#anon I hope you know I was in the middle of a completely different drawing and IMMEDIATELY stopped it to answer this

[bumblingbabooshka]

Having Nonbinary Sapphic Tuvok Brainrot Lately…

You're the realest motherfucker on planet Earth and I hope you know that.

Here's a bunch of bullshit I doodled on the topic of Nonbinary Sapphic Tuvok !!!! And I HOPE you will share YOUR personal brainrot with the class (my ask box, the masses, a text post....whatever gets the word out.) If you've been paying attention you KNOW I love a 'Tuvok discovers he's trans while in the delta quadrant' story Guy who likes girls and has always liked girls...but....not in the same way OTHER guys seem to like girls... Tuvok who never quite fit in with 'other' men even Vulcan men...always preferred spending time with women and girls but never felt precisely LIKE a woman or OVERLY uncomfortable with being identified as a man and Vulcan society doesn't seem like it would be heavily gendered so he never really questioned it seriously. Tuvok who found comfort in titles like Husband and Father...those fit, those are good. Then in the delta quadrant he isn't able to be a husband or a father any more and is just some guy surrounded by humans...hmmmmmm....

Still doesn't really seriously think it's worth questioning or exploring his gender identity (partially out of a desire to return home as he left...what will his wife and children think? He's experienced a LOT of sudden change in regards to his personal identity and life, he doesn't really want to undergo more.) until Seven of Nine comes along and also begins to go through a "Questioning Her Gender" arc. Tuvok thinks about it on his own time for a long time and then finally goes to Janeway for support and assistance and together they spend like SEVERAL months just the two of them seeing what this whole gender thing's about. Tuvok slowly exploring expressing himself in a more feminine manner because he's spent his whole life adhering rigidly to one sort of Look. Unexpectedly struggles with anxiety about this. Neelix: Don't be nervous Ms. Vulcan! Tuvok: [nervous] I am not nervous. Tuvok and Seven BOTH exploring masculinity/femininity and their own nonbinary gender identities...late night slumber par- experimentation. Painting each others nails is...very scientific. It's important. Talking with Janeway was good because she's his friend but talking with Seven, another person actively questioning their gender is....well, it's something else.

[hughiecampbelle]

Cornered (Homelander Oneshot)

Character/s: Homelander

Word Count: 1,645

Requested: Hi! Can I request Homelander x reader with the prompts “Engagement” and “I missed you”? I haven’t requested anything from anyone in awhile so I hope I’m doing this right 😆 - anon

A/N: I'm so sorry it's taken me so long my love! Writing fics has been especially hard lately. I have so many great requests, so many good ideas, but I hate everything I write and I just don't want to post something I'm unhappy with. I'm still not 100% over this, but rewriting it over and over just ends up making it worse unfortunately 😅 Writers block is so frustrating and makes me feel awful. Thank you for being so patient and I really hope you like it!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

I missed you. His room is completely destroyed. Mirrors shattered, statues broken, furniture in flames. And he stands in the middle, perfectly untouched, unphased, arms stretched outward. He expects a hug. He expects a lot of things. You step over the debris, inhaling the scent of smoke, of burning, mazing through the mess towards him. It’s too quiet. Aside from the crackling of the fire, it eats through the fabric, the stuffing of the couch, you could hear a pin drop. This place had always been eerie, but it was downright frightening. His smile is wide, unfaltering. He wraps himself around you, his hand raising to cradle the back of your head, pressing you into him. He never learned to be gentle. He never learned to hug someone like he likes them. He does it out of ownership, control. He does it so that you cannot fight back. You squeeze your eyes shut, imagining a different life, a different love, anything but this. Your arms stay still at your side. I missed you so much, he says again as a sign in relief. He doesn’t wait for you to respond. He’s learned, over the years, that conversations like this lack a back and forth. They are one sided. He talks to himself. Sometimes he’s okay with it. Sometimes he’s not. At this moment, he is the latter. I missed you so much. Is he talking to himself? Responding to himself? Is he trying to comfort himself? Did you miss me? This is a test. Unable to speak, to find your voice, you nod. You make sure he can feel you do this. Good, he smiles, that's good. You did good. You passed. This time. 

It’s hard to remember a time before this. There was a childhood. An adolescence. Young adulthood. There had to be. People didn’t just wake up one day, existing instantaneously. You had to have had a family, friends, some sort of education. There are glimpses of that, of a person who lived, who looked like you, who is long gone. A best friend you shared crayons with. Maybe they were colored pencils. All you see is the colors, the dimpled hands of small children grabbing greedily at the cyan blue or cherry red. You don’t know what you were drawing, or who this other person was, only that, for a few seconds at least, you had a friend. Someone who cared about you, perhaps even loved you. There is a car ride. You’re big enough to sit in the passenger seat. It’s bright outside, green, probably Spring. The window is cracked open, the breeze kissing your face, the sunlight beaming down through the branches of the tree lined street. A feminine voice is talking to you. Her words are muffled, her tone malleable. Sometimes she sounds happy, on the verge of laughter. Other times she’s annoyed, frustrated. The scenery never changes. It is always nice out. It was always warm. You like to think of her as your mother. A maternal figure concerned for your safety, pleasantly surprised about a good grade, tired of your attitude. You’d take it all, needy for validation. A father, you’re sure, slamming a door. There’s a suitcase on the floor, between you. You’re not sure who takes ownership over it. There is yelling, a language you don’t recognize. He vibrates, his anger cartoonish. What did you do to deserve this? Are you leaving or is he? You’re older than you were in the car ride. You’re not sure how you know, only that you do. There is no beginning or end, just snippets of the middle. How does this play out, you wonder. You could come up with a story. He’s leaving and you’re trying to stop him. You’re leaving and he’s trying to stop you. You’re not sure which is better. 

There are glimpses of the past. Yours, you assume, though the line between reality and fantasy has long been gone, worn away with time and desperation. A taste of normalcy. You imagine you lived in a small town in the middle of the country, somewhere bleak and boring, somewhere you could have been extraordinary. You imagine a child version of yourself dreaming of this future down to the last detail. You wake up each morning in his bed, in his place, at the top of the tower. For a few cloudy seconds you view this world from the perspective of a stranger: there is an engagement ring on your finger, the space beside you in the bed is empty, the room you occupy is grand and expensive looking. The person who lives here, who found love, who has everything they could ever want, should be happy, right? And then, like a slap across the cheek, stinging, it hits you: you are that person. So why aren’t you happy? Isn’t this what you wanted? Isn’t this what you asked for? Dreamed of? 

The haze ends your first weeks after joining The Seven. Reporters, cameras flashing, overwhelmed by voices and snapshots and microphones. You smile, doing your best to hear a question between the mumbling of the crowds. A hand pulls you through the chaos, leading you to salvation. Safely inside, he laughs, congratulating you. There’s a light in his eyes that is warm, safe. You can’t believe he’s giving you attention, let alone complimenting you. You thank him. He’s there again, behind you, a hand on your shoulder. It was reassuring at the time, a way to show solidarity between veteran and rookie heroes. Your voice shakes, fear and anxiety radiating through you. You’d never had your own press conference before. It was after a big save, though. Everyone stood back, letting you in the limelight. You debuted a new suit, a new identity, letting your name fade away. Even now it sounds alien to you. The person you were and the person you are are disconnected, isolated. It’s been years since you’ve heard someone say it. Hearing it in passing is no longer startling, it no longer grabs your attention. It’s lost all meaning. 

This was years ago. You were still fresh faced. His touch was new, exciting. His affections were innocent, friendly. This world was bright and shiny. It’s lost its excitement. It’s lost its appeal. The warmth in his eyes turned hot, burning, furious. The last time you fought they glowed red, a warning that he was not fucking around. How long ago was that? Weeks, maybe months. You’ve been good. You do as you’re told. You smile when you need to. You kiss him. You pose. You show off your ring. The story was breaking news, running through the cycle the past few days: Homelander popped the question and you said yes! You don’t recognize yourself in the interviews. You don’t recognize him either. You’re happy, laughing easily, talking about wedding plans. The interviewer, a woman with lipstick on her teeth, asks about the future. Oh, you say. The mask slips. You hadn’t thought about the future. Years now you spent getting through the moment, the minute. You didn’t have it in you to think ahead. You couldn’t. You knew what it looked like, what he’d want from you, what you’d have to give up. Not just a name or a past. That was easy. That’s what you thought you wanted. This was a lifetime. A lifetime of fear, threats, and silence. Oh, you say, and it all comes at once, the realizations wrapping their hands around your throat. He squeezes your hand, talking for the both of you, filling the silence like a pro. She turns her attention towards him, recovering quickly. No one even noticed.  It’s better today. You dress. You sit through meetings. You disappear into the background, watching everyone instead of being part of it. You don’t think too much. You’re not overwhelmed by the idea of raising his children, of spending your time secluded with him, in his shadow. You’re not disgusted by the ring on your finger or the way he kisses you. The bruises strategically placed where fabric covers do not ache as bad as they did yesterday. It’s better today. It’s manageable. Ashley goes over the next few weeks: wedding planning, florists, musicians, guests, wardrobe, cake tasting. There was so much, and yet so much was missing. A mother to cry. A father to walk you down the aisle. Friends. She wanted every part of this decision making televised. It would be the wedding of the century. She goes down the list and you only have it in you to nod. Where was Homelander? Why wasn’t he being bombarded by color palettes and types of icing and venues? It wasn’t really up to you, anyways. You could pretend. You could make decisions: a lighter palette by the ocean with raspberry cake and vanilla frosting. You could plan it all, but he would always have final say. She’s still talking, going on and on about how you’ll wear your hair and the amount of cameras, who is and isn’t allowed to drink, but you’re not really listening. You’re sinking back into the chair. You’re taking it one breath at a time. In, out. Maybe there was a before. Before him, before all this, but it’s long gone. From the moment he saw you he knew you would be his. You would do as you were told. You would follow orders. And in return, you would lose yourself. Yeah that sounds good, you say, though you’re not really listening. You’re far away from yourself, the room, the world. It was better today. The weight of what’s happened. The more she speaks, the greater the feeling becomes: dread blossoming in the middle of your chest. You were trapped. You could scream and cry all you wanted, this place was a cage and Homelander held the key. 

[the-fluff-piece]

hi! i’m the same anon who requested the blood blood fruit with law and yes that was based off my self insert and a devil fruit i thought of, there are other fanon devil fruits that are blood powers but i didn’t steal anyones idea or anything :) so basically a it’s a paramecia type devil fruit and i can manipulate and control my own blood and others. I can turn my body into a thin string of blood to avoid attacks, travel faster or snipe people. My heart pumps more blood than a normal humans would because of my devil fruit.i can make other people’s blood stab them through they’re skin or completely drain them. The more i move around and exercise the stronger i get because my blood circulation increases. It can given me inhuman strength, speed, durability, endurance, stamina, agility and mobility. I can control any blood within a 500 meter radius. I can turn my blood or others into weapons. I have a naturally high pain tolerance due to my devil fruit. I can teleport using blood. I can control any amount of people’s blood as long as your in a 500 meter radius. I can make your blood pressure drop so low you pass out or raise so high you explode. I can make my blood explode telepathically. I can make my blood weapons fly from telekinesis. No matter how much you attack me it only gives me more advantages because you draw blood. I can puppeteer someone using they’re blood. I can attach and detach my limbs by keep a thin string between. I can make my blood extremely poisonous or venomous. I can keep my colleagues from bleeding out. I can turn my limbs into blood weapons. I can shoot blood bullets that can contain either posion or water to kill you or medicine to heal you. (fun fact if you inject water in your veins you’ll unalive) I can stop my opponents heart from pumping blood. I have blood whips. I can make a blood shield. I can make blood wings come out my back. I heal and regenerate faster than a normal human naturally as a plus of my devil fruit. I can extend the range of my kicks using my blood strings.

(omg this so long oops, anyway if you still decide not to write it i don’t mind)

Hello Anon, thanks for your explanation - I hope I got your idea right

It somehow reminds me of the blood magic in "vampire the masquerade" or "Vampyr"- you sure you're not also a vampire?

I hope you like what I've thought of!

Law x blood fruit user headcanon

Law is very practical - he offers you the position of a nurse on his ship. After you blood-kick him into the ocean he rephrases that in a much more respectable way

He's absolutely fascinated with your Power (and soon, you)

since he wants to always protect his crew and advance his technique, you'll spend a lot of time with him in his lab, where he'll study the many different uses he thought of for your power - keeping blood packs fresh for a longer time, faster transfusion, maybe you can even change bloodtypes to make blood more compatible? Cleanse blood?

His intellect is constantly orbiting new ideas, he'll even show up at your door in the middle of the night to ask you questions only a doctor would, using words you don't know

another question on his mind: could he beat you? He proposes a training match. Can his power stop your influence? Do you still have control once he's chopped you up? Who can teleport out of the way faster? And how about he just crushes you under 5 marine ships?

no matter how long you're together, his fascination with you will never stop

he tries to cook a birthday dinner for you - there's this bloodpudding recipe he found...Bepo tries his best to stop him!

Whenever he's injured, you're the first one he turns to, always

Sometimes you catch him as he tries to manipulate blood with his power, but he's not good with liquids

Maybe he wants to open a hospital with you - some day.

[game-set-canet]

hii! you could do a rublev x reader tennis player where he gets jealous of her while she talks to another tennis player, if you want you can modify the request and sorry if it got confusing, english is not my first language, i love your blog!!🤍

A step forward

Pairing: Andrey Rublev x f!reader

category: fluff

warnings: none

Author’s Note: i really had fun writing this imagine! i hope you like it, lovely anon! 💖💖 also: English isn’t my first language, so I’m very sorry for mistakes!

* Y/N = your name

MY MASTERLIST

(not my gif! credits to the owner/creator!)

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You know something is wrong when you saw Andrey pressing his lips together and narrowing his eyes in suspicion, but you don’t know what’s the reason. In your eyes everything was fine.

Andrey just finished an intense practise session with Grigor Dimitrov. He showed that he is in a good shape and ready for the next tournament.

You are in the middle of a conversation with the Bulgarian, so all you can do is give Andrey a questioning look, but your boyfriend doesn’t react to your nonverbal question and just stares at the two of you.

“I saw the paining you posted on Instagram this morning!”, Grigor beams at you while taking off his headband, “It’s very beautiful!”

Grigor's compliment catches you completely off guard, and you can’t help but blush: “Uhm…thank you…that’s very kind.”

You love painting and drawing, and Andrey encouraged you to publish some of them online. You set up a separate Instagram account and after only five days your page had A LOT of followers – even some tennis players started following it: Karen Khachanov, Dominc Thiem, Grigor Dimitrov, … Without Andrey you wouldn't have dared to publish it, you're too insecure about it. But Andrey is passionate about your drawings and paintings and has persuaded you to share them with the world.

The older one shakes his head and steps closer to you: “No, I’m serious! You are really talented! I especially love your pencil drawings!”, he sighs still grinning, “I wish I had any talents…” You are way too involved in your conversation to notice Andrey’s snort and the way he stares at Grigor coldly.

Instead you can’t help but blur out: “I mean, from what I've heard so far, you're a pretty good tennis player.”

