#a really big drabble

[sparkletastic-cookiedough]

Is Beetlejuice really Autistic, or am I just projecting really hard?

Ah yes, the character of my hyperfixation- Beetlejuice. He’s a demon that I’ve read way too much fanfiction about. 

One thing I’ve seen come up a good handful of times in reading my Beetlejuice fanfiction is the concept of Beetlejuice being autistic. As an autistic person myself, I am intrigued by the idea. Perhaps some sort of autistic coding might be responsible for why I relate so heavily to these characters.

The first one I came across was “Meltdown” from nonbinarytaylorswift - It’s an absolutely amazing work of fanfiction by the way, I legit cried, better autistic representation than published books, go give it a read. 

And that is not the only one. Searching “Beetlejuice Autistic” in AO3 comes up with 22 results. That’s a lot of fics made by different people who very strongly project autism onto Beetlejuice (and also Lydia). 

The wonderful thing about fanfiction is how we can shift and stretch the characters and plot to suit our own needs. Consider how many hurt/comfort stories there are that delve into very specific issues, ones that the author may even explicitly state are personal for them. It’s wonderful and I absolutely respect it. We project our own problems onto these characters and then project the solution. Who needs therapy when we can just imagine a fictional character giving us positive self–affirmations? (Plot twist, arguably reading and writing these stories helps reinforce those positive vibes, which makes them good for the mental health). 

When it comes down to it, get a large enough fandom, and there’s probably going to be some autistic people projecting themselves into fanworks. Plus with hyper fixating on a certain show or character making neurodivergents more likely to engage in fanfic and art and whatnot? It’s pretty much a guarantee that there’s going to be work claiming one character or another is autistic, and let’s all project really hard onto it.

Which is all great. I want to make it really clear- even if the canon work doesn’t reinforce the idea that your character is autistic (or lgbt or neurodivergent or anything else), it’s completely fair that you create work depicting them as such. 

But I wanted to investigate this a bit closer. Is there an argument for Beetlejuice being autistic in the work itself? 

Consider the many people who work on creative projects. Tons of creatives will confess to shoving themselves into a character in some way. I’d argue it’s hard not to put your own experience into a character, even if only for the reason that well written characters will delve on truths about us as humans that cut deep into most people who view them. Writing a story about love might entail that the writer ends up harkening back to their experiences with love. If you boil a character down to their most basic struggle, it turns out you can relate to them.

For Musical Beetlejuice, his motivation is becoming visible. He wants to be seen. He wants to interact with the world. (And wouldn’t you know it, Lydia also has this struggle). So how does that relate to universal human truths or whatever?

Well, I think that most people can probably think of a time where they weren’t seen, taken seriously, or something like that. People have felt completely alone at times in their life. We’ve all felt ignored, shunned by the world. Woah, these characters are relatable to the audience? Who would’ve thought.

Relating to a character’s struggles doesn’t necessarily make them autistic. Turns out, I can project my issues on to a similar feeling without it being the exact same thing. 

But I still feel like there’s something very autistic about Beetlejuice, and one of the people responsible for the character might be responsible for that as well: Tim Burton himself. Allegedly, he might be autistic. I don’t want to cite anything here- most of the top sources claiming he’s autistic are ones I don’t respect. (One of them uses functioning labels, many cite asperger's syndrome despite that not being the correct term anymore, and so on) It’s not a claim that’s been confirmed by a diagnosis, but I also don’t think a confirmed diagnosis needs to exist. (not going to get into the whole diagnosis debate right now). The point is, a lot of stuff he makes ties to struggles that an autistic person might deal with. I mean, the misunderstood outcast who’s very different from the rest of the people around them is the main character in… most Tim Burton films. It’s a relatable trope, but one that kind of rings true for autistic people. 

Social connections are hard for autistic people to make- usually harder than neurotypical people. I, and many other autistic people like me, struggle with socializing. It’s one of the diagnostic requirements for ASD. So a story about a person who has a lot of difficulty navigating social environments would be relatable to me. That misunderstood outcast? Yeah, that’s me.

These protagonists aren’t usually just weird. Usually there’s a reason behind it: maybe their closest relationship is with a corpse, maybe they exist in a boundary between human and inhuman- some sort of almost-monster figure, or maybe they just have interests that no one else has or understands. (Can you name the different Burton protagonists that these each apply to? Hint: they could all refer to more than one). It makes sense from a story perspective- the audience should probably have a reason for why a character is rejected from society. The thing that makes it so autistic is that these people are rejected for seemingly no fault of their own, for a reason that doesn’t make a lot of sense.

It’s a very sad point of social outcast: they will never belong to the main in-group. They can try, but it never ends up working- thus instead they have to accept both their identity as an outcast, and the thing that makes them unique.

Beetlejuice (musical version) is a bit of a twist on that idea, in that it’s others that learn to accept them, rather than learning to accept themselves. This is especially true for Lydia’s arc- her dad learns to respect who she is as a person, instead of trying to change her into the image of the daughter he wants. The movie, we sort of get that? It’s more like she meets people who respect her for who she is. The movie isn’t as neat in tying off the story arcs. Or maybe I’m just bad at watching movies.

But there’s more that makes (musical) Beetlejuice autistic than the social outcast angle. 

One of the things that I’ve seen brought up when talking about this is how the character’s body language can contribute to that sort of reading. I’m treading a bit carefully here, because a lot of Beetlejucie’s body language can also be described as “inhuman”, and talking about how non-human characters work in terms of neurodiversity allegories is a whole other discussion, one that delves into the various problems with those readings. 

But aside from that, I also want to offer my own interpretation as an autistic who enjoys watching stuff: it’s exaggerated expression.

One of the problems with me watching a lot of films for my film classes is that I have trouble with subtle emotions. Stuff other people can pick up on in movies I’ll pick up on differently. “A bit sad” isn’t a facial expression for me, it’s a sound cue, it’s a lighting cue, it’s body language, it’s movement. When a film wants me to rely on a character’s face, dialouge, actions, and the story to pinpoint how a character is feelings and their internal motivations, I can struggle a bit. That being said, there are films that I really enjoy watching. If I don’t need to rely on half of the cues to tell what a person is feeling, I like the film more. Arguably the stuff that gives off the best cues? Animation and musicals.

