#all of the important moments that happen in their home

[psychohoneywhiskey]

What about Wade going to a different timelime requested by the TVA years after the Time Ripper. They told him the X-men and the anchor being of that universe were in danger and he needed to make sure they survived and he got rid of the problem for good.

So Wade goes alone to avoid his babygirl having to face the alternative versions of his dead team. He gets to the X mansion and explains them the situation, tells them he is Deadpool, a mercenary sent by a time organization to save them all and they believe him.

Everything was going surprisingly well until, well, it wasn't. And how could he have not thought to ask who the anchor being of that universe was? How could he not notice the absence of a very important person there? He is still surprised (after years of not seeing that amount of rage directed at him from his Logan) to see a younger Logan get to the mansion baring his teeth at him, unseathing his claws and preparing to pounce, seeing him as a threat.

And when he does he tries everything in his power not to hurt him, evading the punches, claws, and 300 pounds of feral Wolverine and not attacking him even once. Eventually, Logan stops confused about the man's playful attitude and the voices of the X-men asking him to calm down. When he asks Wade suspiciously 'why didn't you fight back bub?', Wade just laughs and answers in a tone so soft and sweet and foreign to him 'Well, if this had happened years ago I would have indulged in some fun, I always loved taming a feral Wolvie but I can't bear to hurt an alternative version of my husband now'.

Everything got so quiet he could have heard a pin drop but Wade was solely focused on Logan, watching the similarities to the love of his life who now had some more wrinkles around his eyes and cheeks, a soft healthy body, hair almost fully gray and a sweet smile almost all of the time around him, Laura, their friends, their family. Compared to this Logan who still looked so tense, wary, ready to run.

He stays with them for weeks waiting for the attackers to get there while spending time with this version of Logan. And as the time passes the man understands why other version of him would be head over heels for the mercenary, yeah the man is so damn weird and loud and fucking annoying at times but he has never found someone who could understand him and make him feel the way he does. He starts yearning, for a person, a place he will never have cause it already belongs to someone else and he dreads the moment Wade will leave and not come back ever again. And the X-men notice it, bewildered by Logan's behavior around Deadpool, how he seems to follow his lead as naturally as breathing, how they seem to get what the other is thinking or feeling just by seeing each other and they realize Logan has never been fully theirs cause he is just waiting for someone else to bring him home.

Inevitably when the time comes, and Dealpool saves them, he doesn't even have time to react and say goodbye to the merc cause a weird orange portal opens in the middle of the war field and a blue and yellow suited hand appears through it yanking Wade away, and Logan recognizes a voice so similar to his saying 'you've taken too long Mouth, our daughter's birthday is next week, and we all miss you at home'.

Logan knows all his life he's just been a stray longing for a place to settle but at least now he can hope there is a loud mouth, sarcastic, pretty, and soft mercenary with no filter waiting for him somewhere in his world to take him home.

I apologize for any mistake, I'm not a writer and English is not my first language but I just can't get enough of these men and any of their versions being soft with each other.

[p0ckykiss]

to the moon and back - jake sim

summary -> jake wouldn't call himself a christmas hater, but this year all this just doesn't feel right. until it does.

genre -> fluff, established relationship, christmas, lowk whipped jake

it’s not that jake hates christmas.

he really doesn’t, he has always been rather indifferent to it, passing the holiday by, letting it come and go, no big feelings, no attachment, no expectations.

this year, it’s different. everything that happens around screams about christmas, about happiness louder than ever and it annoys the shit out of jake. all the families in the tv ads meeting because of the exceptional occasion, all the people happily returning home and the people greeting the ones that arrive, it all makes jake sick.

because, while all the others are shoving their joy and unity onto his face, he can’t spend this special time with his favorite person.

you may call him a little dramatic, but this is the first christmas he has to spend without you in years and it makes him suddenly hyper aware of the situation.

he was always able to pass by christmas, because he had something, someone else to focus on. you would always find a way to come home despite your busy schedule, but this year you couldn’t. you are overseas and christmas falls right in the middle of your event, no way to take even a day off.

jake browses through the tv programs, finding only movies about holiday’s spirit and the magic of sharing it with relatives. he clicks the button on the remote control mindlessly, waiting for something that won’t blind him with the colors of red and green.

what actually lights up with a color of gray is his phone. he reaches for it right after turning the volume of tv down so a music program doesn’t bother him with carols.

the message on the screen is from jay, a friend of his, jake frowns as he reads the text. somewhere between the lines, what he understands is that jay wants to get him out of his house. jake snorts to himself silently as he types his refusal without hesitation.

when you informed him about your upcoming absence, jake firmly made a decision to simply stay home and ignore everything related to christmas, eventually facetime you and exchange wishes and ‘i miss you’s. it turns out not to be as easy as jake first thought.

he picks up the remote control once again to continue scrolling through the channels, but it doesn’t take long before another text makes his phone light up. jay seems to be really determined and jake would lie if he said he wasn’t getting curious. what was so important that jay even offered food in return?

after a moment getting the deal as beneficial for jake as possible, he eventually stands up from the couch, turning off tv and messaging jay that he will come. only then does he get the location and, oh god, he should have bargained more.

the place jay wants to meet him in is basically on the other side of the city and, as every year, on christmas eve there are no buses riding through the center of the town. he could take a bike, but he knows how much snow and how much people will be in his way. he sighs, putting on his heaviest boots. if he has already said he will come, then he will.

the way through the center isn’t actually so long, but at this time, it has to be busy. and if jake forgot about christmas already, everything around him would remind him and make sure the awareness doesn’t leave his mind even for a step.

the first thing he sees as he comes out of his garden onto the street is the house on the opposite side of the road. in front of it there stands a car, slightly tilted, with one wheel on a sidewalk. three people get out of it at the same time, enthusiast and eager to come closer to the door, dragging big suitcases behind themselves. they meet with the ones living in the house, standing now on a porch with big smiles and open arms, ready to greet them warmly.

