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chaoticwriting · 11 days ago

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YOU ARE MARRIED!!??3

Part 2

It's been a week since Ellie arrived at the manor. All the guests from the night of Ellie's arrival had already returned by that night. And so far, they haven't managed to pry open any more information about their brother-in-law from Ellie that they already didn't know of.

Currently, Ellie is sitting in the living room drawing on her green notebook while eating fruit snacks that Alfred prepares. Cass is watching over her, occasionally asking her what she is drawing.

Except for Cass and Alfred, everyone else is either at work or at school. Suddenly, a portal opens and comes out Cujo with a bag that has Ellie's name on it. So far, Cujo has been delivering Ellie's essential almost everyday for the past week. Whenever Ellie or Cass ask him about Danny, Cujo just shakes his head meaning either he doesn't know or he can't tell them.

Cujo also never stays for long and just jumps away whenever his delivery is done. But to their surprise, Cujo is not alone today. A woman in punk clothing and blue flaming hair follows after Cujo holding a guitar in her hand. Ellie perks up when she sees Ember coming out of the portal.

Ellie: Aunt Ember!

Ember: Hey Ellie. How are you doing? I assume you have been eating well.

Ellie: Yes! Everyone is so nice. Alfred always brings me snacks if I want to and grandpa Bruce buys me a lot of things.

Ember: Good good. I'm just here to say hi and check up on you. Your papa has been worrying a lot since he sent you here.

Ellie: Aunt Ember, when will papa finish his job? I miss him.

Ember: I don't know but for now you stay with your mama, okay? I will tell your papa to deal with his job quicker.

Ellie: Okay. :(

Ember then turns towards Cass and smiles at her.

Ember: Hey Cass. I'm Ember. Danny's friend. Sorry about the late greetings.

Cass: It's fine. About Danny, can I know what his job actually is?

Ember: Errmm, it's not that I don't want to tell. It's just I feel like you should ask him directly since even I don't know what his actual job is. Usually, Clockwork just calls him and off him go to wherever or whenever he sends him.

Cass: I see. But can I know if he is okay?

Ember: As far as I can tell, he is fine. Clockwork hasn't asked any of us for back up yet, so his mission is probably going well.

Suddenly, Bruce enters the living room seeing Ember and Cass talking.

Bruce: Why hello there miss. How can I help you?

Ember: *Stares*

Bruce: Errmm, miss?

Ember: You are that guy that got sent back and forth in time wasn't it? I remember your face from one of Danny's missions.

Bruce: What?

Ember: Yeah. You are Bruce Wayne, right? The Batman.

Bruce: How do you know about me?

Ember: It's not hard when your bestfriend is the one that helps one of his favorite heroes to escape forced time travel.

Bruce: Danny helps me back then?

Ember: Yeah. But at that time, he was mostly chasing after Plasmius. It is a coincidence he met you so he sent you back home first before he continued chasing Plasmius.

Cass: This Plasmius guy, how dangerous is he?

Ember: Ehh, depends on his sanity to be honest. One day, he might come to just fight you, another day he might try to release an interdimensional tyrant from his long slumber. So it's really random.

Cass: And this time?

Ember: Oh did Ellie tell you they are chasing Plasmius? I don't actually know what he is planning this time. Clockwork is being his cryptid ass again and not telling the whole story.

Bruce: Is this Clockwork safe?

Ember: Well, he is okay. I think he adopted Danny at one point so you could call him his adopted parents. But Danny also has real parents so there is that. Overall, he wouldn't allow any significant harm to fall onto Danny or anyone close to him unless he knows that is the best solution possible.

Ember: Oh well, I need to go now. Have a concert to attend to. Bye Ellie.

Ellie: Bye Aunt Ember! Bye Cujo!

Cujo gives out a bark and opens a portal. Both of them enter the portal and disappear from the living room. Bruce has that serious calculating look on his face while Cass just takes everything and processes them. She trusts his husband's judgement. And since she is with Cujo and Danny trusts Cujo, that means whoever Ember is, she is probably a friend.

Bruce goes to his study to enter the Batcave, while Cass and Ellie continue playing in the living room.

-Somewhere else-

A young man with white hair and black and white hazmat suit is flying across an urban city as he chases after a vampire-like older man that is holding a bracelet giving off a green light.

Danny: Give me the bracelet, Plasmius!

Plasmius: You gotta take it from my own hand, little badger!

Danny shoots an ecto beam towards Plasmius as he dodges the attack coming from Danny. Danny being agitated, tries to fly faster but he is already going as fast as he can.

'I wish I could just appear in front of him.'

Suddenly, Danny's vision goes black and when his vision comes again, he sees Plasmius rushing to him. Plasmius is shocked to see Danny suddenly in front of him and tries to maneuver away from him, but at such close distance, there is no way for him to outrun Danny.

Catching his wrist, Danny puts a collar that Clockwork specifically made for Plasmius. Plasmius turns back into a human and if not for Danny holding his wrist, would have fallen down from the sky.

Danny, seeing Plasmius unconscious, processes what just happened. Did he just teleport? How? He doesn't even know how to open a portal. He kind of just wishes it and it happened.

A green portal appears in front of him, cutting off his thoughts. Danny sighs as he doesn't even know what is going on. He should probably return first and ask Clockwork what is happening.

Part 4

#danny phantom #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #batfam #danny x cass #dc x dp #dead silent #cassandra cain #cass x danny #is this too short?#I feel like I write a lot already but I still feels like this is short.#I will probably write the next one longer

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aliyahwritings · 2 months ago

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THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (09)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 4.7k

Aliyah's Notes: y'all are getting fed cause this chapter and the next one are gonna be cute asf so enjoy :)

Three days before the engagement party felt like an endless marathon, with every hour packed to the brim with decisions and errands. The morning started early—too early for your liking—as Aisha and Nina practically dragged you out of bed.

Nina, ever the “mom” of the group, had already prepared an itinerary. She stood in the kitchen, arms crossed, her phone in hand, while you slumped in a chair, still clinging to the remnants of sleep. “Alright, ladies,” Nina began, her tone brisk, “we’ve got a packed schedule. Venue first, then flowers, then caterers. We’ll fit in the designer appointment after lunch, assuming someone,” her eyes flicked pointedly toward you, “doesn’t take forever to make decisions.”

Aisha smirked, sipping her coffee as she leaned against the counter. “You know she’ll take forever. She was debating the color of napkins for twenty minutes for her birthday party.”

��Because they matter!” you protested, sitting up straighter, your natural energy kicking in. “The wrong napkin can throw off the entire table aesthetic. Imagine gold chargers with plain white napkins—horrible!”

Aisha groaned dramatically, while Nina pinched the bridge of her nose. “God give me strength,” Nina muttered in Tagalog under her breath before clapping her hands. “Alright, let’s move. The decorator is expecting us in twenty minutes, and I’m not letting us be late.”

The three of you piled into Nina’s car, and the drive to the venue was filled with your endless chatter. You couldn’t help yourself; you were excited. Ever since your night at Rafe’s, you’ve been walking around with a weight lift off your shoulders, and a smile on your face. “Okay, but seriously, do you think white and gold is too basic? Should I add a pop of color? Like blush pink? Or emerald green! Oh, that could be so chic—”

“Breathe, Miss. Yapper,” Aisha interrupted, shooting you a look from the front seat. “You’ve already settled on white and gold. Don’t backtrack now.”

“She’s just overthinking again,” Nina said from the driver’s seat, her voice calm but firm. “You always do this, sweetie. Just trust your instincts. They’re good… most of the time.”

“Most of the time?!” you repeated, feigning offense.

“Girl, you’re the one who almost ordered heart-shaped balloons for your ex’s retirement party,” your best friend deadpanned.

“He always complained about his job, alright! I thought he was happy to retire.”

The two of them burst into laughter, and you couldn’t help but join in. They always knew how to make you laugh, even when your perfectionism threatened to take over.

When you arrived at the venue, the decorator was already waiting, surrounded by samples of linens, centerpieces, and lighting options. The grand ballroom looked beautiful even in its unfinished state, with its high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows letting in streams of sunlight. But you could already see a million tiny things that needed to be fixed or adjusted.

Nina took charge of logistics, confirming delivery times and setups with the decorator, while Aisha kept you in check. Every time you tried to change something—a table arrangement here, a floral display there—Aisha would cross her arms and give you a warning glare.

“Focus, Y/N. You’re going to drive this poor decorator insane,” Aisha muttered as you debated, for the third time, whether the table runners should have a satin or matte finish.

“It’s not insane to want things to be perfect,” you argued, though your voice was tinged with doubt.

“It’s insane when you’re deciding between two things that look exactly the same,” Aisha countered.

“Pale beige and normal beige are completely different—”

Nina swooped in to mediate, her tone soothing. “Look, kids, both options are gorgeous. Y/N, pick one and move on. We still have three more stops today.”

You sighed, finally nodding and pointing to the matte finish. The decorator gave you a grateful smile, and you moved on to the next decision.

By the time you left the venue, your head was spinning, but there was no time to slow down. The next stop was the florist, where the three of you pored over bouquets and arrangements.

“Peonies are elegant, but are they too soft for the theme?” you mused aloud, holding up a sample.

“Peonies are fine,” Nina assured you, already checking her phone for the next appointment.

“Roses are boring,” Aisha chimed in, inspecting a cluster of orchids. “But these could work. They’re dramatic. Like you.”

You stuck your tongue out at her, earning a rare laugh from Nina. “She’s not wrong,” Nina said with a small smile.

The florist walked you through the arrangements, but your perfectionism struck again. You wanted everything to complement the aesthetic without feeling overdone. Nina stepped in when she sensed you starting to spiral.

“Y/N, just pick a theme and stick with it,” she said gently but firmly. “You can’t have every flower in the world at your party. Less is more.”

Aisha nodded in agreement. “Listen to her. She’s right. For once.”

Nina rolled her eyes but didn’t dignify the comment with a response.

Eventually, you settled on a mix of peonies, orchids, and eucalyptus, feeling a little more confident as you left the florist.

Lunch was a quick stop at a café, where you barely had time to scarf down a sandwich before heading to your next appointment. The designer fitting was a whirlwind of fabrics, sequins, and pins, with you trying on dress after dress while Nina and Aisha offered their unfiltered opinions.

By the end of the day, you were utterly spent. You stumbled through the door of your apartment, exhaustion hit you like a ton of bricks. You kicked off your heels, letting them clatter onto the floor, and flopped onto the couch with a moan. Your feet ached, your head was pounding, and the thought of the work you have for tomorrow made you want to cry.

Just as you were debating whether to order takeout or crawl into bed and call it a night. Your phone buzzed—-your new phone that you bought yesterday after losing your original one and your keys at the charity event—-on the coffee table. You reached for it, squinting at the screen.

Rafe: “Longest. Day. Ever.”

A small smile tugged at your lips despite your fatigue. You propped yourself up against the armrest and typed back.

You: “Tell me about it. I’m so dead! Who knew choosing flowers could feel like a full-body workout?”

His response came almost immediately.

Rafe: “Yeah? Well, at least you didn’t have to run for AN HOUR!!! My legs feel like they’re about to give up on me.”

You: “Poor baby. Want me to send you a trophy for Most Exhausted Future Fiancé-to-Be?”

Rafe: “Ha. Ha. So funny.”

Rafe: “Are you sure we’re not married yet? You already sound like a nagging wife.”

The audacity of him made you chuckle and roll your eyes. You typed quickly, unable to help yourself.

You: “Excuse you? If I’m a nagging wife, then you’re a whiny husband.”

Rafe: “Whatever you say, nagging wife.”

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head as you sank further into the couch. The teasing back-and-forth was an oddly comforting way to unwind after such a chaotic day.

You: “Seriously though, did you at least eat? Or are you surviving off your ego again?”

Rafe: “Does a protein bar and water count?”

You groaned audibly, your fingers flying across the screen.

You: “No, Rafe. A protein bar and water do NOT count. A protein bar is not food; it’s a snack. Please tell me you’ve got something decent in your fridge.”

Rafe: “Define ‘decent’…”

You: “I’m going to kill you.”

Rafe: “That’s very romantic, baby, but you’re avoiding the question. What’s the verdict? Is my fridge decent enough for you, Your Honor?”

You: “No.”

You: “Knowing you, it’s probably full of water bottles, expired vegetables, and mystery leftovers. Am I wrong?”

Rafe: “I don’t like this attack on my character.”

You: “Answer the question, Cameron.”

Rafe: “Fine. Maybe you’re right. I don’t have the energy to argue. Or to cook, for that matter.”

You sighed again, a twinge of concern sneaking past your teasing. You guessed he pushed himself hard during training, but the least he could do was take care of himself after.

You: “Alright, what do you feel like eating? I’ll bring you something.”

Rafe: “What? No. You just spent all day running around. You don’t have to do that.”

You: “Too late. I offered, and I’m not taking it back. So, what’ll it be?”

Rafe: “...You’re really doing this, huh?”

You: “Absolutely.”

Rafe: “Fine. Surprise me. Just nothing too fancy. I’m starving.”

