#he just wants to be a little silly sometimes cut the kid some slack

[active-mind-15]

Greetings from purgatory. I came back with some more art! @japeneselunchtimerush's headcanon about Bokushi wearing mismatched socks has been stuck in my head for ages so I decided to draw it (ft. baby Bokushi, of course). I also included the outfit from the official art of chibi Bokushi wearing mismatched shoes because it's so adorable. Bonus sketch under the cut!

[Art related to my fic, Accidental Siblings.]

[ttheatre-trashh]

Read me yap about original kids ride the cyclone :333

for any more info about this show!! Look through the tag here

Dream of life. Jane doe walks on stage, and is kind of crumpled over, and slowly makes her way to stand up with stiff movements. This is the only song I have a recording of. As she slowly stands up, Jane doe lifts her head.

She has an echo effect added to her voice, and it sounds amazing. 

The Karnak is honestly hilarious, I loved his comedic timing. I can’t tell if he also had the echo effect, or if he was just an amazing voice actor. Sometimes he would mess up a line, but very quickly turn it into a robotic stutter, which was pretty smart. Love this guy. 

For virgil, they projected a projection of him onto the backdrop curtain. He was so silly I loved himmm. There was a fun transition from tiny rat form to anthro bass player. The bass solo was also great obv. 

Uranium suite was incredible. Ocean has almost this Disney channel main character voice? Idk but it’s so good. 

Mischa was slacking the whole time duh. Pulled out his phone at some bits. Ricky looked bored out of his fucking minddddd. Constance is just the sweetest ever I will kill for her. Noel is amazing and I love him. Like the pure SASS and EVERYTHING about him. Ricky the whole time stared into the audience like “kill me now”. We made eye contact a few times it was nice haha

After Uranium Ocean is kind of like,, calm but freaking out?? She kicks Karnaks box a few times throughout the show, including here. There are fun lights flickering and sound effects. Her voice is squeaky and cracky when she panicked or whatever. Again, karnaks comedic timing is amazing. 

What the world needs was so good. Oceans voice is amazing, the choreography was so snappy and swishy and sassy, very ocean. They hold up signs that spell out OCEAN, and in the flip side of them there’s a picture of ocean. Everyone was on point, and oceans delivery of every line was perfect. Like, the pure disgust she has when she goes “and a transformer movie” like babe has a personal vendetta against transformer movies.

I cannot stress enough how on point the choreography was, during the whole show, but like, I’m obsessed with the choreography of this song. There was a lot of hand flicking of that makes sense? Some fun little kicks.  There are tiny clips of it in some of the promo. 

After wtwn, ocean is freaking out. Karnaks delivery is perfect “blah blah blah needs a unanimous vote” oceans face drops. Long pause. « from each. And every. Member of the choir.”  

When ocean says she “loves” Jane, jane reaches out her arms and runs to hug her, but ocean dodges her and Jane doe just ends up almost running  into a wall. When she says she loves Noel, he just looks at her like “bitchgetthefuckawayfrommeew” and does his gay little pose. 

(E, the actor for Noel, uses they/them, so if I use those I’m talking about the actor) The play was so cute. After Noel said his line, ocean started crying and screaming and her and Constance were whining “NOOOEEEELL WHY DID YOU SAY TAHTTTTTT!!???” “UGH you always ruin these things!!!”  And stuff haha. It was great. 

Noel’s monologue was incredible, he fell to the floor during the dramatic bit about wanting to feel, goddamit.

 “I wanted to wake up,” fake throwing up for a second “in my own VOMIT.” huge grin. “Missing TEETH!” 

Noel goes behind the curtain/projector screen that they have on stage and starts singing. At about “I write poems to burn my firelight,” he comes out in Monique costume. Monique was so cool, she had fishnets, the iconic black wig, and a dress just like kholbys iconic one, but there was a little bow in the front,  and the skirt had strips of ripped fabric on the skirt. 

Again, the choreography of this song is amazing. everyone had chairs, and it was very leg-y? If that makes sense? But like in a “sexy” way, not an “Irish jig” sort of way.  Super snappy and clean cut. vocals are amazing, obviously. Ricky is kindof ominously standing in a corner with a beret and a cigarette playing the accordion. 

For the kiss, Monique and Constance danced together, then Monique and Ricky. Then Monique slapped Ricky, and Mischa comes over and they kissed. Adorable. 

The ending was so good, like the final « if I could have just one dream/if he could have just one dream/id be. That fucked. Up GIRL./HEY ». Mwah. Chefs kiss.

Every story’s got a lesson was so silly. Constance nailed the improv scene. This Ocean just. Needs to be in control. All the time. But like?? I’m making her sound bad but I felt bad for her because she wants everything to go her way but she’s not great at expressing that in a positive way. Any way, Constance gets excited at the end, like, « so I go out and do all. The. Drugs. 😁😁 » her little « BATH SALTS FOR EVERYONE!!! 😃😃 » 

Anyways. Mischa. 

Spence is literally an amazing mischa, he was so good. He started beatboxing really badly into the mic before he started talking about feeling, and the audience laughed. His accent was on point, and he spoke really naturally. Like, it didn’t feel super forced unlike some other Mischa’s I’ve heard (all Mischa are amazing some are just better accents yk)

This song is awesome was so fun. He had a tight white undershirt under his button down, which kind of just added to the silliness of the song instead of just being shirtless, yk? He had a chain and hat, duh. 

Everyone had these massive light up glasses, and Ricky was wearing a robot mask. It was so silly and I loved it. They did the iconic thing where they held onto Mischa’s unbuttoned shirt and made us flow to look like wind blowing

Omg. Talia. So this was so good. 

He awkwardly yet confidently re buttons his shirt, which the audience laughed at but I was like “yall stop that this gets emotional” but I think I’m just a bitch lol. 

The Talia monologue was incredible. Just, yes. Delivery was amazing, everything. I cried. A lot.  Mischa scrolled on his phone when something new appeared in the projector, like the photos and stuff. They used the curtain/backdrop as a projector screen, and there was the footage of Talia and Mischa. The wedding stuff and romance and shit. 

It was so sweet. I don’t have anything special to say about it, the monologue was just amazing. I completely broke down. 

For Talia, oh god. This was genuinely of the best things I’ve ever seen live. Spence’s voice is amazing, and again, I sobbed through this whole song. 

Everyone had the traditional costumes, and the girls had the big skirts, with the projections of Talia on them. I wasn’t sure if they were gonna do that, but it was beautiful. They also had the projection on Mischa’s chest at the end, when he’s belting. I completely fucking lost it.  

And then there’s the iconic nischa hug.  My heart. 💜 oh my god. 

MY FINGERS HURT (I LOST MY FIRST COPY OF THIS??? I HAD TO RE TYPE THIS???) BUT @noelgruberfr and @knockoff-conlon FEEL FREE TO FINISH THIS !!!

[asteria7fics]

I have no clue how this works but uhhhhh mayybeeeeee butters (or butters when he’s professor chaos) uhhhhh

👻 A headcanon about what scares them

💝 A headcanon about their love language

💔 An angsty headcanon

👗 A headcanon about their clothes

🔪 A headcanon relating to fighting/violence

🌟 A headcanon about their desires/wishes

🥇 A headcanon about what they’re best at

🎭 A headcanon about what they lie about

🖕 A headcanon relating to anger

😬 A headcanon about the worst thing they’ve done

😭 A headcanon about the worst thing that happened to them.

😶 A random headcanon!

(Yes I had to copy paste it to remember the emojis) I don’t think I read the reblog correctly so idk if I’m allowed to have this many😨😨 you don’t have to do them if u dont want but I would love to learn more abt your butters headcanon for ur fic (specifically for ewily if I remember the acronym correctly)

RAHHHHHH -😨

AAAH BUTTERS!!! MY BOY!!!! (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)♡

I’ll do my best to cover all of these!! I never get to blab about the boy with a heart full of magic!!!

Barely spoilers for the chapter 9 of EWILY under the cut, and a couple of other small details I do include in the fic but aren’t really super plot relevant.

👻 - A silly one to start with, but I think he’s a little bit afraid of the dark. I’m gonna probably say this a lot, but after some of the shit that’s happened to him in the context of canon, he gets really uncomfortable being left completely alone in pitch darkness. Oh! And of course he’s always afraid of doing something wrong and getting grounded!

💝- Words of affirmation. I won’t go into any greater detail, but it will all make sense soon enough ehehehe

💔- I personally think Butters struggles a lot with the fact that he doesn’t quite fit in with the other boys. They’re all pretty abrasive towards him still, and he’s really not cool enough to fit in with most of them. He doesn’t show it, but his insistence on still ‘playing superheroes’ with Kenny is kind of a greater symptom of this insecurity. I imagine he was very excited to be included when Stan got Crimson Dawn back together as they got older, probably late middle school or so.

👗- Wears whatever his mom picks out for him, which is why he’s such an über dork. Lots of lumpy sweaters with dress slacks and straight leg jeans that are all a little too short on his long ass legs, meaning his socks are always showing so they have to coordinate with his outfit, too. And of course, he owns an impressive collection of button up shirts and sweater vests.

🔪- Butters is not a fighter, but he’s certainly had lots of violence enacted on him. Bullied pretty bad as a kid, on top of (tw for child abuse) his father’s liberal use of physical punishments. These are all pretty much canon though, so suffice to say I personally think Butters CAN fight if he needs to, he just generally chooses not to. (This is where the Professor Chaos headcanons come in hehe)

🌟- He wants to be happy, above all else. It doesn’t really matter what it is that will get him there, he just wants to experience the joys of living without worrying about the consequences for once in his silly little life. Aah, now I’ve gone and made myself sad!

🥇- Canonically Butters is good at a ton of stuff! He’s such a highly creative person with a massive imagination, and though The Poop That Took a Pee is a horrible example, I think he’d actually be a really good fiction writer! Hm, maybe that’s something I should explore more.

🎭 - Everything, all the time. Naw, I’m being hyperbolic, though he definitely tells white lies to his parents to avoid getting in trouble. I think he’s also very dishonest when things upset him, at least when people like Stan, Kyle or Cartman hurt his feelings. He knows better than to show weakness around those assholes! (Sometimes RIP)

🖕- I actually think Butters’ anger is under appreciated! He’s an angry little guy when he wants to be, and while I think he’s quick to anger when something finally does irritate him enough, he’s also very quick to cool back down. He doesn’t really hold grudges, though he makes a few exceptions.

😬 - AHAHAAHAH!!! Where do I even begin?? Butters does worse things in canon than pretty much anything I’ll ever have him do, though I would argue that inadvertently inspiring his entire class to wage a war over him wasn’t, uh, great. Oh, and shooting that guy in the dick, I guess.

😭 - Again, where do I begin?? I think the trauma he’s experienced in canon sort of speaks for itself, though I also think that though maybe he didn’t get anything quite as bad in the Asteria-verse, the bullying he withstood affected him more than he would be willing to admit. Poor child, can someone please get him a therapist?

😶 - Butters’ eternal sunshine, happy boy disposition is at least partially a front. While he’s naturally an optimist person, and does generally see the good in everyone around him, but he’s not a complete idiot. He acknowledges, again, that he’s not fully accepted by his peers, but chooses to disregard a lot of the things they do to isolate him. As a little boy it was a more honest representation of who he was, but as he’s gotten older (and more hormonal oof) he’s latched onto it as a means of protection, so to speak. The only person who really, truly sees Butters in his most honest form is Kenny.

This was so much fun!!! Thank you for humoring me and sending this, and I hope you enjoyed learning a lil something about the way I portray Butters in my work!! (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

Hi, I absolutely adore your writing and it’s quite inspiring and making my imagination go WEEWOO!

Could I request something for YJ With Dick? So like a headcanon or one shot (which ever you prefer queen) where the reader is quite reserved, snarky and can get angry real fast. They have feelings for Rob and they are especially snarky to him to hide their feelings, but they eventually start to open up more and during the events of episode 24 (you know, the one at haly’s circus), they open up to him and they confess? And he does the same?

Flower Language

Pairing: Dick Grayson as Robin x Reader

Warnings: Blood and injuries and plant death.

Word Count: 3.8k words

A/N: This is kind of my take on the Hanahaki disease, kind of. This was so much fun to write honestly, I didn't realize I like all this floral stuff so much. It also reminded me of another 'True Love's Kiss' trope I wrote for Dick Grayson as well. Also I changed the episode this was based on because I’ve already done something based on the episode with Haly’s circus @hanbedumbaf I really really really hope you enjoy it! Sorry it was so late, I finished it a month back but it was in my queue.

Adrenaline was a common feeling to you. A little too familiar. The life of a superhero puts you in peril more times than you would like but it was the only life you had known. You knew the familiar feeling of sweat forming on your skin and your heart pounding so loudly that you could hear it in every step you took.

However, when you heard the pounding, it was because there was a supervillain, usually hairy, chasing after you and determined to get your head on a stake.

Although, feeling your heart jump to your throat was becoming more familiar whenever you were around a certain someone. Robin annoyed you to no end, whenever he was around you couldn't help your face from growing warm and your lips from tingling to form a permanent smile on your face.

Having a crush was irritating, you couldn't think or even function without thinking of him. It was frankly humiliating, you were always so gung-ho about being bold and to the point and yet whenever you were around Boy Wonder, you couldn't help but bend your personality to something you felt like would appeal to him more.

Sometimes, you couldn't even stand yourself.

And so, as a pathetic act of rebellion, and maybe as a clear-cut sign that you had no idea how to handle emotions or anything similar to it, every time your heart got just a little soft, your tongue got a whole lot sharper. Probably not the best way to win a boy’s heart. But you weren't here for a romance story.

It was also a true sign that you had no idea how to flirt, thinking that borderline insulting witty banter was the way to go. Or perhaps it was a way of controlling your emotions, since being bitter and snarky was the thing that came easiest to you.

You seriously needed better tactics.

It was also your oblivious mistake thinking that Robin only saw what you wanted him to see. He was raised to be a detective, of course he was more observant than that. Papa (or let's be real, Alfred) didn't raise no fool.

You made the mistake of thinking Robin saw you as strong and independent and bold, just as the rest of them did. But he saw much more than that.

Robin was distressed by the number of crying faces around him, the kids were inconsolable which was understandable because of just how many things went wrong in the past couple of hours. To be quite frank, Robin was a couple seconds away from having a fit himself.

"Shh, little one," He heard distantly and his neck practically snapped. You were crouching in front of the few who were crying, with a small nurturing smile. It was the first time he had seen you out of uniform, usually referring to you as Antheia, named after the goddess of flowers, but this wasn't she.

"I know you're scared, my flowers, but I promise, we will find your parents." You soothed, gently wiping away their tears. They still looked up at you apprehensively and with uncertainty.

"I'll show you a magic trick." You began, grinning as the kids began to smile back at you. You pulled a seed out of your pocket and held it between closed hands, using a bit of your powers and felt it grow in your palms. When you revealed what you were holding, they collectively gasped.

A bud of a flower now rested in your hand. You smiled at their innocent eyes and held it to them, "Now I'm going to need your help for the next part. Everyone has to blow on the flower."

They nodded eagerly, crawling around you and on the count of three, everyone followed your instructions. And low and behold, the bud bloomed into a beautiful blossom right between your fingers.

One of the girls clamoured into your lap to hold the flower herself and you chuckled, wrapping your arms tightly around her, "You know what this flower means?"

They shook their heads, "It means faith, and hope. If you have faith and hope in us, then you'll get something beautiful in return."

For once, they look contemplatively and you chuckled, feeling pride at the fact that you managed to sow some wisdom in their minds. The girl that had been sitting in your lap turned in your grasp, with the flower in her hand and then reached up to tuck it behind your ear.

"For me?" She nodded happily and you smiled widely, kissing her cheek, "Thank you, petal."

Satisfied that you were able to calm them down, you gently placed the girl back on the floor before moving away from the group. Just as you were about to join the others, you ran into Robin. You didn't know he had just seen the whole thing.

Pulling the flower from behind your ear, you handed it to him, "You know in some cultures, this flower means to pick up the slack and stop looking like a confused chicken." You snapped.

Business as usual.

Robin looked back to the flower you had slipped into his hands, you had said it meant faith and hope, and you had given it to him. He looked back up to see you shuffling away from him quickly, a blush on your face. He smiled.

You were more nurturing and kinder than you let on, it was like it was programmed into your personality and yet you never showed it when you knew they were watching. That wasn't the only part of yourself that you were hesitant to show them.

And the more Robin observed you, the more he realized that you used flower language to depict a lot of your emotions. It was a silent way of letting them out, without having to tell other people what's really in your heart.

You thought you were sly about it, but nothing went under Robin's radar.

Everyone was watching a movie on the flat screen in the rec room. You hadn't realized you were so tired, the movie was boring, something that M'Gann had picked and you hadn't slept the night before, busy patrolling your city.

Your eyelids began to droop before you could even understand what was going on, your head lolling as you drifted in and out of consciousness.

Robin hadn't realized that he was napping through the movie until he felt a weight on his shoulder. He nearly jumped awake and glanced to his side to see you sound asleep, breathing gently. He nearly chuckled, was this what you looked like when you weren't scowling at everybody?

His heart skipped a beat, god, were you beautiful. The smell of flowers vaguely hit his nose and he noticed the red gardenia plant growing steadily in the corner of the room.

'Red Gardenias means a secret love,' Robin recalled from a book he had read, 'It's a secret way for someone to say I love you.'

He glanced back at you still sleeping peacefully, face completely relaxed and briefly wondered if your powers were taking the lead on your emotions and making gardenias grow around the cave. Or were you dreaming about something?

Something in his heart grew, here you were sleeping against his shoulder, making symbols of a secret love grow around the room. This had to be a sign of something, right?

Before he could contemplate it any further, you squirmed and then began to stir. Your eyes fluttered open, hazily taking in your surroundings before they landed on the boy beside you and widened in size, skin darkening with a blush.

"Why the fuck didn't you wake me up?" You snapped and turned on your heel to stomp out of the room without even waiting for a response from him. The others who noticed the way he was just staring at the place you were in surprise. You always do such a 180 when you're around him and conscious.

"Wow, sunshine's crabby in the morning." Wally commented from beside him. When he didn't get any response, he looked over to see Robin with a silly smile on his face.

Dick couldn't stop himself from grinning. The gardenias were still blooming.

***

"Antheia, do you think you will be able to stop the plants from growing any further?" Batman turned to face you, only to find you staring at him with a hazy, blank expression.

"Antheia?" Robin called but you didn't even flinch, your eyes were locked onto the holo-computer, seeing the thick vines that were twisting and turning. Their call was overwhelming, you could feel them grow even beneath your feet. It was like a siren was blearing through your head.

You couldn't tell what they were trying to say, it was like they were muffled. It was confused and lost, following Ivy and it was happy listening to her. And yet, it was feeling pain, the Justice League was busy pruning her as we speak. It was scared, crying out for someone to help them and you felt obligated to help. Your mind was getting heavy, throbbing with an oncoming migraine.

"(Y/N)!" Your eyes snapped open and focused onto the boy in front of you. Everyone was staring at you in concern and you blinked, suddenly not able to remember what the hell was going on. You were just trying to focus on something other than the screams and cries of the plant.

"......What?" You asked a little dumbly, noticing the concern on Robin's face. The plants were still crying. You couldn't get the painful sound of their screams out of your mind. You felt like curling up into a ball and crying.

"Batman asked if you would be able to stop the plants?"

"Oh, um, no." You answered in a distracted way that made his face pinch with worry. His hands were still grasping your shoulders tightly, keeping his face in close proximity to yours. You didn't even realize, too out of it to even notice.

Robin on the other hand felt his cheeks get uncomfortably hot the more you stared at him with those innocent, beautiful eyes of yours. If Batman hadn't been breathing down his neck, he was sure he would've kissed you in the moment.

Unfortunately for him, his dad always knew how to ruin the moment. And he would continue to for the rest of his life. Until death do them part. Even after the two of you grow up and live together, the Batman would find some way to interrupt your fun.

"Robin?"

"Huh?"

"The mission."

Oh. Right.

***

"Robin!" You screamed when one of Ivy's plants wrapped around his neck and slammed him against the trees. They didn't let up curling tighter around his throat. Fear struck you as he began choking from breath and you knew you had to do something.

Suddenly murderous intent took over you and you glared at Ivy who returned it with a smug smirk of her own. Oh, how you'd rip that smirk off her face.

"Okay Ivy, you wanna play? Let's play." You ground out, slamming your hands against the vine around Robin's neck and it began disintegrating beneath your fingers. He fell to the ground, gasping for breath and you tuned out the sound of the plant crying as it died beside him.

Ivy heard it just as loudly as you had, she screamed and more plants lunged towards the both of you.

