#Look I’m right about this this is Fascinating

[bajablastwrites]

Feeding My Human Companion!!

ENA x Reader

Summary: ENA makes sure you’re fed in her weird world.

Author’s Note: This is more on the short side, but I was watching someone feed their cats with an enrichment mat while I was eating and it inspired me to make this💀 (Not proof read btw)

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ENA is well aware that you’re definitely not from around here, so she’s taken it upon herself to look after her new coworker as one of her indefinite contractual obligations with you! In return you’ll be her new companion, fun!

Let’s pretend ENA somehow learned on how basic human needs such as food, and what a balanced diet for humans looks like, great. The hard part is having to locate where each food could be, so she typically leaves you in the casino or with froggy until she comes back with food for you. She wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you, your body isn’t made to handle whatever strange hostile environments ENA would find herself in looking for the ingredients of today’s menu for you. She uses the information she learned about human diets and their need for variety and enrichment as her guide, so you’re not eating the same thing everyday.

I feel like she purposely doesn’t want you to be completely independent from her— not out of malice, but she thinks that if you learn how to make your own food in her world you wouldn’t need her anymore and will eventually leave because she’s no longer useful to you. So she uses the excuse of valuing your safely as her cover in order to keep you from wandering off. When she eventually comes back from her food run it’s even more gratifying to her watching you eat what she brought you.

ENA’s definitely going insist she hand feeds your dessert to you as her form of compensation for her efforts in keeping you alive. You’re definitely eating better with her than you ever did in your own world, that’s for sure.

If you ever feel bad that she goes through so much trouble in order to feed you she’ll insist that she’s more than happy to help her favorite coworker out!

“I just feel bad that you’re going out of your way to get me food.” You said while idly moving the warm lasagna around with your fork, it honestly felt like you shouldn’t be eating it since you didn’t contribute anything in order to get it. “Nonsense! I’m simply taking the opportunity to make an investment into continuing our collective business together for— WHO SAID YOU COULD STOP CHEWING!! FINISH EATING THAT STUPID CASSEROLE DISH YOU SQUISHY MEAT SACK!!!”

Did I mention she loves to watch you eat.

Sometimes it does feel like you’re being treated more like an exotic animal than an equal, though. ENA isn’t human after all, so her fascination with you can come off as dehumanizing sometimes. She’s not doing it to make you feel less than, there’s no one like you with the same needs and functions as you. She’ll try to change her approach with you to be more tailored to getting to know you as a person rather than as a species, she won’t get it right away but she’ll definitely appreciate your guidance and help in getting to know you.

[arcane-vagabond]

Stranger Like Me: Chapter Three

Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x Reader

Summary: From a young age, the animal kingdom had fascinated you, and maybe that's why you chose to pursue that passion. You quickly became a force within the field, becoming the leading expert on ape social structures, which is how you found yourself on an expedition into the African jungles searching for a troop of gorillas. What you weren't expecting, however, was to run into the local wild man on one of your excursions... (Tarzan!AU)

Content Warnings: Language, Suggestive thoughts, Suggestive commentary, Frank being crass, Jack and Boots in their feelings, Jack's horny thoughts, caressing of female body parts. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 2.75k

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Writing Info || Blog Rules

You had settled into an easy routine over the past two weeks, the first trying to iron out the different kinks. Dr. Robby had determined that your ankle would take around four weeks to heal if you kept off of it, and as it turned out, Jack was more than happy to assist. You could think of only a handful of times that you had been on your feet, the wild man appearing first thing in the morning to carry you around camp.

Of course, the others had given you endless shit about it, Frank being the loudest. The second morning after your accident, Jack had waited for you outside your tent as you changed, his deep, brown eyes surveying the jungle stoically. He had wordlessly scooped you up in his arms as you hobbled towards the entrance, carrying you effortlessly to where the others were already gathered for breakfast. Victoria had raised an eyebrow in question, but said nothing. Whitaker was too busy going over something with Robby to pay you much mind, the same to be said for the others and their own research. Frank had walked over from his tent at the same time and let out a loud snort at the sight of you.

“Is this going to be a regular thing now?” He had snickered, gesturing to where you clung to Jack. “Is he a taxi service now?”

“I’ve already tried explaining to him that I don’t need him to carry me everywhere,” you scowled at the botanist. Jack placed you gently on the bench before plopping down right next to you, Frank taking up the space on your other side. “He’s just insistent upon doing it, is all.”

“If I didn’t know any better,” he drawled as Mel placed a plate of eggs in front of you, “I’d think you like him carrying you around everywhere.”

You cast him a sideways glance as you shoveled a fork full of egg into your mouth, brow pinched together in indignation.

“I don’t.”

“Sure,” Frank hummed, giving you a knowing look before bumping your shoulder with his. “And jungle man over there also doesn’t get a hard on every time he looks at you.”

“Frank!” You exclaimed, cheeks warming as Trinity cackled and Dana cleared her throat, her own cheeks growing a nice shade of pink at the turn in the conversation along with Victoria and Mel’s. Whitaker and Robby looked over at the two of you, matching shocked expressions on their faces.

“Don’t be crass,” you hissed at the man, swatting at his arm. He rolled his eyes, accepting the plate Mel handed him with a quiet thanks.

“Is it really being crass if I’m telling the truth?”

“Yes,” you snapped, cognizant of the fact Jack had been inching closer to you as each moment passed. Frank rolled his eyes at you, but said nothing more.

The next couple of days had you struggling to figure out how to do various chores around the camp. Cooking was easy enough until you needed to get up and grab something.

The first time you had stood up, Jack’s head had shot up from where he was flipping through one of the sketchbooks Robby had laying about. His honey-colored eyes watched you intently as a frown tugged on his lips, standing when you made to move.

“No,” he said, pushing down on your shoulders gently.

“Jack, I have to-”

“No,” he said again, more firmly this time, eyes intense and brows pinched. “Hurt.”

“I’m not so hurt that I can’t walk the three feet to grab a spoon,” you scowled at him. He raised an eyebrow at you, turning and walking the few, short steps across the eating area to pluck a spoon out of the container and bringing it to you. You accepted it with a huff, not missing the satisfied smirk that appeared on his face at the small victory.

Laundry was done down by the river, an ever watchful Jack sitting on one of the stones beside you as you scrubbed the various articles of clothing. He watched you carefully, an unreadable expression on his face as you worked through your task.

After the first half hour, you began to grow increasingly self conscious once you realized he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you for more than a couple of seconds at a time the entire time you two had sat there.

“Aren’t you bored?” You asked him, wrinkling your nose. “I mean, it can’t be fun to just sit here and watch me do all this. Wouldn’t you prefer to help Dana or Robby or someone else? I’m sure they’re having much more fun than we are.”

Jack’s gaze hardened in confusion. Shaking his head, he shifted slightly, leaning closer towards you.

