#i can already tell this is going to need a tag. tragic

[gaymarasov]

YOU CANT BE SERIOUS.

[spideyjimin]

Wait for your love | jjk (teaser)

—  pairing: firefighter!jungkook x female reader 

—  genre: kind of exes to lovers, parents au, angst, fluff, and smut 

— rating: 18+ 

—  summary: sixteen years ago, your life was turned upside down when you surrendered to the temptation — none other than jungkook, the star basketball player on your school’s team. today, after all that time, you reunite under tragic circumstances; a car crash where he saves your life.

—  words: 577

—  author’s note: here you have the teaser of the fic i’m currently working on 🤗 you have a tiny little teaser below & i hope you’ll enjoy it ❤️

—  tag list: let me know in any way if you want to be tagged when i post this and if you are part of my permanent taglist, you will automatically be added ✨

Jungkook and his team got called for a car accident involving several cars, and when they arrived, the scene was horrific.

There are probably five cars pressed and smashed one against the other. There are people injured and bleeding walking around the scene. Paramedics are already taking care of them, but Jungkook is walking to the cars to retrieve the people stuck inside. His captain screams orders and tells him which car he should go to.

His eyes look around, his heart breaking when he sees everyone involved and still stuck in their cars. Visions like this are quite common for him, it doesn’t happen all the time but it’s still recurrent. At the end of the day, his job is to save people in this type of situation.

When he reaches the car, he was assigned to, he takes a look at how many people there are inside. There’s just one person, a woman behind the steering wheel. She has her hand on her head, clearly showing that she might have a headache. She doesn’t really move. Instantly, Jungkook tries to open the door, but it’s showing a bit of resistance.

It feels impossible to open the door, but Jungkook sees the woman’s head falling. He’s getting worrier; she’s slumping into sleep which isn’t a good sign as she was holding her head barely seconds ago. He then proceeds to break the window so he can try to open it from inside. There are other possible ways, but it would be harder and more dangerous to get her out of the vehicle.

“Ma’am,” he says with urge.

Eventually, he manages to open the damn door from the inside. A good part of the car’s front is crashing into her. Before even thinking of taking her out, he places a cervical collar to protect her neck and spine.

“Ma’am,” he repeats. “Can you hear me?”

She doesn’t answer at all. Jungkook gets closer, his fingers brushing the hair from her face, but when he finally gets to properly see the woman’s face, his heart skips a beat. This woman is none other than you. His mind can’t start to get lost in the past right now. He needs to focus on taking you out of the car.   

You’re in pretty bad shape.

There’s blood on your forehead, you most probably have a wound on top of your head. There’s also blood at the level of your stomach, turning your green shirt into a very dark color. He can distinguish a big fragment of glass shoved into your belly. It doesn’t look good. Your legs are also completely smashed by the front, causing the steering wheel to be very close to your body.  Hopefully, your legs aren’t too injured. He doesn’t even want to start thinking about all the bruises on your body.

Slowly, he places one hand behind your back while his other hand slowly pushes your legs. He’s trying to be as careful as possible to avoid causing any other injury.  His strong arms hold you once he manages to fully remove you from the car. His eyes look down at your face with evident pain. He notices how you’re trying to open your eyes which makes him think that you’re trying to fight the urge to fall asleep.

“Yn,” he says while walking to an ambulance. “Please, stay with me,” he whispers with despair. “I’ve finally found you, and I can’t lose you right away.”

[astonmartinii]

brother's best friend | lance stroll social media au

pairing: lance stroll x fem schumacher!reader

there's something about the guy your brother tells you is off limits...

MASTERLIST | MY TIP JAR

mickschumacher

liked by estebanocon, lancestroll and 1,099,458 others

tagged: yourusername

mickschumacher: happy birthday to the biggest pain in my ass

view all comments

user1: y/n is so mother that her birthday really should be a national holiday

yourusername: what ass? babe you built like an ironing board

mickschumacher: you're talking real loud for someone who has a smaller ass than me 🤨

yourusername: you wanna get the tape measure out ???

user2: I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE

liked by lancestroll

yourusername: HAH

mickschumacher: i'll give you this one FOR ONCE only because it's your birthday

yourusername: you're SO generous

user3: both mick and y/n really got the unhinged gene from michael

user4: now we know why toto separates them in the paddock LOL

lancestroll: mick you were such a cute kid, what happened?

mickschumacher: EY stay out of it this is schumacher business

mickschumacher: or at least call y/n ugly too ugh 😩

lancestroll: my dad taught me that it's wrong to tell lies sorry

mickschumacher: BACK UP ??? what's that supposed to mean?

yourusername: is no one allowed to compliment me anymore?

mickschumacher: NO. especially not a man. especially not an f1 driver. they're all whores.

estebanocon: ????

maxverstappen1: ????

lancestroll: ????

yourusername: is that why you got dropped? too bitchless?

mickschumacher: HOW DARE YOU? I PULL. I DO.

yourusername: sure you do

mickschumacher: that's it. if you're going to use my loneliness against me, then i invoke the kat stratford rule. you can't date until i do

yourusername: that is so horrifically tragic. who says i'm not already seeing someone?

this comment has been deleted

mickschumacher: I SAW THAT

user5: everybody pray for y/n

user6: for real i think mick lost all of his patience at haas 😭

yourusername

liked by lancestroll, mickschumacher and 983,409 others

yourusername: all my birthday wishes came true

view all comments

user7: cue the mick meltdown

mickschumacher: WHAT 😭 THE 😭 FUCK 😭

yourusername: yes?

mickschumacher: does ten things i hate about you mean nothing to you?

yourusername: no ! but i like [redacted] more

mickschumacher: you can use [redacted] all you want but i will literally break in to your house I'M GETTING IN THE CAR

yourusername: soz girlypop but i'm at [redacted]'s house xoxo

mickschumacher: don't think i won't call sebastian i know he has you on find my friends

yourusername: go for it buddy i am completely confident in mine and seb's relationship

mickschumacher: @sebastianvettel pick up your phone

sebastianvettel: leave me be mick, i have met [redacted] and i think he's a great match 👍

mickschumacher: WHAT

user8: well that was dramatic

user9: get that man back in the car before he genuinely runs across europe looking for y/n

user10: i love how they're all going along with the [redacted] nonsense

user11: i know seb was having way too much fun with it

estebanocon: happy birthday y/n, i hope [redacted] treated you well !

yourusername: why thank you esteban, i have had a great time

mickschumacher: do not tell me you know as well :(

estebanocon: i don't but saying [redacted] is super fun 🤩

lancestroll: [redacted] does make them sound like a criminal

mickschumacher: when i found out who it is, they may become part of a criminal trial

lancestroll: okay buddy...

yourusername: thank you lance, at least someone here is talking sense

mickschumacher: don't use my friends against me 🤨

yourusername: maybe he's my friend too dumbass

user12: or more 😏

mickschumacher: do not even speak that into existence

user13: i need it to be lance or at least another driver just for mick's reaction at this point

lancestroll

liked by estebanocon, yourusername and 1,077,487 others

tagged: yourusername

lancestroll: just appreciating the birthday girl

view all comments

user17: WAIT !! let me grab my popcorn 🍿

user18: i am sat for this mick meltdown

user19: it might be an all-timer

yourusername: before mick inevitably throws all his toys out of the pram... i love you sir lancelot !! thank you for the amazing birthday and for being the best boyf eva xxx

lancestroll: i love you too darling, glad we could spend all this time together before the season starts again

yourusername: booooo i don't wanna share you :(

lancestroll: you could just join me ...

yourusername: do NOT threaten me with a good time

user20: i think i can hear mick having a tantrum from all the way across the world

mickschumacher: ABSOLUTELY NOT. NO. NOPE. NADA. THIS IS NOT HAPPENING. DELETE.

lancestroll: you done?

mickschumacher: NO I AM NOT. TAKE YOUR MOUTH OFF OF MY SISTER. THE ONLY SCHUMACHER YOU WILL BE KISSED BY IS MY FIST

lancestroll: bit too late for that

mickschumacher: HALT. i do not need to know that :(

yourusername: have you got it out of your system? because i really love lance and i'm sorry we kept it from you, but we thought it was best while we figured it all out

mickschumacher: i am happy for you. all i want to see is you happy, and if that is lance so be it. just no pda in front of me

lancestroll: you're saying this like i'm a monster? i'm literally your friend, surely that's a good sign?

mickschumacher: wait. i thought we were best friends :(

lancestroll: yes! we're bffs ! best friends forever + este

estebanocon: yes we love you mick even when you scream all the time and call us whores?

yourusername: gosh you're such a drama queen, have this heart to heart in the group chat this is a birthday post for ME

user21: well this got suprisingly heartfelt

sebastianvettel: happy birthday y/n, i'm happy for both of you!

yourusername: thank you seb ! x

lancestroll: thank you seb, wingman of the year

mickschumacher: WHAT

yourusername

liked by mickschumacher, lancestroll and 923,766 others

tagged: lancestroll

yourusername: my boyf just won point with broken wrists, what the fuck are y'all doin?

view all comments

user24: this was so sexy of lance honestly

maxverstappen1: winning the race bozo

yourusername: the question was clearly rhetorical genius

maxverstappen1: i don't care 🤷‍♀️

user25: i always forget that these two technically grew up together

lancestroll: the doctors said i still need to be looked after, will you be my sexy nurse?

mickschumacher: EW this is exactly what i was talking about. keep this shit to yourselves

mickschumacher: PLUS, i don't think that would be wise with broken wrists

lancestroll: gotta ruin all of our jokes now?

yourusername: so me being a sexy nurse is a joke :( ?

lancestroll: no! you can definitely look after me and you're definitely sexy

yourusername: good good. sit back and relax baby

user26: what if we also want to be seen by sexy nurse y/n?

mickschumacher: choke

lancestroll: choke

fernandoalo_oficial: so no mention of my podium 🤨

yourusername: bore off old man you've got completely functioning wrists

fernandoalo_oficial: still impressive no?

