#guppy fic

[sea-lanterns]

ANGEY!!! Mualani is a shark and you want to add her to the aquarium??!

Yes.

*dumps Shark! Mualani into the waters*

[firenati0n]

wip wednesday <3 :)

hello friends :) happy wednesday, hope you are well! happiest of birthdays to my babygirl Alex Claremont-Diaz, love you endlessly my beautiful big brained bisexual disaster with a heart of gold

thank you to @jellibuns @junebugclaremontdiaz @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @piratefalls @bigassbowlingballhead @leojfitz @ships-to-sail @suseagull04 @dragonflylady77 @kiwiana-writes @onthewaytosomewhere @wordsofhoneydew @priincebutt @magicandarchery @leaves-of-laurelin @eusuntgratie @duchessdepolignaca03 @saturntheday @itsmaybitheway @captainjunglegym @indestructibleheart @oxfordslutphase @tailsbeth-writes for the tags this week and on sunday :)

here's a snip from a tiny spy au coming this week if i can wrangle these men into submission:

“I'm serious, Alex. No theatrics. Certainly no blood. What's the code for trouble?” “Barracuda.” Henry clicks his tongue. “Too many syllables for my taste.” “Your name is too many syllables for my taste, yet you don't see me complaining.” “Touché.” He grasps Alex's shoulder, taking a long look into Alex's eyes. Henry's body is serene, but his eyes are always his tell for Alex. They're cloudy, tense; murky waters. “Be careful, please. We both know how dangerous these men are. Manu is unpredictable, even as the mafia equivalent of a middle manager.” “Aw, worried about me, sweetheart?” Alex grins, but it's a little unsteady, faltering at the edges. “Henry. This is easy. And if I’m lucky, no dicks will have to come out.” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. He really, really doesn’t want any dicks out this time. “See you in five, okay?” He squeezes Henry's arm, then slips out of the supply closet. Back to work.

xoxo roop

+ no pressure tags below the cut and open tag as always <3 tag me if you use :)

@ninzied @cha-melodius @sparklepocalypse @cricketnationrise @orchidscript @getmehighonmagic @myheartalivewrites @welcometololaland @anincompletelist @nocoastposts @tintagel-or-cockleshells @sherryvalli @lizzie-bennetdarcy @heysweetheart-writes @inexplicablymine @onward--upward @celeritas2997 @affectionatelyrs @14carrotghoul @rmd-writes @cultofsappho @anchoredarchangel @candyspandemonium @porcelainmortal @kj-bee @nontoxic-writes

[2hoothoots]

more mermaids!! after drawing the rest of the family a little while back i got the urge to complete the set. (i know we're like three and a half weeks past the end of mermay but shh)

[shebeafancyflapjack]

The fact that Mary was 41 when she died and only married for 3 years raises so many questions. How long was she a widow for? Do we have a date for when her husband died? I imagine like a lot of women she'd have been married off young, but it's also implied she and her husband had a child or two, she's very prepared to nurse Nancy at Christmas. How many years did she spend as the ostracised widow who talks to herself and what sort of emotional damage did that do to her when she already blamed herself for her husband’s death with the wedding superstitions?

[julesthequirky]

Beautiful Trauma - A Soldier Boy Miniseries: Chapter 1

Beautiful Trauma

Pairings: Reader x Ben/Soldier Boy

Summary: The reader is the real widower of Ben/Soldier Boy and loved their life together before the incident. In 1983 she took Compound V, so she could be with Ben forever, but in 1984 her life crashes to the ground, and she's stuck in a world without him. In 2022 a knock at the door changes her life, and when she's told that Ben is alive she hopes that there can be a forever after all.

A/N: Reader has certain traditional gender values, that are antiquated today. I'm also hoping to convey a softer side to Ben, than what we have seen on The Boys.

Chapter Warnings: Antiquated views, language.

Chapter W/C: 2015

This work is unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. If you like it, heart, and reblog it. All feedback is gold.

1983

It burned as it travelled through your body. The agony compared to nothing else. To say you were unprepared had been an understatement. Ben said it would hurt, and you would wish you were dead. You’d scoffed at his words. You’d been through pain. Your daughter’s birth had been complicated – If you could live through that, then you could live through this. To that, he had raised his eyebrows at your disregard – “Alright, well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Your throat ripped from the scream tearing through, sweat dripped from your skin in rivulets, and nausea built rapidly that it had you heaving over the side of the bed into a bucket Ben had placed for you.

You wished you had heeded his warning. Because he was right. You honestly wished you were dead. You grasped Ben’s hand tight. Tighter still when the pain built. Your breath hitched, and you grit your teeth. It didn’t take long for you to beg him to end your life.

“Ben, please, I can’t. Please, Ben. Please!”

Ben smoothed your hair away from your sweaty face gently. The slight pull felt like needles stabbing into your skull. He hushed you in the same tender manner he would do with your daughter as he dabbed a cool flannel on your forehead to help keep you from burning up. The contact had you crying out. You sobbed, which was another mistake. The tears felt like acid as they trickled down the side of your face, disappearing into your hairline.

“I know, darling.”

His soft, deep voice boomed inside your head, and stars burst behind your lids. A migraine bloomed behind a temple, and you welcomed the black dots descending with it. Relief would be a godsend.

Ben’s thumb stroked the back of your hand, and you hmmed before finally succumbing to the darkness dragging you under.

*

“Ben.”

Saying his name felt as if razor blades were slicing your throat after swallowing them. You lay looking at Ben, exhausted and aching. It hurt to move, and thankfully most of the pain had subsided.

“Hmm?”

“Water.”

He stood to fetch the water you requested. He gently placed your hand on the bed, but you grabbed his hand, forcing Ben to turn his attention to you.

“I don’t feel any different.”

The tears burned in your eyes until you blinked them away.

“What if…what if I’m not…”

He knelt and cradled your face with his hands. His thumbs stroked your cheeks and wiped the tears from your eyes.