“Like being with you,” he murmured, the hint of a smile on his lips as he looked at you. The heat on your cheeks had nothing to do with the sweltering jungle heat, and you quickly averted your gaze, pretending to inspect a stain on one of Whitaker’s shirts. Your eyes darted up when Jack crept towards you, and for a moment, you were reminded that this man was raised by apes, not humans. His leg stretched out to rest beside you, the rest of him slinking after until he crouched right in front of you, his nose almost brushing yours. Your eyes wandered down the length of one of his legs, taking in the sight of the various nasty looking scars scattered on his right leg in particular.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you swallowed thickly as he reached a hand up to brush his fingers across your cheek. His eyes darted down, lingering on your lips as they parted. A shiver ran up your spine as his fingers trailed down, running over your bottom lip, and the intense look in his eye became hungry as you let out a quiet gasp. He let his fingers linger for a second before pulling them away and towards a strand of hair that hung in your face. Slowly, he pushed it back behind your ear, letting his palm cradle your jaw as the two of you sat silently watching each other.

The sound of jungle leaves rustling broke the two of you out of your trance, and Jack let out a growl as he positioned himself in front of you, glaring intensely at the spot where the noise was coming from.

“Hey, you two!” Robby called, coming into view with a smile. Jack immediately relaxed back into his spot beside you, but the frown remained. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was annoyed. You cleared your throat, your head still clouded from the intensity of the prior moment.

“Hey, Robby,” you greeted, attempting a smile that you were sure came out as more of a grimace. “What brings you by?”

“Oh nothing,” he grinned. “Just wanted to see if you needed any help with the laundry. It’s very kind of you to offer to do it while you heal up. I know it’s not the greatest chore.”

“I want to feel useful,” you offered, shrugging.

“Well, nevertheless, it’s appreciated,” Robby smiled. “Do you need any help carrying everything back?”

“No,” Jack snapped, leveling Robby with a glare. The researcher looked a little taken aback by the ferocity of Jack’s answer, but recovered quickly, shooting you a brief, knowing look.

“I see,” he hummed, trying and failing to hide his smirk. “Well, if the two of you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and headed back towards the camp. Once he was out of sight, Jack huffed, turning back to look at you.

“What’s got you so grumpy?” you asked him, chuckling slightly. Jack didn’t answer, instead, reaching out to twirl a strand of your hair in between his fingers, bringing it up to his nose and taking a long, deep inhale before giving you another heavy look. Your cheeks heated up once more before you ducked your head down to start the process of scrubbing the laundry once again. You tried not to think about how Jack’s muscles had bulged when he was crouched in front of you or how his intense look made your thighs clench together.

You were sitting in one of the research tents a week later, transcribing some notes for Dr. Robby the following week, having begged the older man for ways to be of use given you were slowly losing your mind doing all of the mundane chores. Jack was perched in a chair next to you, flipping through the rough sketches Whitaker had made of some of the baboons and wrinkling his nose.

“What’s that face for?” You giggled, glancing over at him. Jack huffed and shook his head, giving you a solemn look.

“Baboons are annoying.”

You burst into a fit of giggles, resting your chin on the palm of your hand as you looked at him fully. Jack’s gaze softened as he listened to you laugh, a tinge of pink coating his cheeks.

“Yeah?” You asked him. “How so?”

Jack straightened up in his seat, rolling his eyes as he thought back to the countless run-ins he’s had with the creatures.

“They scream a lot,” he scowled, lips pursed as he gives you a serious look. “And they steal my food sometimes. It’s hard to catch them because they climb the trees so fast.”

You had quickly grown used to how articulate Jack actually was over the course of the last week and a half. You supposed it was no surprise considering he’d had twenty years of practice, but even Robby had seemed surprised when he walked in on Jack telling you a story one day, the wild man animatedly telling you a story about a trick he played on one of the younger members of the gorilla troop he lived with. Now you wondered if the older researchers even knew if Jack could string together more than a couple of short sentences.

His sentences could still be choppy at times and his answers short and direct, sure, but the more you showed interest in what he had to say, the more he found himself opening up and saying more. Jack found that he liked the way you reacted to what he had to say, and he tried to practice at night once he knew you were asleep. He found himself visiting with Dana and Robby more, asking them questions about different words for different feelings and ideas. He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted you to know him, to know what he thought about things and how he felt about the world. Maybe it was because he wanted to know those things about you too and to talk about them with you.

“They are pretty fast, huh?” You asked, leaning forward a little more, unknowingly pushing your breasts together and exaggerating your cleavage. Jack’s eyes flickered down, and he felt a familiar stirring in his groin. He found that this feeling also happened quite frequently around you, and it was often the simplest of things that set it off. It happened when he watched you bend over and dry your hair after a bath one day. It happened when you stretched after sitting hunched over too long, your back arching as you raised your arms over your head. It happened sometimes when you looked at him through your lashes, your bottom lip captured between your teeth.

He shifted in his seat, unable to tear his eyes away from your chest. He felt an overwhelming need to touch them, to touch you. He often found himself thinking of you. How good you smelled. How soft you were. He wanted to touch you, to mark you as his.

The troop leader, Mutubo Robby had named him, had several offspring, so Jack wasn’t unfamiliar with the concept of mating, or sex as Robby and Dana called it. However, he wasn’t so sure that his family experienced what he was feeling, at least to this extent. Without thinking, Jack reached out, running his fingertips over the exposed area, his shorts growing tighter as he felt the soft, warm skin.

You sucked in a breath, your cheeks heating and eyes going wide as Jack caressed you. His gaze was intense as he touched you, and you felt a shiver run up your spine when his brown eyes darted up to meet your own. The brown was practically swallowed by black, and you had to muster all of your self control to not throw yourself at him then and there.

“I should, um,” you stuttered after a second, “I should go see if Dana has started dinner yet.”

You stood abruptly, Jack following suit. He moved to pick you up, but you took a step back, shaking your head.

“No, I,” you sucked in a breath, “it’s not that far. I think I’ll try walking there.”

Jack frowned at you, but before he could argue, you beelined out of the tent and into the open air. It was unprofessional to be acting this way, especially with someone who didn’t understand the intricacies of human relationships.

The end of the week brought movie night, and you were giddy when you remembered that it was your turn to pick. Frank and Trinity groaned loudly when they saw your choice. You ignored them, taking a seat on one of the couches Dana and Robby had managed to snag while in the city not too terribly long ago. Jack immediately sat next to you, his thigh pressed against yours, filling you with an odd sense of comfort.

“What are we watching?” Mel asked as he entered the tent.

“The Princess Bride,” you grinned as Frank plopped down on your other side.

“You couldn’t have picked anything with explosions?” He asked, wrinkling his nose at you in mock disgust. You rolled your eyes, shoving him lightly.

“The Princess Bride is a classic,” you argued. “Don’t be such a guy.”

“I think the Princess Bride is great,” Mel offered, earning dual eye rolls from both Trinity and Frank.

“You would,” Frank threw back at the bespectacled woman with a grin.

“Explosions and gun fights does not a movie make,” Victoria scowled. “It’s good to mix it up every now and then.”

“Exactly!” You exclaimed. “I had to sit through so many hours of Fast and Furious of all things. The least you can do is sit quietly through my movie.”

“Hey, do not knock the Fast and the Furious,” Whitaker warned, raising his pointer finger at you with a serious look. You rolled your eyes once more but let out a giggle.

“I’ll stop knocking the Fast and the Furious when the movies start being good,” you grinned.

“So, never,” Victoria snorted, earning scowls from the others. Before the argument could continue, both Dana and Robby strolled into the tent.

“Oh, The Princess Bride,” Dana grinned, plopping down onto the other couch, Robby not too far behind. “One of my favorites!”