People don’t move like that in real life. But by disconnecting the film from what is real, we move into something that I can enjoy quite a bit. So if you look at an image from a musical, and put it side by side with an image from a hyper-realistic drama, the musical has a completely different method of expression. It might be expressing the same emotion, but it feels super different. 

So this overly-expressive style is something I can understand, but it’s also something I can do. It’s very uncanny for people who meet me in real life- I sometimes slip into a method of self expression that can seem very off to a normal person. I might pace back and forth and dramatically monologue about how my boss is a jerk- yes I have actually done this. It’s difficult to analyze my own behavior, but from what I understand, it’s there. I have very expressive emotions, even if they don’t express in a “normal” way.

So that’s kind of an explanation on the behavior and body language aspects to the character being autistic.

But even considering the genre, Musical Beetlejuice is especially autistic.

Consider the fact that he’s really socially ignorant. He doesn’t seem to pick up on normal social cues at all - or if he does, he doesn’t acknowledge them. He’s easily tricked in “Creepy Old Guy”, and again “tricked with love” by Juno near the end. 

It’s sympathetic. It’s ignorance. It’s an autistic character.

But whether or not you agree with me on if Beetlejuice is autistic, that’s fine. Perhaps his character was influenced by autistic people (Tim Burton or otherwise), or maybe I’m just projecting into things that are common for people overall. Either way, it doesn’t matter. I intended on just talking about the trope as it appears in different works of fanfiction, but instead I got distracted and just wrote several pages on character tropes or something. Anyway, go read some autistic beetlejuice fanfiction.

[hotluncheddie]

For the @steddie-spooktober day 17 prompt : hayride

rated: T | cw: none | tags: Steve Harrington owns a farm, Eddie Munson is a clown, fluff

🤡🤡🤡🤡

Steve is on the last leg of the days final hay ride rout. It’s been another weekend of setting up and making sure all the stalls are covered with their seasonal workers, checking in with health and safety and ensuring the entertainers got the newest version of the final Halloween themed weekend schedule, before everything shifts to the Christmas holiday themes.

But it went off without a hitch, another solid season overall.

The farm had been his passion project. Built thanks to his Grandad’s sudden death and meticulous stipulations that all his money go to his only grandson. Freeing Steve completely from under his father’s thumb and allowing him breathing space to finally do something he enjoyed. Even if he is using the business degree his Dad bullied him into, it’s definitely not the route his father wanted for his life.

But Steve loves it. Every moment. Working outside, with people he trusts, like Robin who runs the creative side, marketing a decorating and generally making the place look amazing. Being an honest to god farmer, much to his mother’s chagrin gives him a real sense of purpose and pride, every pumpkin he manages to grow is like a pat on the back.

And, privately, Steve gets to give kids the kind of memories that he could only dream of when he was younger. And that’s worth more than anything.

That last thing is part of the reason why he so often spends the last couple hours of opening running the hay ride. He gets to hear the families and kids enjoy their time together, react to the view and the wooden characters Robin painted, huddle into their coats and snuggle in close. It’s magic. Steve loves it. So he drives the tractor as often as he can.

It’s great. He loves his life, he really does. But, unfortunately, it can’t all be perfect. This season in particular has had one little problem. One bit of danger.

The danger which just so happens to be the first thing he sees as he rounds the last bend of the hay ride. Eddie. Their newest entertainment hire and the thorn in Steve’s side.

He’s way too hot for Steve to be any kind of normal around him.

A honest to god clown. With tricks and magic and jokes and songs. With his little autumn themed outfit and matching makeup. Steve’s heard nothing but good things about him, a shoe in to be rehired every season going forward. The crowds can’t get enough of the guy.

Which is all great. If Steve didn’t have a disgustingly huge crush on him.

Even dressed fully in his clown paint and outfit he’s hot.

It really shouldn’t be hot.

But it is.

And Steve can’t even think about what he looks like in his normal clothes because he could honestly start to get hard thinking about it. The guy is insane.

Not to mention one of the kindest sweetest people ever. To everyone, but it seems to Steve especially. He can’t count the amount of times Eddie’s made him blush just from being so sweet or a little flirty or a little tease.

So really, it’s been hell, the whole season, because I Steve can’t work out a way of asking the guy out that doesn’t make him come off as some creepy boss.

And now Eddie’s there, waiting for Steve at the end of the hay ride. And Steve has no damn clue why.

Steve parks and opens the gate for people to file out. Waving and thanking them for coming, hoping to see them soon.

He stalls until everyone is gone, until the section of farm is empty except the two of them.

Steve bites his lip, jumping up to grab the tractor keys so he can have another moment not looking at Eddie.

Eventually though, he turns, smiles. ‘You good man?’ He asks.

Eddie nods. Looking fidgety. He’s still in his clown makeup but his costume’s been replaced with black jeans and a padded flannel.

Steve crosses his arms and tries not to think about that way the denim stretches over his thighs.

Eddie takes a deep breath. ‘I know you’re my boss and all. But, well, my last shift just finished and I would love if you extended my contract, seriously, but. I’d honestly kick myself if I didn’t at least try.’ Eddie says in a rush.

Steve scrunches his eyebrows.

Eddie revels a bouquet of balloon flowers from behind his back, shy through the face paint, biting his red lip.

Steve is lost for words, mouth opening and closing dumbly.

This is the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to him.

‘This is the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to me.’ He says, dumbfounded.

Eddie smiles, his whole face lighting up. ‘Steve Harrington, will you please go on a date with me?’ He asks.

Steve laughs, takes the flowers and sniffs them just to hear Eddie’s giggle. ‘Yeah.’ He whispers. ‘I’d really like that.’

🤡🤡🤡🤡

Tag list: @scoops-aboy86 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @pearynice @thecatkingsthrone @marvel-ous-m

@cheesedoctor @chickensinrainboots

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAu Drabble - Shopping

I am back at it again because I had ideas. (don't worry friend @spotaus things are being planned and I got many many ideas :3 but before those happen stuff needs to be established and put in place!)

I was debating between like four different drabble ideas but settled on this one. Something calming for a bit :)

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

as always. No editing and no beta.

*-------------------*

Dust shoots Killer another glare as he holds Nightmare clsoer "I mean it Killer. get out of my blindspot. It is getting annoying."

Nightmare looks from Dust to Killer and sees the large grin on Killer's face as he skips after Dust and Nightmare "Nah. I think it is good i am here because it is your blindspot!"

