#i tend to assume the people who read my tags are my friends who i interact with so please know. you personally changed my life

[wonustars]

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖶𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖧𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖧𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽 (Teaser)

𖥔 pairing: kim mingyu x reader 𖥔 wordcount: ~15k+ (this teaser: 599) 𖥔 genre: fake marriage au!, fluff, angst, smut (18+ mdni)

𖥔 reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated ♡! tumblr is based on reblogs not likes, and they help writers like me to get better reach. thank you!

𖥔 summary: you and mingyu (a former mafia member and also your ex-fiancè's former best friend) are forced into witness protection. All you’ve been told is that you’re meant to act like a happily married couple. Pushed into a cookie cutter house, and a suburban neighbourhood far from the city, where people bring you baked goods on your first day and partake in small talk, it’s all foreign and new. There’s so many things you don’t know about him, but for a man who’s only known violence and all things illegal, he’s somehow the perfect house husband.

𖥔 tags: fake relationship/marriage!au, non-idol!au, mafia!au, afab!reader, norbert is readers cat (more tags when the fic is posted) 𖥔 release date: may 14 or 15, 2024 𖥔 author's note: if i end up posting after the predicted dates plz do not crucify me 🙏 ik a lot of people have been waiting for this one so i'd thought i post a teaser since i have 2-3 chapters left till its finally finished. thank you to all of those who sent in their ideas and to those who've shown so much interest in this story :") i really hope it lives up to your expectations!! see u soonest - anna ♡ !!!!

𖥔 keep reading

The first few days at the new house were uneventful and awkward to say the least.

Mingyu spent the majority of his time doing random housework, he thought that if he had to live here for a year, then he should at least try and make it as “homely" as possible. 

Many of the women in the neighbourhood had deemed Mingyu as their new eye-candy. Despite the fact that he wore his pink shibu inu apron while tending to the garden at the front of the house. They would especially make sure to take multiple laps around the block during their group walks, drooling over his toned muscles as he began to plant an array of flowers on the lawn. 

Mingyu isn’t very observant when it comes to people finding him attractive, believe it or not. He automatically assumes that the wives of Bridgewater just wanted to get to know the new couple that just moved in. 

“What a beautiful garden you have!” one of the wives called out from the sidewalk, her eyes glinting with appeal. 

“Thank you, It’s not done just yet, but I think we’re finally getting somewhere,” Mingyu smiles bashfully. 

“Of course dear. You know if you’re ever free you should come and take a look at my garden,” another lady giggles, her innuendo flying right over Mingyu’s head.

The group of fourty plus year old women all giggle like school girls as they watch his face turn red with flattery. Mingyu scratches the back of his head awkwardly as they bid him good-bye, curious as to what they group of women thought was so funny about him taking a look at their gardens. It’s all just a bunch of flowers isn’t it? 

The sound of your car’s engine brings Mingyu out of his thoughts, his gardening tools forgotten by the piles of dirt he left. You lug Nortbert’s carrier as you walk into the house, acknowledging his presence with a small nod. His pink aprons raises a few questions in your head, but you decide not to comment on it. 

“Oh hey you’re back, is he ok?” Mingyu asks, motioning to the carrier you hold in your hand. 

Halting your steps, your eyes widen as you realize that he’s talking to you, there wasn’t much conversation between the two of you since you’ve moved in. so you found it a little surprising that he’s asking about Norbert, the cat who tends to show lots of aggression towards him. 

“Morning. He’s ok, I just took him for his check up at the vet,” you shrug before entering the house. 

You leave the conversation there. There wasn’t much else to say anyways, and you had a lot of work to get to before the end of the day. If Mingyu feels a little bit ignored by your actions, he doesn’t make it noticeable, going back to working on his garden. 

From across the yard, neither you of Mingyu notice Seungkwan’s looming figure as he and Vernon enjoy the Friday morning sun. He watches the two of you from his porch with a quirked eyebrow. They’re awfully awkward for newly weds, he thinks to himself. 

“Nonie, don’t you think they’re a little weird?” Seungkwan nudges his boyfriend, who’s mumbling to himself while Vernon reads his book. 

Vernon quirks up, moving his headphones a little to hear what his boyfriend has to say, “huh? Sorry I was reading, what’d you say?” 

“Nothing, go back to your book love,” Seungkwan mumbles, his eyes still darting back and forth from your descending figure and Mingyu, his suspicions spiking once more.

[loganwritesprobably]

Jealousy Headcanons

Wanted to switch up the character combo, but I know I have a good few Benn fans reading my stuff so I ofc had to include him

Content/Warnings: Jealousy headcanons about Mihawk, Benn and Smoker, GN!Reader, brief mentions of canon-typical violence, minor NSFW content

Mihawk didn't know he was the jealous type until he met you

He'd gone so long without a partner and been content that way, that if he'd really considered it he'd have assumed he would be a relaxed partner

He is not

He discovered that he's a possessive partner, and you are his

If someone approaches you in public, he begins with surprised amusement - when you're with him, few are brave enough to approach

He won't stop you from making new friends, he's not controlling, but he will keep one eye on the conversation for signs of distress

He's possessive, jealous, and a bit of a mother hen

If they persist, even after you've turned them down, he of course intervenes and usually does so quite violently

He's killed at least a dozen people for touching you in the wrong place, and he is prepared for that number to continue to increase

Mihawk doesn't mind if you have friends who are the same gender as you're attracted to, doesn't care at all actually - he's glad that you have friends since he's prone to being away for long periods

But, he isn't afraid to speak his mind if he feels that you, or one of your friends, has crossed a boundary (thankfully, he's not the arguing kind)

Benn was far more jealous as a younger man, but he mellows out with age

As a young man, he would treat potential other suitors to broken bones on good days

He'd follow anyone who'd given you a hard time half way home and leave them writhing in the street

He also loves to fuck when you get home after a night where he's had to watch you entertaining other people

He's only too happy to speak up in the moment, catching people off guard with his to stiff to actually be polite attitude

In his older age, he's far more secure in your relationship

He knows that these younger models can try to sway you, but he's the one you'll be coming home to

The jealous sex is still incredible, that never goes away

He also likes to brag about you as an older man, to the people he would've previously been jealous over

Smoker is the quiet type when it comes to jealousy

He doesn't approach in the moment, preferring to sit back and observe

He knows you're not unfaithful

But he hates that other people can occupy your attention - he wants it for himself

He thinks you're too good for him, but he's also a selfish man

Afterwards, he makes it clear just how jealous he was

The moment you're away from crowds, he'll have you pinned up against walls and be whispering in your ear

Sex always happens after he's been jealous, and it's rough, desperate sex

He revels in knowing just how many people are jealous of him because hell - look at you

But he does also tend to smoke his cigars a hell of a lot faster in those jealous moments

Help me decide what I'll do to celebrate 200 followers

Requests are open! See below links for my other works, and how to leave requests. I write both canon/canon and canon/reader requests for your enjoyment

AO3 | Fanfic Masterlist | Request Rules | Fic Trades Guide | WIPs

Tags: @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots

[dhorrl]

NSFW Alphabet-Feitan Portor

I never write headcanons really, but this is a great way to me to workshop information for my Janitor AI characters as well. Enjoy! Trigger Warnings: It's Feitan, is his own trigger warning. Mentions of blood, torture, etc...

A = Aftercare

At first, when Feitan just pays for sex, he doesn't bother with aftercare. In his mind, that's already been taken care of by the transaction. But when he meets you and realizes you have more needs than just physical, he begins to pay attention to your well-being. He starts by checking your body for any injuries or cuts and making sure they are taken care of. If necessary, he will bandage them up. Afterwards, he'll carry you to the bath and make sure all traces of blood and fluids are washed away. For less intense encounters without any kink involved, it takes a while but he eventually learns to enjoy having his arm around you and nuzzling into the back of your neck. He's not one for talking much, but this is his way of showing that he's there for you if you need anything.

B = Body Part

Feitan doesn't spend much time admiring his own appearance, so it's hard to say if he has a favorite body part. But on you, he loves your legs. From your thighs to your calves to the curve of your ass, he will mark every inch of them with his teeth or knife. Most likely both... definitely both.

C = Cum

Feitan may have a fit body, but that doesn't necessarily mean he eats great. Don't expect the taste to be great. It's quite watery, but there will definitely be a decent amount. He enjoys cumming inside you, but has no desire for baby-making, so his go-to options are either finishing on your face or your backside. It's clear this man has a thing for marking his territory.

D = Dirty Secret

I don’t think he has any secrets per se (well, maybe that’s not entirely accurate; he definitely HAS secrets), but scandalous secrets? He’d be transparent if you asked him about his history, and he’s probably been with both men and women. Maybe once or twice, Feitan and Phinks have tag-teamed someone – that's just the type of friends they are.

E = Experience

People tend to assume that Feitan is inexperienced or a virgin, but I believe the opposite is true. However, he has never been in a traditional relationship. In my opinion, both him and Phinks prefer to seek paid companionship when they feel the need, for their own personal reasons. It's simpler and faster, without having to deal with emotions. Feitan has specific "preference" and it's easiest for him to pay someone who is willing to indulge in his frustrations and kinks.

F = Favorite Position

It's hard to say what he wants more. On one hand, he loves seeing your face during sex – the way your expression changes when you climax or when he brings out his blade. But above all else, he just wants to make sure you're okay. He reads your body language and facial expressions, especially if you've taken on an intense scene. He has a safe word, of course, but he'll also stop if he senses that you're not using it properly.

On the other hand, sometimes he just wants to bend you over any available surface and fuck you until both of you are exhausted. These quickies usually happen when he's feeling particularly worked up or just needs a release. He'll grab your hair, push your face into whatever is nearby, and pull down your pants as he takes you from behind.

G = Goofy

Contrary to popular belief, Feitan is not as serious as he appears. While he may have a stoic demeanor, it does not mean he lacks a sense of humor. In the bedroom, his behavior can vary. When he takes on the role of Dom, he is completely focused and aware to avoid unleashing too much of his torture skills on you. However, during more casual moments like a quick morning romp, he may crack a smile and playfully nip at your skin in an attempt to make you laugh.

H = Hair

Feitan isn't a very hairy person, with smooth skin all over his body. He has a slight trail of hair that leads down to a small patch of black hair. While it may not be perfectly groomed, it doesn't bother him much. When it comes to his partner, the amount or style of hair they have is of no concern to Feitan; he enjoys them regardless.

I = Intimacy

If Feitan is transitioning from paying for sex to pursuing a relationship with you, congratulations - you have reached an intimate level. For him, this is already a huge step, so if there is anything specific you want, you may need to communicate it clearly. As his feelings for you deepen over time, he may start to appreciate the softer moments between you, even though he might never say so out loud.

J = Jack Off

I don't think he masturbates frequently. It's not because he lacks interest, but rather because he is very self-aware and in control of his body. However, if you were to ask him to do it or even let you do it for him while he lays back on the bed and watches, he would absolutely be up for it.

K = Kink

It goes without saying, we all know he's a dominant, but not in the conventional sense. He craves control and isn't afraid to use restraints. But for Feitan, it's about more than just physical pleasure. He wants to leave his mark on you, carve his symbol into your skin, use ropes that bite into your flesh. The feeling of your blood on his skin is intoxicating to him, and he would savor the opportunity to cut you open and bathe in it. It would be even more thrilling if you possessed a Nen ability with enhanced healing capabilities. He enjoys blood but is not interested in any other bodily fluids. His marking kink would involve carving his name or number onto your skin; in my imagination, you have a "2" engraved somewhere on you.

L = Location

Feitan is not one to hold back; when he wants you, he takes you. However, his preference would be in a bed or a special room akin to the one he uses for his victims, where he can unleash without worry of making a mess.

M = Motivation

Before you came into his life, he would only get in the mood after a demanding job or if it had been a while since his last encounter. But with you around, even simple activities like washing dishes or reading a book can make Feitan ready to go. Just one look from you and he's all fired up.

N = No

I don't believe he has any interest in anything involving feces or urine; it's just not his type of kink. It's not that he finds it disgusting, it's just not something he enjoys. But with almost anything else, even things he initially may not like, I feel like if you persist enough, he'll eventually give in and try it.

O = Oral

He's a giver, through and through. He will bury his face between your thighs, losing himself in the moment until he's dizzy and gasping for breath. Even then, he won't pull away. He'll lick, suck, and maybe even bite if he feels like it. By the time he's finished, every inch of his face will be slick, and his eyes will be wild and primal as he looks at you. And if you try to tell him to stop, it will only fuel his fire. Keep that in mind before you ask him to ease up.

P = Pace

It's always a 50/50 gamble with him. I wouldn't say it's sensual, but he definitely likes to take his time. If you agree to a rougher scene, where he can let loose and show off all his skills, be prepared to be tied up and at his mercy for hours. He may even leave you there, tied up and sweating, before coming back to start the whole thing over again.

But all of this is just the warm-up before he even enters you. When he's finally ready for the final round, he will take you hard. The bed will shake on its rails and the headboard will slam against the walls. And it's absolutely incredible.

