#and i also think about this one fic where one of the characters was INCREDIBLY out of character

[froggibus]

Hay, I recently found your stuff on here. I really like your writing. I'm not really sure how the request works? I hope i'm doing it right:)

Can you do DC characters/Batboys finding readers self-harm scar's/marks and how they react

(I've struggled with self-harm off and on for a long time, and at least for me, I've kind of like thinking about how my favorite characters would react/try and support)

Also, if you do, can you do some about Mark some on the thighs. it's hard to find stuff about other then on the arms

Im dyslexic, so I'm sorry if this doesn't make sense.

Leaping Into The Light - Batboys + Wally West

Pairing: Dick Grayson x reader, Jason Todd x reader, Tim Drake x reader, Wally West x reader

Genre: hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1.4k (Dick), 1.3k (Tim), 1.5k (Jason) and 1.2k (Wally)

Summary: their reaction when they see your old self-harm marks/scars

CW: mentions of self-harm (past), self-harm scars (thighs mostly), awkward conversations, embarrassment, mental health, allusions to depression and suicidal thoughts, injury & blood (not from SH), insomnia, nightmares, Wally walks in on you changing, maybe some corny dialogue, mentions of sensory problems, recovery and healing this is at least the second fic ive wrote where Jason brings you chinese food--no clue why.

hi lovely, hope you're doing alright :) so sorry its taken me so long to get to this, january was a bitch for me. i also struggled on and off with self-harm before starting this blog, so writing this was incredibly personal to me <3 thank you for requesting, and i want you to know that my inbox is always open if you ever need to vent i really wanted to go for a more recovery-based fic where you're healing. i wanted to show that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, it does get better, we do recover. you will be okay.

Dick:

It’s a rare, sunny morning in Bludhaven when you wake up and stretch your limbs. The sunlight filtering through the window catches on the bare length of your arms, casting brilliant patterns across your skin.

A newfound warmth filters through your apartment as you pad across the wooden floors and make your way to the kitchen. The sunlight seems to follow you, dancing across walls, door handles and cupboards as if saying hello.

The sight of Dick Grayson hunched over a laptop greets you at the kitchen island, his black hair almost brown in the morning light. 

He offers you a sleepy smile, “I made coffee.”

Your eyes move from his pyjama clad figure to the fresh pot of coffee sitting on the counter, tufts of steam still flowing from its spout. A smile breaks across your face, your eyes falling shut as you inhale the scent of fresh coffee.

Yeah, it’s going to be a good day.

Dick watches you from over the rim of his ‘World’s Best Detective’ coffee mug, blue eyes tracing your figure as you shuffle around the kitchen.

Dick watches as you cut open one of the croissants you’d picked up from the bakery yesterday and slather it in a generous coating of butter. He watches as you open the cupboard above the coffee machine, the one where you guys keep your dishes, and stretch up on your tippy toes to reach your favorite mug. 

This is his favorite part of any day—watching you. The soft domesticity of the morning blankets him, soothes him. It’s his daily reminder that there’s still good in the world around him.

His eyes stay on you as your fingers brush the handle of your mug, tugging it towards you little by little. He watches as it slides to the edge, your fingers just barely grasping it and—shit. He watches as the mug falls from the cupboard, shattering on the edge of the counter into a dozen pieces, the largest of which embeds itself in your leg. 

Everything happens so fast, you barely have any time to react. The ceramic shard slices through the leg of your pyjama pants and you keel over, clenching the skin of your thigh. The pain is searing and carries an unfortunate familiarity that has tears bubbling up in your eyes.

Dick’s at your side within seconds, an arm wrapping beneath your shoulders to keep you steady. “Are you okay?”

“I think so.” You suck in a breath and risk glancing down at your leg, noting the splotch of red starting to soak through the fabric of your pants.

A sigh slips from your lips. So much for today being a good day.

Dick’s hand wraps around your own, positioning your fingers on either side of the wound. “Here,” he says calmly, “try and apply as much pressure as you can.”

Dick guides you to the bathroom with a steady confidence that only someone who’d trained under Bruce could have. He helps you onto the bathroom counter, your legs splayed out in front of him.

“Keep applying pressure,” he commands. 

You watch as he ducks beneath you, rummaging through the cupboard to pull out the first aid kit you’ve seen him use countless times. A weak laugh bubbles up inside of you—usually it’s the other way around. 

Dick holds up the kit triumphantly, dark strands of hair bouncing as he stands. He fixes you with a grin that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, the familiar blue filled with concern.

You force a smile despite the aching skin of your thigh. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” you assure him. “It's just a flesh wound.”

It’s not the physical pain that has tears pricking your eyes and thoughts racing around your head. No, it’s the reminder that comes with it. The flashbacks of nights spent entirely alone, of nights where the world was too quiet and your thoughts were too loud. 

Dick exhales in what seems to be a laugh, the tension in his shoulders falling. “Alright then,” he rubs his thumb along the seam of your pants, “let’s get these off before they get stained even more.”

You’re quick to agree, if only to not make him worry even more. You scoot to the edge of the counter and let Dick hook his thumbs into your waistband. The action is so casual but so intimate, and it has heat rushing through you.

The warm air of the apartment meets the bare skin of your thighs and Dick’s hands still. Realization flashes through you and by instinct alone, you grip the fabric of your pants and try to force it back up your legs. Dick catches your hands in his, gripping them just tightly enough to keep you from moving.

The pain of your wound is forgotten, replaced by a sudden surge of embarrassment. Your gaze lingers on your thighs, on the scarred skin that reminds you of the hardest time in your life.

Your mouth is impossibly dry as you force yourself to look at Dick. You expect disappointment, that annoying older brother look you’ve seen him use a thousand times. You’re wholly unprepared for the softness in his gaze, the kindness and warmth that radiates off him.

“Dick,” you say softly, ready to explain yourself. “It’s not…I’m not—”

You’re thankful when he cuts you off.

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

You scrunch your nose. “But—”

He brushes a thumb across the faded marks, his touch delicate and firm. “It’s alright. I know what these mean.” A new intensity flickers through his eyes, but as soon as you see it, it’s gone. “Let’s get you patched up.”

Dick kneels down and gets to work soaking up the blood while you stare at his working hands in confusion. You’d told him before about the hard times you went through, the mental state you were in.

That was part of the reason you moved in together—so Dick could help you and keep a better eye on you. But you’d never told him about the self-harm or the scars that speckled your skin.

Yet, his reaction is so normal it has your head spinning.

He finishes wiping up the blood and gets to work disinfecting it. The rubbing alcohol stings but the burn is quickly snuffed out by polysporin.

“It’s been a while.” The words tumble out before you can stop them. “Sometimes I still think about it, miss it, even. That probably sounds strange but…it’s hard sometimes.”

Dick glances up at you but says nothing. 

“I-I have bad nights sometimes, and it’s all I can think about. But it helps. Living here with you, I mean. It helps.”

Dick secures a thick piece of gauze over the wound, patting it gently to ensure it stays in place. “You don’t have to hide it, you know.”

“I know, but—” You sigh, letting your eyes flutter shut. “You already have so much on your shoulders, with work and your family and…other things. The last thing I want to do is weigh you down even more.”

He rests his hands on your thighs and levels you with a serious look. “That’s ridiculous. The only thing that would hold me down is knowing that you’re hurting alone. You’re so incredibly important to me, how could you ever think you’d be a burden to me?”

“I don’t know, I just—”

“I want to take care of you, I want to help you.” He traces circles across your skin with his thumb, “I don’t want you dying in the dark, y/n.”

Tears prick your eyes once more, a heavy warmth settling into your chest. “Dick…”

“C’mere.”

He pulls you into his chest, settling between your legs at the counter. One of his hands wraps around your neck, petting the back of your head slowly. 

“Just promise me this,” his voice is soft. “If it gets bad and you need help, promise you’ll reach out. Call me, come to me—whatever. We don’t even have to talk about it, just let me help you. Please.”

You nod quickly, burying your face further into his chest. Don’t want you dying in the dark, his words echo inside your head. 

Within the warmth of his arms, you can’t help but feel that this is a step forward, and with Dick by your side, you’ll be leaping into the light in no time.

Jason:

It’s midnight when Jason Todd comes banging on your door, takeout bags in hand. Despite the late hour, he still sports his day clothes—grey cargo pants and a black compression shirt over a pair of combat boots.

Setting your book down on the couch, you stumble to the door as quickly as you can, if only to keep his incessant banging from waking your neighbours. You swing the door open and raise an eyebrow, silently demanding an explanation.

“Hey.” He holds out the takeout bags for you to take, “have you eaten yet?”

“At midnight on a Saturday? Yes.”

In spite of yourself, you reach out and take the bags from his hands. You shuffle back into your home, gesturing to him to follow after you.

Jason shuts your door behind him and locks it in one, smooth motion that has you wondering if he’s been here one too many times. You try not to dwell on it, just like you try not to think about how easily he finds a spot on your shoe rack—the same one he always uses—and seats himself on a stool at your counter.