“Hey. Hey, don’t concern yourself with that now. There’s time for that later.”

You wanted to nod, but everything hurt. The bright agony had disappeared, but now it was a dull ache. Everywhere.

Ben stood, and this time you let him. He exited the room but returned soon enough with the water you’d requested. He sat it on the bedside table and helped you sit up. He plumped the pillows behind your head and eased you back. The bed dipped as he sat beside you. He held the glass of water, bringing it to your lips, and tipped the liquid in.

You gulped it down, the coolness refreshing and aided your throat.

“Easy now.”

Ben controlled the flow, stopping you from gulping the entire thing like a parched beast. You asked for more after emptying the glass, but he just shook his head.

“Rest now.”

He helped you lie down. From the cupboard, he pulled out a blanket. He shook it from its folds and placed it over you, tucking you in. He kissed you on the lips and wished you a good night.

2022

For once, you were bright-eyed and clear-headed. Today was starting to feel like a good day. You didn’t know what it was, but today was yours, and you could do whatever you wished. Perhaps today would be the day you’d tackle laundry, and maybe you’d get around to the rest of the housework.

You gulped back the medication, chasing it down with water, and then you made yourself breakfast. Waffles and ice cream. Then time seemed to stand still as you looked at the just made plate.

Your hands gripped the counter as your vision began to distort and crack. Damnit. You thought you’d gotten over this. You closed your eyes and were instantly transported back to the eighties.

Ben was laughing, and as he ate his waffles with ice cream, he was also feeding his daughter, pretending the spoon was a plane. His plane sounds were crappy, but your daughter loved it, and so did he.

“Woman, where’s my coffee?”

You lifted the mug up, so he could see it. “Got it right here.” Then you took your plate and his coffee to the table and sat to eat with your family. Ben leaned over and kissed you on the temple before resuming eating and feeding his daughter.

The plate of waffles no longer seemed appetizing. The ice cream had melted, saturating the waffles and the entire thing had congealed together. Nearly forty years had passed, but you still couldn’t look at a plate of waffles in the same way again. In a quick fit of rage, you screamed and tossed the plate, sending it careening into the wall.

A bash on your front door stopped your rage from going any further. But annoyance set in. It was most likely your neighbour coming to yell at you for disrupting her peaceful morning. You were all ready to tell her to go fuck off. You wrenched the door open ready to yell at her, but instead of your sage-toting neighbour, a man stood in your doorway.

“Bad time, luv?” He asked, peering around your door, eyeing the smashed plate, waffles, and melted ice cream on the floor.

Cockney. The long black coat he wore made him look like Neo from The Matrix, except it was dirty as fuck. He had no care for his appearance. Dishevelled hair and a beard to match. You regarded him with irritation and suspicion.

“Fuck you want?” You closed your door behind you, so he couldn’t peer in like the nosey fucker he was.

“Charming. You Miss Smith?” Though he pronounced it as Smiff.

“Mrs.” You corrected.

“Right. Well, I’ve got a warrant for your arrest ‘ere.” He showed you his badge.

What?!

“Your bad day’s about to get a whole lot worse.”

*

Some cop. He didn’t take you to the station. Instead, he had you in some crappy run-down building where he’d built an office for himself. He brought a seat out for you and handcuffed you to a table leg.

He wasn’t alone. He had a group around him. Some skinhead sat with a moody Asian, a young buck and a black man, who all watched her intently.

“You’re not a cop, are you?”

“Nah. But I do work with the CIA.” And then he proceeded to show you the badge. At this point, you didn’t know whether or not he spoke the truth, and you were about to say, until—

“What do you know about Soldier Boy?”

It all came crashing back. What you’d worked so hard to barricade came flooding through. The memories flashed right after each other. Domestic bliss. Your daughter. Arguments, and that night before he went away to Nicaragua.

You tucked your head between your legs as best you could and breathed steadily. In and out, nice and slow. Your hands curled into fists, and you shook, desperate to keep it together.

“Alright. You tell us where the Crimson Countess is, and we’ll let you go.”

At her name, you looked up. You fixed the unkempt one with a stare so intense his gaze flicked away to one of his gang members.

“Why would I know where Cuntess is?”

He grinned deviously. “Ain’t she his boyfriend?”

Boyfriend. What a laugh. It had been a shitty PR stunt to up Crimson’s stats, to boost her sales, and in turn, it would boost Soldier Boy into the stratosphere. Everyone loved a power couple, and they were the ones to be. But you knew the reality. He hated it. And so did you. It caused many arguments where you begged and pleaded with him to cut the deal. You resented Crimson and the rest of Payback for going along with it. But most of all, you resented Ben. And he knew it.

There had been no big wedding for you and Ben. No, it had been done in a dingy registrar’s office who had been forced to sign an NDA. There had been no wedding dress, bouquet, first dance or cutting of the cake. Just you in a pretty dress, him in black slacks and a Philly baseball shirt.

Of course, after waffles and ice cream, he had taken you home and fucked you silly, and you had loved it, forgiving him.

“Yeah, and I’m his wife.”

After those words came out of your mouth, the leader smiled even wider. This had been his plan all along. To get you to divulge “secrets” as such.

“Mon dieu…” Whispered the man stting beside the Asian.

“Ben’s dead. Why can’t you let me be miserable and live my life?”

“He’s not dead—”

“He died saving America from a nuclear meltdown in Ohio. It was all over the news.”

You remembered it like it was yesterday. Ben’s agent wasn’t answering your calls, nor were any of Payback. Your daughter screamed, wanting to be changed or fed. But there was also a good chance that she just wanted her daddy. Then it came on your tv.

BREAKING NEWS: SOLDIER BOY IS DEAD.

The phone dropped from your hand, clattering to the floor. Your daughter’s cries felt distant as you crashed to your knees in front of the tv, watching Ben’s pictures flood the screen. Apparently, the bastards at Vought didn’t think you deserved the decency to know before everyone else.