Dust grumbles as he holds Nightmare clsoer. Nightmare just pushes his skull under Dust's chin as he listens to the two bicker. Dust gives him a quick nuzzle before shooting Killer another glare "Why are you even here?" Killer still has a large grin on his face "I am backup!"

Dust groans "I am getting Nightmare clothes."

Killer nods as he follows them "backup!"

Dust huffs before looking back at Nightmare. Nightmare sees the glare disappear from his face as Dust lets out a sigh before smiling at Nightmare "makes you start to wonder who helped who out of getting stuck in a wall."

Killer gasps loudly "That only happened a few times!"

Ngihtmare grins and laughs as he leans fully against Dust again. He likes being held by Dust and Dust must like it too because he always holds him.

Nightmare figured it was because his spine is fragile and walking for too long starts to bother him but Dust still just holds him. always. Maybe he also likes being close like this?

Thoguht Nightmare isn't sure what Dust gets out of it but he must really like something abut the close contact.

They walk past another few people who look at them. Nightmare shoots a glance as Dust and Killer continue to bicker. They seem to shoot Dust and him worried looks but chuckle once they realise that Dust and Killer are just doing their way of bonding.

Nightmare always thought the flirting between those two was weird but then again he thought most things dating was weird. Maybe because he was still a child in his soul...

Not that it matters.

Nightmare shoots a glance and spots Killer grinning widely as his soul is clearly in soulshape and looks stable. Dust may have an annoyed look on his face but he has a tiny smile on his face.

Nightmare hides his face in Dust's sweater but he can't hide the purr. He wants them to be happy. They are happy even with him near.

Dust notices of course nad gives him another nuzzle "comfy? Spine okay?"

Nightmare nods "Yeah."

Dust hums to signal he heard him but still rubs his back.

They finally stop near one of the smaller houses which is the clothing shop for this town.

Dust tilts his skull as Killer snorts "oh that is adorable. ready to dress Nightmare as a tiny old man?" he grins

Dust shoots Killer a glare "It isn't that bad..." then he looks at the store "just... a bit old fashioned..." he looks at him "That okay?"

Nightmare nods before shrugging "I don't get why i need new things..."

Dust sighs. Killer leans on Dust's other shoulder and shoots him a wink "Because you are still wearing Dust's things. and quite honestly. Dusty does not have a large enough wardrobe to dress both of you."

Nightmare frowns as he pushes clsoer to Dust. He doesn't mind wearing stuff them them. It are things that are well worn and soft and smell of them and old laundry detergent.

Dust nuzzles his skull "It will be nice. You can check what you like and what feels nice and is comfortable."

Nightmare frowns "it is expensive." which is another reason why he doesn't want to get anything.

Dust frowns and Killer quickly answers "That is a worry for us. And Dusty said it is fine so it is fine." he grins.

Dust nods "made some money. more than enough to get you some things."

Nightmare wants to disagree more but Dust walks into the store.

The inside isn't like he thought it would be. there is actually quite a number of nice looking things and looks more modern than you would think from the outside.

DUst makes a pleased sound before smiling smugly "Seems like they were just showing off the knitwear because it is autumn." he shoots Killer a look "Almost as if i did my research and knew it would be okay here." and he walks further into the store.

Killer sputters before following them "I know that Dusty! You always do that! I was just joking around!" he pouts but doesn't offer anything. Really just a shadow. It reminds Nightmare a bit about how it was before. Killer beign his right hand and always by his side to help and protect him. It still feels different now and even when thinking back to those memories they feel different.

Killer spots him looking at him and grins before wriggling his phalanges in a tiny wave at him. Nightmare huffs and pushes back closer to Dust.

Dust is looking through some clothes on the hanger "Stop bothering Nightmare." he pulls something off and looks it over critically. he holds it up for him to inspect and Nightmare just shrugs.

Killer pouts as he crosses his arms "Just having fun. And tiny boss is fine with it!" he grins at him "Right nighty?"

Nightmare shrugs. he doens't mind. it is nice.

Dust rolls his eye lights and doesn't look at Killer "Even if he is fine with is safe it for later. first buying clothes. Then you can tire him out."

Nightmare huffs and grumbles. he doesn't need tiring out. he is perfectly fine. Dust holds up another sweater and he shrugs again.

"Oh hello there dears! Can you find it all?"

Killer nad Dust turn and Nightmare feels Dust freeze for a moment. Yeah not a surprise because the woman looks a lot like Toriel. But Nightmare doubts it is the her of this universe. The closer he looks the more this woman seems like a sheep monster.

Killer and Dust must see it too as Killer grins "Pretty much! but we got it!"

Dust shoots him a look "Killer knock it off." he looks at the lady "We are looking for stuff for the little guy."

The lady smiles sweetly "Oh! You two must be two of Sans- I am sorry, Crop's friends!" she looks them over and her gaze lingers on Dust for a moment before settling on Nightmare. Nightmare can't stop the instinct of holding on tighter to Dust. He doesn't like having stranger's gazes on him.

The smiles sweetly "I can see the resemblance! You must be very proud of such a young handsome little boy!"

Dust looks to the side and shrugs but his hold on him tightens. Killer snorts, which is fair as they aren't actually related. Maybe she just sees the resemblance before Nightmare now looks much more like a tiny swap sans, as that was the original form his mother used to craft their bodies. And Dust is the one of the four that still resemblance who he used to be.

At elast Nightmare assumes that is why people think they see a resemblance. That or they are just racists and think all skeletons look alike.

the woman smiles "I am sure there is something fitting for him. Do you need any help?"

Killer's laugh turns cold as he smiles widely "No thanks! We got this!"

Dust rolls his eye lights and nudges him in the side "Stop it." he looks back to the lady "I was wodnering what the... organisation was. I wanted to look at stuff his size..." and he looks at the things he had been looking at with a glare.

The sheep monster looks a bit paler after Killer's interaction but smiles sweetly at Dust. "It is a bit of a mixmatch. Of all the stuff that is handmade it only has a few of each size. you will have to guestimate those. The imported clothes are by the walls, those have more standard sizing."

Dust nods "I see." and he starts walking towards the side first to check the sizing.

Killer grins as he leans close and whispers "Holding a babybones does wonders for making you look approachable"

Dust shoots him a glare and hisses "One word and I will put you in a wall myself." and he stomps over towards the clothes.

