#I genuinely think this is the best thing I've ever written so it needed its own special series post now that it's done

[ineffable-kelpie]

Aziraphale is captured and put into a simulated version of Earth without his knowledge. This is the story of the life he lives there, his eventual escape, and how he and Crowley pick up the pieces afterwards.

Series rating: T

Works: 3/3

Total wordcount: 121,931

I started writing for this series last January, with no intent to actually finish it. As with most things I don't intend to finish, it eventually consumed my every thought until I had no choice but to spend a year and a half writing the damn thing. Now that it's finally all finished and posted, I'm very glad I did.

(Breakdown of individual fics below the cut)

Smoke and Mirrors (52K words, 11 chapters)

“If we want the truth from him, he needs to feel safe enough to speak truthfully,” said Gabriel. “Now, I know what you’re thinking: ‘The traitor couldn’t possibly feel safe while he’s in Heaven for interrogation!’ And you’d be right.” His grin widened. “But—this is where it gets really good—he won’t even know that’s where he is.” (Aziraphale is imprisoned in Heaven, but breaks free thanks to Crowley’s help. On Earth, Crowley wakes up from his pandemic nap to find Aziraphale missing. Meanwhile, two angels watch an imaginary life unfold, with all the time in the world to wait for the answers they need.)

Reality Check (51K words, 12 chapters)

Every muscle in Crowley’s body clenched as the previous day came rushing back. Not a dream. Aziraphale was real, solid, and alive. He was here, he was back, he was… He was currently making himself a little too much at home in Crowley’s personal space. (Aziraphale has unknowingly spent over a year on a simulated Earth, building a relationship with an imaginary version of Crowley. Crowley has spent that time alone, miserable, and unsure if he'd ever see his best friend again. Now together and safe once more, they learn how to navigate the new reality in which they find themselves.)

I Want to Break Free (19K words, 5 chapters)

Shemael is thrilled to finally transfer out of the oppressive celestial choir, but adjusting to their new job proves more difficult than they expected. When you’ve done the same thing for six thousand years, how do you learn to do something new?

[plussizefantasia]

Don't Call Me Kitty

Bucky Barnes x Black Cat! Reader

Word Count: 2k

Chapter 1/6

Next>

Warnings: Reader is plus size and it's talked about being somewhat of a negative thing (its not) , language, I think that's it

AN: This is part one of the BlackCat!Reader x Bucky work that I've been working on for a while. It was a request although I can't seem to find the original request anymore. This is part one of six, all fully written but I decided to split it up because this is by far the longest thing I've ever written and I wanted to publish it in chunks. Let me know if you like it, or if the rest of this should just stay hidden in my drafts for all of eternity.

If you had to spend one more fucking minute in the same car as James Buchanan Barnes, one of you would be dying. And you are pretty fucking confident that it won't be you.

 He won't get off your back. Every chance he has it seems like he launches himself at the opportunity to remind everyone that you weren’t always the goody two shoes he thinks you are pretending to be. But God forbid you call him out on the obvious hypocrisy he's spewing because then you’d have to face Rogers and the inevitable tirade he’d go off on about how his best friend was never a bad man, just deeply broken and how the actions he’d taken while under Hydra’s control were not his own.

You don’t take issue with Barnes bringing up your past, it's not a secret. Everyone on the team had at one point been the focus of your ire on one of your bad days and that more often than not led to some sort of discussion where you would disclose more and more about the things you were trying to forget. Your issue with Barnes was that he was trying to insinuate you were one of the good guys. And you’d rather die than admit you were an Avenger. 

You are not, nor will you ever be a good guy. You aren’t necessarily a bad guy, but you are not a goody two shoes. Barnes knows that, he also knows that it pisses you off to no end when he tries to tell everyone that you're acting like one.

“Shoulda seen the way she was sucking up to Fury Stevie, she’s trying to be teacher’s pet I’m tellin’ ya.” You were not sucking up to Fury you were stealing his wallet and trying to distract him so he wouldn’t notice the fifty bucks you lifted, but Barnes didn’t need to know that. 

The worst thing about this hate that you have for James Barnes was the fact that you know deep down you don’t hate him at all. Sure, he pushes your buttons and knows just what to say to get you to want to knock his pretty little teeth out. But he's also a genuinely good guy and most of the time isn't all that bad to be around. But god it's so much easier to hate him than it is to sift through all those feelings. 

There was also the fact that the two of you work well together. You can be bickering one second and covering each other’s sixes flawlessly the next. You have a theory on that though, you think that because both of you had been forced to work with people you didn’t trust very much at one point or another you got used to getting the job done no matter what other feelings were floating around in the background. That's what you try to convince yourself is the case. The idea that you and Barnes simply make a good team is nauseating. 

Barnes isn’t only good to have in the field though, he has proved his worth off the battlefield when he knocked around some poor recruit who had been running his mouth about you in the training gym. The kid couldn’t have been more than twenty and honesty you weren’t going to hold his ignorance against him. If he underestimated you because of your size, then that was on him and in a way, was only gonna help you in the long run.

That was something that you had noticed early on, that most people couldn’t fathom that someone who wasn't a size four could be as good at your job as you are. “Most People” also included people on your team, it had taken you saving Tony’s life in the field more than once for him to admit that he was wrong about you. You are still trying to convince Thor that just because you look soft does not mean you can’t still kick his ass. 

You have made people’s lack of faith in you into a good thing. Rich guys aren’t worried about their wallets or watches when a meek little thing bumps into them on the subway and who would suspect the overweight chick to be the one who scales the sides of buildings to get her hands on some unreleased tech from Hammer’s R&D department? Bucky Barnes.

Bucky has never regarded you with the same kind of hesitance as the others. He has never once made it seem like he thought you couldn’t get the job done because you were bigger. And you had to admit, it's refreshing. Not that you need his approval but it's still nice to not be looked at with some kind of doubt, or incredulity. That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t piss you off though.

“I swear to God Barnes, if you change the radio station one more time I’m gonna cover your whole arm in fucking extra strength magnets while you're asleep.” An interesting threat sure, but one you will one hundred percent follow through on. 

“The station keeps changing to static, kitty, you want to listen to static for the next three hours?” He asks. He's right, you are both on your way to some ball in Alabama and according to Tony, all the Quinjets are in use for this weekend (bullshit), which leaves you and Bucky to get there the old fashion way, a road trip. 

You're already eight hours in and are currently driving through the small towns and mountains that cover a good section of the south. Which means that the radio is cutting in and out. And yeah he's right, you don’t want to listen to static but you also don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“I’d prefer the goddamn static over the song changing every five fucking seconds.”

“Well, it’s either that or silence, kitty.”

“First of all Barnes, I’ve told you not to call me kitty. It’s demeaning. Secondly, maybe some silence will do you good, you might be able to hear yourself think for once. If you’re capable of thinking.” You shoot back at him.

“Oh, kitty I have plenty of thoughts I’m pretty sure I think enough for the two of us.” He looks at you without turning his head away from the road, giving you a sidelong glance. 

“Oh yeah, about what? How to get more beefy? Whatever the next idiotic insult you’ll hurl at our resident birdbrain will be? Whether or not you'll get wrinkles from the perpetual furrow in your brow?” 

“I don’t think you want to know what goes on in my head, Mittens.” He pulls his bottom lip up in between his teeth to stop the smirk that is spreading across his face.

“You did not just call me fucking Mittens” Your jaw is practically on the floor. The audacity of this man. 

“You said I couldn’t call you kitty. What are my other options?” 

“Maybe my name? Asshole.” You also have to fight back a smile. Teasing Barnes is nice, it was the closest thing you have to a genuine relationship. Too bad you can’t stand him.

“You memorized your cover?” He asks you. You almost scoffed at him, you're not a goddamn amateur.

“Of, course. I’m Debrah Longborne, Georgian peach and heiress to my Daddy’s large fruit processing fortune.” This mission is a simple one. You're here to take down a corrupt governor and what better place to do than at the gala he and his wife organize every year? You had Tony donate to his wife’s foundation under your cover name. Large enough to draw attention but not too much attention that you can’t get your job done. “And you…?” 

“Brantley Moore, Law professor at Vanderbilt, and your arm candy for the night.” You like going undercover, and this assignment is a short one, just one weekend. It's almost like being another person, just with all your skills and an ulterior motive. 

“Who the hell picked the name Brantley?” You ask.

“I know right, I sound like some preppy douchebag” 

“Not too far off then.”

“Fuck off.” He laughs. You like his laugh. His eyes crinkle in the corners when he does it, a brief glimpse into the years he has lived through, not all sunshine and rainbows, but enough joy to have laugh lines. 

“So Debrah and Brantley met where?”

“Vanderbilt has society mixers every winter, where the professors and some select students get the chance to network with some donors and other important people. It’s a believable story plus there’s over a thousand attendees at these things which makes it easy to slip our names onto the list.”

“And whose idea was that?” you lift an eyebrow. “Mine.” 

“How do you know about the Vanderbilt mixers?” 

“I had a life before I met you, didn’t you know that.”

“I knew you had a life I guess I just didn’t assume it involved rubbing elbows with southern socialites at prestigious university parties.”

“I wasn’t rubbing elbows, it was for a deal made by Peirce with the university president, I was there as a bodyguard for Pierce and to cover our tracks when things inevitably got bloody.” Any hint of teasing falls from Bucky’s voice. He says shit like that sometimes. Shit that you think he says to scare you or to remind you how dangerous he was. All it does is make you sad. Nobody deserves to go through what he had, and you hate that those evil bastards had taken a great man and mangled him. 

The conversation peters out after his revelation. The two of you ride in silence for the next two hours. Thirty minutes in, you get closer to the city and the radio sputters back to life. Bucky reaches to turn it off. 

When you finally reach the hotel both of you are a bit on edge. You’ve been driving all day, switching back and forth every few hours but Bucky’s silence for the last little stretch seems to have affected both of you more than you’d thought.

Still, you have a job to do and you’ll be damned if you let the metal-armed nuisance ruin your reputation for perfect follow-throughs. You grab your small weekender bag out of the backseat and make your way to the front desk. You school your features and dust off the southern belle persona that has been stashed away in your metaphorical conman toolbelt.

You can feel Bucky trailing behind you, and an idea pops into your head. Swiftly turning on your heel you pass your bag into his unoccupied hand. Not giving him a chance to say no you rotate back around and march forward at a pace fitting to a very busy society woman. 

Bucky sputters behind you and you toss over your shoulder, “If I’m playing an heiress this weekend, I'm not lifting a goddamn finger if I don’t have to.” 

Marching the rest of the way to the desk you flash the young woman behind the counter a polite smile, “Room for Longborne”. She immediately matches your smile and begins typing away on her keyboard pulling up the reservation that was made for your cover.

“Of Course Ms. Longborne, I have you down for the Iris sweet for three nights is that correct?”

“Sounds correct to me, although if you could hold the room for one more day that would be just peachy of you, we don’t know how long our business here is going to take and it’s better to be safe than sorry. You understand of course.” You put every ounce of Southern charm into your words and pray to God that this interaction can be over sooner rather than later.

“Of course Ms., Here are your keys. Your room is on our twelfth floor and the number is embossed on the front of the card.” She hands you a package of three cards across the desk. “If you need anything at all don’t hesitate to call.”

You nod, taking the key cards from her hand, and motion for Bucky to follow you to the elevator. 

The ride up to the twelfth floor is silent, much like the last stretch of the car ride. What you aren’t expecting is Bucky’s exclamation when he walks into the room before you.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” The first words Barnes has uttered in nearly two hours. “There's only one fucking bed.”

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Including Sunlight

When Skies Are Gray, Chapter 4

Series Masterlist             Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: Frank’s life has reached a crossroads: he can either continue to seclude himself and pursue a dark, lonely future, or he can open himself up to connecting with someone again and maybe achieve happiness. Being the grump that he is, Frank has already committed to the lonely path, but his curious new neighbor might just turn that around. 

warnings: swearing, fluff, Frank having unhealthy coping mechanisms

a/n: I'm so sorry that this update is late, everyone! I've had a wacky month and it has completely thrown me off. Huge shout out to @xxdrixx for reminding me (again XD) to post what I'd written, and to my loves @madschiavelique and @gracethyomen for helping me plot the upcoming angst arc!!!

w/c: 5.9k

You hadn’t known Frank for very long, but that didn’t stop him from becoming a necessary fixture in your life. Needing Frank was similar to needing light, or fresh air. Sure, you could go without it for a bit, but it would drastically reduce the quality of your life. 

Two days into his “business trip” (which you assumed was a cover for some illegal shenanigans because what sort of freelance construction worker has business trips), you were missing Frank something awful, and it seemed like Max was too. Though you’d tried your best to stick to the existing routine Frank had explained to you, the dog would get mopey in the evenings, laying his head on your lap with a dramatic sigh as he stared longingly towards the door. 

Frank hadn’t so much as sent an emoji since his departure, a fact that highlighted his already glaring absence. You had no idea if he was even alive, but you refused to go down that path knowing you’d never make it out of that endless anxiety spiral. Hoping not to bother him while he was away, you’d refrained from reaching out. Until Max’s heavy sighs were too much for you to bear. 

“I’ll see what I can do, buddy.” You promised, pulling out your phone and taking a picture of his pouting face. 