Q = Quickie

Feitan doesn't mind a quickie, especially when you're in the middle of a mission and there isn't enough time for a longer session. He has impressive self-control, so if you're not feeling up for it, he's okay with that. However, he also knows that you can't resist him when he asks.

R = Risk

Risk? Feitan doesn't even comprehend the concept, especially when it comes to sex. So what if the other Troupe members might overhear or walk in? Who cares if they fuck during a job and the target might catch them in the act? Feitan would simply eliminate any witnesses and continue as he pleases.

S = Stamina

Oh dear, your body is in for a rough time. When Feitan gets riled up, you'll be in for an extended bout of physical activity. Thanks to his rigorous Nen training and natural stamina, he doesn't tire easily. You'll probably lose consciousness long before he's finished, but even then, he'll likely continue on without missing a beat.

T = Toy

If by toys you're referring to the collection of knives, ropes, and gags he uses for his regular torturing sessions, then yes, those are his "toys." However, I have a feeling that once you explore his kinky side with him, he would have a separate set of these items just for personal use. Some people headcanon that he's dirty or gross, but in reality, he's canonically a germaphobe. He wouldn't want any blood or fluids from his victims to touch you. In fact, I bet he would even invest in a high-quality vibrator for other types of "torture."

U = Unfair

This is Feitan's domain. He takes pleasure in teasing you in every possible manner. He considers himself a master of all forms of torture and you are his favorite subject for experimentation. You better not cum without his permission, or there will be consequences. I can't help but wonder if there's a hint of masochism in him, deliberately prolonging his own orgasm until it becomes unbearable.

V = Volume

Feitan's voice is naturally soft, so he doesn't make much noise during sex. But that doesn't mean he's silent; his words are like whispers in your ear, filled with degrading comments and descriptions of what he plans to do next. He watches closely for your reactions to his words, using them to gauge your pleasure.

W = Wild Card

Feitan may not even realize it, but he’s a tsundere with yandere tendencies. He is fixated on you and will go to great lengths to gather information about you. He sees it as a way to bond with you. Your past and relationships with others hold little importance to him unless he can use them to manipulate you. He pays close attention to every detail about you for his own gratification. While this can lead to unexpected surprises, there is a fine line between showing affection and being overly possessive.

X = X-Ray

Let me begin by saying that size isn't always the most important thing. However, that doesn't mean Feitan is lacking in that department. He may not impress when flaccid with a modest 2 inches, but he definitely makes up for it with a solid 5 inches when fully aroused. "Size not matter in fight… or in bed."

Y = Yearning

Feitan has an above average drive and libido, but an even higher level of self-control. He can easily suppress any desires he may have, but when the opportunity arises, be prepared for him to let loose. After finishing a job, it's best to take a few days off because you won't be able to walk afterwards.

Z = ZZZ

I can hardly imagine him getting any sleep at all. I'm sure he does, but as a long time Spider, he has likely trained his body to function on minimal rest. Those rare moments after sex, when everything is calm and still, may be the only times where he truly lets himself relax, though. Even then, it's probably only momentary.

[sanderssidesthehouse]

Ace's All Time Best Fic Rec List March 2025: Sanders Sides

I'm just going to borrow the format I've been using for the other fandoms I rec fics in. These are just fics I really liked and want other people to read. I didn't start taking note of them when I started reading so I might have missed some. If a fic isn't on here it doesn't mean that I don't like it, and please feel free to rec me fics!

One thing to note is that the way I tend to read fics is to pic a tag or relationship or character etc. and filter by date posted, ascending on ao3 so I start at the beginning and work my way to more recent fics and then obviously any on Tumblr I simply read if they manage to find me. Tumblr search is not fantastic. That is to say, most of the fics currently on my list are going to be older. Also if the rating is M or higher, I have that listed in my little description of it so you'll know before clicking.

Also, also! I tried to only have one or two from the same author so there are likely other works by the people who wrote these that I liked but didn't list, I just didn't want this to be three miles long, yk?

And last little blurb, I try to do these once or twice a year with different fics on each list, but I always use the aatbfrl tag so you'll be able to search my blog for them.

Without further ado: The list!

Btw, there's no specific link I'm adding to this entry other than to the blog, but if you somehow haven't seen @illogicallyinclined's hockey AU I need you to get out from under the rock you've been calling shelter, and I mean this with all of the love in my heart.

Lie With Me- Both Janus and Patton need therapy. If you want to actively be dealt psychic damage, this is a good one.

Bad Idea- Roman and Janus are fwb and aren't supposed to catch feelings. Well guess what? Rated M for iMplied sexual content.

No Need To Knock- Roman reaches out a hand and Virgil takes it. Very sweet besties moment.

Florida Man Cannot Be Contained- "Contrary to popular belief, Remus is not the menace of the friend group. It's Patton." Author is correct.

Friendly Neighborhood Criminals- Patton gets adopted into a trio of criminals who took one look at his life and said 'You live like this? Well we can't in good conscience rob you now.' and decided to make him their pet project. (WIP)

once you're in the hive, the other bees assume you're supposed to be there- "Virgil accidentally gets absorbed by his best friend's brother's polycule." That's the official tag line and what more do you need, really? (WIP)

Love is a Beach- Moceit fake dating your ex that you're still in love with bc you didn't tell your friends you broke up yet and you're all going on a trip together. This could not possibly go wrong in any way. (WIP)

Clutters of Creativity- Roman clutters (the speech disorder) and this is how I learned that I too clutter which alone makes it worth sharing, but this is also cute as hell. Remus and Logan are v supportive.

Snap- Roman angst hurt/comfort Roceit&creativitwins we don't have to talk about how much I related to this one, but if you want to have a good cry, this one's for you.

The Only One that Knows- A lot of trigger warnings, but Logan is a scientist at a shady organization that burned down and the experiment he was managing starts acting up in his home. I think about this all the time, just the way it's written it's soooo good. Rewired my brain. Rated M for Mlots of gore/blood/body horror and Mental health problems and Major character death.

i picture it, soft, and i ache- Janus falls in love with Patton and has a time about it. And then he has a different time about it. V cute with just the right amount of angst.

Silence- Selectively mute Logan and extremely anxious Virgil work through some stuff and it's cute or whatevah. And maybe I relate a little too much but it's fine, don't worry about it.

Cracks in the Ceiling- Logan helps Virgil and they're just besties and I love them.

Mission Status: Sick!- Inspired by the hockey AU, I'm just going to copy paste the tagline bc I think you'll understand. "'It's a good thing that my homosexuality is stronger than my pride', Virgil thought as he opened a capri sun and violently squeezed it onto his sheets." Analogical.

glow like a fireflower- Deceit is a dork. Roman is... also a dork. They're dramatic and silly and working through some stuff and Remus has to hear about it but he gives great advice (lie).

Noi Abbiamo Un Problema- LAMP soulmates with a side of dukeceit. Virgil is the last to join the group but they seem to be expecting a fifth... who is also Virgil. They're a little dense and Virgil is anxious and Remus and Janus are real ones. I love Virgil's mom.

like copper and gold- Rated E for explicit sex and a lot of it. I fucking bawled dude. This fic tore my heart out and then put it back in ever so gently. More of Deceit making bad decisions. roloceit.

The Gold of Your Heart- Look, I read this whole thing a while ago and I still think about it so I feel like it's worth adding to the list. Deceit's name is Tony. A bunch of OC sides and headcanons in here but they're very fun and interesting. 200k+ Roceit slow burn.

Distant Stars Clearly Shining- Prinxiety sci-fi AU featuring smut it's a 10k one shot with significant plot and world building.

Eustress and How to Manage It- Ok, so they're dorks. Prinxiety being adorable dorks. So fluffy. (There's a spicy sequel out there too.)

Help In Unlikely Ways- My boy Janus is just doing his best oml. He's bad at it.

I'm In Love With A Fairytale- Look, it's 117k. And it's fun. Well I mean it's really angsty, but that's fun for me. It takes place in the imagination. Look at it. Rated M for violence.

Hurt, And How We Grow Past It.- I remember reading this when it first came out. Just a little Janus angst as a treat.

[celtigxr]

THE PINK DREAD - CH. 34 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary: Dinner with the Valyrians. Goes as well as you'd think. Word Count: 4592 CHAPTER WARNINGS: STILL talking about menstrual blood. Only proof read once again. Not satisfied with this chapter, but it is what it is. Canon Episode Divergence.

Series tags: Aemond x Plus size!OfC, Aegon x Plus size!OfC, Celtigar!ofc, Plot with Smut, mdni 18+, Aemond End Game, Angst, Comedy, The Dragons Don't Dance, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers.

Credits: Lace Banner by Aquazero, pearl divider by Pommecita

Notes: For people who are like me, that need a visual, I have made a google sheets image for you to understand where everyone is seated, lmao. The link the image is here Also, because I fumbled, just in case you missed it, last chapter I forgot to add in the image of Valeana's dress. It's up there now if you didn't get a chance to see it.

Valeana’s eyes trailed over to the statue at the other end of the ballroom, her eyes glued onto the middle dragon head caught in between the two others. She was very much in that position, but she felt less like a dragon and more like a lamb for the slaughter.

“Valeana,” a voice that belonged to neither of the princes that flanked her, snapped her out of her panic-induced paralysis. It was Lucerys, of all people, who had not even acknowledged her existence since the day of his arrival. “Blink twice if you’re in need of rescue.” 

Rhaena elbowed him, but he only chuckled in response. 

Aegon shifted beside her, his arm around her shoulder only loosening when he reached to grab his goblet to take a sip, his eyes never leaving Luke for a moment. 

“I should congratulate you, nephew,” he briefly looked over at Rhaena with a tilt of his head. “You finally get to lie with a woman.” 

Aemond hummed amusingly next to Valeana, his hand still clutched in hers. All she could do was use her right hand to pick at her food in front of her, though now she was too tense to eat anything substantial. 

Luke’s smirk wavered as he regarded Aegon; he was clearly the more imposing son of Rhaenyra’s, but he did not lack insecurities. His legitimacy was the biggest one, but his worthiness of the gifts freely given to him was another. Jace was the honourable one, bound to duty and respect and etiquette. Luke was bound to the need to prove himself, as all second sons were.

Aegon leaned forward into the table, peering up at the Velaryon prince with raised brows, “You do know how the act is done, I assume? At least in principle, where to put your cock and all that.” 

“Let it be, Aegon,” Valeana put a placating hand on Aegon’s arm, but he was undeterred. Though the exchange had not gone amiss by Jace, who leaned in their direction.

“Uncle,” he called his attention, “You can play the jester if you wish, but hold your tongue when there are ladies present.”

Aegon nodded mockingly, “Mhm.” He turned to Valeana, “You don’t mind my tongue, do you, Crab Cake?”

Before Valeana could respond beyond a wide glare and a slight flush to her cheeks, Rhaenyra was suddenly standing, moving slightly so she was not just addressing her table, but the room as a whole. Her arm was up, hand cradling a goblet in the air to present a toast.  

“I wish to raise my cup to her Grace, the Queen,” The princes started, her voice loud enough to be heard by all. “I love my father. But, I must admit that no one has stood more loyally by his side than his good wife. When he was at his weakest, she tended to him with… unfailing devotion, love and honour. In our youth I always believed that our children would be destined to unify us, and it seems that it is in the Crone’s will that it be true. For my father, you have my gratitude, and my love… But you also have my apology.”

Alicent’s bottom lip wobbled as she looked up at her, her brown eyes glossing over so much that she had to turn away demurely to her plate, the ends of her lips tugging downward. 

“Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess,” she sniffed as Rhaenyra slowly descended into her chair. Finally Alicent looked up, “We are both mothers… and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow.” At this point, Alicent ascended from her seat, her own goblet raised. “I raise my cup to you, and to your house. You will make a fine queen.” 

Alicent’s final statement sent a ripple throughout the room. Six words that ended a decades old feud. Six words that ended the threat of usurpation. Aegon did not want to be King, he made that clear to his mother the other day, and Alicent was tired of fighting. Tired of plotting. In the end, they both won; her victory lay within her daughter, and Rhaenyra’s within her son, both destined to be one house once and for all. 

At their own paces, everyone raised their goblets to Alicent’s tribute and took a sip as smiles were shared amongst friends. Valeana tipped her glass towards Jacaerys, and he to her, and then she did the same with Helaena. Aegon and Aemond did the same, though grudgingly before returning their cups to the table un-sipped. 

Aemond’s hand hadn’t left Valeana’s the entire time. The heat of his palm was all encompassing, almost numbing to the point that she had forgotten it almost completely. It wasn’t until she felt him move her hand from the table that she realized it was still trapped in his. Valeana turned just in time to see Aemond bring the back of her palm to his lips, giving it a gentle kiss before returning it back to its original spot. His smile was kind, his gaze was loving, and Valeana was all nerves and fluttering moths.

Aegon downed his wine in one swallow and looked at the bottom of his cup with disdain. Valeana felt him move next to her, pushing back his chair and silently padding around until he was hovering at the end of the table next to Luke, and reached for the pitcher of wine that was sitting between him and Rhaena. 

