#But working on some vent fic helped me feel a little better so you get this for now XD;

[everand1r]

Subtle affection

How I think some of the twst boys would cheer you up when you’re down

A/n: I found these old hcs sitting in my drafts so I decided to post it while I work on other fics.

Warnings: might be ooc I guess?

Cater

Being a shoulder to cry on. He knows what it’s like to put on a mask, to hide how you truly feel. It’s hard for him to open up, but you’ve wormed your way into his heart. If you ever need to vent, he’ll be right by your side.

Leona

Leona would take your mind off of whatever was bothering you. He’d sit with you in the botanical gardens, showing you each flower and what they mean. He makes note of which ones are your favorite. Just don’t mention anything when a bouquet of your favorites show up on your doorstep.

Jack

He’d take you out on a nice walk in the evening. You immediately feel better, walking side by side and seeing the warm hues of the sky as the sun begins to set. Although you are lost in a trance towards the sky, Jack finds himself paying attention to the breathing view beside him.

Azul

Azul would make you a special meal on the house. You want something on the mostro lounge menu? Coming right up! The way your face lights up when you dig in, along with your praises of his cooking skills has him blushing.. He was supposed to make you feel better not the other way around!

Floyd

He’d question you at first trying to see what’s wrong, but he can take a hint. If you want to be left alone he’ll leave you alone. You want a distraction? Great! He was planning on having some fun. You’ll come join him yeah?

Kalim

Kalim would try to find a way to cheer you up.

He’d give you a box of your favorite dessert, he made it himself! Well jamil had to help… but he wanted to help cheer you up so here you go! His sunny disposition is quite contagious, you find yourself smiling as you offer him to come inside and eat your dessert with you.

Jamil

He would offer subtle support. Jamil knows how it feels to be overwhelmed and wouldn’t want to impose. His silent way of supporting you is much appreciated. Just spending time with him in a quiet room is more than enough to make you feel at ease.

Vil

Vil is demanding but he is not unreasonable. Everyone has terrible days and when you have yours he’s inviting you over to pomefiore. He’ll dress you in the nicest and softest clothes and pamper you. A soft smile adorns his face when he sees you relaxing under his care. It’s hard to feel bad when you’re getting treated like royalty.

Rook

Rook (unsurprisingly) knows exactly how to cheer you up. Whatever you need in that moment, he has. Tissues? No problem. A mirror to freshen up? He’s got you. A coat to hide yourself, here you go. Rook will always be nearby when you need a little pick me up, he’s just weird like that ❤️

Epel

He’d use his apple carving skills to make your favorite things. Your mood is lifted when you see just how much care he puts into carving an apple for you. when he’s finished, you spend so much time admiring it that you don’t notice the pink tinting his ears as you send words of praise his way.

Malleus

He’d lend an ear to you, letting you vent about whatever is bothering you. He’d also offer a solution if that’s what you want. If not, he’s content with sitting down with you and offering his silent support.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Great Expectations 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, power imbalance, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Professor Holmes’ class is your most difficult, but he’s about to make it even more challenging.

Characters: Sherlock Holmes (modern AU)

Note: monday

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Friday arrives too quickly for your likely. Amid the usual cluster of readings, lectures, and assignments, you have Professor’s Holmes’ additional task to add to the pile. It feels unfair that he would point out your own efforts only to force more upon you. His praise hardly seems like that in retrospect. 

That you did the readings likely made your experience simpler, though the vague instructions leave you uncertain. No rubric, no objectives, no outline. Your format in the usual style and triple-check the word count before you resign yourself to fate or fortune, whichever favours you. 

As usual, Professor Holmes prefers a physical copy, neglecting the digital workspace designed by the campus for ease of access. He doesn’t seem to be the type for the easy way out, does he? You try not to malinger on your gripes and head off, promising to reward yourself with a double whip frap for your work. It’s certainly more than you’ll receive from your professor, even if you do manage to gleam your first A+ from the man. 

The softness of autumn mingles with the crispness of early winter. You mourn the orange and yellow leaves as they start to curl at the edges and brown, blowing across the pavement and catching on pantlegs and tree roots. Midterm season is almost over but it won’t be long before finals rise to haunt you. 

You come up the Herringbone building and look up at the romanticist arches and columns. The esteemed architecture has you feeling even smaller. Surely, the professor will only add to that. 

Inside, the air is dry from the heat blowing from the high vents and curved staircases crest the foyer. You follow the left one up and continue along to the small set of steps that lead up to a hallway with only three office doors. Holmes is at the very end. You went there once before when you needed to be signed into the course; he was certain to make you wait then threatened not to sign the form at all. 

You stop and stare at the frosted glass with his pedigree emblazoned on it. You contemplate just shoving the paper through his slot but the light is on. You raise your fist and gently tap on the wood. You bounce on your feet as you wait, tugging at the itchy collar of the blue sweater dotted with little clouds. In the warmth of the stuffy building and under your wool jacket, it’s stifling. 

You hear movement from within and ready yourself for the encounter. You don’t think you’ve ever talked to Professor Holmes without some degree of awkwardness. On your end, of course. He can’t be bothered to care what others think of him. 

The door opens and you try to smile but it feels like chewing rocks. He looks back at you without an ounce of emotion. You gulp. 

“Um, Professor, I have my paper--” 

He’s already walking away as you stand dumbly in the doorway. You blanch as he circles back to his desk and sits heavily in his seat. He leans forward and dips his head, bending over an open leather folio with a lined pad within. A curl falls onto his forehead and he reaches without looking for the pipe propped up on a mahogany tray. 

“Come in,” he says before he puts the pipe to his lips and bites down. He teethes on it as he snatches up a pen with his other hand. You warily obey and cross the threshold. 

“So, um, here you go,” you near the desk and lay down the stapled paper. He doesn’t look up. “Erm, thanks, professor. I hate to disturb, so I’ll just leave it here--” 

He sighs and sits up, flicking back the curl as he replaces the pipe on the tray, “they won’t let me light that, even with the window open.” 

You glance over at the drawn curtains and nod, “oh.” 

“You’re the first,” he interjects before you can summon any sort of response. 

“Ah, oh--” 

“You are rather quick, aren’t you?” He challenges as he rolls the pen between his fingers, his shoulders spreading wide against the puckered leather chair, “fleet of foot, as some Victorian ponce might say. Quiet.” 

You blink and purse your lips, giving a shrug. 

“You didn’t say hello,” he intones, “it is courteous when you see an acquaintance to greet them, though I suppose etiquette does continue to change.” 

“Um, I didn’t want to... impose?” You murmur. 

His expression remains cryptic. You can’t tell if he’s annoyed or amused or something else. 

“So you didn’t,” he shrugs, his vest bracing on his chest. 

“Sorry, er, sir. But um, there’s my paper, I’ll... let you be. I’m sure you’re busy enough--” 

“Terribly busy,” he confirms dryly. “Since I’ll have a new batch of papers to mark, I’ll be kept well in hand.” 

You clasp your hands together and sway, “right, uh--” 

“And you’ll be off like the rest of those dull girls, paying no mind to the real purpose of study, but rather the wordly pleasures of the modern campus. All that pumpkin spice and such.” He reprimands. 

“Oh, uh, professor...” you know better than to argue. He is set in his ideas of his students and what should make you any different than the rest. 

“Right then,” he reaches for your paper and barely glances at the title page. He flips to the short essay and his eyes skim. He reaches for the antique pen and marks up the page as he goes. He hums as he scratches with the nib. “Good point but clunky prose. No, redudant.” He scribbles his comments in the margins. He turns to the second page and sighs. He closes it and holds it out. “You show comprehension but you need refinement.” 

“Um, thanks, er...” you take it hesitantly and back up again. He watches you with his bold blue eyes, not showing a single crack in his veneer. 

“Go off and enjoy your weekend, don’t fret over the fault of others. Certainly, you show more promise than most who haunt my lectures,” he says. His tone is flat but his words are praising. The contradiction has you off-foot. 

“Thank you, Professor, have a good weekend too.” 

He doesn’t respond as he puts his attention back to another stack of papers. You turn on your heel slowly and scurry to the door. He clears his throat and you stop. 

“Perhaps I mightn’t have such a tedious weekend.” 

You glance back but he still has his head down. You nod and leave him be with a sharp inhale. You hold your breath in until you close the door from the other side. 

Only a few more weeks and you’ll be through this class. Hopefully, you won’t ever have to face the heart palpitations that come with each encounter after that. For now, you will focus on the last paper and the eventual exam. Those are hurdles that look higher the closer you get. 

📕

There’s a cafe off campus you prefer. The library kiosk and the franchised booth in the Student Rec Centre are always overcrowded. This place isn’t so bad. A local mom and pop with a single barista. Maude, the retiree turned businesswoman, works slowly but efficiently. Traffic matches her pace but is enough to keep her thriving. 

“I’ll bring it to you, dearie,” she smiles as she hands you a plate with a crumbly scone on it. You thank her and go to find a seat. 

The place is homey. The seating is mismatched. There are armchairs around a low coffee table, some long tables with thrift store dining chairs, and square table in the corner with two benches and some stools. The rug that stands center to the sitting space is faded but its patterns still visible. 

You claim one of the armchairs near the bookcases and sit. Despite the tense submission, you’re glad not be stressing over another mark. Another A- to add to the rota in Holmes’ class. You could do a lot worse given what you’ve overheard from your classmates. 

The door opens and closes, letting in a chilly. You keep your coat on as you balance the scone on the coffee table. You’ll wait until you have your mocha and savour them together. It’s a rare treat but the dropping temperature coaxed you into it. 

A familiar baritone pricks your ears. You glance over before you can bury your nose in your phone and flinch. What luck. You almost doubt it’s a coincidence. Twice in a row you’ve managed to stumble upon the Professor outside of class. 

Your shoulders sink as you turn back and plant your elbow on the armrest, shielding your face behind your hand. What do you do? Your mind races. Despite what he said in his office he does not radiate welcoming energy. You can’t just flee and leave your order behind; it isn’t fair to Maude and you wouldn’t want to waste the money. 

Professor Holmes’ voice carries. He orders a black coffee and two shortbread biscuits; the Saturday special. The elder barista takes his order and as usual, bids him to sit down so she can bring it to him. You chew your lip as time ticks on. Make up your mind. 

Too late.  

“Pardon, oh,” Holmes approaches and gives pause as you look up at him. “You aren’t reserving these for your friends?” 

He gestures to the other arm chairs. You shake your head and clasp your phone tight in your hands. He dips his chin and sidles around the coffee chair. He removes his jacket and hangs it on the rack between the bookshelves. He lingers there as he browses the titles on the spines. 

Maude appears with your mocha in a large mug on a matching saucer. You thank her as she sets it by your scone. She calls over to Holmes, “I’ll have your coffee and biscuits in just a moment, dearie.” 

He turns his head and nods but says nothing else. She shuffles off and you lean forward to take your mug. Somehow your chocolatey treat doesn’t seem so sweet any more. He backs up and lowers himself across from you. You shyly return his gaze over the brim of your cup. 

“You come here often?” He asks. 

The question has you off-guard as much as his presence. You slurp noisily before you pull the cup away and put it down. You take the napkin by your scone and wipe your lips. 

“Sometimes. Once in a while. Er, I... I make my coffee at home. Tea, more often.” You clamp your lip shut before you can ramble on. 

“Mm, yes, I prefer tea as well. I was suggested the dark roast here by a colleague however.” 

You don’t know what to say. You’re entirely unprepared for the conversation. You’ve never thought much of what he might speak of outside his lectures. His interests, you assume, would align with his expertise. 

“You are enjoying your time? You haven’t any schoolwork?” He asks. 

You slant your lips one way then the other. You look down at the bag by your feet and back at him. He wears a wool sweater with elbow patches; not quite casual but casual for him. 

“I was going to do my readings...” you say. 

“Ah,” he sits back in the chair as Maude brings his coffee and biscuits. He thanks her tersely. 

You bend over and reach for your bag. You slide out your notebook and open it to the printed articles stashed between the pages. You hope it’s enough of an excuse not to talk as much. 

“My class?” He asks. 

“Yes, sir, er, Professor,” you answer. 

“Those are available digitally, as I understand.” 

“I know, but I, er, prefer print.” 

“Mm, yes, it does permeate more effectively, doesn’t it?” He intones. 

You agree with a silent nod and try to focus. You’re too shy to check if he’s watching you but it feels like he is. He sighs and sips from his cup. 

“What were you on the hunt for then?” He asks abruptly before you can read the introduction for the fifth time. You look up, perplexed. “At the craft store?” 

You open your mouth then pause. Finally, you summon the answer, “thread.” 

“Thread?” 

“Yes, I... make little things. Sometimes. It wasn’t urgent. I don’t have my sewing machine in my dorm and... no time.” You shrug and let the papers lay flat on your notebook. 

He considers you as his cheek dimples and he leans his chin on his knuckles. He looks down at the cup he holds over one leg. He sucks his teeth. 

“Rather flat,” he dislodges his elbow and leans forward. “And what did you get? It smells intriguing.” 

“Mocha with peppermint,” you answer. 

“Mm, with whip?” He peeks at your cup and the melting glut of cream. 

“Yes, Professor,” you reply. 

