#Love the healthy band forever…

[dont-hug-me-its-yuri]

the Healthy band are very fun to write for me because I specifically based them around the concept of Americana and the traditional nuclear family

Steak as the traditional father archetype, he’s strong in build and is the breadwinner of the group who seemingly loves his family and friends with all his heart, he’s skilled with hunting which might not be exclusively Animals in his case and all the traditional masculine traits that’s expected of a white picket father/husband

Fridge is the “wife” or “mother”, staying home and taking care of the children while also engaging in household chores while the fathers away, maybe his pies taste a little funny but they’re just so sweet you can never resist taking the rest home with you

And Spinach and Bread boy are the children, Spinach being the rowdy older kid archetype well Bread Boy represents the “newborn baby” role who would take up all the mothers time between menial chores and Spinach is the older sibling who’s always coming back home with new scratches on their knees and is just the rowdiest little tyke

and they all culminate into the traditional nuclear family who own the towns local deli and are always willing to have guests over, just keep in mind the basements off limits :)

[steddieas-shegoes]

“any regrets? anything you’d do differently?”

eddie knows the interviewer is just doing her job, probably doesn’t even realize that’s the worst question she could ask. but the guys tense and the air gets thick and something shifts inside eddie’s chest.

“it’s been two years and i still haven’t apologized.”

the interviewer doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about, but she doesn’t need to. he’s not gonna explain more than that and he doesn’t care if people make their own connections and excuses.

maybe steve will hear it. maybe robin will. maybe dustin will convince steve to call him.

or maybe he was cryptic for nothing and steve will keep ignoring his calls. he used to think his timing sucked until mike let it slip that he lets all calls go to his answering machine to avoid picking up when eddie calls him.

eddie only calls on bad nights, if he’s drunk or high, or sometimes on the nights that could only be better if steve was by his side. eddie calls most nights.

the interview is done and eddie is being whisked away, getting berated by their publicist about his answer to a question that can never have a good one. the guys are pretending not to listen, but failing. eddie loves them for trying.

the next interview, he stays quiet, at least as much as he can get away with. he fakes a smile, a laugh, whatever it takes to seem like he didn’t just admit that he fucked up on live television.

they get to sleep in their own beds tonight, but tomorrow is the start of their radio show tour to promote their album. it’ll be two weeks long, hitting the major stations daily until they’ve answered all the hard hitting questions like if gareth snores or if they ever find time to eat healthy on tour.

but his bed is his least favorite place to sleep, and no amount of tossing and turning is gonna give him what he needs.

so he calls steve.

“harrington’s house, you’ve reached the harrington who actually lives here.”

eddie’s so shocked that steve answered he barely even registers his words.

“hello?” steve’s voice turns serious. “anyone there?”

“stevie?”

eddie shouldn’t have started with that, but he wasn’t in control of his body anymore.

steve hangs up.

somehow it’s worse than if he hadn’t answered at all.

but eddie is fine. he is.

he’s gonna close his eyes and go to sleep and maybe not dream about dying or fucking up the only good thing he ever had.

his phone rings and he’s almost certain he’s dreaming already.

“hello?”

“sorry i panicked.”

steve’s voice is like a reverb in an arena, sending chills down eddie’s arms.

“you’re not the only one.”

“but…you called me.”

“because you never answer.”

“so why call? if i’m never gonna answer.”

“because if you do answer, i can hear your voice.”

steve sits with that answer for a minute before he speaks.

“dustin played me the interview.”

“yeah.”

“was it me? was i your regret?”

how could steve think that? how could the man who saved his life ever believe he was anything less than a gift? in no universe would eddie regret steve.

“no. my regret is making you ever think that you could be a mistake.”

eddie should end it there, let steve marinate with that. he knows no amount of apologies will actually help, but he could give it a try anyway.

“i’m sorry i left when you needed me. i’m sorry i was selfish and chose to get out and leave you behind. and i’m sorry none of my sorries even matter because it’s too late.”

for a minute—yes, eddie counts— there’s silence. and then there’s a small shuffling sound and eddie’s almost sure that steve’s gonna hang up.

instead, steve sounds like he’s holding back tears when he speaks.

“are you gonna come back?”

eddie can’t. he can’t just put a pause on the band or any of their plans. it’s not fair to the guys or the fans or himself.

but he can do something he should’ve done two years ago.

“will you come with me?”

the question hangs in the air for what feels like forever. steve may say no. that’s part of why eddie didn’t even ask the first time. but he may say-

“yes.”

“you will?”

“on one condition.”

“anything.”

“you stop trying to forget all the bad parts. the bad parts sucked, but they brought us together. running from them means running from me. at least hold my hand so i can run with you.”

eddie thinks maybe he could write a song about that.

and he thinks he’d like to hold steve’s hand while he does.

[localcouchgremlin]

absolutely incredible post response!! thanks nic :D

bit of a weird ask but I saw a twitter post saying they were 'devastated' over what frank said in an interview about performing/writing in ls dunes compared to some other bands (theyre assuming that the 'other bands' means mcr because they cant think of the 20+ other bands that hes been in) and after reading it a second time it doesn't even seem that negative?? it just talks about different processes and his excitement for dunes, but I still feel down anyway now because of that reaction, and it really makes me doubt that part of the fandom's faith in the band and its members im kinda close to quitting the fandom because of this and idk how the tumblr/twitter gang here survives it y'all are troopers, im unsure how to avoid that kind of doomposting

sorry i totally forgot to answer this the other day, i hope you see this!

but yeah, i see the same thing and it is. pretty irritating haha. it speaks to the unrealistic traits and behaviours fandom has applied to these ppl over the years/decades - which are harmless enough on the surface, but left unchecked you end up with doomposting or disproportionate levels of discourse when one of them doesn't behave the way their textpostified personalities would have you believe hahaha. if frank isn't anything but reverential towards mcr then he must hate it. if gerard puts time and work into his artistic and career pursuits that aren't related to mcr he must be giving up on the band like he supposedly did in 2012. if ray, who hasn't done a single interview since 2016, isn't on stage showing frank public affection or admiring him on twitter, he must be bossy and arrogantly taking all the glory for mcr's guitar parts and musicality. if mikey does anything it's gotta have something to do with gerard or mcr because obvs he doesn't exist outside the band etc etc. again none of these things are like. problematic or bad**, just kind of. annoying to engage with as an adult in the space i go to enjoy myself hahaha.

but this specific discussion abt frank implicitly dissing mcr also cropped up after that podcast frank did with travis, where he discussed writing music with ls dunes vs every other band/project he's been involved in. which, let's remember, is a fucking lot. how many albums has frank made or been part of? too many to easily count. only about four or five of those were with my chemical romance. ls dunes is only set apart from the rest because they're currently active after mcr's huge reunion, and they're a supergroup so they're getting a lot of press attention. people have never batted an eye in the past when frank has discussed how great it is to be working with this or that musician on this or that album - it's just the timing of ls dunes and our own high hopes for new mcr music that make people take this one in particular so personally.

on top of that... we've always known mcr has a fraught and stressful writing process??? that is like. a major part of the lore? we're all compelled by the insane amount of unlikely success mcr achieved in their careers, and by the fact that they were always controversial. we reblog quotes about gerard saying mcr's purpose was always to be against something, to undermine expectations, to infiltrate, contaminate etc. i thought this was something we were all drawn to about mcr? so i'll never understand the shock and disappointment when frank makes the simple statement that writing with ls dunes is easier, less stressful, and more lighthearted than writing with mcr. like...duh it is? mcr have always been open about how much they put into writing albums - and also about how they're proud of what they created, and that they consider each other cherished family.

the most annoying part for me is when people take quotes about frank working with travis and twist them into some kind of dig at/criticism of ray. i can only assume these people aren't used to working with others in a creative capacity, especially long term, because i just totally can't understand where it comes from lol. as someone who's read/watched every guitar-related mcr interview i've ever been able to get my hands on: ray and frank have literally never been anything other than fully complimentary of, respectful to, and affectionate with one another. ray was far from the first guitarist frank ever worked with and leagues from the only one. also, creative partnerships are extremely complex and every one is completely unique, with it's own strengths and difficulties. if ray and frank didn't love playing with each other they wouldn't have done it for years and years. that doesn't mean frank can't vocally love playing with other guitarists??? these things are not contradictory and appreciating aspects of one creative partnership is not equivalent to bad-mouthing a different one? like that is just not how it works skdkdjd

anyway i think a lot of it comes down to the fact that, for us, we see these people as parts of my chemical romance. naturally, because that's the reason we know they exist! but all of these people live rich and full and complex lives like any other person. the only parts of those lives that we generally see much of are the my chemical romance parts. we look for mcr in everything they say, which is understandable but unrealistic. all we need to do it keep that in mind imo

**(tho ppl's tendency to pit ray and frank against each other for some reason, which used to be a way common but is unfortunately a sentiment i'm starting to see crop up again in some places, definitely can get. suspicious and uncomfortable. especially considering that frank is the fan favourite so these pointless comparisons tend to err in his favour, and in either direction they tend to be very shallow and uninformed anyway. but that's a separate conversation)

wow i literally did not intend to turn this into a giant essay im so sorry. kudos if you made it this far lol. and i feel you anon, it's discouraging and puts a bad taste in my mouth when i come to this fandom for fun and fulfillment. i wish i had better advice because im feeling a little similar but just try to remind yourself that other people's opinions are just that. i find it helps if you can curate your own dash/feed or make friends in more discussion-friendly spaces like dms or gcs or discord servers. or even a priv twitter account with a few like-minded mutuals where you can vent ur shared frustrations over things without making it a whole big deal HAHAHA. the less time you spend scrolling thru ppl's public posts and the more time you spend diving into interviews, podcasts, videos, the web archive etc to detach yourself a little from group fandom-think the better you'll probably feel about mcr tbh! also long as you have friends or close mutuals that's all that matters imo <3

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 6: Best Friends Forever

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary:  When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you never expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team.  (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy.

Word Count: 9.9K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), derogatory comments, sexism, swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, sexual tension, little bit of homophobia (It's Soldier Boy). Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

A/N: I know I said I was gonna be more angsty with this chapter, but I got distracted, the sun was in my eyes, and my hand slipped…

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Spotify Playlist 🪴

The next morning Mike’s screeching begins all over again, but today he starts with "My Girl" by the Temptations.

He's getting warmer.

You think with a smile, singing along to the song under your breath as you prop yourself up on your pillows with a content sigh. The smell of gardenia wafted over your bed in a gentle wave as your curtains opened, allowing the sunlight to drift over your bed. The beautiful white flowers bloomed from the plant sitting on your bedside table, each petal frosted with mist from the mister hanging on the wall behind it.

Gardenias reminded you of home. They were your grandmother's favorite. There were several large bushes gracing the front yard of her home that rose almost as high as the second story. Whenever you were back home you would make sure that they burst into bloom so she could fill her home with the sweet smelling flowers. It helped you relax and sleep at night, though sometimes it didn't do much to keep the nightmares away.

You hadn't had a good night sleep in a while, but after Ben and you had been up late putting together the bookshelf that stood proudly in the left corner of your bedroom, you were exhausted. Now it was filled with your worn brightly colored paperbacks and covered with a healthy amount of pothos vines as was everything else in your home, but you loved it.

When the delivery men had arrived late yesterday evening and they had been more than willing to carry the couch up the three flights of stairs, but Ben had told them to leave and said "I'm not some kind of pussy that waits for her fucking husband to come home because she needs him to change a lightbulb."

And so they left, leaving Ben and you with the box your unassembled bookshelf came in and a giant three piece couch.

Mike's mother had set up a folding chair with her best friend Mary Ann outside on the sidewalk, drinking glasses of wine and giggling like schoolgirls each time Ben and you came back down to haul another piece of the couch back up into the apartment. He tried to make you sit upstairs and wait for him to bring it in, but you had cussed him out and held up the only finger that mattered.

Putting together the bookshelf hadn't been that much better. Ben had almost broken two of the tiny wooden pegs that secured the back panel all the while cursing under his breath when you tried to show him the instructions.

And being in the presence of the instructions seemed to trigger Ben. It immediately turned the two of you into the couple in the car that bicker over a map before they get murdered in a horror movie.

The shouting got so loud that Mike raced over hopeful that Ben had broken your heart and that he would there to pick up the pieces, while Mike's mother followed in quick pursuit hoping to console Ben.

But when Ben had answered the door sweaty and shirtless- because you'd ripped his shirt on accident when he tried to walk away from you muttering something about "women and their fucking instructions" and you'd grabbed him while shouting "say it to my face you geriatric asshat!"- Mike thought that he had interrupted something else and retreated back to his apartment in shame while his mother stood in the hallway waving a hand in front of her face to calm down.

As annoying as Ben was, you loved the bookshelf. It was perfect for your bedroom and looked a little whimsical, which was how most of your apartment looked with the mismatched vintage furniture, all the plants, and the crocheted blankets. What you couldn't figure out was why he bought it for you.

You had relented on his purchase of the couch, because it did make sense, he was spending the most time on it, but his purchase of the bookshelf confused you. He'd been in your bedroom all of five minutes a few days ago and had only looked at the pile of vine covered books once.

So why did it bother him so much that I had a pile of books on the floor of my bedroom? Why did he have to buy it for me? Why did he care enough to?

No one had ever done that before for you. Your high school boyfriend, Newton, had seen the same pile of books in your bedroom back home every time he came over and never did anything about it, but Ben had only seen it for a moment and remembered.

I don’t understand why he’s acting so nice. You stretch your hands up over your head and begin to get out of bed. Probably because he thinks if he’s nice I’ll sleep with him.

The thought was becoming familiar, but you weren't sure what other reason it could be for. The two of you had nothing in common. He was always angry, sexually forward, annoying, not to mention he was from another century and he didn't understand anything about the present time.

I mean sometimes it's kinda cute how clueless he is about stuff like that. He always gets that adorable frown and- Nope, nope, nope not thinking about that right now.