“I, um,” Aegon looks down as he pours himself a drink into his empty cup. His eyes lifted up to catch Rhaena’s before he continued. “I regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer. But, if you ever wish to know what it is to be well satisfied, all you have to do is ask–”

Fists bagged on the table, effectively shaking it from north to south. Lucerys stood abruptly, fiery onyx eyes on Aegon as he moved slowly back around the table, not a care in the world. The fair-haired prince settled back into his seat, flashing a displeased Valeana a faux innocent smile. 

Aemond stood up, slowly and foreboding like the shadow of the Stranger. Valeana’s hand fell from his, her fingers suddenly became stiff and cold. Both he and Lucerys stared at each other from across the table, three threatening eyes between the two. Everyone in the room was now looking over at them, with baited breath and on the edges of their seats should something happen.

“Luke,” Rhaena placed a placating hand on her betrothed, which effectively pulled Luke’s attention away from Aemond and onto her. His thinned mouth eased, his cheeks dimpling as he smiled disingenuously. 

Then Luke swiped his goblet, the remains dwindling down to mere drops after so many tributes. Silence befell the room once more, the peace that was once sowed now destroyed by the hubris of youthful male bravado. But mostly by Aegon, really.

Aemond watched Luke closely, his one lilac eye wide with anticipation, as if to say: give me a reason.

“To Prince Aegon, Prince Aemond, the Celtigar sisters, and my future good-sister, Princess Helaena. We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth,” Valeana narrowed her eyes up at him. His words sounded sincere to those who could not see his face, that fox-like expression. “And as men and women, I hope we may yet be friends and allies,” Luke gestured to the two princes that sat in front of him. “To the health of my uncles, my sweet aunt and my old friends. And to Lady Valeana, I wish to say: Sȳz biarves (good luck).” 

She felt Aemond move next to her. It was so subtle, that it would not be noticeable to anyone else that wasn’t directly beside him. Valeana reached for Aemond’s sleeve, silently imploring him to back down. With a slight tug, he finally relents and slowly sits back down, eye trained on Luke as he also descends into his seat. 

“Issa daor pretium ziry (he is not worth it),” She whispered to him once he was sat.

“What did that bastard say?” Aegon whispered when he leaned into her space, his mouth was pinched and his gaze was fixed on the wood of the table. 

Valeana hesitated before divulging that information. The table on the platform seemed unsure what to make of Luke’s little speech, particularly the last bit to those that didn’t understand Valyrian. She could spot Rhaenyra’s turned head, glaring at her son the way mother’s do, and Daemon biting his lip to contain his amusement. 

Their own table was thick with unease and judgement. She could feel Clement’s eyes on her from above Helaena’s head, like some lurking gargoyle with amethyst stones for eyes. 

“Good luck,” Valeana answered, then shook her head dismissively. “He is just being provocative… Because you were.” 

Aegon rolled his eyes, “I can be more—”

“Please don’t.”

The sound of another chair being pushed against the flagstone alerted everyone once again to the long table. For a moment, she braced herself for a confrontation with her brother, since the sound came from his direction. So imagine Valeana’s surprise when she looked up and saw it was Helaena, of all people, holding a goblet and wearing a contented smile on her lovely face. 

“I would like to toast to my betrothed, Jacaerys. He was always kind and patient with me as children, and did not shy away from my bugs,” Helaena spoke with an innocence about her that was both endearing and calming to watch. It was clear that she was the most beloved person in that room, and the most gentle and fragile. “So, I believe our marriage will not be so bad. It will be good, I think. Oh, and the eggs on the milkweed plant you gave me have hatched into two healthy caterpillars. I’ve named them Jaehaerys and Jaehaera.” 

And with that, she sheepishly sat back down in her chair. There was a gentle applause and claps around the room, accompanied by smiles of adoration and appreciation that her simple little tribute had eased the tension berthed by the arrogant princes in the room.

“Well done, my girl,” Viserys said from his table, raising his glass to his youngest daughter. 

Jacaerys smiled broadly, then leaned forward into the table, “Mayhaps those are the names we can give to our future children?”

Helaena paused to consider, and then shook her head decidedly. “No, I think not. They are from another life… a sadder one. Here, I would like them to be free.”

The first course was cleared from the table, and Aemond’s plate was removed to make room for a fresh one. He had nothing on it other than oyster shells on them anyway – still void of any pearls. The music seemed to pick up, something a little louder, and a little more merry in an attempt to liven up the room. Aemond was stewing in his seat, one hand poised on the back of Valeana’s chair, the other one tapping on the table as he watched the room like a patient hawk. 

With all the tributes and toasts, the House of Valyria was already feeling the effects of wine and spirits. Faces flushed, conversations loud, laughter was heard. Even his dear mother seemed to be in a good mood, which admittedly made him feel… content. It wasn’t often that he saw Alicent genuinely happy, and even longer since he last heard her laugh. 

Aemond wasn’t entirely convinced that peace had truly been found there that eve, but it was a start. Otto Hightower was still a piece on the board, and he doubted his grandsire would just simply roll over and give up the potential of having full power. Helaena may be his granddaughter, but he knew very well that she would not be a queen in practice, and that Jace wouldn’t be one to be manipulated or coerced by Green influence. No, for Otto, it wasn’t a win-win situation. 

The servants were still clearing the table and bringing in the larger platters – roasted duck, lamb shanks, meat pies, and various vegetables that have been steamed and rubbed with herbs and sauces. A pile of snow crab legs were placed in front of Aegon, red and steaming, dripping with melted garlic butter. Insufferably, he turned to Aemond with a smug look. 

Jacaerys raised from his seat, moving around the table until he got to Helaena’s chair, his hand extended for her to take. She seemed surprised for a moment, but immediately took it and allowed him to lead her onto the empty dance floor. 

Aegon rolled his eyes so heavily, that they momentarily disappeared into the back of his head. He loathed the idea of Jace marrying his sister almost as much as he loathed the idea of him marrying Valeana. He was relieved, in a sense, but now he was given another, different misfortune. He worried as a brother too, knowing his sister’s nature and doubting that his nephew was equipped with handling it. 

After that, more couples joined the dance floor. Shyla pulled Daeron up and dragged him to join in, though he didn’t seem to mind. He had a large stupid grin on his face. Then, in an interesting turn of events, Clement and Baela joined in, followed by – Oh, he nearly laughed when he saw it – Rhaena and Joffrey. Aegon’s mouth twitched when he witnessed Luke watch with clear annoyance at Joffrey (three and ten!) when he asked his betrothed to dance. 

Aegon felt so utterly satisfied and gitty over this, that he decided he wished to sow displeasure amongst present company. He turned to his fair maid and scooped up her hand to pull her up without so much as a request. 

“Come on, my darling,” He pulled Valeana’s hand to his mouth to give it a kiss before practically dragging her onto the dance floor. She was in the middle of putting food on her plate when she was whisked away, her eyes wide in surprise, the fork clattering on the plate when she was forced to let go. 

Aemond twisted in his chair to glower at his brother, though he made no move to stop them. Instead, he tried to calm himself by focusing on her alone. The sway of her hips, how her vermillion dress swept around her elegantly; the curve of her back, framed by the lace of her well fitted bodice. The glimpse of her pale arms through her red veiled sleeves, just a hint of scandal in its reveal. The way her braids swung to and fro with every movement, eventually one landing over her shoulder, and the other hanging behind her back. He longed to kiss every inch of her skin, to commit every piece and corner of her body to memory so he would never forget her again. But most of all, he wanted to be the one to dance with her, to be able to publicly be seen with her, letting everyone know just who she truly belonged to. 

But, no… That privilege belonged to his eldest brother. 

At least for now.

“So,” Aegon drawled out as he and Valeana swayed to the music, keeping a fair distance away from the other dancers, particularly Clement who kept on sending heated glances their way. “You’re the one responsible for Helaena and Jacaerys. You’ve ruined my life, I hope you’re happy.” 

“Immensely,” she answered with equal sarcasm.

He catches her glance at the two in question, a small little smile creeping on her face. Truly, Aegon did not enjoy the idea of Jace of all people marrying his sister— he thought of no one marrying his sister, frankly. For years he had simply been anticipating the impending nuptials that he and Helaena would have to share that the idea of her being a bride to anyone else never occurred to him. But at the look Valeana gave them, he couldn’t help but concede to her good judgement. Politically, it was sound. It merged both houses and took Aegon off the chessboard, which he always wanted. If anything, he should be thanking Valeana. 

When she turned back to him, she raised a curious brow at his little smile, “What?”

Aegon gave a tiny shrug of his shoulder, “Just thinking.”

“About what?” 

His smile grew a little before moving their bodies so they were blocked by the other dancers, away from prying eyes of the adults that watched them all. He leaned into her ear, “About how beautiful you’ll look when I peel that dress off you.” 

Val’s eyes flashed and flickered around to make sure no one one heard that, “Aegon–”

He softly chuckled at her reaction, his fingers on her waist rubbed her side tenderly yet suggestively. Aegon pulled her in closer to his body, so his chin hovered over her shoulder, lips near her ear. “Tonight, do not fall asleep. I intend to spend another night with you under the stars.” 

Aegon felt an immense satisfaction when he heard her breath hitch and her fingers curl around his shoulder. Valeana bit her lip when she lifted her chin to look up at him, her eyes fretful, yet bashful, as evidenced by the sheepish smile she was trying to withhold. 

“I switched rooms,” she told him, and when Aegon merely stared back at her, unsure of what she meant, she elaborated. “With Floris.”

The realization dawned on him in blink, and soon he was smiling wolfishly. Humming in his elatedness, he dipped his dance partner in a flourish and pulled her back up. Aegon chuckled at the look on her face, then pulled her flush against as he dipped in close to her ear. “Well then, my life just got simultaneously more interesting and easier all in one go. And–” he pulled back a bit so he could look at her, “We do not have to do… anything you don’t want. Though, if it doesn’t make you uncomfortable, you should know…” He trailed off, the corner of his lips tugging upward as he whispered in a lower tone. “I do not mind blood.” 

“Wha–”

His violet eyes flickered downward, and she froze for a moment, eyes flashing in sheer embarrassment. Valeana sighed, her hand leaving his shoulder for a moment to rub her thumb on the space between her brows. 

“How did you know?”

“You left me a little present.”

She grimaced and turned away, the tips of her ears pinked. Clearly amused, Aegon pulled at her chin so she could look at him again. “I told you, I don’t mind. Sometimes it adds a little extra lubricant–”

“I’m not bleeding anymore.”

“.... You’re not?”

“Are you disappointed?” 

Aegon’s eyes flickered off to the ceiling to contemplate the answer to that question, “...no?”

She pinched his shoulder, making him hiss. 

The main course dishes were beginning to pile on the tables. The King’s table had already begun their feasts, having been served first, and now the dancers were starting to return to their seats. All save for Jacaerys and Helaena, who remained dancing, creative and improvised and not at all traditional. That was possibly the most carefree Aemond has ever seen his sister, and as he loathed to admit it (like, very much loathed), it made him quite happy to see Jacaerys bring out that side of her.

“Ooh, hells,” Viserys suddenly said from his table, one hand grabbing his cane, and the other bracing the armrest as he pushed himself from his seat. “All those toasts are catching up with me. Excuse me for a moment, as nature calls.”

“Allow me to accompany you, your Grace,” Bartimos stood up as well, “I have the same ailment.” 

Everyone stood up as the King left the table, followed by Bartimos at his side. Once the two had left the room, everyone resumed their seats or their dancing. Chatter continued as more servants poured in one at a time to bring platters of the main meal. Two came in holding a large one, heading towards the end of the longer table to slide it in between Aemond and Lucerys before walking away. 

It was a full roasted pig, still sizzling as it sat there on the platter, waiting to be sliced and eaten. 

Valeana settled in her seat beside Aemond, who was facing away from the table, his leg casually crossed, his eye trained on his sister and Jacaerys dancing. Aegon sat down after he tucked Valeana’s seat in, the feet of his chair scratching softly against the flagstones. The sound of utensils being used as people picked at the platters became background noise, ones that did nothing to drown out the chuckle that Aemond heard from across the table. 

Slowly he turned around, his one eye peeking over at Luke over the bridge of his nose. His nephew was laughing; eyes squinting in a mischievous glint as he stared at Aemond, and then back at the roasted pig…  And then onto Valeana, who was unaware of it all. 

Suddenly the table jostled, the bang of Aemond’s fist on the table immediately halted everyone’s chatter and movement, bringing their collective attention to his side of  the table. 

Fisting his cup, Aemond ascended from his seat and extended his arm, his eye trained on his nephew in front of him, “Final tribute.” 

 The music stopped, Jace and Helaena ceased dancing. Everyone turned to him, surprised and apprehensive over Aemond’s voice. He was the stoic prince, more keen on observing than in conversing, least of all with most of the people present. The sudden presence of his voice felt like a single arrow leading the charge of a barrage of them that would pelt everyone on the battlefield. 

“To the health of my nephews: Jace,” he looked over at the prince in question on the dance floor. The brunette looked tense and unsure, sharing a look with Helaena and then at his brothers at the table. 