Nightmare still doens't understand why Killer thinks that kinda flirting is efficient but what does he know.

Dust is clearly unimpressed with the clothing offered with the more standard design and fabric. but they use it to figure out which size he is before moving towards the handmade stuff.

DUst and Nightmare check what is nice and soft as Killer shadows them. Staying nearby and pretty much glaring at anyone who as much as glances in their direction.

They end up settling for two big sweaters and some sweats. They wait by the cash register as Dust has picked him up again.

The nice woman smiles at them "That will be 140!" she smiles.

Killer winces at the price and Nightmare pushes closer to Dust "I don't need two." wool sweaters are expensive...

Dust shrugs as he looks at Killer "Be usefull and hold him for a moment." and Ngihtamre feels hismelf be handed over to Killer. Dust takes out some cash from his inventory and counts quickly before putting most of the stash he had on the counter "That should be enough." he stashes whatever is left.

The lady counts it and smiles as she puts it away. She packs it in a bag and holds it out to Dust "Thank you for shopping! And Can I just say it is lovely to see such a devoted father."

Dust shrugs and mutters a thanks before shooting Killer a warning look.

Killer grins as he nuzzles Nightmare "How are you this huggable tiny boss?"

Nightmare shrugs but holds unto Killer. Killer is also nice to be held by.

They leave the store together and walk back towards the parking lot. Something about meeting up again to go back to Crop's farm. Nightmare isn't really sure. He is already getting tired again adn he mumbles unhappily.

Killer purrs and coos "It is okay tiny boss. babybones need their sleep and rest after all."

Dust nods "Shopping is always busy." he shoots Killer a glare "Why is why i didn't want you to get him tired or overwhelmed."

Killer groans "Yeah yeah you were right. you are always right. can i go back to nuzzlign the baby now?"

Dust looks considerate before nodding "You may."

Killer grins and the nuzzles resume and Nightmare wants to pout and push him off but it is so nice and he can feel himself start to relax as he starts to purr again.

He likes it when his family holds him.

*-------------------*

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[aetherdecember]

Look, I love BBC Merlin and how they told the lore, but I’m a sucker for the relationship between Arthur and Mordred in the mythology. Specifically, I love how Mary Stewart (author of The Arthurian Saga**) and Nancy Springer (author of I Am Mordred**) wrote about the father/son relationship between them. So naturally, my brain has been conjuring up how I can include that in my Flipping the Coin au.

Since the main premise is Merlin died/Arthur lives, and now Arthur is the one waiting for Merlin to come back, things would stay consistent with canon up to the last episode (when Merlin flips the coin of their destiny and sacrifices himself so Arthur can live and thus stop Camlann from happening altogether). Which is where this idea will start:

Gwen is barren. She and Arthur never have kids. Eventually, everyone Arthur knows and loves dies. He can’t rule Camelot forever, and after Gwen’s death, he no longer wants to, so he fakes his death and wanders off figure out why he’s still here. He never gets an answer for that. Arthur spends the next millennium waiting. He keeps living. He meets people, experiences things he’d never experienced before, and learns things he’d never dreamed of learning. He can’t stay anywhere long, or else suspicions will rise, but he gets to see the world change, how technology advances, and witness humans continuing to be humans. When war breaks out, he joins the battle. It’s familiar. The rush of adrenaline is the same whether he’s wielding a sword or a gun. Only, he can’t see the enemy’s face anymore.

Peace comes again. At some point, he sleeps with a woman, and she happens to become pregnant. Bisexual disaster that he is, he’s had all sorts of partners from both sexes, but has never had this happen, even before the advent of reliable birth control. Later, he’ll learn her name is Morgause. She doesn’t look like the Morgause he knew before, nor does she act like her, but her name haunts him. After the baby is born, she gives him to Arthur, says she has no intentions of being a mother, and leaves. The last thing she had said to him was the baby’s name.

Mordred.

That night, Arthur holds Mordred and weeps.

There is irony in his son being named Mordred. First, in that the legends surrounding him, Merlin, Camelot, the Knights of the Round Table, and all of it, had long ago decided Mordred was his son. And two, in a retelling of that legend, it had aptly phrased what he sensed was happening now. Granted, he isn’t a sorcerer, he doesn’t have magic, so he can’t support his feeling with anything other than he’d been around a long time and knew to his very core that it was true. Mordred’s birth is a signal of the beginning of the end.

Fatherhood brings him a new sense of purpose. Gone are the days of loneliness and drudgery. Every day with Mordred brings a new light into his life. Each smile is a miracle. Seeing Mordred experience things for the first time brings a new appreciation. Being there to watch him grow makes time fly like it never has before. But Arthur is afraid. He doesn’t want to be his father. He doesn’t know how to be a father, or what the right way to do it is. In all the years he’s been on the Earth, he’s never known a man who could concretely say, “This is the way to raise a son,” and actually reap the fruits of their efforts. Too frequently, he’d seen sons grow outside of the visions their fathers molded for them and receive only disappointment and disdain in return. So he was afraid, because he too had been that son.

*cue a series of fluffy father/son one shots of Arthur raising Mordred until Merlin comes back, takes one look, and is is like WTF????? No, I won’t have Mordred for a step son >:(*

**Mary Stewart and Nancy Springer have several other works, not just the stories I mentioned. The ones mentioned are the ones I’m pulling inspiration from ^^

Additional notes below the break:

Guinevere’s barrenness is not a headcanon I typically subscribe to for BBC Merlin. My headcanon is that after Arthur’s death, Gwen gives birth, and their child eventually succeeds her as ruler.

I’ve always seen Mordred’s appearance as the harbinger of Arthur’s downfall. Thus, the reason for the plot bunnies in my brain going crazy with this idea of how I could bring him in, still remain mostly canon compliant with BBC Merlin, and build off some of my favorite parts of the lore. (Mandatory disclaimer: for BBC Merlin, I don’t headcanon Mordred as Arthur’s son. But for the mythology, I do wholeheartedly support that canon.)

