#halfway through editing i didn't like this as much (at all) but i'm posting it anyway in case there's something good in here

[powderrblue]

"you were my best four years"

tws in tags. this one hurt a little bit (halfway through stopped liking this but here you guys go anyway because this took like three hours total to do)

Sneeg remembered the day him and Charlie had gotten to meet Henrik.

He'd decided he liked Randy's boyfriend-fiance-husband. Whatever the two were to each other by this point.

Charlie, though, had been ecstatic over the whole thing. Going on about how they were a family and how they looked the part. Sneeg wouldn't have argued with that, either- he had some similarities to Henrik, he would admit; and even eight-year-old Charlie had begun to look older and look vaguely like Randy in the process.

Not that Sneeg would ever tell Charlie he was getting taller.

But one other thing Sneeg had noticed- Henrik had been kind to Sneeg, too. Kinder than probably anyone had been, besides Randy.

It felt right. Different, but right.

And when the couple had an almost-marriage a few days later upon Charlie's insistence, Sneeg and Charlie themselves were the only ones to watch. There were no guests, no massive tents, no flowers, and only crudely hand-torn pieces of red paper (courtesy of Charlie) for Randy to walk down the aisle on.

All four of them cried as though the couple had had a minister and a fancy church to be properly married in.

-

Henrik hadn't known Randy's basically-kids long. Not technically, at least.

At the beginning, the brown-haired man had been beyond pissed that he'd been "stuck with babysitting". Henrik could easily tell even looking back now how much the two had grown on him in only three years. Now, they were almost all he talked about.

Henrik figured out why the moment he met the two little boys.

Charlie, the younger at seven years old, had initially hugged Randy's leg in an attempt to hide from Henrik, though he entirely gave himself away with his endless giggles. Sneeg, who was ten, had been far more quiet and nervous. He stayed at Randy's side more than hiding, though, and Henrik offered the boy a quiet smile to attempt a pact of friendship.

It hadn't taken Henrik long to start a lively game with Charlie, despite Sneeg's wary glances.

The game didn't last long either way, mainly for the sake of Randy's sanity. Henrik could see his husband's nervous stare in his peripherals as he took turns tossing first Charlie, then both of the boys at the couch. It was plenty padded, though Henrik decided after a few minutes that Randy didn't need to worry about his kids getting concussed on top of who knew what else with these two.

The day as a whole ended happy. Henrik had a turn at being nervous when Sneeg fell asleep leaned against him, but Randy's adoring smile made it worth it.

He smiled back at his husband.

Maybe life didn't have to be so bad.

-

Randy didn't know exactly what day one of the employees had managed to find a guitar somewhere in the mall for Randy to have. Or even how they'd gotten ahold of one.

He still couldn't help the slight smile that came to his face at the familiar sight and feel of having a guitar in his hands.

"D'you know how to play?" Charlie had asked, wide eyes made to look even bigger what with his new glasses. It was endearing, despite the fact that Randy had to still try to force the cause of Charlie's worsening eyesight out of his mind.

"I used to," he answered Charlie's question gently, testing a few chords.

Sneeg carefully leaned close to Randy.

Henrik's quiet gaze stayed on Randy, a slight smile on his face. Charlie was curled up close to him, his small hand gripping Henrik's sleeve.

Randy played as well as he could for the next while. He wouldn't say he sang, per se, but Sneeg still heard a comforting hum as Randy picked at the strings.

Charlie sang the words to what songs he knew, too- though he quieted when more yawns than words would leave him.

For being a thrown-together family all put together by a media company that had abducted them, Randy would say he didn't feel too bad about the current situation. Seeing Charlie with Henrik and feeling Sneeg leaning on him felt nice. As good as it could get in the mall, at least.

Life in the mall was almost kinder than life outside had ever been to him.

-

Charlie remembered the first time he'd died on-set.

Most of it, anyway.

It had been an accident, too. One of the heavier props left on the table from another show had fallen on top of him as he passed before he could even process that it had happened.

He remembered hearing Sneeg scream in terror, the feel of his own heart trying to force him to get up to make sure Sneeg was okay- though any thought of his brother was soon pushed out of his mind as searing pain shot through his chest.

"Henrik, help me!" a voice- Randy's voice- had shouted, and Charlie felt the giant mass on top of him slowly move up and away. Another scream joined Sneeg's before Charlie could register it as his own.

"I know, Charlie, I know, I know," Randy came close to shouting. Whether it was to be sure Charlie heard him or out of genuine fear, he was in too much pain to figure out.

Charlie couldn't breathe. Everything hurt, and he couldn't even see from the pain. He wanted to turn his screaming to words, his rushed breathing to normalcy, but nothing would change.

"I know, Charlie, sweetheart, I've gotta get you up, okay? I know, I'm sorry," Randy kept trying to reassure him.

For what it was worth, it felt like it helped. Charlie relaxed into Randy's arms, letting his dad cradle him close to his chest as the pain at long last slowly faded into a black void.

"Dad?" Sneeg tried.

Charlie was too quiet.

"Randy."

Sneeg looked on, tears streaming down his face as Randy looked up at Henrik's face, then back down at Charlie's frame, small, limp, and broken in his arms.

Henrik picked up Sneeg with ease, shielding the older boy's eyes from Charlie's bloody body.

"Come on, Ran. They'll fix him. C'mon," Henrik quietly coaxed. His voice sounded on the verge of tears, too, but Sneeg buried his face in the man's shoulder anyway.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Sneeg asked.

He already regretted every time he'd ever hit Charlie. Every time he'd fought the younger, even when provoked.

In that second, he was overwhelmed with the pain of knowing he couldn't take it back. The pain of knowing he would probably go and hurt Charlie again if Charlie survived.

"He'll be okay, Sneeg," Henrik said, putting a hand on Sneeg's head. The weight of it was comforting.

Sneeg let himself cry into Henrik's shoulder as Randy carried Charlie into a blindingly white room.

-

Randy swallowed at the lump in his throat as he pretended to listen to some new report from the laboratory.

He hardly understood what the woman across the room was talking about, not that he could have forced himself to pay attention even if he could understand it.

Henrik was gone.

Henrik was gone for good, just like his kids.

His kids that he hadn't even wanted at first. The kids who insisted on getting Randy and Henrik married days after they met Henrik. The kids who fought each other and nearly clawed each other to death and gave each other goldfish crackers as peace offerings ten minutes later. The kids who sang while he played guitar until they fell asleep. The kids who he sat with and held every time they got resurrected from a role in a show that got them killed and left them sweaty and shuddering in pain as their bodies rebuilt themselves.

And now, as though that wasn't enough, his husband was dead. They'd killed him, too. Without Charlie and Sneeg, it hit twice as hard.

He really had lost everything because of Showfall this time.

He'd hardly left his and Henrik's room since the day he got the news that Showfall had permakilled Henrik.

Randy had clung to his husband's pillow, Charlie's picture in hand, and not moved for who knew how long.

The guitar stayed on its makeshift cardboard stand in the corner of the room, but he couldn't bear to even look at it now.

Besides, he figured, what good would trying to pick himself up do him anymore? Maybe if Showfall thought he was useless enough, they'd permakill him too and let him be with his family.

As gruesome as it was, he couldn't help but cling to that thought alone for the first days- or what he thought was days, at any rate. Not that he had looked up to check the clock.

Randy had only finally gotten up three days later, his muddled brain managed to figure out the next time he saw a calendar. And he didn't even know really why he'd bothered getting up, either.

Not until he overheard someone whispering to another about how Charlie and Sneeg had escaped.

[chiaraswritings]

Hello can I ask a work from you? :) Maybe Batmom pranks Bruce and the boys (plus steph and cassie) where she goes in labor. By like just putting water on the floor. It’s super chaotic and they all end up slipping on it. She doesn’t tell them it’s a prank until their halfway to the hospital and it’s just super chaotic and funny. Tysm!

Batprank

Disclaimer: I do not own DC or their settings. This is certainly not canon.

Warnings & Topics: Pregnancy, water breaking, pranking, mentions of sexual intercourse, romantic scenes between a married couple. This is not suitable for younger readers. 18+.

Word Count: 2.5K words

Summary: Batmom!reader decides to try out a prank that she found on social media.

Author's Note: Great story idea, anon. Posting this ten minutes before leaving for work, I'm not even dressed yet. So if there are typos or mistakes I'll come back later and edit them out. Don't have bad time management, kids. I hope everyone reading is safe and well, and I hope you all enjoy.

Part Two

Sunday afternoons could only be described one way in this household. Long and lazy, sometimes excruciatingly so. I was scrolling on my favorite social media app again, watching short videos. If Bruce were laying with me, he'd say I was doom scrolling. He often discouraged the kids and I from this practice of scrolling through short videos for hours on end, but there was hardly anything else to do on an afternoon like this. 

I cradled my swollen stomach, one hand resting over my navel, the other propping my phone on the bed. Inside my womb, I could feel flutters of movement, vibrations moving through my stomach. Pausing the video I was watching, I looked down at my stomach. The baby I was carrying had woken and was pushing against the front of my tummy. "Ouch. I know you're just stretching, but you have to wait to come out, little one." I returned my attention to the video of directions on how to fold towels to look like birds. 

My thumb swiped mindlessly over the screen for several more minutes. My brain wasn't really processing anything of what I was seeing. I was mainly focused on the baby's movements, feeling her stretch and kick, thinking about the cradle that Dick and Jason had put together for their little sister several weeks before and how it would soon have a newborn in it. Thinking about the songs I was going to sing to her at night. Thinking about seeing Bruce hold her for the first time. 

After about ten recommended videos that didn't interest me, I got ready to close the app. I might as well do something more useful with my time. As I swiped to view one last video, the picture of a pregnant woman caught my eye. I watched with interest as she emptied a bottle of water onto the floor next to a flight of stairs, before keeling over clutching her stomach and calling a man's name, along with the news that her water had broken. Much to my amusement, her partner came rushing down the stairs, slipping on the water and sliding across the floor on his backside. I couldn't help but chuckle. It was a good prank, though probably staged, as most pranks on this app tend to be at some level. Would this actually work? I wondered to myself. I closed the app on my phone before pressing the power button to darken the screen. Standing up wasn't my favorite, but I wanted to go see what my husband was up to.

I moved down the stairs cautiously, using the handrail. Falling could damage the organs that kept the baby safe, which is why Bruce had suggested moving to a bedroom on the first floor until she arrived. We hadn't done that yet, but it wasn't the worst idea. Anything to keep little Ava safe. Or Emma. Or something. Over the last seven months, Bruce and I had both been advocating for our own choice of name for the baby. Not that it would matter once we were finally able to hold her in our arms. 

Once I had descended down the first flight of stairs, I happened to look back at the steps behind me. It reminded me of the short video I had watched a couple minutes before. I wondered again if the prank actually worked, or if it was staged. What the family's reactions would be if I pulled that sort-of-cruel prank on them. Chuckling at the thought, I started moving towards the entrance to the Batcave.

I followed the stairs down to the dark, cold cave that I had learned to love. After all, this was home to my husband's greatest passion, and I would never try to get in between him and what made him feel fulfilled. I smiled upon seeing my dearest at the Batcomputer. Bruce was fixated on the screen, hardly noticing when I ran my hands over his shoulders from behind, my arms wrapping around his neck. "Hi there."

He looked up, not startled, but he hadn't expected my presence. "You're supposed to be resting."

I pressed a kiss to his bristly cheek. "I got tired of resting."

He turned the chair to face me. His large hands ran over my stomach, trying to feel the movement of his child, but she had already gone back to sleep, it seemed. "Can you wake her up so I can feel her?"

I looked down at him, laughing. "How exactly do you propose I do that?" 

He glared at me, but I could see the smile in his eyes. "I don't know how you do that, I've never been pregnant before."

Chuckling, I pecked his lips. "I'd want to know if you had been." Turning my attention to the screen, I noticed the faces of several inmates that had escaped the nearby asylum recently. "Getting anywhere on the case?" 

Bruce stood before turning me so my back was to the computer before kissing my lips sweetly. "You're not allowed to think about anything stressful right now, do you understand?"