You: “Got it. Be there in an hour.”

Rafe: “Angel.”

Shaking your head, you pocketed your phone and headed to the kitchen. After a quick assessment of what you had on hand, you decided on a simple but satisfying dish: chicken biryani.

Cooking helped you relax after the chaotic day. The process of measuring spices, chopping onions, and stirring the pot grounded you, your mind focused on creating something warm and filling. By the time the dish was done, the air was fragrant with the scent of saffron, cardamom, and cloves.

You packed the biryani into a container, added a side of pudding kheer for balance, and grabbed some naan for good measure. After a quick freshen-up, you were on your way to Rafe’s penthouse.

When he opened the door, the sight of him hit you like a punch to the gut. Rafe stood there in low-hanging sweatpants that clung to his hips, no shirt in sight, leaving every inch of his toned chest and sculpted abs on full display. His damp hair was a tousled mess, drops of water clinging to his skin, catching the light as they slid down the defined lines of his torso. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his gaze raking over you with a mix of cocky amusement and exhaustion. The lazy grin tugging at his lips was enough to make your pulse stutter—and the way his voice dipped, low and teasing, when he finally spoke didn’t help.

“Well, well,” he drawled. “Look who showed up. My nagging wife bearing gifts.”

You rolled your eyes, forcing yourself to focus on the container in your hands instead of his sexy, very sexy abs. “You want dinner or not, Cameron? ‘Cause I can take it back?”

He instantly straightened up. “Come in, Your Honor,” he stepped aside to let you in, his grin widening when he saw the bag in your hand.

The penthouse was dimly lit, the warm glow of the city skyline visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows. You set the food on the kitchen island, trying to ignore the way he was watching you with that infuriating smirk.

You looked at your attire, and rolled your eyes. “Stop staring at my ass and grab plates,” you ordered, sounding stern.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, clearly amused, but he obeyed.

The two of you sat at the island, the meal between you. You put your hair in a bun, and said; “So, this is chicken biryani—” you pointed to it. “—and this is kheer and some naan.”

“This looks amazing, Y/N,” he let out a groan of appreciation.

You blushed at the compliment. “Thank you. You ever had Asian food before?”

“I had sushi and ramen with my team—”

You chuckled. “I meant South Asian food, Rafe.”

“Oh. South Asian…”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “You know, Indian, Sri Lankan, Pakistani, etc… Did you?”

He shook his head. “I don’t remember. I eat basic white man food, to be honest.”

“I realized,” you laughed. “Well, eat well.”

Rafe took his first bite, and his eyes widened. “Yo! This is delicious, what the fuck?”

You smiled, watching as he devoured the food like he hadn’t eaten in days. “Told you protein bars wouldn’t cut it—”

“You’re not going to eat?”

“I already ate,” you lied.

“Bullshit,” he said, giving you a pointed look. “Have some with me. I don’t like eating alone.”

You hesitated for a moment before giving in, grabbing a fork and joining him. The two of you ate in companionable silence, the tension of the day melting away with each bite.

For a brief moment, it didn’t feel like you were preparing for an engagement party or navigating the complicated arrangement that had brought you together. It felt easy, natural—like something that didn’t require overthinking.

You stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up, rinsing off the plates and containers. Warm water rushed over your hands as you scrubbed away the remnants of biryani and naan. The scent of spices lingered in the air, a comforting reminder of the meal you’d shared. Behind you, Rafe leaned against the counter, his tall frame relaxed but his eyes fixed on you.

“You know,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the faucet, “you really don’t have to do this.”

“You’ve said that already,” you replied without turning around, focusing instead on rinsing the plate in your hand.

“Because I mean it. I can clean tomorrow,” he quipped, folding his arms across his bare chest.

A chuckle escaped you, and you tossed him a look over your shoulder. “Some of us were raised to clean up immediately after eating. It’s a brown girl thing—no one leaves the kitchen messy in my house.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a smirk. “Ah, so it’s cultural?”

“Hell yeah,” you replied, turning back to the sink. “If my mom ever caught me walking away from a pile of dishes, I wouldn’t live to see another day.”

“Sounds intense,” he teased, though his tone was laced with curiosity.

“You’re just white,” you shot back, and he laughed. “But also… I kind of like it,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “It feels wrong to leave things undone. Like you’re disrespecting the meal or something.”

Rafe was quiet for a moment, and you could feel his gaze lingering on you, not with judgment but something that felt closer to admiration.

“You’re kind of incredible, you know that?” he said finally.

You blinked, caught off guard. “For doing the dishes? Your standards are low, Cameron.”

He laughed, the sound deep and genuine. “No, I mean… just in general. You don’t have to cook for me or clean up after me, but you do it anyway. And you don’t even make a big deal out of it. You’re just… thoughtful.”

His words made you pause, your hands still under the running water. For a man who often masked his feelings behind sarcasm and cockiness, the sincerity in his voice hit you harder than you expected.

“Well,” you said, trying to keep your tone light, “don’t get used to it. Just because I cleaned your kitchen tonight doesn’t mean I’m signing up to do it forever.”

Rafe grinned, stepping closer. “Noted. One-time deal.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you shut off the faucet and reached for the dish towel. “Besides, I wasn’t cleaning for you. I was cleaning for my own peace of mind.”

“Still,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, “thanks. For all of it.”

You glanced over at him, caught off guard again by the softness in his tone. The cocky grin he usually wore was replaced by something more subdued, more genuine. It made your chest tighten in a way you weren’t ready to think about.

“It’s not a big deal,” you said, your voice quieter now. “Just food and a few dishes.”

“To you, maybe,” he said, leaning against the counter beside you. “But it’s been a while since anyone’s done something like this for me. I don’t even know the last time I had an actual home-cooked meal.”

That admission tugged at something deep inside you, a mix of sympathy and affection you weren’t quite prepared for. You focused on folding the towel in your hands, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way your cheeks warmed.

“Well, someone has to make sure you don’t live off protein bars and bad decisions,” you said lightly, trying to steer the conversation back into familiar territory.

Rafe chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Guess I should count myself lucky it’s you.”

Your eyes flicked up to his, and for a moment, you forgot how to respond. The way he was looking at you—soft, unguarded, and almost reverent—made your heart skip a beat.

“Alright, stop,” you said, breaking the moment and brushing past him toward the counter. “You’re making it weird.”

“Making what weird?” he asked, following you with an amused grin.

“Everything,” you shot back, grabbing your bag. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you slacking off while I did all the work. Next time, you’re cleaning.”

“Deal,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “As long as there’s a next time.”

You hesitated at the door, looking back at him. His smirk was still there, but so was that softness in his eyes, the one that made it hard to look away. Bag slung over your shoulder and shoes slipped back on, ready to leave Rafe’s penthouse and head home for what was left of the night. The day had drained you, and though the quiet domestic moment you’d just shared with him was nice—unexpectedly so—you still needed to recharge for tomorrow’s chaos.

“You don’t have to leave yet,” he said, almost too casually, as if trying to disguise the sincerity in his tone.

You paused, glancing back at him. “Rafe, it’s late. I’m exhausted. You’re exhausted. We both need sleep.”

He shrugged, his mouth curling into that boyish grin that usually meant trouble. “So? Five more minutes won’t hurt. Sit down, relax. You’ve been running around all day.”

You narrowed your eyes at him but relented, curiosity getting the better of you. “Fine. Five minutes,” you muttered, dropping your bag onto the floor again and heading to the couch.

Rafe followed you, sitting on the other end of the couch, though he shifted closer. His arm rested along the backrest, his entire posture relaxed in a way that only made you more aware of him.

“So,” he began, his tone lighter now, “what did you actually do today? Besides fighting with tablecloths and flowers, I mean.”

You groaned, leaning back into the cushions. “It feels like that’s all I did. The decorators kept bringing me options that were either too tacky or too plain. And don’t even get me started on the florists. Nina kept trying to keep me on schedule, Aisha rolled her eyes at every single arrangement, and I was stuck in the middle.”

His laugh was low and warm. “Sounds like a nightmare.”

“It was,” you said, though there was a faint smile tugging at your lips now. “But somehow, it’s all starting to come together. Slowly. Painfully. I think we’re making progress.”

He tilted his head, watching you with that quiet intensity he always seemed to have when you weren’t paying attention. “You really care about this party, huh?”

You hesitated, the weight of his gaze making it harder to brush off the question. “Yeah, I guess I do,” you admitted softly. “I mean, if we don’t make it believable then I’d have to go back to my country, and I can’t let that happen.”

Rafe was silent for a moment, his eyes never leaving yours. The soft light in the room cast shadows across his face, making him look more vulnerable, less guarded than usual.

“You’re putting so much thought into it,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “More than anyone else would, I think.”

You shrugged, your gaze dropping to your hands. “Just doing what needs to be done. Nothing special.”

“It is special,” he said, his tone firm but gentle.

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten. You glanced up at him, meeting his gaze for a moment that felt like it stretched on forever. There was something unspoken in his expression, something soft and unfamiliar that made your heart stutter.

“Okay, your turn,” you said quickly, needing to break the tension. “What did you do today, besides run yourself into the ground?”

His smirk returned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Practice, drills, meetings. The usual.”

“You make it sound so thrilling,” you teased, crossing your arms.

“Oh, it’s a blast,” he said with mock enthusiasm. “Nothing like running suicides and lifting until your arms feel like they’re gonna fall off. And then sitting in a room listening to people tell you how to market yourself better.”

“Sounds glamorous,” you said, leaning back into the couch with a small laugh.

Rafe chuckled, his gaze softening as he watched you. “It’s not. But then again, you make flower arrangements sound like boot camp, so I guess we’re even.”

You smiled, letting the comfortable quiet settle between you for a moment. The hum of the city outside was faint but constant, a reminder of how late it had gotten.

“I should really go,” you said, breaking the silence and sitting up.

Rafe’s hand reached out, brushing against yours as he spoke. “You don’t have to.”

The softness in his voice caught you off guard, and for a moment, you stayed still, his fingers lingering near yours. The space between you suddenly felt smaller, charged with something neither of you were ready to name.

“Rafe,” you said gently, pulling your hand back, though your voice betrayed your hesitation.

“Stay a little longer,” he said, his eyes searching for yours. “This is… nice. Just sitting here. Talking.”

Your heart thudded in your chest at his words, and you looked away, pretending to straighten your bag. “I can’t. I’ve got another long day tomorrow, and so do you.”

He sighed but didn’t argue, leaning back into the couch. “Alright. But you owe me another five minutes next time.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you stood. “Sure, Cameron. I’ll pencil it into my busy schedule.”

He followed you to the door again, his presence warm and steady behind you. As you stepped into the hallway, you glanced back at him, your smile softer now.

As you moved toward the door, your bag slung over your shoulder, Rafe trailed behind you, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his sweatpants. The quiet between you was comfortable, a marked contrast to the constant noise of the day. Just as you reached for the handle, his voice broke the silence.

“So… my dad called today,” he said, his tone light but deliberate.

You paused, turning slightly to glance at him, curiosity flickering in your expression. “Oh? What about?”

Rafe leaned against the frame, his posture deceptively relaxed. “He wanted to ask about you.”

The corners of your mouth lifted in a faint smirk. “Me? Why? Should I be flattered or scared?”

He chuckled, though it came with a hint of exasperation. “Because you’re about to be my wife, and you should definitely be flattered. He’s been… curious, I guess. You’re kind of a hot topic at the moment.”

Your brow furrowed as you adjusted the strap of your bag. “What do you mean?”

Rafe shrugged, though his eyes flickered to yours briefly before looking away. “He’s been asking when he and Rose can meet you. Sarah’s been on my case about it too. She wants to meet you again. It’s like they’re more excited about this whole engagement thing than I am.”

There was an edge to his words, not quite bitterness but something close to it, and you stepped back from the door slightly, your curiosity deepening. “Is that… a bad thing?”

“No, it’s not bad,” he said quickly, though his jaw tightened ever so slightly. “It’s just… predictable. My dad’s all about appearances, and this engagement makes us look good. You make me look good.”

His words were meant to sound casual, but the weight beneath them was unmistakable. You softened your tone as you leaned against the couch. “Rafe, if you’re not comfortable with all this, you can tell me. I’m not going to—”

“It’s not that,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “It’s just… complicated.”

You tilted your head, watching him carefully. “How so?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “My family has this way of… making everything feel like a performance. You know? Like, they’re not just happy about this engagement because it’s a good thing for me. They’re happy because it’s a good thing for them. My dad’s already talking about how it’ll ‘strengthen the Cameron name,’ and Rose keeps mentioning how much she ‘adores your poise.’”

You blinked at him, momentarily caught off guard. “Wait, your step-mother said that? About me?”

He laughed lightly, nodding. “Yeah. I think she’s obsessed with you already.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “Wow. And here I thought winning over your dad would be the hard part.”

“Oh, don’t worry. He’ll grill you like a steak the second he gets a chance,” Rafe said, his tone teasing but his smile tinged with something softer. “He doesn’t trust anyone, especially not when it comes to me.”