jake's heart clenches at the sight. he can’t help but feel a sympathetic joy towards the reunited family, but his mind circles around the thought of you coming home and jake being the one to greet you with a tight hug. even if he has done it many times before, it still feels empty without the one that should happen today.

jake looks away not to cause himself more pain than needed and turns into another street, following the shortest way to jay's location.

both sides of the road are full of houses, all of them decorated with thousands of lights, colorful and bright. the irregular flashing of them and the range of colors feel like an eyesore to jake's irritated self. there is something hypnotizing in them in the worst meaning possible, that makes him observe the changes, until the small spots start appearing within his sight. he eventually looks away and blinking furiously, almost blinded, he bumps into someone.

that’s when he realizes he steps into the region where there are more and more people around, everyone cheerful in haste, on their way home or to some kind of group celebration.

he decides to take a different route so as to get quickly out of the reach of the sound and enjoy the silence once again. but it doesn’t last long before he finds himself in the middle of a fair. the loud voices are coming from every side, shouting about the things one could buy if they were more excited than jake. there are apparently enough takers, responding equally loud and clear to create a commotion, almost deafening experience.

what is even worse for jake is the amount of smells coming from the counters with homemade cakes and cookies. as soon as he senses an aroma of cinnamon enter his nose, he knows he won’t stop sneezing for the next couple of minutes. he has to get through the fair, weaving between the people, at the same time covering his nose, trying to refrain his reaction to next strong and prickly smells.

as he reaches the end of it and comes out onto an open square, he takes a deep breath of relief, the cold air tickling his throat. he feels how frozen his cheeks have become, a shiver runs down his back. he hopes jay is waiting for him with something really important because this whole trip has made him feel even worse than before leaving his house.

the square is the one jay has described in the message so jake doesn’t waste any more time and searches for this very specific location jay has indicated to him. the second building on the left, he murmurs to himself, recalling the instructions, not wanting to take his hand with the phone out of his pocket, exposing it to the freezing cold. 

jake reaches the destination after a moment, spotting a person from afar. but the closer he gets to them, the faster he realizes what he has come to. it is not jay waiting for him.

“hi.”

your wide smile is the first thing jake recognizes and it makes him return it reflexively even before he fully understands the situation. he stops in his steps right in front of you, staring in shock and awe. in bliss.

“hi,” he answers under his breath and watches as you open your arms. jake doesn’t wait a second before taking his hands out of pockets and jumping into a hug to squeeze you tightly as ever, making you giggle.

jake moves away quickly as if to check whether it is really you, his y/n, here, right in front of him. when your eyes meet, jake's smile stretches even wider before he cups your face with his hands and pulls you into a longing kiss.

your lips are cold against each other, but this is what makes everything more real, more palpable. jake can feel your smile so close, he doesn’t need anything more.

in no time, you are on your way back to the apartment, jake basically dragging you behind, so excited and happy to be able to spend as much time together as possible.

the snow accompanying you creates a magical surrounding, making your walk more special and unique. jake admires the blush the cold causes on your cheeks as if it was the most adorable thing in the whole world. your hands don’t get to feel frozen as you hold each other tightly and warmly through the whole way.

you both take the same route jake had chosen earlier, even though now he wouldn’t complain if the road was the longest one. you walk through the christmas fair, all the smells now blending nice together in jake's nose as the strongest one, of lavender, is right by his side. also the shouting doesn’t feel so aggressive when his posture shields you from the half of the counters. he would even say he enjoys it, the sight and smell of different baked goods.

the singing kids sound nicely when jake doesn’t pay so much attention, letting them be a background music to your voice.

“arriving here at all is a challenge, not to mention doing it on time.” your free hand gestures vaguely as you complain about the schedule that barely allowed you to take a last-minute flight. you take a glance at jake before turning to the road in front of you again and smiling. “but the hardest was to keep it a secret from you.”

the kids’ voices let jake feel slightly less embarrassed when your words have such an effect on him, the possibility of blaming the creeping blush on a mood created by the song makes his life easier. and he knows you are aware of it, but at least spare him and don't mention it, not right away.

the crowd of people thin out as you move further and further from the center, your hands swinging lightly with a feeling of privacy surrounding you. jake turns his head to the side to look up at you, words on his tongue quickly forgotten.

you are watching the lights hung on the houses, your head slightly tilted back. all the colors are reflecting in your wide open eyes and jake can’t look away, can’t name anything more beautiful than the christmas lights. the christmas lights in your eyes. jake is hypnotized.

the most colorful street eventually ends and jake feels a little disappointed at it as your gaze drops from the decorated roofs and balconies to him. only then does jake realize that the way which you look in, hasn’t changed. you look at jake with the same adoration you were observing the lights, with the same stars appearing in them. jake feels his ears heat up.

you arrive in front of the apartment and before taking out the key, jake looks over your shoulder at the house on the other side of the road. there is no one there now, but jake knows the people inside are happy and together, emptying their suitcases and getting ready for a good time.

jake's gaze wanders to you to notice you don't have a big suitcase with you. you don't need much, all of your things are already at jake's. because you aren't a guest here.

you're finally home.

[liketolaugh-writes]

I did say that I understand the appeal. You see the same thing in most fandoms with very sweet protagonists that take a lot of shit; that's how you get three hundred fics of Izuku hating All Might. There are a million of the Wrong-Boy-Who-Lived trope in Harry Potter, and its KHR counterpart, 'Sawada Tsunayoshi Has A Twin.' Ash Ketchum getting betrayed by his friends, leaving, and coming back hardened and stronger than ever? A dime a dozen. It's a very consistent fandom phenomenon. People love to see these characters snap.

That doesn't make it consistent with Danny's character. It can be done well! I love to see it done well, Danny finally snapping while retaining the same general personality, but it usually isn't. My initial post was honestly just frustration at seeing the same mouthpiece behavior done over and over again. The moment he gets put in a room with the Justice League, it's immediately "Flash! Clockwork hates you, get fucked! Superman! Your dead dad says to be nice to your mirrorborn! Green Lantern! I can hear you wondering how I died, that's super offensive to ghosts! I should rip your face off! You are all guilty of interdimensional crimes!"