“I think I might trade mine for the same,” he stands with his cup in hand. 

You watch him, confused and uneasy. So much for getting some studying done. You doubt you’ll be able to concentrate with him looming on the other side of the table. 

[necrotic-nephilim]

@sasheneskywalker i love when you enable me to ramble about things because oh my god do i have thoughts.

so recently, i made a post discussing the phenomena of DC x DP and DC x MLB crossovers and why they exist and part of that post was discussing how largely speaking, at least half, if not more of the Batfamily fandom doesn't read the comics. if they interact with canon DC material, it's adaptations that are their own sequestered universes and oftentimes not remotely comic accurate or seeking to be. the most obvious example is the Young Justice cartoon. i'm adding a cut to this post because it just got so long i'm so sorry.

a lot of times, when people are discussing the "why" of this oversaturation of fanon-only fandom, they blame Wayne Family Adventures. and i think, to a point, i agree WFA is responsible for a boom in this fandom. but as someone who's been in the fandom long before we had WFA, to me it's the other way around. WFA was DC's way of meeting the demand for this easy-to-get-into, easy-to-consume content about the Batfamily that predicates itself on the comics just enough to be vaguely the same characters, but has a more sitcom, slice-of-life sort of vibe so DC could profit off of this section of the fanbase that otherwise wasn't consuming its primary material. and well, it's definitely worked. not only that, but i have a weird theory that the decline in the MCU also led to the rise in the Batfamily fandom. when you consider the fan content that made the MCU popular within fandom, it's that 2012 "they all live in Avengers Tower and Thor is eating poptarts and Clint is in the vents and there are movie nights every Friday" sort of vibe. those were the fics that were a hallmark of the fandom. and as the MCU has strayed from well... quality content in general, but specifically well-thought-out crossover content where characters can have their own arcs but also exist in a wider story where they clearly care about each other, that fandom was sort of homeless. so where do you go, if you like a superhero found family where you can have villains for angst but also stick them all in one big family-like home for silly crack and have a plethora of options for gay ships? well. you go to the Batfamily. if you write a crack/fluff Batfamily genfic with silly vibes and low stakes instead of say, a fic about a very specific comic issue even if it's a popular comic, you're *going* to get more traction for the former. because the fanbase largely just isn't reading the comics.

and i feel... complicated about this. because on one hand, Don't Like Don't Read has been a tenet of my fandom experience. i'm very pro-fandom and that includes fandom content i don't like. and to an extent, i do think this sort of should apply to Batfamily fanon. i enjoy having my moments with other comic purists, giggling over exceptionally painful OOC headcanons or even facepalming in pain over some content but it is on me to not interact with that content. you don't make fandom a better place by being hostile to fans who engage with canon in ways you don't approve of. and frankly? we as comic readers are not going to get non-comic fans to read the comics by being asshats to them. no one is going to want to pick up any comic if we get a superiority complex about it. and also, i feel like we're all lying to ourselves a little bit insisting comics are so, so easy to get into. they're not. we can just all agree, they're really not. i've been single-handedly helping my sister get into comics, specifically Wonder Woman and no matter how simple i make it, i watch her get frustrated trying to understand what pre-Crisis and post-Crisis and New-52 and Flashpoint and all these things mean and what a retcon vs a reboot is and what a Crisis Event is and what the hell Diana's current backstory even *is*. sure, you can give someone a beginner list of comics to start with and slowly dip their toes in the water but sooner or later, *something* is going to confuse them. comics as a medium straight up aren't going to be everyone's cup of tea. and if someone *just* wants to read silly fluffy fanfiction about the Batfamily, i can't entirely begrudge them for not wanting to take the hours and hours out of their day to understand this medium. it's not an accessible medium to get into. "read this and this, but this run is out of print and this run wasn't collected in trades at all but also make sure you read that event in order and this is a good comic but the backstory in it is retconned and you *have* to read this it's so important but it's also really bad because the author kind of sucks" sounds. ridiculous for someone who like. just wants to read some stuff about Nightwing. sometimes, we all make reading comics sort of sound like a chore, not a hobby.

so my point is, i do extend some grace to Batfamily fanon for existing. i think my biggest gripe is, as i said in my other post, misuse of tags (if you're not creating content about comics, maybe you don't need the comics fandom tag on Ao3, just the all media types umbrella tag) and my far bigger gripe: when panels are taken out of context to support fanon only headcanons. if i could impart *anything* onto the Batfamily fandom as a comic fan it'd be this: if you haven't *read* the comic, don't spread the panel. if you don't even know what comic it's *from*, don't spread the panel. it's fine to use comic panels to discuss your headcanons, but so often i see someone spreading a comic panel from a comic they haven't read, and when asked where it's from, they can't source it. a silly example that comes to mind is a post going around, taking a panel where Dick, in his internal monologue goes "here comes the sun. do do do do." and the post is claiming it's from him getting buried alive. when that panel comes from Nightwing (1996) #140, and he gets buried alive in Nightwing (1996) #127, two completely different moments frankensteined together. if you're going to not read the comics, that's completely fine, but unless you're sure of the source and the context, panels shouldn't be spread around. i'm sick of this specifically happening to Red Robin (2009), with ppl claiming Tim has totally killed people because he blew up some of Ra's' bases, when those panels within context, make it clear he gave everyone time to escape. and in a later arc in that very comic, Tim grapples with the idea of murdering Captain Boomerang, and *specifically chooses not to*, because he doesn't agree with murder, even against the person who has hurt him the most. if you'd like to write fanfiction where Tim is pro-murder and has done some sketch things, i'm totally on board and would probably like to read it. but there's no need to pretend it's canon from a few panels you saw out of context.

beyond that, i think it's not *entirely* correct to say that fanon is harmless. whenever i see very WFA-positive posts, they often default to the argument that WFA is fun and silly, and comic fans are killjoys for not liking it. which. i think is complicated because the issue is, WFA and fanon don't exist in a vacuum. if you like WFA power to you, i don't think it's the worst thing ever, but i do think it's degrading to these characters because honestly? they feel incompetent in the webtoon. it's one thing if WFA was solely a slice-of-life sort of deal, just having silly episodes where Bruce is taking on a PTA mom or they're all fighting for the last cookie. but when WFA attempts to take on more serious plots with these characters, it *fundamentally* falls flat in understanding them. i get it, Bruce comforting Jason having a panic attack because a noise reminded him of the crowbar felt cute in a microcosm, but i'm so serious when i say that storyline destroyed how like. half of this fandom understands Jason Todd's relationship to his trauma. it doesn't understand how he reacts when he's triggered, what coping mechanisms he seeks out, and how he would handle Bruce comforting him. even if i can believe for a brief moment Jason *would* be triggered by something like that, him running and trying to hide and then getting a hug from Bruce to make it okay is just. painful. WFA needs everything to be wrapped up in a nice, neat little bow. so even when it starts to tackle interesting concepts, it makes them fall flat with its need to be soft, low stakes, hurt/comfort. there was a two-parter episode that dealt with the complicated mutual hatred/jealousy between Tim and Damian that *almost* really interested me because for once, it felt like the webtoon wanted to explore canon messy dynamics. but of course, it had to be fixed with one conversation and a hug. you don't mend the *years* of issues these characters have like that. WFA isn't in character because these characters are hyperbole cartoonified versions of themselves to fit within the medium and be a cute happy family.

because that right there, is the crux of it. the Batfamily fanon seeks to simplify the Batfamily and force them into a nuclear family. there are so many fantastic posts on here discussing how the nuclear family-ification of the Batfam is eroding decades worth of complex histories so i won't go too far into that. but what i will say is that there's this need, in the Batfamily fandom, for the Batfamily to exist as a unit. they are a *family*. (honestly i think calling it the Batfamily is a misnomer and has been for years but we're in too deep now.) they exist to each other first, and any teams or friends they have come secondary to this family unit. you can *specifically* see this demonstrated in what headcanons are becoming popular these days. i have an entire lengthy meta in my drafts about how i *loathe* the "the Batfamily meets the Justice League" genre of fanfic because it makes no *sense*. in order to have this genre of fic exist, you must operate under the assumption that no one in the League, or adjacent to the League, knows the Batfamily exists and are thus utterly shocked to discover Batman has kids. and to make *that* work, you have to strip *every single Batfamily member* of such important dynamics and friendships so you can lock them all in Gotham for their whole lives. Dick can't have the Titans, Tim can't have Young Justice, Duke & Cass can't have the Outsiders, Jason can't have the Outlaws, Damian can't have the Supersons, Babs can't have the Birds of Prey, and so on. because if they had these relationships, they would be known to the League. the Batfamily fandom doesn't care about this, it's just "silly fanfiction", it's not trying to be serious. but how can you say you like Dick Grayson as a character if you don't understand the Titans *are* his family? at some points of his life, moreso than the Batfamily even is. it is constantly repeated to us in most comics with Dick how much the Titans mean to him. he *needs* them to be who he is. the same extends to every other Batfamily member, most of which have been full League members at this point. but in fanon, that doesn't matter. the Batfamily are a sequestered unit first, and all of those side relationships are secondary and easy to toss away, if it makes your fanfic work better.

and because they have to be a unit first, you have these forced relationships that dump years of actual canon material for the sake of making them get along. the Batfamily fandom has its favorites and well. it's no secret it's usually the boys. Jason and Tim by *far* stand out as fandom faves so, their dynamic is a heavily explored one. it does matter that in canon they don't tend to get along and especially don't see each other as family. what matters is that you can push dynamics onto them. and so fanon gets all twisted up about which Robin Tim actually idolized as a kid (Dick) and what member of the Batfamily is pro-murder but still an older sibling figure to him and looks out for him (Helena, or if you want the dynamic of once tried to harm Tim but they've reconciled, Jean-Paul) in favor of who's the most popular. Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian are always going to be the standouts for popularity, but it's specifically Jason and Tim who are getting fanonized the most. and that's because really, we don't have much canon content of Tim that *isn't* the comics. for Dick you've got Young Justice (tv), for Damian you've got the DCAMU, for Jason you've sort of got the Under The Red Hood movie, but Tim sort of lingers in this limbo. (yes, he's in Young Justce (tv) and Titans (live action) but in neither is he the main character nor given much depth) so, he gets a *lot* projected onto him and has become fanonized. and even with Jason's animated movies, you don't see him interact with Tim, so people build it from the ground up how they want to see it, disregarding of canon comics. i think it's what makes him so popular in the first place- he's malleable into whatever you want or need him to be.

and of course, the fanon ignores other characters in the Batfamily it doesn't know about. i feel like you could create a tier list of Batfamily characters by their popularity, going from the fandom main characters: Tim, Jason, Bruce, Alfred, Dick, Damian. to the underrated: Steph, Duke, Babs, Cass. to the forgotten about unless they're convenient for a story: Kate, the Foxes, Helena Wayne, Carrie, Selina, Harper Row, Maps, Minhkhoa Khan. to the absolutely unknown: Helena Bertinelli, Jean-Paul Valley, Onyx Adams, the Clovers, Julia Pennyworth. it's not lost on me that the ignored characters tend to be women and people of color. which is both a canon and fanon problem, DC will continue adding interesting characters to the Batfamily, play with them for a few years, then drop them to default to the "Batboys" again. and it's a vicious cycle of the fandom only caring about the "Batboys", and thus people entering the fandom via fanon osmosis won't have content about the other characters, therefore, they won't be interested in those characters enough to create it, and it's just this ouroboros consuming itself, no matter how much canon content we have of these other characters. and it's ridiculous just how large the Batfamily is becoming because of this, which is why i'm a pre-Flashpoint fan, because then the Batfamily was contained enough to actually feel like a family with every character having nuances relationships with each other, but i digress because those thoughts could be their own post.

and the thing about fanon is it doesn't exist in a vacuum. DC has started turning the comics to accommodate for what fans are asking for, because fans will beg and beg for content they're not going to consume. Tim Drake: Robin had Tim as a coffee drinker because that's the fanon accepted headcanon. and the resolution of the recent Gotham War arc was for Bruce to buy this new manor for everyone to move in and call him. nevermind that most of these characters have their own homes and have zero reason to be moving in with Bruce. Tim had his marina in Tim Drake: Robin, Dick has Bludhaven, Cass and Steph have their little side of town in Batgirls (2022), and so on. these characters are being forced together as a unit, as one big happy family living together, to appease what non-comic fans want and it's damaging comic relationships. Robin: Knight Terrors saw Jason and Tim team up and working together, which i've seen varying opinions on but i personally despised. their interactions made zero sense for any of their canon history, but it appeases them being this close sibling relationship that fanon acts like they are. also the fears they faced in their respective knight terrors didn't make sense for either character and *only* worked as a moment of bringing them together so they could reassure each other and have this weird dreamscape bonding moment. the canon is bending itself to the will of fanon rather than building on the pre-existing complex relationships. Tim barely even gets along with his most important team in Dark Crisis: Young Justice because it seems the only important relationships the Batfamily can have is with each other. and when we do see them outside of the Batfamily, it only seems to be to relive the glory days like with World's Finest: Teen Titans, instead of developing them as they currently exist. this isn't recent in the comics, it feels like you can trace it back to the New-52, but it does feel a *lot* worse over the recent years. WFA is fine when it exists in its own bubble, but the simple truth is, DC content never exists on its own. the adaptations will reflect back onto the comics. (the damage the Young Justice cartoon has done to some characters should honestly be studied) and so it does frustrate me a bit when fanon-only or adaptation-only fans act like we're being nothing but killjoys for being frustrated with this. since they don't read the comics, they don't see how the comics are suffering as a result of this.