"Go help the others! I'm about to snap this twig." You spat at Robin, using your powers to kill the roots as it reached you. It was working slowly, your powers weak to the pain of the plants around you. Even as every cell of your body told you not to, you clenched your fingers into fists and watched as the creeper feel to the marsh, dead.

You engaged in battle with Ivy. Plants were screaming for mercy all around you but you couldn't stop for even a second. Life around you was trembling but you had to keep fighting the villain in front of you because if you hesitated for even a second, many more would die.

Thorns scratched your skin, drawing blood and curled around Ivy, sinking barbs into her skin.

"Face it girlie! You're never going to overpower me!"

"Oh, I'm not trying to overpower you, just distract you long enough for Robin to get rid of the control system." You replied, just as smug as she had been at the start of the fight. Now you got to see her face melt into one of panic just as Robin jumped over her head and to your side with a grin identical to yours.

"Cover your ears!" He sang, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and ducking, covering your body with his own. You were grateful for it; you weren't sure you could even keep your body upright at the moment.

Then you heard the explosion and your heart stopped. Every single fibre of your body burned red hot fire as you heard screams and cries around you. Bile was crawling up your throat and your breathing got thin. They were sobbing a heart-broken wail and your eyes misted at the mere sound.

Without realizing it, you were gripping onto Robin's hand, brows furrowed together. The sound of the explosion cleared, the Injustice League was captured and he pulled you up to stand with the others.

It was silent for a moment. You had won.

And then the consequences of your actions hit you.

Everyone's necks snapped towards you when you let out a heart-wrenching sob. Robin, who was standing right next to you caught you just in time before your body hit the ground. Pain exploded in your chest as you began wailing against him.

"(Y/N)? (Y/N)! What's wrong?!" He panicked but you didn't respond, crying into his chest as you gripped his cape in an iron fist. Everything hurt and all you could feel was sorrow and guilt.

The other heroes crowded around you but your eyes were screwed shut, tears making your eyes sting. Robin held onto you tightly, pulling your body against his as you continued to cry.

"What's happening?" Artemis murmured, looking around to see the environment change before her eyes. Everyone else followed her lead to see how leaves began rotting, then the trees. The smell was pungent. Thorns and weeds were crawling up the dying trees, pulling them into the swamp.

"(Y/N) please, what's wrong?" Robin whispered in your ear but you couldn't hear him. The sounds of plants screaming and wailing was echoing through your mind. How they begged you to save them. How they begged you to stop.

And then it got hard to breathe, your chest constricted and you were wheezing. Robin had to watch in horror when petals and blood poured from your mouth. You were choking, throwing up and sobbing in his arms, and he was unable to do anything to help you.

"Flash get her to the Batcave." Batman said gruffly, he was shocked and worried for you but didn't say anything, not wanting to scare his son more, "Sending you the coordinates now."

"Alfred prepare the med-bay."

Dick watched with a sinking heart as he handed you into Flash's arms. It took him a few seconds for his mind to stop whirring, he was still kneeling in the swampy marsh when the team huddled around him.

"It's gonna be okay." Wally murmured, wrapping an arm around his shaking body.

"We just have to hope for the best."

***

When the others had gotten back to the Cave, you had just been moved there, after being looked over by Alfred. He joined you in the med-bay, wanting to keep an eye on you. But as of yet, you still had to wake up.

Dick wasn't supposed to be listening to the adult’s conversation, but he couldn't help himself, he had to know if you were going to be okay.

"The situation is undeterminable, sir. But as of now, the flowers that are clogging her respiratory system keep growing. If we don't find a cure for this, it's inevitable that she will suffocate and pass."

His heart stopped. Die? You couldn't die, not when he still had so many things to tell you. For so long, he hadn't told you of his feelings, wanting to keep the relationship between the two of you professional. But now more than anything, he wished he had said something.

There were so many things he didn't get to do with you yet. You had yet to give him a bouquet on your first date. He wanted to lay in bed with you, smelling fresh flowers as you told him what different plants symbolized. He had yet to see moments where you can't control your powers and make plants grow around the cave.

He hadn't even given you a flower yet.

"Rob listen, I did some research on this 'disease'." Wally said, falling into step with him, "It's called the Hanahaki disease."

"That's fiction Wal—"

"But that's the best we've got right now." Came his curt reply and Dick's heart clenched.

"Hanahaki disease is a fictional sickness that only occurs when someone is suffering from unrequited love. The victim will cough up flower petals that symbolize their love. This disease is only cured when the victim's feelings are romantically returned." Wally read off his phone before turning to Dick with a smile.

He raised a brow, "What?"

"You have to kiss (Y/N)!"

"What!?"

"Yep! You have to return her unrequired love!"

"Wally that's ridiculous, kissing someone doesn't cute anything."

"Well, it's the only thing we have. And for (Y/N), we need to try anything." He said, pushing him towards the med-bay. His voice was tight and tense, like he was holding onto his as his last hope and Dick prayed that it would work when the door of your room came into his sight.

You were asleep and if he hadn't known any better, he would've thought you were healthy. Wally closed the door behind him, leaving Dick alone with you. The only sound in was the beeping from your heart monitor and your light wheezing. It was getting harder to breathe.

Dick inched his way closer to you, watching as your eyelashes fluttered gently in your sleep. Leaning over the bed you were lying in; he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before moving his head in line with yours.

"God, please let this work." He whispered and your bottom lip was caught between his. It was feather-light but yet, electricity was buzzing through his veins and fireworks went off in his mind.

For a minute, nothing happened and his heart clenched in his chest before he kissed you a little harder. This had to work because they didn't have any other lead. Dick felt you exhale feebly against him and he almost gave up hope.

But then you took a deep breath, stealing the breath from his lungs and he pulled away quickly to see your eyelids fluttering open. The colour was returning to your cheeks and your eyes were sparkling up at him. You smiled gently and he blinked away tears of relief. Thank goodness.

'His eyes are blue' You thought, staring deeply into them. They were beautiful, alluring. You didn't know why but just looking into his eyes was addicting. Was this what it felt like to be so deep in love? That even his eyes were enough to captivate you?

"I'm so glad you're awake." He muttered, cupping your cheeks firmly and planting another kiss on your lips. You giggled lightly, heart overjoyed to find the boy you had been in love with for so long had returned your feelings and you responded to the kiss eagerly, placing your palms over his hands and leaning into him.

With your regaining strength, you felt a flower materialize in your hands. The stem between your fingers brought you comfort just as the scent of the flower brought you back life.

When Dick pulled away, you delicately slipped it into his hands and he turned his attention to it, blue eyes softening when he recognized this particular flower in his hands.

"It's an Aster." You whispered quietly, lips brushing against his and he chuckled. It was the only flower you thought of when he came to your mind, "Get it?"

Dick turned his eyes away from the blossom and looked at you again. Your heart jumped, noticing just how much love he held in them. Eyes you could swim in, overflowing with love for you. Suddenly you were overwhelmed, feeling adoration and attraction. You needed to be closer to him, even though he was pressed against you.

Your fingers curled into his collar and pulled him closer to you, slanting your lips over his in an open-mouthed kiss. Dick gasped against your lips, startled for no longer than a second before sinking against you and wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer.

Your lips moved gently against his, the blushing flower trapped between both your bodies. The smell of fresh flowers clouded Dick's mind with everything that was you. Your hair, your smile, your lips. If you kept kissing him like that, he was certain he'd forget his own name.

And then you pulled away and Dick noted that you were as beautiful as a fresh flower. Your skin was glowing with life and your tired eyes were twinkling. You smiled sleepily at him, eyes closing shut and he lowered you back to the bed. Immediately, you slipped back into slumber, exhausted from the day's events.

He watched for a couple seconds, making sure you were able to breathe without any problems before realizing he should tell the others that you were okay.

He slipped out of the room quietly, stealing a final glance of you sleeping peacefully in the bed and a huge smile grew on his face, "She's awake."

It was only then he noticed just how colourful the room had gotten in the few minutes he was with you.

The walls were covered with vines and roses of different colours, camelias and carnations of different shades. It littered the room, not leaving a single inch of the wall untouched and scattered petals all over the floor like confetti.

Different creepers hung from the ceiling, dusting all the superheroes with sparkling pollen and colourful petals. Not to mention there were stems crawling up the Justice League members, flowers hugging their ankles lovingly.

Batman looked a lot less intimidating with petals in his cape and a rose stuck behind his ear. Robin blushed at the sight of everyone giving him knowing smiles.

"We noticed."

Aster: This flower became a symbol of love when in Greek mythology it was placed on the altars for the gods. So now, when you send a bouquet featuring this vibrant bloom, the message of "Take Care Of Yourself For Me" is implied. It conveys deep emotional love and affection for someone.

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

DC Taglist:

@emmacata

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

[bestiesenpai]

Crossfaded - Geto & Gojo

I have nothing to say except shady older brother + shady friend = a fun time lol femme reader btw and I wrote this while tipsy so if there’s repeating phrases cut me some slack lol

TW: incest, dumbification, drug usage(marijuana)

Satoru-nii was nice, but aloof. Ever since you’d met him, you always felt like just a little kid trailing behind him, wanting to be part of whatever the big kids were doing. He humored you well enough, but you never felt truly a part of whatever was happening.

And when Satoru entered university, it felt even more like you were being left behind. He’d still let you hang out in his room, but would kick you out if he had studying to do, which seemed more often than not.

He often brought his friend Geto over to the house. They’d both say hi to you, but still pass you by with lingering gazes and a few hushed words spoken about you as they walked to Satorus room to do who knows what. You’d always fall asleep before Geto left, so you never knew that sometimes they’d stand outside your door and talk about you.

Sometimes, Geto would humor you if he caught you in the kitchen or another shared space. He’d catch you by the arm and pull you close, asking you about whatever it was you were doing, or how your life was. Sometimes he’d play with your hair, others he’d give you a sweet, but he’d only hand it over if you said ‘thank you Geto-nii.’

Often, when Geto was with you, Satoru would find you as well, and they’d talk about you while you were right there. Speaking about how childish you still were, and how they wished they could take you to a uni party but you’re just not mature enough.

You’re quick to pipe up and say that you’re far more mature than either of them give you credit for and that they should totally take you to a party sometime because it would be a bunch of fun! They exchange a look, one that goes right over your head, and Geto says that you should practice going to a party before they take you to a real one.

So that’s how you got into this situation, staring at the clothes they’d laid out for you on your bed. They wanted you to dress the part, so Satoru and Geto went through your closet and picked out some of the most scandalous pieces you owned and told you to come into Satorus room when you were done getting ready.

“There she is.” Satoru whistles when you enter the room, arms crossed over your chest in slight embarrassment at the too short skirt and too small top they put you in.

“So beautiful!” Geto adds, a bright smile on his face. He immediately starts taking out his weed and rolling papers, and Satoru puts on some music, it’s loud bass thumping through the floor and vibrating your toes.

The house is empty save for the three of you, so there’s no chance that your parents will come in and ruin the fun. Satoru waves you over, and as soon as you’re close enough he pulls you to sit in between him and Geto on his bed.

“Ever smoked before?” Geto asks as he begins to roll a joint. You shake your head no, and you’re about to ask what it’s like when Satoru puts a shot glass in your hand.

“Drink up!” He smiles, and they both stare at you until you drink it.

“Ew!” You shiver at the bitter taste coating your tongue and the burn in the back of your throat. They both laugh, and Satoru rubs a hand down your bare thigh.

“You’re so cute.”

“I don’t like that.” Whatever was in the cup has made your face permanently sour, and it makes Satoru laugh again.

“Well that’s what parties are like, (Y/N)! You drink stuff you don’t like but after a while it makes you feel good.” Taking your glass, he fills it up again. “Have another and then you’ll know what I mean.” His smile is so non-threatening that you feel almost silly for having that reaction in the first place.

“Okay.” You swallow this shot quicker than the first, and they both cheer for you. Leaning back on the pillows they’d set up behind you, you let the alcohol in your body go through you. The burn in the back of your throat gives way to a hot feeling in your stomach that spreads to your limbs.

Soon, you ask for another shot and Satoru is more than fine with giving it to you. You’re starting to understand what he means by it’ll make you feel good; everything is just that bit funnier, that bit more interesting.

Leaning your head on Satorus shoulder, you giggle at something that’s not even funny. Your hands are playing with the hem of your skirt, and suddenly you don’t feel so shy about wearing it around them.

“That’s such a pretty skirt and I can even see your pretty panties underneath.” Geto hums, his fingers brushing yours. You bit your lip bashfully and thank him, hiding your face in Satorus shoulder when it gets too much.

The flick of a lighter is heard, and soon the room is full of a hazy smoke and a funny smell in the air. Geto inhales a few times, and lets out deep methodical exhales. Satoru reaches for the joint, and you can feel the smoke linger in the air around you.

“Try this.” He nudges you and puts the blunt near your mouth.

“What do I do?” You ask, looking between them with big eyes.

“Just inhale and try to hold it as long as you can.” Nodding at the instructions, you wrap your lips around the joint. You inhale for all of three seconds before ripping away and coughing violently.

Geto cooes at you, calls you such a baby, and Satoru is already putting the joint back at your lips. You try to push it away, say you’re not ready, but he doesn’t really listen. He makes you inhale again, and this time you hold it for a few seconds longer, but the burn in your throat is far too much.

“How about another shot?” Geto suggests as you furiously wipe your teary eyes.

“O-okay.” Sniffing back more tears, you take another shot, and then another after that. It doesn’t really help with the burn, only makes it worse in fact, and it’s only after some begging that Satoru finally gives you some water.

“How can you smoke that?” You whine, watching Satoru take a hit.

“It’s just like the alcohol (Y/N), you have to get used to it.” Geto hums, and he’s already rolling another.

“I don’t think I could ever get used to that.”

“Don’t be such a baby.” Satoru teases, bumping your shoulder as he passes the joint. “Oh wait, I’m sorry, you are one.” He laughs at the pout on your lips.

“I am not a baby, Sato-nii!”

“Oh really?”

“Really!”

“Then take a hit from the blunt and actually hold it in.” He challenges, holding up the nearly gone joint. You take it without hesitation and inhale, lighting up what’s left until it burns your fingers. Your cheeks puff out from the force required to hold it in, and Satoru is just waiting to laugh at you.

“Good girl.” Geto praises when you finally let go thirty seconds later. He rubs a hand on your leg, a few inches up past the hem of that too short skirt.

Everything hits you fast. The alcohol and the joint together are leaving you laughing at nothing and oh so pliant. Geto only has to look at you and you’re bursting into a fit of giggles and burying your face in his shoulder. Satoru turned the music up a little, so now you have to lean in just a bit closer to hear what’s being said.

When you leave to go to the bathroom, both men laugh at how you stumble about and nearly fall several times. Satoru even asks if he should help you use the toilet, but you flip him off and stumble out.

“Come here.” Geto calls as you reenter. You walk to him no question, and when he pulls you to straddle his lap, you don’t question it. “Such a pretty girl.” He murmurs, brushing a hand on the side of your face. His fingers go down your neck and you lean your head to the side accordingly. The touch of his fingers on you is making you excited, and you squeeze your thighs around his when his hand dips down to your chest.

“G-geto…” You trail off, leaning your face impossibly close to his without actually kissing him.

“What do you want? Do you want a kiss?”

“Yes.” You whisper, and you close your eyes in preparation.

“Then you should ask politely, hm?” That question sparks an immediate response, and you open your eyes again and nearly go cross eyed looking at him so closely.

“Geto-nii, can I have a kiss?”

“Of course.” He kisses you, and immediately you moan and push into him. You’ve had kisses before, but none like this; your whole body is tingling and you sloppily wrap your arms around him. There’s no way you’d let this feeling go, this otherworldly thing that made the spot between your legs tingly.

“You can touch her.” Satoru says, sensing Geto’s slight hesitation. At the green light, Geto’s hands are pushing under your skirt, grabbing at your ass that’s barely covered by your panties. Geto pulls you closer to him, sits you more on his lap and the brush of his pants against your sex makes you jump.

Taking that feeling and running with it, you don’t even realize you’re dry humping Geto desperately until he’s grabbing your hips and slowing you down, pushing you down harder onto him so you feel every ripple of the fabric.

“Fuck.” You whimper, throwing your head back as one of Getos hand grabs your breast and squeezes.

“Aht, language! Dumb little girls like you shouldn’t use such grown up words!” Satoru chastises you, and he gives your ass a quick smack that has you squealing.

“Sorry Sato-nii.” Pouting, you turn to Satoru and give him your best puppy dog eyes.

“I’ll let it go this time, since you’re being so good at this party.” He rolls his eyes and you laugh at that. Laying your head on Getos shoulder, you shuffle your legs as his hands return to your ass.

Bunching up your skirt on your hips, Geto grabs handfuls of your ass and squeezes them, letting out pleased little hums every so often. With your skirt now out of the way, both men can see the lacy panties you put on.

“Such a good little sister, wearing what we told you.” Satoru grins, and he snaps the band of your underwear against your side. It tingles your whole leg when it snaps against your skin, and you smile at him.

“Thanks.” Rocking your hips side to side, you giggle bashfully. Satoru sends you a smile that warms up your chest, and you close your eyes when his hand joins Geto’s on your ass.

“How’re you feeling?” You’re not sure who asked, but you only hum as a response. In truth, you feel amazing, on top of the world, tingly and warm all over and everything is just so funny.

“Is someone too fucked up to answer?” It sounds like Geto’s voice this time.

“Take another hit from the blunt baby.” The object is pressed to your lips, and you inhale easily and blow out without coughing. “Getting used to it?”

“Mhmm.” You feel proud now that you’re not coughing up a storm and making a fool of yourself anymore. Taking a few more hits from the blunt, you practically fall off Geto’s lap and onto the other pillows at the head of Satorus bed.

“Look at that.” Geto grins, and he runs a finger up your slit. “You’re so wet, aren’t you, baby?”

“Yeah.” With a voice barely above a whisper, you stare at both men above you. The weed is starting to hit you harder now, and your limbs feel like lead, but not unpleasant. Your legs are moved, not of your own accord, and your skirt is bunched up even higher now.

“Let’s get these panties off you.” Satoru grunts, and they slide down your legs with ease. Geto pockets them, and for some odd reason that makes you grin like a fool; he likes you enough to keep your panties.

“Open your legs.” The command is given, but you’ve no time to do it before your legs are opened for you. Bending them at the knee, Satoru pushes them to your chest and holds them there.

With your cunt exposed to the both of them, you feel just a little embarrassed, but excitement is taking over. They watch for just a moment while you clench around nothing, and your slick coats your entire sex and drips down between your ass.

“You first.” Geto says graciously, and Satoru takes the spot right in front of you. His hands hold the backs of your thighs tightly, and he licks up your slit. You erupt in a mixture of moans and a squeal, and your legs try to force themselves down.

“Hold still.” Satoru grunts, and even though you nod you doubt you can do that. His tongue dips between your folds, swirling around your clit before pulling away again, and this time you only squirm just a little bit.

“Does it feel good?” Geto questions, and he’s right next to your head petting your hair.

“Yes!” You cry, hands darting out to grab Satorus as he digs his face into your cunt and pushes his tongue deep inside you. The music they put on is doing nothing to cover the sounds you're making, if anything they’re pushing you to be louder.

You’re cumming before you even realize it. With a few deft flicks of his tongue on your clit, Satoru has you cumming harder than you ever have before. Your hands are flying all over the place, grabbing the bed sheets and Getos clothing to try and ground you as the pleasure crashes over you in waves.

“Think you can take another?” Geto hums, giving you a smirk before he switches places with Satoru.

“I don’t know.” Staring at Geto between your legs, you truly don’t know. The pleasure that Satoru had just given you was immense, your orgasm hitting you harder than you ever thought possible.

“Don’t ask her such hard questions.” Satoru chuckles, and you see him off to the side fiddling with the stereo.

“You’re right, my bad.” With a soft chuckle, Geto wraps his arms around your thighs. Now that you’re able to see who’s between your legs, it’s almost too much for you to handle. Geto is staring right at you, his eyes not wavering from yours in the slightest. With his thumbs he spreads your lips and lolls his tongue out of his mouth.

Flicking your clit, he lets out a breathless chuckle when you jump. Giving your clit a few more licks, he continues to stare at you as he sucks it into his mouth. Throwing your head back, your hands are once again going everywhere, trying to grab onto something.

Catching your hand, Geto puts it in his hair. You’ve always wondered what his hair felt like, always seen it in a half bun or just down cascading around his shoulders. Coming close to touching it a few times, now that you have it in your hands for real it’s better than you could’ve imagined.

“G-geto-nii!” You whine, tightening your hold on Geto’s hair when he pushes two fingers inside of you.

“So tight.” He sighs, feeling the warmth of your cunt envelop him. “You’re practically milking my fingers.” It’s true, you’re so tight that every time he tries to pull out, Getos fingers get sucked right back in.

