#just putting them all into one post because why not

[paragonrobits]

honestly this whole thing being treated as an exclusive problem to superhero tropes in general, or implying that superheroes as a concept are inherently bad because I guess people assume they were specifically created to Keep The People Down or what-not, REALLY ANNOYS ME A LOT so this seems a good opportunity to make a point:

this trope is not specific to superheroes, and has been a thing for quite a while in fiction overall, specifically in TV and films (and at the risk of being snappy and letting irritation doing the talking, thus in mediums that get the most coverage and it makes people sound like a series doesn't exist if its not in TV or movies)

At its worst, this is basically a low-effort way to give a villain some nuance without putting much thought into it. It's not really meant to imply, at least in most cases, that their goal or motive is BAD, as some people seem to suggest. This is probably an outgrowth of the common idea of a villain being the hero of their own story; its common to suggest that a villain MUST have some kind of moral point or heroic quality to them, and that's basically where this comes up; its a less well-written handling of that concept by using it to get some pathos into a villain that can often be counterproductive.

I'm gonna go out on a limb here and suggest that its not suggesting that their cause is BAD; indeed, the writer implicitly means that their cause is good, because that's where the villains Good Cause Points come from; if it wasn't a good cause to them, they wouldn't be trying to humanize the villain by rooting them in that cause.

It's not exclusive to superheroes by any means, and the general trend predates the modern superhero genre in film and television, at least in the post-MCU sense.

The other point to be made is that sometimes, the supervillain isn't actually concerned by a problem at all, and they're just using it as an excuse to satisfy their own personal grudges, because it gets them support as they pursue their own goals, or because they're cynical manipulators who never gave a damn about that problem but it furthers their own goals to manipulate others who DO care about that problem.

There is also one other aspect; sometimes the villain does genuinely believe in solving a problem, but their understanding of it is completely divorced from reality, or their intended plans are inherently a bad thing. For example, lets take the common idea of Poison Ivy as a heroic eco-heroine fighting corporations who pollute the planet. All well and good, but Ivy actually doing that is an extreme outlier in her established character. More often than not, what she's actually doing it is causing massive destruction that gets a lot of completely unrelated people killed because her explicit end goal is the complete genocide of all human life, and at extremes, all ANIMAL life as well. This makes her a textbook ecofascist of the 'kill all people, especially the ones that have no power to do anything about ecological destruction' kind.

This is closer to the sort of villains you're actually likely to see; their stance on a problem is completely destructive, counterproductive and generally just kind of evil. Thats why heroes stop them; because their entire plan is to kill lots of people while making vague comments about 'x thing is the Real Evil' or something like that.

This, uh, also tends to be the actual nature of villains that fandoms often present as enlightened True Heroes unjustly antagonized by heroes. Almost every time, they only give lip service to any real goal and mostly just want to kill lots of people or do large scale disasters to satisfy their own grudges, and as such they're not really meant to be taken seriously.

And from another point of view, its like this: the reason we don't usually see the hero solving that problem is because that's not the focus of those sort of stories. If you're going in for an adventure story about someone with fantastical powers have action-filled showdowns with larger-than-life antagonists, its not really reasonable to expect it to suddenly swerve into a political treatsie about sociological phenomenon just because the villain of the week makes some vague references to societal ills as they start kicking orphans into a giant blender to fuel their giant robot that's going to burrow to the core of the earth and blow it up.

Its a fairly basic writing bit to give a villain some apparent nuance without having to do much more, and that's basically it. And to follow the metaphor, I don't think its really reasonable to give a go-ahead to the sort of person who kicks orphans into blenders just because they make some vague references to a greater good and then never follow up on it. As a villain, their only real purpose is to be an entertaining roadblock, rather than 'a hero but kinda edgy' as the term seems to become around some fandoms.

[diredarlings]

𐙚 seungmin's puppy ⋆ k.sm x reader

pairing: dom owner! seungmin x puppy sub! reader

genre: smut warnings: pet play ⋆ collaring ⋆ kinda mean dom seungmin ⋆ oral m receiving ( briefly ) ⋆ spanking ( briefly ) ⋆ seungmin is called sir ⋆ reader is referred to as puppy and girl ⋆ wc: 506

synopsis: just little scenario on being seungmin's puppy. not super detailed. not beta read either.

author's note: my first post! wish it was better for this milestone but you know it is what it is.

seungmin loves you with all his heart but that also means he loves messing with you with all his heart. he looooves putting you in situations that "force" you to break his rules. ( really, you're just too horny to care. )

"all i want is an obedient puppy, why do you make that so hard?" as he lands another smack on your ass. his hands smooth over your flushed skin, slipping between your thighs to find the slick of your cunt between them.

"aw... did my puppy like getting her ass spanked? is that why you're always misbehaving?"

you just shake your head, and the metal tag of your collar clicks together. seungmin fucking loves that collar. it's a soft yet firm leather, and the heart shaped tag has his name engraved on it.

and when he really feels like it, it's got a leash he can attach to pull you around with too. he's not at all opposed to making you crawl for him: just when you get to his feet he'll walk away so you have to follow.

or sometimes you'll be sucking his cock and he tugs on it just to make you gag a little, making his cock hit the back of your throat just to see you pull away with tears in your eyes trying to catch your breath.

"i never said you could stop. be a good puppy and make me cum."

even with all his teasing, he'd never deny you of his cock. that's punishing himself and he's not one to do that. but just because he can cum doesn't mean you can.

"did i say you could cum?"

you shake your head. he didn't. you know that. you know his rules but you also know there's no way you're not gonna cum when he's fucking you like this.

seungmin tugs on your leash, just enough to get you to snap your focus back on him. "speak, puppy."

"no, sir..."

"that's right. finally behaving, aren't you?"

and you nod, you've been so good for him, taking his punishment so well...

"good girl. that's all it takes, right? put you back in your place and i got the sweetest puppy ever."

seungmin's thumb starts working light circles against your clit, and it's the little whine that slips out of your throat that kills him.

"that's my sweet girl. so obedient for me. gonna cum for me? now that i'm allowing you to?"

"thank you, sir!"

it's as soon as it leaves your mouth that he's fucking you again. slow to tease you before he grows impatient with the pace he's set. he's fucking into your cunt, trying to hold back his groans. he doesn't want his puppy realizing that he's utterly whipped.

it fails. seungmin's moaning out your name when your hands reach into his hair, fucking you with more desperation than he cares to admit. when you come undone he's soon to follow. cumming inside you with his arms bracing himself up with his head buried in your neck—marking you with sloppy bites and kisses.

"you're mine, puppy. my puppy—gotta mark what's mine."

© diredarlings do not copy reupload or repost.

[j5daigada]

some random observations I made in japan, which I'm posting because I found them interesting and also why not

putting them under "read more" for anyone who is interested in reading them

probably the last thing I will post related to japan...!

+18 comics/doujins usually had their own designated floors or sections, sometimes next to the shelves of safer comics, separated by curtains, if even that. In one of the stores, the line to the cashier was formed through the +18 section of the store. The floor for +18 comics was commonly labelled as "doujinshi for men" (and the floor for BL, sometimes bara too, as "doujinshi for women"). All the comics were covered in a plastic film, so you couldn't read them or even check what was inside; a bit tricky when trying to figure out if they contained what you wanted...!

Subways were super packed sometimes, but even then it felt like you had your own small space. There were also trains for women only, although apparently that was only enforced between 7-9 am, since after that time window everyone was just using them no matter how packed they were.

Many anime ads and posters in subways and stations. Many gacha and vending machines too (I got an oreo-flavored ice cream cone from one of them, I liked it).

The food was really good, I'm gonna miss it... It was very affordable too, as I could get a meal with a drink for ~1k-1.2k yen (which translates to around 6-7 euros or USD), which a lot of the time could keep me full for the rest of the day. Filled onigiri only cost around 100 yen, which is like 0.6 euros or USD. The only thing I didn't like super much was nori in ramen, since I found the taste too seawatery (although in onigiri it had a very neutral taste). Miso soup tasted pretty good, although the smell was pretty strong. Mochi is probably the softest thing I have touched.

At some convenience stores, they had a touch screen on your side of the counter where you had to select your payment method and whether the cashier had checked your ID for alcohol... kind of a minor point, but it was funny how I was the one needing to confirm that.

Many stoplights for pedestrians had visible countdown timers.

I know students wear uniforms, but I didn't realize kindergarteners/elementary school kids(?) also had color-coded hats until I ran into a couple different groups of them with their supervisors at a park.

Akihabara had a lot of girls outside advertising their maid cafe. I visited one with my friend and it was a pretty fun time, although there were a bunch of extra fees.

Surprisingly many people wore short skirts with bare legs despite it being December and +5C on some days. I don't think anyone would do that here where I live when it gets cold.

The toilet paper was super thin, probably about 3 times thinner than here...

Streets were super packed, especially on weekends. I don't think I've ever seen this many people in one place at the same time before (considering my country is very sparsely populated). Navigating through crowds of people was not too much of a problem though.

Many restaurants accepted foreign cards, but some didn't (such as one local burger joint). Usually they showed all the payment options outside the restaurant. Many restaurants also showcased wax versions of their meals outside, which was pretty handy for finding something you wanted to eat.

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

My Top 10 Fics Of 2024

So, I have decided that I am gonna do the same thing that I did last year because I had so much fucking fun with this last time and it's a great way to look back and reflect on all the hard work I have done this year. And I am counting these down not based on statistics - not how many likes these posts have or how 'popular' they are, but based on how much I like them, and I get to really reflect on how writing these fics made me feel. And that is truly the most important part of fanfiction - how much fun I am having. So I am really happy and excited to reflect on all the awesome stuff I have written this year.

And I think a really great sign is that I had an incredibly difficult time with this year's ranking. Because I wrote so many amazing fics that I had so much fun with. Even if I had a really (not so fun) incident where I came very close to quitting fanfiction altogether, I had a lot of fun, and I wrote a lot of amazing things that I am so fucking proud of. And I'm only including fics in this ranking that I have posted (which is why I strategically waited until after certain fics were posted to write and make this ranking) - and not even including ones I have written and not yet posted, which are also fics I absolutely fucking love. So even if this year may not have been great for my mental health or my physical health, this year was a year where I felt great and comfortable and happy as an artist.

Anyway, here's the ranking!!

This year I posted 20 different fics consisting of over 250,000 words - and that is not including the fics I have not edited and the unfinished WIPs I have in my drafts.

Also keep in mind, if you randomly see this post in tags and you don't follow me, this is my main blog and not my fanfiction blog. My fanfiction blog is @sundrop-writes - you can follow me there to check out my fics and follow me for all my exciting fanfiction adventures in 2025.

Honorable Mentions:

Meddle About - Sub!Spencer Reid x Dom!Fem!Reader (6,300 words). I was slightly conflicted about if I should put this on the list or not, because currently, this is (in terms of statistics) the most popular fic on my blog right now, and usually when a fic is super popular, I am less inclined to like it. But this list is supposed to be strictly about how I feel about my fics and the experience I had while writing them. And I did really enjoy the experience of writing this fic - it was really fun to write something absolutely kinky and filthy and to write a fic that was so truly stuck in my head. I had a lot of fun with it.

The Restricted Section - Dom!Hermione Granger x Sub!Fem!Reader x (Secret Voyeur) Harry Potter (4,400 words). This is one of my absolute favourite fics that I have written this year, and it just didn't make the top ten because other fics were more my favourite. I loved writing this because it was such a fun PWP and it was one of those instances where I had the idea and then the fic was posted like a day later. It's a lot of fun.

Tongue Twister - Sub!Gar Logan x Dom!GN!Reader (2,000 words). This is one that I actually forgot that I wrote this year - it feels like so long ago lmao. But I really loved it when I wrote it, I love it now. I will always love Gar so much, and I love writing slutty fics about him.

Eager Little Puppy - Sub!Isaac Lahey x Dom!GN!Reader (2,700 words). This is by far one of my favourite things I have written this year - Isaac is one of my new favourite characters, and I have absolutely loved writing about him (and I look forward to writing more about him in the future). This is just a representation of how much I love him.

One Moment Per Episode With Dick Grayson - Dick Grayson x Fem!Reader (8,300 words). This is another one that I forgot was from this year because it feels like so long ago. I really fucking love the concept and I really, really want to continue it further in 2025 (feel free to send me messages if you are excited about it and want to see more, because I would like to set aside some specific time to work on it). Anyway - I really love the start of it and I really love what I have planned for this fic in the future.

Now, onto The Top Ten:

10. Precious Time Alone (aka The Knot Fic) - Gar Logan x Fem!Reader (11,800 words)

Even with the ability to see the future, you never would have guessed that your life would lead you to falling in love with the perfect man - someone sweet, caring, funny, cute. Someone with the passion and fire to protect the ones that he loves no matter what. A precious guy with green hair who had the ability to transform into a tiger at will. And when you finally made love to him for the first time, you never could have guessed how that unique ability affected his sex life. You weren’t exactly complaining, but you wished you had seen this coming. At the end of the day, it was just another thing about him to love. Or - Neither you nor Gar knew that he has the ability to knot, and you both find out for the first time when you have sex together. Gar Logan x Fem!Powered!Reader. Established Relationship. Smut/PWP. Set during Season 2, Episode 9.