Jason watches while you unpack the takeout, cardboard contains billowing with steam lining your counters. The scent of fresh Chinese food fills the room, a heavy sort of comfort settling over it.

“So,” you say, propping yourself on your tiptoes to reach the last container in the bag, “what brings you over?”

He shrugs, his broad shoulders falling heavily. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Just thought I’d check in.”

A frown flashes over your face but you quickly mask it with a tight lipped smile and a nod. It has been a while, and any hope that Jason wouldn’t notice is immediately snuffed out. 

“I’ve had a lot on my plate.”

It’s a half-truth at best but you’re not quite sure what else to say, how else to explain what you’ve gone through lately. 

Jason squints, examining you. If it was anyone else, they might not have noticed something was wrong. They probably wouldn’t notice the shadows beneath your eyes, or the slight shake to your hands as you bring out plates and cutlery. If it was anyone else, they’d probably believe you.

But Jason doesn’t.

You get to work dishing up a plate, sucking in a breath when Jason sidles up next to you to dish himself up. The sudden proximity has the breath leaving your body and heat climbing the back of your neck. God—how long has it been since you touched another person? Since you’ve seen another person?

You force the feelings down and finish grabbing your food, making your way to the couch you’ve been rotting on for days. A small stack of books and a few empty glasses scatter the side table—clear evidence of your struggle.

Jason sits at the opposite end of the couch, balancing his plate on his lap. You don’t miss the way his eyes skim over the room, taking everything in. He takes a bite of his fried rice but his blue eyes remain on you.

He clears his throat. “That’s a good one,” he points with his fork at a romance book near the bottom of your pile. “A little racy for my tastes, but the worldbuilding was insane.”

“Something’s a little too racy for you?”

“Hey,” he rolls his eyes, “believe it or not, I do have standards.”

Joy swells in your chest and threatens to bring tears to your eyes. You’ve shut yourself away for so long, you’d almost forgotten what normalcy feels like. But this? You and Jason, eating takeout and talking about books on your couch? That’s the most normal thing in the world to you. 

You snort. “Sure you do.”

“I do!” He protests. “I loved the first four books, but that one? My god. Half the book was just them going at it.”

You laugh, your chest aching with longing. You missed this, god, you missed this, One minute you’re laughing over Jason’s review and the next you’re sobbing, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Your voice cracks, a horribly cry ripping free of your throat.

“Woah, woah.”

Jason’s voice is soft, a beacon of light in the sudden storm of emotions that’s gripped you. He sets his plate on the coffee table, scooching down the length of the couch to your side.

“I don’t, I can’t—” 

“Hey,” he says calmly, taking your half eaten plate from your hands and setting it on your side table. “It’s alright. Shh, it’s alright.”

You let yourself slump into the couch, your feelings eating away at your physical strength. Jason throws an arm around you, pulling you into his side. The warmth of his body floods you.

You sob and Jason speaks, though you don’t quite catch what he’s saying. The world around you fades to a mosaic of tears and sorrow and guilt. Your heart is so heavy in your chest you worry it might fall out and drag you down with it.

“Talk to me,” Jason says softly. “Please.”

A calloused hand lifts to your cheek, wiping away wet tears. You want to give in to his touch so bad, give into what he’s saying. But how can you take his comfort when you’ve avoided him for weeks? When you’ve pushed yourself so far away that it feels like there’s no hope of coming back?

You tear yourself away from his grip, forcing yourself to your feet. Your hands shake as you turn to face him. When your eyes meet, his are filled with something entirely new to you—concern.

“I-I can’t.”

He sets his jaw. “Why not? You’ve been away from me for so long, you’ve been avoiding me,” he forces himself to keep his voice level. “I just want to know why. I just want to help you.”

His sudden pleading tone has you freezing in your tracks. You look at him seriously, “swear?”

“Swear.”

You sigh and slip your fingers into the waistband of your sweatpants. For a second, you clench your fists, trying to ground yourself. The world around you seems to still as you tug your pants down, shimmying out of them until they lay in a pool around your ankles.

Jason watches silently, his head cocked to the side in visible confusion. It’s only when you self-consciously rub a hand over the skin of your left thigh does he notice.

The breath leaves his body, his lungs squeezing so tight he’s afraid they might burst. He’s no stranger to scars—he has at least a few dozen himself—but these are entirely different. 

The scars scatter the surface of both thighs, long and thin. Most are completely healed, some just barely finishing the process. The size, the shape, the distance…intentional is the only word that comes to mind.

Jason feels his heart break in his chest but he can’t bring himself to look away. You’re hurt—you’re hurting, and he can’t do a damn thing to help. “Y/n,” he says softly.

You shrink beneath his gaze. You can’t think of a single time he’s looked at you like this—scared and worried and broken. It has the guilt rising in your throat once more, threatening to suffocate you.

“I’m better,” you try to assure him, your voice hoarse from crying. “I’m getting better. It was bad but—I’m getting better now. I-I’m okay. I swear.”

You wait for him to say something, anything. You wait for the anger, for a lecture about how stupid and dangerous this can be. You wait for him to scoff at your problems. 

You’re utterly shocked when Jason falls to his knees in front of you, head tilting up to look at you with an expression you’ve never seen before.

“Jason…”

“This is why you’ve been avoiding me?”

You nod slowly, as if moving slower will keep the ice from breaking.

“Fuck, y/n, why didn’t you—god, you should know that I of all people would understand.” He traces a finger across a particularly fresh scar, “this isn’t something you needed to hide from me. This isn’t something you ever have to hide from me.”

“I—”

“I’m not finished.”

You’re taken aback, the words ripped straight from your mouth. 

“Let me help you. Come to me and let me help you. Don’t shut yourself away in the dark and suffer all by yourself.” He runs his fingers through his hair, cracking the ghost of a smile, “god, who are you, me?”

A half-laugh, half-sob leaves you. “I just don’t like bothering people.”

“You think you could annoy me? You overestimate yourself, y/n. The only people who annoy me are Waynes and Wayne-adjacent.”

He rises to his feet in front of you and tugs you into his chest before you can react. His grip on you is tighter than usual, the warmth of his arms threatening to consume you. 

“You’ll come to me next time you feel this way, yeah?” He says, and he feels you nod against his chest. “Swear?”

“Swear.”

Tim:

Your chest burns as you sit up in bed, lungs heaving as they try to force some air into your body. Your ribs ache from the way your heart hammers against them.

Rubbing your aching eyes, you force yourself to swing your legs over the side of your bed and reach for your lamp. The light comes on with a click, illuminating the walls of your room. Finally, you manage to take a deep breath, the cold air soothing your burning chest.

It was just a dream. You’re safe here. But the words taste bitter and empty, the images you’d seen while you were asleep still spinning around your head. You rub at the exposed skin of your thighs where the seam of your shorts come to an end. The friction barely manages to warm you among the cold night air.

Before you can even think, your feet are meeting the ground and you’re padding across the room. You hesitate for just a second when your hand meets the door handle, but the hesitation melts into need and you continue on your way.

Your steps are quiet through the hallway, unimposing. When you find yourself facing the closed door, identical to yours, you knock softly. Once, twice, and then the door is swinging open.

Tim stands on the other side, bleary eyed and messy haired from sleep. He yawns, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “Hey,” his voice is raspy, “everything alright?”

“I can’t sleep.”

It’s all you have to say before he’s opening the door as wide as it goes, gesturing you to the disheveled navy covers of his bed spread. The sleepiness fades from his body as he watches you closely, examining your every movement.

Your eyes are red-rimmed and sweat beads along your temples. Despite wearing pyjamas—patterned shorts and a t-shirt that looks suspiciously like one of his—they don’t look wrinkled with sleep like they should be. 

Tim frowns. Something’s wrong, and it’s more than not being able to sleep.

He shuffles in after you, closing the door and clicking the lock behind him. His examination continues as he reaches the bed and crawls in next to you. You fit together so easily, so perfectly, it’s hard to believe this is the first time you’ve ever sought him out.

In all the time you’ve known each other, never once have you ever gone to Tim when you can’t sleep. He’s known about your sleep problems for a while, from even before you’d told him. Yet, never once have you asked for his help.

Until tonight.

Tim’s arms fall easily around you, one gently across your waist, the other falling on the side of your thigh. You’re so tired, so shaken from your dream, your head falls easily into his pillows and your eyes flutter shut. 

It’s not so much sleep that hits you as much as it is contentment. Tim’s hand trails up and down the side of your thigh, fingers exploring the soft skin while he tries to soothe you to sleep.

His hand shuffles sideways, just a tiny bit more, and then pauses. His fingertips graze something rough, something raised slightly, and the breath leaves his body. His hand trails further and he’s met with another, almost perfectly parallel to the first.

No, it can’t be.

Trying not to startle you, he moves the arm around your waist as slowly as he can. His fingertips make their way up his own body, finding their way to the scar on his abdomen from when he lost his spleen. He swipes his thumb over the area, feeling the rough patch of raised skin.

His other hand trails over your thigh again, feeling the rows of similar skin. For a moment, he swears the world stops turning.