Moaning in response, your hips buck up to meet his fingers. They’re much bigger and thicker than your own, filling you in a way your hand never could. With his lips suctioned around your clit and his fingers inside of you, you cum again with shaking thighs.

“Fuck.” Cumming with a long groan, you don’t realize how tightly you’d been holding Geto until he pries your fingers off of him.

“Look at the mess you made, naughty girl.” Lifting up his fingers, Geto shows you the slick covering them. Your body is already flush with heat, and seeing him lick his fingers clean makes you even hotter.

Satoru returns to your field of vision, and he’s completely naked. You’d seen him in various stages of undress before, but this was the first time you’d seen him naked. His cock was pale, the tip flushed a deep pink, it still looked big even when he grabbed it.

“Let's get these clothes off.” Geto is already taking your skirt off before you can answer, and Satoru is taking your shirt.

“Pretty fucking tits.” Satoru says, and he grabs one in his hand, rolling your nipple through his fingers. Once your clothes are off, Geto stands and disrobes, and both stand at the edge of the bed and look at you.

“Got the lube?”

“Of course.” Satoru produces a bottle in his hands and gives it to Geto. As Satoru takes his place on the bed, Geto smothers his cock in lube.

“Get up here.” You slowly turn your head to Satoru who’s tugging your leg. You give him a curious look, your brain not fully connecting the dots on what he wants. Dropping your leg, he grabs under your arms and hoists you across his lap, chest to chest with him. His cock presses against your soaked cunt, and you whine at the feeling.

“Let’s get you nice and ready.” Geto speaks behind you. A finger presses against your puckered asshole and you gasp, whipping your head back to look at him.

“Geto-nii, what’re you doing?” Your words are impossibly slurred and come out too slow.

“I need to get you ready, or else it’ll hurt.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He shakes his head, focused on getting his finger inside you.

“Kiss me.” Grabbing your chin, Satoru pulls you back to him. Pushing his tongue into your mouth the moment your lips connect, Satoru has a monopoly over you. With one hand on your chin, the other grips the back of your head and he keeps your face pressed to his while Geto works you up to take two fingers.

“Ready.” Geto says, and Satoru only nods. Blindly grabbing his cock, Satoru guides it into your cunt, bottoming out almost immediately as Geto does the same in your ass.

“Oh my god.” Breaking the kiss, you press your forehead against Satorus chest. “T-too much.” You shift your hips to try and adjust, but it’s no use. This feeling of being so stuffed full of cock is foreign, but it shoots electricity up your spine all the same.

“Ssshh, it’s okay baby.” Petting a hand down your back, Geto grabs onto your hips. He’s the first to move, pulling out halfway and pushing back in slowly. He does this enough times to loosen you up, and then Satoru starts moving as well.

“You gotta move your hips too, little girl.” Satoru reminds you.

“M’kay.” You mumble, and you sit up slightly so you can start moving. With the shit in your system, it’s hard to even see straight let alone move your body, but somehow you manage a sloppy up and down motion.

“Poor baby’s all fucked up.” Geto laughs, and he slaps your ass.

“Nice and crossfaded.” Satoru nods, and he slaps your other cheek. The two of them share a laugh, and Satoru grabs onto your hips as well. Taking control of your movements, he digs his feet into the floor and bounces you on his cock.

“S-sato-nii!” Digging your nails into his arms, your body is moved in anyway the two men see fit. You’re in no state to really control your limbs yourself, and it’s far too easy to make you bend and bounce on their cocks however they want.

Leaning forward, Geto grabs your breast, fondling it as his hips slap into your ass hard. Satoru has a hand on your ass helping you move to the fast pace they set, the other holding your lower back.

“I- I-” You struggle to form a sentence, all the things you’re feeling are too much all at once. The sting of skin slapping skin is delicious, and the way both cocks pound into you, hitting that spot inside you, has you moaning and stuttering for words like a fool.

“Gonna cum already, pretty girl?” Geto pants, pinching your nipple as he feels you clench down on him. You nod, head falling back and forth willy nilly. A yes somehow goes past your lips, and you clench again when he pinches your nipple.

“So sensitive for your big brothers, aren’t you?” Satoru grins with his head pushed back against the mattress. He hasn’t slowed down one bit, pushing you down to meet their thrusts while his own hips piston up.

“Mhmm!” Your back arches when Satoru pushes down, and Geto lets out a rough groan.

“Shit I’m gonna cum.” He chuckles, and his voice is rough and deep, desperation creeping in. “Do you want Geto-nii to fill your ass up?”

“Yes! Please!” Your answering before you even process what was said, all you know is that you do want it.

“Good girl.” With a few pats to your ass, Geto pounds into you even harder. The added force behind his thrusts has you scrambling for purchase on the mattress, and a high pitch moan rips through your throat.

“Big brother!” The pleasure hits you far too hard. Your eyes are screwed so tightly shut that your eyes tingle and your breath stops for a moment, leaving you lightheaded and even more delirious. The squirming of your body won’t stop, not that you’re controlling it anyway, and for a moment you worry that you’ll get a cramp with how tightly your toes are curling.

“Shit.” Satoru says loudly, and his movements come to a stuttering halt and so do Getos. Both men bury themselves as deep as possible inside you, and an inexplicable warmth fills you.

“Oh my…” Your body finally relaxes a little. There’s a warmth pooling in your lower stomach that could only be the result of those two.

“Holy fuck.” Geto laughs breathlessly, slowly withdrawing his flaccid cock from your ass. You whine at the empty feeling and you clench around nothing. Satoru follows suit, pulling out of you and letting you roll over onto your back.

“How’re you feeling, baby girl?” Geto asks, and he’s staring directly between your legs.

“Amazing.” You whisper, but neither man is listening. Both of them are trained on your cunt where their cum is just leaking out of you and your holes continue to clench around nothing through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“I think she squirted.” Satoru presents his lap to the two of you, and indeed his lap and legs are far wetter than normal.

“Nice.” They share a look, and as you settle into the cushions and the soft bed, fully prepared to go to sleep in bliss, they nudge you. “Open up.”

“Hm?” Cracking open an eye, you see both of them have their phones out, lenses pointed to your cunt. “What’re you doing?”

“Nii-chan is taking a present home.” Geto says, clicking the shutter a few times at your spent holes.

“You’re so sexy we wanna remember this moment forever.” Satoru adds, and that’s all the explanation you need. Once they’ve gotten their fill of taking pictures, Satoru grabs a towel for himself and Geto. When he’s done, Satoru turns his attention to your nearly fully unconscious form. “Wake up, baby, you gotta get clean.”

“No.” Shaking your head, you can’t be bothered to wake up. “Nii-chan can do it.” Both men chuckle at that, and they share a knowing look.

“Don’t worry, your big brothers will take good care of you.”

[voiceless-terror]

Hey, I hope I'm not bothering you, but I wanted to know if you're still taking requests? My friend cinnamoniic's birthday is coming up (around the seccond week of march) and I know they're a fan! If you have time, could you fit is a short Jontim or Jonmartim? That would be really cool!!! (As a surprise, please only publish this ask if you're able to take the request)

hello, not bothering at all! I don’t know if this is early or late but happy birthday @cinnamoniic !! a silly little jonmartim for my favorite artist!!

Tim is very, very happy to have his boyfriends over for the night.

It’s their first overnight and he’s looking forward to falling asleep in Martin’s arms and cuddling up close to Jon, whatever happens first. And that’s why he’s placed himself right between the two, Jon lying on the side of the bed against the wall and Martin insisting on the edge ‘in case I get up in the night, don’t want to wake anyone up, you need your rest.’ Ever the gentleman.

But it’s been three hours and not once has Martin made any motion to get up. In fact, he’d fallen asleep almost two minutes after they got situated, sprawled on his back and dead to the world. Tim’s glad Martin can sleep so deeply, he deserves it with the hours he’s pulling. But he’s not very happy about the sounds he makes while doing it.

Martin snores. Tim does too, as he’s been told by previous partners, but Martin’s like a goddamn motorboat. It’s deafening. He refuses to wake him and inform him of this fact, though he wishes Martin had warned him ahead of time. Tim doesn’t want to make him feel bad, but it’s getting to be a bit of a problem. It’s not steady enough to be a comforting white noise, as it occasionally turns into whistles or crescendos into loud roars. Martin’s got range.

And if Martin sleeps like the dead, Jon's the exact opposite. It’s not that he’s woken up at all, no, but he’s constantly rolling around, climbing on top of them at strange and uncomfortable angles. Tim wouldn’t mind the clinging so much if he didn’t change position every fifteen minutes with a jab of his pointy elbows.

He also talks.

It’s all nonsense, of course. Snarky little noises, as if he can’t stop being a little shit even as he sleeps. Sometimes it's a steady stream of enthusiastic mumbling, like his sleepy equivalent of an info-dump. Tim hopes he’s got a captive audience in his dreams.

He murmurs something directly in Tim’s ear, having burrowed himself in the crook of Tim’s neck five minutes prior. After imparting this wisdom, he rolls back over to face the wall. 

“You’ve got a point, buddy. He is loud.” Tim sighs, staring up at the ceiling, when a thought occurs to him.

Maybe if Jon’s got a Martin to distract him, he won’t be so bothersome. Martin seems to be a heavy sleeper, and won’t be woken by Jon’s nocturnal gymnastics. With this in mind, he very carefully scoots to the bottom of the bed and reaches for Jon, half dragging, half carrying him closer to Tim’s previous position. Jon immediately clings on to Martin, throwing himself diagonally over his chest with a happy little noise. Martin doesn’t wake. Perfect. Tim shimmies over to Jon’s spot, his back to the wall as he closes his eyes to finally get some rest.

Until Jon’s leg kicks back and hits Tim directly in the stomach. He yelps and struggles to catch his breath, glaring at his two blissfully unaware companions. Jon snuggles into Martin’s arms and the snores reach a new crescendo. This is hell.

Tim tries, he really does. He spends the next thirty minutes curled as far into the corner as he can manage, he puts the pillow over his head. But nothing drowns out the noise and Jon still intermittently kicks at his back, albeit gentler than before.

He truly loves the two of them, more than he ever thought possible. Tim reminds himself of this as Martin attempts to break the sound barrier and Jon puts on a one-man show of Riverdance against his back. But he’s got to get some fucking sleep. 

He considers waking the two of them and voicing his complaints. It’s not unreasonable; hell, Tim would want to know if he were the offending party. But he can’t bear the thought of Martin’s guilty little face, and he knows Jon will use it as an excuse to stay up the rest of the night. He could just slip into the living room, but that’ll just cause a fuss come morning. No, it’s time to do some strategic maneuvering. It’ll be difficult, but Tim thinks he can pull it off without waking the two. And he’s never been one to back down from a challenge.

Tim squirms down to the edge of the bed, flipping Jon’s pliant body back to its previous position. He almost falls out of bed when Jon surprises him with an emphatic “Recording ends!” but he quiets after that, curling into a ball.

“Good job, bossman.” A nickname he can only use when Jon can’t hear. He’s not too fond of it, now that they’re dating. Tim still thinks it’s cute. 

Now for the hard part. For this one, he’ll have to get out of bed entirely.

As he looms over Martin, Tim tries to figure out the best way to go about this. He gives him a gentle, experimental shove but Martin’s dead weight and does not want to move, stubborn even in sleep and now snoring louder in what seems like protest. Tim pushes back the sleeves of his sleep shirt, shakes out his arms. This is why you lift, Stoker. You can do this. A second push: the man budges a few inches, but there’s still not enough room for Tim to slip in. Martin’s always been stronger than him, much to his chagrin, and he’s never beaten him in arm wrestling. He’s built like a brick house, albeit much comfier. But Tim will not let him win in his sleep. That’s just ridiculous, not to mention embarrassing. So he lets out a grunt and gives it his best shot, the push finally managing to get Martin completely on his side.

And directly on top of Jon.

“Shit!” Tim swears, immediately jumping on the bed at Jon’s muffled squeak, his hands starting to pull Martin back when what little he sees of Jon suddenly relaxes, his face going slack. Tim briefly worries he’s killed him but Jon is in fact breathing, an utterly content look on his face as if all he needed to settle was the pressure of Martin’s arm and half of his body. Tim laughs in disbelief, running a hand through his hair when he notices the sudden quiet.

Martin’s stopped snoring. Not entirely, no, but after a minute of hovering over the man, he hears only the lightest of occasional wheezes. God, I’m a fucking genius. He almost wishes someone had been around to see it. He’s debating taking a picture and sending it to Sasha when he glances at the clock- two am. If he wants to wake up slightly rested, and in time to try Martin’s much-lauded pancakes, he’s going to have to cut his celebrations short.

So he climbs back into bed, attaching himself to the large, warm expanse of Martin’s back and burying his face in the softness of his worn sleep shirt. This is how it’s supposed to be, cozy and comfortable and quiet. Just took a bit of trial and error. 

Now to see if it’ll last til morning.

At eight, Martin wakes everyone with a shriek upon finding Jon buried underneath him and takes both Tim and himself off the bed with the force of his backpedaling. They land with a painful thump, Tim swearing as his abused back takes the brunt of the fall. Jon peers sleepily over the edge of the bed and gives the two of them a pleased smile, stretching like a cat basking in sunlight.

“Don’t think I’ve slept better in my life,” he yawns, blinking slowly. “What are you two doing down there?”

“A-are you serious?” Martin stutters, still tangled in the sheets and making no move to get up. Tim can’t help his snicker. “I-I was completely on top of you-”

“We should do that more often,” Jon agrees. “I like having you on top of me.”

It takes Martin about an hour to recover from that statement and around the same time for Jon to realize what he said. And Tim, well, Tim’s just happy to finally get some sleep.

And Martin’s pancakes. He really wasn’t kidding about those.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29931783

[portalford]

I Can Picture You So Easily

AO3

It hits Stan at the stupidest times.

Well.  That makes it sounds like Stan just forgets, when really it never quite goes away — sometimes it’s just more.

Like now.

He’s looking in the mirror — he found it tucked way, way back in a closet (and he’s gonna skip right over that because when he got here the mirror in the bathroom was broken, cracked until you couldn’t see a thing and why was Ford—nope) — and he’s trying out a new look for Mr. Mystery.

Gotta keep it fresh, right?  Accessorize?

Glasses aren’t accessories, unfortunately.  He can’t go without them anymore.

(Really, he needed them years ago, but he was too stubborn to admit it, or too broke, or whatever, but he’s literally tripping over his own feet now.  Needs must).

Ford wouldn’t be caught dead in this getup.  No sense of fashion.  So that’s fine.

The glasses—

(Ford started wearing glasses when he was six.  Stan had laughed himself silly when they went to the drugstore and tried on the biggest, most obnoxious frames they could find.  Ma had scolded, but she’d been too distracted checking price tags to do more than scold.

In the end, they went with some cheap horn-rimmed frames that Stan wouldn’t be caught dead in even now.  Old-man glasses, at six.  But that was Ford all over).

—they bring some stuff up.  The twin thing sucks, sometimes.  

(Looking in a mirror and seeing the changes, the lines in his face, the grey in his hair — does Ford have crow’s feet now?  Is his hair going silver?  It was always unmanageable — is it thinning like Stan’s is now, or is it still thick and flyaway, like it was when Ford was sixteen?  Did he even live long enough to get lines in his face and aches in his joints, or is he forever twenty-eight, dead somewhere in the universe?)

Time to stop thinking.

Notice the differences.

Stan’s ears and nose are bigger than Ford’s, always have been.  He’s heavier and his shoulders are broader.

(Has Ford gotten bulkier, fighting to survive?  Or is still he halfway to gaunt, like the last time Stan saw him?)

Definitely time to stop thinking.

Stan flashes a smile, and yeah, that’s all him.  Cheerful, magnetic, and a hundred percent fake.

Time to work the crowds.

*****

There’s an ad for the nice ink pens Ford saved up to buy when he was fourteen.

Stan turns it off.

*****

Mabel finds a picture, once.

“Grunkle Stan!”  Her eyes are all lit up as she shows him the torn photograph.  “I found this under a floorboard in the attic!”

If Stan ever had any doubts about his poker face, he can lay them to rest now. It’s all on the ropes and his expression is perfectly level, maybe even a little curious.

Mabel is still talking.  “I didn’t know there were pictures of you before you were all old!  Do you have any others?”

Oh.

Stan still forgets sometimes, even after everything, that most people can’t tell him and Ford apart.

He knows better.

The young man in the photograph is unmistakably Ford, taken while he was living in Gravity Falls.  He’s got his head bent over that journal of his, but the photographer managed to catch the eager light in his eye, the edge of his smile.

Stan wonders who that photographer was, all those years ago.

A tug at his shirt reminds him he’s not alone, and he definitely can’t get messed up about this picture of his secret twin brother.

Mabel’s face has fallen a bit.  “Grunkle Stan?  Are you okay?”

Stan gives himself two more seconds to look at the picture — Ford just looks so happy; Stan can’t even remember the last time Ford looked like that, even before it all fell apart — and turns to Mabel.

“Yeah,” he says.  He smiles and ruffles her hair.  “Pretty good picture, huh?”

*****

The name is the worst.

Stan never thought identity theft could involve so little fun.

Usually he can get away with just “Stan Pines,” and that’s fine.  That’s his name.  That’s who he’s supposed to be.

Sometimes, though, that’s not enough for whoever’s asking.

“What did you say your name was again?”

He smiles.  Lays it on thick.  “Stanford Pines.”

“Could you sign here?”

He does.  His blocky, uneven handwriting looks even worse than usual where he’s expecting to see neat, flowing script, the way Stanford Pines is supposed to be written.

“This is Stanford Pines,” someone will say.  “Mr. Mystery.”

Stan smiles some more.  Yes, Stanford Pines is certainly that.

Gideon is the worst.  Stanford this and Stanford that and Stan’s never wanted to punch a child so much in his life.

“Stanford Pines!”

He smiles, and he lies.

*****

Dipper halfway drives him nuts sometimes.

It’s not like the kid’s a mini-Ford — he reminds Stan enough of himself, sometimes, though Stan’s not sure that’s great either — but he’s got the brains and the stubbornness and the love of weird nonsense, for sure.

He’s also got that obsessive edge, the drive that sent Ford right off the metaphorical cliff.

Usually Mabel tags along on the weirdness hunts — they make a day of it.  They go out, just the two of them, and come back laughing and joking and shoving at each other.

That’s enough of a painful reminder, but sometimes Stan will catch Mabel sitting by herself, coloring or crafting with a little less energy than usual, and he’ll realize that Dipper’s buried himself in monster theory again.

He tries to keep the kid busy with chores and hustle, but it’s a losing battle.

It was the first time, too.

*****

There’s this old song that Ford used to love when they were younger.

It’s got no words, and Stan used to make fun of it — what's the point of a song with no words?  But Ford insisted it had Meaning, capital M.

It comes on the radio now and then.

Depending on how masochistic Stan is feeling that day, he might let it play.

He still wonders what Ford heard in this song, and if Ford would hear it now.

*****

He realizes, one day near the end, that he’s been Stanford longer than he’s been Stanley.

What’s the point, really?  What does a name matter if it’s so easy for someone else to take your place?

(Did Ford matter so little, in the grand scheme of things, that not one person could recognize him in a place he lived for six years?

Does Stan, in a place he’s lived for almost thirty?)

If he could just stop catching Ford in his reflection now and then, that’d be great.

*****

It’s not any better once Ford gets back (once Stan brings Ford back, the ungrateful bastard).

“Stanford!”

Stan’s got a smile on his face before he even turns around, and what’s wrong with him that he’s halfway made this lie into a Pavlovian response?  Someone calls him Stanford, he smiles and lies.

(Stanford — the real Stanford — is in the basement right now.  He doesn’t even exist, as far as anyone else is concerned.  Stan is Stanford, Stanley is dead, and Ford is a nonentity.

What a life this is).

*****

“So how was it?”

Stan grunts.  “How was what?”

Ford rolls his neck, wincing a little as he works out the unavoidable crick from hunching over a drawing for twenty minutes.  “Being me.”

Stan shrugs.  “Wasn’t hard.  We’re basically the same person, y’know.”

Ford snorts.  A long time (a lifetime) ago that comment might have gotten him worked up, but he’s steadier now, softer around the edges.  “Very funny.  I saw your lease renewal.  You didn’t even change your handwriting, for heaven’s sake.”

“Ford, I rolled up to town, said I was you, and started a tourist trap.  You had a total personality transplant and nobody noticed.”  Stan grimaces.  That sounded really bad.

Ford’s expression has gone rueful and a little sad at the edges, but he doesn’t seem like he’s about launch into full-blown self-recrimination, so that’s fine.  “Yes, well.  That’s what happens when you isolate yourself for six years and your only friend erases his mind to cope with the mistakes you made.”