Grigor blinks at you in surprise before he starts laughing as well: “What you have heard? You just saw me practise?!”

“Yeah…I’m sure you can do better.”

The two of you are now laughing at the top of your lungs. When Andrey introduced you to other tennis players, you couldn’t say a single word. You are a big tennis fan since you were a little kid – always watching matches with your father – and suddenly you are meeting all the players. The first you got to know was Karen, who was really friendly, polite and calm but you were so nervous before your meeting that you nearly hyperventilate. So joking with Grigor was a HUGE step and you are really proud of yourself in that moment.

Grigor turns around and nudges Andrey with his elbow: “Cheeky! Andrey, Y/N is very bold! Did you hear what she said to me?!”

Andrey doesn’t join you in your laughing, his voice is rather cold: “No, I didn’t hear what my girlfriend said to you.”

Something about his emphasis makes you pause your laughing: You have never ever heard this kind of undertone in Andrey’s voice. Your relationship is quite new, next Monday would be your 3-month-anniversary and you know you both have a lot to learn and discover about each other but that was completely new.

Grigor also notices that something is different now and clears his throat quietly, no one says anything.

“I gonna take a shower.”, Andrey doesn’t look at any of you, “See you tomorrow, Grigor! See you later at lunch, Y/N!”, he presses a quick kiss on your left cheek and storms off of the court before you could say a single word.

Fernando Vicente is standing next to the bench, packing the bags. You have a good relationship with Andrey’s coach – at the end of the day he was the one who introduced you to Andrey.

You bite your lip and walk over to him: “Fernando?”, you wait until he turns around, “Maybe it’s nothing but…but…do you…uhm…what’s up with Andrey?”

Ferando looks at you, looking completely surprised: “You don’t know?”

“No?”, you are feeling quite stupid because it’s seeming like it’s very obvious what is wrong with your boyfriend.

Suddenly you hear Andrey yell from outside the practise court: “FERNANDO!”

Now that’s an undertone you know: your boyfriend is annoyed and impatient. Fernando knows the undertone as well and hurries up collecting his things.

“He is jealous!”, is everything Fernando says before he quickly grabs the bags and almost jogs across the court to follow Andrey back to the main building.

Andrey has a short break after lunch, so you make your way back to your hotel room after eating with the whole team.

Your boyfriend was very quiet and so everything was a bit tensed. You take a deep breath and sit down next to Andrey on the big couch: “Andrey?”

You wait until he puts down the phone – although you can see that he feels nervous about what you might say: “Yeah?”

It’s not easy to find the right words, because on one hand you can’t imagine how Andrey could be jealous on someone – in your eyes he was the most wonderful human on this planet – but on the other hand you want to take his feelings and thoughts seriously.

It takes you a lot of courage to look at him when asking the next question: “This morning on the practise court, were you really jealous?”

Andrey bites his lip, while he nervously strokes through his hair: “Mhhh…maybe.”

“Why are you jealous on Grigor? You know, there is no need for that?”

He makes a dismissive gesture and shrugs his shoulders awkwardly: “He is very handsome, isn’t he?”

You can’t help but shake your head in disbelief and move closer to him: “Oh yes, he really is…”, you can’t help but grin, “But I know an ATP player who is even more handsome. Do you want to know who it is?”

Andrey gives you a quick look from the corner of his eyes, voice quiet: “Not really.”

“Too bad. I gonna tell you either way.”, you take his hand in yours, “It’s a Russian player…I think his name is Andrey Rublev. Have you ever heard of him?”

Andrey shoots you a half annoyed-half angry glance but the corners of his mouth lift because of your words.

“So, do you know him?”, you continue to play your little ‘game’. Your head skips a beat when a shy smile spreads across his face.

He rolls his eyes, but his smile is getting bigger and bigger: “Maybe…”

“Yeah, I think you do know him. You must know him…because he is really really handsome. The most handsome guy on the whole tour. And he is very funny, and caring…sometimes he is very stubborn as well but that’s okay.”

“And sometimes he is a little stupid because he gets jealous without any reason?”

You shake your head very quickly and look him straight in the eyes now: “No, you aren’t stupid for getting jealous! It’s okay…I understand it.”

You can see that Andrey is relieved about your words – mainly because you two talked about it. Andrey had problems thinking about this all midday.

“You know what’s funny?”, you finally start talking again and chuckle, “There was a tiny little moment during today’s practise session where I thought: Maybe I have to be jealous of Grigor because you two were so cute together…”

Andrey looks at you with big eyes, before he starts giggling and shakes his head: “No no no, I’ll always choose you! You’re way cuter than Grigor!”

He takes your face between his hands and kisses you softly.

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tagging: @bluetackbaby @lxndonorris @fedalev

[boy-in-the-stars]

is it I back for more shitty long scollace prompts 😈😈😈 I'm so glad u liked the first ones cause like ik they're cringe 😭😭 anyway sorry again for how fucking long this is:

- I like to imagine they have a lot of movie nights cause scott just orders a ton and still rents movies from that place I forget the name of where Kim works 😭 most nights acott would prolly pick the movie but sometimes wallace gets a chance. idrk what kinda movies he would like but I feel at least once he would waste his turn to purposefully rent a movie he knows scott would hate just to see him suffer <3 true love. in his defense he had to sit through the sonic movie (or if it takes place in 2004 then sonic ova) at least a hundred times.

- I don't think scott would particularly be scared of horror movies but whenever they watch one wallace would definitely tease and try to freak him out. scott would get very annoyed and insist his teasing isn't working and in his defense it isn't!! it's a shitty 80s slasher film or at least he thinks until all the lights are off and there's weird noises outside. suddenly he's tugging on wallace and holding onto him without even realizing.

^^ I j wanna make a point bc I don't want this to come off as like babying or ooc or even fetishizing cause i think scott could definitely handle horror movies. I don't think he's a horror fanatic but he has respect for the classics. it's like wallaces relentless teasing after an especially scary horror movie he hasn't seen, in the middle of the night, with particular weird noises outside. it's like a rly specific situation cause he's usually fine with horror. I j wanted to makebthat clear cause ik there's like a lot of weird fanfics where scotts like an uwu soft boy and. ew. i don't mean it like that. bleh

- after they're official I feel like their dynamic would basically stay the same cause cmon they were pretty much dating before. only difference is now wallace gets to full on make out with him and give him a little more forehead kisses than he did before. at first I feel like scott would act annoyed or maybe not annoyed but dismissive of the little kisses not cause he didn't like them but bc he acted like he didn't like them before they're dating and he feels the need to keep it up. he doesn't wanna give wallace that satisfaction of I told u so u obviously enjoyed them. but either when scotts sick or even tired or whatever wallace gives him a little kiss and Scott pathetically is like another plsss ☹️☹️☹️. Wallace is like oh? now we like my kisses?? with his little smug ass face. when scott fully wakes up he still barely admits to liking them but now doesnt completely ignore them (he loves them). after like a week I think scott would give up the bit and embrace them like kiss it better?? good luck kiss?? goodnight kiss?? morning kiss?? greedy bitch

sorry for how much I write I j wanna like makebmyself clear plus I rlly suck with words so I hope this comes across ok. sorry these are worse but ofc I have more cause of the autism ☹️☹️ hope u enjoyed reading this fucking novel 😭😭

these are all so cute anon!! don’t you even worry, i haven’t been getting many prompts so these mean a lot to me. the first one shot (haircut) should be up as soon as my comic artist finishes the panels!!

shout out to @literallylee btw, they’re drawing some comics for the fics and they’re literally amazing, can’t wait for you guys to see them!!

[youredreamingofroo]

📩 Simblr question of the day: Choose as many sims/ocs as you'd like for this question, What's something INCREDIBLY obscure and/or out-of-pocket about your sim/oc? Something that nobody (fellow sims and/or your followers and mutuals) knows 👀 (This could be things about their social skills, physicality and/or birth defects, or it could be something they vaguely remember, a dream they had that actually predicted the future, etc etc... whatever you come up with)

( p.s I'm [the SQOTD anon] planning on starting a separate SQOTD blog for these asks/questions, and I'm open for input on this :) ) ( p.p.s freely share this SQOTD around, anon or not, and use the # SQOTD ~ 💛 )

HI SQOTD ANON!! I hope you are so well, you are amazing

I'm gonna sorta blast out obscure facts for multiple OCs/Sims, when I say obscure facts, I'm gonna prolly do more behind the scenes facts and less actual character facts 😭 I'll try to squeeze some in tho

Under the cut cuz this gets LONGGG (I have so many behind the scenes facts LMAO)

For Roo: Here's a couple Behind-The-Scenes facts, I have SOO many of these for early-days roo so get ready:

[ Prior to a settled design for Roo, Roo was gonna be a Succubus woman with white fading to black hair! I still have the only drawing I made of her, but it's bad and embarrassing (mind you its like 6 years old so) LMFAOO [ Adding onto the last one, I used to go by "The Unfortunate Roo" before Roo was a separate character and when I used to call myself Roo, I also went by "The UnRootunate" which you can imagine 12 year old me was SOO proud of that... 💀 (it is clever tho so 🤷‍♂️) [ After making Roo's first design, I intended Roo to be trans! FtM- This ended up changing because I designed his younger versions and they weren't pre-transition, and instead ended up making his gender be very apparently open-ended (which you can see through his different eras where his hair progressively gets longer :P) [ I never really shared what Roo's middle name is! But to be honest, I completely forgot about the existence of his middle name LMAO Initially his middle names were "Ivory-Roland" and the idea of "Roo" for a name came from "Roland"! [ This will come as a shock... but a while ago (~1 year ago), I was actually gonna give Roo a child 👀👀 Not biological, but just a kid he adopted or something, I don't remember anything about the kid cuz I never wrote anything down

And Here's a couple "other people/sims don't know/notice this" facts:

[ This is INCREDIBLY unnoticeable, but Roo's freckles would very faintly change through the years alongside his hair and eyes changing due to Piametia!

For Virginia (Roo's mother): I've only got one Behind-The-Scenes fact for her:

[ My first name choice for her was gonna be Persephone! But I felt that it didn't fit her <:)

Putting these together but here's two name facts for Virginia (besides the persephone part) and Reese:

[ Virginia's last name was supposed to be Keith-Norman when I first made her, but have since realized it wouldn't make sense for one reason that you'll see in the next fact- Her middle name was supposed to be Jillian and... it stuck! (Virginia Jillian Norman) [ Reese's name was COMPLETELY different when I made him... "Stephen-Elijah [Eli] Jackle Florence"... Yea LMAO, this is why Keith for Virginia wouldn't make sense, and overall his name was just a chaotic mess... I decided to actually make him have no middle name! And his birth last name is Arnett, but he changed it to Norman :) (Reese Arnett -> Reese Norman)

For Jordynn (Roo's oldest sister): Once again, behind-the-scene fact :):

[ One of the first iterations of Jordynn was that she looked nothing like her parents (Virginia and Reese) and because of this, Reese got upset with Virginia and almost divorced her bec he assumed the kid wasn't his! They had a much more toxic relationship when they were being baked in the OC oven

and here's an in-universe fact:

[ She doesn't tell a lot of people this because it's not necessarily an issue, but she's deathly allergic to lavender, one whiff could put her out of commission for a LONGGG while

For Devan (Roo's only brother): behind-the-scenes fact:

[ Devan used to have british origins, and would have a very confusing accent crossed with heavy Swedish and a heavy British accent, making it very difficult for people to understand him no matter what language he spoke, I ended up changing this simply cuz I forgot :)

in-universe fact:

[ He has pierced ears! But he tends to forget to put earrings in and has had to re-pierce his ears once before

For Deliahna (Roo's second youngest sister): in-universe fact:

[ Her birthday is on Valentines Day!! <:)

And finally, Juniper (Roo's youngest sister): in-universe fact:

[ Juni is mixed! She's Hispanic and Scandinavian, and has an accent that actually ping-pongs in terms of which half is stronger, which depends on which parent she's with, if she's with Virginia, her light Swedish accent comes out, but if she's with Mateo (Her Father and Roo's step/half(?) father), her thick hispanic accent comes out, she's also fluent in Spanish and English, and knows little-to-no Swedish

- -

And here's a random fact about an OC that never really saw the light of day (keep in mind I was like 12-14 when I made this OC LMAO):

[ This oc's name is "Bashful", is a clown and is a quintuplet! (The other names are just [insert verb] - ful 💀)

AND last fact (sorry I keep saying and LMAO) about an OC that I plan to... eventually share 😭:

[ I have an OC named 1504 and she's made of Clay! She's one of my oldest OCs that has actually survived the OC-purge (by OC purge I just mean completely dropping all my old OCs for new ones)

[evelhak]

hi, hope you’re doing well. different person this time around, but you’ve talked abt kuroko & haizaki interactions and how they perceive things, so i’d like to ask abt midorima & akashi in that same context if u don’t mind

Thank you anon, I hope you're doing well too. ☆

You definitely asked a useful question for me, because I'm going to start writing an Akashi centric fic pretty soon, and I haven't explored the relationship between Akashi and Midorima much, which I obviously will have to do when I start writing. So, it wouldn't hurt to think about it already.

There are definitely some things about Akashi's and Midorima's personalities that would make them gravitate towards each other, because no other person in their middle school friend group can really share these things with them to that level. First of all, they're both perfectionists on their own level. For Akashi it's broader and driven by a debilitating fear of mistakes and failure and for Midorima it's more detailed and focused on a particular thing and driven by more of a strictness and inflexibility of thinking, but they both certainly are always going towards some holy idea of perfection. If they do things Right everything's gonna be okay.

However, I think this is where it gets interesting. Midorima seems more arrogant and high and mighty on the surface (at least compared to Oreshi) but he's actually more humble inside, because he places the ultimate control outside of himself, he sees himself in the end as only a human who will always do his absolute best, but it's never a guarantee of anything. Akashi (at least Oreshi) seems a lot more amiable and humble on the surface, but inside he's completely alone, he sees himself as the centre of the universe in the sense that no one will save him, there's nothing bigger than him, therefore him letting go of control would mean total chaos. It's kind of like Midorima sees himself as superior because he knows he is insignificant in the grand scheme of things, unlike the fools who don't know this. While Akashi sees himself as forsaken, and he's compensating for it by trying to be a god, like if he's perfect and in control then maybe he can have some resemblance of a real place in the world. I think these qualities also draw them towards each other, because control is a very big thing for both of them, and they have in some ways similar and in some ways the opposite ways of dealing with it, so they would have a fascination for the way they overlap and differ. It's a lot easier to dismiss someone's way as wrong when you have nothing in common, but when you already have a lot in common and then differ in a major way, it can have a way of encouraging you to find out more about the things that seem so foreign to you, so I think there's something like that going on with these two.

Their differences of course affect the way their relationship works. For Midorima, Akashi seems a bit more like a puzzle to solve, and for Akashi, Midorima seems more like a sounding board to reflect upon, if you simplify it.

They are also the only true "numbers" people in the group, the ones who live and breathe efficiency and have a plan for brushing their teeth. (Sorry for mocking, it's only because I'm completely useless in that department, and my own strategies are completely opposite that I can't pass by a chance to make fun of it. :D I swear I also make fun of my own ways.) I can just picture them as adults, discussing economy and infrastructure and shit like that in a way that my brain just immediately checks out of. Good for them. But again, Midorima has a more detailed and concrete approach to this numbers and plans game, while Akashi has a more abstract, broad one.