people argue about what's out of character for the comics they don't even read. i'm sorry, but "bad dad Bruce" is consistently canon. that man is just kind of shitty. when you take someone who has the drive he has, who has this need for the Mission first, who needs a teenager in spandex next to him to keep him off the ledge, that guy is sort of going to be a shitty father figure. he just is. not on purpose or with malice, but when you compare him to any other dad in a big DC family, he sure takes the cake. it's why characters like Oliver Queen tend to *really* fucking hate Bruce for how he treats his kids. Bruce loves fiercely, but he doesn't do well with putting that love first. and his love is a controlling one, he is very particular about controlling how others in the Batfamily are "allowed" to operate. it's what drives the wedge between him and Dick, it's why Steph is never a true daughter to him. (besides the reason of her needing to be a love interest to Tim first, anyway-) i've never understood the massive outcry of people reacting to Bruce kinda being shitty in comics they're not reading. there are some moments that get ridiculously OOC with how cartoonishly evil he is (the whole Gotham War arc and that... complicated mess with Jason) but largely if you want sitcom loving nuclear father Bruce, you have to accept that is a fanon thing, not a canon one. the Batfamily being a nuclear family in *general* is fanon. most of the "Batkids" don't actually see Bruce in a particularly fatherly light and begging for moments where he calls them his kids or they call him dad outside of incredibly specific circumstances is just OOC.

it's getting harder and harder to exist peacefully in this fandom it feels like, if you don't comply to the standard fanon has set. i'm happy people are having fun with their blorbos, even if in ways i dislike, but that "harmless fandom fun" does ripple it's way back to canon, eventually. so i end up pretty tangled with my feelings because are fans at fault for DC making these poor decisions? probably not, but it certainly feels like an unfortunate cause-and-effect situation whether at the end of the day, nobody is happy. and of course, i know some fanon-only fans are striving to be more canon accurate and care about canon dynamics more than others, but for them it's always going to be an uphill battle with the above-mentioned out-of-context panels thrown around and ever-pervasive fanon overtaking anything that's truly seeking to be canon compliant. so really, it sometimes feels like we're all losing.

[youcalledmebabe]

stray last patrol thoughts

ramirez with the cuntiest line delivery of the episode: maybe he can find fourteeen replacements to help him out

malarkey is giving muppet. I feel like somebody else said this before but idk it’s so true

webroe in the same frame 😻

the flirting vs harassment meme with joe beckoning web to the showers and cobb asking him if it’s been a long time since his last shower

joe inviting web to the shower is SO CRAZY HAVE SOME SELF-RESPECT. down bad behavior

perconte is so tiny

you been working out. and that little smile. again I say STAND UP Joseph Liebgott.

everyone is so grouchy in this ep

band of brothers remake where everything is the same except Chet hanks plays lieutenant jones

shifty o mo. iconic line reading. to me

obligatory everyone looks excellent with a special nod to alley

joe talking about web like he isn’t even in the room and then immediately following him when he leaves. it’s literally a rom com.

headcanon that web does not have a sophisticated palette at all. inspired by him taking the slop while jones opts out. and of course his unidentified food in the famous truck scene

web looking out at water… cinema. need the deleted Austria lakeside scene that I made up

cobb falling into the river was a karmic act from the water on behalf of web

web just saying bring thee wounded man in a terrible accent💀 actually joe i do not think his German is as good as yours!

idk who or what it would concern but a haguenau time loop fic would be neat

joe and web both have a comforting a wounded man scene. I think joe is better at it though

webroe sharing another shot let’s goooo

web is literally like wartime ken. he never misses

it’s funny that cobb gets to vent the frustration about patrols and taking orders and this is painted as being on the opposite side as web. like no I’m pretty sure real David Webster would’ve been right there with him!

nix in his helmet… no ❤️

trying to figure out if there is a babe lookalike or if there’s just another editing mistake

web loves to gaze. to stare. to gape.

sometimes skinny randomly serves cunt

if only the winnix oak leaves scene was helmet-less

joe offering his hand to web. perfect ending. MOST perfect episode ending 10/10 no notes

[sapphiretanto]

(CW: Ranting/Venting; the fic I am talking about will not be named, nor will I give the author’s name away. Please send me a message if you want to know)

Did we even watch the same show? He’s not a caring, big brother? He’s a stick in the mud?

The only thing I’ll give you is that he’s full of himself… because he’s an idiot teenager with badass fighting skills and weapons. Of course he’s gonna be a cocky little shit. Most people with Leo’s skill would be.

I’m going to assume that you mean part of the time he’s full of himself. But if you mean all the time, then I’ll correct you there. More often than not, he is actually very insecure— a very common trait among the Leonardo’s.

“Maybe I shouldn’t be leading the team?”

“It’s all my fault. I let the guys down!”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be the same again”

“I’d just hold you back. You guys train, I’ll watch. It’s all I’m good for anyway…”

“I’m a liability to the whole team”

“I won’t be much help out there anyway”

Leo is a perfectionist and this shows in the way he leads— coming across as bossy or arrogant— and how he treats himself. The guy just got out of a three-month coma after he had the shit kicked out of him and what does he say when he’s by himself after everyone else went to look for Raph in the woods?

He holds himself to impossibly high standards— both placed by himself and some of the misguided lessons he was taught.

Alright, now for the stick in the mud part. Leo is a fucking dork (I mean this in the most affectionate sense). He loves Space Heroes to the point where he quotes it during missions. He likes puns, is fascinated by Japan culture, martial arts, meditation, etc. He trains very hard to excel at ninjutsu/martial arts— both so he can help his brothers in combat and because it’s a passion of his. That doesn’t make him boring in the slightest. He has some of the most ridiculous dialogue throughout the series:

“Alright guys. Let’s put Old Mother Hubbard back in her cupboard!”

“Hello!? Space Heroes!? Captain Ryan! Didn’t you see the episode where they fought the Cortexecons?!”

“Awesome! Oh, this is so rad! I feel like Van Helsing, but way cooler than him, actually. Way more rad than Van Helsing”

“Alright guys, prepare to dish out the mighty wrath of justice!”

“We don’t know he’s gonna do anything bad. He could be on his way… to… church!”

“I… don’t really have a pinky?”

He can’t lie for shit which leads to him saying silly things:

“Be cool. Be cool.” *answers phone* “uh.. hey man! What’s… what’s going down? *Raph says they better have not watched the Crognard finale without him and Leo laughs nervously* W-who, us?! Of course not! But I bet if we did watch it, we would have found it anti-climate… climactic!”

*gets asked by Chloe if there’s other turtles like him* “Nope! Uh-uh! Just me! Mr. Imaginary Talking Turtle!”

“He’s just kidding, Mrs. O’Neil. Kirby’s…uh.. on a.. safari! In Puerto Rico! And he won’t be back for a while.”

And he’s not the goody-two shoes and suck up people think of him as. He has gone behind Splinter’s back on several occasions, snuck out both willingly and unwillingly. The guy dressed in black and caused petty crime with his sister and her girlfriend Shinigami because he was pissed off at Shredder.

As for not being a caring brother. You mean this guy?! This Leo?! ⬇️

Couldn’t be this Leo, right? There’s no way he’s a mother hen— being both doting and getting after his brothers.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full!”

“Mikey, you never cease to amaze me”

“Leo never left your side” — April when Raph was reduced to a mere plant by The Creep

“I’m sorry about Spike, Raphael.”

“Donnie, don’t lose sight of who you are!”

“Nice job, D”

“Donnie, the go karts worked great. Nice job!”

“Mikey, come on! It’s not that bad! And Raph promises not to make fun of you anymore.”

Not the Leo that uses all his strength and stays behind in the Technodrome holding Kraang Prime so his brothers and April can escape. Not that Leo who while just barely awake after a coma goes after a mutated monster in the woods to get his family back. Not that Leo who forced himself to stay calm so the others can be calm while they go through the most insane shit, or cannot grieve in the moment because he has to ensure the rest of their safety, so his focus during missions and battle is scattered in different places. Because he couldn’t possibly help bandage their wounds, worry when they’re hurt and not give up on a family member. Not Leo preventing Donnie from straight up unaliving Don Vizioso because Leo doesn’t want his younger brother to do what he did and change him like it changed him. He doesn’t sacrifice himself over and over because he loves his brothers, right? Right??

[abiiors]

𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚠𝚘 — 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚟

✧ — 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

✮ a/n: this is surprisingly fluffy. sorry about inserting another zelda game into a fic, it will happen again. majora’s mask my actual beloved <33

✮ cw: nothing i can think of for this one, it's pretty clean apart from a bit of dirty talk at the end

✮ wc: 2.8k

like clockwork matty’s gone when jules wakes up. 

she doesn’t mind it all that much. at least that’s what she tells herself. it’s not like he’s her boyfriend, it’s not like he’s obligated to stay and give her morning cuddles or make her breakfast in bed. (not like max had ever done any of those things either)

but jules shrugs it off and gets dressed. she has a whole day ahead of her and work too.,she can’t just dwell on silly little things like these. 

her day goes without a hitch. to her utter relief, carly doesn’t ask anything about any…noises she might have heard the night before. then again she’s busy on the phone arguing with someone when jules enters the living room. 

“packers and movers,” she mouths, crease between her brow, and jules is suddenly reminded that in two weeks time, she’ll be alone here. carly will be gone. 

she feels a little tinge of sadness, but she’s happy for her friend. she knows how much this means to carly. 

throughout her entire shift at the local hmv, she goes through a throng of emotions—nervousness over living alone, excitement over having the house to herself, sadness over not having her friend right there. the entire time she does things on autopilot, dividing her time between thinking about her situationship with matty, and thinking about living alone for a change. 

when jules returns from her shift, carly is on the phone again, loudly complaining by the sounds of it. 

“babe, they’re trying to rob me blind!” is all she catches from carly before jules makes her way to her bedroom, turning on her 3ds and loading up her second run of majora’s mask. 

before jules relaxes and buries herself under the blankets, she sends matty a text. 

jules: u up? matty: not in london for the rest of the week :( 

she frowns. not that she should know about his whereabouts at all times like a girlfriend would, but she would have thought he’d say something. then again, perhaps it’s best he keeps her at arms length—she’d do well to learn that too, not let him in so quick despite all his flirting and sweet talk. 

dawn of the second day, 48 hours remain flashes on her screen. jules cracks her knuckles and casts matty out of her thoughts.

the rest of the week she spends much in the same way, stuck in the same routine—she has work and then some other things to do, then she hangs out with carly, lets her vent about how expensive moving is. 

“i’ll help you,” jules declares, “fuck those packers and movers, we can pack up your stuff.”

“it’s so much though!” carly whines, dramatically throwing her head onto jules’ lap. jules strokes her hair. it’s poofy and unruly, but one by one she smoothes the clumps of curls with her fingers. 

“why don’t you ask adam for help?”

carly hums noncommittally. “i think i will, maybe rope his friends in too.”

for a bit they’re both quiet, thinking about two very different things jules imagines. 

“flowers came for you today,” carly mumbles, head still on jules’ lap. jules wrinkles her nose. 

“from max?”

“mm, chrysanthemums, i think. i put them in your room.”

chrysanthemums… that’s certainly new. maybe max thought buying her newer, better flowers instead of an actual apology would help. 

it still surprises her that he keeps sending flowers. sporadic as it is, even after six months of radio silence from her side, after six months of blocking him completely and moving on even if it’s partial. 

“i guess one more bouquet for the storage closet,” she shrugs and carly frowns at her. 

“you’ve been keeping them?”

“leaving them to rot, more like…”

“jules,” carly sits up, looking at her with more than a little skepticism, “you’re not… you’re not holding on are you? because trust me, that boy—”

“i’m not.” jules declares, her voice firm. and she means it too. it pains her that such a big part of her life is over, but she doesn’t miss max as much as she thought she would. and sure she thinks about him occasionally—a voice at the back of her head telling her to do things a certain way—but that doesn’t mean she’s holding on. 

“i just haven’t gotten round to disposing of them yet.”

“sure,” carly mumbles. “but the more you keep it jules the more the rot is going to spread. that closet’s gonna smell horrid.”

“i know, i—” she holds onto carly’s hand, giving it a firm squeeze, “i’m gonna clean it okay? soon.”

and they leave it at that. jules promises she will help with the packing. she even manages to feel absolutely nothing when she chucks the flowers in the closet. there’s a whiff of decay though, not strong enough to make her eyes water, but definitely strong enough that she can’t keep doing this for much longer. besides, she’s already gotten rid of all the sunflowers immediately, she can do the same with the others.

it's sunday, she deserves to relax first. 

jules starfishes on her bed, holding the nintendo right in front of her to load up the game. her fingers move deftly on the buttons, going through the motions almost on autopilot until her eyes close of their own accord. until sleep weighs heavy on her limbs. 

she doesn’t know when she sets the 3ds aside and dozes off.

jules wakes up to sounds coming from outside her room—male voices, and then carly—going back and forth about something. she frowns and gets up, smoothing the wrinkles of her t-shirt and opens her door. 

it creaks louder than it ever has, and just like that, she’s there in the corridor, with five pairs of eyes staring right at her. 

carly, adam, ross, george and matty. 

matty. 

staring at her with a strange look in his eyes, like he’s seeing her for the first time. subconsciously, she pats her hair down, realising it’s still a little mussed from sleep and pulls the long sleeves of her t-shirt over her hands. a nervous habit. 