And that’s Ford trying to shoulder all the blame again, but Stan keeps his mouth shut.  They’re both too comfortable to argue right now.  “Being honest — for once — it kinda sucked.”  Ford’s looking at him, open and encouraging, so Stan keeps going.  “Everyone thought I was you, and it—I wasn’t.  I didn’t want to be.”  Stan shrugs.  “I wanted you you.”

Ford smiles, and it’s a little more worn than Stan remembers, but it’s real, and it’s him.  “I understand.  I met a few parallel versions of you on my travels, and they were you, but — they weren’t really you.”  Ford closes his journal (his new one) and sets it aside, tipping his head back over his chair.  More playfully, he adds, “I wouldn’t want to be you either, Stanley.”

Stan laughs.  “Yeah?  Couldn’t handle the salesmanship?”

“Have more self-respect than to wear any part of your wardrobe.”

“Says the man who wears sweaters in the summer.”

Ford lifts his head and smiles, and this time it’s almost exactly how Stan remembers — quick and a little crooked.  “Fair enough.”  Ford stretches, rolls his neck again.  “For what it’s worth, Stanley, I am glad to be back.”  A wry look.  “Even if it’s going to take ages to sort out the criminal record you gave me.”

Stan slouches deeper into the couch.  Any further and he’s going to slide off, but that’s a risk he’ll take.  “Yeah, yeah.  Talk to me when you’re legally dead.”

“You did that.”

“And?”

“I legally don’t exist.”

“I was trying to learn theoretical physics at the time, Stanford; cut a man some slack.”

Ford laughs, quiet.  “Did I ever thank you for that?”

Stan cracks an eye open.  He didn’t realize he closed them.  “What, learnin’ physics?  Because I’m pretty sure that’s some of the stuff that’s not coming back.”

Ford rolls his eyes.  “For saving me.”

“Hm.”  Ford’s thanked him several times, but lately it’s been less Ford kicking himself and more Ford cautiously trying to engage in the old back-and-forth they used to have, and Stan can get behind that one.  “I dunno.  Might have to say it again.”

“You’re burning through my gratitude very quickly,” Ford says mildly, “but all right.  Thank you for saving me.  You knucklehead.”

Stan never got called that when he was Ford.  He thinks he’s missed it, at least the way Ford says it — like it means something completely different.

“Uh-huh.”  Stan’s eyes are closed again.  He figures he’ll just leave them closed.  “Missed you too, nerd.”

And maybe there’s something to be said for being your own person.

It feels pretty good.

[korissideblog]

Ok! ONE more actor AU post, then I’ll start switching Aito’s quirk <3

(if you have any recommendations for that btw, send an ask lol)

[work in progress!!]

[We need to get this out for next week’s issue. Ichiro’s working on the visuals, you guys make the transcript look nice.]

[yes sir.]

[Aye boss!]

[You got it]

Hello! I’m Kiyoshi Ono, joined here today by none other than Shishio Ramos! Actor in the new series Kimi no Hīrō Akademia!

Hi! [awe! This kid is so sweet] [He’s barely said anything yet] [hush!]

Hi there Ramos! Could you tell us what this new series is going to be about, and who you’re playing?

Oh yeah! Totally! Well- pretty much it’s a highschool for super powered kids, where[nice][Nice!][?][look at the word count!][juveniles]they each can show off their special abilities and train to become pro heroes! Pro being taken literally there- they’re training to become professional heroes! It’s a really fun thing. Ah- and my character is Aito Takao! Takao’s a silly sort of character- kinda like a villain but she’s on the hero’s side in the end. She’s comic relief for when things get too heavy- mostly because she doesn’t care about what’s making everyone else all bummed out [laughter] yeah- she’s a really narcissistic character- but she’s funny so it’s ok.

Yes, my daughter read the manga that inspired Kimi no Hīrō Akademia, and she says that you guys are making a lot of changes- specifically to Takao?

Oh- yeah [laughter] we’re making a couple changes. Takao’s gonna have the same personality and stuff- don’t worry fans- but… you know, we’ll be adjusting a couple things to make Takao an easier role for me to play. He’ll be going by she/him pronouns for one-

She/Him pronouns?

-yeah! Takao’s gonna be genderfluid! For those who don’t know, there’s a ton of different ways to be genderfluid, but the way that I’m gonna portray Takao as- you know, the way I am- pretty much he’s gonna be kinda a little mix of boy and girl? Ah- it’s kinda hard to explain without getting into a lot of different topics, but- pretty much what the audience has to know is that you could refer to Takao with both he/him and she/her pronouns, and his uniform is gonna be both slacks and a skirt! [Ahhh! I just adore Ramos <333] [he’s just explaining gender presentation?][I KNOW!!!]

Alright, good to know! Anything else you think the fans would like to know about changes?

Yes actually! So- in the manga, both Takao’s parents are like, super dead [laughter] but! The writers thought it would be more fun to [nice] [juvenile][JUVENILE!!!] keep Takao’s mother alive, and be kinda ambiguous with his dad. I won’t go too much into it- but I think new and returning fans of the series are really gonna like it!

Perfect! Now, let’s talk more about you

Oh boy-

[laughter] Don’t worry Ramos- I just wanna learn a bit more about behind the scenes stuff. You’re just coming off Good Morning Nakamuras!, how would you describe the transition between Hanta Kobayashi and Aito Takao?

oh lord- [laughter] yeah yeah- there’s a lot of difference between the two. You can see it really prominently in the writing. Good Morning Nakamuras! was a family sitcom, so it was a lot of ‘someone says something’ ‘someone else says something’ ‘Hanta says something either funny or dumb’ and then a laugh track. Sometimes someone else would come after Hanta to carry the joke, but usually it was just that. [awe… I’m gonna miss Good Morning Nakamuras!] [same here, it was my mom’s favorite!] But with Takao, it’s a much faster pace. It’s just ‘someone says something’ and then immediately ‘Takao says something funny or dumb’ and then immediately back to ‘someone else says something’ and then ‘Takao says something funny or dumb.’ I-I don’t know if I’m explaining it well- it’s just that Takao talks all the time and always has something new or witty to say. He’s just a chatter box without a filter and- that’s kinda fun to do- I always get the final word and it’s always gonna get a laugh, you know? [have you guys seen the trailer yet?] [no, but my niece has! She’s really excited to see the premiere!!] [i have. it looks weird, but my brother is excited for it. his favorite is the blonde one i think]

There’s also the problem with the stunts, you know? Like- the worst of it on Nakamuras! was just the parts where I had to jump the fence, and even then it was just every couple of episodes. On KNHA I have to do all these cool fighting moves- and not to mention how deranged Takao is just… naturally [laughter] he’s just a very energetic guy with a fondness for climbing things- and people! Like you have no clue how tall someone is until your boss points at them and is like “hey, go climb them.” And you have to do it! The pro tip I’m gonna give people-climbers: it’s all in the legs [laughter] you just have to get your legs around them and pray that you don’t look as stupid as you feel. God- the worst part is when you’re climbing someone who's the same height as you! Hiroharu’s actor is about my height, and I have to climb him all the damn time. It feels like you’re gonna crush them, you know? Like you just have to be as light as possible and hope and pray that they can support you. And- and I know that he can, you know? Like me and him have the same personal trainer, and Kyo-San doesn’t do “easy” [laughter] I know that he can hold me, there’s just always that fear you know?

Oh definitely- and speaking of Hiroharu’s actor, we know you’re on the lower end of the age spectrum, do you think that affects how you all work together?

Oh no, definitely not! Yeah I’m younger than a lot of my coworkers, but not by much- 19, 20 in June. I mean I’m glad that I’m so young! Like I said- Hiroharu’s actor is about my height, and I’m like 173, and… you know… Hiroharu’s actor is over 21 I think- he sometimes offers to get drinks with us, so he’s definitely 21 and up- and I hear people stop growing after 18…

What? [laughter] What are your tying to say?

Oh my god wait- wait you can’t leave that in! I work with that guy! I can’t call him short in an interview before the show actually starts- ohh no! Oh god!

The average man’s height is 175!

Oh- ah I’m sure- I’m sure that-that’s true- oh my god-

I’m 174!

Oh my god we can’t leave this in! [laughter] oh my god- I’m sorry I just- I come from a tall family so sometimes I forget that- that you know people- oh my god we have to cut this out [laughter] [make sure to remove this bit] [awe! But it’s funny!!] [we’ll literally be sued if we don’t] [you two are no fun :(]

But yeah, age doesn’t really get in the way of things. We’re all good friends on set- especially Hoshizawa’s actor! Him and Shimoda-san are really cool guys, I love hanging out with them!

Shimoda-san? As in Kosuke Shimoda?

Yes! Shimoda-san plays Ikuto Maekawa, and since our characters are such great friends, I’d like to think we are as well! He’s a real fun guy, and I’m excited to work with such a huge talent- everyone- everyone there is so talented and I’m so lucky to be there.

Ah, speaking of talent. While a large portion of the cast is hidden, we have seen some familiar faces in the trailer. We’ve also seen some familiar faces on social media…

Oh my god-

[laughter] you never publicly addressed it, Ramos! Do you want to talk about your fight with Bryce Aoki?

Oh lord… [laughter] everyone’s so dramatic- so it wasn’t a fight- it’s just- ok so we had a little scene together where I would push him out of frame, but he wanted to still be seen and I was fine with that. Choreography is very important to me, so we had a passionate discussion-

Passionate discussion that ended with Aoki getting a black eye?

That- [laughter] that was an accident! I was- so we were practicing by the makeup desks- bad decision I know, but- stop looking at me like that! [laughter] It was just- we’re standing like we would in the scene, and I go to shove him- and- and I’m aiming for his head but- but maybe I accidentally hit his eye - and he absolutely wipes out, like this kid’s on the ground and I’m like “holy sh*t I just punched a kid” you know? [laughter] [she’s like, barely a year older than him…] but! Bryce is a sweetheart, and luckily he’s alright-

He got a black eye! He posted about it!

Oh he! He’s just a bit dramatic! He’s an actor though, it’s our jobs to be a bit looney [laughter]

Alright then, it seems we've run out of time for tonight. Anything you want to say?

Yes! I want to wish everyone a lovely evening! Thank you for the support! -And make sure to watch Kimi No Hīrō Akademia when it comes out this summer!

[lady-plantagenet]

Unsolicited Book Reviews (n5): Wife to theKingmaker

Rating:

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Even before I had an account I had a tendency to go to tumblr to see people’s opinions before buying a histfic novel. Certain books are either severely underrepresented where I feel like there needs to be something on them, whereas others that are talked about enough - something more can still be said. So for my quarantine fun, I had decided to start a series where I review every medieval historical fiction novel I read. Hopefully, it will either start interesting discussions or at least be some help for those browsing its tag when considering purchasing it.

TL;DR: Ok swear to god this book was written by two different people. The ending was actually heart-wrenching, but so much had annoyed me throughout that I swore to myself to never again touch this genre for my own health. Twas an odd tale, and tbh the fact that it was odd probably elevated it from the 2 stars (or hell maybe even 1 if it was going to get any more richardian) to 3. Honestly, quite glad I read it in the end. Not the most historically informative, but some of the character arcs were actually quite neat (however extremely farfetched). Spoiler Warning: I’m going to divulge a lot on here because I know no one who follows me is going to read this book.

Plot: Ok, the plot... It was only after I placed my order that I realised this is the Sandra Heath Wilson of ‘Cicely’s King’ fame. I cringed and didn’t know what to do. For all you innocents out there... her Cicely series is a saga wherein Cecily of York pretty much bangs everyone who is male and from the house of york (minus her father and uncle George) and Even Henry VII(!!). She then has this kid by Richard III, calls him Leo and the rest is history(this is what I gleaned from goodreads). Nevertheless it had already shipped and honestly I had it coming; the synopsis does say she has an affair with her brother-in-law John Marquis of Montagu. Whatever, I couldn’t resist buying the only novel about Anne Beauchamp, and since it was published in the 70s/80s I knew it would at least be flamboyant and go all out. It delivered enough for it to have been worth reading.

So the novel follows Anne Beauchamp!(Nan) from when she is a 13 year old girl to 1478 when she finally leaves Beaulieu to go live at Middleham with her (as you guessed it- favourite) daughter Anne and her oh so belovéd son-in-law Richard Duke of Gloucester - You see? Since now finally the Great Other (Mr George) is finally vanquished England has its peace. Of course this is not true, Nan historically left the abbey in 1473 for Middleham and while I wanted a possible explanation from the author (who I would assume is better researched than I) for whether she went to Middleham out of her own volition or simply because the King trusted Gloucester better than Clarence... alas I got none. It was all pinned on the fact that the evil George (who as per usual alternates between omnipotent mastermind to absolute drunken himbo at the turn of a page) would not have her free for as long as she lived (for whatever reason). I really think the real historical explanation was because Edward trusted Gloucester - because after all Warwick Castle was Nan’s patrimony not Middleham. I doubt Nan had a choice in the matter but, the point is, Isabel was alive in 1473 and since there’s zero historical record or suggestion that Nan and Anne had ever seen her again, it would have been nice to have had a depiction of the conflicted feelings or a final meeting written for the three women. I’ll let it slide I guess, after all, one needs to cut some slack when it comes to books written pre-internet age by non-historians. And unlike Sunne in Splendour, this book does not purport to be completely accurate or a representation of the truth.

Christ some sub-plots were truly unexpected. One that made me groan at first was the whole arc between Nan and her niece Eleanor Butler. In this book she’s her ward (not historically true) and little Eleanor is all sweet and innocent and virtuous and, hell, at one point we get more Nan-Eleanor interaction than even between Nan - her own daughters (particularly Isabel who would have been the right age and a better substitute for Eleanor in their dialogue, but alas, who cares about Isabel right?). Eleanor even is the one to accidentally discover that Margaret of Anjou slept with Edmund Beaufort, siring Edward of Lancaster.

Ok. You’re probably thinking, god how trite eugh the Richardians are at it again, right? Yeah ok the Richardians are at it again, but it turns into something really neat at the end. Essentially, as I said, Nan has an affair with John Neville Marquis of Montagu (long story that I will expand on in characterisation) and she and him come upon Edward and Eleanor (overhearing them nothing more). So Edward and Nan then have this mutually assured destruction between them, because Edward divulges that he saw Nan and John years later when Nan confronts him (by this time he is married to Elizabeth Woodville) that she knows about the pre-contract with the intention of telling him off. He tells her that if she dares tell Warwick about the pre-contract he will tell Warwick about John, so she then agrees (also because she promised her niece that she would keep it quiet for the safety of her son by Edward). Years later when they meet again, Edward realised how much is at stake for Nan (especially since it turned out she loved Warwick all along and Edward figured that out), and so, during the period of John’s back-and-forth loyalties (we know he was disgruntled by the loss of the Northumberland Earldom)... Edward returns and tells Nan that if Montagu abandons him he will out her to Richard and cause a massive division between the brothers (militaristically speaking as well) and he knows he can do that because he figures out Nan will not out him because she blubbs about her promise to her niece. This madness then becomes bittersweet when (as history would have it) Montagu does end up fighting for Warwick, nevertheless, Nan is releaved during the whole time because there’s nothing in Warwick’s letters that give any indication that Edward ended up exposing her. Warwick dies in the battlefield, Nan is deeply aggrieved but happy he never found out at least. But then... years later when Edward comes to Beaulieu (1478 as this story would have it) to inform Nan that she may depart for Middleham, he tells her that he in fact did expose her to Warwick... but that Warwick didn’t believe him and laughed in his face because he thought there was no way she could be unfaithful because he knew she loved him. This sounds silly but it got to me a bit when I read it. Of course, we also have Edward saying he regretted his handling of the pre-contract affair because apparently Elizabeth Woodville had since lost interest in him and he’s hurt by how she shows no reaction to him having mistresses and he’s kinda given up, whereas Eleanor would have been more of a lapdog. This was essentially the centrepiece of the plot.

Look, I don’t really read these types of novels as a habit so I don’t know if bizarre plot lines like this are commonplace. Not going to lie though, it threw me and it was pleasantly enjoyable. This is basically what is to be said about the plot... the rest goes into characterisation. Nevertheless, this novel too often fell into the exposition trap (like telling us what is happening politically instead of showing us). While I appreciated the refresher of what happened 1445-1461 and I understand that the target audience of this book aren’t Wars of the Roses experts, I’ve seen it done more smoothly in many other more literary novels (eg Hawley Jarman’s or Lytton-Bulwer’s Last of the Barons). I’ve often said Sunne in Splendour was terribly dry and exposition-heavy, but at least it had historical detail so I could sometimes switch off and treat it as a non-fiction account for battles and character locations. But with this one I a) don’t have faith that the author paid attention to detail; see what I said earlier about the years 1473-1478, so I won’t take this as information and b) know that if she had done this with the years I know more about: 1461-1478, I would have gotten annoyed because of my familiarity with those decades.

Characterisation: Well we have lovelorn saintly Dickon here - always a pet peeve of mine. Look, I don’t have strong opinions about the man but it just innures me how whenever Richardianism rears it’s ugly head the plot suffers massively and it’s always favourite figures of mine that suffer the most. George Duke of Clarence... oh god, what can I say? Wife-beater, alcoholic, is disgusted by his wife when she is ill (you know, unlike the historical Clarence who had resided in the Abbot’s home near the infirmiary for the last months of his wife’s lying-in and after to be close to her and thereafter stuck with her until she passed away and two months after that as well), is stupid yet somehow still devious, is the indirect cause of her death... the list goes on. Welp, at least this Clarence unlike the Sunne in Splendour one has an elegant bearing, sense of fashion and is a great dancer. The Sunne one had NOTHING. It’s also odd that they make his attitude towards Isabel undergo a complete 180 as soon as he realises this marriage will no longer make him king. This makes no sense as the book has them want to marry for love, like YEARS before 1469, so this sudden attitude change makes no sense. Authors really need to be reminded that crown or no crown that marriage would still have made him the greatest magnate in England. There was also a ridiculous handling on the circumstance of his death, and this was the most factually wrong part of the book. Between Ankarette being aged down by 4 decades and the whole shmaz with Stillington, I don’t know where to begin. I bet most of you can guess how it was handled. Isabel is as per usual constantly depressed and without a personality because, well, we can’t have her compared to our shining heroine Anne Neville. 3x more beautiful, 5x more vivacious and 20x more significant than her doormat of a sister who complains all day- that is when she isn’t crying. Gahhh. Of course Anne Neville also cries but it’s for her beloved Dickon who she pines for constantly. Look, I have no qualms with romanticising this pairing, but authors need to keep in mind that Anne was like 13 at most when she became estranged from Gloucester. You. Need. To. Stop. Writing. Her. Like. A. Woman. . I don’t care what anyone says, no matter the time period, you can’t make me visualise a 13 year old that could feel romantic love of that deep a devotion and maturity and not send me laughing across the floor. But want to write a strong childish infatuation coming from a place of deep friendship? Fine by me.