It's such an interesting coincidence that both this year and last year, the number ten slot contains a Gar fic that is a re-make/re-post. I have a lot of fics that are only on AO3 and not on Tumblr, and I highly recommend that you check out my AO3 for that reason, but if I am transferring a fic from AO3 to Tumblr, I love to go through and do some edits on it and see how I can improve it before I post it again.

I absolutely loved this fic when I first posted it, and I love it even more with the edits - including the new scene that I added. It is such a fun idea that could be considered Crack Fic (so often, I write Crack Fic concepts but I treat them seriously) - the idea that Gar has a Knot because he is 'an animal' (or because he has animal DNA). It's such a funny idea, but it was fun and hot to write porn about it.

I love this fic, and if it is your thing and you would enjoy reading it, I hope that you enjoy it too.

9. The Way You Miss Me - Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader (18,500 words)

Fred broke up with you. He made it clear that he was going to have a new life when he opened his shop, and he didn’t need you to be a part of it. You being stuck on him was just another joke in a long line of pranks that he pulled. And life kept on laughing at you when your fear of heights was triggered by a potentially life ending mission the Order put together that had you dangling hundreds of feet over London, held up only by Fred’s strength and determination. So what does it mean when the two of you land, and he’s the only thing that can stop your shaking panic? What does it mean when he’s looking at you with nothing but love in his eyes, holding you tight like a lover would? Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Emotional Angst and Smut. Set during Deathly Hallows.

This fic is one of the reasons that the ranking was so difficult. This one got moved around a lot because I had so much fun writing it and working on it. I am also super proud of this fic because originally, the idea was going to be part of a much longer fic, and I am so glad that I was able to pull off the emotions and the tone that I wanted in a much shorter word count that took me a lot less time. It makes me incredibly proud of myself - that I don't feel like I have to spend months and months on an idea in order to truly pull it off.

I fucking love this fic and I am so happy with how it turned out.

8. Why Am I The One? - Isaac Lahey x Fem!Reader (15,200 words)

Isaac loves you. He loves you more than anything else in the world - which is exactly why he has stayed away from you for so long. But when Derek kicks him out onto the street in the pouring rain with absolutely no warning and no reasoning as to why, Isaac has nowhere else to go. He could claim that he sought you out because you’re close by, because he knows that you won’t turn him away in his time of need - but deep down, it’s because he misses you. And staying away from you for so long is the hardest, stupidest thing he has ever done. Isaac Lahey x Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Smut and Emotional Angst. Set during Season 3, Episode 4.

Again, this is one that made the ranking very hard. I enjoyed the process of writing this so fucking much. I was immediately inspired when I saw the episode, and as soon as I saw it, I started working on this fic - the imagery of Isaac so slutty in his white shirt sparks the temptation to write smut, but I love the emotional depth of him being a literal kicked puppy (after being kicked out by Derek) and being emotionally vulnerable and needing some place to go and someone to turn to. It is literally a perfect recipe for the kind of smut I write - super hot sex with emotional depth because one of the characters is feeling vulnerable. It's perfect.

This fic is exactly what I wanted it to be when I set out to write it, and I especially loved exploring Isaac's grief for Erica (which is by far not explored enough in the show) and I might do a continuation of it in the future, I'm not sure. Either way, I think it's fantastic, and it definitely deserves a spot on this list.

7. She Keeps Me Up - Dom!MILF!Jennifer Jareau x Sub!Fem!Reader (3,100 words)

JJ is protective of you. When you offer yourself up as ‘bait’ to lure in an UnSub who is killing women of your type, she protests endlessly about it - but ultimately she can’t stop you. She can, however, possessively lay her claim on you when you get back from the ordeal with nothing more than a tiny scratch. Dom!Jennifer Jareau x Sub!Fem!Reader. Established Dom/Sub Relationship. Smut/PWP.

Like I said, this list is all about reflecting, and I was considering wiping all Criminal Minds fics off this list because of the experience that I had - but that wouldn't be fair to my past self or fair to my art. Especially because this is one of my favourite fics I have ever written and whenever I listen to the song that I titled it for, I still have incredibly fond memories of writing this fic.

I think that MILF!JJ is my favourite version of JJ, even though - ironically - I haven't seen a lot of the later seasons. But way too many people obsess over Professor Reid and Grey Haired Prentiss (who I also love, don't get me wrong) - but I think there is not enough love for MILF!JJ. Not by far. I want to be her controversially younger girlfriend.

I actually have something in my drafts that is MILF!JJ centric, and if I finished it, it would be the only thing that could get me to stray back into the Criminal Minds fandom. I am so down bad for JJ, it's not even funny. (So - if you wanna see more of her, feel free to come in my inbox and let me know.)

6. Blood In The Water - Void!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader (11,700 words)

Being Stiles’s best friend, you are incredibly worried about him when you figure out that he is quite literally not himself - and that the thing currently occupying his body could be destroying it in the process. When you approach him to show this concern, Void takes a particular interest in you. He’s not capable of love, or even fondness, but he likes you. And he likes the way your fear spikes when you talk about Stiles. So he makes you a deal - he’ll agree to take care of this fleshy, mortal host, in exchange for something more precious, more rare, and more delicious than the meal you have brought for Stiles. He wants your pain. He wants your tears. Void!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader. Pining Best Friends. Extreme Emotional Angst, Hurt No Comfort. Set during Season 3 (with flashbacks to Season 1, Episode 11).

Another one that made the ranking so hard. This fic was so much fun to write, because as I said in the A/N for it - I fucking love writing villains. I love writing characters who are absolutely unambiguously evil. I do think it's a big of a shame that the recent cultural shift is to write villains as morally ambiguous or to take characters who are evil (or morally grey shifting more towards 'bad' in the canon) and soften them up so much in fanfiction to make it seem like they did nothing wrong.

A lot of people write Void as one of those "he is bad but he won't hurt me because he loves me uwu" characters and I really don't like that - because I want to write him as a character who is absolutely fucking incapable of love. He does not know love, he doesn't know what it is, and he has absolutely no softness or fondness for any person.

I really want to write a sequel to this fic - I have one drafted out that I think would be so fucking good - and I think I want to make it one of my goals for 2025 to complete and post the sequel. Anyway, just this fic as it is, I fucking love it, and I had such a fantastic time writing it.

5. Downhill - Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader (20,100 words)

Draco knows his place in the world. He is a Malfoy, he is Pureblood. He is supposed to marry, carry on the Pureblood line. He is supposed to do everything that his parents would - including killing, if it’s what his Dark Lord wishes. Draco Malfoy is not supposed to hesitate. He is not supposed to feel fear. He is not supposed to have room in his heart for fondness, or even love. Not even when it comes to his bartered and bought fellow Pureblood fiancee. Love is nothing but a weakness. And Malfoys are not weak. Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader. Arranged Marriage/Hesitant Lovers. Emotional Angst and Smut. Set during Half-Blood Prince.

This is one of the fics that caused me to strategically wait to make and post this whole list lmao. And I am glad that I actually got this fic posted when I wanted to, and I'm glad that I waited. I have had this fic brewing in my drafts for a long time, and I have had the general idea for it in my head for a lot longer. I've actually had the idea in my head for longer than the original fic existed (the fic that this is a prequel to) and when I figured out that I could utilise my idea here, I was so excited.

I love writing about the real consequences of Draco being a Death Eater and I fucking love writing the Arranged Marriage trope, and this was all my favourite things to write about rolled up into one. And I also loved writing the inclusion of Harry having a very shallow one-sided crush on the reader when she is too busy actually falling in love with Draco to notice. This was incredibly fun for me to write and I absolutely love how it turned out - so it is by far one of my favourite fics I have written this year.

4. Figure It Out - A Criminal Minds Casefic (18,000 words)

Since you joined the BAU, you have been keeping a terrible secret from the team. When the team takes a case in your hometown - your festering secret comes to be known with a vengeance. Fem!Reader x Gen!BAU Team (Platonic). General Casefic, modelled after a Criminal Minds episode. Angst, Mystery, Hurt and Comfort. Set during Criminal Minds Season 3.

I feel like this list would be incomplete if I did not include the fic I obsessed over as my first fic of the year. This fic really did a lot for me as an artist - for so long I have been wanting to write something with a similar concept to the music video for Figure It Out by Royal Blood (something where the story essentially goes in reverse and more details are revealed along the way, constantly changing who you believe is the villain vs who is the victim). The first time I saw that music video, it changed me and I have been so radically inspired by it ever since.

And because this idea has been sitting in my head for literal years, I am so fucking proud that I managed to do it justice. And I do think that Criminal Minds is the perfect backdrop to do this kind of idea with, and I think that this is actually a kind of radical artistic episode that they might actually do.

I would also love to use this format for other fandoms (I think it would work so well for The Walking Dead especially, and you guys know that I want to apply everything I do to Titans) - so I am so glad that I wrote this fic and gained confidence in writing something with an usual format and that I just got to have fun with it.

3. When Doves Cry - Jason Todd x Gar Logan (11,100 words)

At Dick’s insistence, Jason comes back to Wayne Manor to help the Titans end Crane’s deadly plan. Jason doesn’t want redemption or forgiveness - he’s done believing that he’s worthy of those. Once Crane is back at Arkham where he belongs, Jason plans to disappear, never to be heard from again. But Gar - someone who never stopped loving Jason and never stopped believing in his goodness - has other plans. Jason Todd x Gar Logan. Friends to Lovers/Lovers Reunited. Smut and Emotional Angst. Set during Season 3, Episode 13.

This fic is absolutely so fucking special to me. This is actually one of my only fics that has a dedication, even though most of my romance based fics should be dedicated to @nctzenkane - because he is the love of my life and he inspires most of my romance based fics in one way or another.

I wrote this fic at a time when I was really struggling as an artist. If you have been following me all year, then you will likely know about an incident where I spent months writing a longer fic, and that fic garnered some complaints and hate comments, and when I spoke up with my distaste for those comments - I was basically told to shut up, and I was told that fanfic readers have a right to be rude and treat fic authors like shit the second that we post our work to the 'public'.

And it really demotivated me and the whole incident really made me thoroughly consider quitting writing altogether, especially considering the fact that my chronic illness is getting worse each year and every single time I successfully post a fic, more and more work has gone into that fic behind the scenes (past my illness) in order to make that fic 'visible to the public'.

All of this to say that I was feeling down, disappointed and lost, and I asked Jaycen what to do - what I should write to truly make myself feel confident and good in my art again. I asked him to request something because I needed some inspiration and some artistic direction. And he requested this fic - because he usually only enjoys romances between canon character pairings (and he loves JayGar because I majorly fed him the juice on that) and he knows that Titans is my strong suit.

The fic is also incredibly special to me because the song is also incredibly special - even though I fucking love 80s music, I didn't really listen to Prince until Jaycen encouraged me to, and when I listened to this song for the first time, it really wormed its way in as one of my all time favourite songs. And it suits these characters and their dynamic so well in addition to being such a beautifully personal song to me.

So yeah - this fic is gonna go down in history as one of my top five favourite fics of all time, not just from this year. And it definitely made the ranking a lot harder.

2. Heaven's Gate - Daryl Dixon x GN!Reader (24,200 words)

Hope. Not the fragile, delicate thing that everyone mistakes it to be. Hope is stubborn, and grows inside of you long before you ever realize its purpose there. Hope can’t be crushed by a thousand pound tank or torn apart as easily as concrete walls can. Hope is balanced on the backs of songbirds, it whistles quietly in the wind, and it brings you right where you need to be (even if you don’t know it). Daryl Dixon x GN!Reader. Strangers to Lovers/Lovers Reunited. Emotional Angst, Hurt and Comfort, Fluff. Set during Seasons 1-5.

This is another fic that is so fucking special to me, and that's why it's so close to the top of the ranking. I have had this idea in mind for years probably - I fucking love the concept of any fic that involves reunions when it comes to The Walking Dead (and I could write 10,000 more fics based on this concept) because every single moment of reunion in the show just fucking gets me. Even though I don't really like Rick and Lori's relationship (and I love Lori, don't mistake me as a Lori hater - never), the moment where Rick gets out of the cube van and reunites with Carl and Lori for the first time in the first season - it gives me goosebumps every single time without fail.

So I simply aim to recreate that feeling with my fics.

Also - the bird symbolism. When I lived at my old place, I had a bird feeder right outside my window, and I used to do a lot of bird watching. And I became familiar with certain bird species and the rarity of certain types of birds, and there is just something hopeful that ignites within you when you see a particularly rare bird - and it is a myth I have heard that cardinals represent good luck (likely because of their rarity) when you see them.

And I love how the whole fic evolved to represent hope, which I think is something we all need more of in our lives. During this year of existential dread and sadness, it felt really good to write something that was purely about happiness and hope.