“hi…” she raises her hand nervously. carly breaks the silence first. 

“oh my god, sorry! i was going to tell you they were coming over to help me move some stuff,” she smiles a little guiltily, “did we wake you up?”

jules waves her off, stifling a tiny yawn. matty’s still staring at her, still unable to look away. does she have something on her face? something stuck in her hair? 

“do you remember them?” carly asks, about to reintroduce. and sure, it’s fair because she is seeing adam, ross and george after a good few months. matty though… 

she sneaks another glance at him, only for him to quickly look away and stare at his feet. from the corner of her eye she sees george frowning at him. 

jules nods, politely repeating her hellos. “do you need help?”

when carly nods, jules joins them, passing by matty to follow her into her room. he looks up, properly staring at her for the first time and smiles. she notices the little crinkles by his eyes, notices how his hair has grown a little more in the week she hasn’t seen him. it’s curled more than before, and jules has the most peculiar urge to reach out and touch it. to tug on it just to hear him hiss. 

she’ll have to do that the next time he’s in her bed. 

“hi jules,” he whispers in the same sing-song voice he always does, so close behind her that his breath practically tickles the nape of her neck. 

she almost grins, biting her lip. “hi matty.”

his hand grazes her elbow, almost like he’s going to pull her into his chest and start fucking her here in the middle of the corridor, in broad daylight while their friends are a few feet away. jules shakes the thoughts away, schooling her face into a bright, friendly smile once she enters carly’s room.

“alright!” carly stands with a determined look on her face, hands on her hips and her face twisted into a frown of concentration. she looks so endearing, jules almost coos at her. 

“ross and george, i need you to help me with furniture.”

a little group mumble of ‘yes, ma’am’ follows which she acknowledges with a sarcastic smile. 

“adam and i will pack my clothes,” she looks at him, this time with a real, tiny smile. then she stares at jules, and at matty who’s standing right next to her. 

“matty and jules, need you to pack my things in the kitchen. she will know what’s mine.”

they both stare at each other and then back at carly, nodding once. jules wonders if everyone in the room can tell they’ve been fucking each other. is it obvious on their faces? does she have it written on her forehead or something? does matty?

but even as she lets momentary paranoia consume her thoughts, she knows she’s overthinking. everyone else is busy doing their assigned tasks, even matty is half-way out of the room. 

there’s also that weird little nervous flutter that she feels. she’s only spent time with him to have sex. never… never otherwise.

“did you have a good week?” she asks, her voice an almost practised level of polite. matty falters mid-step. 

“yes…?”

“mmm, good.” 

and then she clams up again, unsure what else to say. 

“is—”

“you—”

they both speak at the same time, stopping and staring at each other wide-eyed. jules clears her throat. “you go first.”

“you alright?” he cocks his head in confusion. “you’re being so weird.”

oh god he can tell she’s overthinking and over-analysing, can’t he!?

“you’re being weird!” she retorts. real fucking clever, jules! matty, predictably, frowns some more, and takes a step towards her. 

she almost thinks he’s going to kiss her then, a casual little kiss that absolutely leads to nothing sexual. but that would be breaking a major rule. besides, all he does is brush a little strand of hair away from her forehead and tucks it behind her ear. 

the entire thing takes about half a second. and yet to jules it feels like the longest time ever that she stands here with sunlight streaming in the kitchen and matty about six inches away from her. 

“alright, i won’t push,” he holds his hands up by his side, like he’s surrendering. 

and as much as it bothers her that she doesn’t know what to talk to him about when they’re not having sex, for that, she is still grateful.

“i can do this!” matty declares with renewed determination.

the two giant cardboard boxes that carly assigned to them have been sitting on the kitchen floor for nearly ten minutes now. jules and matty stare at them as if they’re mentally preparing themselves for the battle—no, the war—they’re about to face. 

if it were possible, jules is sure they’d both have eye of the tiger playing in their heads in perfect sync.

“we can do this!” he jumps in place twice to pump himself up, slaps his chest like some prized fighter about to enter the cage. jules snorts. 

“can we?” she asks, scepticism clear in her voice and winces when matty narrows his eyes at her. 

“jules, no…” he sighs, “where’s your can-do attitude?!”

and those really are famous last words. he is especially determined because he was the one to declare—quite proudly, if she remembers correctly—that they will not “cross the box budget” (whatever that means). and now here they stand, figuring out ways to tetris everything into the two boxes that are frankly…not big enough…

jules bites her lip, stifles a smile. 

“let’s do this then. us against the…oh, what is it? a game of kitchen tetris? yeah, us against…that.”

while matty stands there, hands on his hips and glaring at the boxes, jules takes the time to look at him. his hair is just as unruly as always, curls sticking in all sides and still so perfect. he’s once again in a pair of ripped black skinny jeans and a band t-shirt (fugazi)—an utterly mouth-watering combination, if she’s being honest.  

but he’s determined to win this imaginary fight against the boxes and so she picks up a set of plates and stares at one of the boxes in concentration too. 

matty hovers behind her, mirroring her position while his chin rests practically on top of her head and mumbling something to himself.

“it’s not the boss of us,” he whispers; eyes crazy and hair even crazier as they stick in all directions. he does look like a bit of a mad scientist. it’s an almost impossible task to not laugh out loud when he scratches his chin. jules keeps her snort to herself.

“we should start,” she turns to him, stealing a little look at him again, allowing herself the indulgence of lingering on his face. he really does look so domestic in the soft light of the kitchen. 

domestic… jules shakes her head and clears the thought away just as fast as it came. she has no business thinking about domestic and matty in the same sentence.

“we should,” he agrees.

“so i think,” she sets the plates down in one of the boxes, “we should put big things in one box and the smaller ones in the other…”

“no but then one of the boxes would be more crammed.”

“matty!” she crosses her arms in front of her chest, “there aren’t a lot of big things. there are a lot of small things!”

“jules!” he mimics her position, swooping down so their noses are almost touching, “we’ll sort the bigger things out first and then cram the smaller things into corners.”

she throws her hands up, exasperated. “that might break things!”

“we have bubble wrap!”

“matthew,” she cuts him off, a little surprised she’s used his full name, but she’s too deep into this now, almost on the tip of her toes to glare a bit better at him, “i will whack you with this pan. listen to me!”

that seems to break his resolve. in a split second, matty’s mouth stretches into a grin and he giggles, he laughs like an imp, backing away just a smidge. “you’re so cute when you threaten.”

jules blinks, completely speechless, and matty grabs her jaw, tracing his thumb over her bottom lip, dragging it down. “so hot too… we’ll have to try that next time, i think.”

it really should bother her more how quickly he disarms her. because in one second jules goes from wanting to whack him in the head to wanting to be absolutely railed on the kitchen counter. her cheeks heat up, so does the rest of her body. 

“you’d like that?” she asks, voice quivering, “for me to be a little more commanding?”

“jules…” his voice is equally as breathy, fanning her face while he backs her into the kitchen counter. the marble digs into the small of her back, matty’s chest presses into hers. jules exhales, feeling the familiar heat coiling in her stomach. 

“i’ve thought about you,” he swallows roughly, “thought about fucking you every day of this miserable week, i–” matty chokes. 

jules wishes she could kiss the shit out of him right there. but that would be breaking a rule. as much as she wants it, they can’t go at it right here like horny rabbits while everyone else is right in the next room. 

“thought about how you taste, jules,” matty continues, voice so low it’s almost a growl. her skin feels like it’s on fire. 

“i—” she almost whimpers, trying to desperately tell him what she wants. 

a split second passes and matty flinches, stepping back completely. 

“everything alright?” it takes her a moment that it’s not matty she’s hearing, it’s george, staring at them with confusion written all over his face. jules tries to discreetly clear her throat. 

“yeah, mate, just figuring things out,” matty waves him off. george stares at him with a strange smile on his face. 

“we could hear you bickering all the way in carly’s room.”

jules still feels like she can’t speak without giving herself away. so she just laughs, the sound fake and unnaturally high. 

“we’re good,” matty nods at him. “we’re good, right jules?”

“hmm? yes.” she cringes at the sound of her voice, smiling blankly at george and hoping he believes her. 

“sure,” he shrugs and leaves. jules tries to control her thudding heart and swallow through her dry mouth. 

“let’s pack this, shall we?” matty winks at her like nothing’s just happened, like he’s all calm and composed even though she can see the evidence of it quite clearly. jules doesn’t push it though. she just busies herself into the packing. 

the rest, she can figure that out later.

[mayisgoingnuts]

“ Healthy way to calm down “

-> ROSIE TICKLE FIC

Summary: Roy's solution to relieve stress is... quite aggressive, to say the bare minimum. But now that he got a conscious girlfriend, he's practically forced to let go of such habit and find a better one, seeing that it only causes MORE damage. In the end, Susie's idea can be pretty "dumb"... but works surprisingly well.

———————

Disclaimers: Angry Roy (duh), Brief "Teenagers of opposite sex alone in a room" kind of talk/vent, fluffy tickles, A LOT OF TEASES /silly ;; nothing else :]

Author's Note: Holy shit it's been so long since I've written a tickle fic kwhdjshdw LET'S SEE HOW IT GOES!!! Hope you guys enjoy!!

Tagging my dearest pookies for criticism/silly /hj @clownazon @merwynsartblog

“ What the hell are you doing?! ”

Susie yelled, pulling Roy back almost as instinct. He leaved for a moment, A MOMENT to go talk to his parents because they called... and he's already like this. Pissed, almost throwing a glass (that is inside his bedroom for God-knows-how-long) on the floor.

The boy just groaned, holding the glass tight and turning his head towards her with a louder tone.

“ Let go of me!! ”

“ Then answer my question, dammit! ”

Roy scowled, rolling his eyes and finally letting his grasp loose slightly. “ TRYING to calm myself down! Are you blind?! ”

Susie just stood there for less than ten seconds, sighing and taking the cup out of his hand, now showing more worry than before, although not letting it too explicit. She placed it on the bedside table again.

They just stayed quiet, Roy with his arms crossed as he looked away. Susie fidgeted her fingers, giving him some time before speaking up.

“ ..they said some messed up bullshit, didn't they? ”

She asked. Roy just looked down, frowning even harder.

“ It's not even that damn serious.. my dad just complained again about staying alone with you and all that... old people talk. ” He huffed. “ That's getting fucking annoying. ”

In a way, she's glad that it's not anything too deep... but if it's enough to get him like this, then looks like reason enough to not just laugh it off.

“ Yeah, that really sucks. Kinda makes me feel like some sort of wild animal or something. ”

“ Hmph. I can control myself... actually, it's not like I even want anything! ” Despite being glad that he's being understood, the anger is slowly building again. “ Just because those old ass people didn't had TV and had kids like if it was a sport, it doesn't mean I will! ”

“ Mhm! ”

“ Just... UGH!! I can't do ONE thing without them complaining about it! Letting you come by was already a pain, now I got another whole ass problem! ”

“ Mhm... ” She's slowly noticing his voice getting stronger.

“ What's next? Making me stay with you in the living room? Because THEY WOULD! ”

“ Mm..? Roy? ”

“ Can't have one fucking thing inside this damn house, never fucking ever! ”

“ Roy. ”

“ I'M NOT EVEN SURE HOW THEY LET ME HAVE A GIRLFRIEND STILL-! ”

As Roy began to pull his own hair, Susie stopped decided not to just agree with a nod anymore, grabbing his wrists and approaching his face to hers.

“ ROY! ”

The boy finally woke up to reality, having his eyes widened for a few seconds before frowning again.

“ You have to calm down, at this rate you'll try to break something else- ”

“ That's how I calm down, dammit. ”

The comment caught her off-guard, raising an eyebrow. “ ..by breaking things? ”

“ Meh. Or like, hitting my pillow until my hands get tired or start to hurt. Whatever shit that works. ”

This is definitely not a good sign, and now just more than ever she's up to change that. She looks around, trying to find something that could help.

“ Maybe we can play some games? ”

“ I'll lose. And then I'll just get even more pissed. ”

“ Uh... then what about watching TV? ”

“ No. ”

She thinks a little more, visibly struggling. All the options she gave didn't received any positive reactions, but giving up is definitely not happening either. Tired, Susie decided to just jump to the old, clingy options.

“ ..cuddles? ” She muttered, not used to saying it outloud just yet. They're not the type of being explicitly lovely.

Roy's eyes finally show any interest, but hiding it right afterwards. “ What, are you that desperate to make me shut up? ”

“ Yes or no, idiot. ”

He just stared in silence for some more seconds, now blushing lightly. “ ..yeah, dumbass. ”

The both of them just quietly moved to the bed, laying down as Susie decides to be the big spoon this time, hugging Roy with his back turned at her. However, despite being comfortable, she could still see some annoyance on his face. Not that it was bad, but his mind is still thinking about it regardless.