It's more the shoehorning that's the issue, and I know in my heart that that's just people who are still learning to write - it's just a pet peeve. It's not a natural behavior for Danny, you need to build to it.

Returning to Danny, I need to point out that how you respond to abuse depends heavily on your natural personality. It's not either/or. Some kids become aggressive. Some avoid home. Some become passive and some become people-pleasers. Fight, flight, freeze, fawn. Danny, imo, is a 'freeze' kid, but he is also very naturally forgiving. (This is not a statement on his nobility; at this extreme I'd honestly consider it a morally neutral trait, because Danny has a significant pattern of forgiving his abusers and that's not a good thing.) Freeze is a behavior; forgiveness is a mentality.

Why wouldn't he forgive the Justice League? They have more important things to worry about than his problems. Or maybe he resents them but is worried about confronting them. Or he remains distant and curt and doesn't say anything until something actually happens. There are plenty of ways to handle this that are loyal to Danny's personality.

(Extreme forgiveness is an innate part of Danny's character though, and I will die on that hill. He fights for a town that actively hates him for more than half the cartoon, and practicing being kind to people who are not kind to him is a recurring theme throughout the series.)

Why is Danny everyone’s mouthpiece for their random grudges against various superheroes? Why is it SO COMMON for Danny to show up and immediately start chewing people out?

Like. Danny? Mr. ‘My Parents Shoot At Me But It’s Fine’? Mr. ‘Dates The One Ghost Hunter At His School’? Danny ‘Dash Can Shove Me Around I Guess’ Fenton? Holds a bunch of grudges against popular superheroes and tries to punch them at the first available opportunity??

I know it’s become a pretty popular characterization in fandom for Danny to be pretty testy/spiteful, I just don’t really get it

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ platonic, gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

・Boyd already had a son, but Ellis was too angry at him. He barely had anything to do with his father, the Sheriff, no matter how hard Fatima pushed Ellis

・You had entered Fromville by yourself; it was supposed to be your first adventure by yourself and now you were trapped in HELL.

・For the first few days, you were a tiny bit catatonic; anxiety, along with the whole "What could go wrong!" from your family was really messing with your head

・Fatima was the person who showed you a lot of kindness, patience and ways of looking at the town.

・But you came here by yourself, no link to anyone and you felt like 1. an outsider and 2. like the people wouldn't care if anything happened to you

・That was until you were too late getting back to your home in town, the monsters had already pulled up and were doing their creepy business.

・Boyd threw himself straight into action, flinging open the Sheriff Station/Post Office door and grabbing your arm.

"What are you doing out here?! It's DARK!"

"No, I no, I no-"

"So you were trying to get yourself kILLED?!"

"No! I just got carried away at the edge of the forest-"

"The EDGE of the WHAT NOW!"

"No Sheriff, it's okay. It's not like I have any ties here and the probability of me surviving is very low... so..."

・It was in that moment that Boyd decided to unconsiously adopt you.

・He would never let you feel alone again.

・Everyone was going to know you, know your importance.

・Whenever you give your opinion during matters (because you are now in the inner circle - you know more than the regular citizens),

Boyd always holds up a hand before you can talk, "No. You are not putting yourself as bait. Not again."

・Kenny likes you a lot, romantically? Maybe. He's still mixed up about the whole Kristi and Marielle thing.

・Then again, it's not like anyone was going to approach the Sheriff's kid with a romantic offer. Boyd is deeply protective of you.

・Both Jade and Randall have their eyes on you.

・They think you're very unique, smart but also have a boldness that this town had brought out in you.

・Plus you never let either of their quips go without an insult straight back at them

・Ellis, who hadn't been in town for a while, was surprised. A little hurt, but c'mon - deep down he knew he could never be replaced.

・Boyd always makes sure that you're okay, especially when it's just you two at the station. There's one bedroom/cell type place.

・So Boyd made another area just for you, where you had your own bed, a sheet to pull over for privacy and room for all your little trinkets.

・Sometimes he prefers you to sleep in the cell, especially when there's been an incident with the Monsters.

・To get him to open up, you made him play truth or dare once and it was the most fun he's ever had in a while.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Two damaged individuals who attach themselves to each other

"Come Near Them And I Will Fucking End You" (Boyd) x "You Heard The Old Timer!" (You, with the constant old person joke)

You bring him things you find interesting like bugs, rocks, things Mrs Chen let you go look for in the lost and found...

𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Found Family

Trustworthy Male Mentor

Father Figure Who Doesn't Realise He's Basically Raising You Until You Call Him Dad

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Beautiful Boy by John Lennon (this doesn't negate from anyone's representation as a woman or non-binary. it's just a beautiful song)

Me and the Devil by Soap and Skin (the original fits here perfectly too)

A Narnian Lullaby by Harry Gregson Williams

[sequinsmile-x]

All I Want for Christmas

Christmas Eve with the Hotchners.

-x-

Hi besties,

One last bit of Christmas fluff for you lovely lot this year. This really is just pure, family fluff and our favs having a typical Christmas eve with their family.

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, and happy mid-week to those who don't. I hope you have a wonderful couple of days no matter what you do and what you celebrate <3

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: None

Words: 2.1k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Malls had freaked her out ever since the case with Katie Jacobs. Especially when she was in one with her children, the memory of all the places a little kid could hide, or be hidden, making a shiver run down her spine every time she thought about it. It didn’t help that Aaron wasn’t here with them, that she was on her own and thinking of every terrible thing that could happen to Jack, Hazel and Oliver, but he was on his way. 

The jet had landed back in DC all of 45 minutes ago, and he’d called and told her he’d come and meet her at the mall. He’d sounded tired, worn down by whatever horrors he and the team had seen when they were away. She told him they could just meet him at home, that he didn’t need to come and wait in line with her so the kids could meet some random guy dressed as Santa, but he’d insisted. 