Bean purrs in agreement with your thought at the end of your bed, stretching his front legs and arching his back. His charcoal fur looks almost silver in the light from the sun that streams through the open window leaving behind the imprint of the brilliant square on your comforter.

Bean had enjoyed watching the two of you put together the bookshelves, well, he enjoyed playing in the box that the bookshelf came in. He ran in and out, back and forth through the openings on both sides of the  box, using it like a tunnel all the while Ben complained over the small screws and even smaller pegs that never seemed to fit where they needed to.

Personally you just think Ben was jealous that you knew how to read the instructions and he didn't.

And last night you understood just how bad Ben was at receiving directions. He had ignored you when you tried to help him, which had lead to the yelling match that Mike walked in on.  

But you still didn’t understand why he cared so much about the pile of books in your bedroom. They'd been sitting there since you moved in, because you hadn't found a proper place for them, not to mention the pile just kept growing.

At least he didn't look too closely at the titles. The last thing I want Ben to know is how many romance novels I read.

You grab a bundle of your clothes and open your bedroom door, while Mike continues to sing "My Girl." You creep down the hallway, intent on taking a shower, but your curiosity gets the better of you, so instead of going to the bathroom, you peek into the living room.

Ben is sitting on the new charcoal couch that you crammed into the room, reading a newspaper and you have no idea where he got it.

Maybe he already left sometime this morning?  Guess he can be quiet when he wants to be.

Bean prances down the hallway behind you and jumps onto the back of the couch, kneading his paws in the soft pillows, before dropping down next to Ben. Ben smiles at the cat and folds the newspaper closed so he can scratch him under the chin.

"Hey buddy." You hear him mutter. "Y/n up yet?"

Bean only purrs and rubs himself further into Ben's hand.

"Don't know how anyone can sleep with that jack-off next door." Ben rolls his eyes, but doesn't raise them from the cat that has begun to crawl into his lap. "Why does she hate me so much?" He whispers to Bean with a sigh.

His question made you freeze where you were standing in the hallway. It was so open, so honest, so completely unlike Ben. It was the last thing you were expecting him to ask your cat, well, honestly you didn't think that he would talk to the cat at all. You suddenly wondered what other things he said about you when you weren't around.

And why does he care so much if I hate him? I mean I don't, he just gets on my nerves constantly, and knows how to press all my buttons.

You liked to think that you were an easy-going person, but Ben drove you crazy. You'd never met anyone who could do that to you before, never allowed yourself to get angry, not even when Poppy Mansfield who put chocolate pudding on your seat at lunchtime when you were in fourth grade and made everyone think you'd pooped your pants. You'd only shrugged and walked to the bathroom, it was Annie who lost it. Annie had grabbed a handful of pudding and smeared it on Poppy's face and earned her the nickname "Poopy Poppy" until she transferred to another school at the end of the year.

But not with Ben, he crawled under your skin and stayed there whenever he teased you . Usually you let insults and teases roll off your back like water off a duck, but not with Ben. He knew what to say to make you lose your temper. You didn't know how he did that.

Not all the time though.

The trip to IKEA had been kind of fun, well, fun until Ben had insulted your boss and when the two of you watched a movie together it was fun.

In fact, the more time you spent with him, the more you were starting to like him. You wish you didn't. It just made everything harder. You remember what he said at the plant shop, tried to burn it into your heart, that he didn't care about feelings or emotions and you did. You wanted to be with someone who cared about that, someone who understood everything about you, and loved you. You wanted love so bad your heart ached sometimes, and yes maybe you read way too many romance novels, but you wanted something like that to happen to you. You wanted to be so wrapped up in someone else that the world faded away, someone kind and sweet, who remembered little things like how much you liked gardenias or how much you loved pineapple iced tea from the place just around the corner and someone who would be okay with sitting on the couch or in bed, with you laying back in their arms while you read your newest book or tried to crochet.

Ben didn't care about any of that, probably what he would call "pussy shit." He just wanted sex, plain and simple, nothing more, nothing less.

And you didn't want just sex.

You didn't want to start something with Ben, develop strong feelings for him, and then only have him push you away as soon as he got what he wanted. You couldn't handle having your heart broken again. Newton had been enough and after him you told yourself you were going to try harder, were going to find someone who saw your self-worth. Of course that had been a few years ago and each year kinda felt like another nail in the coffin when you went on countless dates with people who never seemed to want the same things you did.

Plus, you were sure that Ben was only interested in you because you kept saying no and that made you "exciting" or whatever. So that just meant you were going to have to keep trying to find someone else.

You take a step back into the hallway, creeping further away as silent as possible. You didn't want him to catch you spying on him and you didn't want him to know that you had heard him ask Bean that. You force your door closed, before putting your clothes in the bathroom and shuffling down the hallway, purposely being as loud as you can so Ben can hear you over Mike's inhuman screech.

“Good morning.” You say as you enter the living room, as if it’s the first time.

“Morning Petals.” Ben looks over the back of the couch. He smirks as his eyes trace over your body. “Don’t you look delicious this morning.”

Your shorts were a little shorter than what you usually wore, hitting the middle of your thigh, and the oversized shirt you wore hung over them giving the illusion that you weren't wearing anything underneath it.

He is so confusing sometimes. Maybe he really just doesn't know how to talk to a woman in this century. Did that really work for him before? Does that work with all his dates?

“Thanks.” You say dryly.

Ben’s smirk twitches and something passes through his eyes that looks a little bit like regret, but it’s gone as soon as you see it.

You turn towards the kitchen. You didn’t know what you were looking for, truthfully you were just making conversation because you felt bad about what Ben asked Bean. You didn't know why that hurt you so much for him to think that you hated him, maybe it had something to do with everything that he'd been through. You wave a hand, perking up the plants in the box over the sink and the raspberry and blackberry vines covering the refrigerator to distract yourself.

“Um-“ You begin, but Ben interrupts you.

“There’s coffee in the microwave!” Ben suddenly blurts.

“What?”

Why is it in the microwave? Shouldn't it be in the coffee maker?

You sniff the air for the tell-tale smell of coffee, but smell nothing. A glance in the direction of the coffee maker reveals that the pot is still sparkling clean from when you washed it out last night.

Is he really lying about coffee? It's like he wants me to hate him.

“Um I mean-“ Ben clears his throat. “I got you coffee.”

“You got me coffee?” You parrot, surprised. “When?” You turn to look at him. He's watching you from over the back of the couch and he almost looks a little awkward, like he's not sure where to go from here as if he's not sure what to do when he does something nice for someone.

“I went to get a newspaper and I walked past a coffee shop.” He shrugs as if suddenly uninterested turning back around to face the jasmine covered wall, picking his newspaper up and opening it.

But you have a suspicion that he wasn't actually reading it, that he was just using it as a prop so he didn't have to look at you anymore.

“Oh. Thanks." You open up the microwave and withdrawal the still warm coffee mug taking a sip.

How in the fuck did he know how I like my coffee? You think to yourself, about to do a spit take you were so shocked, because the coffee was perfect. "How did you know-"

"I read the label on the one plant boy bought you the other day." Ben doesn't look up from his newspaper. "Is it… okay?" He asks it tentatively and a little awkward.

"Yeah. It's perfect actually. Thank you." You say it almost robotically. You couldn't believe that he remembered something like that about you. That he actually thought about you when he went to get a newspaper this morning.

He grunts a "You're welcome."

You take another sip and place it back in the microwave. Preparing to go back to take a shower.

"Do you…" Ben clears his throat again. "Do you work today?" He says it hesitantly.

"No. I usually have Friday's off because Annie and I make plans, but this week she cancelled because Hughie got tickets to some concert a few hours away and they're making it a day trip or whatever." You tried not to sound disappointed, but Friday's were usually you and Annie's day. You would plan random trips to shops in NYC, go to brunch, find ridiculous tourist attractions, try new restaurants, or you would go spend the day in Central Park reading. But Friday nights were wine, greasy pizza, sushi, Chinese food, snacks, and movie nights, had been since your parents died. It had been a family tradition before, Friday night films, but when they died Annie took it upon herself to continue it with you because your brother hadn't been willing to. Of course, when you were kids there wasn't wine, there also weren't movies with Glen Powell or Pedro Pascal, but as you grew so did the films and the conversations and the men, but your friendship blossomed with it.

"Oh." Ben leans his head back over the back of the couch, the smirk back in full force. "Well I've got a few ideas for what we could do today. Sounds like you're a little disappointed there Petals. I'm sure I could cheer you up."

You roll your eyes. "I'm going to take a shower."

"Great, I need one too." Ben jumps to his feet, leaving the newspaper on the couch as he turns to follow you.

"Ben." You sigh his name in frustration.

This is exactly what I'm talking about, he does something really nice and then he follows it up immediately by trying to sleep with me. Is that what this is to him? Do something chivalrous to make me like him and then finally let him fuck me?

It made you angry that he believed it would work.

"What? It'll save water and I just want to make you feel better Petals." Ben wiggles his eyebrows. "You sounded so sad when you said that Annie ditched you-"

"She didn't ditch me!" You snap. "She just had plans with Hughie that's all. And I can't believe you!"

"What the hell did I do?"

"You think that doing something like buying me coffee will get me to sleep with you."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about! You're trying to act all chivalrous and nice just so that you can get me to finally sleep with you. But I'm not going to fall for it Gramps! I am not going to sleep with you just because you do one nice thing for me or try to pretend to care about me." You turn and stomp down the hallway, leaving Ben absolutely speechless in the living room.

When you get in the bathroom you blast your ABBA Gold Album from your Bluetooth speaker to drown out Mike's singing and to drown out your insane internal monologue. And when the music doesn't work, you start to sing the lyrics to the familiar songs letting the melodies soothe you.

You’d liked ABBA since you were a kid. Your mom would listen to it when she was cooking in the large kitchen in your childhood home and when your father got home from work at the end of the day he’d creep up behind her and pull her away from the stove for an impromptu dance.

Your childhood was filled with so much love from two people that were absolutely head over heels. And it made you want that too. It’s why you wouldn’t give in to Ben, because the memories of your parents and the love they shared still warmed your heart years after you’d last seen them.

You dry your hair with a towel, continuing to sing as you dress in your jeans and t-shirt, hoping that you could just escape the apartment by going to Central Park and read on your favorite bench to avoid seeing Ben. You were maybe a little embarrassed that you had yelled at him again. You never intended to.

Maybe I can just creep past him.

You think to yourself as you open the door of the bathroom, but as you step into the hallway you trip over something big on the ground and begin to pitch forward with a started screech. The thing you tripped on catches you so that you fall directly into Ben's lap, your legs on either side of his thighs. You realize that it was Ben you tripped on, who had decided to lounge with his back against one of the walls of the hallway, his legs bent at the knee, directly outside of the small bathroom.

As you fall into his lap, your hands land on his shoulders grabbing tightly in fear and surprise, while his hands catch your hips, pushing up the shirt you had just changed into enough that his hands are resting on a sliver of skin that peeks between your shirt and your favorite pair of jeans.

You weren't expecting it to feel so damn good for his skin to touch yours, to feel the roughness of his hands against the soft skin of your hips. Your hands are still gripping his shoulders tightly, heart thrumming in your veins as you lock eyes with him, adrenaline from the fall still rushing through your veins. He looks as surprised as you do. His face is so close that you can feel his breath on your lips, his body warm and hard beneath yours, and it's making you have flashbacks of the other night when he kissed you in front of Mike, when Ben crushed you against him and kissed you with so much passion that you couldn't equate it to anything else you'd ever felt in your entire life.

You weren't about to admit that aloud, that the kiss you shared with Ben was the best one you'd ever had. And you weren't going to admit that if he kissed that good, you were betting that he would be the best you ever had at other things too. Newton hadn't exactly been a Casanova, and you'd hoped that Newton would have gotten at least a little better at some things the more you two were intimate, he hadn't. You'd also hoped that Newton would have been more concerned about you the closer the two of you were, but each time you were a little disappointed and he was, well, happy.

No. Not thinking about sex right now, not when I'm sitting on top of Ben for fucks sake.

That was a little detail that you were trying very hard to ignore, but it was difficult, not when you could feel everything that made Ben-ahem- Ben, beginning to get interested in your position on top of him.

Ben's eyes are dark, focused on your face, an emotion swimming behind them that makes something snag under your ribs and try to yank you forward, to close the distance between the two of you. His eyes flick from your eyes to your mouth for just a millisecond, moving his face an inch forward, just enough that you can feel the warmth of his lips, but they still do not touch.

"Ben what are you doing on the ground?" You say leaning back to lengthen the distance between your faces, but you can't force your voice into more than a hoarse whisper.

"Dropped my keys." He lies.

"Ben?"

Ben hesitates for a moment. "You've got a pretty voice, wanted to hear better." He admits under his breath, looking as if you caught him with a baseball bat outside your broken kitchen window.

What?

You could feel yourself flushing to the roots of your hair. You'd forgotten that he could hear you in the shower and forgotten that his hearing was so good that he’d be able to pick up what was Mike and what was you. “I’m sorry if it was too loud-“

“No. It was nice.” The end of his mouth twitches in half smile, eyes twinkling impishly. “I’d never tell a woman she was being too loud. I like that doll."

You roll your eyes at him, but his comment doesn’t annoy you this time. You wondered if that was because you were getting used to him and the way he was.

You wanted to kiss him so badly that your lips were aching. He always looked so good and right now was not an exception. Some of his dark hair had fallen forward over his forehead and your fingers itched to push it back, to drag your fingertips over his skin and feel the dips and grooves of his handsome face. The smell of his shampoo was everywhere, spicy and familiar in the best way.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” You whisper. Your hands hands have fallen from his shoulders to rest against the front of his shirt. You don’t really remember when you did that, just that now you can feel the warmth of his chest and the subtle beating of his heart in the palms of your hands. “I think I am kind of upset that Annie cancelled on me today.”

“It’s okay, I'm used to it." Ben's hands are still on you waist, firmly keeping you on top of him. “You always seem to yell at me.”

"Shut up I do not yell at you that much." You laugh, pushing back on his chest playfully.