“ Can't stop thinking about them? ”

Roy clenched his fists. “ Mhm. ”

The girl sighed, squeezing him once as an attempt to be more affectionate. This isn't working... sure, he's not aggressive anymore, but that's just not enough. She wanted him in a good mood, not just... quiet. If she just wanted him to stay quiet, she would've just told him to shut up or smacked his head, which is definitely not the case.

This is all too complicated... nothing comes to her mind, at all. All she can do to express support is leave a soft kiss on the back of his neck, pulling down the collar of his sweater to do so.

For some odd reason, his head went back slightly along with a low hum, trying to intervene her peck.

“ Hm? ”

Roy slowly returned to the old position, resting his arms on Susie's once again, not paying much attention to it. Which is the opposite of Susie's case.

Just to check it again, her lips once again touched his skin. It sent a shiver down his spine, and his knees discreetly moved up, already prepared to just curl up onto a ball.

“ Quit it. It tickles. ”

He finally revealed, not even looking back at her. Those words sounded like a click to her brain. Of course! That's the same technique she uses with Pump when he's upset! Well, kinda... either way, she could easily try that!

If he doesn't get annoyed with tickling, that is...

And once again, Susie repeated the same movement as before, this time not letting go immediately, but still not doing it so consecutively. It can be considered a test.

“ H-Hey, I said it tickles. ”

Susie simply hugged him tighter, and it was enough for him to get the message: she's more than aware of such fact. Roy bends his neck backwards once again, trying to frown even harder to contain the reactions she's trying to force out of him.

“ Are you serious? I thought y-you... wanted to help me- ”

“ And I do. ”

“ Well, t-this is not helping! ”

And for his own unluck, his body decided to betray him. Roy's words were contradicted as soon as that same smile slowly revealed itself, along with a quick 'pfft' noise.

“ What? I didn't got it. ”

Roy innocently tried to repeat. “ I said- ”

Before the realization could even hit, he's already feeling her kisses back to his neck, this time a bit quicker than before.

“ Motherfuhucker! ”

Is the first thing that comes out, now hearing his own chuckles starting to be more and more frequent.

“ Don't be so whiny, I'm calming you down! ” The girl teased, now having to keep him closer to not let him escape.

There's nothing he could do but giggle, trying to push his body away and failing miserably in the process. But it's not like he's actually trying.

“ Lehehet go of mehehe! ”

“ Mwah! ”

“ Dohon't 'm-mwah' me, yohou jerk! ”

Susie gave a brief pause on her little talk for the dramatic purposes, only to say it outloud again. “ Mmmwah! ”

His breathing hitched for a moment, finally managing to atleast turn his body towards her. It made it easier for him to push her ticklish kisses away, putting his hands on her mouth to get that pause he's been craving for (?) ever since she started.

“ Hehehe.. you suck... ”

Now that he's finally facing her, the smile glued on Roy's expression is way more visible. How did he expected her to let go or stop so quickly while looking like this? So adorable and, specially, happy? Yeah, definitely not happening.

“ Ooh, I do? ” Asked, her voice slightly muffled because of the palms covering her own mouth.

He smirked cockily. “ Y-Yeah, you d- EEK! ”

If the boy was planning to return to his previous state, he can already give up on it. A hand suddenly crawled to under his shirt, making him arch his back as the same mentioned spot now had Susie's fingers taking care of it.

“ Suhuhusie!! ”

“ You're too ungrateful. I help you, and then you say that I suck! You're an ass! ”

He tried to pay attention to her playful words, but her nails softly going up and down made it way more difficult than it should be. “ Shuhuhut up! ”

“ AND tells me to shut up! ”

“ You're sohoho lucky thahat you're my girlfriehehend, you fuhu- ” Any words afterwards just turned into a bunch of gibberish, covering his face as an awful attempt to hide.

It just made him notice how hot his own cheeks were getting, what not only didn't helped with the embarassment, but also worsened it.

“ Uh-huh... it's more like the opposite. You are lucky that you're my boyfriend. ”

“ And whahat being yohohour boyfriend hehehelps here?? ”

Susie's fake composture broke slightly, but she kept trying to look angry or unbothered. It's still pretty obvious what her true intentions are, but this is way funnier regardless.

“ I mean, if you weren't, I would've just done... this! ”

For demonstration, Susie's fingers suddenly jumped from his back to his ribs. It was more than enough to get him to absolutely lose it, laughing and wiggling his legs around as they sometimes kick the air out of instinct.

“ NOHOHO!! SUHUHUSIEEE! ”

“ See? Then I would be a bastard. ”

A few snorts began to escape Roy's lips. Should he be muffling his own laughter to not let it get too loud? Trying to stop her? Pushing her? Keeping her close? At the same time that he had a lot of options and thoughts, he also didn't had anything going on there. Just... tickles, and laughter. And Susie's face.

“ I GET IT, I GEHEHET IT! ”

“ And I would also say stuff like- ”

“ DOHON'T YOU DARE! ” Susie did nothing but giggle and keeping on.

“ Wow, you're so ticklish! Or: Wow, you can't even take a few kisses on your neck! ”

Gosh, it only worsened his situation. His face soon is turning crimson red, she can hear his stupid ass laugh loud and clear, and probably anyone close to the door could too. Roy just continued to hug himself, trying to lessen the sensations.

“ STOHOP TALKIHIHING! ”

“ Oor maybeeee... wow, how stupidly cute your laugh is right now! ”

Without even thinking, Roy covered his mouth, now being nothing but a bunch of muffled noises. This only turned into more fuel to Susie's teasing.

“ How red your face iiis... ”

And just like expected, Roy buried his hot face onto Susie's chest. Her fingers didn't got any slower, her body didn't got any more distant, the damn tickling didn't got any less effective.

And if you think that returning her fingers to his back would solve the last 'problem'... it didn't. He may be back to the giggling and weak kicks, but it still had the exact same impact.

“ I- hmphh- hehehehe- ”

Roy had to wait a little before finally speaking again, unable to not hold anything. He wanted to squirm, but it'd end up pushing her away. As a solution, he just grabbed the collar of his sweater and pulled it up, hiding most part his mouth still and with his grasp so tight that he already felt his own nails through the clothing.

“ I hate yohohou so damn much..! ”

Said the same boy who willingly stayed on her arms, not doing anything about it while his precious girlfriend continued to tickle and help her boyfriend in need.

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - Jan 7th - Week 1

It’s the first SteveTony Weekly of the year!! This year, I’m gonna try to personalize the recs, and pick a favorite of the week. We’ll see how long I keep that up. As always, be sure to leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed the fic! 

~*~ 

peace bought with blood and magic by Areiton

There is a legend, older than the Citadel, about the field.

About the king who had ruled for as long as the Thousand Year War had raged. There is a legend about the king and about the one he loved, and it goes--

Note: i had so much fun with this fic, and it left me wanting to write a long version of this as an original project. 

[PODFIC] Maybe this Time by MsErmestH by Pywren

Tony’s better now. You can even say he’s superior. But all the money, alcohol, and sex can’t stop the incursions, and when his world is destroyed, he ends up on an earth ten years younger than his own.

One where Steve goes by the name of Nomad.

If there’s one thing Steve’s good at, it’s reminding him of what really matters, and maybe that makes Nomad the person Tony needs if he's going to save the universe.

Note: the way that Tony slowly begins to feel again and the way he loves Steve is everything to me. I love it. 

Love among the Hydrothermal Vents by DevilDoll

In which Namor has a thing for Steve, an octopus has a thing for Tony, and Steve and Tony eventually have a thing for each other.

Note: I’ve read this before and it’s just as amazing as the first time. Fake dating, pining, Namor in all his…Namor-ness. And the amorous octopus!!! What’s not to love. 

may the angels bow down for you by Anonymous 

He hides.

When the Demon gets loud, when He drinks His poison and tries to hurt him with His palm, or His words, or His power—he hides.

Burgundy. Oak. Shattered glass.

Note: Interesting format for this story. Interspersed with the descriptors, it gave the story a disjointed and urgent air that really worked. 

Working Late by Anonymous 

Some nights, Tony stays up late, building and rebuilding and upgrading his suits, until Steve walks into the workshop, usually already in his pajamas, and wraps his arms around Tony, kissing him until he forgets what he was doing and then dragging him to bed.

A fill for the prompt "Steve sits in Tony's lap and rides him" from last year's Community Gifts prompt list. Because there's really not enough bottom!Steve in the world.

Note: Some very lovely smut. 

The first time I met you (I already had a drawing of you) by Anonymous 

Kissing Tony was a bit like sparing, pushing and pulling and stumbling against furniture. He had no idea why a billionaire cared enough to be this strong, and it was hard to keep in mind he had to pull back his own strength.

or

Tony meets a cute artist in at a Gala event, Steve tries to get over Iron Man, and Bucky just enjoys watching his best friend be a little stupid sometimes.

Note: I love identity porn. It’s one of my favorite things in the fandom. This was a tiny slice of perfection. 

Softer Landing by Anonymous

In which there is a snowstorm, Tony has had a terrible week and Steve might be an idiot.

Note: Miscommunication and reconciliation and snowstorms. Lovely. 

****Exact Measurements Required by trilliath 

That time S.H.I.E.L.D. quartermasters accidentally put Steve's balls in a vise and it goes exactly as well as you'd expect it to. Tony promptly offers to help. Because he's helpful like that. Obviously.

Note: What I especially loved about this was Steve’s humanity and the way Tony was obsessed with him and it took him FOREVER to figure out how serious Tony actually was. 

Father and Son by Anonymous

Peter should have seen it coming.

All hell breaks loose when his secret identity as Spider-Man is revealed. His parents take the news about as well as you'd imagine, and it escalates all too quickly.

But his family wouldn't be his family if they didn't work through it.

Together.

Note: I love Superfamily dynamics, especially when it focuses on Tony and Peter, as this one does. 

opera interlude by starvels (dinosaur) 

They spend their days tumbling through space, hoping they're aiming in the right direction, ignoring the way the ship whispers, waving its shadows at them.

Note: My only thought about this is that it was too short. I loved it and wanted to read so much more. It was lovely. 

The Nearness of You by UisceOneLove 

Steve wasn't thinking when he protected Tony's protege and got a bullet for the move. He doesn't know what to think of Tony Stark showing up at his apartment, either.

Note: I loved this. It was short and sweet but the worldbuilding packed into that short little window was flawless. 

****All We Do by Anonymous 

Tony doesn't mean for anyone to find those recordings. Steve doesn't mean to see them. Between the two of them, there were never the right words spoken, so this just might be a blessing in disguise.

Note: This Endgame fic is so bittersweet and lovely. I loved everything about it. 

Crooner by wirewrappedlily 

There are songs to sing; there are feelings to feel; there are thoughts to think. That makes three things: You can't do three things at the same time.

Singing is easy: shiver off the tongue.

Thinking comes with the tune.

That leaves feeling. And you're not going to catch him feeling.

Tony Stark had a great voice. He had a magical voice, even. But he didn't have the presence for it. Didn't have the pizzazz to make it in the '20s roar.

Note: Early 1900s, with a little bit of Phantom of the Opera vibes, it was super sweet to see Tony & Steve coming together. 

like stepping on the sun by Red (S_Hylor), starksnack

When the Sorcerer Supreme asks the Avengers to go investigate a potential multiverse incursion, Tony is less than impressed. The weather is foul, and it's not even a Tuesday.

The multiverse portal, when it does occur, seems to be a bit of a fizzer, so Tony isn't expecting anything to happen.

He certainly isn't expecting an oversized fuzzy jellybean to come and meddle in his personal life.

Note: tsumtsums are often really hard to take seriously but I LOVE crack treated seriously, and it was handled perfectly! 

don't let the blue sky fade by Myrime 

It was supposed to be a mission without surprises, but then a building collapses on top of them and traps them underground.

Tony is hurt but doesn't tell anyone. Steve just wants Tony to give a damn for once. And Clint, who cannot run away from their bickering since he broke his leg, just hopes they do not kill each other before they get him out of there.

(- Since the End is almost upon us, why not return to the beginning of the Avengers, when everything was still mostly beautiful and they haven't yet hurt each other so much. Simpler times!)

Note: This was fantastic team dynamics--the relationship between Tony and Clint was especially fantastic--with a slow build Stevetony that I adored. Excellent 2012 team fic. Highly recommend. 

[delusinaldreamer19]

Vent/Rant incoming. Feel free to disregard.

(But also maybe don’t, idk)

Something that’s become apparent to me as I’ve posted more frequently on Ao3 is just how disheartening it can be to feel like I’m performing for a silent crowd.

Dgmw, it is very much that I am just a sensitive & insecure person by nature. (I’m incredibly embarrassed abt posting this, but again, just venting.) And its not that I’m trying to directly beg for ppl to read and comment on my works, but I am sort of…indirectly doing that.