Once everyone was settled, you started the movie, absentmindedly curling into Jack’s side more and more as the minutes stretched on. Jack’s fingers came up to play with the strands of your hair, unknowingly lulling you into a deep sleep.

Jack knew the second you fell asleep, and he smiled softly as he listened to your breathing even out as you relaxed against him. He liked this. He liked how safe you felt with him and how at ease you made him feel. Jack was somewhat paying attention to scenes in front of him, lost in thought as he tried to understand what was going on. There was one thing that stood out to him, though. A word, actually. He had heard Dana and Robby say it to each other on rare occasions, but Jack had never given it much thought before he met you. But, when he saw the two characters on the screen look at each other and say that word, he felt that it might be important. That maybe he should ask them what it meant. You stirred against him, and Jack felt an ache in his chest as he looked down at your sleeping form. His curiosity could wait for now, he thought. He’d make sure to ask Robby and Dana what it meant later. For now, he just wanted to stay by your side.

A/N: I'm going to see Thunderbolts tonight by myself before going with friends tomorrow. Then we're having movie night at my place on Saturday. What are y'all doing this weekend?

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. I no longer do taglists, so if you would like to be notified on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @arcanevagabond-library ) and turn on post notifications! You can find me and my works on AO3 under the username arcane_vagabond. Until next time!

[siegescript]

Calculated Risks

Summary: You took a calculated risk, but when some unexpected variables were introduced into the equation, the result was… less than desirable—Law is decidedly unhappy about it.

Content Warnings: non-graphic discussions of a near-death experience; non graphic mentions of severe injuries; depiction/usage of needles in a medical context (IV line); depiction/usage of strong narcotics in a medical context (IV painkillers)

Highlights/Tags: hurt/comfort, gender-neutral reader, Reader x Law, established relationship, reader is a Heart Pirate, Law is upset because he cares

Word Count: 1.28k

Author’s Note: The reader’s drug-addled ramblings were heavily inspired by voice recordings I found chronicling my own experiences with being administered IV painkillers in a hospital emergency room a few months ago—thankfully, for a medical issue far less dire than the ones I’ve alluded to here! They were also inspired by me being a total dork with a fascination for math, in case that part wasn’t obvious.

“Shit, (Y/N), what the hell were you thinking?!” Law barked, flinging the medical bay door open and storming into the room. He made a beeline for the supplies he needed as Penguin and Shachi followed after him, bringing you in on a stretcher and transferring you over to the infirmary bed. You winced slightly and bit back a curse as they accidentally jostled you a bit, and Penguin grimaced sympathetically as a means of silent apology. You forced the best smile you could manage under the circumstances and directed it at the two of them to show your appreciation for their help, and they nodded at you in acknowledgment before darting out of the room and finding somewhere to make themselves scarce.

“Actually, you know what, no—don’t answer that question until I’ve calmed down,” Law growled, punctuating his sentence with the snap of bright blue rubber gloves against skin. “Whatever it is, I’m sure I don’t want to hear it right now.”

“Law, it just looks bad. I’m honestly fine,” you insisted, gingerly attempting to push yourself up into a sitting position.

“Stop—stay still, dammit, I told you not to move!” Law bolted across the room to grab your upper arms, counteracting your movement and carefully lowering your torso back down onto the bed. “I’m the doctor here; I’ll tell you whether or not you’re fine, not the other way around.”

“It was just—” The words died on your tongue as Law paused mid-Scan and swiveled his head to fix you with an intense, withering glare.

“It was just what, (Y/N)?! I’ll tell you what it was—that was stupid, reckless, crazy, irresponsible, stupid, dangerous, completely batshit insane, and did I mention stupid yet?”

“That makes three times you’ve mentioned stupid now, yes.”

“Good! I’ll mention it as many more times as I need to in order to get it through your impossibly thick skull: that was stupid, (Y/N). That was so stupid.”

The hardness in Law’s expression melted away as he shut his eyes and took a deep breath, struggling to hide how shaky his breathing sounded. He clutched the edge of the bed as he leaned over you, and if it hadn’t been for the medical gloves covering his hands, both of you would’ve been able to see his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip. He caught the edge of his stool with his foot and dragged it over to your bedside, all but collapsing onto it as he sat down next to you and took one of your hands in his. You couldn’t help but smile at your joined hands as he laced his fingers through yours and gently pressed his thumb into the center of your palm to ground himself.

“Fuck, (Y/N), that was beyond stupid. You could’ve died out there if you hadn’t gotten lucky,” Law said. “Look at the shape you’re in right now—this is what you getting lucky looks like, and you can barely even move. Don’t… (Y/N), don’t scare me like that.”

“I know I should’ve been more careful,” you sigh, turning your head slightly to look into his eyes. “Law, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I know you didn’t. I’m sorry, too, (Y/N), for all the shouting I did. I shouldn’t have blown up at you like that. I—”

“You freaked out because I scared the crap out of you, and I wouldn’t have scared the crap out of you if you didn’t care. I get it—you know I would’ve done the same thing if it had been the other way around.”

“Still, losing my cool and yelling at you wasn’t exactly the best practice, medically or romantically.” He managed a hint of his usual smirk as he added, “I’ll have to find a way to make it up to you once you’re all healed up.”

“Careful, I’ll hold you to that.”

“Oh, will you now?”

“Yeah, I will.”

“With the kind of painkillers you’re about to be on? Good luck remembering this conversation once that stuff has a chance to kick in.”

“You mean you plan on drugging me into a mindless stupor in an attempt to make me forget your promise?” You pouted playfully at him, forcing your face not to betray the grin that threatened to peek through. “Aw, but that’s cheating.”

“Don’t worry—I’ll remember it for the both of us.” Law leaned in and pressed a kiss to your temple as he stood up. “Now, let’s get you medicated so that I can do my job.”

“Sounds like a plan. This shit hurts.”

“I know it does.”

Law crossed the room to open up a cabinet and grab some supplies for starting an IV line and preparing a dose of pain medication, bringing them over to your bedside. His hands moved with a practiced, methodical precision as he set up the IV and administered the painkillers. You continued to watch him work for a few more minutes until your eyelids began to droop and a pleasant fuzziness crept in at the edge of your senses and made its way into your bones, dulling the once-searing pain down to a distant ache.

Time seemed to slip through your fingers like water, and you floated on those waters in a dreamlike haze. Before you even realized he was done working, Law was shutting off the overhead lights in the infirmary so that they weren’t shining in your face, leaving a small table lamp on to illuminate the room enough to see by. Your eyes flickered open at the disturbance in your surroundings, although you weren’t quite sure when you’d fully closed them. You made a very weak attempt to sit up, but whatever Law had given you for the pain had made lifting up just one limb feel like an impossible task, let alone your entire torso. He resisted the urge to laugh at the almost-bewildered face you made when faced with the task of moving your body, but he did allow himself to crack a small smile as he leaned into your field of view to grab your attention.

“Oh, hey,” you mumbled groggily, eyes half-lidded.

“Hey there, you,” Law answered. “It’s almost time to eat. I’ll step out and grab us both a plate in a bit, okay?”

“M’kay. What’s for lunch?”

“Dinner, actually—you’ve been out for several hours now.”

“Oh…” You trailed off into silence before a confused frown formed on your face and you slurred, “Wait, really?”