The feeling is unmistakable, and even though it’s dark and he hasn’t laid eyes on them, he knows exactly what they are.

He wraps his arm around your waist once more and pulls you closer. “Y/n,” he whispers.

You whimper, the exhaustion weighing heavily on you. Tim’s hand rubs over the scars on your thigh once more, and suddenly your weariness is replaced with an icy feeling in your veins.

You sit up abruptly, forcing your body away from his. 

“Y/n.”

You gasp, looking up at him through teary lashes. You draw your knees into your chest, the pressure helping soothe the sudden cold in your chest. You bury your face between your knees.

The longer Tim stays silent, the worse your anxiety gets. You wait for the familiar cold logic, for the warmth to fall away and the sarcastic, callous detective to show up. You expect it any second.

But Tim does something that surprises you even more.

He wraps an arm around you, letting your head lean on your shoulder, and murmurs, “how long has it been?”

It takes a few seconds for you to gather your bearings and realize what he’s asking. You blink a few times, slowly unfurling your body. Though you know it’s too dark for him to see the scars, you see his eyes fall on your bare thighs anyway.

“A while,” you admit. “It comes and goes.”

He rubs his hand up and down your arm. “Is that why you came to me?”

You swallow, remembering the horrid dream you’d had earlier. “Partially.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” 

The pet name takes you by surprise, washing away the cold shame that threatened to drown you. You relax further into Tim’s side, relishing in the heat of his body.

“It’s not as bad as it seems,” you say quietly. “I know it’s bad, that I shouldn’t do it. And I try not to. I’ve been really good about that lately. It’s just…”

Tim stays silent as you trail off, trying to find the right words to explain yourself. He keeps rubbing the skin of your arm, as if reminding you that he’s still there.

“Things get hard sometimes. I don’t like asking for help, because I don’t want anyone to think less of me, or think I have problems and—”

“Why would anyone ever think less of you?”

His words stun you out of your speech, every thought you had falling away. You take a few deep breaths, letting them echo around your head.

“God, this is so hypocritical of me but,” he sighs, “there’s nothing wrong with needing support or asking for help. You’re not any worse off because you needed a little comfort on a bad day, you’re not a burden just because you’re hurting.”

“I just—”

“You came to me tonight because you needed comfort, right?” He gestures around the room, “did anything bad happen because of that?”

You shake your head.

“Did I question you at all, or make you feel like it was a problem?”

Realization dawns on you. “No.”

“That’s because it’s not a problem, you’re not a problem. It’s okay to feel what you’re feeling, but the first step to feeling better is helping yourself.” He offers you a sleepy smile, “and that’s what you did tonight. You helped yourself by asking for help.”

“Tim…”

“I’m really proud of you for coming to me tonight, y/n. Whether it was consciously or not.”

A stray tear rolls down your cheek, his kind words washing over you in waves. 

“Keep coming to me when you need it. Let me shoulder your problems with you. Please.”

The sudden plea catches you off guard and suddenly more tears are falling down your face. You wrap your arms around Tim and let your head fall into his shoulder, burying your face into the side of his neck.

He holds you tighter, letting you cry it all out.

Wally:

The sound of rain on your window seems to taunt you as you struggle out of your soaking wet jeans. The fabric sticks to your skin, chafing as you try to force it away from the chilled skin of your legs. 

As if the sudden torrential downpour that had ruined any hopes of a morning breakfast run wasn’t bad enough, now you seemed to be forever trapped in your sensory nightmare—wet denim. A groan of frustration leaves your lips as you abandon your jeans and instead tug away the sopping fabric of your t-shirt.

Goosebumps rise across your damp skin the minute the air touches it. You shiver slightly and wrap your arms around yourself, stumbling across the room to find a sweatshirt.

You settle on one you’d stolen from Wally months ago that you’re partially convinced he’d stolen from Dick. Still, the worn cotton warms your skin as you make the trek across your room and to the full-body mirror resting against a wall. 

You use the guidance of your reflection to peel away your jeans, shimmying awkwardly until finally the heavy fabric gives way. They land in a wet plop on the floor, splattering water that you can’t be bothered to clean up.

Just as you turn away from the mirror, one of the shiny scars on your thigh catches the light and draws your attention back to it. You frown, pulling the marked skin of your leg tight, examining the scars in the mirror. 

Most are small and thin, luckily not bad enough to leave more than a faded, dark mark on the skin. You cringe at the ones that are worse—raised and puffy and shiny in the centre. They’re still healing, you remind yourself.

“Hey, no way you’re still changing in here—” the door clicks open and Wally’s voice trails off.

You whip your head to him, watching as he stumbles into the room. A flush falls across his face. His eyes trail over you, tracing your figure, falling onto your underwear and the uncovered skin around it.

Wally freezes, green eyes glued to the scars you’d just been examining. His brows scrunch together, his lips twisting into a frown.

Oh, goddamn. 

Any other time, Wally would feel mortified—and somewhat blessed—to walk in on you changing. He’d cover his eyes and stumble around awkwardly, mumbling out some goofy apology laced in innuendos. 

It’s clear now from the frown on his face and the hard set solemnity in his eyes that that Wally is gone. 

He’s at your side before you can react, falling to his knees in front of you. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? Did someone—”

His words trail off, his face falling as realization dawns across his features. He traces a thumb across the biggest of the scars and you swear you see tears prick at his eyes.

“Wally, it’s not—”

“It’s not what?” He looks up at you seriously. 

And you pause, reconsidering your words. Wally’s always been the kind one, the goofy one, the comedic relief. It’s rare that you see him serious, rare that he wavers like this.

You lower yourself to the ground beside him, cringing at the unpleasant cold meeting the bare backs of your legs. Wally keeps his focus on your thighs, fingers tracing over every scar, every mark, like he could somehow erase them.

You stay entirely still next to him, letting him calm himself with your touch. “It’s not really something I do anymore,” you say quietly.

His hand stills, the warmth of his clammy palm resting on your upper thigh. In any other situation, it would feel intimate. But right now, all it feels like is a slap to the face. 

“I still have bad days, but I manage. This,” you gesture to your skin,“was a last resort. I know it looks bad, really bad, and that it probably seems so—so stupid compared to what you face and—”

His voice is barely a whisper. “It’s not stupid.”

You scrunch your nose. The normal, goofy Wally you’d just gotten caught in a rainstorm with is gone, and you’d give anything to bring him back right now. 

“You don’t have to be a superhero to be hurt, y/n.” He clasps your hand tightly. “I know I joke a lot but I am capable of being serious. Especially when the people I love are concerned.”

He looks at you so intensely when he says the word love that it sends shivers down your spine. You can’t bear to meet his gaze. His hands find your waist, tugging you to sit between his legs. It scares you how easily you settle into him, how well you fit together.

You sit in silence for a moment, letting the beat of his racing heart thump against your back.

“I can’t stand to see you hurt, or know that you were hurt. Emotionally, physically, whatever.”

“I’m doing okay now,” you offer him a weak smile. “It’s rough sometimes, but I’m okay now.”

His shoulders slump slightly, but his jaw remains clenched in an un-Wally way. You can’t help but wish in this moment that you could have his powers, if only so you could run to the past and stop this from happening.

“You could’ve told me. I might have made a few stupid jokes but you could’ve told me. God, I want you to tell me. I want you to want to tell me.”

“Wally.”

“I want to help you, y/n. Always. Please,” he sighs, “please, want my help. Let me make you want my help.”

And for a moment, you see a glimpse of an awkward teenager. You see a yellow costume and a scared kid just trying his best to help people. To save people. You see sleepless nights and the burden of a power that makes him both the fastest man alive, but never fast enough to save the people who matter most to him. To save you.

“I just don’t know where to start,” you admit quietly.

He wraps his arms tighter around you, crushing your body against his. “You start here. You start today. You start with me.”

You cross your arms over his in what you hope is a gesture of affection. 

“Say the word,” he leans in so his mouth is only inches from your ear, his voice dropping an octave, “and I’ll be there for you as soon as you need me. Ask for my help and I’ll be there in, well, a flash.”

You can’t help but laugh at his pun. It’s dumb and silly and so unserious for such an uncomfortable, serious moment. But it’s Wally and it’s you and his joke has you thinking that maybe, maybe things really can be okay.

“I care about you so much. All I want is for you to be happy. Got it?”

“Got it,” you echo.

He plants a soft kiss on the top of your head before loosening his grip on you, rising to his feet. He offers you a hand, helping you stand up.

“Now,” he grins, “let’s say we forget the pants, and order in some breakfast, hm?”

thanks so much for reading! ^^

masterlist | dc masterlist

[rainbowcarousels]

Thank you for celebrating your friendversary with Birdy by unearthing the archives and reblogging some of their earlier pieces. I've been introduced to so much more of their work by proxy (and may have blacked out during a reblog sprey).

A while back, when I first recognized your AO3 work in Birdy's panels, I nearly threw my phone in excitement at the realization. Your partnership in AGS/ZC lore is incredible and you both are amazingly talented. I am so glad to have come across your shared love for FFVII's characters.