Ok, onto more positive characterisation points: I liked Nan, quite a lot actually (I mean blatant daughter favouritism aside). A lot of authors attempt to write the proud noblewoman and great lady character but few pull it off. This is always how I have seen the real Anne Beauchamp and I’m glad to see it here. For a novel so insensitive towards certain figures, the author wrote Nan with great empathy. She was very intelligent but not in that artificial girlboss way, she loved her daughter(s) but in that medieval mother type of way (so no baby brain here), she may have not gotten along splendidly with all the women around her but there was none of that demeaning cattiness. About that, I want to say I was shocked by what a turn her relationship with Margaret of Anjou took. Since the whole Somerset-bastard child plotline was a thing... Nan was initially revolted and lost all her respect for Lancaster, but when the two women find themselves joined by fate they gain this strange mutual respect for one another. They butt heads a bit initially but Margaret of Anjou rises above it for her son’s sake and eventually strikes up an agreement with Nan on when they are to set sail. Margaret first won’t listen to Nan because she thinks she’s a fool but when she eventually slips by to tell Nan that she had thought about her plan and that maybe she’s right, she doesn’t apologise and Nan doesn’t need her to and it’s this weird telepathic understanding from then on and I certainly did not expect to see something like this in this novel. After the landing in England and news of Warwick’s death reaches the party, Margaret doesn’t gloat but diplomatically relays the news and when Nan says she wants to take sanctuary because she lost all heart and can’t fight on, Edward of Lancaster gently says something like: well if you come with us, you’ll at least get your revenge and that’s at least something (paraphrase). You could just tell this was Edward’s way of offering condolences, the type of way a child like him raised through war and promises of vengeance only could, and it was oddly powerful. Shame it couldn’t have happened as Nan and Margaret and Isabel all travelled at seperate times. The whole theme around Nan was that she wasn’t very partisan but only followed her husband as a magnate and then as a man, which I believe and it was great to see Team Lancaster understood Warwick was a seperate entity from York, and for all intents and purposes they were all in this together. Cool-headedness is much needed in this genre I realise, god how low flies the bar ~

Now onto the characterisation most people are wondering about. What of Warwick? He was the saving grace of the novel. He has the common touch yet he is sophisticated, he is idealistic yet he is shrewd, he is impassioned yet collected, he is dramatic yet subtle, he is ... I can go on and on. What is all the affair plot point about then? It doesn’t diminish the bond between the two main characters; to tell you quite truthfully the relationship the author wrote was bizarre yet still really touching. They used to hate eachother because Nan thought herself above him (after all the Warwick earldom was far more valuable than the Salisbury one- remember it was briefly a dukedom at one point), but then she sees what he made of himself and becomes proud of him and falls in love with him. However, he starts to get carried away with his ambitions, gets all-consumed by the legend of Warwick that he had cultivated and essentially becomes impersonal without wanting to (and realising). Nan feels she has lost him to the people of England (which are apparently all hypnotised by his presence, which ok is a fact grounded in history) and because of her wounded pride she starts seeking comfort in his brother (although, it makes little sense how this would work as I would gather he would also be away, especially at the Scottish boarders). When he refuses to support Warwick over Edward later on, she loses all feelings for Montagu and thinks him a coward, and when Warwick apologises for being amiss she realises that this whole time it was him she loved all along and is racked with guilt. I found this exploration of what it is like being wed to a man of such public standing quite interesting, the idea of losing him not to another woman or such but to his cause (which in this book is a mixture of belief in the french alliance, the common weal and subconsciously his own wounded pride brought on by an extreme adherence to inflexible chivalric values on his part and Edward IV’s actions), I confess, is not something I saw portrayed in this particular manner anywhere else. I mean it’s not like I’ve been searching for this particular motif, but this was a refreshing depiction of a medieval couple and it was a poignantly written relationship which the author had me invested in. The relationship was heartfelt because it was very distinct, Nan and Warwick weren’t just some stand-ins for a cash-grab but some consideration was paid to the real historical figures. The John plotline, sure I would in principle protest against something like this but it seems to have had two plot purposes: To illustrate the strain caused by the aforementioned issue and to kick off the whole Edward-Eleanor Butler-Montagu-Nan arc, which bizarre and unbelievable as it was, kept me on my toes. I’ll let it slide. Also, Edward IV was portrayed as quite a chilling villain in this, beholden of this weird mix of indifference, charm and wickedness.

Prose: This is what made me briefly wonder if this book was written by two different people. It failed to engage me in the first half, the descriptions were trite (except for the natural scenery bits), there was very little variety in sentence structures which gave it the stilted heaviness that thus afflicted The Sunne in Splendour (and most modern literature). There was a lot of redundancies eg the type of stuff like ‘whispered quietly’ or ‘yelled loudly’ and the author’s misunderstanding of certain period fashions drew me out eg references to bodices (not a thing then), calling the henin veil a silk scarf etc. She didn’t pull a Penman: exposit emotions to us, making me feel like I walked into a therapy session, but it was often heavy-handed. It first felt very much like an uninspired debut novel. A bit try-hard and I was wondering if this was the way of the bodice ripper... I wouldn’t know, I never read one before (though I’m unsure if this qualifies as it’s really not graphic and the focus is really not on sex nor is there much of it).

However, out of nowhere, the prose suddenly changed a little before half of the way in; colours, emotions, thoughts and the like started to blend masterfully. The sentence structures started varying to convey the way Nan was feeling. It became very show don’t tell, and it drew me in emotionally a bit (I must confess). Of course, that’s also around the point the plot had sort of started redeeming itself. Nan’s grief at her husband’s passing was particularly well conveyed - how she became a husk of her former self... I could read fifty pages of that. Her realisation that it had been him all along was also well written, and you could feel all the urgency and regret she felt at all the time she had wasted disregarding him as the plot grew nearer to Barnet. The mutual longing was also subtle yet strong, and it really was down to the effective use of sentence structure and waylaying of inspired thematic details. The mingling of past memories with present day in her later years was also very well done and with flow, and the adjectives etc used were no longer becoming distracting as before. My favourite part by far was the very last scene when she rides ahead of her escort to Middleham and she imagines a horse riding beside her caparisoned with the Neville standard; you can really feel how this is the first time that she had felt joy in years and she lets the ghost follow her.

... In Conclusion, this novel gave me very mixed feelings. I don’t know if I would have enjoyed it as much as I did had it not been for the fact that I entered it with a massive pre-formed love for the figures. It’s a bit like my experience with ‘Death Be Pardoner to Me’ (review #2 on this tag), was the book actually good or do I just have an affinity for the protagonist (Clarence in that case)? As such, I don’t think I would reccomend it. Indeed I wrote this spoilerish review because I was sure no one would fly off to Amazon after seeing this post. I can’t say if it’s above commercial historical romance in standard as this is the first time I’ve ever read a book from this genre. I think I’ll take a loongg break from historical fiction (after I finish with Jarman) because the Clarence portrayal was a bit of a nail in the coffin for me and I don’t want to continue upsetting myself for no reason. As I have now truly lost hope in reading a balanced depiction of him and if the literature isn’t absolutely expemplary why bother? Nevertheless, Warwick’s portrayal was a saving grace and made it impossible for me to give it two stars - it wasn’t perfect but still the best I’ve read (minus Last of the Barons Ofc). This is also a bit sad when you think about it, Warwick is also due some fictional justice. Even scholarly if you ask me.

The experience was educational as I learned a valuable lesson in what to avoid and include in my writing, what pitfalls/clichés not to fall into etc. I think I can draw another valuable lesson from this: Dear Histfic authors, if you happen to not be historians, heavily-researched in this time period, objective or literarily talented etc don’t take yourself seriously by publishing some tome of a work but just go nuts like this novel. At least this way you’re not sharing misinformation, inducing people into error and your work still gets to be engaging as opposed to a repetition of the previous amateur historical novelist. Yeah. For all the Sunne in Splendour’s superior quality, I must say I prefer this one better.

Tagging @pythionice who I have recently discovered has also read this book! Welcome fellow fan of Warwick <3

[beerecordings]

Mythology AU - Chase is a Selkie, Marvin’s a star spirit, Jameson’s fae but likes to look like a little black dog, Henrik’s the seventh son of a seventh son, and Jackie is Jackie! See other pieces from this universe here and here.

Thanks for the prompt, Kit! This fic is not actual ego shipping but features what’s basically a love spell on one ego which needs to be broken. But no one tries to take advantage of anyone else and they all work together to help. This is the earliest point in the timeline I’ve written so far, with Chase meeting Henrik, Jackie, and Marvin! I hope you like it.

As a lil mythology debriefing, most Selkie who have their coats stolen in the stories have them stolen intentionally and are then either forced to marry the men who stole them or fall in love with and marry the men who stole them. Giving a Selkie their coat back releases them to either stay or go, but I wanted to explore what would happen if a Selkie had their coat given back to them but was still too love-drunk from having it stolen in the first place to be able to think clearly and get back in the ocean.

.

He’s nervous.

A lot of Henrik’s clients are. A lot of Henrik’s clients are nervous. A lot of Henrik’s clients, these days, aren’t human.

The seventh son of a seventh son can see us, they might tell each other, flitting between the branches of a tree or drifting with the waves of the water. He learned human medicine, but he’s quick. He’s quick. He’s learning and his luck is good.

His luck is very good. His mind, he likes to tell himself, is better.

(But the truth is that his luck is better than anyone’s and maybe if it hadn’t caused him so much grief and driven him away from everything he had ever known he would appreciate it better.)

He’s nervous then, yes, but Henrik can’t see the glamour of a fairy on his skin or the flickering color of a shape-shifter’s eye. There are no horns hiding in his hair, no hooves tucked away in his sneakers, no water streaming endlessly from his eyes. He does not speak in tongues or hover just a centimeter off the ground. He does not glow. He does not breathe like the cosmos are running through his lungs.

He just looks human.

But if you are the seventh son of a seventh son, you might catch, in the air, the same thing that Henrik did - a slight smell of salt and stone.

And a faint feeling that the man and his child are not human.

“How’re you now?” asks the man in a whisper, tucking the baby close to his chest and taking a step back from Henrik as he swung open the door to his run-down little clinic. Henrik stares back at him and then around at the alleyway, wondering if someone is following him, but there is nothing there but the man and the bundle in his arms.

“Good, and yourself?” answers Henrik politely, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s late, I’m about to close.”

“Sorry.” He tugs on the cap over his hair nervously, disturbing a single blond curl in the middle of his dark brown hair. “I thought the fever would go away, but it hasn’t. If I don’t get it checked out my ex will have me for sausage.”

“Mh. A baby?”

The man clears his throat and holds the infant out.

Henrik stares down at the baby. Up at the father. Down at the baby.

Now there is something slightly inhuman to them.

It’s in the eyes. He’s never seen eyes so dark and deep, like they were made for nothing but light to come in. With one, it’s an oddity. With the two of them...

It’s strange.

“The baby is human?” asks Henrik, in a voice that says he already knows the answer.

The man stares at Henrik, black eyes wide.

He’s nervous.

Henrik sighs and steps back from the door. “Come on in.”

“Thank you. Thank you. My ex would have killed me.”

The man darts in the door, heaving his backpack up on his shoulders and scurrying over to the examination table, where he takes one last glance at Henrik and then begins to unwrap the baby like a little Christmas present.

Baby shampoo and salt smell warm the chilly little clinic while the baby fusses unhappily at his father, reaching up to snag his finger and shove it into his soft, slobbery baby mouth for something to gnaw on. He has a little white onesie with different colors of fish patterned all over and a tiny breast pocket that says “I’m a real catch!”

Sometimes being supremely lucky is very nice, especially if it brings you cute babies to examine while you were in one of the slightly tired, bored, generally-unhappy-and-not-really-knowing-why moods you’ve been stuck in for some weeks. Henrik washes his hands at the sink and comes over to examine the baby.

“His name’s Hunter. I’m - ”

“Don’t tell me names,” Henrik cuts him off. “I don’t ask questions. You have money?”

“Yes, whatever you charge.”

“Dangerous offer.”

The man gives a weak chuckle.

Hunter gurgles angrily at Henrik’s hands roaming over his chubby body, kicking his feet in their booties and slurping on his father’s finger as a form of protest.

“Yes, his temperature is high,” Henrik agrees. “How long has he been like this?”

“Since yesterday. I just have him for the weekend and he’s been the grumpiest little sucker in the world. I have to take him back to my wife’s tonight. Sorry... my ex’s. She was my wife but now she isn’t, and so with the kids it’s kind of, uh. Well. Hard.”

“Don’t have to explain, I understand,” says Henrik mildly, listening to Hunter’s heart.

“Oh? You’re, uh, divorced? Or should I not ask questions either?”

Henrik raises an eyebrow at him, a small smile rising on his mouth. “I’ll excuse it this one time. We’re separated. But the child was much older.”

“Ah. Yeah. Messy split or was it, like, pretty clean?”

“It was a natural disaster,” answers Henrik wryly, and the man manages a full laugh this time, his stance relaxing a little.

He isn’t like the men from the gangs, staring in Henrik in silence as he works. He isn’t like the kids and adults who are running away from something and try to stay quiet despite the nervous confessions that keep falling from their mouths, looking for someone to confide in. He isn’t like the fairies who run their eyes up and down Henrik’s body, whispering to each other about how clever or how silly this human is or making snide jokes about him stinking of beer or bratwurst.

Henrik is glad. He thinks he needed a break from all of that. His work is his great love, but often it fuels his fury or, worse, breaks his heart.

There has been a melancholy in him lately. He does not know how to disperse it. No one would have noticed, because Jackie never can pick up on it, but Marvin said that his eyes had gone sad, whatever that means, and informed their roommate that Henrik needed cheering up. Since then he’s been hiding in his office more often than not - he can only be smothered in starboy kisses and served sympathy pasta so many times before he needs some space.

“Saw the game last night?” asks Henrik, noticing the father getting tense again.

“What game?”

“Well, my roommate said there was a game and he was very excited and mad and enthusiastic, which usually means it was worth watching.”

The man laughs. “Right. Yeah, football, wasn’t it? Good stuff, yeah. I saw the score. Didn’t watch it cause I got him here and the other one at home. Try to spend the whole weekend with them. Your roommate sounds like a character. He watches just football?”

“He’ll watch anything with a ball and some collisions,” says Henrik. “And he is certainly a character. How long have you lived among humans?”

The man’s head shoots up, his blond curl hanging in front of his eyes. “Hey, now!” he says. “That football question was a trap!”

Henrik winks at him and leans down to check the baby’s ears. “Fair play?”

“Fair play,” concedes the father, sitting back with an amused sort of irritation. “Since I was nineteen, if you must know.”

“So that’s, what, six years?”

“Eight.”

“And the baby?”

“Well, uh.” The man frowns and glances down at his son. “Well, he’s new, you see.”

Henrik bursts into laughter for the first time in days and fuck, that feels good.

“I meant how old is he!”

“Oh! Well, I - I didn’t know!”

He’s bright red, his freckles drowned out in blush. “I wasn’t sure what you meant, I don’t know what sort of babies you get in here - ”

“Hahaha! Not immortal ones!”

“Well, you say that, but I’ve met some weird creatures in my time!”

“Alright, that much I understand.”

“Maybe you thought he was a little spirit or something, I don’t know.”

“Aw, a little spirit baby.” Henrik hides his eyes and then pulls his hands away, catching Hunter’s attention with a game of peek-a-boo. “Are you a little god, Herr Baby? Are you a little spirit?”

“He’d be the god of spitting up carrots all over his dad.”

“Tom once walked up to me as I was sitting on the couch and when I asked him what was wrong, he immediately puked all over my slacks.”

The father throws back his head and laughs loud and wonderful, his shoulders shaking and her dark eyes a-glow. “Fuck’s sake. But then they’re worth it, aren’t they?”

He leans over Hunter to blow a blubber kiss into the fat of his stomach, but the child must be feeling unwell again, because he chooses this moment to begin wailing, his small face scrunched up with distress. The man is quick to try soothing him, rubbing at his hot, bumpy baby head and murmuring to him in Irish.

Truthfully, Henrik is grateful for the distraction. He shouldn’t have brought Tom up. Yes, they’re worth it. But sometimes they break your heart too.

“I can see why you were concerned,” he said. “His fever is quite high and has lasted a while. But I am wondering why you didn’t see a normal doctor? If you’re illegal, just tell me you couldn’t.”

“Ah, no, I could have,” admits the man, picking Hunter up and rocking him. “But I guess I don’t trust them. Or I’d prefer someone who knows... just, well, who knows, you know? We always used to see a doctor who was one of us, but now we’ve moved too far away. I didn’t know who to go to... I was told you had the Sight, that you would treat... people like us.”

“But I don’t know,” answers Henrik gently, pulling open his cabinets for a prescription. “You haven’t told me what you are.”

He looks up at Henrik. Down at the baby.

“We left everything we had known behind when we came to live with humans,” he says softly. “Since then I haven’t met another like me living among them. And I haven’t told anyone - not a soul - about what I really am.”

Curious. Curious. Only so many creatures would choose to make a split so deep. He must be able to pass as human almost perfectly. He knows he is not a werewolf, or he would need others of his kind to survive. He knows he is not demonic, or he couldn’t have passed through Marvin’s warding. He knows he is not a Pooka, because Henrik did not fear him, and Pooka do not love their sons, and Pooka do not speak as humans do, and a million other reasons, too, and yet the thought still crossed Henrik’s mind. Even when it is irrational, it always crosses his mind: what if? what if?

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” says Henrik, writing down Hunter’s temperature.

“I’m a little in the public eye, is the thing.”

“Oh-ho,” laughs Henrik, letting his eyes flick up to the ceiling for a second. “I got a celebrity in here.”

“I didn’t say that,” protests the father. “Come on, man. It would just be bad if anyone found out who would believe it. Some people don’t like people like me living with humans.”

Henrik puts his clipboard down and reaches out to touch his arm, meeting his gaze. “Look, ‘man,’ there’s really nothing to worry about. I get all kinds in here and I know how to keep the mouth shut when it should be. I would prefer to know. Some creatures can experience medical complications which would be misdiagnosed without understanding. But if you really cannot tell me, you can take the medication and go, just like if I were a human doctor.”

The man looks down at his child, patting along the baby’s stomach to soothe both Hunter and himself. “Okay, alright. Can I come back if any of the kids ever get in trouble again and I need a doctor?”

“Of course you can,” answers Henrik genially. “Especially since you can pay.”

He chuckles, stroking Hunter’s soft head. “Do you know who the Selkie are?”

Henrik stops short in the middle of preparing a syringe of medication.

“Take that as a yes,” says the man, sitting down at a visitor’s chair, his hands in his lap.

Henrik tries to go back to work as calmly as he can. “You’re something of a rarity, then.”

“There’s less and less of us every year,” he answers. “Most of us don’t live among humans, so we die as the ocean does.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well. Me and my family don’t live like that anymore, anyway. Safer on land.”

“What is it like?” asks Henrik, unable to deny his own curiosity. “To be a man one moment, and a seal the next.”

He smiles grimly, playing with the cap of his hat. “To be able to transform is incredible. You feel like you’re apart of something much bigger than you. And that ability, to swim like that, to smell like that, to see like that... well, it’s an experience. But the truth is that when you’re Selkie you’re never expected to do anything but live and die by the ocean. And I wanted something more than that, even if it meant leaving everything behind.”

“I’m going to give him some medicine.”

“Oh, yeah. Okay.”

Henrik and the father coax the needleless syringe into Hunter’s mouth and convince him to swallow the medicine despite his fussy groaning and whimpering.

“Will that help?”

“Yes, I think so. Should reduce the fever. I’m going to prescribe you something to take with to help him recover more quickly, though I expect he’ll be just fine.”

“Oh, great,” breathes the Selkie, staring warmly down at Hunter, who sucks earnestly on his fist and wriggles his feet. “Thank you so much. I think my ex would have about killed me if I had brought him home with a fever and no trip to a doctor. I really didn’t know where else I would have gone.”

“It’s no worry,” answers Henrik. “But, if you were open to it, I might recommend bringing him down to the ocean for a while.”

The Selkie looks up, surprised.

“Whether or not you let him transform, it isn’t always good for creatures like you to be away from all of their people and their... natural habitats, you might say. If you don’t want to live among Selkie, I understand. But a Selkie baby is a Selkie baby. This part of his nature cannot be buried. Letting him play in the water might be good for him sometimes.”

The Selkie stares down at his baby, blinking.

“I don’t know,” he says uncertainly.

“Just something to think about,” replies Henrik levelly.

“Right,” sighs the Selkie, beginning to wrap Hunter back up again, but the suggestion seems to have left him uncertain and thoughtful, focused intently on his child. “Oh, uh, I gotta pay you. How much?”

“The medicine wasn’t expensive. Twenty-five pounds should cover it. But if you can give me more, it helps me keep the place running.”

The Selkie hands him a full fifty pounds. “I don’t know what I would have done without you, man. I don’t really trust human doctors with my kids.”

“If you ever need anything, you know where to find me. Tell me if his fever does not break. Here, my number. Don’t put me in your phone as anything suspicious.”

“Strange doctor in that backalley clinic on Lincoln, got it.”

Henrik smiles grimly at him. The Selkie grins back.

“Thanks for being cool, doc,” he says, touching his shoulder.

“I try.”

“Ha. Okay. Bye.”

“Hey,” says Henrik. “I was driven away from Germany a few years back. I left everything behind too - including, perhaps, people who needed me - but I had my reasons for going. And that doesn’t make me a bad person. Yes?”

The Selkie smiles softly at him, something small and grateful in his eyes.

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly. “Yeah. We have our reasons.”

As he turns to leave, Henrik sees the thoughtfulness come over him again. It’s like he’s far away already. And for whatever reason, when he goes, Henrik himself feels that strange and quiet unhappiness return to his chest as the silence of the lonely clinic consumes him again.

It isn’t until fifteen minutes later that he realizes the Selkie has left his backpack behind.

“Fuck!”

Henrik scoops it up and races out the door just in case he has the chance to catch the Selkie at the bus stop, but he and the baby are gone.

“Goddamn,” murmurs Henrik, walking back to his clinic. “At least he can come back for it. What does he have in here that’s so heavy anyway?”

It’s not really his business to look. In fact, it is his business to not ask questions and respect people’s privacy unless he thinks someone’s getting hurt by his silence. He really should not look in the Selkie’s bag.

But a sheen of smooth white through the almost-but-not-quite-entirely zipped-up backpack pauses him.

