#and then i had to actually go outside and do a bunch of other stuff

[liquidstar]

a friend who'd wait :)

[squareanon]

.

[phagodyke]

i will ALWAYS be salty abt the ed-sheeranification of one ok rock (one of my fave personality-building anecdotes i explain at parties to ppl getting to know me) but the fact is that takas voice is soooo hot he could sing the words on the back of a milk carton to the tune of a t*ylor sw*ft song + id probably still listen to him. sorry

[warmilikeit]

Yandere Batfam x Camp half-blood (Neglected reader)

DC x Pjo

Part 8

______________________________

Night

"Thalia's tree has been poisoned, the barrier was weakened, Mr D thinks Chiron did it" you say walking to the dining area with Percy, Annabeth and Tyson

Percy scoffs "Chiron??? Maybe Mr D did it himself or is trying to pin the blame"

"Or... Since there is no culprit, the other gods might pester and harass Mr D for not keeping the camp safe, so he had to prosecute Chiron" Annabeth grumbles

You sigh "likely, Mr D assigned a new Activities Director for us, but he's not pleasant"

Percy raises a brow "Are you sure? Have you met him?"

"I know his name, and I hate people like him the most, Tantalus" Glaring at the ground, you hands fist

"what's so bad about him?" Percy asks, and Annabeth rolls her eyes at Percy's ignorance

"Tantalus killed his own son, he chopped, cooked him and fed his own son to the gods, when the gods found out, they were so disgusted they cursed Tantalus to never eat again even in death, I hate his type the most, parents who don't love their children" you say

"why would the gods assign him to take care of children???" Percy tilts his head confused

You three part ways as you sit at your respected tables

(much like cabins, tables are separated by parent)

______________________________

Night

"What are you doing!?! Don't touch that!" Damian yells at Duke who's holding a small keychain that is strapped at Damian's utility belt

The Manor was cold and quiet, the demon spawn echoes as he screamed, Damian grabbed his belt away from duke

"a cinnamoroll keychain? Didn't see you as the type to like that kind of stuff" Duke laughed

And he was right, cause that key chain was yours, you had it clipped to your backpack for school, after you died, Damian hoarded whatever stuff of yours he could find, there wasn't a lot, you didn't have many toys, you didn't have many clothes, everything was important

Every evidence that you once lived at this Manor

Every evidence you were once his sibling

Every evidence you were once alive

One he treasured the most, he kept in a locked box under his bed... It may sound creepy

Scratch that-

It is creepy.

He found the baby blanket you were wearing when you were dropped on the Manor's doorstep

He treasured it, but sometimes he questioned, the quality of the blanket was immaculate, it was soft and silky, probably expensive, and when Damian found out that the golden stitches that said your name were actual gold, he became suspicious

Your birth mother was probably rich, capable of providing for you

So why would she give you up?

Another thing he noticed was blood, and the blanket was wrinkled when he found it under your pillow

Damian thought of the many times you probably held the blanket as you cried bloody and injured after a mission (or after every time he hurt you, but he doesn't wanna think about that does he?)

Nevertheless, even with all his doubts, one he didn't question was his fondness for the blanket

______________________________

Day

"Mom!?" You jump in surprise

Your 8 foot tall mother looming over you, she had a bunch of bags in her hand "Hey sweetie!"

You are in your cabin, it was your turn to clean it, so while your siblings prepare their chariots for the upcoming race

A dangerous game that could lead to serious injuries, destruction of property and even death, game mandated by yours truly Tantalus!

Even with the dangers of this race, the campers are glad, ever since some guy named "Luke" betrayed the camp, it was advised that no demigod shall go outside of camp without proper jurisdiction

Everyone's been bored, so a game where your life is on the line is entertaining

Your mother looks at the broom you're holding and it vanishes

That's not the only weird thing that happened, the bed covers started to move by themselves and started to dust and put themselves back in place

Aphrodite smiled at you "honey" she said

"yes mom?"

"sing."

What. Now you feel uncomfortable, did she want you to perform or something? Cause if she wanted you can perform a one man show of Hamilton

"just hum darling, a melody whatever comes to your mind" she says

You hesitate for a bit, is this woman trying to do some Disney princess shit on you?

It's not like you can refuse, so you hum

Then the windows opened with birds flying in, they pulled the curtains apart and fixed the carpets, the dirty laundry being dropped in their respective bins (one for each camper)

Oh my gods...

She did Disney princess you

"Now that your chores are out of the way, sit my love"

You sit

She hands you the gifts "I know you'll like them" she grins

You take a peek inside, oh my gods

It's everything you love.

The show you were watching back at the manor? Boom now you have the CDs of them, and a old DVD player

(sorryyy but internet isn't allowed at camp, they're not allowed for demigods at all)

New clothes that match your style, also some camp half-blood shirts in your favorite colors

The continuation of some of your favorite book series ( ;) )

Your favorite comics ( ;) pt2 )

And some comfy pillows and blankets, as well as stuffed toys, cause you were unfortunate enough to not even be able to pack some stuff

You hug your mother tightly and she pats you on the head

You look up and a mischievous thought comes to your mind "what did you give my siblings? I'm gonna prank them" you say

Aphrodite stiffened "Well... Honey, I didn't get them anything"

"what why?"

"I mean... I came here to see you, I've heard you've been training with Athena, I can't have you love her more, you're my favorite after all-" she explains but you cut her off

"don't say that, don't do that"

Her lips pursued "what do you mean sweet?"

"don't call me your favorite, I don't like it when parents have favorites"

You hate favorites, it hurts to be the kid that isn't one, no way you'll let your siblings feel sad

She sighed "Alright, I won't say it anymore, it doesn't change that fact tho, I gave you these gifts because, your situation at your past home wasn't really the best, I figured you deserve more love than your other siblings, I want to understand you more" Aphrodite pats your back and her hand moves in circles, trying to comfort you

That rubbed off in you the wrong way

Very wrong

"so you're not happy that your children aren't suffering? Don't you think you'll make them sad if you ignore them?" You say

"are you only nice to me because I suffered?" You asked

She got defensive "of course not! I love all of you! Just that I happen to love more than the others"

You frown deeply, you hate this right now, this doesn't feel good or prideful at all, why would someone be happy at the fact that the person they care about is loved less? You love your siblings, no way you'll let them feel like they're less important

______________________________

Past

"Just try to understand him (Name), he's lost his parents, I'm the only parental figure in his life" Bruce barely tries to comfort you, a week after adopting Dick, you find the house covered in glass

Every year Alfred makes you and Bruce take family photos, and Dick out of jealousy, broke all those photos with you and your father

Instead of punishing him, Bruce arranged a pictorial with Dick, just the two of them, Bruce never did take another picture with just you

_____________________________

Past

"You want me to sit out?" You ask baffled and sad

Tim Drake, a kid with abusive parents, got adopted by Bruce, he was envious of the fact that you had a "loving parent" who gave you everything you wanted

So the family trip that was supposed to be with you, dick, Jason and Bruce, They made you back out of, to make Tim feel better, so Tim won't feel lesser when he sees you, the biological child

"Just try to understand him okay?" Bruce says as he guides you out of his office

______________________________

Past

"(Name)! What is this behavior! Have you lost your mind!?" Bruce yells at you

After Jason came back, he wasn't the same anymore, he was a lot more violent than he was before

You caught him by surprise, by that I mean he was sneaking around the mansion at night you heard the noise and to not blow his cover he planned to knock you out but forgot you were a trained fighter as well

You hit his head with a vase

And Bruce saw

That was all Bruce seemed to see

He didn't see that you were bleeding as well, he didn't see the dagger that was sticking out of your leg, or the cut that was near your neck

"He had a traumatic experience, can't you just understand him!?" Bruce says

______________________________

Present

You hate that word "Understand" , to you, it means that you have to abandon how you feel so you'd be convenient to your "siblings"

As if reading your mind, your mother sighed

"I will return, don't let any of your siblings go inside the cabin, I'll prepare a surprise for all of you" Aphrodite sees you smile at her words and she disappears

You place your gifts at your bed and you leave the cabin

"(Name)! Ivan calls you, my brother is going to be the lead racer in our cabin, are you going to race?"

"yeah, my siblings have started on it, but I just finished my chores so I can help them now" you smile

____________________________

Batfam: mourning (Name)

Duke an empath: somethings wrong here

__________________

Omgggg this is a long chap

@delias-stuff @sadslasher13 @ellaprime7 @wpdarlingpan @mountvesuvu @chinxinsomnia @nathaly36 @vanessa-boo @bat1212 @ceramic-raven @sweetconnoisseurgardener @dhanyasri @bella-wolf100 @shortnsweetsposts @roseapov @d3sperate-enuf

[dycefic]

Tom Saves The World

Everyone knows that it’s super-heroes who save the world. They fight the aliens, or the monsters, or the bad guys. And mostly, that’s true.

But not always.

I’m a psychic. The thing is, my range isn’t that great. I don’t have much detail more than about 36 hours out, 48 for something really big. I’d had a nebulous sort of bad feeling for about a week before this one finally hit, and it was big. Something very tough and very supernatural was going to come up out of the harbor of Nova Roma, and the death-toll was going to be high. Crazy high.

I did all I could. I told the Unaligned Supers Job Placement Agency, and they put the word out to everyone on both sides of the Line. The Henchman’s Union don’t like natural disasters any more than anyone else, and they’re often quite helpful against eldritch horrors and stuff like that. Things that don’t hire henchmen and ruin the property values.

The trouble was, nobody big was around. The only really big team of heavy hitters on the West Coast were away dealing with some sort of doomsday cult - I never was clear on what that was about - and Guarde and Dog Fox were out of touch and even Mx Frantique was out of town at someone’s wedding. It was going to happen in less than two days and we couldn’t find anyone to help and I was seriously considering calling in some kind of bomb threat or something to get people away from the docks, at least.

And then, about eighteen hours out, it just… went away.

Which never, ever happens.

My powers might be short range, but they’re reliable. I don’t get stuff wrong, and I hadn’t been able to find any way to prevent what was going to happen, or even been able to identify anyone who could. But someone did. Someone had done something to stop the threat, something that happened literally while I was opening my car door. When I reached for the handle, thousands of people were going to die. By the time the door was open, there was no threat at all.