“Yeah, really. I told you those painkillers are strong stuff—you got pretty banged up back there.”

“Look, it was a calculated risk, and—well, I… kinda miscalculated.”

“(Y/N), that was one hell of a miscalculation.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Okay, well, whenever you’re calculating risks in the future, how about you stick to the risks that involve calculations of the “basic arithmetic” variety instead of the “multivariable calculus” variety?”

“Ah, c’mon, babe, basic arithmetic’s boring—you’re not even gonna let me take a lil’ bit of trigonometry risk?”

“Absolutely not—I’ll let you get away with linear algebra, maybe, but that’s it.”

“What, no geometry risks either? Shapes’re forbidden now? M’not allowed to dabble in shapes?”

“Nope, the forbidden shapes are indeed forbidden; I am hereby forbidding them. No geometry risks for you.”

“Aw, but I like shapes. They’re fun.”

“You can enjoy all the shapes you want as long as they’re risk-free, you doofus.”

“Mmm… Guess that’s fair.”

“I’m glad we can agree, sweetheart. I’m going to go get us some food, and when I get back, I’ll help you sit up and eat.”

“Sounds good, thanks. Love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[lyn31]

My cutiepie serena 🥹 serena pressing her ear to mc's belly and saying that the babies talked is so freaking adorable omg. Why do i feel like she'd be very involved during mc's whole pregnancy too, she'd want to say good morning, good bye when she has to go to preschool, good night and spending time with the babies like reading her favourite book for her brothers and feeling their movement and being so fascinated when they move and then asking a lot of questions hahaha (i mean she's zayne's child so..)

On another note do you think between the three kids, would there be any of them that would lean towards one of the parent more? Like more of a mommy boy etc.. i mean i believe the three of them would love their parents equally but maybe like they find more comfort in mommy / daddy? Sorry if this question is weird hahaha it just occured in my mind 🤣

Omg I’ve been playing Infinity Nikki so much in my free time… Sorry for the delay in delivering your craving—hopefully you’re still into it! 😔🫶🏻

Also, I could’ve answered the second one ages ago, but y’know me… if I don’t have a reminder, I will forget. Anyway! I always imagined Lucas being closer to MC and Callum leaning more toward Zayne, just based on their interests. But obviously—no favorite parents in this house 🫣😂

As for Serena, I did think about it! I feel like she’d be pretty evenly split since her interests pull from both parents, but maybe slightly more aligned with Zayne, especially considering what she studies later on. But closeness? Everyone’s close in this household 😂🫶🏻 shuuuushhh it's fine 🤭

Oh—and here’s the fic! I know you technically didn’t ask, but I remembered how I felt reading it the first time and thought, “I need this.” So enjoy, everyone! Let me know what you think 👀💕

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Big Sister Serena

Summary

You watch Serena step into her new role as big sister with fierce love and quiet devotion, her every word, drawing, and lullaby a tender promise to the siblings she’s already protecting with all her heart.

Ao3 link

My Masterlist ✨

Notes

Pairing: Zayne x MC/Reader Family fluff/feels, big sister serena, parenthood AU, more focus on OC!child, cute, sweet and family time wooooo!

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You’re barely awake when the mattress shifts beside you.

A small weight climbs onto the bed and crawls toward your middle, careful and quiet. Then her voice—soft and warm with sleep—murmurs right against your belly.

“Good morning, babies.”

You open your eyes just enough to catch the top of Serena’s head as she presses her cheek gently against your bump, her fingers fanned out across the curve. Her breath is a little uneven, still waking up, and she doesn’t speak again right away. Just listens.

“I think they’re still sleeping,” she whispers after a while. “Or maybe listening.”

You smile and brush a hand through her messy hair, tucking one loose strand behind her ear. “Maybe both.”

She tilts her face like she’s giving your belly a second kiss, and then leans back to study it with that quiet reverence only she can give. Her eyes flick between your bump and your face.

“They’re getting big,” she declares with a nod, “but not too big yet.”

You laugh softly. “Not too big yet,” you echo, and let your hand settle over hers. “You always check first thing.”

“I have to,” she says matter-of-factly. “What if they’re waiting for me to say hi? It would be rude.”

She shifts forward again and rests her lips near your navel. “I’m going to preschool soon,” she tells them. “But Mummy will be here. You’ll be fine. Okay?”

Then she sits up and looks at you seriously. “Can I come back and talk to them when I get home?”

“Always,” you say, reaching up to kiss her forehead. “They already love hearing your voice.”

Serena beams, proud and quiet, and climbs off the bed with a soft grunt, ready to start her morning now that her most important morning ritual is done.

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You’re still in bed, propped up on your side now.

Serena trots back into the room with her backpack bouncing behind her. Her steps are quicker than before—morning excitement catching up with her—and Zayne’s steadier footsteps follow just a few moments later.

“She packed her lunch and double-checked it,” he says mildly as he steps into view, already dressed in his usual crisp button-down and rolled sleeves. “Also inspected mine.”

“Daddy’s sandwich has enough tomatoes now,” Serena announces, very proud of herself.

“Barely,” Zayne murmurs, but the corner of his mouth twitches like he doesn’t really mind.

Serena crosses to your side of the bed and scrambles halfway up again, planting her palms carefully to avoid your belly. She leans in and gives you a kiss on the cheek, then turns to your stomach gently.

“Bye-bye, babies,” she whispers. “Be good today, and don’t push too hard if you’re kicking. Mummy needs to rest.”

You stifle a laugh behind your hand, your eyes meeting Zayne’s over her head. It still amazes you—how naturally she slipped into this role. Like she was always meant to be someone’s big sister.

Zayne is standing at the foot of the bed now, quiet—watching—but his lips curve slightly.

“Okay,” Serena says with finality, hopping down again. She scurries over to Zayne and lifts her arms automatically.

He picks her up without hesitation, like he always does, adjusting her on his hip even though she’s getting heavier by the week.

“Say goodbye, too,” she insists, tugging on the collar of his shirt.

Zayne raises an eyebrow at her, then glances down at your belly like he’s considering the request a little too seriously. “Goodbye, little ones,” he says in that low, even voice, one hand brushing gently over your bump. “Your sister’s running on a tight schedule this morning.”

“She’s not running, she’s being carried,” you point out, amused.

“Logistics,” he says, deadpan, and kisses your forehead before straightening. “We’ll see you this evening.”

Serena leans toward you as he starts toward the door, one more wave thrown dramatically over his shoulder on her behalf. “I’ll read to them later!” she calls. “My favorite book!”

Then they’re gone—soft footsteps down the hall, the front door opening and closing—and the house feels quieter but still warm.

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

The afternoon light spills across the floor in golden streaks, casting warmth over the quiet living room. The soft glow makes everything feel calm and cozy.

A small plate of crackers and sliced fruit sits untouched on the coffee table, a half-finished cup of tea cooling beside it. The snack is there, but you haven’t had the chance to enjoy it yet.

You’re curled on the couch, legs stretched out and a pillow tucked behind your back, one hand resting over the familiar swell of your belly. You settle in, comfort wrapping around you as the quiet stirrings of life continue inside.

The soft hum of a farming game plays from the TV, the console in your hands guiding virtual crops to grow and animals to care for. The game moves with a soothing rhythm, offering a moment of calm.