Ben smiles, but then you watch it drop.

“Look I didn’t get you coffee because I thought it would make you let me fuck you. I got it because you always say you need it to deal with me.” The way he says it breaks something, because he sounds almost sad and you’d never heard him sound that way before. “And I figured that I would see you today and that you’d need it.” He drops his gaze to where your hands are placed on his chest. He’s watching them curiously, like he can’t quite understand it.

Honestly you couldn’t understand what was going on either. Ben was holding you gently, almost reverently on his lap. It was odd. You’d never seen him be this way with anyone.

“Ben-“ You sigh. “I need coffee to deal with everyone, not just you. You’re not special.” You joke to get him to smile again, but he doesn’t instead he continues to look at your hands.

“Hey.” You whisper and this time your hand drifts softly to Ben’s cheek holding his gaze on you. His eyes widen slightly with your bold touch. “Ben I don’t hate you. I just-“

 There’s a loud frantic knocking at the front door that startles you off of Ben and on to the ground beside him.

“Were you expecting anyone?” Ben asks as he stands up and holds out his hand to help you.

“Um- no actually.” You reply taking it.

The frantic knocking starts again.

“Do you think it’s Mike checking to see if we broke up again?” Ben snorts.

“I think it might be his mom hoping you answer the door shirtless. Almost gave that poor woman a heart attack.” You start to walk through the living room.

“I remember you having a similar reaction a few days ago Petals.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Though I will say if you ever decided to walk around the apartment shirtless I’d be perfectly okay with that.”

“I did not. And I’m sure you would.” You roll your eyes. “But I doubt you’d be okay with letting me answer the door like that since you seem to be so jealous. Are all the men from your generation so possessive of women they can’t have? Or is it just you?”  You tease, remembering how he reacted yesterday afternoon at IKEA in front of Jake.

You doubted that he was jealous. Ben didn’t have anything to be jealous about. He seemed to be plenty happy with the women he found on tinder and you thought it was ridiculous that he needed to have you too.

You glance back over your shoulder to look at Ben seeing if he’s preparing another insult. He’s gone stick straight, his jaw clenched tightly, eyes dark, frown deepening.

Shit I was just kidding but-

You turn back to look at the door but can’t fight the tight feeling that rose in your chest when he looked at you like that.

Get a grip.

You interrupt the next bout of frantic knocking by opening the door.

A man in a rumpled navy suit stands out side the door, a bright blue quilted baby bag covered in elephants hangs from his left shoulder, a little girl holds on to his left hand, while a little boy screams shrilly and hangs from his right arm.

“Mr. Wilson- hi-“ You stutter, surprised. “Are you alright? Here-“ You reach to take his almost one year old son, Josh, from his arms. Josh continues to wail loudly, shaking his head back and forth.

“Can you please watch the kids?!” He says eyes frantically looking around the apartment behind you and focusing on Ben.

Mr. Wilson was another one of your neighbors, but he and his wife lived on the fifth floor. You’d met the Wilson’s by accident when Martha, the five year old holding on to his left hand wearing a bright pink tutu, decided to ride the elevator down to the lobby all by herself and met you while you were moving all your stuff into your apartment. She’d declared you her best friend as soon as she saw the colorful assortment of flowering plants you were lugging through the lobby of your apartment building in a cardboard box. You’d babysit for the Wilson’s sometimes when they needed a few quiet moments alone and on date nights. Not to mention they had a ton of money and paid almost five times per hour the amount you made in an hour working at “Please Don’t Die.”

Josh wails, his face turning bright red, so loud that Ben flinches behind you. You remember what he said about the supe that blew out his eardrums and can't help but feel a little sorry for him. Your own hearing was only a little better than other people's, but not enough to be as bothered as Ben.

“Hey little guy, its okay.” You coo gently bouncing Josh on your hip to make him stop crying. He sniffles and wraps his arms around your neck, gurgling quietly as he catches his breath.

“Y/n!” Martha shouts putting your right leg in a choke hold.

“Hi Marty.” You smile down at her, adjusting your weight so you don’t drop Josh. You look up at her father. “Mr. Wilson, I'm just not sure that now is the right time."

You think about Ben standing behind you and how horrified he looked when the children descended upon you, as if they were ticking time bombs. You weren't sure if you wanted Ben around kids, or if he had ever been around children before. He wasn't the best influence, not to mention you didn't think that he would be able to filter what he said or what he did around the,

“My wife she just-“ He swallows brown eyes wide. “She just went into labor."

"Oh. OH. Well-"

They had been expecting their third child for a while now, something that had resulted from you taking care of Josh and Martha more and more, and Mr. Wilson's promotion at work. You had learned before Mr. Wilson by accident when you reached down to pick up Josh's binky that was on the ground and your ear brushed against Mrs. Wilson's almost completely flat stomach and you heard the heartbeat.

“Please! I’ll pay you triple the hourly rate and her mother will be here tonight to take over for you.” The man looks close to getting on his knees and begging you. "You won't have them for long-"

Have a heart she’s going in to labor. What else is this poor man going to do? Drag the kids there with him? A part of you whispers. But then they'd be stuck here with Ben all day long. Well, maybe he will leave.

“Okay.” You relent with a sigh.

“Thank you!” Mr. Wilson exclaims shoving the bag into your free arm and then disappears from the doorway without saying goodbye to his children, but you were going to cut him some slack. You understood that when a woman went into labor most men didn't understand what to do with that information.

Shit. You grit your teeth to avoid saying it aloud when taking the bag throws you off balance. With one kid still hanging from your leg and the other one hanging from your neck, it was difficult to maneuver with the bag too.

Ben’s hand appears in your line of vision and he takes the bag, practically with one pinky.

“Show off.” You mutter, but turn your attention to the little girl hanging from your leg.

“I want a flower crown!” Martha crows.

“Okay sweetie just give me one second.” You take another step with her holding on to your leg.

“Now!”

“Martha.” Your voice turns stern as you look down at her and she pouts. "Please let me get Josh situated first."

“Fine.” She pouts and lets go of your leg.

The relief you feel is quickly overshadowed by Ben standing there, holding the diaper bag out from his body like it’ll bite him. Honestly you wished you had your phone ready to take a photo of Ben holding the bag, and then use it as blackmail.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Ben asks looking down at the two children confused.

“Shh language!” You snap, eyes widening as you look down at Martha and Josh. Josh has begun to pull your hair from the ponytail at the back of your neck.

"What language?"

You give Ben a death stare wincing when Josh yanks the hair tie out. Martha has let go of your leg and is looking up at Ben with the same fascination that you'd seen her look at Prince Charming from Cinderella.

Guess it works on girls of all ages.

You think about telling her that Ben might be charming from a distance, but he isn't anything like a prince. Honestly, you were more worried that Ben was going to act like a total dick and crush this little girl's heart.

"Hi." She waves her hand at him. "I'm Marty."

Ben stares down at her, as if he's deciding whether or not to say his name aloud. "Ben." His eyes flick back to yours. "What are you doing?"

"We have had the money conversation many times, but I guess you must be getting forgetful in your old age, so we can have it again." You smirk. "Some of us weren’t born with a silver spoon in our mouths or have a trust fund. I don’t have money, therefore, I babysit to get some extra cash sometimes. Hence the children.” You wave your free hand commanding the vines to open up the pantry and grab Josh's high chair out to set up for you. "I told you that I work several jobs."

"What do you mean several? You said that you worked for Butcher and plant guy." Ben huffs, still holding the bag.

"You know his name is Jake. And we live in America if you can't remember. You know? America home of the free, home of the brave single woman trying to make ends meet and pay for her crappy apartment by working fifty million jobs?" You begin to buckle Josh in to the high-chair. "But thanks for showing me how to fix the plumbing under the sink. Definitely going to add that to my job application.

"How many jobs do you have?"

"I mean it’s really what I do when I’m not working for Butcher. I works at the plant shop, I babysit, sometimes I’m a dog walker, oh and there’s this senior living facility a few blocks over that I run errands for when the people living there need me."

"You run errands for senior citizens? What kind of fucking person does that?"

"LANGUAGE! And this freaking person does that thank you. It's not all that bad. Plus I thought you were going to act like them when I first met you, but you are more h-a-n-d-s-y." You spell it out because you don't want the kids to say it. "Oh and I'm also a gardener."

"A gardener?"

"Sometimes." You shrug. "But now that you've met the kids, it's time for you to go."

“What?”

"I don't want him to go." Martha stomps her little foot enclosed in a bright pink sparkly flat.

You ignore her and reach for the table part of the high chair, strapping Josh in. He's wearing an adorable pair of overalls and a teddy bear t-shirt underneath. Despite his early hissy fit in his father's arms, Josh is smiling happily at you, his wild curly black hair sticking up in different directions. “I’m not going to let you be around a kid. You're barely on your best behavior around me."

“What do you think I’m gonna do?”

“I don’t know. Smoke a doobie, roll a doobie, make horrible life choices, drink, curse-“ You cross your arms over your chest and turn to face him, raising an eyebrow.

“You really don’t see me in a positive light.” He smirks at you. It's hard for him to pull off when he's still holding the bright blue bag covered in elephants. It was quilted, probably a knock off Vera Bradley, which only made you wish for your phone even more.

“No I do not.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Fine, just go watch TV in my room. But if you start going through my underwear drawer I swear I will cut off your D-I-C-K.” You spell the word and narrow your eyes, letting them flash bright green to emphasize your point.

Martha is still staring up at Ben, upset at the idea that he's going to go anywhere. "Wait y/n! Please let him stay, he can help me braid Betty's hair!" Betty was Martha's favorite doll, one that you were sure was in the sparkly backpack that hung across her back. Another photo opportunity you did not want to miss.

“I don’t want to go in there.” Ben states.

“Well that’s the first time you’ve ever said that. Usually you’re all for going in my room.” You huff, before turning to look down at Martha. "Alright, you want jasmine like last time? Or do you want some Lavender too?"

"Strawberries!" Martha exclaims.

"Strawberries!" Josh echoes, mashing his meaty fist on the tray not quite comprehending.

"Alright, but you remember. Our little secret right?"

Martha and Josh's parents didn't know you were a supe, they figured that you really liked plants and that Martha's occasional flower crowns came from you manually making them, not from you waving your hand and watching the stems weave together. You weren't sure how the Wilson's would react to finding out that you were a supe. They were more straight laced than you.

Probably also wouldn't like Ben hanging around if they knew who he really was. Actually I'm surprised that Mr. Wilson didn't ask more questions about Ben when he saw him.

Martha nods eagerly.

"Secret?" Ben asks.

"The Wilson's don't know I'm a supe." You murmur so only Ben can hear plucking a strawberry from the plant on your kitchen table. Secretly it was your favorite plant and it was much older than all the others in your apartment, encased in a hand-painted pot.

It was the first plant that you ever grew, sprouted from the chopped strawberries on your high chair tray when you were nine months old. Your parents had potted it inside the house and since then it had never wilted, and it never would. It meant everything to you, weird as that may be, strawberries were like a good luck charm and the plant that sat on your threadbare circular kitchen table was the symbol of your origin story.

"What do they think all the plants are?"

"They just think I like plants." Your eyes are glowing bright green allowing the strawberry in your hands begin to grow a stem and leaves, the stems weaving together to form a circle, sprouting small white flowers that ripen into red fruit, delicately intertwining to create the crown that Martha wants.

She squeals happily when you put it on her head and dances past Ben into the living room on tip-toe.

"You want one too Gramps?" You smirk at Ben.

"Tempting, but no."

"Alright." You look back at Josh, who has begun to chew on his chubby fist. "Are you hungry? I think you're hungry." You turn to look at Ben who is watching Martha do a mock impression of a ballerina with a horrified expression. "Ben can I see the bag?"

His head snaps in your direction. “Why?”

“Because it’s a magical bag with baby food in it.”

He holds it out and you snatch  it away.

“Geez. Calm down Petals.” Ben leans against the counter behind you watching you  methodically take out the jars. “Now what?”

“Well Sherlock, I’m going to feed the baby.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I know! I know!” Martha screams jumping up with her hand in the air. “Oh please!”

You bite back the urge to laugh. “Yes Marty?” You act as if you're calling on her in class.

“He can help me make friendship bracelets!”

Ben scoffs and rolls his eyes while crossing his arms over his chest. “Like hell I’m gonna-“

*Twenty Minutes Later*

“Please tie another knot for me.”

“No.” Ben grunts

"You're funny." Martha laughs and hands Ben the elastic string so she can start another friendship bracelet.

She was wearing the one that she had spent the last twenty minutes on, a string of bright pink, light pink,  hot pink beads, and white pearly stars broken up by the name Marty. Ben had sat there the whole time next to her, pouting while occasionally throwing angry looks at you like it was your fault.

It's not.

You couldn’t understand why he stayed. You figured that he would leave to go on a date or try to escape as soon as Martha mentioned the words "friendship bracelet," but he hadn’t. He sat there at the kitchen table with Martha, whose little legs hung over the front of her chair, her face tight with concentration as she made friendship bracelets.

You’d taken two photos and you were very excited. But you’d been more focused on feeding Josh. He was still eating bits of strawberry and watermelon, but you would give him the occasional bite of teether.

Ben had looked like he was going to throw up when you broke off a piece for yourself.

It wasn't that bad. Kinda like eating a piece of flavored cardboard.

"You really like the watermelon huh?" You ask Josh taking another piece from the plastic container and cutting it up so it's small enough for him to eat.

"Waa waa." Josh mumbles picking up another piece. The red sticky juice was running down his little arms and each time you tried to wipe him off he would scream "No!"

You figured that he had learned that from Martha.

You hold out the circular Tupper-ware of watermelon out to Ben, who takes a piece, still frowning at you the whole time.

He's got to lighten up.

“Benny pick a color for me!” Martha says shuffling her fingers through the organized little boxes of her friendship bracelet kit, the beads rustling loudly against the plastic sides.

"It's Ben."

"Benny!" She whines. "Pick a color."