At first I thought it must have been a ranged thing. Like, whatever I’d been seeing (all those teeth, I saw them in nightmares for months after) had been distracted by something tasty on its way here and gotten off track, that it’d come up somewhere up or down the coast. My range isn’t that big, either. Anything outside about thirty miles might as well be on Mars for all I know about it. So we kept a watch out, and warned the chapters of the Union and the Agency in other cities.

But nothing happened. Nothing at all. I couldn’t explain it, and I was really unpopular for a while. Supers do NOT like people who cry wolf. There’s enough freaky shit we have to deal with without someone panicking everyone with a dire prophecy that fizzles out.

Thank all the gods that Tunny showed up. Nobody’s really sure what Tunny actually is - sentient fish creature, some kind of really mutated human, an alien, or what. She changes her story a lot. But she’s pretty friendly, especially for a twenty-foot-long horror-movie-mermaid-thing with four arms, so when she came into harbor to pick up some supplies a guy from the Agency went out to tell her what I’d seen. I’d gotten a wharf and dock number, so she went down to check.

I don’t think anyone had ever seen Tunny scared before. Her English wasn’t good enough to really explain what she’d found hibernating down there, but it was something very old and very powerful and very dangerous, and if it’d been woken up my vision would just have been the start of the crisis.

She rounded up a bunch of whales to help her move it, once she was sure it hadn’t been agitated and wasn’t likely to rouse if moved carefully. They towed it out before dawn, not wanting to scare the civilians, and when I saw the footage from the helicopter the Union sent up, when I saw how big the swell was, how many whales were pulling, I swear I nearly crapped myself. No wonder I’d been getting hints a week in advance. Somehow we dumbass humans had built a whole fucking city almost on top of some kind of Ancient Old… THING, and eroded the sea-bottom until it was exposed, and if someone hadn’t done whatever it was we’d all have been dead long before Tunny arrived. And not just all as in ‘all of Nova Roma’, it could have taken out half of the continent... or all of it.

It took me years to find out what happened. YEARS. It turned into a kind of hobby, tracking everything that might possibly have come into contact with Wharf 38 on that particular day.  

And what I found, eventually, was a city employee named Thomas Briggs.

I’d found out early on that 38 wasn’t in good repair. Not that bad, but not great. It was old, things were getting a bit saggy in a few places, but there’d been no sign that anything was likely to fall off on the day. It had sat there for a couple of years after the crisis that never happened,, doing its job without problems then been rebuilt without any drama at all.

Entirely, completely, and totally because of Thomas Briggs.

The story, when I finally pieced it together, went like this.

There’d been some project or other to build some sort of high-budget science project over on the other side of the harbor, hanging it off’ve Pier 8, the furthest out on that side. Something about tracking sea-life or ships or something. My conversational English is near perfect, I’ve been here for years, but I don’t speak science nerd in ANY language. It’d all been approved, some university was covering most of the cost, it was all gonna be fine. And it was gonna be over on 8 because that side of the harbor is the shallow end. It’s where the sailboats go. All the big stuff that would block visual sensors and deafen the thing with engine noise was over in the thirties, in the real deep water.

They were almost ready to install the thing when a bunch of rich dudes suddenly got their panties in a bunch over having a big sciency tower thing ruining the view from their yachts, and tried to get it moved.

To, and I’m sure you guessed this, Wharf 38.

Which was completely insane. It wouldn’t be able to do its job over there, it’d be way more in the way, and (although they couldn’t have known it) the installation would definitely have woken up the Thing sleeping by the wharf and we all would have died. But rich dudes with yachts don’t care about that stuff. They’d bitched out and bribed up their friends on the city council, and those friends had done their thing, and the scientists had been left in the dark, and it’d almost gone through. They’d figured to install it right away, so that when the science guys found out it’d be too late and they’d either have to pay a lot to move it or just use it where it was.

Enter Thomas Briggs.

Mr Briggs, Tom to his friends, didn’t give a crap about the yachts or the science. He was a senior money guy for the commercial wharfs, the one who figured out things like how much money they’d take in in a quarter, and what the repair budget should be, stuff like that. He found out about this thing two days before the disaster would have happened, and sat down and did the math.

Then he sent out an email to the guys trying to push this through, and he ripped into them like they’d threatened to knife his mother. I got my hands on that email, and I didn’t understand a lot of it any more than the council guys would have. It was ALL numbers. But at the top he wrote it out in plain English. Pier 8 was new, and rated to handle the weight of the thingy. Wharf 38 was going to be scrapped in a few years, and it was NOT rated for that kind of structure. Pier 8 had plenty of room around it. Wharf 38 was already a tight fit for the big commercial ships, and adding a structure sticking out on one side would block off at least half of the wharf to those ships completely.

Bottom line, putting the thing on Wharf 38 would cost the city hundreds of thousands of dollars more per year than putting it on 8, AND the city would have to eat the cost if 38 collapsed under it which it could easily do, AND the city would have to pay to move it in a couple of years anyway when 38 was due to be rebuilt.

And he cc-ed every important person he had an email address for, including the mayor, the anti-corruption people, and several reporters.

He must have sent that email right when I was opening my car door.

The whole plan collapsed right there, and some people got fired. There was no news story because the whole plan got killed before the reporters even got to the right office. The installation was started on Wharf 8 a few weeks later and I never connected it to a commercial wharf on the other side of the harbor.

One email, and a man who I never could have located in time, a man who had no powers at all, a man who was just conscientiously doing his job looking after the city’s money saved the city, and the continent, and maybe even the world.

Who could have predicted that? Not me, that’s for damn sure.

I can’t deny that I went home and got drunk off my ass that night. Just thinking about how close that had been made my hands shake. One man. One honest man who’d done the math.

I put the word out, once the hangover wore off. What had happened. That Thomas Briggs was the reason we were all alive and everyone better make his life real nice from now on, because he’d done what none of us could do and nobody but the supers would ever even know it.

He’s got a lot of luck coming to him, I can tell you. We don’t forget debts like that.

And I knew that’d freak him out, because honest men don’t like it when people start doing them a lot of favors for no apparent reason, so I tracked him down at the little bar where he likes to have a quiet beer on Friday nights before he goes home. Hell, I was the one who’d gone through it all, back then. I should get to tell him.

I sat down beside him at the bar and looked at him. I saw a thin, small, balding man who looked like he worried too much and didn’t get enough sleep, with lines around his eyes. Yeah, he looked like a man who’d do the math. “Thomas Briggs?”

He blinked at me through his glasses. “Yes? Do I know you?”

“No, you don’t. My name’s Barkhado Omar, and I’ve been looking for you for a long time.” I offered him my hand and he shook it, still looking confused. Which was fair, ‘cause I doubt a lot of seven foot tall Somali women came up to him in bars even when he was young. He’s got to be close to retirement now.

He frowned. “Looking for me? Why?”

I smiled at him. “Tom, let me buy you a drink and tell you about the day you saved the world.”

It’s usually us who save the city, or the world. We have all the intel, all the advantages, all the powers.

But sometimes it’s not. Sometimes it’s someone like Tom Briggs, doing the right thing at the right time and never knowing that he changed the course of history.

Wild, huh?

--

This story is a direct result of me and my ex chatting about how different the entire Marvel Universe would have been if Jean’s first ‘resurrection’ - being found in a life pod under a wharf, IIRC - had happened at like... any other time. Earlier. Later. It would have changed SO MUCH.

And we speculated about how it could happen, how someone just puttering around in middle management might have unknowingly saved countless lives, prevented Madelyne’s corruption, the legacy virus, all of it, just by postponing that particular set of repairs a bit longer.... and I couldn’t resist writing a version of the story in which Tom does, in fact, save the world.

[dahliakbs]

I love your toddler reader Batfam story’s. I love them so much

I've been meaning to make more Toddler x Batfam but the writers block is killing me, also Thank You(⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡. I was starting to wonder if people really liked my stuff.

Holidays with the Waynes-⑅⁠꒱

"Why did the city give us fireworks?" Tim's gaze was trained onto the large box of fireworks placed on the front lawn of the manor.

Everyone was currently stood outside, relishing in the fact that the city was for once a quiet and peaceful place.

Nights like this were rare, especially on Holidays like this one. Everyone was trying to enjoy it to the best of their ability, including you.

You sat next to the large crate, a blue lollipop in one sticky hand while your other was struggling to wrap your tiny fingers around the lighted firecracker they'd given you earlier.

The strength in your arm was quickly waning away and all you could really do was watch as your arm slowly but awkwardly fall to the side, the weight of the firecracker becoming to much for your poor little arms to handle.

Since you were sat directly next to the large crate, the small sparks of fire that flew off the burning base of your cracker came into contact with the stem of the firework. Soon igniting the closest one to you.

Now you definitely didn't know how a firework worked at your age so the sight didn't alarm you at all.

With childlike wonder you watched as the pretty flame slowly burned the fibers of the stem, finding the dancing flame quite interesting at that moment in time.

"Father told us earlier, were you not listening?" Damian asked in an irritated tone of voice.

"Of course I heard him, all I'm saying is that this city doesn't need a bunch of supposedly airheaded celebraties setting off dangerous flaming objects on-" Tim little rant was cut off by an abrupt popping noise, followed by the familiar sound of his baby sibling's soft giggles.

Both their heads snapped to you immediately, in the short time they'd turned their heads away from you you'd somehow managed to light all the fireworks in that crate?? They looked at each other and for once they definitely knew that they were thinking the same thing.

'Who would give a toddler a mini firework?"

In their stupor the final firework in the crate ignited, causing the crate of fireworks to begin setting off right beside you.

The small sparks coming from the stems of the fireworks blazed the grass below, surrounding you in a small field of fire while you sat excited in the middle.

If those fireworks weren't setting off madly behind you in every which way they would have stopped to admire the wide toothless smile you'd had plastered onto your face.

They'd admire the way the fireworks reflected off your irises, the way the blazing flames seemed to fall so perfectly around you, surrounding you in its blazing heat and lastly they would have admired the way you sat so confidently in the blazing heat as if the sight of fire mixed with the atrocious sounds of the ignited fireworks didn't bother you at all.

They would've have admired all of that but instead they were running around like mad men.

The loud commotion summoning everyone in the area.