I think because they are like this, having both significant overlap and differences, their several common or compatible interests not only bring them together but will make them stay as friends, because their differences will keep their relationship interesting. Because it's one thing to have a friend who likes what you like and approaches those things in pretty much the same ways as you (that's a comforting relationship that doesn't challenge you to grow) and it's another thing to have a friend who likes what you like and approaches those things about half same and half opposite ways from you (that makes a relationship comforting and also challenges you to grow).

So... this only scratches the surface of Midorima and Akashi together, because I haven't really gone there too much.

If you want to read some crack, I have a story about these rich boys going to McDonald's. It's complete trolling. (And it's the type of story where someone adds random adjectives in to make it funnier. It's probably confusing, there are some references to other crack fics I've written too. It might be a "you had to be there" kind of funny, but. In case you're curious.)

[halothanic]

18-25 for the ask prompt!

okay well first i must apologize for leaving this for probably a YEAR, idek when i reblogged this ask prompt but i'm sitting here waiting for my ipad to update so i'm finally going to answer these. i completely forgot about my inbox. btw to all my followers out there old and new feel free to drop asks anytime

18. an estimate of how many art supplies you've broken?

well, since transitioning to mostly digital art, i can't say i've broken many supplies! the only things i can remember in the past few years have been one prismacolor pencil that kept breaking (it made me so mad HAHA cus they're expensive) and then i have ~5 copics that have been completely trashed. thankfully none more! i'm really careful with supplies

19. favorite inanimate objects to draw?

i love drawing leather, stars, liquids and/or blood, and foliage! i need to get better at drawing things that aren't people. but i really like making things shiny so i guess that's why i gravitate towards these things. oh, and pens/pencils/stationery, i love cluttering up a space i draw (just like my real space, i'm a maximalist at heart)

20. something everyone else finds hard to draw, but you enjoy?

HANDS! they are my favorite thing to draw but i know they're an unpopular favorite

21. art styles nothing like your own, but you love anyway?

this is a tough question, but i really like simplistic art, especially vintage advertisements and stuff. one artist i can think of is eric hinkley, his work is so crisp and simple, nothing like mine, but i LOVE this style and surround myself with it. i have a lot of adornments and details in my work, but i'm always trying to make sure they're streamlined and/or pleasing. i also adore riso art but i really cannot figure that style out to save my life, someday i hope i do

22. what physical exercises do you do before drawing, if any?

umm, i should do stretches but i never do. this is probably why i have wrist pain at my age! but in the middle of drawing, i usually get up, stretch my back and arms/hands for a breather

23. do you use different layer modes?

yes! i use overlays and multiply, but not many others. i rely on alpha lock and clipping masks for my work, i love those modes so much

24. do your references include stock images?

yes and no, sometimes i don't reference my art but if i'm having trouble, i usually google what i'm thinking of and HOPEFULLY find a fitting stock image to glance at, so yes! but most of the time, it's just me and the photo booth app lol

25. something your art has been compared to that you have not been inspired by?

i don't get many comparisons but i think patrick nagel has come up! his art is super cool though, i would love to make a drag persona out of it hah

thanks so much for asking so many questions anon!

[nicetomeetmew]

Hello Mew!

Congrats, you've been visited by your LU Self Care Anon!

I hope you had a great day, and if not, don't worry, you did your best, and tomorrow's full of new possibilities!

Have you drank enough water? It can really help your body and mind feeling well! Also, remember to get enough sleep, did you know underground rooms are often the freshest in the house? I can assure you there's at least a 2F difference between my basement and my ground floor. It really makes a difference in hot days!

What have you been working on lately? Would you like to show me a wip, or describe it? I'm sure it'll turn out amazing, even if you now think it's nowhere near good!

You can do this! Believe in yourself, you're awesome!

Hello anon. Thank you for this. If you don't mind me saying, I was having a pretty miserable night, and this brought such a smile to my face.

Water - I drank 3 1/2 litres today, I am happy to report :D

Underground rooms - wow I had no idea about that! It doesn't quite make sense in my head but I was never good at science. Unfortunately, I live in a bungalow so I'll have to skip over testing that out for myself XD

WIPs - if we're just talking LU, I am in the middle of rewriting (and hopefully eventually completing) the first multichapter fic I ever wrote. I hope to finally post a new chapter soon. It's almost been three years, I'm afraid.

Otherwise, I have a few other things I'm working on, including drawing some swords because I love swords. I'm also planning another thing... a novel I hope to start writing soon heh...

Conclusion - Wow. Thank you. Even if no-one reads it, typing all that out felt... really nice. Thank you for that, anon. I hope you also have/had a wonderful day. You are a beautiful soul, you deserve it 💛

[morganaspendragonss]

hey anon who sent this message! i was going to respond directly to the ask but i fuck up and posted it too early so this is take two 🤦‍♀️sorry it's been so long! i hope you see this and i hope you enjoy it 💚😊

prompt from this list by @whumpster-dumpster

wake up and stay with me

ao3 | 1.5k | head injury, hospitals, hurt carlos, worried tk title from are you with my by nilu

TK zeroes in on the blood still staining Carlos’s collar the second he walks into the loft. He wastes no time in striding over and taking his face firmly in his hands, ignoring the protests already coming out of Carlos’s mouth.

“What happened?” he demands. He scans Carlos for injuries, his eyes almost fixing on the small cut near his hairline, taped over with butterfly bandages. Carlos sees the relief in his fiancé’s eyes at the knowledge that he has already been checked over and cleared to go home, but, naturally, TK won’t rest until he makes sure that he’s okay for himself.

“TK, I’m fine,” Carlos says, knowing it won’t make an ounce of difference. 

“Nope.” TK moves his hands from Carlos’s face to push him gently towards the couch, making him sit. “Try again.”

Carlos sighs heavily and fixes TK with a raised eyebrow, but he’s not going to budge. “It happened on a call,” he explains. “The rookie tripped me accidentally and I hit my head a little when I fell. Seriously though, TK, you don’t need to worry, the paramedics on scene checked me out.”

“Well now the paramedic on this scene is going to check you out. Follow my finger.”

He rolls his eyes but obliges, thinking that will be the extent of it. Naturally, he’s wrong; as soon as this part is over, TK produces his penlight — from where, Carlos has no idea.

“So when you said check me out,” he tries, lowering his voice in what is usually a surefire way to distract TK, “that was strictly in the literal sense?”

But, tonight, TK is not going to be deterred. “Unless and until you pass the exam, yes.”

Carlos huffs. “You’re mean.”

TK just hums and continues his completely unnecessary, over-the-top examination in silence. It goes on long enough that Carlos gets a little fidgety — normally, he’s good at sitting still, but there’s something about being under his fiancé’s intense scrutiny that makes his skin crawl. 

TK sits back on his heels and Carlos takes the opportunity to scoot further out of his reach, not caring whether he’s done or not.

“You’re turning this into something bigger than it is,” he complains, catching TK’s hands as they go for his head again. He meets his eyes and holds his gaze intently. “I’m fine.”

TK still looks concerned, but Carlos eventually wears him down, and he drops his gaze, laughing a little. “Well, good,” he says. “Because I’d hate for all this to go to waste.”

Carlos frowns in confusion, but then TK smiles bashfully and steps to the side, revealing the table covered in the cloth his mother gifted them as an engagement present, their best place settings laid out, and a cluster of small candles in the middle. A bottle of sparkling cider rests in an ice bucket, and, to top it all off, the soft, lilting notes of Carlos’s favourite Mexican tunes playing in the background.

“Babe…” He takes two steps forward, then turns around, shaking his head at TK. “What is this? Have I forgotten something?”

“Nope,” TK says, popping the ‘p’. He moves towards Carlos and grabs his hands, swinging them gently between their bodies. “Do I need an excuse to spoil my husband-to-be?”

“Otherwise known as your fiancé.”

TK grins and draws Carlos’s arms up and around his waist until his hands rest lightly on the small of his back. He brings his own hands up to Carlos’s neck, his thumb brushing gently at the underside of his jaw. “Hmm, husband sounds better,” he says, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Just a couple more months, baby,” Carlos whispers, his last words swallowed by TK’s mouth as he joins them in a kiss.

(They end up eating takeout hours later, after TK confesses to being so sure he’d set the mood just right that he hadn’t prepared any food.)

(Carlos would roll his eyes at his cockiness, but it’s not like he was wrong.)

*

TK wakes up the next morning thoroughly sated and blissfully happy. Sex with Carlos is always mind-blowingly, toe-curlingly amazing, but something about last night… His body aches pleasantly, and a slow grin spreads across his face as he replays some of those memories against the closed skin of his eyelids.

He’s definitely up for another round, but a soft whistle next to him lets him know that Carlos is still asleep, which provides TK with an opportunity he’s been missing for too long.

He’s so going to tease Mr. I-Don’t-Snore with this later, but first to get the evidence. TK grabs his phone, but stops dead when he rolls over. The sheets are stained bright red with blood, and TK follows the trail to its provenance.

Carlos’s ear.

And his nose.

And, when TK bends over him to check, his other ear.

Panic threatens to swallow him whole, but TK pulls on the reins hard. He’ll be of no use to Carlos if he loses himself now. He forces himself to focus, to switch on his instincts and paramedic training.

Checks. He needs to check him.

“Carlos.” TK gently shakes Carlos’s shoulders as he calls his name, first in one ear, then the other.

No response.

Airways. He tilts Carlos’s chin up, relieved when they’re clear.

Breathing. He listens closely, watching for the rise and fall of Carlos’s chest — everything seems good, but TK knows there could be hidden problems that he can’t pick up without his equipment.

Circulation. And again the worry rises in him. Carlos is paler than he should be, and colder too, plus his pulse isn’t within the normal range. Added to the bleeding from the ears and nose, and it’s more than clear that something is seriously wrong with Carlos.

Maybe if TK were in the field, he’d be able to narrow it down a bit more, be able to actually do something useful. But he’s not; he’s in bed, in his boxers, and the only thing he can do is call 9-1-1, rattle off the meagre information he has, and wait for the ambulance to arrive, wishing, hoping, praying that everything will be okay.

*

After hours of waiting, the doctors eventually tell him that Carlos’s fall caused his skull to fracture and, given the time between the injury and him getting worse, he developed a subdural haematoma. They say that, though the skull fracture itself should only need pain management to heal, they had to perform burr hole surgery to treat the bleed. They tell him it all went well and Carlos should make a clean recovery, though there is still a risk that the haematoma could come back.

Which is why, when TK finally goes into the room to see Carlos, he almost has to run straight back out again to throw up.

Because the damn tube is still in Carlos’s head.

“It’s just for the next couple of days, Mr. Strand,” the doctor says, clearly catching on to his train of thought. “The bleed wasn’t as serious as we had feared but a repeated incident could be life-threatening, so keeping the tube in place for now will diminish the chances of that happening.”

“And…” TK swallows, his jaw working as he tries to find the words he needs for his next question. Sometimes he hates being a paramedic; it means that he understands some of what the doctors are talking about, and the bank of statistics in his head is running all the worst-case scenarios. “Will he… His brain… Will he be…him still?”

The doctor smiles kindly, understanding. “It’s true that many patients with subdural haematomas experience partial loss of brain function; equally, many recover fully, or almost fully. We won’t know until he wakes up and we can run some tests, but Mr. Reyes is young and healthy, and his case really was quite mild in comparison. His chances are good.”

TK nods and thanks the doctor, waiting for him to leave before he goes to the chair by Carlos’s bed, sinking down into it wearily. He quickly loses track of time, every hour just more of the same in these four white walls. Just more waiting, and waiting, and waiting.

Until, eventually, Carlos wakes up, and TK bursts into tears even as he’s calling the doctor.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Carlos looks confused, a hand reaching up to his head, to the tube, but before TK can move to stop him, the doctors push in front of him. They swarm the bed, flitting around the room doing their checks, but when it’s all over, they’re able to smile at TK and say that Carlos appears to be on track for complete recovery of brain function.

For some reason, it only makes him cry harder. He returns to Carlos, grabbing his hand and kissing it over and over, tears cascading down his face uncontrollably as he begs his fiancé’s forgiveness.

And it’s selfish of him, especially when Carlos still isn’t fully with it, but when Carlos weakly tugs his hand away to wipe away his tears, TK finally feels like he can breathe again.

[frostedfaves]

Naive (1)

Masterlist

Pairing: demon!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Of all the humans Wanda has met, you’re suddenly her favorite.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, dark!fic, demon things™️ (be warned that this shit will get much darker in the future), subtle hand kink (don’t @ me)

A/N: special shoutout to the anon that inspired this fic series, I hope you enjoy this weird combo of AOU x IW Wanda. also if you have any previous knowledge of demons, throw it out the window before you read this because I guarantee that things will not add up here lmao

-

Wanda’s favorite thing about interacting with humans is her effect on them.

Walking through a crowd is fine. She’ll brush a few shoulders and rattle a few unsuspecting adults, flash solid black eyes at kids that either stare or scream. It’s temporary and brings a bit of fun to an otherwise dull day.

The real joy comes from direct contact. Wanda travels miles away from her apartment building, choosing different stores, restaurants and cafés just to keep things interesting. A new cashier each time. She’ll have an air of friendliness about her that isn’t exactly fake; she finds most humans to be charming, despite their fragile minds.

“Will that be all?” Roy--according to his name tag--asks with a grin and Wanda nods in response. “Okay, your total is $21.14. You can just swipe or insert your card in the machine there.”

Wanda inserts her card carefully, complimenting the decor as she waits for the transaction to be completed. After returning it to her wallet, she flashes a soft smile at Roy as he hands her the receipt, purposefully brushing her fingers with his. As his skin makes contact with one of her rings, she notices the goosebumps rising along his arm and hears his breathing pattern change.

“Roy? Everything alright?”

She hears the concerned voice of a coworker as she makes her way to a table to wait for her meal, already seated by the time Roy coughs in an effort to collect himself.

“Yeah, just feeling off I guess. I’ll be fine.”

A chuckle falls from her lips as she watches the poor cashier attempt to return to his previous state of mind, finding the urge to smile and wave when his eyes cut over to her. His voice trembles when he calls her name and he stands as far away as possible when she approaches the counter to grab her order.

“Thanks for everything, Roy.”

Sensing that he’s startled enough without it, she keeps her other tricks hidden in her sleeves and simply walks away, holding her laughter until the doors close behind her. A good meal with a side of human interaction, her absolute favorite.

-

The next day brings Wanda to a bookstore around lunchtime. She takes a minute to browse the aisles, taking an exceptionally long time lingering in the section harboring books on angels and demons. The stereotypes amuse more than upset her like they used to in the beginning.

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

Wanda turns to make eye contact with the employee behind her, about to ask a question for the fun of it when a laugh catches her attention. Her gaze redirects to the café counter straight ahead, and a warm feeling washes over her when she hears the laugh again.

You’re genuinely entertained by the elderly woman purchasing a bagel with exact change, and Wanda manages to catch the end of the conversation as she draws near.