You frowned at that, your arms crossing instinctively. “Why not? You’re… I mean, you’re his son. Shouldn’t he trust you the most?”

Rafe’s smile faltered for a split second before he masked it with another shrug. “Let’s just say my track record isn’t exactly spotless. And my dad… he’s always been more interested in results than reasons. This marriage? It’s a result he likes. That’s all.”

The raw honesty in his words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. Finally, you stepped closer, your voice quieter now. “Rafe, if this is too much—if your family’s involvement is making it harder—I can talk to them. Set boundaries or whatever.”

He shook his head, his eyes meeting yours. “You don’t have to do that. It’s not your problem to fix.”

“Maybe not,” you said, your gaze unwavering, “but it’s my problem now too.”

“Such a good wife already,” he caressed your cheeks softly, the corner of his mouth twitched, his smirk returning faintly. “You’re really taking this whole ‘teamwork’ thing seriously, huh?”

“I’m a perfectionist,” you replied, matching his tone. “Can’t help it.”

He chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “You’re too good at this, you know. My family’s already halfway in love with you, and you haven’t even met them yet.”

“Maybe I should be worried,” you teased, though there was a softness in your voice now.

“Don’t be,” he said, his tone quieter as he let his hand down your face. “If anything, they’re the ones who should be worried. You’re gonna walk in there, charm everyone without even trying, and leave me to deal with their unrealistic expectations.”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine, and Rafe found himself leaning just a little closer, caught up in the warmth of the moment.

“Well, if they’re anything like you,” you said, your voice still tinged with amusement, “I’m sure I’ll survive.”

Rafe’s smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by something softer, something you couldn’t quite name. “They’re nothing like me,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you moved. His gaze lingered on yours, steady and unguarded in a way that made your breath catch.

“Rafe…” you began, your voice trailing off as his expression shifted ever so slightly, something unreadable flickering across his face.

But just as quickly as the moment had come, it passed. He straightened, his usual smirk slipping back into place like a mask. “You should probably get some rest,” he said, his tone lighter now. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

You blinked, startled by the sudden shift, but nodded. “Yeah. You too.”

He followed you to the door, his presence steady behind you as you stepped into the hallway. As you turned back to glance at him one last time, his expression softened again, his blue eyes holding yours for a beat longer than necessary.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“Goodnight, Rafe,” you replied, your chest tightening slightly as you walked away, the weight of his gaze following you long after you’d gone.

chapter ten

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venusincleo · 26 days ago

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Time. iii.

Part One [i]. ♡ Part Two [ii].

Warnings: MDNI • Explicit • Aaron Pierre x Black!Reader, smoking, a lil angst, a lil fluff, teasing, p in v, creampie, slight overstimulation, pet names, DDLG kink, BDSM themes, Soft!Aaron, omniscient POV and more...

BKG/Summary: As you and Aaron maintain your budding love in your long distance relationship, your respective careers continue to grow exponentially. Your writing has picked up wonderfully, and your newest work is to hit local shelves with pre-orders out for delivery. When there is a snag in production and they print the wrong cover, fans are rightfully mad but have no one to blame but you. To help cope with the stress, you call Aaron, hoping that he can talk you down but as he's busy himself, all you get is solutions. To make up for his lack of sensitivity to a moment that may very well be formative to your career, he gets a one way flight to see you.

Word Count: 3.8k❣

A/N: ✴︎Happy New Year!✴︎ Tell me how you liked this one 💗🫶🏾

• • •

right now i need your loving, one way flight ain't nothin'... - NYL by Phabo

Light smoke billowed from your lips, taking the color of the bronze sky as you blew it out of your large window. Your eyes low and your mind clear, you gazed into the horizon, thanking God for the beauty He had painted ions ago. You gazed along the limited foliage and bustling street underneath your apartment building, and couldn’t help giggling at the fact that everything seemed to be orange under the filter of the sunset.

As your mind was numbed from any of the day's events, you thought back to the person you would have loved to share this moment with. Earlier in your hectic day, you had called him for some relief from life’s unexpected symptoms but you did not get the reaction you desired. Wise but stern motivations took the place of the gentle words you thought you were sure to receive.

Then, your yearning tone turned defensive, and that was not pretty. Before you knew it, you and Aaron had had a small spat about his tone, and then you were hanging up in his face.

It wasn’t like you needed him to make things better, but you at least hoped that he would love on you enough for you to see the solution for yourself. Instead, he made it seem like he was too busy to handle your emotions in the moment, like he was unable to make the time. Though, two short minutes of affirmations would have sufficed, no doubt.

Now, you were okay with not speaking to him for the rest of the day. You wanted to feel your high for as long as humanly possible.

With a levitating sway of your hips, you allowed your bare feet to usher you back into your living room, your patterned maxi dress flowing behind you as you turned up your speaker. As Jhene Aiko’s voice heightened in volume, you rolled your body to her sensual lyrics, joint in the air.

'Let’s go half on a son, how far do you wanna go? Ohhhhh…'

Just as you brought your herb back to your lips to take in a long puff, your phone rang, interrupting the music. Breathing out the smoke quickly, you rush to your phone, ready to decline the call when you see the contact photo. Aaron.

A deep sigh rushes past your lips as you press the green button, taking a drag from your j as you see the call connecting. Distracted by nothing in particular, Aaron’s eyes take a moment to focus on your face through the screen, but once he does, he scoffs in near disbelief.

“I see you found an outlet.” His deep voice is littered with droplets of venom, and you roll your eyes as you breathe out the smoke you were holding.

“I would much rather have something else for that but, here I am.” You are involuntarily calm, your logical mind wanting to give him back what he was dishing. But physically, the effects of the weed wouldn’t even allow you to be phased. You were just…there.

“Anyways, did you call for something or what? Cause I’m busy…” You bend down to your coffee table to ash your joint in your pretty glass tray, and then your red eyes meet Aaron’s on your FaceTime. He hears a hint of reciprocation of the energy he gave you this morning, and his eyes soften, his natural pout a bit more defined.

“Uh, yeah…I’m outside.” Without much thought to his words, you smack your teeth, and look at your j, examining the neatly rolled herb inside.

“Okay, nigga.” All he can do is chuckle at your reaction, and you look at your screen to see what’s so funny.

“No, I’m really,” He begins, and then you hear three knocks echoing on either side of your phone. “Outside.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you set your joint down in your tray and go to your front door. A quick glance through your peephole is all it takes to see Aaron’s large frame waiting right on the other side, and you instantly hang up the phone. After unlocking it, you swing your door open and meet Aaron’s eyes.

Every feeling that you had been avoiding bubbled up quickly, like seeing him was the last straw. Shit. You cursed yourself internally. You didn’t want to fold under his intense blue eyes, but as his softened demeanor waits to be welcomed in, tears sting at the sides of your eyes. Blinking to try and keep the waterworks at bay, you step aside and allow a space for him to make his entrance, looking off into the distance of your apartment.

Once he steps in, and waits for you to close your door, he watches you turn on your heel to face him. Soft steps in your direction lead him to the space right in front of you, and he leans his head down to be face to face with you.

“Come here.” His English accent sticks to his deep voice, and he places his hands on your hips to pull you in closer. You almost allow him to hug you, but as he begins to nestle his face in your neck, you reach your hands up to push him away from you.

“No. You hurt me, Aaron.” He keeps his stature, silently flexing his strength over you, but he moves back a little to try and respect your wishes. The tears continue to flood your eyes, but at this point, you don’t care anymore. You want him to see how he made you feel, you need him to.

Seeing you so upset with him makes Aaron’s chest tighten with worry. It wasn’t his intention to make you cry, it never was. But he couldn’t help but notice the tears threatening to spill over your lower lid at any moment.

“Y/N, please. I’m sorry.” His tone is soft, maybe the softest it’s been all day, and you find yourself looking up into his slightly upturned eyes. You want to kiss him so bad, just say ‘fuck it’ to all the points you had in mind to make to him. But you had to at least bring up the most pressing one, your mind wouldn’t allow you to forget it.

“Aaron, I-…” You begin, shaking your head as you try to form your words in a neutral way. A tear falls onto your cheek as you find just what you want to convey.

“You won’t always be able to pop up on me like this; phone calls are our primary form of communication right now. If you’re too busy for calls then maybe we should rethink this relationship.”

“I’m not too busy for your phone calls, Y/N. Today was just a bit stressful for me too but, I had no right to take that out on you.” His hands rub at your sides as he gazes into your eyes. “Truly, I apologize.”

A moment of quiet falls between the two of you, and you take in a deep breath, releasing it into the room.

“Thank you.” Your voice was near a whisper, as you took in his second apology. Comfortable now, that the two of you were on the same page, even if only for tonight, you reach your arms around Aaron’s neck, peering up into his pretty eyes yet again. Instantly, he pulls your body into his and brings his hand to your face to wipe your fallen tear.

A lush peck laces the lack of space between each of your lips, and then finally Aaron gets the hug that he yearned for. His strong arms squeeze around your body as he rests his head in the space of your shoulder and his large hands find their ways to the skin of your back. You feel his supple lips on your neck and you breathe in slowly, smelling the distinct scent of his luxury cologne mixed in with his pheromones. Your mouth nearly waters at the perfection of the warm, clean notes of his fragrance.

"I don't like seeing you cry, pretty girl." He rasps against your neck, sending tingles down your spine.

"I know." You run a dainty hand down his neck, along his shoulder and bicep, squeezing at the toned muscle. Mmm.

"Not unless Papa is making you feel that good." He trails his hands down your body, resting at your plump ass to give it a squeeze. Hearing your whispered gasp at his gesture, he brings his face back parallel to yours so he can see your expression.

Doe eyes stare up into his lowered ones, the energy in the room long past shifted, and waiting to be acted upon.

"You want me to make you feel good?" Your eyes flicker from his lowered gaze to his full pink lips, your vision shadowed by your long eyelashes.

“Yes.” As your vision is fixed on his pretty mouth, Aaron leans forward to seemingly give you what you want. But just when your lips get close, he pulls away, his intense glare demanding your attention.

Looking up into his eyes yet again, you press your body further into his, craving so desperately to feel his kiss. Instead of a kiss though, Aaron brings a strong hand to your shoulders, pushing your lovely black kinks out of his way. Sure enough, his tender hand wraps around your neck tautly, and he pulls your face right up to his.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” His chest rises and falls quicker as he watches your lips purse to reply to him.

“I want you to make love to me.” He closes in on your lips but when your eyes don’t leave his, he waits just a moment for your other requests.

“Start slow.” Your tone is breathy as you express just what you wanted and needed from your night. The ghost of a grin plays at Aaron’s lips, and then they finally connect with yours.

He parts his mouth almost instantly, the fulfilled desire of your tongue on his causing a soft moan to escape his lips. You aimlessly fight for balance, your tongues playing a tug of war you were okay with losing as long as it continued. Aaron’s hold on your neck stays firm for a few moments later, and then he slowly lets you go, bringing his strong hands to your ass through your flowing dress.

Your sure hands move to his shoulders to push his suit jacket off of his frame, and his arms leave your body to pull the tweed fabric off of him rather quickly. He throws his jacket to the side with no real regard for where it lands, and soon, his arms are back around you.

Aaron lifts you like you’re nothing, allowing your body to straddle his waist as he holds you up by your thighs. You don’t disconnect for any longer than a second, as you continue to press your needy kiss into his thick lips, feeling his hungry reciprocation. As you focus on the warm breath filling the space between your lips, and the secure hold you’re in, your body can’t help but react, your natural lubrication easing from between your thighs.

“Mm.” You grind your body against his, the friction of the clothes between you both being just enough to stimulate your throbbing clit. You whine against his lips, and he pulls away from the kiss to see your flustered face, as you bite your lip.

Seeing just how dire it is for you to feel something right now, Aaron carries you to your couch, where he lays you down softly. He lays over you as you keep your eyes locked on him, bringing a hand to your cheek as he presses his lips back into yours. As he delivers one of his slow, torturously enticing kisses, he rubs his hardened shaft against your heated core, grinding his hips against yours through your clothes.

Your breath catches in your throat as you feel yourself get wetter because of his efforts, and energy rushes through your body.

“Fuck, baby.” You breathe out, nearly being overcome with the feeling of him grinding into you. A deep breath leaves Aaron’s vocal cords in a gruff, stuttered tone, and he rubs himself against you just once more, pulling back just slightly to reach up your dress for your panties. But, when he feels nothing but your plush skin, he blinks slowly as he tries to contain his excitement.

As he takes his time pushing your dress up your body to reveal your moisturized melanin, his eyes trail past your hips, your navel, your torso and your chest to meet your pretty brown eyes yet again. Your eyelashes flutter against your cheek as you watch him intently, having a hint of an idea of what he’s about to do.

Gently, he tugs at the airy fabric of the dress you are barely wearing now, and his eyes turn stormy with desire.

“Take this off.”

You obey quickly, pulling the dress over your head and tossing it to the floor beside the couch. When your eyes meet his again, he lets a moment pass before he’s tugging his chocolate brown shirt off of his own body, revealing his soft, honey-toned skin and the rippled muscles under it. Your eyes instantly attach to the greek sculpture of his body, and you bite your lip absentmindedly as you caress his limbs with your gaze.