I chuckled, looking up into his pretty blue eyes. "My poor baby, are you stressed?"

"Maybe. Lots of things going on at the moment." My husband knelt in front of me, pressing gentle kisses to my stomach. "Thinking about the case, the pregnancy, the company, the kids, all of it all at once."

My fingers ran through his uncombed hair. "Don't worry, the baby will be here soon, and you can scratch pregnancy off your worry list."

His eyes met mine again as he gently kissed my stomach. "I'll have a baby to worry about then. You'll tell me right away when your water breaks, won't you?" 

Smiling, I took his face in my hands. "You'll be the first to know. After Ava and I, of course." 

Bruce's eyes narrowed playfully, and he stood up once again. "You mean Emma?"

I chuckled and pulled him down slightly to brush my nose against his, our lips not quite meeting. "I mean Ava." 

"You mean Emma," Bruce grinned, kissing me passionately, stroking my stomach with his thumbs. A giggle escaped my throat, but I didn't break the kiss. He moved his hands to my hips, his caresses moving to my sides. 

"I thought you guys promised not to have sex in the cave anymore?" Stephanie's voice cut through our kiss, causing me to jump and Bruce to turn his head to glare at her. 

"We are not having sex, though we still can at eight months," Bruce gave me a side glance. 

I returned the glance. "You try having sex with a nearly full-grown baby in your tummy. Give it a try, let's see how you like it."

"Fair enough," he muttered before pecking my lips. 

Stephanie rolled her eyes as she passed us. "Disgusting, don't talk about it in the cave anymore either."

I chuckled, giving the girl's shoulder a squeeze and my husband's cheek a kiss. "I'm heading back upstairs, sex talk averted." 

Feeling Bruce grab my hand, I turned my head back towards him. "You will tell me when you go into labor?"

Reassuringly squeezing his hand, I smiled. "I promise I will. But I'm pretty sure we have some time before that happens." 

I made my way up the stairs, leaving Bruce to grump about our moment being interrupted. When I reached the landing, I was greeted by Alfred, who offered me a tall glass of water. "You'll remember what the doctor said about water consumption, madam," he held it out to me, and I almost reluctantly accepted it. 

"I do remember, but I don't think I can consume much else after that wonderful lunch you prepared for us, Alfred." 

"Flattery gets you nowhere, miss. Drink it all." He stood there so expectantly, his gaze piercing me like a sharp knife. Hesitantly, I sipped from the glass. My words had been the honest truth, I was still full from lunch. At least finishing a small amount got Alfred to turn and head back towards the kitchen. 

I looked at the glass in my hand that was still nearly full. Finishing it completely would be too impossible a feat at the moment, but I didn't feel like pouring it down the drain. I thought once again of that short video, of the woman with her own bottle of water, and suddenly, I knew exactly what to do with the remaining water. 

...

I had successfully emptied the glass of water onto the floor, a puddle beneath my feet. I made sure to splash some on my clothes before stuffing the glass inside an indoor potted bush. Someone would find it later, I was sure. The prank had been set perfectly next to the staircase on the marble flooring. Observing the scene, I grinned. If this actually were to work... 

"Damian, go tell your father that my water broke!" I yelled up the stairs for the person I knew to be in his room. 

I saw his head pop around the corner, observing with narrowed eyes, already suspicious. He was always suspicious. But my staged scene was convincing enough. Holding back mirth, I watched as his eyes widened and he made four bounds down the thirty stairs before disappearing into the Batcave's entrance.

Before I could get my laughter out of my system, Bruce, Stephanie, Damian, and Tim were tripping over each other in their haste to be by my side. I clutched my stomach and groaned in mock agony.

"Mom!" I watched with amusement as Tim rushed to my side before falling victim to the puddle of water and slipping, falling and sliding across the floor on his backside. Stephanie, ignoring Tim's accident, was the first to arrive at my side, her enthusiasm clear.

"Is Emma coming?!" She put her hand on my stomach, trying to feel the movement of the baby. I couldn't help but chuckle slightly while acting like I was in pain. 

"You mean Ava is coming!" Bruce was about to scoop me into his arms, but instead, slipped in the puddle and landed next to Tim on the marble floor. I ignored my husband's groaning and decided to fight for the victory, while still clutching my stomach. 

"Ava? You really mean it?"

"Yes!" Bruce hastily picked himself up, but I could see his bruised ego underneath his concern and panic. Before I could ensure that my battle for my daughter's name was won, I was picked up and nearly dropped again as Bruce clumsily fought with the closet door that stored the delivery bag we had packed a month or two before. "Timothy, get the bag out of the closet!"

I covered my mouth to keep my laughter inside. Tim had been watching the scene with interest from the floor, but he snapped to attention to retrieve the bag. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jason rounding the corner, looking like he had just woken from a long slumber. 

"Wha's goin on?" His sleepy eyes weren't registering the display before him. 

"Your mother is about to give birth in our hallway!" My poor husband growled before marching with me to the entryway of the mansion. 

"Oh, congratu... huh?" Jason blinked at me. 

"Alfred! Where's the damn car!" Bruce was sweating at this point, but I was thoroughly amused. This prank actually worked.

"In the garage, sir, would you like me to fetch it for you?" Alfred, the only calm soul in the vicinity, called from the kitchen. 

"Yes! Right now!" 

Seconds later, I was being half carried, half hauled out the front door. A small crowd of our family members had gathered, trying to be as helpful as they could, but in reality it was simply Cassandra and Stephanie badgering Bruce with questions about when they could come see the baby, Tim slipping once again in the puddle, and Jason trying to get through to Dick's cell phone. It was when I was stuck in the back seat of the car like a bag full of golf clubs that I decided it was time to come clean. "Guys, I'm just kid-" 

I was cut off when Damian slid into the seat next to me with his beloved sword drawn. "Come on, Pennyworth, drive!" His words were intensified as he waved the sword in the air. 

"Damian, no, it was just a-"

"Damian, you put that away this instant!" Bruce cut me off once again. "You'll kill your sister before she's even born!" I could see Alfred giving us a side eye from the driver's seat.

"Bruce, Bruce, my water didn't even-" 

"Don't worry, one of the kids will clean it up, let's go!" He pushed Damian out of the seat and took his place before slamming the car door shut. 

Alfred glanced at us from the rearview mirror. "Yes sir, is the madam comfortable?"

"No I'm not comfortable!" I grabbed Bruce's hand, trying to get his focus as the car pulled out of the gates.  I noticed that the car was turning the opposite direction of the hospital. "Darling, I was-"

"I know it hurts, just hang on," he pressed a kiss to my cheek before proceeding to dial Dick's number on his cell phone. "Why isn't he picking up?!"

"It was a prank!" Laughing, I grabbed his face in my hands, forcing him to look into my eyes. "Darling, darling, I was just kidding. It was a prank." 

His eyes were blank for a moment before the realization hit. "Are you ser... (Y/N)!" 

Chuckling, I pressed my lips to his forehead. "She's not coming yet, I just wanted to see if you'd fall for it."

"But of course I would... did... fall for it..." He grabbed my hand in mine before sighing and kissing the back of it. "Alfred, she pranked us."

"Yes, sir, she certainly did." I could see the butler's half amused glare from the mirror before the car came to a stop at a red light.

My husband pressed a kiss to my lips before giving me an unamused look. "We're naming her Emma, you've lost your naming rights."

I burst into laughter, returning the glare. "I am her mother, I have naming rights!"

He chuckled, shaking his head at me. "Not after that stunt. Don't you agree, Alfred?"

Alfred didn't respond to the question, but instead nodded at the shopping center next to the stoplight. "How convenient, we happen to be right next to the madam's favorite restaurant, shall we make a stop?"

"Yes, that's perfect." Bruce pressed a kiss to my cheek as the car pulled into the parking lot. "I'll get your usual and we can bring it home?" 

"Perfect indeed," I chuckled, still in shock that my prank had worked so well. I rested my hand on my stomach while my husband stepped out of the car. Watching him disappear into the doors of the restaurant, I looked over at Alfred. "This restaurant is nowhere near the hospital." 

"I do know that, madam." 

"And we were supposed to be going to the hospital." 

"Were we?"

"You knew?" 

Alfred turned in the driver's seat, holding up the empty water glass I had stored in the bush just minutes before, giving me a displeased glance. "I'd bury it a bit deeper next time, Miss (Y/N)." 

Part Two

[yumenoyousei]

I asked for a commission of my DC OC Shay from @jnephrite and look at my girl!! 😭 She so pretty I can't even😭😭😭 Always loved @jnephrite art so seeing Shay in hers is a blessing 🙏🏾

And since the fic is almost halfway through posting, I thought, might as well introduce Shay properly! EDIT: the fic, Awaking in Gotham, is now completed!

Full name: Shay Michelle Frank (♀) Occupation: Graphic Designer / YouTuber Height: 5'9"  Birthday: September 16th  ☀Virgo 🌙Aries ⬆Aquarius Proud African American/Haitian & Gothamite  Hobbies: Poetry, Arts, Rap/R&B music, help the Gotham North Community Center, Discover new artists (both musically and visual arts)

Shay was born and raised in Gotham, close to the infamous Crime Alley, by her maternal grandmother, Marie-Monique "Manmi Mo" Antoine, and with her 3 years older brother Zachary "Zee" Frank. Her mother died of childbirth (she had had complications with Zee which was why she was hospitalized when pregnant with Shay) so her whole family distrusted the American health system. This is why when her grandmother was diagnosed with cancer, they didn't go to the hospital and only went to the illegal clinic. (Also; money.) Her father is unknown. 

Ever since young, she went to the Gotham North Community Center, mostly run by the Black and Latinx communities of the Crime Alley neighbourhood. Her grandmother would teach the children about mostly Black literature but also all sorts of arts which is why Shay is such a creative person. That's also where she met Jason Todd for the first time when she was around 4-5.

Her brother very early on started to "run the streets" and started to hang out with bad crews, but always had his heart on his sleeves. He just couldn't find other ways to get money to make sure Shay had the right education/a chance away from crime.

Her grandma died when she was almost 17 and her brother died not even 4 weeks later (2 weeks after her 17th birthday) because of a dispute between gangs. (Allegedly) 

After her grandma and Zee died, she went to live in Metropolis with her second-degree cousin, Jennifer Antoine, until she graduated from university. Even when in Metropolis, she would go as much as she could back to Gotham to see her people/help the center.

She started a YouTube channel talking about Gotham's art and musical scene to change people's persepective of Gotham after too many people at Metropolis U "pitied" her for being a Gothamite. 

As soon as she was about to graduate, she applied to work at Wayne Entreprise back in Gotham. She got a job as a graphic designer and moved back to her city.

At the start of the fic, "Awaking in Gotham", she is 22 and has been working at WE for almost a year.

Read more about Shay (and her love story with Jason) on AO3! (Trying to update every week!)

Random notes about Shay:

As I wrote in the fic's notes, the first reason for creating Shay was: who the fuck would stay in Gotham that isn't a criminal and/or a vigilante??

So I created a black girl who loves her community and sees all it could be while being very conscious of what it is and its dangers. Then I went, hey! she'd be good with Jason while I was starting my Jason Todd Thirst so obv my fic turned into romance. lol

The name comes from Belgian rapper Shay, Montreal-based singer Shay Lia, and Haitian Montreal-based singer Shah Frank. As I was creating Shay I was obsessed with all three of them and the name Shay Frank wouldn't leave me.

Ngl, I gave a lot of me to Shay; like her Haitian roots and GAD but very quickly she went her own way and grew in this character I'm proud of. I'd like to say I also gave her my music taste but she is way more into hip-hop than me and she rejects most of my pop playlists (sadly).

Because Shay was based on me, all her entourage I created is based on people in my rl. lol

I also absolutely wanted her to be friends with Bernard because I absolutely love Bernard (and Bat SO who are civilians? Tim and Jason bonding over the fact their SO are the only civilians in the Batfam?! So many fun things to do!!)

Zee is also a character that I love, based on one of my favourite cousins, and I got lowkey mad at myself halfway through that he was dead. So I have an AU where he didn't die in my head lol 

I'd like to write a oneshot of it when I'm done with this fic.