This kind of thing, the achingly normal parts of being a parent and part of a family, were as important to him as they were to her. The extraordinary ordinariness of it all made her emotional sometimes. Love and joy filling the space in her chest that she thinks must have always been waiting for them. Waiting for the man she loves and his son who would one day be hers, and the little girl and boy who would follow.  It was beautiful and hers and everything she never thought she’d get. 

Which is exactly why even though her feet hurt from standing in line for so long on Christmas Eve, and her back hurt from holding Oliver on her hip since she’d lifted him out of the car, she was able to find the joy in waiting in line at the mall for her kids to see Santa. 

Oliver grumbles in Emily’s arms and rubs his face against her neck. She hums and turns to kiss the 10-month-old’s forehead, “I know sweet boy,” she says, kissing him again, “It’s almost nap time, huh?” 

Hazel turns to look at her, her hand still wrapped up in Jack’s where they were standing barely a foot in front of her, “Mommy, I’m bored.” 

“I know, baby,” she says, Emily smiles at the absolute weariness in her four-year-old’s voice and she adjusts her hold on Oliver, so she can run fingers through the little girl’s dark hair as she looks at the line ahead of them and slightly too enthusiastic elves at the front, “But it’s almost our turn.” 

“Santa has a lot of people to talk to,” Jack says, winking at Emily before he turns his attention to his little sister, “It’s only fair everyone gets to talk to him.” 

One evening, back in November, Jack had announced to his parents that he knew Santa wasn’t real. He’d delighted in being in on the secret as much as they’d been sad that he was, a strange mix of sadness spreading through them at the thought of their eldest growing up and pride because of the person he was becoming.

“Exactly,” Emily says, smiling at Jack, “It’s Christmas Eve,” she enthuses, looking back at her little girl, “He’s a busy guy.” 

“Emily!”

She turns at the sound of her husband’s voice and feels herself relax the moment she sees him walking towards them. She leans in to kiss him the moment he’s close enough, her lips stamped against his, “Speaking of busy guys.”

“Hi, sweetheart.” 

She can hear the weariness in his voice, the tiredness brought on by the job they once shared and coming so close to missing Christmas. She’d left the BAU when she had Hazel, something she had never regretted for a second, and she now led the Counterterrorism unit. She’d sent her team early and had her work phone tucked into her pocket in case of an emergency, but it was important to spend Christmas with her kids - especially when they were so young - because her parents had never really spent it with her. It was why she loved Christmas so much, because she saw it through the eyes of her children, the magic of it stronger than it had ever been as she watched them enjoy it too. 

Hazel throws herself at Aaron, excited to see her father after a few days apart, her apparent boredom now forgotten, “Daddy!” 

“Hi princess,” he says, hauling her up into his arms and kissing her cheek before he settles her onto his hip, “Are you excited to see Santa?” 

She nods, “He’s very busy but it’s almost our turn.” 

He smiles and ruffles Jack’s hair, his smile getting wider when he tries to doge his father’s affection, “Hi buddy.” 

“Merry Christmas Eve, Dad.” 

Aaron then leans in to kiss Oliver’s forehead, “Hi Ollie,” he furrows his brow when Oliver grumbles and leans in closer to Emily, his tiny hand tangled up in her necklace. Aaron looks up at Emily, “Is he okay?” 

She nods and rubs a circle on Oliver’s back, “He’s okay, he’s just tired.” 

“The next family can come forward.”

Emily smiles at the elf in front of them and nods her thanks before she looks at the kids, with genuine enthusiasm in her eyes, “Come on, let's go meet Santa.” 

Hazel goes first. She sits on his lap and tells him what she wants - a princess castle which was currently in the home office waiting to be built - and then smiles for her photo. Jack does the same, a knowing look in his eyes as he goes through the motions for the sake of his parents and his sister. 

As Emily expected, the moment she puts Oliver down on Santa’s lap he bursts into tears. He stays there long enough for a picture, something that makes Emily feel a little bad because of just how much it amuses her. She picks him back up again, shushing him as she tries to soothe him, her lips against his temple as she whispers words of comfort in English and French. 

“Why did Ollie cry?” Hazel asks, one hand in Aaron’s and the other in Jack’s as they walk back to the car, “It’s just Santa.” 

“You cried when you first met him too,” Jack says, his smile getting wide when Hazel furrows her brow.

“No, I didn’t.” 

“You did, princess,” Aaron says, smiling as he meets his wife’s eyes, the memory of their little girl, who had only been 6 months old at the time, and the way she’d burst into tears just like Oliver had.

“But I love Santa,” she says, her lower lip stuck out in a pout. 

“Now you do, sweet girl,” Emily replies, “But you were very little. Even littler than Ollie,” she turns to Aaron, sighing when she sees him dig through his pockets for his car keys, wishing more than anything they were driving home together, “See you at home?” 

He nods, “I’ll grab dinner on the way back.” 

“It’s okay, you’ve been at work all day,” she says, “I can-”

“You’ve got all the kids with you, sweetheart,” he says, leaning in to kiss her cheek, “It’s easier if I go.” 

She smiles and nods, stamping her lips against his, “Okay, see you at home.” 

___

She sneaks out of Oliver’s room, making sure she’s careful as she pulls the door closed behind her, sighing in relief for managing to get all the kids to sleep, something that was no mean feat on any day let alone Christmas Eve. 

She yawns as she walks down the hallway, seeking out her husband and the rare and precious alone time she wants with him. She walks downstairs and smiles as she comes to a stop outside of the home office when she hears a muttered curse through the door. She knocks and then steps inside, her smile only getting wider when she finds him sitting on the floor surrounded by pieces of the princess castle they’d bought for Hazel. Most of it is still in pieces, with only the base built, and Aaron’s hair is all over the place from where he’d run his fingers through it in frustration. 

“How is going in here?” She asks, pressing her lips together to hide her amusement when he looks up at her, more frustration written across his face than she’d seen in a long time. 

“Did you know that this thing needs three different types of batteries?” He asks, shaking his head as he looks at the instructions again, “Why does anything need three different types of batteries?” 

She sits on the ground next to him, “Do you want any help?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head as he grabs the instructions from the floor in between them, “I can do it. You wrapped all the other gifts, I can build this.” 