Under your longing specs, Aaron only leans himself forward, his body drawn to the thought of your willful and wanton touch. Catching on to his wants now, you sit up and allow your hands to grasp onto his waist, pulling him into you tenderly as your eyes flicker up to view his face.

Almost completely overtaken by the needs of your flesh, you place a series of supple kisses along Aaron’s abs. Your eyes don’t leave his stare as you decorate his skin with small pecks, teasing him just a little. But as his mind is dead set on how pretty your face is from this angle –and the tingles that erupt underneath his skin wherever your delicate hands are holding him– soft moans sneak through his lips.

Your skin heats at every moan, as they get more and more pronounced, and you get a bit sloppier with your technique. Instead of the innocent feather-light kisses you were delivering before, you part your lips to widen your kiss along his skin. Your wet kisses sound in the quiet room, ad-libbing over the music that had started back up on its own some time ago. The song you make is just enough to make Aaron even harder, and his whispered sounds of pleasure harmonize perfectly with your energy.

“Lay back.” He keeps his composure the best he can, his mind swirling with thoughts of you taking control of him and doing whatever you wanted. Yet, as you layed against the yielding cushions of your couch, luscious brown skin glistening underneath the dim light in your living room, all he knew is the only place he wanted to be, was with you. And he’d be damned if he messed it up over a phone call.

Slow hands reached for the button of his pants, and he took his time undoing the fastens that kept the fabric up on his hips. His movements sped up just a little as he got the pants off of his legs, and across the room, out of the way. The black breifs that once decorated his lower body are close behind, and then it’s just you and him.

Aaron’s kisses start at your feet, feather-light, gentle. He allows himself whatever pacing he found reasonable, for cherishing every piece of you. His lips trail up your calve, his large hand holding your leg in place as he nuzzles his nose in your skin to smell the luscious lotions you had put on hours earlier. As he gives the same amount of attention to your other leg, his kiss tender as ever as he memorizes every detail of your skin down to tracing scars, you can see just what his intentions are.

Your eyes water just a little as you watch him make a mental note of all of your details, goosebumps raising along your skin as he runs his strong hand along every inch. A gasp leaves your lips as the dopamine surging through your veins makes way for your skin to be even more heated, more pliable, more sensitive to his touch. He looks up for a moment to check in and when he sees your beautiful eyes staring back at him, a small grin raises on his lips.

The smile falls as he kisses up each of your thighs, the puddle between them worsening as he got closer. His lips fall onto the side of your thighs, traveling to your hips and the stretch marks that came with your grown woman weight. He caressed the skin adoringly, littering smaller kisses on each stripe of lighter skin he found. The breath caught in your throat as you thought of the implications of his doting actions, and the tears that had welled in your eyes were threatening to spill over.

“Aaron..” You called for him in a near-cry. Instantly, he brought his face right in front of yours, and you ran your hands along his shoulders, pulling him between your legs. His thick lips captured yours without any direction, and you kissed back eagerly, your manicured digits easing into the short curls on the back of his head. He drags the kiss on for a few more seconds, readying himself at your slick opening. When you feel his thick tip easing in just slightly, you wrap your legs around his waist tightly, trying to brace yourself for his length.

“You are so special to me, Y/N.” He mumbles against your lips before he pulls away to look you in the eyes. “I don’t ever want you to feel like I don’t care.” You reach your hand up to cup his cheek, as he continues to speak his heart to you.

“I love you, Y/N.” Aaron gives your lips a lush peck before he presses his forehead against yours, easing his throbbing cock into your wetness. You growl softly at the familiar feeling, a slight pressure reminding you of your first time together.

“Mmh, I love you too.” You whine, feeling him pull back out slowly, to thrust once again before he caught a swifter rhythm. All you can do is draw in more air, your exhales laced with high pitched exclamations of unexpected bliss.

“Daddy’s so sorry, princess.” He goes to nestle his face in the crook of your neck as he continues to make love to you a bit recklessly. Your breathing gets faster, your chest heaving up and down as you feel your climax rushing through your soma.

“Aghhh.” You squeal lightly, throwing your head back at the overwhelming feeling of his thickness going in and out, in and… out…in…and…out. Aaron recognizes your falsetto-esc moans, and leaves kisses on your ear before he whispers to you.

“Ugh, this alright?” He asks, his deep moans doing nothing but making it worse for you to concentrate on breathing right.

“Yes, baby… Shittttt…ugh y- so thick.” You almost hoped that he would take it easier on you, but Aaron had no such plans. His strong hands reached to your legs that were crossed behind his back, and pushed them up so that your knees touched your chest.

Carefully, he pulled out of you, staring down at your connection and the tracings of your pussy juices that decorated your folds, and his entire length. A gravelly moan leaves his vocal cords as he slides back into your opening, you welcoming him in with the tightest fit, and your eyebrows turn upward at such a fill.

“Fuckkk. I’m ‘bout to cum, baby.” Your whiny confession is followed by a hearty moan, and then you cover Aaron in your essence, dripping down your cunt to the couch beneath you, and circling his cock in the process. He slows down just a little bit, though he has no intentions of stopping, and leans toward you to give you the most silken kiss. Then, as he pulls away from your lips, gazing down into your eyes, he thrusts at this new, slower rhythm.

“Mmh, pussy so good.” A growl laced his mumbled words, as he fought the urge to pick up the pace even slightly. With rushed, panting breaths, he reached his hand up to your neck and grasped it just tight enough.

You feel a jump in the pit of your stomach as he works your core, effectively digging yet another nut out of you. As you feel just a little overstimulated, you reach up to his hand that is wrapped around your neck, and hold his wrist in place. You wouldn't dare tell him to stop. But it was so much, and he was so girthy... you didn't know how much more you could take.

Eyes glossy, you let in a deep breath, hoping to regulate yourself but instead, all you do is moan out loudly. You throw your head back yet again, this time unintelligible whimpers and mumbles leave your mouth, and a tear runs down the side of your face.

"A-Aaron." You croak quietly, grabbing at his hips with your free hand. You find yourself grasping at any flesh of his that is visible to your hazy eyes, and he just sighs in delight.

He bites his lip to try and stifle his own cries but moans slip through his teeth so eloquently, you can tell he's close. His strokes never falter; they just get sturdier, firmer. Soon, he's squeezing his eyes shut for just a moment to hold on for as long as he can.

With a few more thrusts and a couple more loud moans, he was releasing all of his gooey, warm elixir right inside of you.

“Ohh.” You breathe out tiredly, another wave rushing over you in your trembling climax.

Aaron pulls out of you tenderly now, hearing your combined moisture sound lewdly in the room. When he saw the mixture ease from your slightly stretched opening, he smiled boyishly and placed a kiss on your forehead and then your lips. You hum lovingly, revelling in the feeling of him giving you the soft Aaron you'd craved all day.

The two of you share a quiet beat, just trying to catch your breaths. And then a resolution pops into your head.

“I need this every day. Every once in a while ain’t cutting it.” You express, still catching your breath from your great session. He chuckles at your forwardness, and pecks your lips yet again as he thinks about how he could make such a request happen for you.

“Then maybe…I move closer…?” He ventures, just a bit unsure. With sparkling eyes, and a hand to his cheek you assure his suggestion with a bit of levity.

“Maybe you should.”

• • •

I do not condone any translations, replications or plagiarisms of my original work. Please do not repost as your own. Reblogs and comments/notes welcome. ♥︎

MDNI Banner by @renyanovyn

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*let me know if you want to be added to the ongoing taglist in the comments*

#aaron pierre x black reader #aaron pierre #aaron pierre x reader #black fanfic writer #my fic #smutty fanfiction #smutty smut smut #18+ mdni #18 + only #mdni #Spotify

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centrally-unplanned · 4 months ago

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IRL (In Real Life) - Buffydom Propaganda And The Internet-That-Was

It is 1997. You just got back from the latest Hot Topic run to restock on whatever the most raven-black bomb of Manic Panic they have on the shelves is, so you can do double-duty bleaching your hair in the shower while watching a CRT TV precariously mounted on the lip of your sink. On that TV is the Season 1 finale of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and you are obsessed. Unfortunately for you, no one else in Bowling Green, Ohio, shares your passion for a CW WB show about vampire hunting teens who purposefully fumble their line deliveries. You are alone, and you have shit you gotta say about it to someone, anyone, who will understand.

Fortunately for you, the marketing team at ye old WB anticipated that their audience would be a bunch of fucking nerds, and boy do they have a solution to your problem! Welcome to the Bronze:

A while back I stumbled upon the inexplicable existence of "IRL (In Real Life)", a 2007 documentary about the community that formed around the aforementioned Buffy fan discussion forum/chatboard. Officially running from around the launch of the show until it switched over to UPN after its fifth season (with the forum dying a dramatic death in the process), The Bronze was a highly active center for the Buffy fandom, which generated several spillovers into real life. In particular, it was famous for the creatives and even actors on the show occasionally posting on the forum, which culminated in members of the community organizing a yearly party in Los Angeles where posters would fly out and be joined by said cast and crew. This documentary charts its culture & history via interviewing an array of its members.

As always, I am not here to give the blow-by-blow; instead, what is the narrative this documentary is trying to sell?

My previous documentary write-up was about nerd culture in the 2010’s; newly ascendant, growing confident in its own values and looking to justify that to itself, wealthy and with a developed enough ecosystem for crowdfunding to create professional, polished documentaries of its own heroes. None of that is true for IRL. Filmed on whatever camcorder/potato hybrid proto-Ebay would cough up from its zero-bid listings in a series of hotel rooms and people’s living rooms in 2003-2004 after the forum had died, this is the era of nerd culture at its most conflicted and insecure; mocked by the mainstream and unsure if it should be proud of that fact or deeply ashamed of it. And this documentary wears this conflict right on its sleeve; one of its opening lines is a confident assurance to the audience of “don’t worry, we aren’t like those nerds”:

Throwing Trekkies under the bus in the process, cold! Particularly given how it proceeds to barely even blink before pivoting to explaining their hobby of running “WITTs”, multi-day-long collaborative roleplays:

You are exactly those Trekkies my dudes; you weren’t just at the devil’s sacrament you were hosting it! "WITT" stands for Whedon Improvisational Theatre Troupe, you can't recover from that guys.

(I love how “dozens” is large by the way - it was for the internet in 2001, right?)

Anyway, beyond documenting the forum and its members, the conclusion this documentary wants you to hold is that the Bronze was a special place of real community, and it is a community of “normal” people, who made real relationships. And in particular, that internet relationships can be just as real as those found in meatspace, that these relationships transcended the digital and entered the physical; and that this is what fandom can be about.

I want to start with the ways that narrative was correct within the context of the time. I can actually explain that Klingon comment! I have one extant interview with the director of the film, Stephanie Tuszynski, and she put her motivation as follows:

FFN: What made you decide to study Buffy fandom, particularly the Bronze, for your documentary? ST: The idea to do a documentary film about the Bronze actually came to me very early on, because "Trekkies" came out in the late 1990s so I was already a Bronzer at that point. And when I saw it I started throwing things at my television. I was incensed. That wasn't a documentary about the fandom experience, it was "hey let's find the most extreme examples possible and have a freak show!" It infuriated me […] It reinforced every awful stereotype about media fans while purporting to be objective.

It wasn’t a random example - the 1997 documentary Trekkies set the “standard” view of fandom as extremist oddballs, and Tuszynski specifically wanted to counter that. It was the early 2000’s after all, nerd stereotypes were strong, you had to fight them explicitly! In a society where there is strong background hostility to one’s identity, you will attempt to normalize it using known reference points; and certainly the people on these forums were more “normal” than the stereotypes admitted to because that entire binary framework is a dead end.

More importantly to the narrative is the online aspect, “making friends on the internet”. Another find I have is a blog post from a professor who used the film in a class; and in the film’s narrative of “people with no one ‘irl’ to share their hobby with finding friends online” triggered a debate around if the online relationships are “taking away” from in-person relationships that are presumed to be more valuable. A debate that still rages to this day over social media! But the contours were different back then, the internet was presumed to be niche, ancillary, and relationships made online in a completely separate box from “in person” friendships. The documentary goes to great lengths to explain that they were a real community because that idea is so contested. Ironically, they do this by emphasizing that they met up in person, hung out, attended each other's weddings, etc; as if only by meeting up in person could the relationships be validated as real? But you can’t truly fault them for meeting their implicit critics halfway in making their case.

So what can I fault them for?

*****

I was perpetually amused when watching the doc that they included two married couples in the filming, and for both one of the spouses would talk and the other would sit there, in silence, the entire time. Maybe they were members of the community and just not talkers; maybe their lines got cut in post. But what I kept thinking was that they were there selling normality to me; married couples are just inherently less oddball, less threatening, and in the era where “nerd = virgin” just less nerdy. Like with the Klingon line, there is an intentionality to the “just like you” vibe.