The weeks after were Hell. You couldn’t grieve properly and had to learn to navigate the world without Ben. His face was all over newspapers, magazines and Times Square. You couldn’t get away from it if you tried. The tv showed false girlfriends offering their condolences and Crimson Countess was all over your screen, blubbering about how Americal had lost such a hero and how she’d lost the love of her life. In a distraught, drunken moment one evening, you threw a crappy ornament at the tv, smashing the screen and blowing it up.

No one knew the real Ben. No one, but you. You screamed down the phone and left messages on their answering phone demanding, pleading, begging for anything. But they did nothing. Vought didn’t care. Instead they erected a monument of Soldier Boy in honor of his service and act of heroism.

You struggled to adjust. First, you had to change all the accounts into your name, which also meant getting a job, so you could pay the bills. You hadn’t worked in years, and they required all kinds of skills you didn’t have. Then, you got testy with the man trying to help you put a resume together, so much you accused him of judging you for being a widower and a single mother. You didn’t know how the world worked anymore and needed Ben by your side.

You never even got an invite to his memorial.

“I see you weren’t privy to the truf.”

“What do you mean?”

The man in the long coat scratched his face as he said. “He nevva died. Payback betrayed him and got taken by the Russians, but he’s escaped.”

Payback.

Betrayal.

The story of him saving America from a nuclear meltdown had been a lie.

Ben was alive.

Hope blossomed in your chest.

“And we fink he’s gonna go after Payback.”

You didn’t give a shit about them. They deserved everything that would come to them when Ben found them.

“Let them die.” You were adamant.

“Woah, hold on now—”

“I don’t care. They took my daughter! And when Ben finds out, he'll go scorched earth to find her.”

[guppybubbles]

Fake fic title:

And the phone keeps ringing and ringing and ringing...

hey... hey... how yall doing.. *awkwardly walks in* (realised i never posted the other fic titles even though i had already written them)

Wilbur is 100% sure this apartment is haunted. Great. His first taste of independence after moving out of his parents' house and pursuing a career in music, he gets haunted.

At first, he thought he was simply just misplacing things. Though stuff was falling off of shelves when his back is turned, whenever he places something down, it disappears after he turns around for one second and there would be random noises in the walls in the middle of the night. When he gets out of bed to investigate the sound, he finds nothing.

His friends came to visit just to see how Wilbur's been holding up in his new home, though it became a problem after Jack's phone went missing and no matter how much they called the phone and turned the apartment upside down. It was never found. Wilbur apologised and promised to give Jack his phone if ever he found it.

A week has passed, and Wilbur has completely forgotten about it until he receives a phone call from Jack. "Hello? Jack..?"

There was silence for a moment. "I can see youuu." It was a whisper of a voice he didn't know. The voice sounded like a kid, young and playful.

Prank callers. Someone stole Jack's phone and is messing with people. The call ended before Wilbur could reply.

Tommy giggled. Finally, he knew how to use the contacts feature! The borrower found Wilbur's reaction so funny. Maybe he should keep calling…

[little-cereal-draws]

There was a pause before the sound of angry footsteps approached them. Fanny stuck her head through the doorway. “Augh! And who are you supposed to be??”

“Wha-? What do you mean?” Alison said with a confused smile.

“Stop stuttering! Who are you?? Why are you in my house??”

“Who am I? I’m Alison.” Fanny still looked confused so she added, “Cooper? I’ve lived here for years?”

“Oh, no, you have not! I would’ve surely noticed if improper vagrants such as yourselves lived here! I– Oh… you’re two more of George’s lovers. I see how it is. Well, let me just say that I’ve found out your dirty little secret and I will be making sure you’re all punished to the full extent of the law!!”

Mike shot up from his seat, eyes wide, what was happening finally setting in. “I can see you!”

“Well, of course you can see me! And stop pointing, it’s rude! I– eugh– I don’t have time for this! George! You better be saying your prayers because when I find you I’m going to–”

She stormed away and Mike and Alison turned to each other with horrified expressions.

--

AKA all the ghosts get reset to the day they died and Mike can see them. This is based off a post on tumblr. I've literally been looking for two and half hours and I can't find it so I think it got deleted. Basically, it said that Ghosts missed out on having an amnesia episode where the ghosts forget their memories of the afterlife and get reset to the day they died so I wanted to try my hand at how that would go.

[neonponders]

Part 39 for @wrecked-fuse ‘s pocketverse 🧜🏻‍♂️ ~ marine biologist!Steve x shark!Billy with his pilot fish guppies 🍣

Part 37 & 38 (merman!Billy x marine biologist!Steve)

Part 36 (main plot)

Part 31 & 32 (werewolf!Billy chapters haha)

( pt. 7′s art 🎩 ) ( pt. 9′s art 👀 ) ( pt. 14′s art 💨 ) ( pt. 19′s art 🦇 ) ( pt. 20′s art 🍳) ( pt. 27’s art 🦦 )

~ on ao3 ~

• • •

A quiet boat. That’s what Billy had said.

Steve presumed this meant a boat without an engine, but this cut Steve’s options in half. He didn’t know how to use any kind of sailboat - yet. He put that on the list of classes to take - and the matter of price made his options even more limited.

He decided on renting an ocean kayak as well as a satellite radio and a nautical gps because he had no idea what Billy intended. If the shark abandoned him in the middle of nowhere, he might have a chance to get himself back to shore.

In the shallows of their customary beach, he practiced paddling around, both seated and standing. He tipped himself on accident a few times, one of which had him coming back up in Billy’s arms. You call this a boat?

Steve wiped his eyes and shook his head for clarity. “I have conditions if we’re going somewhere.”

The subject got sidetracked by the littles greeting, “Hi, Stevie!”

“What’s this thing?” Small Billy smacked the side of the kayak and darted back to Billy’s side.