She finds herself trying to suppress a smile again, her love for him and his love for their children thrumming under her skin. He was tired. Weary in a way that seemed bone deep, and he was insistent on building one of their daughter’s Christmas presents so she didn’t have to wait for him to do it tomorrow. She leans in to kiss his cheek, and she wraps her hand around the back of his neck, pressing her fingers into the muscles she knew ached the most.

“That’s because I enjoy wrapping presents, honey,” she says, smiling at him, stamping another kiss against his chest, “No one likes to build these things.” 

He hums and hands her the instructions, “You can see if you can make any sense of this if you’d like?”

She takes the piece of paper and immediately frowns at it, the instructions and the accompanying diagrams making no sense at all. She turns it over and tries to read them on the other side, “Well, if it makes you feel any better, honey, they don’t make sense in French or Italian either.” 

They end up working on it together, figuring it out mostly through trial and error as they slowly but surely build the castle they know will delight their little girl in the morning. When it’s eventually done, Aaron switches on all the lights and smiles in delight and relief when it works. 

“Thank fuck for that,” he says, sitting back to admire his work and blowing out a slow breath, “I was very close to telling Hazel that Santa was all out of princess castles.”

“No, you weren’t,” Emily chuckles and leans in to kiss him, her lips catching the corner of his as she cups his cheek, “You’d have stayed up until the morning if you needed to. Because you’re the best dad in the whole world.” 

He hums and kisses her, “And you’re the best mom.”

She smiles so widely that her cheeks ache and she once again wonders how this was her life, how she’d got so lucky to have him here with her with their children all safely tucked in their beds upstairs. She thinks of the Christmases she’d spent alone, how she had ached for a life where she’d stay up all night to build a present for her kid just to see their smile in the morning. 

“Our kids are lucky to have us,” she quips and he smiles, leaning in to kiss her again. 

His watch beeps as he pulls, indicating that it was midnight, and he smiles at her, his dimples carved out deep in his cheeks, “Merry Christmas sweetheart.” 

She pulls back just enough to speak, her nose knocking against his as she replies, “Merry Christmas, baby,” she kisses him again, “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he says, “So much.” 

She kisses him, her hand tangled in his hair as she holds him in place before she rests her cheek against his chest, curling herself up against him as she sighs contentedly. She turns her head to look at the princess castle, her eyebrows furrowing as she finally takes in the size of it.��

“Aaron?” 

“Yes, Em?” 

“How the hell are we going to move the castle to the living room?” 

He tightens his hold on her for a second, and she feels more than hears his resigned sigh as it passes from his chest to hers. 

“Well shit.” 

[gamergirl-niffler]

LOV triptych - Making of...

You probably saw the post from @doumadono about the triptych

THE POST

so here is how it happened!

I was going shopping with my parents and I came across this

I was also at the moment that I thought abut gift for my girl since because of the work my original idea didn't work out. SO I GRABBED IT AND GOT TO WORK as soon as I got back home!

At first, I prepared the drawings. I took them from my only fav thing with LOV that is those stained-glass acrylic stands. Then I planned them out and the first step was done.

After planning them out, I slapped the glass over the paper, taped it in place and got to work! I again went with paint as a line art... I am not using marker until I get something that won't be eaten by the paint under it.

I love this part, even if it's a little tiring.

Of course then came painting it all in... it's even more tiring and kinda stressful.

I planned on doing simple frames like maybe paint them in one color like purple or just black but in the end I got the idea of doing gradient from black into a color matching the character -just to add the spice!

Of course, the character got a nice, shiny backgrounds!

Touya received a blue one, Toga got a beautiful pink one and our Lord Shigaraki got gray with a bit of holo!

After putting them together

This is the finale product:

I used simple acrylic paints, but I also used metallic acrylic paint. Each of them has shiny eyes and elements (Touya's staples, Shiggy's cape chain, Toga's blood grabbing thing) and the colors on frames are also black going into metallic color.

I am honestly proud of it, even if I think I could do a better job on Toga.

The most important is that my dear best friend enjoyed her Christma's gift!

YAY!

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Reconnect | Connor Bedard

wc. 2.5k

You and Connor have a falling out after he gets drafted that neither of you seem to understand until fate brings you back together again.

Italics = flashback

Sometimes you wonder if moving to another country and almost two thousand miles away from everyone and everything you know and love was the right idea. 

Granted, the most important person in your life left first so how could anyone blame you? 

At the young age of 18, Connor Bedard had been drafted first overall to the Chicago Blackhawks, a dream that had been a long time coming. When you heard the news you couldn’t help but think about all the times the two of you had talked about the NHL draft. 

“Do you think the Canucks will draft you?” You ask, your head hanging off of Connor’s bed to look at him upside down. 

“That’s not how that works, bear,” Connor responds and you roll your eyes at the childhood nickname. 

Your eyes trace over Connor’s features and you find yourself frowning at the boy. His smile hadn’t reached his eyes and he looks away from you quickly. 

“Bedsy?” You ask quietly and when he looks back at you his expression is hard to read. 

“What if I don’t get drafted at all?” 

You tilt your head at him but when his expression remains the same, you’re quick to get up from his bed and kneel down in front of him. You place both hands on his knees, forcing him to look at you. 

“No matter what happens, you’ll always be number one to me,” you tell him sincerely and a ghost of a smile appears on his lips. “Besides, they’ve been scouting you since you were in pee wee. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” 

You thought you would have been there when Connor got drafted. You thought you would be able to cheer him on and hug him afterwards. Finally tell him that you told him so. 

You never thought the news would reach you as you unpacked your first apartment in Minneapolis and one of your high school friends called you to tell you. 

Your contact with Connor after that had essentially been non-existent. You texted him a congrats and he responded with a short text and that was it. 14 years gone in what felt like minutes. 

And for the life of you you still couldn’t figure out why. 

A few months before the draft, Connor had started to distance himself. You knew he was busy with practices and games, the stress of the upcoming draft making it harder on him. You tried to be there for him as much as possible but he didn’t want you. 