Last fun fact about Shay that I wasn't able to put in fic yet: all the rogues annoy her (mostly because they cause mayhem that cancel events) but she madly respects Poison Ivy because of her convictions and: "is she wrong tho?" 

I have a lot of other small notes about Shay and the Shay-verse but I'll post the rest when the fic is completed!

EDIT 2024-10-04: I completely forgot to add the link to the post fic notes! So if you read Awaking in Gotham do check those other notes!

[f1-stuff]

Girl dad Carlos please! I miss that fic so much 🥲

Okay. So.

I mustered up the energy to write a little vignette of this AU bc I also miss it and bc I didn't want to leave you two hanging! This is skipping ahead quite a bit to halfway through the season, but I'm still planning on writing and fleshing out that portion. I've just known for a while that this was gonna be an important part of the story and that I could jump into writing it right away!

It will probably be edited and adjusted for when the actual chapter is posted on ao3, but this is the 'rough draft' I guess! (Disclaimer: I know zero French and I haven’t had someone look over that bit yet!)

Anyway, enjoyyyy...

When there’s a knock on his door about two weeks into the summer break, his brain doesn’t compute for a full minute after he’s opened it.

Because why would Charles, his teammate, be here? In Spain? At his apartment? During their summer holiday, when they’re supposed to be ignoring any and all people and things related to F1, recharging their batteries, and remembering there’s more to life than racing cars? He and Charles have barely ever even texted during the summer break, let alone seen one another. So, again, why would Charles be at his front door.

Also, he’s a bit sleep deprived and delirious, so there’s every chance he’s hallucinating this.

“Uh...” he says, rather eloquently.

“Hey,” Charles says. And there’s a tentative smile on his face that Carlos can’t even begin to parse the meaning of. His brain isn’t just one step behind, it’s five steps. “Can...I come in?”

“Oh.” Again. Eloquent, Sainz. “Eh- yeah. Yes. Come in.”

“Sorry to stop by without a warning,” Charles is saying. But Carlos is too busy looking around in barely disguised panic at the absolute trash heap that is his home.

It’s not that he didn’t realize how much of a mess the apartment was before, but he sees it now through Charles’ eyes and feels a little like curling up and dying. There are bowls of half eaten food and dirty dishes piled in and around the sink. Various toys, games, books, and drawings are strewn over almost every surface, along with clothes (mostly socks, so many socks) littering the floor. Boxes and boxes of Lucy’s things that he hasn’t had time to sort through are stacked against the walls and in the corners. One of the only exposed walls by the couch has colorful marker all over it, Ana having done that particular masterpiece when he’d accidentally nodded off during Peppa Pig. (He’d been too tired to even properly get angry about it, which was perhaps a bad precedent to set if he didn’t want a repeat performance.)

It looks like a tornado has swept through his apartment. A tornado named Ana.

Not that Charles is much neater on a good day, and he doesn’t even have a kid as an excuse. But Carlos has a feeling that if this is the current state of his apartment, the state of his own appearance is probably no better. He hasn’t properly showered, shaved, or slept in days, and he doesn’t think he’s looked in the mirror in all that time either. For all he knows, he’s still got remnants of the braids Ana put in his hair yesterday. He certainly can’t remember taking them out...

Charles, on the other hand, looks fresh and groomed and sunkissed - everything Carlos would expect during the summer break.

He smells good, he thinks, unbidden. Then, immediately, Stop it.

Charles takes in the space around them, his eyes eventually settling on Carlos with an amused (and maybe slightly concerned) expression. But just as he’s opening his mouth to speak, there’s the sound of the bathroom door opening down the hall and the smattering of tiny feet running across the floor, before Ana declares in her tiny, yet surprisingly bold voice, “I didn’t have a diarrhea!”

Carlos doesn’t even have enough shame left to be embarrassed by his kid. His first instinct is just relief.

“Stomach virus,” he mumbles to Charles, by way of explanation. Then, to Ana, in Spanish, “That’s great, mi niña! Did you wash your hands?”

“Yeeeees!”

“Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh!”

“Good, because we, eh- we have a guest!”

It’s quiet for a moment, before Ana’s head pokes around the corner slowly. But her face lights up as soon as she sees who it is.

“Cha!” she shouts, but then immediately looks embarrassed by her own show of excitement.

“Coucou, Ana,” Charles says, amused. He kneels down and encourages Ana closer, accepting the tentative hug she gives him.

No matter how much they had bonded last time, it’s still been a while since they’ve seen one another, and some of Ana’s shyness has clearly returned. Still, it’s huge that she’s even initiated a hug, and Carlos feels a telltale twinge in his sternum at the image they both make.

“As-tu été bon pour papa?” Charles asks, cuffing her gently on the chin. Ana grins and nods. “J'ai un cadeau pour toi.”

Charles reaches into a bag that Carlos hadn’t even noticed he’d been carrying until he’d set it down to hug Ana, and he pulls out a pink rectangular thing, that Carlos squints in confusion at for a beat. He realizes what it is simultaneously with Charles’ next words.

“C'est une caméra. Pour que tu prennes des photos de ton papa.”

It’s a pink camera for kids, a unicorn adorning the front where the lens peeks out. Carlos almost rolls his eyes - of course Charles, with his recent photography kick, gifts his kid a camera. But the way Ana’s expression transforms with wonder as Charles demonstrates to her how it works is pretty precious.

Charles hands it over to her and she immediately points it at him. He pulls a silly expression, making her giggle. They both examine the photo, heads bowed close. Ana points it up at Carlos next.

“¡Sonríe, papá!”

He sticks out his tongue and her little finger presses the capture button. The joy on her face as the photo pops up on the screen, tilting it to show them even though it’s upside down, fills Carlos with so much warmth and love that he legitimately almost tears up.

God, he’s so freaking tired.

Ana bounds off to her room to gather her stuffed toys to take a ‘family picture,’ and Charles straightens back up, smile lingering on his cheeks even after Ana has disappeared down the hall.

Carlos wants to kiss him so bad. Becoming a father has turned him into such a sap.

“Ehm,” he clears his throat. “Thank you. That was- a nice gift.”

“No problems.”

“You know, you don’t have to buy her something every time you see her,” he says, humor lacing his words.

“I want to,” Charles insists, simply. They smile awkwardly for an extended beat, listening to the sounds of Ana down the hall in her room, talking to her animals. Charles’ eyes stray to his hair. “You have...something in your hair. Is that a braid-?”

“What are you doing here, Charles?” he asks, choosing to ignore the comment. “I thought you would be in Corsica, or somewhere.”

“I was. But I heard you and Ana had to cancel on the trip to Mallorca and-”

“Heard, how?” Charles looks sheepish, triggering his suspicion. So he repeats it. “Heard, how, Charles?”

“Your mum texted me-” 

He sighs, eyes shutting briefly in frustration. He wishes his mom would just stay out of this whole- thing with Charles. But, clearly, she knew he wouldn’t accept help from anyone else. And that he wouldn’t be able to turn Charles away…

“She didn’t tell me to come,” Charles rushes to say. “She was just worried because you refused to let her stay and help, and that you hadn’t found a sitter, or someone, yet. So I just offered-”

“Charles, please...” He breaks off with another sigh, rubbing his temples to stave off the oncoming headache. But it’s already too late, if the subtle pulsating pain, slowly increasing in intensity, is anything to go by. “You should not have come.”

“Carlos, don’t be stupid,” he scoffs. “Anyway, I am here.” And he supposes that’s true. Nothing can be done about it now. “You look tired.”

He huffs a small laugh, dropping his hands from his temples to meet Charles’ gaze.

“This is what someone looks like when their kid catches a stomach virus and then they catch that same virus from their kid, just when their kid is starting to feel better-”

“Why didn’t you let your mum help-?”

“I’m her dad,” he interrupts, breathing hard. But he softens his voice with his next words. “I can do this on my own. I just wanted to...”

He doesn’t really know how to finish that sentence, though. It sounds stubborn and stupid when he starts to say it out loud. None of this should be about him. It’s about Ana. And if he’d really needed help, he should’ve asked for it. For her.

Charles seems to know that he doesn’t have to say it - that Carlos is already thinking it. So, instead, he just claps a hand to his shoulder and squeezes.

“I think,” he says, “-you should get some rest.”

“Charles-”

“No, I’m serious. Go to your room, Mister Sainz.” A slow grin pulls over his features. And along with the genuine concern in his eyes, it’s almost enough to break through Carlos’ resolve. “You are exhausted. Ana will be fine - I will watch her. Just...rest for a minute. Okay? You don’t look like yourself.”

And he knows that must be true. He knows that he needs a lot more than just a few hours of sleep to feel somewhere close to normal again (a shower would be a good start). But it’s hard to even think of himself when he’s been so worried about Ana for days - researching how to get her fever to die down, trying to get her to drink fluids, watching her fitful face in sleep, his heart in his throat despite how the pediatrician had assured him she’d be fine.

But, then, he’d gotten sick, too. And instead of focusing on his own recovery, he’d had to fit in sessions of retching over the toilet in between caring for his kid and making sure she was properly fed. And the two of them had managed, even if it wasn’t ideal. They’d grown closer, he thought, by virtue of her needing him so much.

He couldn’t keep it together forever, though. Eventually, if he didn’t take a break, he’d fall apart completely.

It takes him a stubborn moment, the urge to argue bubbling up inside despite how glorious resting his head on a pillow sounds. But eventually he nods, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Thank you.”

Charles just looks at him with a mixture of fondness and exasperation. “You are welcome, Carlos. Now, go. You look like you are going to fall over at any moment.”

“I feel like I’m going to fall over at any moment.”

Charles laughs under his breath, pushing Carlos’ shoulder gently to aim him toward the hallway. “Well, fall over into bed, then.”

“I’m going,” he insists, letting his tired limbs and the heavy touch of Charles at his shoulder guide him toward his room.

He can deal with how insane this situation is - Charles showing up here, and what the hell it means that he’d come at all - once he’s had some sleep. For now, he’ll happily take it for granted.

He doesn’t even really remember climbing into bed before the exhaustion takes over, his body surrendering to fatigue now that he knows his kid’s in good hands. Trustworthy hands. Charles’ hands.

He thinks he can hear the faint sounds of their French floating down the hallway. It makes him smile with the last vestiges of energy he has left.

God, he is in so over his head.

----

WIP ask game

Link to fic on ao3 -> (x)

[agentmarcuspike]

can you do dbf!joel x reader with 6?

oh BOY can i...

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

(gif by @pedrorascal)

warnings: dbf!joel, random date x reader, nothing graphic but sex on the first date, break-in, brief mention of animal death ig, caught in the act. wordcount: 1k a/n: i know it's just a quick lil drabble, and i used to write a lot if fanfics, but i never actually posted any of them, so this feels like a bigger deal than it is, help ♡ ps: not edited and barely skimmed through after writing!

part 2 + part 3 + part 4

"so... this is me," you gesture to the house you share with your dad, averting you date's eyes. it's been a great night, and you'd love to invite him in, but you can hear music from your dad's records playing, and the low rumbling of his friends' voices. you saw them before you left for your date, all of them complimenting your hair or your dress or your legs. except for Mr. Miller, your next door neighbor, who rarely says anything at all. he looked at you all the same, though.

"cute house," your date replies. you chuckle nervously. "it's my dad's. i'm staying with him for a while to save some money."

"you grew up here?" he carefully takes your hands.

"i did", you smile, as you finally meet his eyes. "back in my childhood bedroom."

"hot..." he whispers. you laugh.

letting go of his hands, you take a step back.

"my dad has guests... so... i'm sorry to end the night here." you give him a half smile. the butterflies from the nice evening turn to dread. you don't want the night to end, and you want nothing more than to take him to bed, but the potential humiliation of having to sneak him in past your dad and all of his friends stops you.

he takes a step forward and closes the distance between you.