“Luke…” When Aemond’s eye returned to the one in question, the muscles in his face hardened like steel. All his intentions were poured into his one lilac eye, wide and challenging. “And Joffrey…Each of them handsome, wise…”

The tension grew as he trailed off; everyone was holding their breaths. Every second felt like an hour long as he simply pursed his lips and kept his blazing eye trained on Lucerys. 

Finally, he hummed and subtly nodded to himself, “...Strong.”

“Aemond–” Valeana’s plea tried to reach for him, but he was too far gone. He hadn’t even registered that she had spoken his name.

“Come–” He turned to the crowd, his goblet brandishing like a sword, but his ironic smirk was sharper and more dangerous. “Let us drain our cups to these three… Strong boys.”

Aegon, ever the reveller in chaos, raised his cup high in the air. Valeana shot him a warning look, but he didn’t seem to notice or really care either. This was probably the first time the two brothers had been on the same page since she had arrived in King’s Landing. The closest thing she’d ever see to brotherly support for each other. 

“I dare you to say that again,” Luke challenged, standing up from his seat, Rhaena was quick to grab his sleeve, but he was undeterred by the attempt. Actually, he pulled away from her and started to move around the end of the table. 

“Why?” Aemond moved as well, goblet still in his hand, but his eye still held unwavering challenge. “‘It was only a compliment,” As he said this, the two moved towards each other like two rival wolves trying to assert dominance. “Do you not think yourself Strong?”

That is when all hell broke loose. A string of reactions all overlapping each other, it was difficult to see everything happen all at once and know who reacted and when. But what was certain was that Luke punched Aemond across his left cheek, which resulted in a reaction in both Aegon and Joffrey, having been nearest to their brothers. Joffrey strode over to them, hellbent on entering the fray, but Aegon grabbed hold of the back of his neck and pinned him against the table before he could reach Aemond.

Aemond took the punch as if it was a swat of a kitten. Taller and more muscular than his nephew, all it took was one rough shove in the shoulder, and Lucerys was down on the floor. Watching the dark-haired prince scramble there to get to him delighted Aemond like nothing else. He had a smug sense of satisfaction of reducing Luke to a pathetic pile on the floor; the boy who had left him half blind with no consequence. As he placed the goblet back on the table, Aemond turned away from him and darkly chuckled, his smile dimpling his cheeks as he shared that cruel amused glint with Aegon. 

Valeana is standing now, having successfully pried Aegon off of Joffrey with the help of Rhaena just as the guards started to interfere. Jacaerys had also attempted to get involved, but Rhaenyra and Alicent were there in an instant, both collecting their sons like a shepherd dog collecting their herd. 

Alicent gripped on Aemond’s shoulder as she yanked him off to the side, “Why would you say such things in front of all these people?”

Aemond turned to his mother, casual and uninspired by her question, “I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, mother.” His light tone dripped with sarcasm like tar. He hummed, blinked and turned away from her to look towards his nephews that continued to struggle against the restraint of the knights. “Though it seems my nephews are not quite proud of theirs,” he said this while yanking his hand from his mother’s grip, and stalking towards the Velaryons. 

At that moment, Jacaerys frees himself from the knight’s hold and is bounding towards Aemond with steely determination. But another strode forth, his long legs cutting between the battling princes like a dragon cuts through wind. 

“Wait, wait,” Daemon held up a finger, effectively stopping Jace from moving another inch. Daemon stepped in front of his step sons, pushing them back into the fringes of the room next to their mother with their tails tucked between their legs. Then Daemon turns around and faces his nephew, a sigh filtering through his open mouth and his hands clasped in front of himself. 

Aemond and Daemon just stared at each other; an immovable object and unstoppable force. Everyone was holding their breath, creating a thick silence throughout the room. The tension was so thick, no one could move, but it was clear in the slight twitches of Aemond and Daemon’s fingers that they desperately wanted to. It was a battle of wills at this point; who was going to take the first step to the challenge, who was going to blink, who was going to walk away…

“Enough.” 

A phantom in vermillion cut in between the two black princes. Valeana first looked at Daemon, her viperous eyes wiping the smirk off his face and causing the muscles in his cheeks and forehead to slack. Then she turned to Aemond, and her brows turned upward, looking up at him with disappointment and something that he could not place…

Something that was so disarming that his eye widened with panic.

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE SNEAK PEAK “Where are you taking me?” He asked with a sly grin, already knowing the answer. She turned to him with that innocent little smile of hers.  “Nowhere special,” The slight curve of her lips turned into a grin as she pulled him into an alcove before pulling the drapes that framed it tightly closed . 

Notes: I never want to write that damn dinner scene again, lol. For those of you that might be ??? on why Valeana is upset, don't worry, next chapter we get into it.

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel, @t0biasparabatai

( if you wish to be tagged for this story, just give me a reply! )

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

[bronzeagepizzeria]

TEN AND ROSE: WERE THEY HAVING SEX?

Disclaimer: I absolutely support people writing whatever makes them happy; this is NOT a criticism of ten x rose smutfic/established relationship/babyfic etc, I’ve read and enjoyed several of those, this is simply my reading of their canon relationship.

Every once in a while, the Rose Tyler tag sees text posts about how, obviously, Ten and Rose were sleeping together throughout Series 2, as evidenced by their absolutely sizzling chemistry in episodes such as New Earth and Tooth and Claw.

Most of them are usually in good humour—a “can you BELIEVE this chemistry” sort of thing, but there does exist a genuine belief among some that they really were sexually intimate already.

So, let's examine this canonically, from a Tentoo lens.

Were they having sex?

Short answer: No.

Long answer?

Throughout Series 1, we pick up on hints of the Ninth Doctor’s feelings for Rose growing, as well as Rose beginning to have feelings for the Doctor. It’s quite subtle in comparison to Series 2; here’s two great friends beginning to fall in love—flirting and bantering and getting jealous of other love interests xD. It’s not a very explicit romance (and this is why Rose haters tend to prefer NineRose, but that’s a conversation for another day) but it is heavily implied, and it is sealed with a kiss in The Parting of the Ways.

When Rose looks into the heart of the TARDIS and comes back for the Doctor, this romance is made explicit. When the Doctor dies to take the vortex out of Rose, the romance is made explicit. This is no longer a crush, or simple endearment, they’re in love.

The Tenth Doctor is born out of this love. He now knows the extent of Rose’s feelings, and he knows just how far she is willing to go for him. (This is a blessing and a curse, but we’ll come back to that some other time.)

Rose’s immediate reaction to seeing Ten is asking him to change back—(something that noticeably distresses him—the fact that she might not like him anymore). She spends the entirety of The Christmas Invasion mourning him, (which is fair since he never told her the tiny little detail of his ability to regenerate. Sigh.) and only really comes around to him at the end of that episode. We can safely assume, then, that they haven’t had sex.

In New Earth, they’re still very much relearning their dynamic—how do they work together, fit together now? We learn that Rose is physically attracted to the Tenth Doctor, thanks to Cassandra, and Rose's slightly mortified reaction at hearing this from him implies that there's been no confession of the sort to him.

You could argue that maybe something happened off-screen between Episodes 2 and 3, but as Ally on the tentoo x rose server pointed out, that would be shoddy writing. A physical relationship amongst the main two leads that is never even alluded to with a chaste kiss, is odd. So we can assume this major development didn't happen.

Tooth and Claw, the one episode that is constantly subject to 'they were totally shagging' discourse, has exceptionally flirty energy, yes, but this is because Ten and Rose are both very tactile people. Make no mistake, they definitely are flirting and being more touchy-feely than strictly necessary, but it would be narratively inconsistent for the reason for this behaviour to be 'they were having sex.'

Why?

I'd like to point out this dialogue we get from Queen Victoria:

This moment is extremely important; it plants the seeds for the proper beginning of one of the main themes of S2, which is the biggest reason the two of them are not constantly shagging in the TARDIS.

From this point on, something has been re-awakened in the Doctor, the fear of outliving someone he loves again.

We have to remember the Doctor is a severely traumatised man, a man who has outlived his entire species, and the idea of this girl he loves dying and leaving him alone is unbearable.

In School Reunion we get this spelt out for us. The Doctor sees Sarah Jane again, and reality strikes. This will be Rose, one day. There’s a key confrontation that takes place in this episode, an argument that remains unresolved because there are certain things Ten cannot bring himself to say.

DOCTOR: I don't age. I regenerate. But humans decay. You wither and you die. Imagine watching that happen to someone who you…

ROSE: What, Doctor?

There is a later confrontation in the same episode, where the Doctor is tempted with the idea of never having to see anyone wither and die again.

Even the infamous The Girl in the Fireplace doubles down on these themes--the Doctor's immortality. Time running out.

The Age of Steel two-parter brings with it the “gingerbread house”. Things we want which we cannot have.

This, in fact, is the crux of their entire relationship, folks. The incompatible lifespans. Rose's mortality. Untapped desire. The unsaid.

This is why it's important and impactful that Rose, on the last day she gets to see the Doctor, ever, plucks up the courage to actually put words to what she feels. This is why the unfinished confession in Doomsday hurts so much. Because they finally, finally took that plunge but it was too late.

Assuming that they've been in a physically intimate relationship all the while takes away from the gravity of this moment.

(Not to mention it's super exploitative, considering the inherent power dynamics. To think Ten had sex with Rose all that time--entirely aware of her feelings--and didn't have the decency to say he loved her and then proceeded to force her to choose between him and another version of himself...is problematic.)

I would go as far as saying it's a fundamentally wrong reading of their entire relationship, and of the Doctor himself.

I've seen people say the "baby scare" in Doomsday is proof that they'd been physically intimate, but it is, quite obviously the Doctor being afraid Rose was pregnant with Mickey's baby, not his.

DOCTOR: You've still got Mister Mickey, then? ROSE: There's five of us now. Mum, Dad, Mickey and the baby. DOCTOR: You're not?

He is, in his not so subtle way, trying to figure out if Rose is back with Mickey. It only hammers in the fact that he's missed his chance---not that the child might be his.

DOCTOR: Rose Tyler, Defender of the Earth. You're dead, officially, back home. So many people died that day and you've gone missing. You're on a list of the dead. Here you are, living a life day after day. The one adventure I can never have. ROSE: Am I ever going to see you again? DOCTOR: You can't.

Again, the narrative hammers this in. Their time is up. Rose will inevitably move on one day, without him.

All this to say…

TenRose in Series 2 is a tale of what could be. Of missed opportunities, and the lives and love we could have had.

But why is this important?

In order to understand Tentoo and Journey's End, it is vital we understand this aspect of TenRose. The yearning, the skirting around feelings in the room, the denial of gratification on Ten's part. The desire he cannot give in to.

Because Tentoo is the realisation of this desire. He is the second chance.

He is the embodiment of the Doctor grabbing hold of his one, short life and deciding to live it to the fullest. Tentoo is making a choice here--a choice to truly love Rose the way he has ached to do for years. This is why it's significant that he was able to get the words out while Ten wasn't.

This is why Rose chooses him.

This snippet of an email RTD received from Pete Bower sums it up extremely eloquently:

“In having one Doctor grieve for his lost love, while the other Doctor went off with that same lost love, you have written of that moment we all have where we make a choice. It is grieving for the love we never had (and the sex we never had) because of the choices we made.”

[lovechar]

A Tender Touch.

pairing; James Farrow x Stirling!Reader

summary; after you get injured, james helps clean you up.

warnings; friends to lovers, violence, making out, grinding, fluff

notes; fem!reader but can be read as other, since the start, callum turner had been my main fancast for james idk why, i know james sleeps in the tower but shh, idk if anyone will even read this there’s like no iwwv x reader stuff, not much dialogue, no use of y/n, wouldn’t rly say any spoilers

As always, Richard got different, when he’d start drinking. He was always violent, since childhood, even—you remember back to when he’d accidentally hit you too hard with a pillow or shove you too hard playing tag. But the real violence, the real Richard, came out when he was blackout drunk, unaware of his actions and their consequences in the later moments.

Being his sister, you always tended to keep an eye out for him at parties, sipping slowly at your drink in an attempt to not get drunk and keep a clear mind. Occasionally, you’d let go and enjoy yourself, but the one time every couple months where he drank too much made you constantly paranoid.

You poured yourself another drink from one of the many bottles that stood shoulder-to-shoulder on your kitchen countertop. “Hey,” a slightly deep voice rung out from behind me. You turned, pressing you back against the counter. “Hi. Where are the others?” You smiled at James. He stood beside you, looking over with a fond grin till his attention turned to the drink selection. “Don’t know. We all split off and now the only one I can find is you.” He poured himself a drink as he replied; vodka with some random mixer he found.

You sipped slowly at your drink—feeling a slight burn slide past your throat—as you watched the on-goers of the party. James turned back from the counter and leaned against it beside you, mimicking your position. The both of you watched as people chattered, drank and slowly swayed to the music. You could feel the buzz from the alcohol taking its time to kick in.

Talk filled the air till it slowly was hushed and replaced by shouting from outside the Castle. With furrowed eyebrows, you looked up to James and he looked down on you with a similar, confused expression. His hand slid into yours as you tugged him along, heading for the door.