“(y/n)?” you feel someone shaking your shoulder lightly and your eyes flutter open to meet Connor’s dark ones. 

You look around for a moment, forgetting that you had come over to Connor’s house to hangout with him after his game. Connor looks like he just got home, jacket still wrapped tight around him and the tint of pink still staining his cheeks from the cold. 

“What time is it?” you ask groggily as you sit up and rub at your eyes. 

“Almost midnight,” he tells you and your mouth forms into an awkward o at the answer. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Connor murmurs quietly, taking a seat with a heavy thud onto the couch next to you. 

“What?” you ask, not sure if you heard him right since you’re still waking up. 

“You shouldn't be here. I didn’t ask you to come here,” he says more firmly this time. 

“I just-” you start, his words stinging but he doesn’t let you explain. 

“I didn’t ask you here and I don’t want you here okay? What are you gonna do? Follow me to the NHL?” 

Each word feels like a knife to your chest and you’re genuinely stunned at them. Your mouth opens and closes, floundering like your heart was, trying to come up with something to say to your best friend. 

“Just go,” he says at last. “Go.” 

For weeks afterwards you grappled with the loss of your best friend. You barely left your bed for weeks. Your family and friends had to drag you out of the house and force you to keep living. For a while you didn’t quite understand why it hurt so fucking badly. 

At last when you found out that the Hawks had the first pick in the draft and every news outlet, sports analyst, and casual fan declared Connor as their pick you couldn’t take it anymore. You wanted out of Vancouver and certainly out of any vicinity that Connor might come near. Even though you knew Connor was headed to the states for hockey, you couldn’t help but need a fresh start away from Canada and all the memories that your home country came with. 

You looked and applied for multiple colleges throughout America and for whatever reason when you saw an acceptance letter from the University of Minnesota, you found yourself accepting. It was in a different country and far enough away from both Canada and Chicago that you could start new and try to forget about Connor. 

Besides, Connor would only be in the same city as you a couple of times a year. The occasional game against the Wild wasn’t going to stop you from this opportunity. 

You settled into Minnesotan life quickly, enjoying the weather since it was so similar to home and your college classes had been going well. You made friends with ease and as much as they tried, you wouldn’t be going to a Wild game any time soon. 

Connor had been in an ongoing bad mood since the night of the draft. 

Nothing in his life felt right if you weren't there beside him for it all. He smiled for the media, explained what an amazing opportunity this was for him, and tried to bond with his teammates but there always seemed to be a storm cloud following the young centerman. Thankfully most people chalked it up to a tough rookie year for him but he knew it had to do with you. 

You were his good luck charm. His best friend. The girl he had been in love with since god knows how long. He pushed you away before the draft because he was scared of losing you. Or worse, scared you wouldn't want him the way he wanted you. 

Even if you did, he didn’t know what the NHL life would be like. He didn’t want to throw you into the spotlight with him and drive the two of you apart because of a dream he had been chasing his whole life. He knew himself. He would have given it all up for you. You were his first and only dream after all is said and done anyway. 

He had heard from a friend of a friend or something along those lines that you had decided to go to school at the University of Minnesota, a full ride scholarship being your main reason for going but Connor knew you better than you knew yourself. You wanted out of Canada and away from the memories. Connor had been doing a decent job of forgetting the memories too, until he had to play against the Wild. 

You don’t know how your new friends had managed to convince you to go see the Wild game. You had planned to stay far away from the Xcel center for the entire time you would be in the state of Minnesota but you hated the way your friends were begging you to go just this once. You broke down and said yes and besides, how could you turn down free tickets to a hockey game? 

Your friend let you borrow a jersey and the four of you headed out to the arena. The minute you walked through the stadium doors you were hit with a sense of longing and nostalgia. You missed the days you and Connor would spend watching hockey together, bundled up for the cold rinks to watch high schoolers play whenever Connor wasn’t and living your best life when you got to watch the occasional professional game. 

The two of you always imagined a future where he would be the professional on the ice and you were in the stands cheering him on as you always had. Your best friend for life. 

“(y/n)?” you hear your friend call and you fail to notice how the whole group paused to look at you with worried expressions. 

“Sorry,” you apologize before joining them again and forcing yourself back to the present. 

The seats were close to the ice, a row back from the glass seats and you wanted to question how your friend got such great tickets but decided to let it slide. When you got there you dropped your items on the seat before turning to see the players warming up. 

For whatever reason, Connor had been jittery since entering the state of Minnesota. He couldn’t quite place why but he knew from the moment he crossed state lines he had been shaking ever since. The game tonight was against the Wild, them having a better season than the Hawks by far with a second place spot in the central division to prove it. However, that wasn’t the reason Connor was nervous. 

The minute he stepped out onto the ice nothing else mattered anymore. He felt his mind rush quiet, the crowd fading, the worries slip off his skin like water in a rainfall. It was him, the ice, and the sport he loved. However, just as he completes his first lap of warmups he sees you. 

You turn, your eyes scanning over the players, your friends deep in conversation about something when you see him. He’s gliding along the ice with ease like he’s done a million times, like you’ve seen him do a million times and your heart has effectively ceased its actions in your chest. Why didn’t you check to see who the Wild were playing? 

It suddenly all made perfect sense as to why Connor couldn’t seem to breathe properly when he crossed into Minnesota. His heart knew that you were here. You were so close yet so far away from him and his body couldn't take it. 

The world turns to slow motion as you and Connor make eye contact and you watch with bated breath as he skates over to your spot by the glass. His eyes search yours, the world fading away around the two of you. His gloved hand reaches up, tapping the glass twice before drawing half a heart, a pregame tradition that dated back to when you were just kids. 

As if your body couldn’t help it, you reached up, tapping the glass with your finger twice as well before drawing the other half of the heart. His hand comes up to rest on the glass and yours mirrors it, the two of you focusing on the movements instead of each other. Your hand clenches till it’s in a fist, bumping the glass before one last touch with your pointer finger that Connor mirrors on the other side. 