yourusername: cry me a river

lancestroll: it was very impressive fernando

fernandoalo_oficial: at least one of my kids respect me

yourusername: god i think being a drama queen is a requirement for being an f1 driver

user27: she's not wrong

fernandoalo_oficial

liked by lancestroll, yourusername and 1,452,887 others

fernandoalo_oficial: accidentally acquired two kids this season

view all comments

user28: grid dad fernando is back baby

user29: who is the mum and can i be her?

yourusername: soz mark beat you to it

oscarpiastri: does that make us all siblings?

mickschumacher: absolutely not. the schumacher gang is very exclusive

fernandoalo_oficial: who said i claimed you?

mickschumacher: as if you wouldn't want to claim me

yourusername: soz mick, looks like only one of us slays

lancestroll: fernando has taste 💅

mickschumacher: i hate you both

yourusername: love you too x

user30: golly gosh these girlies are so dramatic

user31: lance, y/n and oscar is the chill trio we need

yourusername: also thanks pa for the cute pic x

lancestroll: and for not complaining the whole time

yourusername: SOME people could learn a thing or two ....

mickschumacher: hey! i am a good photographer you're just ugly

lancestroll: you take that back

mickschumacher: you were my friend first you should be on my side :(

yourusername: you snooze you lose mickster

lancestroll: :p

user32: so glad that this relationship is bringing out lance's sassy side

user33: now all we need is the return of the racing point hair

yourusername: i'm on it 🫡

yourusername

liked by estebanocon, lancestroll and 1,099,432 others

tagged: lancestroll

yourusername: the romance books didn't lie, there really is nothng like your brother's best friend

view all comments

user34: boyf!lance got me going feral

user35: third pic is defo going platinum on pinterest

lancestroll: all the turmoil was worth it :)

yourusername: turmoil being mick pouting at you for like three hours

lancestroll: i am a sensitive man! i don't like people being upset with me :(

yourusername: mick is just a drama queen, probably his way of hazing you, or distracting himself from being lonely

mickschumacher: for that lonely comment you just got yourself stuck with a third wheel

mickschumacher: FOR LIFE

estebanocon: and me !! don't forget about meeee

user36: my fave unproblematic foursome

yourusername: hold your horses babe two of that four are siblings maybe we should reword this

sebastianvettel: is mick finished now? can i safely go back on my phone without getting ten billion calls about you and lance?

yourusername: yeah i think he's got it out of his system

sebastianvettel: good. but you and lance are still on babysitting duty for putting my through this

lancestroll: not the punishment you think it is we love those kids

yourusername: plus lance is cute with kids and gives me major baby fever

sebastianvettel: oh no...

mickschumacher: WHAT ABSOLUTELY NOT NO BABIES YET I ONLY JUST ACCEPTED YOU DATIGN I DON;Y WANT TO THINK ABOUT... THAT

yourusername: but baby lancelots would be so cute :(

lancestroll: baby y/ns would be cuter

yourusername: that's it. seb sorry we will be a little late

mickschumacher: DELETE

fin.

note: this request has been in the bank for a while and i know i took a lil creative liberty but i hope you enjoyed!! also thought lance deserved some love after the recent tomfoolery ... alas! happy new year and i hope everyone has a great new years eve xx

[franki-lew-yo]

Mouthwashing and fandom discourse as a whole.

So I recently explored the tag for Mouthwashing after watching two no-commentary lets plays of the entire game. I'm seeing a lot of posts pointing out how annoying it is that this game has a fandom and that this fandom is doing fandom things and stanning/"uwu-ing" characters from this incredibly nuanced, raw and not-fandom friendly piece of art. To paraphrase someone I just saw "you don't want mouthwashing; you want Among Us ocs but darker". And

for a moment I wanna talk a bit about how I absolutely agree with this statement while also talk for a moment about how and why fandom and catharsis fan fics exist and shouldn't be shamed inherently. Or, I guess, not in theory.

The "come on! Stop trying to make everything shippable/cutsey/memey/have a happy AU and face unpleasant emotions someone's trying to tell you about!" is SUCH a vibe with me. I felt this way in the 9 fandom a lot as a kid and that was just 9. Mouthwashing is like 9 on bathsalts emotions and theme-wise. It's a game where you play as both the flawed but caring captain of a doomed ship who's life becomes a Johnny Got His Gun-nightmare, and also a deplorable, hateful piece of garbage who got himself and his friend in that nightmare situation to begin with. Both characters, moreso Jimmy but Curly too, are the causes of their own misery. They're complex dealing with one of the two committing SA and doing nothing really about it/dodging the responsibility and humanity needed to support the victim whom they've wronged.

I fully admit it's groan-inducing seeing people be shipped up Anya with anyone on the ship considering what happens to her. On a pure pr level I think it would be illegal even since romance between coworkers in a workplace is considered conflict of interest/harassment as it so often is. (NOT that what Jimmy did to Anya is 'romance'. I'm talking about the shipping of Anya with the other three guys. I know there's people out there who do ship Jimmy/Anya; you don't have to tell or show me I believe you and also I already hate it.) It's ALSO groan inducing to see people ship Curly and Jimmy considering all Jimmy does to him- and just the fact that this incredibly tragic, toxic one-way-gone array friendship is reduced to "toxic yaoi teehee". It's annoying AT BEST.

I get the hostility towards fandom-tastic stanning and fandom behavior in general...the issue is it's still hostility and I wish some of you guys got that.

Like it or not (you don't have to like it) fandom culture is inevitable to some degree. You can and should complain about your hangups but that's all you can do besides avoiding tags and just not engaging with that side of the fandom at some point. Save your call-outs and rage for when you see active deplorable bs being committed that people are excusing for dumb fandom reasons, like lolicon, hatespeech or harassment. I'm sorry but you can not actively go after and try and take down the innocent people involved in your trigger that aren't directly hurting you by liking the thing that triggers you; ie. people who get all shipping and fandom-brained about Mouthwashing's characters which you find offensive to do at all.

This type of convo is the crux of most 'antifandom' v profandom discourse in general; for Antis I think there ought to be a difference between the people that set you off bcuz of fandom nonsense vs sociopathic 'got mine'-creepiness. There's a difference between someone who draws r34 v Shadbase. For profandom types you out to face the fact that yes- maybe NOT EVERYTHING is meant to be shippable/memed. Maybe try practicing that a bit. Yeah it's mostly harmless and makes you feel happy, but considering how people outside of your hyperfixation-of-a-hyperfixation is a thing. Asking to care or think about others once in awhile is not an attack on you as a person, believe it or not. The thing about the "don't like, don't read" argument is it goes both ways. If you're truly a "good fan" like you say you are than you have to realize that people will not like your problematicisms. Learn to interact with characters and stories without the possibility of shipping sometimes- or at least understand that that's the crux of what makes a story like Mouthwashing engaging, even if you also partake in the fandumb and AUs on the side. You can call Curly your babygirl and ship him or make him happy all you want but PLEASE acoknowledge that the game doesn't woobify him or excuse what he did to Anya as well. You can make some kind of AU scenario where Jimmy gets out somehow and becomes/is a slightly better person for all I care...so long as you PLEASE remember that he is canonically a r@pist and awful. Also, even if I'm okay with your fan decisions, note that myself and others are still going to be critical and be upset that you wrote it at all because of what kind of character Jimmy is. 'Critical' =/= declaring something evil.

Fandom behaviors are not souly a destructive parasocial outcome of brainrot; they're also a natural reaction to what happens canonically and the emotions you have to experiencing a story. It's normal and rational to sympathize and love Curly and despise and hate Jimmy. You can love/like/enjoy a problematic-to-DEEPLY DISTURBED-character based on their complexity in canon. They are fiction. They are not real. The reason you are so invested with them is because of that complexity and yes because they are fiction they are your 'toy' and you can doll them up in any kind of speculative AU crap you make. That's fanfiction, baby. Make yourself a fixit fic if you really want

BUT-

remember: it stays as a fixit fic. DO NOT cross the streams, or insist that your active misreading of the text is the same as the text itself. EVER. You should care about your special interest's escapism as a means of self-care. What you shouldn't do is demand that EVERYONE ELSE LOVE your coping mechanism and that any complaints by people on their own terms on their own blogs is #badfaith or an inherent attack against you. It isn't. You'll know when it is an attack against you and that's when you, the profandom-type, need to be prepared and save your call-out posts and blocklist for.

To me that's the fragility to fandom debates and fandom as a whole. You can not/should not police or control an entire group of people and how they perceive or interact with media. That's not fair and it's definitely not sporting or decent of you in a community. You have to share your community -your fandom- with people who hate ur fav and people who love your least fav. Agreeing to disagree means not tagging your nOTP as their shipname or by tagging your shipname loud and clear. It means filtering out posts with those topics but enjoying and/or reblogging the fandom takes you do share with your fellow fandom-mite that obviously posts abt those topics.

When schmit REALLY goes down and some assface reviewer/fan/SOMETHING is being an assface or doing something amoral under the guise of fandom-ing, that's where you out to put your foot down. Callouts and complaints are for people who did an egregious thing and refuse to take responsibility(lol) for it. They're not for "soandso likes the thing that triggers me, kill them"/"so and so is hating on the thing I'm kinning because it triggers them, kill them". Be an adult.

Your DNI lists should consist of "lolicon defenders" not "proshippers", as those ARE NOT one in the same. Same goes the other way around. List off "bigots, purity culture bs", not "antis and critics". These positions ARE NOT interchangeable. If you make them interchangeable than you're making things a lot harder for yourself.

-sincerely, a message from autistic ADHD/OCD woman who likes horror and media analysis as much as she loves popcorn fanfic schlock.

We don't all have to be friends and buddybuds. I just hate us hurting each other over being different kind of fandom-folk rather than for when someone sincerely mucks up and does something bad. Can't we all stick to our guns and just boycott Harry Potter like god intended?