Ben sighs heavily as if she’d asked him to stab himself. He was probably considering that to get out of this hell. “Green.”

“Light green or dark green?”

“I don’t give a-“

“Ben.” You growl under your breath staring at him.

He sighs again sinking lower in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. “Dark green.”

When Martha finishes the bracelet it has light green, dark green, and black beads with brilliant pearly white stars and the name Ben spelled out on the strand. She hands it to him. “This is for you. Now we’re best friends forever.” Her face turns serious. “Guard it with your life.”

Ben holds the bracelet between his thumb and index finger, frowning down at it. For a second you hope that he’s not going to throw it away in front of Martha. You noticed that she was trying to impress him the best she could and even you had to admit that her bracelet making skills were unmatched. You were also a little jealous. She didn’t make one for you.

But then Ben does something you didn’t think you’d ever see him do, but puts it on. “Thanks.” He grunts and Martha’s smile is so wide you’re sure it would blind anyone in a ten mile radius.

You’re surprised, so surprised that you drop the watermelon you had been holding on the ground.

What in the actual fuck is happening? He’s being so nice to her.

“Y/n, pick a color!” Martha shouts handing Ben another piece of elastic to tie a knot in.

“Um- light green.” You say, but you can't look away from Ben.

Am I hallucinating?

You were so shocked at his behavior. Yes he was still being a little bit of a dick, but he hadn't done anything that bad in the time that the children had been here, just occasionally curse.

The bracelet that Martha makes you looks a bit like Ben’s, except you have light green, dark green, purple, and black beads with white pearly stars broken up by your name.

"Thank you Marty." You smile at her and roll it on your wrist.

"Y/n?"

"Yes sweetie?"

"I have to go to the bathroom." She stands from the chair and hops from foot to foot. "I don't want to go by myself, the hallway is scary!"

"Oh okay." As soon as you get up Josh begins to wail, face turning bright red as he does, pounding his little fists against the tray of the high chair, sending pieces of strawberry and watermelon flying everywhere.

Oh shit.

"Hey it's okay Joshie." You unclip him from the high chair and pull him into your arms, bouncing him to make him stop crying.

"Y/nnnnnnnnnn!" Martha whines, continuing to hop from foot to foot. "I really have to go."

"Well I- um." Your eyes dart to where Ben is still sitting at the kitchen table, cringing slightly when Josh gives another particularly loud wail.

Am I really about to do this?

"Ben can you take him for just a second."

"What?" Ben's eyes widen.

"Please? I have to take Marty to the bathroom."

"She can't go by herself? Suck it up or whatever?"

"It's dark Benny!" Martha cries, peering around him down the hallway. "I don't want to go by myself."

"But-" Ben begins to say.

"Please Ben." You plead.

He curses under his breath. "Fine." He stands up and takes Josh from your arms, holding him away from his body in the air with both hands like Josh is a live grenade, which only makes him scream louder.

Martha grabs your hand and begins to drag you down the hallway, while Ben grimaces at the wriggling child in his arms. "Try holding him against your chest." You say to him as Martha continues to pull you towards your small bathroom.

I am definetly getting a night light for this hallway. Then again, she doesn't even like it when the lights are on. She said that the yellow glow looked "creepy." But I don't think I should leave Josh alone with Ben. What if he drops him or kills him or- shit why did I do this.

As soon as Martha is finished and has washed her hands you return to the kitchen prepared for the worst, but then you see Ben. His back is to you, but he's gently bouncing Josh in his arms who giggles happily over Ben's shoulder at you.

"See you just need to man up." You hear Ben say. "The ladies don't like a man who cries kid, take it from me."

You smile to yourself. And if you thought that Ben was gorgeous before, Ben standing with a baby making a baby smile, makes something primal at the back of your mind begin to stir and unfortunately makes every plant in your general vicinity burst into bloom. The smell of gardenia, hibiscus, honeysuckle, and lavender hitting you in a strong wave as they do. You weren't sure what instinct it was, all you knew was that the image of Ben and the baby would be very  difficult to wipe from your mind.

"Did you miss me Benny?" Martha shouts coming up behind him, her strawberry crown still perched over her dark braids.

"Um." Ben turns around to look at where you're standing at the edge of the kitchen. He looks a little sheepish, like he didn't want you to catch him with a kid.

That's understandable. Hughie told me how he reacted to seeing a diaper commercial. The guy just doesn't seem to be the most gentle or really loving. And yet look at how he is with Josh.

"Of course he did Marty." You smile rubbing her back. "Right?"

"Sure." Ben sighs, but then he lifts his gaze back up to you. "You shouldn't call her that." Ben grunts.

"Why not?"

"You keep calling her a man's name and everyone is gonna think she's a boy."

You kick Ben hard in the shin.

"Ow. What the fu-" Ben snaps, eyes blazing.

"Marty, why don’t you pick out a movie you want to watch, anything you want." You smile sweetly at her, ignoring Ben's angry glare.

"Anything I want?" She exclaims, eyes bright.

"Anything you want."

She squeals happily and runs to the couch, disrupting Bean who had been watching with contempt from the cushions that line the back. He didn't like the kids as much as Ben did. Bean leaps off the couch and vanishes down the hallway before Martha can catch him.

"I call her that because she asked  me to Ben. Don’t say things like that to a five-year old. In fact don't stuff like that at all. It's 2024 not 1920."

"What does that mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean." You frown at him.

"Fine." Ben huffs and rolls his eyes.

"Why are you still here? I thought that you were going to go on a date or whatever it is you do when you're not being forced to work for Butcher?" You say taking Josh from Ben, who fights you as you rub a wipe against his sticky cheeks.

"I didn't want you to be outnumbered Petals." Ben smirks.

"Uh-huh. Sure. Admit it, you really wanted a friendship bracelet."

Ben leans closer to whisper in your ear. "As soon as she leaves, this is going in the trash."

But for some reason you don’t believe him, but at the same time you didn't care, because you had photo evidence on your phone of Soldier Boy  making friendship bracelets.

The opening song of Frozen begins to play from the tv behind you and you smile mischievously at Ben.

Now he's in for it.

"You're gonna wish you left Gramps." You snort.

"What do you mean-" Ben starts to say.

And then Martha begins to sing.

After a stunning  and masterful performance of the Frozen movie done by Martha that included singing, dancing, and screaming the dialogue back at the tv, followed by Frozen 2, both Josh and Martha have fallen asleep just as the Aristocats began to play, leaving you and Ben to sit in the blessed silence of your apartment with the movie playing quietly in the background.

You were all sitting on the couch, Josh was sleeping on top of you, his little head buried in your left shoulder, while Martha curled up beside you, covered in one of your crochet blankets. Ben was sitting on the other side of Martha, leaning back and avoiding any contact with her feet that occasionally twitched while she slept, scrolling on his phone.

As much as Ben had hated the performance, you think that he might have actually liked Frozen. He'd noted that Elsa was hot, which Martha didn't quite understand and stated "No silly she's cold."

But then Ben followed up the observation by saying "You know, I knew this supe that looked exactly like her, who did this thing with her tong-" and you'd clamped your hand over his mouth and hissed "the kids are too young for that. Frankly I am too." Ben had only smirked at you and for the first time since you'd seen him do that, you smiled.

You didn't think that Ben had been paying attention, given that he had been scrolling on his phone through the entire movie, but he was. Because when Hans betrayed Anna Ben muttered "what a dick" under his breath.

Butcher had called during Frozen 2 and Ben had taken it in the hallway, filling you in quietly when he got back. Tomorrow Butcher wanted the two of you to infiltrate the party and see if the supe showed up to steal any of the cars.

It sounded like a solid plan, but it also meant that you were going to be on a mission alone with Ben, wearing God knows what. The last time Frenchie had stolen a dress for you wear on a mission, you'd practically had a heart attack when you first put it on and then made Annie go instead. You hoped that this time Frenchie got you something a little more, you. But you doubted it.

Plus the whole idea is to not be you genius.

“You’re really good with them.” Ben murmurs from his seat on the other side of the couch interrupting your chain of thought.

“You sound surprised.” You whisper back gently rubbing Josh's back with your hand. “And here I thought you were going to make a misogynistic comment about me having to be good with kids because I’m a woman.”

“I thought about it.” He shrugs shooting you an easy grin that makes you roll your eyes.

“Wouldn’t have expected anything less Gramps.”

You'd be lying if you said you weren't enjoying Ben try to act normal around the children. You liked watching him be all uncomfortable and awkward, especially because he prided himself on being a "big strong man." It was the same look he got in his eyes whenever Mike's mother cornered him.

“So have you been around kids before?” He asks.

“No. I never had any younger siblings, just my older brother. Were you ever around kids?”

You barely knew anything about Ben or his life before becoming Soldier Boy, just all the propaganda that Vought fabricated about his early life. He had called you guarded but he definitely seemed to keep everything closer to his chest. Sometimes you found yourself wishing that he would tell you more. You wanted to know more about him, but another part of you told you that it was a bad idea. You were getting too close to Ben, developing feelings for him, and you knew that it wouldn’t end well.

“Not people I knew. Vought used to send me on tours around America, talking to assemblies at schools.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Do you-“ Ben pauses considering. “Like kids?”

“I mean I like that I get paid to watch them but-“ You look down at the children quietly sleeping between the two of you. “I like these two. I think it kinda depends on the kid.”

He nods and turns his head back towards the tv. Thomas O'Malley has started his song, sauntering along to the tune.

Is it wrong that I think Ben has Thomas O'Malley vibes? Or Kovu from Lion King 2 vibes?

You thought about texting Annie that exact question, but you didn't want to tell her how you spent your day babysitting with Ben. You knew that it would only bring on another onslaught of photoshopped baby pictures and potential baby names.

“Do you want kids?”

“Huh?” You glance over at Ben who is watching you curiously. He was doing that thing again where he acted completely different than how he acted around the team, had been doing it all day long.

“Um-“ You contemplate. “I’m not sure. I’m kinda young or well in my head I am. I think I’d want to wait a little bit.”

“But you do?” He presses.

Why does he want to know that so badly?

“I kinda see myself as a mom.”

Ben’s eyes are studying you. “I think you’d be a good mom.”

The compliment makes you inhale in surprise. Ben had been acting weird all day long, being nice to Martha, wearing the bracelet she made him, sitting with her to watch a movie and listening to her recount the lore behind it. He was being uncharacteristically patient and kind. For another moment you see the possibility of Ben being more than just an angry, horny, jerk, and you try hard not to give in.

“Do you want kids?” You whisper back.

Ben’s expression darkens and he turns back towards the tv, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t say anything for a good two minutes, the silence awkwardly growing between the two of you. “I did.”

“With Countess right?”

He looks at you surprised.

“Hughie told me.” You bite the inside of your cheek. “I’m sorry Ben.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. You’re not the bi-“ He stops and looks down at the kids who are still sleeping silently. “You’re not her, Petals. You don’t have to be.”

“I know that, but still. What she did was shitty.” You whisper the curse word. “You didn’t deserve that. Any of it.”

It was the first time you’d said that to Ben. The first time the two of you would have a conversation about his life before you met him, the life that he seemed to want to forget. You couldn't blame him for that. In fact, the two of you had barely talked before these past few days other than the occasional tease or Ben’s attempt to get you into bed with him. And it was actually kind of nice, learning more about him.

Josh gurgles quietly and you adjust him in your arms, gently rocking him for a moment. Martha stirs but then leans further against your right arm cuddling up against it.

Ben watches you for a minute with the same expression he has when he seems to be unable to understand you and then the mask slips for just a moment, enough for you to see something genuine in his eyes. "Thank you." He murmurs.

"You’re welcome." You reply with a small smile as you turn back to watch the movie, aware of Ben's gaze on you.  "Then again I should be thanking you. I couldn't have made it through today without that coffee."

Ben chuckles and leans back against the couch cushions. "You're welcome Petals."

Mr. Wilson's mother in-law shows up to take the kids just as the movie finishes. Ben and you stand there for a moment in the aftermath taking a breath and when you smile at him, Ben actually smiles back.

But before you can ask Ben if he wants to order a pizza or something, he states that he has a date and not to wait up for him as he shrugs into his leather jacket.

And when he goes you try not to notice how quiet the apartment is and how empty it seems without him in it.

A/N: Alright the angst will begin to come NEXT chapter, probably, I promise... I just couldn't get this silly little idea out of my head and I thought why not?

As always thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist or if I missed you on the taglist please let me know :)

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @corruptedcruiser @winchesterwild78 @the-super-who-locked-wizard

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@acciosherlockholmes @minas-fantasies @fireskyy

[nikkento-writes]

A little sequel to Part 1 of living with your brother’s best friend Ino. minors do not interact. divider credit to the lovely @/cafekitsune.

To say that the current situation isn’t ideal is a bit of an understatement. You sit next to Ino on the couch, holding hands discreetly beneath the shared blanket, his cream pie inside you, slowly leaking into your panties. All the while, your poor older brother sits just on the other side, blissfully unaware that his sweet, innocent little sister is getting fucked by his best friend. The total chaos that would ensue if he were to ever find out about this would be one of epic proportions.

You pretend to watch the movie playing on the television, mind racing and body so tense, you’re beginning to sweat. Your brother stopped by to surprise you and Ino, not knowing that you were in the middle of fucking each other’s brains out. There was no other choice but to throw your clothes back on and pretend like nothing nefarious is going on with the two of you. Though you learn halfway through the movie that acting innocent with Ino’s cream pie inside you is easier said than done.

Guilt consumes you. You adore your brother, absolutely adore him. You’re proud of the healthy relationship you have with him; you’re comfortable with telling him anything. But not this. No, you’re absolutely terrified of telling him that Ino, the boy you’ve crushed on for years and years, the boy who protected you alongside your brother, is doing very, very dirty things to you. You try to rationalize this. You’re roommates, you’re both adults. Libido is high, tensions are strong, the forbidden fruit dangling in front of you is oh-so-delicious you can’t resist it. You even have the audacity to blame your brother for putting you in this predicament to begin with, since it was his suggestion to room together in the first place. To be fair, though, he never knew you’ve been harboring this secret crush on his best friend since forever. Okay, so maybe you haven’t been completely honest with him.