Sending Max’s sulking portrait off to your stoic neighbor, you included a message. 

You: I think he misses you. Hope you made it safely. ❤️

You were about to set your phone down, not expecting him to respond, but your phone buzzed immediately. 

Frank: Sorry, bud. He behaving for you?

You: He’s being a perfect gentleman. Please come back to us in one piece. 

Frank: Cross my heart. 

Smiling at the fluttery sensation in your chest, you set your phone down and resumed petting the pitbull taking up residence on your lap. 

Come back to us. A poor imitation of your melodic voice played throughout his brain on a loop as he got settled in the motel and began recon. It had been hours since you’d texted him and Frank couldn’t stop thinking about it. Not that he could ever stop thinking of you; the only thing that had kept him going through the bland, cross-state drive was the knowledge that he had you to return to.

And didn’t that terrify him. The knowledge that he had forged a connection valuable enough to anchor him on bad days should have triggered his factory reset. Cut all ties, change home and job, never look back. But you made him weak–sapping the resolve out of him with your doe eyes and intoxicating personality. He’d never be able to leave you like that, even if his proximity to you would get you killed.

Gritting his teeth, he began disassembling his rifle for the umpteenth time, hoping the familiar rhythm would provide an opportunity for his mind to claw its way out of the paranoid spiral it was currently parachuting down. Because it would do him no good to imagine the ways this could all fall apart. The high that your genuine care ignited in him was a hard one to shake, and he craved your affection more than any drug. 

Frank was no stranger to being forgotten, hell, most days he wished for it. Disappearing into the shadows made his work easier and it had helped him prevent situations like this, like you, in the past. Yet here he was, three states away, feeling desired and significant because of four little sentences of fucking text. You were a goddamn miracle. 

Placing the final piece of his weapon back into its place, he drew his hands towards himself, examining them. Given the nature of his work, both legal and less than, the skin was rough and littered with impressive callouses. Streaks of gun oil, dirt, and general grime lingered on the pads of his fingers and under his nails, a testament to the indelicacy of his job. How could he allow himself to touch you with these hands?

How could the universe allow him to indulge in something so pure, after what he’d done? 

He’d given you his name, his real one, but there was no way you knew the extent of his crimes against the people in your city–if you did, you’d surely never speak to him again. Before meeting you, he’d never questioned his choices. Wiping the murderous, sex-trafficking and drug-dealing scum from the face of the Earth was his purpose, and he lived it with pride. Pulling the trigger, releasing bullet after bullet into the chest of some criminal douchebag, it was the only reason he had the energy to keep going after the loss of his family. 

But the violence, that he’d made peace with, it separated him from the rest of society, kept him from forming attachments with people as delicate as you. Not to mention, you valued an honesty he couldn’t provide, and a stable relationship would require it…not that he was intending on pursuing that with you. Right?

Sighing wearily, he pinched the bridge of his nose, heart pummeling his ribcage. You deserved to know the truth about who he was and what he’d done, but Frank wasn’t sure he possessed the courage to break that news to you, to risk losing you forever. 

Shifting uneasily on the fraying wicker chair, Frank studied a chip in the faux wood of the table he was seated at. Rubbing a thumb over the exposed plastic, he pondered his next move. His short recon session had verified Madani’s hunch that the arms dealers operated after dark, like most criminals, but sitting around the dingy motel room until then was a one-way ticket to insanity. 

As if his body was pitying his moment of unprecedented indecision, his stomach growled ferociously. Fuck, he could use a decent meal and a hot cup of coffee. Plucking his keys and handgun from the nightstand, he shoved his arms into a black canvas jacket before braving the outside world. 

Digging your glove-covered fingers into the laminated dough, you folded it over itself a few times before placing it back in its designated proofing bin to rise. Taking another lump of the yeasted mixture into your grasp, you savored the pleasant cushiony feeling beneath your hands as you worked, the slightly fermented smell of raw bread swirling around the kitchen as you flipped the mass. 

Your heart thumped serenely as you kneaded the dough at a steady pace, creating a beautiful rhythm you were more than familiar with. It was music, of a sort; the pulse in your ears acting as the bass while the cacophony of rattling spice jars and cracking eggshells composed unique melodies unlike anything else. 

Life was complicated, but food was simple. Customizing pastries and generating new recipes was an outlet for any emotion you could dream of. Tugging at the strands of dough helped soothe the tension in your shoulders, a symptom of the intense restlessness you’d been feeling since Frank left. Though his text had confirmed that he was alive, you couldn’t help but wallow in a feeling of gut-wrenching regret as you lived without him. If something happened to him out there, you’d never be able to tell him–

Shaking your head fiercely to clear the anxious thoughts from your mind, you raced to the walk-in, once again pouring your jittery energy into a recipe rather than letting your composure erode into nothing. Stabilizing the precarious tower of ingredients you’d stacked with your chin, you tread cautiously over to a clean station, unceremoniously dumping the contents onto the steel bench before popping your head out to the front. 

“Stace, you want somethin’ to eat?” You called to the girl, who was currently standing by the register on her phone. 

“What are you making?” She barely lifted her head with the question and her ambivalence made you snort. 

“Oh, you know, same old.”

With a small shrug, Stacy nodded. “Sure, why not.” 

Grinning, you ducked back into the kitchen and popped the lid off of the industrial blender, quickly whipping up two vibrantly colored and impeccably garnished bowls for the pair of you. Passing a spoon to Stacy, you smiled as she dug in eagerly.

“What, you didn’t eat breakfast this morning?” You giggled, reveling in the way her eyes lit up as she ate. 

“Had a feeling you’d be cooking up a storm today.” Stacy replied, tilting her head at you knowingly. “You tend to do that when you’re mopey, and I’m never opposed to a free meal.”

Rolling your eyes, you huffed in defiance. “I’m not ‘mopey’.” 

“No?” Your dark-haired friend smirked. “That’s why you’re staring at that stupid bowl like it killed your family?” 

Ignoring her pointed look, you angled the bowl slightly differently before pulling out your phone. 

“It’s a pretty meal. I wanted to take a picture.” You reasoned, snapping a few photos of the deep violet mixture. 

“To send to lover boy?” Stacy snorted, wiggling her eyebrows at you. 

“No! I mean, maybe, I guess. I mean—“ You spluttered and Stacy laughed boisterously. “Shut up!!” Pouting, you shoved your phone back into the pocket of your apron and stuck a spoon into your breakfast. 

“C’mon, princess, don’t let my teasing interrupt your pitiful flirting attempts. I’m sure he wants to hear from you.” Stacy’s expression was nonchalant, as always, but her gaze softened when your shoulders slumped. “I’m serious. He’s like, embarrassingly into you.” 

“I think you might be confused about which of us is ‘embarrassingly into’ the other.” You whined, burying your face in your hands. 

“Oh you’re pathetically head over heels for him too, that’s why you have no game.” 

Scoffing, you shoved at her shoulder. “You know what, I don’t need to be insulted like this. Get out of my kitchen.”

“It’s not insulting, it’s true!” She chuckled, eating the remaining few bites of her food as you struggled to force her out the double doors. 

“Out, out, out!” You panted, finally getting her across the threshold. 

The whoosh of air from the batwing doors blew stray hairs from your face, giving you pause. Did it matter why you reached out to him? He seemed to appreciate it…

“Fuck it.” 

Frank turned the cheap off-white mug in his hands, letting the quickly fading warmth seep through the material and into his palms as he looked out the streaky window. A gray hue had settled over the rural town he was camped out in, courtesy of the building storm on the horizon. The clouds mimicked his mental state, growing darker by the minute as the world remained stagnant. 

A low buzz caught his attention, his hand shooting out to stop his phone from vibrating off of the table. Flicking the screen open, his heart swelled with affection, like a ray of sunshine peeking through the barrier in the sky. 

You: *image* It’s official, I’m becoming a hipster. I was more concerned about this photo than eating my breakfast.

Not attempting to hide his smile, Frank shoved his empty cup aside to free his thumbs. 

Frank: Well, it looks so good, I might have to forgive you. What is it?

You: A smoothie bowl, very easy to make and quite tasty.

Frank: Never had one of those before. Looks good though, sunshine.

You: Thanks, sweetheart. I’ll make you one sometime.

Frank inhaled deeply, imagining that you were nearby and he could smell your soft vanilla soap. The thought of you cooking for him upon his return warmed his heart while simultaneously cracking it in two. He missed you dearly. Drawing his forearms into his chest, he took a picture of his own food, frowning at the grainy quality of the picture as it sent.

Frank: It ain’t as pretty as yours, but I’m eating breakfast myself.

The remnants of a stack of bland pancakes and some tough bacon paled in comparison to the gorgeous, speckled smoothie thing you’d sent him. Why it was in a bowl and not a cup, he wasn’t sure, but clearly you knew what you were doing so who was he to judge? A few seconds passed and Frank briefly wondered if he’d said something wrong. Before he could preemptively apologize, another bubble appeared on the screen.

You: Glad you are able to feed yourself without my help. I was starting to wonder…

Frank: Oh shut up, you goof. I do miss your cooking though.

You: Just my cooking?

His fingers hovered over the glass display, his brain scrambling for a response that didn’t reveal just how gone he was for you. In the end, he couldn’t find one.

Frank: Not just your cooking, honey. I have some work to do, but take care of yourself and Max for me, will you? 

You: Of course, Frankie. Have a good day :)

Frank: You too, sunshine.

Clicking the power button on his phone, Frank flipped it over, settling his head against his rough hands and massaging his forehead. Coward.

The shrill ringing of his alarm shattered the remnants of his uneasy slumber. Whipping his arm out from under the sheets, he stopped the piercing noise with a frustrated growl. Sitting up was a process, thanks to the new bullet wounds in his shoulder and hip—a true testament to how sideways yesterday night had gone. Madani’s brief had implied that this would be a cut and dry operation. Get in, confirm the sale, contact her team, leave. He’d been given strict orders to not shoot unless absolutely necessary. 

Which was a great plan, in theory. Frank was more than on board with it, even if the whole “no shooting” thing lengthened the process. If it kept him on Madani’s good side, and still managed to get him home before Lisa’s birthday, he could live with it. 

Apparently, the rookie member of Madani’s team was not so thrilled with Frank “stealing” so much of the glory. After Frank’s recon session and subsequent confirmation of the sale, the former Marine was about to call for backup when a scrawny 20-something kid darted into the dark warehouse after the arms dealers, holding nothing but a goddamn glock. Anticipating bloodshed, Frank was grumbling and sprinting after him before the gunshots started. 

Pulling the kid out by the straps of his ill-fitting bullet-proof vest was a task Frank managed by the skin of his teeth, procuring two moderate injuries in the process. Of course, the knowledge that the FBI was on their tail sent the arms dealers into a frenzy. Frank was sure they’d crossed state lines before Madani was even done screaming. Honestly, he half expected the poor woman to have steam coming out of her ears–she’d cussed at the kid with words even Frank considered impolite. 

Not that he could blame her, he was fuming all the same, especially when Madani had explained that he wasn’t off the hook for the mission and should head back to the motel to await further instructions. As if he was reliving it, the conversation that followed played in his head on a loop, their screaming match echoing off the walls of his brain. 

“For fuck’s SAKE, Madani, I did what you wanted–why should I be punished for the stupidity of this asshole?”

“Oh, he’ll be dealt with, believe me. But the agreement was to get Roshev and Miller into my custody. Not give my team a half-assed warning and head back to New York scot free.”

“Half-assed–you’re fucking joking. I had to ditch the objective to rescue YOUR DAMN AGENT.”

“Go back to your room, Frank. I won’t ask again.”

“You’re not–”

“That’s an ORDER, Castle.”

So here he was: waking up on a shitty mattress, his skin and hair still streaked with dirt and blood (because the crappy water pressure and freezing temperature had infuriated him to the point that he’d cut his shower short after cleaning his wounds), in pain and in desperate need of a better cup of coffee than anyone around here was capable of brewing. 

On top of that, it was his dead daughter’s 18th birthday–a fact that hung over him like a cloud of poisonous gas, slowly squeezing the air from his lungs, and he was powerless to stop it. He wanted to scream, to cry, to grieve for her, to do something, anything–but instead he was fucking stuck here, beneath Madani’s thumb until she tired of him. 

It was naive to think that he’d be home today, maybe drinking coffee that you had made specifically for him, bringing flowers to the cemetery, taking Max for a walk, trying to have a quiet day in Lisa’s memory instead of waiting around to deal with two scumbags who got paid to arm other criminals. He should have just shot them.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes with a rough hand, he stalked to the bathroom to clean up–given that a man covered in blood would probably scare the poor waitress at the diner down the street shitless. As he was rubbing a towel through his hair, his phone buzzed–presumably with a curt message from Madani about something else he’d done wrong. Groaning internally, he braced himself for another argument, but it never came. 

Instead, his phone had an unopened message from you. Flicking open the home screen, he felt a weight fall off his shoulders as he pulled up the photo you’d attached. 

It was a beautiful picture of you holding a basket of vibrantly colored cherries in the midst of some sort of farmer’s market. Your delicate features were highlighted by an array of pinks and oranges, courtesy of the sunrise in the background. Your smile was bright, your eyes sparkling as you beamed at the camera. 