Once you reached the soft garden grass, the chilled breeze attacked you in every place your navy dress hadn’t adorned, bringing goosebumps along your arms and legs. There was a crowd circled around the center of the yard. James moved ahead of you, pushing through the crowd and dragging you along till you both reached the front. “Come on, Oliver. Man to man, let’s see who gets her.” Richard was yelling at Oliver, inching forward while the smaller boy crept backwards with each step. Meredith, who you assumed Richard was getting thick over, stood slightly further back in the middle, watching them and screaming at Richard to leave Oliver alone.

Your jaw hung slightly as Richard shoved Oliver who was obviously fidgeting to apologise and attempt to calm Richard down. On impulse, you discarded James’s hand from yours, running over to Richard and pushing him away from Oliver slightly.

“Rich, what the fuck are you doing?” Your tone was harsh and stern—as if you were taking the place of your mother. His gaze turned to you and he snarled, “get out of my way. This has nothing to do with you.” His breath reeked of liquor. “You’re drunk, stop this now, you’ll regret it in the morning.”

A small thwack sounded out; a stinging feeling humming in your cheek and you stumbled back a bit, eyes looking up to glare at Richard. He had slapped you with the back of his hand. He never hit you before and you were left with a shocked expression, not fully realising what he just did.

Your cheek felt strange so you reached your hand up to feel it, being met with a crimson liquid dripping into your fingers. The ring that embellished your brother’s finger had made such impact, it had split your cheek. An iron-like taste lingered on your tongue but you ignored it as Richard wasted no time after the hit.

“You wanna get involved, huh?” The cruelty of his sardonic intonation brought an unease in your chest. A wicked grin was plastered across his face and you knew you weren’t looking at your brother in this moment—more of a dark shadow that cast over him like a dull cloud. “It’s none of your fucking business what I do.” He shoved you again, this time hard enough to make you fall back.

From the corner of your eye, you saw James spring forward towards you as you made impact with the ground, a sharp pain slicing through the back of your calf. Your leg had landed on a jagged rock, carving a narrow cut through your calf.

Two arms hooked under your arms from behind, lifting you up; you looked behind to see who it was, just to be met with James’s soft stare. You stood up on your feet, the cut on your leg throbbing gently. Richard’s gaze burned into you but you avoided it like the plague, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you upset, although you knew he would feel guilty throughout his hangover the next morning. That didn’t mean you had to forgive him.

During this whole encounter, you had completely forgot that there was a crowd around you all watching and your cheeks grew hot as tears pricked your eyes. You crossed your arms over each other. The humiliation kicked in as people watched you walk back inside, James hot on your tail, holding both your forearms and guiding you through the people. The party was now filled with tension and you noticed people starting to leave.

James led you upstairs and you followed him aimlessly. He brought you into the bathroom, lifting you tenderly by the waist to sit on the counter next to the sink. You focused on levelling your breathing but all you could think about was the fact that Richard had actually hit you, and in front of all those strangers too.

“Hey, you okay?” James spoke delicately as he searched through the cabinet beneath you. He pulled out a cloth and a couple bandages and some gauze. “I’m ok.” His careful fingers wrapped around the damaged leg, lifting it up slightly to take a look at the cut. “‘s it okay if I clean this?” His eyes gleamed up at you, waiting for an answer; you just nodded silently.

James moved over to the sink, dampening the cloth with cold water before bringing it to your leg. He carefully cleared the blood from your leg, handling you as if you were porcelain. The wet pat against your calf stung, and you pulled your bottom lip under your teeth, trying to ignore the light sting.

Once he was done cleansing the wound, he moved back to the sink, grabbing the gauze. You turned your head behind you to take a look at yourself in the mirror. Your hair was slightly ruffled and your bottom lip graced a red slit, the blood starting to crackle and dry. Unintentionally, you licked your lips to moisturise them and tasted the metallic flavour of blood.

James still stood at the sink and your eyes flickered over to him. He’s gorgeous, you thought, then tried to shake away your thoughts. The awareness of being half-drunk made you convince yourself that you were just being affectionate and flirty with everyone, and James just happened to be the only one in the room.

You ripped your view away from the mirror and looked to the ground tiles. The silence in the room wasn’t tense, and you felt as if you could relax in it. As James came back to stand in front of you, he started to wrap the gauze tightly around your calf and your head fell back against the mirror, eyes closing and lips parting into a sigh.

It didn’t take long for him to bandage the cut. Your eyes flitted open and you were met with him standing infront of you, looking at your face. He steadily brought his hand—which gripped the wet cloth—up to your cheek, smoothly wiping the small gash from Richard’s ring.

His hand lingered, even when the slice was washed out, and your eyes couldn’t tear away from each other. If your legs hadn’t been stretched out from sitting on the counter, forcing him to maintain a distance, you mulled over how far from your face he really would be. The eye contact drew on—aside from the broken moments where you strained from the temptation of looking at his plump lips but failed—, the silence turning to a deafening tension. You hauled your eyes from his, moving your face to glance at your lap and clearing your throat.

“We should get you to bed,” he said. You could hear the stiffness in his voice, as if he was forcing himself to break the silence. “Yeah,” you replied. James wrapped his hands around your waist, lifting you down from the counter. It seemed he was reluctant to let you go, only sliding his hands off when you moved to the door.

The mahogany knob turned and you both stepped out from the bathroom. Your body felt exhausted but your brain still buzzed happily from your previous few drinks. “Do you want me to take you up to the tower?” James’s voice was quiet although there wasn’t anyone in the hall. Oliver and you both stayed up in the tower, while everyone else’s bedrooms were scattered around the Castle.

“‘m too tired to go up there, can I stay with you?” Your question had caught him off guard and you pulled back a smirk upon seeing the strawberry blush hinted across his cheeks. “Yeah . . sure, of course.” He held onto your hand as you headed down the hall to his room. Pushing the door open, James led you inside his room. Your eyes darted around—as if it were your first time in here.

The warmth from his hand faded as he let go and went to sit on the small couch he had in the middle of the room. You followed, taking a seat beside him, maybe too close. You sat, one leg dangling off the couch; the other, bent at the knee and tucked under you. James’s arms were stretched out, resting on the channel back of the sofa.

“Thanks,” you murmured out, looking over into his eyes; they looked blue from afar, but really they were silvery-gray, even with a hint of gold-hazel splatted through them. You could see yourself in the reflection. He didn’t say anything, just gazed back at you with a longing look etched into his features.

James really was beautiful. You’d always known it, just never really had time to dwell on it. But now you felt like you had all the time in the world and couldn’t help keeping your eyes from flickering between his and his lips. It was as if you were contemplating which were more endearing, and right now his lips were in the lead. The heat in your cheeks tingled and you silently wished he couldn’t see your blush in the darkness.

Even if he did register your blush, he didn’t make it known to you. He did, however, seem to notice your quivering gaze. You weren’t sure if you were just imagining it, or if he really was leaning closer, but you subconsciously mirrored him. The tension and silence felt suffocating but all you could focus on was his lips.

The two of you leaned in painstakingly slowly. Your nose brushed his and it tickled you, mouth curling into a slight smile. Eventually after what seemed to be ages, his lips grazed against yours. He didn’t push them to meet yours any further, just letting them skim past as if to tease you, or maybe just to be gentle, you didn’t know.

After that ghost of a kiss—if you could even call it that—you leaned back slightly, noses barely an inch away, and smiled at him softly as he returned the smile. You pushed forward, kissing him again but this time deeper and more controlling. James’s hand drew up to hold your jaw between his fingers. His lips were pleasant and velvety under yours, his touch gentle and caring.

Taking your sweet time, you pushed against him and he to you. His head tilted back a little as the kissing grew passionate and needy. Your lips slot together like a perfect puzzle. You bit his lip gingerly, prodding your tongue at the crease and sliding it across his lips, asking and waiting for access.

Without hesitation, his mouth curved open more and allowed for you to slide your tongue in. They danced together, roaming every inch of each other’s mouths as if searching for missing treasure. Before you knew it, you were throwing your leg across him and straddling his hips, holding him by his chest and pushing him further into the couch with your kisses. His hands fell to your waist, caressing the slope.

Every now and then you’d pull back to catch up on your rapid breathing. The tiredness you’d felt earlier was quick to disperse and allow for the adrenaline of the moment to kick in, leaving a buzzing feeling in your stomach, like butterflies.

Your temptation to grind down on his hips caved and when you did, his mouth parted and he drawled out a low, deep groan. His hands went from resting along your waist to grabbing down on your hips, helping you move against him. Warmth spread throughout and you couldn’t help but smile and continue pressing kisses to his lips.

He moved his head downwards, kissing along your jaw, then suckling on your neck. You gasped as his teeth plucked at the sensitive skin and tilted your head further upwards to grant him a larger canvas. Hips moving against his, your stomach fluttered in the best way possible.

His hands that held onto your hips tightened and held you in place, refraining you from moving any further. You frowned and pulled back from him with a whine. “What’s wrong?” You asked, breaking the silence that had encased the room long ago. James shook his head. “Nothing, nothing,” he assured you. “But we can’t do this right now, you’re drunk.” You smiled, then let out an airy scoff, “I’m barely tipsy, James.” You didn’t want anything other in this moment but him.

Still, you felt the fatigue come back and slowly got off him, sitting down beside him again. Begrudgingly for you, his decision was probably for the best so you just complied. You pressed a kiss to his nose then stood from the couch, making your way to his bed that rested behind the sofa.

“You need some clothes?” James asked, now also standing but making his way towards his drawers. “Yeah, please.” You pealed your dress down, slipping the navy straps from your shoulder as James threw a large shirt over to your direction. You threw it over your head, then slipped on the pair of shorts he gave to you. You crawled under the patterned covers of his bed. Your arms sprawled out above the covers as you waited for him.

Glancing in James’s direction, he still stood at his drawer. He was now wearing loose, green pajama pants. Unaware of your attention being on him, he lifted his shirt up, tugging it over his head and throwing it somewhere random, thinking he’d deal it with tomorrow. Breath hitching, stomach fluttering; you admired his slim but not so toned figure. You stared with no shame, as if it were your first time seeing his bare chest. Sadly for you, he tugged a grey shirt over his head, and you looked away as he approached the bed.

He climbed under the covers beside you and you felt his arm brush up against you. Turning on your side to face him, he was already facing you, seemingly staring at your face. The pale moonlight shone down from the window, illuminating one side of his face. God, he’s so kissable, you thought. Leaning forward in a sluggish, drowsy move, you pressed a chaste kiss against his lips. Moving one hand to rest under his head and cheek, your eyes were still shut when you placed another kiss on the corner of his lips.

Finally, your eyes opened to be met with his metallic ones looking back at you. In that moment you wished you could lay there forever, placing kisses along his angelic features. Had it not been the slight shine of the moonlight, you’d barely be able to make out his flushed cheeks in the dimness of the room.

James opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, then continued. “You’re so beautiful; breathtaking.” His cheek was still cradled against your palm and your fingers curved along it, caressing it gently. You smiled, a breathy laugh coming out along with it. “So are you,” you replied and kissed the tip of his nose.

He shuffled closer to you and you rested your head on his shoulder. A kiss was placed on the skin just behind your ear and you draped one arm across his shoulder, around his neck and let it lie behind his head. A warm but dainty hand crept up your waist, tugging you impossibly closer. And you both lay there, breaths mixing together in the darkness. It wasn’t long before your breathing evened out, and when James noticed that it did, he allowed himself to fall asleep.

[sagegarnish]

Because the wank never ends and we are all in a samsara of discourse: fixed shipping is FINE AND COOL!

Only liking certain t/b dynamic = FINE! Enjoying when they have seme/uke personality changes = FINE! Harassing people who write/enjoy outside of that binary = BAD

Literally it's 100% normal and cool to only prefer one character being dominant or another taking it up the ass! It's just that people start demanding "top/bottom tags" on works that don't necessarily fit the tropes they're asking for, or getting mad when SFW art has "both tags".

Say I want to write BlorboSkrunkly. Blorbo is older & in a position of power. Skrunkly is younger. If I write a fic where Blorbo is topping, a lot of fixed shippers will assume Blorbo is being DOMINANT and even grooming/pressuring Skrunkly into it. EVEN IF THATS THE OPPOSITE THING I'M WRITING! They will be UPSET even if I "tag properly" because that is "not what they expect from a top Blorbo fic". However, I can't tag top Skrunkly, because he is NOT TOPPING!!!! The penis is going into his ass! But you can be harassed for tagging properly while not following the seme/uke OOCness that people expect from the tags. (This is not a strawman, this has literally happened to me and friends)

As well, often fixed shippers become hostile over TOTALLY SFW ART where the characters are together and not even drawn differently from canon. "Don't tag as AxB if you actually ship BxA!!!!" when the art has nothing to show one way or the other!!! How is this decided?? How do you even begin to choose the tag? Especially in a Western fandom where there isn't a AxBxA style tag that anyone uses, so it is not typically searched for OR muted?