“It’s a kayak,” Steve said, wiping his eyes as Billy let his feet sink to the sand. “Billy said to bring a quiet boat. This is the best I can do in a day.”

Steve pressed the pads of his fingertips into Billy’s chest, warranting a lifted brow. “We can’t go far. If I can’t use an engine, I need enough energy to get back here. I’m not as strong as you.”

“I know,” Billy said, but it echoed a little in Steve’s mind. Maybe he wasn’t good at separating mental and auditory things the same way he couldn’t kiss without a little teeth.

For some reason, Steve felt like they were at an impasse. “Can I ask where we’re going?”

“You never asked before,” Billy said, and unfortunately he was right. Steve had always trusted him.

“This time I’m asking.”

“Not far,” Billy answered, scrutinizing the backpack Steve had tied to the front of his kayak.

“Could you not do that?” Steve droned as his rope got untied, but Billy ignored him to rework it to the front of Steve’s kayak.

“Get on, pretty boy. Would hate for you to get too tired to swim.”

“Why does that sound like a threat?” Steve countered, but he figured out what Billy intended. Once seated on his rented plastic salvation home, Billy started to swim with the kayak in tow. Steve felt bad. Sharks were like cheetahs; they could do impressive bursts of speed, but they were lazy endurance swimmers. Steve hoped his paddling relieved at least a little of the strain.

He and Billy had different measurements for ‘not far,’ but they stayed within a mile of the shore. Jagged pieces of land, not big enough to be an island, went by as well as clumps of reef.

Steve didn’t know what he expected. A sunken ship? An abandoned yacht? No, humans would notice those. But a cave was not it.

Billy must be able to feel or read his thoughts, because he stopped before the break in the cliff face to breach the surface and look at him. Steve felt his heart in his ears. Everything about this was different. He was used to seeing Billy in turquoise waters, so much blue, green, yellow, and pink. Not darkness. There was no way the littles lived in darkness. Colorful fish needed sunlight.

“Home.”

“You live in a rock closet?” he all but spat.

“Home is safe.”

“Where’s the sunlight?”

Little Steve held onto Billy’s hair as he tried to say above the choppier water, “It’s inside, Stevie! The fwont’s gotta look scawy to keep the bad fishies away.”

Little Billy joined him. “Thewre’s a beach inside. You gotta come with when the waterw’s down.”

That hole is usually covered, Steve’s brain reeled. What was he going to do? If Billy had finally decided to eat him, it’s not like Steve could out-swim him. And he’d constantly broken the hiking and sailing rules about telling people where he was going or when he’d be back. Nobody would come looking for him, except maybe his work colleagues when he’d missed too many shifts.

He rested the paddle on his lap, resigned. Billy took that as his cue to keep swimming. Steve had to use the paddle as a rudder to thread the needle of the opening. It was large enough for three or four kayaks to pass through, but with the sea swinging widely, he could become a bug splattered on the rocks too fast.

Once inside, the water was calm and aglow from the sunlight outside. Veins of light rippled over the rock ceiling. Steve’s heart bounced ferociously between the black tip of Billy’s silver tail and every new turn the winding tunnel made. Sometimes a stripe of rock would glitter, full of quarts flecks. If Steve wasn’t busy trying to figure out what he wanted his last words to be, he might appreciate it all more.

Of all the things he expected to see - fish skeletons, human debris like beer cans, maybe a piece of a boat or airplane - he did not anticipate the color green. Green like leaves. Green like there were holes in the ceiling, and the holes were getting bigger. Leaves and grass sprinkled the water from where masses of foliage hung over the collapsed sinkhole rims.

Steve was so busy looking up that he yelled when his kayak struck land. Small Billy giggled. “Scarwedy Stevie.”

Little Steve swam in excited figure eights. “Wewlcome to our beach!”

Steve carefully stepped out, glad that the stalagmites stood by the walls and not all over the floor. The beach had some soil and sand but was largely solid rock underfoot. Steve dragged his kayak up to where a long stretch of grass grew lush and green directly underneath the sunlight. Hopefully this area stayed dry during high tide.

“It’s pretty,” Steve admitted, and it was. He could see some wildflowers on the fringes of the biggest hole, and a butterfly fluttering around them.

Billy’s hand grasped Steve’s ankle, but didn’t pull. When Steve looked down at his long form stretched out over the beach, Billy said, “Let’s swim.”

Steve unpacked his flippers, snorkel, and mask. In the water, he crawled on his fingertips since the littles darted all around him, but after Billy took his hand, he gently kicked behind him.

The biggest sinkhole was just down the beach and around the corner, large enough for a couple of boats to anchor in. It made sense why Billy called this place home; with the above ground compromised, no humans would dare settle here, and any predators would have to risk entrapping themselves in the narrow tunnels.

This main room had sand and tall kelp that provided more hiding places if the littles needed it. When small Billy heralded, “Stevie! Fowllow me!” he followed the fish into the vast green swaying like hair in the gentle current.

“This is my shewll,” Billy said, managing to lift a shell no bigger than a dime. The inside of it was bright, watermelon red.

Steve tried to say, “Pretty,” under the water, but he settled on chipper humming instead. He pointed to his dandelion yellow shirt today, and the littles sorted through their shell collection until they found the yellowest one.

Little Steve moved on to a spot of sand. "We’ve got these ‘cause they wook wike big Biwwy.”

Steve helped him dig through the top layer of sand and made an awed sound over the collection of pearls. He touched his chest and gestured upward, where they followed him up so he could breathe and say, “Do you have a favorite?”

“Biwwy, obviously,” little Steve said.

The former laughed. “Yeah, he’s my favorite too. I like the blue and green ones. They look like your tails--”

Steve couldn’t say more, because a certain shark grasped one of his flippers and pulled him under the water. They spent a while playing Kissy Fish, which is just a variation of tag, but they were in Billy’s home terf and Steve tried his best to keep his flipper kicks gentle in their home. The consequence was his mask getting knocked off, a lot of kisses, and a bite on his leg that had him swimming back to the beach.