Arthur’s choice to participate and live once Camelot is gone is a decision to contrast my headcanon of how Merlin handled it. I don’t think Merlin thrived. I think he stayed busy, and tried to remain hopeful, but I think he was anxiously consumed with the anticipation of wondering when Arthur would come back. In this au, Arthur may or may not know that Merlin is supposed to come back (I’m still working on that detail), but he’s always been around others. I think he would seek camaraderie, and companionship, and that he would connect with others but only to a superficial level. I don’t think he’d exist in a void of loneliness. Plus, he doesn’t have the guilt of knowing he failed because the pressure from the prophecy is very one sided *coughcough*causemerlinnevertoldhim*coughcough*

Anyways, that’s enough rambling from me about this. I’ll probably share some snippets of writing next because there are some fantastic scenes coming together in the draft so stay tuned! ;D

[gummydummy19]

The urge to cook the most delicious meals for your man…watching him turn into a big, strong, chonky bear…putting on that happy weight and bragging to all his friends about how amazing your cooking skills are and how you keep him nice and fed…

And at night…hmmmm at night…when it’s just the two of you…he holds you down…his warm chest against your back…big, strong arms wrapped around you…he covers you completely…his cock so deep inside you can feel it in your belly….his lips pepper kisses across your shoulders and your neck…his breath hot against the shell of your ear…

“My perfect angel…always so good for me, so good to me…I love you like this, all helpless under me…you love it too don’t you?”

Ofcourse you do…you love that he can just have his way with you…you love that he doesn’t even have to ask…you’re always ready for him…always wet…

“You love how much bigger than you I am…how much stronger…fuck…is that why you’re always feeding me hmm?”

Fuck…busted….

“Keeping me stuffed so you can watch me get bigger and stronger for you…hmm fuck baby…my turn to stuff you now, isn’t it?”

[leifyposting]

“Will you be back?” Jean asks. 

She’s sitting straight-backed on Lisa’s bed with her hands folded in her lap, her hair plaited tightly along her skull in preparation for training. She looks ill at ease, as she does often these days — the inescapable consequence of clawing her way out from under her mother’s shadow, trying to refit her skin to the role of an infantry captain, navigating the unwanted attention that comes from being 16 but looking older. 

“Oh, probably,” Lisa says, and watches Jean’s face go blank like it does when she’s trying not to show that she’s upset. 

It’s a little cruel, her flippant answer. She should feel guiltier about it, maybe reassure her best friend that she’ll be back as soon as she’s able. 

But Lisa has ambitions, gods forgive her: dreams bigger than sleepy Mondstadt and its placid people. If Jean loves her — which she does, Lisa knows this without asking — then she’ll have to let her go. 

“But you’ll write,” Jean says, sounding uncertain. 

“I’ll do my best,” Lisa says. She does feel guilty, this time — Jean’s stoic silence does nothing to hide her disappointment. “I hear the Akademiya’s workload is intense. But I’ll try.”

“You can handle it,” Jean says, with a faith that borders on fealty. “You’re brilliant, Lisa.”

Lisa grins. She is brilliant — she knows this well. It is the one thing she has going for her: she is not charming like Diluc, funny like Kaeya, or diligent, courageous, and radiant like Jean. But the Akademiya had sought her out for her mind, even though, at 18, she is much older than the vast majority of novices scouted from outside Sumeru. 

Lisa is smart. She doesn’t intend to squander that. 

“You’re too kind,” she says, throwing one last cardigan into her suitcase and then kneeling on it to zip it up. In a flash, Jean is on the floor in front of her, long swordsman’s fingers pressed to the top of the suitcase as she reaches for the zipper on the other end. Together, they wrangle the suitcase shut. 

Lisa looks down to grin triumphantly towards where Jean is kneeling before her. They are very close, like this, Jean’s face tilted up towards her own. If Lisa were to lean forward just a little, she could—

Jean stands abruptly. She extends a hand to pull Lisa up, her grip betraying the strength concealed in her wiry frame. 

When they both have their feet firmly planted on the floor — and Jean has genteelly let go of Lisa’s hand within an appropriate time frame rather than holding on to it a moment too long like Lisa almost wishes she would — Lisa looks up and finds herself surprised, as she always is, at how tall Jean has gotten. 

Despite being two years her junior, Jean is already half a handbreadth taller than Lisa, and fixing to grow taller still. Lean and broad-shouldered, she carries herself with a poise devoid of pretense or affectation; she hasn’t quite mastered the Gunnhildr presence that Frederica wears so well, but Lisa can already tell that it won’t be long until Jean too wears it like a second skin. 

Lisa wonders, not for the first time, what happened to the quiet, wide-eyed child who’d looked to her for comfort during storms as if the lightning itself heeded her words. And then she puts those thoughts to one side, because she is leaving for the Akademiya tomorrow, and she cannot afford to second-guess.

Lisa has never known her father, you see, and her mother passed away a year ago. There is nothing more keeping her in Mondstadt.

Well. Nothing except Jean.

“I can’t come to bid you goodbye tomorrow,” Jean says suddenly, breaking the silence. 

“Oh?”

“I’m taking my Company on a training exercise in the field. I won’t be in town when you leave.”

Reschedule your training, Lisa doesn’t say. Aren’t I more important than your Company? 

She bites her tongue and holds back the mean-spirited question, because she is a good friend. (And because she is afraid she already knows what the answer is.)

“That’s okay,” she says instead. 

“I am sorry,” Jean says. 

She looks penitent enough that Lisa abandons her resentment and reaches up to tweak her nose. “Oh, don’t look so sad, darling. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.”

“I’m not sad,” Jean protests, going a little pink in the cheeks. 

Lisa feigns offense. “You’re not sad that your best friend is leaving?”

“I-I—” Jean stammers. “That’s not—” She catches the mischief behind Lisa’s eyes and glowers at her. “Stop teasing.”

Lisa pouts and throws her arms around Jean’s neck, dragging her down into a hug. “Oh, but you make it so easy!”

Jean snakes her arms around Lisa’s waist and leans only a little awkwardly into the hug. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Emotion, strange and cloying, chokes off Lisa’s windpipe. She squeezes Jean a little tighter. “I will miss teasing you,” she says, in lieu of the myriad other confessions that linger at the tip of her tongue. 

Jean doesn’t respond — only sighs, and presses her cheek wordlessly into Lisa’s curls. They stand there for a long moment. 

Eventually Jean shifts, glancing at the clock on Lisa’s wall. “I should go,” she says regretfully. “I have preparations to make before my field excursion tomorrow.”

Selfishly, Lisa holds on for a fraction of a second more. Then she disentangles herself from Jean and offers her a brilliant smile. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to keep the Lionfang Knight from her duties.”