"why does it have to end?" he whispers, taking your hands again. "we don't need to go inside."

you cock your head, unsure of what he means. it's late november, and while the texas climate usually is nothing to complain about, your short dress won't warm your legs after the sun has set, and you're not too keen on getting arrested for indecent exposure either. not tonight, anyway.

a roar of laughter escapes from your house, and you can see your dad's silhouette in the window. next to him, Joel Miller takes a long sip of what's probably his eleventh beer of the night. you've seen him drink alone on his porch, you can't imagine how many units the awkward man goes through in a social situation.

Joel Miller... you look over to his house. his porch lights are on, but the rest of the house is dark. obviously, he's in your house. which means... his is empty...

an idea.

"we don't need to go inside... my house." you whisper back, meeting your date's hungry gaze. he lifts his eyebrows, intrigued, and you lead him away from your house, towards your neighbor's.

your neighbor used to have a cat. you know because you used to feed it. the first time your dad asked if you could pop over once a day while Miller was away you thought it was a joke, because grumpy Mr. Miller didn't strike you as a cat person. even after the cat was hit by Mrs. Adler's car last year he didn't seem like much of a cat person, burying it in his backyard without shedding as much as a tear.

knowing him, though, he still keeps his spare key in the same place.

and with a triumphant look to your date, you pull a key out from under his mat. "ka-ching," you wink. he looks around. "you sure?" he asks, swallowing harshly, as you swing the door open. instead of answering, you grab him by his shirt collar, and pull him inside.

Joel Miller's bedroom is cold, colder than you expected, the blue walls making it feel even colder, and taking off your clothes is not tempting. but given that your dress is already halfway over your head, you go for the skin-to-skin way of warming up instead.

the two of you quickly shimmy under Joel's covers, and a streak of excitement not coming from your date moves down your spine as you inhale the scent from the pillows, and for a brief second imagine what it would be like to share this bed with its owner instead.

while your date is in the bathroom, you let yourself float back into the unexpected fantasy that had hit you. you couldn't deny you hadn't thought about it before. Joel Miller was, for lack for a better word, a DILF. but given his status as your dad's best friend, and your 20 something year age gap, you'd never let yourself dwell on the though too much.

you bury your head in the pillows, inhaling the scent once again, and hear the floorboards creek. expecting it to be your date coming to slip silently back into bed with you, the deep grumble of your neighbor's voice makes you gasp.

“is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

you flip around, instinctively covering your chest with the blankets.

"mr. miller!" you squeak. "oh my god, miller, i'm so sorry, i--" you stutter as you try to come up with an excuse for the situation.

only a second passes before the toilet flushes, and Joel looks towards the bathroom, before looking back to you, brows raised. "and you have company?"

your date freezes in the doorway, hands shooting down to cover himself. "oh--" he begins, not sure how to continue.

Joel bends down to pick up the young man's shirt from the floor, tossing it at him. he catches it awkwardly, and quickly scrambles to pick up the rest of his clothes. you send him an apologetic look.

"you can go," Joel states, clearly to your date, but he's looking at you. "we'll talk once you're dressed." he throws your panties at you, and walks past the naked man into the hallway, shooting you another glance through the door before you hear him disappear downstairs.

after quickly apologizing to the guy who will surely be calling you "the worst date of his life" from now on, and sending him on his way (no numbers exchanged), you patter down the stairs, hoping Mr. Miller has somehow forgotten the whole thing.

he hasn't. he's sitting at the kitchen island with a beer. your eyes meet, and you look away quickly, not sure where to rest your gaze.

"want one?" Joel holds up his drink and nods towards the fridge.

"i should go, my dad--" you don't finish your sentence, as you turn to leave.

"wait." he calls after you. you stop, not turning around. "your dress."

you sigh. "thanks, it's vintage."

as you're about to keep walking, he calls again.

"it's tucked into your panties."

oh. my. god. oh my god. you quickly untuck it, throwing him a quick glance over your shoulder as you jog towards the door.

you can swear he was smirking.

[timeofjuly]

This has been done for several hours technically

I didn't draw a scene but this popped up in my head and I couldn't stop thinking of it.

Them watching a movie and MC falling asleep on pap! Or their first touch since they met.

OMFG THIS IS AMAZING!!! I can't believe I've only posted 3 chapters of Wishbone and yet you've managed to captured their relationship dynamic and overall Vibes so perfectly. Love love love how you've drawn the MC (I picture them with very similar hair and colouring and resting expression, funnily enough!) and Papyrus!!!! Beloved!!!!! His panic is just perfect. I love how happy he looks in the first panel too, he's just so pleased to be there with the MC!!! The blush is so cute, I wanna gnaw on him.

I was super super super inspired by this and cranked out a little oneshot based on it that I've popped below the cut! Thank you so much!

Movie Night

"I don't get it," you say, eyes fixed to the TV, a furrow between your brows. "So, he plays all of the characters? Even the villains?"

"even the baddies," Papyrus confirms. Unlike you, he is not focussed on the screen; instead, he's doing his best to sneak furtive, sidelong glances at you and how little space there is between the two of you on the couch. Not even a full cushion's worth. It's scandalous. He can barely breathe, much less adequately explain the ins and outs of Napstaton's impressive discography to you. "he does all the camera work, too, and directing, and editing. 's real impressive, you'll see."

"And you like this movie in particular," you say dubiously, gesturing towards the screen, which is paused on the opening sequence of Napstaton: Rise of the Napocolypse. The freeze frame features the robot in question atop a (very cool!) motorcycle, riding through a halo of flame, fleeing from an identical, yet somehow perceptively darker, moodier version of himself who is also astride a (slightly less cool) motorcycle.

"uh-huh," he confirms. "there's great characterisation in this one, the arcs are great. and the pyrotechnics are very realistic."

"Right," you say. For some reason, he gets the sense that you don't believe him, but the fact that you've even agreed to give the movie a shot is progress. You're willingly engaging in monster culture and you're spending time with him; he's not gonna look a gyftrot in the mouth.

You settle further into the couch, digging into the bowl of chisps he'd placed on the coffee table before you arrived. When you shift forward to put the bowl back, your knee brushes his femur, and he breaks into a cold sweat.

"i'll! i'll start the movie, then? if you're ready? unless you want more snacks? a drink? a meal? i can't really cook, but i can use the microwave? if you want? you can eat sans' leftovers? i'm sure he won't mind!" 

Sans would very much mind if you, of all people, ate his food. Papyrus half expects you to eat it based on that alone.

"I'm okay, thank you," you say, a small, amused smile tugging at your lips. Wordlessly, you pluck the TV remote from where it'd been sitting in the not cushion-width chasm and press play.

The speakers rattle with the boom of explosives as Napstaton unleashes a hailstorm of firepower against his identical enemy. You blink, but make no comment, giving your full attention to the TV.

He forces himself to do the same, even though your leg is still so close to his, and he can smell your shampoo. What he actually wants to do is focus on you and your reactions; are you enjoying movie? Are you following the plotline? Do you also appreciate the delicate balance between the Napstaton's as they vye for power? The struggle between duty and the heart? The laser cannons? He really hopes you like those; he'd helped 'Dyne make them Underground, and he plans on secretly fishing for compliments on them after the movie's over.

Around halfway through the movie, as Napstaton casually dodges bullets in slow motion while checking his reflection in a shattered mirror, Papyrus feels pressure on his shoulder.

First, he thinks you're tapping him to get his attention, which would be crazy because you never touch him, not since that first time, but when he looks down, it's not your hand on his shoulder. It's your whole ass head.

There's a beat of silence. On the TV, Napstaton stands atop a pile of rubble, arms akimbo, gazing heroically into the distance as a nearby TV anchor (also played by him, though wearing a mussed synthetic wig) reports: 'Will our flamboyant, fearless, and, let’s be honest, incredibly well-oiled hero arrive in time to save us all?'

"um," says Papyrus.

You do not respond. Napstaton backflips off the rubble. Papyrus begins to sweat.

"um?!" he tries again, a little louder.

Nada from you. Have you just keeled over randomly? Humans do that, right? He's read about spontaneous human combustion, is this something similar?

He looks down at you, twisting his neck to get a better look. Your face is still, eyes closed, but then he hears the slow, measured beat of your soft exhales.

Oh. You're asleep! That… that tracks. You're bone-tired literally all of the time, and this is probably the longest you've spent not having to work in ages. It certainly makes more sense than you just up and dying like a startled hamster over some laser cannons.

… oh, fuck, you're asleep, on him, like he's your own personal bony body pillow, and though he's definitely not opposed to that, he's sure you would be. As far as you've come, you'd never touch him, not on purpose.

You look honest like this, your face relaxed and open. Similar to the faux transparency you're so good at faking, but there's subtle differences, little minutiae of the human expression that are impossible to replicate. There's a softness to the set of your closed eyes he's never seen before, like the tension you carry behind them has disappeared, all those tiny muscles forced to relax. Your cheek is squished up against his shoulder, making it appear comically fuller towards the top, and from his vantage point - craning his neck down at you like a creep and almost popping a disc in the process - he can see that your lips are just slightly agape. The gentle puff of your breath continues, perfectly rhythmic.

As he watches, you let out a tiny sigh, and rub your face against his jacket. His soul goes warm in his chest. You're so fucking cute. You're cute all the time, of course, but there's something about you when you're so off-guard (like you trust him, almost) that makes his soul feel like it's on fire. His skull, too; unlike Napstaton, he doesn't have a mirror at the ready, but he knows he's blushing all the same.

What does he do now? Does he wake you up? No, no way; you need your rest. But what if you want him to wake you? You would, surely. You're not a napper; or, rather, your lifestyle doesn't allow you time to take a deep breath, much less get proper sleep. He has no doubt that, if you were to wake up, you'd get embarrassed and angry and rush off to subject yourself to more work, and probably not talk to him for a whole month.

On the TV, Napstaton forces the neck of his enemy between his robotic biceps and then flexes, popping the other robot’s head clean off. It's a pity you've fallen asleep so quickly; the movie's barely gotten to the good bit. He doesn't blame you, though. He knows you're exhausted.

Okay, so he's definitely not disturbing you. But what if you wake up, and get upset at him for letting you sleep? He doesn't want that either. He needs plausible deniability, or whatever it’s called, for why he didn’t wake you up.

…well, there's only one option, and luckily for Papyrus, it's one of the few things he's good at. Sans has always said he could fall asleep anywhere.

Doing his best not to jostle you, Papyrus tips his head to the back of the couch and closes his sockets. You are warm and solid against his shoulder and the weight of you, the physical reminder that you are here with him, that you trust him enough for this, guides him to a peaceful, dreamless sleep. 

[tenthousandyearsx]

Thanks so much for tagging me @wolfpants, I loved reading yours! I've pretty much only published lots of PWPs so far, and while I loved writing every single fic I've posted, self-recs always feel a bit weird. x_x Anyway, I'll give it a go!

Rules: Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💙

​‎ㅤ

Passably Wrecked (Drarry, E, 4.6k)

“Potter,” Malfoy says, sitting down next to him at breakfast. “I think we should have sex.”

Starting with this one because it's fairly recent and I don't think I've shared it here! Malfoy expresses scepticism about Harry's sexual prowess. Harry is having none of it.

​‎‎ㅤ

Keep your hands on me (Drarry, E, 21k)

Malfoy binds himself with a sex curse. Harry cannot get enough (but would much prefer to keep Malfoy for himself).

Still the filthiest thing I've written imo – it's 21k of smut and I didn't self-censor at all, but I ~think~ I consider it porn with character development rather than pwp. I wrote the whole thing in a daze, which is my favourite way to write when the muses allow – and to my absolute astonishment (I was sure it was going to get hate), it tends to get my favourite comments too. ​‎‎ㅤ

Just a trial run (Drarry, E, 9k)

Potter in his living room was a novelty and Draco could not take his eyes off him. He fixed both of them a drink, handed Potter his Firewhisky, then sat on the sofa. “From Saviour to Auror to whore,” he said. Potter choked on his drink. “Tell me, Potter, how does that happen?” In which Harry wants to get into sex work and Draco would prefer to keep him for himself.

