempt and pushes it away across the table, out of sight and out of mind as she stares distractedly out the window. The chair she sits on creaks as she leans to the side, trying to look out into the street. Usually at this time of the evening, kids would be running around, excited and playing in the warm spring air. Usually parents would be seen and heard, trying to cajole their kids inside for whatever they had cooked up or ordered in for dinner.

Tonight, there is nothing but a creeping sunset that paints the sky a dull pink, like drops of blood diluted in a lake of blue. There is no one finding time to play, and no one enjoying a peaceful evening, and Tina’s parents aren’t here. It’s just her, alone with her anxious mind.

She should be at the hospital, trying her best to be there for her dad and checking in on her mom. But going there again and again felt like poisoning herself, losing herself in worry that would set her heart pounding and mind spiralling. It doesn’t matter to her scared brain that she knows her mom is doing much better, she still can’t help but feel sick with worry.

And she’s so tired. It makes visiting her mom so difficult because her mom gives her this pitiful, concerned look whenever she sees her like this. Tina just can’t take that; being a burden to her parents instead of a place of support. They have nothing to be worried about, really. It— She’s just tired…

She can’t sleep with worrying about if something happened to her mom in the night, or if another earthquake might come to completely level this damn town. And what’s more, her mind hasn’t been able to stray far from the thought of what she saw—or what she thinks she saw—in that damn bathroom. Any time her mind has a chance to wander, her thoughts get inevitably dragged back to that sight.

She had only glimpsed her for a fleeting moment but that had been enough. Enough to see the shape of blood splatters on her cheer uniform and the inhuman pallor of her skin… Now, every sound—every creaking shift of this unfamiliar house, every car driving by, every sudden noise—leaves her jumping, expecting to see something horrific around her as if she’s being tormented by some twisted apparition. She hates it.

She should know better than this, she doesn’t even believe in ghosts! Whatever she saw must just be a trick of the mind. And yet.

With a frustrated groan, Tina pushes her chair out from the table and stands. Sitting around like this is doing her no good, either. It’s like she can’t escape any of this worry for even a second. Or, at least, she can’t when crammed into too-small rooms that have no space for the shape of her grief.

Her loaned keys chime against each other as she snatches them from the countertop. She just needs to get out of the house, walk around and clear her head. Maybe then all this anxiety can start to dissipate and the memory of that hallucination will fade.

Locking the door behind her, Tina wanders off in whatever direction her feet decide to take her. 

The air is clear outside and she hopes that might ease some of the tension that she has been holding, coiled and aching, within her. It’s hard to remember that she doesn’t need to be prepared for something awful to happen, because chances are nothing will.

She wishes she believed that.

Every time she blinks back to awareness, she finds herself on a different stretch of road that she can’t recall making the conscious choice to head to. This walk clearly isn’t doing anything for her. Clear her mind? What a ridiculous idea. How the hell could a place as fucked up as Hawkins bring her any relief, no matter where she might go or what she might do? It’s like the only thing her body knows how to do here anymore is to run on autopilot—to keep her body moving as her thoughts keep on spiralling.

She stills, taking a frustrated breath and at least trying to keep track of where she’s ended up. Her eyes scan her surroundings, taking note of how the efforts to fix up the town haven't reached this far yet, great deep cracks still clear and precariously crisscrossing the roads, splitting the asphalt open to reveal the exposed bowels of the earth.

It’s not something she’s that surprised by. Ahead of her, the road turns off into the trailer park. It makes sense that no one has prioritised fixing up things around here. With the abandoned yellow streamers of police tape, catching and glinting in the golden hour, it’s only too easy to remember what happened here all too recently.

Tina cringes at the sight of them, dancing in the gentle breeze like they don’t know what they mean. Like they don’t know a girl was massacred inside that place. Still, she can’t quite tear her eyes away. For a long, breathless moment, she just stares, caught in the bone-deep wrongness of that place. And then, like ice slithering down her spine, a stomach-churning feeling of horror settles upon her. It takes a hold in her chest before she even realises the cause of it.

Just barely visible from this far away, lingering in the window of the Munson’s trailer, is the shape of a person, standing stock-still. The longer she stares, breaths shallow and fast under the weight of that settling dread, the more the distant shape seems to resemble a girl, its silhouette becoming more convincingly feminine as that agonising second draws out longer and longer, running on forever as her gaze refuses to budge from the sight.

It’s like time has stopped. 

Tina doesn’t realise she’s stepping away until her feet scuff against the uneven ground and she nearly loses her balance. That, at least, is enough to break her out of her trance even if the terror sinking into her stomach refuses to dissipate; she rips her gaze away from the trailer as if burned. It feels like the shape of that figure is scorched into her retina now.

Unwilling to look back at that window, Tina runs.