1. The Jaws of Life - Jason Todd x GN!Reader (19,900 words)

You and Jason don’t really hate each other - at least not anymore. Your feelings for each other are more than complicated, and before you have time to figure it all out, you have to part ways. Jason goes back to Gotham at Bruce’s behest, and you’re off to visit a long lost relative that you didn’t even know cared about you. Unfortunately, while you’re apart, the Joker makes things even more complicated with a phone call and a gun. And your world comes crashing down before you can even put names to all the stars in your sky. Jason Todd x GN!Powered!Reader. Friends With Benefits to Lovers/Lovers Reunited. Smut, Extreme Emotional Angst, Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 3. 

Here is the big number one! I am giving this one the top spot even though it's incomplete (and I am kind of biased because in my head, I am including how amazing stuff from the second part is) - and maybe it's just an excuse to include such an amazing fic in two different 'Top 10 Fics of The Year' posts lmao. Because when I post the second part in January, technically it will count for next year too.

But anyway - I love this fic so fucking much. This fic has been so long in the making, and I love every single aspect of it - the emotions, the metaphors, the length. This is one of those fics that is perfect to me because it came out exactly how I wanted it to be in my head. I am so utterly proud of this fic, and I am so glad that people are getting to read it now, even if it is just the first part.

Anyway - that's all for this year, and I am sooo looking forward to seeing what I can come up with next year.

[koryxx]

#if someone wants to be a cunt to you they will find a way to do it in professional or unprofessional speak#this conversation feels very much like when my parents taught me table etiquette#to this day i ask why can i not put my elbows on the table#who does it offend and why#arbitary rules are stupid

had to add the last person's tags because !!! thank you!!!

i was scrolling through the notes on this post feeling like i was losing my mind, because everyone is just so hostile over people not adhering to completely made-up arbitrary social conventions and rules about how to be "good" and "polite" in the most meaningless ways.

it reminds me of when the internet lost their collective shit over someone asking if the food their neighbor surprised them with fit their dietary restriction, because "the polite thing to do" is just accept food a stranger made for you, even if it could make you sick or kill you, even if you throw it away or give it to someone else, even if it leads to your neighbor making you more food, even if you have to lie to their face and continue to do so.

it makes me wonder how genuine anyone ever is, especially when it comes to interactions with people they don't already have a close or personal relationship with. because everything everyone does is seemingly a result of their fear of being perceived as rude and their strict adherence to rules of politeness that no one can actually explain.

why is performative politeness more important than genuine kindness? why can't we all just assume people are coming to us in good faith and respond in kind, rather than determine how we respond to one another based on our perception of and assumptions about their intentions ("if you don't say xyz, i'm going to assume you don't actually care and thus not take you seriously/be as helpful").

it must be an interesting cognitive dissonance to slam people for your perception of them being disrespectful and rude, then turn around and say you literally ignore or dismiss people and what they have to say based on writing style (or even typos and language barrier, because how do you someone is intentionally not following the ~proper rules of writing an email?) how is that not worse than, say, writing an email in all lowercase?

not to sound like a boomer, but I need some people to learn how to write emails in a semi-professional (at the very least) format so you're not cold emailing a business/potential employer/any other stranger about formal matters in the exact same way you'd DM a close friend on instagram

the formality/language can loosen up in the email chain once you've established a rapport and you match the other person if they're being less formal, but please don't have the very first email you send a stranger be written in all lowercase ultra-casual sms slang with no greeting or signature and a billion emojis

[wardenparker]

Who Took the Merry Out of Christmas

Frankie Morales x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: Explicit for family dysfunction. This blog is always 18+ Word Count: 10.7k Warnings: Post partum depression, marriage trouble, mentions of addiction, demanding family, abusive parents, verbal abuse, emotional abuse, dysfunctional family, a very sweet baby who has done nothing wrong ever, parents abusing their adult children in front of others. (There is a happy-ish ending, I promise.) Summary: It's only been a few months since Frankie came home from South America, and both of your families are bearing down on you for the holidays. A rocky marriage and even rockier relationships with your parents are bound to make for a very tense Christmas. Notes: Sorry it's not light and fluffy this year, gang. It just hasn't been a light and fluffy time. Considering how dramatic this holiday season has been, this little slice of family trauma seemed pretty appropriate.

Christmas. The time of year that is supposed to merry and bright. Well, the bright is accurate, especially in south Florida. Not a dusting of snow to be had, the palm trees in the front yard decorated with lights and the temperatures still letting everyone wear shorts and t-shirts if they wanted. It’s definitely not the white Christmas you had grown up with, but Frankie prefers this over freezing his ass off while shoveling snow off the driveway just to go to the store to get diapers.

The magic rubs off over the years. From childhood we outgrow the sparkle of the Christmas season as we stop thinking of it as magical, and now it's just another set of expectations that inevitably seems impossible to meet.

Both sides of your family had expected you and Frankie to host this year. Because of the baby, they said. Because now that you had a real family, it was time for you to take on the responsibility of holiday hosting. It's frustrating enough to be a first time mother of an eight month old. It's sleepless and difficult and Frankie has only barely gone back to work so money has been tighter than tight.

“Why don’t we just tell them that we can’t?” Frankie leans back from the sink where he’s finally shaving to look at you perched in the bed. You are tired and he knows that despite what you’ve said, hosting Christmas is the last fucking thing you need. “We have the baby. It’s a lot.”

"Because Christmas is next week, Francisco," you remind him. The baby monitor is on your nightstand, and you fiddle with it, but it's mostly a nervous habit. Mirabel wasn't a good sleeper for the first few months and you're constantly worried that she'll start having trouble again. "And they're coming here because of her. It was a miracle they didn't all fly down to cram into the delivery room when she was born, it seems mean to say they can't see her at Christmas."

“One— I wouldn’t have let them in the delivery room.” That memory was for him alone, he has absolutely loved being the first to hold his daughter. To be there to help and watch as you pushed his child into the world. “Two, shouldn’t that mean that they want to save you the stress of hosting?” He asks, leaning back in and putting the razor back to his cheek. “Hell, I say we order Chinese and be done with it.”

"I would agree." Stretching out in bed helps a lot. You've been dealing with a little hip pain lately that gets exasperated by carrying Mirabel around and you make sure to do stretches every morning and night – at least for a few minutes. "But we're in it now. Flights are booked. Meals have to be planned."

“I’ve got to mow the grass tomorrow.” He knows you will remind him of it so he goes ahead and checks it off your mental list. “And you need more mushrooms, right?” He makes a face in the mirror, hating mushrooms but you don’t seem to have picked up on that.

"Beef Wellington on Christmas is a family tradition." Your mother made it ever year from the recipe that her mother-in-law taught her, and now you make it every year for you and Frankie and however many of your friends you end up having over to dinner on the holiday. Usually it's the Miller brothers, this year might include Pope as well.

It’s good that he’s in a different room than you are so you don’t see the face that he makes. He hates the Beef Wellington, he’s just never been able to admit that. When you were dating, you could have served him a boiled shoe and he would have praised it. It was better than an MRE or the shit they served in the chow hall most days on base. And Frankie’s idea of cooking was either firing up a grill or going out to eat, so home cooked whatever was good to him. Especially when he knew he was getting laid after dinner. Now he’s stuck eating mushrooms every damn Christmas and it sucks. “I know.” He sighs, turning on the water to rinse the hair out of his razor. “I changed the sheets in the guest rooms.” He tells you. “And made sure your mom has the ‘good pillows’.” He rolls his eyes, again, happy you can’t see him because you would definitely scold him for that.

“Thank you, honey.” You know damn well he thinks it’s ridiculous and probably had a running monologue going why he made the guest beds about how picky your families are, but his parents are just as bad as yours in different ways. That’s why this holiday is going to be so fucking stressful. Part of why you work so hard to make family visits perfect is because his mother has never approved of you. “We’ll make sure everything is perfect. It will all be fine.”

Frankie hums as he finishes shaving and wipes his jaw dry. It’s a little jarring to see the smooth skin, he’s sported a patchy beard since getting out, but he’d decided that one thing he needed to do was look better after getting his pilot’s license back. He steps out of the bathroom and grins at you. “Hey baby.”

“Hey.” You say it before you look up, and when you lift your eyes you do a double take. “Clean shaven, huh? It’s been a while.”

He shrugs slightly, reaching up and rubbing his cheek lightly. “Figured your mom would complain less if I was clean shaven.” He had even gotten a haircut, not nearly as short as when he was active duty, but trimmed from the longer curls he had recently been sporting.

“Mira’s going to spend half of tomorrow poking at your face,” you predict, smiling softly. It will be the first time your daughter has ever seen him clean shaven.

He snorts. “As long as she doesn’t cry.” He slides his eyes along your body, not caring that you are in a comfy t-shirt and short, you look sexy to him. “So what are my chances of getting lucky tonight?” He asks, lifting a brow.

“Are you suddenly into somnophilia?” It proves your point that you can barely stifle a yawn. Getting up multiple times a night to pee or see what Mirabel needs takes its toll on your rest, and god knows you never ever get to sleep in anymore. Sure, you knew being a mother was going to be exhausting, but this is above and beyond that.

His playful grin slips and he shakes his head. “No baby, not if you’re too tired to enjoy yourself.” He doesn’t sigh, but he does miss the intimacy, the closeness of sex. Instead of complaining, he reaches back into the bathroom to flip off the light and starts walking towards the bedroom door. He will check the doors and downstairs windows one last time before setting the alarm, a habit of his. “You need some water or something downstairs?”

"No, I'm okay." It's not that you don't want him. He's still the same gorgeous man you married and conceived your daughter with. It isn't a matter of want. It's a matter of being so exhausted and feeling so disgusting from never having time to thoroughly shower and always ending up sweaty and sticky somehow. You don't feel like yourself, and you haven't since your second trimester.

But unloading all of that on Frankie doesn't seem fair when he's finally getting back on his feet with work and therapy and kicking his drug habit. The man doesn't even drink anymore, because he doesn't want to slip up again. So you keep your mouth shut and don't bitch about your own discomfort.

He sighs softly as he goes downstairs. Another night where he’s turned down, but he understands. You’ve been dealing with some postpartum issues and he doesn’t want to push. He just wants to make love to his wife more than once a month. It’s another reason why he had thought hosting Christmas would be a bad idea. You are already worn down and frazzled, despite Frankie sharing the load of the house and baby with you as much as he possibly could. This is just going to add more stress to your already loaded down shoulders and he doesn’t like it at all.

You turn over and slip under the covers when he goes downstairs to check the alarms. Being overwhelmed and depressed has you feeling like you're out drowning in the middle of the ocean and have suddenly forgotten how to swim. The best thing you can do right now is try to sleep.

Frankie comes back upstairs, slipping into the bed and curling around you. He hates that instead of curling against him, you huddle against your side of the bed. Wondering if you are secretly still pissed at him for the entire Coke thing. “I love you.” He whispers before he closes his eyes.

You love him, too. You do. And you have this whole time. It's just so hard to pull yourself out of the bottom of the ocean of your depression and uncertainty that you just pretend to be asleep and hope that you both knock out quickly.

Maybe tomorrow will be better. Probably not, but maybe. After all, it can't be worse.

******

“It’s okaaaaaaay.” Frankie bounces his very upset little girl on his hip and shoves a finger in her mouth. She’s teething and of course woke up in a horrible mood. She hiccups and he grabs the teething ring to throw it back in the freezer for a little bit. “It’s okay, baby girl. I know it hurts. Believe me, it doesn’t get better when you have a cavity either.”

"But she'll have good dental hygiene and never have a cavity in her whole life." You call from the kitchen, working your ass off to make sure that each and every bit of Christmas dinner is accounted for perfectly. Frankie isn't the world's best cook by any means, but this family tradition is ingrained in your bones -- beef Wellington, scalloped potatoes, green beans with almonds, and a demi-glace gravy to make everything even richer and fancier. It's a far cry from what you normally eat but that is sort of the point. It's the holidays. This is the time to be fancy.

He snorts. “Not if she gets her teeth from my side.” He calls back. “I’m ninety percent fillings at this point.” That makes her giggle and he grins at her. “Was daddy funny?” He walks her back into the kitchen to find you frantically stirring something. “I’ve got the living room vacuumed and the egg nog is in the garage fridge.”

"Have you heard from your parents yet?" Your in-laws are always early, which is not exactly a sin but it is inconvenient. If they say they'll be somewhere at 7 then they are always there by 6:30, wondering where on earth you've been for the last half hour.

“Not yet.” He loves his mom, he really does, but he’s not blind to her persnickety nature. He’s talked to her about it but it seems like she doesn’t bother you. A wonderful thing considering she’s run off more than one girlfriend of his over the years. “You know her, she’s gonna show up when she wants to. At the most inconvenient damn time.”

“I just want to have dinner in the oven when they get here.” The Christmas after Frankie proposed, your own parents had hosted everyone and Vanessa Morales had been less than impressed when your mother was still getting things into the oven when they arrived. It apparently didn’t matter in the least that they were early.