Jean’s answering smile is a small, wistful thing. “Have a safe trip, Lisa. Write me when you get there?”

“I will,” Lisa promises: her one concession to sentiment. 

“I would wish you luck,” Jean says, “but I know you won’t need it.”

Lisa smiles. “Same to you.”

Jean stares at her a moment, as if committing the lines of her face to memory. Then she nods. “Goodbye, then.”

“Goodbye, Jean,” Lisa says. 

Jean turns and lets herself out of the room, the doorknob as accustomed to her hand as to Lisa’s. The door shuts noiselessly behind her. 

Lisa allows herself 10 ridiculous seconds of staring at the door, hoping against all her better sense that it will open again and reveal Jean in the doorway. 

When it does not, as Lisa had known it wouldn’t, she throws herself back into putting her room to rights, packing everything that will fit into her suitcases and leaving the nonessentials in boxes. 

She has no time for frivolous, unscientific sentiment. She has so much to do. She is leaving for the Akademiya tomorrow, she reminds herself. 

And she tries not to think too hard about why it feels like she is the one being left behind, instead. 

[byrdstrolls]

NEW SPRITES FOR THE DOCTOR OF ALL TIME HANAGI CHEONG <3

[eld-creative]

Battle hungry

[mommycity]

Older Gojo

Omg!!! Thinking about older Gojo in his early 40s or late thirties. He’s still teaching, still checking in on his older kids when he can. He doesn’t go on missions anymore and just handles stuff with younger sorcerers . He doesn't date but he stumbles in your house sometimes. Fills himself up on your cooking, helps with chores. He spends his days exercising in your garden that he had built for you and playing simply board games. He often comes over for dinner or lunch and he keeps coming back because he loves it, it feels like home for him. He also can’t help but flirt with you, you're such a cute thing and similar to him: a mostly retired sorcerer. He’s agreed to have you just wade around the home  and only care about the rest of your days with domestic activities. Once a month he’ll invite all his kids over for family dinner, he helps you cook and prep everything. His kids wonder if sensei has found a lover of sorts but he only chortles at their questions. He’s found a home. 

And on some days he comes staggering in and asks you to make him something sweet. You ofc whip up a pastry for him that’s topped with matcha and whipped cream with fresh fruits. His favorites. He’ll sit at your table and wait for you to come out with the treat. The heavy look in his gaze is followed with,”why don’t you feed me yourself beautiful”. And you do. You settle your weight onto a neighboring chair before he pushes you into his lap. Your legs sit on one side of him as you feed him bit by bit of the yummy treat. He moans, satisfied with the sweet view and sweet treat.

You two spend many days like this. Filling each other’s company, and you specifically filling Gojo’s tummy. Your cooking starts to show on him. As the days go on his waist softens. The skin of his mid section becomes malleable and soft. His muscles are still evident in his chest, shoulders and biceps. His thighs and ass followed suit and swelled along with him. It’s enough to make your mouth water. The clothes that once fit him stretch and ripple, much to his dismay. But he does little to change it when he sees how you look at him as he eats. The way that food travels down his throat grows tantalizing. The light hugs become pleading squeezes. You can find your hands traveling from his back, to his full waist and at times a squeeze of his thick ass. He sees your hunger for his maturing body and he returns it. He loves squeezing you in small spaces and holding you against his hair chest, loves spending the lazy days and nights cuddling and being cuddled by your soft arms. 

And on some days!!!! He’s so worked up. It’s rare that you ever make a move on you. Opting to simply get off in your shower alone. Sometimes it’s simply insatiable, especially when he comes home to you in nothing but his    a large tshirt while cooking in the kitchen. When you turn around to greet him he’s greatest with your nipples poking through the shirt and he’s had enough of just jerking off to photos of you. He traps between the countertop before greeting you. “You always fill my tummy with yummy food, baby your making me soft. Let me fill your tummy honey. Please” 

Middle aged Gojo spends his days folding your half and fucking you full, on occasion he might he be on the receiving end. Older Gojo doesn’t work to hold his statues anymore. He’s fully trusting in you and lets you handle him when you want. He handles you on every surface of your home but his favorite is the couch. Loves fuckinging you while you both lay on your side. He loves it even more on lazy days when dinner and sex end up happening at the same time and you struggle to feed him his home made food. His moans are both from the satisfaction of your food and your body. He looks so fucking good when he’s warm and glowing. His soft tummy fills the curve of your back just right you can’t ignore his space. He finds himself whimpering these days: a light pink dusting his pale cheeks. The indulgences he so craved for being fulfilled by someone who he really likes-no loves. Gojo who kisses sweet purple marks on your skin and begs you to look at him so he can finish. “F-fuck baby ugh so pretty. Mmm please. Love you, love your body, love your home. Please h-huh let me cum inside. Anything Mmm~” and he kisses your face so sloppy. His kisses clash with the corner of  your mouth as he thrust harder, slower and deeper. You let him cum inside and his fluffy lashes close in his height. He can see your combined releases all over his cock and both of your thighs and some of your tummy. He can’t help but flip you over and kiss you so sloppily.  He loves his new soft life. His tummy is always full and he comes home to a pretty thing cooking his meals and warming his cock. 

giggles I want chubby toru so bad!! I also did that sketch based off this idea :3

[willowser]

bodyguard au + bathtime fic for kiri ?

oooooh, this is fun !!! i'm thinking of like, some situation in which you are the child of someone who is big and wealthy, maybe owns a few different multi-million dollar corporations and perhaps doesn't do it all legally 👀

kirishima has always been in the service of protecting your father !! you know him because he is a forever shadow in your home, quiet and large, peeking out windows and making sure doors are locked. he only speaks if you speak to him first, but his answers are always cut short when your father is around.

— so on a night when he has to go out of town, you're a little delighted to see kirishima sitting at the kitchen table when you get home from work.