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | teen | 2.3k | tags: rockstar!eddie, addiction, rehab, journaling, only Eddie's entries turn into letters to Steve | Part 2 to Carry You | @steddielovemonth prompt Love is about a hand reaching out to you so you don't get lost by @yournowheregirl | AO3)

Edited for a big shout out to @steves-strapcollection whose lovely OC has a little cameo here. If you want to know who Tig is, you can find out here. Spoiler: he's amazing and we love him.

Day 0

Dear Steve,

Hi Stevie,

Apparently, it's not good to "bottle up" your feelings. They say it makes drinking or drugs or any other addiction so tempting. It makes it easier to keep all that stuff inside you and let it fester until you need more and more of whatever it is that helps you cope. So the first rule of rehab: Talk, don't take.

That's a long way of saying I need to keep a journal like a 13-year-old girl with her first crush. It's either that or a daily crying session with the other "inmates" here, and I'd rather not have to tell Terry the old gossip my own tragic sob story. She already told me the life stories of two other patients here at dinner.

Instead, I decided to write to you. You're the one person I regret the most pushing away, and even though you'll probably never see this, it feels good to tell you these things now. Like a dry run. Because, baby, when I get out of here, I swear I will let you in. I won't make the same mistakes.

You will never go another day without knowing how much you mean to me.

How much I love you.

You only left an hour ago and I already miss you. I can't believe I've survived six months without you. Well, I barely did. I wish I could call you, but phone privileges are only for those who make it through their first week here.

I know we chose this center together knowing that they don't allow visitors for at least three weeks. Maybe longer if my therapist says I'm not ready. Fuck, three weeks didn't sound so bad when we talked about it, but now? In this ugly, impersonal room that smells clean but is totally clinical. You know, that mix of disinfectant and sterile air with a hint of medication lingering in the background. It sounds like an eternity and then some.

Nothing here feels comfortable or warm, and I miss your face so much it physically hurts.

But I promised myself I'd do whatever it took. For you and Wayne, for the boys and the kids.

So, day 0, the journey begins.

Fuck, I almost forgot: I'm supposed to answer three questions every day.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

See above. I miss you, that's how I am. I want this to be over. I hate that I'm here and even more that I'm the one who got me here. I feel like a fuckup. It's hard not to when I see how I've ruined everything good in my life. But then I remember the way you kissed me goodbye. The smile on your face when you told me how proud you were of me. The way you kissed my hand because you couldn't let go and whispered, "I'll see you soon," and I want to have hope.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Get through the day without doing anything I'll regret.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

You. That you didn't give up on me. (And the Gummi Bears you hid at the bottom of the bag, you minx. Thank you.)

Day 4

Sweetheart,

I'm not doing so well. It's hard. Who am I kidding? It sucks. My body hurts from how much I want to use. My brain is so very loud, Stevie. So, so loud. I try to remember how you managed to calm me down when my brain got like this. What helped the most was to wear me out by fucking me senseless, but that's not an option. But maybe I will try to go for a walk or even do some of those exercises you always tried to get me to do. The ones that usually led to fucking because I could never behave.

My therapist is nice. Her name is Laura, and so far she's taking everything I throw at her in stride. Talking to her feels like pulling my own teeth and I feel like shit afterwards, but I sleep better. Who would have thought, huh?

I miss you.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Not good. I wonder if I can really do this. It doesn't feel like it right now. I'm afraid I won't make it. That I will screw up again. That if I do, it'll kill me and I'll be grateful because I couldn't live with myself if I did.

I don't want to die, Stevie.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Talk to the weird kid who always sits by himself during meals. He looks lost. Maybe he knows DnD.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Still you. Every day. Wayne, for taking me in when I felt like a failure too. Unlovable. Worthless. He never stopped believing in me. Even when I gave him every reason not to. I don't know how I deserve him or you, but I am so fucking grateful.

Day 7

Fuck, I missed your voice. God. I'm sorry I lost it like that. I didn't want the first thing you heard from me after a week apart to be me ugly sobbing into the phone.

I wanted to tell you so many things. I had a plan, you know? But hearing your voice when you said, "Hi, baby," it just broke me. You sounded like you missed me too, like you were relieved to hear my voice too, and you didn't even realize how scared I was that you wouldn't.

We just hung up, but I want to call you again. Just to hear you breathing on the other side so I know you're still there. Waiting for me. Your hand still gripping mine so I wouldn't get lost.

You said, "I'll hear you tomorrow," like it was set in stone, no doubt about it. It made me feel, fuck, I don't even know. Like this is real. I didn't die on that bathroom floor, and you giving me another chance isn't some kind of hallucination or afterlife dream.

I'm rambling, sorry. Even in writing I can't help it.

One day I'll write it all down in a way that makes sense, I promise.

I love how patient you are with me. No one has ever been. I was always too loud, too distracted, too weird, too complicated, too much. But not to you.

I wish you were here to take me in your arms, it's hard not to fall apart without you holding me together.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Better. Fucking determined to get through this and get back to you. Still scared.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Have a real conversation with you without breaking down on the phone. Here's to hoping. Detoxing and being sober has given me a hair trigger on my emotions, it seems.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Your patience. Your grace. Your voice in my ear. That you still haven't given up on me. DnD, for giving me a purpose when I needed one, a tool to give others the help I so desperately wanted. The weird kid's name is Alex, and he does know DnD. We'll try to find more people for a campaign.

Day 16

Steve, baby,

I am so fucking sorry. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. I'm such an asshole. Please pick up the phone. I need to tell you how sorry I am. I didn't mean it, I was just scared. When you said that maybe Laura was right and you shouldn't come to see me next week if I wasn't ready, I thought you didn't want me anymore. That you finally got tired of holding my hand and watching me do those damn baby steps. It's been over two weeks, why am I not better? Why am I not done with this shit?

I want to be done, I swear.

Please don't leave me.

Please pick up the phone.

Please, please, please.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Fuck this shit, what good is it if I keep hurting you?

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Stop being a fucking asshole.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

I want it to be you, but I'm not sure I even have you in my life anymore.

Day 23

Stevie,

I'm scared. Isn't this the stupidest thing you've ever heard? A few days ago I begged to see you. Fuck, I was so desperate to see you that I almost ruined everything. I'm still sorry, I hope you know that. I know, I know, you said that it's okay and that it can't be all smooth sailing, that you forgive me. That you'll keep forgiving me as long as I keep coming back to talk to you, to explain, to show you that I mean it.

And now I've got the all clear for you to come and see me, and I'm too scared to tell you.

I'm still not the man I want to be. The man who deserves someone like you.

Laura told me that love isn't something you deserve, it's something freely given. We don't decide if someone can love us, only they do. And that I have to stop pushing people away because I'm convinced they can't love me. It's their choice and I shouldn't try to take it away from them.

I think about this a lot.

I want to let you love me, I do. It's just hard for me to understand why you would want to do that at all. It's something Laura wants to work on with me as well.

There is so much work to do. I hate to bother you with it. To make it your problem. I wanted to come in here and two weeks later walk out a new man. A better one. One you can love easily and who can love you back in a way you can understand. A man Wayne can be proud to call his son. A man Gareth and Jeff and Grant want to have as a friend, as a bandmate. A man the kids can look up to as much as they look up to you.

Laura said I should take the hand you are holding out to me. It's a decision I make every day. I took it in the hospital. I took it when you drove me here.

I should take it by letting you in, letting you see the work in progress that I am right now.

I think I will call you after dinner to tell you.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Fuck if I know. It's a lot to feel when you've numbed your feelings for so long. I remember why I did it, but I won't do it again, I'll learn to deal with it.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Take you in my arms and hold you. Let myself be held by you.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Your hand in mine. The thought of you that keeps me going. Your bravery. Dustin and Mike and Will and Lucas. They call me all the time, you know. Asking me about my first campaign here, telling me about their lives. Keeping in touch, even though I failed them almost as much as my old man did me.

Day 31

Steve, my love,

You're on your way to pick me up and I can't believe we made it here. It's not done, it probably never will be. I know that now. I have to keep working on myself and being well. But it's so fucking worth it, Stevie.

I'm glad that Laura agreed to stay my therapist even if I leave the center. I trust her. She gets me, she knows when to push me and tell me the ugly truth, and when I need time to process things.

I haven't told you yet, but I'm not going back to Corroded Coffin. At least not right now. I talked to the guys and they all agreed that it's best if I take some time for myself. And for you. For my family and friends. They actually have a guy named Tig who auditioned while I was here and they like him. He's good, they sent me a demo. They asked me if it would be okay and I said it would be. It's true, even though it hurts. I have to do this for myself.

Because I am going to give this to you later, I want to tell you something here before I lose my courage.

Steve. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I know I haven't always shown you the way you deserve. Hell, some days I certainly didn't act like it. My worst days. But I never stopped loving you. I don't think I ever will.

But I also learned to like myself a little better here. I no longer want to punish myself for things that were out of my control, like my mom dying or my dad not caring enough for me to stay. I want to be loved. I want you to love me. I want to let you.

I want to finally leave the past behind and allow myself to think about the future. And whenever I do, you're in it. You're the anchor, the epicenter of all my plans.

Stevie, sweetheart, I want to marry you.

Don't worry, I'm not proposing. This is just something I needed to tell you. Someday I want to be your husband, if you want me.

You are my past, my present and my future.

This is me taking your hand every day until I die or you stop reaching for me.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

So fucking excited to have you all to myself again. Seriously, I'm going a little crazy. I'm also hopeful about the future. And in love. I'm so fucking in love with you.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

To start our life together without forgetting what came before.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

My second chance.

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Promises and Pastry

Rating: T / SFW (whaaaaat?!)

Pairing: Jango Fett x Baker Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 3.3k

Summary: On your way to work, you stumble upon an adorable two-year-old Boba Fett, who wandered away from the bounty hunter Jango entrusted with his care. Wholesome, tooth-rotting fluff ensues. Feat. Jango Fett being a sexy single dad.