It didn't seem like their vigilante instincts had kicked in yet, their bodies being to relaxed by calmness from not to long ago to actually step in and help you. Instead they settled for freaking out and yelling at each other, trying to find out which one of them actually gave a toddler a mini firework.

"It seems holidays never do go well at the Wayne manor indeed" Alfred said from afar, a clicking sound resounding in the quiet, empty hallways of the Wayne manor.

This scene before him was much to beautiful for him to pass up the opportunity to photograph. Your beautiful smile was on display, how could he not take a picture?!

Of course he did this with no worry, already knowing that no one would ever allow the dancing flames to come any closer to you.

Let alone harm you.

No you were much to precious to them for them to allow that to happen...

[magniloquent-raven]

Day 4: Supportive Boyfriends

and for my next (LATE, SO LATE) @bucktommypositivityweek contribution. KITTEN FIC.

(read on ao3)

**

The 118 doesn't have a baby box.

In fact there aren't any in the state of California at all. Buck looked it up, after Maddie's postpartum episode. When half his family was missing and there wasn't much he could do besides wait and... think about things.

So he thought about safe haven laws. Read up on the training seminars for first responders who want to be better equipped to deal with hand-offs. Read a bunch of other stuff he sort of wishes he hadn't. Spent the next week haunted by articles about abandoned children.

He considered talking to Bobby about it. Only partly to ask him if they should get a box for the firehouse. Partly because Buck wasn't sure how he felt about the whole thing, and Bobby always seemed to have answers. But he never worked up the nerve to broach the subject.

And now. Bobby's not captain anymore, and Buck really can't imagine Gerrard giving a shit about any of this.

So, they don't have a box. But.

Well, this isn't a human baby. It's not like the same rules apply.

Buck has to wonder if wires got crossed somewhere, because. Someone left a kitten. Outside the firehouse.

Buck was just going to grab something—he can't remember what—from his Jeep, when he spotted an unlabelled cardboard box on the pavement, up against the side of the building. His first thought was bomb.

Until it meowed at him. A tiny, high-pitched peep of a meow.

Kind of scared the shit out of him, if he's being honest.

There's only one. All alone in the box. A poofy grey thing wriggling around half buried in an off-white towel. Like a very ambitious dust bunny with big round blue eyes and skinny legs. It wobbles slowly over a fold in the towel with all the effort of someone scaling a mountain.

Buck crouches next to the box, and pokes a finger inside.

"Hey, buddy," he murmurs, holding very still while the kitten inches towards his hand and squeaks. It's unclear whether there are teeth in that little maw. That means it's really young, right? Too young to be left alone for very long.

Shit, how is he going to explain this to Gerrard? He's still got, like, 12 hours left on his shift, but someone has to feed this thing. How long can kittens go without food?

Oh, it does have teeth. Really teeny ones. They're ineffectively poking his knuckle.

Buck fishes his phone out of his jacket—with the hand that isn't currently being drooled on—intending to go to Google for answers. How to figure out how old a kitten is. How often do kittens need to be fed. Do cats get separation anxiety. He has a million questions.

Only he doesn't pull up his browser. He calls Tommy.

It's a whim. Barely a seed of an idea. But when he unlocked his phone the first thing he saw was their text history (he'd been complaining about Gerrard off-and-on all morning, and Tommy had been sending random updates about all the chores he'd been getting done—his last message was a picture of a mop with no context) and he just thought... Tommy will know what to do. Not in so many words, more a feeling. Comfort and certainty, just from seeing Tommy's picture in a little bubble at the top of his screen.

"Evan?" Tommy answers almost immediately, and there's a subtle undercurrent of worry in his tone. Buck winces. Right, calling out of the blue while he's at work would look. Bad.

"I'm okay!" He says quickly, all in one breath. Then pauses. The kitten squints up at him, meowing again, long and loud. Its whole fluffy face scrunches with the effort.

"...What was that?"

"Uh. That would be why I called, actually."

—

Gerrard is less of an obstacle than Buck feared he'd be. Because he's holed up in his office doing paperwork when Buck sneaks in with the kitten, and Buck's decided he has no intention of letting him know the cat was ever here.

Tommy promised he'd come get her.

Buck didn't even really ask, and wasn't planning on asking. Didn't have any plan whatsoever, in fact. He just wanted to know if Tommy knew anything about taking care of kittens, and suddenly Tommy's voluntarily sacrificing the rest of his day off to scope out vets and pet supply stores and whatever else Buck's helpless little friend might need.

He hung up hours ago and his insides still feel warm and goopy about it. He can't stop thinking about the gentle fondness that softened Tommy's voice after Buck explained the situation. Buck would wrap himself up in it like a blanket if he could.

Tommy's getting so kissed when he shows up.

In the meantime, Buck's sitting upstairs, working his way through the dozen or so tabs he opened up after googling kitten care.

He thinks the one he found might be around three weeks old (ears not quite unfurled, can't sheathe claws yet, legs unsteady but mobile). And possibly a girl. She did not care for being picked up and turned over, and the indignant squirming made it difficult to tell what's going on down there. But he's almost certain he's right.

She was shrieking up a storm about it, and he was worried if he took any longer she'd alert Gerrard. (She didn't. She did, however, draw the attention of about half the firehouse.)

"You are disgustingly cute," Chimney coos, scratching under her chin with the tip of one finger. She's lifted her head as high as she can and her eyes are squinted happily. Buck can hear her purring from across the room. "Yes you are. Hen, can you get a picture of this?"

Hen pulls out her phone. "Sure... why?" She asks, leaning over his shoulder to snap a picture and eye him with mild suspicion.

"Jee. She'll wanna see when I tell her about my day."

Her expression softens to a smile. "I'll text it to you." She taps her screen a couple times. "Just had to make sure you weren't planning on calendar campaigning again."

Chimney grins. "Nah, my calendar days are behind me. The only person who gets shirtless pictures of me now is my wife."

"Gross," Buck says without conviction. He narrows his eyes at the site he's scrolling through, swiping away a Join Our Mailing List! popup. "You guys don't think she's cold do you? Are her ears warm? It's only, like, 70 today and we don't know how long she was out there."

Hen and Chim exchange glances, and then, disturbingly in sync, look from the cat to Buck. Chim gives her ear a perfunctory poke, which she does not appreciate as much as chin scritches, "She's fine, man."

Hen waves a hand at Buck when he opens his mouth again, "We're medical professionals. And in my medically professional opinion. She's fine."

"Okay, but—"

"Hey guys, look who stopped b—uhhh. Is that a cat?" Eddie slows to a stop at the top of the stairs, blinking at the kitten on the couch. "When did we get a cat?"

"Couple hours ago," Buck says, still frowning at Hen and Chimney. "Where have you been?"

"I found him polishing the engine."

Buck shoots out of his seat. "Tommy!"

He only half-hears Eddie muttering, "Favouritism," as he scuttles around the chair to meet Tommy halfway between the stairs and the sitting area. Tommy has just enough time to smile—and it warms Buck, like it always does, with a spark caught in his chest for safekeeping—and say hi before Buck's on him, palms clapped on either side of his face, smushing their lips together.

He makes a bit of a show of it, dramatically swooping in, because he knows the big smacking MWAH will make Tommy laugh, and he likes the way that feels rumbling against his chest.

Buck taps their noses together. "Hey," he says, savouring the mirth sparkling in Tommy's eyes for a second before kissing him again, properly this time.

His brain goes sort of fuzzy when Tommy's palm cups the back of his neck.

Someone in the distance wolf-whistles.

When they finally come up for air Tommy asks, "What was that for?" a little breathlessly, which is doing things to Buck.

"Mmn...y'know. For being you."

Tommy raises his eyebrows, kiss-reddened lips curling fondly. "Okay."

"Hey, Tommy. Good to see you," Chim calls in a very pointed way.

Right, public setting. Workplace. Friends watching. Buck exhales slowly, and tries to think about anything other than how much he wants to bite that bit of clavicle peeking out of the collar of Tommy's shirt. Like the fact that Tommy's hands are warm, and he's sort of rubbing his fingertips over the short stubbly bits of hair on the back of Buck's head, and Buck's lips are still tingling a little, and—no wait, not that either.

Tommy pulls away first, which is probably for the best, but also very sad. The corner of his mouth twitches like he can see Buck thinking it. He curls his index finger and gently taps Buck's chin with the knuckle before he turns to the group.

"Howie," he says, not even pretending to be contrite in the face of Chim's mock-judgement. "Hen."

"Tommy." Hen fails to contain her smirk.

Some time during all the kissing, Eddie moved over to the couch. He's sat next to the kitten, watching her attempt to groom her paw with all the grace of a toddler who's only a little bit sure they know how to hold a brush. She keeps starting and stopping at random intervals, sometimes licking the cushion beside her, sometimes sticking her tongue out at thin air.

She's so cute it makes Buck's chest hurt. It's a little much while he's still loopy from making out with his boyfriend.

Then Tommy goes and crouches next to the couch so he can get eye-level with the kitten while she sniffs his hand, talking to her all calm and soft with smile-lines crinkling his cheeks, and. Buck might need to lie down for a bit. Like, on top of Tommy, preferably.

The kitten seems to like him too, and he really can't blame her when she crawls up Tommy's sleeve to perch on his shoulder.

She looks so much smaller cuddled up on Tommy. He reaches up to steady her, and she's almost entirely obscured by his hand.

God, is it wrong that he's getting a little hot under the collar about that? He just looks so strong and competent and at the same time, like, gentle. Buck knows how it feels to be touched tenderly by those hands, and apparently just seeing it happen does not affect him any less. In fact it's only added dimensions to his desires.

"I should probably get going," Tommy says, bringing Buck back down to Earth with a resounding splat.

He opens his mouth to protest, then closes it. He's right. The last thing Buck wants is for Tommy to have another run-in with Gerrard, and they don't know how long the old bastard's gonna be occupied.

"Mhm, run while you still can," Chimney pipes up. "Before our dear old captain smells an opportunity to ruin someone's day."

"He does seem to have a sixth sense for that," Eddie adds sullenly. Buck makes a note to ask him what that was about. Later.

"I'll walk you out," Buck says, trying not to sound like a pouting child. He's fairly certain he fails, because Tommy laces their fingers together and gives his hand a comforting squeeze.

He says his goodbyes, the whole time being careful not to dislodge the kitten while she crawls across his shoulders.