“Roger.” He kind of treats the parents visiting like a mission, a hostile one.

“Where did the Millers end up this year?” You can’t tell if it’s better or worse to not have his friends here as a conversational buffer. Part of you is grateful for fewer people in the house and half wishes you had friends here to lean on.

“I think Will and Teresa are going to get back together.” Frankie admits. “He said him and Benny were going to have Christmas with her and her brothers.” Frankie had always liked Will’s ex-fiancée and he knew you did as well.

“Good.” That’s a relief, showcased with how easily your shoulders drop with just a touch of tension dropped. “Good. That’s…That will be really good for them. I know they’ve missed each other.”

“They have.” Frankie pauses for a second . “Ben said he was going to swing by and check on Molly and the girls.” He murmurs quietly, regret lacing his tone.

“Where is Pope spending Christmas?” It’s not necessary to express more regret over Redfly’s death. Every single one of you have shed your tears over it and you make sure to check in with Molly at least once a week just like you always have. Family that you choose means you choose each other over and over again.

“He’s still in Australia.” Frankie sighs softly. Yovanna has covered her tracks well and he’s still looking for the woman he had fallen in love with.

"Shit..." All you can really do is shake your head at that. Even if Santiago Garcia is on your shit list for inducing the entire team away to South America for weeks, what happened there wasn't really his fault. It sounds like everything that could go wrong did, and the best that you can do is be grateful that Frankie came home to you in one peace.

“Yeah.” He shuffles slightly, rocking the baby as she continues to gnaw on her first and drool all over his shirt. He knows you aren’t happy with what happened, and he’s never been able to tell you all the details.

The tentative expression on his face makes you shake your head, and you turn back to the pan you have on the stove with a sigh. "You'll tell me when you're ready." It's been months and he's still keeping the whole story from you, but you have always been patient. You have always let Frankie come to you. "Let's just not do it on Christmas Eve. Our families are almost here."

“Okay.” He knows you are upset that he won’t talk to you, but he steps closer and leans down to kiss your shoulder. “Thank you for understanding.”

He'll come to you when he's ready. And you're doing your damnedest to be patient. But it's fucking hard when you feel like you're weathering a private storm on the edge of an ocean hell bent on drowning you.

For better or for worse, that is the moment that the doorbell rings.

“It’s showtime.” Frankie mutters, trying to plaster a happy smile on his face and just managing to look constipated.

"Shit, shit." You shove two trays into the oven right away, barely able to check to make sure that everything is assembled correctly but just dying to have it all in the oven. "Okay. That's got to be your parents." Frankie has walked away with the baby, leaving you to quickly wipe down the kitchen and pray you're not smelly from the sweat you worked up preparing dinner.

Frankie opens the door, smiling when he sees his mother and stepfather standing on the porch. “You made it.” He greets them. “Made good time getting here.”

“Of course we did.” Vanessa Morales moved into the house with determination, but the first thing she does is reach for her granddaughter. “Ay, hola Gordita! Eres mucho más bonita que tus fotos.”

Suddenly feeling shy, she pulls back and buries her face in Frankie’s neck. “Está bien, es tu abuela.” He soothes, rubbing her little back. “She’s cutting another tooth.” He explains.

“Pobrecita.” Vanessa coos, not taking the baby’s cue at all. “Come give your abuela a kiss, Gordita. Dame un beso.”

Mira doesn’t like it when someone crowds her face that she’s not familiar with and she immediately starts to cry, clinging to Frankie and trying to get away from her. “Mama.” He huffs, holding her tighter and cooing softly. “Give her a few minutes to warm up to you.”

Vanessa frowns, but relents when her husband agrees with Frankie. Instead, all she says as she’s lead into the house is, “Your sister’s bebes didn’t need time to warm up.”

“Gabriella lives in the same town as you, mama.” He reminds her, rolling his eyes at her miffed reaction. “Mira has seen you twice since she was born.”

“Even so.” His mother huffs, as though it were a personal affront.

“Feliz Navidad, Vanessa.” You come out of the kitchen a second later with your face freshly washed just to give yourself a boost and offer your in-laws a smile. “Hi, Javier. It’s nice to see you both.”

“There’s my favorite daughter-in-law.” Javier might just be a step-parent, but he has always thought that Francisco had chosen the best woman for him, despite what his wife might say. Vanessa is prickly, and while he might find that attractive since he’s a self-confessed asshole, he tries to make you feel accepted when he’s around. He steps around Vanessa to pull you in for a hug.

“Feliz Navidad, Javi.” The extra moment of consideration from your husband’s stepfather is dearly appreciated, and you accept the hug whole-heartedly. “How’s things?”

“Same.” He doesn’t mind slightly offending Frankie, so he kisses your y forehead and leans back to wink at you. He was a ladies man back in the day and still a silver fox, so it’s always fun to raise the hackles of the man he loves like his own son. Just for shits and giggles. “Better now that I’m around three beautiful ladies.” He turns that charming smile on Mira and leans in. “This one most of all.”

He earns a full belly laugh from his granddaughter and you feel yourself breathe just a little easier. Javier in a good mood bodes well for the night. “Can I offer you both something to drink? Vanessa?”

“I don’t suppose you have wine,” Vanessa manages to make it sound vile, to not have wine in the house. “Actually, mom, she picked up a bottle of your favorite sangria.” Frankie pipes up.

“Let me get you a glass.” The atmosphere is already frigid but that’s just how it’s always been between the two of you. Thank God she doesn’t know about the coke or she’d surely find a way to blame you for Frankie’s addiction issues, too. Just like she’s blamed you for everything else she deems wrong with her only son’s life.

“Javi?” Frankie lifts a brow towards his stepfather. “You want a whiskey? I’ve got a bottle in the den.”

“Good man.” Javi commends, and clasps his stepson on the back as they disappear into the other room together.

Vanessa turns towards you expectantly and pulls a tight smile. “When will dinner be ready?” She asks. “Assuming you’ve started cooking, of course.”

It’s too much for how exhausted you are, and even being prepared doesn’t make it okay. Without a buffer, Vanessa aims all of her venom at you endlessly. “It will be ready in an hour. No need to worry.” And the sooner your own parents get here the better — not that they’re perfect by any means.

“You look tired.” It’s not an observation born out of concern, but criticism. “You should really put a bit of effort in.” She hums. “Fransisco deserves that, doesn’t he?”

Yes. He does. But your husband of six years is also well aware of how much work raising a newborn is. Which is why you just smile and bite back how much his mother's constant nitpicking bothers you. "Your son prefers a natural look," you inform her as politely as you can without snapping. "No make up. So that I always look like myself."

She can’t possibly argue with that, because it would mean insulting her precious baby boy. Instead she just looks around like she’s never seen the place and starts to wander off towards the kitchen.

You’re debating whether or not you need to follow her when the doorbell rings. It’s still a touch too early for your parents to arrive — they shared their location with you so you could track their driving route on your phone from the airport. It should be ten more minutes until they arrive.

“I’ll get it!” You call, wondering if Frankie heard the doorbell in the den, and head back to the front.

“That must be her parents.” Frankie sighs and looks longingly at the bottle of whiskey but he knows he can’t have any. It wouldn’t be fair to you or to Mira.

“Save it for later.” Javi advises. “When your mama’s gone to bed and the baby is down, and you can relax with your wife.” It seems like Frankie is struggling more than he has let on, but there isn’t time to talk about that now. “Go say hi to your in-laws. I can take Mira if she’s okay with it.”

Surprisingly, it doesn’t take much convincing on either man’s part for Mira to go to her abuelo. Immediately little fingers dig into the hair covering his upper lip and Frankie chuckles. “She doesn’t understand why I don’t have facial hair today.” He explains.

“She can play all she wants.” Javi laughs, bouncing the little girl in his arms. “I got her, Frankie. Go on.”

It’s almost jarring to the aloof and broody man he had spent his teenage years around laughing and chortling at a baby, but Frankie smiles at the sight before turning to see about mitigating the next disastrous arrival.

You’re already at the door, half-smiling and half-bewildered as your parents hand off a bag full of wrapped presents to you like a butler and chatter away as they enter.

“It’s good to see you dear.” Your mother hums, “our trip here seemed to take forever.” She opens her mouth to once again suggest that you move back home and Frankie comes in to greet them.

“It isn’t exactly a short flight.” You can acknowledge that, and it’s why your parents don’t visit more often. Your dad isn’t up to that much traveling anymore. “I’m glad we’re able to spend Christmas with you.”

“So are we.” The problem in Frankie’s eyes about his in-laws spending Christmas with you is that they treat the house like a hotel and you like staff for the visit. They don’t Think they should lift a finger for themselves. “Hey, glad you made it.” He gives them a polite smile and nods at your father before holding out his hand to shake it.

“Francisco.” Even after a decade together, your father still refuses to call your husband by his nickname. He shakes Frankie’s hand with unnecessary force, like usual, and grunts with approval. “How’s things?”

“Going well, sir.” Despite the difficulties raising a child, he knows voicing that to your parents would do neither of you any good. “And you?”

“Retirement is boring.” Your father gripes good-naturedly. “Thinking about finding something part tune just to get out of the house and avoid the nagging at home.”

Frankie snorts. “Yeah I could see how that would be a little overwhelming for you.”

"Never stop working, if you can help it." The older man claps Frankie on the shoulder like he's doling out the sagest advice in the world. "She'll be fine with the baby. But the second you're home for more than twenty minutes an extra day? You'll have a Honey Do list longer than your arm."

Frankie doesn’t mind spending time with his daughter and cleaning up around the house that is also his responsibility but he just hums. “That’s some advice.” He makes it sound like he agrees just to keep the peace. You need help with things and his father-in-law’s outlook is a little old fashioned for him.

“You’ll thank me for it,” your father advises, and gives Frankie another friendly-if-condescending pat on the arm before walking away in search of whatever it is he wants but hasn’t asked for yet. Presumably to find his wife, but that’s an assumption.

“Jesus.” Frankie sighs and turns to start taking jackets and bags from you. “I’ll get their bags to their room.” He grins. “Do I get a tip?”

“Does a kiss count?” Just because you’re both exhausted and you haven’t been in the mood for sex doesn’t mean you don’t love your husband or appreciate the things he does to help you.

“The best kind of tip.” He vows, leaning in and stealing a quick kiss before pulling away. You seem to shy away from physical displays when your parents are around. “I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you, honey.” Having him jump on board to help means everything, but you frown a second later. “Where’s the baby? I thought I put her playpen away.”

“She’s with Javier.” He smirks slightly. “Old man apparently still has it with the ladies.”

"Well, that's something, at least." Something that his mother is going to hate – that the baby hid from her and went straight to her abuelo instead. "I'm going to pour drinks for people and get the shrimp cocktail out of the fridge so everybody can focus on food instead of bickering."

“I’ll be there as quickly as I can dump these in their room.” He promises, you having already determined which room your parents are staying in.

But as fast as Frankie can move in spite of his bad back, it isn’t fast enough. By the time you walk into the kitchen you find all four of your collective parents staring at each other like it’s a stand off at the O.K. Corral.

“How about a little appetizer?” You ask, after a few seconds of trying to read the room and finding the stony silence completely impenetrable. The only thing you care about is keeping them reasonably civil and having your little girl back in your arms. “Thanks for hanging on to her, Javier.” You offer him a smile when you take her back.

“Oh that’s no problem at all.” Mira giggles at him and leans in to cuddle against his chest, making him smile proudly. “Nothing I wouldn’t do for this little beauty.”

“You wanna stay with abuelo, sweetheart? You go right ahead.” It leaves your hands free, and you’re grateful to have that for a few more moments. So instead of extracting your baby girl from her grandparent, you kiss her curls and cross to the refrigerator to retrieve the tray of shrimp cocktail you put together this morning. “Can I get anyone a drink? Or a refill?”

“Since we are already starting with the alcohol, I would like some wine.” Your mother eyes the glass of whatever is in Vanessa’s hand and tuts slightly. “White of course, red wines are too heavy for me.”

This is what holidays are. What family gatherings are. What they always are and why you dread them so much. Conversation can never seem to be civil, no one ever offers to help. Frankie is always putting out proverbial fires with all four parents while you work to be the perfect hostess but it’s never even enough to keep the peace. Everyone leaves feeling worse than when they came and yet they still insist on seeing the two of you. It’s enough to make you want to flee the scene, but you would never give your mother-in-law the satisfaction of seeing you run scared. It would only cement her low opinion of you.

So you pour drinks and serve appetizers, plastering the smile on your face and eventually taking Mirabel back from Javier just for utter relief of having your daughter back in your arms. By the time Frankie comes back downstairs, the doorbell rings again. Oh god, is all you can think, because you’re not expecting anyone else. What fresh hell is this?

Frankie frowns slightly, exchanging a confused look with you. “I’ll get it.” He promises, slightly caught off guard and wary by the unexpected arrival of someone else. Not that a fucking drug cartel would ring the doorbell. A firebomb through the window would be more their style.