I'm very fond of this fic and this Draco. I wrote it while I was working on KYHOM because I wanted to try a somewhat similar premise with the opposite dynamic, with top Draco and a more submissive Harry. It has both a paid sex kink and alcohol kink, which I have no idea where they came from, and while I've been postponing doing some proper edits on the second chapter, I absolutely loved writing it. ​‎‎ㅤ

Trouble with your tie, Potter? (Drarry, E, 6.7k)

The last thing Harry expects when Slughorn partners him up with Zabini is Malfoy shooting them furious looks throughout the whole class and then unceremoniously snogging Harry in the corridor.

My Erised fic from last year! I was actually working on something else entirely, a much longer fic that fizzled and died on me halfway through. I have a self-imposed rule that the energy of a story has to be right and has to be such that the story drives itself – and, specifically for fic, that if I don't enjoy writing it, there's no point in doing it. So when writing a fic becomes a slog, I just go back and delete mercilessly. It still didn't help in this case though x_x, so I started writing "Trouble with your tie" instead, which was an absolute joy to work on and I'm so happy I did. There are some parts I still think I'll probably rewrite at some point, but I really loved writing H and D's dynamic here. Even though I don't agonise over my prose when I write fic, I am super careful about the energy I'm putting out and especially the feeling I'm leaving the reader with at the end, so I'm really happy they hit the mark in this case. ​‎‎ㅤ

Not very gallant (initial Dronarry but endgame Dron, E, 3.3k)

“He likes it when I hurt him,” Harry tells Ron with a smirk. “And then you come in and soothe him.”

I wanted to include a non-drarry fic so here's a very recent one! I think I probably could have done more with it, but I loved writing Ron in this. Please mind the tags!!! Everything is super undernegotiated!!! It's endgame Dron, but Harry is perfectly fine with it. I should also probably mention that Harry is a bit of an asshole in this fic compared to the way I usually write him, but because I usually write Drarry and wanted this to be endgame Dron, I had to find a way for the dynamic to be in character, hot, and sexually charged, but not in a way that made me ship drarry too much. I'm also usually not good with threesomes or poly relationships because I always feel like someone is left out x_x, so I tried to put my own spin on it. This is what worked for me and I loved writing it! Do not expect considerate behaviour for like... most of it though.

Tagging @crazybutgood , @magpiefngrl , @orange-peony , @lumosatnight and anyone who'd like to join!

[radvimes]

My Phinabella Headcanon -or- Why Phinabella Wouldn't Drift Apart Before Getting Together

(edit: as a neurodivergent person, I'm probably going to just keep adding to this post, like, forever...)

I know I'm, like, almost a decade late to the party, so I don't know who's left around here to read this, but after watching most of Phineas and Ferb, including AYA, hearing other people's analysis of Phinabella, particularly in light of Isabella's bday episode, the picnic episode, the haunted house episode, NOTLP, and Summer Belongs to You, binging a large amount of Phinabella fanfics and art over the last week, and pondering on all of that, I just really feel the need to write out how I see those 2 crazy kids' relationship progressing through their preteen/teen years and into adulthood.

First off, as a technically inclined male (I'm a software engineer, and always loved tech as a kid) with ADHD/the neurodivergent grab bag who had to train himself to pick up on social cues, particularly cues from the girls in my life, I identify so strongly with Phineas. He is, in many ways, the kid I would have wanted to be growing up. Smart, capable, charismatic, with a good friend group, and best friends with the amazing girl next door. It really sounds like a dream life for an ADHD kid like me.

I bring this up to say that, speaking from experience, those relationships, particularly the ones with Ferb and Isabella, would be everything to Phineas. We see this with how he wants to include as many of his friends as he can in his adventures. We see this in the fact that his adventures and inventions almost always have to do with helping a friend/family member or are inspired by them. And, as the show progresses, we see that this is never more true than with him and Isabella. Yes, it would likely take him a few years to pick up on what Isabella's crush meant, but we can see that, even from a young age, he absolutely recognizes that she is a close friend, wants to spend time with her and do things with/for her more than he does the rest of his friends, and is frequently and regularly attentive to her needs as he perceives them. He recognizes that she is important to him, even if romance isn't consciously a part of that for him when they are younger, which is fine, because he's just a kid. He'll get there. To say it a different way, the kid is neurodivergent, and has his passion projects. Once it registers that she's important to him, that fact becomes a bedrock of his existence, of how he experiences the world. That's just how his brain works. It then becomes a permanent passion project to demonstrate how she is important to him. The important thing is that their foundation of friendship is firmly established, and he will spend the rest of his life building on it if she lets him.

On the other side of that, I think we see, through moments like during Isabella's bday, the picnic, NOTLP, and on the desert island at the end of Summer Belongs to You, that Isabella is beginning to recognize this dynamic. She's learning to accept that he's not there yet romantically, and that the things she's loves about him don't require him to be there yet. She loves his dedication, his attention, and how he brings out the best in her. He always says and does things to build her up and show that she is important to him. He depends on her in many ways, and they always have each other's back and their best interests in heart. She can meet him halfway, accept the good in their relationship as it is, and let it progress naturally. I particularly see this in the desert island moment, when Phineas, who isn't used to things going wrong pretty much ever, finally sputters out and sits down. He could have had a breakdown or an explosive fit that things weren't going his way, could have continued to frantically brainstorm with Ferb, but he didn't. He sat down and quietly sought solace in a peaceful moment alone with Isabella. You can see the mix of emotions she felt as she processed what that moment meant, and then realized that she needed to meet him halfway and inspire him to get back up and keep moving, even though she had just said that she so wanted that quiet moment alone with him. And in so doing, as he leapt back up and gave her a big hug in thanks, that really cemented their relationship all the more. While part of her would love him to reciprocate her crush in similar fashion to how she wants to express her feelings, ultimately, she just wants him to show her she's special to him via preferential treatment, quality one on one time, and words of affirmation, and he can and does do those things all the time. She is learning she can wait for the rest. Also, let's not forget that she's been to the future. She knows that she gets to be Aunt Isabella eventually! Between that and the care that she sees him give her as kids, while it might be hard to wait sometimes, I have to believe that she would stick with her best friend.

The other piece I would throw in here is that, while society often puts a big wall between being friends and being lovers, my experience is that the best romantic relationships are founded on strong friendships first, before infatuation and physical attraction ever enter into the equation in a meaningful way. As such, I think it's really reasonable to assume that their path forward is what I recently saw described as the "friends to idiots to lovers" trope. They would absolutely continue to be best friends, having each other's back and confiding in one another, for years. Isabella would continue to try to profess her feelings from time to time as we saw her do in the show, and Phineas would probably assure her that he likes and appreciates her, too. If she felt down about things from time to time, he would absolutely sense that, even if he didn't understand the complete significance of it, and he would reach out, probably with an invention or adventure or ice cream date or 2, because those things always helped her out of her funks before, and she would appreciate his attentiveness and attention.

Then, somewhere along the line, I imagine that their friendship would naturally begin to evolve into something a bit more tender, though they would both be in denial about it. Isabella would have spent so long telling herself to keep expectations low that she would have conditioned herself not to consciously read too much into anything Phineas says or does, and Phineas would be all "we're just really close friends, this is just how we've always acted". Meanwhile, they, like, eat lunch together every day, work their schedules to have a bunch of the same classes, walk/drive to school together every day, etc. They have a standing weekly movie/dinner night where, over the course of years, they now pretty much always end up snuggling on the couch while Phineas tries out fancy new massage tools and techniques he's developed because he knows Isabella gets sore muscles from sports and Fireside Girl-related activities. They stay over at each other's houses until all hours of the night, and regularly sleep on each other's couches when it gets too late. He gives her lots of hugs when she does something he really appreciates or when she's down. She gives him little chaste kisses on the cheek when he does something particularly thoughtful (the first time she did it, she thought she was pushing the boundaries a little. It quickly became habit). Lots of unconscious hand holding. Of course, regular trips to the ice cream parlor to celebrate or just for a change of scenery. Along the way, he's just always making thoughtful things for her, new sports/outdoor equipment, a custom bike/scooter/car, accessories and stationary with butterflies on them because he noticed that she often makes comments about him giving her butterflies, and he thinks it's some sort of cute inside joke. She starts regularly baking treats for him (and Ferb), and before long, it seems like there's always something she made on the Flynn-Fletcher kitchen counter/in the shed. They work together to decorate the tree in each of their back yards, and probably also each other's tree houses. Pictures of them together are everywhere, and they kind of just roll their eyes and blush a little about it. No angst is needed, because their love isn't unrequited, it's just not fully recognized. Isabella wouldn't pull away, because as soon as she did, he would notice and reach out to try to understand what's wrong, and to comfort her and raise her spirits, and I truly believe that she would respond positively to that. Love comes in many forms, after all, and they would ensure that they both felt loved. In a lot of ways, they would fairly quickly get to the point where they are a single good DTR away from officially dating, with a lot of momentum in the way of making time for that DTR. On the other hand, as soon as that DTR starts, it's gonna go for hours, because they would both have plenty to say on the topic of their relationship, and I get the sense that both of them would exhibit the neurodivergent trait that this would be a topic of particular interest for them, so they would naturally be inclined to discuss it indefinitely.

As they get older, they both vehemently push back whenever someone makes a reference to their boyfriend/girlfriend, but neither one ever ends up going on a date with anyone else. They either don't go to dances because they have other plans, or they go in a group with, like Ferb, Baljeet, Ginger, and whoever Ferb has asked out that time. Then something happens. Either there's a dance where the rest of the group conveniently goes separately, or someone new makes a comment about them dating, or Ferb or Buford or Candace or someone finally gets tired of it and starts pointing out to Phineas all things they do that are totally the sort of thing you do with a girlfriend. Phineas' immediate reaction is to deny it like always, but then something kind of clicks in his head. It's not that the kid is totally oblivious to romance and dating, he's just never really thought seriously about how it applies to him and Isabella, because they've just always been them, and it's been great. Now, though, as he thinks back, things start to recontextualize in his mind, and he starts to wonder. Some time later, maybe a while as he ruminates on it for a bit, maybe the next time he sees her, he brings it up, mentions that people keep saying they're dating, or that it might look like they are dating, and are they? Should they? What would that change? He's trying to make some sense of the social cues and the intricacies of their relationship, you see. Or maybe this conversation gets triggered by emotions running unusually high and tender at one of their movie nights or something, and maybe they were suddenly looking at each other in a new light, maybe they even kissed. At this, Isabella is shocked and delighted, and asks if he is saying that he wants to define their relationship, if he's asking her to be his girlfriend. She sees it as him actually asking her directly about their relationship for once. He probably responds "well, yeah, kinda, maybe?" She might respond that, really, nothing much has to change, they would get to keep doing what they're doing, just as boyfriend and girlfriend, except that if she's his girlfriend, she can do stuff like this: and then she leans in for a kiss and/or an intentional snuggle, etc.

After that, they are truly insufferable/inseparable. They've been unofficially together for years at that point, after all. Now, it's just open and official and mutually understood how much they really mean to each other, forever. They probably spend a fair bit of time, at least at first, reminiscing about past moments where one or both were oblivious or in denial, thinking about how long they really have loved each other. Again, no angst in these conversations, just some wistfulness about missed opportunities, and joy in their shared history and future.

===

Don't get me wrong, I've read many fanfics that I've loved, including "Can't Help Falling In Love", "Is This About a Girl", "Sugar Rush", and "In Two Weeks", that deal with them realizing their feelings and/or confessing to each other after some time pining/growing apart, and what it means/how wholesome it is once they are together. The thing I love most about each of those stories, though, is the way each of them taps into how important their friendship and commitment to each other is to their relationship, and how, no matter the stage of their relationship, Phineas has a singleminded determination to consistently, matter-of-factly, thoughtfully show Isabella how much she means to him through everything he does. I would love to see more stories that explored the "idiots" phase I described above, though, since most of the ones that I have come across that do explore a similar theme do so assuming that separation/pining/unrequited feelings/obliviousness must be part of it, and I don't think it has to be. Speaking as a neurodivergent person, I can say with certainty that he wouldn't be oblivious forever, and the instant he noticed a cue or emotion or comment from her that he didn't understand, or started trying to figure out his own feelings, he would be talking to absolutely everyone about it, trying to get people who understand these things to clue him in on what he's trying to understand, and venting at them about the same. People would clue him in for sure. He'd be relentless in bugging them until they did.