The sound of the front door opening breaks the rhythm. Serena steps inside, quiet but quick, placing her shoes neatly by the door as she shrugs off her jacket. She doesn’t speak right away—just makes a beeline for you, her steps light and purposeful.

Zayne follows behind at an even pace, setting their coats on the rack and slipping out of his shoes. “Welcome home,” you say softly as Serena drops her school bag with a soft thud and climbs onto the couch beside you, immediately curling into your side without a word.

She rests her cheek on your belly, quiet and close., still silent, then gives a careful pat, her fingers lingering in a way that feels almost reverent.

“She told Miss Lila the babies are coming soon,” Zayne mentions from the hallway, dryly amused. “And apparently gave a full report on their current bedtime story rotation.”

You lift a brow, matching his tone. “Well, someone has to keep the public informed. Our in-house PR representative is clearly taking her job seriously.”

Serena doesn’t respond to that, but she shifts slightly, casting a glance toward the shelf where her favorite picture book still sits. Her hand lingers on your belly, but her eyes are focused—hopeful.

Zayne catches the look and is already on the move, retrieving the book she left on the shelf yesterday—her current favorite, the one about the sleepy bear who can’t hibernate until he finds the perfect blanket.

“Remind me to review her press releases before she leaks anything else,” he says to you as he offers the book to Serena with a soft look.

You snort, finally pausing your game. The controller stills in your hands as Serena takes the book with both of hers.

Zayne leans in to press a kiss to your temple before quietly taking the console from your lap. He sets it aside properly, powering it down and tucking it into its charging dock. “I’ll get dinner ready,” he says softly, already heading toward the kitchen.

You put a hand to your chest, voice lilting with theatrical flair. “Oh my, thank you, good sir. However shall I repay such gallant service?”

Zayne doesn’t even look back—just rolls his eyes with a soft huff of amusement as he disappears into the kitchen, the fondness in the gesture unmistakable. Then you add, “Anything but the soup, please.”

He gives you a thumbs-up, with the most serious expression you’ve seen on him, making it all the more difficult to hold back your laugh.

Serena settles more snugly against your side as your arm curls around her, like she’s already used to the way both of you acts around each other.

“Can I read to the babies now?” she asks, her voice soft but full of that quiet determination you’ve come to recognize.

You nod, adjusting the blanket over your legs as Serena opens the book on her lap and shifts her focus to your belly. Her finger traces each word as she recites them—half reading, half reciting from memory—pausing now and then to point something out to your belly.

“That’s the bear,” she murmurs to your belly. “He’s very picky.”

From the kitchen, Zayne’s voice floats in. “Sounds like someone else we know.”

You send him a look over Serena’s head. She doesn’t react, too focused, lips moving a beat ahead of the words like she already knows what’s coming.

She pauses. Her hand stills. Then, slowly, her palm presses more firmly over your stomach

A movement. Just faint—but enough.

Her eyes widen.

“They moved,” she whispers, barely blinking. Then, to your belly: “That was you, wasn’t it?”

“They like your voice,” you say softly.

She leans in immediately, wide-eyed, both hands pressing carefully over your bump. “Was that their foot? Or their elbow?” she asks in a rush. “Can they hear me for real?”

“They can,” you say. “They probably know it’s you by now.”

Her face lights up, and leans down like she’s whispering a secret. “Hi again. I’m your sister. I’m going to read to you every day, okay?”

From the kitchen, Zayne’s voice comes lightly. “That’s a legally binding promise now.”

Serena glances up at you, then back at your belly. “Even when they’re born, I’ll still read. Even if they cry a lot.”

You blink a little harder than usual, heart tugging at the look on her face—the pure wonder, the certainty in her voice. You brush her curls back as she settles against you again. “You’re already doing a perfect job.”

She nods, content, and turns the page—soft words filling the quiet, your heartbeat steady under her cheek.

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

It’s a quiet weekend afternoon, the kind where sunlight spills soft and golden through the windows, casting everything in a warm, sleepy glow. Your home feels comfortably full today, the air buzzing with easy laughter, the low hum of chatter, and the occasional crash of virtual explosions from the living room.

The corner of the couch cradles you comfortably, one hand resting over your belly as your thumb strokes a soft, absent rhythm. Beside you, Rose leans back with a mug of tea balanced on her knee, amused eyes flicking between you and the chaos happening in front of the TV.

Caleb and Zayne are seated on the floor, shoulders tense and leaning forward, eyes fixed on the screen.

Zayne has a controller in hand, posture relaxed but eyes laser-focused. Caleb leans forward like the stakes are life-or-death. Between them sits Willow, eight years old and deadly serious, thumbs flying across the buttons with practiced ease.

“Papa! I told you,” she says without looking away from the screen, “I don’t need help.”

“You're welcome for the cover I gave you!” Caleb says, laughing as his character gets KO’d again.

“You ran off a cliff.”

“That was strategy.”

Normally, you’d be right there with them—controller in hand, irrationally passionate about pixels and deeply offended by Zayne’s poker-faced fighting game skills. But right now, your emotional stability is about one accidental defeat away from tears or homicide, so you’ve opted out.

Rose seems to understand. “Retired from violence, huh?” she asks quietly, smirking behind her tea.

“For now,” you murmur. “I’ll return when I can trust myself not to cry if someone picks my main before I do.”

Behind you, at the dining table, Jace and Serena are deep in a much calmer competition. Crayons and pencils sprawl across the surface, a small army of open marker caps forming a colorful battlefield. Jace is working on a very detailed picture of a robot wizard riding a dragon. Serena, meanwhile, is drawing your family.

She’s added you first, a very round version of you, which honestly feels accurate. Then herself—smiling and holding hands with two soft-edged baby blobs. Zayne’s tucked in the corner, inexplicably holding what looks like pancakes. You're not going to question it.

Serena hums under her breath, a soft, familiar tune. One Zayne used to sing when she was small, usually while brushing her hair or bouncing her to sleep in the middle of the night, and you pick it up from him as well.

She frowns down at her drawing and starts writing, lips moving as she sounds out the letters. She’s slow with it, careful. The words wobble across the page like tiny caterpillars, but they’re all hers.

“Go to sleep, my little star…” “Mommy’s here, not very far.” “Close your eyes and dream of light…” “I will hold you through the night.”

She pauses, then adds a bubble from one of the baby blobs:

“We love you, Big Sister Serena!”

Jace glances over at Serena’s drawing. “They look like potatoes.”

“They’re not potatoes,” Serena huffs. “They’re my baby siblings.”

“They don’t look like babies.”

“They’re in the belly! They’re not born yet! Obviously.”

You watch them bicker gently, a hand smoothing over your bump. The babies give a soft nudge in response, like they’re listening in on the gossip.

“She’s very protective,” you murmur to Rose.

“She should be,” Rose says. “She already has the attitude of a tiny bodyguard. I heard her tell a stranger at the grocery store to step back from her ‘siblings in progress.’”

“She’s serious about it,” you admit with a soft laugh, your eyes wandering as you continue.

“Every morning, she says good morning to them before brushing her teeth. And at preschool drop-off, she kisses both sides of my belly just in case they’ve moved overnight.”

“You’re not gonna survive once they’re all walking.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Across the room, Zayne lets out a rare laugh as Caleb makes some dramatic “final stand” declaration—and promptly loses. Again.