Your first message was a simple explanation of your morning activities. 

You: It’s market day! I bought these gorgeous cherries to make some tarts. I’ll save you one ;)

As he was rereading the message, allowing his general irritation to fade as thoughts of you flooded his brain, his phone vibrated again. 

You: Thinking of you today. I’m just a text away if you need anything ❤️

Sinking down onto the motel bed, his throat constricted as he processed the sentiment. He was surprised that you remembered today was hard for him, even more so that you offered to be a line of support. But that was exactly who you were, wasn’t it? Someone who cared so deeply for the people around her, and for some fucking reason that included Frank. 

Typing and retyping a response to you, Frank blew out a breath. He felt almost…jittery. 

Frank: Thanks, sunshine. That means a lot. I’m looking forward to that cherry tart when I get back. 

You: I’ll make you as many as you want, Frankie. 

Lips twitching, he imagined you whirling around your kitchen in one of your signature patterned dresses making him a special batch of pastries. His heart squeezed painfully; your absence was taking a toll on him that he had not expected. Before he could consider his next message to you, Madani’s number flashed on the screen, indicating an incoming call. Lips curling into a silent snarl, he answered. 

“What, Madani?” He rumbled out.

“Well, good morning to you too, sunshine.” Her response wasn’t meant to dig under his skin, she simply meant it as a superficial jab, but the inclusion of the pet name he associated with you ignited a white hot anger in his gut, feral and hungry. 

“The fuck do you want,” He bit out. 

“Watch your tone, Castle. Remember who owes whom a favor here.”

Rolling his eyes, he brought out a more polite tone. “Yes, ma’am.”  

She huffed across the line, “Fuck you too. We found them. I’ll send the coordinates now.” 

“Lookin’ forward to it.” He ended the call.

Stretching your legs as best you could beneath the hefty pitbull, you sighed. 

It had been hours since Frank’s last text and you were not handling it well–the image of the little typing bubble on his side of the text chain haunting your every moment. Logically, the presence of those three flashing dots just meant he had started to type something and then forgot or had something else to attend to, but that knowledge didn’t quell the anxiety growing in your chest. 

He was out there, doing god knows what, on his daughter’s 18th birthday, presumably alone and hurting–and there was nothing you could do but wait. And cook him a lasagna of course. Which you had, giving your apartment the pleasant aroma of onions, tomatoes, and ricotta cheese as the dish baked. 

Your consciousness vibrated with the tenacity of an anxious chihuahua, listless with boredom and concern about your sweetheart of a neighbor. Squirming out from under Max’s head, you chuckled as the sleepy pitbull huffed in annoyance. “Sorry, bubba. I need to move around.”

In the final 30 minutes that you lasagna baked, you managed to throw together some simple pastry dough and pull out the small basket of cherries from your fridge. Popping one of the scarlet fruits into your mouth, you began to pluck the remaining stems off before removing their pits. Once they’d been sufficiently prepped, and your hands were adequately smattered with droplets of maroon fruit juice, you dumped them unceremoniously into a pot to create a compote. It didn’t necessarily pair well with lasagna, but you’d promised Frank a cherry pastry. 

Originally, you’d considered making him a cherry basil frangipane, identical to the ones you’d stacked in the bakery’s display case that morning. But, after the day he’d probably had, you figured he’d want something…less intricate. The compliment you’d given him during his first visit to the cafe still held true–Frank was simple and honest. He wasn’t difficult to please, but fancy words and expensive ingredients alone wouldn’t cut it. The food had to be good. So, you pulled out all the stops, making a recipe that you hadn’t made since you lived with Leo: cherry turnovers. 

Unlike your wonderful neighbor, the majority of patrons in the city needed a reason besides quality to continue giving you business. Elaborately decorated pastries and unique flavor profiles were what kept the cafe in business, so you hadn’t tried selling a modest dessert like these since your first few weeks at the Rainy Day Bakery. It was familiar, comforting even. You hoped it would bring Frank similar satisfaction. 

Trading the bubbling lasagna for a tray of triangle-shaped pastries, you brushed your hands on your hips. Re-covering the pasta dish, you hurriedly cleaned your kitchen, wiping away the traces of flour and sugar that inevitably dusted your countertops after you baked. As you rinsed out the mixing bowl, a high-pitched whimper popped the bubble of silence surrounding your apartment. Sitting rigidly by the door to your apartment, Max’s dark eyes pleaded with you. 

“Gosh, you’re right, bud! It is dinner time. I’m sorry, I got carried away. Let’s go get you set up, huh?” 

Snatching Frank’s spare key from your counter, you attached Max’s thick leash to his collar and jogged him back to his apartment, adding an extra handful of kibble as an apology for making him wait. Stroking his short fur a few times, you slipped the key into your pocket, scurrying back over to your apartment to grab the turnovers before they caught fire and reduced the building to ashes. 

Carefully balancing the pastries and lasagna in your hands, you marched back over to Frank’s apartment. Pretty soon, and with only one close call, the food was lined up on Frank’s countertop to cool. Brushing your hands together, you admired your handiwork. 

“Please tell me ya haven’t been sittin’ here with the door open all night.” 

The gruff voice behind you made you jump in shock. Whirling around, your fear morphed into pure joy as you took in the ruggedly handsome man before you.

“Shit, Frankie! You snuck up on me.” You practically squealed, rushing to hug him in greeting. He grunted as you slammed against him, hissing as you squeezed your arms around his hips. Eyes widening in realization, you started to pull back. “Oh fuck, you’re hurt, aren’t you? I’m so sorry, I–” 

Before you could unwrap your arms from his body, his broad hands splayed across your back, muscular arms tugging you back against his firm chest. 

“‘M fine, honey.” Came Frank’s soothing rumble. You felt him press a kiss to your crown before he buried his face in your hair. “Missed you like crazy, sunshine.” His voice was soft, as if he didn’t want you to hear the darling confession. 

“God, I missed you too, Frankie.” You chuckled, your eyes prickling with tears, your body in awe of your own honesty. With his stubbled chin atop your head and his thick arms around your waist, you felt entirely sheltered by his body. He’d created a bubble of safety and serenity for you, as he always did. 

Remaining in his arms, you shifted out from under his head to examine him. Though you’d felt it across your scalp, his beard was noticeably overgrown and in need of a trim. His hair greasy and mussed, streaked with grime, just like his face. The skin of his face was tinged red, with blush or sunburn you weren’t quite sure, and the bags under his eyes were deep. In spite of yourself, your bottom lip stuck out, brow pinching in concern. Bringing a hand up to cradle his face, you stroked a thumb gently over his cheek, careful to avoid the sizeable bruise across it. 

“Oh sweetheart. What did they do to you?” You asked quietly, feeling choked up as the hulking man nuzzled into your touch, his eyes falling shut with a weary sigh. 

“It’s nothin’.” He murmured, his words worn out—as if he’d spoken them so many times they’d lost all meaning. 

“Then it shouldn’t take long to get you cleaned up.” You smiled, the gesture not making it to your eyes. Standing on your tiptoes, you pressed a kiss to his prickly cheek before unwinding his arms from your waist. He started to retract his arms, to tuck them against his sides, but you caught his fingers with yours, grasping his hands tenderly. “Come sit, sweetheart. You must be exhausted.” 

The poor man didn’t argue. Instead, he let you tug him to the couch and sit him down, his lips twitching with fond amusement when you tucked a blanket around his shoulders. “This ain’t mine.” 

You shrugged, the hint of a smirk tugging at your lips. “I redecorated.” 

“I was barely gone three days.” Frank snorted, rolling his eyes at you. 

Poorly stifling a smile as you pretended to be annoyed, you spoke as though it was obvious why you’d done it. “Your apartment is freezing, Frank. Did you want me and Max to get hypothermia while you were gone?” 

He huffed a laugh. “Still bossy.” Letting his head tip back to meet the spine of the couch, his eyes fluttered shut. Your cool touch manifested on his cheek once again. 

“Do you have a first aid kit, Frankie?” 

“Under the bathroom sink.” He answered, his words slurred ever so slightly with fatigue. He received a slight squeeze of his arm in response, your warm fingers leaving a lasting imprint on his skin. 

A year ago, he would never have let himself have this—a moment of peace. Time to let his guard down, to trust someone else to ease his pain. But the combination of his aching body, his heavy eyelids, and your fussing nature had him letting go of a tension he’d held for years, and he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Soft footsteps alerted him to your presence. Though his eyes were closed, he could hear you shuffle into a crouch, your chest positioned at his knees. 

Stifling a groan, he straightened his posture, wincing slightly as the motion tugged on his day old stitches. His eyes immediately focused on your adorable form in front of him, your own gaze roaming over the various bruises covering his visible skin. Dipping a washcloth into a small bowl of water, you gently lifted his wrist, washing away the dried blood on his knuckles. As you worked, a small river of dirty water–tinged pink from his scarlet blood–dripped down his fingers and onto your dress. 

He watched the trio of droplets fall, time slowing as if to highlight the moment that reignited his anxiety. Splashing across the multicolored fabric, the liquid seeped into your skirt, staining it as you held his hand. Your kindness was endless, and his presence was tarnishing it, ruining it, ruining you. 

Jerking his hand backwards, he cradled it close to his chest. “Lemme do this. I’m gettin’ blood on your pretty dress, sunshine.” He started to stand but you shook your head, gently pushing him back into the cushion and taking his hand in your grasp once again. 

Looking directly into his eyes with an intensity that you always seemed to carry, your lips curved into a small smile. “Frank, it’s just a dress, sweetheart. I promise it’s ok. Let me help you?” With your free hand, you stroked a wayward strand of his hair off of his clammy forehead.

Despite the fact that your gaze conveyed your desire to continue patching him up regardless of his answer, your tone was stilted–giving him the option to deny your help. 

“You’re too sweet for your own damn good, you know.” He sighed, letting his arm go limp in your grip to let you finish what you’d started. 

“Well, you’re too stoic for yours. Makes us quite a pair, doesn’t it?” Your eyes glimmered roguishly, your smirk encouraging him to roll his eyes. 

“Whatever you say, sunshine.” He snorted, knowing full well that you were right. 

You made quick work of tidying up the split skin across his knuckles, moving on to the bruised skin of his cheeks. 

“Didn’t know you were growing this out, Frankie.” You quipped, tugging gently on the untamed curls of his beard. 

His lips twitched, revealing a glimpse of his teeth as he smiled. “Wasn’t plannin’ on it. Whaddya think?” 

Making a great show of shuffling back to study his face, you tapped your chin. “I like it.” 

“You do? Last time it was this long, everyone thought I was some sort of hipster.” 

Shrugging, you focused your eyes back on the cloth in your hand. “I always like how you look, Frankie.” 

Frank’s breath caught in his throat, unable to quite make it to his lungs. Thankfully, he could blame his lack of response on the fact that you were rinsing the injuries on his face, rather than his own lack of emotional intelligence. 

Eventually, you heaved out a breath, looking at him with a raised brow. “Did you want me to look at whatever’s bothering you here?” You asked, gesturing to his hip. 

“If I told ya I have no idea what you mean, would ya call me on it?” He grumbles, not quite sure how he’d feel revealing that much of himself to you. 

You thought for a minute. Nodding once, you answered. “I’d roll my eyes, but respect your desire for privacy.” 

Swallowing thickly, he huffed a nervous laugh. “Fair enough.” With two fingers, he tugged his loose shirt up and over his head, not bothering to disguise his grimace as he rotated his injured shoulder. Pulling the waistband of his pants down an inch, he suddenly felt a surge of fear, not sure how you’d react to seeing his array of scars. 

Inhaling sharply, you traced around his stitches with a finger. “Oh, Frank.” 

“It’s—“

“It’s not nothing.” Taking his hands again, your intensity returned. “You mean something to me. Seeing you hurt…it’s never nothing, ok? Not to me.”

A lump formed in his throat, he nodded as he tried to swallow it down. “Sorry.” 

“No apology necessary,” You squeezed his hands, placing a tender kiss on the raw knuckles of his right hand before grabbing a roll of bandages from your pile of supplies. “I’m not upset that you’re hurt. I just don’t want you to be afraid to lean on someone else for a change.” 

You dressed his larger wounds in contemplative silence, your soft skin a welcome change to the rough contact he was used to. 

“How’d ya learn to patch people up, sunshine? Playin’ nurse for other neighborhood menaces behind my back?” 

You giggled. “You’re my only patient currently. Cross my heart. I’ve just gotten used to first aid after injuring myself my whole life.” 

Bringing a hand up to cup your cheek, Frank’s brow furrowed. “Injurin’ yourself? What do you mean?” 

Eyes widening in realization, you shook your head. “Not intentionally! I’ve just been a klutz for as long as I can remember.” Chuckling sheepishly, you added, “Takes a toll every once in a while.” 

Laughing with relief, he traced a finger along your jaw as he withdrew his hand from your face. “Ah, gotcha. Christ, had me scared there, pretty girl.” 

Your face flushed with heat at the new pet name. You tied off the fresh bandages and stood up. “You should be good to go, unless you’ve got any other areas that need to be looked at?” 