When you finally get the courage to look up at him again, you see a hurt resting in his eyes that never seemed to be there before. His head dips as he skates away and you don’t move for several long moments after that. 

“(y/n)?” your friend calls for the second time that night. 

“I uh,” you stutter out, meeting her gaze. “I have to go. I’m sorry.” 

With that you tear up the stairs, taking the steps as quickly as you can, all but sprinting out of the arena. When you finally crash through the exit doors and the freezing Minnesota temperatures wash over you is when your emotions catch up as well. 

Connor was your best friend. He was also your first love. Something you never let yourself dwell on much until this very moment. When you thought it was all said and done, but here he was. You had to face the music now. You lost your best friend and the love of your life in one fell swoop months ago and now you had to deal with the fall out; for real this time. 

You catch an uber back to your apartment, the quiet of the building greeting you like an old friend. You spent the whole drive back thinking about Connor, wondering what he was thinking and feeling. Wondering if there was some way, somehow, some time the two of you would be able to find your way back to one another. You pad around your apartment for what feels like hours just thinking about everything that has happened. 

Connor knew the minute you had completed the pregame handshake ritual, he hadn’t totally lost you. He knew you had come back to him even though there was still so much to do. So much to talk about and explain between the two of you. He knew though that he had time. He was certain of it now more than ever. 

He managed to find out where your apartment was through your sibling and several phone calls. He headed there right after the game, his mind hadn’t left you ever since he saw you again. 

You’re snapped out of your looping series of thoughts by your phone ringing. You don’t recognize the number but still swipe to answer it anyway. 

“Hello?” 

“It’s me,” Connor murmurs on the other end of the line. 

“Bedsy?” you ask, the childhood nickname slipping off your lips. 

“Can you please buzz me in?” he asks and your jaw drops open in shock. 

“What?” you ask unsure if you really heard him correctly. Was he seriously here? At your apartment? 

“Can you please buzz me in?” he asks, a little more edge to his tone than before. “It’s cold out here.” 

Without a second thought you cross the room to your front door and buzz Connor in. You wait by the door and yet his sharp knock still causes you to jump when you hear it. You swing the door open and before you know it, Connor is pulling you in close. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. His arms are wrapped tight around your waist, his face pushed into your neck, his words muffled in your hair. You’re shocked not only by his presence but the fact that he was holding you like you might disappear in his arms out of nowhere if he isn’t careful. 

“I’m sorry too,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him even closer than before. 

“Bedsy?” you call his name quietly and he pulls back to look at you, really look at you with those blue eyes that seemed to read you like a book. 

“Can I stay?” He whispers the question and you’re hit with an image of young Connor, nervous and worried and scared. Your best friend. The one you’ve missed so dearly. The one that you hoped you could be more than just best friends with one day. 

“Come on,” you tell him, tugging him further into your apartment with the intent of bringing your two souls back together again. 

[housewarningparty]

💘 Amy/Faith; Bonus Prompt word; settle. (If you want to indulge me on my agenda)

I come baring a variety of prompts for you hope some of these click and get you juiced.

all your prompts were so good. writing this one as an alternate ending to your excellent fic A Prison of Their Own Making

Also, a bit of a swerve on the meaning of mutual pining lmao

-

“That feels good, Willow,” Amy husks and Faith, with her lips on Amy’s throat, feels the way her breath hitches the moment before Faith shoves her off.

She lands with a shriek and a thud on the shabby motel carpet, looking scared and shocked, but otherwise unharmed. Faith’s glad, because there was definitely a second of hangtime there, just a little too much unregulated slayer strength and for a moment she felt her heart lurch, sick, at what she could have done.

“What the hell, Faith?” Amy shoots back up to her feet, backing away with a sneer, looking at Faith like she’s a dog about to snap. “You fucking psycho!”

“I’m sorry,” the apology slips out before Faith can get her thoughts in order. “I didn’t…”

Faith feels herself flushing, oily embarrassment and sick guilt and more than a little anger of her own roiling in her belly. She hates the way Amy’s looking at her, like that crazy bitch has any right to judge. If anything, she’s even more pathetic than Faith is. This fucked up roleplay thing was her idea, anyway. Faith had just got caught up for a second.

“I’m leaving,” Amy huffs, turning away and Faith should let herself fall back on the bed in relief, should say ‘good fucking riddance’ and start work on forgetting this entire miserable, embarrassing night ever happened.

Instead she says, “Wait,” and bounces to her feet, reaching out to grab Amy by the wrist before she can make it to the motel door.

Amy freezes, struggles for a second, but then stops when Faith steps in closer, pressing her front to Amy’s back, settling her lips on the side of Amy’s neck and offering a tentative kiss. No tongue, no teeth, just her lips, searching.

“Let’s just knock it off with the game, okay, I didn’t like that,” Faith says, hating the slight shake in her own voice, hoping Amy chalks it up to her being horny. “You don’t have to go yet. We can still help each other out.”

Amy hasn’t spoken yet, but Faith can feel her body relaxing in Faith’s grip. Boldly, Faith lets her hands drift from Amy’s wrist, the curve of her hip, up her abdomen, under her shirt. Her fingertips graze the underside of Amy’s bra, and Faith closes her eyes, starts working a bruise into the tender spot just under the curve of Amy’s jaw, pulling needy little whimpers out of her.

“Are you sure you don’t want…?” Amy’s voice trails off and Faith opens her eyes to a flash of honey blonde hair, familiar features. Her lips tingle, remembering Buffy’s name passing through them earlier, that fucked up moment of weakness.

She manages not to shove Amy this time. Just slams her eyes shut, forces her body still despite the hammering of her heart, the slightly nauseous, slightly horny swoop in her belly. “No,” Faith grits out, teeth clenched tight. She slips her hands up under Amy’s bra, grabs her tits hard enough to make Amy wince and try jerking away. Faith doesn’t let her get far, but eases up on her grip, lets her fingertips search out Amy’s hard nipple under the cup, twisting and rubbing more gently until her body relaxes again.