“She beat both of us,” Caleb says, defeated.

Willow beams. “Papa’s strategy is bad.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

You close your eyes for a moment and listen. Willow is joining Serena and Jace now, and the three are soon comparing crown designs for the baby blobs, Jace is adding a tiny bird in the corner of his page.

Caleb lets out a triumphant cheer as he finally wins in another rematch against Zayne, whose only response is a huff, and Rose shifts closer to bump your shoulder in a quiet gesture of companionship.

The day couldn’t end much better than this.

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

The day winds down slowly, like a music box running out of spin.

Caleb, Rose, and the kids leave just after dinner—hugs and waves and promises of a rematch already being made before they even reach the door. Serena looks a little reluctant to let go of Willow and Jace, but exhaustion is creeping into her every blink, so she doesn’t protest when Zayne scoops her up to carry her to bed.

Her soft voice echoes down the hallway as they disappear. “Good night, Daddy. Good night, Mummy. Good night, babies.”

The house feels quieter without the extra bodies, but not empty. Just peaceful. Settled.

Later, the lights are dim, the house finally still, and you’re lying in bed with your head sunk into the pillow, the weight of the day pressing pleasantly into your limbs. Zayne is in the shower, humming something under his breath—something soft and familiar.

Beside you, Serena stirs.

She’d come back not long after she’s gone to her room and asked to sleep with you tonight, and you hadn’t hesitated to say yes. Maybe it’s the quiet after the busy day, or the way she clung a little tighter during her goodnight hug. Either way, you couldn’t say no. Not when she whispered, “I think the babies like it when I’m close.”

Now she shifts under the covers, wriggling over until her forehead touches the curve of your belly. Her hands spread wide over the bump, as if trying to feel everything at once.

“Are they sleeping?” she whispers.

“They might be,” you murmur back.

“They were listening earlier,” she says, confident. “When I was drawing. When I sang.”

“I know,” you smile, brushing her hair back from her forehead. “They really liked it.”

“I can sing it again.”

You nod, eyes soft, and she closes hers, voice barely above a breath.

“Go to sleep, my little star…” “Mommy’s here, not very far.” “Close your eyes and dream of light…” “I will hold you through the night…”

Her voice falters on the last line, but she hums the rest, lips pressed to your belly, lashes fluttering. And you realize she’s fighting to stay awake. Just for them.

You don’t say anything. You let the quiet stretch and hold the moment steady, your palm covering hers, your other hand stroking her hair in a rhythm so slow it could be mistaken for stillness.

You glance up as the door opens. Zayne steps inside, towel draped over his shoulders, hair damp and sticking to his forehead. He pauses when he sees the scene—Serena curled up against your bump, one hand still resting over it, eyelids fluttering.

Your eyes meet his. No words are needed.

He crosses the room slowly, quietly, bends down to press a kiss to Serena’s head, then to your lips. “Need anything?” he murmurs, voice low so he won’t disturb her.

“Just this,” you whisper.

He brushes his fingers along your arm before moving around to the other side of the bed and slipping in behind you. His arm curves around your waist, his hand overlapping yours where it rests over Serena’s.

The three of you breathe in time for a while.

The babies shift again, soft little nudges from the inside. Serena sighs, content.

“Love you, babies,” she murmurs.

And the room, just for a little while, holds all the warmth and quiet and love in the world.

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

Notes

Ugh I love my family 🥹🫶🏻 All my children are happy so I'm happy! I was also thinking of writing her reaction on the twins when they just born but I shouldn't say anything unless I did it right away lol Well see y'all next time! 💕

[hannahssimblr]

A flute of champagne. Delicate thing in my hand. Protective of it as I navigate through the gallery, past groups of observers, making comments about the pieces using German words I have not learned yet. Anspruchsvoll. I commit that one to memory. Something to look up in the dictionary after I get home.

She’s at the back of the room, black polo necked top stark against the white paint on the wall, and the spill of her hair down her spine. Steffan, the art history lecturer, listens with intent interest to whatever she is saying. Sees me coming, eyes flicker to me, before pretending he hasn’t, and he deepens his frown of concentration. 

Midway through her point, I don’t interrupt, but quietly slot into place next to her. Confidently voicing the intention of her work.

“...this incredible societal push for positivity. It’s almost aggressive, actually, without direction or nuance,” she takes the champagne. “I wanted to make work that disrupts that. That invites a kind of… necessary slowness. I tried to make something that… advocates for introspection, I suppose.”

“Yes, of course,” Steffan, nodding. “I sensed that. Particularly with the collection of three displayed together. Your work seems to represent an offering of solace amongst the fatigue of contemporary life.”

German. Something I understand well without speaking well. A frustrating thing. A link missing between what I want to say and what I actually can, like a via missing in a circuit board, a connection faltered, and nothing to carry the words to my mouth. 

Like now, when Steffan acknowledges me right before it might be considered rude not to. “Jude must have some fascinating thoughts about the work, too, seeing as he has been spending so much time in your studio.”

I falter. Plaster on a grin. “Yes, it’s true,” I say slowly, foreign accent seeping through the words. “I have spent some time watching her create the work. I even helped her… um, I helped her to photograph it for the… magazine piece.”

She leans in and squeezes my arm with pride or embarrassment, I’m not sure. 

“Aha,” Steffan says, eyebrows creeping beneath his tousled flop of hair. “But what exactly is your impression of it?”

I squint at a piece balancing on a pedestal, an abstract mass of porcelain, vaguely Roman-temple-esque. Black and purple glaze dribbles down the sides like ink from a newspaper left in the rain. It’s like deciphering a riddle. Something about collapse. Something classical, then undone. Post-something. Post-truth? Post-intention?

“I think it’s… anspruchsvoll.” Pray the word carries the right kind of weight. I leave it hanging there, like it should mean something profound. Steffan’s eyes flick to my girlfriend, amused. 

“Ah, right, of course. But as I was saying to Astrid earlier, it’s really the concept behind the work that’s most intriguing, don’t you think?” he says, the effortless flow of native German pouring out of him. “It’s all about the intellectual rigor. You’ve likely noticed that, too, but maybe not in the same way as Astrid. I’m sure it is anspruchsvoll to you, but I might have thought you’d have a more sophisticated understanding of the work by now, no?” He laughs then, so I know it’s a joke. 

Astrid, with a brittle smile on her lips, sips her champagne. “I think Jude’s got a pretty sharp take on the work, actually. He just needs the right words, don’t you think?”

“Ah, but we are in Germany, no? Shouldn’t we all be speaking the language? Jude, you’ll be writing your dissertation eventually, won’t you? Might want to brush up on some of the language for that. ‘Anspruchsvoll’ only goes so far, after all.”

I nod. Yes, Steffan. Thank you Steffan. Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten I’m a foreigner. Haven’t forgotten the diabolical art history grades I rack up in your class. Those big smug question marks on my misspellings appear in my nightmares, thank you. An essay that took me five days, tossed back on my desk like it had been written on a takeaway napkin, big note on it, saying, essentially: What???

“God, Steffan,” Astrid laughs too quickly. “You’re being an ass.”

“He knows it’s a joke,” He slaps my arm, stands too close, as though we are friends. That thin, patronising smile on him. “Just kidding, Jude. Your German’s definitely better. Just needs a little polish for the heavy lifting ahead.”