—

Sitting through the commemorative assembly in the school’s gymnasium is like pulling teeth. Every word jars her, striking through with pained awareness of how overcrowded the room is playing host to two schools and yet not nearly as crowded as it should be.

She feels like an exposed nerve, too vulnerable for this. Her eyes burn with exhaustion and the threat of tears.

At some point she stops listening entirely, too mentally overwhelmed as she tries not to think about anything at all if it will get the ringing in her ears to stop. As she looks down at her hands, the shadows cast by the lines of her palms form a dark echo of the blood and grime she remembers from that day. She had to trim her nails as short as she could to get rid of the last traces of it.

When they’re finally dismissed, the end of the speeches coinciding with the end of the school day, Tina lingers behind at a shout of her name.

Waving over at her from through the dispersing crowd is Vicki. There are strained creases around the corners of her eyes as she weaves her way to meet Tina but she valiantly keeps a smile in place, something more than Tina can say for herself.

“You want to tag along with me? I’m heading to meet Samantha, she snuck some of her parents' booze in all the confusion so we’re going to meet up and let off some steam.”

“Samantha Stone?” Tina clarifies. “Since when do you hang around with Samantha?”

Vicki scoffs. “Since almost everyone else is gone.”

Tina presses her lips together to keep the sudden roll of nausea at that blasé statement at bay. Vicki seems to pick up on it, her expression dimming marginally with her concern, but she chooses not to question it. Instead, she strides on, head held high.

“Anyway, we all have people’s memories to drink to. I cannot deal with the aftermath of that stupid assembly while sober. So, you coming or what?”

Tina takes a steadying breath and follows. After all, it’s not like she’s got any better ideas. 

The crowd that gathers at the edge of the school’s field is a mishmash of different people, most of whom Tina has only ever seen around each other in the classroom or at her own parties. They seem to clump together uncertainly, stilted conversations offered between each other about inane topics that Tina doesn’t have the energy to entertain.

Regardless, she loiters around with the group, accepting whatever drinks get thrust into her hand and taking great gulps to avoid joining any conversations. Listening is more than enough, if you can even class what she’s doing as listening. 

Everyone else, at least, seems on the same page about getting shit-faced. As the hours creep by, shoulders finally start to slump and the group gets rowdier the drunker they get. Bottles are uncapped with grandiose claims of them being in honour of someone who couldn’t be there with them.

Silently, Tina raises her own drink, the faces of her friends flashing in her minds’ eye. 

At some point, Vicki leaves her place at Tina’s side. She looks up to see her, arms interlocked, with Samantha and laughing the way she only does when she’s really tipsy. For a second, Tina considers going over to talk to them, but when she gets up from her spot on the bench her body feels clumsy and uncoordinated. It’s probably better that she stays here, leaning against the seat for support.

There’s another kid who could probably benefit from the same. He’s pale aside from a splotchy flush to his cheeks as he stumbles ungainly out from the tree line.

“Didn’t get lost taking a piss then?” his friend taunts as he wobbles his way back over to their side.

“I think I just saw a ghost,” he says in a daze.

Everyone laughs at that. Tina tries not to think at all.

The sun is creeping towards the horizon and Tina is far too many drinks in when the nausea finally hits her. It feels like a physical thing, crawling its way up her throat.

“Shit,” she gasps, floundering up onto her feet at last and heading blindly into the trees. At least there she might have just a smidge more privacy in her shame.

Her sneakers shuffle over uneven earth, hesitant at first until the need to puke becomes too much and she hurries further along, with all the uncoordinated grace she can muster. Knees meet the ground and an arm braces against a tree as she sucks in deep breaths. They slowly soothe the sickness away. In the end, she’s not sure if it’s better or worse that she didn’t actually vomit.

Head still hazy, she looks up and widens her awareness back to her surroundings.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she says, clambering back to her feet, as she spots them.

It’s a girl. It’s too far away to be sure but she looks to be dressed in a cheer uniform, at least from what Tina can see. The girl is curled around herself, sitting with her back against a tree and her head in her hands.

This could be it. This could be that same hallucination. 

Tina should just go—whether or not this is real, she just needs to leave it alone. If this is just some other student from their drunken group, then her crying is none of Tina’s business. Hell, she’s had to step away for private moments herself and it’s not the sort of thing you want to be walked in on. And if this is Chrissy, then… Well, then that doesn't bode well to think about.

Leaves and twigs crunch underfoot, stealing any stealth she might have managed, as Tina approaches. Not like it matters, the girl doesn’t react at all, as if she can’t even hear her.

The closer she gets the less she can deny it. That strawberry-blonde hair, held back from her face by a green scrunchie; that small stature; the familiar cheer uniform, speckled with somehow still-red blood… She may not have known Chrissy personally, but Tina had certainly seen her around enough to be able to recognise her.