The impatient chimes ring twice more before Frankie makes it across the house, not because it takes long but because of the insistent person on the other side. If your mother wasn’t already inside you would have guessed it was her without hesitation.

“Coming!” The friendly tone that Frankie adopts does stop him from reaching into the entry way dresser and pulling out the snub nosed .38 he keeps in there for just this occasion. He tucks it into the back of his pants before opening the door to find that it’s not necessary. “Benny!”

“Hey man.” Benny is grinning from ear to ear when he leans in the doorway to embrace his friend, slapping Frankie on the back in the process. “Sorry to drop in, but did you get Pope’s text?”

“Haven’t had time to look at my phone.” He hugs Ben Miller back just as hard as the bastard tries to squeeze him after the back slapping. “Everything okay?” He asks that quietly, since you have company and you don’t know about what happened in South America.

“Yeah.” Benny nods like a bobble head, immediately ready to reassure his friend. His brother. “He’s back. Brought Yovanna with him. He was texting around for a ride and a place to crash.”

“Holy shit, he found her.” He had his private doubts about tracking the lover he had sent to Australia down, but he’s happy for Pope. “And you decided to play Uber.”

Benny grins, wide and unapologetic, before standing aside with a flourish. “Special delivery!”

The shorter man grins but he doesn’t rush to embrace Frankie. A little unsure of how he will be greeted, but Frankie bursts out laughing “Cabron!” He huffs, lunging forward and wrapping his arms around his brother in arms.

“Feo.” Pope returns the hug easily, not caring that he holds his best friend a moment longer these days than he might have before. Shit’s changed, after all. “You remember Yovanna?” He knows that everything about that trip is burned into Frankie’s brain just like the other guys, but it seems the polite way to go about reintroducing them.

She seems nervous, hesitant. He knows that Pope had to have told her what happened to Tom. "Sure." He nods and flashes her a smile before he moves out of the doorway. "Come in. Please."

"Lotta cars here..." Pope observes, though 'a lot' is only two besides the cars that are supposed to be here.

"We'll see you guys tomorrow." Benny waves as he jogs back to his truck. Everybody is with family today and that includes him, because Will is the only member of this damn group that can cook worth a damn somewhere other than a grill.

“Thanks Ben!” He knows that Mira can sleep in the bassinet in your bedroom and he can pull down the Murphy Bed you both had decided to keep in there for those late, rough nights with the baby. “Take your shit up to the bedroom next to mine.” He tells him with a smirk. “I’ll let my mother know you are here.”

"Nessa's here?" Pope brightens measurably as he whisks Yovanna into the house. "Christmas with the fam, man. I'm telling you. This is going to be great."

He snorts as he closes the door. Hopefully this won’t make you feel even more overwhelmed than you already have been.

"Frankie!" You call from the kitchen, and he can hear shuffling chairs and footsteps. "Who is it, honey?"

“Well, uh—”

“Hoooooooney, I’m hooooome.” In typical, dramatic fashion, Pope swoops into the room with a broad grin, although he’s not directing it at you since you might actually hit him for that shit earlier this year. Instead, he aims that charm at Vanessa. “I heard the most beautiful lady this side of the border was here and I had to come.”

"Aye, Santiago mijo!" After a lifetime of being best friends with her only son, Vanessa looked at Santiago Garcia as being the baby boy she never had. She disregards everything else in the room to go and hug him, but for a single moment you're actually grateful for that. It gives you the time you need to catch your breath after your heart stops at the sight of your husband's best friend. The one who supposedly was still in Australia.

“There she is!” Pope shoots you a quick glance and an even quicker wink before he is folding Frankie’s mom into a tight hug. He knows that you and your mother-in-law don’t get along, and hopefully you won’t kick him out on his ass in exchange for distracting her from harassing you.

Immediately, Vanessa is fawning over Santi instead of picking on the fact that you haven’t dressed your baby girl specifically in pink. It’s so much of a relief to see him alive and well in your kitchen that you barely register anything else — and it takes you a second before you register the gorgeous woman standing anxiously in the doorway. Mira tucks her little face against your shoulder at the sight of a stranger, but you just at your daughter’s back and gently step closer. “You must be Yovanna?”

"Sí, I mean, yes." She knows that you and Frankie speak Spanish, but she also knows that she's in the United States, so practicing speaking English is necessary. Her eyes flicker between you and Frankie before she nods. "You must be the wife that is the best thing that ever happened to Francisco." After Pope had found her again, he had started telling her everything that he couldn't before. The flight from Australia filled with stories and names. "You're not Molly, right?" She asks, embarrassed that your name isn't quite coming to her. "That was the rude one's wife."

You tell her your name and disregard the comment about Tom because it’s accurate. You and Redfly never got along but you do try to respect the dead, so you won’t badmouth him now. “We’ll introduce you to Molly tomorrow, if you and Santi are going to be around. We always do a post-holiday thing with the team.”

"I think we are going to find a house?" She admits, shrugging slightly because she doesn't really mind where she is. As long as her brother is safe and she gets to be with Santiago. "That is what he was talking about."

“I’m glad to hear it.” To have him nearby and settled will do wonders for Frankie. He’s missed Pope and missed having his lifelong best friend close at hand. As much as you love each other and as much as you will always work to keep each other supported and happy, there is a part of him that isn’t quite full or right without Pope around. It’s the same way you feel about your own best friend. “Well, um…” Taking a second to grin at your bashful daughter, you turn slightly so the baby can see Yovanna over your shoulder. “This is Mirabel. She’s princess of the palace, and just…welcome. Merry Christmas. Dinner is in the oven and there’s plenty to drink.”

"I am sorry for intruding." She offers, smiling at the baby. "I hope it is not too much?"

“The team is family.” And sometimes family can be exhausting. Sometimes family can be troublesome. But family means doing the work. Which is exactly why you didn’t tell your parents to get stuffed over hosting this Christmas even though you’re exhausted and overwhelmed. “At the holidays, family is always welcome,” you tell her with certainty.

"He did not know how you would accept him." She admits softly, happy that he had been wrong about you being put off by him bringing your husband into the mess he had. "But it is good you have not had any problems since Lorea was killed."

“We haven’t,” you assure her quietly. “It’s the secret that we keep to make sure the boys are safe, and thankfully we have been safe.” For Santi? You can only shake your head and shrug while you bounce Mira in your arms. “I’ve over being upset with him, though it did take a while. Now? I’m just glad you’re both safe. That my husband came home to me. And that he won’t be doing anything like that ever again.”

“I understand.” She agrees. “It was stupid for them, for me. But at least they are home safe now.”

“Our families don’t know anything about it,” you tell her, not admitting for the moment that all you know is the name Lorea and that people had died. Two facts which Frankie had only told you so you could gauge your own safety if you were ever approached by someone who claimed to know him or know about what happened on that mission. You hadn’t asked more and he hadn’t offered, and since you had still been upset with him for going at all, it had never been brought up again.

Yovanna tilts her head in curiosity but she doesn’t comment on it. It’s very obvious that you don’t know the details and she doesn’t think that it’s her place to tell you about it. “Is there anything I can do to help?” She asks. “Since we are showing up unannounced.”

“Get settled and help yourself to a drink or an appetizer,” you offer, motioning to the small table on the other side of the kitchen counter. It’s where you and Frankie usually eat, especially with it being easy for placing Mira’s high chair, but tonight dinner will be served in the formal dining room. Which makes the little kitchen table a perfect apps-and-drinks table. “Welcome.” There will be plenty to talk about. More than plenty. But right now you refocus your attention. It’s time to give Mira a bottle and set her down for a nap, which will hopefully mean that she sleeps through the setting of the table and even the eating of dinner.

Everyone has been chatting, or at least Santiago has been distracting his mother while your father and Javi chat amiably. Your mother is fusing with something, one of the sides you had already prepared. Tasting it and adding something to it. He wants to stop her, but then he will just be told he doesn’t know what he’s doing in the kitchen, so he decides to not fight that battle today.

"I'm going to feed Mira," you tell Frankie as you slip past him in the kitchen. It will be a much-needed moment of relative quiet and you aren't going to pass it up. "I'll just go upstairs so I can feed her and put her down without fussing with a bottle. Is that okay?"

“You do that, babe.” He reaches out and squeezes your shoulder supportively. “I’ll try to keep everyone from killing each other.” It’s a large task, but hopefully he will be able to do it.

"Santi can help." It's not a suggestion that will take much pressing. Your quiet, introspective husband's best friend is a magnet for attention even without trying. "I'll be back down in a little bit. If you need me sooner, I have my phone on me. Just send an SOS text."

"I won't need it." He promises foolishly, unaware that the mothers will start in on him individually just as soon as he walks back into the kitchen.

"Good luck," you hum under your breath, before whisking your daughter off up the stairs.

"Francisco, be a dear and run this upstairs." Your mother's purse, one that she had earlier insisted that she needed to keep on her, now needs to be put in her room. She waggles the bag at him impatiently when he doesn't immediately jump to take it.

"She can do that, can't she?" Vanessa looks around, not even using your name to refer to you, and frowns after a moment. "Where did she go, Frankie? She should be taking care of her guests."

"She's feeding Mira, mama." He explains. "You remember what it's like to have a hungry, tired baby." He frowns slightly at her and takes the purse. "I'll take it upstairs, it's not a problem."

"So she took her away to feed her?" Vanessa clutches the pearls she isn't wearing. "One of us could have easily given her a bottle! She's teaching our granddaughter to hate us right away. Pobrecita Mirabel."

"She's breastfeeding." He huffs out. "Plus, she's putting her to bed."

"We're mothers too." To Frankie's surprise, your own mother chimes in, in support of Vanessa's viewpoint. "We can give a bottle just as easily as anyone else."

The look that your father shoots Frankie is apologetic at best but he says nothing, only drinks from his glass and turns to say something to Santiago, whom he vaguely remembers from your wedding. It's just about the least helpful atmosphere in the world but at least he isn't adding to the fire.

He shakes his head and doesn’t point out the glaringly obvious fact that if you are sticking your boob in his daughter’s mouth, then they couldn’t just as easily fed her, but it’s not worth the argument. Instead he turns around and hustles upstairs to deposit the bag at the foot of their guest bedroom.

It isn't exactly an ideal day. For anyone, it seems. But the only way out is through so he heads right back downstairs again once that is taken care of. When he comes back to the kitchen it's your father at the stove that catches his eye this time, but again Frankie doesn't say anything on that point. There's no use rocking the boat. Not now that his stepfather has most of the room entertained with a work story and no one is complaining at the moment.

"Oh damn." Your mother huffs, waggling the bottle. " We are out of wine." She raises her eyebrows at Frankie. "Will you be a dear and get another?"

"Is there another?" His mother asks, as if it was necessary to make the request any more irritating.

"Of course, mama." The implication that you didn't prepare well for today doesn't sit well with him, and Frankie heads straight out to the garage to get more of the wine that had been specifically bought for today.

You had bought an entire case. The sight of it makes Frankie smirk with pride. "That's my girl." He hums as he grabs another bottle. Hopefully this means that both mothers will get drunk enough that they won't be able to nitpick you.

It's a hope, as in vain as it might be, and when Frankie goes back into the house he finds things much as he left them. He refills both mothers' wine glasses and then ends up fetching the scotch from the den again for the fathers. It's constant back and forth, not able to sit and talk to Pope or to Yovanna, or even remember where he puts his own drink while he makes sure everyone else is settled.

"Goddamn." He mutters to himself. It's almost as if it's coordinated. Like a family who keeps a server running for their table by requesting something new every time they come back.

And it stays that way until the second you come back downstairs, baby monitor in hand, and sniff the air with a growing look of horror and panic on your face. "Shit. Shit!" You race to the oven with tears already stinging your eyes to find smoke and the smell of burning food coming from your finnicky, ill-behaved oven.

“What?” Frankie rushes back from den where he had been sent to dig out the bottle of bitters after Javi offered to make his father-in-law the best old fashioned he had ever drank. The bottle had been pushed to very back of the cabinet where the liquor was locked up and he had been half convinced it had been thrown out. “What’s wrong?”

"This!" When you drop the oven door open, a cartoonish cloud of smoke billows out. The once gorgeous-looking beef Wellington that you took such tender care to assemble is blackened beyong recognition when you pull the pan out and let it drop onto the stove top like a brick.

It's ruined. Completely and entirely. And you can feel your mother-in-law watching you while she picks out her preferred insult.

“Shit.” Frankie knows how much you have been anticipating this dinner. You hadn’t specifically said to look in on the damn thing but he feels guilty. “Babe, I’m so sorry.”

"I don't know how—" With your shoulders hunched and tears making your voice wobble, you pull the other pan out of the oven to find that the potatoes are scorched as well. Half of dinner is completely ruined. "I've made this a dozen times before!" Sure your oven isn't the best, but replacing it is expensive and you have just learned to live with how it cooks. But nothing like this has ever happened before. "How? How did this happen?"