“Okay, okay. I need water and rest. Ow, this feels like a jelly fish sting.”

The littles knew that Steve needed fresh water, but beyond that they didn’t really understand. He sat on the beach, tossed his flippers onto his kayak, and guzzled from his two liter bottle as they spoke just as much to him as with each other.

“We twied swimming in borwing water.”

“It wasn’t borwing. It made me dizzy.”

“The snaiwls were yummy, but the water was dizzy, yep.”

“Stevie, why do you dwink borwing water but taste like us?”

He shrugged and offered, “Because we’re the same. We’re both salty; you just have a tail, and I have legs.”

His gaze lifted and he frowned a little at Billy pacing back and forth, black tips of his fins reminding him of the tips of cat tails.

“But why do you need borwing water then?” small Billy asked.

“We both need fresh water, but I drink mine and yours comes down as rain and rivers.”

Small Billy beached himself on Steve’s knee cap, chin poised on his little fist to think over that. “But we don’t swim in wivers.”

“That’s good for me. It’d be hard for me to find you in a muddy river.”

Billy smiled. “We found you firwst.”

“Stevie?” his smaller self asked. “Do you wike shewll meat?”

Like clams? he wondered, just in time for Billy to emerge with a bushel of oysters in his hands. Considering he’d only brought a sandwich and pickles today, a grin brightened his face. “I sure do.”

All three fish stared at him when he removed his shirt to use as a scrub for the oysters. “What? You knew it wasn’t attached.”

The littles whispered to each other while Billy sank so only his nose and eyes gazed at him over the water. All Steve had to work with was how Billy’s face had flushed a rich pink. Steve defended weakly, “No biting.”

Billy crawled in between his legs, his shoulders knocking Steve’s arms out of the way for him to climb right up and kiss his mouth and purr, I’ll bite whatever I want.

“BIWWY!” the littles screamed as Steve slumped backwards onto the grass and weeds.

[freshlypizza]

Hey! I just posted my first ghosts fic which took me about a month to write if you wanna check it out :)

[princeofuchiha]

I just got the final results for a commision I bought a bit ago and I'm So In Love with my boy in this art style.

Art by @/7angeltrumpets

[justarandomsloth]

HEYOO!! i got a fake fic title for you!!!!

To pretend to be normal.

YES thank you so much that is an AMAZING fic title!!

To Pretend to Be Normal

—Tommy lives normally in his new apartment for a week until one day he just wakes up…. tiny?!

He doesn’t know how but he had fallen asleep on the couch and now he was only a few inches tall. He climbs down using the blanket he had left and then he realizes just how big everything is.

Cue a full blown panic attack.

Luckily, he isn’t alone for long before a trio of borrowers hears him and come to talk to him.

They assume based off of how young he is (17-18) that he got exiled from a colony and is panicking because of that, so they take him in.

Tommy doesn’t even have the words to begin to even explain what’s happened to him so he just goes along with it.

—Over the next couple of weeks as he stays with them he slowly starts to bond with Phil, Wilbur, and Techno.

They’ve taught him so many things and the younger borrowers have become like older brothers to him and offer a comforting support.

After about 9 days of staying with them Tommy mentions something about how the human of the apartment has been gone a while (cause he can’t keep his big mouth shut). They talk about how the human who had just moved in was loud and clumsy but most importantly they mentioned how scared they were or getting caught.

Tommy feels bad because he didn’t mean to be so loud.

—After a couple more days something happens (I don’t know what yet) and Tommy turns back into his human size.

The borrowers are absolutely TERRIFIED and run to their hiding spots even as Tommy begs them to listen to him.

Over the next few days he leaves out food for the trio.

All he can do is wait.

—

Thank you again Guppy for the amazing prompt! This is my first time doing this and I hope you like it!!!

[i-am-beckyu]

RARARA BRAIN FILLED WITH SO MUCH FAKE FIC TITLES!!! so here's one for u becky beckyu <33

I'm not afraid to play rough.

I’m not afraid to play rough

To put it lightly, Tommy had messed up. Like really messed up. After his exile to Logstedshire Dream had been coming by and blowing any and all stuff he had made progress getting.

He thought that maybe if he had hid it well enough, he’d be able to keep something for once. He had not accounted for the green freak to show up exactly when he was adding something to the chest.

And he really hadn’t accounted that when he ran to get away that the man would suddenly grow to 50ft tall!!!!!

How had the entire smp not known about this? And what the heck was going to happen to him now he’s trapped in the giants fist?!?

Yeah nothing like a little classic exile arc lol. Thank you for the title Guppy!!! Honestly the title would be such a good one liner spoken lol.

[raevenlywrites]

Oh I sooooo should not have reblogged that poll about how many kudos my most popular fic has XD Comparison is the joy killer

[shebeafancyflapjack]

Ghosts Fic Masterlist

My works so far.

Daddy's Little Huntress (Alison discovers a cavewoman ghost on Barclay's land who she thinks might be Robin's daughter.)

Do Ghosts Dream of Dead Sheep? (A mysterious object puts the ghosts to sleep. Ongoing, 8/? Chapters. Found Family, Alison main pov, various relationships, mystery/thriller).

Home Is Where I Choose To Go (One-shot, 9k, Found Family, teenage Mia Cooper comes to her aunts and uncles for support, fluff and emotional hurt/comfort).

The Lady of Bone Hall (One-shot, 9k, Alison finds the ghost of Sophie Bone. Various relationships, exploration of loneliness and religious guilt).

One Last Move (One-shot, 5k, Robin & Alison, Robin & Julian queerplatonic. Post-canon Dealing with grief, friendship).

We All Fall Down (One-shot, 4k, Robin finds Jemima the plague ghost in the kitchen on the night Alison leaves them. Fluff, comfort, kidfic)

.