I honestly do support fixed dynamic shippers, and most of them are normal about it. Like sometimes you just have a blorbo whose prostate needs to be jammed 24/7!!! I GET IT!!!! But when ppl get OBSESSED with it and try to enforce it on everyone, IT'S WEIRD!

Generally I tend to be very vers/switch when it comes to my ships, but I always do try to tag in my fics. Not in "ship name" (since AO3 doesn't support that) but in the other tags. But tags are a COURTESY!

I believe that if you feel so strongly about Skrunkly needing to be a weepy submissive bottom, it's on you to read only tagged fics or find a friend to taste test it for you. Even then, you NEED to accept that sometimes the top!Blorbo tag isn't going to mean the personality change and dynamic you expect/want. And you cannot get upset at the author for that.

Generally when this comes up I DO KNOW people are talking about the classic seme/uke idea of top/bottom, so the top is domineering (and even rapey), and the bottom is smaller and sweet/submissive

Hot Yaoi Base by K3nel1OS

But there's not a lot of grace given for works that DON'T FIT INTO THAT TROPE

[suzukiblu]

is there a way to read all of "JayKon soulmates, TimKon datemates, and the wrong Superboy." in one spot? going through the tag it's all jumbled, and it's one of my favorite fics of yours

Thank you! I like that one, I'm really pleased with how it's been coming out. ❤

Honestly, there is not an "all in one place" version of it, though, so have this read-more that will fix that problem for you, friend. This is the whole WIP so far (barring, like, some out-of-order bits that have not yet been woven into the larger whole, haha).

.

There's a couple of ways to ID a soulmate, but the traditional–and usual–one is a kiss. Basically any exchange of bodily fluids will do it, of course, but most people kiss way before they get around to fucking bareback and a kiss is also definitely less likely to result in hepatitis than swapping blood with strangers. And, like, it's also more romantic and that tends to appeal to people more even when the involved soulmates aren't actually romantic. It's way easier to laugh off that one time you slipped your destined BFF tongue than it is to explain a bloodborne illness to your GP. 

So naturally, Jason finds out who his soulmate is by accidentally bleeding all over the guy in the middle of a random stupid throwdown with supervillains in San Francisco.

Also, naturally said guy is Tim's boyfriend who still justifiably hates Jason's ass for all the fucked-up shit he's done and said to Tim. 

Jason is pretty sure this would count as another reason for Superboy to hate his ass, except the one mercy in this situation is that Superboy was unconscious for their accidental blood-swap, so he at least doesn't know they're soulmates. 

The lucky bastard.

Fuck everything, Jason thinks, and then resolves to never think about it again. Which he doesn't, because even having a thought around Bruce is basically the same thing as handing the bastard a signed confession. 

It sucks, admittedly? Like, Jason's not gonna pretend it doesn't suck. He didn't ever think he'd get a coffee shop meet-cute with his soulmate, assuming he had enough of a soul left to actually have one, but he'd at least expected to get somebody who wasn't already dating the brother he's treated worst and who did not, ideally, hate his guts. 

Or who at least hated his guts in a sexy way that could result in a nice enemies-with-benefits situation to spice up his sex life and maybe hopefully one day evolve into . . . he doesn't know, frenemies-with-benefits? Or something? 

Superboy is not gonna be up for cheating on his boyfriend with said boyfriend's adoptive brother, Jason is very damn sure. For one thing, if he was, Jason wouldn't want to fuck him anyway, much less be his soulmate. Jason is a murderer and a bastard but he is also a ride or die, okay, and he doesn't give a shit what the universe says, there is no damn way that he'd accept a soulmate like that. 

Also, like, since the accidental blood-swap went down, now when they get close enough there's an empathy bond going and Jason can absolutely feel how fucking besotted Superboy is by every little thing Tim does and says and just is. 

And he can also feel how much the guy hates him. 

Jason has never had better control of his pit rage than since realizing that if Superboy ever felt it, it'd be absolutely undeniably obvious what it was and where it was coming from. 

It is fucking amazing what a desperate person can get a handle on. Like, really. 

Jason went to fucking therapy for this shit. It sucks and he hates it and he wants to burn down the whole stupid office every time, but he's still going every week because fuck forbid he lose control enough that somebody realize something is up. 

Jason's self-control is not helped by the fact that Superboy has his own anger issues, but it's not like they get all that close to each other all that often anyway. He very rarely has to worry about Superboy picking up on anything from him. Mostly he just has to worry about not being any worse to Tim than he already has been and making excuses to avoid any situation that Superboy might theoretically pop up in. He has absolutely no designs on fucking up Tim's relationship. Ever. 

He guesses he and Superboy could have a platonic bond, admittedly. Like, that's possible.

Except Superboy constantly insists on wearing a painted-on bodysuit and studded black leather and strappy belts and looking like a porn star parody of a superhero, along with regularly smirking like a cocky asshole who just so happens to be the second coming of sin, and Jason has a very difficult time not finding all of that just unspeakably hot, so that seems unlikely. 

So yeah, Jason's definitely not telling anyone that they're soulmates. Possibly ever. At least not as long as Superboy and Tim are still into each other and in undeniably perfect romantic love, anyway. 

It's not like Jason's waiting for them to break up or something, or for the probably likelier but much more upsetting option that is Tim fucking dying. He's a bastard, again, but he's not that kind of a bastard.

He really hopes this is just one of those bullshit bonds that don't actually become relevant until the involved bondmates are, like, octogenarians or whatever. Which is not something Jason would've ever expected to want from his soulmate, but Jason also did not ever expect his soulmate to turn out to be Tim's boyfriend, so yeah. Well, life's a bitch and also full of surprises. 

It's impossible to always avoid Superboy, all things considered, but Jason usually can, and thanks to Bat-training and his time with the League and just who he is as a person he's very good at keeping his emotions on lockdown when the dude's around without it actually looking like he's keeping his emotions on lockdown. Mostly he just ignores him and acts like he thinks he's irrelevant, and Superboy seems perfectly happy with that. 

But again, it's impossible to always avoid him, and they're on the same side and everything, more or less. Jason therefore can't technically bitch about the guy randomly landing in the middle of his rooftop stakeout wearing that cocky asshole smirk of his and also his painted-on bodysuit and studded black leather. 

Or he couldn't, except that it is very obviously not actually Superboy wearing all those things. For starters, Superboy never wears that smirk when he's looking at Jason.

For another thing, Jason knows his own damn soulmate when he sees him. Like, he is not actually that oblivious or stupid a person as to not recognize his own damn soulmate. 

"Hey, man," fake Superboy greets casually as his boots hit the roof. Jason runs the internal numbers on whether or not fake Superboy has real Kryptonian powers and decides better safe than sorry, then hits the panic button hidden in the collar of his jacket as he turns to fully face him, making the gesture look like an idle adjustment. 

"Robin need something?" he asks, cocking his head questioningly. Seems wisest to pretend like he's falling for this bullshit, whatever it is. Especially if Kryptonian powers are currently a concern. 

"Naw," the fake Superboy says, his smirk widening crookedly. "This one's an . . . off-the-books social call, as it were." 

"Oh, we make social calls, now?" Jason asks dryly, resisting the irrational urge to hit his panic button again. Not actually a helpful urge, that. The thing's already streaming live audio and video to Oracle and the Batcomputer to get everyone in the loop on what the problem is, that's all that matters. Extra hitting would just make it likelier that fake Superboy might notice something. 

"Maybe I just wanted to see you, Hood," fake Superboy says as his smirk turns into a wicked grin, and then steps towards Jason with very familiar and incredibly unsubtle body language that, again, has never once been directed towards him. 

Goddammit. 

Well, good thing Jason hit his panic button, because there is no damn way this is ending well. He's never actually used the thing before, it's a recent addition to his gear now that he and the Bats are actually mostly working together again, but he already appreciates said addition very, very much. 

Assuming that Bruce is packing kryptonite tonight, anyway. 

Fuck, he'd better be. 

. . . also assuming that whoever this fake Superboy is happens to be vulnerable to kryptonite. Or at least currently happens to be vulnerable to kryptonite. Jason's not sure if this is like a bodyswap situation or a more traditional possession or just a doppelganger or a shapeshifter, but who the hell even knows. Not mind control, he's pretty sure, unless it's the kind that really fucks with somebody's personality. Like, yes, that is Superboy's body language and Superboy's facial expressions and even Superboy's microexpressions, but it's just . . . not Superboy behind any of it. Like, very obviously not. 

. . . weirdly obviously, actually. Like, Jason's really feeling the uncanny valley right now. 

Ugh. 

Well, hopefully this person or thing or weird psychic projection thinks he's fucking stupid. 

"Did you now," Jason says, eyeing fake Superboy through his helmet. Schooling his expression doesn't really matter right now, except of course X-ray vision is a thing, so actually never mind, maybe it does. Again: goddammit. 

Definitely gonna need to keep a handle on his heart rate here.

"Eh, what can I say, Rob was being a basic bitch again and I got bored," fake Superboy says with a dismissive shrug, which is something Jason would pistol-whip the real Superboy for saying but at least provides him a pretty solid script to go off while he waits for reinforcements to show. 

He'd rather be making with the pistol-whipping, though. 

"'Bored', huh," he says instead because if this is somebody hitching a ride in or fully copying Superboy's body, there is no fucking way that he is coming out on top in a one-v-one with a Kryptonian hybrid. He might be able to get away, maybe, but then he'd be leaving a probably pissed-off fake Superboy with free rein on his territory and every reasonably innocent person in it. 

Yeah, that seems like a stupid idea. 

"What can I say, I like a bad boy," fake Superboy says, smirking at him again. Jason would be embarrassingly into that smirk, if not for the fact that it's not Superboy wearing it. Right now, he just wants to deck this fucker. "Don't you?" 

"I could maybe see the appeal," Jason says, though he doesn't usually. Honestly, he's more a romantic than anything else. He knows he won't ever get that, especially considering what he's done and who his soulmate is and how very, very disgustingly in love with his brother said soulmate is, but–not the point. Either way, Jason's not gonna be honest about his taste in partners with a damn fake version of his goddamn soulmate. 

"Yeah, I bet you could," fake Superboy says with a wider smirk as he steps in a little closer, all the way into Jason's personal space. All of Jason's internal alarms go off, his spine prickling in restless discomfort. 

He really, really hopes Bruce is packing kryptonite tonight. 

“We're taking bets now?” Jason snorts dubiously. Fake Superboy grins at him, and it's worse than the smirking because it's not just a suggestive come-on, it's one of the pleased looks the real Superboy would never give him. Something he saves for Tim or Steph or Dick or literally just anyone else. He's pretty sure he's seen him grin like that at Bruce, even. 

Though it admittedly does lack some of its usual effect when Jason can't feel any of the emotions behind it. 

“You can take anything you want, Hood,” fake Superboy purrs, skimming a hand up Jason's chest. If he were Superboy, this would be the part where Jason called him an asshole and asked him what the fuck he thought he was doing, except if he were Superboy he'd never actually be doing this. Superboy loves Tim. Adores him. And he's not a desperate for attention teenager anymore, much less this kind of a selfish fucking prick. 

So Jason is just stuck on this stupid fucking roof with a stupid fucking fake, and this fucking funhouse mirror is the closest he's ever getting to his own fucking soulmate. 

The wait on this damn panic button better be a short one. 

“‘Anything’, huh,” he says, folding his arms. The fake Superboy gives him another smirk and taps his fingers against the underside of Jason's jaw, just where his helmet fastens. 

The fastener clicks, and his helmet falls apart and falls right off him and into fake Superboy's hands. Jason should've left the bomb in it. 

Tactile telekinesis. Okay. So the fucker does have access to Superboy's powers, one way or another. 

Fuck. 

At least Jason wore his domino tonight. He doesn't know what this asshole actually knows, and he might be legally dead, but compromising any Bat-related identities is still not the place to start. 

“You're too damn hot to wear this clunky-ass thing all the time, you know,” fake Superboy says, turning over Jason's helmet in his hands and still smirking at him. Jason would really like to make with the pistol-whipping right now. “Real waste of a pretty face.” 

“We don't all have bulletproof skulls,” Jason says dryly, and fake Superboy laughs. 

“You'd be bulletproof if I got my hands on you,” fake Superboy points out casually, which is not actually an application of TTK Jason was aware of but does raise a lot of questions he is not going to internally explore. Ever.

“Who said you were getting your hands on me?” he says, and the fake Superboy laughs and taps his fingers against Jason’s helmet. 

“Dunno,” he says, tilting his head with a sly expression. “I wouldn’t mind it the other way around either, though.” 

Fuck his life, Jason thinks. 

“I’m on the clock here, you realize,” he says, and fake Superboy laughs again and then pulls a mock-pout. 

“C’mon, Hood. Told you, I’m bored,” he says, somehow actually managing to find the space to step in closer without quite touching him. His grin is a sharp, glittering thing. “Play hooky with me.” 

This panic button cannot possibly work fast enough, Jason thinks. 

“Fuck it, whatever,” he says, because fake Superboy is clearly not taking no for an answer here and he just needs to buy a little time for someone to get here. Hell, even if fake Superboy were taking no for an answer, he’d probably still want to keep the asshole around as opposed to letting him slip off and put on who knows who else’s face. Better to get him while they’ve got him clocked, one way or the other. “It’s been dead all night anyway. What do you want?” 