As such, at the end of the day, I just have a hard time seeing them drifting apart in the first place. They are far too committed to each other for either one to bear letting it happen. They embody the sentiment shared by Harry at the end of "When Harry Met Sally": "When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start right now!" That, to me, is Phinabella. I welcome your thoughts on this topic.

[k-kamostarr]

𝚅𝙰𝙽𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙰.

choso x blk!reader

wc: 800

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚘:

After I entered my apartment, I set down all my belongings and called in some takeout. While I wait, I decide to start my nighttime routine. I pull out my phone to record a "get unready with me" video. After finishing the video and posting it, I take a quick shower. When I check my phone after the shower, I see that my food was left at my door. I also noticed that Choso messaged me back. I quickly respond to his message, put on my robe, and run to get my food. I grab the food and set it on my counter while I change into some more comfy clothes.

While I change I continue messaging Choso, I get settled with my food and laptop. Choso wanted to call since he's not good with texting. I open my laptop to start editing and studying for my test on Monday. My phone starts to ring and I see that it's him.

“Hi there!’ I say while stuffing a dumpling in my mouth. 

He laughs looking at me stuffing my face. “Hey! If I knew you were eating I wouldn't have disturbed you.”

“Oh no, you're fine I’m always eating something plus I wanted to continue talking to you.” We laugh in unison. 

“Would you like to watch this show with me I cannot eat without watching something?” I ask. He nods.

We decided to watch the first episode of Blue Exorcist. “You know I would've never guessed this to be the type of anime you liked.” He says. I gasp. “What? What kind do I look like I like?” I laugh. “I took you as a romance or slice-of-life type of girl.” He smiles. “I mean I do like those too but I love me a good action anime.” I smile. 

Halfway through the second episode, I start getting full so I put my leftovers in the fridge. “I’m back!” I say. “Welcome back!” He exclaims. “Let's finish this episode then do something else,” I say. “Deal.” Once the episode finishes he cuts the screenshare. “I got questions for you.” He says. “Okay go ahead.” I smile.

“So how do you juggle college and doing content?” He asked. “Well it's not easy but it's not too bad, I do all my big content stuff on the weekends like YouTube videos and events but like TikTok videos, I do whenever because you know its a 15-second video,” I say truthfully. He nods. “Plus I only have two classes that are in person all the rest are online!” I exclaim. “I see I just think it's so cool to see you doing both because I know so many influencers that were in college and once they got big they left school to pursue content creation you know.” He says. “Yeah, I know that social media isn't forever so even if I lose my fame I know I will have my degree to fall back on.” I nod. He nods. “Well, now I have a question for you.” “What's up?” He asks.

“How do you handle being the sole provider for your brother while also doing content?” I inquire. He sighs. “Well he’s 16 and has his little job now so it's not much to handle now really but before he got a job it was a lot because I had to leave school to take care of him and any person would be pissed about that but I wasn’t I knew what I had to do as the oldest.” He says honestly. “You're a good person Choso I hope you know that.” She says softly. He smiles. “I try to be a person Yuji can be proud of.” He smiles. “You’re doing a great job so far if I was him I would brag about my big brother being the best.” I smile. He laughs. “I love how down to earth you are with the field we’re in a lot of people we meet are fucking posers.” He laughs. “Oh most definitely.” She laughs along with him.

They talk into the early morning without even noticing. “Oh damn, it's almost 4 am I didn't even realize.” He yawns. “Oh my gosh really?” I say surprised. “Hey when are you free this week so I can see you, we can go get some food or something?” He asked which causes you to smile. “If you want to go get something later today we can,” I say. “That's perfect!” He smiles. “Okay then it's settled we can go around 3 so we can both get enough sleep,” I say. “Perfect, well I'm going to get off the phone now have a good sleep.” He yawns. “You as well!” I yawn. We end the call and I instantly fall asleep on the couch.

[clavissionary-position]

What Emma Would Do

Ignore me. This is just me working through my own thoughts and feelings on this. Also I'm an idiot.

***BIG EDIT: I misread and misinterpreted. Azel was nearly drugged and SA'd, so his reaction, however cruel, makes complete sense to me. If he was real I couldn't apologize to him enough.

Moving @/caffedrine's billion-dollar comments up here.

My original, misguided post is below the cut if you're interested.

I have to ask myself what Emma would do. Within reason. And only within the scope of this fictional game, because I'm not about to touch this topic as it exists in the real world. That's for people much smarter than me.

But for the game, my dismissing of Azel as a cruel misogynist without seeing his circumstances and worldview shuts down the conversation the same way it does when Azel dismisses a woman as a slut without seeing her circumstances and worldview.

(Did he actually use the word 'slut' or did google just translate 痴女 like that for me... I should double-check... edit: oh my bad, he calls her a "female molester", which... I can't say he's wrong considering she tried to give him an aphrodisiac...? The word also means "stupid woman", so he could very well have meant it that way too, especially for some reasons I get into later in the post.)

Soooo, he didn't actually call her a slut. I'm an idiot 😌 I'm sorry, Azel. Dunno if any of my points below mean anything, but I'll leave it here anyway:

The running theme in Ikepri is to look beyond the beast and see the human inside. To meet them halfway. To see their heart. And that heart is always so very terribly scarred. All these guys have gone through their own traumas and come out the other end behaving in ways designed to be armor, to protect themselves from any further pain.

I can only speculate about Azel this early in his story arc, but being showered with the same adoration and reverence that people only show a god, day in and day out, probably fucks with your mentality a bit if you are still only human at the end of the day. Having women try to seduce you only because you're The Living God, well, we saw what that kind of shallow treatment did to Silvio. Women see you as an object and so women become objects to you. You want to be loved, but you don't want to be hurt.

That might only be scratching the surface with Azel, though. He's also clearly jaded from listening to the same old interpersonal problems people have when in relationships. Love is actual trash to him, not even worth a single penny. It's trash because the very people who follow him prove it to him on a daily basis, I imagine.

Yet that's still not the full picture. I mean, we obviously won't have the full picture until his main route drops, but there's another key factor to consider with Azel.

He quotes Pascal in Licht's sequel. "Man is only a reed, the weakest thing in nature; but he is a thinking reed." The full quote goes onto say:

"All our dignity consists, then, in thought. This is the basis on which we must raise ourselves, and not space and time, which we would not know how to fill. Let us make it our task, then, to think well: here is the principle of morality.”

(Did I read the entire context of the quote? HA! What do you take me for? A scholar or something?)

Free will and independent thought is arguably the most important thing to Azel. He has no respect for the sheep who flock to him for direction (though he'll happily take their money and tributes). Even with the dancer who tried to seduce him in the prologue, when he tells her to lick up the food she dropped after he tripped her, he presents it as a choice. Nevermind that the staggeringly unequal power dynamics at play made it so this was nothing short of coercion in the end; there was no way the dancer was in a position to stand up for herself and say no, even if that's exactly what Azel wanted. But from his perspective, defiance would have been welcome. That's why he phrased it as a choice. That she started licking up the food only solidified in Azel's mind that this woman is an unthinking reed without dignity. If you're going to act like trash, he'll treat you like trash... maybe that was part of his thinking.

On a slightly different note, I think another reason he hates the idea of love so much is because love makes people lose their ability to reason, to think. I believe he outright says as much, iirc.

In the end, I don't know from where exactly Azel's fury and cruelty comes from. It could be all of these things, it might be something else entirely. All I can think is, you can't be 'God' everyday and not be scarred by humans.

In conclusion, I can't excuse Azel's behavior. I don't excuse it. But I think Emma would try to understand the why of it, like she does in any other route. The other running theme in Ikepri is that, as a certain someone would put it, the essence of all people is love. It's their environment that twists them. Somewhere in Azel is the purest kind of love. A kind that would make any god look away in shame. That's what I want to believe in, anyhow.

Also, I need stress that I was SO wrong about whether he actually called the dancer a slut or not. Google fucked me over by translating it that way! Ah, Azel, I'm so sorry!

[s1lly-billy]

Guess who's back with more massive lore!! (Kinda)

OK SO JUANAFLIPPA IS BACK!!

THERE WASNT MUCH like serious lore today.

Code update:

His other arm is corrupted but no one noticed due to his gegg costume

Lore update: his parents died making that costume??? I am praying that's not Canon because the lore implications are terrifying. (Kinda like the implication of the eggs have teeth)

Anyway, I like to think Charlie is just canonically completely a believer in ghosts, and tells himself hey yah flippa isn't one and then DOUBTS HIMSELF HALFWAY THROUGH 💀

Thoughts and actual theorys.

So we know about etoiles encryption right? If not I'll post the file.

Pretty much Juanaflippa is a bigger part of the lore than we realized. Not to mention that there was slime materials and armor....all over the haunted house? Slime armor everywhere. Slime blocks...Slime balls....

But....why?

Why are they there.

His lore, it's involved in everything. Flippas code-ness did this, and he's getting corrupted quickly. It's spreading, there's not alot left to cover before he's gone. So I'm thinking, something bigs going to happen soon.

-

{Note: I think flippa will die soon and we will get a new Charlie arc or a complete wipe of character} [I am praying we get a super duper angsty memory loss arc with the: "WHY DON'T I KNOW?! WHY CAN'T I REMEMBER ANYMORE.... PLEASE... WHO ARE YOU....'Juanaflippa...?'"]

(Forgive my angsty predictions)

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚

Back to slimecicle lore:

He's still in denial, but trying to stay happy. And still struggles with keeping children alive.

(RIP slimbus, grimbus, and grime DD:)

And he was genuinely sad about it, but tried to stay positive with Flippa by his side (insert "amiga..." Meme) Good news, more massive delicious tasty lore for me to write about in the future!

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚

Meta:

Likely didn't glitch because of the gegg costume code lol, he AND the admins can only do so much-. Also guys please remember this is rp, Twitter users shouldn't have the right to attack someone for rp and neither should you. Please be respectful to the ccs <3 (Talking about attacks on BBH over rp specifically)

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚

Back to slimecicle lore:

He's still in denial, but trying to stay happy. And still struggles with keeping children alive. (RIP slimbus, grimbus, and grime DD:)

Charlie is still stuck in the delusion, a forlorn gaze into a hopeful yesterday.

EDIT!!!!: CUCURUCHO WAS WATCHING CHARLIE AND FLIPPA IN THE HAUNTED HOUSE. A LOT. THAT WAS FUCKING WEIRD. Listen CUCURUCHO stay. Back. Ik you want to grab her and interrogate but please.

I know you know.

I need you to not acknowledge it.

[rearranged-fanfic]

(Update 6/3)

Sit down a spell, weary traveler. Come and sit by my fire; bask in the warmth of the flame and rest your aching scrolling finger. You'll be sitting a while, for I have a tale to tell:

Okay, so I've had a Toshiba laptop for the better part of ten years. Maybe a little longer. That laptop has survived being struck by lightning, submerged in a bathtub, and literally having a whole bookcase topple down onto it. I thought it was immortal...

I was sadly mistaken.

About six months ago, I noticed that the typing was getting sluggish. I'd patter away at the keyboard and the letters would appear with a bit of lag. That's fine, since I use Dragon to talk-to-text for quite a bit of my writing. I really only use the keyboard for final assembly, editing, and doing quick rewrites. So, it really didn't bother me. Fastforward to April, which we will call The Great Depression. The time discrepancy between typing and having letters appear on screen became a whopping 40 seconds. Yes, I timed it.

But that was okay, because I could still use my Dragon headset.

Until I couldn't.

It would connect, but the words wouldn't appear on screen. I made sure that all of my programs were up-to-date, and that everything was working. The headset connected to my family's computers just fine. So that meant it was something wrong with mine.

Without being sure if it was the hardware or software at fault, I backed everything up to OneDrive and Google Docs.

I factory reset.

Twice. To no avail.

Over the next few days, my laptop stopped registering any keyboard input at all. It got to a point where I wasn't able to turn it on or off.