“Safe to say, I haven’t worn the blouse since that day.” She bids you farewell with her bagel and receipt in hand, eyes twinkling as she observes Wanda on her way past. “You have such bright and beautiful hair, dear.”

“Thank you,” Wanda responds with sincerity, attention locked on you while approaching the counter. “Hi.”

“Hey,” you greet her with a voice much calmer than the one you use with most of your other customers. “What can I get you today?”

You watch the orange haired woman turn her head to study the items behind the glass, taking the time to do your own inspection. You admire the dark red jacket that covers most of her torso, gaze lingering on the multiple rings hugging her fingers that seem to be smoothing nonexistent wrinkles in her dress, almost in a nervous fashion. It brought you a bit of comfort, assuming that she was affected in the same way.

“What do you recommend?”

“Oh, well…” You walk over to open the glass case from your side of the counter, naming each item as you grab it. “I usually have this pretzel that’s stuffed with spinach and cheese and this brownie. I can heat both of them for you, if you’d like.”

“I would love that,” Wanda responds in a grateful tone, placing a bottle of water on the counter after taking it from the fridge. “And I’ll also have one of these incredibly overpriced waters.”

You begin her order with a laugh, and she watches you ring everything up with the speed and expertise of a seasoned employee, wondering how she’d gone this long without running into you. The total price is brought to the digital screen just before her card is inserted, and she takes the time to quickly slip her rings into her pockets while you’re taking the pretzel and brownie over to the miniature oven. The last thing she wants to do is scramble your brain before she even gets the chance to explore it.

“Here’s your receipt,” you announce while giving Wanda the slip of paper, your eyes lingering on her hand for a moment before looking at her again. “Your food should be ready soon.”

“Okay, thank you…” Her sentence trails off as she searches for your name, the letters rolling off her tongue with ease when she finally locates it on the apron covering your chest.

“You’re welcome…” You trail off in the same fashion and she catches on quickly.

“Wanda.”

“You’re welcome, Wanda,” you repeat as you hand her the water bottle before she can walk away.

Less than two minutes later, you approach the table she’s taken over with two small ceramic plates and a sheepish grin.

“I should’ve asked if you were going to stay a while, but I can grab some bags if you need to go.”

Wanda shakes her head with a laugh as she takes them from you, startling you when she doesn’t react to the excessive heat radiating from the dishes.

“This is perfect.”

She takes her time with eating, and your attention is drawn to her between customers, grateful that she’s too busy with her phone to notice your stares. On the other hand, Wanda’s mind is filled with thoughts of you. What you look like when you think she can’t see you glancing over, what you smelled like when you were close. The nerves, the kindness, the desire to learn her name despite her being just another customer to you. She knows that you noticed her missing rings, but she’s already prepared with a cover story. A two minute conversation has her dying to pick your brain more, learn your habits and become more familiar with your body, beyond a simple brush of your fingertips. She already wants you to herself, just the way you came, without her interference for now; that’ll come later.

A good meal with a side of human interaction, her absolute favorite.

-

Despite Wanda leaving an hour before your shift ended, she lingers in your thoughts on the bus ride and walk home. You find yourself recalling her kind smile, fidgeting fingers and the scent of her perfume when she passed you on her way out, and you’re so deep in your memories that you end up colliding with your apartment door.

“That’s not going to get you inside any faster, dear.”

Your cheeks burn as you face Ruth for the second time today, the first time being earlier when you sold her a bagel.

“I know, Ruthie,” you respond sheepishly as you pull your keys from your pocket. “Is everything okay? You’re usually in bed watching a cowboy show by now.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to come home so I could talk to you.” She checks to see if the hallway is empty before opening her door and waving you over. “Come on, quickly.”

You scurry into the apartment behind her, taking in the scene before you while she locks the door. Having visited her before, you know she keeps the television at a higher volume, but it seems louder than normal.

“I know I might seem like I’ve lost my marbles, but I wanted to warn you about that woman you saw today....The one with the bright hair.”

“You mean Wanda?” you question, eyes widening when she nods. “Warn me about what?”

“There’s something off about that Wanda, if that even is her real name.” She snatches her arm out of her robe and brings it closer for you to see. “I’ve had these chills since I brushed against her earlier. Something’s not right with her. How do you even know her name? I’ve never seen her before.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” you assure her as you help her slip her arm back in the sleeve. “I only know her name because we were having a friendly conversation and she used mine. I was just being polite to someone I’ll probably never even see again.”

“Just be careful,” she pleads as you head toward her door again, and you offer your best attempt at a relaxed smile.

“I’ll be fine, Ruthie. Get some rest, okay?”

You hear her lock the door behind you as you make your way back to your own apartment, rushing through the process of unlocking the door and securing it once you’re inside. As much as you don’t want to let Ruth get you worked up over a stranger, you can’t help thinking about the odd little things you noticed earlier. 

It isn’t unusual for someone to linger after buying food or drinks from your counter, whether they have homework or even just a phone to keep them busy. Wanda seemed to be waiting for someone the entire time, and you remember hoping that she wasn’t on a date, despite not wanting her to be stood up. But she simply slid her phone in her pocket and departed with a friendly wave as if nothing had happened.

You especially remember her waving at you with those ringless fingers, and wondering silently where the intricate jewelry had disappeared to. Obviously you just assumed that the rings were tucked away on her person and not dumped in the trash, but she doesn’t seem like the type of person to give up on her accessories in the middle of the day. Part of you--a part that you didn’t dare to address--wondered if she’d emptied her hands to send you a subtle sign. No, that can’t possibly be it.

Sleeping proves to be difficult with so many unanswered questions floating about, but you eventually give into the act. A few hours later, you peel open your eyes when you think you hear something in the room. The digital clock that sits on your bedside and serves as an alarm and occasional radio reads 3:34am, and you’re just about to close your eyes again when you hear another sound. You raise your head to turn toward your closet, and a scream is trapped in your throat as you catch sight of a figure in the shadows.

The next time you wake, the sun is out and your alarm is blaring on the nightstand beside you. Your gaze flickers over to the closet as you reach out to silence it, your heartbeat dropping slightly when you don’t see anything other than clothes. Deciding that you must’ve been dreaming, you shake away the fearful thoughts and head to the bathroom to start getting ready for another day of work.

The only thing you haven’t decided on yet is whether you want to see Wanda again.

[hughiecampbelle]

Succession Preference: Tattooed Baby Sibling

Requested: Hi! Hope you are well! Idk if you're taking requests atm, feel free to ignore this if so! But I was thinking of a preference for The Roy Siblings. In which the reader would be their baby sibling, but they have A LOT of tattoos and maybe how the family reacts to them or or how they deal with that part of their sibling? - anon

A/N: I love this!!! I only have about 30, so idk if I qualify as tattooed person just yet lol, but picturing this is fantastic! Thank you for requesting my love!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Connor comes from a different generation. He's not used to seeing tattoos in the professional world. Knowing this, you keep yourself pretty covered until you can't. It's at Caroline's wedding you shed some layers, letting your skin show in the heat. He's taken aback. He knew you had a few, but you're covered now. You catch him staring, unsure of his emotions, ready to defend yourself like always: they won't stop you from getting a job, they're a freedom of expression and art, they make you feel more at home in your body, some are just funny and others far more sentimental, that it's your money and you can spend it however you want, etc. Instead though, he just gives you a small smile. "I like the one by your elbow, kiddo." He has a lot of questions, like what does it feel like to get them and why you gravitate towards them when others, like him, feel no need. He knows you get enough judgment from your mother and father. He's your biggest brother, he loves you no matter what.

Kendall doesn't really understand them. Like Connor, he has questions, though you're often reverting back to your childhood self when you answer them: totally defensive. You're busy showing them off to Kerry when you catch his attention. There are a few fresh ones, still raised and irritated. It makes his skin hurt just looking at it. You're completely covered now, working on filling in the gaps. He doesn't see the appeal. He thought, like most "phases", you'd grow out of it, but these things are permanent. Forever. It's a big commitment he could never make. What if he likes something today and hates it tomorrow? You assure him you've never felt that way, but if you ever do, it's something you liked once and that's enough. He makes some not so great remarks about professionalism and what happens when you get older, but they're all out of big brother concern. Eventually you tell him that they've never affected your ability to get a job and that they'll look cool just like they do now when you're older. End of discussion. He doesn't hate them, but he doesn't think they're great either, especially you being his baby sibling. He'll never approve.

Shiv has always wanted to get a matching tattoo with you. Something small, delicate, tasteful, probably on her ankle. You make plans for this, but it never happens. You can never agree on what you want. You urge her to hurry up since you're running out of space. She loves them, she thinks they're really cool and also a huge middle finger to your father. You're always eager to show her the newest ones. She wouldn't expect anything less from you. You've been drawing on yourself since you could hold a marker. Every time you came home from school covered in ink your father would order either one of your siblings or one of the nannies to scrub you til skin came off. He barked that this was unacceptable behavior, but it never stopped you from doing it again. Now look at you. She doesn't hold the same fears or beliefs as your brothers. She's under the belief that if it makes you happy, truly happy, and it doesn't kill Logan, then it's fine. Why should anyone try to stop you? It's a tattoo, that's all.

Roman is the least bothered by them. Why would he care? It's not his body. He calls Connor and Kendall old men for being so uptight about it. Does he make fun of you to no end about them? Of course. Oh no y/n, a Chipotle bag threw up all over you! Looks like you've still got some unused space right. . . there. Where's Waldo am I right? If I can find the end of the maze do I get a prize? He has a habit of poking fresh tattoos and feigning ignorance, too. How am I supposed to know what's new and what's not? He also loves to point out new ones to your mother and father, who both despise them. Oops, did I do that? He runs away before you can hit him. He understands, while also an aesthetic thing, it's about pain, too. There's something satisfying about the needle that you can't get anywhere else. That noise, the constant poking, the radiating ache. He gets it. You all have to do what you gotta do to get by. A need to go back, this inner wanting for the pain again. It's socially acceptable and you get permanent art to go along with it. Win-win.

[willowfolksong]

hi i just found your blog recently, i almost finished all of the fics and i love it? you're such a talented writer! im so excited to see the next chapter of your miya twins fic btw! then i saw your request are open so im so excited to send one! may i request some angst to fluff with unrequited to requited love trope (actually it's friend to lovers too hehe) and the character is akaashi x f!reader? like they're childhood friend and he's been in love with her for a long time but he knows she's just not into that at that time like she always thought that 'the right person will come at the right time' so he still waiting for her then one day she sees akaashi differently and just realized the the right person always with her all of this time. im sorry if this is too specific>< and im sorry for my broken english too. thankyou and have a good day!🥰

paper planes and shojo manga

- Akaashi Keiji x Reader

- SFW

a/n: hi anon!!!!! first of all, don't apologize for your english!!!! I understood you perfectly! Second, thank you so much for your words. 🥺❤ I feel so happy that you think that way about my blog and my writing! And about my miya conundrum fic too!!! Honestly, thank you. I'm beyond grateful for words of love like this! ❤❤And here's your request! I'm such a sucker for unrequited to requited love, so I had the best time writing it. And dont worry about being too specific! Specific requests are the best! hope you like it and always tell me what you think and if you need anything changed!

Love,

Willow ❄

Requests are open! ❄

The first time you two meet, you have a manga book in your hands. And it's funny, because neither of you can read yet. That's why you're there, on your first day of primary school.

"I just like the pictures and the colors" you tell him, turning the page "Wanna read it with me?"

"I wouldn't call it reading if we're not actually reading" he tells you, but sits beside you nonetheless.

You talk about everything you see, pointing at every characters you think is cute and theorizing about what you think they're probably saying. He nods at all, absentmindedly.

That day, he makes his first friend.

He sits beside you, and you like to throw little paper planes at him when he's not looking, and pass him small notes with silly jokes and dumb drawings of the teacher. He keeps all of them, stuffed in the bottom of his backpack until middle school arrives, and he empties the bag on the bed and every little paper you ever passed him during class comes falling down, like snow. He looks at them— eyes scanning your handwriting in those bright colors you like to use, from the glittery pens you insist on buying. He takes them all and puts them in a jar on his desk, right next to the picture of the two of you in front of the school.

He realizes he likes you in your second year of middle school, when you start talking about boys as more than just regular people to hang around with. You still read manga— and now that you can also understand what the characters are saying, it has become more like an obsession for you, so it's in a comic book store where he first notices. He's examining a book he grabbed from a nearby shell when you come running towards him, face flushed and out of breath.

"Okay, so don't look now" you tell him, and he refrains from pointing out that he can't look at anything, since you're both surrounded by shelves "But the guy on the register is really cute"

He frowns, having lost any interest in the book in his hands "What?"

"He's really cute" you say again, giggling "I need to buy more stuff so I can spend more time in front of him"

You end up buying the two new volumes of your favorite manga series, as well as a complete new set of one you've heard people talking about, saying it was good. He stands behind you, having bought nothing for himself, as you twirl your hair around your finger and laugh at the jokes the guy working on the register makes.

Akaashi goes back home to stand in front of the mirror beside his bed. He doesn't look at all like the guy from the store. His hair and eyes are dark, and he's wearing nothing but a simple white t-shirt and some pants. He looks to the side, to the desk where he has more stuff about you than himself.

He pushes the twinge of sadness in his chest aside, in favor of texting you to see if you got home safely.

He catches you in his arms and spins you around with ease, resisting the urge to bury his nose in your hair. He's sweaty from the game, and it's already good enough that you let him hug you in your nice dress.

"You did so good Keiji! You're the best in the team!" you yell, when your feet touch the ground again, shooting an apologetic look at one of his teammates passing by your side in that exact moment.

"I wouldn't say I am the best" he says, chuckling fondly "But thank you. And I'm glad you came"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world! It's so fun to watch you play volleyball!"

"Is it?"

You vigorously nod "It is! You're also the only one that puts some passion to the game. Are your teammates even trying?"

He refrains from telling you that you're the main reason for his excitement.

You have your first date ever on your third year, arguing that it's your last chance for dating anyone from class anymore, since you'll all probably be going to different high schools.

'You could date him', he thinks while he listens to you ramble about the lucky guy, nodding along as you walk down the school hallways.

'You could date him', he thinks as he walks you home, and you insist for him to come inside with you to help you stay calm.

'You could date him', because there's a picture of the two of you during a school field trip by your bedside table, and the stuffed animal he won for you in the summer fair is resting against your pillow.

'You could date him', he says to himself, as he waves goodbye to you and watches you walk away, on your way to a date with a boy that doesn't knows about your favorite food, or color, or about the little things you do when you're nervous and everything else that makes you simply you.

You call him later, when he's already in bed and dozing off, to tell him the date didn't go as you expected, and the guy turned out to be kind of a douch bag. You're not crying, but you sound so utterly disappointed and tired that he can't just go to sleep and not do something; so he turns on his laptop and spends the night googling any new manga you haven't read yet. He ends up learning a lot about genres and styles of drawings, and when the morning light shines through his window, he has a full list of recommendations ready for you.

It's been a long time since he figured out how reading cheers you up.

He finds out about Bokuto Koutaro thanks to a high school volleyball video, in wich the passion for the game is so clear on the ace face that Akaashi actually spends the whole match following him around with his eyes, intent on every one of his moves. He decides that he will be attending Fukurodani Academy the next day, and it's beyond thrilled to find out that you'll also be going there.