Congratulations on your friendversary!

As much as I know it's a little dorky, it feels both wild to think we've only known each other four years but also it feels like we only met a year or two ago. It was one of those instant things where it felt like we got on right away and Birdy is honestly one of the most detail oriented and passionate artists I know while still being super easy to talk to. Seriously, give us a B99 quote and we're off.

I have loved so many pieces over the years that I could quite happily have gone over the whole catalogue but some of the older things like On the Sea of Crises or I Know It's Over really do deserve to get showcased more. As much as @birdblacksocialclub is undeniably a talented artist, I feel like she gets less credit for her characterisation and dialogue which is always so damn spot on and delivered as a two for one punch with the art.

I know Birdy has done some things inspired by own writing (which !!!) but there are a couple of things people may not know about my fics that wouldn't exist without her. First and foremost being that we met when I was writing what should have been a quickie Valentines Day series that i never did finish because we got talking and what would have been the next chapter became a series I'm extremely proud of - The Great Sexuality Crisis.

The other being the outcome of Genesis's visit home in Just Be Still With Me as I had originally planned to have them leave right after Sephiroth does but Birdy and I talked about how neither of us like when Genesis is sanitised, he is ultimately someone who through terrible circumstances still chose to kill and mutilate a bunch of people and I knew I couldn't leave it there. I asked if I should take the safe road, and she gave me the confidence not to and now that one line from that chapter is one of my favourite parts of the fic.

Thank you so much for a lovely comment!

[essektheylyss]

One thing that I feel is really interesting and often forgotten about Essek is that fundamentally, his characterization has been from the start based upon his desperation for external perspectives and connection, which, along with much of his narrative and mechanical positioning, means that he actually has an extraordinary and almost (but not actually, as I'll show) counterintuitive capacity for both growth and trust.

(Buckle in. This is a long one.)

In particular, I would argue, knowing now that many places where the plot touches Ludinus have long been marked for connecting back into the current plot, that he was quite possibly built as a prime candidate for radicalization by the Ruby Vanguard. He felt isolated from his culture, he was desperate for other connection, and he was certainly of the type to believe he was too smart to be drawn into such a thing, given his initial belief that he could control the situation and the fallout. If things had gone any other way, he easily could've been on the other side by now.

As such, he has been hallmarked by being fairly open to suggestion, perhaps for this reason, but the thing about that kind of trait is that it is both how people are radicalized and deradicalized. This is certainly true of Essek, who experienced genuine kindness and quite frankly strangeness from the Nein and was able to move from the isolation the Assembly had engendered to meaningful and genuine connection, largely propelled by his own internal reflection. By the time Nein are aware of his crimes, he's already begun to express regret to an extent and, furthermore, doubt in the Assembly, including explicitly drawing a line against Ludinus, even in a position where he was on his own and probably quite vulnerable.

Similarly, when the Nein reach the Vurmas Outpost some weeks later, he has moved from regret for the position he's ended up carrying a heavy remorse. This makes sense! He's fairly introspective, seems used to spending a lot of time in his own head, and was left with plenty to mull over. It's not some kind of retcon for him to have progressed well past where the Nein left him; it just means he's an active participant in the world who has done his own work in the meantime.

This is another interesting aspect to him. I've talked about this a bit before but I cannot find the post so I'll recap here: antagonists in D&D have significantly more agency than allied NPCs. Antagonists are active forces, against which the party is meant to struggle; allies are meant to support the PCs, which means they tend to be more passive in both their actions and their character growth. Essek was both built as an antagonist, in a position that gives him significant agency, and also was then given significant opportunity to grow specifically to act as a narrative mirror for Caleb's arc. Even when he becomes a more traditional D&D ally, he still retains much of that, though he occupies a supporting role.

I believe that this is especially true because of the nature of Caleb's arc, which I've already written on; the tl;dr of this post is that Caleb is both convinced that he is permanently ruined and also desperate to prove that change is possible. Essek is that proof, because he is simply the character in a position to do so. But this also means that his propensity for introspection and openness is accentuated! He has to do the legwork on his own, for the most part, because that's where he is in the meantime.

But he still ends the campaign necessarily constricted; he is under significant scrutiny, he's at risk from the Assembly, and he goes on the run fairly soon after the story ends. He spends most of the final arc anxious and paranoid, which is valid given the crushing reality of his situation. It would be very easy to extrapolate that seven years into this reality, he would be insular, closed off, and suspicious of strangers, even in spite of the lessons he's learned from the Nein and their long term exposure.

So seeing his openness and lightness now is surprising, but at the same time, given this combination of factors in his position in the narrative over time and his defining traits, it's not by any means unreasonable.

But one thing that I found so delightful is how much trust he exhibits, which is obviously a wild thing to say about Essek in particular, given much of what he learns is both earning and offering trust, which was something he says explicitly in 2x124 that he's never really experienced: "I've never really been trusted and so I did not trust." It makes up much of the progression of his relationship with Caleb, and the trust that he is offered by the Nein in walking off the ship is the impetus he needs to grow.

But I think it's easy to talk about trust when it comes to people who have proven themselves to you or to whom you've ingratiated yourself, and that's really the most we can say about Essek by the time he leaves the Blooming Grove. There is this sense in a lot of discussion of trust (not solely in this fandom) that it is only related to either naivete or love, but there's far more to it. Trust at its best is deliberate—cultivating an openness to the world at large is a great way to combat cynicism and beget connection instead. It allows a person to maintain curiosity and be open to experience, but it can be incredibly difficult to hold onto.

It is clear that the Essek we meet now is a very pointedly and intentionally trusting individual. He trusts Caleb and by extension Caleb's trust in Keyleth, as he shows up and picks up a group of strangers from a foreign military encampment and walks in without issue. He trusts the Hells to follow his lead moving through Zadash and to exhibit enough discretion so as to avoid bringing suspicion upon all of them. He trusts that Astrid will respond well to his entrance, but he also trusts himself and the Hells enough to execute a back-up plan in the case that she doesn't. In the end, he even trusts them enough to give them his name and identity.

He doesn't scan as someone who has spent half a dozen years living like a prey animal, afraid of any shadow he runs across in an alley, withdrawn into himself and an insular family, which would've been an easy route for him to take. He scans as someone who has learned the kind of trust borne of learned confidence and a trained eye for good will and kindness, which are crucial weapons one would need for staving off cynicism in his circumstances—as if he has survived thanks more to connection and kindness than paranoia and isolation. (If we want to be saccharine about it, he scans quite poignantly as a member of the Mighty Nein.)

So it is easy to imagine this trust and openness as a natural progression of his initial search for perspectives external to his own cultural knowledge. Though he makes those first connections with the Assembly to try to vindicate his personal hypotheses, he finds in them exposure to the deepest corruption among Exandrian mortals, which could've—and did, for a time—turned him further down that same dark path.

But it's also this same openness to exposure from the wider world that allows the Nein to influence him for the better, and in spite of the challenges he's certainly faced simply surviving over the past seven years, he seems to have held onto this openness enough to move through the world with self-assurance and a willingness to extend the kinds of trust and good will that he has been shown.

(I would be remiss not to mention that I was reminded about my thoughts on this by this lovely post from sky-scribbles and their use in the tags of 'light' to describe Essek's demeanor this episode, which is really such an apt word for it.)

[ismyteadoneyet]

How fortunate am I to have so many Things to love and be excited about, to appreciate and look forward to?

Things I feel so strongly about that they stumble into my mind, univited, at random times of the day? Things that spill into my speech and vocabulary without me noticing? Things that impact my vision to the point where everywhere I look, everywhere I go, I see ghosts of them?

How lucky am I to have so many Things I love and cherish enough for them to reshape my very person, change my beliefs and make me grow? Things that make my own loved ones see the Things out in the wild, and go out of their way to make sure I see them too?

How wonderful is it that I have Things that I love so much that the very act is deemed and dubbed "not normal", making my love for them seem like it's more than they are supposed to recieve? An out-of-the-ordinary and above-the-norm appreciation for the Things that make the people around me shake their heads, call me "silly".