Your brother grabs the remote, putting the film on pause. “Hold on, gotta pee. Be right back!” He hops up onto his feet and scurries into the bathroom, closing the door shut.

Ino takes this opportunity to pull you into his arms and kiss you sloppily. “Fuck, I miss being inside you already.”

You make a feeble attempt to push him away, letting him trail kisses along your neck as his hands roam down your sides. “Taku, we can’t.”

He groans, sucking on a sensitive spot near your collar bone, making your pussy quiver. “That only turns me on more, you know.” His fingers slip past the waist band of your pajama pants, reaching for your pussy, still dripping with his cum. “Holy shit, I want you so bad right now. I want to fuck another load inside you,” he huffs, cock bulging in his sweats as you spread your legs for him, ready to take him right here on the couch.

The flush of the toilet snaps you back into your senses and you quickly shove him away, putting a safe distance between you two. Ino runs his fingers through his hair, frustrated. He grabs one of the cushions and places it on his lap, covering the throbbing erection in his pants before your brother returns, looking at the new seating arrangement, confused. “Are we switching seats?”

Ino clears his throat nervously. “Yeah. I, uh, just thought you should be in the middle so that you could be next to your sister.”

It makes no sense, really. But your brother buys it and plops down, nudging him in the ribs. “Tired of her already, huh? She’s a handful, isn’t she?!” he jokes, grinning at the both of you.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Ino responds, eyes averting to yours for a split second, a clever smirk on his face.

Miraculously, the night goes on without another hitch. Ino’s raging boner has calmed down and during the climax of the movie, you managed to excuse yourself to finally clean yourself up. Your brother decides that he’s too lazy to drive all the way back to his own place. “I’ll just crash on the couch, no biggie! Then we can all get breakfast together tomorrow, my treat!”

There’s no way you can refuse him, so you gather whatever spare pillow and blanket you have lying around to hand to him. The three of you squeeze into the tiny bathroom, brushing your teeth together, reminiscent of when you were young. When he’s done, Ino passes behind you, brushing his hand across your ass on the way out. Thankfully, your brother doesn’t notice.

You’re beginning to think that Ino enjoys teetering on the edge of getting caught. It’s fun for him, seeing how much he can get away with, testing how far you’re willing to go before your brother inevitably discovers the truth. And you’re just as bad for wanting to go along with it, for being more than willing to be a participant in this game of chance.

Your brother settles into the couch, turned to his side as he browses his phone. “Goodnight!” he says, thumb swiping up and down on the screen. You and Ino take that as your cue to leave, the two of you walking to your separate bedrooms in silence.

“Goodnight, Ino,” you whisper, avoiding his gaze as you close the door behind you.

Several minutes pass when you hear the breathy snores of your brother, indicating that he’s asleep. You check your phone and to your surprise, there’s no messages from Ino. Maybe he’s learned his lesson not to cross the line tonight, especially with your brother right outside. Though, you can’t help being just a little bit disappointed.

Still, you breathe a sigh of relief, knowing you’ve dodged a massive bullet, considering the compromising position the two of you were in when big brother arrived. The memory of it replays in your head over and over again. You on top of Ino, rocking your hips back and forth on his lap. His cock buried deep inside you, thumb working magic on your clit, your pussy filled to the brim with his creamy cum…

Fuck it. Who are you kidding? You want him so bad it hurts. You’re desperate to have him inside you again, to feel every inch of him, to be so close it feels like you’re connected as one. You’re not too proud to beg for it, you’ve thrown all your pride out the window as soon as you decided to turn this childhood dream into a reality.

You tip-toe out of your room, checking that your brother is still fast asleep. Ino’s door is ajar, inviting you to enter. He’s sitting up in bed, the glow of his phone screen screen illuminating his face in the darkness. When he notices you, he smiles, setting his phone aside on his nightstand, watching as you take quiet steps towards him. He scoots over to make room for you in the small bed, but instead, you straddle his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Hi, Taku.”

He grins, nuzzling his nose to yours, his hands sliding to your waist. “Oh, so I’m Taku again? I thought you said we can’t do this.”

You grind yourself on his cock, hardening beneath you. “Well, if you’re a good boy and keep quiet, maybe we can.”

He bites his lip, suppressing a moan. “Fuck, you are really something else. You want it, baby? Want me to fill you up again?”

You nod in response, kissing him softly while you both strip off your clothes.