I just can’t help but feel a bit like ‘what am I doing wrong?’ I’ve both intentionally and unintentionally written a decently wide verity of fanfics for Kuro, whether it’s shorter oneshots or longer multi chapter fics, as well as tonally with things being funny, sad, mysterious, contemplative. I try and pay attention to what gets the most interaction so that I know what people are most interested in reading. But even with doing that, I can’t really tell. Like I want to write stuff that people enjoy reading, but it sometimes feels impossible to tell if I’m doing that.

(Pls excuse me, I’m about to start very much complaining)

I don’t even know why I tend to feel that way, I’ve got six stories posted and half have over 1000 hits (two that are over 2000 hits). But again, I’m a horrifically insecure person with an adhd brain that never shuts up.

I know that I’m doing nothing but preaching to the choir when I say ‘authors really want you to comment on their works!!’ And it’s not that I don’t ever get comments (and I swear that I am extremely thankful for each one despite how what I’m about to say sounds), but I just feel like the nature of them is what gets to me sometimes.

I put a lot of time and effort into my stories (despite how quickly I’ve been updating), and I work really hard to write things that are well thought out, interesting, and while I don’t write smut (as of now), mature. I’ll look in other stories comment sections to see what other ppl have said about works that I’ve enjoyed, and I’ll see questions and commentary about specific things that happened in the chapter, and my works just…don’t tend to get a lot of that.

It could very well just be that my neurodivergent brain is upset about not getting that instant gratification, I get that. But I just wanna like- talk to people about my stories. I wanna have discussions about things in Kuro or things that I’ve written. I wanna hear when something I’ve created has garnered any sort of reaction. And because I don’t get a lot of that, my cursed neurodivergent and insecure brain translates it as meaning that I didn’t truly make anything that warranted a reaction.

I’m just incredibly prone to growing obsessive over things like this. I didn’t really ease into writing fanfiction over time, I sort of just hit the ground running and took off. For reference, I quite literally wrote all of my stories (a collective 146,000 words (I added it up cus I was curious)) in JUST this past year.

I’m kinda not sure what I should do. If I need to “work harder” and “do better”, or if I just need to wait for this influx of self doubt to pass. Or even take a small break from writing, which I don’t necessarily want to do since it’s still something that I greatly enjoy. But if that’s advice worth giving in regards to my predicament, then I suppose it warrants being considered.

(inhale) BUT ANYWAYS, that’s the end of my little vent session. As I said in the beginning, feel free to disregard, or don’t. I could probably use some advice tbh, but don’t want to beg for it. I haven’t had much of an active presence in fandom spaces (or really just active internet presence) for most of my life, so dealing with this sort of thing is still very new to me and I’m not really sure how to navigate it😭.

[daystarpoet]

hii so you don’t have to respond to this if you wouldn’t like to but I just thought it would be best if I said this before things escalated in any way possible.

so I’m not sure if you’ve previously seen any of my vent posts, but honestly if you haven’t then to sum them up: I’m not doing great. I’m in a really bad mental state recently and my anger has been misdirected (which I get is not entirely an excuse for my actions but I wanted to clarify this). anyways, I’ll get straight to the point. I never asked my followers to send you hate I additionally never said you stole my work, all I said was it made me uncomfortable that you had written for the same character with the same fic title as me. I think my followers misunderstood my words and took them as me saying you had blatantly stole my work when that’s not at all what I was saying. I’ve been up multiple nights rethinking this situation and the guilt has been honestly eating me alive and I think to help amend my mental state in any way it would be best for me to apologize to you and explain my side of things

to wrap this up, I completely understand if you’re angry with me or if you hate me and I will also completely understand if you don’t forgive me because I honestly wouldn’t forgive me either. but anyways I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry for everything and I hope you understand what I’m trying to say here

I'm sorry that you're not doing alright mentally, and I imagine it must be hard, but neither me nor my mutuals deserve to be mistreated.

to be honest, the posts I made were based on the information I got (which was close to nothing), just a few screenshots from friends of mine. I don't have the intention of making you feel worse, but I know you said you liked seeing me freaked out. the annons were the thing that bothered me when i first saw what was going on because of my anxiety.

the things I said were just me defending myself. because imagine this; you come back from school, and see weird annons in your inbox, followed by your mutuals telling you that someone is mad at you for stealing some work. I had no way of contacting you and was instead left only with little information and one mean annon.

my main point was —and still is— that if you've got a problem with anything I did, that you should just tell me. I didn't like you blocking me at all.

and about the fic, it's a beabadoobee song. Sorry if it made you uncomfortable, but I didn't do anything wrong.

I hope things get better for you and that you learn how to deal with your negative emotions because bad mental health is something no one deserves.

[willgrahameatscraftsingles]

spacedogs idea (feel free to take this for a fic with credit): Adam finds out it's Nigel and Gabi's anniversary and gets uneasy when Nigel acts a bit distant. he doesn't get this way about Beth so it confuses him. he doesn't quite know what's emotionally diffrent between a year or so long ex-girlfriend and an ex-wife. one day he's going through some things in Nigel's side of the closet and notices a photo book, a hoodie, and roll-on perfume. he snoops bc these two have 0 boundaries in my head and he sees Gabi for the first time....wow. he never like. stared at women. but wow. and he knew why Nigel was so into her just from these pics....oh its her in this hoodie....he can guess the perfume is hers too....all he wants is nigel to feel better. nigel comes back home from a shit day at where ever he works (pick your spacedogs fic favs: running a club with Darko, drug trading with Darko, both OR unemployed and being really nice to the elderly. There are truly only those three options I've noticed. ) and notices that Adam is being oddly quiet. he's usually on the sofa watching stuff or working on a space model by now....where is he??

he finds him...in bed. wearing only gabi's hoodie and boxers, and putting on her perfume. Nigel is shocked and feels a little hurt that Adam thought this was acceptable but eh with these two, this isn't the first weird thing between them. so he groans and rubs his face in his hands "What the fuck do you think you're doing??" he doesn't sound upset more just. bewildered and tired. Adam flinches anyway and looks like a kicked dog, knowing he did something wrong but unsure what. maybe explaining himself honestly will help. "you told me it was you and your ex-wife's anniversary....um, I just wanted to help ease your nerves. you seemed very stressed today. I figured you missed her. though in full honesty, her perfume doesn't smell very good..." he then smiles softly like maybe that fixed everything. Nigel is so whipped. he looks so cute. fuck no he's supposed to be upset. But Adam was right. he was missing her a bit. fuck that Charlie fucker and her....but god he had it good now. look at him! he just groans and gets in bed with him and pulls him close. he lets himself tell stories about Gabl, something he tried not to do or it used to unleash a storm but....god he had better. and Adam has talked about Beth from her clothes to her eating habits ("I thought at the time that chicken alfredo was like mac and cheese but they are actively diffrent. I think my stress at the time from being in such a place made me not notice and just wanted her to be happy. but why did she think it was the same??") so why doesn't he get a day to vent. Adam relaxes and listens, glad he is giving Nigel this. closure. he's grown. they both have.

[artemiseamoon]

How about you and me

Secret Santa fic for @din-jarhead | I hope you enjoy it. This was fun to write.

Frankie Morales x Reader (f) | friends to lovers

Words: 3,840 | A03

Warnings: disappointing sexual and dating history, p in v unprotected sex scene.

About: After a bad run of dates and getting fed up with the whole thing, you vent to your best friend Frankie (who you secretly love). He has a few ideas how to improve your situation.

An: fic is from readers POV mainly and the intro is Frankie’s. As always, no one reader will fit all (example - say the things you’d say) so you can read as an Oc if you prefer.

* since this is a gift fic for secret Santa i have posted in full*

Frankie kept his feelings to himself for a list of reasons, his career being number one.

Frankie has seen too many times what this work does to relationships. He knows firsthand. He did not want that with you - he’d never forgive himself if he messed it all up with you.

It's better this way, or so he tells himself, loving you secretly while being your best friend.

But now that he’s recently retired, and seeing you face constant disappointment in love and sex, Frankie thinks it’s time to speak up and give the possibility of you and him a chance.

✨✨✨

Thursday night

Humming contently, you relax against the red cushion of the diner booth. Before the sound fully leaves your lips, Frankie is already holding back a laugh as he chews his food.

“What?” You asked once you swallowed.

“All these years later, that's still your favorite thing on the menu.” He sits up, placing his elbows on the table across from you. “You still make that sound.”

“How observant of you,” you wink at him, then grab your glass of water. “You making fun of me?”

“No, it's cute.” He replies before taking another bite of his sandwich.

You and Frankie have been coming here for years. It’s become one of your places, and the times you’ve been here without him always feel weird.

Earlier that day, Frankie texted you and asked if you were free tonight. It was a light day at the garage, and he finished all his projects early. You happened to be off, even though you usually work on Thursdays, so the two of you decided to meet up for dinner, ‘at our spot’, as Frankie calls it.

You love the garage for him. It started as a passion project in between jobs. Once he retired, Frankie spent time trying to figure things out and ended up back at a garage. Now he owns it, and he’s much more relaxed than he used to be. It gave him something to do, something he cares about, and as his best friend, it's a pleasure to see him enjoying this stage of his life.

Cars, garages - all that may not be your forte, but you do enjoy visiting him and usually hang out with him after work, sometimes helping at the counter if he and the guys are busy. Your favorite part is watching him work, and when he catches you looking, you usually wink or make a silly face that brings a smirk to his lips.

You cover up what's really happening inside of you with humor and silliness but underneath, you are still madly in love with your best friend and watching him work is like an aphrodisiac. Not that you’ll tell him that.

…

There are many reasons you and Frankie love this place, and you have endless memories here. Sitting in this booth most of the time, number 4.

Memories of you meeting after exciting life events, less-than-exciting ones; memories of you running inside to meet him once he was home after missions. That one time you nearly ran the waitress over to get to him.

After dinner, you shared a dessert and ordered some drinks. As the night goes on and groups of people leave, their seats filled once more by others, you and Frankie remained in your own little world.

At one point, you headed outside to the patio. It’s a nice night out, and once the diner filled up, you and he both eyed the doors without words. It’s another thing you adore about him, that silent language between you, it’s a rare thing.

…

An hour passes, and the second round of drinks is in your hands. You and Frankie are seated on a bench on the far left of the patio, cute led lights decorate the wooden fence as the music from outside dances in the air.

When your phone buzzed, you and he were in the middle of laughing about something. Frankie's thigh touched your own as you huddled together on the bench.

With a sign, you dig into your pocket and pull out your phone. “Sorry, this keeps going off.”

Frankie tells you it's okay without words, just using his eyes. You plug in the pin, then pull up the screen. It’s a series of texts from that asshole you hooked up with two months ago. Also, sadly, the last person you had sex with.

You must have made a face because Frankie calls your name, then asks,

“You okay?”

“Ugh, yeah,” you lower the phone and look him in the eye, “I’m just never dating or having sex again. But it’s fine. It’s okay. It's fine.” You shake your head, trying to push away memories of that night.

You were horny and lonely, so you checked out your recent matches online. You hadn't used the app in some time at that point, because every date you went on was a disaster, and the men, shit, the men just kept getting worse.

But your vibrator was no longer cutting it, and that night you decided all you needed was hot sex with a hot guy and it would hold you over for a while. When you saw his face, it was a yes, he was exactly what you were looking for, and his body was even better.

The date went okay, it was clear there was nothing there beyond sexual attraction, but that was fine. At the end of the night, you went back to his place and what started as a very hot make out led to the most disappointing sex you’ve had in a long time, and that says a lot because your recent lovers have been lackluster.

He was selfish in bed; more selfish than any man you’ve been with. He didn't go down on you but wanted you to go down on him, which you declined to do. Once you did fuck, with a condom, of course, it was over so fast you lay there stunned. The mother fucker got off on himself, you’re sure of it. You might as well have been a damn sex doll for all that.

You were sure you blocked his number and told him to never contact you again, but maybe you were too horrified at the end and forgot to do it. Either way, getting a series of texts from him telling you he wants to see you and how much fun you had together makes you want to vomit and burn your phone.

Despite your efforts to not get stuck in this memory, you do. Frankie's voice pulls you out of it and thankfully, puts the man out of your mind,

“Still not working out?”

You meet his eyes, “Yeah. I’m either cursed or there are no good men left,” when the words leave your lips, you see something in his eyes, something you can’t put a finger on, “at this point, I think I’m destined to be single and maybe never have sex again.”

Frankie chuckles, his head lowered slightly. Letting your gaze linger, you take in his profile, the way his wavy chestnut hair curls from beneath his hat. Admiring Frankie when he’s not looking is something you’ve done more times than you can count.

Your love and sex life are already a mess. The last thing you need is your secret pinning for Frankie to spill off your tongue right now. It’s a secret. You plan to keep it that way. One more disappointment with a stranger, sure, it would suck but you could handle that. One more “you up?” or ‘wyd’ text from some asshole you never want to see again, you don’t want that, but you can handle it.

But Frankie? What if you laid it all out and spilled your truth and he doesn’t feel the same way? What if he turned you down? If you try and it doesn't work out? What if you try, it’s weird, and you end up losing your best friend? - no, you can’t take that risk. Frankie means too much to you.

“Don’t give up,” when he speaks your name in between breaths, paired with his calming voice, you’re ready to just confess anyway and go in for a kiss, but you hold back, “You’ll make someone the happiest man on earth. I promise.”