Buck goes through the list of kitten care basics he memorized as they make their way to the parking lot. It's...more than he thought it was, honestly. It starts to feel overwhelming as he goes on, and on, and on. He's running out of time to get it all out, and he feels like it's just now sinking in his huge this responsibility that he's dumping in Tommy's lap is.

"You're sure you don't mind taking her?" The question bursts out of Buck before they make it to Tommy's car. "W-we didn't really, I mean. We talked about it over the phone, but..."

"Yeah, now that I've seen her she does seem like a real handful."

The kitten yawns, and curls up into a tiny grey ball in the crook of Tommy's neck.

Well. Alright.

"It's just, t-they need a lot of attention when they're that young, and I kinda just, just dropped this on you."

"Evan." Tommy gives him a look. "Are you worried that you baby-trapped me?"

Okay, when he puts it like that. Maybe a little bit. But also now he's having complicated yearning feelings that he really should not be having this early in the relationship.

Buck's pretty sure he looks like a deer in the headlights right now, because Tommy's doing his damnedest to pretend he isn't laughing at him.

He tugs Buck's hand, leading him the rest of the way to his car.

The backseat is full of cat stuff. Containers of milk-replacement powders, and a shiny plastic litter box, and toys, so many toys, baggies of fake mice and feathery things, just. So much stuff. Piles of it.

"I called up a friend who used to foster kittens. She had a lot of advice. And then I got a little carried away."

"I, uh. See that," Buck laughs breathlessly.

"Over the phone, you sounded like this meant a lot to you? And I think I got really attached to the idea of...this. Taking care of her for you. With you." He sounds hesitant, like he's trying not to say too much, and Buck can't stand it—

"I love you so much," he says in a rush.

"Well, good," Tommy purses his lips around a smile, eyes bright and crinkled at the corners. He reaches up to his shoulder, like he's absent-mindedly checking to see if the kitten's still there. "Wouldn't want her to grow up in a broken home."

Buck huffs a laugh.

"And I love you too."

[undreaming-fanfiction]

I've had a fantasy/medieval AU in mind for ages and I will write it one day, but the idea just wants out now. So have a brief summary.

Steve works in a small town in the middle of nowhere, he's doing odd jobs and helping to tame the local children. He's very protective because he knows the world outside is dangerous, and yeah, maybe their town is borning, but at least it's safe. Ever since his former fiancées friend got dragged into a river and drowned by a water demon, he's been even more protective of the children (and has saved them from a bunch of close calls too, even though they hate to admit it).

Eddie is a travelling bard, and Steve wants to tear his hair out and weave it into a basket or something. Because where he's trying to make sure the six kids get to grow up, Eddie is filling their heads with adventures, dragons, treasure and all that beautiful stuff that gets people killed one day. But the kids love him and Steve can only stay nearby and pray they don't run off one day with makeshift swords.

He just wants the kids safe. That's why he always accompanies them when Eddie is in town. So what if he sits nearby when Eddie spins his stories, it's just to protect them all from wolves if they decide to come. So what if he inches closer when the tale gets more tense and the protagonist is in danger. So what if he holds his breath until he knows whether the adventurers lived to see another day! It's all for the children, he says to himself.

And Eddie? Eddie sees the wonder in Steve's eyes. He sees a young man who has been walking in circles for too long, who has given up all of his future to give one to these six children. He sees in him what he sees in all of the adventurers and heroes he sings about, whose tales he carries with him. He sees all he wants to give.

So Eddie comes to the town more often than to the other ones. But whenever the children start raving about going on adventures, he just throws his head back and laughs. "You, going on an adventure? Please. Can you hold a weapon? Can you dodge an attack? Hm? Show me." The kids fail, of course. And Eddie says: "Do you know what the adventurers I sing about have in common? They came back from their adventures. And why? Because they were prepared! No one is going to sing about you if you drop dead during your first fight."

It doesn't take long for the kids to come to Steve for advice and training. And Steve knows somewhere deep in his heart that he can't protect them forever. He talks to the captain of the guard, Hopper, and he actually gets someone to train with the kids - and himself. He watches with pride as the children pick weapons best suited to their strengths, all too heavy for them, but that doesn't curb their enthusiasm.

He also asks his ex-fiancée, Nancy, to provide some basic training regarding edible herbs, remedies and poisons. He goes to Robin for a geography lesson, so that the little shits at least know where they're going and where their kingdom ends. He asks Jonathan to speed up their reading and writing lessons, and Argyle prepares a bunch of easy recipes from things that grow around them, and teaches them how to start a fire in almost any conditions.

When the kids turn fifteen, they are ready to go on an adventure with Eddie. Steve has done all he could, but he still feels they aren't ready, that he isn't ready. He'll die of worrying, he knows it. What is he even going to do now that the kids are gone?

But Eddie just smiles at him. "What, you put in all this work for them and now you don't even get to see them in action? Don't be stupid. Go and pack, we'll wait for you."

If Steve keeps thinking of Eddie's smile the whole time he's packing, it's only his business.

And that's how, with much of the kids' grumbling, Steve also leaves on adventure.

[thediaryofaurora]

General HCs

Ticci Toby/Tobias Rogers

Sorry this took so long!! I’ve been contemplating writing one shots, but I feel like I should get the head canons out first. If any of you have any ideas for one shots (x readers, char x char, nsfw), my request box is open! I’ll get around to them as soon as possible. :)

- 5’11! Sleeper build and scrawny, but extremely strong upper arms. He’s not as fast as Kate and Brian, but he makes up for it with how long he can run. He never gets tired and can chase victims for hours. Lots of freckles, too!

- White with mostly German heritage. He doesn’t know very much German, just baseline stuff he learned from his mom. (Connie grew up in Germany until she was 15.)

- Medium brown hair and dark brown eyes. He’s pretty pale, but being outside most of the time he does have a slight tan, lots of freckles too.

- His dad was extremely abusive and would beat him, his mom, and his sister, it was rare for him to not be drunk. Toby killed him only a few hours after his father beat his mom to the point she was unconscious. He’d rather his mom lose both of her children and her abusive husband than endure so much pain, he cared about her more than anything. He didn’t want to sit idly by as he loses his sister and mother.

- His fingers are TORN up. Bites and picks at his nails, cuticles, dry knuckles, all of it. His fingertips and palms are also super calloused.

- Hangs out with Jeff and Ben most of the time. He’s closer to Ben and thinks Jeff’s a douche, but he puts up with him since sometimes the three of them have fun.

- He can be a jerk, but if you’re able to break past his shell he’s super sweet. He’s still sarcastic and snarky, but not necessarily mean. VERY smug.

- Had Jeff do a tattoo of Lyra’s birthday on his shoulder. It turned out surprisingly good. He was originally going to do her death date, but he felt like it was better to honor the time she was alive.

- Halloween junkie. He has a massive sweet tooth and loves autumn, so it’s the perfect day ever in his eyes.

- This guy DESTROYS in poker and blackjack. The few times his dad would spend time with him they’d play together. Even though he hated him, it meant a lot to him when he was little. Has the teeny tiniest gambling addiction, makes a bunch of bets with other residents of the mansion and usually wins.

- MIDWESTERN EMO BOY!!!! I will die on this hill. Music taste, clothing, all of it.

- His tics are pretty rare now that he’s older, but when he’s anxious they get bad.

- Exclusively wears comfortable clothes. Not because he gets uncomfortable, he could (and does) sleep in jeans and not be bothered. When he was younger he would always be forced to wear slacks, dress shoes, button ups, and ties for church or family gatherings. He HATED it.

- Him, Tim, and Brian are usually put on missions together. They’re all pretty compatible, and it’s nice to talk to just some regular ass dudes. Sometimes all three of them will go to run down diner’s if they finished their mission early, it’s the most normality any of them have in their lives.

- He and Tim bicker a LOT, but he secretly find comfort in it. He sees Tim as a protective older brother, rather than someone who just hates him. With how his dad treated him growing up, he thought all arguing was yelling and being aggressive, but Tim’s is more disagreement or annoyance.

- Almost knows how to play the acoustic guitar. He’s a quick learner, but he doesn’t have a crazy strong desire to get better at it.

- Pretty much always wears a big bandaid over his cheek gash. He’s not necessarily insecure about it unless he has a crush on someone, but it’s hard to eat or drink when it’s just open.

- He’s actually not to bad at soccer! Sometimes when it’s nice out him and Cody find a ball and play.

- Anywho, I’m in love with him.

Feedback and requests are welcome! Thank you for reading. :)

✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩

[cherriesformatt]

a day || matt sturniolo

matt x fem!reader

summary: what would a typical day as Matt's girlfriend would look like

warnings: pure fluff

word count: 1,6k

a/n: idk let me know how I did English is not my first language but I am working on it

I was on my way from a long, Friday, morning meeting and all I was thinking about was going back to bed and never leaving it again. My week started with my car breaking down out of nowhere, then I got my period (which is not as bad when you think about it because it would be worse if I didn't get it), and then I had an actual meeting, in an actual office, with actual people (I usually work from home in my pajamas). 

I had to drive my boyfriend's car to the meeting downtown. I am glad that I could, but let me tell you one thing, my boyfriend's car is giant and to park this lady downtown I needed to leave 30 minutes early. 

chris 🦋:

waiting for u outside thx for picking me up kid ❤️

"oh fuck" I said to myself as I quickly did a U-turn before it was too late. Was it safe? No. Did everyone survive? Yes.

I totally forgot that I was supposed to pick up Chris from his own meeting since Matt couldn't because I had their car. I dialed Chrise's number.

"hi, ur okay?" he asked. 

"yes, I just might or might not forgot to pick you up so I'll be there in 15 okay? I'm sorry I had a rough morning..." 

"Bro no worries I'll pick up some coffee while I wait and you drive safe okay?" I smiled because wasn't he the best? He doesn't even drink coffee. 

"Okay I'll see you there"

I ended the call and typed Chris's location. It wasn't that bad with the traffic so I was there in less than 15 minutes. 

I was able to park where he was waiting so he got into the passenger seat and smiled at me while I started driving again. I really want to be home. 

"I would say good morning but I'll keep that to myself. Got you an americano and banana bread" He put my coffee in the cup holder and threw his backpack on the back seat. 