Which, as mentioned with the extensive forum roleplay, inevitably breaks down once the reality of forum activity is dug into. And I buried the lede here - you may have seen the title of the “longest” roleplay was “RTBS Soul Restoration Project”, but what does that mean? RTBS was a forum member’s name, and well:

Oh yeah, we are saving our friend from “a fate worse than death: worshiping Britney Spears” - welcome to 2001 baby! This is peak “nerd wars” stuff, the normies hate our shit so we hate the normie shit right back. Which is exactly how nerd culture was in the 2000's. I am not at all throwing shade at their tongue-in-cheek roleplay, resplendent in the ludicrously purple prose and asterisk-laden action descriptions as required by the early internet; but it sits in clear tension with some of the other messaging in this film. Leave Britney alone guys!

The documentary highlights a number of common practices from the forum - people doing daily greetings, the way that it being one unending massive chain of posts with no threading or topics meant people would mass-tag individual people to respond to and form “circles” that way - but there are things it leaves out. I did what any normal person would do after watching this documentary and read through over a year of archived posts on The Bronze to understand the community - but man did I not have to, as on literally the first page of my archived link I see:

And through God’s good grace that second link is archived:

Yes there are pictures at the link, and yes later on it does compare Buffy’s cleavage to the Mona Lisa. (The Giles link is not quite functional, but I was able to find it; sadly it is not nearly as thirsty)

I also found these “onboarding” sites for new members. Remember, this forum was the official forum, which meant there were no community mods or ability to “pin rules”, it was pure anarchy - so advice filled the gaps. And one of the bigger ones, in its *sighs and rubs forehead* blue font on black background, warns against “hottie posting” aka talking about how hot say Angel is, not because it isn’t allowed, but because it is like “pointing out the sky is blue” - it is so common that it will just get washed out.

It might seem like a similarly sky-is-blue comment to note that this forum was heavily about shipping, hotness discussion, fanfiction, and the like. Of course it was, right? These website “senior members” were trying to minimize it, police it, but it broke through constantly and also simmered under the surface through discussions and RP’s from my own review of the forum. The documentary, however, spends incredibly little time on it. Brief mentions of Angel fics, and no mention (iirc) of discussion of how hot the women were at all. Because once again those details really don’t fit into the narrative it is trying to sell.

At one point in the documentary someone notes how diverse all the friends they met in this community were? Which I broke out laughing over. In one way it is not wrong, I get it! Midwest college kids meeting people from all over the country, ages 40 to 14, talking about something no one in their podunk town understands. But on the other hand, you could not come up with a more standardized slice of humanity if you tried to rig it. Everyone here is an American+ with computer access in 1998, it is a grab bag of sys admins, nerd creatives, and comp sci majors. I did a random sampling googling the people interviewed to see what they are up to now, and literally a third of them are librarians. Even their fashion is like God played a prank on this director; not even a 2000’s anime con panel lineup is this stereotypical in the combinations of alt-goth lit girls and nerdcore computer bros.

The evolutionary process of joining this forum -> liking it enough to go to the live meetups -> liking that enough to participate in a documentary about it was a pressure cooker spitting out only a certain kind of person. Which is truly fascinating to see on display! This is the internet-that-was; and it bleeds through the grainy film despite the director’s efforts at times to the contrary.

Though even then it was only a very specific slice of the internet-that-was, because this is a very special breed of Online; namely, the professionals.

*****

Something that is decidedly not typical of The Bronze as an online community is that, as mentioned before, Joss Whedon and other creatives posted on the web forum, answering questions and also just playing around, and how that led to in-person parties where both forum members and cast/crew attended - the Posting Board Parties, or PBP’s. At these they hosted fundraisers, talked about the show, and in the documentary one girl reverently describes with incredible Repressed Lesbian Energy her experience of seeing Eliza Dushku dancing next to her. The PBP had a panel of party organizers, admission systems to keep out the “undesirables”, budgets, the works.

All this the documentary shares openly; it is a peak moment where the digital becomes real in a transcendent way, opening doors analog reality never could. It is also a cold-sweat-waking nightmare story from the lens of a modern Hollywood social media manager; one person in the documentary tells the tale of how one time lead actress Allyson Hannigan posted her phone number on the forum asking people to leave her cute voicemails. The person in question immediately called, and got Hannigan herself instead of the voicemail, so they chatted for a bit (The guy telling this tale is obviously lovestruck; his wife is sitting in typical silence next to him). Today this would be a code-red, nuke your phone situation; but the circle was so cloistered, and the rules so unwritten, that no one cared in these early years.

What they share less openly is all the drama that went into this event. They wax nostalgic about how the parties brought them together, but what isn’t mentioned is the church schism it caused, as the moment cast from the show started attending the party it got mobbed by outsiders. By its ~3rd year there were approximately 400 guests but only ~50 or so were from the forum. They had a huge fight about it, the head of PFP planning committee - “Morbius the Vampire”, who was later jailed for financial fraud btw - told the dissenting faction why don’t they just throw their own party if they hate his so much, and so they did. There was more fighting about it, and eventually they held a peace summit at an LA joint called Mel’s Diner to merge the two factions together. (My source for this is a book, which I will link later)

Hilarious, for sure, but while so much of what we have discussed is “proto online nerd communities”, this part is most decidedly not. The typical web forum absolutely cannot replicate the experience of roleplay-posting your way into shaking hands with Joss Whedon and having a shitfight over party budgets in LA. But most posters never got to attend these parties, of course, this didn’t mean much to them. While for those who did, you cannot help but imagine that this played a gigantic role in making them all become a “real” community. And care enough about that circle to, well after the forum was gone, schlep to a hotel room to be interviewed for a documentary about it. Participating in a documentary is always, in some way, an exercise in selection bias; but here the pruning is turned up to 11 - this is a very elite slice of a very unique fandom experience.

*****

I have one deeper level to go on this thread, somewhat buried in time today, that further shaped the participants here: “Whedon Studies”. The 2000’s was not the birth of media studies as an academic discipline; but it was the birth of fandom-driven media studies, and Buffy was nearly unassailably the leading light of that movement. Academics hosted entire conferences (and inexplicably still do!) on Buffy, Firefly, etc; almost all from the lens of gender & media, as Buffy’s brand was deeply entrenched in that deconstructive milieu. This movement would die a fiery death during the 2010’s shift in media & gender politics, and when the controversies around the toxic working conditions on the set of Buffy/Angel led to Joss Whedon’s near-total expulsion from creative pursuits. The whole edifice is, in a deep way, “cringe” for many of its former participants today.

But what is relevant for our story is that director Stephanie Tuszynski was a full member of that movement; while composing this film she was, for example, giving talks like these at conferences devoted to the Buffyverse:

God that is a lot of talks. This film itself was her thesis project for her I believe philosophy masters, and in our scant interviews lists other fandom-academic film projects she wanted to tackle (which as best I can tell fizzled out later). And the interview subjects were often participants in the same space as well! Academic-types doing media studies with a Buffy bent, or things like culture writers for new media outlets. One of them, writer Allyson Beatrice, even published a book about the Buffy fandom that was in regular bookstores:

To quote the blurb:

A hilarious collection of true stories from Allyson's days as one of the Internet's leading cult TV fan gurus, her mind-boggling escapades include meetings with network executives in dark steakhouses to try to save doomed TV shows and one hastily arranged wedding for two committed Buffy fans.

I highlight this not to say that academics cannot make documentaries, they certainly can. What I am saying is that if you point your camera at career Buffyverse writer Allyson Beatrice, and label her as a typical forum member giving you the hometown everygirl perspective on the community, you are, however unintentionally, lying to your audience. In its quest to give you the just-like-me Buffy fandom experience, what this documentary elides is that it is often giving you the lens of people who are fans of Buffy as a career. Those people are going to be bringing very different experiences to the table - of course they are concerned with sanitization, with nerd culture debates, the works. That is their bread-and-butter trade.

This dynamic bled into the forum’s day-to-day; there was a very clear hierarchy of “veterans” and “top” posters, who organize the live parties, have deep roots in the community, and even the ear of the show team...and everyone else. Particularly because as mentioned there were no rules on the forum, but since that can’t actually function in practice they self-generated community rules and thus their own leadership class. Cliques and groups were common and named, and veteran posters even had formally designated groupies:

I had also by this time become a groupie. I so enjoyed one particular Bronzer’s posts that she allowed me to become the seventh of her groupies. It was through groupie-dom that I got my first taste of firsthand WITT: several Bronzers, on the occasion of the birthday of she-to-whom-we-group, each took turns grabbing the microphone and praising the day that she was born. In retrospect, I’m not sure why we did this. But it was fun, and very funny, too, as we each took turns waxing melodramatic off the top of our heads. And from work, no less.

The source for this by the way is a 400 page ethnography of The Bronze posted by academic who did *cough* “field research” there; I am sure their membership in the “Bronzers Adoring Darla” fangroup was purely for comprehensive data collection purposes.

And to emphasize, I am not saying this is problematic or anything - the groupie things were all in good fun, best I can tell. I simply aim to showcase how the Bronze wasn’t just a baby version of online fandom forum dynamics; but also a baby version of e-celebrity mechanics. Something the documentary does not even attempt to touch on because that would be something normal people would not understand.

*****

All of the above may have come off like one big roast, and it is a little bit, but as I have mentioned before every documentary is propaganda. It is just impossible to have a tight film building a narrative out of the pieces of letting people speak to the camera without that narrative being but a slice of the truth those people want you to know. The Bronze web forum was a very special place to these highly invested fans, and this documentary is not lying to you about that.

But it is also a big part of early internet fandom! The Bronze was famous at the time, and it is right there at the beginning of so many shifts; the first generation of non-technical internet users, a new era of ‘fantasy’ media with the trappings of prestige and social critique, a boom in critique-as-community, and more. I very much want the full picture of that community; who made it up, what did they want from it and what did they get from it, and so on. No film could offer the full picture; this film’s homebrew rawness gives a valuable piece of it, and I enjoyed it for that. I just aimed here to draw out not only what the broader, more accurate dynamics of The Bronze were, but also the cultural question of why the film focuses on what it does, hides what it refuses to show, and what that says about 2000’s internet & nerd culture. Hopefully I succeeded in that.

And also to have fun looking at some incredibly dated Buffy fandom bullshit. May it have been fun for you too! {hugs you and waves goodbye}

#essay #buffy the vampire slayer #history of the early internet #Yeah I have no excuse for the length on this one - sometimes you just wanna be self-indulgent

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luveline · 1 year ago

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Hi don’t know if you’re taking requests (if not please ignore!) just wondering how Halloween would look like in the KBD universe or even a masquerade ball for prince Steve and reader?

thank you for requesting angel ♡ kbd mom!reader, 2k

"I think we should paint her orange," Avery says.

Steve pushes the wand of his bubbles back into the container, coating it in solution. "What for, honey?"

"For Halloween! We'll paint her orange and she can be a pumpkin."

"Oh."

Steve purses his lips, blowing bubbles over the green grass of the garden. It's alive despite it being late October, mildly crisp underfoot. He can hear leaves crunching under Bethie's boots where she runs around toward the back gate.

Wren sees the bubbles and giggles wildly. Steve grins. "You like those, sweetheart?"

"What if we make her green like a witch?"

"Who, Ave?"

"Wren."

"Oh. Well, Wren can't use face paint yet, babe, she's too little," Steve explains, dipping the wand in solution again. "But they're very good ideas. Do you know what you want to be?"

Avery throws her hands out. She's getting older than he ever imagined her, but she's still so small at the end of the day with delicate little hands and facial expressions cute enough to make a grown man cry. Steve would know, he's cried a ton of times just looking at her.

"I already told you."

Steve pretends to remember to spare her feelings as he blows more bubbles. He knows you'll know, and so it's a white lie. Better for everyone. "I remember! You're gonna be awesome."

She smiles for the first time in ten whole minutes and sits down next to Steve. He offers her the bubbles and the wand, freeing his hands to give her a loving squeeze from either side. "Very good ideas," he repeats, patting her arm.

Bethie comes running with two cupped hands. Steve can picture her find before she shows him, and still he's horrified to see a slug in her palm. It's not big but neither is she, lavishing across the breadth of her hand.

Ew, Steve thinks. "Wow, Beth! What did you find?"

"There's snails, too!" she says excitedly, her eyes bright as her attention flickers between the slug and her dad. "They're sleeping, I think. They're stuck to the slide."

"Beth, listen to me really quickly?"

"Yeah, dad," she says, nodding.

"I like that you're being gentle with the slugs, you're being nice, but as soon as you put him down, don't touch your face, okay? In fact, when you put him down, we're gonna go inside and wash our hands."

Beth looks down at her slug in alarm. "What?"

"He's not dangerous!" Steve reassures her. "But he might have germs. Germs don't hurt our skin, but they can't go in your mouth, okay? Good girl."

"He can't hurt my skin?"

"No, bub. Some bugs can, but not the plain black slugs. How about next time you want to pick one up, you come and get me and we'll pick it up together?"

Steve doesn't want to kill her fearlessness in this sole area, not when she's usually timid around everything else, but he also doesn't want to kill her full stop. All these random bugs, Steve doesn't know what's what.