You scoffed, “yeah right.”

“Don’t do that,” Frankie sits up, his expression growing serious, “you just have shitty taste in guys. You’re picking the wrong ones.” He adds a little grin at the end.

You point at him, “don’t think I can argue with you there. That or I broke a mirror at some point and didn’t realize it.”

Frankie chuckles, “or, there are good guys out there and they’re not on those fucking apps,” he observes you, then points at your phone, “those apps,” he motions to your phone, “you don’t need that.”

You sigh and drop your gaze to your phone. Then set it on the bench beside you. Your eyes meet Frankies, “no one meets organically anymore. I don’t want technology to have a decent date or get laid but here we are.”

Frankie is quietly observing you and listening. You hold his gaze for a while, too long. You feel a confession dancing on your tongue yet again. Swallowing back the words, you grab your phone and start deleting the dating apps. “Screw it. I’m getting rid of them. You’re right Cat, I don’t need them.”

Frankie sits back and crosses his arms in a relaxed way. After a few moments, he says, “I have an idea. It might be a crazy one.”

You raise a brow, “listening.”

“How about-“he pauses when your eyes meet his, “we go out on a date.”

You drop your phone. Frankie feels a jolt of panic, worrying if that was a bad idea.

The sound of your phone hitting the ground is heard by you, but you don’t care. You stare at Frankie, and a shocked smile slowly builds on your lips.

Your eyes widen, “you and me?”

“Yeah. Look,” Frankie slides his cap off and runs his hand through his hair, “you’re my best friend. You know I care about you -“he takes a beat, “I hate watching you go through all this shit with those guys. I hate seeing you unhappy…” he says your name with so much softness, it makes your heartbeat faster, “I like you; I have for years I just didn’t think -”

His words fade. You’ve always been beautiful to him. But right now, with the glint in your eye and a smile on your lips that could brighten any dark room - it renders him speechless, and any doubts he’s has start to melt away.

Frankie scoots closer to you, he attempts to continue his thoughts but can’t. Words won’t meet his lips. Instead, he does something he’s always wanted to do. He kisses you. Frankie's lips are soft and warm against your own, and your cheek heats up as he cups it with his hand.

The kiss is sweet, it makes your heart flutter and when it ends you want more. Frankie leans back just enough to gauge your reaction.

He’s a confident guy, anxious at times, sometimes a little shy, but confident. And though seconds ago he was sure you feel the same, he’s doubting himself again.

“Was that okay?” He asks softly, his beautiful soulful brown eyes locked on yours.

You smile and throw your arms around his neck, “a little short, but yeah, that’s okay.”

Frankie chuckles and pulls you closer until his lips meet yours. This time, there’s no hesitation, no worry; he kisses you like it's the last time he’ll ever kiss again, he kisses you so deeply he leaves you breathless; your head spinning as moisture pools between your thighs.

As the kiss heats up, your bodies are pressed together, and he nearly pulls you beneath him on the bench. Your fingers are in his hair now, your other hand tugging on his collar. Frankie has one hand on your thigh, the other behind your neck.

The hungry kiss doesn’t break until the beer bottle shatters on the ground, his bottle. You laugh as he reaches down to rescue your phone before it gets wet. Breathing heavily, you both continue to chuckle, and he cups your face again.

“Better?” He asks with a playful grin.

“Fuck yes.” You reply with a seductive smile.

Frankie's eyes dip to your lips, “about that date? Tomorrow?”

You poke his dimple, “Tonight?”

You’re sick of waiting.

You've wanted Frankie for years and after that kiss, you can’t wait for a second longer. Luckily, Frankie feels the same way.

“Okay, “he says confidently, “this is now a date.”

…

You can’t keep your hands off each other.

The official date portion of the night only lasted 30 minutes before you piled into Frankie's truck and ended up at his place. From the door to the living room, you make out passionately, hands exploring each other's bodies as you remove your clothes. It’s been two months since you had sex and the kiss made you feral. In the back of your mind, you wondered if you should slow down, but you don’t want to.

Every time a piece of clothing is removed, his lips are on yours again, the thud of your racing hearts pound between your bodies. As you make your way to the bedroom, he tries to navigate you in the dark, a table there, something falling over here.

“Maybe we should turn the light on?” you giggle.

He kisses your neck, his hands on your hips as you pause in the hallway, just before his bedroom. His body pressing against yours, both of you down to just your underwear now.

You wrap a leg around him, pulling him in closer, and moan as his bulge rubs against you.

“Fuck the light,” he growls, “bedroom now.”

…

In the bedroom, Frankie turns on one light, he needs to see you, to take you in, all of you. He’s seated on the edge of the bed now, admiring your form as you stand before him. He anchors one hand on your hip and kisses the soft skin of your belly.

“You’re beautiful.”

He kisses the spot again, then dips his head to kiss your thighs. Your hands are anchored on his strong broad shoulders as you watch him admiring you. There are no words, no thoughts, just the way Frankie is looking at you and speaking to you, the way his hands feel on your body; you are nearly vibrating with desire now.

Frankie stands. You slide your fingers in his hair as you kiss him, tugging at his dark brown waves. Frankie moans into the kiss and deepens it, needing more of you, his hands moving behind you and greedily cupping your ass.

You slide a hand between your bodies and palm his cock. Your hand on his cock makes Frankie moan and squeeze your ass harder. You imagine it inside of you and grow even wetter.

Frankie kisses you like no one ever has before, the way you read about in books and dreamed kisses could be. And when he slides two fingers inside of you, your knees almost buck, he demands more of your mouth as he fingers you, and you give it to him.

Pleasure rises in you as he feels you up with his other hand. You’ve always loved his hands, you stare at them all the time, you like to watch them work, and this man - he’s a fucking expert, he finds all your spots and brings you to the brink of release in minutes.

Frankie pulls his fingers out and orders you to lay on the bed on your back, knees up. Your breath catches in your throat at the command. You do it. He positions himself between your thighs and spreads them further apart,

“Perfect, just like that - “he groans, taking you in, drunk on you, kneading your thighs with his fingers as he observes you, his eyes clouded with desire.

Frankie knows how to touch you; you purr and moan to way he uses his fingers, his tongue, his mouth, the intuitive way he works your clit. You melt in his hands.

Frankie knows the right speed and pressure to bring you rushing past the edge of desire - to sweet sweet nirvana.

Frankie sits up and licks his lips. You’re seeing double and sucking air into your lungs as post-orgasm ecstasy moves in waves through your body.

He smiles, “all of that for me,” Frankie grins and dips his head again, savoring even more of your release.

Seconds later, Frankie moves up your body and hikes your leg over his hip; you bring your hands to his shoulders as he anchors himself with one hand and wraps the other around his shaft.

His eyes stay on yours as he slides into you, inch by inch, filling you and stretching you deliciously. You gasp and dig your nails into his shoulders,

“Is this too much? Should I go slower?”

He’s thicker, bigger than you’re used to, but you want all of him, every inch. You clench your walls around him and grab his ass, pulling him in deeper, needing more of him. Frankie kisses your jawline, then your lips.

“How's that for an answer?” You tease, pulling him in deeper, he moans and drops his head.

“Fucking perfect - “ he groans, thrusting his hips, sliding the rest of his cock inside your warmth.

You begin grinding your hips together, moaning with pleasure as you fuck. Your bodies move in a rhythm so synchronized it’s like you’ve done this before, and even with the extra stretch it takes to accommodate Frankie's cock, once he’s in, you fit perfectly, like your bodies were made for each other.

You grind your hips faster and faster, your hands traveling each other's bodies as he fucks you into the mattress. Frankie has imagined this so many times, and he would love to take his time with you, but right now, he's feral, the same as you, utterly consumed by red-hot passion.

Frankie changes positions, rolling on his back, you on top of him. As you ride him, you throw your head back in ecstasy. He anchors one hand on your hip and uses the other to rub your clit.

As you fuck, you become drunker and drunker on each other. You on his cock, him on the feeling of being inside of you.

You try to hold on, to keep it going a little longer, dancing at the edge of what you know will be the most exciting, most fulfilling crescendo you’ve ever had.

Frankie is so good with his hands, and his cock, you won't last much longer. Seconds later, you’re moaning his name and collapsing onto him as you come. He grunts and jerks his hips harder, faster, fucking you through your orgasm. When he kisses you again, it's almost possessive and you like it.

Frankie pins you beneath him again, he hikes your legs over his shoulders, thrusting deep into you with a shuttered groan. You cry his name and whimper at this new angle, it's intense and dizzying. The new angle does Frankie in, after a couple of pumps he comes, moaning your name in pleasure.

His body tenses, orgasmic bliss moving through him as he spills into you. A mix of moans and heightened breaths fill the room as he gently lays you on the mattress, then rolls over on his back beside you. Your body goes limp as you catch your breath.

…

Friday Morning

Frankie is up first. He’s never been able to shake his old schedule, when the sun is up, he’s up. Unless he makes an effort to sleep in.

Last night, moonlight streamed through his window and across your sleeping face, now it's the sun. He stayed up a little longer than you and watched you sleep. Same as now.

You stir awake slowly and eventually open your eyes. Squinting, your flash a tired smile at him, “hi.”

“Hi.” His voice is still groggy, and his hair is messy on his head, he looks adorable. Like you, he’s still naked beneath the sheets. Frankie leans over and kisses you.

“I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.” You chuckle and cover your mouth,

“I don’t care, I’ll kiss you anyway.” he grabs your face and plants another kiss on your lips.

You sit up and pool the sheet at your hips, your back against the pillows like him.

“Frankie, about last night?” You raise your brows at him. “Do you think we messed this up by hooking up right away?”

“No,” his brown eyes meet yours, he turns his body to you, “you?”

You reach out and scratch the patchy part of his beard. “No. I hope not.”

Frankie looks at your thoughtfully, then takes one of your hands in his, “the way I see it, this has been building between us for some time. What happened last night was proof of that.”

You nod. Last night was amazing.

Frankie's everything you imagined and more. With one night, he’s erased all your bad sexual experiences and cleansed shitty lovers from your body memory.

He kisses you how you’ve longed to be kissed. Touches you in ways that make you wild and dizzy with lust. The way he pleases you cannot be compared to any other experience you've had; all your past lovers pale in comparison to this.

In the back of your mind, a thought picks away at you. What if starting with sex makes this a sex thing? As fun as that would be, you love him, and you’d want more than that.

Frankie caresses your arm, “hey, where’d you go?”

“Sorry, I just- it’s clear we like each other. We are obviously attracted to each other, but I’m just worried this will turn into a friends-with-benefits situation. And as fun as that could be, I don’t want -“ you trail off and try to read his expression.

Frankie takes a breath and caresses your arm, “I’ve been in love with you for years. I don’t want just a sex thing. I want you and me, together.”

A smile builds on your lips as your worries fall away, you inch closer to him, “I’m in love with you too Frankie.”

Your name is soft on his lips, his eyes full of adoration, “It's official then isn’t it, “he brushes his knuckles over your cheek, “you’re mine now.”

“And you’re mine.” You smile as you climb into his lap and draw him into a kiss.

Masterlist | Frankie | Pedro

[suzukiblu]

It feels a little weird and awkward to say this but thank you? For doing so much accidental baby acquisition/baby acquisition stuff in general? Its kinds always been my favourite thing to both read and write (has consistently been for over 10 years now) but people seem to majorly have a thing against it (especially when the parents are teens, which like, kinda fair because thats not SUPPOSED to happen irl, but thats also what makes it so interesting to explore in fiction yknow? Especially as a teen pregnancy baby myself) so I always feel very discouraged from writing that stuff. People go on and on about "kids not being a mandatory life step that everyone wants to do, stop giving these characters kids" and I'm just sitting here, absolutely certain I'll never want kids myself, wanting to explore the topic in fiction, and feeling super hurt by that. Why cant those people just leave it alone if they don't like it? What happened to dont like dont read? Why do they have to pick on people who write these topics?

That got a little venty, sorry

Anyways, I just really want to thank you for writing kidfics so often, as weird as that is. I've only been following you for a month but its already made me start feeling better about my own writing and favourite tropes. Its dumb to let assholes get to me, but they do start wearing you down after 10 years yknow?

Thank you, I'm so glad you're liking my stuff! And don't sweat it on the venting, I get it, lol. Sometimes you just gotta vent some.

Honestly I was kinda meh on kidfic/baby acquisition fics when I was younger and tended to go the "don't like/don't read" route on them myself, but these days it's just kinda helpful to be able to get out some of my feels about both how I was parented and how I'm very unlikely to ever BE a parent despite having previously wanted to, so like, accidental baby acquisition especially has just been REALLY vibing with me as a genre. Like--in the sense of if I ever end up with a kid myself, it almost definitely will BE unplanned and accidental, and also in the sense of my feelings about the idea of making a very deliberate Choice about being a parent, as opposed to just kinda doing it as another checklist item on the list of expected things you just do as you go through life.