My dear, beloved Things, may I always stay silly for you ❤️

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

genuine question but is there any fandom where a character is well written by the majority. im thinking about fandom culture and the spread of frustration when people dont write characters well but. honestly in all the fandoms ive been in there's only like, a Select number of authors who i trust to write Well, let alone write Well AND In Character. character analysis and writing and getting inside characters' heads are all separate skills (all of which are trained by roleplaying fyi can CONFIRM playing pretend with your friends is good for you). there's been more than once where I've disagreed with an interpretation that others agreed with, and then I turned out wrong. or i turned out right. like it doesnt matter WHO is right it just matters that differences in character analysis exist, so even if you DO write well AND write in character, your in character is still going to be someone else's out of character

there's this sort of. vibe. that to play in the sandbox you Need to be able to make a castle, and if you can't make a castle then you shouldn't bother, and it completely dismisses the idea that youre in that sandbox to PLAY in the first place. there's this Weight of disappointing someone if you can't build something that they like, but that forgets that you aren't there to build them a castle. like, be KIND. if you disagree with someone then please make an effort to do so kindly. i dont give a shit about fandom discourse but there is a reason kids get removed from sandboxes if they keep throwing sand in people's eyes. but if they don't like your misshapen sand pile, then youre not obligated to change it. even if you yourself end up hating that same sand pile later- youre not building a legacy. youre playing. and sometimes the result of that play is out of character drivel. theres a reason there are so many authors and so few who i like to consistently read and thats because everyone is Fucking Around in their hobby space. hash tag brag or whatever but i can build castles. ive built several that im v proud of. ive also dug holes in the sand for fun and then tripped on them when trying to get up. I often dug a hole and then got up and fucking- whoops, its a castle now, and i didn't realize i'd made something to be proud of until after the fact. the whole time while creating shit i was Convinced it was bullshit that didn't make sense. and then other times i was Convinced it was bullshit and then i was Right and i can look back and go. huh. ew. but it doesn't matter what the end result was, because i had fun playing in the sandbox

this wasn't meant to turn into a ramble but i have Feelings about bad art and art that's badly perceived and how public perception can screw with your head and how making art youre proud of is fucking. it's so difficult!!! it's hard!! it's really fun, which is why i try to make it, but i promise you it is Okay to not tryhard creativity. even if you CAN, it's okay not to do it all the time. or ever, even. fuck around find out have fun etc

[apocalypticdemon]

man. i really thought i knew where this was going and now. i once again realize i have no idea what i'm doing

[llycaons]

If only Jiang Fengmian could have seen this. Seen what a great fucking sect leader Jiang Cheng is

hilarious to imply jiang fengmian would ever be proud of his son 2. IS HE THOUGH

[infizero]

grgrhgahahh i wanna read more pokespe but i cant do it on my phone and im not unpacking my stuff until the morning

[sharky-teeth]

top dean/bottom sam fics that perfectly exemplify why bottom sam is the best (the list got kind of super long because i'm just too passionate about this topic):

take the things you love by hathfrozen: i think everybody and their grandma knows this one but i had to include it, this is our gospel. literally changed my life.

mommy dearest by tradwifesam: if you don't like feminization, read this and see the vision.

Softly, as a morning sunrise by LaughableLament: one of my go-to authors for fun and short PWPs.

Noise Complaint by formalizing: a lesson on how to make a thousand words count!

Coast On Through by philalethia: this actually contains switching, but when i tell you it has some of the best samdean scenes ever...

Feel About the Same Most Every Day: pining that you can feel in your bones.

Like a Machine by ani_coolgirl: camboy!sam perfection.

Untouchable for Life by Sintari: another one for my camboy!sam enthusiasts.

Undertow by Molly: starts out angsty and ends with psychic sex vibes, what's not to love?

Birthday Boy by DickBaggins: sam's ass is dean's birthday present, need i say more?

Keeping it Clean by themegalosaurus: swesson filth <3

this thing, for which we break by orbiting_saturn: intense and intimate, as PWP as it comes.

Sweltering by WhoopsOK: brothers with benefits done right. slutty sam as a treat!

weecest:

With A Bit Of Spit And Luck by elsi: in my top 5 weecest of all time, which is saying something because the competition is crazy.

Bulletproof by road_rhythm: gunplay! incredible characterization, if you have a kink for guilty dean who's unable to stop himself, and pushy sammy, this is the one.

Heart of Worms by Ninni: very moody, and beautifully written.

Petulant by formalizing: another short read that hits all the right spots and leaves you wanting more.

and all is right in Dean's world by ladygizarme: loved dean's characterization here, he left me feeling unsettled.

for those like me who need some jokes with your p*rn:

The Koala Conundrum by De_Nugis: (mentions of switching) to this day, one of the most unique & refreshing stories i've read, an absolute masterpiece.

the one with aphrodisiac: this one managed to be hilarious and hot in equal measure, an amazing feat.

Incidentally, It Was Christmas by ani_coolgirl: one of my favorite fics of the year! ani's humor is impeccable! if you also believe in the sam-sexual dean truth, this is a must read.

Tongue-Tied by ADeedWithoutaName: cursed!dean unable to speak, and sam speaking for both of them, you know where this goes...

Dicks in a Box by fictionallemons: buried alive and how do sam and dean decide to spend their time? it ain't cuddling!

Versatile, Tender and Delicious by themegalosaurus: improper use of a zucchini. read and find out.

for my omega sam lovers:

Five Weeks & its sequel Three Weeks Too Late by rei_c: probably my favorite wincest a/b/o of all time! i could've read 100k of this universe, loved the details put into it.

A Blind Fool's Luck by hellhoundsprey: this is also a favorite! i remember the tension in this fic had me dizzy. this author has an incredible way with descriptions, vivid and unique writing style.

Phantom Pain by hellhoundsprey: weecest! love their dynamic here so much, great blending of a/b/o traits while keeping them in character.

Clover by hellhoundsprey: perfectly done late seasons getting together! with the right amount of schmoop. clearly this author is very dear to me lol

know the feeling by sammyatstanford: this is the longest work in this list, around 40k words, and so worth it! really enjoyed the worldbuilding.

now to my favorite flavor (bottom sam with a side of delicious angst):

Lesser Evils by Dyed_Red: [non-con] not for everyone, but definitely for me. if you love samdean at odds and suffering, this will push all the right buttons. life-changing fic.

Is It Tomorrow (Or Just the End of Time) by elsi: the angst here is so glorious. from beginning to end it's angst, angst, then more angst. there is no resolution to their issues, and i love that.

Collision Course by lovetincture: one of the most believable first time stories i've read, spot on characterization and raw descriptions. didn't shy away from the ugly side of incest.

You can run away with me any time you want by Trojie: sam leaving for stanford fic! oh this one hurts like a motherfucker. there's a line in here that's so beautiful, it lives in my brain.

his skin barely keeping him inside by hathfrozen: another banger by hathfrozen, i have a weak spot for first time in a long time stories.

No such thing as Forgiveness by hellhoundsprey: lawyer!sam getting his life sent off track when big brother comes back to the picture... the unhealthy dynamic here is to die for.

Blood sacrifice sex magic type of thing by Goshen: sam performing ritual sex to cure his demon brother... as he should.

Worship Not These False Idols by killabeez: ruby fucking sam while pretending to be dean. as amazing as it sounds.

Circles of Light by WhoopsOK: there is a "Magical Healing Ass" tag. enough said

end of list! i tried to only include works with less than 10k hits here, so someone might find something they haven't read before. i didn't include warnings, so definitely check out the tags first. all these fics are seriously amazing, i hope more people will read these gems <3

[bigfatbimbo]

holyyyy shitttt I’ve never run into a writing blog I agree with so much! refusal to write dom!male characters? you’re speaking my language here, seriously! the sub bill fic/concept was so godly too actually what the fuck?????

despite that — I actually came here to speak about Stanford lol. I’d just be so curious to hear any thoughts you have on sub! ford really, whether hcs, a drabble, or just you going on a general little rant over how you think he’d be like. sorry if this is too vague!!!

a/n — anon, your so real!! I literally cannot write dom!male characters without getting icked out — also i’m glad you liked the bill fic!

warnings — dom!reader, sub!ford, gender-neutral reader, mentions of various kinks

summary — [SMUT] headcanons of reader and sub!Ford

ᯓ★ I genuinely do not know why people would be think this man doms, he is such a bottom.

ᯓ★ He has very little experience, maybe he got lucky at a party in college or met a hot alien during his time in the portal, but he might as well be a virgin.

ᯓ★ He’d probably be very nervous your first time together, fumbling taking his clothes off, not knowing where to start.

ᯓ★ His confidence has come along way but he’s still a nerd at heart, and he’d get flustered so easily.

ᯓ★ His praise kink would be so unmatched.

ᯓ★ Call him good and smart while talking him through it, he deals with so many high tension situations, he’d love you to be soft with him.

ᯓ★ “Pretty boy” would ruin him. After being bullied for being a freak all his life, even if he is genuinely over it now, it’s still be jarring to be praised for his looks.

ᯓ★ He would literally feel such a relief when you tell him you’d be leading, like “ah, yes. perhaps that’s.. a good idea.”

ᯓ★ Ford is probably immensely touch-starved after everything he’s been through. He’d want you to touch him literally everywhere.

ᯓ★ He would probably be pretty vanilla, anything to crazy would freak him out.

ᯓ★ Not a fan of degradation, where is the pleasure in being openly mocked by a loved one?

ᯓ★ After a little bit, he would probably feel bad for making you do all the work, so he’d try to do things for you to make it up to you.

ᯓ★ However, only to realize he wants constant reassurance while doing that too. Even when he’s fingering you and treating you nice, a ‘good boy’ every now and then would make him fold.

ᯓ★ And it’s probably always deserved too.. He’s a genius and a scientist, it’s not crazy to say he knows a thing or two about anatomy. Things to enhance your pleasure.

ᯓ★ Would love pegging, probably already knows about it, but you’d still have to ask first. And even then he’d be incredibly nervous and not masking it well.