Fake Superboy’s grin widens. If he was the real one, Jason would want to bite him over that expression. Unfortunately, he’s not the real one. Again: fuck his fucking life. 

“For starters, bet I could liven things up for you,” fake Superboy purrs, and then he props Jason’s helmet on his cocked hip and braces his free hand on the bricks behind him, leaning in close with an absolutely smug “coy” expression. Jason considers biting him in the not fun way. 

Eh, no, he’d probably just break his fucking teeth. 

It’s a fucking temptation, though. 

“Yeah?” Jason drawls dubiously. “Big talk for a Super.” 

Fake Superboy snickers. 

“Yeah, they tell me I’ve got a big mouth,” he says with an obvious leer. “Wanna see?” 

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” Jason asks, curling his lip in irritation, and fake Superboy laughs. 

And then actually kisses him, the fucking shit. 

Jason barely manages not to punch him for it. Again, he’d just break his knuckles. 

The fake Superboy sticks his tongue in Jason's mouth and Jason gets absolutely no sense of a soulmate bond, so whatever's going on, Superboy is definitely not in the driver's seat right now, or just not home at all or what the fuck ever. So yeah, that's a no on mind control and probably also possession, and definitely not the effects of red or black K. Not that the total lack of empathy bond response all this time hadn't already proven that pretty damn thoroughly, considering. 

Also, the real Superboy's always had a rep as a flirt and if nothing else definitely spends way too much time in Tim's back pocket to not be a better kisser than this by now. Seriously, Jason refuses to believe that he is not, if only for Tim's sake. This prick kisses like he barely understands the concept.

Fucking figures, Jason thinks, and crushes their mouths together. 

Fake Superboy kisses like a fucking middle schooler, and Jason is absolutely exasperated about having to put up with it. Like–it’d be one thing if it was actually Superboy kissing him like this, and if Superboy wasn’t dating his fucking brother. Then he’d probably think it was funny. Or even kind of cute, honestly, especially with how the guy preens and postures and plays it up. 

And then he’d get to teach him how to kiss better, too, and fucking relish the process. 

This, unfortunately, is not that situation. This is just some asshole wearing the face of the hottest bastard Jason knows and not doing it justice with his sub-par kissing skills.

. . . actually–“her” sub-par kissing skills, maybe? Jason actually has no fucking clue if this is a man or a woman, does he. For all he knows this is an actual middle schooler, which holy fucking Christ, is an absolutely disgusting thought. If this is some kid with shapeshifting powers who somebody coached into this, Jason is going to crack out the good ol’ bloody duffel bag and start collecting heads again. 

He’s pretty sure they’re not, at least, because they might suck at kissing but they don’t move like their body is too big or anything like that. Then again, they don’t move like their body doesn’t fit either, so their powers might be accounting for that. Or–whatever they’ve currently got going. Maybe it’s a fucking spell or maybe it is possession and the muscle memory is keeping Superboy’s body moving at least semi-normally. Again: this asshole has this act down to the microexpressions. 

It’s just so, so screamingly obviously fake all the same, though. 

Jason breaks off the kiss to bare his teeth at said fake, who grins at him all crooked and sultry-warm. Jason, again, debates the merits of breaking his knuckles on this asshole’s face. 

“You can’t kiss for shit,” Jason says bluntly, because only a fucking idiot wouldn’t notice that anyway, and fake Superboy laughs. 

“Aw, you don’t like it like Rob does?” he asks teasingly, his grin widening as he leans forward a little heavier on the arm he has against the bricks. Jason is absolutely fucking offended that fake Superboy is trying to convince him that any brother of his would ever settle for kissing that fucking mediocre, much less like it. As fucking if. “Why don’t you show me what you like, Hood? I’ll roll out the red carpet."

Jason should tase this piece of shit. Jason should <i>shoot</i> this piece of shit. Unfortunately, this still might be Superboy’s body even without him in it, and he didn’t pack kryptonite tonight either way. Assuming, again, that kryptonite would even work. 

He’s absolutely never skipping the kryptonite again, though. Not after this bullshit. He’s going full Lex Luthor and getting himself a pair of kryptonite brass knuckles, in fact. And not in blue: he’s going green. 

“You really think I wanna hear about Robin right now?” he says in the hopes the fucker will shut up a little, and fake Superboy just smirks and loops his arm around his neck, pressing fully up against him. Jason is wearing body armor, obviously, but that doesn’t make him feel particularly safe right now. The TTK alone would be an issue, even discounting Kryptonian strength. Fake Superboy could flatten him like a fucking panini with about as much effort as actually making a panini would take right now. 

So like, that’s a concern. 

“So still the jealous type, huh?” fake Superboy purrs, tilting his head a little. He’s much better at “come-hither” looks than he is at kissing, Jason can’t help noticing, which is fucking irritating. He’s also still got Jason’s helmet held against his hip. Jason is weirdly annoyed by that. “How about I just call you ‘Robin’ tonight, then?” 

Jason did so much therapy to not have this exact fucking fucked-up sexual fantasy. Just so much. 

He is definitely shooting this shithead before the night is over. 

“Try it and I’ll shoot you in the fucking dick,” he says flatly, because there’s playing along and there’s shit he just cannot truck with, and fake Superboy laughs.

“Kinky,” he says approvingly. Jason thinks longingly of kryptonite. 

He really, really hopes kryptonite works on this fucker. It’d have to, right? TTK isn’t exactly a standard-issue superpower; the fake’s got to at least have copied Superboy’s body, and that means copying his vulnerabilities. 

Hopefully. 

Of course, Jason doesn’t actually know jack shit about what’s actually going on here and narrowing it down isn’t working half as well as it could be, so . . . fuck if he actually knows if it’d work. 

He really doesn’t appreciate not being prepared in a crisis. Like–that is the literal antithesis of his entire fucking approach to life, is what it is. 

He’s going to need an extra therapy session this week, he’s pretty sure. Possibly several. Maybe he’ll just call his therapist first thing after they wrap this bullshit up, actually, assuming he survives it. That might be for the best. 

Or literally psychologically fucking necessary so he won’t snap and turn into a literal supervillain. One or the other. 

“You’re seriously overestimating my patience, Superboy,” he says flatly. The fake looks pleased, presumably because he still thinks Jason’s falling for this stupid act. 

“Don’t be such a pill,” fake Superboy says, smirking at him. The idea of pistol-whipping him sounds better and better. It’s almost definitely not gonna work, yeah, but that doesn’t mean Jason wouldn’t try it. “Why don’t you just be nice to me, and I’ll give you plenty of reasons not to be jealous tonight. Or at least don’t bore me as bad as Rob’s been, if nothing else."

Jason is going to burn down . . . mmmmmaybe all of Gotham tonight, actually. Like. Just all of it. Completely. Entirely.

[cloudmancy]

which is worse: d20 tumblr or d20 twitter?

this is such a funny question. frankly I prefer talking with my existing friends over discord over either of them but here's a breakdown of my experience with them

d20 tumblr

feels like a more isolating experience because of the way tumblr is set up in general as a platform. I follow relatively few people here, so all my interactions are from people engaging with my art (love you mwah) or asking me questions. nearly every time I go into a d20 related tag I regret it

I think frankly I disagree with 90% of the opinions on d20 here but because I don't have to see it I can just post my art and go

feels relatively static like there's not a good way to get everyone talking about a specific transformative fandom thing instead of only what's happening in canon because it's a looser more disconnected community

allows for longer posts and the search system on my own blog is great though. I love directing people to go through my tags or archived art

d20 twitter

incredibly, astonishingly, bad at recognizing jokes for people who are fans of a comedy show

way easier to interact with people which means most of the friends I make are from d20twt...

very easy to get everyone talking about one specific thing (ie fhsonas) because of how interactive Twitter is as a platform and how quickly word spreads

downside of this^ is that every time I express an opinion someone disagrees with they tend to assume that this is a majority opinion rather than like, 3-4 popular gay asian artists speaking their mind? when I complained about fhjy 18 battle on here I got interesting and thoughtful reblogs and everyone kept it respectful meanwhile on twitter people started making vaguetweets about how people who hated the episode were morons. stuff like us joking that oisin's grandma's whole mahjong group got murked getting 200 likes VS people directly shitting on us getting 1.7k likes and people going "wait... people are mad about oisins grandma for REAL?! she was going to kill people !!" getting 2k likes. clearly there is some sort of strange authority people put on your words whether or not you're actually just trying to have fun with your friends

I did talk about this more on twitter but I am not a fan of the CRitterfication of d20twt either. feels like much of the fandom is now watching because they're megafans of the cast rather than for the story which leads to some really big toxic positivity bias and the implication that criticism of the show == direct attack on the crew and therefore on THEM because parasocial attachment. I don't think it helps that for a majority of them d20 is their first big fandom experience aside from like... kpop or tswift because they have not developed a lot of the detachment from canon + not being parasocial + ignoring opinions you don't like if they're not directly addressed at you mechanisms that people who've been around have. sorry I'm not trying to fandom elder or whatever here I'm 21 years old but I think it's incredibly hard for me to interact with people whose entire understanding of canon depend on siobhan thompson's opinions like this

tldr;

d20twt has way less reading comprehension and critical thinking skills. better for making friends. I interact almost entirely with 30-40 of my artist friends. (my) d20tumblr experience is more chill and feels like I'm doing a seminar and people come up to ask me questions afterward. more isolating but easier to do my own thing. I do recognize and am fond of a lot of you but I've made one (1) entire friend who I can talk to off platform and not just see on the dash/my notes and that's just the nature of how tumblr works as a platform (it's terrible for conversations)

[biowaredisasterbisexual]

20 Questions for Fanfiction Writers

Thanks so much for the tag, @bygonesigh!

Honestly, any of you all who want to do this should! It’s fun! Tag me so I can come read. 😁

I’ll also give low-pressure tags to: @mageofquandrix, @thedissonantverses, @ofcrowsanddragons, @basedonconjecture, @hyperions-light, @neve-gallus-girl-detective, @flowersforthemachines, and @mythals-whore.

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

Eleven! So far. Muahahahahahahaha.

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

24,360. Somehow all one-shots.

3) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

After the Battle leads off, followed by: Don’t Talk About After; Fifth Date; I’m Fine; and last, but not least, Best Mistake.

That last one is rated Explicit, so use caution if clicking.

4) What fandoms do you write for?

On AO3? Only Dragon Age, though I am very slowly cowriting an X-Men fic with a friend as well.

5) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Absolutely! If someone is taking the time to comment on my fic, I will for sure take the time to respond. Besides, if I never converse with people, how will I make new friends?

6) What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably Don’t Talk About After, though I haven’t written much angst in general.

Yet. 😈

7) What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

That’s completed and posted? After the Battle, I think.

8) Do you get hate on fics?

Not so far. /knocks on wood

9) Do you write smut?

I do, though I’ve only posted one of them so far. (There are more.). I have more nerves than usual with smut than with other stuff, so I don’t write it as often.

10) Do you write crossovers?

I haven’t. I’ve toyed with a DA/ME idea for a long while, but I’m pretty sure that’s not happening. 🤣

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Uh….not to my knowledge? So if I have, they’ve gotten away with it so far.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Also not to my knowledge, though I wouldn’t be opposed.

13) Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Yes, but that was over a decade ago and isn’t on AO3. And I’m working on one now, too, that will eventually end up there.

14) What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I…I only get one? 🥺

Mulder/Scully from the X-Files. A fandom in which I’ve never written.

15) What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have this fear about anything I write with more than one chapter, to be honest. 😅

So TVJ and the Modern AU (tm), I guess. Though that is part of why neither of them have been posted on AO3.

16) What are your writing strengths?

I am a poor assessor of my own writing skills, but if pressed I’d say that one of my strengths is likely dialogue. Another is probably consistent (within my own universe of stuffs) character voicing.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

I’d actually go with organization, as my biggest weakness, which is why multi-chapter stuff tends to be a struggle. Beyond that, in no particular order: description, action sequences, addiction to convoluted sentences.

18) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

I actually enjoy it, if it makes sense for the character, though it is my preference it be in italics.

19) First fandom you wrote for?

Oh jeez. Uh…Inu-Yasha, I think. Yeah, it’s been awhile. 😆

20) Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

I love them all. My precious word children.

But if I had to pick one, and assuming it can’t be one I haven’t posted yet, I think it’s probably The Lightbringer.

Which was kind of a surprise to me, as I pondered the question.

[amplifyme]

I was tagged by @randomfoggytiger and @sagan-starstuff. Thanks! Sorry it took me so long.

What's the origin of your blog title? I'm assuming you don't mean my username. Or do you? My blog title is To Every Craft, Its Proper Mystery, which is a line written by my writing mentor for a BATB fanfic way back in the day, and one that's stuck with me since the first time I read it.

If you're asking about my user name, when I first poked around Tumblr back in 2010 I realized it was a place where I could safely amp up my obsessions and proudly let my freak flag fly. So, amplify me.