"So you'll keep playing volleyball in high school then?" you ask him on your way home.

He nods "Yes, I think so"

You hum, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear "And you really want to be on Fukurodani's team because of this Bokuto guy, right?"

"Well, they do have a pretty solid team, it's not only about him" he tells you, watching as your mouth forms a perfect 'o' "But yeah... his passion for playing did impressed me. It's so different from the guys I've played with this three years"

You wink at him, amused "Should I be jealous of this guy, Keiji? The way you talk about him is too much"

He laughs and grabs his bag a little tighter. You should hear how he talks about you.

Bokuto Koutaro turns out to be more than just the guy that impressed him enough to chose to attend Fukurodani Academy. He soon becomes Akaashi's friend, and by extension yours too. He has a bubbly personality and the most loud voice Akaashi's ever heard, and his mood is as ever changing as the moon, and he can be a little overwhelming at times, but being with him is fun regardless, and soon the three of you become an inseparable trio, despite Bokuto being your senpai.

"You should tell her" Bokuto says one day after practice, completely out of the blue "Want me to tell her for you or something?"

Akaashi pauses, avoiding Bokuto's eyes because he knows, without asking, what he's refering to "I'm not following"

When Bokuto says your name, he blinks and pushes his locker room door closed "I mean, you would have to be blind not to see it"

"We're just friends"

Bokuto shrugs, both of his hands behind his back "I mean, sure. But like, the way you look at her. It's the same way I look at the ball before serving"

Akaashi laughs at the analogy, taking his stuff to go home "I bet it is"

You start dating Konoha on your second year of high school, and Akaashi stands in front of his mirror the day he finds out, the same as he did many years ago after you flirted with that guy from the comic book store. Once again, nothing but normal eyes and hair stares back at him. Konoha has blond hair. Maybe, he was always too plain for being something other than your friend.

Bokuto tries to cheer him up, and even goes as far as to give Konoha the cold shoulder for a week, until Akaashi asks him to stop, because this isn't anyone's fault. Bokuto also offers to tell you about his feelings, but Akaashi quickly dismisses that option. You don't see him as anything but your best friend, and he would never dare to ruin that.

He keeps himself busy by reading the manga he knows you like, in the places you used to hang out before your days were filled with dates and romantic escapades. He hangs around Bokuto more, plays volleyball more, and tries to put upside down the picture of the two of you he has on his desk, right next to the jar still filled with all the paper planes you sent flying towards him a long time ago. It lasts for a day, before he has to place the picture back up again.

He needs to see your face before going to sleep.

He hugs you a little too tight after his game against Eiwa High, during the Tokyo Nationals. He's thankful for Bokuto distracting everyone else on the team— including Konoha — with his yelling about winning and looking cool, and this time, Akaashi does buryes his nose on your hair.

"You were as cool as always" you tell him, leaning forward to whisper in his ear "Much more cool than Bokuto, but don't tell him I said that"

"Your secret is safe with me" he reassures you, and the two of you laugh at the same time.

"I kind of miss you, you know?" you tell him, and it's so sudenly and he's still recovering from that victory high, that your words punch all the air out of him "I'm sorry if we haven't been spending that much time together... I never realized having a boyfriend could be so draining"

"Are you happy?" he asks you, and you stop talking to look him in the eyes.

"What?"

"Are you happy?" he asks again, and he doesn't wants his thoughts to linger on how much it takes you to answer.

"Yeah, I am"

"Then that's all that matters to me"

You end up breaking up with Konoha a couple of days before him and Bokuto's graduation, and Akaashi can't say he's glad, because he isn't. He's just relieved. Bokuto is leaving, but you're staying with him, and things might return to normal now. To the way they used to.

"It's just weird, you know?" you tell him, as the two of you walk back home after dropping Bokuto at his place "I don't... feel bad"

"You don't?"

"I mean, yeah. I'll probably miss him. But not too much?" you say, frowning.

Akaashi nods, not too sure on what to answer "I see"

"It's just... you know? I've always thought that the right person would come at the right time. It's silly, right? Might be all those shojo mangas I've read, acting up on me"

"I don't think it's silly" Akaashi says, because somehow, he thinks he feels the same.

His right person came around twelve years ago, and its walking by his side right now.

"Well, maybe Konoha was never the right person. And maybe high school wasn't the right time either" you reason, taping your bottom lip with your finger "What do you think, Keiji?"

He thinks walking home beside you is the best feeling in the world.

He's going to a different college. He's going to a different college and you're not sure why, but the thought leaves you in tears. He tells you one day, during lunch, his eyes never leaving his bento. He wants to major in Literature. You congratulate him, telling him you know he'll do great. When you get home, you throw your bag in a corner and plop on the bed without even taking your uniform off.

The next day is not any easier, and you start to question your attitude. Akaashi and you would remain friends, you're sure of that, even if he goes to a different school than you for the first time ever. So then what's the problem? You don't find it that day, but when you get home, you notice for the first time that you have an entire wall covered in yours and Akaashi's pictures.

"I've never asked you this" you tell him, sitting cross legged on his bed, with a Math book on your lap "But what on earth is in that jar?"

Akaashi follows your gaze, and you notice him hesitate for a moment before answering "The little airplanes and notes you used to throw at me when we were in primary school"

You blink, something heavy taking hold of your throat "You kept those?"

"Yeah"

You go back home and like a robot, walk towards your closet and dig around your stuff without really registering what you're doing. You find your old backpack in the back, a light layer of dust covering it. You empty it on the floor. Inside, its every little note Akaashi sent back, those times he didn't think the teacher would caught him passing notes to your desk behind his back.

You sit in the middle of the mess and cry, because you've realized for the first time that maybe you've been in love with Akaashi forever.

You ask him to meet you at the store he's been accompanying you since the two of you met, to buy the mangas you love. You notice him eyeing the cashier wearily, but he doesn't says anything and you're too nervous to point random facts out. You stop in front of a shelf on the back, the one with the shojo mangas, and turn to him slowly, taking a gulp of air.

"Something wrong?" he asks you, worry evident on his face.

You pick up a random book out of the shelve to your left and open it, not paying real attention to anything inside "Say, Keiji..."

"Yeah?"

"What do you think is the best way of confessing to someone... in a shojo manga?"

He eyes the book in your hand, and then looks back at you "I don't know. I suppose it depends"

"Depends on what?"

"On the characters" he explains, and you nod, chewing on your bottom lip "Sometimes an out of the blue, surprise confession is best for certain characters. After you never even noticed they liked each other"

"Right"

He shrugs "Those are pretty common"

"And other times?"

He hums, glancing at his side and taking a look at some of the titles lined up there "Other times it's something that happens after a long wait, and you know at least one of them has been pining from afar"

You swallow down your nerves "And those are... those are the best right?"

His gaze snaps back to you "What?"

"Yeah... you know..." you say, fumbling with your words "Sometimes a girl has been in love with a guy for a long time, but it's been entirely oblivious too and even dated other boys" you notice him tense, clenching and unclenching his fists, but you're too busy burning a hole in the pages of the book you're holding to life your eyes towards him "And then one day... the girl wakes up and can't stand the idea of the guy just slipping away, and the pain just makes her realize that she's in love. With the guy, of course" you clear your throat "Might have been for a long time"

He takes a couple of seconds to answer, and when he does, his voice is nothing but a whisper "And how would the girl confess her love then?"

"Well..." your hands are trembling as you talk, and you wet your lips before finishing your sentence "She might do it in a comic book store. You know. Self-conscious literature and all that"

Akaashi says your name then, and you weakly nod and don't put up any resistance as he takes the book from your hands, grabbing your shin and making you look him in the eyes.

"Do you want me to show you what usually happens after a shojo manga confession?" he asks, his breath ghosting your lips.

"Yes please"

He kisses you softly at first, a feather light touch that leaves you wanting more, because you've never felt this much from just a single kiss. You almost whine in relieve when he halfheartedly places the book back on the shelf to take your head in both of his hands and part your lips with his, deepening the kiss and pushing you against the wall. His tongue tastes of desperation, and bottled up feelings, and his body fits against yours like a puzzle you've spent too long trying to solve.

"I'm sorry if this... if I'm ruining anything" you tell him between kisses, and he throws his head back and laughs— the most beautiful sound you've ever heard.

"Ruin? I've been waiting my whole life for you. And I was willing to keep waiting forever"

You chuckle, eyes filling with tears— this time of joy "Good thing our shojo manga doesn't have the budget for that many chapters, huh?"

You go to different colleges, but your newfound love remains strong. Akaashi would end up working for a manga magazine later on, and you think it couldn't have been any more fitting for your own shojo story, as you sweep the dust off the desk where now two jars full of little paper planes rest together.

[lumosandnoxwriting]

Photoshoot Fantasies - Fred Weasley

Title: Photoshoot Fantasies Pairing: Fred x Fem!Reader Warnings: NSFW!!! Dom!Fred, daddy kink, spanking, masturbation (male and female) oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, choking, begging, dirty talk Summary: Fred doesn’t like it when his girlfriend gets naughty without his permission A/N: this is….pure filth. For the anon who wanted some smut with dom!fred. this is literally like 3% plot and 97% smut lmao so I hope you enjoy!! Requests are open and feedback is always welcomed!!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Oi, lover boy! You’ve got a letter from your girlfriend,” George calls teasingly from the kitchen.

Fred groans as he rolls over in bed, his hands coming up to rub the last bits of sleep from his eyes. He squints as he opens his eyes, due to the bright streaks of sunlight coming in from the break in his curtains. Fred takes a moment to mentally prepare himself for the day before he heaves himself out of bed, and shuffles into the kitchen.

“Good morning dear brother of mine,” George greets far too cheerily for the early hour.

Fred grunts in response and takes a seat across from George, waving his wand so a cup of coffee lands in front of him. He usually isn’t one to need caffeine in the morning, his own natural energy is usually enough to clear the sleep induced fog from his head, but he’s been having trouble sleeping lately since Y/N hasn’t been by his side.

After graduation, Y/N landed her dream job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry. Fred had been so proud of her, and he loved how excited she was each night as she told him about her day over dinner. Unfortunately, her job had one huge drawback: traveling. Every so often Y/N would travel to different parts of the UK and Europe to get updates on the population of certain magical creatures or to help develop and implement conservation plans. A week ago, she left for her longest trip yet, an entire month, and Fred hasn’t been able to sleep well since.

“Where’s this letter then?” Fred asks after he has a few sips of coffee. He can feel the caffeine working its’ magic, and his brain is finally clear enough to string a sentence together.

George rolls his eyes and tosses a thick envelope at Fred. “You two are sickening, you know that? I think she wrote you a bloody novel about how much she loves you and misses you,” George says, pretending to throw up.

Fred flips George off, trying to contain the blush forming on his face. “Don’t act like you didn’t stand in the doorway for 15 minutes last night kissing Angelina goodbye, git.” Fred can feel George’s eyes on him as he fiddles with the envelope. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he bites.

“Someone is feeling feisty,” George retorts with a laugh. “Come on then, open the damn letter. Let’s see how long it takes her to start waxing poetically about your eyes.”

Fred glares at George as his fingers quickly rip open the envelope. Normally he would wait for George to go and busy himself with something else or he’d retreat to his room so he could bask in Y/N’s words by himself, but it’s been far too long since he’s seen her and Fred thinks he might explode if he waits any longer to read her letter. “Oh,” he says softly in surprise, when he only pulls out one piece of parchment. The envelope hadn’t been bulky from the lovely letter she wrote him, but the half a dozen photographs she had included. His eyes scan over the short note, a small smile appearing on his face.

To my dearest Freddie Eddie Spaghetti,

Things are going well up in Scotland, Niffler birth rates are through the roof thanks to the plan we implemented last year. We’ve spent the last few days prepping a large cohort of them to send off to Egypt to assist the rune breakers Gringotts has out there. I’ll be off to France in a day or so to check up on some of the Thestrals we brought to a conservatory outside of Nice a few months ago, hopefully they’ve acclimated well.

I’ve been missing you like crazy, Freddie. You’re all I seem to think about these days, it’s been quite hard to focus on my work. I don’t know how I’m going to manage going three more weeks without seeing your face or being held in your arms. You better rest up, because you won’t be getting any sleep for days once I’m finally back home with you.

I’ve included a few photos that will hopefully keep you company while I’m still away.

Love you lots and lots and lots, Y/N

“That’s it? One stinky piece of parchment?” George asks, clearly annoyed. “There’s my day, ruined. Thought I’d get a nice laugh at least since you’ve been so miserable. What else is in the envelope then?”

Fred’s eyes are still scanning the letter, trying to commit the words to memory and he absentmindedly grabs the stack of photos to show George. “She sent photos,” he responds, finally putting the letter to the side. “Probably of all the baby Nifflers,” he adds with a chuckle.

“Let me see, then,” George says excitedly, reaching his hand out. “Remember when she sent those photos of the baby dragons dressed up in onesies? That was jokes. Bet she put hats on them this time.”

As Fred goes to hand George the stack of photos he gets a glimpse of the one on top. His eyes widen and he quickly pulls his arm back, cradling the photos against his chest. “Nope, sorry. You can’t see them.”

“What? Why not?” George watches as Fred starts to fidget in his seat and a red flush starts to take over his face. “Oh my god!” he says suddenly with a laugh, realization hitting him. “She sent you nudes! What a little minx. You two are far more disgusting than I ever could have imagined.”

Fred clears his throat, choosing to ignore George. “Well I’m going to go back to my room and uh, respond to this letter. See you later.” Fred tries to act as normal as possible as he heads back to his room, desperately trying to ignore George’s cackling. He breathes a sigh of relief as he shuts his door behind him, leaning on it for a moment.

Fred rids himself of his T-shirt and climbs back onto his bed in nothing but his boxers. This isn’t how he planned on spending his morning, but Fred is more than happy to change his plans. He sits up in bed, his back pressed up against his cold wall and his legs splayed out. While Fred would consider himself adventurous in the bedroom, this is the first time Y/N has ever done anything like this, and he can feel himself getting aroused already.

“Merlin,” he groans as he allows himself to look at the first photo. Y/N is laying in the middle of a bed wearing nothing but a lacy red bra and the matching pair of panties, a set Fred is all too familiar with.  Her whole face isn’t visible, just her mouth, and as the photo moves her tongue comes out to lick her bottom lip and her hand lightly trails down her torso to her thigh.

He balances the stack of photos on his lap for a moment, his right hand pushing his boxers down to his thighs. Fred had planned on drawing out the experience, but he’s already rock hard from the first photo. He throws the first photo on the bed beside him as he wraps his hand around himself, and he picks the stack back up.

Fred starts to slowly stroke himself as his eyes rake over the next photograph, his mouth running dry. Y/N is laying in the same position as before, but the bra she was wearing in the first photo has been discarded, and as the photo moves her hands massage her breasts and she bites her lip.

“Oh fuck,” he moans, as he moves onto the next photo. Y/N is now completely naked, and as the photo moves one of her hands trails down her front from her breast to her core while her other hand pinches and toys with one of her nipples.