"Okay. I picked this one up because he's got a yellow stripe," she says. Beth speaks in full words and makes sense the majority of the time, but her delivery is clumsy, heavy in places. Steve can still remember her first word. He's a firm believer in taking your time (please. please, let her take her time).

"You're super brave," he praises.

"Mom says bugs are more 'fraid of us than we are of them."

"She's right. Think if something this much bigger than you picked you up one day, you'd want them to put you down gently, right?"

Determination fills her eyes. "Yes."

She starts to run off but then slows, holding her hand aloft in front of her.

Closer by, Avery blows bubbles near Wren's soft chair, the youngest baby giggling like a tinkling bell. You and Steve have emphasised to Avery that Wren isn't her responsibility. Look after her as you would your other sisters, but don't feel like being the biggest sister makes you in charge. Avery sort of listened, but now she's planning Halloween costumes in her head, Steve's worried she's putting too much on her little shoulders, as she tends to do.

"Come here, my big girl," he demands, opening his arms.

Avery grins and jumps into his lap. Steve groans playfully, happy to be trampled, and just glad she had the foresight to screw the cap on her bubbles before she pounced.

"Hello. So, do I need to go to the store for this costume?" he asks.

"Probably."

"Okay. Are you coming with me to choose?"

"Mom said we're all going after lunch."

Steve waves her arms back and forth. "I guess we better get ready, then."

Easier said than done. Steve marches the girls back inside to find you've already dressed Dove and sat her in her chair with her lunch in front of her. Feeding young kids is tough because you're always trying to rotate things to keep their tastes big, but you've given in today to an easy solution; everybody's having pizza subs and halved grapes. So long as they're fed, who minds?

"Give me the babies!" you say, jumping up from your seat to grab Wren, chair and all, "Hi. Something tells me it's time for a bottle."

"I'll get them dressed–"

"Go get yourself dressed. They can eat first." You kiss his cheek. "I put some stuff out for you already."

"I can do it," he insists.

"Take a break," you insist back, your tone gentle as velveteen.

His turn to kiss your cheek. "Do you know what Avery wants to be for her costume?" he asks in your ear.

"She wants to be Belle, she told us weeks ago." He remembers as soon as you say it. "But I don't think finding a costume for her is going to be very easy this close to Halloween."

Steve doesn't blame either of you for your busy October, but he hates himself watching Avery grow more and more disappointed with every store you drive to. There are no yellow princess dresses to be found, only store brand pinks. Bethie is ecstatic to choose one of those ones and Dove insists on a white fairy costume with sugar paper wings, but Avery's frown grows heartbreaking when it's clear there aren't any Belle dresses to buy.

"I'm sorry," you're saying, Wren strapped to your chest, Beth and Dove knee to knee in the shopping cart in front of you. "It's my fault, baby, I left it last minute."

"No, it's my fault," Steve says.

Avery glares for a while, standing in front of all the dresses. Steve bends down to speak with her. "I'm sorry, Ave. Don't be mad at mom, okay? It's not her fault even when she says it is, she was busy working and I forgot about costumes because I had all that stuff with Wren and the doctors and my glasses and–" He winces. "I'm sorry. Really, really sorry. So be mad at me if you want, I was supposed to remember, but I'll make it up to you, promise."

"I told you ages ago," she says morosely.

"I know. You did. I didn't think about them running out of costumes, Avery. Sometimes when you're a grown up you have so much stuff to think of you don't have room for all of it, but that's not fair, huh? Now you don't get the costume you wanted."

She sighs, but the thing about Avery is that if you understand her point, she runs out of anger, just like her mom. She wants to make up, burying her face in Steve's thigh for a hug.

"What am I going to be now?" she asks.

"How about Belle's blue dress, babe?" you suggest.

"They don't have any Belle costumes!"

"I know, but we can make one. That's what me and dad did growing up, right?" you ask.

"All my costumes were homemade," he seconds, "that was the fun part."

So Avery marches you guys to the normal dresses and together you look for something nice and long enough for her tall stature. It's in the middle of this searching when she gasps, jumping up to grab Steve by the elbows.

Delighted at being forgiven, he bends down at her whim. "What?" he asks excitedly.

"Wren can be a bumblebee, like me!"

"You remember that?" he asks.

"No, but you have the photo in the car. Do you still have the costume?"

It's Steve. Of course he kept the costume, he keeps everything, an attic stuffed to bursting with the offcuts of your lives. You giggle from the landing underneath him, the baby in one arm and a spooky drink made special by Dove in the other hand. "I wish you could drink more than milk."

"Don't poison her!" Steve says, covered in cobwebs and knees white with dust as he climbs down the rickety ladder back onto solid ground. You wolf whistle as he reaches up to close everything safely, and cheer when you see the bee costume in his hand.

"You're the best. Think we should let Avery put it on her?" you ask.

"Maybe. Think she can be gentle enough?"

Your little girl, so preoccupied with her sister's costume that she forgot about her own? Yes, Avery can be gentle enough. She sews Wren's small arms into the costume's sleeves like she's handling a girl made of glass, and she doesn't attempt to lift her, quick to say, "Dad, can you pick her up for me?"

Steve lifts her and Wren does her scrunch, legs pulled up high and face a little startled. She's just old enough to giggle, prompting Bethie to join in as she races across the living room rug, the skirts of her dress fluttering against the floor.

"She looks like a bee!" Dove says, following after, her fairy wings jittering with her movements.

"She is!" Avery says, buttoning Wren's last button.

Finally, after an exhausting afternoon (both of energy and your wallets), the four girls are dressed in their Halloween costumes. Avery as Belle in her original blue dress and white apron, not the costume she wanted but clearly her favourite character nonetheless. Bethie wears her pink princess dress and one of Avery's big plastic tiaras, her hair done as you would style your own for date night. Dove twirls in her white fairy dress, silver corset ribbons shiny in the light. Wren gurgles in his arms, her soft wings folded between her and Steve's chest. And you, uncostumed, stand beautiful and tired in the doorway, sparkly eyeshadow in a stripe up your cheek.

The girls smile at him and their eyes glimmer.

"Wow," he says, leaning back against the couch. "You guys look amazing."

"It's about an hour until we're gonna leave," you say, "so please do mommy a favour and watch some TV, okay?"

You set them up in a line with a bowl of chips each —you can vacuum them clean. Steve cleans as quickly as he can while you wipe your face and put aside some stuff for tonight in case the girls come home hungry, and eventually, eventually, you and Steve make your way to the kitchen table for a quiet minute together.

"Wren's–"

"In her bassinet," Steve says. "You're–"

"Fine." You reach for his hand. "And you're–"

"Perfect." He rubs the back of your fingers with his thumb. "I've missed you today. I know we were together, but…"

You slouch into the table, resting your cheek on a placemat and closing your eyes. "Me too, sweetheart."

He shuffles closer and leans in. "Tired, huh?" he asks gently, pressing similarly soft kisses to your cheek. "Love you," he says. "Don't fall asleep."

"I'm not. Just resting my eyes."

He doesn't rub your back, worried it'll send you to sleep. Instead, he kisses all over your face, sloe at first and faster when he realises it'll take a while to cover every inch. You smile and let him do as he pleases, laughing under your breath as he kisses your eyelid, squirming when he pecks under your nose. "Freak," you mumble.

"That's what I'm being for Halloween."

"What am I gonna be?" you ask.

"Same as every year, I thought. Most beautiful girl this side of the Mississippi river."

You like the sound of it, pulling your joined hands to your face to nuzzle his knuckles.

"Or you can be Frankentstein," he suggests. "I'll be the monster."

"We can just be the two tiredest parents ever."

"That's not super creative, babe, we kinda do that every day."

"So I'm not beautiful every day," you say quickly, having set him up. "Knew it."

"You tricked me."

"Did not. Make it up to me?"

"What do you want?" he asks.

"Just a hug, Stevie." You raise your head to smile at him sleepily. "A really nice hug, please."

He saves the line about every hug being nice when it's with you and cuddles you, stroking your back for countless minutes, murmuring nothings to you until baby Wren shriek-cries from the living room. Steve soothes her upset, and you start the impossible task of getting everyone in their shoes for a night of trick-or-treating.

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giggly-squiggily · 10 months ago

Text

She Likes You! (Black Clover)

We're at it again- WHOOO! :D

Heyo everyone! This is part two of a collab I'm doing with the amazing @intheticklecloset We decided to embrace our shippy selves and our love of Black Clover to bring y'all some confessional tickles! (or in my case; realization ones lols)

💖💖💖For Nym's Part💖💖💖

Summary: Yuno does some thinking after Asta helped him realize his feelings for the Leopold. Maybe he can help him realize the ones from a certain water mage in return?

“Don't you think I’d notice if someone had feelings for me?

Yuno was still rather shocked by such a statement. The delivery was matter of fact too- like Asta truly believed in what he was saying. He was either convinced or obtuse- or both. Asta could be both.

The wind mage leaned back against the grassy hill, arms behind his head as he played back the other day’s events over and over again. It was a good conversation, and much has happened since. All good things really.

So why was he so hung up on the comment? Did it really matter in the long run?

His focus switched back to Asta and his teammate- Noelle was her name, right?-leaving. He remembered how she looked at him when he wasn’t paying attention, the warmth that spread across her cheeks and the softness in her eyes showing her true feelings for the smaller mage. When he did look at her, she’d hide it quickly- trying for disinterest with little success.

‘Is that how I looked with Leo?’ The thought hit him like a tornado, making everything come together. That was it- that same hopelessly in love expression that girl wore with Asta. She felt for him how he felt for Leopold.

Somehow, the thought made him rather sad. Yuno hadn’t realized it before, but he was starting to empathize with her situation. Being in love with someone who you don’t even know likes you back.

At least, that was his own predicament until recently.

“Hey.” A finger poked his forehead, making him open his eyes. Green irises looked down at him, framed by vibrant hair. He looked upside down from his position, but his smile was as bright as the sun. “There you are. Whatcha thinking about, wind chime?”

“I told you to call me Yuno.” He huffed with a small blush as the redhead somersaulted beside him, getting comfortable. He didn’t know what changed, but one day-Leopold approached him with his heart in his hands, declaring his feelings in that special Vermillion way of his. They’ve been keeping things on the downlow since, but Yuno couldn’t be happier. “I’m just thinking about Asta. That girl really likes him, huh?”

“Noelle? Oh man- she’s crazy about him!” Leopold nodded excitedly, scooting close to him and resting his head against his chest. “Anytime anyone brings up his name she perks up, but if you ask her directly she’ll try to drown you. It’s cute.” He grinned, his smile faltering some. “Still, I’m worried about her. What if Asta breaks her heart?”

“He won’t.” Yuno replied automatically, perhaps a touch too hard. Leopold only chuckled in response, patting his chest.

“I know he won’t. Not intentionally. I just don’t think he quite gets she’s into him yet.” Leopold mused, playing with the tufts of Yuno’s Golden Dawn uniform. “Granted, I was pretty dense myself until my siblings asked me if I liked you. After that, it was like someone cleared all the fog in my brain.” He grinned up at Yuno, eyes soft. “I know it’s not a perfect solution, but sometimes you just need somebody to come over and hit you with an obvious truth for things to click.”

Yuno had been nodding along listening to him, but that last part struck a chord.

Of course..why didn’t he think of that sooner?

“You’re brilliant, you know that?” Yuno told him, taking Leopold’s chin in his hand as he kissed him quick. The redhead was beaming when they pulled away. “Completely brilliant.”

“Hmm, tell me again without words, yeah?” The redhead grinned as Yuno kissed him again and again.