“Well, you had the oven set to low.” Your mother offers and Vanessa nods. “You cannot possibly cook your little beef thing when it is set so low.” Your mother-in-law adds most helpfully. “I noticed it and asked your mother, so we turned it up for you. I’m sure that you are just too overwhelmed with things to have noticed.”

“It was set low on purpose.” You turn again, this time look at the temperature setting on the oven, and feel yourself deflate when the digital read out says 425F. “Our oven runs hot,” you explain to them, so upset that you’re physically shaking while tears stain your cheeks. They push in and they treat you like shit and then they ruin things and yet they’re still acting like you’re the one who is incompetent. “If you had just asked, I would have told you why it was set low. You’ve essentially set my oven to over 500 degrees and burnt half of dinner because you didn’t think i knew what I was doing.”

“How was I supposed to know?” Your mother gives you a bewildered hurt expression and covers her heart like you are attacking her. Frankie moves over to you and sighs softly as he sees the burnt remnants of the meal you had worked so hard on. “Why have you bought a new oven?” She demands. “Your husband is a pilot. He should be taking care of these things.”

“You should have asked, Mom.” But of course she didn’t. Your mother is the queen of that ‘Mother Knows Best’ attitude and has never admired to being wrong in your whole life. “Being a pilot doesn’t make him a millionaire, and we’ve got the baby. Life is expensive right now. We’ve been saving up like reasonable people.”

Vanessa bristles at the implication that there is something lacking in her baby boy but Santiago sees that as well and quickly steps in to distract her. “It’s being taken care of.” He assures your mother but she huffs and shakes her head. Which makes Vanessa snap her head to the side. “Don’t you dare think ill about Francisco.” She hisses. “He works all the time to make sure your daughter stays home. He’s working himself to death.” Frankie rolls his eyes. “Mama. Stop.” He ordered, feeling like this is getting out of hand. “It’s true. You don’t think I know you called Javi to borrow money?” She demands.

"I work from home, Vanessa. I don't sit around on my ass all day doing nothing!" True that you took your maximum maternity leave, but you had damn well needed it. Postpartum healing took its toll and the depression that went with it had hit you hard. And after Frankie had come back with so many secrets? Well, it's not as if your home life is all sunshine and roses right now.

"Then why does—"

"It doesn't matter why, Mom. It's only our business." None of them need to know about what happened with Frankie's license or anything else. It's not as though they have ever offered to help or support you before so you're not about to share your troubles with them now.

“But—”

“ENOUGH!” Frankie nearly bellows the order, making your mother jump and snap her mouth shut, eyes wide in near fear. Your father looks down at his glass guiltily and even his own mother gasps as she presses a hand to her chest. Only Javi looks somewhat amused by the entire thing, a small smirk of approval twisting his lips. “I don’t give a damn that you drove for hours or flew here to see us for Christmas.” He seethes. “This is our house and I am not going to put up with you mistreating my wife.” His eyes narrow as he turns towards his mother and then towards his mother-in-law. “Either one of you. You don’t like it? Leave.” His tone is stony and flat, leaving no room for argument.

Pope and Yovanna are dead silent in the corner, not willing to meddle in family drama when they've only just arrived, and three of the four parents exchange appalled looks.

"We didn't raise you to be so disrespectful." Your mother snaps, standing from her chair with steam practically pouring out of her ears. "Or to be a terrible cook. Go get our things. We're going to a hotel until you come to your senses."

“Go get them your goddamn self.” Frankie snaps back. “And you aren’t welcomed back until you apologize to her.” That’s one set of parents he’s pissed of completely, so he turns to his mom. “Mama? You gonna be nice or is it gonna be more passive aggressive bullshit comments? Because if it is, you can get the fuck out too.”

"I have never made a passive aggressive comment about--" she begins, but Javier actually laughs at her pious pearl clutching.

"Nessa, that's all you've said to your poor daughter-in-law for years." He tells her bluntly. "Come on. I'll get our stuff." Vanessa looks absolutely appalled, but Javier just shrugs. "Prove me wrong," he insists. "Apologize."

Frankie waits, brows raised and he actually hopes for a moment that his mother will apologize. Her mouth opens and she starts talking, making his heart sink.

“She should—”

“Nope.” He cuts her off, a disappointed look on his face. “I should have put my foot down years ago. That’s my fault. Until you apologize to her, and mean it, you aren’t welcomed in our lives.” He tells her, even though it breaks his heart. “You’re my mother and I love you. But this is my wife. The woman I vowed to spend the rest of my life with. The woman I love. You would have never put up with the kind of shit you give her out of Javi’s dad.” He reminds her. “And I’m done having her cry when you leave.” He nods towards the door. “Merry Christmas. Now I’d like you to leave.”

The stone-silent kitchen is a staring contest for long moments while Frankie’s mother realizes that her son is actually giving her an ultimatum. With a dramatic huff, she pushes out of her seat and storms to the door, shouting something about how his sister would never treat her like this. She shouts so loud that the sound of the baby crying bleeds through the baby monitor and cuts down the stairwell, but when you let out your own wretched, exhausted sob, Frankie stops you.

“I’ve got her.” He promises, reaching out and holding onto your shoulders. “I want you to pour yourself a big glass of wine and go upstairs and get into a bath.” He knows how much you love to soak in the tub, but you haven’t had much of a chance to do that since Mirabel was born. “I’ll take care of everything.”

"I have to figure out what the hell to make for dinner," you insist, intermittently glancing back between Pope and Yovanna, and toward the stairs where your baby girl is screaming.

“I’ll handle it.” Frankie implores, lifting his brows. “Trust me, baby. Go upstairs. I’ve got this.”

"I'm so sorry." The entire day has collapsed and it feels like it's your fault. Despite the fact that you were actively sabotaged and abused for the last hour – only an hour! – it still feels like you failed.

“It’s not your fault.” This comes from Javier, sighing softly as he glances at the two of you. Your mother and father are still upstairs, rummaging around after leaving the kitchen quietly in the face of Frankie’s ultimatum. “Don’t be sorry. Let your husband take care of you.” He looks at his step-son. “I’ll read her the riot act.” He promises.

"You're the only one I wish could stay," you admit to your father-in-law with a deflated shrug, but lean into your husband's side for a moment and just breathe Frankie in. "Okay. I'm going to have a wine bath. Whatever else we end up doing for dinner, there's a huge salad in the refrigerator and a tray of Christmas cookies in the pantry."

“Okay.” He kisses the top of your head before he pulls away to grab the monitor. “Big glass of wine.” He reminds you before he looks over at Pope and Yovanna. “You two good?”

"We're good." Pope nods, but he's already out of his chair and moving to wash his hands. Even after being gone for a few years, he still knows this house and these people as well as anything else in the world. "Go take care of your baby girl. We'll be ready to help when you get back."

“Thanks man.” He nods towards Javi and then rushes out of the room. “Daddy’s coming, Mira.” He calls out. “It’s okay.”

"It's...not usually like this." It's the best you can do to reassure Yovanna when you come out of the pantry again with a bottle of your preferred white wine and a large glass. That bottled sangria that Vanessa likes is garbage, no matter what she pretends.

“It is okay.” She promises. “Family can be difficult.” She smiles, knowing how often her brother puts her in hard situations.

"I'll...be back in a little bit." The idea of a glass of wine in a bath is basically unheard of in your life now and it's something you used to do at least once a week. The chance to relax and feel like you get to start the day over again is incredibly welcome.

"Take your time, hermana." Pope insists. "Take the bottle with you, if you want. We've got this."

With Mira, Frankie has her up on his shoulder, rocking her soothingly. “It’s okay. Shhhhhhh shhhhhhh.” He shushes softly, angry at his mother for not caring about waking his daughter up. She hiccups and starts to quiet down, not needing a bottle or a diaper, just some comfort. “It’s gonna be alright.” He promises, to both her and himself.

He can hear you in the hallway, light steps on the way to the master bathroom so that you don’t make more noise and disturb Mirabel any more than she already is.

It doesn’t take long for her to fall back asleep, although he spends precious minutes carefully laying her back down and making sure she stays asleep. Smiling softly when she shoves her thumb in her mouth as she sleeps. He creeps out of the room and back downstairs as he hears the water start to run from the master en-suite.

“Okay.” Pope is standing in the kitchen with a tied off trash bag sitting near the garage door and the two pans formerly full of burned food now scraped out and refilled with steaming, soapy water. “What’s the plan?” He asks, nodding to Yovanna beside him. “What can we do to help?”

“I’ve got some steaks in the freezer.” It’ll only take twenty minutes to thaw them. “If you want to go fire up the grill, I’ll pull them out.”

"Heard that." Thankfully the stunning Florida weather guarantees a warm Christmas with perfect grilling weather, and Pope heads outside immediately. He can have that grilled fired up and ready in no time.

"I can help, too." Yovanna insists. She would feel awful to not help out under any circumstances, but especially now. "Anything, Francisco. I'm happy to."

“There’s salad, but I know there’s also a carton of mushrooms.” Frankie explains. “Will you slice them and an onion to sauté?” He asks. “She loves onions and mushrooms on her steak.”

"Absolutely." A relatively small task that will make all the difference to someone who is having a hard day? She is more than happy to do what he asks. The three of them set to work immediately and within half an hour the smell of burnt pastry and potatoes is replaced with grill smoke and sauteed aromatics.

You come downstairs in clean, comfortable clothes with a glass of wine in your system, smelling like a bath bomb and looking like you're just starting a brand new day. When Yovanna is in the kitchen with a sautee pan instead of Frankie or Pope, you have to sit with your embarrassment for a moment.

"I'm sorry for...before. That wasn't the first impression that I wanted to make."

“The men are outside.” She tells you with a smile. “The salad looks gorgeous but Francisco said you like onions and mushrooms on your steak.” She explains. “And do not worry. I am just happy that you look more relaxed now.”

"Much." You huff out a laugh, feeling sheepish about the whole thing. "Families at the holidays..."

"Are always pretending to get along?" She laughs. "It is the same everywhere."

"Well...thank you, again." If you knew her better you might go so far as to give her the giant hug of gratitude that you would like to, but that will keep for later in the day. For now the two of you exchange knowing smiles about how ridiculous families can be and you go out the sliding door to the patio where Frankie and Santi are standing at the grill inspecting the image of your sleeping daughter on the baby monitor.

“I’m telling you man, she’s gonna be a problem when she gets older.” Pope huffs. “We need to start scaring away the boys now.”

"What if she grows up to like girls?" Of course they're already in protective mode. That doesn't surprise you in the least. "Or maybe she won't want romance at all. Anything is possible."

“Yeah but the boys can get her pregnant.” He points out, lifting a brow at Frankie’s immediate frown. “Well that’s not happening since she’s going to stay a virgin.” The overly protective father scoffs.

"She's going to be educated on her body and consent, and she's going to have the unwavering support of her parents," you correct them both. But there is still a soft smile on your face when you tuck yourself under Frankie's arm. "And if all else fails, she has Uncle Pope, Uncle Ironhead, and Uncle Benny to scare off anyone who doesn't respect her."

“What about me?” Frankie huffs as he settles his arm at your waist and hauls you closer. You look relaxed, and he’s glad. “How are you feeling, baby?” He asks.

"A little better. Pretty stupid, but better." When you lean into his chest he presses a kiss to your hair and you sigh. "Think our mothers are ever actually going to apologize?"

“If they don’t, we will have peace.” His eyes slip closed and he smiles slightly. “The dream.” He jokes before he opens his eye and looks at you seriously. “They will eventually. When they realize we are serious.”

"No contact with all of our parents except Javier." Another huffed laugh from you ends in a sigh. "Merry Christmas, I guess. Is it bad that I feel relieved?"

“We are having Christmas ribeye’s, with that salad you made, you can have your onions and mushrooms, and I know you have those rolls in there.” He grins. “Washed down with your wine and Christmas cookies.”

"Well...Mira is having a bottle the rest of the day anyway. No reason not to enjoy." With your arms around his waist, you tug Frankie tighter and practically shudder with that sigh of relief that rocks out of you. "Thank you, baby. I know neither of us ever wanted it to come to that with our parents, but thank you for stepping in. And for taking care of things afterward."

“Of course.” He knows that your trust and faith in him has been shaken by the drug charges and then disappearing to South America, but he wants to rebuild it. “Anytime, baby. I love you.”

“I love you too.” That, thankfully, was never in doubt.

******

A year passes with so much incident that it is a task of its own to decide where to start when someone asks you 'what's been going on?'. Planning the next Christmas is easier simply because of logistics. Hosting doesn't feel daunting when the people who are coming to the house are supportive, helpful, and kind.

Dinner is a potluck this year, with all the boys from Frankie's unit bringing their partners. Even Benny has a girlfriend – one who promises she's capable of bringing more to a potluck than jarred salsa and bagged chips – and Frankie is once again going to grill ribeyes. New traditions are falling into place, but the fact is that you're actually looking forward to things this year instead of dreading them.