Blushing as his mind traveled to less innocent places, he shook his head. “I’m fine, honey. Thank you. Really.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” You winked at him, heading to the kitchen to dispose of the dirty water and trash. As you rinsed the last of the grime from the bowl you’d used, Frank moaned behind you. 

“Holy shit.” His words were mumbled around a mouthful of pastry, the other half of a cherry turnover in his hand. Swallowing with another horrifically attractive noise, he lifted the dessert in a gesture. “Did you make these?” 

“Yes, but they were for after dinner!” You scolded, your smile completely betraying your feigned annoyance. “Cherry turnovers. Do you like them?”

“No, they’re awful.” Frank deadpanned, shoving the rest of the pastry into his mouth ungracefully. You giggled, uncovering the lasagna before he could reach for another turnover. 

“Would you like some actual food, you heathen?” You asked through stray laughs. 

“You made me a lasagna?” 

“Thought you might want some comfort food today. So I made two of my favorites.” 

“Thank you,” Frank spoke your name gravely, as if it was a prayer. “God, sunshine, I dunno what to say.” Your heart ached as his voice cracked around the words.

“You don’t need to say anything, handsome. Just eat, so you can rest soon, yah?” 

Frank couldn’t help but let the tension he’d been carrying for days roll off his back like droplets of water, his eyes crinkling with fondness as you puttered around his kitchen as if you had it memorized. You plated two hearty servings of lasagna and took a seat next to him, handing him a fork. 

“I’m glad you made it back safely.” You smiled, your gaze more timid than he’d ever seen it. 

“Me too, sunshine.” After placing a kiss on your forehead, he speared the fork into the food on his plate, taking a massive bite. 

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.” Frank groaned, beaming at you. 

Laughing brightly, you took a bite of your own, overjoyed to have Frank to eat with again. 

Thanks for reading! As always, comments and reblogs are incredibly appreciated.

Taglist: @cheshirecat484@xxdrix@smhnxdiii@mattmurdocksstarlight@danzer8705

[lesbiansforlaurencezvahl]

soooo random but what’s your opinion on most popular aphmau ships ?

OMG HIIII IM HONORED..... OKAY OKAY SO

first off I do not want to yuck anyone's yum!! I love that people love all of these ships and can find joy in it. Its my biggest pet peeve that people hate on people for loving stuff. I love that others love stuff :( these r just my personal taste!!

i fucking hate aarmau lol <3 it can burn in hell and I think its so bad and poorly written

garrence is cute! its not my go-to ship and I have no stronggg attachment to it but my best friends really really like it and I like exploring their dynamic + writing fic 4 them :3

i would die for laurmau. clenches my fist. they are. they are. they are the best thing on this planet. I've written a miny essay about it just because. when I have my Aphmau hyperfix I am actually so insane about them. @metelis-favorite once watched me remember laurmau existed. and then start to SHAKE. because I loved them so much. it was HUMBLING.

garmau is interesting becauseeee uhhhh I go back and forth. I don't think about them really romantically as a couple? again neutral on that.

(its funny because I lived in my sorority house this year and brought my Laurence doll @garrothromeave got for me and my roommate was like "oh we need to have garroth representation because I watched this when I was younger and I'm a .garroth stan" so we printed out a picture of garroth and they hung out together all year underneath the shotglass with boobs. UHHH and we would watch mcd. again. IN MY SORORITY HOUSE. HORRIFYING. and we would fight over garmau vs laurmau. society is HEALING.)

however I ADORE them as a platonic couple/soulmate kinda deal. they're so so so sweet!! again @garrothromeave and I have a playlist about em and I'd love to talk about it more :3

i LOVE LOVE LOVE garrencemau. its the perfect ship. again its interesting because I'm not passionate about garrence/garmau but I ADORE garrencemau its genuinely such a perfect ship. so cute.

i also love love zoeymau! one of the things I first got into when I got into Aphmau again. its so sweet. its THEE lesbian yearning. its so sweet. makes me go sniff sniff. I also love the angst potential with it. its so sweet :(( what do you MEAN Zoey gave up her immortality just to bring back Aphmau. what do you MEAN they live together and have two sons? WHAT THE FUCK JESSICA WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEYRE NOT MARRIED??

dante x kc is the cutest fucking shit in the WORLD. why weren't they canon in mystreet. we were robbed. ROBBED I TELL YOU. THEYRE SO SWEET. domestic bliss. THEE married hets ever. @bisexualsfordante says they should be called purple which is really cute

i don't care for zanechan. it feels lazy that they're shipped together. oh ones emo and ones pink? pack it up. bubbline wannabe or travlyn. it rubs me the wrong way and it feels underdeveloped lol

i have no real opinions on katemau but its cute! thumbs up to lesbians (heart eyes)

if you have any other ships you want me to talk about lmk!! I'm super hyperfixated on UHHH. Irene x Xavier (that guy that was mentioned ONCE LOL) so I don't care about any other ships. but I love aphmau :)

[separatist-apologist]

At this point I just like your posts with just skimming through it because I know your big, mature brain won't let me down with your opinions

And I need people know sjm is NOT a good writer lol. Just because she's famous doesn't mean she's the best one out there. Acotar is a missed opportunity at best. And most people who are hard-core fan of these book thinks these books are perfect and not because sjm keep retconing and changing and forgetting her own goddamn plot so they take everything for what it is. I've seen people criticised Mor and Feyre for leaving some dreamers at CoN and they don't care about them. No babes sjm just forgot about it all fkn together!!!

Okay I have thoughts about this. I'm once again slapping it under a cut just because its long. These are just my thoughts, feel free to disagree

There is nothing wrong, just to be clear, with SJM being a person's favorite writer. I think she is an entertaining writer and I think begrudgingly everyone in this fandom needs to admit that. I think she creates very interesting characters and places that people want to know more about and her writing is very accessible which feels like a burn but I swear isn't.

I don't think she's a bad writer, personally, but I do think she's just not interested in her own details or worlds the way her fans are, and I think this is true across every book series she's written. I think her problem is she writes the way I do- she knows how her stories end, she has a few key scenes in mind, and she figures the rest out as she goes.

This felt pretty evident in TOG, too- you could watch in real-time as her plots changed and she undid things it felt like she'd been building toward. ACOTAR isn't any better in that regard because I GENUINELY do not think she knew what she was doing plotwise when she started the series and it came to her as she went which is why the whole Amarantha things feels so ?????????

Even in TOG, SJM is not interested in the political maneuverings of her characters, the governing process, her political landscape or ANY of the things that a lot of people get frustrated by, to circle to your CoN plot. I think she relies very heavily on "x says they care and I'm telling you they're a good person, so the assumption is they're also a good ruler and we don't need to explore that any further". SJM drops these little pieces of lore like about Mor's cousins or the women of Illyria or whatever and then doesn't do anything with it or even recognize, in my opinion, the conclusions her readers are drawing.

And I think its because to her, she's told you what you need to know. Rhys is a GOOD ruler because the people of Velaris love him AND because she tells us so. Tamlin is a bad ruler because he exacts taxes on his decimated population AND she tells us so. And when people examine those statements, it starts to crumble, in my opinion, which is why I think people get defensive. They don't CARE about the political workings of this world, they just want to read about hot people doing hot people shenanigans.

I do think that going to a SJM book for thoughtful worldbuilding and an interesting magic/political system is a mistake. Having read every series she's ever written, I do not think this is her strong suit and I'm tired of being told I only think so because of internalized misogyny. I think SJM is a good character writer- her characters are compelling, and even anti's typically have a favorite character they wish had been better fleshed out or had been done more with or would be better explored in future books.

This is all over the place- I'm just writing my thoughts as they come to me. Ultimately, I think SJM's books typically don't stand up to heavy scrutiny and that depending on what you're looking for in a book, you're going to come away with different levels of enjoyment. For me, I hadn't read anything fiction in like, six years because I'd been knee deep in academia and it was the first thing I read just for fun and it WAS fun. It IS fun, even now. It's a brain off read. For better or worse, ACOTAR isn't complicated or hard to understand- SJM tells her readers what to think AND feel all the time, so you don't really need to think about any of it.

But when you read other fantasy in her genre, it becomes clear that like...oh. This is just mediocre. In some places it feels like a poor retelling of other stories (TOG has HEAVY LOTR moments, for example) and thoughtless culture stealing that feels offensive in places (CC feels especially bad in this regard given how she's stitched together like, 3-5 different cultures without a good understanding of any of them).

I'm not saying anti's shouldn't still discuss their issues with it. But I will say that if you're looking for a well fleshed out world and a political system that is interesting to read and characters who are consistent and don't bow to the whims of the author and plot, you're probably going to have a hard time with ALL of SJM.

[luveline]

rockstar! remus where reader is lost in her mind maybe insecure and she's been a bit cold/distant cause she think this can't last but remus is not going anywhere he will always reach for her

thank you for your request, I love the idea!!! ♥︎ fem!reader

Remus does the weirdest of things. He's always been weird in his charming, awful way. You're rightfully obsessed with him, as are millions of others, but you're privileged to say you're the only one who gets to see him like this.

"Baby, baby," he sings under his breath, playing with your hands held aloft above his face, "let me sleep on it."

"No more Journey," you murmur tiredly.

"It's by Meat Loaf, my love."

You're more embarrassed than you should be for getting it wrong. Remus definitely doesn't care. You wouldn't normally, because everyone messes stuff up like that all the time. Like, every second of the day. But Remus is a rockstar, his band plays arguably some of the best modern rock of the decade, and he's a classic rock nerd. He knows every lyric Jim Steinman's ever written, hence his impromptu yet extremely accurate rendition of Paradise by the Dashboard Light.

And you're getting more and more aware of the differences between you.

"Shall I sing you something else?" he asks.

You love how he's dropped into this properness. "You may."

He sits up and wobbles with the tour bus. He always gives you this apologetic look when it happens, like he's sorry the roads are rough. It's exactly the kind of thing he'd feel sorry for, and it makes you wanna kiss him. "Turbulence," he jokes.

He starts to sing one of his favourites, Smoke on the Water. He's moved your hands to his lap, where he drums his thumbs against your knuckles haphazardly. You don't have a clue what he's up to, why he's decided to distract you like this. Well... maybe you do. You aren't good at hiding your feelings. He's waiting for you to tell him what's wrong. He'll likely wait all night.

"I owe you an apology," you say quietly.

He beams at you. It's disconcerting. "For what?"

Being distant. You can't make yourself say it so you don't say anything, but you do turn your hands in his so you can squeeze the tips of his fingers. His calluses are rough, but his hands are sweet. He spreads his fingers and intertwines them with yours, eyebrows wagging at you.

"Do you want me to guess?"

"No," you say, "I don't want you to guess, baby."

"I love the way you say that." He's being genuine. It's excruciating in its earnestness. "You have a nice voice."

"So you tell me."

"So I tell you."

He doesn't seem particularly worried about his owed apology, tugging you forward so he can steal a kiss, another, firm pecks that don't quite line up with your lips. You don't manage to kiss back the first time, but the second is good. You turn your head into his and your eyes close, your hands vying for his waist even as they're locked with his. He fights back, hands pushing against yours, an impasse of squeezing.

"I yield," you mumble, trying not to giggle in panic as your knuckles twinge.

He laughs into your mouth and follows you backward, smiles squished together, his weight shifting. He moves onto his thigh and you know he's gonna climb on top of you if you let him. You want to let him.

You duck your head. "I really do need to talk to you."

"Sorry," he says, sitting back. "I wasn't trying to- Well, I was trying derail you. Not because I don't want to hear it." He cups your cheek for a split-second. "You're hard not to kiss, you know?"

"Why do you say stuff like that?"

He goes shy, eyes falling to your hands, one pair still clinging. "'Cause I mean it?" he suggests carefully.

"I've been... quiet. And not as nice to you as you deserve."

He livens up. "Dove, I know touring's been hard on you. I'm not expecting you to be happy all the time here. You're here for me, and I know you made a lot of sacrifices to come. None of that is lost on me."

Sacrifices? Had you made sacrifices? Not nearly as many as he seemingly thinks. "Remus," you say. "Don't do that, for a second. Don't be so nice."

"I just don't think you should be sorry. Or feel guilty."

It's very Remus to make excuses for things that aren't his fault, and even more for him to tell you that you shouldn't be sorry. You climb up on your knees and take his face into your hands, head swimming with perspective. Remus could've returned your coldness with his own, but he'd simply laid his head down in your lap and serenaded you, played with your fingers, pressed absent kisses into your torso. And now, when you're trying to say sorry, he's extending an olive branch. He's reaching out for you.

His hands curl around your hips.

"I'm sorry I've been weird," you say, enunciating each word purposefully. "It's- I really- I love you, Remus. And I love that you love me. And I keep waiting for you to realise it won't work, but you don't, and you're so," — his smile grows so wide you can't help but smile in return, joy warping your words and making them all sticky — "lovely. You're lovely. I don't know what to do with you half the time."

"And the other half?" he asks quietly.

"I can't stand you."

"That's not what you were saying at all," he says.

He looks so pretty. Remus doesn't get how fucking pretty he is, his light brown hair, his long eyelashes, his always-tired nonchalance. You follow the scar that strikes through his right eyebrow and over his nose with your eyes, and you kiss the end of it with vigour.

"No," you admit into his skin, giving him a badly placed, damp little kiss. "What I was gonna say is worse. Kind of shit you shouldn't say sober."