She slows to a stop, looking down at the figure of her. From here she can see that her head isn’t actually in her hands. She’s covering her ears, muttering something under her breath that Tina can’t quite make out without getting closer.

Tina’s mouth opens to speak but she finds it suddenly dry, her throat barren. She clears her throat, the sound perversely loud in the atmosphere around her.

“Chrissy?” she manages finally, voice little more than a whisper.

Chrissy’s head snaps up to look at her, eyes wide and frantic. Her whole body tenses, posture coiling and shifting as if she’s preparing to bolt, and for a moment Tina feels that same need to flee echoed in herself. Neither of them do.

Tearful, blue eyes take in Tina’s face before some of the fight seems to drain from her, slumping infinitesimally against the tree behind her. Tina, though, doesn’t relax and her alcohol slowed mind fumbles to come to grips with the sight before her.

Chrissy, where she sits in the leaves and dirt and forest debris, is so pale. Every so often, the very vision of her seems to flicker in Tina’s sight, as if the girl herself were not fully corporeal… trapped between this world and the next.

“Are… Are you real?” Chrissy breathes, voice small and broken.

The irony of that startles a laugh from Tina before she can help it. 

Shouldn’t she be the one asking that? Chrissy is the dead girl out of the two of them. If either of them should be mistrusting their minds right now, it should be Tina. Because if ghosts aren’t real, as Tina had always believed so strongly, then how can Tina be facing this right now?

“Am I real?” she scoffs, voice bordering on hysterical. “You’re the dead girl here.”

“What?” Chrissy asks in that same crushed tone.

“You’re dead,” Tina tells her, because what else is there to say?

Somehow, Chrissy seems to pale further, as if blood was rushing away from her non-existent face.

“No. N-no. I’m not, I can’t be. What are you talking about?”

“You died. In the Munsons’ trailer.”

“You’re lying. I’m right here—I can’t be—” Chrissy’s voice becomes shrill and stricken with panic before an anger steals over her features. “This isn’t funny. What kind of joke is that? I just—I need to get home.”

Tina scoffs, almost disbelieving, and steadies her swaying against a low-hanging branch.

“I went to your funeral. You’re dead. And I must be going crazy…”

The last part comes out half as a laugh, half as a sigh. It’s a fact she’s resigned herself to uncomfortably quickly, but what other explanation could there be? People don’t just see visions of dead girls sitting around and telling them they can’t be dead if they’re not mad.

Chrissy’s expression glazes over, seeming to be lost in her own mind as a fresh wave of tears give a new shine to those mournful eyes.

“You’re lying,” she says again, but this time she sounds more defeated than accusing, like it makes sense to her even if she doesn’t want it to be true.

Or Tina’s mind thinks Chrissy shouldn’t want it to be true—if Chrissy’s ghost actually was in front of her, that is. But she isn’t, because that would be preposterous. She’s just had too much to drink, and she’s been feeling paranoid, and it’s not as if she’s been able to rest since all of this began.

She doesn’t know why she’s indulging this in the first place. 

Her mouth opens to say something to that effect. Surely she has some smartass comment about it all, but all that remains in her mind are the wispy impressions of the thought as she tries her best to reorient herself. In the end, she gets nothing out before a voice calls out for her. 

Damn, she’s been out here for too long. She’s not even really sure how much time has slipped away without her notice between her leaving the gathering and ending up where she stands now.

Right, that decides it, she’s leaving. This—all of this—is something she doesn’t want any part in. Not ghosts, or hallucinations, or whatever any of this is and certainly not while she’s drunk. There are a thousand more important things she could be worrying about, she chides herself as she turns on her heel and sets her eyes on the way back. In fact, she’s mid-step when a feeble voice calls out for her.

“Please, don’t go. I’m scared to be alone…”

Tina pauses, her heart pounding.

“I need to get back,” she says; to herself, because there is no one else there. 

For a moment, Chrissy is quiet. Tina almost thinks the hallucination has finally dissipated when she speaks up again.

“Will you come back?”

Tina’s heart stutters in her chest. This isn’t real. None of this is real. She turns to look behind her and Chrissy is gone, not even a trace of her to be seen. 

“Tina!”

“Yeah,” Tina replies, the words mumbled to herself, as she finally unsticks her feet from the ground to return to the group. 

---

chapter 2

[lailuhhh]

Okay okay so I had this AU idea but it’s not something I could pull off so I’m here going to yell about it because I can’t stop thinking about it. And maybe because I think you’d write it so well

What if Mac didn’t want to join the army? What if Harry or James forced him too? And he’s been banned from coming home(for a specific period of time). Is it because Harry’s sick and dying and doesn’t want his grandson to see him like this? Is it James for a more sinister specific reason?