“Babe.” Frankie ducks into the kitchen to admire the new oven that he had delivered six months ago. “Do you want to do that mashed potato casserole you were talking about or do you want to do baked potatoes this year?”

"Why don't we do baked potatoes and we can put out a bar of toppings and stuff? I can throw some bacon in a pan and chop some scallions." Things are better. You're talking more. You're listening to each other and asking questions instead of assuming. Frankie even comes home early from work once every other week to look after Mira while you have therapy. It's helped your postpartum depression immensely.

“That sounds good.” He agrees, grinning at you. “Pope and Yovanna are going to bring the salad this time. She loves that dressing recipe you gave her.”

"It's a good one." Yovanna has fast become a close friend, joining the sisterhood you have with Teresa, and now with Benny's girlfriend Roseanne. "Everybody should be here pretty soon. I figured there was no use in pretending this is formal. We're all perfectly happy to sit around together and hang out."

“Have you heard anything?” He asks softly, aware that you might have some feelings about everything that went down last year.

"Only from Javier." Frankie's stepfather was the only one who had been in contact, and even that was respectfully sparse. "I've sent him some photos of Mira and he texted this morning to say Merry Christmas and that he hoped the package he sent got here in time."

Even though you have been remarkable about the silence, Frankie steps closer and folds you into his arms for a reassuring hug. “It’ll all work out, baby.” He promises. “I just love seeing you excited for Christmas.”

“It’s easier to be excited when I’m not dreading the arguments and insults.” You lean into him a little tighter and sigh. It’s shit that things had to blow up the way they did last year, but things are better now. You’re both happier. The boys are all back together and Pope had proposed to Yovanna at Thanksgiving. Will and Teresa are ecstatic about expecting their first kid together. Things are good. “I love you, baby. So much.”

“I love you too.” He murmurs softly, kissing your forehead. He had told you everything that had happened and while you were unhappy about it, you hadn’t held it against him. That’s the best gift he could have ever asked for. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

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[sleepynoons]

SANTA TELL ME BY ARIANA GRANDE – sunday (hsr) x f!reader, guardian angel!au + college!au, sfw

genre – fluff, angst word count – ~2,700 warnings – explicit language synopsis – to put it quite simply, you have horrible taste in men. you're more than aware of it, so this year, you really, really, really want santa to hear you out because god definitely hasn't. but what you don't know is that someone does love you very dearly – you just can't see him.

Sunday ought to change positions. In fact, his sister, Robin, had notified him of an opening two weeks ago, no doubt confidential information that still somehow made its way through the Department, and he really should have brought it up with his manager. But more than likely, the position has already been taken, and even if it was not, no one gets to transfer at such a dire time in the year.

Holidays are what the Department calls “High Risk Periods.” In other words, during these trying times, humans are more prone to injuring themselves, usually from their own idiocy and recklessness, and that means Sunday and his guardian angel colleagues have to work overtime to prevent any major accidents or incidents, unless instructed otherwise in the Book of Fates. After all, humans seem to have found a plethora of ways to amuse themselves – getting drunk till they black out, doing parkour across the roofs of buildings dozens of floors tall, having disastrous sociopolitical conversations at the dinner table that devolve into screaming matches, the list goes on. Robin says she finds them entertaining, while Sunday constantly wonders why he was assigned to the Department in the first place.

Regardless, there is one truth about humans that Sunday wholly believes in. Out of all the humans he has been assigned to, you, especially, are stupid.

–

For the first time in weeks, your phone’s silent. No texts, no phone calls – not even a single email notification! Even your college seems to have decided to leave you alone when you least want it to. You lift your head, taking one last peek at your screen, and wail in disappointment and sadness despite knowing nothing will have changed within the second since your last glance.

Your girl friend grunts in response. She’s been sitting beside you in your room for the past few hours, having fallen victim to your post-breakup breakdown.

You yell into your pillow. “Why isn’t he reaching back out!”

“Because he’s a man,” she deadpans. 

You flip over so that you’re lying on your bed, face staring up at the ceiling, before letting out a pathetic moan again.

With teary eyes and trembling lips, you choke out, “I really thought he was the one.”

Bewildered, your friend drops her phone onto the floor. “What in the fuck are you saying, darling.”

“No, really! He’s so sweet and has this impish smile –“

“Sweetheart, you’ve been reading too many YA novels. No one fucking calls a smile ‘impish.’”

“– and he always bought me flowers when I least expected it.”

You release a dreamy sigh, with a slight undertone of frustration and envy. Since you started college three years ago, you haven’t really had any luck with long-lasting relationships. In your defense, first year’s meant to be spent frolicking, meeting different potential partners, and not really holding any expectations. Second year’s when you’re supposed to start settling down and finding an actual boyfriend, but sometimes, you just don’t meet someone who clicks. Unfortunately, even though you’re already halfway through your third year now, your misfortune seems to be nowhere near ending.

But you’re really trying! During the school year, you made sure to do your makeup and wear cute sets to class every day. You even got a new perfume – a little sweet, a lot more floral – to make sure your presence was known and committed to memory, and the new hair oil you rubbed through the ends of your hair had been giving you that extra healthy sheen and glow. And to your best judgment, your personality isn’t that bad either.

Your girl friend knows what you’re thinking by the downturn of your mouth. “It’s not you, love. You just don’t have the best… eye for men.”

“But aren’t you supposed to date men who can at least do the bare minimum?” The more you think about your now ex, the more you want to shrivel in a corner and question yourself. After all, you were hoping to spend all winter break long with your ex, but now you’re totally, completely, definitely alone for the holidays.

Your friend scooches over to the head of the bed and pats your arm with gentle thumps of her palm. “Yes, but they have to be consistent, too. Your ex may have been nice, but only sometimes. Remember how he forgot about your dates and always showed up late? Or that time you asked him to get painkillers, but he totally forgot because he went to the gym for four hours instead?”

You can only nod, unable to refute these instances of your ex’s incompetence. And by the knowing look on your girl friend’s face, it seems she has a laundry list more.

“I was just trying to give him the benefit of the doubt,” you mutter. You know you sound so naïve, but truly, you can’t help it. You don’t like it when others find fault in you, so you’re just doing the same for others – that’s the golden rule, right?

She gives you one final pat before standing up and stretching.

“Enough about this douche,” she says, with a sense of ultimatum to her tone. “Our Christmas party’s still happening, and who knows, maybe you’ll find a cute guy there.”

That’s true – at least there’s one good thing you can look forward to this winter break. You’re not returning home, so you’re celebrating Christmas with some other students who have also decided to stay on campus. You don’t know any of them, with the exception of your girl friend, well, so this party will be a good opportunity to meet someone new and outside of your usual circles.

Though you still feel sluggish, you do your best to follow your girl friend’s lead and drag yourself out of bed. When both of your feet are planted on the floor, you feel slightly more grounded. With a deep breath, you glance at your friend, and when the two of you lock eyes, for the first time since the breakup, you feel like there is a way up.

–

There’s another thing that humans do that Sunday finds incredibly odd: they never dress properly for the weather. Whether it be forgetting an umbrella or wearing shoes that’ll easily get soaked through by snow or dressing so bare and scantily in the dead of winter, Sunday simply cannot wrap his head around it.

He’s hovering above the edge of your bed as he watches you and your friend chatter about. He does not usually clock in at night out of respect for your privacy and space – which is, in reality, a moot point, since you do not know that he is there in the first place –, but you previously had a fiasco where you knocked over a glass cup in your drunken stupor and left a deep gash in your hand. That gash was not supposed to be there, and Sunday has learned his lesson to always supervise you when you are out and about, socializing and mingling and making out with strangers.

Sunday sighs as he watches you fidget with the end of your dress. As always, you seem to try to wear as little as possible when it is literally freezing outside. The ponds in your neighborhood have frozen over. The weather forecast reported an intense cold draft. Yet your jitters are not from the chill or wind – they are solely from your excitement. When your girl friend tells you to fold the dress up by another inch, to show off more of your arse, something in Sunday’s temple jumps unpleasantly. But of course, you nod enthusiastically in agreement, and he blocks his sight with his wings as you lean over your dresser in search of a safety pin.

Sunday knows your only singular goal tonight is to find another “catch of a guy” to satiate your needs. He wants to scream at you – to wear more? to keep it in your pants? something else? maybe all of the above? –, but guardian angels are forbidden from appearing or interacting with their humans. He also reminds himself that he is not your mother, so there is no need for him to worry over you when he does not need to. He should only be stressed if he has to intervene.

He sighs as he follows the two of you out of your apartment. He really hopes your idiotic antics will not cost too much of his patience, and if they do, he swears he will put in a transfer request next year.

It does not take long for you to find your prey for the night. You arrived at another student’s apartment where a small crowd had already gathered on the floor, all exchanging drinks in red plastic cups and hiccuping with veins full of vodka and whisky. You join, naturally finding a spot beside who you deem to be the cutest in the room, while Sunday miniaturizes himself so that he can sit on top of your head.

The room is so loud, and woody cologne, gingerbread, and hair spray do not go together. But what he hates most is the direction in which your conversation is headed.

“Never seen you around,” your prey comments with a flash of a toothy grin.

You hum and nod your head vigorously. “Yeah! That’s so odd, since we’re in the same year and all.”

“For sure,” he continues, tone already a little too bold for a pre-game, “I definitely wouldn’t forget a face as pretty as yours.”

Guardian angels are supposed to be ambivalent towards humans in general, but even that poor excuse of a pickup line wants Sunday to abort his job. But you still eat it up, and he feels his blood pressure rise.

The two of you continue to make small talk before the majority of the group decides to relocate to someone else’s unit, which is larger and has freshly baked brownies resting in the oven. But because this apartment is bigger, you and your partner manage to find yourselves a comfortable corner, distancing yourselves from everyone else to have more “privacy.”

You ask, “Why are you staying back on campus?”

With a shrug, he responds, “Flights are expensive. I was upset at first, but…”

You cock your head to the side, look up, and flutter your eyelashes. Sunday’s eyebrow quirks, but he is not sure if it is out of annoyance or something else. That is your signature move, your flawless routine to pull boys in, and he has seen it over and over again before.

“But… what?” you ask, voice shy yet tinged with coyness.

He shakes his head. He needs to remain calm, vigilant, and most importantly, neutral. As a result, he decides the best thing he can do is abandon his post as an eavesdropper and entertain himself with other matters. He stands up and flutters down to reach your shoulders. As he descends, he watches as one of your eyelashes falls to rest on the apple of your cheek. He would move it out of the way – obviously to assist your efforts in getting your prey, not that the guy has noticed it in the first place –, but he knows he cannot. He then observes your earrings. Although he tries, the metal does not reflect his person, and he does not understand why he reacts with a drop in his stomach.

Frustrated with all these questions and indeterminants, Sunday perches on your shoulder.

At some point, you excuse yourself for another drink. Sunday follows closely, occasionally intervening so that you do not bump into other crossed students and experience another catastrophe. However, once you get your cup of punch, instead of returning to your partner for the night, you head over to the bathroom. Sunday is not sure if he should join you, but there is a glint in your eyes, something that triggers his intuition that you are planning something reckless and most likely desperate, so he stays rooted to your shoulder.

And lo and behold, his intuition has never failed him, and it does not tonight either. You down the juice in one go, slap your cheeks with your hands quite forcefully, and look at yourself square in the mirror. Sunday wishes he could have slapped his hands over your mouth.

You say, with feverish determination and promise, “I will not screw up! I think he’s the one, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure we work out! It’s Christmas, too, so I should be extra lucky!”

Sunday cannot resist the urge to roll his eyes. It is more than obvious that that guy is only in for a good time, not a long time. This is why Sunday insists you are one of the stupidest humans he has ever had the misfortune to work with.

But whenever he explains how much of a lost cause you are to Robin, rather than believing him, his sister questions him instead.

“Are you sure, Brother?” she once asked.

“Yes, absolutely! How can one be so blind!” he proclaimed as the feathers of his wings ruffled with displeasure.

“Well, I think your human is just dense, and I find that quite adorable. Is it not?”

Sunday quieted immediately.

Even to this day, he chalks his failure to respond up to the sheer shock at his sister’s reaction. It is not surprising in that his sister finds a human adorable – many of his coworkers often express their never-ending fascination and curiosity towards human nature, behaviors, and quirks. Rather, it is unjustified to find your idiocy, your denseness, your ignorance cute, and that makes him seethe.

Now, though, he is not sure his original conclusion or feelings are right or appropriate. As you head back, a strong desire to prevent you from finding that man stirs within his gut. Of course, Sunday does not act on such unreasonable urges, but truly, he would be lying to himself if he said he was neutral when it came to matters concerning you. Again, perhaps he is just impatient, perhaps he does not want to deal with your grief-stricken self – especially when your state is caused by an inconsequential man’s actions –, perhaps he simply does not want to see you unhappy.

But neither of your wishes come true. 