Henrik sits down in his office, staring.

He shouldn’t.

But he’s never met a Selkie before.

And if that’s what he thinks it is...

He’s pulling it out before he can doubt himself any longer.

“Wow,” he whispers. “Wow.”

The Selkie coat is beautiful. White and blond and brown patterns decorate the Selkie’s skin on a luxuriously soft coat. Henrik stands up and puts it on for a moment, marveling at the weight and warmth of it. He breathes in that same deep, salt and stone smell he caught on the Selkie when he first came in the door.

And if this were his skin, all he would have to do was walk down into the water of the ocean and then - transformation. He would be a seal.

“Incredible,” he murmurs to himself, taking the coat off again. “Truly.”

Being the seventh son of a seventh son is lucky, sure, but he thinks it might have been even luckier to be born as something as cool as that.

He sets the backpack down in the clinic. He doesn’t think much of it at the time.

.

Someone’s knocking on his clinic door.

“At one in the morning.” He tsks his tongue against his teeth. “Better not be those werewolf kids again, I swear.”

He gets up, straightening his coat.

“Who’s there?” He calls to the door.

“It’s - it’s - it’s - ” They seem to hardly be able to get the words out, breathless and stammering. “It’s the Selkie, fr-from earlier!”

“Oh, right.” Henrik unlocks and opens the door. “Did you come back for your - ”

Hands grab his lapels, marching him back towards the wall of the room as wild dark eyes bore intensely into him. The Selkie pants, his grip unwavering on his coat.

“Hey!” cries Henrik, a little alarmed. “What are you doing?”

“My coat,” whispers the Selkie, something desperate and terrified in his deep eyes. “Please, did I leave it here? Please, can’t I have it? I have to, I have to, I - ”

“Oh, alright,” sighs Henrik, finally shoving his hands off. “Yes, I suppose that must have been scary to lose. You seemed distracted.”

“You do have it,” sobs the Selkie. “Oh, fuck. Please, I’ll give you anything you want to have it back! I can pay you a lot of money!”

“Calm down, man.” Henrik shakes his head at him. “You are freaking the good doctor out. I don’t want your coat. You can have it back. Here.”

He steps over to the wall of the clinic and picks up the backpack, bringing it back towards the Selkie. He takes it from him with shaking hands and pulls the zipper open, finding the coat inside. Tears run down his face as he reaches in to trace his fingers over the smooth, familiar surface of his own skin.

“I’m sorry you were so freaked out,” says Henrik. “You should have called me.”

“Oh,” says the Selkie, in a very small voice. “I had your number, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. Are you okay?”

But he’s just staring down at his coat, flushed and weeping, silent.

“Hey,” says Henrik, touched by concern. “Hey. It’s okay. You’ve got it now. Everything’s okay, right?”

The Selkie stares at his coat. There is a change happening in his face, but Henrik doesn’t recognize the emotion there - just the fact that his face is going from very white to enthusiastically red.

“Can you say something?” asks Henrik. “You are beginning to worry me. Perhaps you have caught your son’s - ”

A pair of hands wrap around his wrists and then Henrik is thrown back against the wall and pushed into a passionate kiss. He yelps in surprise against the warm mouth pressing into his lips, too startled to push back. The Selkie draws away for a moment to breathe and grips at Henrik’s hair, staring at him with eyes that Henrik would think were glazed in fever if he could feel any heat coming off of him.

“Doc,” the Selkie half-groans, making embarrassment burn bright red against Henrik’s cheeks. “You gave it back to me.”

He leans forward to kiss him again and Henrik is glad to realize his brain is no longer crashing like a computer with a virus. Throwing a hand up to stop him, he yanks himself away from the Selkie, stumbling along the wall away from him.

“What the hell!” he cries, nearly tripping over one of the chairs. “You can’t just kiss someone!”

Distress floods down the Selkie’s face, his mouth flipping miserably and his eyes going wide with alarm. “Did I – I did something wrong?”

“You have to know it’s not normal to just start kissing someone.” Henrik scans those blank eyes a second time, beginning to be concerned. Is he having some kind of delusion? Is he drunk? “You said you’ve been living among humans since you were young. What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry,” chokes the Selkie. “I – I know I’m a screw-up, I didn’t mean to make you angry, please don’t make me do anything – ”

“Make you do something?”

“My head feels wrong,” cries the Selkie, and when he curls in on himself he does it so suddenly Henrik thinks he is collapsing. He rushes forward to help him, alarmed. “I didn’t think it could be this strong!”

“What? What is it?” demands Henrik, taking his face between his hands and pulling his gaze up. “What did you take? What are you on?”

“My coat,” breathes the Selkie, his eyes going soft again as Henrik draws his gaze back to his face. “You gave it back to me...”

He surges forward for another kiss and Henrik yelps, shoving his face away. The Selkie makes a squawking noise that would be pretty damn funny in just about any other situation and goes crashing back onto his ass, distress tearing up his freckled face. He stares up at Henrik with enormous eyes dark as the universe, tears welling up in his thick eyelashes.

“Oh, no, oh, no,” he cries, grabbing his own shoulders. “I didn’t mean to make you mad. Please don’t make me do anything. I can be good for you. I want to.”

This is officially too much. Something is wrong, and if Henrik’s luck holds - and it always does - the sense he’s getting that this is because of some magical bullshit will ring true.

“You’re not on drugs, are you?” he asks. “Or drunk. This is something else.”

The Selkie clutches the soft fur of his coat to his chest and sobs, rocking himself back and forth on the floor of the clinic. “Please, I have children, I only just recently got divorced, I don’t want to do anything...”

“You... you don’t have to do anything. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I won’t make you. Calm down.”

Henrik sinks slowly down to the floor in front of him, giving him some space and trying to look non-threatening, his hands held gently out in front of him. He lets out a shaky sigh, still feeling unnerved. “Just, uh. Don’t try to kiss me again,” he laughs nervously.

“You look so perfect right now, though,” cries the Selkie, hiding his face from him. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this attracted to a person, not even Stacy. I thought this was just a myth. I didn’t think it would feel like this.”

Henrik’s face flames with embarrassment. He tugs at his collar, looking anywhere but at the Selkie, trying to think of anything to say.

“Look - just - stay here for a second. I’m going to give my friends a quick call. They’ll help us figure this out, okay?”

“They won’t hurt me either, will they?”

“Hurt you? No, no, never. They like to help people like you.”

“Cause I’m vulnerable right now, man, I’m - ” The Selkie’s voice shatters and he shakes, wrapping his arms tighter around himself. “I think I’d do anything you asked me to.”

“I’ll just give them a quick call. They’re very trustworthy. They saved me too, when I was vulnerable. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” he says in a small voice.

Henrik slips into his office on feet that are tingling as though he’d just looked off the side of a very tall building. He’s pulling the door tightly shut and yanking out his phone to find Jackie’s number before he’s even given himself a second to breathe, all but slamming the phone to his ear and collapsing into his rolling chair.

“Hullo?”

“Jackie!” he yelps, squeezing the phone to his face. “Hilf mir!”

He knows Jackie has leapt up because he hears him swear as he slams his knee into the coffee table like he always does and, subsequently, Marvin’s laughter in the background. “Okay, I’m coming, I’m coming! What’s wrong, are you hurt? Marv, get up, let’s go!”

“No, no, it’s not that. There’s a Selkie here and I think he’s been cursed to fall in love with me! Can I bring him to the house?”

There’s a long pause on the other end.

Then Jackie is laughing at him.

“Hey!” shrieks Henrik, spinning around in his chair, his anxious feet pedaling him around and around. “It’s not funny!”

“Marv, some guy is hitting on Schneep and his dumb ace ass doesn’t know how to handle it, hahaha.”

“Jackie!”

“You’re so funny, Schneep, I bet you’re red as a tomato.”

“Shut up! Jackie - well, maybe I’m red, but listen! Something’s really, really wrong with him. For real, I mean. He keeps saying how into me he is but he’s terrified of me at the same time - shaking and holding himself. He keeps talking about his coat. I think something’s really wrong.”

There’s a pause on Jackie’s end as Marvin and Jackie confer. A moment later, the phone is passed to Marvin.

“Hi, rabbit’s foot. Is the Selkie hurt?”

“I don’t think so. Just acting really weird.”

“Best be gentle with him, Henrik. Endangered species.”

“I know. I’ve never met one before. I don’t know what else to do.”

“Most Selkie are very social. They live in big clans with normal seals mixed in and many don’t mix with humans anymore. I’ve been to a couple families and they’re the friendliest, most open you’ve ever met. Maybe he just doesn’t understand how to flirt with you?”

“No, Marv, this isn’t that. He’s lived with humans for years. And even if he hadn’t... something’s wrong. Are love potions real?”

“Uh, not sure! Jackie? He doesn’t know either. Okay, clover, better bring him back to the house.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah. I’ll be home in fifteen, alright?”

“Henrik, if he tries to touch you and you don’t want him to, use force, alright? Even if he’s cursed he doesn’t get to take advantage of you.”

“Right.” Henrik feels some of the red drain from his face. “Yes. No one takes anything from me I don’t want to give anymore.”

“Love you!” says Marvin cheerily. “See you soon! Humans are so funny when they blush. Like, that’s not where all that blood’s supposed to be, silly! I - ”

Henrik hangs up on him before he can really get to ranting. He puts his phone down on his lap and takes a deep breath. He gets up. He can do this.

He opens his door and comes face-to-face with the Selkie.

“Sorry!” he squeaks, backing away from Henrik and darting back towards the clinic. “I got nervous when I couldn’t see you, I’m sorry.”

He’s all wrapped up in his coat, his soft brown hair curling out of a fluffy hood, his eyes huge and dark in its shadows and his arms wrapping it around himself like a blanket. Henrik’s discomfort is briefly halted by his ravenous curiosity.

“You are wearing the coat, but are not a seal?”

“Oh, no.” He glances down at himself. “I have to be in living water.”

“How biblical.”

“Is it?”

“Sure. Jeremiah. Zechariah.”

“I just mean moving water, I suppose. We call it living. Salt water, preferably. But I haven’t been in that for a long while.”

“The ocean is so close. You don’t swim?”

The Selkie shakes his head, staring down at the floor, and something hot and aching flashes through his ink eyes. “Not for me.”

Henrik purses his mouth, looking at him. He cuts a miserable image, shaking and wrapped up in his furs, his face red and scared, but damn if he doesn’t look sweet too. Henrik sighs and reaches out a hand.

“Let me take you to my friends,” he says. “They’ll be able to help.”

The Selkie looks up in astonishment, mouth parting. Tentatively, he reaches out and wraps his fingers around Henrik’s. The touch seems to soothe him, though his eyes water.

“Really?”

“Yes, of course. We’ll figure this out together, alright?”

“Wow,” croaks the Selkie, his voice breaking. “You’re so nice. Wow. I’m lucky it was someone like you, Doctor.”

The raw admiration makes Henrik fumble with his keys as he locks the door to the clinic behind him, pulling the Selkie along with him.

“It’s Schneep,” he says, leading him towards the bus stop.

“What?”

“My name. Everyone calls me Schneep. Henrik if you really want to get my attention.”

The Selkie stares across at him, turning the name over in his head. “Henrik... wow.”

“Please, don’t sound so in awe of me. This is terribly strange.”

“I’m sorry this is happening,” says the Selkie, turning away again. The moonlight makes his coat glow sleek and shining in the night. “Guess in the storybooks I’m meant to be a girl anyway.”

“I’m not much interested either way, thank you. What’s your name?”

His pale mouth parts. His dark eyes flicker. He stares out at the asphalt, gripping Henrik’s hand tightly in his own.

“Just call me Chase,” he says. “The rest doesn’t much matter.”

They wait for the bus in silence, questions waiting in the air between them. When they get on the bus, Chase puts his head down on Henrik’s shoulder, and Henrik does not stop him.

.

That’s all for now but I’ll write more if I feel like it :) basically this turned into an introduction for how they met. The rest of the story would be Chase and Henrik both getting along really well and Henrik protecting him and taking care of him while he’s in this sort of dazed state. Ultimately, Stacy would tell them the attraction was supposed to wear off days ago. That makes Chase realize that he isn’t romantically attracted to Henrik anymore - he’s just been really lonely and feels like he’s part of a family again around Henrik and Jackie and Marvin and he didn’t want to leave them. He thought he was just feeling that way because Henrik stole his coat accidentally. Henrik confesses he likes being around Chase a lot too.

[adultswim2021]

Harvey Birdman, Attorney at Law #1: "Bannon Custody Battle" December 30, 2000 - 4:30AM | S01E01 Welcome to the first episode of Harvey Birdman, Attorney at Law, the first show on Adult Swim’s roster that I rejected as a substandard product. It should’ve been the Brak Show. In the opening episode, Birdman takes a case from Dr. Benton Quest, better known as Jonny Quest’s father. Race Bannon is fighting for custody of the boy, arguing that he’s a much better, much more present father figure to Jonny. Harvey Birdman was first conceptualized with an episode of Space Ghost Coast to Coast. In the episode “Pilot” we’re shown a supposed disastrous pilot episode of “Coast to Coast” where Birdman was originally attached as the star. Birdman, a depressive, out-of-work super hero, utterly botches the job as his inability to host a late-night show due to his deriving all his powers from the sun becomes more apparent. The character recurs a few more times, most notably in the episode “Sequel”, where Birdman guest-hosts the show. Still, to call this a proper Space Ghost spin-off requires carrying a big asterisk along with it. The character name “Harvey Birdman” was invented for Space Ghost, but besides both being based on the old 60s Birdman Hanna-Barbera show, they have little to do with one another. One would get almost nothing out of watching the original Space Ghost episodes before watching this (except for, you know, getting to see episodes of a much funnier show).

So in Harvey Birdman, Attorney at Law you have one 60s Hanna-Barbera character as a lawyer taking court cases from various other Hanna-Barbera characters, usually of a similar vintage. In this particular episode we’re treated to a lot of jokes about the homoerotic subtext of Jonny Quest, specifically the relationship between Race Bannon and Benton Quest. The writers decide to tastefully side-step the seemingly pederast relationship between Race and Jonny. Watching the original Jonny Quest with the same attempt to subvert and recontextualize the relationships between the characters through a modern lens, a certain type of observer would probably note the amount of shirtless roughhousing Race does with Jonny. Speaking of watching Jonny Quest: I have to admit something: I never really watched Jonny Quest at all before writing this blog. I’ve had an interest in older shows and cartoons my entire life, but the entire genre of action cartoon didn’t appeal to me whatsoever when I was a kid. So last night I watched my first episode of Jonny Quest, in glorious 1080p on my new 4K television; a format it was never EVER intended to be viewed in. Jonny Quest is objectively junk. It’s fun, boyish, escapist entertainment, and there’s a lot of good irony in it, especially with it’s antiquated portrayal of other cultures from a bygone era when we were far less connected to the rest of the world. It has limited animation and simplistic design. The backgrounds look like they were painted on a post-it-note and most of the men are drawn to look like reskinned versions of Race Bannon. But there’s at least something a LITTLE charming about it. In fact, there was one moment of beautifully scripted action that absolutely won me over: Race and Jonny’s speed boat goes airborne briefly and crushes the bad guy’s boat from above as they speed towards one another. I nearly cheered when it happened. I knew The Venture Bros took liberally from Jonny Quest, but the coolest action sequences on that show seemed to be striving for the same exact visceral reaction I got from seeing Race crunch up some lizard men on a boat. Birdman is a similar deal: He was a cookie-cutter imitation of comic book heroes from the silver-age of comics (the obvious comparison here is DC’s Hawkman). I actually did watch a Birdman adventure late last night as I was falling asleep to follow up on Jonny Quest, but it felt less important. I can remember checking out the original Birdman on DVD not too long ago. Also, your typical Harvey Birdman usually focuses on jokes about shows other than Birdman. Still, it’s neat to see those characters in their original context, as well as that Hanna-Barbera stock-explosion animation we all know and love from Space Ghost blowing up Zorak on Coast-to-Coast. Also the episode I watched will be heavily referenced later, but not for this. I only watched the first episode of Jonny Quest taking a cue from my friend Kon who noted that most of the references in “Bannon Custody Battle” are directly from the first episode. The most specific (and funniest) scene in the whole show involves the Lizard Men, the main villains of that first installment. Other characters show up very briefly, and are all ones that appear in the opening sequence. Unless I find out differently (I’ll probably try to make my way through the rest of Quest in preparation for Venture Bros.), it really does seem like the writers just watched the first episode of Jonny Quest to write this show. Watching this episode of Harvey Birdman was like batting away an existential crisis. I remember vaguely at the time not being SUPER hot on this show, but I cut it a lot of slack and trusted that it would simply get funnier. I wanted to love all the shows on Adult Swim. Anyway, I went from being lukewarm on Birdman, to hating it. Reading my own earlier review of Birdman I blasted this episode for being homophobic. I used to have a very low tolerance for gay jokes, back when they were highly in fashion. But now that we live an era where there’s an arms race to find new ways to scold one another for perceived slights gay jokes can sometimes, NOT ALWAYS, be a little refreshing to hear. The fact that my stance on gay jokes can change as long as it’s in direct-opposition with the rest of the world is at least a little troubling. Does this mean I’m an inauthentic reactionary? Yes. Yes it does. There, I admitted it. Now, let me off the hook, please. I say that sorta jokingly. The gay jokes in this are mostly pretty lame, and come off like Mike Scully-era Simpsons gay jokes. The early scene at the beginning where Birdman eyes widen when he’s misunderstanding the nature of Dr. Quest’s and Race Bannon’s relationship really does come off as early 90′s homophobia. I remember it seemed out of place at the time. I’m sure it played just fine in the midwest, but the show didn’t really put it’s best foot forward with that. Speaking of lame jokes, this episode has a few that have nothing to do with insulting gay people. One of my least favorite bits involve the specific gag of undercutting a dramatic moment with characters fumbling around awkwardly in true-to-life fashion. Why, if a person tried to recreate a dramatic sting you’d see before a commercial break in real life, you’re right, it’d probably go awkwardly! But this 11 minute show has at least 3 explicit examples of this, and it’s only mildly amusing once:

Bannon dramatically walks out on Dr. Quest, after announcing his intention to take Jonny with him. He awkwardly comes back because he forgot his keys

Birdman dramatically argues with a rival prosecutor and summons his personal digital assistant, and then awkwardly fumbles with it

Birdman proves that the Race Bannon on the witness stand is actually a robot by unplugging him, but he accidentally pulls the wrong cord and has to spend a few seconds untangling and retracing the correct cord.

Another thing about Birdman is that there is usually a lack of strong jokes. The show usually includes a layer of comedy where there are simply characters who simply have odd, scattered speech patterns or odd ticks. The rival lawyer in this slurs his speech in a particular way: cut to the jury looking confused. That’s the joke. The Judge grumbles in an ornery fashion and generally acts like he doesn’t wanna be there. He says stuff that sounds like bad improv. That’s the joke. The show will only ocassionally come up with jokes to justify these character traits. It’s just silliness that doesn’t usually go anywhere. But, I do kinda like some things about this episode. It was animated by J.J. Sedelmaier, known for early digital animation seen in the crude era of Beavis and Butt-head and SNL’s TV Funhouse. They really do have their own style of comic timing, and there are some gags in this where the animation works in their favor. There are some jokes where the drawings really sell the comedy. I’m not sure if I liked this animation better or worse, but it does match the oddly-stilted Jonny Quest animation better than the episodes that came after this would have. Oh, one of the funniest bits not on the show was when I popped in the DVD I forgot that the menu music is Wesley Willis’ “Birdman Kicked My Ass”. If I were in high school when the DVD came out I would have loved it just for that reason. Same could be said “Jonny Quest Thinks We’re Sell-Outs” by Less Than Jake. I was an easily impressed kid.

[rogerbikes]

8 more days until my husband graduates from bootcamp.

I cannot believe I survived almost 8 weeks without him. Was I alone in it? No. But I need to honestly stop knocking myself of the credit I deserve.

Still remember the card ride we were on when he was complaining about how dead end his job was and how better off we’d be financially if he had joined the Navy.

We were brand new parents. Hit with a fucking pandemic, living in a shit hole and feeling like shit holes. Our daughter was five months old. I had no job and we didn’t know what the next couple months were going to look like. Let alone the next couple YEARS. It was scary, dark and sometimes felt hopeless.

I remember being at home all day with the baby while he worked. Breastfeeding, watching TV, entertaining the baby and waiting for him to come back. Not knowing when things were going to change or how.

“Then why don’t you just do it?” I said. And from that moment we had a plan. I can’t believe everything started from a simple conversation and now we are at the end of the hardest part. Not only that, but we have ANOTHER child on the way.