His eyes drift over my shoulder to someone more interesting, and then he leans in to Astrid, touches her arm. “Oh. I have a friend over there I’d like to introduce you to. Could I take you to meet him?”

She hesitates. Glances at me like she might ask, might defer. Then back to him. “Yes, sure,” she says. “That would be fine.”

I look too, through the crowd at groups of arty types, examining the work, speaking in hushed tones. Each of them indistinguishable, variations on the same theme, in the same jacket, the same shoes.

“Won’t be long,” she mutters, before Steffan whisks her across the gallery, hand touching, just a moment, the curve of her lower back. That thin, practiced touch. The kind men use when they’re testing the water, or reminding you it’s already warm. Hackles rise along my spine. Idiotic. I take a moment to remind myself of who I am, and who he isn’t.

I watch them go. Wait a beat longer than I should. Then amble to the champagne table, careful not to glance at her. Fetch a glass, stem slippery with condensation. Try not to look like I’m waiting.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[dark-elf-writes]

Speaking of weird omegaverse things

Do you think heats and ruts affect your skin and acne like periods do? Bc I’m pretty sure that’s a hormone thing and so are heats and ruts

Do omegas get periods right after their heats? Do they have to trudge through their heat and then immediately get smacked in the face with period cramps?

And if that’s the case would heat suppressants also cancel out your period? Or would it have to be a different type of birth control?

Do female alphas get sporadic periods in comparison to female betas and omegas bc their body isn’t expecting to get pregnant but it also still can? Do male omegas get periods?

Fucking omegaverse world building. I blame you and your asks for this

GOD OMEGAVERSE PERIODS HAUNT ME EVERY DAY

Look, I get why no one really writes about it because a lot of people don't find periods sexy and at its core the omegaverse is Sex right? But when you think about it a heat cycle is really just a particularly aggressive fertility window right? It's ovulation to the nth degree. So really not only is it very likely that omegas have to deal with the horror that is heat but then after a heat that does not end in pregnancy have to go through a period.

I will grant that heat cycles are generally less often if way more intense so it would make sense if (omega) periods were mostly the same which like... oof what a trade off.

Birth control in the omegaverse just in general is a fascinating idea that entire essays could be written on. Particularly with all the combinations of primary and secondary genders making things way more out of wack. Up to and including what parts male omegas and female alphas have and how those interact with the whole process.

God the omegaverse is so interesting and also a hellscape.

[judyjudybaboodee]

i finally wrote it 😋 sorry if you don't relate to Y/N but i physically cannot write a character without giving them a backstory so this has become incredibly self indulgent and Y/N has basically become an OC now. oops.

taglist : @spaghettisquashpasta @bimboliciousdulce

The sun hadn’t even climbed all the way up yet, and Robin was already pulling a beanie low over her short hair and throwing on sunglasses so oversized they practically wrapped around her face like some cursed bug-eyed disguise. She wasn’t in the mood to be noticed. Her band had a show in just a few hours, and her very dramatic, very caffeinated friends would actually riot if she didn’t come back with enough coffee to drown a horse.

Now, she was used to being recognized. Correction - she was used to being swarmed. Paparazzi, obsessed fans, and the occasional dude who thought asking for her shoe size was flirting. It came with the territory of being the lead singer in one of the biggest rock bands on the planet.

But today? Today, she just wanted to grab six coffees in peace.

So she ducked into a little coffee shop tucked on the corner across from the hotel. It looked like the kind of place that might serve drinks with heart-shaped foam and names like “Unicorn Cloud Macchiato.” Whatever. Caffeine was caffeine.

She got in line, distractedly scrolling through the text thread blowing up with “where tf r u” messages from Steve and a meme Eddie just made of her yawning mid-rehearsal the day before.

And then she saw her.

Y/N.

Hair tied back in a messy knot, a smudge of coffee on her apron, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She looked up from wiping the counter, eyes locking with Robin’s. No gasp. No widened eyes. Just a polite, expectant: “Next?”

Robin blinked. “I’ll have—uh—six coffees. Black. Wait—no—two black, one soy latte, one iced matcha, and one of those… frothy things with the caramel?”

Y/N tilted her head, pen poised over a small notepad. “You just said six but only listed five.”

“Right. Crap. One tea. Green tea. For Nancy. She doesn’t do caffeine after noon. Manager things.”

Y/N noted it all down with the efficiency of someone who'd done this a thousand times and skips off to go make the coffee.

Robin waited. Braced herself. Any second now…

Nothing.

No double take. No gasp. No "Are you Robin Buckley?!" The girl didn’t even glance at her twice.

"You’re not gonna... I don’t know. Ask for a picture? Scream?"

Y/N doesn't even look in her direction from where she's struggling with the soy milk dispenser.

"Why would I scream?"

Robin, trying to think of the least conceited way to ask this, goes: "You know who I am, right?"

“Duh, you’re Robin Buckley.”

That was it. No awe. No flailing. Just... facts.

Robin blinks, baffled. ”And you’re not... freaking out? Begging for a selfie? Screaming into the void?”

Y/N finally looked at her, plopping the first drink on the counter infront of her. “You’re a singer. Not curing cancer.”

Robin had been insulted before. She’d been screamed at, cried on, and even once proposed to (by someone married). But this? This was new.

Robin was suddenly fascinated.

She lingered longer than necessary, asking stupid questions about the coffee machine, about the shop’s playlist, about whether Y/N had always wanted to be a barista.

“I’m a lawyer, actually,”

Y/N said offhandedly while wiping down the counter.

“Corporate. Boring. This is my side quest.”

Robin gapes at her. “You’re a lawyer?”

“And a babysitter. And sometimes I teach gym class. I get bored easily. ADHD.”

Robin laughed again, high and delighted.

”You’re weird.”

Y/N snorts, raising an eyebrow at her teasingly.

“Takes one to know one.”

Something buzzed in Robin's chest, warm and electric, and as Y/N handed over the last drink, Robin couldn’t help herself.

”Hey. I want your number.”

Y/N didn’t miss a beat.

”That’s cute, rockstar. Email me.”

“What?”

Y/N scribbled her email on a napkin and slid it across the counter like she did this every day. She didn’t. But Robin didn’t need to know that.

“If you want to take me out, send me a paragraph. Minimum ten sentences. Convince me.”

Robin’s mouth dropped open. She's Robin Buckley. Fans make tiktok thirstrap edits of her on the DAILY. No one had EVER said no to her. Much less demanded a freakin’ email in exchange for a date.

She stared at the napkin, then back at Y/N.

“You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack. Now go, you're holding up the line.”

And just like that, she was back to taking orders, leaving Robin standing bewildered, a stack of coffees in hand, and suddenly desperate to figure out how to compose a ten-sentence paragraph. The second she got back to the hotel, she flung open the suite door and flopped dramatically onto the hotel room bed, nearly spilling Eddie's coffee, who squawks in offense. Robin pays no mind, too busy shoving Steve off her laptop.

“I need this more than you need Instagram.”

Steve whines dramatically, before finally relenting and letting her manhandle him off the bed.

“I was literally watching a video of a dog hugging a goose-”

“Shut UP. Emergency.”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow from the couch. “What happened?”

“I got rejected.”