"Thank you, that's really sweet, I am literally half dead so that will help" I laughed and took a sip of my coffee. 

"I still think that my brother is dating a weirdo, how can you even drink it black and unsweetened?" Chris looks at me with a disgusted face. 

"You are all literally bunch of weirdos so I just matched the energy you know" I blinked at him and stopped on the red. 

"How was your meeting? New fresh love is gonna be fire. I got the drafts in my mail this morning. Did not change a thing. You and the team did great" I said and smiled at him. 

I was a graphic designer and helped Chris at the beginning of his brand, but I did not really want to work for him so I just help sometimes if it's needed. I am really happy that he still likes to know what I think about the projects tho. I also used to work for Laura but not anymore. That's basically how we all met. I quit after me and Matt started to be a thing. 

"I know right? Well, I knew you will love it. The meeting was great, we should be able to make everything work by the end of the month. And guess what... I actually got samples and I have a pink set for you kid" 

"Honestly... made my day, I am going to wear it for everything now" I laughed.

"Just don't post it yet" He said and started to click things on the car's screen.

"Just use my phone for music" I gave him my phone and he typed my code and put our favorite song by lil skies on. 

"Still can't believe I memorized Niall Horan's birthday just to get to your phone" 

I blinked at him and started rapping with the song. I loved make a toast. Music taste is probably one of the things that made my and Chris's bond strong. Don't get me wrong I love Nick as much as I do Chris, but he just always gets me and we were best friends since day one. The funny thing is that me and Matt did not really liked each other at first. 

The ride home made my mood better. We sang and laugh, I wasn't tired of my life that much anymore. I took my shoes off while holding all of my stuff. Matt was on the couch watching something while we made our way up the stairs. 

"Hi baby... How was it?" He asked as soon as he saw me.

"Crap, I am going to call Laura to take me back" I laughed and put my stuff on the table and went to wash my hands in the kitchen sink. I then walked up to Matt and just threw myself next to him to cuddle his side. 

He kissed my forehead and started to rub my back. 

"I am going to take a nice nap, you kids have fun but not too much" Chris waved at us and went back down the stairs to his room. 

Matt rolled his eyes and kissed my head again. 

"How about we do something nice together? Nick is going to come home with Madi soon, I think, and that means laud. We could go to that beach you like and just get food and watch the sunset later" He asked.

All I was thinking about was his cold hand on my back and how much I just loved that man. He knew exactly what I needed.

"Yes, please. I just need to change. I wore a bra man, can you believe this?" I sit back up. 

He laughed at me and shook his head. 

"Go then," He said patting my thigh. 

I went to put my new fresh love set in Matt's bedroom, used the bathroom and when I was ready we went out.

"Wow, so it's your car now, huh?" Matt started to change the mirrors and seat but he also raised his eyebrows looking at my stuff next to the shift gear. 

"Baby it's only essentials to drive, okay?" I smiled and got comfortable in the passenger seat. 

We drove to get food and dessert. The weather was perfect to just spend an entire afternoon on the beach. Boys did not have any work plans today so I knew Matt was all mine for the rest of the day.

We sat on the beach, had our food, and just talked or cuddled in comfortable silence. That's what I mostly love about spending time with Matt. We could just sit the whole day without a word and be alright with it, but also we could talk for hours and we would always have something to talk about.

"I love you Matty, thanks for taking me to the beach. This new project sucks but I know it's going to be better after that. I really needed just you today" 

I kissed his sweet lips. He tasted like the cherry Pepsi that we just had. He pulled me into his lap and slid his hands under my hoodie while he kissed me back. 

I rested my forehead on his as I pulled away and smiled. 

"Anything for my girl, I love you kid" He kissed my nose and I just wrapped myself around his body.

"I am not moving, you might as well carry me to your car like this" I said into his neck. 

He laughed at that and hugged me back.

"Or we can just stay here" He lay back down on the blanket. 

"I promised your brother that we are going to watch Criminal Minds with him tho" I said.

"Sometimes I just wish you and Chris weren't the same person y/n..." He joked and looked at his phone, holding it above my head.

"Let's go back after sunset in that case baby"

We did watch the sunset, my favorite part of the day. We came back home and spent time with his brothers as I had promised Chris. 

"Spend the night?" Matt whispered in my ear while the last episode for tonight ended. 

I smiled and nodded. I was off tomorrow and did not want him to drive me home that late anyway.

We said goodnight and went to his room. 

"I will go take a shower" I said and opened his drawer to take a pair of boxers and a T-shirt. 

"Go ahead, I went shopping while you were gone. I did restock your basket under the sink. I hope I did it right" He scratched his neck looking at me.

I had my stuff here, but I usually did the restock. Especially my period stuff under the sink.

"Matt...you did not have to do that, thank you, baby" I said pouting my lips.

"I wanted to, I want you to feel comfortable here. Not only you tho, all our girlfriends that come to our house. It's great that you did the basket and stuff" He smiled and I kissed his cheek.

"You are too sweet Matthew"

I went to the bathroom, when I was done he went to take a shower while I waited in his bed scrolling on TikTok.

When Matt came back from the bathroom I looked at him. He was wearing just his pajama pants. 

"Should I just say what all of the girls in my books would say? Matthew, you are such a tease" I wiggled my eyebrows at him.

"Oh my god, would you stop?" He got into bed laughing at what I said. 

"You love me for that" I put my phone on the nightstand and rested my head on his chest.

"Goodnight Matt" I closed my eyes.

He turned the lights off and tucked us in with the blanket. 

"Goodnight sweet girl" He kissed my head while I was already half asleep after this long day.

The best way to end the day is knowing that I will wake up in his arms the next morning. 

[justatypicalwizard]

A scrap from your book

Bakugo x reader, aged up, college! au, quirks don't matter, no warnings, just heartwarming

Roommate Bakugo who is forced to share a room with you for about three months due to unexpected construction works in the college apartment he occupied. The whole Bakusquad was moved to random rooms. To make it worse they were all shared ones. You agreed to take in a male occupant.

Roommate Bakugo who tries to spend as much time outside of the cramped college room as possible. He feels like he's kinda invading your privacy as well as just finding the whole situation uneasy.

Roommate Bakugo who has to complete a bunch of assignments but the library is packed in the late afternoon hours, the air thick with gossip, stress, sweat and annoyance. Bakugo finally wandered off to the dorm room to find some peace for his work.

Roommate Bakugo who spotts you always turn off your lamp and tune down the brightness on your laptop when he tells you he's going to sleep.

"You don't have to do that." He grunts, already wrapped up in heavy covers.

"I don't mind, you do the same." Because he does.

Roommate Bakugo who walks on you watching a film he loves. At first he just circles the small room mindlessly, more interested in the unwrapping dialogue between his two favourite characters than the laundry he's picking up.

"You wanna watch?" You ask, pausing the movie.

"No. I was going to do my laundry."

"I can wait, I can buy some snacks in the meantime, I was looking for an excuse to do it anyway."

So the two of you ended up finishing the film together, sitting on your bed.

Roommate Bakugo who talks to you more, geting used to the situation faster than he thought he would. You both sit by your desks working on the boring college stuff. He spotted you were trying hard, not slacking around and keeping most of your deadlines. Even if he didn't want to admitt it, he was impressed. Not that he didn't do the same, it's just rare to find a person who actually cares.

Roommate Bakugo who didn't know how to phrase a sentence. He was working on a piece of paper for the last two hours after an intense day of workout and his brain refused to cooperate anymore.

"Can I ask you for a favour?" Your face appeared from behind your laptop screen.

"Depends on what is it."

"I finished a short essay and I wanted to ask if you could read it and tell me if it makes sense."

Might as well take a break to refresh his mind. Bakugo read through the text and came to the conclusion that you were a good writer. A very good writer in fact.

"How would you say that in other words?" He asked after you were happy with your work, your laptop tossed aside as you lay on your bed scrolling through your phone.

You skipped to him, read through the sentence and gave him a paraphrase, one that he wouldn't think of himself.

"Thanks."

Roommate Bakugo who was eying you book collection for some time. You had a bunch. When he asked the two of you started talking and in went on and on and on. Finally, you stood up on your bed, the sheets dipping in where you stretched out to reach the highest shelve. Picking out a book you handed it to him.

"My favourite."

So he started to read it.

Roommate Bakugo who got a text from you that you wouldn't be back in the dorms for the night. After a shower he laid down in his bed, shirtless, with your book in hand. It was definitely worth it and he was way past the half already. Suddednly the doors opened only to reveal you, eying him up and down.

"The fuck you doing here?" Suddenly Bakugo felt a tad bit embarassed about his bare chest and lose sweatpants.

"My friend cancelled, sorry, you have someone over?" A small sly grin appeared on yoru lips.

"Jeez no, I'm just half naked."

"I don't mind." You shrugged, throwing your bag on the bed.

And what was that supposed to mean?

Nevermind. Bakugo wanted to get back to the story when he spotted something horrific. His hand gripped a nice chunk of the page, torn out of the book. He must have done it when you startled him with the grand entrance. It was readable as he only torn the cream white but it still looked nasty.

"Shit, I'm sorry." He didn't even look at you, opting on eying the damage, embarassement creaping up his cheeks for destroying someone's else belonging. One of yoru favourite belongings.

You came over, looked at the book and started to laugh.

"What's so fucking funny?" From embarassed Bakugo quickly merged into defensive.

"You look as if you killed my grandma. It's just a book." You saw that it didn't make him feel better, in fact the frown in his brows deepened. "I like my books being used. Lets treat it as a memory of you reading it. Give me the torn piece, please." Your hand reached out and he put the scrap into your open palm.

You skribbled something down on it using a pen fished out of your drawer. When you gave it back to him, the paper read 'Don't stress so much, dummy.'

"You can keep it." A smile brightened your face as you turned around to do other things.

Roommate Bakugo who would never admitt to anyone that he kept that scrap in the back of his phonecase at all times.

Roommate Bakugo who would never admitt to anyone that it took you roughly two months to steal his rock-like heart away.

[seat-safety-switch]

Have you ever started a project, thinking it was going to be a quick one-hour thing, only to have it expand into several weeks of complete misery? You haven't? Boys, get over here. We found us one of them replicants wearing a human face. Put them in the vat with the others.