I seldom take the time to give myself slack or credit or really admire the life I have. The things I do. I’m always concerned with not doing ENOUGH.

My husband left in May and since then I’ve successfully weaned our impossible daughter off breastfeeding. Gotten her on a schedule. Managed to feed, change and entertain her for weeks. I’m growing a human. I’ve moved out of our apartment. Dealt with the emotional turmoil that is pregnancy and being totally cut off from your spouse. I’ve done a lot and honestly I didn’t let it destroy me.

I’ve had some really great times through all of this. Like my daughters first birthday and birthday party. Watching her grow, become more interactive, silly, independent. Going to a carnival for the first time in forever. Going to the lake. Dying my hair. Going to the museum. My anatomy scan of the baby. The tiring walks we take in the mornings before nap time. The desperate nap time car rides. Going to the YMCA for swim time. I’ve done my best to enjoy all the little things. Despite it all. Even the joy of getting a letter from my husband can make my day.

But here we are almost at the fucking end! I’ll finally have a little bit of sanity back. And hopefully some more information about the future.

I’ve really had to push myself so much these past few weeks. In a way I think it was totally healthy for me to have this time alone. SO much has happened the past two years it’s insane. I never got to digest any of it. The thing about having kids is, I don’t think you ever do. Everything is go go go until those really big moments happen where it all kind of hits you. Like when the Princess at her birthday party was “crowning” her an official princess and the fact that I’ve been holding this little girl for over a year hit me. I could remember her very first cry and how it made my heart flutter. That’s when it hits you.

Or when she’s sleeping and I get to just look at her peacefully and remember the sleepless nights on my end when we just brought her home. Nobody lies when they tell you enjoy every moment because it goes so fast. It does! It’s time consuming. It’s hard work. It’s never quiet. I guess on the rare occasion that it is, you can truly soak it in.

Being away from my husband forced me to take risks, do things I didn’t think about doing before, being more organized, on top of things. In control. I mean I think we spent the first 9 months of her life not having a clue how to do anything. She was the boss. There was no order at all and we were both a wreck on the inside and out.

I used to not go to the store alone with my daughter because I was afraid of this, that and the other. I also never took the car seat out by myself or knew how to install it. Didn’t like driving with her alone in the backseat. Was afraid to feed her real food instead of baby food I knew was impossible to choke on. All these fears I overcame! I stopped dreading mornings as much and instead prepping for them mentally.

Also I started to slowly but surely get rid of people from my high school off of social media which I know sounds silly but it gives me anxiety. However when I actually do it I feel so much better and don’t regret it at all. I’m rapidly approaching my mid 20’s and it really is time to let go of the past. I’ve had such a hard time closing chapters and realizing I’m in a new one. Social media makes it THAT much harder but I think it’s even harder to break from it as a whole. It’s just unrealistic since my generation was raised on it. It’s so ingrained in me. It’s much easier to just create a safer space for yourself than force yourself off of something that provides creative expression.

I genuinely enjoy MY OWN content I just get annoyed by others. I’m still healing and processing past events and relationships. But those things were real and deep so I need to be forgiving with myself about it. But I definitely have gotten to points in the past where it’s like all I would think about. Now I’m not allowing myself to have SO MUCH dwell time. I need to live and be present. But also gentle with myself as I dont have THEE most stamina out there. Like seriously. Catch me with dizzy spells all the time.

Another big thing I accomplished was changing my name (again) legally which was A PROCESS! I’m never changing my name again. Seriously it is not worth it. Props to my 21 year old self for doing the most and going knee deep with transition but JFC was it a mess to get out of.

This is such a long post but it’s been a long summer so far.

Anyways. When it comes to genders I’ve time and time again come back to the same conclusion that I’m just fluid. A few months ago I was very turned off my anything feminine and felt more masculine again but when I get into THAT mindset I’m very one track mind. Blinders on.

The reality is I’m capable of feeling feminine and being happy in it. Like currently I’m VERY femme vibes and I’m comfortable with it. I’ve found a happy medium. Will I ever grow my hair rapunzel long again and flaunt around like I’m a cottage core princess? No. That’s just not me. Ironically enough I love that aesthetic I just know it isn’t ME. I’m way more rough around the edges. And that’s okay. I’m learning to stop trying and to just BE.

I’m excited to see how my marriage will feel after coming back together. We weren’t in a super strong place a few months ago. I always knew we have a solid foundation but there’s always so much to work on. Most of it comes from the inside of either of us. There was so much lack of being people. I think most new parents go through that but nobody wants to talk about that.

The first year of parenting is supposed to be some magical quirky shit show that everyone has a good wholesome laugh about. When in reality it’s just a flaming messy shit HOLE that you laugh about otherwise you will cry about it. But you end up crying regardless.

Anyways. The bottom line is. I’m ready to fucking move on. Move OUT. And go forward. This is just a little mile marker for me to say “you did it! you got through those dreaded 8 weeks!”

[evolsinner]

⊱┊24

days go by, another one comes across. however, today is that day, and by ‘that day’ i mean, can we all please have a drumroll, it’s fucking parent~teacher interviews! aka an interrogation under the guise of pleasantries. i thought if i didn’t think about it, it’d just fucking disappear, but hey no, it’s still here.

but that’s okay, you see my parents don’t know a thing about it. i shredded all the notices they’ve sent us and made sure to cut the line every time my sneaky ass school called home. so when it came to my last class for the day, which is english lit obviously, i was quite happy that i didn’t have to stay behind like some students.

the class is empty, it’s almost 4 sharp.

“it’s only interviews,” i try to ease mr killian’s nerves. “just tell them what they wanna hear ~ easy peasy.”

“i wish, but it doesn’t work like that, luv. you know,” he looks up from his paper and removes his reading glasses to rub his weary eyes, “believe it or not, but we hate this day just as much as you kids do.”

“really?” i’m shooked. “thought you teachers just loved taking your sweet as revenge on students on this devilish day. it’s practically reverse halloween where the educators aren’t in costume for the first time, huh.”

mr killian places his pen behind his ear, entertained. “‘reverse halloween’, aye?” he leans back on his chair, arms folded and an ankle~on~knee. “you’re too funny.”

“‘funny’?” i walk over to him, admiring the tantalising dark circles underneath his scintillating eyes. “yeah? and what else?”

he possessively pulls me in between his legs, squeezing my booty in fistfuls. “and sexy and fierce and delicious.”

“do you want a bj?”

“oh, and very fucking naughty too!”

“what you gonna do about it?”

“gee, you’re tempting me.”

“mhm,” i bite my lip.

“you are in serious need of punishment, little girl,” he flicks an eyebrow up. “slide down your panties and lean over my desk.”

my eyes open wide, “no.”

“pardon?”

“i mean, there’s no space on y~y~your desk,” i glance at it. “there’s those booklets, essays, midterms, finals, your laptop...”

“i’ll make space.”

“uh, umm,” i step back.

“nuh~uh,” he pulls me in again so that i’m standing with my thighs directly opposite his thingy. “slide ‘em down right in front of me.”

“that’s too close,” i squeak, going red.

“what difference does it make? you a step back or not, i’ll still see it. c’mon,” he feathers a finger down my bare thigh, “you can’t still be shy? i’ve seen every part of you, every inch of you. the hills, the slopes, the blemishes... want me to go on?”

ok, imma prove him wrong. i undo the button and zipper on my shorts, exposing the bright red lacy panties i got just for him.

“you were hiding those from me?” he points to them, sounding offended.

slowly, i rub my hand over the skimpy fabric, sticking a finger behind the elastic.

“such a tease,” sir leans back. “congratulations, darling, you’ve earned yourself 5 more spanks.”

the thought of him spanking me…

“want me to go easy on you?” he asks, and i see rare mercy dancing around in his eyes.

i nod, prolly a goner if i were dumb enough to take my chances with this guy.

“then touch yourself, sweetheart,” the mercy evaporates from his eyes completely. he just went from a saint to a sinner in a millisecond. “mhm,” he nods to my hesitant expression, “slide your hand through your panties and touch yourself for me. if you don’t moan my name whilst finger~fucking your cunt, i’ll give you the belt.”

heck no, i don’t want to get spanked with a belt! that’ll hurt so much more!! i’ve seen it on 50sog!

“y~you w~want me to m~masturbate for you?”

“did i stutter?”

no, but i did.

shocked at how strangely turned on i’m feeling, i slide my fingertips under the double thin lines of the red covered elastic bands. tell me, why did i wear this again? i inch my fingers down further, my breath hitching up and pelvic muscles contracting.

sir slides his hand into his pants and gently strokes his cock, scarring me with imaginary ciggy burns from the way he’s staring at me doing me. “hurry it up, little one, time is of the essence.”

3 knocks on the door and it swings open with a, “hello?”

mr killian speedily sits up.

and i step back right away, pulling my hand out and tugging my shirt over the open zipper. “mum?”

“roséah,” she squints, “what on earth... dear lord, you have a lot of explaining to do!”

i refuse to blink. i think i’m having something like a heart attack. “w~what do you mean?”

“well, for starters,” she struts up to me, “you didn’t tell me that today was parent~teacher interview night.”

i exhale deeply, relief has never felt this good.

“mr killian, i presume?” mum says, holding her hand out.

i quickly fix myself up behind her.

“please,” he smiles, shaking her hand, “call me isaac.”

why the fuck would mum come here without informing me about it?!?

“apologies for not booking in a time slot and barging in like this. had i known,” mum gives me an irritated look, “i would have been more prepared.”

“it’s no worries, mrs blackburn,” sir tries to downplay it. “i reckon i can squeeze you in before my first interview. so please,” he motions to the two seats preplaced in front of the desk, “have a seat.”

“christella will do just fine,” and she takes no time in making herself comfortable.

i roll my eyes, so fucking annoyed and anxious at the same time.

“if you don’t mind my saying so,” sir gracefully says, “but now i know where your beautiful daughter gets her beautiful looks from.”

mum titters, tucking invisible strands of hair behind her ear and straightening out her pencil skirt.

tf.

sir glances at me and it’s so provocative in nature that i can’t look away, hence he does it for me. “do we have a common friend that can get both of us acquainted with one another?” he causally asks my mother with a chuckle.

aren’t they supposed to be talking about me?

“i don’t suppose so, isn’t that a shame?” mum smiles.

“‘shame’ would be an understatement, stella…can i call you stella?”

“you can call me whatever you want, isaac.”

“ahem!!” eww. ew. “mum,” i shake my head at her like ‘did you forget you have a husband?’, “you might wanna..”

“oh, yes, of course! silly me. so do tell, isaac? how has my daughter been doing?”

“well, to be candour, i’m rather impressed at how dedicated rosé is on learning.”

“hm, is that so?” she gives me a suspicious glance.

“indeed,” mr killian sends me a secret wink.

“does she slack off? because you’d tell me if she did, right?” mum asks.

“mum,” i grumble, she’s so embarrassing sometimes.

mr killian chuckles, “you’d be the first to know, stella. fortunately, that isn’t the case. rosé has quite the eye for accomplishing her goals.”

i’m getting lost in him again...

“gets all her work done on time, doesn’t send inappropriate text messages in class,” he proceeds professionally, kinda cocky, “nor does she ever has to stay back late.”

all of which i do the opposite of, i give him a guilty grin.

mum looks rather very taken aback, considering how i am at home. “seems like she’s quite the student?”

“you’d be surprised by what goes on in these walls.”

that not so hidden half~smile sir gives me pauses my mum in her tracks with her next question. i look at her sudden stiffness and notice how she’s surveying mr killian intently, her eyes narrowed into slits. oh crap.

“ahem!” i shift in my seat quickly.

sir coughs and swiftly brings in another topic.

mum gradually returns to her usual manner.

that was close.

when they finally say their farewells, i feel relieved as a fucking kite flying high up in a blue cloudless sky. mum did a few more interviews before she finally decided to go home. mr killian had given her false hope and high expectations, so it was funny when my other teachers informed her that my grades were declining from b’s and c’s to d’s and e’s.

oops, my bad.

-ˋˏ ༻🍷༺ ˎˊ-

it’s late, a major thunderstorm has hit and maxi being the scaredy~cat he is has crept into my room for the night. incoming call from isaac. i decline it. so he calls me again. and i decline it again. busy tryna shoot him a text which he keeps interrupting with phone calls.

daddy🔐 is my furry baby avoiding my calls?

tf he just called me??????

me im not avoiding ur calls jus ctrn cuz baby bro is sleeping in my bed thunder isnt his strong suit :/

daddy🔐 why am i jealous?

lol, seriously? i smile, rolling over to the edge of my bed.

daddy🔐 can’t stop thinking about you...

me jus stop its not dat hard

god, i suck at this.

daddy🔐 i really need to be fucking inside you right now!

uh, what the fuck do i text back?!

daddy🔐 would it be inappropriate of me to ask you what you are wearing since you’re with your kid brother?

haha.

me wow, ur quite the gentleman, arent ya ?

daddy🔐 i try my best.

feeling kinky, i silently remove my oversized graphic tee and take two pictures of myself. then i quickly pop my tee back on before curling up on the bed and hitting ‘send’.

daddy🔐 mmmm leopard panties and no bra, sexy. though i do wish you could move your arm out of the way so i could see my two girls?

no, my boobies are too small and i’m shy!

daddy🔐 such unspeakable things i could to your body right about now. would you like to know, baby?

i’m so tempted to text back ‘yes’, but that’d just get me too hot and bothered which is not a good idea when your lil brother is lying right next to you.

me behave (;

daddy🔐 how about we finish off what we started back in the classroom?

me we hv company rmbr ?

daddy🔐 right.

there’s a while with those 3 flashing dots before he texts back.

daddy🔐 considering we have an audience tonight, i’m willing to keep it pg. on the contrary, was nice talking to your mother today.

me were u flirting w her ?

daddy🔐 i don’t know. was i?

me u so were ! nd evry subtextual sentence u uttered !! she cud hv caught on yanno ?!

daddy🔐 that, i couldn’t help. the look on your face was hilarious. hers too.

i almost lol by just picturing my mum’s face, but i suppress it.

me jus bc u made me laugh dnt mean im not still mad !

daddy🔐 allow me to make it up to you?

me go on...

daddy🔐 there’s this soirée i’m holding with my crew for the long weekend. lakehouse, few beers, great view - thank kinda thing. i want you there.

me y do u want me der ? (;

daddy🔐 ‘cause i wanna fuck you hard on my mate’s couch whilst everyone else is out by the lake.

oh?

daddy🔐 and also because i want you to get to know my people more. (:

he used a smiley face! he never uses smiley faces!

me hmm, guess ill hv 2 think bout it

because i have to ask my mum first!!

daddy🔐 hope this helps?

he sends me a photo or two back, like it was a trade or something. but jesus christ, isaac killian! he was definitely not kidding about having me on his mind!

daddy🔐 don’t ponder too much. goodnight, love.

“rosé..?” maxi murmurs behind me, rolling around.

shit. i drop my phone in an instant and cringe for my luck. “yeah?”

“you’re taking all the blanket and i’m cold..”

“oh, right...” i exhale with relief, placing my phone on the bedside table. i turn around, shifting the blanket over him and putting my arms around him. phew.

i rest my eyes for a second when maxi is like, “what was that?”

“hm?” i smile as he snuggles between my arms.

“that big cucumber looking thing on your phone.”

i almost choke on my saliva. “t~t~that was...you’re dreaming, maxi. this is all nothing but a dream...” i add some whooo noise effect to make it more believable.

“no i am not!” he asserts.

“yes you are! now shut up or go back to your own room.”

thunder cracks intensely and he doesn’t say anything further. thank you, sweet jesus.

[readerstories]

My best friend - Roronoa Zoro x fem!reader

Don’t know if this is exactly what the requester wanted, but here you go :P Placed somewhere between Sky Island and Water 7. If you see any typos, please tell me. (AO3)

Warnings: none

Wordcount: 1985

Request: Hi! I was wondering if you could d a zoro roronoa x reader where the reader is a swordswomen and they become good friends but they slowly start to become romantically interested in eachother??

You and Zoro had know each other for a very long time. The two of you had first met when you were children, long before Zoro joined Luffy’s crew. Over the years you had gone separate ways, but you had a habit of running into each other without meaning to. 

Every time it was like you two never left each other’s side, and you just took up the conversation where it last left off. 

When Zoro joined Luffy’s crew, the meetings stopped, since they headed for the Grand Line while you stayed in the East Blue. 

Zoro didn’t really speak of you to the other crew members, but he misses you none the less. The crew are his friends, but you are his best friend. 

Sometimes, when he misses you the most, he would spend most of his down time gazing at the sky and wondering what you are up to. He guessed it couldn’t be anything too bad, since he never saw anything in the newspapers that was or could be about you. 

You could also be dead, but as soon as that idea popped into his head, he quickly abandoned it. You were not some kind of person he could imagine that would go out without at least making it news worthy. 

He knew that you probably had some idea as what he was up to, since the crew was making a name for themselves. He knew that you must have seen his bounty poster at some point, and he wonders how you felt. 

He knew that you most likely didn’t care, as you both had been on the grey side of the law most of the time anyways, but he couldn’t help but think about it.

It’s a calm day on the Merry, and as usual Zoro is napping on deck while the rest of the crew does whatever they like. He is vaguely aware of Luffy and Usopp sitting on the railing and fishing, while trading silly jokes between themselves. 

He’s half asleep and barely listening, but when Luffy says something about an approaching boat, he starts paying attention. Luffy and Usopp is arguing if the boat is coming closer or not, so Zoro decides he should go have a look. 

He gets up and walks over to Luffy and Usopp, and indeed, there is a small boat there. It’s tiny even to the Sunny, mainly comprised of a mast with a sail and a small cabin. He can’t see anyone on the boat.

“I think it is coming closer.” Usopp’s looks at Zoro where he is standing a few meters behind them and then back to Luffy. 

“See I told you so! What do you think it is? Maybe it’s-” Usopp’s out loud train of thought is broken right there, as something splashes over the water towards them, and before they know it, a person is between Luffy and Usopp. 

The seemingly half second they are there, Usopp has time to notice a smirk on their lips half hidden under a hood, and Zoro has barely enough time to draw two of his katanas to block theirs. 

The force of it sends him sliding backwards on the deck, he has no time at all before the person is attacking him again. The power behind the attacks are fierce, relentless, and weirdly enough, somewhat familiar. Zoro can’t pinpoint why, as he has little time to think between attacks.

Luffy and Usopp yells out, which makes the rest of the crew come to see what the hell is going on. Luffy tries to reach out, but before Zoro can yell for him to stay out of it, the swordsman deflects Luffy’s hands, sending him crashing into a wall. 

Zoro notices that Luffy isn’t bleeding at all when he gets up. The swordsman must have been using the blunt sides of the blades. Which means they only want to fight him, and not hurt anyone else. He yells this out loud to the rest of the crew. 

The momentarily slip of full concentration seems to give his opponent the tiniest of windows, and they send him reeling backwards again. As he gets some distance, the figure talks.

“Still not letting others fight your battles for you Zoro? Very good!” He realises then why the attacks seemed so familiar. He has blocked them hundreds, if not thousands times before. He almost doesn’t dare speak your name in fear of being wrong, but when the figure takes their hood off, he lets it slip anyway. You grin.

“Thought you might have forgotten me there for a second.” Zoro finds himself smiling back, and then his katanas clatter to the ground as he rushes forward to hug you. You laugh and hug him back. The rest of his crew sends confused looks between themselves, not understanding the sudden shift in tone. Zoro lets go of you so he can face them all.

“Everyone, meet my best friend.” You wave, presenting yourself properly with your full name and a peace sign.

“Nice to meet everyone!” Before anyone can say anything else, Sanji runs over and takes it in his. He kisses your hand, his eyes almost going heart shaped.

“Ahhh, such a pretty lady. How do you know such a brute as Zoro?” Zoro ignores the glare sent his way, while you pull your hand out of Sanjis. 

“Oh, we known each other since we were kids, and since we always ran into each other back in East Blue, we stayed friends over the years.” You sling an arm around Zoro’s shoulder and he can’t help but smile at the familiar weight of it.

“And then this dummy up and left East Blue, so eventually I decided I should probably follow him.” You ruffle his hair. Zoro can see the confusion on his crew members faces, except from Luffy, who nods.

“It’s decided then.” Luffy says, confusing everyone even more, including you.

“What?” You ask, but Zoro already knows the words that are going to come out his captains mouth.

“You are going to be our new crew member” A chorus of groans and “Luffy, no”, rises from the crew. Zoro notices you seem slack-jawed, but you regain your composure quickly.

“Yeah, sure!” You say with a smile, and just like that, the Strawhats have another member.

-----------

After that first day, you settle in rather quickly. You learn that the whole crew is quite the cast of characters and you love it. You have some favourites of course (Robin is interesting to say the least) and some not so favorite (Sanji had gotten a few bonks on the head with the handle of your katanas before the heart eyes stopped), but all in all you really like everyone. 