"Can I get you something to drink?"

You giggle voraciously and sit back on your haunches, hands falling to his biceps. He folds his arms back to squeeze your hands again. "Scamp."

"What decade is this?" he asks. "'Scamp'. That's done it, actually. Pack your suitcase, I'm leaving you at the next services."

You're so startled you burst into genuine, ugly laughter. You can't make any sense of it, and before you know it you're pressing your face into his chest and gripping his t-shirt.

"Fucker," you say as he laughs the same, his big hands braceleting your elbows. "Fuck you. I'm leaving you at the services."

"In that case, we'll split a room in the Premier? S'fucking extortionate pricing these days."

More awful laughter, keening and high-pitched and stupid happy. Being with someone like him will always be hard and a little bit scary, but Remus makes it worth it.

[pinksatinsashes]

The end of the year is the best time of year for us self improvement obsessed girlies because the planners are out, everyone's making vision boards and its finally time to write a nice long list of New Years Resolutions and achieve precisely nothing! Nothing!

Then the end of that year comes and we start the cycle again, making lists, checking them twice, achieving absolutely nothing, staying exactly the same and sometimes worse! How exciting! :)

When I was 16 I thought I'd have my life together at 18...lol! When I was 18 I figured I'd be totally together when I was 20. I'm 20 now...I think I've genuinely gotten worse.

But this year I am determined! I have said absolutely no more, absolutely no way is another year going to pass me by and I'm going to be stuck here in the exact same place. I NEED change.

Your 20's are meant to be the 'best years of your life'!

This is probably the easiest I'm ever going to have it! I have no children, no husband and I don't pay rent yet, if I don't do it now I will never do it..I don't want this to be my life forever.

Want to know how I'm going to make this year my year? Keep reading.

About two weeks ago I coined 2024 as the year of the Glow Up and started to meticulously plan out exactly what I wanted out of it.

My main goals for 2024 are:

To Hit My Goal Weight.

To Save Up Enough Money to Move to London.

To Be 75% of my Dream Girl

There are tons of other things I want to achieve of course, but If I don't achieve those three 2024 would genuinely have been a waste of time for me.

Now a couple years ago I would've just written those two goals down, put them on a vision board and went about my business...but Oh No, not this time.

I had a nice long think about the person I wanted to be at the end of 2024, financially stable, clear skin, goal weight, ready to move in spring 2025, closer to God, found her signature scent.

Each of these goals had a wider theme:

Routine

Fitness and Body

Food

Skincare and Hygiene

Beauty & Makeup

Hair

Clothes

God

Books & Brains

Music

Budget

I fired up Notion, created a home page that had a sub page for every month and then finally I created the Overall page, which has a sub page for every Goal Category and then I broke down each goal into lots of SMART goals. (Specific Measurable Achievable Realistic Time-Based)

So my 'get down to my goal weight' goal became:

Fitness and Body:

[ ] Size 10 clothes or under and 140 lbs (I'm 5'9 with naturally big boobs so this is my ideal weight)

[ ] Hour Glass Figure, building up glutes and upper body

[ ] Maintain Goal Weight for at least 3 months

[ ] Able to Stair Machine for 10 minutes

[ ] Able to go on a full Run

[ ] Do at least one form of Excerise a day

[ ] At least one form of Excerise a day

[ ] Take the Dog on Daily Walks

Food:

[ ] Try 12 New Recipes

[ ] Learn How To Cook 4 Different Nigerian Recipes

[ ] Form Consistent Eating Routines

[ ] Eat out twice a month or less

[ ] Stay in a Caloric deficit until I reach my Goal Weight

See how much more specific this is?

Having my goals listed like this makes everything so much easier because I'm tackling multiple things at once. First I'm changing the majority of my goals to habits or tasks (things I can control) from outcomes (things I may not be able to control).

Now I know that if I do all of these things written out, staying in a caloric deficit and excising daily there's a 90% chance I'll reach my goal.

This is much more effective than writing an outcome with no plan on how to achieve it.

From here, I'll break the Goal Down Even Further, into monthly goals.

For example, to reach the goal weight Goal by the end of December, January may look like this:

Eat at 1500 calories a day or 10,500 calories a week (to allow for the high calorie company lunches I often attend as part of my work, I'll simply eat less on the other days

Go to the gym 4 times week,

Complete X Fitness plan

Go on one Dog walk a week

Meal Prep ever week.

Lose 10lbs

To Save enough Money to Move to London by the end of the year, January might look like this:

Prep for no Spend Months in Feb and March (stock up on skincare, budywash etc)

Meal plan every week

Sell £200 worth of clothes on Vinted to spend on Spring Wardrobe (I'm not buying any clothes unless I use the money I get from selling my current clothes)

Stick to Budget

My Goal to get Smarter and Stop Mindless Scrolling may look like this in January:

Read at least 1 book

Listen to 4 Podcast Episodes

Limit Social Media use to 1 hour a day

Write 6 Blog Posts

Watch one Documentary

Setting the tasks in this way also allows me to feel a sense of achievement, every month I'm able to tick off my goals which can increase my motivation, instead of writing down a list of things to do and forgetting about it until the end of the year. It also allows me to recognise when I'm going off track faster and adjust for the next month.

You see how this is better?

I was strategic in using notion because I knew that I could then use it not only to set out my goals, but as a home base, a setting point to house all the things I could use to achieve them.

Under each section I've also included a bunch of things to help me, the Food section for example has a list of my go to recipes, so that when I can't think of anything to eat and want to run over to the closest KFC I have something to choose from. The Hair section has a list of hairstyles I've done and the Pro's and Cons, the Skincare section has a list of the products I've tried, if I liked them and If they worked for me.

Each month has its own page with a section for each wider goal and a spot for me to have a monthly write up, detailing what works and what didn't work so I can change and approve the following month and prevent falling behind.

I'm determined to make this year my year so let me know if you'd like me to keep you updated, feel free to ask any questions or send them to my asks. Also let me know if you want my notion template, here's a little peak-

Till we speak again!

-hannah🤍

[slowdrippingnoise]

I cannot stop thinking about Fords dream. Plan sexual? Is this aroace confirmation??

"Attracted to planning" my ass. What happened to attracted to strange and the strange was always attracted to him?? You are a weirdo, except it

I an aroace and i was concerned that Ford will be straight in TBOB but now i am just confused???

I see you want to scream about the book of bill. Please scream at me i need someone else in this madness

OK!!!! so this is an extremely interesting question, and my perception of it is very heavily influenced by this interview being fresh in my mind (you've probably already read/watched but if not go do that it's great) towards the end you can find alex answering a question about ford being interpreted as queer- and basically talking about how ford is written as extremely romantically/interpersonally repressed in general- I won't try to summarize it i genuinely recommend just going and reading that, he describes it all better than I could (and again maybe you already have idk)

I feel like the tbob dream note could be taken a number of ways (and, while I wouldn't actually ask it cause i feel like leaving it up to imagination is actually more interesting in a creative engagement kind of way, i'm desperate to know what hypothetical answers are hiding behind that "usually" oh ford) but the thing that sticks out to me is. i mean it's very difficult to read it as straight isn't it. ford has recurring dreams about being quizzed on "what he's attracted to" and consistently dodges the question (doesn't even give a straightforward answer like "nothing", he misdirects back onto his logical smartguy persona) it's definitely a nod to fans too, sure, but in-character it's no-way-out firmly establishing that his sexuality specifically is on the Grand List of Stanford Pines Insecurities. we definitely got a nod to this way back in j3 of course- the ford&fidds campout conversation- but this i think this new tidbit betrays a much more internal fixation/anxiety than "it's confusing to me and I don't really want to think about it for more that a minute at a time" (<-the vibe his j3 stuff had more of to me) TL;DR whatever he is, i do not think you can call this man canonically straight at all lmao. W

(ok i'm losing track of my own thoughts a bit here. i should've outlined this like an essay lmao. back on track-)

In terms of what I personally believe/headcanon? honestly i'm in a funny in-between place right now- if you asked me last week i'd just say "he's gay probably" but this has me Thinking now in a more "ok, what cooperates best with canon and how I personally view him" way and the "ford aroace" people are making some interesting points. my most recent idea of him that i've been rolling around in my mindscape like a shiny rock goes basically like this:

(putting this under a cut)(also this goes wildly off-topic for a while because i love talking about ford. i promise it is tangentially related and relevant to my argument)

ford is repressed in how he deals with people because people are confusing and often scary (history of bullying and ostracization, we all hc him as some kind of autistic, etc.), and this extends to how he views romance/sex- if you don't see yourself as safe/belonging among other humans it can be extremely difficult to imagine yourself in such intimate dynamics with them (accepted, loved) and ford is very well established to close himself off to keep himself safe. the prospect of "romance" is by default more unsettling than it could ever really be comforting to him (within his ability to imagine it, at least) outside of the rarer "what if i was just normal and nobody bothered me for existing" fantasy, which is its own can of worms,,

another part of this is my (more arbitrary/i know because im right forever/because i lived it) hc that the elder pines twins' parents didn't really love each other by the time they were raising stan and ford, it was more of a "we both pay the rent/keep the family going, we may not strictly like each other and yeah there's a screaming fight or two every few years, but divorce is off the table because it would leave us both financially up the creek, so you do what you gotta do" situation. which has the potential to do. things. to how you think about Traditional Ideas of Couples and Suchlike. take my word for it.

another important part, though i find myself getting technically off-topic for a ways here, my apologies- i've been thinking about ford's Patterns with his attachments, in that he generally has one Main Person to focus on and trust at a time, and for a most of his life these attachments end Badly- throughout his entire adolescence he has stanley as that person, they exist in constant contrast to each other, their own self-perceptions are defined by their existence as a duo, covering for each other's weaknesses (to the extent that they can ignore traits in themselves that "double up", so to speak- stanley is the dumb muscle and ford is the booksmart genius with potential- no way out of that)(their dad affects this too)(oof) he and stan have a really awful falling-out that leaves ford with the belief that his One Person was willing to sabotage his future, completely disregarding ford's own feelings or sense of security and agency, just to get his way. (strike 1.5? against ford's ability to trust people) --- in college he attached to his roommate, fiddleford- and they genuinely get along and compliment each other really well! they're besties for life! yippee! so ford has a Person again, to exist next to, to prop himself up. but their lives go in different directions- they both move on with their studies/careers, and ford winds up in gravity falls, alone, where he has trouble again interacting with the locals and spends all his time wandering the woods, with endless hours for introspection. --- enter- Bill! :) bill becomes ford's 3rd Person, and he flatters ford and manipulates him and validates him and offers him everything he could ever shallowly imagine would solve all his problems and patch up the gaping hole in his self-worth forever definitely (while reminding him of what he remembers/imagines of his brother most likely, ow) bill is also more "safe" than other people, he's an anomaly, a supernatural phenomenon, even, and he lives exclusively inside ford's head. he's a perfect, safe, obsession target. (billford situationship essay for another day)

until he's not, of course.

until his college bestie Person is back too, and he's more Real than bill in a way that's very comforting, but fidds is another strong influence, one for the better, and bill can't have that around, he has to go. after that his relationship with bill also turns sour extremely quickly in a terrifying way, which leaves ford shaken and unmoored and desperate, which leaves... stan.

which also falls apart. (strikes 2, 3 and 1.5-the-sequal in rapid succession)

the 30 years spent multiverse-hopping are interesting to me too in how they affected ford- i think being around so much "abnormality"/being disconnected from his own world's ideas of normal did a lot to mellow him out- but he still couldn't really stick around anywhere to form deeper bonds with anybody, he's a wanderer until bill is dead, which may well end up killing ford in the process, so...

then! he's back home! which is bad! (from his perspective) but gives him the opportunity to try to Attach to a 4th Person- dipper! this was a secret essay on why i think he's Like That about dipper all along not about romance at all haha trick'd'ya! (i'm joking)

anyway you get the idea- fortunately he has a slightly wider support net by the end of the show between stan, fiddleford, and the kids- but to me it's relevant in that ford has a very limited network of people who he is close to at all, considering that his view on romantic relationships seems to orbit around "don't wanna think about that/that's scary, I don't know/etc.", and that for a long time the relationships(platonic or otherwise) that he did have were defined by their ending in trauma, guilt, and shame. it makes sense to me for him to not really be able to figure himself out, how do you dissect all the layers of the bonds you do manage to form, tease out one strong emotion from another, especially when you're always afraid of ruining something because this is all you have?

I guess, given all that rambling, to me he lands within some combination of demi-aroace(attraction of any kind is rare and difficult to distinguish from other emotions, needs a strong base first) and too repressed and deeply, deeply traumatized to really say what comes naturally and what's his brain trying to protect him from being hurt. he knows that something is, by the standards of humanity, "wrong" with him, but it's just another note on a long list of "reasons normal people don't like him". and he's gay.