ᯓ★ Probably cannot go for a long time or do that many rounds. Look, he’s old… I don’t know what you people expect when you’re into a 60+ year old man.

ᯓ★ Will always help out during aftercare no matter how tired out he is. Even if you insist he rest, he’ll still get you glass of water at the very least.

[avelera]

Thank you for talking about how Viktor wouldn't be mean to Jayce! I do really agree that fandom really tries to boil them down to their basics or preexisting tropes and it really sucks to see people think he'd really insult Jayce or hit him with his cane. Something I started thinking about after I read that post is that so much of the cast are Zaunite and nearly every one of them are sharp-tongued, and so maybe that's why people think Viktor would be mean? But that doesn't really take into account his personality or how he might feel he has to present himself as someone from Zaun living in Piltover.

Yeah the "hitting with the cane" trope definitely feels OOC for him to me. I could maybe see him tapping or hooking Jayce to get his attention but... even then. We rarely see Viktor use his cane or crutch for anything but their intended purpose.

If I may extrapolate out, I find it notable that when he has the cane pre-time skip he leaves it aside when possible, like when standing at the blackboard, and tries to mask his disability. I know for many people with disabilities, they love their aids, and the aids given them freedom of movement and from pain, but I would venture to say that Viktor does not see his crutch or his cane all that favorably.

I think Viktor sees his disability aids as necessary indignities that he'd rather do without if he could. See how quickly he drops his crutch once he tests out being able to run post-experimentation. He probably only goes back and gets it, rather than abandoning it there, because he wants to continue to hide the experiments he's doing.

Combine that with Jayce noting how he saw his leg as a "weakness" and I think there is further evidence that Viktor sees his crutch or cane rather negatively.

Which is a roundabout way of saying, I don't think Viktor would use his crutch or his cane as a hook or a bludgeon against Jayce not only because he's arguably the most pacifistic character in the whole show, but also because I don't think he really likes using it or thinking about it for anything but its intended purpose of assisting his mobility. I think Jayce views Viktor's crutch more favorably than Viktor does, he sees it as a part of Viktor in a positive way, an extension of him.

As for the topic of Zaun, I do agree that I think some fics give Viktor more of a, hmm, "class consciousness" around Zaun than he's shown to have?

For example:

Viktor only ever calls it "the undercity" in S1. Calling it Zaun at all is something that radicals like Silco do, it's even implied that Silco is kind of resurrecting a long-dead name for the area as part of his separatist movement, so it might not even be in wide use beyond Silco's circles, like Viktor may not have even really heard of it as a common term in S1. In addition, if "Zaun" is a politically charged term, I wouldn't be surprised if Viktor would avoid calling it that at all, because he's not a separatist or a radical, he's just from there and he thinks of it as "the undercity". Viktor is not shown as someone from the undercity who really wants to rock the boat in Piltover politically and he's certainly not a separatist, he wants to help the undercity as a disadvantaged community within Piltover.

The only time I think we see Viktor call it "Zaun" is somewhat in the abstract in S2, when he admires Vander's vision for "Zaun as it could have been". To me, it felt like he was discussing Zaun as a distant ideal rather than as the place where he was currently located or a political identity he identified with. He admires that other people who are more political than him had a cohesive vision for something the undercity that Viktor knows could become.

Viktor is actually incredibly apolitical, which is interesting when you consider he was assistant to Heimerdinger, who was head of the Council. He considers Jayce's time as a Councilor a "waste of our time", it never even occurs to him to use that political power to improve lives in the undercity, instead of science. In general Viktor tends to be pretty blind to other discipline besides science when it comes to bettering the world, and is even dismissive of them, which I think is a bit narrow-minded of him to be honest.

Viktor's dismissiveness towards anything that isn't science when it comes to improving lives is certainly a factor in how his and Jayce's relationship becomes strained in S1, he never sees Jayce's work as a Councilor as potentially offering a broader avenue for achieving their goals to help the undercity, not once, which is actually rather baffling and interesting that he has this blindspot (possibly because of my theory that at a certain point in S1, once he knows he's rapidly dying, Viktor is only using "helping the undercity" as a smokescreen to others but mostly himself to cover up his shame for the fact he really just wants to use Hextech to save himself while the undercity has become secondary, but he doesn't want to admit that. That also explains his shame when he sees Sky's notes and realizes he's been trying to save himself to the exclusion of all else, that he's lost sight of his larger goals and dreams.)

Even when Viktor starts the cult in the undercity, it's not a politically motivated enclave, he doesn't describe it as part of a Zaunite movement. It really is just posed as a refuge for those in need, separate entirely I would argue from the Piltover vs. Zaun conflict, unlike Ekko's Firelights who provide shelter AND do community action and freedom fighting. Indeed, Viktor heals Salo, a Councilor, the most privileged of the privileged from Piltover. I'd argue this is an additional sign that he is "colorblind" when it comes to the conflict between the two cities.

Finally, I would argue that Viktor is from a generation that somewhat precedes the class conflicts and brewing civil war between Piltover and the undercity. I think he's from a generation where the cities were still linked enough that they were more like the "good" and the "bad" side of the tracks. He was smart enough to get out and make something of himself in the big city, he has a goal of helping to uplift those he left behind, but he sees them as one city still even if he has sympathy later for a separatist movement. The way he talks about the undercity to me feels less like a separate entity and more a particular disadvantaged community within Piltover.

Anyway, I've gone off on like three crazy wild tangents based on your reply. Thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoyed that post! And I agree, of all the Zaunites, Viktor is actually quite different from the others and that is really interesting to explore!

[boltonbritreads]

🗣️Eddie Munson Fic Recs

This is gonna have a sappy start before I get into the fic rec portion: but I just wanted to say that at the end of May 2022, I was finishing up my first year of law school. It was rough, challenging, lonely, and basically everything you’d expect and I was in a bad place and the fandom I’d been in was slowing down just naturally. I truly wish I could remember how I even became aware of Eddie Munson because stranger things wasn’t really on my radar anymore and whoever I followed at the time that started to veer off into Eddie-mania, thank you. In the two years since then, I’ve graduated and become the worlds babiest lawyer and I genuinely owe a lot to this fandom and community on here for giving me a fun, usually safe, creative place to escape to when it got rough.

I’m just hoping to maybe remind people that there are already an incredible, incredible amount of existing stories to read and talk about that deserve your attention and love if you’re looking to read some Eddie stories. Some of these will be fics I’ve recommended before but I’m going to try my best to pull together writers and fics that I love and think everyone should read in the hopes that someone like me who still scrolls through eddie tags looking for my nightly bedtime story can find something new to them to read! ✨

Previous Fic Rec list here!! some overlap but there’s no such thing as too much hype for these writers

@munson-blurbs I hope it’s ok but I’m linking Bug’s full masterlist here because I have genuinely loved everything she has written. There are blurbs, series, and special events which are all incredible and worth a read! Bug is currently still writing the “Living after Midnight” series which is my current obsession and features rockstar!eddie x motelheiress!reader and it’s angst and lust galore

@corroded-hellfire also sharing the Eddie Masterlist here because there’s so many fics to read!! As You Wish, Big Brown Eyes, Where the Heart Is are all incredible but truly there’s so much here to enjoy

@upsidedownwithsteve SIMMER!! jk I’m actually linking the Eddie Masterlist here too because I love them all but “I Want You To Want Me” and “Simmer” are out of this world

@pinkrelish The Yes Policy I love it, you love it, we all love it and if you haven’t caught up yet oh my god I wish I was you and could read these chapters for the first time again

@ghost-proofbaby I’ve previously told people to go read 24 Hours, and you should, that’s an order; but Maroon is ongoing! and it’s actually infiltrating my every thought so go on over and get caught up bc I think it’s safe to say things are getting amped up

@trashmouth-richie I have also previously recommended Honey, I’m Home because it’s a work of art but Ziggy has a new mini series “Crash + Fall” that I’m completely obsessed with the concept for and I’ve loved every piece so far!

@tiannasfanfic I just reblogged Conviction again but I genuinely am not exaggerating when I say I think about this story and these two monthly and try and find this story all the time to re-read it endlessly. It’s a really lovely story of unplanned pregnancy and two characters not realizing they’ve been smitten for each other the whole time and I love it

@carolmunson I’m sharing another Eddie Masterlist here because I’d be making this post far too long but Carol’s stories are all incredible, complex, and honest. “Let’s go, don’t wait” just got updated and I had to read it like 3 times last night because it was too good to just read one and done

@rebelfell I just discovered Sarah’s blog after reading the most recent “Frenemy” fic and idk what I was doing wrong to not already follow her and not have already read her whole Masterlist but I’m linking the whole thing bc she’s so good!!