Fred starts to stroke himself faster and is unable to contain the grunts that fall from his mouth as he moves to the next photo. His thumb rubs the sensitive tip of his cock, spreading around the precum that has started to accumulate, helping his hand glide easier as he strokes. In the next photo, Y/N’s mouth is open, and Fred is sure a breathy moan is leaving her lips, as the movement of the photo shows Y/N starting to slowly rub her clit as her other hand fists in the sheets underneath her.

“Oh, fucking shit,” Fred groans as he looks at the second to last photo, his hand stilling on his cock to stop himself from finishing just yet. Y/N’s feet are now flat against the bed, her knees bent and open wide. As the photo moves Fred can clearly see Y/N sink two fingers into herself as her thumb rubs at her clit. Her other hand tugs at the sheets and her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, a telltale sign that she’s on the brink of her release.

Fred starts to stroke himself again as he reveals the last photo, his orgasm quickly approaching. Y/N’s entire body is flushed red and as the photo moves her back arches, her toes curl, and her whole body trembles as she reaches her orgasm.

Fred’s thumb teases the sensitive head of his cock as his eyes wander over all of the photos. He focuses on the last one, and as Y/N once again reaches her climax Fred does as well. His head tips back and he lets out a low moan as he releases all over his stomach, his cock twitching in his hand. Fred continues to lightly stroke himself as he comes down from his high, his breath coming out in hard pants.

When he gets to be too sensitive he releases himself, letting his cock lay against his stomach. He reaches for his wand so he can clean himself off with a simple spell. But an even better idea pops into his head.

“Accio, camera,” he casts, watching as the top drawer of their dresser opens and his camera starts to fly over to him. He grips the camera and points it at himself, so his body from his torso to the tops of his thighs are in shot. Fred makes sure that his limp cock and the come on his stomach is the center of the photo, and once he’s pleased with the shot he clicks the shutter button.

Fred places the camera on his bed as the photo prints and develops, grabbing his wand and cleaning himself off with a spell. He pulls his boxers back up and gets out of bed, rummaging around for some parchment and a quill. Once he finds what he needs he writes out a quick letter to Y/N.

To my dearest Y/N,

I’m glad to hear everything is going well with work. I’m so proud of you and the things you do. Things at the shop are going well, the new range of whiz-bangs sold out in just a few days. I’m missing you like mad, I can’t wait for you to get home.

Those photos you sent me were very naughty. How dare you pleasure yourself like that without Daddy’s permission. I think Daddy’s going to have to punish you when he finally gets his hands on you. 10 spanks sounds fair, doesn’t it princess? I think you deserve it, after the mess you caused Daddy to make all over himself.

Love you lots and lots and lots and lots, Freddie Eddie Spaghetti

Fred grabs the now developed photo from his bed as he reads over the letter, a satisfied smile on his face. He folds up the letter and tucks it into an envelope along with the photo before he seals it and addresses it to Y/N. As he goes to leave his room he spots a piece of folded up parchment on his floor and he grabs it, opening it up as he heads towards the window in the kitchen.

I’m going to Angelina’s. Use a silencing charm next time you perv.

Fred laughs at George’s note as he sends their owl away with his letter, already thinking about taking advantage of his brother’s absence.

-

“Someone is in a good mood this morning,” George muses as Fred saunters down into the shop just before opening.

Fred adjusts his tie as he joins his brother at the till, a huge smile on his face. Just like last week, a letter had arrived from Y/N this morning with another filthy set of photos. This time she was in a lingerie set that Fred didn’t recognize, and she brought herself to her climax using one of the toys Fred had purchased for her as a Valentine’s Day present earlier in the year. Fred had just enough time to bring himself to his own orgasm and write her back before he had to get dressed and head down to work.

“And why wouldn’t I be?” Fred asks as he unlocks the door and turns the open sign on with a wave of his wand. “The sun is shining, the birds are chirping. It’s a beautiful day, Georgie.”

George looks Fred over before he scrunches his face up in disgust. “Y/N sent you another letter today didn’t she?” When Fred sends George a wink he gags. “Bloody disgusting. I hope you washed your hands.”

“And why would Fred need to be washing his hands?” Verity asks as she comes back from the storeroom with some more love potions to be stocked.

Fred’s face flushes red as George start to laugh. “No reason in particular,” he stutters out. Fred turns to George and glares at him. “You’re such an arse.” Fred moves to hit George upside the head, but he ducks his brother’s advance and heads over to help the two customers that have just walked in the door.

“You lot don’t pay me enough to deal with this,” Verity says as she chuckles and shakes her head.

-

Fred sighs to himself as he sits up in bed, his eyes scanning over some of his notes. He and George are in the early days of developing some new products, and he’s working out some of the initial bugs before they start production next week. At least that’s what he’s supposed to be doing, but his mind is definitely elsewhere. Y/N’s third letter had arrived a few days ago, and he can’t help but let his mind wander to the new photoset sitting in his bedside drawer. It seems that his threats of punishment have fallen on deaf ears, because the photos Y/N has sent have been dirtier each time, and he can’t help but imagine what will be waiting for him in the envelope when her final letter arrives in a few days.

“What do you want?” Fred asks dully when there’s a knock at his door, not bothering to look up at George.

“That’s an awfully rude way to greet your girlfriend after you haven’t seen her for nearly a month,” Y/N says, the smile evident in her voice.

Fred’s head snaps up immediately, a smile taking over his face. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” He immediately climbs off the bed and heads over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Y/N drops her bag on the ground and wraps her arms around Fred’s neck, pulling him down so she can kiss him sweetly. “We finished everything up a few days early. Figured I’d come home and surprise you.”

Fred presses their lips together again hotly, his hands moving down to Y/N’s thighs. He lifts her up, his hands gripping her tightly and moves her over to the bed. “God I missed you,” he murmurs into their kiss, before he tosses her onto the bed.

“Couldn’t have missed me too much, not with all the photos I sent you,” Y/N giggles as she lays back on the bed.

Fred’s eyes darken and he can’t help but let out a groan as he thinks about those pictures. He can feel himself start to get aroused, and he grabs his wand, waving it so that his door slams shut, and locks and a silencing charm falls around his room.

“Such a naughty girl you were, Y/N. Taking those photos without Daddy’s permission,” he scolds, his voice low and rough.

Y/N squirms on the bed, looking up at Fred as innocent as possible. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I just wanted to make you feel good while I was gone,” she explains sweetly. “And clearly it worked, that photo you sent me made me so wet, Daddy.”

Fred bites his lip as he watches her squirm on the bed, taking pride in the fact that he can see a blush forming on her cheeks. “Oh, you made Daddy feel very good, princess. But you were still being a little brat. And you know what happens to brats? Don’t you?”

Y/N can feel herself getting wet as arousal starts to build in her stomach. She’s been waiting for this moment since Fred mentioned spanking her in his first letter. “They get punished,” she responds airily, fists clenching to keep from touching herself.

“That’s right princess, they get punished.” Fred pauses, letting his eyes roam up and down Y/N’s body. “Daddy think 30 swats is good, 15 on each cheek. Don’t you think, princess?” Fred smirks when Y/N lets out a whine as she nods wildly. “What should I use, hm? My hand? Or should I get the paddle?”

“Your hand, please,” Y/N begs. As much as she loves the paddle, she craves the feeling of Fred’s hand on her ass.

Fred smirks down at her. “Normally brats don’t get what they want. But you asked so nicely, princess.” Fred tears his gaze away from Y/N and takes seat on the end of their bed. “Get naked for Daddy and come stand in front of me.”

Y/N immediately gets off of the bed and rids herself of all of her clothing. Normally when they play this game she loves to drag it out and tease Fred endlessly. But she’s been on the edge for nearly 4 weeks and Fred has already been preparing to punish her, and she doesn’t want to find out what he’ll do if she’s even more naughty now that they’re finally back together. Y/N comes to stand in front of Fred, feeling shy under his intense gaze.

“God you are so gorgeous, princess,” Fred compliments, his hand reaching out to lightly grip her hip. He rubs circles into the bare skin, reassuring her. “Come on then. Get in Daddy’s lap.” Fred helps Y/N get situated across his lap, laying on her front. “Such a good girl,” he whispers, letting his hand run down her back, over her bum and to her thigh. “Do you have anything to say to Daddy? Before he gives you your punishment,” he drawls, his hand pushing in between her legs to rub at her wet folds.

Y/N gasps at his touch, her eyes falling closed. “I’m sorry for being a naughty girl, Daddy,” she moans out as Fred rubs her clit ever so slightly.

“Thank you princess,” he says softly, removing his hand from her core. He places it on her bum instead, lightly massaging one of her cheeks. “Daddy’s not mad at you, princess. But you still have to be punished, do you understand?” When Y/N nods he smiles. “Good girl. I want you to count for me, okay?”

“Yes Daddy,” Y/N responds, getting comfortable in Fred’s lap. A squeak leaves her mouth as Fred lands the first slap to her ass. “One,” she counts breathily. Before she has a chance to recover from the first hit, Fred is landing another hit to her cheek causing her to moan. “Two.”

Fred smirks down at the writhing mess Y/N has turned into after her first 15 spanks. Her right bum cheek is bright red, and Fred resists his urge to lean down to kiss it. “Are you doing alright, Princess? Can you take 15 more?” Fred asks quietly, reaching up to stroke Y/N’s hair. As much as he loves being rough with her, he never wants to hurt her or make her uncomfortable in any way. He’s rock hard in his trousers already, and he wants to make sure she’s getting as much pleasure from this as he is.

“Yes, Daddy. Need more. ‘M a naughty girl, I need to be punished,” she responds desperately. Y/N is soaking wet and her stomach is a pool of arousal. A few tears have snuck out of her eyes from how turned on she is, and she’s basking in the warmth left behind on her bum from Fred’s hand.

“Good girl,” Fred praises, leaning down to press a few kisses to Y/N’s shoulder. “You can use your safe word at any time, you know that right?” When Y/N nods he presses another kiss to her shoulder and starts to massage the bum cheek he hasn’t hit yet. “Count for me again, princess, okay?”

Y/N nods, letting out a moan a Fred lands the first hit to her cheek. “One,” she whines, lifting her hips up to encourage him to spank her again. Fred suddenly lands three hits in a row, causing a few more tears to leak out of her eyes as she moans. “Two, three, four,” she stutters out.

By the time Fred lands the last hit to her ass, Y/N is desperate for release. She’s slowly moving her hips forward, desperate for any kind of friction against her clit. “Daddy please,” she begs.

“Look at my desperate little baby,” he coos, moving Y/N’s hair out of her face so he can see the desperation on it. “Such a good girl you were, princess. Such a good girl for Daddy. C’mere let me kiss you.”

Fred helps Y/N straddle his waist and tucks a few stray hairs behind her ear. He kisses her deeply, his tongue immediately licking into her mouth. Y/N moans into the kiss, rolling her hips against the rough fabric of Fred’s trousers. Fred groans at the contact on his clothed cock, his hips rolling up to meet hers. “God, so fucking desperate for it aren’t you, princess?” he asks as his lips start to trail kisses down her neck.

Y/N nods, tipping her head back to give Fred more room to kiss. “Need you so bad, Daddy. Missed your cock. That’s what I was thinkin’ about in all those photos. Thinkin’ about how much I love your cock and how good it feels inside of me.”

Fred groans into Y/N’s neck and pulls away so he can look at her. “That’s so fucking hot, princess. Imagining you lying in bed, touching yourself and thinking of me.” Fred kisses Y/N again. “Go on and show Daddy how you touch yourself, princess. Get in bed and pleasure yourself for me.”

Y/N crawls off of Fred’s lap and onto the bed, settling down in the middle of it. One of her hands starts to pinch and twist her nipple, while the other runs down her body and settles at her core. She watches as Fred stands up and starts to undress himself, her index finger starting to rub small circles on her clit. “Oh fuck,” she moans, tilting her head back.

Once Fred is fully nude he kneels on the bed next to Y/N’s head and takes himself in his hand. He starts to slowly stroke his cock, his eyes crawling over every inch of Y/N’s body. There’s a flush that creeps up her chest, over her neck and to her cheeks and her hips are slowly rocking as she teases her clit.

“So pretty, princess. You look so pretty touching yourself for Daddy,” Fred praises.

Y/N turns her head to look at Fred as she feels her orgasm approaching. She opens her mouth, silently asking Fred to let her suck him off. When he doesn’t immediately give in, she whines. “Please let me suck your cock, Daddy. Please.”

Fred reaches down with his free hand to cup Y/N’s cheek. “Fucking hell you’re desperate for it princess.” He pushes his hips forward just enough so Y/N can wrap her lips around the head of his cock.

Y/N whines around Fred’s cock, her head starting to move up and down. She lets her tongue wrap around the head on each pull back, wanting Fred to release into her mouth. When he starts to slowly fuck his hips forward she hums around him in encouragement. As her climax builds she starts to rub harder circles on her clit, desperate for release.

“Fuck princess, gonna make Daddy come,” Fred moans, his eyes watching his cock disappear into her mouth.

Y/N’s eyes flutter shut as she reaches her orgasm, her whole body trembling. She moans around Fred’s cock as pleasure flows through her, causing him to suddenly release into her mouth. Her motions on her clit slow down as Fred’s cock twitches in her mouth and she swallows his release. As Fred slowly pulls his cock out of her mouth Y/N stops her movement on her clit, bringing her hand up to clean off her finger.

“Holy fuck,” Fred pants, watching Y/N’s lips wrap around her finger. “You are so fucking amazing,” he says in awe. Fred’s cock which hadn’t even gone fully soft starts to harden again as Y/N looks up at him. “Look at what you do to Daddy, princess. His cock is already hard for you again.”

Y/N smiles as she gets up to her knees. She wraps one hand around his cock and starts to slowly stroke it, while her other goes to his neck so she can pull their lips together. Fred’s mouth immediately overpowers hers, and he forces his tongue into her mouth. Fred is fully hard in Y/N’s hand now, and as they kiss he maneuvers them so he’s sitting with his back up against the wall, and Y/N is sitting in his lap.

“Need your cock Daddy,” Y/N whines, pulling her mouth away from Fred’s. “Fuck me Daddy, please.”

Fred chuckles, his hands falling onto Y/N’s hips. “Go on then, princess. Fuck yourself on my cock since you’re so desperate for it.” Fred suppresses a groan as Y/N grinds down against him. Fred and Y/N have tried nearly every sexual position either of them could think of, and they both know that being on top is low on Y/N’s list of favorites; she much prefers it when Fred holds her down and fucks her into the mattress.

“Daddy,” she pouts, grinding down against him again.

Fred narrows his eyes at her and resists his urge to kiss her. “Princess,” he warns. “If you wanna be a desperate cock slut, then be a desperate cock slut and fuck yourself on Daddy’s cock. Maybe if you’re a good girl and you come on Daddy’s cock he’ll give you what you want.”

Y/N perks up at that, and she leans forward to kiss Fred slowly as she rises to her knees. One of her hands’ rests on his shoulder, while the other reaches back to grasp the base of his cock.

Fred breaks their kiss so he can watch as Y/N lines him up with her entrance. Y/N whines as she sinks down, her eyes fluttering shut at how full she feels. She sinks down until their hips meet and Fred is fully inside of her.