Also I'm glad to hear you're feeling better about your writing, it's nice to hear I could help with something like that. ❤ I've been very lucky with the reception I've gotten for my stuff, generally speaking my readers either just don't engage with what they're not into or tell me "hey I'm not even into this, but actually I really enjoyed the way you did it once I tried it". So like, usually I prescribe to the theory of writing about things I care about and trying to be honest and not self-censor too much about the feelings and thoughts I have on those topics, and just try to let my audience find me via tags and word of mouth. If there's people who aren't into my preferred genres, then they can just go play in their own corner of the sandbox and I'll play in mine.

Plus fuck it, man, I just like writing cute kids and also working out personal trauma and helping other people just, like, get the catharsis of reading a healthy parent-child relationship. It just feels good, y'know?

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

Hey, I finished the first chapter of the little fic I made. It's not great, but it's here, so I might as well share it, I guess? Have mercy on me, I don't know how to format this and it started out as a mini vent thing.

Anyways, on with the show! (let's hope it doesn't crash and burn)

(no it doesn't have a title I'm sorry)

Word Count: 1, 537

Another day in, another day out, just like every other. Clock in, grab your supplies, work for six hours, go home. Start the day tired and end it numb. The routine gets to you some days, but you’ve gotten used to it, trudging through the hallways with a heavy heart and a spirit that’s been stepped on for too long to recover.

You’ve been knocked down so many times that you can’t get back up again.

So you go through your day. You get a couple looks, hear a murmur or two from some nearby parents. You wish you could say you’ve learned to block it out, learned not to care.

What you have learned is how to fool everyone, sometimes even yourself for a bit. You plaster on a passable default smile, forcing your lips to twitch up as you give a short wave to people. The small jolt of disappointment when people buy your ruse never did disappear. The ache is still there, dulled and hollowed by time. You remind yourself that the loss of attention means it worked. It still doesn’t stop the small, faded part of you from hoping that someone would care enough to try to see through the well-placed mask you’ve created.

Of course, you know better. People would never try more than they had to. You couldn’t fault them for that. They’ve always been content with shoddily built structures that could collapse at any moment. As long as it held, as long as they didn’t have to clean it up, the ‘fine’ you gave would always be a satisfying answer.

You’d long since given up trying to change people’s worldview. 

You stand in front of the daycare doors, preparing yourself for another day. Your pep-talk does nothing; you’ve never been able to fully fool yourself, even when you could fool everyone else.

You suppose magic only works if you believe in it, and when you’re the magician, no one can pull the wool over your eyes. You know every trick, every hole in your facade.

You take a breath, glancing at your watch. Six hours and you could leave, not that you had anything at home for you to look forward to. No use in setting up false hope. 

Pushing the daycare doors open, your eyes dart around and take in the prison you’ll be trapped in for a duration of your day. The bright fluorescents and warm atmosphere give the misleading idea of an almost normal work day. You’ve been here long enough to know better.

You glance around before making a beeline for the desk, too tired to interact with anyone, much less your dreaded coworker.

To no one’s surprise, your wish goes unheeded, and a figure looms over you, further dampening your mood. You brace yourself and meet his gaze with a tired expression, not bothering to hide your exhaustion today. Still, you try to be cordial, folding your arms and politely greeting the animatronic set on tormenting you for the duration of your shift. 

“Good morning,” you say, cringing inwardly at the unintentionally sharp inflection in your tone. You try to smooth over it, even though you know he caught onto it, if the twitch of his eye didn’t prove it.

Sure enough, he latches onto it with a thin, seemingly friendly smile. “And a good morning to you! I couldn’t help but notice that you’re slacking today, friend.”

The cheery words do nothing to veil his cold, blatant hatred, and he makes no move to hide the venom lacing his tone. You can feel your own smile thinning, but try not to show it, not wanting to give him another reason to continue this conversation. “What makes you say that?”

His eyes narrow, and he leans in further, smile just barely hiding his disdain. You keep your innocent facade up, having learned that the confrontation lasts less when you just go along with it. 

“Well, you’re not in dress code. Aaaand I don’t recall lounging behind the desk being a part of your job description.’

You hold your tongue, biting back the urge to defend yourself. You know there’s nothing wrong with your shirt, and you know he does, too. You also know that he wouldn’t let you set foot in the actual daycare unless it was actually necessary. He’d made that very clear from day one. Still, you keep your act up and nod, seeming apologetic. “Oh, sorry, Sun, I didn’t realize. I’ll go get changed.”

You pick up your bag, already prepared for this very scenario, and head over to the bathroom, not bothering to continue conversation. You’re careful not to walk too quickly (or too slowly) so as not to get called back. You’ve been here long enough to know each trick, each problem they pull out from under the ground, each flaw they insist on picking apart. 

You can’t even remember the last time you were excited to come to work. It must’ve been back when you’d first started, before you were aware of the hostility you’d face. You don’t think your past self would recognize you now.

You don’t even recognize yourself.

From the start, Sun had been hostile, him and Moon both. At the time, you’d figured that it was because you were now. Surely with time things would die down, and you’d all learn to get along.

Oh, how wrong you were.

Of the two, your preferred Moon. Sure, he was the one pulling out all the stops to bother you, but at least he made it clear how he felt about you, with the tricks, insults, glares and mockery. Sun’s hatred simmered just below the surface, quick and sharp when striking like a viper lashing out at its prey.

It should’ve been easier to hate them back with the way they treated you, the way they still treat you. You could have fought back with just as much force, should have, even.

Somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate them. You saw the way they played with the children, how they attended to each and every one who passed through those doors. You saw Sun’s games and Moon’s stories. You saw the way parents treated Sun, the way kids shied away from Moon. You saw them happy, kind, caring, and you saw them panicked and broken. How could you fault them for trying to be in control of the one thing they had power over?

You just wished it wouldn’t hurt so much.

You knew deep down that it didn’t justify their treatment. You couldn’t understand why you kept making excuses, kept coming back, why you hadn’t just up and left like everyone else insisted you do.

 Maybe it was because you knew what being left behind felt like.

Stars, it was tiring to do the right thing, though. Every day, you felt a little part of you wither inside at being shoved into smaller boxes for someone else’s satisfaction.

Ah. 

Well.

Not like you hadn’t had experience in that department.

It wasn’t like you could leave, anyhow. Contract was a year, no exceptions. The pay was too good to pass up, and it wasn’t like you hadn’t been put under pressure before. The plex wasn’t too bad overall. No one bothered you, save for the security guard and the occasional parent. The band members were mostly neutral with you. You had yet to hold a conversation with Chica or Freddy despite working here for several months. Monty was rude but had yet to actually talk to you outside of small snide remarks and gruff warnings, and Roxanne just treated you like dirt on the bottom of her shoe, an ant on the sidewalk, which was fine. You rarely visited the Arcade, but the DJ was nice enough, not interfering with your work and responding to questions if you had any. At least the STAFF bots were nice to you.

(Distantly you wondered how pathetic you were for only being held in an okay light by someone programmed with on directive in mind and a dim sentience.)

And how someone designed to be friendly and welcoming hated you with every line of their code.)

You shove your thoughts aside and focus on surviving the day. You quickly change into a work shirt almost identical to the one you were just wearing, knowing that he couldn’t argue against it because he had approved this one specifically two weeks ago. And he never went back on his word, at least not to you. 

You check your watch again. You had maybe two minutes before you’d be taking “too long” by their standards, and you gratefully took the moment to decompress before facing the day head-on. 

You shut your eyes and slump against the back wall, just breathing. You note your heartbeat in the background, the quiet rise and fall of your chest, the creaking of bones rubbing against each other, the twitch of each muscle, your eyes flickering under closed lids. 

For a moment, you just are.

It ends too quickly as you notice the time, grabbing your bag and heading back out, feeling a little more ready for what’s to come.

(The feeling doesn’t last long.)

Aaaand that's a wrap! I'm working on the next part, so it might be out? If people like this? I dunno, I'm new to this whole thing...

[beyondtheglowingstars]

Ok!! Now that my questions have been answered- could I request a fic or some headcanons (either or, i dont mind) with Warriors from Linked Universe with a gender neutral s/o who's been really burntout recently? Like maybe s/o is like some sort of publisher or scholar for the royal family or sm and has been working non-stop and now suddenly they're just exhausted and can't find the energy to keep working-

Wars, being the good boyfriend he is, realises his s/o has been hauled up in their study not really coming out for anything but food, water etc.

so a little scenario of wars going to check up on them would be nice<3 something fluffy and comforting with just a hint of angst if you rly squint ya know?

If theres smt you wanna change or dont want to do then thats fine! Take your time with it :>

I look forward to seeing what you do! and thanks for responding to my questions earlier

Hi hi! Sorry once again for this being late, but I hope you like it and that it maybe brightened your day even if just slightly.

Thank you for such nice words! They're a huge motivator for me.

Warriors with a burnt-out s/o (hcs)

You were feeling burnt-out? And were stressing so much that you hadn't been coming out for anything other than fulfilling your basic needs?? Warriors just wouldn't allow that. Not a chance.

If only you had seen his face when Zelda let him know what was happening. She was genuinely concerned for your well being and tried to help you several times, but she truly knew Link was the only remedy to the problem.

Warriors would immediately go back to the chain not to ask for permission from Time, he would basically give the command himself that they would stay near the castle for as long as it took for you to feel better.

He didn't tell them this, but if it bothered anyone, then they could go on without him and he'd join back until he knew you were doing better.

Time understood the power that love had over people, and guessed that it may not be so bad for them to take some time off, so he didn't protest. He'd make sure to keep some of the boys away from Warriors and you as much as he could so you had some time together.

Warriors would gently knock the door to your room while calling you your affectionate nickname.

The first thing that happens after opening that door is you getting scooped in his strong arms and being given two smooches. One on your forehead and another on your lips.

He sits down with you and holds you close, asking about how you've been doing while he was gone.

If you wanted to talk or vent for a while, he'll sit there without problem and listen to all you have to say, maybe shedding a tear or two himself if you need to cry. He'll give you a nice, tender kiss at the end.

If you don't wanna share much, that's okay too. He'll lovingly tell you more reassuring words than you can think of and will keep holding you for as long as you need.

Don't think he doesn't have any more to offer, he's very excited to gift you everything he's gotten for you in his travels.

He's taking you out to the town after that.

Whatever is it that you want from the vendors, he'll get it for you.

He'd be telling you about the most fun parts of his adventure, making sure to make it as entertaining as he can.

When you crack a big smile he's gonna feel the proudest he ever has.

He'd be so happy to see that you're finally enjoying yourself. He knows very well why it's so important to take your mind off of responsibilities every once in a while.

After a long day, he's taking you back to your room and spoiling you as much as he can.

He knew you'd be tired, so he may have asked for help from one of the castle maids before he saw you earlier in the day. You come back to find everything spotless and tidy.

Before you have any time to ask him what is it that he did, he's already making you comfortable and getting your sleeping clothes.

He's cuddling with you to sleep. Doesn't matter if you're the big or small spoon, he's just content to be close to you and knowing that you're feeling better now.

He wishes he could stay by your side from that day on and forget about everything else, but he knows he's gonna have to leave soon, and is preparing for it.

In the meantime, he'd make sure you both enjoy your time together as much as possible.

[sordidmusings]

Fic and Schedule/Prioritizing Update!

Love me some damn possum memes

So! Fics right? What I’m trying to prioritize right now are a Croc comfort fic, Croc smut request, Buggy the hat stays ON, and Straw Hats and the Three Unwise Men x marine reader. Running concurrent with that are chap 2 of Coronary Tale, part 3 of TLC massage, and ABO Law x reader x Penguin x Shachi. There’s an ungodly amount floating below those too 🥴 Luckily some progress has been made!! Just no completion yet lol

I am going to try and let the AuDHD demons have more leeway in hopes that it may get at least fucking sOMETHING done so there will likely be more posts of shorter and more random things going up. One of the reasons I’ve been nervous about that besides the hubris filled and doomed to fail pursuit of perfection but also because of self imposed guilt around productivity in general as well as worrying that it would come across that I’m shirking the bigger stuff and more importantly the things I’d like to make for people.

The things I see getting down the quickest that aren’t in the writing priorities are more sketches, one piece crochet, a dumb fun Shanks headcanon/drabble post, a layout of an AU I headed a bit back and have been building on, and ideas/plans for a distant Sabo fic that’s like a canon divergent AU (esp when it comes to celestial dragons there will me Many Liberties)

Also some reposts probably. May they not meet their second death 💀

Also gotta remake the lil baby masterlist at some point 🤡

Below cut more personal stuff if you wish to skip!

My second and third gigs have been asking more than they generally were and I recently had to step in on an orchestra to help my teacher and I’ve been keepin my folks and grandparents houses runnin on all the off spots so I have been struggling to find time and also mental space to create those I desperately want to 😭 I’m very frustrated with it because I feel I should be doing better at that cuz it’s not like I’ve never Gone Through It before 💀 I am at least quite lucky that I’ve been able to shuffle it all around health stuff just enough to keep it all rolling and esPECIALLY lucky my main gig ain’t firing me for health issues interrupting work. I digress though - mostly just a little vent and idea of where my attention is currently spread. I’m gonna try and push to get more out slightly against better judgement because yes spend more energy when big burnt out Bad but also creative things are supposed to help mental health and other stuff aint doin it so why not 🤷🏼‍♀️ if it gets worse that has its own perk at this point 💀