Now that all the unpleasantness is over, we can dish about how awful our hobbies are. I've always been drawn to the small, intricate jobs in life. Fiddly stuff, things where you have to really be paying attention. Being awake enough to notice a strange sound, or a joint that doesn't quite go together right, is the only way to avoid an intractable crisis later. I think it's because I derive a lot of pleasure when it all falls into place and the damn thing works.

A couple years ago, I told a friend that I would really love to build a ship in a bottle. All that precision really appealed to me. Feeding parts one at a time through a tiny neck and assembling this beautiful work, made even more beautiful by forcing it to be pointlessly difficult.

He responded by telling me that nobody actually does it that way. What you do is you build the ship outside of the bottle, with the sail wrapped around it, and then you push it into the neck and use a piece of string to pop the sail back up once it's fully in there. I got really angry. So angry that I left the room, drove to the hospital, and "borrowed" one of their precision microsurgery robots for two rage-spittle-covered days straight to assemble a replica of the Emma Maersk inside a 500mL 7-Up bottle, but by the time I spitefully showed it to him he had completely forgotten about our conversation.

So, if you're like me and trying to stretch out a hobby to the point where it becomes no longer enjoyable, don't stop. Evaluate your motivations, though. Find a reason to do it out of spite. That'll keep you warm on the coldest nights of wondering what exact part in this billions-of-parts arrangement has decided to conk out long before you were even involved. And if you know a wealthy shipping magnate who wants to commission a bunch of weird-looking little boats inside pop bottles, you know where I am. Unless you're a replicant. That'll cost extra.

[alyakthedorklord]

Welcome to Danny’s Part 2

People have been asking for more of this ^^ so here you go, have a really long word vomit of stuff i think is funny

(IM NOT WRITING THIS FIC GDI I HAVE ENOUGH WIP’S!)

Danny’s restaurant is ALSO manned by-

Tucker, who will fix your tech for free, has tattoos of hieroglyphics and lines of code that shift around when he gets busy.

Sam, who makes an express line for veggie orders. If you try to order meat from sam all the potted plants start trembling.

Jazz, who has a special booth in the back and Magically makes people dump their deepest secrets to her in streamlined Liminal Powers Therapy. (It’s a bit weird but hey the people she targets feel better so whatevs.)

Dani, who shares pictures from tourist traps she's visited, though there’s also some REALLY WEIRD pics of alternate realities and cult shenanigans mixed in. Some of the older patrons are concerned. She’s a little too young to do all this alone- actually, how old is she? Her father looks like he’s in his early twenties…

Dan, who is working here while “on parole” and often loudly argues with Danny about it.

“I don’t want to work in your stupid shop, Dad!”

Dan is two whole feet taller than danny and three times as wide i will not be taking constructive criticism. He’s a whole silver fox. There are some ladies who have a crush on him and they’re really concerned if he’s legal bc danny is younger than them how is Dan his child-

“Dan, how old are you?”

“I don’t know, like, a hundred sixty something?”

(Lady turns to look at Danny, who shrugs and smiles.) “time dilation. What a world we live in. Dan, kiddo, can you get some more napkins from the back?”

“Ugh, fine, dad.”

The first villain Danny ACTUALLY fights isn’t the Joker. It’s Condiment King. Dan runs away from him, which is already weird bc guy is MASSIVE, and the condiment king chases him bc YES SOMEONE FINALLY FEARS HIM PROPERLY.

Danny bursts out of the shop in righteous fatherly fury and beats the snot out of him. Everyones is confused bc… what? Dan is massive? Why is he scared? Why is the twink beating the snot out of condiment king?

“Dan had a traumatic experience with Burger Sauce.” Danny explains, glaring down at the rouge at his feet. He kicks him, growls, “Don’t mess with my kid.” And walks back inside.

No one asks, bc this is gotham. Asking is rude, and also it lessens the Mystery that is Danny’s. No one knows how the kids came into existence. No one knows, before someone from out of town (metropolis, ugh) asks about the sign.

The sign outside the shop says:

Welcome to Danny’s!

Do no harm and no harm shall befall you.

Start nothing and nothing will be ended.

We have baseball bats and fists and a mean swing.

This establishment does not serve- guys in white (suits), Vlad, Transphobes, Vlad, Clowns, VLAD.

Do not ask for the secret menu. If you can get it, Danny will offer it.

(Don’t scare the other customers, please.)

When asked who Vlad is, bc he’s banned three times, Danny just kind of sighs.

“He’s my kid's other parent. He’s an obsessive creep who completely ignores Danielle because she’s a girl, rolling in money but won’t pay his child support. You know how it is.”

Several goons ask what he looks like so they can keep an eye out. Dani happily tells them “look at Dan, take away Dad’s features, then convert 30% of his height and weight into smarminess.”

It's an effective description. Vlad gets full body tackled the moment he enters the neighborhood. Danny gives the goons free fudge (family recipe, one of the restaurants signatures)

One of the reasons Danny’s is so popular is bc its open 24/7. (Unless its one of those weird times where all the doors are locked and if you look through the window blinds theres nothing but a starry void.) One of the reasons Danny’s is so weird is bc Danny is ALWAYS behind the counter. Always. Round the clock. He doesn’t sleep, eat, anything. Some people swear he has a twin he swaps out with (clones).

Sometimes, after a really difficult customer, Danny will let out a really long sigh and mutter “time out” before glitching into a new position, with a new shirt and combed hair. No one mentions it.

Theres a deal that’s just, “beat danny in a fight you eat for free.”

The deal extends to both Dan and Dani as well. Even if you lose you get fudge as a reward for courage.

No one ever wins.

One time, a couple brought their kid, recently discharged from the hospital. Danny comes over to them and grins. “Hey, kiddo! Bet you gave your parents a scare, huh? Pulled through in the end. That means you get the secret menu!”

Parents: hey wtf?

Danny, handing over a perfectly normal menu: 😀

Kid: “ooh mommy look at the glowy stars!”

Parents: !?!?!?

Danny: 😁

Old man Dave, whose heart has stopped like three times now: “Oh don’t worry about that, prices are the same and it will help your kid feel much better. Danny’s just a little weird.”

After all, it’s not just full ghosts that get the menu. If you’ve been dead, heart stopped, soul out of body before being popped back into place, then you get it. There’s actually a pretty high number of people who get it, bc this is Gotham. People get resuscitated after rogue attacks. The ecto actually helps stabilize their soul after getting jerked between life and death so rudely.

The secret menu that they’re given is just a normal menu, scribbled over top with an ecto pen, invisible to non-secret menu havers. Different “ecto-levels” to choose from, and three extra dishes. There’s also instructions to get into the “back room” for those who can’t go intangible, though it comes with a disclaimer “not for the faint of heart.”

There’s also a small note at the bottom- “do not share food.”

Anyways, as per original post. Tim herds Joker into Danny’s radar bc he Cannot Deal Right Now. He salutes Danny, who waves back, grinning like he didn’t just come at the Clown Prince of Crime like a feral badger on crack cocaine. “Heya, Red Robin! You want a coffee?”

“Please.” Tim sighs. “You’re the best, Danny.”

Jason looks between tim and the shop danny just vanished into. “Uh, what?”

“Danny doesn’t like clowns.” Tim explains. “Or condiment king. They get close, Danny takes them out.”

Jason is incredibly confused, bc he just came back from an out of town mission, but this place is right on the edge of his territory and he should definitely know about it. He asks tim, who just shrugs.

“That shop is weird. It’s like a grocery store at 3am. I stumbled in there after a rough night and Danny just whipped me up the best coffee i've ever had. Still can’t find their website. I swear it’s bigger on the inside and the door keeps swapping from one side of that fire hydrant to the other.”

Danny comes out and passes Tim a massive coffee cup. “Come back and talk shop with tucker, okay? You’re welcome any time. Both of you, actually.”

He gives Jason a weird look and then goes back inside.

Jason, who is a little concerned that the reverence tim has is more than his average weird worship of coffee (it's just that good) goes back the next day in civvies.

He gets offered the secret menu, danny does the eye thing, Jason retreats to look at the secret menu. Unsure of what just happened, he texts tim.

Jason: Why was i given a “secret menu”

Tim: WTF WHAT DID YOU DO TO GET THAT

Jason: IDK THATS WHY IM TEXTING YOU

tim: I'VE BEEN GOING FOR MONTHS I’M A LOYAL PATRON WHAT DO YOU HAVE THAT I DONT

Jason: the secret menu apparently (image)

Tim: …thats just the normal menu???

Jason: no? It looks like a kid went ham with a neon green marker tf?

Duke: you know this is the family chat right?

Steph: order the waffles

Jason: you order the waffles. Wtf is an ecto-level.

Jason asks for what danny recommends, Danny immediately gives him a milkshake and tells him it's on the house bc he “looks rough.”

Jason is kind if offended, bc he actually got a decent sleep- but then he tries it and its like.

Oh.

Now. Between the stink Tim is making, and the sudden worship that Jason has of this shops milkshakes, the BatFamily is now Curious and will Investigate.

Are the milkshakes really that good?

The full force of the Wayne Family™ isn’t exactly subtle, so they go in twos and threes over the course of a week.

Damian gets offered the secret menu, and is also directed towards Sam’s express vegetarian line. Danny just Knew. Damian accuses Tim and/or Jason of pulling a prank on him, but they both swear up and down they didn’t say anything.

Both Steph (i think? Did she fake her death or actually die idk) and Cass get the secret menu, and they keep trying to ask Tim what certain things on the menu mean. Tim Cannot See what they’re talking about. He’s starting to get frustrated. Is it some sort of magic spell?

Tim takes Kon to Danny’s. (Is it a date? A test date on a low-stakes investigation? Maybe.) Danny, who is really starting to enjoy messing with Tim, gleefully offers Kon the secret menu, and Tim the normal one. Tim bangs his head on the table.

Dick doesn’t get a secret menu, but he does notice a couple disappear through the wall. He’s almost certain he’s seen them before, but it will be a while before he remembers Kitty and Johnny from his early Robin Days.

Duke is also not offered a secret menu, but he can see the writing anyways. He can also see that some of the patrons have weird auras, and what on EARTH is up with Danny himself? He tries to ignore it, up until Steph gets him to order one of the specials off Cass’s (secret) menu. And Danny just kind of sharpens, the air going cold.