Ino fucks you slowly in missionary, making sure the bed isn’t squeaking too much while he thrusts into you, his head buried in your neck, peppering kisses along your skin. He calls you baby and sweetheart, whispers, “That’s my girl,” every time you come for him. And when he finishes inside you, he holds you tightly, chanting your name over and over until he’s given you every last drop.

~~~

The next thing you know, you’re both startled awake by pounding on the door. Ino turns to you, eyes wide in horror. “Good morning!” your brother’s cheery voice rings out from the other side. “Who’s ready for breakfast?!”

[irisintheafterglow]

One-Shots

Gojo Satoru

You Are In Love - "you're my best friend," and you knew what it was

...Ready For It? - knew he was a killer first time that I saw him

Hits Different - it hits different 'cause it's you (or, struggling in a situationship with gojo satoru)

Never Grow Up - meeting megumi for the first time

The Archer - all of my enemies started out friends, can he hold on to you?

invisible string - the first time megumi uses ten shadows

even in my worst times, you see the best in me - being the strongest has its downsides, but at least you're suffering with him

life's no fun without a good scare - you have the brilliant idea of playing hide and seek in a corn maze against the most powerful sorcerer in the world. should be fun, right?

it's all me, just don't go (meet me in the afterglow) - satoru is jealous but refuses to admit it.

every dead end street led you straight to me - former fuckboy gojo has some things to say at the top of a mountain

i hate accidents, except when we went from friends to this! - coworkers to lovers with a healthy amount of teenage eavesdropping

he's the death you chose (you're in terrible danger) - married life with husband!gojo means cleaning up bodies at 2am.

Geto Suguru

The Great War - somewhere in the haze, got a sense I'd been betrayed

Back to December - you gave him all your love and all he gave you was goodbye

say you'll remember me - you were destined to fail from the start, so why does it hurt so badly when he's gone?

dazzling haze, mysterious way about you, dear - need some fluff after reading all the angst above?

tell me that you love me, love me 'til my lips turn blue - being partnered with suguru on a mission takes an unexpected turn

what if all i need is you? - after failed attempts to find a date to a relative's birthday party, your best friend acts as your fake boyfriend.

you know i love you so. - what if he never left you?

Nanami Kento

of daisies and collisions - nanami kento felt a little out of his element, with a small bundle of flowers sitting in his lap and brooding in the dark corner of the jazz bar. yet, you play that song he likes again, and nothing else matters.

Blurbs/Drabbles

the stakes are high, the water's rough, but this love is ours - holding satoru and letting him rest, even if it's only for a little bit

it took so long to know someone like you - he doesn't know who he is with you and it scares both of you

bad days and blanket burritos - good ol' satoru bf fluff

Imagines/HCs

And the touch of a hand lit the fuse

how gojo and geto react to their partner being obsessed with them (fluffy !!!)

summer camp counselor!gojo

Gojo Satoru

What, like it's hard? -> law student!gojo / university!gojo

general hcs

when he buys a motorcycle

flirting via the library

I'm with the band -> rockstar!gojo

rockstar!gojo meet sexyy

the valentine's day show

quiet moments and teaching you guitar

awards show

Falling for you, on and off the ice -> hockey player!gojo

someone steals your usual rink slot

watching a game

living in winter, i am your summer - he's terrible at figure skating

Kachow -> professional racer!gojo

on the radio

smoke his ass! - pro racer!gojo needs some motivation after a newcomer to the track pisses him off

Geto Suguru

oops? - satoru finds out that you've been seeing his best friend

a quiet moment in the aquarium

napping with you :)

scare actor!suguru

wooing the rec center worker (university!suguru)

Save a horse, ride a cowboy -> gunslinger!suguru

gunslinger!geto au

big iron - he's not the first to go after the crystal-eyed bandit, but something tells you that this one will keep his promise to buy you a drink when the hunting is done.

Theta Phi Fuckhead -> enemy frat!suguru

ancient grudge, new mutiny

move fast, keep quiet

half the things that haven't happened yet

Series Masterlists

End Game (volleyball captain!gojo x you) COMPLETED

Co-Parenting Megumi with Satoru COMPLETED

I Don't Wanna Live Forever (gojo x you during shibuya) COMPLETED

VIGILANTE SHIT (vigilante!au, IN PROGRESS)

[crumbledcastle28]

Joel Miller: Mint

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (afab; she/her)

Excerpt: Your joy was forever gone, your clothes, your warmth against him as he slept, the voice that sucked him in as soon as he saw you in that fucking dive--

Suddenly, his mouth was pressed against something warm, and soft, and minty, and real.

“Joel,” you whispered into his mouth before kissing him again, and again, and again. Your warm, perfect hands framed his face as you did, but he wasn’t strong enough to meet your face with his own. “Come back to me. Come on baby, talk to me.”

You weren’t gone. You were right here, warm-blooded, healthy, and his. 

Warnings: Major death talk, a woman gets torn apart by clickers, Joel has a panic attack, kissing, slight allusion to sex at the end, this is pretty self-indulgent.

A/N: So, Episode 3, am I right?

1.5k

Pedro Masterlist

If you’d like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be very appreciated <3

Joel Miller had done worse things than drag a screaming man by his pantleg back into Jackson, but he would soon discover he had few things quite as haunting.

The man wiggled in his grip--screaming and digging his nails and mouth into the muddy, icy gravel--as Joel made his way back into the small town.

“Take me back,” the man howled, throat clogged with flem and grief, “take me back to her. I can’t leave her.”

Joel kept on hauling. 

“Joel,” the man was weeping now, sobbing through his beard. “Take me back to my wife. Please, my wife Joel, my wife.”

The man knew what he was doing, using that word. 

That word. 

That word cut through Joel like a hot knife, gliding along the insides of his belly and up his throat. Tha man’s wife was long gone, likely torn to pieces by the infected that had nearly gotten the man in Joel’s own hand, but Joel didn’t let him go. He didn’t let him jump down there with her. 

Why didn’t he? 

The man was silent for a few moments, his sobs the only proof he hadn’t slit his own throat, before his weeps became the sobs of grief that Joel was all too familiar with. The sobs that indicated yes, that did just happen, and I have no idea what the fuck to do from here.

“Please let me go,” the man finally whispered, and Joel dropped his leather-covered foot without hesitation. They had made it to the center of Jackson by that point--meaning a sizeable crowd was beginning to form around them, which Joel absolutely loved--and with one final look back at the defeated and lost man, Joel kept his march forward. 

Forward to you. 

It was barely noon--Joel was always better at the morning watch shifts than you--which meant you had to have been freshly showered and making yourself a late breakfast. Whenever you took shifts at night you always took the liberty to sleep in plenty in the morning, which gave Joel the opportunity to admire the woman who had him wrapped around her finger--literally and metaphorically. He could still taste the mint of your prized chapstick on his lips. You had kissed him particularly hard that morning, hard enough for him to fidget with his matching band more than usual. The weight of it was there when he left you, when the woman fell, and when the man jumped for her. 

Estelle was her name, a beautiful name for a very not-beautiful time, yet a beautiful soul. Her screams pierced the air as soon as she slipped, silenced when she hit the ground, and ignited again as she was torn into. 

Joel being the survivor he was acted on instinct alone when it happened, catching the man from the air as he jumped to join her in her fate, and proceeded to tow the decaying, lamented man back home. 

The fear in Estelle’s eyes before her feet went out from under her, the rawness of her screams, and the acceptance of her final whimpers didn’t become yours in his brain until right then, his steps towards his home. The man’s cries to join her didn’t become his own until he had to close his eyes at the view of you in the window of your wooden home, taking a mammoth-sized book off of the shelves he had crafted for you.

“Joel,” you had said in reaction. “It’s just...it’s just a random Tuesday.”

He made his way over to you, wrapping you in his arms. “I know.”

He entered your shared home, stomping the snow off his boots on the welcome mat to let you know it was him as always, and breathed in the perfect scent that was your fresh-brewed coffee.

When had he started crying?

“Joel,” you said, still facing away from him and towards your shelf, “you’re early. Very early. I’m guessing things either went really well, or really--”

You cut yourself off when you turned to him, likely noticing the single stream of a tear etching its way down his left cheek, and his breath escaped from him at the sight of you. Your form shaped by your favorite pair of jeans, hair laid just how you liked it, and your favorite shirt fresh from the washer. His favorite vision of you, the happy one. The comfortable one. The “I’m-in-love-and-clean-and-fed-in-a-world-where-I-should-be-neither” look. The truest form of his wife.

His wife.

Take me back to my wife. Please, my wife Joel, my wife.

He couldn’t feel his legs.

“Joel,” he heard you say from somewhere far away. Surely that wasn’t you in front of him, guiding him to his feet, leading him to the sofa, squatting to your knees to look into his eyes, breathing into his face that perfect hint of mint. You were torn, fractured, snapped, shredded, devoured at the bottom of that fucking ledge. He was laying in the middle of the square, waiting for his organs to shut down from the cold. Waiting to join you. 

He could see it so clearly--he wasn’t fast enough, smart enough, good enough. One more person he failed, one more gaping hole in his chest with no bullet to match. Except this time, you weren’t just another person, you were his everything. Everything. He shouldn’t have let himself fall. He never thought he’d have a wife, and maybe he was never supposed to. 

Your joy was forever gone, your clothes, your warmth against him as he slept, the voice that sucked him in as soon as he saw you in that fucking dive--

Suddenly, his mouth was pressed against something warm, and soft, and minty, and real.

“Joel,” you whispered into his mouth before kissing him again, and again, and again. Your warm, perfect hands framed his face as you did, but he wasn’t strong enough to meet your face with his own. “Come back to me. Come on baby, talk to me.”

You weren’t gone. You were right here, warm-blooded, healthy, and his. 

He exhaled a puff of relief, like reality did its best to punch him in the stomach so hard he couldn’t even respond, before saying, “I would bet on really bad.”

You laughed joyously before wrapping your arms around him so hard the breath he had just gathered escaped him once more, and more tears spilled from his eyes when he tucked his face into your neck. He must have been leaking them the entire time. 

You held him closely, intimately. It was a hug only lovers could mold themselves into. You exhaled in relief before suddenly pulling away and shoving him so hard he fell against the back of the couch.

“Darlin’, what--”

“What the hell was that, Joel Miller,” you yelled. “You come home hours earlier than you’re supposed to, stare at me like I’m a fucking ghost, and collapse! I thought you were having a goddamn stroke or something, Christ.”

“Y/N, I--”

“You better fuckin’ explain,” you state sternly, “and quickly because Jesus Christ.”

He just stared at you, at that passion that always simmered underneath you finally boiling over, before smiling bigger than he had all day. 

You scoffed before squatting down to meet his eyes straight on once more. “Explain. Now.”

He leaned forward, finally tracing the face he knew better than any other with hands rougher than it ever deserved, and spoke. Your eyes softened as he talked, tracing his features as they did, and your soft, lovely fingertips kept his eyes looking into yours the entire time. 

“Once I came in here, I--” he began, clearing his throat as the emotion and panic struggled from the restraint he had planted on them, “--I only saw you falling, and me being dragged here. I realized how imminent that is. I could taste it.”

You swallowed, your own eyes beginning to mist, and brought your forehead to his. 

“I’ve lost people,” he whispered, “so many people, and I’ve gotten back up. If I lose you, I...I won’t be able to. I’m going to go down, and I’m going to stay there. I can’t live in this world without you in it, Y/N.”

You swallowed harshly as tears escaped your own eyes. Your hands remained framing his face, rubbing his jaw and cheekbones with your fingertips, before you pressed your lips to his once more. It was that combination of the warmth and wet of your lips, the taste of your minty breath mixed with the unique taste of you, as well as the breaths from your nose that proved to him yes, you were here, you were real. 

“My Joel,” you whispered against his lips, “you haven’t lost me. I’m right here.”

You bring his right palm to your left breast, right above your heartbeat, where he both heard and felt that familiar tha-thump tha-thump tha-thump.

“I’m right here.”

His misted eyes met your own, full of nothing but complete raw adoration, before you stood and tucked his face into your stomach, letting him fall apart.

He fell apart in your arms, weeping while clutched to your clothing, and once he was done, you covered his mouth with your lips, and put all the pieces of your husband back together.

Tag list: (I apologize if your tag is not present/not working. If you’d like to be added or I’ve made a mistake, feel free to ask!)

@leahkenobi @aninnai i​ @untitledarea @avengersfan25 @lexloon

[jrooc]

🥶 Weekly Tag Wednesday 🧟‍♀️

Hi I'm Jess.. I'll be your cruise director today. Since January never ends and SAD is kicking in with gusto let's look back on a different time - specifically last year! Remember that? Ya me either. But I'm in charge here! So...

Name: Definitely not Candace (It's Jess) <insert new girl meme of schmidt>

Age you are mentally: 30

Top 3 fics that came out last year (that you can remember at this point lol) : Jesus why do I ask such hard questions.

Highway to Hedonism by @roryonic w art by @gallapiech

How to Disappear by @deedala

Last Night at the Verona Hotel by @the-rat-wins

Out of Nowhere by @suzy-queued (anything by Deena lol)

Add in any authors who you read all of their things: Special shoutout to anything by Cryme_anocean, @notherenewjersey @sgtmickeyslaughter @sam-loves-seb and @whatthebodygraspsnot (why did I even ask this lol I could keep going forever)

Fave artist/band/singer/group your discovered last year (has to be new to you, not new): Chappell Roan 💅🏻 and Fred Again..

One thing you learnt last year that you're taking into 2025: When things are shit it's easy to lose yourself. Don't let that happen.

Was is a good year or bad year? It was a better year in a lot of ways which caused some things to be bad

Is there anything superstitious you do to try and continue that vibe or absolutely change it? No but maybe I need to start saging things... myself? Manifesting? Send help!

Fave WIP your following into this year: there are so many good ones!

Can't Have a Stakeout by @lazystargazy

Workhouse Rock by @suzy-queued

Electric Blue by @goodkwuestion

Kidnapped at Christmas by @sam-loves-seb

Blackwing Prochecy and the pirate one by @crossmydna

ITQD always by @spoonfulstar

There's more but you get it...

Are you doing any January 'get healthy' things? Drinking less. Eating more vegetables. Holding firm on what I need even if it makes anxious.

More random questions~~ Did you consider yourself an avid reader before you found fanfic?  I am and I was.

Do you read books as well as fanfic? Yes or No: fanfic or die

What are you doing to survive this January so far? Reading fics and cuddling my cat in case that wasn't super clear by this point

This was a hot mess 🫠😎. Thanks for playing! If you were mentioned, consider yourself tagggeedddddd. More under the cut ✁ (uh a bunch didn’t work and it made me delete a bunch so if you’re confused but were tagged and now it’s gone that’s cause Tumblr hates me today but you were tagged!)

Tagggiinnnggg @energievie @spookygingerr @michellemisfit

@mybrainismelted @blue-disco-lights

@heymrspatel @crestfallercanyon @guinguin1984 @doshiart @creepkinginc

@ian-galagher @stocious @transmurderbug @transsexual-dandelions @sgtmickeyslaughter

@ms-moonlight-inn @too-schoolforcool @callivich @gallawitchxx @gardenerian

@deathclassic @sandrashaine @sam-loves-seb @samantitheos @rereadanon

@romidoes @fireballazalea

@kiennilove @lazystargazy @echotrees @runninonemptyy @runawaybrainsc

@gallavich-annise h @mmmichyyy @kowhaifairy @sillygoofygoobersstuff @francesrose3

sorry if I missed you!!!

[ask-cagestale]

How about getting to know the characters little by little?...Perhaps, with it you'll get an idea of ​​what this story is about.

Coach

Description: A hairy goat, with her honey-colored left eye, a lavender outfit that partially retains her logo, she has an Echo flower on her left horn and a hair band for her ears.

Summary of her story: After her determination to want to live, a common and flawed Toriel was afraid of her empty surroundings, Ink when he saw some things he quarantined her because something was not right. However, the more they got to know each other, their relationship was strong and healthy and since she did not have a home and purpose, he himself tried something, to give her one. Now Toriel, known as Coach as he perceived her, fulfills the role of motivating and helping others in a sanctuary that temporarily retains her defects.

Author's note: I prefer to detail so that you can better understand Coach's tragedy, but it will be later.

Relationships: She always treats others the same, sweet, calm, compassionate, empathetic, etc., that bond pleases others. But for those who long to see the death of a corrupt anomaly...well, some are confused, others angry, some are disgusted even knowing that she, with the pain of the world, told them that she would not be around forever. However, her "expiration date" can be brought forward but it is something difficult to understand...as for her, she continues treating those murderers with love and without any fear.

Some curious facts: She decided to create a fake disguise when she found out that her anomaly was capable of infecting others. She usually reads books that our ink friend brings her, not only to kill time, but to learn about its atmosphere. She has no powers, so she can't attack you. Her left eye teleports her like a Sans, she hates having it because she feels a strong pain not knowing how to handle it. The corrupted Echo flower reminds her from time to time of many conversations and that makes her nostalgic. She likes Carrot Cake.