-----

ok i probably forgot some stuff but i think thats my thoughts on that lmao. anyway BOOK OF BILL this makes me. so crazy. hasnt left my brain for days. i will never be the same i called these shots i CALLED them. but i couldn't imagine. anyway-

while i'm still talking about ford, i love that this book let him be more emotionally vulnerable than j3 did, i feel like there was a harsher impression of ford among fans for a long time (at least, with people who weren't already Obsessed with him) because he has limited time in the actual show for his character to be established, and a lot of j3 either had him on the defensive, or still stuck in "everything ever is my fault" mode. getting a better view both of how bill manipulated him, and how he's still affected by it "postcanon" puts him way more in line with. how i've seen him all along basically!! augh. he's lonely and insecure and afraid and wants so, so badly to connect to people,, "the ego of a king. the insecurity of a circus freak." compare to "my immense self hatred vs my delusional god complex" we were so right.

his last section of the book is. so so perfect i'm so glad we have that- it wraps up what felt like a loose end with other pieces of canon leaving him on "i'm the biggest idiot in the world" which felt. bad. all things considered. but tbob lets him air out that soul-crushing shame in such a beautiful way- both in letting us the audience actually See how it was with him and bill before, and his family reassuring him that they love him and don't carry some massive sense of Blame for him being manipulated... it hurts good man. perfect place to end on. he's gonna be ok it'll be ok.

related- possession pages go crazy. like that is some "i've read fanfiction less fucked up than this" shit and I [the rest of this sentence redacted for my dignity] what was i saying. the dream scene was so viscerally upsetting. the "light switch". the stretching. (alex drop a link to your ao3 account. urgh) bill is so so so scary for that brief moment which is an amaaazing essential addition to the book that actually made me feel horrifically personally sorry for the little bastard for the first time maybe ever. i mean this so genuinely he's the worst he's been he's the saddest he's been it's a beautiful tapestry drawing me in. it's gonna occupy my brain for weeks. maybe months. he's desperate to hold on to ford he's desperate for his plans to work for once and he's pissed as hell but also now he has an excuse to cut loose- he doesn't have to hide his angry, shitty, abusive side from this little human that he's grown so attached to(who he sees himself in)- he can see ford and ford can see him (or, what he's willing to think of as "himself")(where did you all go-) and ford is just living a nightmare that he couldn't have possibly imagined. incredible

i'm practiced at being emo about ford i've been emo about ford since 2015 but the bill thing is new to me (not strictly the lore, i was around for the reddit AMAs/the axolotl poem, but the elaboration-) and it's killing me. he's so fucked. he's hopeless. he's fucked himself up so bad and refuses to get any better because just looking at it inside his head is too much. there's a loud buzzing in his ears and he blacks out for 30 seconds. everyone loved him he was the best baby ever. sixer, it would eat you alive. the doctor says three sips a day will make the visions go away. where did you all go. he's fine, he's fine, he's fine. it's all hitting me fresh like it's brand new, funy nightmare triangle abandonment issues go brrrr-

he wants ford to want him so bad he wants to not be alone so bad. hes awful he ruins every chance he gets and it's all genuinely his own fault. fuck (im not gonna talk about "pain is hilarious" im not gonna be cringe im not gonna do it) blacked-out list of exes love and fear are the same love cage you're my property if lost return to bill cipher covered in blood all alone in the universe-

I was gonna elaborate on those last scraps but. i am running out of brain. big week for ford enjoyers. big week for me being so so sad (/pos) ☀️

[dairy-farmer]

Hi ❤️ so asides from horny, what other tropes do you love to write? Because your comedy has me literally howling and your angst has me sobbing and obsessed for days. You are an amazing writer, you convey not just emotions, but each thought of each character you write so fully. They all have their own distinct personality, it seems as if Im watching an episode of a person's life or a movie with the best actors ever who act as if they *are* the person and not they're pretending to be the person. No character you write feels like some plot device, instead there's a reason and a result. You are beautiful and brilliant and if I was a billionaire nobody would know it except you cause Id spend all my money on you. Each story you have, even when you're just entertaining thoughts, you build a whole new world where everythint just makes *sense* your mind works in mysterious chaotic and entertaining ways and I wish I had your skill and your brain

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 this is so nice!!!!!!! thank you!!!❤️❤️❤️ wow this is such high praise!!!! i'm so happy you enjoy my work and characterizations it means so much to hear 🥰🥰🥰!!!!!!!

aside from horny hehehe some things i really like are case fics!! where the driving point of the plot is a particular or specific case/mystery. it's like detective novel-esque inspired but not quite because i'm still not quite good at mysteries yet (you need to genuinely be clever to write them well😂)!!! i also like sort of 'twist' ending stories where you're subtly decieved about what's really happening until the end where the full picture blooms and everything that happened makes sense and what you thought was going on wasn't what was happening. i've done a twitter thread or two with that as the main trope. but i think my very favorite trope aside from horny is the whole 'alternate dimensions' thing!! the plot of those is just so fascinating because you have characters set opposite to people who both are and aren't their friends/families!!!

i'm so happy you like my writing!!!!! for a lot of what you mentioned liking i think it really comes down to fleshing out characters!! i think that the two major things that make someone's writing really enjoyable, and the things i try to focus on are 1. character writing and 2. pacing. for me, if a fic has those two things then the quality, writing style, and even the plot would mean nothing to me because i would be absolutely entertained while reading!!!! i remember a while back i saw a tweet or something about people complaining how massively popular and successful books like twilight and harry potter were when they weren't even written well and they didn't understand why they were so popular and the answer someone gave is that the characters themselves were well done. that if you plucked a character out and put them in any sort of scenario or situation, you'd have a pretty good idea of how they'd respond. and in reading that i realized that's sort of what i've been trying to do while writing- try to make characters, not realistic, but fleshed out! and i'm so happy its what you picked up on that you liked about my writing!!!!!🥰🥰🥰❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[lovelyelbowleech]

Hi! This entire thing will read as very ramble-y, so warning in advance. I read All's Fair in like 2 days and I am absolutely in love. Like its maybe the best fanfiction I ever read. I really, really adore your usage of writing techniques; more specifically, your characterization and your usage of Chekhov's gun. I really don't think I've seen anyone use either of those things as nearly well as you do. I find myself analyzing every last sentence, because there's always a little bit of information about a character or a small thing that hints to something bigger. I have genuinely fallen in love with every single character you have written - or at least, for those more deplorable characters, I have grown to appreciate their role in such an incredible story. Every character is like a string in a web with how they're all so interconnected. The best part is just how *unique* every relationship is!!! No singular relationship is exactly the same. Everything offers something different, and I enjoy every little nuance in their interactions. Also, the way you've expanded on the world building??? It's realistic and heart-wrenching, and it's such an amazing portrayal of everything from war to politics to trauma!!! It's incredible, you're incredible, and this story will forever hold a place in my heart. I really can't wait to see what more you and this wonderful world you've built have to offer, because I know it's going to continue to be the most amazing thing I've ever read over and over again. You've really inspired me to grow as a writer, and from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

Thank you so much for this lovely comment, it really made my day when I needed the boost! ❤️ I am glad to hear you have been enjoying the fic so much, and I really hope you continue to enjoy it going forward!

Thanks again!

[sysmedsaresexist]

your (idk who I'm talking about exactly lol) post where you talk about endo research and anti-endo being a dying stance is really cool actually. also cool cat in a plastic bag image.

while we are on this topic, what does one mean by "endo-neutral"? I fail to see the gray area between being pro- and anti-endo - one either accepts that endos exist and experience plurality or refuses to accept their existence and experiences. or they don't know anything about it, which is a completely separate thing as these people haven't formed any opinions yet, therefore they are not endo-neutral.

thank you in advance for enlightening! if you ever will answer, that is.

I make the same expression as that cat every time I open the syscourse tags

(None of this is meant directly at you, I really appreciate the ask)

Endo neutral is a personal label that could mean literally anything under the sun.

I've written several times about my issues with labels. To sum it up...

CDDs are trauma-based disorders and endogenic plurality is different.

What stance is that?

An anti endo and a pro endo could have the exact same stance. They could be best friends sharing all the resources but instead they're divided by pro vs anti. Maybe it would be more appropriate if we labeled each side by whether they think shared spaces are a good thing, it would tell us just as little as pro/anti endo.

All of this applies to endo neutral, too, but endo neutral gets a few extra fun options.

So, hot take:

👏 you 👏 are 👏 allowed 👏 to 👏 be 👏 neutral 👏

An even more important hot take:

Take care of yourself FIRST, always.

Any discourse can be absolute hell on your mental health. This isn't just about syscourse.

For the longest time, the vast majority of people using endo neutral were looking to stay out of syscourse entirely because it was draining on their mental health.

Now, it seems to be more of a slightly anti leaning, I don't know enough label, but many still use it for their mental health. It's impossible to engage in system spaces without syscourse coming up. It's slowly making its way into other communities, completely unrelated to systems-- random game communities, for example.

IMO, syscourse is inescapable in all spaces. It will eventually come up in some capacity.

The neutral label, in my opinion, is the best way to shut down syscourse related topics in inappropriate spaces.

The problem boils down to...

Even that statement can be said to be anti leaning. By allowing the conversation to be shut down, I am... fuck, take your pick. Shutting down endogenic voices, not allowing misinformation to be cleared up, system-phobic. Any number of ridiculous things. There will be SOMEONE who wants to comment, "imagine saying this about trans issues 😤"

For all the talk of mental health safe spaces, we don't make the best attempts at keeping stressful discourse out of it.

Saying that doesn't negate the importance of those topics-- people are struggling daily. It's real.

But we all need downtime, too. Not all of us are capable of constant advocacy and arguments. Some of us are incredibly active in other discourse and our plates are already full.

This also means not policing the use of that label. There are some who use it for... not quite right reasons, but there are more people using it for genuine reasons, and that's more important.

That's got to be the Canadian in me. Our system is built on the premise that a small number of bad eggs misusing the system is worth it for the people who really need it.

TL;dr neutral means a lot of things, but IMO, it's mostly health related, and an important label because of that. Once again, always take care of yourself first and foremost.

[originalcollectionartistry]

Part 3: No More Waiting

Here is the requested part 3 to Guess I Waited too long. Honestly I just wrote that fic to process my own emotions about episode 13 and did not think I'd get any notice on those fics. I'm so sorry for the long wait! I finally had some reprieve to edit and post but I promise I have been working on it since part 2.

Also that season finale was NOT OKAY!! I cried for a full day so I definitely had to finish this to give myself and others comfort and lots of therapy. After this, I will write quite a few fix it fics if anyone requests them cause that was not on.

I've never really published anything I've written but I would hope this 3 part series gave my fellow Tech lovers a little therapy.

My stories are 18+. Minors begone.

I honestly don't know the word count so enjoy the numberless paragraphs of sex.

Warnings: Sex. Lots of sex. PiV sex, unprotected, NSFW, explicit PiV, crude language, aftercare, fingering (fem receiving), oral (both receiving), just filth. Pure filth

Also Cid is not a backstabbing asshole in this cause she shouldn't have done that to the boys or Omega

Part 1 Part 2

Enjoy you horny bastards!

____________________________________________________________

You had returned to Pabu over 40 rotations ago and you and Tech had been... less than affectionate. Honestly, you didn't mind. Tech was still quite new to the whole relationship thing and you certainly did not want to push him. You loved the man and would be as patient as possible. But Maker were you horny! Why did he have to be so damned attractive? Everything he did just made you think about how he'd feel against you, inside you. He really did not realise how much you needed him.

Phee had returned shortly after you and the boys, successfully clearing yours and their name. Cid was callous and harsh but she could be understanding when she wanted to be. Besides, the Batch were her best assets. She wasn't going to risk severing ties. Apparently the whole reason she'd left them stranded was the Empire had finally made its way to Ord Mantell. She needed time and a way to keep the boys out of the Empire's sight. Easiest way was keeping them away. Course she had to act all threatening; she couldn't risk anyone think she'd gone soft.

"So... it's safe to come back?" Omega asked.

"Only if ya want. If you're happy on where you are, I'll just send stuff your way. It's how I keep Phee invested." Cid shrugged. Maybe she had changed after all. Or Omega crawled her way into Cid's cold heart.

You looked over at Tech, meeting his eyes. You nodded your head over towards the Marauder, wanting to talk to him. He nodded back and followed you quietly to the ship. You were pacing, which confused him. You hadn't mentioned any upset or anger since the mission so to see you anxious worried him.

"Mesh'la? Is something wrong?"

You looked at your man, your handsome sexy man. "Nothing you can't fix my love... I miss you."

Tech cocked his head to the side. "I'm right here. Why would you miss me?"

You sighed and tapped your lips, a small signal to him that you wanted a kiss. "I miss feeling you darling. We've been busy lately. We haven't had any time together.... alone."

Tech smiled, understanding what you wanted. He approached you, hands finding their place on your hips. Touching his forehead to yours, it was a moment of pure love and intimacy. Neither of you could believe how lucky you were to be together and hoped nothing would ever come between you.

"Well cyare, how do you propose we rectify this? Surely the ship is not a place for such intimate affairs?"

You smiled, knowing he was genuinely curious as to how you'd find time. You weren't worried though; Tech was a man of curiosity. You knew he'd do whatever you wanted him to to make sure you were fully satisfied.

“No but that’s definitely something I’d like to do eventually. We shouldn’t rush it so how about we have dinner tomorrow and just see where the night takes us!”