His plan would have to wait until later it seems.

~~~

“Noelle likes you.”

There- he said it! Since his time with Leopold, Yuno had been debating on how to approach the subject matter. Should he do what Asta did and teasingly lean into it? Ask questions that would eventually lead to his friend coming to the realization himself?

In the end, the second they met up once again to hang out- it just came out like that. His version of a greeting.

“Huh?” Asta blinked, staring. “..huh?”

Okay- maybe should have started with the greeting. “Hey, what’s up? Noelle likes you.” Nailed it! He watched, waiting for Asta to process the information.

“Well, yeah- I know that.” Asta smiled, nodding. “We’re friends, afterall!”

Yuno blinked, then he closed his eyes, seeking patience. “No, I mean- she likes you.”

“Yeah…I know?” Asta waved his hands before him, puzzled. “I think she likes everyone in the Black Bulls though. Especially Vanessa and Grey, but their all girls so it makes sense-”

“Asta.” Yuno tried to keep the exasperation out of his voice as he grabbed his friend’s shoulders. “She likes you. Like how I…really like Leo.” The confession wasn’t new, but it still made Yuno’s cheeks warm.

Finally, Asta seemed to get it. “Oh? Oh! Oh…nah, there’s no way! No way at all- she doesn’t like me like that.” Asta laughed as he took a step back. “I already told you, I’d-

“Yes, you’d notice if someone had feelings for you, you’ve said that before.” Yuno gave up on hiding his exasperation, shaking his head. “Sorry to say this, but I think you’re wrong this time.”

“Whatcha mean by that?” Asta narrowed his eyes some, raising his chin with an indignant frown. “Are you saying I’m not good at picking these things up?”

“Yes.” Yuno nodded. Asta sputtered in shock, eyes wide.

“Well! I’d never!” Asta puffed, his annoyance fading when Yuno started to smile. “You’re a real jerk, you know that?”

“And you’re oblivious. I’m serious though- Noelle likes you.”

“I really don’t see it.”

“She calls you ‘dorksta.’”

“You call me ‘shortsta’- I don’t see you getting down on one knee.”

“You're not my type. She’s always looking at you.”

“Everyone looks at me!”

“Not the way she does! She’s always by your side-”

“To send me flying with water-”

“Asta!”

“It’s true!” Asta cried back, shaking his head as he flopped into the grass beneath his feet, leaning back on his hands. “Even if she did like me like you say she does, it wouldn’t matter. She’s royalty- meaning she’s got an entire ocean of guys to pick from if she wanted. Why would she pick me?” Something uncharacteristically bitter entered Asta’s tone- a rare side of self-loathing Yuno never thought he’d hear from his best friend. “It’s like back in Hage when you pick potatoes; you grab the best ones first. No one wants the little guys.”

Yuno couldn’t believe his ears. Was this really Asta? Shaking his head, he sat down beside him in the grass, bringing his knees up to his chest. “Do you remember what you told me when I said the same thing about Leopold? You said I still have a chance, and that it didn’t matter about our social standing.”

“This is different, Yuno. Really different.”

“How?”

“Look at you!” Asta waved a hand at him, gesturing to his entire being. “You’re tall, cool as hell, have amazing magic- not to mention you’re an amazing person inside and out, even when you’re being a jerk. It’s easy to see why Leopold likes you so much- you’re the whole package.” Asta slumped some, his hand dropping back to his side. “But me..what do I have to offer? I’m short, loud, and smelly. I’m nothing until I become the Wizard King. Until then-what can I offer her if I did like her back?”

“Asta..” Yuno felt his heart break at his friend's words. Asta sat up then, putting on a brave smile.

“It doesn’t matter- I’m already in love as is! One day- I’ll come home and sweep Sister Lily off her feet! She’ll accept my proposal one day-AH!” Suddenly the world tilted as Asta was unceremoniously pushed back into the grass. “Yuno? You big jerk- you can’t go tackling people like that!”

“I’m not the jerk here.” Yuno growled, tone nearly unreadable as he cracked his knuckles, staring daggers into Asta’s soul. “Enough is enough- if you’re too blind to see what’s right in front of you, I’m just gonna have to open your eyes myself!”

“Huh? What are yo-ohohohooeheahhahaha!” Almost immediately, the smaller boy arched with a yelp, hands shooting down to grab Yuno’s wrist as they scratched along his waist. “Yuhuhuhuhuno, wahhahahait! Gehahahahah, yohohohou jeheheherk- whahahhat the heheheehll?”

“Oh? What- you think you can tickle me until I confess and not get it in return?” Yuno’s death glare melted into a warm smile as he carried on scritching his fingers against Asta’s tunic, making his friend squirm and giggle. “I’m not stopping until you admit you’re worthy of Noelle’s feelings!”

“Buhuhuhuht I’m nohohohohot! Nohohohot yheheheheht!” Asta cried out, arching when Yuno dropped to his hips, pressing tickly thumbs into the soft spots. “Geahhahahha, Yuhuhuhuno! Dohohohohon’t nohohoht thehehehhehre!”

“Yes there! You’re so dense, I bet if someone cut your head open, they’d find bricks! And another thing- what are you saying you’ve got nothing to offer? So what if you’re short and smelly- that’s just you! You’re also brave, heroic, and determined! Do you really think Noelle only likes you based on the shallow things?” Tsking, Yuno kept one hand on his hip while the other moved to Asta’s ribs, making him shout before dissolving into giddy snickers. “She looks at you like you’re the only star in the night sky. She hangs onto every word you say, and she’s always flustered and shy whenever you look at her. She’s in love with you!”

“Ahehahahahhhahaha! Ehehehheven ihihihihihif thahahhat’s truuhuhhuuhe- I dohoohohohn’t thihihihk-GEHAHHAHA YUNO!” The second fingers attacked his stomach, Asta was flailing like a fish, his softer giggles shooting up to a proper burst as his worst spot was attacked. “GEHHAAHHA NOHOHOHOHO!”

“Yes! This is what you get!” Yuno smirked, deciding to go all out. Pulling out his most diabolical weapon, he leaned down and got right up to Asta’s ear. “Come on, whittle Asta- you and I both know you’re much better than you think. Admit it, will you? Please, for me?”

“TRAHAHHAHAITOR!” As if Asta couldn’t laugh harder! The dreaded teasing voice Yuno discovered worked so well on him sent him into near silent laughter- face red and eyes growing misty. Finally, he gave in, smacking the ground repeatedly and pulling at Yuno’s coat in submission. “OHOHOOHKAY OHOHOHOKAY ENOHOHOHOUGH!”

Yuno did as requested, pulling his hands back as he watched Asta curl into a loose ball against the ground, gasping for air. His cheeks were bright red, stained with tear streaks from how hard he was laughing. For a moment, Yuno felt a bit bad.

Then Asta was on his feet tackling him into the grass for revenge and Yuno realized feeling bad for someone so energetic wasn’t always the best idea.

~~~

“Heh. This feels all too familiar.” Asta laughed, breathless beneath the warm sun as he laid side by side with Yuno. “Weren’t we just having this conversation?”

“Can’t remember. My memory is as short as you.” Yuno snickered, laughing more when Asta threw a handful of grass at him.

“Shut up! Jerk.” Asta grinned, looking up towards the sky. After a moment, he spoke again, voice careful. “Do you…really think she likes me? Like, truly likes me?”

“She thinks the world of you, Asta.” Yuno reassured him, watching the emotions play out on his friend’s face. Realization there might be something there, anguish of possible rejection. And hope…something hopeful that maybe, just maybe…”Even if she has a hard time expressing it. I think she’s scared to tell you cause you might not feel the same.

“You don’t have to tell her now if you’re unsure. Just don’t drag her along, okay? When you realize how you feel about her, make it known- regardless of what it is. Believe me when I say..” Yuno’s ears burned as he turned away from his friend’s watchful eyes. “It really, really helps to know from the otherside.”

Asta was quiet. Then he reached out, punching Yuno’s shoulder gently. “To think it was only yesterday it was me comforting you when you were unsure. Thanks, Yuno. For everything.”

“Hmm.” Yuno nodded, bumping his fist against Asta's, pretending the mistiness of his vision was from the earlier tickle attacks. “Thank you too.”

Thanks for reading! And another major thank you to Nym for collabing with me! This was the best!

#black clover #fluff #tickle #tickle fic #collab #part two #asta #yuno #implied Astelle #Yunleo #I love them your honor AHHH!#Squiggily writes the things #This was so fun! Thank you for collabing with me friend!

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liminalweirdo · 5 months ago

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okay once again i am coming to tumblr to ask for help as in HOW DO I EAT MORE VEGETABLES IN THE AGE OF LISTERIA. lol but no really, here is the problem:

i was a salad guy, i used to eat mostly raw veg but i don't feel super comfortable doing that rn.

i'm also autistic and i end up getting super overwhelmed every dinner time because adding new steps for dishes i haven't made before is really daunting, and when i start looking for new recipes online it's like there are so fucking many? so i freeze.

basically i love vegetables and pre-pandemic i ate them all the time but now that we can't go inside grocery stores where no one's masking and can't pick out our own produce, most of the produce we DO get from the store pickup/delivery is... disappointing at best. like sometimes we get it and it's already rotting.

needless to say i eat like 70% less veg than i used to and it's been really negatively affecting how well i feel.

farmers markets are too expensive for me to go to with any sort of regularly. we're considering farmers boxes but they are also kind of prohibitively expensive rn, so i guess i'm looking for like... idk, other solutions, if they exist?

or maybe i'm just hoping for literally any ways to eat more greens/veg that i can

1) cook/heat in some way because covid, and because it can hide the quality of shitty veg at the supermarket

2) aren't very very time consuming (i'm willing to spend like an hour making supper but that's about my energy capacity)

3) aren't something i need to buy an air frier or like a fucking sous vide or something to prepare

or maybe suggestions for veg that keep a little longer than greens do because we kind of shop just twice a month for covid exposure reasons?

this doesn't need to be like "healthy eating" i'm just looking for more variety in my diet.

anything, pls? recipes, ideas. i love veg i will eat all of them, i just never really learned to cook them well, or how to incorporate them into a lot of meals when it's not, like, salad

or even where do you get veg that is kind of affordable/doesn't suck?

#is this an impossible question?#cw: food #recipes #covid cautious #autism #actually autistic #asd #food #cooking #disability

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phantomphangphucker · 9 months ago

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Phic Phight - Fool’s Crown

@hannahmanderr

Danny is very very stupid, Amity Parkers are very very oblivious, and a crown is apparently very very easy to hide.

Look okay, Danny had an issue, and, okay, he was also a dumbass. Meaning…

…

That’s right! He dealt with his issues like a dumbass.

His current issue?

One. Crown.

One crown that will not come off of his head even when he tries to yank the thing off with both his hands and his feet at the same time.

He even tried smacking it with a frying pan and only succeeded in giving himself a mild concussion.

Jazz had some words to say about that.

Sticking the crown in the portal and closing it with him still on the other side, also didn’t do shit.

So yeah.

He was NOT impressed. ‘Not’ with every single letter capitalised for the oomph… and to make a point about how not amused he was. Because he was very not amused.

So what was Danny to do about a floating green flaming glowing crown that will not fuck off?

Well get it to stop floating for one, which was surprisingly actually doable. Huh. Who knew. It’s got a cold metallic weightiness to it that felt like it was going to give him too many headaches; both literally and metaphorically (He was absolutely right on that one).

That just left him with the glowing problem, the flaming problem, the green problem, and the fact that it was a goddamn crown problem.

But flames plus frost from a kickass ice core equaled no more fire, nice and easy breezy, like he wished more things would be. Not out loud obviously, because, you know, Desiree. But yes, more easy things please! Thank you very much! Fuck his shitty luck. He could have technically just changed the crown over to cold blue flames instead of being frosty, but then the thing would still be on fire, which was the issue he was trying to solve.

The last three problems didn’t have some easy solution he could pull out of his ass on the spot, but you know what he could do on the spot and get nearly on the spot?

Amazon.

And you know what he could get on Amazon?

A thick leather crown.

And what could he do with a thick leather crown?

Why undo the stitching on the bottom so he could just… slide it over his actual crown.

Is it stupid? Like, very stupid?

Yes.

Does he buy the crown?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

Sam is judgmental but lets him use her prime account and he’s got that bitch in hand with same-day delivery. Sam is also judgemental that he makes her undo the stitching, she was better at stitch work than him so he thought it made sense okay! Gosh!

And!

Guess what!

Shit fucking works.

He can just slide it right over his crown. It’s like whoever designed these leather crown things did it with the Crown Of Fire in mind! Talk about a win for him!

Tuck slapped his knees and Sam facepalmed with multiple groans. At least Sam still attached little straps to the bottom of the leather crown so he could actually fully attach it to his crown securely. It made him look like he had a floating leather crown! It was hilarious! And it made the metal of the crown dig into his head less when he forced it to stop with the floating.

All in all he’s tickled green with his success.

Does his ‘fashion choices’ get questioned, and mocked, and belittled, and attempted at being stolen?

Oh of course.

Did he care?

Ha! Not a chance!

He did have Wes pointing at him and shrieking about him having too big of an ego to be willing to hide being the ghost king though, that was fantastic.

Fantastic because that meant that no one would ever believe he actually was the ghost king.

Which he was and he was goddamn rocking it.

Rocking it while totally leather strapped, making him an absolute leather daddy.

Eh? Eh? Ha! He thinks he’s funny. Because he is. That shit was absolutely hilarious.

Oh! Maybe he should actually, like, get into the leather subculture to really sell it. Then he’d totally rock a leather pride flag at the next pride.

…

Johnny’s going to insist on teaching him how to ride a motorcycle then, isn’t he?

Oh yeah he totally is.

Sure he couldn’t wear a helmet over his stupid crown thing but ain’t fucking nobody going to question a Fenton about following road safety or driving laws.

Ah he was about to be a leather crown wearing, motorcycle driving, space nerd, who handled and made supernatural ghost weapons.

Poor Amity. Poor poor Amity.

That was a lie. Amity loved his stupid weird dumbass, and he knew it.

End.

Prompt: After becoming Ghost King, Danny discovers that his crown refuses to be taken off his head, or even to disappear. This might not be a problem, if he didn't have to worry about going to school.