A/N: I wrote this for Father's Day. This is the last AO3 work that I needed to migrate to Tumblr, so DJ's Great Fic Migration is now complete 🖤

Warnings: fluff; canon-typical violence

Suggested listening:

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Boba Fett sits in a rundown cantina, waiting for his contact to show. The place is an absolute dive, but not even close to the worst he’s seen. The jukebox is playing an old, old song—some sentimental Arcadian jazz ditty about a lost love. The music is incongruous with the dingy setting, but something about the melody tugs at his subconsciousness. It makes him think of warm, soft arms; a gentle voice; the mouthwatering scent of freshly baked bread. Is it a memory or a dream? He can’t tell.

He finishes his drink and pushes the intrusive thoughts away, then orders another round as he waits for his new employer.

The air is crisp in the predawn hours, and only the dim glow of street lamps illuminates your path as you walk to work. Your mind is caught up with the tasks ahead of you: baking the para rolls, ryshcates, and buttersweet puffs that you assembled the previous day; mixing up tomorrow’s batches of dough; topping up the caf supplies before your barista arrives—and all of this needs to happen before you even open the shop for the day. The bakery has always been your dream, and it’s worth the early mornings to finally have a place of your own.

You are almost to the shop when you hear a strange sound. A small, distressing whimper that echoes clearly through the early-morning silence. You scan the area. Bar’leth is a Core World: a safer planet than some, but your bakery is located near one of the seedier areas. It’s an unfortunate tradeoff for the low cost of rent. You don’t see any obvious threats, but you clutch your satchel a little closer to your body, just in case. The cry comes again, and you increase your pace, eyes darting up and down the street. And then you see the source.

A tiny, weeping child huddles on the walkway. He can’t be more than two or three years old. 

“Oh, my stars,” you whisper as you hurry over to him. “Are you all right, sweetheart?”

He looks up at you, wet tears clinging to his eyelashes. An adorable mop of dark curls tumbles around his face, and his tragic, golden eyes break your heart. He holds his hands up to you, and without a second thought, you scoop him up.

“Where are your parents, darling?” you ask, looking around the deserted street.

He wails something incoherent and buries his face in your shoulder. There is no sign of another living being anywhere. You rub his back consolingly and whisper gentle reassurances. Your heart has already made the decision before your mind can catch up: you can’t leave him out here. Settling him more securely in your arms, you hurry the last couple of blocks to your bakery and let yourself inside, locking the door behind you.

You flip on the lights in the kitchen, and the child ceases his wailing and takes a few shuddering gulps. You check him for injuries and find none; it seems he was merely, understandably, frightened. He peers around the bakery curiously.

“Are you thirsty?” you ask.

He nods, so you pour him a glass of water. He gulps it down while you turn on the oven, watching you with fascinated, intelligent eyes. He sloshes a bit of water on you, and you wonder how you are going to manage your workload with one hand occupied holding him. Just then, he spots a tray of day-old pastries.

“I’m hungry,” he says.

You’re relieved that he speaks Basic. Hopefully that means he can tell you where to find his parents. Your commercial kitchen is not exactly a welcoming environment for a toddler, but you set him down on a footstool and bring him a scone—the plainest one you can find, without too much sugar. Force knows the last thing you need is a toddler on a sugar high bouncing around your kitchen while you try to work.

You introduce yourself and ask, “What’s your name?”

“Boba,” he replies around a mouthful of scone. He has crumbs all over his face already; it’s impressive how quickly he made the mess.

“Boba, do you know where your parents are?”

“Dada went to work.”

“Where does your dad work?” you ask as you tie on your apron.

He shakes his head, and tears well in his eyes again. You feel something tug in your chest, and you blink back tears of your own. You’ve always been a sympathetic cryer, but your heart would have to be made of stone to not be moved by Boba’s woeful expression.

“It’s all right,” you soothe him, crouching down to brush those long curls out of his eyes. “You can stay here with me. We’ll find your dad, I promise.”

He nods with a sniffle, and then dives forward into your arms. You squeeze him tightly to you, then settle him onto your hip and get to work. Luckily, the trays are small enough that you can manage them with only one hand, but eventually, you need both hands to work. You start to shift Boba, and you realize he’s fallen asleep against you. It is far from ideal, so you retrieve a large cushion from the front of the house and set it up out of the way in the kitchen. You lay the boy gently down and get to work, amazed that he can sleep through your racket, but then again, it’s only four o’clock in the morning.

He sleeps for hours, and once you’ve finished prepping the next day’s goods, you change out of your utilitarian apron into the pretty, frilly one you wear when you’re running the register. You hear the back door open, and you turn to see your barista, Siero, staring at the sleeping child.

“What. is. that?” she asks.

“And good morning to you, too,” you say.

“Did you steal that child?” she asks suspiciously.

You roll your eyes. “No, I didn’t steal him. He was wandering alone outside the bakery. I brought him inside so he’d be safe until I can find his parents.”

“Have you checked the Holonet to see if anyone has reported him missing?” Siero asks, ever practical.

“Not yet,” you admit. “I’ve been busy getting ready to open.”

Siero pulls out her datapad and runs a quick search. “Nothing so far,” she says with a frown. “I hope you don’t expect me to watch him.”

“Of course not,” you say. “I’ll take care of him. Maybe his parents will come in. If they don’t, I’ll get in touch with the Children’s Wellness Department after we close up for the day.”

Siero shrugs and pulls on her apron. “Well, I always said you could run this place blindfolded with your hands tied. Looks like I’m about to find out.”

Boba continues to sleep as the first wave of customers makes its way through the shop. Fortunately, there’s a lull by the time he wakes up, and you’re able to take a break and sit with him at one of the tables as he eats a pedunkee mufkin and drinks a cup of hot chocolate that Siero makes for him. After that, you work the register with one hand while you carry him on your opposite hip. 

He’s a sweet boy, polite and well-mannered, and your customers are enchanted with him. They are not the only ones; you can feel yourself growing attached, even as you remind yourself how utterly foolish it is to do so. He starts to echo you every time you thank a customer for their business.

“Thank you, come back soon,” he calls, beaming a delighted grin when you laugh.

All too soon, it’s time to close up for the day. Siero heads home, and you flip the Open sign over to Closed as you begin cleaning the bakery. You turn on your favorite old-timey Arcadian jazz music and set Boba down as you sweep the floors, wipe down the tables, and clear out the display case. He follows behind you, eager to help, and you end up swooping him up and dancing with him to the music as he shrieks and giggles with joy. 

Ten hours earlier

Jango Fett limps onto the Slave I, lugging a gory bag containing the severed head of his bounty. It had been a brutal hunt—far more difficult than he’d anticipated. He should never have brought Boba with him this time. But by the time he had tracked his target to Bar’leth, it was too late to return the boy to the safety of Kamino. Instead, he’d entrusted him to the care of his not-quite-friend, sometimes-hunting-partner, Mado Kena. The Rodian had not exactly been delighted to be stuck with babysitting duty, and Jango wasn’t thrilled at the idea of leaving Boba in his care, either, but he hadn’t had much choice.

He’d tracked the bounty for hours and finally cornered him in a gambling den. It hadn’t gone well. The man fought back viciously, and Jango took a blaster bolt to his leg. Ultimately, he had killed the bastard. The bounty is lower for his corpse, but still worth enough to cover expenses. 

He can’t wait to get off this rock. He hisses with pain as he climbs the ramp to his ship and tosses the bag into the conservator.

“Mado, I’m back,” he calls. 

There is no response. The kriffer is probably holed up in his bunk. Jango pounds on the door.

“Mado, wake up, it’s time to go.”

There is no sound from the Rodian. With an exasperated sigh, Jango hits the control panel, and the door slides open. The bunk is empty. Jango stares at it for a moment, then whirls to check his own bunk. It is also empty. Cursing, he runs through the ship, checking every cubby and nook large enough to hold a toddler.

“Boba! Boba, where are you?” he calls, his voice ragged and urgent.

He comms Mado, but there is no response. Gritting his teeth, he calibrates his vambrace to track the comlink. Mado hasn’t gone far, and Jango immediately sets out to find him. His leg screams with agony, but there is no time to stop and apply bacta. He pushes through the pain, and soon tracks Mado to a squalid cantina. The hunter is passed out on one of the tables, and there is no sign of Boba.

Jango seizes Mado by his shirt and drags him to his feet. The hunter startles awake and thrashes in Jango’s grasp. The acrid scent of cheap whiskey oozes from his green skin.

“Where is my son?” Jango growls.

“Wha—what?” Mado stutters, blinking his star-flecked eyes with confusion.

“Where is Boba?” Jango’s voice is hoarse with rage and fear.

“He was just here,” Mado says as he claws at Jango’s fists to try to break his grip. “I got thirsty, so I came over for a drink. I brought him with me, I swear!”

Jango shoves the hunter back down into his seat and whirls to face the bartender. “Have you seen a little boy? He’s only two. Dark hair, brown skin.”

The bartender shrugs. “Sorry, bud, that Rodian was here when I started my shift. Didn’t see a kid with him.”

“Karabast,” Jango spits, rounding on Mado. “If any harm has come to him, there will be no place in this galaxy where you can hide.”

The Rodian cowers, and Jango strides out of the cantina, tracking the most important target of his life.

Not many things frighten Jango Fett, but as he chases through the night, his heart pounds, his stomach churns, his gloves grow damp with sweat. The darkness gives way to dawn, and then to the harsh light of morning, and still he hunts. He searches endlessly, desperately, sweeping the seedy district and working his methodical way outward into the fringes of respectable neighborhoods. There is no sign of his son, and panic claws at his throat. 

By the time the sun is high overhead, Jango is near despair. He stops to rest his throbbing leg, leaning against a building as he gasps with pain. A flash of movement in his peripheral vision catches his attention, and he turns. Across the street is a quaint little shop with a cheerful sign that reads BAKERY, and through the large windows, he sees a woman twirling with a young child. Jango stiffens.