Tech nodded, giving you a kiss. “Sounds good my darling. Now how about we get back before Wrecker comes looking?”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dinner was quiet but sweet. Plus the food was perfect; you and Tech had some sort of connection where you two working in tandem in the kitchen was second nature. This caused every new recipe to be perfect and well done!

Cuddling on the couch in your borrowed home, you felt more than content. You really couldn't be happier. After so much drama, it was nice to have a space your own and settle down. You weren't 100% sure what Tech's thoughts were but you knew him and his brothers had been talking about moving permanently to Pabu and honestly? After the shit you dealt with on Ord Mantell, settling down in a bungalow on an island paradise with the man you love was more than what you'd ever ask for.

Tech pressed his lips to your temple, allowing you to let out a small sigh of happiness. It wasn’t often you two had quiet moments like this. You were either helping around town or tech was working on the ship.

You turned your head upward, wanting a kiss, which Tech happily gave. It was clear you two were pent up however as the chaste kiss soon turned heated, tongues battling for dominance. You were quick to straddle your beau’s waist, slowly grinding down on his crotch. Tech let out a groan of lust at your ministrations, wanting more. He went to push his goggles up over his head but you stopped him.

“Keep them on,” you whispered in his ear. “I want you to see me clearly.” You ground down harder, making Tech cry out in pleasure. “Plus I like you with your goggles on.”

Tech nodded quickly. “Of course mesh’la! Whatever you’d like tonight, it’s yours!” His hand came to your chest, gently palming your sensitive breasts. He wasted no time in gently pulling at the buttons, wanting to see more.

It was a beautiful thing, you thought. That you of all people could make the intelligent clone desperate and inarticulate. It made you swell with pride; giving you the confidence to slowly move off his waist and onto the floor. Unbuckling Tech's belt was a task and a half. You always knew it would be cause dear god that man had ALL the pockets strapped to his waist. Buckle after buckle, you eventually became frustrated enough where you sat back and started pouting.

Tech chuckled, leaning forwards, he took your chin in his hand. "Something wrong, cyare?"

You glared at him and then his pants. "You know damn well what's wrong! YOU HAVE TOO MANY POCKETS!!"

He laughed softly before taking over removing his bottoms. As he removed his jeans he laughed again. "My darling, you must work on your patience. Plus my pockets can hold many things... like remotes to certain toys?"

You gawked, never having considered that. Tech could and probably would make you writhe in constant pleasure while no one would be wise to the situation. The mere idea made you feel your undies become soaked. This was definitely something you’d have to discuss later. Who would’ve known that Tech would be kinky! You loved it and absolutely wanted to explore more scenarios with your love. But right now...

“Just help me undress you, smart-ass!”

Tech laughed before continuing to remove his clothing for you. He knew you had patience but the more desperate you became, the less patience you’d be. He pulled you back up onto his waist, bringing you in for another passionate kiss. Your frustration at his clothing disappearing into his soft lips.

You pulled away and knelt back onto the floor, pulling his cock out of its confines. Your mouth started to water, the tip glistening with pre cum. You gave an experimental lick from the base to the frenulum. You heard Tech suck in a breath, gaining courage to take all of him in your mouth. Eventually finding a rhythm, you bobbed your head, making sure to pay attention to his tip. Tech was gasping, the feeling of your warm mouth overwhelming him. His hands found purchase at the back of your head, gripping your hair at its roots. The slight pressure on your scalp caused you to release a low moan, sending vibrations down Tech’s cock.

“Kark cyare! You’re perfect! It's like your mouth was made for me!”

You smiled, giving him a little suck at his tip as a thank you. You felt him start to buck into your mouth and you knew he was getting close.

“Mesh’la, please! If you keep going like that I’m going to cum. I’d rather do that inside you!” he whimpered.

You pulled off with a pop, smiling gently up at him. “Of course my love. Anything you’d like.”

Now it was your turn to completely undress. Tech had already taken care of your top, leaving you in your bra and pants. You wanted to tease him so you slinked away from your love’s lap, standing before him. You started to sway your hips in a figure 8 motion while feeling yourself up and down. You smirked when you saw Tech lean back and palm himself, obviously liking what he was seeing. Reaching back, you unclipped your bra, letting it fall off your shoulders. You chuckled a little at Tech’s expression.

His mouth was pressed into a line, and he was looking up at you desperate for you to do something other than dance. He wanted, no NEEDED, you to touch him. He was stiff, trying not to melt into a puddle of submission to your will. While he loved when you took charge, he really wanted to be in control tonight.

You shimmied out of your pants, pulling your underwear with them. Straddling Tech’s waist again, you started suckling at his neck again, leaving as many marks as possible.

“Darling, as much as I love this, I think we need to move to the bedroom. I would hate for someone to catch us in a state of undress,” Tech panted. He stood, gripping your thighs to keep you where you were. You squealed at the sudden change of position, wrapping your legs tighter round his waist.

“I couldn’t agree more, my love.”

He gently place you on the bed, hovering over your body. His kisses made you breathless but you couldn't muster a care. His lips were too soft, too sweet. Oxygen was overrated anyway, you thought as his lips left yours to trail down your neck again. Leaving little hickies and bruises all over, Tech continued his mission lower, kissing over your breasts, your belly, until he reached his destination. Kissing up your thighs, teasing you, he decided to leave more spots, hickies only he would know about and would remind you who you belong to.

"Teeeccchh!" you whined, "Stop teasing!" You bucked your hips towards his face, wanting to feel his mouth on you.

He smirked, pushing his goggles up his nose. "And who am I to deny such a pretty thing?" One lick from your entrance to your clit had you crying out in pleasure and relief. Finally!

He ate you out like a man dying of thirst, suckling your little button like his life depended on it. You were certain you'd lose your voice before the main event at how much Tech had you crying out and moaning.

"Kriff! Kark Tech! How did you get so good at this?" you cried out.

He only answered in a moan against your clit, sending vibrations down your whole lower half. He may not have had much relationship experience but he did read up and research every single erogenous zone a woman of your species could have. Thankfully, humans were quite easy to research as male and females had similar erogenous zones. Tech paid special attention to your vulva and clit, stimulating it in every way possible.

Once he thought you were sufficiently lubricated, he started probing your entrance with one finger, before sinking inside. You screamed, not expecting it but welcoming the intrusion. His fingers were long and reached that perfect spongy spot just inside. Curling his fingers in a come hither, he added a second and eventually a third.

You felt so incredibly full, becoming more and more overstimulated with each pump of Tech's fingers. You were so close, that knot in the pit of your stomach becoming more and more tight. Tech could feel your clenching around his fingers, knowing you were close to your finish.

"Come on cyare. Cum for me. It's okay," he murmured against your clit.

It didn't take too long for you to reach that precipice. You fell over that edge, every muscle in your body freezing as you saw stars behind your eyes. It took you a moment to catch your breath, Tech gently kissing your thighs as you came down from your high.

"Karking hells... that was amazing love!" you moaned out.

Tech crawled back up your body, kissing every piece of skin he could reach. "Don't pass out on me yet cyar'ika. We're not done yet."

You smiled, pulling him in for a kiss. You could taste yourself on your tongue and it made you whimper against him. Tech pulled away and smiled softly as he lined himself with your dripping cunt. Just the feeling of his tip against you made you buck your hips, wanting more.

"You ready darling?"

"Tech, I swear if you don't fuck me, I'll find someone who will!"

Tech laughed, knowing you were all talk. You didn't make yourself suffer through hurt and jealousy just to walk away when he teased. Slowly entering your warm walls, it took every bit of Tech's willpower not to bottom out instantly. You felt so good! So warm, so tight and inviting.

You used your legs to pull Tech deeper, not caring about slow anymore. You needed more! Your movements caused Tech to lose balance and hilt himself inside, making him curse something you never thought you'd hear.

"FUCK darling!! You're going to be the death of me if you keep doing that."

You giggled, rolling your eyes like the brat you were. Tech started to move, slowly in and out, allowing you to become accustomed to his size. You closed your eyes, biting your lip in ecstacy. Thank the Maker for Jango Fett's DNA cause you knew every clone would be well endowed but Tech was genetically enhanced so you knew his intelligence came with other perks as well.

Tech started to move faster, his hips snapping against yours deliciously. His pelvic bone gently hit your clit with every thrust, it did not take very long for your orgasm to approach quickly again. Why did he have to be so good at this? He'd give you so much pleasure you'd be unable to walk. Tech was perfect in every way, shape and form.

Wanting to prolong, you used all your strength to flip Tech over so you'd be on top.

"Taking control are we, cyare?"

In response you ground down, loving the hiss of pleasure he drew. Grinding down gently, you teased him. Tech bucked up into you, letting you know it wasn't fair to tease.

"Darling please! You know I don't last long in this position! The angle in which I enter you is quite possibly the most pleasurable and if i continue at this pace I won't last and be able to give you the pleasure you deserve."

You smiled, loving it when he started to go on a tangent. Knowing this particular one was because of you was delicious to say the least. So, you tortured him a little longer. You continued to ride him, bracing yourself on his chest. Tech's hands flew to your hips, forcing you down even more onto his cock with each thrust. Your nails dug into his skin, leaving little crescent marks on his pecs. You could feel him start to stutter his hips and while you loved the feeling of it, you did not want the fun to end yet. This was the man you loved and you were going to give him whatever he wanted at this point. So you flipped back over, letting him be back on top.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him as close to you as possible. You heart was bursting and you once again felt that little knot becoming tighter and tighter. This time, you did not want to tease. Tech thrusted harder and faster, feeling your cunt pulse and grip him like a vice. His hips stuttered a bit and you both knew neither would last much longer.

"Darling, where?"

You moaned loudly, loving the feelings you had. "Inside me my love! Fill me up with your cum!"

A few thrusts later, you felt warmth spreading through your lower half and felt Tech release inside you. You fell off your precipice, seeing the galaxy behind your eyelids. Muscles tensed and relaxed, riding your orgasm out.

You felt Tech collapse against you, nuzzling into your neck and leaving little kisses. You relaxed your legs from around his waist and he turned you both onto your sides, cuddling into you further.

"You feeling okay?" you rasped, running your fingers through his hair.

"Mmm" he moaned. Tech lifted his head and adjusted his goggles. "More than okay cyare. I'm spent."

You laughed a little at that, feeling the exact same. Tech got out of bed, leaving you a little shiver at the lack of his body heat, but promptly returned with two canteens and a wet cloth. Spreading your legs, he gently wiped away any cum that was left on your skin. He gently encouraged you to go pee because "urination helps with clearing out any disease or sperm that may be left" but you scoffed.

"I'll pee later! Just come cuddle me please? I need a nap after that."

Nodding, Tech crawled back in next to you, wrapping his arms around your form. Snuggling in, you inhaled a breath of his scent, loving the man. You felt your heart rates calm down and slow as you cuddled. You were essentially fucked out and loved Tech for knowing your body so well.

"You're thinking very loudly mesh'la."

You smiled and curled into his chest more. "I'm sorry love. Just thinking about how much I love you."

"I love you too my darling. Now try and get some sleep. I have set tomorrow aside for us and I plan to use it well."

You smiled, blushing hard. You didn't know what Tech had in mind but you were excited for it. A whole uninterrupted day with the man you love? A certain yes please.

You slipped Tech's goggles off his head and set them on the nightstand. No indents for this clone. As you looked over you felt a rush of emotion run through you.

No more waiting you thought. You both had waited long enough to be together. Blast the Empire, the rebellion, the crime lords and everything horrible in the galaxy. You had everything you needed right there next to you.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hopefully it's what you all hoped for! As always criticism is always welcome as long as its kind and constructive. Thank you for all the love in the last month or so. If anyone wants anymore please feel free to reach out with requests!

Tag list:

@burningfieldof-clover

@lilyevans1

@eternalwaffle

[greycappedjester]

Hi!! I really admire you as a writer, your ability to world build, foreshadow, create parallel characters, pretty much everything is so inspiring!! I wanted to ask about how you go about starting a new story idea, as to me that seems to be the most intimidating part of it. Especially creating new characters and giving them depth and personality and backstory, do you have any tips? I guess when it comes to fanfics it is easier because you already have the character for the most part, and you’re just expanding off of that. Have you ever written original works? If so, how do you go about creating new characters and making them feel like actual people?

Thank you for the ask! I'll try to answer these as best I can.

How do I go about starting a new story idea?

So to be honest, I get a lot of story ideas pretty randomly when watching other things and going hey, I wanna write something in that genre! I think I was watching like Pirates of the Caribean and went "pirate stories cool!" and then I got an idea for Shuffling the Deck. Best advice I can give for getting ideas is to engage with things you enjoy and think hey do I wanna write something like this? If so, which ideas from this genre do I like? Which do I want to twist? How can I make it my own? How can I surprise people? What about this feels cathartic? What elements do I really love in this genre?

After I get an idea that won't leave me alone, I pull up a word doc. To start with, I genuinely just write all the ideas I have for a story in a big list on the paper. It's messy and unorganized and really just to get all the ideas in one place so that I can see them.

Then, I start sorting them--often by time (as in what needs to come first) or by sub-plot (what story ideas should be grouped together). Slowly, I start to get an idea for how the plots are going to work and then I start filling in details between the major plot points.

How do I plan out characters?