#danny phantom #phandom #phicphight24 #phic phight 24 #danny fenton #phantomphangphucker #have a fic suck my dick #my writing #ghost king danny #Danny's a little shit #gothmoth #Teeny Tiny Itty Bitty Little Ficlet #ficlet #crowns #problem solving

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sui-imi · 2 years ago

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100 Facts About UnderEats!Sans (aka Roo)

I posted these on twitter, but decided I should also post them here for everyone o/

Facts below the cut!

WARNING: it's. really long.

1. UnderEats!Sans is nicknamed 'Roo'. This is a shortened version of 'Deliveroo'. I chose it because the AU's name was already based on 'Uber Eats' and wanted to keep the theme relevance.

2. Roo originates from a Horrortale timeline variant. It was destroyed before he left to meet with Undyne, meaning his skull was never shattered, nor his eye taken. (Horrortale belongs to sour-apple-studios)

3. He's 4'4" / 132cm tall. He's not insecure about his height, but he doesn't like how tall everyone else is…

4. Since his timeline's gone, Roo's homeless. He'll either stay at Arbiter's store, nap in a random AU, or pay for an inn somewhere.

5. He works as a multiversal food delivery driver. His job is to collect food from various restaurants across the Multiverse, then use his AU-hopping moped to instantly transport the food to the customer's AU/address. (... its just uber eats but in undertale)

6. He's not supposed to, but if you bribe him with cash or food (anything with BBQ in it), he'll give you a free ride to another AU. He can be bribed to do other things, also. but only for cold, hard, cash. (and nothing inappropriate)

7. In his timeline, he spent a lot of time raising morale, handling rations and thinking of solutions for their food crisis. Due to this, Roo's not very lazy anymore. But he still loves to take naps.

8. He's extremely nervous around other Alphys', after seeing her stare at him so intensely, and hearing her plan from the echo flowers. He's okay around Swapped Alphys'. Usually.

9. He's pretty frugal, only buying food or paying for an inn room every so often.

10. He has a lot of food and snacks stored in his inventory, but not to eat. He instead hands it out to other people who might need it.

11. He can't handle high-stress/danger situations. If he can't find a solution to the problem quickly enough, he kind of. Shuts down. It results in him making very stupid decisions. Like throwing a moped at someone.

12. Due to his repeated destruction of company property, most of his pay goes towards paying off the broken bikes. It's... going to take a while to pay it off. (He's still going to keep throwing the mopeds).

13. Roo can also ride bicycles, motorbikes, and some types of cars. But he likes mopeds because they're small and easy to nap on.

14. Doesn't really use his phone outside of work purposes, so he's a bit of a social media boomer. The grimace shake trend is a horrific mystery to him. He doesn't even know what 'simp' means.

15. His magic eye LOOKS green, but it's not. It's the same blue/yellow that Classic Sans has, but it's moving so fast that it blends together to green.

16. He has the same stats as Classic Sans.

17. He still likes ketchup. He just thinks BBQ sauce is the superior condiment.

18. He's always wearing a hat, or something that covers his head. It's because he's trying to break a bad habit of scratching at his skull. Instead, he fiddles with the hat.

19. He's actually a pretty good cook! On his days off, he likes to practice.

20. His favourite place to eat is Grillby's 2 (a multiversal version of the OG). He's good friends with the Grillbys that run the place and the food is always good.

21. He has a soft spot for Grillbys and other Horrors. He's nice to them and always asking if they're good. (He's still shaken from his Grillby... 'melting'...)

22. He's one of those people that constantly complains about doing something, but still does it anyway.

23. He has an excellent memory when it comes to remembering addresses/co-ordinates to other AUs. Ask him about a specific place and chances are, he'll know where you're talking about.

24. He likes his job because it's simple. He likes simple. It means less stress. Despite being a simple job, certain customers love increasing his stress levels. T_T

25. His hands are a bit scratched up from stress-scratching. That's part of the reason why he likes to wear gloves all the time. The other part is: he just likes wearing them.

26. He doesn't like wasting food/drinks. If you make something (edible) for him, even if he doesn't want it, he'll try to eat it, just so it doesn't go to waste.

27. He's not picky with what he eats. If it's edible, he'll eat it. If it's not edible, he'll... pretend to eat it.

28. He used to be friends with a part-time worker, who was an Undyne. After certain events occured, he no longer makes friends with the other workers!

29. Roo dislikes Exec's 'don't interfere with timelines' rule. He thinks that if you can help, you should. But he also doesn't want to lose the job, so his help ends up being rather limited…

30. He hates delivering to the Doodlesphere. He has a policy in place with the Star Sanses: if he delivers and they're in the middle of a fight, they have to tip him double... he makes a lot of money delivering to the Doodlesphere.

31. Roo likes going to a random AU and taking a nap in it. Sometimes, if he's bored, he'll explore the AU a little bit. He's not supposed to be seen in AUs that aren't involved/aware of the multiverse, so he either skips them or sneaks around.

32. If he comes across a starving timeline, he'll leave behind some food. Nothing big, just enough to survive a little longer. He doesn't want Exec to become aware of his 'timeline-intefering'. (Exec already knows. But they allow it, since it doesn't really affect much.)

33. If he ever lost his job, he'd go work with Arbiter in the Condiment Hall (a convenience store that specialises in well, condiments), or go to the Omega Timeline.

34. His eye sockets are naturally 'droopy'.

35. His bones can rattle. It only happens when he's scared. It's embarrassing.

36. He drinks, but only 'socially' (AKA, if you hand him a drink, he'll drink it). He's not a lightweight. But the process of getting drunk makes him feel queasy. When he's actually drunk, he starts acting stupid.

37. He gets easily flustered/embarrassed if you give him any positive attention. When that happens, he tugs on his hat to hide his face.

38. He doesn’t like fighting. If he ends up in an encounter, he either tries to escape it, or he gets too stressed (aka goes stupid mode).

39. If someone is in trouble (and he’s ACTUALLY able to help), he’ll do his best to remove them from the situation. Don’t ask him to fight for you. He won’t.

40. He favours using blue magic in fights to keep opponents away from him/rooted in place. If that fails, he'll TP to a safe distance.

41. If his life is truly in danger, his survival instincts kick in, and he’ll fight like it’s a genocide route.

41b. His thoughts are switched ‘off’ during this. He fights automatically.

42. He has a metal pipe for joke purposes. Sometimes he’ll drop it because the sound is hilarious to him. He also uses it as an impromptu weapon.

43. The best description for Roo is that he’s Aro Ace. He has no desire for anything beyond friendship.

44. He’s lost track of his age, but he’s in his late 20s/early 30s. His birthday is the 8th of September (International Food Delivery Day)!

45. He’s fine interacting with other Papyruses, but if they show any familiarity with him, it weirds him out. (i.e: calling him 'Brother')

46. Roo misses his Papyrus, but… a part of him is glad that he’s not suffering anymore. But that kind of thinking also makes him mad... It’s a difficult subject. He doesn't like to think about it.

47. Either he’s grumpy, loud and rude (usually with difficult people). Or chill and more like a Classic (most of the time).

47b. He’s also a very expressive skeleton. His facebones are quite flexible. (does that even make sense?)

48. Everytime he gets an order from the Bad Sanses, his day gets ten times worse. He has to start mentally planning an escape route to minimise trouble.

49. Roo feels a strange kind of survivor’s guilt when he sees other Horrors. He’s aware of how lucky he is compared to his counterparts.

50. Sometimes, he has nightmares of a Horror clawing out his eye, wanting to ‘make them match’.

51. He loves getting tips and bribes. His prices are always fair - he doesn’t like extorting people. But er, if you insist enough times, he’ll just… take it and pay it forward. (cough)

52. Roo loves antagonising Swap Papyrus. Swap Paps antagonises him back. Roo also loves getting Swap Sans to lecture Paps for antagonising him.

53. He still has the ability to Judge, and quietly checks anyone he comes across. Just as a safety precaution.

54. His mouth can open, but it usually stays shut. It only opens when he's yawning or eating something big. He can eat some things/drink without opening his mouth. How? Who knows.

55. He doesn’t enjoy science anymore, and tends to avoid it. But sometimes he sees something interesting and becomes curious.

56. There’s an Outertale Burgerpants called Burpi that he loves to antagonise. It seems he knows something embarrassing the cat monster did and holds it over his head.

57. He wears size 6 (US size) mens shoes.

58. His favourite colour is blue. But he thinks green is okay too.

59. Roo doesn’t know how to react to gifts. Half the time he thinks it’s something you want him to deliver. If you clarify, he says thanks and puts it somewhere safe. (Then he gets flustered)

60. He doesn’t really cry, except for ‘comedic situations’.

61. He used to have a habit of writing a bunch of notes on any surface he could find (especially walls). He got in a lot of trouble for it. Now he carries a small notebook around to take notes.

62. He’s not very materialistic. His moped is probably the only 'material' thing he cares about.

63. He keeps having to buy new socks because everytime he stays at an inn/at Arbiter’s place, he leaves one lying around.

64. He’s accidentally made a trash tornado in his bag, except with people’s orders.. It was very messy..

65. He’s currently learning how to bake. His favourite so far are fig rolls.

66. If there’s ever drama or a (not serious) fight going down in front of him, he’s the guy dealing out popcorn to the bystanders.

67. Whenever he’s bored, he watches some random shows. He tried to watch UnderNovela but he missed a lot of episodes, so he’s just confused.

68. Roo knows English, Common (AKA monster english), and Monster Sign Language (the monster’s version of sign)

69. In Roo’s timeline, Gaster was his brother. He can’t remember his parents.

70. He got turned into a bitty once. He refuses to talk about it, saying ‘the experience changed me…. Into a bitty, that is.’

71. One of the strangest AUs he’s visited is one where monsters were on the surface, except they were beast-like and HUGE. Not bara huge. 200ft tall huge. He finds it fascinating. Sometimes he'll go there, sit in a tree, and just watch them roam.

72. Every time he visits a random AU, he has a 50/50 chance of being dropped into the middle of something chaotic.

73. He customises his mopeds to say ‘sans’ with a bone sticker at the front. It’s so he can remember which one is his. (Lie. He just thinks it's cool)

74. He has a red friendship bracelet around his neck, given to him by Fresh!Reaper. It’s hidden by his coat most of the time. (Fresh!Reaper - @\SoftyMuii on Twitter)

75. He's sort of friends with this one Horror. They like to grab lunch together sometimes.

76. He likes to listen to other people’s puns more than making his own. Either way they make him chuckle every time, even in serious situations. (Though he tries not to laugh out of loud).

77. His favourite kind of jacket are windbreakers, which is what he wears most of the time.

78. He doesn’t care much for fashion, he just wears whatever’s comfortable (which is a shirt and shorts).

79. His favourite thing about the surface are the stars. Second is the sea. He loves the colour of the water and how calm it is.

80. When he texts, his replies are lazy and full of typos.

81. He has no idea that the lady behind the door was Toriel, queen of the monsters. In his timeline, Frisk killed her.

82. Despite napping all the time, he has trouble actually trying to sleep. He can manage 2 hours before waking up.

83. He’s a pretty light sleeper. He doesn’t fully fall asleep, still keeping some sort of awareness of his surroundings. If someone gets too close to him/makes too much noise, he’ll open his eyes.

84. Roo will generally try to follow the rules, but if they clash with his ideals, he’ll either break them, or try his best to bend the rules to his favour.

85. He’s good at keeping secrets. But that’s only because he forgets most of them after a while.

86. His bone colour is affected by how much sun he receives. They’re off-white since he’s covered up most of the time.

87. Sometimes he’ll sunbathe a little to brighten his bones. He claims it makes him feel more energetic.

88. He thinks MTT food is the worst of the worst. He won’t even pretend to eat it if someone hands him any. It’s going straight in the trash.

89. He likes white noise. Pure silence makes him agitated.

91. He's kind of apathetic. His emotions feel muted. But his reactions are still over the top.

90. Roo likes eye contact and being able to see people’s faces & facial expressions when talking to them. Having your back turned to him during a conversation bothers him.

90b. Despite this, he gets unnerved by intense staring (it reminds him of Alphys)

92. His stamina is okay, but he still gets tired out often, which is why he takes so many naps.

93. Roo doesn’t really get angry. At most he’ll get irritated or annoyed, but he doesn’t know what true anger feels like.

94. He hates troublesome customers. A part of him hopes they get food poisoning and never order again… but he won’t say that out loud.

95. He enjoys delivering to ‘peaceful’ AUs, usually ones that have already reached the surface. The customers there are usually very nice.

96. He’s a tidy person, but that’s only because he doesn’t own a lot of things to create a mess in the first place.

97. Don’t bully workers! If you’re mean to the workers at the stores, Roo will get annoyed and lecture you.

98. He feels a sense of kinship with other workers, especially multiversal workers like him. (Like Post!Sans)

99. Sometimes he works at Grillby’s 2 if they need extra help. He’s terrible at making drinks/entertaining the customers, so he just makes food in the back.

100. If it’s very hot or very cold, he can feel it. Otherwise he can’t really feel changes in temperature.

#undertale #undertale au #undereats!sans #roo #undereats #Sorry. it's a lot of text/info #but hey! here's basically everything you need to know about roo #roo lore

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