“I didn’t give you that menu. Just because you can read it, doesn’t mean you want it. Order off the right menu, please.”

Duke, freaked the hell out by the Biblically Accurate Horror that Danny is shifting into, orders off the right menu and apologizes.

“Oh, it’s alright!” Danny flips back to cheerful in seconds. “It’s just that it wouldn’t be completely healthy for you to eat it, even if you are part immortal.”

Duke bluescreens.

Alright, somethings definitely going on.

Tim and Jason both order the same thing- an oreo milkshake, one off the secret menu, one off the normal menu. Jason confirms the one from the normal menu does not taste the same and isn’t as good. Tim cannot confirm the other way around, because Jason nearly punches him when he attempts to taste it.

They take samples home, analyze them, and go over anecdotes from other patrons, trying to figure out what makes Danny’s so weird. What makes Kon, Cass, Jason, and Damian different?

Wait a second. Kon, Cass, Jason, Damian. The ones that died and came back to life.

It’s around this time that Dick remembers where he’s seen Kitty and Johnny before. Lovers from two houses, both alike in (in)dignity, had a romeo-and-juliet-esque escapade across Gotham, ending in high speed chase with Kitty’s gangster father and a fatal motorcycle accident. Both are dead. Both are in Danny’s.

Danny’s has something to do with death.

Having heard a couple stories about food of the dead, they notify Bruce (who is very concerned as to what exactly his children have been putting in their mouths) and then call in the magic users of the justice league.

It’s a mess. Dan calls Constantine a whore. Deadman and Secret (i think thats Tim’s ghost friend?) get abducted to the backroom. Dani clocks Capt. Marvel as another kid who looks older than he actually is, with magic powers, and his showing him her REALLY interesting travel photos. Zatanna is like “this place needs an exorcism” and danny just goes “ma’am please don’t exorcize my customers.”

Tag list (if you saw me attempt this before no you didn’t)

@nappinginhell @apointlessbox @thegatorsgoose @chaos-n-kindness @mimilikey @phoenixdemonqueen @treepainting @sjrose1216 @akikkobara @malice-of-the-sunrise @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @randomkiddoscrewingaround @call-me-strega @blankliferain @somera-rubina @wordsgohere95 @rukiaai @mirellacoco @stargazing-bookwyrm @bathildaburp @littlefeather345

[houseofanticipation]

You're sitting with your friend Sam at a coffee shop, catching up. She's telling you about an instagram ad she keeps getting for some audiobook streaming service. "It's just crazy," she says, "because I was just telling Lucille I wanted to start reading more books but I never have the time, and then it's like instantly I'm getting these ads all the time."

"So what," you say over your steaming mug, "you think they're listening to you?"

Sam shakes her head. "Honestly I think it's almost scarier than that. They have so much information about us, they don't even need to listen to our conversations. They just know, based on everything they've gathered about me, that I'm probably someone who wants to listen to audiobooks."

"Well they can't be that smart," you say. "Because the only ads I've been getting lately are for something called Slut Cream."

Sam raises an eyebrow. "You must know I'm going to need more details."

You take out your phone and find an ad to show her. It's not difficult; literally all of the ads you see on instagram are like this. They're even showing up in other places now, on webpages you visit or apps you use. This one is one you've seen before: a beautiful woman in a crop top that just barely covers her nipples is proudly displaying a squeeze tube of the kind you'd buy sunscreen or toothpaste in. The caption says, "Being a slut isn't a hobby—it's a lifestyle! Step up your slut game with Slut Cream! Shop Now"

"I don't even know what slut cream is," you say. "All you get when you look it up is a bunch of porn."

"Well, obviously it's a way to step up your slut game," says Sam sagely. "What does it say on the website?"

"Oh, I'm not clicking the link," you say. "I don't want to encourage them! What I want to know is why suddenly this ad is all I can seem to see!"

Sam shoots you a wink. "Maybe you're just a slut. These data brokers know us better than we know ourselves."'

What neither of you know is that it's actually quite easy to buy online ad space, and they let you get pretty specific with your intended audience.

I live in the next apartment over from you. I've been watching you for a long time, studying you, listening to you through our shared wall. We've talked a few times, some terse conversation at the mailboxes or in the hall, which is how I knew enough about you to place those ads, with audience parameters so specific that probably only you and about five other people would see them. I had fun making them; hiring the model to do the photoshoot, dusting off the skills I picked up in that college graphic design course, creating a website for this fake business (though I'm disappointed you still haven't clicked through to see it). If you actually tried to buy slut cream, the website would tell you we're currently closed due to high traffic, and to check back later. Nowhere on the website does it explain what slut cream is.

A number of strange things happen to you over the course of the following day. On your lunch break you walk down the block to the deli by your office. You're in here every weekday, but today the energy here is different. People are staring you, side-eyeing you, having whispered conversations that stop abruptly when you get too close. As you're walking back to work, an old woman spits on the ground as you pass, you'd swear you heard the word "whore!" hissed under her breath. You wonder if you should say something, stand up for yourself, but she's elderly, probably confused, and you decide to be the bigger person.

In the hours after lunch, you're propositioned by no less than seven of your male coworkers. You've had to refuse a few invitations to dinner in your time, but seven in a day is completely out of the ordinary, and the things these men are offering to do to you go way outside the bounds of first date stuff. One guy tells you the conference room is empty, if you want to go for a quick fuck; another guy tells you he hasn't cum in a month, and if you sucked his cock he'd pump so much cum down your throat that you wouldn't need to eat dinner. Your boss even tells you he and his wife are looking for a third and he thought of you first, like he's offering you a big promotion. The strangest thing is that all of these men seem genuinely surprised when you turn them down. Like this sort of thing usually works with girls. One guy even says, "sorry, I was just trying to help."

It was pretty easy to hire actors for the deli and the street. You go to the same place every day, so I knew where they'd have to go and roughly when they'd need to be there. The harder part was getting your coworkers to play along, especially because I was picky about getting people who could sell the act. For a few of them all it took was money. A few of them I had to blackmail. For your boss I had to call in a favor, get his boss to threaten his job. He protested, but I think it made his cock hard, thinking about fucking you alongside his wife.

I keep this up for a few weeks. Anywhere you go I have people watching you, talking about you behind your back. I have people approaching you on the train, at the park, in restaurants, offering to fuck you like they're doing you a favor. You stay firm in your refusal—I wouldn't have expected any less from you—but I can tell it's beginning to eat at you. I watch you try to figure out what you're doing that seems to give all these people the wrong idea about you; you start to dress more modestly, talk less, even walk a little less confidently. But none of this will change anything. All it will do is make you feel more repressed.

After a month, I decide it's time to make my move. I could probably wait longer, but the anticipation is getting too much for me, and besides, you're beginning to get a little wild around the eyes. I'd hate to break you before I've had my fun. One evening, when I know you're home, I unlock your apartment with the duplicate key I had made two months ago. You're in the kitchen, washing dishes with headphones on; you didn't hear me come in. I leave the door open as I approach you, admiring the way you shake your ass to whatever it is you're listening to. I get right up behind you and stay there for a moment, lavishing in your innocence, feeling my cock strain at my belt as I imagine taking it away from you. Then I reach around front of you with both arms and plunge my hand into your panties

You shout in shock, fight back, try to push me off as the headphones fall off your head. But I've got you pinned against the counter, my full body weight against you, one hand down your pants, the other groping your breasts. Once you realize that fighting won't help, you stop struggling and ask me what I want. "Please," you say. Just hearing that quiver in your voice almost makes me delirious with lust. "Please, let me go. I don't want this, please."

I bury my face in your neck, kissing and breathing you in. You smell incredible, like fear and sweat and sex. I bring my lips up to your ear, let them brush against you as I speak. "Of course you want this, baby. You've been trying so hard to hide it, but you don't have to hide with me. Look, you left the door open for me." I let you turn your head enough to see the door hanging open just as my fingers find your clit. I'm rubbing you gently, tenderly, just the way I've watched you touch yourself through the webcam I have in your room. My other hand is under your shirt now and I'm squeezing your breast, rolling your nipple between my fingers, feeling it slowly grow full and erect. You try to stifle a soft moan and I kiss your neck again. "It's okay, baby. You don't have to be ashamed. It's okay to want to feel good. Let me make you feel good."

You clutch your face in your hands and let out a cry of frustration and humiliation and agony and pleasure. You barely know me; I'm the guy next door who sometimes looks at you a little too long. The guy you speed up to avoid in the hall. But that feeling radiating from you clit... You think how exhausting it's been, doing everything you could think of to change people's perception of you, get them to stop looking at you as a slut, how none of it has done you any good anyway. You wonder if you'd have had more fun fucking Jim in the conference room, or swallowing Dylan's cum, or having a threesome with your boss and his wife. And that throbbing in your clit, the agonizing pleasure...You remember that beautiful woman in the ad: "Being a slut isn't a hobby—it's a lifestyle!" You think about how happy she looked, how fulfilled. You remember Sam's words: "These data brokers know us better than we know ourselves."

It does feel good, doesn't it? To let me touch you, pleasure you, to let go of this act you've been holding on to. Isn't it okay to want to feel good? Why did you ever let anyone make you ashamed of that? You try out another moan, letting the pleasure well up through your chest and out your mouth. It feels good, so you try another, and another, and then you're leaning back into me, grinding up against me, delighting in the feeling of my hard cock against your ass.

"Good," I say. "You're letting go of those silly hang-ups. Now we can have our real fun." My hands still around you, controlling you, I half lead-half carry your trembling body to the bedroom. I throw you on the bed, face up so I can get a good look at your eyes, see what I've done to your mind. Those same eyes that have avoided me in the hall so many times now gaze hungrily up at me, wanting me, needing me.

Who am I do decline?

I pull off your pants and panties as a single unit, letting you take care of your shirt for yourself. I kick of my own bottoms, letting my throbbing cock slap against your leg as it springs from its confinement. Don't think I don't notice the way your whole body shivers when it touches you. I lift your legs and push your knees up towards your ears; you're remarkably flexible. It must be all that yoga I've watched you do at the place downtown. I've greatly enjoyed your visits to that place, so it's nice to see they weren't in vain.