More Than A Monster series (Robin-centric, various characters)

Lost Soul (How Robin once lost his mind - 5 chapters. Robin & Original Characters, emotional and physical whump, conditioning and attempted SA)

A Man Called "Rohr" (How Robin met Elizabeth, Clarence, Godric & William - 4 chapters, Robin & Original Characters, found family. Emotional hurt/comfort. Tw for abuse, attempted SA, torture, mental illness, discussions of suicide.)

More Than A Monster (After Sophie leaves, Robin starts to form his current crew - 5 chapters. Robin & Humphrey, Robin & Mary, Robin & Annie, Robin & Kitty, Annie/Mary, Robin/Mary, Robin/Mary/Annie, Robin & Alison, Mary & Kitty, emotional hurt/comfort and found family, exploring relationships, angst with happy ending).

Kitty's Destiny (One-shot. Robin & Kitty, Kitty & Original animal character, Kitty & Annie/Mary, extra chapter from MTAM, reconciliation, of course Kitty is a horse girl).

Find Me In The Stars (One-shot. Time skips, Robin & Original Characters, Robin & Mary, Robin & Annie, Robin & Alison & Mia, emotional whump and comfort, dealing with grief and loss).

[julesthequirky]

Beautiful Trauma - A Soldier Boy Miniseries: Chapter 2

Beautiful Trauma

Pairings: F!Reader x Ben/Soldier Boy

Summary: The reader is the real widower of Ben/Soldier Boy and loved their life together before the incident. In 1983 she took Compound V, so she could be with Ben forever, but in 1984 her life crashes to the ground, and she’s stuck in a world without him. In 2022 a knock at the door changes her life, and when she’s told that Ben is alive she hopes that there can be a forever after all.

A/N: Reader has certain traditional gender values, that are antiquated today.

Chapter Warnings: Antiquated views, language, and mentions of domestic violence.

Chapter W/C: 2435

This work is unbeta’d so all mistakes are mine. If you like it, heart, and reblog it. All feedback is gold.

1984

The baby slept in the bedroom, and some random crap played on the radio – the busted tv still in its place – it never got replaced. The stubbed-out end of a blunt lay in an ashtray along with the others, its job complete in dosing you up. Trapped smoke lingered around the room with nowhere to escape, and you were dozing on the sofa after smoking enough to take out a whole football team.

The boot bashing in your door jerked you awake. Still high, you rubbed your eyes and watched Payback, minus Gunpowder, and Swatto, storm in.

“Jesus, fuck. Smells like a ganja farm in here.” Mindstorm commented, coughing and waving his hand to waft the smoke away.

Confused, mind foggy from the blunt, you continued to stare.

“Look at her. She doesn’t know what time of day it is.” Crimson Countess noted, walking around the apartment living area.

“She probably doesn’t even know we’re here,��� Tessa said, and she and her brother laughed.

“I do.” You slurred.

Crimson Countess picked up a photograph of you and Ben on your wedding day. You were standing on tiptoe, kissing Ben on his cheek, and he looked handsome as ever in his Philly baseball shirt, with one arm hooked around your waist and the other in the pocket of his slacks. It had been taken outside the registrar’s office. She put it back with a curl to her lip.

“Disgusting.” She muttered.

You blinked, and she continued to loiter, mumbling under her breath about the photos on the mantle and the Soldier Boy memorabilia. Then she spun on her heel, marched to the closed door where your daughter slept, and ripped it from its hinges.

“Mindstorm, do your worst.”

Instinct kicked in, if a little too slowly, and you flew off the couch only to topple to the floor. Stumbling, head-fogged, you attempted to barge through the TNT and Mindstorm barricade.

You shoved Mindstorm to one side, but the TNT duo pushed you back.

“I don’t understand.” Mindstorm muttered as you fell on your ass.

“TNT! Detonate!” Tommy and Tessa yelled in unison and joined hands. Then, they each held a hand up, aiming at you.

Your eyes widened. Shit. In your stoned-out state, you froze and waited for the electric bolt that would surely come your way. You squeezed your eyes shut, expecting the inevitable. Nothing. No electric. And certainly, no nightmares.

“What the fuck!” Tommy and Tessa screeched.

“Nothing’s happening.” Mindstorm muttered.

You opened your eyes. Mindstorm and TNT were staring at you, trying, but failing to use their powers against you.

“I can’t hear her. It’s so quiet….”

You didn’t understand. Compound V had been a dud. You hadn’t gained any powers – not even the most common – super strength. You’d sobbed on Ben, and he had comforted you as best as he could. Compound V had meant to be the way forward – it had meant forever with Ben. And the lack of powers had destroyed that. But here you were, gasping in breaths with three members of Payback powerless in front of you.

“Crimson! We’ve got a problem!”

Crimson walked out with your daughter on her hip and a hand on the other. “What?”

“Our powers are useless.” Tessa said.

“Sweet peace…”

“Useless…” Crimson muttered and held out a hand. She smirked, and where a fireball typically erupted – nothing. Not even a wisp of smoke.

“The hell?” Crimson attempted another fireball, this time putting some effort into it. But still nothing.

You used the fact that three out of four were stumped to your advantage to grab your daughter from Crimson Countess. Then, still unsteady, you stumbled and fell into TNT.

“Don’t just stand there. Do something!”

Spurred on, Tommy yanked you up by the collar, but Tessa got excited. Her manic smile swam in your view as she clocked you in the jaw. Stars burst, and Tommy pushed you down. Unable to save yourself, your head bounced on the carpet, and in the distance, you heard their hyena cackles and Crimson’s throaty voice, “Vought sends their regards.”, before blacking out.

2022

Silence fell around the room as the information was revealed to them. Looks were exchanged that you weren’t privy to.

“What? That’s what you didn’t know about?”

The unkempt one cussed under his breath.

“Butcher, this just got a whole lot fuckin’ complicated.” The black man said. His tone warning.