Taking it to an electronics store to get repaired didn't help, either. No luck. They said that it would be more cost effective to just buckle down and get a new one, since the age of the laptop meant that I would probably be constantly maintaining it.

My poor Toshiba died kicking and screaming, putting up a fight worthy of an epic ballad.

I saved up for a few weeks, got a new laptop, and went through the rigmarole of getting all of my programs back on it. My files are in order. My life is in shambles (but that's normal, LOL).

I DID do some story work without my computer, but... it's bad. Like, I'd die in shame if I posted anything that I thumbed in. So. Many. Spelling. Errors. How people write on their phone is beyond me. That's a talent I simply don't possess.

At this point, I'm thinking of renaming this story "HIATUS" lol. JK. But I'm seriously peeved that this happened after my last big break. Why couldn't the Depression and laptop breakdown coincide nicely? I guess that's too much to ask of the universe *Shakes fist at the sky*.

I'm creating a damn bingo card for every stupid thing that happens to me while I try to write. Because this is getting ridiculous. I broke my fingers, there was a total solar eclipse, I had a major-ish mental breakdown, and my computer bit the big one. With a free space, that's a bingo. Let's hope I don't get a blackout before the end of 2024.

I doubted the fanfiction curse. I really did. But it's apparently real. And this writer's curse has teeth, people. It bites hard.

I have my MerMay two-shot pretty well done (because I was typing it during The Great Depression), but the next chapter for REARRANGED is still rough. Crimson Chapter 3 is halfway done, but who knows how long that'll take.

The bottom line is that I'm alive and still working on the stories. The next update on this blog will be the posting of several chapters for a few different works. Fingers crossed.

Also, I'm very, very slowly answering the comments in my AO3 inbox. Some of them were pretty lengthy, so it might take a bit. Oof.

If there ever comes a time that I drop this fanfiction or am unable to continue for whatever reason, either I or my husband will be posting the entirety of my outline, as well as anything that's been pre-written for you guys to enjoy. That way there are no questions left unanswered or mysteries unsolved.

[nourrris]

I'm happy there was no season 4.

This could either be a popular, or very unpopular opinion, I'm unsure as frankly I've only began watching two days ago, and finished the show already, (god it was beautiful).

Anyways, I very firmly believe anything after a season 3 would have likely ruined the storyline, it ended on such a beautiful note, something that's so perfectly them. I'm also in a way, happy they never actually did kiss, although realistically I had been rooting for it to happen, the fact it didn't doesn't bother me one bit, it really brings out all the intimacy in their prior actions, and words, I love that their love was batshit insane, that it didn't need a kiss or pda to believe it was reciprocated, frankly surrendering eachothers lives together was more than enough for a confirmation.

But continuing on, I believe a season 4 would have been too messy, they left s3 on a very difficult position to recover off, and a position that didn't need recovering either, it didn't need fixing or changing - not one bit. It was so perfect in my opinion, their last things they did was kill a man together to save one another, then kill themseleves together, literally how much more fitting could it have been for these murder husbands? It just worked so well, that nothing can be more intimate than death for them, in my opinion.

Latching onto the last part of the first section of the post, I really liked how they portrayed the reciprocity of Will's feelings towards Hannibal. When Bedelia ask's Will if he 'aches' for Hannibal too, and it cuts off to another scene, I generally already took that as a yes, as it was a big damn claim, I don't think it's something you easily hesitate on, not when the person in question is a cannibalistic murderer. When he chooses to save Hannibal, and jump off the cliff with him though, that is the real confirmation of course, choosing to leave his wife and son, all friends and absolutely every inch of the life he made - for Hannibal, a man he physically could not get over no matter how hard he tried.

It's perfect, sorry I just finished the show today (like a few hours ago) and I love it so dearly, I've never watched something where the ending felt so genuinely satisfying, even if it seemingly hadn't meant to felt like a finale in that manner, it worked amazingly, I'm very glad it wasn't a s2 situation with such an insane cliff hanger, or else I would have probably just.. never watched the show. Some say it does feel like a cliff hanger, but eventually you can come to terms and realize that their actions, a double suicide in the name of love(?) couldn't possibly surpass anything else they've done at that point, their action's have led them to either horribly idiotic situations, or blissful moments.

Lastly I wanted to mention my original assumption of the ending, I midway through season 2 found out Hannibal was actually a incomplete cancelled show, also prior to that I found through spoilers that will eventually has a wife. Those facts are important because I very weirdly am a person who cannot consume a media without spoilers, (my anxiety is due to that). So I just about know every ending of a show before I'm even halfway into it, although I tend to prefer to wait later, I wondered if finishing the show was worth it so i searched it up, and watched briefly the ending, It was very relieving as if it actually did truly end in a heterosexual way it would have immediately made me quit the show, as yes they are intimite but I still did want any type of closure, without it I would have felt at most pretty indifferent with the ending.

Anyways, the show is beautiful, I love it so so much, even if it's a complete change in genres for me, I love the characters, I love the artistry and creativity in the show, and god do I love the ending.

(edit a day later: guys i totally missed that last scene w bedelia at the end, i still prefer s3's ending but did not know it was implied they were alive!!??!)

[totaldramafan-lauri]

Make Use Of Me (chapter 1, preview)

Dec. 7 EDIT: ONCE MORE, WITH BRAVERY THIS TIME. No more chickening out. You can read this thing FOR REAL now. Sorry for being weird, and now....sorry if this wasn't worth it. XD

O-OK...here goes....

First thing's first: I am not expecting a lotta people to read this. I'm not asking people to read this. At this point, I'm making this mostly as a passion project, and if anyone enjoys it, it'll be a really cool bonus. My writing style isn't gonna be for everyone, and the characters I write aren't the most....popular characters in the CRK X Reader community, and I imagine this isn't really something a lotta fans'll be demanding more of.

This is LONG. This one chapter is 56 pages long. I am a VERY wordy writer,

So......why'm I posting this preview? Well....partially as an interest gauge for people who WOULD wanna read it, but...mostly as a motivator. As something to remind myself of whenever I get lazy. After all....I can't quit after I made the first chapter public, right? By doing that, I put myself out there...And, hey, I even tagged it, so, if by the off chance, someone did read it, I'm basically promising them more eventually.....

But, again, I'm not forcing anyone to read this.

Not only is it long, but.....This first chapter is probably my least-favorite thing I've ever written. By posting this chapter by itself, I'm testing to see if it does its job of making people wanna read the rest, cuz....right now, I'm not so sure how well it succeeds at that.....

This is the boring part of the story. It's a bunch of setup, and me jumping through hoop after hoop after hoop to just get everything started. I know setup is important and all, but....I'm already a very wordy writer, so....oof....There is some interesting stuff that happens, but it takes a while to get there.

I-I....kinda hate it, actually. The only reason I didn't scrap it is that I didn't realize I hated it until I was about halfway through it and the "good part" hadn't started yet. And I still spent a month writing the thing, so....I finished it.

I'm tagging this...as an experiment. If you wanna read this, go ahead. W-well, read my tags first, THEN go ahead. XD

All I can really say in this chapter's defense is that....I do try my best to salvage it. It's just setup, but I TRIED to make it interesting. And everything that seems like it didn't go anywhere, will later. This isn't the whole story, it's just the beginning of what's gonna be a BIG story. Anything that seems weird in this chapter, gets explored in the other chapters. This does set up a bunch of stuff that becomes important later (The friend character shows up later, the Colosseum becomes relevant later). This chapter is boring, but I tried not to make any of it pointless.

For the future: I'm aiming for five chapters. Chapters 2 and 3 will be a series of smaller vignettes that take place over the course of a few years, chapter 4 will be the climax, and chapter 5 will be something of an epilogue. After that, there will be two endings to choose from (which will make sense when we get there).

This probably won't be my favorite thing I've ever written, but it will be the most ambitious thing I've ever, and probably will ever, write. I haven't written something like this before, and it's all to flesh out this story and make it believable.

Right now, I.....I want to finish this. I'll probably still be writing this in February at the rate I'm going, but...at this point, I've put too much into it to give up on it. However, I'm STILL not completely ruling out the idea of my motivation dying before then. It COULD happen. So, what I'm planning to do is...setting a short-term goal of finishing chapter 3. After I do that, I'll post the first three chapters on AO3 together, and work on the rest. That way, even if I don't finish it, I'll at least have it over half done, and chapter 3 will end on a somewhat high note.

So, yyyyeah....Not a lotta people will read this preview. Overly wordy writing style + boring setup part of story + 56 pages long + assumed lack of interest for X Readers of this character (At least, I haven't SEEN many simps for her, m-maybe I'm wrong, I might be, I-I haven't checked any tags cuz I've been nervous, b-but it doesn't make my writing any better. In that case, this is my first time writing her so I'm trying super hard to do her justice >//////<)

I-if you wanna read this, and see if this first chapter does a good job of making you wanna read the better chapters, then...Go ahead.....

Some notes:

-This is still not the final draft. It's finalized enough for me to share, but I'm still not considering it finished. Even tho I'm working on chapter 3 right now, I STILL go back and edit this, even very recently. So, chances are, even if the story is finalized, small details and sentences are still subject to change. I know for a fact that there are still SOME placeholder bits in here that will change after I get some stuff cleared up. Recently, I even considered chopping off an entire section to make it shorter. I decided not to, but hey, it could still happen. I don't wanna waste anyone's time. The first chapter of a story, even if it's boring, is still very important, and I wanna make sure it's the best version of itself.

(A-and yes, this means that I've finished chapter 2 as well. The reason I'm not sharing it is that, unlike chapter 1, it was finished VERY recently, so I might still need to give myself time to edit it. From what I have, tho, I do like it a LOT more than chapter 1. There are some parts of chapter 2 that I'm legit proud of.)

-Even tho this first chapter is completely clean, I-I should mention that....this fic is for adults. The full version, at least. Chapters 3 and 4 are gonna contain some light N/S/F/W moments (the "fade to black" variety, so nothing explicit) and there'll be other slightly racey comments here and there. Just a heads-up. I'm gonna be uncomfy with minors reading this.

Th-that's all? I-I think that's all.......O-OK, so......h-here goes..... E-enjoy....

[chiimeramanticore]

Part of the Band - Chapter 12 - Tell Me The Truth

Chapter summary: Dook spends a day at home.

A/N:

halfway through writing this chapter I realized CDs weren't invented until like 1981 and weren't brought to America until like 1983 but I've been "fuck it we ball no post-upload edits" about this fic since day one so I didn't change it to a cassette. just assume this fic takes place in a universe where everything is the same except the CD was invented 5 years earlier lmao in actual news: we're finally entering an arc of the fic I've been waiting for for literally months. I've been sitting on this exact chapter for months. and after all that time I am still afraid the end of this chapter is gonna seem like I'm jumping the shark w this fic lmao. bear with me! I know what I'm doing! you just gotta trust me 👍 all that said I hope you enjoy the chapter as always! thanks for reading :]

Chapter word count: 2,173

<- Chapter 11 - Chapter 13 ->

Read it on AO3!

It's Sunday.

When Dook wakes up, Beach Bear is already gone. This isn't out of the ordinary by now– Dook knows Beach Bear spends his Sundays at the beach. It's sort of his thing. He could be gone anywhere between a few hours and and all day, honestly. Depends how the waves are, he figures.

Dook has come to take these days for himself. Write some music, clean up the place a bit... He owes Beach Bear at least that much for letting him live here for so long.

After standing in the kitchen idly eating an untoasted bagel, Dook decides that that's good enough to get to work. He turns his attention to the counter, sifting through the pile of notes, receipts, and other stuff they've left there over the week. He tosses what he knows they won't need, and organizes the rest.

As he lifts up a notepad to put it back in its drawer, Dook reveals a CD, still in its case. Scribbled onto the front in Sharpie: "Ballroom Dancing." This is the CD he saw in Beach Bear's car a while ago. He didn't know it ended up here. Beach Bear seemed embarrassed of it at the time, but... Dook eyes the radio next to him.

...But he doesn't have to know, right?