(Remember, characters like Ink, Nightmare or Error are not mine and everything told is not part of their canon!! I would appreciate it if you support their original creators <3)

[l-alrescha-l]

Thank you Reita.

This is super late but I just felt like I had to write this and put it out there. So much has happened since you passed away. While I have grieved in my own time, grief never really goes away from personal experience.

Since then, I've been listening to the Gazette songs chronologically from the start. I can't do anything and I feel helpless, so that's my own way to honour you. It's been 10 years since I first found the band and I have now picked up the bass. Before I started playing the bass, I had this misconception or whatever you call it, that bassists always fade away in the background. It takes so much effort to hear you, but you're always silently supporting the band. Now when I listen to the GazettE songs, I desperately try to listen to your bass lines. Call it a newfound habit or a method of coping, it's as if I am searching for your presence. Now I realise, how enormous your presence and the sound of your bass is.

I have so much to say to you. You were the face of the band to me. Before I even knew what the GazettE was, I knew your face, your name, and that iconic nose band of yours. From all the interviews, backstage, and live stuff I saw, it always seemed like you enjoyed being in the band to the fullest. Your love for the band, for the members, and for the fans radiated through the screen.

未成年 is a song that is incredibly personal and meaningful to me, one that I have always fucking hoped to experience once live in my life. But now that you're gone, I realise I will never see you play that iconic bass solo live. I wish I had planned things out better. I wish with all my heart that you're still with us, that you're healthy and well and still living your dreams.

It pains me so much that you're gone. Feels like a hole in my heart, as cliché as that sounds, but grief works like a fire that burns and what has been burned can never be returned to what it was before. I can't imagine what your family feels, what the other band members feel. We all miss you terribly. Your legacy will fucking live on, we will all make sure of that. the GazettE will be forever. the GazettE is eternal.

[emmalostinwonderland]

never been so weak (never felt so incomplete)

This was my contribution to @aroyallybigbangrwrb back in June, now updated with a brand new header! I had a couple lovely friends contribute supplemental works to this project as well, and I wanted to compile everything in one post.

Alex is in his last year of grad school when he meets Henry, a keyboardist in a punk rock band with the look to match, and he begins to discover things about himself that he's been overlooking his whole life. Unfortunately, it seems as though Henry will be Alex's one that got away... unless fate has other ideas.

The Fic: never been so weak (never felt so incomplete) Rated: E WC: 11.7k Pairing: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor (RWRB book-verse) 1. sunset // 2. midnight // 3. dawn

The Art: a fashion study of punk!Henry by @louikazooie

The FanMix: Weak and Incomplete by @cactusdragon517

Snippet below the cut:

Henry behind a keyboard with sweat pooling in the dip of his collarbones and piercings shining under stage lights is hot. He’s undeniably fucking hot, but this Henry? The man with schmear, well… schmeared up his cheeks as he chows down on an egg bagel, is something else. He’s so ethereal yet so intrinsically human. Alex finds himself staring slack-jawed again until he remembers his own treasure — the salt bagel with lox and a healthy amount of cream cheese piled high in the middle — sitting virtually untouched in his hands. He forces himself to focus on unwrapping it, ignoring Henry slowing down and taking his turn to stare. “Hard as it is to admit, you were right,” he says eventually. “British bagels have nothing on the real thing.” “Told you. They say it’s the water.” Alex takes a bite of his breakfast and shrugs. His heart is trying to flutter right out of his chest, but he doesn’t need to show Henry all of his cards at once. “Do you have plans today?” Henry picks at the bagel skin as he asks, and Alex thinks he understands exactly what he’s feeling right now. Sighing somewhat dramatically, Alex makes a show of checking his watch-less wrist and squinting at the sky. “All signs point to maybe. I think I’m supposed to show this hot guy I know around New York.” He glances Henry’s way. “What say you, hot stuff?” Henry rolls his eyes, but Alex doesn’t miss the upward twitch at the corner of his mouth. “I suppose I can pencil you into my busy rockstar agenda.” “Oh yeah? You’d deign to offer me five minutes of your precious time?” “Perhaps. Six if you behave.” He winks and nudges Alex’s foot with his own.  Alex leans in, whispers, “no promises,” and licks a stray dab of cream cheese off of Henry’s cheek.  “By all counts, that should be so disgusting.” “You’re not disgusted.” “Says you?” “Says the blush you can’t hide.” Alex grins. “It’s so cute how red your ears get, baby.” Henry reaches up and covers one ear, though he doesn’t look away from Alex for even a second. “Come to my show tonight.” “You’re serious?” “Yes. You can stay backstage. I just…” Henry hesitates, fiddling with one of his rings. “I have a good feeling about this. I want you to be there.” Alex considers him — the sincerity in his eyes, the anxiousness in his fingertips — and makes a decision. Fuck it if it’s too fast, fuck it if it’s stupid. There’s a part of him that knows deep down that Henry could very well ruin him for anyone else forever.  There’s a part of him that wants to let him try.

[porcelana-r0ta]

Almost Saved You With Prayer

Fandom: Trash of the Count's Family

Relationships: Jour Thames/Deruth Henituse, Jour Thames & Original Cale Henituse

Word Count: 1745

Summary: When her son is born, his Rings are strange, and Jour is heartbroken.

Ao3 Link: [Here]

Her son’s birth is a long and painful one, but it is worth it when a bundle of soft fabric is placed gently in her arms, her little baby still crying angry tears. She’s so in love with her child and exhausted from delivering him that she doesn’t immediately notice the Rings of Life that circle around him in concentric, overlapping bands. 

“Cale,” she says, her voice hoarse from her own screams. “Cale. His name is Cale.” 

“A perfect name for the heir of the Henituse County,” the midwife says kindly. “Shall I send for the Count?” 

“Yes.” She’s breathless. Starstruck by the soft red baby hairs on her newborn’s head. He’s still crying, but she doesn’t care. She just loves. 

“As you wish, Countess.” With a bow, the midwife leaves, and not even a minute later, her husband comes running in. 

“Jour,” he says, panting, his eyes wide and full of wonder. He is quickly at her bedside, his gaze darting from his son to his wife. “The baby?”

“His name is Cale,” she says. “He wants to meet his father.” 

Deruth’s hands tremble as he takes Cale from her. One hand under the baby’s body and the other under his head, supporting the weight that Cale can’t hold up yet. 

“Hold him closer to your face,” she instructs, “so he can see you.” 

Deruth follows her instruction, and something in Cale stalls. His sobbing devolves into sniffles, and then ceases altogether, hazy little eyes blinking imploringly up at his father. 

Her husband is suddenly in tears himself. 

“Cale,” he says, and his tears fall. “Our son, Cale.” 

“Our son.” Jour smiles the words, safe and happy in her mouth. “We’re parents now.” 

“We are.” Deruth lifts the baby just a little higher and lowers his forehead to Cale’s. “Gods, Cale. Mommy and Daddy will always be there for you.” 

Her smile goes a little smaller at that. 

“Yes, we will.”

xxXxx

The next day, when Jour’s brain is no longer flooded with endorphins and exhaustion, her closest maid, Amelia, hands her Cale, and Jour finally notices the Rings around her baby boy. 

They start from the chest, as everyone’s Rings do, and then expand outwards, one for every year of life the person will experience. Cale’s Rings are healthy and bright silver, normally reassuring, if not for the fact that there are three sets of Rings. One is the healthy and bright set, another is a dim set of flickering gold, and the last is a rusting brown, sick in its life. 

Her breath catches in her throat, and if she were not in bed, she would have surely collapsed. 

“My Lady?” inquires Amelia, her tone cautious. “Is everything alright?” 

“Oh, yes,” she says. “I was… I was just struck by the wonder that is my baby.”

“He is lovely,” Amelia says happily. “The County is surely blessed to have him.” 

“Yes,” Jour agrees. “Amelia, please give me a few moments alone with my son.”

“Yes, my Lady.” And Amelia bows out, leaving Jour to stare at the two sets of Rings, and how the first set cuts off so abruptly and violently in slivers of silver. 

“Oh, my baby boy,” she whispers in the loneliness of her bedroom. “What happens to you?”

She reaches out, her hand shaking, and she latches onto that broken Ring, the fortieth band. Her fingernails dig into the noncorporeal form.

Show me, she commands her Ancient Power. Show me everything.

She sees blood and fire and agony and regret. The tear of flesh and bone. A figure kneeling in blood. And she hears weeping and screams and the clash of blades against blades and armor alike. 

And then she hears it: 

“Do we have a deal?” 

“...We do.”

She comes out of the vision crying for her son. She can’t see through her tears. 

“Cale, my baby.” She places her hand over her mouth to muffle the sobs. With her other hand, she pulls Cale to her chest, as if to bury him there forever and protect him from that wretched future. “No! No, please, no, not my baby....”

xxXxx

When Jour was a child, she had a brother fourteen years her senior. His name was Ashur, and by the time she was capable of storing memories, he was married with a son of his own, 

“Jour,” he said once when she was sighing over a boy at age fifteen. “Don’t be too excited. We are Thames.” 

“I know,” she replied, annoyed. Little sisters were always annoyed at older brothers, no matter the age difference. “I can still like them.” 

He gave a sad little smile, “Yes, you can. Perhaps I was too harsh. You won’t always be able to enjoy this time, after all.” 

She wrinkled her nose, “You sound all old, Orabeoni.” 

“I’m decently old, for a Thames.” 

“Our parents are older.” 

“You and I both know that Mother and Father are the exception, not the rule.” 

Her chest became heavy, and Ashur continued, “Time gives the Thames enough mercy to live on.”

“I know,” she whispered, and she pretends not to see the way Ashur’s thirtieth Ring breaks into red sparks of nothingness. 

xxXxx

The maids think she has postpartum depression, and she doesn’t know how to explain herself, so she doesn’t correct them. She just continues to pour herself over her old Thames texts, searching for any way possible to spare her son from his pain. 

By the time he’s a year old and Deruth tearfully begs her to take care of herself, she has to start looking for a different path. 

She pulls aside Head Butler Ron Molan, who’d been hired a year and a half ago. 

“Ron,” she says. She bounces her son on her hip to keep him from being fussy. “I’m sure you’re aware that Henituses don’t hire just anyone.”

“Of course, my Lady. This Ron is pleased to have a job here so that his son might be raised well.” 

“That’s good.” Jour plays with her son’s red hair that matches her own. “Ron. I know what the Molans used to do on the Eastern Continent.” 

“Ho?” His voice is suddenly dangerous and quiet, but Jour knows him, knows his Rings and his son’s Rings, and she thus knows she will be fine. 

“I want you to protect Cale,” she says. She looks up from her son’s hair to meet Ron’s eyes. “Protect my son, Ron, and you and your son will never have to run again.” 

He relaxes just a bit, but it’s enough. 

“This Ron would never do otherwise, my Lady.” 

“Good.” She sighs, presses a kiss into Cale’s hair, and says, “Thank you. Thank you, Ron.”

xxXxx

There’s not much else to do after ensuring her boy will live as long as possible, somehow until age forty and eighteen and seventy-three all in one. The Thames studied time, not space, but there are still enough cross-referenced texts in her library that she knows it’s not regression but transmigration. 

Her baby will be leaving his family, not just like her, but it will be enough. 

When he’s four years old, she runs her index finger around his fifteenth silver ring, the future flashing across her mind’s eye, and thinks, Well, not much of a family. Not much of a father.  

She asks Deruth to always be there for her child, to say no when he needs it, and Deruth just laughs. 

“Well, he’ll have everything he’ll ever need!” he says. “He’s a Henituse, and your son, at that. How can I say no to your visage?”

She gives a wan, watery smile. That might have been nice to hear before Cale was born, before she saw his future. 

“We can’t let him be too spoiled, dear.”

Deruth embraces her from behind, wrapping his hands around her waist and pulling her into his chest. He buries his face in her red hair, “Well, no.  But he deserves it.”

“It would be a disservice to our son.” 

He sighs out a laugh, “You’re right. You always are. No, we won’t spoil him.”

“You’ll say no when he needs it? When it’s best for him?” 

“Yes, of course. Especially if it’s best for him.”

“Good,” she smiles brighter. 

Later that night, she creeps into her son’s room. At four, he sleeps soundly, no longer a colicky newborn or a toddler in pain of teething. She rests her finger on his fifteenth silver ring, and weeps. 

Nothing has changed. Her husband is a liar. 

Jour doesn’t know what to fucking do. 

xxXxx

Jour runs her fingers around Cale’s fifteenth and eighteenth silver rings and tries not to feel betrayed whenever she looks at her husband or the Molans. 

It’s not their fault her son is so purely Thames that they believe his act without any training.

xxXxx

Jour’s son is eight and she is on her last Ring. She’s done everything she can for him and still she’s done nothing. There’s only one thing left to do.

One night, while Deruth is out on business in the city nearby, she cries herself to sleep. 

When she awakes, she writes a letter. 

“To the person who will be living in my son’s body…” She accepts what must be done. The man—White Star—in her son’s future cannot be allowed to acquire her full Ancient Power.

xxXxx

Next week, when Jour leaves for her trip to Harris Village, she kisses her husband. Then, she hugs her son, tiny and small and so full of love that he would destroy himself for children sprung on him with no notice, and she only barely holds back her tears. 

“Goodbye, Mama. I love you!”

“And I love you, Cale.” She holds his face, rubbing her thumbs under his brown eyes, and he smiles trustingly up at her, believing that she’s coming home healthy. 

Her heart breaks. She hugs him again. 

Deruth reaches out to hold her hand while she hugs Cale, and she takes it, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before letting it drop. 

She loves him, too, and she would choose him in every lifetime. But she doesn’t want to touch him when she knows what he will do to her son.

Long after the carriage has left Rain City’s limits, she weeps. 

She is leaving her son with people who will let Cale rot alone in alcoholism and self-hatred, the joke and scorn of noble and common society alike.

Maybe that makes her worse than all of them.

[haeyee]

feeling really sad about Liam Payne’s passing. One Direction has meant so much to me in my life, especially in middle school/early high school. I thought about them all the time, they made me so happy, and most definitely helped me through my challenging teenage years.

thinking about Liam in the weeks leading up to his death, I realized that he and the rest of the boys made such a sacrifice by being in a world famous boy band. they didn’t get the chance to grow up like the rest of us did, they didn’t get a regular teenage experience. they hardly got to rest. they were so exploited and overworked and isolated, though we hardly got to see that at the time.

Becoming famous at ages 16-18 is not healthy. I think it set them back in certain ways, especially Liam.

He was tired. He was sensitive. He gave us everything he could, but hollywood/the music industry is relentless. He was driven to drugs and alcohol, and made bad choices because of those things (in my opinion).

I truly believe he used drugs to the point of permanent brain damage. There’s a point after 1D broke up where he truly was a different person from the Liam we had come to know. He looked different. He spoke differently. Different energy. I would watch videos of him and be reminded of the modern day Britney Spears—- same physical person as the celebrity we know and love, but forever altered in some fundamental way (whether that was from drug use, trauma, mental illness….we will never fully know)

Child stars burn bright, but so many of them flicker out before their time. Devastating, truly. We think of the rich and famous as having these perfect idealistic lives, but with money and fame also comes an uncomfortable standard of success, an unforgiving industry, and access to every drug under the sun.

My heart bleeds for Liam. I cannot imagine his suffering. I am so upset his story ended this way, and I can’t stop imagining what he must’ve been feeling. Not even just in the final moments, but in the final YEARS. I wish I could give him a warm hug and a cup of tea.

Rest in peace dear Liam. I will think of you for the rest of my life. Thank you for giving so much of yourself to an unforgiving world. I’m sorry fame led you down this path. Thank you for your life❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 I hope you know how loved you are

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Fics Written As Gifts To Authors (2) Masterlist

part two

and true, the vision's hazy (ao3) - sensorydephrivation (memoryofamurder)

Summary: Ever since he was a small child, Phil had strange dreams. They seem to foretell terrible things, and a certain curly-haired man keeps showing up in them...

another day of sun (ao3) - blossomsphan

Summary: breakfast together, 12 years apart.

Baby it’s cold outside (ao3) - Allthephils

Summary: Dan’s car is stuck in the snow and Phil just happens by

Broken Like You (ao3) - TearDrop1234

Summary: Dan and Phil meet at a theater in a nowhere town. Their friendship is instant, but the rest not so much.

Chips (ao3) - philsmeatylegss

Summary: Dan struggling with the concept that all healthy couples should fight.

colder on the inside (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: A strong wind alone shouldn't suggest that something isn't quite right. That is the beginning, but a perfect idyllic night for Dan and Phil somehow devolves into a nightmare where nothing is as it should be, a night where the impossible happens.

Come Clean (ao3) - castrotophic

Summary: Dan thinks Phil might be in love with him, but he's not quite sure how to figure it out.

close up magic (ao3) - queerofcups

Summary: Phil is a witch. Dan finds out.

dan and philly's wet moments (ao3) - heartsopenminds

Summary: Phil loathes hiring people to come and fix stuff around the house - he never imagined that watching someone power washing a patio could be so much fun though.

DreamCasts Presents (ao3) - SummerFlingsAndThings (QueenJunoTheGreat)