“Nah. It’ll be fine, MM.” Butcher said, waving him off.

He then gave you a sly look. “Hang on, if you were wiv Soldier Boy back then, ‘ow come you ent snapped out of the cuffs?”

You tugged at the cuff attached to the table leg. “I would if I could.”

“But you’re a Supe.” Butcher stated.

You laughed bitterly. “I’m not a Supe.”

“Well, excuse my French lady, but you look fucking phenomenal for 70. Fuckin’ ‘ell, bo’le, what you got up and rinse that shit for all its worth.”

“The V didn’t work. I didn’t get powers,” It wasn’t entirely true, but some secrets were worth keeping to yourself. “Except for the no ageing thing. That’s it.”

Butcher sat with his hand on his chin, taking it in. Then, finally, he opened his mouth to speak, but the youngun beat him to the punch.

“Are you the one that keeps leaving flowers on Soldier Boy’s statue?”

You nodded. Every anniversary, Valentine’s, birthday, and Christmas. And sometimes whenever you felt like it. Ben’s statue embodied the only living resemblance that he had been alive in a world that continued to slip from your grasp. Sitting there and talking to him restored balance in your life.

“If you know that Vought are scummy fuckers, why ent you done anyfink about it?”

“Like what? Storm in there and demand my daughter back and for them to tell the truth? Yeah, that would work really well.”

Butcher held up his hands in surrender. “Alright, luv, don’t getchur knickers in a twist.”

“Those fuckers stole a baby. Mon Dieu...”

The Asian beside him rubbed her hand up and down the Frenchman’s back, comforting him.

“Somethings not sitting right,” MM started. He stood and paced the room. “Vought grabbed your child, and they didn’t kill you?”

“Why would they kill me? They got what they wanted. Taking my daughter sent the message plain and clear– that they can get away with anything.”

“But—”

“Oi, leave off, wouldja.”

MM tensed his jaw, his fists clenched, but he questioned you no more. Instead, he sat and glared at Butcher.

You turned your attention to the leader of the gang, Butcher. “Can I please go now?”

He shook his head. “Nah. Tell us where Crimson is first.”

You huffed, annoyed.

“I don’t know where she is.”

“The fuck you don’t. She was Soldier Boy’s public girlfriend, and I fink you hated her wiv ev’ry fiba of your being.”

Yeah, you hated her, but after they’d taken your daughter, you just didn’t give a shit about anything anymore. Waking up sober with Vought lawyers knocking on your door with papers to sign about your daughter’s “untimely death” put you into three decades’ deep depression.

“I lost everything. You think I’m gonna care about some washed-up, has-been cooze? Ben was Payback, and without him, those losers are nothing.”

“Tell us!”

“She’s a two-bit trailer trash whore! Now tell me where Ben is!”

*

The bastards left you handcuffed to the table leg as they searched for Crimson Countess. As they left, you heard MM to Butcher, “There’s something she’s not telling us. Something’s not adding up. Why would they leave her alive after sending…”. You strained to hear the rest, but they were too far away.

Stupid fucking cuffs. You screamed in frustration, eventually managing to snap the table leg and free yourself. The handcuff dangled from one wrist – that would have to wait. More important things were at stake. You threw a chair at the window of the door, smashing it. With another one, you swiped the window free of glass and escaped. Nothing would stop you from getting to Ben.

Ben was in America. And he wanted revenge. He deserved payback for what those fuckers did to him in Nicaragua. And you would be there right by his side, supporting him.

*

The car swerved as a boom went off. The glass in the windows disintegrated, and the earth shook. You saw a bright light erupt into the sky. What the fuck? Desperate to return in the right direction, you turned the steering wheel until it gave out as the car continued to hydroplane.

It spun out, and you conceded death as the car careened into a fence post. The airbag deployed, and you smacked into it. Dazed but otherwise alright, you left the car and ran to the explosion site.

The lactic acid burned in your chest and legs, but you kept running. Ben was your world; you’d been without him for so long.

“Hughie!”

Butcher’s cockney accent punctured the air nearby, and you almost knocked into the kid.

“Fuck!” He yelled, jumping out of the way as you came whizzing by. You heard the sound of a Geiger counter ticking for a split second.

An orange glow emitted from Cuntess’ trailer, and a figure stood amidst the wreckage. Your heart leapt, and you used the last ounce of adrenaline to run to him. He moved away from the burning trailer.

Hope bloomed. Your pride and joy. Your world. Your feet pounded the grass. Your heart hammered in your chest. You shouted his name, and Ben turned around, ready for the threat pursuing him, but when he saw you, he stood stock still, his shield dropped, hitting the grass with a clank.

Ben stumbled a few steps as you latched on, arms wrapped around him. He stunk of smoke, but you didn’t care. Overwhelmed, you stuffed your face into his chest and broke down. Never in a million years had you thought it possible. You’d dreamt of reuniting with Ben, but the sad reality began again when dawn’s light pushed through the crack in your curtains, and you awoke alone.

His hand threaded into your hair, his head dipped, and he pressed his lips to yours.

“I’ve missed you so much, woman.” Ben breathed you in, taking slow and steady breaths, recounting for all the lost time.

The off-kilter angle of your world started to adjust itself, and you felt whole. Complete. You had your man. Now you just had to find your daughter.

He tilted your chin up and wiped the tears away with gentle thumbs, softly telling you to hush.

Nearly forty years later and this man still managed to leave you breathless. He honestly was flawless. Dark hair, which flopped over, so inviting your hands itched to sink into. Green eyes so dazzling and pretty, along with sinfully plush lips that whispered lewd things in your ear and gave scalding kisses in the dead of night. The fuzz he sported brought his flawless, gorgeous look together.

“You’re giving me a real chubby looking at me like that.”

You matched your bedroom eyes with a come hither smile. “Let’s go find some hay to roll in, then.”