Steve gasped, instantly going into mom-friend-mode. “Someone rejected you? Don't worry, you can do be-”

Robin interrupts, rolling her eyes as she tries to override the sudden unskippable cutscene that has erupted of her best friend trying to comfort her.

“No, dingus. It's not a rejection it's just- She gave me her email. And told me to send her a paragraph about why she should date me.”

Eddie lets out a delighted cackle from the couch.

”Oh my god. That's iconic. I'm taking notes.”

Jonathan just stares at her in disbelief.

"You're going to write an email begging for the girl you just met to go out with you? Why???? You're a literal rockstar just date one of the billion people thirsting in your DMs-"

Robin ignores this, already typing away at her laptop. Steve and Eddie hover behind her, watching her like a fascinating animal at the zoo and whispering to eachother. Steve is floating the theory that Robin may be under some sort of spell.

Nancy piped up from the corner. “Do you want me to spell check it after?”

“Yes. Please. Also,” Robin said, typing furiously. “I’m attaching VIP tickets. And a backstage pass. And a picture of me with a puppy.”

“You don’t have a puppy,” Steve said.

“I’ll find one.”

who wants a robin buckley rockstar x really bored reader fic

the vision:

robin is a world famous lead singer of a band (steve is a guitarist / backup singer, eddie is a bass guitarist, jonathan is a drummer, and nancy is their band manager) and pops (in disguise obviously) by a random coffee shop outside their hotel to get them all coffee before the show in a couple hours. there she sees the barista (thats you) and immediately gets ready to be begged for an autograph when she orders, just for her to... not. its not that you don't know who she is (you're actually a fan), you just doesn't really care enough to treat her like a god. robin is immediately enamoured and determined to win you over

who wants it

[moltengoldveins]

honestly I’d like to see more weird interesting interpretations of the effects a magical or ‘humans are space orcs’ environment could have on a chronically ill character. Like, I have a Ton of random sensitivities that could absolutely screw me over should I end up in Fantasy/Space/Pandora Land, such as:

Mold sensitivity absolutely SCREWING with someone in Bioluminescent Magical Mushroom Land. They walk through the archway or up the path or whatever into the magical tree place and just Immediately pass out. If they’re brought there unconscious, they simply don’t wake up, and eventually when their friends wake up they puzzle together that the illumination for the whole building is just Mushrooms in the Walls.

Someone dealing with a detox issue who currently has a ton of heavy metals in their system walking underneath a floating island being held aloft by magnetism and just bowling over in agony as the current pulls the metals from where their body stowed them into their bloodstream. I’ve sorta had this happen to me, I tried one of those “run a magnetic current thru your body so the metals are dislodged and your body can flush them out” things, but I didn’t know I was dealing with a complete shutdown of the systems that remove toxins from your body (kidney and liver and sweat and more all of it was in complete shutdown I was actively dying dw about it-) so all it did was shoot a bajillion little capsules of poison into my blood with nowhere for them to go and I almost passed out and felt like crud for the next week.

Moon sensitivity being So Much Worse on a planet with multiple moons. People’s hormones and periods and chronic pain spiking randomly with basically no warning or schedule it would SUCK. A character with bipolar is So Much Worse on that planet and none of her alien friends know what’s happening.

Spikes and drops in barometric pressure due to magically summoned storms causing severe chronic pain flare-ups in either the mage summoning the storm or one of their allies whom they didn’t know had joint problems. Same with a planet with a very unstable atmosphere.

Vitamin or nutrient deficiency, or genetic conditions that prevent someone from metabolizing the nutrients in their food and necessitate supplements. This would be HUGE. Can you imagine a human character with anemia, or low vitamin D, or an issue metabolizing folic acid in space? Or in a medieval world that can’t accommodate their needs? Just an alien crew watching in worried confusion as their human slowly grows sluggish, twitchy, forgetful and snappish during an unexpected long haul to a distant outpost. When asked what’s wrong, they say they’re fine, or that their nutrient intake has just been low recently, but they’ve been eating the same things they always have. The ship medic does a brain scan and realizes their grey matter is cannibalizing itself, and he can’t figure out why. The human stops exercising, and when they do, one of their crew mates notices they aren’t sweating anymore. One day they run into the room of another crewmate with a padded floor nest, curl themselves into it, manage to stammer out a “don’t worry, don’t tell others. I’m ok” before they start thrashing. Finally they arrive on base and the human medic is like “Oh dang. You didn’t refill your folinic supplements before you came here did you? Dang. we’re gonna need to keep you on a higher dose for a bit to try to make sure your immune and detox systems don’t crash. How bad were the seizures?” and every alien in the crew is Horrified.

Someone who needs assistive devices but only occasionally has a bad day halfway through the Magic Quest and realizes in horror that they forgot their cane/ can’t currently access their chair. Someone who takes muscle relaxers or painkillers thrice or so a month having a huge flare-up and being immobile for an entire day while rushing to Stop The Evil Lord.

Someone who needs excess oxygen always walking around in an atmospheric suit, even in human-friendly atmospheres, because they’re self-conscious about the breathing tube.

Someone with POTS trying to keep their salt intake up in fantasy medieval Europe where salt is tricky to get, or a space setting where salt is a minor poison to most species.

[bugganox]

I see people drawing or writing of sea gods deitys (specifically goddesses) more often than not being dainty, feminine, majestic, and very conventionally pretty. And yes, the ocean itself is quite pretty and majestic. But I would also like to counterpoint that with, way more of the ocean is FUCKING TERRIFYING. And I think that is the most beautiful part of it as a whole. Now, you can draw your characters however you want- don’t let some random guy on the internet tell you what to do. There isn’t anything wrong with drawing them prettily at all! I. I just. I LOVE the goddesses that look like sea monsters. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH. I like drawing characters that are meant to be deity’s in a way that represents what they rein over, and the ocean is an incredibly vast and fascinating concept. I just feel like there is so much design potential in characters like that, why stick to such a conventional look when The ocean is basically the opposite of conventional? The ocean is weird, creepy, and vast- but still beautiful despite everything. Get weird! Don’t be afraid to be creative in your art, especially when the world we live in is anything but.

[fingertipsmp3]

This is the spiritual successor to Four Seasons Landscaping. To me.

[ceramicbeetle]

almost no one has written binx/hob content and certainly no one had written it in the way i am currently finding it intriguing, which is admittedly disappointing. so perhaps i will have to do it if no one else will.

[musclesandhammering]

I need any and all au fics where Loki actually died when he fell from the bifrost or where most of the fic takes place in the 1 year gap pre-avengers so you actually see the family and Asgard’s reactions in the aftermath.

[thesorcerersshadow]

merlin whispering “don’t let him get too close”, already the advisor on arthur’s shoulder when society says he really has NO BUSINESS being so, and arthur listening and drawing his sword and warning uther. okayyyyy.

[words-writ-in-starlight]

Idk what put you back in your Sandman era but gotta tell u I am living for it. Your taste in posts is impeccable lmao

Baby I am at all times one post away from doing a deep dive on someone’s Sandman tag and rapid fire reblogging 80% of it.

[a-walking-fandom-reference]

EDDIE DIAZ IS SO ASPEC CODED I WANT TO EXPLODE

[givemaycoffee]

Oh my god. I just wrote an essay in the comments of a fanfic and I was like Wow, I sure had a lot to say.

And then I remembered I actually took my adderall this morning XD