“Fuck you’re tight, princess. Always so tight for Daddy,” he praises. He groans as Y/N starts to roll her hips, his grip on her tightening. “Go on, baby,” he encourages. “Get yourself off on my cock.”

“Oh,” Y/N moans, her hands gripping Fred’s shoulders tightly. She starts to slowly pick herself up, stopping when Fred is only halfway inside her, before she slams herself back down. “So good, Daddy,” she pants.

Y/N fucks herself on Fred’s cock like that for a few minutes, growing frustrated when she fails to hit the spot inside of her that will bring her to her orgasm. “Daddy please,” she whines.

“Come on, princess. You know how to fuck yourself on Daddy’s cock. Come around Daddy’s cock and he’ll give you what you want,” he encourages.

Y/N leans back, placing a hand on each of Fred’s thighs and uses the leverage to lift herself up. “Oh fuck,” she gasps as she sinks back down, the tip of Fred’s cock finally brushing her sweet spot.

“You look so pretty, princess. Getting yourself off on my cock,” Fred praises, helping Y/N to lift her hips off of him. “Such a good girl.”

Y/N moans as she fucks herself on Fred’s cock, already feeling her orgasm approaching. She starts to move her hips desperately, searching for her release. “So close, Daddy. Touch me Daddy please,” she pleads.

Fred smirks before he leans forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to Y/N’s lips. “Come on, Princess, come on Daddy’s cock,” he encourages, one of his hands leaving her hip so he can rub circles on her clit.

With one more downwards movement of her hips Y/N’s walls tighten around Fred as she comes, her body shaking as her orgasm rolls through her. “That’s it, princess. Such a good girl,” Fred coos quietly, his thumb slowing its motion and his hips rocking slightly to help her through her orgasm.

Fred kisses Y/N slowly as her breathing starts to return to normal. She shifts around on his cock as their lips move together and it takes everything in Fred to not come right there. “You’ve been such a good girl for me tonight, princess. Doing so well,” he says, breaking their kiss. “Can you take more, baby? D’you want Daddy to fuck you into the mattress?” Fred pecks Y/N’s lips. “It’s okay if you don’t baby. Daddy just wants to take care of you.”

“Want you to come inside me Daddy,” Y/N tells him, looking into Fred’s eyes. “Want you to pin me down and fuck me into the mattress.”

Fred doesn’t need to be told twice. He kisses Y/N hard and flips them over so her back is on the bed and he’s hovering over her. He throws both of her legs over his shoulders, pinning her to the mattress with his hips. He braces himself with one hand as his other comes up to grip Y/N’s throat and he pulls all the way out before he slams back into her.

“Oh fuck, Daddy,” Y/N moans as Fred starts to fuck into her relentlessly. The tip of his cock is brushing the spot inside of her and she’s already so sensitive from her previous two orgasms, and with the way Fred is gripping the side of her neck she knows she won’t last long.

“God, princess,” Fred grunts as Y/N’s walls clench around him. “Such a good pussy. You always feel go good wrapped around Daddy.” Fred lands a particularly hard slam as Y/N moves to touch herself. “Hands off, princess. Want you to come just from my cock. Can you do that for Daddy?”

Y/N nods, too busy moaning and whining to answer Fred verbally. Her body feels like it’s on fire, her toes curling and her back arching as she reaches her climax. “Daddy,” she moans lowly, as she comes around Fred’s cock, a few stray tears falling from the corners of her eyes.

“Fuck princess,” Fred moans. Y/N’s walls tighten and twitch around him, bringing him to his own release. His hips still as he empties himself inside of her and he crashes their lips together. Fred slows their kiss down as they both recover, unable to stop the smirk that forms on his mouth when Y/N whines as he slowly pulls out of her. Fred collapses on the bed next to Y/N and she immediately cuddles into his side as he wraps his arm around her.

“I love you,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth.  

Fred turns his head so he can kiss her properly, not pulling away until they both need to breathe. “I love you too, Y/N,” he says softly. “Are you alright? Did I go too far?”

Y/N shakes her head, chuckling at Fred’s concern. “Not at all, love. It was incredible.” She pauses so she can press a kiss to his neck. “I’m glad I have the next few days off, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to walk tomorrow.”

Fred laughs and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Good thing I have you all to myself because I have quite a few plans for us.”

Y/N looks up at him, a gleam of mischief in her eyes. “Oh yeah? What might those be?”

“Let’s just say our cameras are definitely going to need more film when I’m done with you.”

[stackthedeck]

I posted 11,881 times in 2022

381 posts created (3%)

11,500 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@evilwickedme

@bi-dubmass11

@king-b0mbastic

@elytrians

@dingdongyouarewrong

I tagged 1,995 of my posts in 2022

#asks - 268 posts

#marvel - 71 posts

#matt murdock - 41 posts

#daredevil - 40 posts

#peter parker - 36 posts

#my fanfic - 32 posts

#spiderman - 31 posts

#fanfic - 30 posts

#marveledit - 21 posts

#not to be a lesbian but oh my god - 17 posts

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I made a survey about fanfiction bookmarking habits with the goal of finding out how people save and share fanfiction. I had 107 responses and 9 questions, two of which were completely qualitative, but 7 were quantitative with an option for qualitative responses. This was a rough initial survey and they're biased towards tumblr and tiktok users because those are the platforms I put them out on. This data should not be applied to the whole fan community, but they're interesting nonetheless

I promised y'all graphs so I'm going to throw them under the read more because oh boy

Analysis of the data but I encourage you to look at the results and draw your own conclusions: Fans tend to have some method of saving fanfics that they really enjoy. The bookmark feature on ao3 is the most used but it tends to be a passive action similar to pushing kudos rather than commenting or is used only for fics that are really special. If ao3 bookmarks aren't the primary means of saving a fic, downloading or bookmarking the tab tends to be the most common. Fans seem to be more open to talking about reading fanfic both online and with irl friends although this is still some level of secrecy around it. It seems social media has an impact on what fics get read

See the full post

151 notes - Posted November 15, 2022

#4

My reads on the superbats dynamics

Superman/Batman: coworkers at best, each other’s nightmare scenario at worst

Superman/Bruce Wayne: is the most powerful man on earth…the trophy husband of some weird goth billionaire??

Clark Kent/Batman: Clark “Pulitzer prize winning investigative journalist” Kent and Bat “world’s greatest detective” man are the absolute dream team these two kick ass

Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne: country boy/goth you know what I’m talking about

160 notes - Posted July 30, 2022

#3

Hello! I have come asking if you can do a fic rec for superbat pls? Idk I you do this on tumblr or only on tiktak but either way love your content wishing you a good day! 💖

I AM SO SORRY this has been sitting in my askbox for ages anon I hope you see this!! Like I adore superbat but I was really into them during my phase of not bookmarking anything so I had to dig through my history lmao

Exclusive by rotasha- one of my favorite superbats fics, the slowburn, the mystery around the identity, the angst about keeping secrets, Bruce struggling with being a parent for the first time, Clark bounding with Dick, UGH I LOVE IT

Interview with a Batman by Mithen- God I love Journalist Clark Kent and Batman being soft bro they make out in the batmobile it's so good!!

A Sense of Identity by DaaroMoltor- they start dating before either of them reveals their identity god the angst is off the charts!! And oh my gosh they're both written so well with all their different facets of identity

That Which We Call a Rose by arysteia- I love the way it jumps through time and explores the dynamics of a love square with two people and all the ways their lives intersect

Man of Steel, Man of Heart by capsicleonyourleft- there's so much to love in this fic but I want to give a shout-out to the fight scenes because yes that is exactly how batman is supposed to fight and I want to drill it into the heads of anyone that makes a batman movie and BRUCE HAS A COMPETENCY KINK

Stuck in the Middle (With You) by TheResurrectionist- batfam shenanigans and Clark is there to witness his stepkids (anything with the tag Tim v Damian: Dawn of beating the shit out of each other is excellent lmao)

275 notes - Posted August 22, 2022

#2

Marvel made Matt Murdock a whore because any person in the 80s/90s would see a guy dressed in a bright red bodysuit specifically made to look like the devil because said guy has a complicated relationship with religion and by his nature he feels that he’s already damned and the guy has an absent mother, a dead dad, and was mentored by an emotionally unavailable older man and be like yeah that’s a homosexual

395 notes - Posted April 18, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Goncharov posting brings a completely different new interesting angle to your what is fanfiction question. If we agree that fanfic has to be based or inspired by a different media, then what is goncharov fanfiction? Does the media have to exist for it to have a transformative Fandom?

aaaah anon I love you so much thank you so much for bringing this to me!! Okay, so my definition of fanfiction is fiction written by self-professed fans in a fandom specific context. So I'm a fan of Spider-Man, I write fiction about Spider-Man to post on ao3 for other fans to read. If marvel hired me to write a Spider-Man comic, I'm still a fan who is writing fiction, but I'm no longer doing it in the context of fandom.

So with that definition in mind, we need to categorize what the fuck Goncharov is. So in my mind, Goncharov is a meme, but it is also the practice of collective storytelling, really no different functionally than Arthurian folklore or any mythology that's been taken out of its original context. We all looked at a pair of boots and said let's write a story together, that's not that different than looking at a mountain and connecting it to the legitimacy of English kings. Goncharov is myth/folklore just very recent and on the internet.

So there is fanfic of Goncharov on ao3. If someone calls their own work fanfic, then it is fanfic. People are not writing these fanfics to add to the folklore, they're not claiming that what they're writing down is canon, rather they're claiming to be building off the canon (that doesn't exist in the sense of the movie, but does exist in the sense that we've all agreed on some sense of truth to it). But because the transformation of the fiction is happening at the same time as the fiction is being defined, the transformation is influencing the collective telling. What is the truth of this story we've all agreed on and what is the fan interpretation in the form of fiction?

In the sense that fandom culture is baked into the creation of this collective myth, all of Goncharov is fanfiction. But because we all have equal creative power over the truth of the fiction, none of Goncharov is fanfiction. Both things are true at the same time. Schrodinger's fanfic if you will.

404 notes - Posted November 21, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[syllvane]

breakfast- natahsa romanoff x reader

a/n: this was requested by anon! this is 4.5k words.

You still haven’t gotten used to the quiet that comes with half of the population being gone, but you can’t quite remember what it was like before either- you vaguely remember the hustle and bustle of life before the Blip, but that's all it’s become. A memory, one that seems to become harder to recall each and every day.

“What are you doing here so early?”

You nearly dropped the groceries that you had been holding, startled by Natasha’s voice in the hallway leading into the kitchen.

“You scared me- you’re lucky I wasn’t holding the eggs or something.”

Natasha looked at you somewhat amused, making her way into the kitchen and leaning against one of the counters.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

You glanced at her, smiling before turning back to where you were unloading the groceries.

“I was going to surprise you with breakfast, though I suppose it was silly to think I could surprise a spy.”

You didn’t miss the small smile that appeared on her face as you started unloading the groceries anyways, getting ready to cook.

“Silly, maybe, but also sweet. What can I do to help?” Natasha asked and you shook your head, pointing at her with the plastic spoon you had grabbed.

“Sit down, you’ve been doing a lot these past couple months- too much, I would argue. Let me do something for you.”

“You’re selling yourself short. You’ve been doing a lot around here as well,” Natasha protested and you gave her a pointed look before going back to cooking.

“If you really want to do something, then you can make us coffee. But nothing else. I want you to relax.”

“Coffee, I can do that,” She mumbled, springing into action, her arm brushing against yours as she filled up the coffee maker with hot water.

The next time you try to surprise her with breakfast is a little under a week later and when you walk into the Avengers compound, you are met with the smell of freshly cooked breakfast.

Damn her.

You walked into the kitchen, still carrying groceries, to see that Natasha had cooked what could only be described as a feast.

She looked at you, proud that she had one-upped you.

“How did you know?” You asked her, simply setting the groceries to the side.

She looked at you as if she was considering whether to lie or not.

“I didn’t,” She said honestly and almost a bit sheepishly. “I cooked every morning hoping that you’d show up one of these days. I know it’s silly.”

“It’s not, it’s…” You looked over the different plates of food as if one of them held the right words. “It’s incredibly sweet. I’ll make the coffee?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Breakfast becomes a regular occurrence for the two of you and although half of the universe had to disappear for the two of you to grow closer, you don’t mind it as much as you should.

“Hey,” Natasha said, drawing your attention as the two of you washed dishes side by side, your arms touching each other. “I’m going to have to cancel our breakfast date on Thursday. I think I may have a lead on Clint and so I want to go and see it for myself.”

“You want company?” You asked without hesitation and she looked at you.

“I don’t want to bother you and besides, I don’t think anything will come of it.”

“Okay well, one, you could never bother me, and two, even if nothing comes out of it, you shouldn’t have to do it alone.”

She didn’t say anything, though a small smile appeared on her face as she loaded the last of the plates and bowls into the dishwasher.

Though the prospect of you coming with seemed to make her happy for reasons she didn’t quite understand, she pushed you away.

“I’ll be fine alone, I promise.”

“Okay, if you promise,” You said, flicking a bit of the soapy water at her.

She stopped moving and looked at you incredulously.

“I can’t believe you just did that.”

“Did what, this?” You asked, doing it again, more boldly this time

She looked at you and though everything about her face screamed ‘serious’, her eyes were alight with playfulness.

She stalked back over towards the sink and although you backed away and lifted your arms to protect yourself, she splashed you nonetheless.

Grabbing the nearest ingredient towards you, you lifted a hand full of flour and aimed it towards her.

“You don’t have to do this,” She said, walking towards you slowly with her hands lifted up as if she was surrendering. “Just drop-”

Before she can finish her sentence, you threw the flour at her.

Her face is covered in flour, clumps of it sticking to her face where you had splashed water previously and she stared at you in surprise, a smile still on her face.

Before you could even process what she was doing, she had her own handful of flour and threw it onto you, the flour coating your clothes and face, as well as the counters and the floor.

You lunged for the flour but she caught your wrist, your eyes meeting hers.

You reached your other hand towards it and she caught that as well, pulling you close to her, closer than you had ever been to her.

“Don’t,” She said softly, her eyes bright. “Don’t start a fight that you can’t win.”

“And where’s the fun in that?” You asked and she let go of your wrists, letting your hands fall back to your side and taking a step backwards.

“We should clean this up- Steve’s going to throw a fit if he sees this mess.”

“You have a meeting in a little bit, you can go. I got this.”

“Nonsense, I threw just as much flour as you. You take the island and the counters, I’ll take the cabinets and floors. It’ll get done quicker this way.”

“Nat-”

“Just… let me help you. Please.”

“You’re impossible,” You said but didn’t protest against her helping any longer.

As Natasha pointed out, the kitchen was completely clean in half of the time that it would’ve taken for your to clean it alone, leaving Natasha more than enough time to change her clothes and to get any remnants of flour off of her face and out of her hair before her meeting.

Well, almost all of it.

“Nat, wait!” You yelled, running after her before she turned the holographs on.

She turned and looked at you, concerned.

“What is it?”

“You just had a little…”

You got close to her and using your thumb, you wiped some flour off of her face that she hadn’t noticed.

“Thank you,” She said softly and the two of you just stood there like that for a couple of seconds before you pulled yourself away.