Pretty early in this plot stage, I also tend to make character pages. This is where I put important details about the character that I need to refer back to. What's important can vary: sometimes it's ages (like Cards), sometimes its Houses (like Hq at Hogwarts), often it's sparse background details. I also think it's pretty important to look at th character's strengths and flaws. I'm a big advocate to strengths and flaws always being related. If a character's pride is their strength (as in being able to stand up for themself, self-determined, etc.) it is likely also their weakness (blinded by pride). Same for other character traits: loyalty, forgiveness, level-headedness, caring for others. All can have both strengths and weaknesses associated with them.

By looking at this, I can see how that character might grow and learn through the story. I can also get a better idea how they'd act in certain circumstances, which can give me cool plot ideas and help me develop the plot more.

Mainly though, this also helps keep me organized which is a huge thing for me while writing. I need to have things laid out in a way where I can see them and know where they are when I need to refer back to them.

(For coming up with original characters, honestly I think this is a point where I'm still trying to grow as a writer. There's a reason I mainly do fanfic)

Do I write orginal fic?

I'm trying to write an original series. Sadly without the deadline-ish structure I set up for my fanfics I'm really bad at setting goals with it.

I also write poetry. Often as a way to explore themes I've been considering.

Anway, hope this helps! I think the key is finding the way that works for you. For me, it's organization and a heavy amount of planning before I start writing. For a friend of mine, I think they more like to start writing more immediately. Amazing but no clue how they do it, writing without planning notes stresses me out.

[micamicster]

Micaaaaaa I am in need of a good TV show. IWTV left me craving for some good writing, please help 💙 I know some of your all-time favourites are Black Sails and The Wire, I gave them a try, but I'm afraid they're a bit too bleak for me :(( Any good recs?

Bestie this is a great question and im honestly a terrible person to direct it to because the truth is I really don't watch a ton of tv! But I'm gonna do my best!

Beneath the cut find a list of shows I think are particularly well written, divided into vague and confusing categories based on how similar to iwtv they might seem?

<3 <3 <3

(Totally get Black Sails and the Wire feeling too heavy. The wire in particular is imo the single most upsetting thing thats ever been put on television so I completely get not being up for it. But if anyone else is looking for shows I think are really well written those would be good places to start! Black Sails would be my first rec for iwtv fans tbh)

Dramas with syfy/fantasy elements:

Russian Doll: for literally anyone other than you (who's already watched it!) this would be my number one rec. One of the best (and specifically best written) shows of all time, has those spec fic surrealist elements, combines comedy and drama, just love it.

Andor: I know, I was surprised too. But despite being a star wars tv show it actually has writers that do a? good? job? And Diego Luna is spectacular. (If black sails was too grim this might also feel that way given our knowledge of the main character's fate, but it might be worth checking out anyway)

I forgot what i was going to put here

Not sf:

Reservation Dogs: Taika Watiti can be hit or miss for me, but this show is the best of his particular combination of humor and pathos. Also he's just really good at writing kids? (I would be remiss if I didn't point out that he has been (rightfully!) criticized for the antiblackness of couple of minor characters who appropriate black culture pretty egregiously, iirc they don't feature after season 1? But it is a flaw to be aware of). Why didn't I put this with the sitcoms? My mind is mysterious even to me

Bad Sisters: great 1 season irish show about a group of sisters trying to murder their sister's abusive husband. Again a really strong writing combo of humor and genuine emotion!

The Get Down: still not over this cancellation it hurt me in ways I can't even begin to explain... anyway a great show about the birth of rap in 70s nyc with beautifully thought out costumes, music, writing, visual style <3

The Americans: two russian spys undercover as an american suburban couple in the 80s is actually a vehicle for a probing exploration of marriage and intimacy. Also pretty grim (the cold war. yeah.) so idk if it would be for you.

The Knick: nobody ever watches this when I rec it because it's too gorey but I don't care! I love it! Period drama about a public hospital in early 1900s new york.

Sitcoms!: (sorry I know you've watched half of these just wanted to include them in case anyone else looked at this list!)

Derry Girls: this show is just hit after hit. Best written show about teens in the world!

We Are Lady Parts: See this entire blog. Genuinely one of the best shows ever made

American Vandal: Ok technically this is more of a mockumentary than a sitcom but i wasn't sure where else to put it. Season one in particular is some of the best tv show writing I've ever watched it is perfect in every way!

MASH: 70s sitcom about a US military field hospital during the Korean War. At its best it's hysterically funny, absurdist, and bitingly furiously anti-war. (At its worst it's racist, sexist, and boring. It was the 70s) This show was a cultural phenomenon, but it has literally over 200 episodes so I would recommend just googling for a best-of list and watching a handful to see if it works for you.

Atlanta: Donald Glover's surrealist sitcom about trying to manage his cousin's rap career in Atlanta. That's such a bad explanation of what this show is about i'm sorry but I'm not sure how to do better.

Shows I've watched between 1 episode and 1 season of, thought to myself "wow! this show is amazing!" but can't in good conscience recommend because I never really watched enough of them to qualify as an expert:

The Sopranos: everyone says it's the best tv show of all time and i watched season one, said wow they're right! and still haven't managed to get back to it! The pilot itself is so fucking funny like... mobster goes to therapy for his anxiety had to have been the pitch of all time

Station eleven: LOVED the book, heard really good things about the tv show, thought the pilot was amazing, got busy and couldn't finish it.

Babylon Berlin: this has the darkly romantic, opulent qualities of iwtv so it might be for you! Unfortunately I've seen less than half of it so I can't promise it doesn't go off the rails.

Breaking Bad: people are right! it's good! It's also (at least in season one, the only season I've watched so far) like someone made a slapstick comedy about a man cooking meth. In a good way!

You might want to just watch a couple gothic romances to scratch that iwtv itch! Check out an adaptation of Jane Eyre or Wuthering Heights!

WOW this is too hard. Just watch supernatural i guess

[voidedaurora]

May I ask why you and Quartz don’t talk anymore? You two seemed to be close and last month they posted you on the radiomagicshow account??

This is no disrespect, but if Quartz hurt you, we would support you!

I honestly really want to talk about it because what happened/how It happened wasn't ok at all, I was honestly treated really unfairly and terribly by her + 2 other (now ex) friends but to be 100% honest I don't think I can currently speak on it, at least not here. I also don't wanna start a bunch of drama but idk some of the stuff is just :( I have proof for 80% of the things I'd need proof for so I'm covered on that end, there's some really fucking weird/questionable stuff going on behind the scenes that I never got any clarity on so I'm weary to throw things out there only having my point of view- (though she wouldn't let me talk to her or clear things up so I guess If I do speak on them its her fault for not talking to me about it I guess?) ASWELL to talk about her I also have to directly bring down the other two Ex friends which I have no issue doing bc they are foul people but its just alot There's ALOT I've kept to myself for a long time because she was my closest friend and I didn't want anyone attacking her anymore but now im left with her gone and absolutely no reason to keep that loyalty She's surrounded by people who constantly glaze her and refuse to recognize toxic behaviors or even accept she's flawed so im a bit scared to fully speak out I really do not want to be witch-hunted by the really dedicated ones, nor do I want her to have a "Ha!" moment and frame me speaking out as some "freak out". On that last note though, Its absolutely crazy to me that I got booted/treated badly because I treated her like a normal person and tried to communicate with her but yes I am the villain TLDR: I wanna talk about it but I think her fans + friends will gut me no matter what or how I say it! If any of y'all think its important for me to talk about it based off of the vague description I'll try my best to because I do need some sort of closure but AUUGHH sorry this post is scattered, I originally actually wrote out what happened but I didn't think it was written correctly (I'm better at verbally talking about "drama" than I am writing about it) Also a little edit + Side note for the record If she ever wants to talk this out and communicate like normal people do then I've made it 1000% clear to her already that I'm more than willing to talk to her about everything in private because this whole thing is something that genuinely could be worked out with a conversation or two (respectfully I know she will in fact NOT talk to me herself, if anything i'd probably have to "pass notes" through a mutual or something bruh)

[rosalind-hawkins]

Hihi!! Seto Kaiba for the character ask 3 and 7?

Thank you for asking! Answers for this post and still taking asks if anyone else is interested!

3. What was their best canon look?

I'm actually quite tied between his Duelist Kingdom outfit (I love it so much I have my own version of it for myself, as just regular clothes) and his white suit from season five (is just so slick and professional). Obviously his upgraded dueling outfit in DSOD was awesome and extra, but I like to think more about what Kaiba wears day to day. The Duelist Kingdom outfit is the closest we see him get to being casual ever, and unless I'm mistaken, the first scene we see that outfit is when he's working on the Duel Disk prototype. It's the outfit he picked for fiddling with his tech in his own home, and that makes it feel more personal, in a sense. This is what he wore when he was alone and not necessarily trying to impress anybody, and we don't get to see that part of Kaiba too often. (And in my Rock Bottom series, this is the outfit I have him in from halfway in Season Zero up through the end of Season Two, so this one is almost def my fave based on that.)

7. What do you think they would appreciate as a gift?

I had to triple check this one because I kept getting it mixed up with 5 and I was like, "wait, I already have something written for this, don't I?" and the answer is true for both, actually.

The thing about Kaiba is, he can already have whatever he wants. That's the worst kind of person to buy a present for, because you think, "Well if he wanted this, he would have gotten it for himself already, yeah?" And that's not necessarily true with Kaiba. He doesn't make time to take care of himself or enjoy himself, so a gift geared toward that would be very appreciated from a loved one. So I think secretly planning a vacation for him (Mokuba or Ishizu) or custom handmade BEWD art of some kind (Ryou) would be really nice for him. In the past I've usually written Joey as giving him *ahem* certain sexual experiences *ahem* as a present because Joey doesn't pretend he can give Kaiba a good gift, but he does know that he can show him a good time.

Another thing that would be sweet and specifically thoughtful imo (and this feels like something Duke would do) would be to look at the years that he was either in the orphanage or with Gozaburo, track down the systems and game copies for the best games that came out during those years, and spend a few weekends with him playing the games he missed out on during the time that he most needed them. Make sure that time is blocked out on his schedule and just have fun.

In Power of Three, well before Ryou and Seto get together, Ryou gives him a Christmas card with a single serving of tea inside, and at the time he's Kaiba's first actual real authentic genuine sees-him-as-a-real-human-being, talks-literature-and-philosphy-with-him-over-coffee FRIEND, so he's just touched way more by it than Ryou realizes. The gift is part of Kaiba's new experience with genuine friendship. It's just a little thing, but coming from Ryou, it meant something.

I have actually spent a lot of time on this question before and written a few of those scenes. And that was a really long answer to two simple questions, sorry about that! 😅

For fun, I'm including a snippet from my old Euroshipping fic Tainted Love below, where Ryou gives Kaiba a handmade BEWD sculpture for Christmas, it elaborates on it being a good gift for him (besides the obvious reason).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Go ahead, open it. But be careful: it's fragile."

Intrigued, Seto tugged away the ribbon, peeled back the wrapping paper, and removed the lid of the box. He lifted away the flat piece of styrofoam and lifted away a few layers of tissue paper—then stopped, eyes wide in genuine surprise. As carefully as he was capable of doing so, Seto extracted his gift from its nest of protective wrapping.

"Did you make this?" he asked, voice so quiet that Ryou could hardly hear him above the sound of the fire.

"Yes." Ryou swallowed nervously, then continued, because Seto's silence unnerved him, "I started working on it a while ago, and the first few attempts kinda sucked because I was out of practice. I got some higher quality paints to use on it too, and because I know an art major who owed me a favor, I was able to bake it in a proper kiln. I was afraid that it might not be ready in time—"

"It's beautiful."

"Thank you." Ryou'd never heard Seto so soft-spoken before. He'd heard him whisper, but that was different from this. Even after all the time they'd spent together, the brunette's current expression was one that Ryou'd never seen and he didn't know how to interpret it.

"It reminds me," Seto said slowly after a brief pause, "Of when Mokuba made the Blue-Eyes card for me when I was a kid."

Ryou perked up a little. He'd never heard this story before.

"We'd been here for less than a month, and I already hated it." He traced his index finger over the delicate details of glossy porcelain wings. "He made that card to encourage me, because we weren't allowed to see each other. That's how he saved me, and that was also the day I swore I would own a real Blue-Eyes White Dragon card, since that was my first one. I'm not the type to accumulate objects because of the sentimentality attributed to them, but... I still have it."

"It brings back good memories, I hope," Ryou murmured, tucking one arm under Kaiba's and giving it an affectionate squeeze.

"Indeed it does."

When Kaiba began to set aside the wrappings, Ryou released him and let Kaiba stand, standing up with him. Kaiba carefully set the hand-made, ten-inch painted sculpture of the Blue-Eyes White Dragon on the center of the inset shelf above the fireplace that served as a mantelpiece. It's mouth was open, each of the teeth pointed as it screeched at them, its wings spread behind it as it gripped the rocky crag that formed the base of the statuette. It's eyes caught the light with a brilliant sparkle.

"Are those... real sapphires?"

"I couldn't find or make a shade of blue that could do its eyes justice." Ryou ducked his head bashfully.

"You really shouldn't have—"

"Don't worry about how I got them," Ryou interrupted, trying to put Seto's mind at ease. "The only hard part was setting them in his eyes so that they didn't look out of place."