"hi," he tells you, rising to stand leagues above you. his face is sweet, despite his wide stature. shy. "your dad asked me to stay with you until he comes back, i hope you don't mind."

oh, you don't mind at all.

it's probably really fun !!! and you make the two of you dinner and he relaxes a bit after eating, even takes off the dark jacket he's always in. his forehead shines a little, like he's sweaty, and he hikes the sleeves of his white button-up to his elbows underneath the fluorescence.

he's still is a bit hard to talk to, but he listens as you prattle on about your day, scooting around the kitchen as you clean up. he offers to finish for you, but you shoo at him to sit back down and after a little bit of insistence from you, he finally agrees to have a beer. or two.

that loosens him up enough that the conversation flows a bit easier; you learn his first name, and his cheeks go red when you repeat it with a grin. he tells you a little about his mom, that he's an only child, that he never went to college: very basic stuff that paints a vague picture of him.

you know your father does some shady things, deals with shady people. why else would he need a giant for a bodyguard, that could probably snap a man's neck without even trying ?? kirishima tells you little things, but he doesn't go too deep. doesn't reveal what twists and turns he made in his past to put him here.

eventually you leave to get ready for bed, and the soft look on his face ALMOST has you sitting down for more with him. he shifts his eyes to the table, then, like he knows he's been caught staring too long and you wonder — when the last time was that he did anything for himself ?? not for your father, or even for you, but. for eijirou.

regardless, you slip on up the stairs and take your time making a nice bubble bath, putting on some light music. there's a bar on the second floor and you steal a bottle of wine from it and two glasses before nestling in the warm water, spreading your legs out to test how much room you have in the gigantic tub.

and then you call for him. a little more urgently that necessary, but it brings him to you quicker, suddenly appearing in the open doorway of your bathroom with wide eyes, flushing down his neck when he sees you.

you lean against the edge of the tub, smiling as you prop your chin in your hand. "i was wondering if you could help me wash my back."

the question seems to buffer in his mind for a long time before he's finally blinking, adam's apple bobbing. and then he's bringing the bathroom door behind him as he begins to unbutton his shirt.

✨️ trope game ! ✨️

[good-beanswrites]

Sorry to double up on your inbox, but I had this burning idea.

Suppose Fuuta's sister has had her hair styled like the Milgram girls at various points. What scenarios might come up when Fuuta mistakes the girls for his sister?

I know you were looking for ideas on all of the girls but I got really carried away with this one train of thought with Kotoko, so have some of that instead 😭 I'm such a sucker for 02-04-06 seeming the type to use beauty products and know their way around a lot of hair care, and triggering memories for Fuuta via scents/sounds of his sister's job. And as you've seen I'm so emotional over him seeing Amane as an equal as they both care for each other and she feels like family...

Fuuta was used to people disappointing him.

He’d been let down by his mother, then his father. He’d seen how all of society screws its people over. His own friends had turned their backs on him when things got rocky. Even here, he couldn’t count on any of these people to look out for him. Well, all except one. 

Kotoko. 

He’d actually done a double take when he first saw her. Her hair was styled much like his sister’s; from behind, it could have been her with a bit of dye. 

It wouldn’t have been so bizarre for her to color her head shining black. After all, that had always been his sister’s method of rebellion. His father was a traditional man, and hated to see her chop all her hair off, chop others’ hair off, add more piercings, or change it to any and every shade that wasn’t the family’s natural red. Fuuta had always thought they were all hollow exercises, more for attention than anything else. (It was nothing like the actual action he was taking to break away from his father’s strictness). Seeing Kotoko wear an eerily similar look, and hearing how closely her views aligned with his, he started to understand the appeal.

While the others were intimidated by her appearance, Fuuta found it familiar. Unlike the rest of the prison, he had no hesitation in approaching her. He was more willing to sit beside her at meals. He joined in her conversations in the common area. 

Mahiru kept going on about being everyone’s ‘big sis,’ but she never took a damned thing seriously. Yuno told Fuuta he reminded her of her little brother, but the last thing he needed was to be treated like some baby. Kotoko, on the other hand, knew exactly how to speak with him. 

She came to show him her solidarity before his interrogation. She gave him tips on working out, and joined in his conversations about the injustice of current prison systems. She even had his back when he was scolding Mikoto about taking fighting styles seriously. He jeered at the notion that Kotoko could overpower Kazui. Though, deep down, he’d seen how strong the woman was. For someone the same age as him, and busy with university like him, she had insanely impressive power.

He’d never dare admit it, but he looked on in awe whenever she worked out in the common areas. 

Fuuta found even more comfort in her strength as the trial came to a close. The two ended up with opposite verdicts, but that wasn’t anything new. Teachers, neighbors, relatives – everyone had reasons to praise his sister while dragging up grievances against him. Both women had a sort of brash charisma that people enjoyed. He usually only got the label of “brash.” Kotoko was saved his rant that it all came from their differences in gender and beauty. Fuuta was confident she’d come to the same conclusion already. 

After all, what else separated them? They were here for practically the same reason.

He didn’t let it get under his skin. While the prisoners shied away from him and the others named unforgiven, he could always count on Kotoko to speak with him as honestly and directly as usual. 

The warden and the prisoners weren’t the only ones to let him down: the voices in his head had gone from a fair debate to a loud, nasty mob with each passing day.

They seemed to be at their very worst, now. He was going on a few nights of little to no sleep thanks to their nonstop judgment. Fuuta tossed and turned in his sheets, cursing the new uniform that made it impossible to relax. It had been exhausting, consumed by fear and guilt and anger. Everything had him jumpy these days.

He flinched as his cell door creaked. 

His bleary eyes turned to the silhouette in the doorway. A name instinctively came to his lips. Thankfully, he corrected himself before making the embarrassing mistake. 

“It’s you, Kotoko.” It was strange for her to be here at this hour. And completely unannounced, at that. 

“Kajiyama Fuuta…”

He didn’t care. He smiled. After all, surrounded by so many betrayals, he always felt safer with her around.

[moonlightdistractions]

Picture this: 15 year old Sammy sitting on a rickety deck in too-short cut offs, swinging his legs and splashing at the water with a soft smile on his lips. Skinny but with skindeep muscles. Shaggy hair wet, slicked back but falling onto his forehead shyly. He tips back his head, sighs as the sun's warmth kisses his face. He's unaware of his brother watching him from his perch on a shoreline rock, a slight frown on his full lips. Dean is struck with an unfamiliar feeling, his eyes squinting at fresh sharp angles - he's jealous of the sun.

[tomatoswup]

when

summary: the when's and development of your feelings for a certain typhoon.

warnings: angst? more bittersweet really

A/N: honestly, this was a quick drabble after finishing notes for class :D since it was just a quick idea, i didn't really develop into a whole backstory and stuff without getting ahead of myself lmao but angst? yes(my first attempt) also was listening to tame impala's "For the First Time" as I wrote this so that kinda explains alot, enjoy!