“Why?” Amy asks, and arches into Faith’s hands.

It takes Faith a moment to figure out what to say. It feels important somehow, to just fucking do this. She’ll still feel like shit about all of this in the end, but that seems inevitable. At least this way she can get off. And she hasn’t been with a girl in a minute. 

Plus, she feels a little bad for Amy. And maybe that makes her feel a little better about herself — it’s so rare Faith gets the opportunity to pity someone who has it worse than her. And Amy, no doubt, has it worse than she does. Buffy may go home with tall dark and celibate, but at least she spends some of her nights with Faith. Faith has been floating around on the edge of Buffy’s friend group for weeks and hasn’t heard any of them say Amy’s name not even once. 

And, well, maybe it’s a good deed, breaking Amy in herself. Faith prefers to sleep with people who are experienced, who know what they want, has already had the virgin thing blow up in her face before, but maybe she can teach Amy a thing or two, maybe if she ever actually gets a chance to get up under Willow’s hideous patterned skirts she’ll actually be able to impress her.

“‘Cause I’m here with you,” Faith says, eventually, when Amy finally pulls away, turning in her arms to look at Faith’s face. 

Something ripples across Amy’s face, an expression Faith doesn’t know her well enough to decipher. Maybe she’s glad to hear it — Faith hopes she is. Maybe she picked up on the underlying whether either of us likes it or not of the sentiment. Maybe she thinks Faith is a coward for deflecting.

It doesn’t matter in the end, because Amy loops her arms around Faith’s neck and leans in. All enthusiasm, no finesse. Faith doesn’t mind — it’s better than talking. Too much tongue, but Faith can teach her. She settles her palms on Amy’s ass, squeezes hard, hoists her up so she wraps her legs around Faith’s waist and then she’s stumble-walking them back to the bed, laying Amy down, pulling off her own shirt while Amy pants and blinks up at her, lips swollen and mascara smudged.

Faith drapes her body over Amy’s again, presses her down into the mattress, kisses her hard, then soft, then hard again. She closes her eyes. Imagines honey blonde hair. Just try it out, I know it’ll feel good, Amy’s voice rings in her head but Faith won’t make that mistake again. She knows it’s not that much less pathetic, just thinking it instead, holding the name under her tongue like a pill, but a girl’s got to have some standards.

Faith stops kissing Amy long enough to help her pull her own shirt off, to unclasp the bra she’s wearing, tits heaving in the dingy glow of the bedside table. Faith leans over the bed, stretching and twisting until she can grasp the knob and turn the light off, pouring darkness over them both.

“Will…” Amy breathes again, so quiet Faith might not have heard it if she wasn’t a slayer.

She falls over Amy’s body again, kissing her harder, rougher, to shut her up.

[guardian-angle22]

Tarlos Wedding Celebration Event [Week 12] -> favorite location(s)-> The Tarloft

[fishareglorious]

kakania numero uno reverse 1999 character on the fact she makes a dig on the sex life of the guy she was dueling with at the moment. while also somewhat kinda maybe implying she fucked his wife

[ghost-proofbaby]

telling myself to continue on like normal and write like normal but how am i supposed to do that when i know my world is ending in 24 hours?

tw for tags: i accidentally rambled on and aired out all my grief for my dog

[everyryuujisuguro]

[4ddi3addie2005]

Before I went to bed I saw the Youtube notif that TADC was going to Netflix and it INVADED my dreams so vividly I have not had such an episodic sequential serialized cohesive dream in months it was literally its own chapter its own short story

[julystruck]

ABSOLUTELY GIRLFLOPPING THROUGH LIFE 💯 🔥💯 🔥💯 🔥💯 🔥💯 🔥💯 🔥

[arolesbianism]

There's smth rly fun abt having stories based off of dreams because you just have a bunch of dream based worldbuilding that you just sorta have to work with now. Like oh a ring of infinite dragons run through the earth eternally consuming eachother? Guess I have to explain that now. Also that's sick as hell why didn't I think of that while awake

[fandomsandfeminism]

Yall wanna hear a kinda funny, kinda sad story about my grandmother and hetero-normativity?

Ok, so... when my grandmother was in her 50s (I was an infant), she met a woman at the Unitarian Church. And, as can happen when you meet your soul mate, this event made it impossible for her to deny parts of herself that she had fiercely hidden her whole life.

All the drama- their affair being found out, the divorce with my grandfather, the court battle over who got the house, happened while I was a baby. Even in my earliest memories, it's just Mama Jo and Oma, and my grandfather lived elsewhere (first his own apartment, then a nursing home, then with us.)

But here's the thing- no one ever explained any of this to me. No one ever sat down and was like "hey, Rosie, so do you know what a lesbian is?" It was the 90s. It was Texas. I think my mom was still kinda processing all this, and just assumed that like... I was gonna figure it out. Don't mention it, let it just be normal. Like I think my mom thought that if she explained the situation, she would be making it weird? I dunno.

But like. In the 90s, in all the movies I had seen and books I had read, do you know how many same sex couples I had seen? Like. 0. Do you know how many "platonic best friend/roommates" I had seen? A lot. I had no context, is what I'm saying.

I literally thought this was a Golden Girls, roommates, besties situation until I was like...I dunno, 11? 12?

It was actually their parrot, an African Grey named Spike, imitating my grandmothers voice saying "Johanna, honey, it's getting late", that triggered the MIND BLOWN moment as I realized that *there's only one master bedroom and it only has 1 waterbed* when all the pieces finally clicked.

Anyway. I think it's a real important thing for kids to know queer people exist, for a lot of reasons, but also because kids can be clueless and it's embarrassing to have your grandmother be outted by a parrot because everyone just thought you'd figure it out on your own.

Anyway, here is my grandma and her wife, my Oma, after they moved to Albuquerque to be artsy gay cowboys and live their best life. They helped run a "Lesbian Dude Ranch" out there (basically just with funding and financial support. As Oma has explained "traditionally, most lesbians don't have a lot of money" so they wrote the checks and let the younger ladies actually run the ranch.)