Boba.

He launches away from the wall and storms across the street, slamming the bakery door open with a shout. “Boba!”

You scream and cower away, shielding the boy with your body. Jango stalks toward you, a huge and intimidating figure in Mandalorian armor.

“Please don’t hurt us!” you cry. “I haven’t cleared the till yet. You can take all the credits, just please, please don’t hurt him.”

Jango skids to a halt. “Hurt him?”

“He’s just a child,” you beg. “Please.”

Jango raises his hands slowly, telegraphing that he’s not a threat. Currently. He breaks the seal on his helmet and removes it, setting it on the table next to him.

“My name is Jango Fett. Boba is my son,” he says.

Your terrified gaze darts to his face. Your hand is cupping Boba’s head protectively, but the boy twists in your arms when he hears his father’s voice.

“Dada!” Boba shrieks, pushing away from you.

You set the boy down with obvious reluctance, and he runs to Jango, who scoops him up into a tight embrace. He clutches Boba to his chest as he examines him for injuries.

“How did he come to be wandering the streets alone in the middle of the night?” you ask, more than a hint of judgment in your tone.

“My friend was supposed to be watching him while I was at work,” Jango replied. “Former friend, I reckon. I’ve been searching for him for hours.”

Boba is babbling happily. You can only understand about half of what he says, but Jango listens gravely to the boy.

“Is that so?” he asks. He shifts his attention to you, and you swallow nervously under the intensity of his scrutiny. “He says you gave him hot chocolate.”

You feel a hot flush wash over you at the disapproval you infer from his words. “Well, it was either that or caf, and I didn’t want to see what would happen if we gave a toddler a double shot of espresso.”

“Thank you for taking care of him,” he says, and his voice is filled with so much relief that you soften instantly. 

“I’m glad you found him. He’s a sweet boy.” After a moment’s hesitation, you speak again. “Would you like something to eat? I’ve just closed up for the day, but we have a few things left.”

Jango looks surprised at your offer, but he accepts gladly. “I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

You pull together an assortment of savory and sweet pastries: a vagnerian canapé, a water-chicken meat pie, a tal-toori, and dameapple turnover. Then you brew a large cup of caf and set it all on the table for him. He has collapsed into one of your big, comfortable armchairs, and Boba is resting against his armored chest. Without his helmet, you can see that he is remarkably handsome, and you smile at the way he rests his cheek on his son’s riotous curls. He looks exhausted; deep circles carved under his eyes—eyes that are exactly the same beautiful, rich brown as Boba’s—and there is a shadow of stubble on his jaw. The Arcadian jazz continues to play, and you pick up your broom to continue cleaning as Jango eats. Boba calls out your name and reaches for you.

“No, Boba,” Jango chides. “Leave the pretty lady alone. She has work to do.”

“I don’t mind,” you say, holding out your arms to Boba. 

Jango shrugs and hands his son back to you so he can attack his plate in earnest. You dance as you work, much to Boba’s delight. Jango watches you, admiring the way your body sways to the music. He isn’t blind; he can see that you are a beautiful woman, and he takes a moment to appreciate the way a few strands of hair have worked themselves free from your simple bun to curl in a halo around your face. He realizes that he’s been holding a pastry halfway to his mouth as he watches you twirl and play with his son. He crams the rest hastily into his mouth and takes a long drink of caf to wash it down. 

The food is good. Delicious, actually. He’s been eating ration bars for weeks, and he’s almost forgotten what real food tastes like. The warm light of the early afternoon spills into the bakery and bathes the room in a tranquil golden haze. He notices now that there are cheerful vases of fresh flowers on each table, and a low shelf full of books against one wall. 

Kriff, he’s so tired. He stretches his legs out gingerly, feeling the ache of his blaster wound. He leans back in the soft chair, just for a moment. Just to rest his leg before making the long walk back to the Slave I.

You finish cleaning the bakery and get everything staged for the next morning, and when you and Boba return to the front of house, you find Jango asleep in your armchair. You finally get a good look at him without feeling quite so awkward and intimidated. He looks younger; his guarded expression relaxes into softness. His head is tilted back, leaving the thick, brown column of his throat exposed. His shoulders are impressively broad, and while some of that bulk is clearly due to his armor, you suspect that most of it is just Jango.

With a tiny smile, you retrieve a picture book from your shelf and settle into another armchair with Boba on your lap. The boy snacks on the leftover scraps from his father’s plate, even though you offer to get him a plate of his own. You read to him until he falls asleep, cuddled safely in your arms.

Jango lurches awake, staring wildly around him, his body tensed for violence. He’s disoriented for a moment, but then he sees you, curled up in an armchair across from him, Boba nestled securely against you. Both of you are fast asleep. He stands, flexing his leg experimentally. He’s not sure how long he was out, but judging by the angle of the sun, it’s been a few hours. He crosses to your armchair and gazes down at you and Boba. Something like tenderness is in his eyes as he smooths your hair out of your face.

Your eyes flutter open at his touch, and you smile up at him drowsily.

“I need to get going,” he says quietly, careful not to wake his son.

You nod your understanding and rise to your feet. He takes Boba and settles him against his shoulder. You help him put on his helmet, and he presses his free fist to his chest in a gesture of respect, careful not to jostle the boy.

“Thank you again,” he says sincerely. “For everything.”

“Of course,” you say. “Tell Boba to come visit me again sometime.”

“He’d like that,” Jango says. 

You walk him to the door and watch as he and Boba disappear down the streets of Bar’leth, and as you stand alone in your bakery, the music continues to play.

“Boba Fett?” a man asks. He is wearing civilian clothes, but the stick up his ass has Boba willing to bet a thousand credits that he’s Imperial military.

Boba nods his head.

“The very man I was hoping to find," the man says. His clipped, affected Coruscanti accent grates on Boba's temper."The Empire requires your service. I’m to deliver you personally to Lord Vader’s ship.”

Boba finishes his drink and wordlessly follows the man, and the song plays on in the empty cantina.

---

Tagging:

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This fic has artwork!

[lizard-queen-izzy]

OK! WE'RE DOING THIS!

Everyone shut up and sit down. I'm talking about TMA. I am listening through for the first time, I'm through S1 and halfway through S2, and I already have many Thoughts. Today, we will be focusing on my evil ship thoughts, because I missed my chance when this was coming out so now I will subject you all.

I know Jon and Martin get together at some point, and yknow, that's all fine and good.

BUT I WANNA TALK ABOUT JON AND TIM, OK?

There is so much potential for something there, and they would be so incredibly messy after the S1 finale.

[I've lightly scrolled through the jontim tag, and I truly don't think there's enough of you talking about how tragic they are. Platonic or romantic, they're so so sad.]

They both worked in the research department before Jon was made Head Archivist, and even though they definitely weren't close, they were definitely friendly. My Firm Belief is that Jon was the only one who took Tim seriously despite his more lax attitude, he saw his strong work ethic and his dedication and treated him accordingly. And Tim was the only one who listened to Jon, the only one who thought he had anything to add and took his suggestions.

I believe they were hired around the same time, and once they met there was a silent understanding that they were there for eachother. It was nice to just have someone in their corner in this new environment.

When Jon got promoted to Head Archivist, he was adamant about Tim being on his team, because he knew Tim would help get the results needed. [I have a whole, how everyone got assigned to the team timeline thought out but that's not why we're here]

Tim is the only member of his team who Jon doesn't think would have written Antonio Blake's statement as a joke to scare him. Which means he trusts him the most out of all of them. Which wouldn't be as important if he showed distaste for them equally, but he regards both Tim and Sasha highly, and only really seems to have an issue with Martin at this point. So why would he trust Tim to not have written it but not Sasha? Unless he's known him the longest and has reason to put that faith in him.

AND THEIR CONVERSATION AT THE BEGINNING OF MAG 33?? You're gonna listen to that, the first time we as the audience meet Tim, and tell me you don't hear how much these two care for eachother? Even when Jon starts getting upset/loud, he calms quickly for Tim, and doesn't let himself fully yell at him. He also leaves it up to Tim to fix the mistakes, an example of him trusting Tim's judgement and work. And Tim is so calm with him! The man keeps getting worked up and starting to get loud, but Tim stays calm and let's him self correct and say what he needs to before proceeding himself. He knows Jon is stressed and has a lot on his plate. He knows these mistakes needed to be discussed with him and corrected somehow, but he's still not going to force Jon to re-record the statements if he really doesn't want to, he's willing to find another solution. And then he leaves to go work on it so Jon can get back to recording the statement.

And Tim telling Jon he doesn't understand the filing system and Jon explaining it calmly to him, admitting he doesn't really get it either but that's how it is.

You also have to see my vision for how the S1 finale effects them. A traumatic experience where they were both scarred mentally and physically in the same ways. Something that should have brought them even closer, maybe finally made them feel comfortable being proper friends outside of work. But they both react to it SO differently. And that is the beginning of their downfall. That is the beginning of the end.

Because Jon spirals. He stops trusting everyone. He pushes them all away and starts crossing boundaries. HE SPIES ON TIMS HOUSE. And he can't even calm down long enough to see why this bothers his coworkers. Why this hurts Tim.

The beginning of S2 from Tim's perspective is awful. Your first friend in this workplace is overworking himself, throwing himself back into work the second he's cleared physically well enough to go back. But he clearly hasn't moved past it, and you can't blame him for that. Everyone copes differently, but then he turns on you. He stops trusting you, starts pushing you away, starts spying on you. Can you imagine how much that hurts? To have the first person in this terrifying new job who ever put their trust in you, who ever believed in you, to turn on you just when you need them the most.

THEY ARE SO FUCKING MESSY. GOD.

Anyway. I very well may be back with more JonTim thoughts as I continue to listen. But this is what I have for you today.