OTP(s) + Shipname: Mulder and Scully - MSR. Sandor Clegane and Sansa Stark - SanSan. Vincent and Diana, who don't really have a shipname.

Favourite colour: Muted blues, greens, and plums. But for some reason, the more brightly colored art pieces are the ones that really speak to me.

Favourite game: Um, I don't know that I have one. I don't really play many games.

Song stuck in your head: This one from Your Monster. And one of my favorite scenes/montages in this film.😍 Streaming on MAX if you're interested.

Weirdest habit/trait? I tend to be obsessive about everything being just so in my apartment. If anything is just the slightest bit off-kilter or not exactly placed, I have to fix it immediately. Thankfully this trait doesn't carry over to friend's or family's homes. Cuz that would be really weird.

Hobbies: Reading, catching up on older movies and TV shows, taking walks when the weather allows, poking around thrift stores, trying new recipes.

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? I think it would be a combo of doing some sort of job in a library and working at an animal rescue.

Something you're good at: Organization, multi-tasking, cooking, making people feel at ease.

Something you're bad at: Anything math related. My brain is not wired for math.

Something you love: Books. Levon the Cat. My family and friends. Music. Writing - when I'm actually able to do it.

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: Any of my OTPs/favorite movies, shows, and music.

Something you hate: Dishonesty. A lack of integrity. A lack of empathy/compassion. My country, right now.

Something you collect: Books and music.

Something you forget: Grocery lists. Every. Stinking. Time. I need to start writing them on my phone instead.

What's your love language? Words of affirmation. I had to take a quiz to find that out.

Favourite movie/show: Too many to list and I'm not even gonna try. But right now, I'm riding a wave of warm fuzzies and appreciation for Your Monster. See video above.

Favourite food: Anything fresh and prepared in a way that respects the ingredients. Well, anything but food that includes okra or escargot. Just, no.

Favourite animal: All of 'em!

What were you like as a child? Probably a lot like I am now, except that now I'm wiser and have thicker skin. I also have fewer fucks to give as an adult.

Favourite subject at school? English and history.

Least favorite subject? Math.

What's your best character trait? I don't think that's for me to decide.

What's your worst character trait? Procrastination.

If you could change any detail of your day right now what would it be? Nothing. It's all good.

If you could travel in time who would you like to meet? My ancestors in Scotland.

Recommend one of your favourite fanfics (spread the love!): All the Dead Mulders by @cecilysass. Just a lovely gut punch from start to finish.

I'm tagging @speaktruthful @musingsofaquietmind @xxsksxxx @enigmaticxbee and @ladytp

No pressure. Only play if you want to.

[wishfulstargazer]

An Easter Fic for all my Leverage Peeps

Rating: Teen Words: 2220 Relationship: Sophie/Eliot Tags: Canon Compliant

Eliot had taken on a lot of roles for the team. Wedding chef, tech support guy, country music star, MMA fighter, even a professional hockey player. One job description he had never anticipated: kids’ Easter Egg Hunt coordinator.

Roles like those tended to go to Sophie, who was classy and parents instinctively trusted with their children. Sometimes, they went to Parker, who no parents ever wanted to trust with their children, but the kids all adored her and she would lead them in outrageous games, everyone would have a good time, and she’d return them to their parents tired out enough that they would be well behaved and the moms wouldn’t ask any questions. 

Eliot, though, was rougher around the edges. And not known for his patience. Nate tried to keep him in positions where his tendency to hit people wouldn’t be a negative. They had no choice in this job. Their information was that one of the grubby little kids wandering around in khaki shorts and plaid shirts was going to be kidnapped today, and Eliot needed to keep them all within eye range.

He blew his whistle, loudly. The kids stopped comparing Easter baskets with each other and looked up at him, eyes wide. He gestured to his egg hunt “cohost”, Sophie’s best friend Tara. If things fell apart and someone got away with the kid, she had agreed to take over. She had Sophie’s class, but also the hand to hand skills the grifter had steadfastly refused to acquire. “A good grifter doesn’t need to get physical,” Sophie always insisted, rolling her eyes at him. “If I have to hit someone, that means I’ve failed.”

Eliot couldn’t persuade her that she was wrong to say that, even though he knew she was. Sophie assumed that everyone would play by her rules, and that if she could convince them of her innocence, she wouldn’t have to fight. He, on the other hand, knew only too well that certain criminal elements wouldn’t care whether Sophie was innocent–only whether she could expose them.

The thought of her being killed–or worse, tortured–to find out what she knew ate away at him.

After this job, he was going to force her into training. No matter what. He directed his attention back to the pastel-clad snifflers in front of him.

Keep reading at AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64762207

[hekateinhell]

get to know your mutuals ✨

Tagged by @wicked-felina, who I have never seen a day in my life. 🥸

What’s the origin of your username?: Idk tbh! It just came to me when I was making my ao3 account before I ever had a Tumblr. And when I did make a Tumblr, it wasn’t under this name lol I think it was bijouxinthesky. I did recently find a list of ‘alternative’ names for baby girls I made years ago that I had completely forgotten about, and Hekate was one of those name 😭 Let us all give thanks baby Faye never became a young mom.

OTP(s) + ship name: Lestat/Armand, Armand/Louis, Armand/Lestat/Louis aka Lesmand, Loumand, Loumandstat from TVC! I can work with any Armand ship and find something to love in a canon context or just a fun, kinky context separate from canon but those are my ride or die ships that I will always fight for! 🥰

Favorite color: Pink and green, all shades! I want to be in a rose garden all the time!

Song stuck in your head: Work Song by Hozier. It’s one of my all-time favorite love songs!!! (and a Loumand/Loumandstat song TO ME)

Weirdest habit/trait: you tell me Becca :catgasp:

Hobbies: Fandom, writing. I used to bake a lot and it was nice bc I’d have leftovers I could give to my friends and neighbors!

If you work, what’s your profession?: I’m not telling the internet lol but you can do a lot of things with my degree!

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be?: I wish to not need a job.

Something you’re good at: It sounds funny but I’m weirdly good with babies. I never met a baby, no matter how young, I couldn’t settle. We vibe, babies and me.

Something you hate: There’s so many possible answers to this and most of them are extraordinarily nuanced and complicated so I’ll stick with the simple: roaches and fandom cops—one and the same to me anyway. 

Something you collect: copies of TVC. 😭 If I see a cover or a printing I do not have at the used bookstore or the thrift store, I will buy it immediately. 

Something you forget: too much lol it’s a combination of ADHD and long COVID rest in fucking pieces

What’s your love language?: words of affirmation, I think! I’m very mushy gushy and sentimental with my friends, I don’t ever want you guys to doubt that I love you and I appreciate you. Gift-giving! I love spoiling my friends as much as I can, which isn’t MUCH much, but I try my best and picking out a perfect present that I know will make them smile makes me so happy! Overall, a little bit of everything though! Like I do so much acts of service for my friends in real life like asking them if they need something when I’m going to the store in the area and I know they’re busy, giving them cookies I made because they deserve a treat, taking care of their kids for free, etc. It takes a village, you know? And you build your village by showing up for others. We all take turns.

Favorite movie/show: The Sopranos, Psych, Monk, Goodfellas, To Kill a Mockingbird, Little Women, The Godfather

Favorite food: We would be here all night, but let’s just say a good Lebanese lamb shawarma!

Favorite animal: Cats. Hedgehogs. Birbs.

What were you like as a child?: Anxious. A great reader.

Favorite subject at school: English/Reading

Least favorite subject: Math lmao

What’s your best character trait?: I assume the best in people until proven otherwise, it takes a lot to fuck up with me. And I’m extremely protective of those I love and I’ll always worry about them and do whatever I can for them.

What’s your worst character trait?: Related to the first point above lol I do tend to give people too much leeway to the point that they get comfortable taking advantage. There’s absolutely a middle ground to be had between empathy and understanding and lack of self-respect. Aside from that I’m too self-critical, I feel things too deeply to a point where I don’t think it’s healthy (but on the plus side that means that when I do feel good, I feel REALLY GOOD :D). When I get fed up, I do get Fed Up. Executive dysfunction 💀

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet?: Every answer I can think of seems so trite 😭 I wish I could meet my parents as little kids to understand what made them the way they are. I’ve also been thinking about the ‘I met my younger self for coffee” trend, and I really like it because it’s a good reminder of how far I did come! I would tell that little girl that one day she’s not going to go to bed afraid. She’s going to have her own apartment with two perfect cats. She’s going to make friends that are like family and she’s going to be an auntie. She’s going to meet a community of the funniest, most beautiful and out-of-pocket creative people that love her and accept her for who she is, and guess what? They also love those vampire books where men kiss each other that we hide from mom! That she might be sad sometimes still, really sad. But it’s not so bad. It doesn’t last, one day she’ll realize that. She can go outside now. And the sun is shining.

ASKSJSHD SORRY THAT ENDED HEAVY but I enjoyed writing it so I’ll leave it, it’s positive anyway 🥹

tagging (absolutely no obligation): @monstersinthecosmos @johaerys-writes @rainbowcarousels @madeofklay @uncivilcivilservice @butchybats @hallowedhaunting !!! 💖

[wid0wd]

MUN GETTING TO KNOW YOU

respond to the following prompts out of character, then tag others you'd like to get to know a little bit better.

roleplayer name: nina, though i guess if we're friends on discord you might know my real name too gjhj

roleplayer pronouns: she / her, general they / them is fine too if you're unsure

muse name: one and only natalia alianovna romanova <3

preferred communication: ims and discord are fine though i unfortunately tend to take a bit to reply for one reason or another gjhj. i promise it's never personal, i just get easily overwhelmed

experience: first started roleplaying in an HP facebook group in 2010, it was an original character. a couple years later all my internet friends in that group moved to tumblr so i did too, marvel was my first rpc, then i moved to winx club for a while, resident evil, supernatural, jujutsu kaisen, one piece, arcane. my longest muse was an oc in the old guard / assassin's creed fandom though

preferred roleplay type: i don't mind either of the usual memes, one liners, random starters honestly. again i take a little to reply to everything but eventually my sense of urgencyTM always makes me lock in lmao

pet peeves & dealbreakers: i can tell when people don't read my portrayal notes or hcs because they usually assume mcu canon applies to how i write nat. i never say anything because i'm a pushover people pleaser awful terrible that will never change, but i do wonder what even is the point of putting effort lol. overly complicated purple prose puts me off - good on you for knowing all the english words in the thesaurus but as someone who speaks four languages i genuinely can't keep up and it stresses me out

plot or memes: if you send me a meme first i might come up with more ideas to plot, i'm not gonna lie

long replies or short replies: sometimes i'm more inspired to be a yapper, other times not necessarily ... i think it depends on what we're writing and the level of engagement on the other side

best time to write: ugh whoever knows me enough also knows my writing schedule is a mess. i write in between pauses at uni, in the weekend if i feel like ... most of the time i just pick up my phone, type the reply and then whenever i have a bit of focus i open my laptop to format everything

are you like your muse?: lol, kind of. i have all her character flaws unfortunately

tagged by: stolen from the dash lmao tagging: you. say i tagged you

[edalynn]

An anon said this about you on a confession blog: https://www.tumblr.com/tohconfessions/772663584703561728/some-people-might-probably-know-who-i-am-but-i?source=share

LMAOOO I can’t get over the fact that this person is SO obsessed with me that they’ve clearly read every ask I’ve ever answered, and even scoured my blog for reasons to try and make me “problematic”

Also, not that I have to defend myself, or explain fuck all, but not once have I said Cat’s not a “self insert”- if anything it’s been me saying Cat’s not a self insert in the way that it’s an actual life I’ve lived. For newcomers, or my apparent fanbase, I did not “create” a character or a self insert OC, or whatever you want to call it, because Cat is just me from a life/timeline/universe/whatever. I use those tags for views and because I know it is viewed, but really it’s a kin thing, which despite this person’s dedication to my blog they clearly didn’t understand I.e. calling (assumably) Hunter and Dipper a “rarepair” or “crossover”. Also, the comment that I don’t draw canon aged up designs/don’t “age up” Hunter OR Dipper (again, drawing real experiences, not fanart) when I have drawn each of them at multiple ages and points in life.

The hunt/low mentions clearly prove this is just a bitter h/l shipper that doesn’t like people with other opinions than their own. Unfortunately for them, the world outside tumblr (and on tumblr) is and always will be full of people with differing opinions!! It’s giving chronically online. I can promise my opinions on hunt/low have hurt no one. Same with my opinions on dip/cifica. Which, by the way, “wouldn’t date his sister’s bully” is coming from an understanding and analysis of Dipper’s own character, morals, personality, etc. He’s not forgiving and he’s very protective of Mabel. Mabel is forgiving and doesn’t tend to have qualms befriending (and assumably crushing on) people who formerly bullied her, her friends, or her brother. But that’s besides the point.

The moringmark comment also is hilarious, just for the fact that he actively, constantly is posting questionable and borderline problematic comics. Did he ever “acknowledge past mistakes” or “grow”? Because I’ve never seen it if so. Either way. HILARIOUS that I have at least one person that hates me so much that they have obsessively read my blog for years like it’s the daily news.