When you first started gaining feelings for Vash, it was a night filled with thought and contemplation from your own head. Was this right? He was your best friend for god sake! No, you can't like him. It's not that you didn't want to, you couldn't. Your mind told you to hold back, to stop whatever was developing in you about the typhoon. And as much as you didn't want to accept it, you were in denial. The pair of you have traveled together for so long but you never got tired of the mischievous glint in his eyes, and the toothy smile he would shoot at you. You found it..cute.

In your own words, Vash was too considerate for a world that put their back to him, and you found it admirable.

You clenched the jacket you wore tightly as the snores of your caravan filled the night behind a large rock you sat behind. Maybe you needed the priest to pray for you...

When you started accepting your feelings for him, it felt as if your stomach constantly hurt every time you'd stand too near to him. And honestly, Vash had been the first crush you've had in a real long time and that flustered you a bit more. Whenever he'd put his hands on your shoulders, the familiar sensation of electricity ran up your back to which he'd curiously ask why your face had flushed red. Were you sick? He recommended a day off from working around with Wolfwood. Of course he did. when he walked away, you couldn't help but quickly cover your face with your hands.

When you noticed the difference, it kind of...hurt. The fact that he had become more affectionate with Meryl, seeking to find her side and accompany her more than he had with you. Was that a hand-hold? You felt a minor tinge in your heart. But that was okay! You guys were still best friends! Why were you feeling some type of way about it? You should be supporting him! You try to shrug the thought off and continue walking behind them as that little toothy smile you loved and had thought was reserved for just you, was given to another. You smiled on to the both of them, ignoring the growing ache in your chest.

When Wolfwood finally noticed the change in your behavior whenever you gazed at the pair, you had already fallen deep into the heavy pressure that resided in your heart. You didn't want to stop Vash from going after Meryl. What kind of person would you be if you did? Wolfwood confronts you as you had temporarily stepped away one night as everyone took camp in the dry deserts of No Man's Land. And as the more questions Wolfwood asked you, the more your throat felt as if it wanted to burn. And it wasn't until he asked a singular question, that you broke. You sobbed as the ache in your chest got unbearable and so heavy your stomach dropped to the floor and the familiar feeling of wanting to throw up arose. Wolfwood sighs and takes a seat next to you, rubbing your back as you leaned onto him for support.

"Is it needle-noggin and Meryl?"

When Vash and Meryl got officially together and Vash had come to break the news to you, you couldn't help but give him a pained smile, not even attempting to speak in fear of a tear falling out. and he asks what's wrong? Were you feeling okay? Did you need help? And he gives you that same toothy-nervous grin when you shake your head in fake reassurance.

oh how you missed that smile.

[riza-jes]

Angst thought of parent Ace with unwanted child

What if even Ace’s somehow give a birth to his child, but accidentally… couldn’t made himself to love them.

All these years of hating Roger as his father, and being confused why his mother decide to die for Ace’s life.

How they could possible love him and chose him even they would never gonna meet him and live with him.

So many thoughts bring him to conclusion that he is not gonna have a babe, especially with his own demonic blood.

but as result in his almost 15th he ended like that.

“Maybe, —Ace guessed, after getting news of his own pregnancy and impossibility of getting rid off it,— it could be more like Luffy’s case?” He’s gonna love them, not like his deadbeat-father, he definitely gonna take care of them and safe them from any danger, however the thought of loving unnamed yet child doesn’t bring him happiness.

Anyway he’s still gonna love them as parent have to love their child. He’s not gonna abandon them.

But Ace really doesn’t like this idea. And his future in that case.

Maybes miracle will appear and solve all his problem?

miracle didn’t happen.

He had a son. (Tiny voice in his head whisper that if there was a girl, there could be a chance..)

Ace doesn’t want even give him a name. That’s Luffy’s idea to name him Sado.

As Sabo but with D in name, so Sado.

This connection helped Ace actually to feel a bit affection for poor child in Luffy’s hands. Luffy cooed with baby and surprisingly carful keep him.

Luffy loves him. His baby brother accept that child.

So it made some stuff easy to get.

Ace can’t love his own flesh and blood.

But he will trying his best to keep him alive and somehow happy.

[ficsonpost-its]

chat how cringe is it to have watched all of house m.d imagining house as your unhinged doctor dad

[mad-hunts]

did i ever tell you all how barton's kids fully found out that he fears being left alone / abandoned? because i feel like they definitely had suspicions that that was something he really didn't want to happen before for a while, but barton never expressed it in a very overt way, if that makes any sense. that is, until he had somewhat of a delirium-based breakdown when he was REALLY sick with pancreatitis. which i estimate was around whenever matilda and louis were around fifteen years old.

because there is a chance that whenever you have a fever around the 103-106 mark that you will experience hallucinations and delirium + some people just seem to be more suspectible to it than others in general. and in the worst of the fever, barton had this super vivid dream about his kids leaving him, and he just woke up SOBBING from it. i mean, he was ugly crying because of it and begged them not to leave him. which is actually really kind of sad whenever i think about it. i honestly was thinking about writing a drabble about it because he didn't only just beg them for that — he said some things that, although it might not seem like barton would ever say them, sounded genuine.

and one of these things was apologizing to them, which... matilda + jack in particular, remember, and it's possible that it kept them up for a few nights. and i don't mean in a disturbed way or anything. i mean, in a ' wow, i can't remember the last time i saw dad be that vulnerable with us before. and if he did mean that he was sorry, then what does that mean whenever he may (or may not) eventually repeat doing what he apologized for? '

so it's honestly something that they still think about sometimes, and barton DOES remember saying them but kind of with a 'haziness' undertone to the memory, if that makes any sense. so yeah... barton's relationship with his children has a LOT of layers to it, and overall, it is very unstable. but he does ultimately seem to be attached to them in his own ' barton-like ' way, which is the best way i could put it because the man's mind is kind of like a labyrinth.

it's hard to navigate his feelings even for barton himself, but he is capable of being at least a semi-decent dad sometimes... but other times? yeah, he can be really cruel and uncaring. and i may sound like a broken record here, BUT the bad overshadows the good, and so he is not someone to look up to in regards to how a guardian should treat their children. however, i just think it's interesting how barton has just completely turned his dynamic with them on it's head before like this.