“Right. Have a good meeting, Natasha,” You said before turning away, not waiting for her response.

That’s the last time you have a full conversation with her before she goes looking for Clint.

You’re almost done making breakfast when she enters through the front door, looking worn out and exhausted, dropping her bag onto the floor.

She continued into the kitchen, blinking when she noticed you staring at her and the food that you had already set onto the table.

“How did you…” She sniffed, wiping her nose, searching for the words.

You turned the stove burner off and closed the distance between the two of you, pulling her into a tight hug.

She hugged you back just as tightly as if you were a lifeboat and she was drowning in the middle of the ocean.

“I don’t know who he is anymore. I don’t… I don’t recognize the man who did those things.”

“I know, Nat.”

“And he acts like we didn’t lose everything as well. We lost everything as well and yet, we continue, no matter how much we’ve lost, because we don’t have the luxury of playing vigilante. Some of us have a world that we’re trying to put back together, you know?”

“I know,” You said softly.

She doesn’t say anything for a while, just stands there in your arms.

“I miss Yelena. I miss Alexei and Melina. I miss them so much it feels like I’m just drowning in it. Like it’s just going to swallow me whole one day.”

“Tell me about them.”

And so she does.

She tells you about Ohio and about life in between her time in the Red Room. She tells you about the destruction of the Red Room and about Yelena buying and giving to Natasha the first item of clothing that she had ever bought. She tells you about forest stars and photo booths and blue hair dye.

She tells you more than she has ever told anyone else, more than she will ever tell anyone else.

And eventually, she lets go.

Her face is red from tears, but neither of you point it out, both of you sitting down at the table and eating breakfast.

“I think this is the first proper meal I’ve had in days,” She said and you frowned at her, your eyes narrowing.

“You need to take better care of yourself. When was the last time you slept?”

She looked away from your eyes, back towards the plate of food.

“Haven’t since I left,” She said quietly, her eyes flickering back up towards yours to see your reaction.

The creases by your eyes deepened.

“Natasha-”

“In all fairness, I was going to go to sleep as soon as I got back, but someone surprised me with breakfast,” She said, punctuating her sentence with a forkful of food.

“Okay, but we’re going to sleep right after you’re done, okay?”

“‘We’?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m tired too,” You said sheepishly and in her tiredness, she did not push you further on it.

She pushed her plate away from her a little, standing up and taking your hand.

“We can do dishes later. Let’s go to sleep,” She said and you stood up, letting her lead you to her bedroom.

She pulled you onto her bed and you fell asleep in her arms, which was somehow only the second most romantic thing you had done with Natasha Romanoff.

The first was, of course, falling in love with her.

If someone had asked you to point out a specific month or day that you had fallen in love with her, you wouldn’t know where to begin.

Months of friendship blended together with something more and you weren’t quite sure where your feelings for her began and where they ended, where they had transitioned into something more, something greater.

It didn’t really matter, you supposed- months passed since her return from looking for Clint and things continued on as normal, with breakfasts and small touches, gestures from her that could be easily misconstrued as something more than friendship.

You didn’t mind the closeness though, the way her hands always seemed to graze over yours when reaching for the same thing or the way her arm would touch yours when the two of you did the dishes.

You didn’t mind it, just wished for more of it. Wished that she would just take your hand outright one day.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay? Dinner is a little out of your wheelhouse,” Natasha joked and you rolled your eyes.

“I’m sure I’ll manage. Is it just Steve that’s coming tonight or are we getting the whole gang back together?”

“Just Steve, I’m pretty sure. Banner might come as well, but Pepper and Tony aren’t coming for sure.”

“Well, at least that minimizes the chances of a fight breaking out.”

“I can start throwing punches if needed,” She offered and you looked at her, a small smile on your lips.

“Appreciate the offer, but I think we’re good.”

“Well, if you change your mind…”

“I’ll let you know,” You smiled. “Now are you going to help me make dinner or not?”

The two of you easily fell into a rhythm while you cooked, anticipating each other’s needs before the other even said anything. Natasha would open her mouth to ask for a knife to find that you were already setting it down beside her.

“You know, I think we make a good team,” You said, your hands on your hips as you looked over all the hard work that the two of you had done.

Natasha wiped her hands on a towel before standing beside you, nodding.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this kitchen used before, not like this,” Steve noted, standing in the doorway behind the two of you.

Though both of you were well-trained in stealth and surveillance, you almost jumped when you heard Steve’s voice.

“Don’t sneak up on us like that!” You scolded Steve and before you even asked for it, Natasha handed you the towel that she had been holding and you threw it at him.

He held his hands up in defense, the corners of his eyes creasing as he smiled. He caught it with ease and set it down on the island.

“Now, there’s no need for violence. It smells great in here, I didn’t think I’d ever see the day where she would be cooking,” He said, motioning towards Natasha.

“She’s working on it,” You joked and Natasha gave you a pointed look, suddenly wishing that she still had her towel. She settled for swatting at your arm with her hand. “Hey! Like the old man said, no need for violence. I was just joking.”

“What, I’m five minutes late and you guys are already fighting?” Bruce asked, walking in the front door.

“You came!” You smiled widely, walking over to the scientist and hugging him.

Steve looked back at Natasha.

“Can you believe that? He gets a hug and I get a towel thrown at me.”

Natasha let out a breathy laugh.

“You startled her, that was your first mistake.”

Steve smiled as well before grabbing one of the various dishes that the two of you had made and bringing it to the dining table.

Natasha started moving the dishes as well, giving a small, cursory nod to Bruce as he sat down.

You swatted at Steve’s arm.

“Dude, you need to sit down. You’re a guest.”

Steve looked at Natasha, pointing at you.

“Do you see this? She’s going to injure me.”

You shot him a playful glare before helping Natasha with the rest of the dishes and the silverware, setting plates down in front of everyone and taking a seat next to Natasha, across from Steve and Bruce.

Dinner started off lighthearted, the four of your digging into the food.

You talked of past stories and past missions and science and of everything but the unavoidable present, the reality that everyone had been stuck in for more than a year now.

It seemed crazy when you thought about it like that, that half of the population had been gone for over a year, a full rotation around the sun without some of your favorite people.

It was dark outside when the conversation shifted.

“So, how have you guys been with… everything?” Natasha asked and a hush fell around the table.

“I don’t know if it’ll ever get any easier,” Steve said honestly.

“I don’t know how it could get worse,” Natasha retorted, though everyone already knew the answer.

“Another year. Another two, another ten,” Bruce said solemnly before taking another sip of the water that was in front of him. He checked his watch and blinked, realizing for the first time how late it had gotten. “Sorry to leave on that note, but I should get going, guys. Didn’t realize how late it was.”

“I’m glad you came. It was nice seeing you again,” You said genuinely, standing up from the table and walking over to hug him.

He hugged you back, giving Natasha a little wave and Steve a pat on the back before you walked him out of the kitchen, towards the front door.

“You two make a good couple, you know. I didn’t realize the two of you were even dating, but you two seem to make each other very happy.”

“Thank you, but we’re not dating,” Natasha said, her lips pressed together in a tight smile.

Steve raised his eyebrows.

“Are you sure? Because with the way the two of you were looking at each other, I would’ve sworn otherwise.”

“Positive,” Natasha said, trying to stop herself from blushing.

“What are you two talking about?” You asked, walking back into the room.

Steve stood up from where he was sitting and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“You’re leaving us too?”

“Like Bruce pointed out, it’s getting late. It was so nice seeing both of you.”

You stood there for a minute before walking to where he was standing and hugging him.

“Don’t be a stranger, Steve. You are always welcome here,” You said before taking a step back.

He smiled back at you.

“I would hope so- I still technically work here, right?”

“Did Tony ever rehire you?” You wondered out loud.

“Did he ever rehire you?” He shot back and you shrugged.

“Fair point.”

“Drive safe, old man,” Natasha said before Steve hugged her as well.

“Goodnight, to the both of you.”

He walked out of the front door and you began cleaning up the dishes.

“Steve said the funniest thing earlier, when you were walking Bruce out.”

“Oh?” You asked, making it clear that you were listening even if you weren’t looking at her.

“He thought we were dating.”

You stopped what you were doing, turning the water off and setting the plate down.

“What did you say?”

“I just told him the truth, that we weren’t.”

“Why did he think that we were?” You asked, trying your best to seem as if your heart wasn’t pounding.

“Something about the way we look at each other,” She said as if she hadn’t committed the words to memory.

“Natasha-”

“I mean, it’d probably be a bad idea, with us working together and all.”

“Natasha.”

“And neither of us are really used to it either and-”

You turned around, taking a couple of steps so that you were only a couple of inches away from her.

Your hand hovered above her cheek.

“Can I kiss you?”

Her breath hitched.

“Yes.”

And you kissed her.

You kissed her that night and you kissed her the morning after, as her girlfriend, and you kissed her while she made breakfast and you kissed her again and again and again.

You kissed her on your six-month anniversary and you held her when she woke up from the nightmares she’d tell you about and the ones that she would never speak of.

And you keep on kissing her, until six months becomes a year and a year becomes two, until you can’t imagine a world that exists without her love.

“I’m still mad at you for getting out of bed so early,” You grumbled, looking over the breakfast that she had prepared for the two of you.

She nearly jumped when she heard your voice before she smiled warmly and pulled you into a tight hug.

“Morning. How did you sleep?” She asked, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Good. Would’ve been better if I could’ve slept a few more hours.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, though she seemed uncharacteristically anxious.

“We can go back to bed after, okay? Breakfast first.”

“This looks wonderful,” You said, wiping your bleary eyes and looking over the table more carefully before looking back at her. You poured coffee for the two of you. “You seem like you’re on edge.”

“I’m not,” She said, though you weren’t fully convinced. “Let’s eat.”

You sat down across from her, starting to eat when you became keenly aware of the fact that she was carefully watching you as you ate.

You set your utensils down and she nearly jumped out of her seat.

“Nat, what is going on?”

She blinked.

“Nothing, I-”

“You are a surprisingly bad liar, for a spy. Nat, just tell me what is-”

“Can you just… try the pancakes? Please?”

You stared at her for a couple of seconds but when her face remained unchanged, you sighed and cut a piece of the pancake and put it in your mouth.

You started chewing and you bit something hard.

“Did you leave eggshells in this or… oh.” You spit the bit on the napkin and upon closer examination, you could see what you were biting.

A ring.

You stared at it for a couple of seconds before looking back at where she was sitting to see that she was no longer sitting at all, but kneeling on the ground in front of you, a huge smile on her face and tears welling up in her eyes.

You laughed, covering your mouth.

“I’ve always known that you’re a hero. You’ve always shown such great care for everyone around you, whether they be your team members or civilians. You’ve saved so many people and I didn’t realize this when you first came over here and made breakfast for the first time, but you were saving me as well. From my grief, from loneliness. From myself, at times. You saved me and then you kept on saving me and kept on tearing down these walls that I had put up. I am not perfect and I will never promise you anything of the sort, but I am promising you that I will love you with everything that I am. I am promising that I will try to love you in the same way that you have loved me. I’ve never believed in marriage- I’ve never believed in a lot, if we’re being honest. But I believe in you. And I want to marry you, if you’ll have me.”

You didn’t say anything, tears in your own eyes before you burst out half-laughing and half-crying.

“Natasha, look in your coffee cup.”

She looked slightly confused but she did as you said, moving the coffee cup slightly so that she could see the bottom.

Her free hand rushed up to her mouth before she started laugh-crying as well and you got up and the two of you hugged tightly.

“I think that was the worst pancake I’ve ever had,” You mumbled into the crook of her shoulder, still laughing.

She began to laugh even harder, the two of you rocking in the kitchen.

After the two of you broke apart, she fished the ring that you had placed in her coffee out, admiring it.

“You never said yes, you know,” She pointed out and you looked at her, cleaning the ring she had given to you.

“Yes, I’ll marry you. I’ll marry you today or tomorrow or in a million years.”

“My answer is yes too. Though preferably not in a million years.”

A million years may have been a more reasonable time than you had thought- the two of you originally set a wedding date in the winter, though it was interrupted by a string of killings committed by Clint.

Turns out, he is good for more than making Natasha upset by not coming to your wedding, he’s also good for upheaving your wedding day in its entirety.

You reschedule the date a couple of months later, only for a couple of Widows to call for Natasha’s help in saving one of their own. She can’t refuse and you would never ask her to.

“I don’t know if it’ll ever be the right time,” Natasha said softly, laying next to you in bed, a couple of nights after returning from the mission.

You turned over so that you were facing her.

“For the wedding?”

She nodded.

“I don’t think it’ll feel right if everyone isn’t there with us. I know that you’ve been really busy planning for it, but-"

“Nat, I don’t care about a wedding. I don’t need some ceremony to tell you how much I love you. If you want to stay like this, if you don’t want a ceremony or anything, then okay. All I need is you.”

“How did I get so lucky?”

“You’re really good at cooking breakfast,” You mumbled back and she laughed.

“I love you.”

“I know,” You said sleepily, barely able to keep your eyes open. “I love you too.”

The bubble of peace that you had managed to create for all these years remains for another, until Scott Lang shows up at the front door to the Avengers Compound.

From there, the bubble completely popped, not that either of you minded much.

This was what you both wanted, right? Everything back to what it was before.

Now, with Tony’s plan, everyone seemed to be running around the Avenger’s Compound again, everyone anxious to do something useful after all of these years.

“I still don’t like that he’s here,” You said begrudgingly and Natasha sighed. “He isn’t the Clint either of us knew.”

“I had to go after him. He deserves a chance at forgiveness,” She argued quietly, careful not to be overheard. “You’ve forgiven me for everything I’ve done. Why can’t you forgive him?”

“Because everything you’ve done since you left the Red Room has been in service of clearing out your ledger. He was killing people a couple of days ago.”

She didn’t say anything at that, thinking.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

“I’m not asking to invite him to our wedding, I’m just asking you to trust him.”

You looked at her, unable to stop the smile that started on your face.

“We can finally get married- we can have our families at our wedding,” You said softly and she nodded, a small smile appearing on her lips as well.

“God, I can’t wait to introduce you to my family. I can’t wait to meet yours. I think you and Yelena are going to get along a lot.”

“Okay,” You said after a while. “I trust him.”

The two of you started walking towards the main open floor, where the machine that Tony had dreamt up had been constructed.

The others were already waiting there in their suits, waiting for your conversation to finish up.

“Okay. It’s Vormir, right? Where you and Clint are going?” Natasha nodded, her forehead leaning against yours. “Okay, well, you’re going to have to tell me all about it when you get back. I wish I was going in space.”

She smiled, kissing you on the forehead before proceeding to pepper your entire face with kisses before landing on your lips.

You don’t think you’ll ever be able to kiss her enough.

“Yeah, you only get to time travel,” She smiled. “I’ll tell you all about it, I promise. I love you.”

“I love you too. Come back home, okay? I’ll have breakfast waiting.”

“Okay,” She said softly, stepping back. “I’ll make the coffee.”

“You don’t have to do anything, just be there. Just be there, Nat.”

“I will,” She said, beaming. “I promise I will.”

In the last moments you’re with her, she looks the happiest that you’ve ever seen her.