You couldn’t catch his words, but the searing look told you of his intentions for the night.

“Sorry to interrupt the reunion.” A certain Cockney accent butted in.

Ben’s eyes became cold and flinty, and his stance became protective. He bent and picked up his shield, stepping in front of you. Irritated, you sidestepped, noticing Butcher and Hughie. Ben gripped your arm and shoved you behind him again.

“Stay put, woman.” He demanded.

“Charmin’. If I talked to my missus that way, she’d give me a bloody nose.”

You couldn’t see, and his hand on your arm stopped you from moving. He had a nice back, but you were getting tired of looking at it, so you leaned over, but he yanked you back in place.

“Well, mine knows her place.”

You couldn’t see, but you were sure he wore a tight smile. Probably pissed that you were showing him up.

Being a good wife to Ben gave you pride. Keeping him happy made you happy. You had dinner ready for him as he came through the door, fetched him beers when he asked, and, importantly, made sure you looked pretty for him. It gave you a purpose, and having your daughter only expanded that.

At times he could be abrasive, but you attributed that to Payback and Vought. They demanded so much from him, and he gave what he could. Whenever he did snap, you snapped back, which let him know you weren’t gonna take any of his crap. Sometimes if you crossed a line, he would rebuke you with a swat to the cheek. But you were always ready and willing with your apology – between his legs, on your knees.

“Alright—” Butcher started.

“I’m in. Meet me tomorrow, and don’t forget the stuff.”

In? Tomorrow? Stuff? Ben dragged you away before you could ask. If Butcher and his team had spoken to Ben, you’d bet your bottom dollar that they’d conveniently forgotten about you.

“Ben, I know them. The English bastard falsely arrested me, and they hounded me for information on Cuntess.”

“I’ll deal with it.” He gruffly snapped.

This side of Ben was all business, and you knew better than to cross Ben like this. Getting on the wrong side warranted a visit to the hospital with a well-thought-out lie.

“Okay.”

A heavy hand laid on your heart. Ben could be harsh, but he had a heart of gold and meant well. Your happiness resided in him. If he wasn’t happy, then neither were you. You couldn’t let it disrupt your forever. But something would until she was found. It wasn’t fair for him not to know.

Ben reached a car. He popped the trunk and placed his shield in.

“You gonna get in, or are you gonna stand there looking gormless?”

“Ben. I need to tell you something.”

He turned to you, irritated. “What?”

You stalled, and he gave you that look, meaning he had no patience for your antics.

“Vought took Heather.”

The air stilled, and the tang of burnt metal filled your nostrils. Ben bared his teeth, and the roof edge creaked as it bent under his hands. His breaths came out fast, like a raging bull. You expected another explosion, but nothing.

“Ben?”

At your tentative question, he looked up, fixing you with an intense stare. “I’ll get those fuckers. Don’t you worry.”

And you knew he meant it.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2

[guppybubbles]

I saw brick ask so Imma send a few too for inspo!!!

The rain that falls like tears

I GOT CARRIED AWAY 😰😭 TY FOR THE FAKE FIC TITLES BECKYU!!! <33 (ignore any grammar errors LMAO)

The rain that falls like tears.

Just like his father and older brother, Wilbur was a farmer. They make ends meet with the crops they grow, and their farm is only growing bigger and bigger, attracting more customers and more workers. However, that was when they were young kids. They helped the farm when they could, and they were promised to take over the entire thing when Phil retired.

Phil has yet to retire, but both Techno and Wilbur are adults, so they spend most of their days on the field. However, the weather wasn't what it used to be during their childhood days.

For the past 16 years, the weather was… decent. In a way that for a decade and a half, there was no sunshine or rain. The weather was damp, humid, and boring. The sun made its appearance (as it usually does every day), but it doesn't shine. The clouds would sometimes cover the sun, but it doesn't block out any sunlight, nor does it rain.

They were glad that thunderstorms and hurricanes barely showed up anymore, but the lack of… any sort of weather was slowly but surely damaging their farming business.

The lack of nutrients to the soil causes the crops to lose quality, effectively losing the big business their dad had built.

After months of research, Wilbur had found out about the God of the Weather. He needed to look for the God and pray for at least any rain or any sunshine. Wilbur felt he and Techno would take over the business soon, and if nothing is done about the weather, their farm industry would be gone in a matter of seconds. Wilbur left their home, leaving Techno and Phil to tend to the crops.

Weeks upon weeks of travel, and he had finally met the weather god. Wilbur first notes down that the god looked very young and then sees how unemotional this kid was. He bowed and spoke respectfully but was only met with a blank stare and a blank introduction. Tommy, the god of the weather.

Wilbur pleaded with the weather god and asked for at least a little rain or a little sunshine, but Tommy refused, saying he couldn't. After days of talking, Tommy agreed to change the weather after doing certain tasks around the forest he lives in. They spent months together, slowly building a friendship as Wilbur continued to complete tasks.

Wilbur learned that the old weather god, Theseus, had died, and Tommy was chosen at birth to be the next vessel for the weather god. However, it proved to be quite difficult for Tommy to control his ability and grew up to be unemotional— trying to train his powers every single day.

On another empty day, Wilbur confronts the god once more. He's been doing everything Tommy asked, no questions and no complaints, yet there's still no updates on whether or not Tommy will do his end on the deal. He feels he's stuck in this forest, trying to desperately please the god with no luck. He hasn't even heard of any updates on his family, and he's beginning to be worried, anxious, and irritated. As he angrily spoke of his frustrations to Tommy, the god's expression didn't move. Not even a flinch.

Wilbur finished off his rant and eventually said he'll leave this forest. He'll find some other way to help his family. He just can't let his father's business go down the drain. He bid his goodbye to Tommy, bowing in respect.

The clouds darkened, and as he walked away, raindrops gently slid off his glasses and onto his skin. It was raining.

Behind him, he could hear a faint sob. Tommy was crying