It also feels wonderful traveling with others again, especially when one of them is your best friend. It was so good to see Zoro again and hang out with him. And now you were in the same crew, so you wouldn’t need to be apart again. 

Which both of you enjoyed immensely, maybe you even more than him, since your old crush on him was flaring up again. You do your best to ignore it however, not wanting to spoil the friend reunion. 

One night, after dinner, you and Zoro start drinking together while reminiscing about old times. You get so into the conversation that the rest of the crew leaves you to it. 

In the middle of another story about how you beat up someone who challenged you in a bar, you hear two splashes, and then Nami screaming. It quickly becomes apparent that Luffy and Chopper have gone overboard. 

Without even thinking, you run forward to the railing, jumping over it and down to the freezing water down below. As soon as you are under, you spot the two of them sinking. 

A splash next to you and then Zoro is there too. 

You exchange a glance, and then you swim towards Chopper while he goes for Luffy. Dragging them both towards the surface, all four of you gasp for air as soon as you can. 

Careful not to lose Chopper, you carefully swim towards the boat and climb the ladder Usopp threw down. As soon as you place Chopper on the deck, he coughs up even more water, Luffy doing the same as soon Zoro and him joins you.

“You guys okay?” Luffy and Chopper nod, but says nothing. You breathe a sigh of relief while standing up. 

“Good. Going to go out on a limb here and say don’t play wrestle that close to the railing next time all right?” You take their silence as an yes. You wring out as much water as you can from your clothes. You’re soaked and so is Zoro. 

“Zoro, going to need to borrow one of your shirts, mine is still hanging out to dry after I washed them.”

“Sure.” You had done similar things over the years, so it comes naturally for you to ask and for Zoro to say yes. You follow Zoro while Nami yells at Chopper and Luffy for being so stupid. When the hatch closes behind you and you have your feet on the floor, you groan and stretch.

“Gotta say, Devil Fruits are really cool and all, but don’t think I would ever give up the ability to svim.” Zoro just hums, used to hearing you talk without needing a response.

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind like being my own personal lighter or something but-” You are cut off by Zoro’s shirt hitting you in the face.

“Thanks!” Without hesitation you pull of your own shirt, letting it drop to the floor.

“You got any towels around here?” You look up and catch Zoro looking the the new scars on your stomach.

“Those new?” 

“Yeah, got them in a bar fight of all things.”

“Look nasty.”

“You’re one to talk, with the one all over your chest.” Zoro shrugs and takes of his own shirt, letting that too fall to the floor. You can’t help the small hitch in your breath that comes from seeing it in its entirety. You walk closer to him, and in the small space it only takes a few steps. You touch the upper edge of the big scar, Zoro lets you, just watching.

“I wish I was there when it happened.” Zoro grunts, not really sure how to approach the subject, since he’s rarely a man of many words.

“Hey, you’re here now. I don’t care that you weren’t there then, I’m just happy that we found each other again.”

“Well, more like I found you.” Zoro snorts.

“Besides, it’s not like I don’t think the same about these.” Zoro touches the scars on your stomach, and you draw in a sharp breath. Looking up, you lock gazes with him. You feel your heart having its own 100 meter race in your chest. 

You don’t know if it’s Zoro’s touch or his words, but you feel the love for the man soar. Which guides your next action. 

You keep eye contact while your hands go the his shoulders, and then you are leaning forward, pressing your lips to his. 

It is brief, and when you lean back, Zoro mirrors you, and then he is kissing you. 

The brief shock is gone in second and then you are ecstatic, kissing him back. You can hardly believe it, but the man you love is kissing you.

After a while you break apart, and you lean your head on Zoro’s shoulder. His arms circle your back, stroking you slowly.

“We should probably go back up so the others won’t start to wonder what we are doing back here.”

“Mhm.” You look up at Zoro and grin, he finds himself matching it. You share one more kiss before putting your dry shirts on and joining the rest of the crew.

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

"Come on! Another round!" and "God, we stink"

do the thing - send in all the prompts.

Thanks for the prompt, nonnie! I took this in a weird direction, I hope that’s okay! 

warnings: mention of a vehicular accident & pain

Tony didn’t like to think about the accident. It was hard to imagine what his life was like before he crushed his right leg. All of the things he took for granted were now things he missed so very dearly – like walking without trouble to the kitchen or driving the many cars that sat waiting for him in his extensive garage. Getting onto that motorcycle was one of the stupidest things he could have done – but then again, it wouldn’t have been that big of a deal if he wasn’t an actual idiot.

Every time he thought about it, Tony got a little green around the gills. He’d been drinking whiskey neats all night, even he understood that consuming too much alcohol and trying to operate any machinery wasn’t a good idea. He’d almost cut his hand off too many times to be perfectly aware of that. Despite that, he got onto the bike, anyway. There’d been a man in the cluster of people at the party that he wanted to impress. It didn’t matter that being a dumbass wasn’t sexy, his brain was addled, and he was running on instinct.

In the end, it was probably lucky that he was alive. The tech he built into his watch picked up on his body’s distress and got an ambulance to his location as quickly as the public medical transportation possibly could. There’d been a lot of black time for Tony, so he didn’t remember much of anything other than waking up in pain every now and again. While taking a dive into the concrete, he landed heavily on his right leg and did some pretty terrible damage to it. Torn ligaments, fractured bones, and nerve damage waited for him when he finally came to.

Three surgeries and a lot of pain medication later, Tony was finally able to get back into the bedroom in his own home. It didn’t take long for Pepper to demand he let her hire an in-home professional, the doctor’s orders of getting up and moving still fresh in both of their minds. Although they weren’t a couple any longer, she still took care of him when she could. The need to mother him would never go away – Pepper spent too much time doing day to day things for him to simply drop that because they weren’t romantically inclined.

The very next day, Tony was woken by a soft voice – his eyes blinking a couple of times before he saw the figure in the door. “Sorry to wake you, Mr. Stark. Your door just opened automatically when I walked up to it. Which was wicked, by the way.” Tony sat up a little, the last comment almost getting a smile to pull at his cheeks.

“Yeah, that’s Jarvis. Say hi, buddy.” Tony said, his voice still pretty scraggly from the depth of sleep he’d been in.

“Good morning, Mr. Stark – Mr. Parker.” Jarvis responded promptly, the voice never ceasing to bring a warmth to Tony’s gut. He missed the human Jarvis very much – the imitation of him was almost good enough.

“Mr. Parker, huh. Do you have a first name?” Tony finally let himself smile, his eyes taking in the little smirk on the brunette’s face. Now that he was awake more, Tony could see brown eyes, red cheeks, and plump lips. The man couldn’t be any older than 25, his youth still sitting like a beacon in his features and stature.

Watching the boy smile was enough to make him want to actually get out of bed – the thought making him cringe a little. It felt nice to be motivated, but he knew the second that he started to move, all of the pain would come flooding back. “I’m Peter, sir. Everyone usually just calls me Pete, though.” He let a hand run down the doorframe a little, the man obviously used to the constant pace of moving around all day.

“Okay, Pete. What kind of torture do you have in store for me? And can I get some water on my face before this fun begins?” Tony asked the questions with as much sass and sarcasm as he could pack into them – the tone enough to pull another smile out of Peter.

And so, it began. At first, it was hard just to get out of bed and into the bathroom. Every morning, Peter would wake him up, sometimes earlier than he was used to, and help him up and off the mattress. He wasn’t supposed to put too much weight on the leg – but even the littlest of movements was complicated with a limb that didn’t understand what movement was in its injured state.

Slowly, Tony started to gain a little bit of strength back. Once the bog of the pain medication slipped away, he was better able to get his feet under him. His brain was one of his biggest assets and he used it to his advantage. He’d always been an overachiever and he didn’t let the fact that his leg was physically unable to do some of the things he was demanding from it stop him from trying.

All the while, Peter stood by him and helped him through all of the shitty days that made him want to slam the crutches down and give up completely. One such day, Tony fell to the floor in defeat – his leg throbbing and his mind totally fed up with the pep talks and chanted words. That day, he couldn’t do it – he didn’t want to push past the pain.

Peter crouched down before him, Tony rolling his eyes with jealousy at the younger man’s movements and the ease in which he could perform them. “That it? Giving up, Mr. Stark?” Peter questioned bluntly; his eyes boring into Tony’s.

Blinking, Tony wanted to use his nonexistent strength to kick the kid in the face – the smugness of his words probably funny any other time, but not today. “Fuck you, Pete. My leg hurts,” Tony mumbled, the words lacking the heat he wanted them to have. He clenched his right hand, the tremor in it only coming around when he let himself lose control. Fuck it all, he thought.

The other man wasn’t deterred – Tony’s words bounced off of him like he didn’t even hear them. Offering up a hand, Peter helped him to his feet. “Come on. Another round. I’ll help you.” Peter’s voice was gentle this time, the joking atmosphere gone with the snap of Tony’s words. “Take one of the crutches and hold onto my arm with the other hand – we’ll transfer some of the weight to me and still get the reps done.”

Tony grit his teeth and leaned heavily into Peter’s side – his body trying to rebel against him. Taking in a deep breath, Tony got himself under control and focused on the sound of Peter’s shoe hitting the floor and the transfer of his weight from the good leg over to the bad. They did another couple of lengths before Peter guided him into a chair – Tony reluctant to let go of Peter’s arm.

With all of the time they’d been spending together, Tony found himself drawn to the other man. When they weren’t doing laps of his hallway or working with some of the equipment Peter brought with him, they sat around and talked. Tony hadn’t been this idle in his entire life and it was nice to get some stimulation outside of the shitty thoughts in his head. He came to rely on the other’s presence, not just because of the way he was healing his body, either.

A bottle of water was thrust into his hand, Peter taking the seat across from him a couple of moments later. “Thanks, Pete. Sorry, y’know – about what I said. I didn’t mean that. You’re great – I’m just a grumpy old man.” Tony muttered his apology, the man covering it up a little by lifting the water bottle to his mouth, the cooling slug of water a nice way to douse the flame starting to climb within him.

“It’s okay. I don’t take any of the stuff you say when you’re in a pain cycle to heart. I get it. I’ve never experienced your level of pain, so I can only imagine what a punk like me pushing you more than you want to be pushed might feel like. You’re good, Tony,” Peter answered, his hand reaching across the space between them to squeeze Tony’s shoulder.

Something changed in Tony that day. He stopped trying to push himself and just went with what his body wanted from him. When he could, he went – and when he couldn’t, he didn’t. Peter was very good at his job and had lots of alternatives to replace the walking during the times when Tony knew he wasn’t going to be able to get up, let alone walk around.

Little by little, Tony finally started to feel better. All of his pins were out, all of his stitches were healed, and he was actually able to put his entire body weight on both of his legs. When Peter asked him to go for laps, he did them with the slightest limp, a smile on his face every time his steps got a little straighter.

One day about eight months after the accident, Peter tossed his shoes at him, a happy look on his face. “We’re taking it outside today. Put those on and grab your cane – I want you to have it just in case,” Peter spoke with such clarity, Tony could do nothing but comply. His stomach felt like it was in knots, he hadn’t been outside of his apartment in a long time – he couldn’t bear to be unable to do things on his own, so he locked himself away.

Standing out in the warm sunshine, Tony let all of his worries disappear – the air was crisp and Peter’s hair caught the sunlight in a way that made it shine like a halo on top of his head. His silly crush evolved the longer they were in each other’s presence – the vision in front of him felt just as exciting as the prospect of being outside and actually moving around. Peter offered up his arm for Tony to slip his own through and started a leisurely pace.

It took a lot more effort than he figured it would, but they made it a couple of blocks down the road and back. He felt like he might die from the effort – his brow completely soaked, the clothes on his back sticking to him from the wetness. On the other hand, it was nice, to be out and about – to be able to walk when not that long ago, the prospect of it wasn’t very likely.

They got back up to the apartment, Peter helping him a lot more than he did when they left the apartment. By the time they got back up to the penthouse, they were both sweating profusely – Peter could only do so much with the slackness of Tony’s body the last 200 meters of ground they needed to cover. “God! We stink!” he panted out when they crashed against the couch in a heap. The other man leaned into the cushion and closed his eyes, his face scrunching with a laugh.

“Yeah, well – you’re not light by any means. And it’s hot as hell outside. I didn’t know New York got this warm,” Peter replied, his hands running through the curls on his head, sweat brushing from the ends of his hair and down his neck, some of it flinging into the air. “I’m proud of you, though. I can’t believe you’ve come as far as you have.” He smiled then, the look on his face genuine.

Without much thought, Tony narrowed the gap between them. He left the slightest bit of room for Peter to close the final bit of distance, Tony unwilling to ruin their professional relationship if Peter wasn’t in the same head space. “Means a lot, Pete. I couldn’t have done it without you.” Tony tilted his face a bit, the brush of Peter’s breath against his face making him want to move in and take what he’d been wanting for a while now.

A soft hand cupped his cheek, Peter’s nose brushing against his own. Tony held his breath, the seconds between the touch of Peter’s hand and the softness of his lips on his own made his heart hammer against his chest – the anticipation of it making him feel like a kid again. He let out a muffled breath against Peter’s lips and pressed into the contact. The immediate feeling of rightness pulled him closer and before either knew it, they were sucking face on the couch – their sweat and body heat tangling together in the excitement.

Peter pulled back first – a groan leaving his lip. “You’ve been the most frustrating client I’ve ever had – and none of it has been because of your leg,” Peter admitted. Tony laughed at the comment, his lips pressing against Peter’s again briefly.

“Yeah, well – I’m a pain in the ass.” Tony shrugged his shoulders, a shit eating grin on his face.

Peter patted his cheek, the smack of it sounding around the room. “Oh, I know. I can’t wait to see what else you’re going to throw my way.”

[razieltwelve]

Hero (RWBY AU Snippet)

“Are you helping the children cross the road?” Pyrrha asked.

The blond man chuckled and scratched the back of his head. “Yeah. It’s not exactly what I imagined when I joined the police force, but somebody has to do it, right?” 

“I suppose they do.”

He grinned. “And there are some perks.” He stepped out onto the road and raised the stop sign he’d be given to pause oncoming traffic as a group of children crossed the road. “It’s not like people are shooting at me.” The angry wail of a car horn filled the air, and his grin widened. “Although I’m sure some of them are thinking about it.”

“People can get frustrated sometimes.” Pyrrha bit back a smile as one of the passing children raised his hand for a high five. The blond man gave the kid a high five and a thumb’s up before turning to watch for more children. “And you do this every day?”

The blond nodded. “Just about. I’m the rookie, so I get most of the crappy jobs. Whether it’s helping kids cross the road, looking for lost pets, or just patrolling for parking infringements, I basically get all the jobs that nobody else wants.” He shrugged. “But, hey, that’s just how it is. I figure that when the next person joins, I’ll get moved up while they get stuck with all of the jobs I’m doing now.”

“I see.” Pyrrha grinned impishly. “And what if someone doesn’t join up? You might be stuck doing this for years.”

The blond’s eye twitched. “Please, don’t say that. At some point, I would like to be able to try and do something cool. I’m not saying I want to save the world, but actually making an arrest would be nice.”

Pyrrha smiled as the man stepped back onto the road. The next group of children were approaching, and he needed to stop traffic again. Unfortunately for him and the children, some people just couldn’t wait. A large SUV decided that waiting for the children to cross the road was just taking too long. With a low rumble, the SUV rushed forward, trying to cut in between two groups of children. A little girl dropped a stuffed animal and rushed to pick it up, not even realising that she’d run right into the path of the SUV.

“Hey!” the man yelled. “Watch out!” 

Without a moment’s hesitation, he dove for the little girl in a desperate bid to pull her out of harm’s way. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to be fast enough. The SUV was going to hit them both, and even if it wasn’t going at full speed, it was still travelling fast enough to do some serious damage.

Fortunately, Pyrrha was there to intervene.

The barest sliver of her divine power lifted the SUV into the air, its wheels spinning useless as it floated fifteen feet above the ground. She waited patiently for the driver to get their foot off the gas pedal before she lowered the SUV back onto the road.

Allowing the illusion that disguised her identity to fade, she tapped politely on the window of the SUV. The driver lowered the window and gaped at her.

“Do you know who I am?” Pyrrha asked.

“…”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

“You’re… you’re Pyrrha, goddess of righteous battle… and… um… policemen, firefighters, and other emergency services…”

“Yes.” Pyrrha smiled. It was a coldly polite smile. “Do you really think trying to save a few seconds is worth running over two people?”

“Uh… no.”

“Good. Because if you did, I’d have to smite you.” The SUV began to shake, the metal creaking and groaning ominously for several long moments. “The next time someone asks you to stop because children are crossing the road, I suggest you pay attention.”

“I will! I promise I will!”

“Good.” Pyrrha gestured, and her power lifted the blond man and the little girl onto the sidewalk, along with the other children. “Now move along. I will be watching you.”

The blond policeman took a moment to check that the little girl and the other children were all right before turning to gape at her. “You’re… I mean… that is…” He reached into his uniform and pulled out a small token. “I’ve got this!”

Pyrrha bit back a laugh as the blond’s face went bright red. “Oh?”

“I am making an idiot of myself.” The blond covered his face with one hand. “Can I start again?”

“By all means,” Pyrrha said.

“I’m Jaune.” The blond smiled. “And you’re Pyrrha… goddess of righteous battle, policemen, firefighters, and other emergency services, right?”

“I am.” Pyrrha smiled. “And you have one of my tokens.”

“Of course, I do!” Jaune blurted before wincing. “I mean… you are the patron goddess of policemen. It seemed like a good idea.”

“Well, it certainly doesn’t hurt.” 

“If you don’t mind my asking…” Jaune began.

“Why am I here?” Pyrrha’s expression softened. “Being a policeman isn’t only about shootouts and arrests. Sometimes, a lot of the time, it’s about being there for the community, helping people who need help, whether it’s children crossing the road or an old lady with some heavy grocery bags.”

Jaune scratched the back of his head. “So you know about that too, huh?”

“Yes, I know that you leave work every Thursday half an hour later than usual so that you can run into old Mrs Jameson just as she leaves the grocery store. You know she struggles with her groceries, and you want to be there to lend her a hand. It’s not something that will ever appear on your record as a policeman, and it’s not what most people think of when they think of heroism, but I can assure that Mrs Jameson notices what you do for her. I have noticed what you do for her.”

“Uh… that’s good, right?”

“It is.” Pyrrha smiled warmly. “The mortal world can be a very cold place, Jaune. But you’d be amazed by how much warmer just one act of kindness can make it feel. You might not think you’re very cool, but I assure you that boy you high fived thinks you’re the coolest policeman ever.”

Jaune chuckled. “Yeah, Timmy wants to be a policeman when he grows up. I thought he might like getting a high five from an actual policeman now and then even if I’m just a rookie.”

“Acts of grand heroism are all well and good,” Pyrrha said. “But it’s the little things that can sometimes make the biggest difference.” She gazed off into the distance. “Twenty years from now, Timmy is going to become a policeman, and he’s going to save a lot of lives. When people ask him why he became a policeman, he’ll talk about the policeman who used to help him cross the road after school.”

“Really?” Jaune took a deep breath. “I guess I’m not just wasting my time here, am I?”

“No. You’re not.” Pyrrha glanced up at the sky as dark clouds began to gather on the horizon. “It seems like I have to get going. Would you mind if I came back tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Jaune said. “It’s not like I can say no to a goddess, and I certainly don’t mind the company.” He paused. “By the way… when you say you have to get going… is there like a tornado or something on the way?”

“Nothing that dramatic. I simply have to pay a visit to one of my colleagues.” Pyrrha watched bolts of lightning crackle through the sky. “She might be getting a tad… overenthusiastic.”

“Ah. Right. Well, see you tomorrow, I guess.”

“See you tomorrow, Jaune.”

As Pyrrha vanished in a swirl of light, Jaune breathed a sigh of relief. He’d somehow managed to not totally botch meeting a goddess. After all, she had said she was coming back tomorrow. That was a good thing, right? A silly smile crept over his face. Pyrrha had been absolutely gorgeous… a divine beauty, some might say. Laughing at his own joke, Jaune never noticed the black cat perched on the wall behind him. The cat rolled her amber eyes and continued along the wall. It was almost time for her mortal to come home from university.

X     X     X

Author’s Notes

Heroes come in all shapes and sizes, and heroism isn’t always about the big things. I thought this was a suitable way to introduce Jaune and Pyrrha, given how down to earth both of them tend to be. In case it isn’t obvious, the cat at the end is Blake, still slacking around during the day, while Pyrrha’s colleague is an aggravated Nora, no doubt ready to unleash divine mayhem upon something.

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