[weirdmageddon]

i hope this isn’t weird but, i just wanted to say i really really love this post you made, it’s so perfect for my very weird interest in historical homestuck… i wish there was a post like this for basically every homestuck update T^T or at least the big ones

its so tragic that a lot of the True Experience of homestuck (the fandom conversation with the comic) is basically lost media now… i wish i could have experienced it so bad. i’m so very tuned in if you ever have more stories to tell

of course! that makes me so happy to hear! not a definite solution but i will tell you that many blogs used the #upd8 tag so if you find an old blog that posted about homestuck before it ended you could try searching that tag. or, since tumblr's search is broken, just adding /tagged/upd8 to the url. or /tagged/upd8/chrono to go from from oldest to newest.

it really is such a shame. i can only hope i'm doing my part getting the conversation juices flowing again in this space by just sharing whatever's occupying my mind homestuck meta related..which i think passively deepens people's knowledge about the comic, the characters in the comic, the interactions between the comic and the fandom. though but i'm never confident of how much of an impact it's making. even when people tell me my influence is felt everywhere i feel like i dont hang around long enough to really feel it. i just dump the ideas ive thought on for a while (things that people need time to think about and consider themselves but i already went through all the motions of that by the time i share it) and move onto the next topic to rotate in my brain for as long as it takes, repeat ad infinitum. but asks like these make it all worth it i think. if people get genuinely moved or excited or interested in what i talk about as i am that's literally all i need to know to make it feel worth it

[gaywarcriminals]

hello! how are you going? do you have any svsss fic recs you enjoyed?

Aside from the usual Horrors, I'm quite well!! I hope you are too ^^

Oh wow, It's a bit hard to pick just a few because I've read a lot of SVSSS fics in the past few years, but here's the ones that came to mind/ I've been thinking about recently! (I'm excluding ones that I already recommended this week for the ask game, you can check out my "ask fish" tag to see those. Edit: I made a "fish recommends" tag too.)

Qijiu:

"i bury my voice for you" (series) by lithali. Space opera AU, Shen twins, everyone is aliens, intense qijiu longing, SJ’s unending font of angsty internal dialogue, and kinky qijiu sex feat transmasc SJ. I need more people to read this one!!!!!!!

"Palimpsest" by Azzandra. YQY loses his memories and tries to piece together how SJ fits in his life from what others tell him. I adore this fic, it's a really interesting examination of both their characters and why they love each other intrinsically. 

"You Were You, And I Was I" by MissMegh. Deaged qijiu being feral, clinging, and horny teenagers. Super cute and funny!

"what thing it is (that people most desire)" by Jinxed_Ink. A vaguely medieval AU based on an Arthurian legend where SJ disguises himself and blackmails YQY into marrying him for Revenge. SJ has Absolutely No Other Motive There. I didn't know how much I needed this particular brand of qijiu marriage shenanigans until I read it.

"I'm just as exposed (when i take off my clothes)" by owoxian. Qijjiu being weird and horny (as they deserve), being misinterpreted as abuse by accidental voyer MQF. 

"The Sect Leader’s Husband" by AMereDream. Canon divergence where YQY came back for SJ on time, and instead of becoming the QJP head disciple, SJ married YQY and became the power behind the throne. Cute power couple qijiu!!!

"The Heart Is A Sword" by Moonsheen. A-Su, a boy who is a sword, the emperor's weapon, is appointed personal attendant to the emperor's new consort Shen. PIDW post-canon.

Bingqiu:

"Rehearsal" by Prim_the_Amazing. Binghe, fresh from the abyss, uses a dream realm to run through all the ways his reunion with SQQ might go. This one is basically pure angst but it's SO good.

"How to Meal Prep - Household Tips, Recipes, and Ideas for a Better-Organised Life!" By x_los. Character study of 17-year-old preeminent housewife Binghe. It's cute, it's weird, and it's terribly tragic on account of the Dramatic Irony.

"Futility in Practice" by TGP. Time loop fic with a REALLY cool style of story telling. Repetitive but iterative text from Binghe, the non-looping character's POV as SQQ desperately tries to find the right answer to end the loop. Very angsty!

"it's not gay if you don't touch my ass ... unless?" by azunshi. Modern AU, SY wants to have sex with Binghe but ofc that would be gay, so instead he puts a cocksleeve up his ass for binghe to fuck instead. This fic is so deeply stupid (positive/complimentary), I love it, it's the exact brand of unhinged this whole fandom is slowlyy becoming.

"Songs of a Wayfarer" by foxflowering. Ballet AU with young prodigy LBH and his teacher SY! 

Binggeyuan:

"to find an intended (a bit unintentionally)" by nyoomerr. This is the classic. Wandering cultivator SY accidentally doms Bingge into being a good boy. 

"broken glass, swept away" by aaeph. Modern AU, SY buys a home only to find it haunted by the centuries old ghost of a demonic emperor. Bingge tries so hard to push SY away over and over, but SY is a stubborn man.

Jiuyuan:

"Jump To The Left" by ValiantBarnes (Cimila). I'm not sure quite how to describe this one without spoilers, but essentially, older Shen Yuan finds and saves SJ in the era he was following WYZ. SY takes SJ as a traveling companion/sort of disciple. CW for mentions of incest/psuedo-incest (no actual incest though).

"Immortal Shen Does Not Do Online Deliveries" by Anonymous. SY, a young cultivator and scholar, goes to ask the reclusive immoral master SQQ for an elixir. SQQ toys with him a little <3. Mean SQQ and flustered SY.

Gen/ No Ship:

"Rat Trap" by Azaisya. LQG & SJ. LQG and SJ are kidnapped, they get truth serum-ed, and they're forced to confront their different background and conflicting morals and methods that stem from that. I think this is my favorite execution of "LQG learns SJ's backstory and Has Regrets", because their conflict is explicitly framed as a class divide rather than just misunderstandings, and it addresses the flaws in both their resulting worldviews to some extent. 

"Sit With Your Soul" by Tossawary. SJ & SY. This is a fusion with His Dark Materials, but no knowledge is required. Basically everyone has an animal companion that's connected to and represents their soul, and SY transmigrates into SQQ's. 

[olenvasynyt]

Writing tag by @bonecarversbestie !

Describe your writing process from idea to posting/publishing?

I usually have a very simple concept to start with but I can pick it up pretty quickly and go from there. I start writing a chapter by doing a very quick blurb that summarizes what will happen: “Lucien is walking back to the forest house after a Winter trip.” Where is he walking? What are his emotions? I can write a pretty long summary and then write the actual chapter when I get inspired. I’ll end up separating the summary into sections and eventually I’ll have a draft! My issue is editing haha I despise editing because I overthink. But I have gotten better. This is fanfic, so usually I will finish up my draft and glue parts together, go over some words I think I repeated too much, and then I say fuck it and go!

Are you a plotter or a pantser?

DEFINITELY a plotter. I got a huge huge spreadsheet of my plot for A Court of Embers and Sunlight which includes keeping track of my words, having a little summary, who’s POV, what I need to add etc to each chapter.

What do you listen to when you are writing?

I got a playlist for my Court of Embers and Sunlight fic, but I mainly listen to this classical playlist.

What’s your drink of choice(while writing)?

I often write at my local coffee shop and I either get a honey comb latte (honey, cinnamon, vanilla with oat milk) or a cafe mocha. When I’m at home, I usually just have water.

Promote yourself! What’s your favorite thing you’ve written?

A Court of Embers and Sunlight will always have my heart! It’s a 2 year project with over 140,000 words! About Lucien’s life in the Autumn court with Jesminda and how they tragically ended. I also have LoA plots, and Eris plots! I’m proud of my worldbuilding and the emotional stories that I tell. It’s taking me forever to get out though 😭 I have SO MANY chapters and plots I want everyone to read!!

Share a fic of yours that you think is underrated/deserves more love.

The Tree Have Eyes! 3 chapter fic of Eris and little 8 year old Lucien going on a hunting trip!! It’s sweet and emo and fun and full of cool nature.

Do you have any advice for new writers?

I would say don’t think too much about other’s work. This is coming from someone who thinks A LOT, but a lot of people worry that their writer isn’t as good as someone else’s, or they aren’t getting a lot of kudos so it must be bad, etc. Don’t beat yourself up! It’s hard to stop comparing but this writing is for you, and there will ALWAYS be someone who loves to read your stuff. Also make friends with other writers! You get like minded people who can support you and help you out. I’m often a loner but I get so excited when I get friends sharing their work or talking about their work, talking about my work etc! It is very motivating.

What is a writing style/technique that others do really well that you'd like to get better at?

Oh god, dialogue…this is me thinking too much but I never feel very confident in when writing dialogue. So many people write it so naturally and it’s always the first thing they start when drafting! I can start with dialogue but I always enjoy prose and descriptions more.

Is there a character you were surprised you enjoyed writing as much as you did?

Rhysand! He jumped on me when I was first drafting ACOEAS and he was very very fun. Difficult sometimes (because I am not as hot or clever as Rhys lmao) but still very fun.

Thank you for tagging me @yaralulu @sad-scarred-sassy and thank you for starting this @bonecarversbestie ! I feel like most of my writing friends already did this haha.

But no pressure tags: @sadiegirl2021 @ennawrite @jules-writes-stories @clockwork-ashes @highlordofkrypton

[onwhatcaptain]

hi i didn’t know what Star Trek was until i came across your fic it’s so. Real. poor McCoy bruh nobody’s gonna know what he went through …I guess it’s not entirely gone, but still. He didn’t get the three socks metaphor.

YOU TRICKED ME. canon divergent LIEEE LIEEEE

The way you omit time travel as a tag is craaazyy (I love time travel) AND AND THE SUNMARY BEING

“About men who love each other” LIKE NOT TWO MEN but all THREE

I do have one question though. If McCoy said “tell him you missed him” and set up the holo night, then in the first timeline had McCoy already gone back at that point and failed?

Hi! So I saw your comment on AO3 (please forgive me if it takes a moment to reply, I have an enormous backlog of comments to get around to after I took a break when the fic ended!) and I knew I absolutely had to ask you these burning questions: how did you find my fic if you didn't know what Star Trek was? What inspired you to read it?