@the-au-thor I also only just discovered Elle’s blog and that’s criminal but thank god I found Babysitting Mun because I am a sucker for rockstar!eddie and this series has me on the edge of my seat rn

@storiesbyrhi I’m sharing the Masterlist folks because I have genuinely loved every single story and series and I have read them all now (some several times). So many of Rhi’s stories have a wonderful warm witchy vibe that I crave and I’ve read Siouxsie and the Soulmates, The Cabin in the Woods, Our Patron Saint of the Arts, Vintage Reeboks, and Burning Yarrow (insert screaming fan gif) multiple times now

@heart-eyed-love this fic is the epitome of a soft, cozy, domestic night with Eddie and if you need a hug read this 🥹

@eddieandbird I JUST got caught up on Eddie/Tour Manager series and I’m fully obsessed and desperate to know how they’re gonna navigate this - for folks new to the story, Eddie and his tour manager accidentally drunkenly get married- what could go wrong??

@eiightysixbaby the scream I scrumped when I finished reading Princess Leia, and Other Wishes - look bffs to lovers is already my absolute weakness on this earth but then you had to make it witty and funny and FLUFFY I just can do nothing but re-read and pine

@superblysubpar I’m still obsessed with this addition to The Boy is Mine writing challenge and oh god it’s so good 😩

…and while we’re talking about it - here’s the entire The Boy is Mine masterlist with an INSANE amount of incredible stories to read

@the-unforgivenn !!! tumblr hates me and deleted this bullet (so if you already saw this post, no you didn’t) but And I Need You to Know is a proper novel! I can’t imagine how much time, love, effort, planning, and work went into creating this insane and absolutely incredible world but everyone needs to read this!! and then follow up with She’s So Cold bc I love it and I am so reader

~~ this is not the end nor an exhaustive list! I just wanted to put something out there now that I plan to build on because I know I’m always scrolling and searching for new things to read or old things to revisit ♥️ ~~

[megumishotgf]

more and more (jjk mainly) fic recs (pt. iii)♡

hello and welcome to more of my fic recs!! credit to all these talented writers, pls check out their other works too!! featuring: (jjk) megumi, yuuji, satoru, suguru, toji (mha) katuski (lmao just for the one post because it NEEDED to be shared) masterlist recs pt. i pt. ii

: ̗̀➛ megumi fushiguro x reader

megumi thinks about how whipped (he is while impatiently waiting for you to text back)

fucking megumi in his baseball uniform (lengthier fic with dom! megumi... omg)

sharing a bed and cuddling (so soft i'm crying. i'm unsure if i've linked this before)

racer a.u. w/ bf megumi (in physical agony because i need this)

megumi is obsessed with yuuji's bimbo gf (i love LOVE love bimbo reader fics AHH)

: ̗̀➛ satoru gojo x reader

your kid shows you an ugly drawing (similar to the katsuki scenario i linked last time, so funny!!)

satoru comforts you after you have a nightmare (so fluffy and sweet... i'm bawling)

age gap w/ satoru, he teaches you to fuck (younger reader. god i love this)

satoru proposes to you :(( (i'm crying)

satoru fucking his chubby gf (help my pussy's gone crazy)

more satoru w/ chubby gf (so so much praise)

: ̗̀➛ geto suguru x reader

arguing with then fucking your ex suguru who is now a cult leader (omfg)

suguru fingers you during movie night w/ satoru and shoko (wow this fic definitely hit the spot. one of my favourites on this list)

'no one's made me cum before' (now this is relatable)

you're babysitting nanako + mimiko and are about to fuck their dad (ahhhhhh)

y/n is insecure and can't tell suguru ('it's not what he's made for' some heavy angst for the sick fucks that enjoy it)

step brother! suguru teaches you how to kiss (this damn fandom makes me read so much stepcest. disgusting! *saved immediately*)

suguru wonders if he should cut his hair (fluffy!! but the last line made me want to burst into tears!!)

: ̗̀➛ toji fushiguro x reader

smutty fic w/ crybaby reader (it's me i'm the crybaby. this author has SO many good toji fics, i linked one of their prison bf fics last time!!)

toji is so so big but he makes it fit (major size kink!!)

: ̗̀➛ yuuji itadori x reader

finally fucking roommate! yuuji (i am shocked this doesn't have more likes it was such an incredible read)

virgin! yuuji headcanons (he's just so whiney and such a good boy. omg i love fics where y/n is the more experienced one)

giggly sex drabble (the best type of sex i need more fics like this)

yuuji can't jack off to jennifer lawrence anymore because of YOU! (i think this initiated a yuuji phase for me...)

: ̗̀➛ katsuki bakugou x reader

gq couples quiz w/ katsuki (i am shocked this doesn't have ten thousand likes. it's perfect the characterisation is perfect. pls check out the creator's masterlist here everything is so so good)

multiple characters (jjk drabbles)

using your safe word (satoru + suguru)

boyfriend texts (satoru, suguru, kento, toji, megumi, yuuji, toge + choso)

riding, missionary or doggy? (satoru, suguru, kento, toji, choso. btw the right answer is doggy)

bf texts (satoru, suguru, kento, toji, choso, megumi, toge + yuuji)

unholy drabbles!! (toji, satoru + kento)

cute texts during your period!! (satoru, choso, toji, megumi, yuuji, toge)

: ̗̀➛ also multiple characters (drabbles w/ unspecified names then characters listed at the end? i don't know how to describe this sorry lol)

eating you out sloppily omg (aot + jjk + genshin + demon slayer)

tits, ass or thighs? (bleach + jjk + jjba + one piece + csm)

men that are obsessed with thick women (jjk + kny + aot + tokyo revengers)

general fucking headcanons (jjk + aot + haikyuu + tokyo revengers + genshin + sk8 + csm)

quick question!! should i still link the really successful fics / blogs (like 4k+ notes, some have up to 15k!!), as i'm sure you will have already encountered them in their respective tags? in other words, should i focus on linking fics that are less interacted with? pls let me know <3

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

I read that same fic earlier and I just straight up muted the person so their works don't show up for me anymore lmao

there was also another one like that posted yesterday because the person was mad at something qBad did a couple of days ago while not at all in his right mind and amnesiac, it was odd (not shitting on the person just confused and slightly concerned)

yeah there’s. a lot of misconceptions around qbad rn lmao. It’s one of the reasons Im so obnoxious about him, tbh, so that it’s not JUST the negativity that gets spread. He’s a really good target for the hate rn, because he has a smaller fanbase and his pvp playstyle + lore lead him to all that antagonizing during purgatory, and that gets vented out into fics.

It’s genuinely really interesting, the dichotomy that seems to exist between tumblr and twitter regarding him. Ive heard nothing but slander about bbh from twitter (again, he is not faking his illness, that is a lie), but he’s got a solid enough foothold on tumblr that ive seen more hate towards the fans that the cc, here. which makes sense, given how we take over the tag almost ever day when he logs on. genuine o7 to people who find that obnoxious but thats one of the reasons i overtag so much, for blocking purposes.

anyway i think all the bbh mischaracterization means that we just need to write about him more >:D please this is a call for more bbh centric fics from people who do not hate him/know a little bit about his lore. blease he’s such a fun pov to write i promise

[reysdriver]

Hey darlin'! I just saw your one-shots and i REALLY love them!! I need morr about Eddie with Hopper!Reader <33 Please!! A fluff or a smut where the Reader have to deal with her father. Hope you can answer. Have a nice day!! ✨️

-🩷

You and Eddie try to have a chill night in, but it's difficult when you have the world's most paranoid chief of police as a father — eddie x fem!hopper!reader fluff

warnings: none

words: 1.2k

a/n: thanks for submitting a request! I'm sorry it took so long, I've been so busy lately, and I'm sorry I couldn't figure out how to end it lmao but I really hope you like this fic!!

Even though your dad knew about you and Eddie dating, he was definitely not as okay with it as you would have hoped, but honestly more than you had expected. 

He had met Eddie a few times since he found out you were in romantic cahoots with the familiar criminal, and despite your fears, they had gotten along quite well despite their history and their differences. But no matter how many things they actually had in common, no father would fully trust Eddie Munson to be alone with his little girl. 

“Door open three inches!” Your dad called from the couch. “You know the rules!”

You rolled your eyes, standing up from the bed to open the door to Hopper’s liking. 

The door was open three inches, and you swore that it was the draft causing the door to move slightly, but you knew your dad would never believe you. 

“Seriously, Dad?” You asked him. 

“Rules are rules.” He confirmed. “If you don’t like it, then the boyfriend can go.”

You let out a heavy, dramatic sigh before returning to your boyfriend, who was currently sketching out a Dungeons and Dragons character based on you for his new campaign. 

Eddie looked up from his paper when you sat back down next to him. “You can do a lot with three inches, you know?”

You put a finger over his mouth—which he playfully tried to bite—and you shushed him while holding back a laugh at his incredibly stupid, albeit funny, joke. 

“He’s gonna hear you, and he’s gonna drag you out of here. Keep drawing.”

He put the finishing touches on his design, then let out a sound of satisfaction over it before turning the notebook so you could see it better. 

“I think I did pretty good.” Your boyfriend proclaimed. “She’s almost as pretty as you.”

Oh, how you lucked out with this mysterious dork. You thanked him by pressing a quick kiss on his cheek before your dad became suspicious of you two once again. 

“You think I should get it as some ink?” Eddie asked you. 