So Mac doesn’t want to be there. He wants to go home. He’s had basically bad experiences with most of the people he’s interacted with(I’m a sucker for Mac’s previous overwatches being awful to him) and Peña was the exception but he’s gone and now he’s stuck with Dalton and he’s got so much time left here still and Dalton gets to go home soon.

They still don’t get along but Mac still saves Jack and he’s shocked when Jack stays because he gets to go home and choose to stay. Ahh it would be so interesting.

✨✨✨✨✨✨BESTIE✨✨✨✨✨✨

Okay what if Mac’s considered a troubled child? He has a record of everything that he’s done and really the only big thing was exploding the football field. He’s the weird kid but is still the Mac we know and love

Assuming everything is still pretty much the same, Harry and James still talk and James gets updates on everything Mac does and that was like the decision of him going to the army. Harry opposes it because he knows the horrors of it but doesn’t really have the final say in anything because while he’s technically Mac’s guardian, James is— unfortunately— still his father

Let’s assume Mac got a scholarship, but it’s really James setting his plan into place and through the magic of television, through signing all the paperwork and everything and getting the scholarship settled, Mac said he’d join the army when he turned 18

So Mac more or less gets literally escorted out of his dorm and shoved onto an army bus and taken away to basic, all while calling Harry trying to figure out what’s happening but Harry just tells him he signed a contract. Mac even calls the Bozers to try to help out because they actually care and don’t want him sent into a battlefield

Training and everything passes, old overwatches come and go, Peña is the only person who says the whole situation is fucked up and tells Mac he’ll look into it because legally the contract Mac signed was null and void because he signed as a minor without his guardian present so he really shouldn’t be there. James gets word of it because that’s just a big problem so he had a plan to keen him from finding anything out, but Peña ends up dying from the Ghost’s bomb and James doesn’t have to Deal With Him™️

At that point, Mac is pretty much cut off from everyone because he didn’t want to be there and the only person that seemed to care and believe him died. Then he gets transferred and the whole interaction with Jack happens and the scene where we see Mac disarm the IED with a battery and gum, how they’re kinda warming up to each other, Mac is still completely closed off because he just hates it there so much, even though Jack is trying to be a decent guy

And then when Mac goes off on his own—

“Now, we need to get on the same page, kid, and I mean right now. That is, if you want to keep breathing. Next time you wait for me to take my position before you go scampering off like that, you hear me?”

“Whatever. Not like it would’ve mattered.”

Which leads to a blowout of Mac yelling how much he hates it there and that he was basically kidnapped from college because he knew that, while he didn’t read the full contract, any agreements would’ve been void like Peña said because he was a minor and he didn’t have the power to consent to actually joining the army

When Mac saves Jack, it’s more of a if it was just me I wouldn’t really care but I’m not going to let you die just because my life sucks and Jack can see Mac going in a downward spiral and knows that if he doesn’t stay then Mac won’t make it out of the sandbox

The last few days is basically how they first met, but Jack’s making an effort to actually be the guy we know and love but Mac doesn’t want anything to do with it because Jack’s leaving and what’s the point of trying to be friends with someone you’ll never see again

So when Jack actually pops into the side of the humvee

“Why’d you come back? You had the opportunity to go home.”

“My home will still be there. I told ya before that I get all my bomb nerds home and yer no exception. You were dealt a real shitty hand and it’s fucked that no one will help ya get to the bottom of it. So I’m gonna stay here, make sure ya get home so you can stick it to those that fucked ya over”

So Mac’s tour gets finished, and since Jack actually holds power, they leave and Jack gets on contact with his buddies up the ladder to help get to the bottom of it and it takes a while but they eventually get the documents Mac signed and then consent forms signed by James and that just starts a whole whirlwind of the true James Hate we deserved

**Bonus points for if Harry died while Mac was deployed but they didn’t let him go home because James knew he would go AWOL so all his free days and leave had to be on base, also Mac assumed that Harry was the one that consented to him joining so he pretty much hated him until he found out the truth

All assuming Mac signed the scholarship forms when he was like 16 because you can legally sign up for the army when you’re 17

[adrift-in-thyme]

The difference between something that becomes a hobby — or even a job — and something that doesn’t is that you love the first one enough to keep at it even when you despise every second of doing it

[ao3screenshotss]

One of the longest fanfics on AO3 is an F1 fanfic! It's got more words than the Bible and it's still going. I read and write F1 fic and a lot of the characterisation is based on interviews, but there are also press conferences, team videos, the drivers own social media, podium celebrations, and of course whatever happens during a race. There's also loads of twinks on the grid, which goes a long way too

i saw the word twinks and suddenly it all made sense