I am beyond thrilled that you enjoyed the story and so touched that you read it all the way through without having seen Star Trek, but I absolutely have to ask what the story behind this is if you're willing to share with me!

It's definitely still canon divergent in a sort of way! At least in my figurative and literal book if you know the episode that inspired this novel, it would definitely be considered divergent:) I wanted to keep things as spoiler-free as possible to retain the surprise and emotional weight of the story, so I made the decision early on to not tag where the plot or ending was going, which definitely threw a lot of people off! Sorry for the trickery!

I ADORE that you pointed out the summary. I was actually shocked when I was reading this ask, because it was absolutely intentional and a huge part of the foreshadowing, but you're the only reader to my knowledge that has consciously noticed that choice, and you haven't even seen Star Trek!! Amazing!! I have such a big smile on my face right now!

More below because I realize this is getting long already!

As for poor McCoy, it is truly tragic nobody will know what he went through. In Star Trek, a lot of fans (rightfully) emphasize the love between Kirk and Spock, which I feel is only kept alive because of McCoy's quiet love for them both in the background as he takes care of them. In a way, it's a tribute to love that goes unnoticed, unseen.

With regards to your question, it's a great question! And I don't have a perfect answer for it, because it's entirely paradoxical. The first half of the story can only happen if the second half happens, because Kirk and Spock would not act on their feelings without the existence of the holo night and McCoy's intervention. But in the original timeline, they still die even though McCoy's actions in the latter half of the novel seem to exist. It's totally circular. It's expounded on somewhat in Forever and a Day, where McCoy tries to make sense of the same question and concludes that even if he does succeed, they will still die.

McCoy tries not to think about the horrifying implications. The knowledge that no matter what he did, he could not undo their deaths. To live, they would always need to die.

This doesn't necessarily mean that McCoy has gone back before, but it raise some serious questions about metaphysics and leaves a lot unanswered, because the two events now cause each other, and they also contradict each other. I actually took a stab at explaining the metaphysics in way greater detail in the fic originally, but my beta reader (correctly) told me this would confuse readers. So because it's confusing, I later just wave my sci-fi authorial wand to try and convince you to go along with it! :)

"And I like how the paradox makes no sense.” “I reckon it’s not meant to. They never do."

I do have to say, I recommend giving Star Trek a watch if you were interested! I think it's an amazing show. Again, thank you so much for taking the time to read a whole novel about a show you had no idea about!!

[junglemax]

@aerodaltonimperial put tags on this photo set that made me think of this idea. enjoy the stupidity!

family reunions aren’t always lame and boring.

[drabble]

“Well, well, well,” Darby sighs, walking up next to Swerve and taking a piece of food off of his plate. “Look who decided to show up.”

“It’s funny that you say that like I’m the one who misses half of these things,” Swerve says, unimpressed. “I’m surprised you haven’t done anything drastic to piss off dad yet.”

“I’m working on it, actually. You think Toni would let me use some of her makeup to make myself look as awful as possible?”

“I think she would, but I am too tired to deal with the cleanup this time around, so I’m going to politely advise you to not do that.”

Darby scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Lame. Hey, Britt! Come here!”

Britt makes her way over. “Hey, Darbs, it’s nice to see you show back up. How are you?”

“Great and all that. I got a question: you think I should use Toni’s makeup to ruin the party?”

“That’s if she lets you. If so, go for it.”

“Britt, I thought you were supposed to be the golden child?” Swerve asks.

Britt shrugs. “Just cause I act like I’m happy to be here doesn’t mean I’m actually happy to be here. Don’t tell me you like these things.”

“I don’t,” Swerve insists, “but doesn’t it get tiring to hear everyone complaining afterwards at how shit everything turned out?”

“Nah,” Darby says. “Now where’s Toni…”

“Probably monologuing to some poor relative,” Britt mumbles into her cup. “Who would’ve thought that drama class would actually help her succeed in life?”

“She’s always been dramatic,” Swerve says. “Now, she gets a platform to do so.”

“There she is!” Darby grins and waves her down. “Toni! Get over here!”

Toni makes her way gracefully to the three. “Ah, yes, hello, siblings I’m technically related to,” she sighs. “What can I do for you?”

“I need your makeup.”

“Why?”

“To crash this party.”

“Ah, yes, I should have guessed.” She digs into her purse and pulls out some, handing it to Darby. “Don’t use it all, or my shoe is going up your rear end. Understand?”

“Yes ma’am.” Darby salutes.

Swerve rolls his eyes. “This is gonna end tragically, and because I’m calling it now, I get to pick the place we all eat at when we escape.”

Everyone groans. “You always pick some super expensive place!” Britt whines. “Not fair!”

“Too late, already called it way ahead.”

“Darby-“ Britt tries to take the makeup away from him.

“Too late, already in motion. He called it, he wins,” Darby says.

“Drat. Can I call the next one now, then?” Toni asks.

“Not how it works, sister.” Darby smears lipstick over his mouth. “How do I look?”

“Splendid!”

“Disgusting,” Swerve says, making a face.

“It’ll get the job done,” Britt shrugs. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Darby grins.

[wordsofoleander]

🌸 answer me, my prince!

▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀

a suave prince with all he could ever ask for. a starry-eyed editor who longed for more. two unexpected penpals from vastly different worlds.

they were undoubtedly fated to meet, but never face-to-face.

❥ 735 words ❥ tags: au, fluff, slightly angsty if you blink, very very self-indulgent, no beta we die like chads, mentions of cove, qiu, and my ol2 mc! ❥ notes: the hyperfixation was so strong i emerged from inactivity. i finished the comic this fic shares a title with last weekend and refused to move on,,, made for #baxtermcweek (day 4 prompt: au), hosted by @minthe-drawings

▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀

He doesn’t realize how long he’s repeatedly been opening and closing the empty book chest until he slams it shut a little too loud, snapping him out of his reverie. His eyes dart left and right and his ears stay alert in case he accidentally woke anyone up.

He hears nothing, so hopefully the coast is clear. He opens the book chest again, and the letter he’s waited all night for sits perfectly inside, having appeared out of thin air. 

He needs not wait to carefully examine the envelope or admire its design (far more cleaner-cut and colorful than what he's received from others over the years) as he immediately gets to reading.

—

Prince Baxter Alexander.

You’re getting better at pressuring me to reply to you faster and faster. It scares me a little.

Regarding your story, I think what you did for their sake was quite admirable. I can’t even imagine going as far as to pretend to be Cove’s fiancée for his protection, let alone for 5 years! But back to you. Since you didn’t end up falling in love with each other, does this mean Lady Ysabel’s lover is much more good-looking than you are? Would you mind getting a portrait of the Laird Qiu for your friend?

—

Silly Iri.

(You’ve never asked me for my portrait. You wound me. Nonetheless, I forgive you.)

You of all people should be able to know that not every long-standing friendship necessarily has the potential to end in romance.

—

Like us?

—

We are a bit of a special case because I do not think of Ysabel every day.

—

(Oh, what am I going to do with you?)

Ever the type to give people the answers they want to hear now, are you? You’re surrounded by far more impressive people in your daily life, people you can actually talk to and see.  I highly doubt that you think of me every day.

(PS It’s way past midnight, so I should probably get ready for bed if I don’t want to be late for work. Sleep well, my prince.)

—

Irina Clarice, my sick twisted friend.

What? Is laying my entire self bare to you, heart and soul, in the written word last night not enough for you? After all the times I’ve spent my evenings waiting for your letters?

I specifically chose this time of year to get away from my parents under the guise of avoiding the heat and helping the monks at the scriptorium. Summer, after all, is the perfect time to do something crazy, pursue a new beauty, to start anew. I confess to you that I imagined nightly sneak-outs to rendezvous with someone who’s caught my eye, but all this time, I’ve been holed up in the scriptorium’s writing room, idly and politely waiting by the book chest on my desk in anticipation to see if you have replied to what I’ve written about my latest misadventures. Before I knew it, I’d already spent the entirety of my summer getting to know you. Now I do know you, and there is no one else like you anywhere else in the world. 

Tragically, we shall never have the chance to meet, so I don’t think whatever it is I’m feeling in my chest can be called love. My fate is sealed. 

Still, whenever the sight of someone so beautiful catches my eye, thoughts of you fill my head, and I become almost upset, complaining that no matter who I meet, they will never be anything like my Iri. So, my dear friend, do not tell me that I do not think of you every day. 

I do not recall you mentioning having felt this way towards your childhood companions, nor your devilishly handsome Xander from the antique shop,  so I shall regrettably but with dignity take this as a victory.

On a lonely night on the month of heat’s end, Your Baxter Alexander.

(PS Clarence and I are departing tomorrow at dawn for Golden Grove to attend Qiu’s wedding, just in time for the beginning of fall. Bringing the book chest with me would be far too bothersome for such a short trip. I expect to be away for about three to four days.

Even so, worry not your pretty little head and get a good night’s rest without my letters to bother you, Iri. I hope you do not miss me too much.)

[paigegonerogue]

Design Your Dream Movie

Title: The Hunger Games: Ruins

Synopsis: This movie follows the contestants 49th annual hunger games from when they arrive in the Capital to when they leave.

Genre: Drama/Thriller

Credits Song: Homesick - Noah Kahan

Director: Alex Garland

Writer: Craig Mazin

Cast: Bella Ramsey, Isabella Merced, Kit Connor, Ayo Edebiri, Jack Dylan Glazer, Kit Young, Jacob Elordi, Pedro Pascal, Andrew Scott, Steven Yeun, Kieran Culkin, Bill Hader, Mahershala Ali, Stellan Skarsgard, Ashley Johnson (I know it’s so many people, but I have a plan for all of them!) (I originally had Jeffrey Wright in here to, but then I remembered he’s already a character in the Hunger Games)

Explain Your Decisions/Plot/Other: So, Alex Garland is an incredible director. The technical aspects of his filmmaking are superb, but sometimes his characters aren’t the best. Craig Mazin is mainly a writer, not a director, so they wouldn’t butt heads. He’s great at deep and complex characters and emotional/tragic scenes and catharsis. I think that Garland’s directing and Mazin’s writing paired together would be fantastic. Especially since this movie will be dark and sad. This movie would follow the tributes and their mentors over the course of the games, and unfortunately only one of them will survive so we’re definitely going to get some tragic deaths. It’s really going to be about how the games affect the people involved in them.