“Like, you want to get it tattooed?”

Eddie nodded, eyes going back and forth between you and the cartoon version of you that he just made. 

“Absolutely not.” You replied. 

“What? Why not? Do you not love me enough to let me tattoo you on me?”

He was ridiculous, staring at you with big, fake puppy dog eyes and a pleading lip. 

“Of course I love you, but as your girlfriend, I also need to stop you from doing stupid things.”

“What if I keep your tattoo separate from the creepy skulls and spiders?”

Well, that was an offer you almost couldn’t refuse. Even though it was tempting, you would never let him know that he can get to you like that, so you played it cool.

“Ask me again in a year.”

His face erupted into a devilish smile and he held his hands to his chest like a cartoon character in love. 

“I’m getting a tramp stamp of my girlfriend in a year!”

Before you could protest his proclamation, he pulled you into his arms in what you hoped was just a teasing gesture rather than a genuine expression of excitement for something you were certainly not going to let happen. 

Just a second later, your dad cleared his throat very pointedly, which practically frightened you out of your boyfriend’s arms. 

“El wants to watch a movie.” He announced. “Come watch with us.”

You sat up and shook your head lightly. “Um, no thanks, Dad. We’ll pass on that.”

Your dad raised an eyebrow and looked at Eddie’s arm around your waist. “You have something better to do?”

It was at that point that you knew him telling you about your sister and the movie was an order, not an invitation. You bit the inside of your cheek and luckily, Eddie spoke up before you could say something snarky. 

“A movie sounds great, chief. Count us in.”

“Good.” Hopper said curtly before turning around to the living room. 

Eddie stood up and started teasingly pulling you off the bed. You laid down and let out an annoyed groan, resisting his attempts to move you. 

“C’mon, babe, movie time.” Eddie encouraged. 

“It’s just gonna be The Wild Bunch. That’s one of their favourite movies and I know El’s been wanting to see it again lately.” You mumbled. “I’d much rather stay here with you.”

“Well, your dad might never let me back in your house if he thinks I’m trying anything with his daughter in the other room, so we have to. Plus, I like The Wild Bunch too.”

Your face formed an exaggerated frown as you finally got up off the bed. 

Eddie smiled and escorted you to the living room. And although you had just started to build up excitement within you for this movie night, it already got worse. 

El was in her favourite recliner—the VHS case for The Wild Bunch was on her lap, you called it—but your dad had plopped himself down in the exact middle of the couch. Not only did you have to watch a movie with your family instead of chilling with your boyfriend, but you couldn’t even sit next to him because your dad hates the idea of you having fun. 

Before you knew it, you were in a full on stare-down with the Hawkins chief of police. 

“Take a seat.” He said passive aggressively. 

“I want to sit next to Eddie, Dad. Could you move over?”

He shook his head. “I’m not falling for any of your tricks. I was a teenager once.”

“Yeah, like a thousand years ago.” You mumbled. 

The comment was quiet but your dad still heard it. 

“Careful, any attitude and I’ll assume it came from the moron and he won’t be allowed back in the house.”

You looked over at Eddie with a defeated expression on your face. He looked back at you, sympathetic and willing to comply—the latter was a complete switch from his normal mood.

Your boyfriend understood completely why your dad was worried about you and Eddie dating, but that didn’t mean he was happy about it. Of course, Eddie was willing to do whatever he could to seem like the boyfriend every parent would want for their daughter—he really was, some people just couldn’t look past the exterior shell to see it—so he held his tongue and went along with anything. 

The two of you sat down on opposite sides of the couch, separated by your relentless father. 

“Alright, El, play the movie.” Hopper said. 

He then leaned back and kept his eyes on the television in front of you all. 

Eddie soon caught your gaze from across the couch, and he stretched his arm behind his head, oh so conveniently placing it a few inches from your shoulder.

You grinned at him, keeping it subtle, and took his hand in yours. 

The two of you watched the rest of the film like that, holding hands in that slightly uncomfortable way, and the night wasn’t as insufferable as it seemed like it was going to be. All thanks to Eddie, of course.

[andorappreciation]

There have been times where the struggle seemed impossible... Together, unrested, daunted by the lack of news or trailer, we have waited…and waited…

But the day has finally come when all these edits and drawings, these metas and fics…will help the Andor fandom countdown to the Season 2 premiere!

Sunday, April 6th to Thursday, 17th (ahead of all the Star Wars Celebration excitement) @andorappreciation will be hosting 12 Days of Andor: a fandom-wide event celebrating our resilient, creative, talented community and the long-anticipated return of our favorite rebellious show.

Prompts

April 6th, Day One: Networks Either Change or Die Dive into the interconnectedness of this complex narrative. Find the ties that bind characters, factions, and plots. Parallels, theses, and themes… obvious or unhinged, make your case!  Alternate Prompts: Symbolism || Elements

April 7th, Day Two: Everyone Has Their Own Rebellion Themes, politics, messaging--there were many reasons for Andor’s success, but chief among them was what the show had to say, both about our world and the world of Star Wars. Examine Nemik’s Manifesto, or offer your own treatise on Luthen’s methodology, but whatever you do, don’t lose your nerve! Alternate Prompts: Underrated Quotes/Dialogue || Sacrifice

April 8th, Day Three: I Show You the Stone in My Hand, You'll Miss the Knife at Your Throat Mon Mothma was speaking for more than just herself here– dualities and split identities are a throughline in Andor. Whether it’s Vel Sartha playing as the spoiled rich girl or Lonnie Jung literally posing as a double agent within the ISB, explore the world of deception and the webs of lies that hold the Rebellion and the Empire together. Alternate Prompts: Underrated Scenes || Ambiguity

April 9th, Day Four: Kill Me, Or Take Me In The last words of the first season, uttered by the show’s protagonist. With this ominous bargain, we were all left to speculate wildly about the upcoming second and final season. Here’s your chance to share those theories and predictions, from the most sound hypothesis to the crackiest wish fulfillment!  Alternate Prompts: Penultimate Moments || Death

April 10th, Day Five: They Don't Even Think About Us But we bet you do right? Everyone has their own rebellion, yes, but everyone also has their very own Glup Shitto. Are you a Time Grappler Stan? A Blue Noodle boy? Show your love for your Andor Shittos!  Alternate Prompts: Underrated Side Characters || Nature

April 11th, Day Six: That's Just Love...Nothing You Can Do About That Just like with every good story, the relationships among the characters are what draw us in and keep us hooked. Whether it’s a fraught love story or a complex connection between mother and son, Andor is rife with intricate interpersonal relations and, ultimately, a hell of a lot of love. Share your feelings about the relationships you find most compelling!  Alternate Prompts: Doomed by the Narrative || Echoes

April 12th, Day Seven: We Are Healthcare Providers Are you fascinated by the crushing bureaucracy of the ISB? The ponderous gears of the Imperial war machine? Do you simply love Dedra Meero and think she's neat? Share your thoughts about the Empire and the unique way that Andor explores the banality of evil! Alternate Prompts: Character Arcs || Morality

April 13th, Day Eight: "Pilgrim" Are you the biggest Nicolas Britell fan ever? Have you memorized every interview with Denise Gough? Have you watched everything Diego Luna is in? Show your appreciation for the incredible cast and crew that make this show come to life!  Alternate Prompts: Favorite Quotes about the show || Behind the Scenes

April 14th, Day Nine: Pockets, Piping, Some Light… Tailoring From the rich costumes to the lavish sets, Andor gave us some truly sumptuous designs to sink our teeth into. Explore the details of costumes, sets or both!  Alternate Prompt: Hidden Details || Colors

April 15th, Day Ten: Peezos… The Greenie Green Ones Run up to Arkie’s and pick up some shit posts! Just make sure you don’t look like ‘you’re a part of it’. Alternate Prompts: Favorites (episodes, characters, etc) || Humor

April 16th, Day Eleven: You’re My Ideal Reader Have a fic that you just love? A gifset that you stare at until your eyes water? A manifesto with not enough circulation (in your opinion)? Spread the love and recommend your favorite metas, edits, fan art, podcasts, gif sets, fics, whatever you’d like!  Alternate Prompt: Alternate Universe || Time

April 17th, Day Twelve: ONE WAY OUT!  You’re free! Hopefully you can swim! AKA: Dealer's choice || Free Day

How It Works

We have included multiple prompts for each day to provide optimal opportunities for fan work creators of all kinds. Pick a prompt and create to your heart’s content! When the day arrives, post your work!

Feel free to tag us @andorappreciation! We will also be tracking #12DaysofAndor2025

Do’s & Don’t’s

DO

Have fun, be creative and follow us for all the glorious content!

Please reblog!

Pop some peezos. The greenie green ones!

DON’T

Repost work that is not yours or work without credit

Post work without proper tagging/warnings

Post offensive material including non-con or bigotry

Any questions, concerns, or clarifications can be submitted via ask.

Sincerely,

@andorappreciation

ALL CREDIT FOR THE INCREDIBLE CASSIAN BANNER AND B2 DIVIDERS GOES TO LOVELY MOD @ninsletamain