Dook pops the CD out of its case and into the radio's CD player.

The CD whirrs to life, and out comes the sound of Beach Bear. He plucks at his guitar a few times, warming up at first, before beginning to strum a song. He hums along in accompaniment for a while, and then begins to sing the lyrics. Dook recognizes this song– it's by Paul McCartney. But hearing it in Beach Bear's voice is a whole new experience... Though, he is admittedly aware of his infatuation with his voice.

Awareness doesn't stop him from being completely entranced by the recording, though. It's just Beach Bear and his guitar– a far cry from a finished cover– but the smallness of it almost feels more personal. More intimate. Like he's performing just for him.

But eventually, the song ends, and Dook is reminded how he stands in Beach Bear's house without him. Silence falls over the kitchen once more. Left with only his thoughts, Dook can only imagine one thing.

"Beach Bear can sing," he says aloud to himself. How come he was so nervous about this? He's fantastic!

He puts the CD on again, returning to cleaning as he listens. He should bring this up to him when he comes home. He should encourage him to sing in the band! That would solve their singer problem for sure.

Dook's cleaning eventually brings him to Beach Bear's bedroom. He hasn't been in here in some time... not since he slept here. Even then, it was only for a couple hours, and he wasn't conscious for most of it.

He hasn't accustomed to this room fully, even after all this time. Something just feels too intimate about it. Sacred, almost. Maybe he shouldn't clean in here.

Still, Dook finds himself stepping into the room, his feet meeting the plush carpeting.

The silence of the room hangs over him, the air still. The very act of being in here is a disturbance. The posters on the walls watch him. Dook walks over to the desk and runs the tips of his fingers gingerly over the top of a notebook left out there. His hand then comes to rest carefully on the top of the chair parked by the desk.

Old photographs are pasted just above the desk. Some feature Beach Bear himself, where others look like they were taken by him. He spots Queenie in a couple of them. There's a wolf, a dog, a gorilla... Is this the rest of the Wolf Pack?

Beach Bear himself in these images looks different, too. Tougher. Maybe even meaner. Dook remembers the day him and Queenie fought... the way he held her against the wall like that. The way they were both able to hurt each other. Did they learn that back when these photos were taken? How long has he been capable of that?

What would it take for him to do it again?

Dook pulls back from the desk, shaking the thought from his mind. It's not something worth worrying about. Besides, he shouldn't stay in here much longer.

·–—–·

It's been several hours, and the sun has begun to set. Dook has occupied himself with writing a full arrangement of "Ballroom Dancing." They've got a full band, and with Beach Bear singing, it would be something perfect to work on at band practice! He's almost giddy for Beach Bear to come home so he can show him the work he's done.

Almost on cue, Dook hears the door unlock and open. He stands excitedly, ready to meet him at the front of the room.

"Beach Bear!" Dook says enthusiastically. "I'm–"

"We need to talk," Beach Bear says.

Dook's smile fades, a pit beginning to open in his stomach. "Uhm– Sure, about what?" He asks, trying to retain some of the pleasant tone in his voice.

"I was at the beach today," Beach Bear says, "and you'll never guess who I ran into."

"...Uh," Dook's mind begins to race. Should he play dumb? How much does Beach Bear know? He probably knows everything, right? If he doesn't, maybe he can convince him he's done less wrong? No, that's a bad idea. Maybe this isn't even about what he did. He doesn't know it is. He doesn't know anything.

"...Fatz?" Dook offers finally.

"No," Beach Bear says, unamused. "I saw Mini. And we got to talking. She told me some real interesting stuff." His voice drips with barely concealed annoyance.

"O- oh," Dook says meekly, offering no other information.

"Where is that outfit you picked up yesterday, anyway?" Beach Bear asks.

"Uh–" Dook grabs the bag he left at the side of the couch, bringing it over to Beach Bear. He reaches inside, pulling it out just enough for him to show that it's real. "It's here, see? I got it yesterday."

"Okay, where'd you get that from?" Beach Bear continues, relentless. "Because according to her, you didn't spend the money I gave you for a costume, on a costume. What happened to it?"

"I..." Dook stutters a few times. "I have the costume. Are you gonna trust her saying that?"

"Mini's a real jerk sometimes, but she's not a liar, Dook," Beach Bear says. "And right now? I trust her a lot more than I trust you."

Dook feels a knot form in his throat. "I...!" Lying is only going to make this worse. "...I got the costume from Billy Bob and Looney Bird. We made it together."

"Where's my money, Dook?" He asks, relentless.

"I... I don't have it," he admits.

"What did you do with my money, Dook?!" Beach Bear takes a step toward him, towering over him. Dook steps back instinctively. His heart races.

"I- I–" He stammers. "I don't have it. I didn't... I was gonna spend it on the costume. I wanted to spend it on the costume, but I–" He stutters a few more times, unsure how to soften the blow. May as well just come out with it. "W- when you met me that night, and I wasn't doin' so hot, I– I was kinda... reliant, y'know? And I– I don't know what I was thinking that night, I dunno why I went back there. I dunno what's wrong with me. I love spendin' time with you, I've liked all the time we spent together, I just– It– It felt familiar. It was what I used to." The words spill out of him, hasty and messy.

"You... you spent it on booze," Beach Bear says. His voice is low, but his stature doesn't relax even a bit. Then, "You spent all that money on alcohol!?"

"I knew I shouldn't've when I did it!" Dook cries.

"That doesn't make it any better!" Beach Bear shouts.

"I know! I'm sorry!"

"And to find this out from Queenie, I–" He retreats a bit, if only to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I can't believe this! What were you thinking?!"

"I don't know!" Dook's voice breaks a little. "I don't know what I was thinking!"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I– I didn't want you to be upset with me...!"

"I am upset with you!" Beach Bear snaps. "I'm more upset that you thought you could just get away with it! What, that you could just sweep it under the rug? That I wouldn't notice? That it'd just be a funny story later down the line?"

"I–"

"Do you know what I could've done with that money, Dook?"

"I–"

"Do you know what I have had to do since then just to keep the damn house?! I had to go crawling back to my parents again!" He falters for a moment, as if he wasn't planning to tell him that. "I..."

"You–? You didn't have to do that!"

"Yes, I did!" Beach Bear says, just as angry once again. "I had to call them and– and all but beg for the money to keep the house ours! I had to– I had to tell them I was over the being a guy thing! I had to tell them I was wrong and delusional and everything else they wished I was...! Because of you!" Beach Bear pokes him forcefully in the chest. The tip of his claw is sharp.

"Beach Bear–"

"Because I trusted you!" He pokes him again, getting even closer now.

"B- Beach–"

"I liked you, even! I thought you were my friend!" He's practically on top of him now. "And what do you you do but spit in my face?!"

Beach Bear pushes Dook, who stumbles and falls to the floor. He isn't hurt, but he's terrified.

"Is... Is this what you were keeping from me?" Dook asks. "You said you weren't being truthful with me."

"Do not try to turn this around on me," Beach Bear says.

"I'm not tryin' to, I–"

Beach Bear sighs sharply. "I cannot believe this. I cannot believe this!" He turns, beginning to pace the distance between Dook and the front door. "Who do you think you are?"

Dook begins to stand again. "B... Beach Bear, I–"

"I can't," Beach Bear says. "I can't be here." He turns for the door once more.

"Beach Bear–?"

Beach Bear opens the front door, leaving the house. Dook scrambles to his feet, chasing after him.

"Beach Bear, wait!" He calls. Beach Bear is already getting into his car. "Wait, please! Don't leave! I'll– I'll leave instead! I'll go! Don't leave, please!"

Beach Bear pulls out of the driveway.

"Beach Bear! Beach Bear! No! Please!" Dook attempts to chase after the car, but it's too fast.

"Beach Bear!" He tries once more. But he's left alone in the street now. "B..." The words die in his throat.

He feels empty. He feels destroyed. This is all his fault.

·–—–·

Dook stares blankly at the papers he left on the coffee table. What he once was so excited over feels embarrassing now. It's been a few hours since Beach Bear left, to where, he has no clue.

He's considered what he should do when he comes back. Apologize profusely was the first idea, obviously. Maybe he could prepare some sort of grand gesture, like making him his favorite meal... but he's got no idea when he'll be back, and it would be a shame to let the food get cold. Maybe he should just leave. But if Beach Bear returned to find Dook gone, that might cause distress all over again. But to do nothing feels like he doesn't care...

The phone rings. Dook springs up to answer it. It's probably Beach Bear, calling to make up with him, right? Maybe chew him out some more, but at least he'll have the chance to apologize again.

Dook picks up the phone. "Hello?"

"What the hell did you do to him?" Queenie snaps.

"Wh– Huh?"

"What did you do?" She repeats.

"I–" He stutters a few times, recounting his memory. "When he got home, we argued. Obviously. Then he left. I haven't– I haven't seen him in a few hours."

"Well, what did you say to him?!" She presses.

"I didn't say anything! I apologized!"

"Well, you must have done something," she insists, "because he's in the hospital!"

Dook freezes. "He's... what?"

"He's in the hospital," Queenie repeats. "I don't know what happened yet, I just got a call now. We're leaving now."

Dook isn't sure what to say. He's in the hospital? What happened? What did he do? This is all his fault.

"Meet us there," Queenie says, and then she hangs up.

Dook holds the phone to his ear a moment longer, still stunned. Then, finally, he puts it back on the receiver. Guess he's going to the hospital.

[ingo-in-places-he-shouldnt-be]

Happy 2000-- er... 2400 followers! I suppose this is what I get for overestimating how long it would take me to do two full bodies and 14 busts which I wound up cropping anyway lol.

Bonus commentary under the cut!

Link to the version with no commentary (x)

So first off, this was a considerable challenge for me since I don't normally draw in an anime style, and I think that shows. There were a lot of wonky proportions that I ended up having to go back and sort of fix in post. Irida, Rei, and Akari were especially bad-- my own sister told me that Rei looked like "a cross between a Victorian orphan and a frog". I decided to redraw all three of them, but since I drew them on a smaller canvas, I think it messed with the resolution a little when I shrank them down. I'm not sure anyone would notice if they weren't looking for it, but I've been staring at this for so long that I can't unsee it.

Next was the brilliant decision to put Emmet, Elesa, and Drayden on a light background. They initially faded right in, so I went back over some of the outlines to make them more readable; I had also tried putting the whole Unova set on a darker background, but found that it drew too much attention and unbalanced the piece.

On to the good things!

I adore how Melli and Zisu turned out. I don't know what it was, but my art game was on point that day.

I also had a lot of fun trying out different motifs. I knew from the outset that I wanted to play around with the duality of black/white, the duality of past/future, and the idea of making the whole disk resemble a PokéBall. The center design had me stumped for a while; I had initially used screenshots of the Highlands and Gear Station as placeholders during my planning stage, but around halfway through I decided that would be too busy and changed it to a simple railway track design instead. Then I decided I didn't like that either, and at the last minute I went back to a simplified version of my original concept. I think the stylized Coronet mountain range and subway train work nicely.

Other trivia:

During my planning phase, I used everyone's official art as placeholders-- except for Zisu, who for some reason I couldn't find any for. I used a screenshot for her placeholder, and referenced her TCG card for the final drawing.

Emmet being the only character drawn from a head on angle was deliberate. I wanted to subtly highlight his importance while still being able to place a key Pokémon in the center of both groups.

I drew all of my initial sketches on paper, lined and colored in Clip Studio, and compiled/edited everything in GIMP. I am a chaos gremlin and I will not apologize.

The reason I settled on a Station of Awakening as a follower celebration is threefold: The first is that I was hanging out with some good friends, and we wound up playing Melody of Memory. I forget exactly how it came up, but it was definitely a joke at the time as I do recall saying that it would take me forever... which it did, lol. The second reason is that I later realized that my first post on the blog (after the original "Ingo shouldn't be in old timey Hisui" (x) post) was Kingdom Hearts themed (x). The circle of stupidity is complete! And finally, I'm old enough to remember when making one of these for your blorbo was The Big Fandom Thing ™ that everyone did, and I wanted to indulge in a bit of nostalgia.