For the cast, Bella Ramsey and Jack Dylan Glazer play brothers from District 8. Jack Dylan Glazer, who’s the older brother, who volunteered as tribute once Bella Ramsey was reaped so they could stay together. Ashley Johnson is their younger, idealistic, first-time mentor. Isabella Merced is from District 6, and her mentor is Pedro Pascal. He plays his usual gruff, closed off guy with a soft spot for the kid in his care. Ayo Edebiri and Jacob Elordi are from District 2, and their mentor is Stellan Skarsgard. They’re careers, and Jacob Elordi is a fighter while Ayo Edebiri is a planner. Throughout the movie they work together until they betray each other. Am I really casting Jacob Elordi as the cruel rich kid? Yes. I am a basic bitch. Stellan Skarsgard is their ruthless and calculated mentor who will do anything for them to win. Kit Connor is from District 7, and Kieran Culkin is his mentor. Kit Connor is honorable and kind, and Kieran Culkin is his cynical, apathetic mentor who stands as a foil to Ashley Johnson’s character. Kit Young is from District 4 with mentor Steven Yeun. Yeun is fully capital-brainwashed and supports the games and President Snow wholeheartedly (can you tell a I loved him in Nope?). Kit Young is a witty trickster who uses creative tactics to help him survive.

Finally, Andrew Scott plays President Snow, Bill Hader plays Phinneas Flickerman (between the two other Flickermans), and Mahershala Ali plays the head game maker who despises the capital and what he’s created.

Throughout the movie, we switch perspectives form the Arena to the mentors to the game makers and see how the Hunger Games takes a toll of their psyche. The mentors are all watching in one room to give commentary and reactions to the contests and frantically trying to keep them alive, the contestants are trying to survive. They make alliances and take out other contestants, etc. The Gamemakers, commanded by President Snow, are doing whatever they can to make it as entertaining as possible.

Woah. I got super carried away😅 I had fun with this, though, and ended up totally plotting it out ahaha

Don’t feel any need to make this as long as mine. The film student in me came out LOL

Tag: @becomethesun @renegadeknight @adhdprincess @bumblepony @wordspinning @logan178 @lauronk @lochnessie and anyone else who wants to!

[nekoannie-chan]

Surprise not given

Surprise not given

Title: Surprise not given.

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Steve Rogers X Reader.

Word count: 455 words.

Rating: Teen.

Summary: You couldn't tell Steve what you've been waiting for.

Major Tags: Mention of pregnancy, death of character.

A/N: This is my entry to @the-slumberparty Winds of Autumn Challenge with the prompt and theme:

 Prompt 5.- Crispy leaves 🍁 walking home alone 

Theme: Melancholy ☁️ as the trees shed and the flowers wilt, we feel a sense of loss. Write a tragic tale. 

Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate my work myself) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. Please let me know if you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @Smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @Harrysthiccthighss @Marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club  @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @Here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989 @somegirlfromasgard @rogersbarber

The sun's rays streamed through the window, illuminating the room you and Steve shared. You crept up to him, leaned in, and kissed him on the lips. Steve smiled as he opened his eyes; his hands slid around your waist and yours across his chest.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Steve whispered as he slid his hands up under your shirt to reach your breasts.

However, the moment was interrupted by cell phones ringing, a sign of an urgent mission. Steve frowned somewhat annoyed at the interruption.

“It seems the quiet didn't last long,” he said, standing up and getting dressed.

“Steve, the mission is at a Hydra facility,” you explained.

Although they had the mission in the same place, they were going to take care of different things.

While he was getting ready, you sat on the bed, feeling nervous. You had planned to tell him you were pregnant after his morning session, but you hadn't expected to have been called on a mission. While he was getting ready, you approached him, eager to make the most of the remaining time.

“Wait a moment... “I need to tell you something important,” you said, approaching him with your heart beating fast.

“What is it?

But before you could answer, the cell phone rang again; they had already come for you. Steve sighed, realizing there was no time.

“I'm sorry, we have to go. But I promise you'll tell me everything later,” he said, giving you one last kiss before they left the room.

“Be careful,” you whispered as they reached the mission site. You felt a knot in your stomach.

The mission began. The team gathered in the operations room, where the details were explained to them. The plan was simple: disable security and obtain key information. But your mind kept going back to the moment you had shared with Steve, to what you were going to tell him but could not.

Out of nowhere and unexpectedly, Thanos appeared, and before you could react, he launched an attack, but it was too late. In the middle of the chaos, you found yourself paralyzed. Watching Steve fight, you knew you couldn't take any more risks.

“No!” you shouted, trying to advance towards him, but something stopped you.

You managed to get away; Thanos was gone. Only you were left, kneeling beside his body, mourning his loss and feeling the world crumbling around you. The grief was coursing through you, but there was something else; the news that you were about to become parents would never be shared.

Finally, you got up and went home, feeling the weight of grief and loneliness. The walls seemed to scream his absence, and the void he left in your life was indescribable.

[phillippadgettwrites]

I know that you have several of these already, but I would like to submit a cunnilingus request with some breast fondling, maybe before scully knows she’s pregnant?

The Personal Costs

Rated X / 965 words / Posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Some days he wishes he’d never met her. It’s a real mindfuck to need someone as much as he needs her and wish them away, but sometimes he does. Today is certainly one of those days. 

She shouldn’t be here, shivering under a pilly motel bedspread. Bouncing another woman’s baby on her knee. Chasing down the same unanswerable questions seven years after she unwittingly gave her life over to his cause. He wishes her away so hard it makes his chest ache, but she doesn’t go anywhere. She never has, maybe never will. He’s so grateful and resentful all at once that he squeezes her too tightly and inadvertently wakes her. 

“How long have I been asleep?” she mumbles, rolling to her back. 

She’s still fully dressed in her blouse and slacks, evidence of just how unwell she felt when she knocked on his door. One of the first things he learned about her after being granted access to her bed is that clothes that have been worn outside the house are not permitted under the covers. 

“An hour, give or take,” he tells her. “How do you feel?”

Scully’s eyes roam around the motel room as she pulls in a deep breath and takes stock of herself. 

“Better, I think,” she says after a time. 

She catches his eye and her chin pebbles up, pushing her mouth into a sympathetic little frown. She reaches up to touch his cheek and he shakes his head, uninterested in being talked out of his misery. Her thumb brushes across his bottom lip, featherlight, and he bends down to kiss her. He intends for it to be a chaste kiss, but she opens her mouth and he accepts the invitation. 

Her tongue tastes like sleep and remnants of toothpaste, and the way she’s kissing him he knows that she wants to take it further. She slips her fingers behind the fly of his jeans and he pulls her hand away, tucking it between her legs instead. He doesn’t have to tell her anymore, doesn’t have to explain that sometimes he hates himself too much to accept her affection, and she no longer feels conflicted about letting him love her without reciprocation to ease his own mind. He pops the buttons on her blouse slowly with one hand, watching her rub herself gently over the top of her pants out of the corner of his eye. 

She lets him undress her, lifting her hips so he can tug her slacks off and sitting up so he can unhook her bra. Her breasts look fuller, and he wonders if she might be about to start her period. Not here, he begs the universe. Don’t remind her now. She doesn’t say anything, but he can see in her face how desperately she wants to soothe him. As different as they are, they share the misguided impulse to meddle in the emotions of others as a method of avoiding their own—a tragically fucked-up symbiotic reliance that is probably three quarters of the reason she’s stuck around this long. He rests his head on her breastbone and listens to the familiar padam of her heart, and she rakes her fingernails gently over his scalp, making the base of his spine tingle. 

“You know I love you,” she says softly, a reminder he is too often in need of. He sighs and closes his eyes. 

When he lifts his head he immediately wraps his lips around one of her nipples, and she gasps as though his mouth were made of ice. 

“That okay?” he asks, and she nods, her hips wiggling beneath him. 

“Just sensitive,” she says, touching the back of his head to encourage him to continue. 

He half suspects she’s putting on a show for him. She arches her back, pushing her breast firmly into his mouth and whimpering with overwhelm. He reaches between their bodies and slips two fingers between her legs, humming with surprise when he finds her dripping wet. He feels himself getting hard and he gently pins her nipple between his teeth, an almost-bite. There’s a hot rush against his fingers, paired with a throaty moan from the head of the bed. 

He kneels on the floor beside the bed and drapes her knees over his shoulders, her naked ass hanging off the side of the mattress like an offering. He can already smell her, humid and heady, even before he dips down to taste the slickness coating her lips. She tastes a little different, coppery and slightly salted, and he can’t help but wonder if this place hasn’t done something to her, changed her chemistry in some irreversible way. But she starts coming almost immediately and he stops thinking about anything but the steady throb of her clit against his tongue and the press of her thighs against his ears. When she starts to come down he reaches up and squeezes one of her nipples firmly between two knuckles, setting her off again. 

It’s the best way he’s ever found to turn his mind off completely. To stop the constant drone of questions, memories, and fears that regularly rob him of sleep. He wonders if she doesn’t feel the same way, if his head between her thighs is the only drug that works anymore. He stuffs his tongue inside her and she cries out like it hurts, but he knows it doesn’t. 

“Mulder,” she whispers, something pleading in her voice. 

He wishes he could give her what she needs. What she wants. What she deserves. All the things that have been stolen from her. He lays his palm flat over her lower belly, pressing gently, and she groans. He makes her come again, and again, and again. It’s never enough. 

It will never be enough.