You're afraid of me, all of a sudden. Maybe some part of you is seeing sense, realizing you'd have to be crazy to let a guy like me come into your home and fuck you like this. But what was the alternative? Have me rape you? Let me tell you, darling: I would have raped you. You feel the head of my cock gliding over your skin, exploring your inner thighs and pubic area, and tremble at my touch. I want this, you tell yourself. This is what a slut like me needs.

All the same, you cry a little bit when I penetrate you. It's not because it hurts—it does hurt a bit, but you're wet enough, and it's not entirely a bad pain. It's not because you're afraid—well, maybe in part, but that's not the core of it. You cry because you're finally letting go. Letting go of the person you used to be, or thought you were. It's the relief of knowing you don't have to pretend anymore, wrapped up with the mourning you feel when you lose a potential version of yourself. I lean across you as my cock fills you up, and tenderly, I kiss away your tears. "Hush, my darling. I'm here. I will always be here. I will love you despite what you are, when everyone else turns away in disgust."

My weight on you feels good, comforting. The way I press down on your legs, stretching you out, driving my cock so deep inside you that it brushes your cervix. It hurts a little, but is that any better than you deserve? Could a slut like you really expect to find better than this? Better than unconditional love and a desire to give you the pleasure you need?

I'm speeding up now, my face something like an animal, furious and insistent as I gaze down at you. There's darkness behind my eyes, you think, something cold and cruel. You thank God I'm on your side. My hips are like a hammer on your pelvis now, and with each thrust you feel my cock bulging inside you, throbbing and pulsating with anticipation. When I finally plant my seed in you, groaning and growling and pressing you further into the bed, you find there's something comforting about the warmth of my cum inside you. Maybe my seed will take root, make you swell up with me, make you mine. As I roll off you, huffing and panting, the tears begin to stream down your face again, this time from joy.

What did a slut like you ever do to deserve someone who loves you like I do?

[tragedybunny]

Astarion head cannon! If your tav has any artistic ability (or none and is learning) imagine if he found you drawing his face a bunch to try get a good image of him to share. Pre act 2 where he believes you actually love him and he loves you. Just seeing this person doing something purely for him confusing and scaring hin but feeling too nice to want to run from.

So I had to turn this into a little story, it was too good.

What The Heart Sees - Astarion x F!Reader

You've been acting suspicious and Astarion is going to get to the bottom of it.

You'd been acting ever so slightly strange around him. He hasn't put the pieces together yet, but Astarion knows something is going on with you. The thought fills him with a little dread, he's worked so hard to get you on his side, to have someone to keep the others from turning on him. Now it might all be slipping through his fingers. 

Whatever was happening, he needed to bring it to a halt and get you back to your regular sweet devotion to him. The first step was interrogating your companions. Lae'zel and Shadowheart of course saw nothing wrong with your behavior. "Maybe she just needs a rest from your fangs at her neck," Shadowheart snipped and Astarion considered giving her neck a try one night before stomping away. 

Gale and Karlach at least confirmed his suspicions. As usual Gale was too worried about exploding to be much help, but Karlach, dear Karlach tried to be helpful. "We're all going through a lot. Maybe she's just tired Fangs." So, there was something going on with you, but no one seemed to have any clue. Maybe the Mind Flayer transformation was actually happening just very slowly, he shuddered at the thought. 

This situation clearly called for some less wholesome tactics. Stealth and spying on you, for now, maybe violating your trust and rummaging through your stuff as well. That night he crept to your tent after everyone had retired, there was still the faint glow of a light spell illuminating it. His intent had been to stop and listen, see if could find an angle to glance in that wouldn’t expose himself. Quietly, he made it near the entrance, perfect, you were unawares. There was a book cradled in your lap. Perhaps you’d found some arcane knowledge you were unwilling to share. He hadn’t thought you were power hungry, but maybe he’d misjudged. Reaching over, you picked up a piece of charcoal. Interesting, he leaned forward. “Woof.” Scratch was on top of him, wagging his tail, and he was laying the dirt outside your tent. 

You jump up, clearly startled, and he wanted to gut the stupid beast. But he saw where you tucked that precious book as you leapt up. “Astarion!” You were standing at the opening of the tent, looking down at him with concern. 

“Hello my Sweet,” he tries his best to still somehow be charming while pushing Scratch off him. “I uh, saw you were up and wanted to check on you but Scratch is apparently in a playful mood.” 

“Oh Scratch! You haven’t had enough attention huh?’ You reach out to pet the mongrel and talk softly to him as Asatrion pushes himself out of the dirt. “I was just reading, sorry to disturb you.” 

“No worries Darling,” he gives you a perfunctory peck on the cheek before heading back to his tent. It was all working out anyway. 

The next night comes and he’s ready, Scratch has given him quite a bit of inspiration. Discreetly Astarion leads the heap of fur to the edge of the camp, the ball he had dragged in from somewhere tucked in a pocket. “Come here Scratch,” he hisses, waving it around, getting his attention before chucking it off into the woods. The animal follows excitedly. Astarion isn’t sure where it went and he doesn’t care. Scratch is more a rival for your attention than anything else anyway. 

After a couple of minutes he finds you at the campfire, blissfully unaware. “Has anyone seen Scratch,” he asks, as innocently as he can manage. 

“Oh no,” your eyes quickly scan the campsite, “he must have wandered off.” You seem so distressed, he almost feels guilty. But this is his survival on the line. “Maybe I should go look for him.” 

“Do take Halsin my Dear, he’ll have the best chance at tracking,” and one less person around camp to watch. 

“Right,” you nod, standing and trodding off to the Druid. 

No sooner are you gone then Astarion is creeping into your tent when no one is looking. No light needed, he sees everything perfectly, including the little pack you shoved your book in last night. Victory. He wrests it from the spot under your pillow and plops down on your blankets to study it. What forbidden knowledge rests inside. The worn cover flips open to…

Sketches, sketches of him specifically. Not that he remembers what he looks like, but the clothes give it away, along with the poses, moments he remembers. Him, you’ve been drawing him. He continues to flip through the book, more bits of him, frozen in time, and the technique improves. Why are you doing this? The mirror, he remembers, being upset about not seeing his reflection. 

Sitting there in stunned silence, he feels an unpleasant weight in his chest. No one has ever done anything like this for him before. It’s…kind. Not that you’ve ever been any other way to him ever. Gods, what is he even doing, maybe he should just…

“Astarion!” Slamming the book shut, he jumps up. “Hello Darling, I-”

“You ruined the surprise,” you scold, looking so dejected he somehow feels worse than he did a moment ago. 

“I’m sorry, I was curious. I saw you with it the other night. It’s amazing though,” he tries to placate, guilt an emotion he’s buried for so long, but fear is there as well. Fear he’s crossed a line you won’t tolerate. 

Bending down, you retrieve the book from where it landed. “I was hoping to get something I was pleased with to show you, but I suppose it will have to do for now.” 

“Really, you shouldn’t bother so much with it,” you look up at him so sadly he quickly adds, “you do too much for me already. But I do appreciate this gift.” Impulsively he pulls you close and kisses you quickly before letting you go. “Is this really what you see? 

“That and so much more.” The way you stare at him with adoration, the way you always treat him so sweetly, the way he suddenly wants nothing more than to stand here in this tent forever, basking in you, it’s all becoming too much, he could almost swear he had a pulse to hammer in his veins. Hells, what has he gotten himself into with you? 

[luciathcv]

christmas list - sjy

summary: your boyfriend just wants to know what you want for christmas but you're difficult as always (in honor of christmas season coming up) || warnings: none || genre: fluff, established relationship || word count: approximately 600

I sat on the couch, cuddled with a soft blanket, a Christmas movie on the TV, and some hot tea in a mug on the coffee table. The movie I had on in the background was seldom given attention as I played a game on my phone.

Jake walked into the room, his eyes glued on his phone as he called out my name, “Y/n.”

I looked up at my boyfriend who gave me a small smile, “Yeah?” I asked, wondering what he needed.

“What are you playing?” He simply asked, not saying what he had come over for just yet as he plopped down on the couch next to me, putting his arm around my shoulder.

I showed him my phone screen and immediately, he knew what I was playing without me even having to say anything. “I’m trying to beat my high score.” I tell him.

“You’ll get there.” Jake sweetly says. I nod as I play the game some more. “So, I was wondering…” He then started, making me look over at him curiously.

“What?” I ask.

“What are you thinking you want for Christmas?” Jake asked, his hand that’s over my shoulder mindlessly playing with the fabric of my shirt.

“Oh, you don’t need to get me anything.” I responded . I really didn’t feel like I needed anything right now anyway.

Jake sighs, “Come on. Of course I’m going to get you something. I need to know what you’ve been wanting though.” He says.

“I don’t want anything.” I insist.

Jake thinks for a moment, “How about those Uggs you wanted. Want me to get you those?” He perks up.

“Isn’t it supposed to be a surprise?” I ask.

Jake dramatically groans out, “Baby, come on. Give me something, anything.”

I can’t help but smile a little, “I have been wanting those Uggs…” I then smile wider, “But I already have Uggs so I don’t think I need them.”

Just as he thought he was getting somewhere, Jake sighed, “So difficult.” He commented. “It doesn’t matter if you need it, I want to get you stuff.”

“Well, what about you? What do you want for Christmas?” I counter. 

“You don’t have to get me anything. I have everything I want right here.” Jake says before leaning in to give me a chaste kiss.

“Babe! You’re doing the same.” I point out with a laugh at his irony.

“It’s just different.” Jake says. “Just tell me what you like.” He then tells me.

“You’re my boyfriend, you know what I like.” I say.

“I do know what you like but I already got you a bunch of stuff you like so I wanted to know if there was anything else you wanted.” Jake complains, the two of you playfully bickering.

“I’ll be happy with anything.” I vaguely say once again.

“My god, princess. Fine.” Jake gives up making me giggle.

Later that night, while I was in the bathroom, about to get in the shower, I sent Jake a list I’ve had for a bit. Honestly, I just didn’t tell him about it earlier because it was mostly stupid shit that I didn’t actually need but if he wanted ideas so bad, fine.

A few moments later, I hear Jake calling out my name from outside the door, “You had a list?”

“Yeah…” I respond, holding back the giggle.

“So difficult.” He says but he’s also smiling on the other side of the door as he gets on the bed and starts to go through the stuff, planning to buy me everything on the list, whether it be stupid and unnecessary or not.

ᥫ᭡ link to my masterlist