Summary: Phil's son is obsessed with the faceless man who narrates audiobooks.

Dan's daughter is obsessed with the brightly dressed librarian in charge of the children's department.

And Dan and Phil? Well, they're a little obsessed with one another.

Dress (ao3) - ForeverJustAnEmoKidAtHeart

Summary: After the Halloween Baking video, Sister Daniel has some fun with Phil and Phil… Well, Phil should just be glad he made it through the end of the filming.

eloquent graffiti (ao3) - danhedonia (deathpeach)

Summary: Phil didn’t know it at the time, but that was the first painting of his that Dan inspired. Dan was his spaceman, his beautiful work of art that Phil wanted to spend the rest of his life recreating in every possible way.

Forever & Always (ao3) - ForeverJustAnEmoKidAtHeart

Summary: This was written for possumdnp who wanted a fluffy tour fic. I hope you like it.

(from the wings) i'll be watching (ao3) - moonanonymous

Summary: Phil is the assistant lighting director. Dan is the nutcracker prince. It's going to be a long day.

Imagine It (ao3) - Tesseractingrey

Summary: Dan realizes, after 15 years of being with Phil, he may not have commitment issues anymore. This leads to Dan and Phil taking a step that would have been unthinkable, even a year ago, let alone ten years ago.

ink and alice (ao3) - dizzy

Summary: Dan joins a band instead of going to university, and then he meets Phil.

it is you (ao3) - manchestereyes

Summary: @danisnotonfire: I wonder how biology can explain the physical pain you feel in your chest when all you want to do is be with someone D:

When Dan gets permission to spend a week with Phil in December, he has a stunning realisation.

June Bug (ao3) - ZackStriker (PyroStormIsBae)

Summary: When the kiss ended, Dan ignored all the applause and pressed their foreheads together, took a breath just to feel the hot spring air swell deep in his lungs, tricked himself into thinking he could inhale Phil if he tried hard enough. When they were this close, so close that Dan could count the frail eyelashes that stuck out from Phil’s translucent eyelids, he forgot himself. Dan Howell became a heart without a body.

or: Dan and Phil have a June wedding.

Just Let Me Adore You (ao3) - yiffandquiff

Summary: Dan didn't know what to expect when he agreed to go to Switzerland with his brother to 'find themselves' again. But he certainly wasn't expecting a massive snow storm to pass by and completely shut down any roads, train stations, and airports. However, when the snow gets worse, a mysterious man stumbles into the hostel he's staying at, and Dan figures out pretty quickly that he and the man are going to have to get to know each other fast.

Keep My Hand In Yours (ao3) - totalincandescense

Summary: It was kind of just an unspoken rule of their relationship. At least one part of Phil’s body had to be touching Dan at all times or it would throw the balance of the universe.

Love Comes Without a Warning (ao3) - beaniebopbaby

Summary: Phil Lester wanted nothing more than to find his soulmate, his other half.

Dan Howell could not care less about finding his.

Love From The Other Side (ao3) - sapphic_sunflower_kid

Summary: It’s 2011 and Dan is struggling through university. This is, in short, three of the times Dan’s university life felt like it was spiraling and the three times Phil was sending love from the other side to help him cope with it.

AKA. The power of love and friendship drives Dan Howell to drop out of university.

Love you through it all (ao3) - Lesbianphan

Summary: A glimpse into Dan and Phil’s journey over the years, through dates/holidays and all the adventures they’ve embarked on together. Just some introspective fluff, featuring the many different stages of their relationship we’ve witnessed over the years

Neighbourly Nook (ao3) - wednesday_ukiru

Summary: The stranger had a dimple on his cheek that appeared when he laughed.

“I’m Dan,” he said, extending his hand. Phil reached for it with extreme eagerness, their knuckles knocking together in a particularly painful way, and they both winced, but Dan immediately broke into a smile. “I don’t know why I offered you a handshake, I never know how to do them.”

never quite as it seems (ao3) - Ablissa

Summary: Phil has a unique gift that allows him to see something he never expected to see - his best friend Dan, meeting the person that would most likely become the love of his life.

It hasn't happened yet, and right now, Dan has no idea what lies ahead.

When old feelings resurface and every choice may have a big impact on the upcoming events, will Phil be able to make the right decision?

Not Since I Posted The Cat Photo (ao3) - Absolutefilthimsosorry

Summary: Dan hasn’t been a ‘top bunk kinda guy’ since he posted the catboy photos.

Set after the catboy photoshoot

put a ring on it (ao3) - calvinahobbes

Summary: “Maybe the reasons we dismissed it before don’t really apply anymore.”

still so lucky (ao3) - jonsaremembers

Summary: Dan and Phil take a little trip, but Phil gets a migraine.

storm sirens (ao3) - dizzy

Summary: Dan and Phil are headed to another in the endless string of American tour dates for Interactive Introverts when a storm shakes them up a bit.

Super Graphic Ultra Modern Phil (ao3) - castrotophic

Summary: Phil buys a motorcycle. Dan can't decide whether he's horny or upset. Kissing ensues.

The Great Golden Pig Debate (ao3) - husbants

Summary: Phil wants to bring the pig to the new house. Dan does not.

The Knight of Wands (ao3) - Nefertiti1052 (Succubusphan)

Summary: Phil had always had dreams that he couldn't quite comprehend and a certain intuition about what was truly important for his future.

The Perfect Gift (ao3) - yiffandquiff

Summary: Phil Lester didn't particularly like Secret Santa that his maths teacher did every year. He normally received just simple gifts and was always underwhelmed. But this year, his Secret Santa gives him the perfect gift and he's determined to find out who this person is. It also helps that his Secret Santa has a crush on him too.

this is the place (where i don't feel lost) (ao3) - commonemergency

Summary: He loved it here. He loved being with Phil and his family. He loved not being on the internet or thinking about what people are saying online, he loved the walks and the talks and the freeness that being here brought. Or Dan spends Christmas and New Years Eve with the Lesters.

through the years, we all will be together (ao3) - possumdnp

Summary: Martyn comes home for Christmas in 2009 and finally meets Dan, that guy his brother won’t shut up about. Ten years later, and it’s like Dan’s always been a part of the family.

Two of Martyn’s family Christmas celebrations, a decade apart.

Today Is For Us (ao3) - CaibrynM

Summary: Dan and Phil take a day for themselves in between the tour ending, planning for their premiere in Brazil and the upcoming Christmas Holidays. Lots of Fluff and a little smut.

two wolves (ao3) - possumdnp

Summary: They're in the middle of a meeting, and Phil seems to be trying to tell him something. But what?

(or, Dan accidentally wears a certain novelty wolf t-shirt to an online meeting with their tour team.)

Tuppence, tuppence (ao3) - ottertrashpalace

Summary: Dour joyless businessman meets quick-witted handsome chimney sweep who shows him the true meaning of Christmas

When the Storm Ends (ao3) - letspartyrightnow

Summary: dan gets caught in a snow storm and has to knock on a stranger's door to take shelter

Woman Who Doesn't Believe in Marriage Proposes to Long Term Girlfriend (REAL) (NOT CLICKBAIT) (ao3) - communist_cowboy

Summary: Dani and Phil are in it together for the love of the game. Yet as the years pass and they continue to intertwine their lives, what more really is marriage to two women who share a mortgage and a couple million kids on the internet?

[raccoonfallsharder]

a handful of OCs

navigation | art masterlist | fiction masterlist your OCs masterlist | current queue | rocket art

a library of art for my OCs, including ones i haven't drawn yet but plan to! this lil masterlist does or will include art of

jo aka jolie from Window Across the Galaxy ✓

pearl aka madame lizette lavenza from cicatrix ✓

??? from love is blind: andromeda

??? from the mechanics of happiness

sanna orix from cicatrix , giftwrap, & take what you need)

anaya’s wife from cicatrix

jolie from Window Across the Galaxy

jolie is a normal terran girl who is only a badass when her protective instincts are triggered. mostly she just likes to draw pretty things, including that raccoon she saved from yondu udonta's ravager vessel. also she's a mess.

physically she has pale, almost-platinum hair, long and sleek and entirely too-much. she wears it down most of the time, basically giving rocket a coronary every time she gets too near a jet turbine, till eventually he convinces her to keep it in a bun (which it is always halfway falling out of). she has brown eyes and freckles and usually wears leggings, a sports bra, and raggedy oversized sweatshirts with stupid (but often narratively-relevant) sayings on them.

favorite scene from WATG (rocket & jo) ✓ initial jo sketches & concepts ✓ more jolie sketches with more detail ✓ official og jo portrait ✓ lineless jo [COMING SOON]

other peoples' jolie-art

jolie's painting of rocket by @hibataao3 makes me cry every time i look at it

very first portrait of jolie by @raccoonmybeloved ~ so fucking cute i died

sims of jo by @evolvingchaoswitch ~ particularly love her paint-spattered outfit

an absolutely drool-worthy nsfw of rocket & jolie by @lazarel-3000 that permanently has altered my brain chemistry and lives in my mind forever ♡♡♡

adorable jolie sketches by @moonnpiie that truly capture what i mean when i describe jo as having “everywhere-hair.” plus her lil art-glove! (and a really cute rocket)

the cutest jo by @frostedwitch in her chapter xxvii sweatshirt. she is so cute with such shiny eyes and cute freckles and i love her so so so much! ♡♡♡

this shiny-haired jo by @miinsie! i love her hair so much in this one - it almost looks iridescent. i swoon. thank you for taking the time to read and to share this lovely interpretation of jolie with me!

pearl from cicatrix

pearl was lured away from terra as a child and essentially groomed to be the high evolutionary's bride (which mostly means being repeatedly broken down over the years). currently pining after the raccoon who saved her (despite their rough start), enjoying her newfound semi-independence, and learning her strengths. she's gonna be an asskicker eventually

physically, probably one of the only constants in pearl is her gray eyes. she starts out pale with wavy dark brown hair, thin, and with all sorts of rigidity in the way she holds herself. she is usually wearing restrictive or stiff outfits selected for her by the high evolutionary in shades of white, cream, or purple, made from luxurious fabrics. by our current point in the story, she has lilac-blue hair which she wears loose or in a high pony-tail, and a healthy glow with freckles. she’s starting to gain some weight and is visibly more animated and relaxed. while she is usually in leggings and a cardigan, she is always invariably wearing one of rocket’s band t-shirts (bzermikitokolok & the knowheremen os her favorite), which is basically a crop-top on her. spoiler: that girl’s gonna get a tattoo at some point, probably a big ol’ beautiful half-sleeve.

favorite scene from cicatrix ✓ official pearl portrait ✓ pearl & rocket snuggle-sketch ✓

other peoples' pearl-art

art of chapter one. nemotia. by @frostedwitch. this is like. one of the most amazing things i've seen. pearl's eyes are so shiny, the dark background is so ominous, the reflection in the mirror is heartpounding. love this so much it makes me cry.

pearl & rocket painting by @hibatasblog — acrylic on lotus-print fabric, so lovely and evocative it makes me want to cry.

this cute portrait of rocket by @/starriidreams!! a surprise for my birthday and one that makes me truly grin like a maniac whenever i see it!♡

sanna orix from cicatrix, giftwrap, & take what you need

sanna orix is a genderfluxe merchant from a planet called cyxlore in the telladore system. like many cyxlorades, sanna orix recognizes the sybila nix ora, a goddex who watches over the dead and may provide them with simple pleasures to make their time in the afterlife more joyful, comfortable, and sweet. it's impossible to say if this spiritual path influences the cyxlorade culture or vice versa, but relatedly, cyxlorades tend to be a very tactile people who deeply value small and sensual luxuries: fine cloths, good food, beautiful homes and scenery, and more. sanna orix lives these values through their work as a merchant, peddling fine goods (and often, fine advice) to all her customers, whether she is on their home planet or abroad.

physically, sanna orix is bald with smoke-gray eyebrows and lashes. he has large dark eyes and a sort of nacreous, lustrous skin, almost like mother-of-pearl, in shades of gray, peach, and ivory. there is some patterning on her head, face, and body (kind of like a tortoiseshell cat). they were sweeping robes that make it nearly impossible to decipher a body-type.

lineless portrait [COMING SOON] sanna orix & bestie wona beax [COMING SOON] sanna orix selling panties [COMING SOON]

anaya's wife from cicatrix

anaya's wife is the owner of anaya's armoire, a luxury lingerie shoppe on sovereign. she's an extremely skilled domme and while she does have her own name, she doesn't care that we don't know it. she doesn't mind being known primarily by her relationship with her sexy, subby lover ~ and as far as she's concerned, referring to her primarily as anaya's wife in public conversations is only its own form of free advertising.

physically, her skin is a dark bronze (she is sovereign, so that skin is literally metallic-looking). her hair is similarly-colored and swept back in a low chignon. i don’t have much of a body-type in mind but i do know she tends to wear all white, black, or deep purple satin jumpsuits that are impeccably tailored.

lineless portrait of anaya’s wife [COMING SOON] anaya's wife & anaya [COMING SOON]

[i-likethesummer-rain]

It’s so hard for me to explain how I’m feeling. I just need an outlet and I haven’t been on this app in seven years but I remember the comfort and relatability and vulnerability tumblr had allowed me in my teen years so I guess I’ll try to type my feelings out here at the ripe age of 26.

I just want to start off by acknowledging that Liam Payne had made some mistakes. It’s really difficult because I feel guilty having such strong emotions about someone who I know has done some bad things. I guess I’m learning that grief and mourning are very strong emotions and feelings. Just because he did some bad things does not mean he deserved to die. I think what is very upsetting to me in particular is that Liam was never able to grow and heal. It just makes me so sad that he didn’t accept the help that he so desperately needed. Liam deserved a chance to right his wrongs. He deserved a chance at redemption. But in a way, he was set up for failure for a long time. I truly wish I was surprised but anyone could see he was clearly not well and had been using substances for a long time. His alcoholic tendencies that stemmed from one direction set him up for failure and inevitably put him on this path. But, I still don’t think any of this is an excuse for his abusive behavior. I am mourning Liam but I am in no way excusing his actions.

I’m not just mourning Liam. I am mourning the true end of one direction. I feel like I never truly believed one direction was over. Maybe it was delusion, maybe it was hopefulness that one day, maybe 10 years from now, we would have some sort of reunion. I hoped that these boys would heal from the trauma caused by one direction. I hoped they could all work out their problems and that with time and maturity it could be something healthy. The boys were so young in the band. Now that I’m older I can truly see how toxic one direction was. I’m so saddened that this time to heal from one directions trauma has just caused even more trauma for these boys. I’m saddened that Liam never truly found his place after the band ended. I’m saddened that one direction brought me so much joy, but being in that band killed Liam.

Part of me wishes this band never happened. The sweet loving boy I fell in love with through my screen would still be here. I’m so conflicted on how to feel about one direction now. I can’t even listen to their music right now. How did something that caused so much joy lead to something so tragic. I think of how much one direction changed my life. I was a lonely teenager. I had friends, but I never had a “group.” While other groups of friends would go out after school, hang out at each others houses, have sleepovers, I would spend time by myself. Watching one direction music videos, video diaries, concert videos, interviews, performances, funny moments, over and over and over again. I had blogs and instagrams and twitters dedicated to this band, and I would get to talk to friends online who related to me. It was like even if I was having the worst day at home or at school, I could log onto my laptop and one direction was there. And then there were the few friends I met at my school. I made a best friend and we were both going through horrible circumstances, but we bonded over one direction together. We went to their concert together. We had each other. Even if it was for a short time and we grew apart as we got older, I had someone who truly understood me. If it weren’t for one direction I truly don’t think I would have anybody.

One direction truly change my life ever after they disbanded. They made me realize I had a passion for live music. After I went to my first one direction concert, it was like I was addicted. I needed to go to more. I was lucky enough to see them twice in high school. Once I was in college and had the means to go to concerts, I was forever chasing the high of one direction. Even well into my 20’s, my passion for live music hasn’t changed. From going to music festivals, to following Harry around on tour, to still going to 5sos shows after I saw them open for one direction in 2014. I wouldn’t have any of this life that I live without one direction. Concerts have become my happy place. My comfort zone. My safe space. And I’ve experienced so many new things and discovered so many new artists.

It’s just really hard that one direction changed my life in such a monumental way, but brought so much pain to those in it. I’m going to zayns first solo show next week and I don’t know how I’m going to do it. I don’t know how he’s going to do it. My thoughts on the Zayn situation have also changed so much as I’ve gotten older. Initially I was angry and upset but now I see how these teenage boys were being controlled and emotionally abused for years. I’m worried about how this is going to affect Zayns confidence on stage and his anxiety about performing that he’s worked so hard to overcome. But I am mostly worried about Louis. This saint of a man has gone through so much. I just truly hope Zayn Louis Niall and Harry can get through this dark period together.

I’m just sad. I’m sad that Liam Payne is gone. I’m sad that Liam Payne never got to heal. I’m sad that the boys reconnected this way. I’m sad that it will never be 5/5 ever again. I’m sad that one direction is actually truly over.

Thank you Liam, Louis, Niall, Harry, and Zayn for everything.

Rest In Peace Liam Payne.