You return to the living room, only to find your desired partner cozying up with another girl. Sunday can only watch, looking up as he sees tears, droplets so large relative to his miniature size, stream down the sides of your cheek and chin. When you are not looking, more occupied with scampering back to your apartment as quickly as possible, he catches one of your droplets in his hands, observing it as it hovers in front of him, still failing to show his reflection. He lets it go moments later, but how he wishes he could hold onto it for longer.

But more than that, he knows he would never make you cry like that. If only he was allowed, even one chance, to speak to you, knock some sense into you, demonstrate to you the treatment that you deserve. That way, you would learn your lesson, your true worth, and he would feel like he is actually doing his job as your guardian angel.

In the back of his mind, though, Sunday knows he would never actually feel satisfied – and that he will always worry over you, no matter what. After all, there is a reason why that rule is in place, and it is not to regulate humans. Indeed, humans are fickle creatures. Guardian angels, on the other hand, watch over a human from the time they are born to the day they die. This rule was created to keep the angels in check – to restrain their possession, greed, and lust from running amuck.

Robin is right. You are as downright adorable as you are clueless. But he did not want anyone else to find out, despite knowing there is nothing – nothing at all – that he can do about that.

winter event masterlist

[dogwithrabies]

【★】 Wanderer SFW and NSFW headcanons

【☆】 Bullet list format with some scenarios included. Written with a gender neutral afab reader in mind but has a female section at the end, word count: 2.7k

honestly, i could go on forever, there's so much i love about him i could never fit it in one post.

This is not proof read!

Starting off with the fact that it would probably take him SO long to realize he’s caught feelings and even longer to accept them. It’s a ridiculous predicament he’s found himself in. The Wanderer is a yearner at heart, but he also carries a huge amount of baggage.

Realistically?

It’d take him years.

And even after he’s sort of accepted it, it won’t be smooth sailing. It’s still complicated for him, yes, he likes you, now what? You make him feel all sorts of things and it’s so frustrating. 

He always finds himself making excuses to linger around you, and even then he acts like willingly spending time with you is some sort of atrocious torture. Always complaining and huffing. You don’t take it to heart as it’s very evident this is just a self-imposed hostage situation, he could leave anytime he wants; he simply chooses not to.

So you decide to spare him and not call him out on it (for now).

Despite yearning and wanting, he has no intention of making the first move. It gets to the point that it’s painfully obvious to anyone around him that he’s got a soft spot for you. But he won’t budge, even if the traveler or Buer tease him relentlessly.

It’s sort of his last resort, if you don’t reciprocate his feelings then he can rationalize it as another instance of the human nature disappointing him. Just another reminder to not trust again.

Alas, it all flies out the window the moment you (metaphorically or literally) corner him. It’s kind of funny how little resistance he puts up, despite his aversion to touch he never pushes you away (another example of his favoritism).

Pretend to fix his hair out of his face, play with the ornaments of his clothes, accidentally sit too close to him, it all leads up to the moment where everything escalates. 

Grab him by the waist and drag him close to you, tease him with what you know he craves just to let go. It’s an utterly unnecessary dance around the obvious but his reactions are just too cute, the way his face turns an absurd red color while he fights his hands from reaching and holding onto you.

Frustrating.

(note: overdoing it will make him think you’re just toying with him, he already feels like some sort of pathetic damsel in distress in this predicament, so please spare him).

He tries to psych himself up to reciprocate your touches (or do the unspeakable, initiate them), he always chickens out at the last second, but this time, his hands move faster than his brain can think and he finds himself pulling you back in.

It’s instant regret that fills him as he cringes at his own behavior but you quickly shut it down by kissing him.

It’s messy and unpracticed on his end, and it even took him a second to process it and reciprocate.

The label of your relationship is never stated outloud, you’ve been chasing each other for so long that it goes unspoken.

He starts inviting himself in your spaces now, the kiss left him with a whole new level of yearning. He never outright tells you what he wants, instead, he leaves a trail of undecipherable hints.

The sound of scribbling of pens and shuffling of papers fills the air as you work away at some unimportant receipts. He sits behind, you boring holes in your back by the amount of glaring he’s been doing. He’s here, he’s available, and you’re completely ignoring him in favor of wasting his time on some frivolous documents.

When he scoffs for the nth time you finally grace him of your attention.

“What?”

He’s almost caught off guard when you acknowledge him, quickly regaining his composure to shoot a glare at you.

Okay, so it’s another challenge of his.

One that he hopes you’ll pick up, because why be upfront with his desires when he can just throw at you a puzzle and watch you struggle to solve it? (one that he himself wants you to solve, and fast, don’t make him wait).

You calculate your options, ignore him until he gets so frustrated he confronts you (or leaves), or up him at his own game.

So you make a show of getting up from your spot and plopping down next to him, so close you’re squishing yourself in his side. He looks at you with a puzzled look as you embrace him with one arm, pulling him close and ensuring he doesn’t try to make a run for it.

“What’s wrong, my dear Wanderer?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” He responds bitterly, refusing eye contact, the slight red on his face betrays him. Cute.

“Awh”, you move your arm down to his waist, “I’m sorry I neglected you, how can I make up for it?” Your tone almost hints at something more suggestive, he wants to shoot back with a snarky remark but he’s so out of his depth that he just stares at you.

He wants, he craves, but…

You let out a breathy laugh, “If you want something from me, you should just tell me.” You finish the sentence with a kiss on his cheek and start retreating to get up, but he stops you.

“Stay.” He looks conflicted, like he’s fighting himself to speak up.

“Okay,” you sit back down and face him. “What else?”

“...Kiss me again.”

And you oblige.

The progress is slow, but it’s there. His selfishness will always win.

It can be insanely difficult to navigate sometimes, you’re the first human he willingly subjected himself to romantically and just the thought of sharing you with other people is gut wrenching. The way people look at you when you’re out and about, the friendly touches and hugs, it all just drives him a little bit insane.

He hates feeling like this. It’s those times he disappears for hours, just mellowing in his own feelings.

It takes a LOT of reassurance, he wouldn’t outright tell you but it’s sort of obvious. Lots of (involuntary) tears. He wants to trust you, but his emotional walls are incredibly thick.

With time, he improves a lot. He has taken his whole redemption seriously, he wants to be better and be better for you.

You showed him he can rely on you, and trust you. It’s a very scary trust fall for him, but you’re there to catch him.

He goes from reminding you of a tiny feral cat, constantly hissing and hiding to the cutest little kitten. Get domesticated, idiot.

Additional stuff:

He doesn’t do PDA, but won’t stop you from holding his arm or hand.

His love language is definitely acts of service, he loves doing things for you. He cooks, he cleans, he’s a house wife in denial.

For him, words of affirmation and physical touch. He loves it when you hold him, tell him how much you love him and whisper corny sweet nothings to him.

Skin to skin contact is very soothing to him. It doesn’t have to be sexual. he just wants to feel you.

He’s a little spoon, again, loves being held.

His favorite spots to kiss you are on the corner of your lips and forehead.

NSFW starts here:

He is, what one could call, a virgin. lol.

In his pursuit of divinity, he had no time or intention of getting distracted in engaging that way with humans. He knows what that activity entails, he just never had an interest in it. Until now, when he met you.

It’s that sort of unique situation that only a four hundred year old puppet could find itself in, four centuries of self imposed abstinence thrown out the window the moment you pop up. It starts innocuous enough that he can rationalize it as simple curiosity, but before he can realize it, it all spirals out of control.

He’s spent long sleepless nights trying to ignore the very obvious tent in his shorts. He never had the inclination to masturbate before, he tried to ignore it the first times, waiting it out staring at the ceiling until he had enough peace of mind to rest a bit.

And then you appear in his dreams. He is beyond frustrated now, how dare you infest his mind even when he’s unconscious? And so he finds himself reaching down to free his aching erection out of his shorts. He doesn’t want to, but maybe if he gives his body what it wants he can finally move on. He grabs himself with very inexperienced hands and tries to get it over with as fast as possible.

Images of you pop in his mind, he wants to be ashamed of where his thoughts are going but he finds it incredibly hard to when every picture of you makes him twitch and leak in his fist. He wishes it were your hands instead of his stroking him to completion, but perhaps it would be too much for him, and just the mere thought of that makes him spill on himself, making a mess of his hands and shorts.

Utterly shameful.

With you in the picture, he just doesn’t have the will to deny himself any longer.

He wants your hands on him, bite him, or scratch him he doesn’t care as long as they’re on him. He doesn't want you to know how desperate he is, but it’s kind of impossible to hide how hard he gets every time you hold him and kiss him.

You make the first move, dragging him onto your lap and sneaking your hands on his thighs. He wants to complain about your man-handling, but your hands are teasingly close to his bulge. A tiny voice in his head is screaming at him to leave, save whatever little dignity he had left and not engage in “filth”. But he’s also thinking with his other head, and he blames you for it, so why don’t you do your due diligence and take care of it?

He’s already squirmy and you haven’t even started. He’s used to pain, to harsh hits and blows, but you cradle him so delicately and he doesn’t know how to act.

He’s imagined this scene several times, your hands on him, stroking him to completion, but he’s woefully unprepared for the actual thing. Your hands are impossibly soft, spreading his pre-cum on his whole length to facilitate the movement.

He wants it to last forever but he finishes embarrassingly fast, making a mess of your hands and clothing. 

You figure this is the end of your first sexual encounter with him, but he never softens in your hand. Yeah, puppet stamina be like that.

Additional stuff:

He’s a whimperer.

He wasn’t even aware he had the ability to ejaculate. He still thinks of it as an utterly useless feature. But he’s also somewhat glad he can, he likes seeing you covered in his spend. 

Also, since it’s artificial he’s shooting blanks. There’s no need for protection.

He doesn’t have refractory periods. He does get sensitive after a climax but he’s immediately ready to go again.

He’s a switch, more leaning on the submissive side. He does have a dominant streak in him, it’s mostly when he’s feeling more possessive, he starts acting on it once he’s more confident.

Kissing gets heated quickly with him. He’s very eager to stick his tongue in your mouth.

He’s very good with his hands and mouth, you had to guide him through it the first times. He’s inexperienced but very dedicated and a fast learner.

Being inside you is his favorite thing. Alongside cumming inside you.

Exploring the sexual side of a relationship can be tricky, and his constitution does make it harder. It’s a long process of trial and error. He also, in the span of 400 years, never bothered to figure out his turn-ons/offs, just to add an additional layer of difficulty to the whole ordeal.

You do know of his past position of power, so it’s no wonder he likes being serviced. Ride him, suck him off, it’s all good to him. He loves how sweet you are to him, taking him so gently.

Despite his doll joints being no longer visible, he still presents seams on his torso. The whole area is very sensitive, kind of an unconventional erogenous zone, but you work with it. He also has very sensitive nipples. He’s a bit sheepish about that.

Speaking of unconventional, he has a thing for choking. He doesn’t need to breathe, so it’s not the lack of air that gets him so ecstatic, it’s more of the act per se.

Marking, he loves hickeys, and his bodysuit covers his neck area so others seeing them is not an issue. Loves being bitten. Not the soft munches, he wants to feel your teeth breaking the skin. He’s been hurt before, to unimaginable extents, to the point where he almost started craving that pain. To have you bite and scratch him in such a carnal and vulnerable context immediately drives him over the edge.

Despite his masochistic tendencies, he’s not willing to do the same to you. He’s sturdy, you couldn’t injure him no matter how hard you tried. But you’re human. He knows from first hand experience how fragile your kind is.

Risk play is off the table, and so is any sort of public/exhibitionism. Alone and secluded in the woods? Sure. But nothing of the sort where people can see. This won’t save him from having embarrassing hard ons in public, sometimes just your presence is enough to get him bricked up. He just won’t act on it.

He has a mean streak, he loves teasing you, edging you, and pushing you to your limits. However, he cannot take even a bit of teasing. he immediately breaks and starts begging you to let him cum.

He’s a crier in bed, it’s cathartic for him.

Has an oral fixation. It works out great for you, he loves using his mouth on you.

His favorite part of you is your thighs. If you let him, he’d spend hours shoving his cock between them. Don’t get him wrong, nothing compares to being inside you, but something about being able to feel you twitch as he fucks himself through the softness of your thighs just does it for him.

Lastly, hear me out pleaseplease

Peg him.

He’ll be a bit put off by it initially.

He’s just never heard of it before. Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?

You decide to put away the strap-on for the time being, starting with the basics as to not overwhelm him. Just fingers. You find out he has a completely functional prostate, and it’s your new way of tormenting him.

Don’t let him touch himself, instead, work him ever so slowly to his orgasm by spreading him on your fingers. He wants to be annoyed, to tell you that it’s useless and it’s just faster to let him do the fucking, but he’s hard, and leaking, twitching every time your fingers intentionally brush against that spot, and before long he’s shooting ropes all over his chest.

He’s still a bit fussy about it when you show him the toy you bought just for him. Because there’s no way that thing is going inside him, except it is, and he’s ashamed of liking every second of it.

Female reader section:

He’s a bit embarrassed of it at first, but he really likes your chest. He likes lying on them, he’ll fall asleep like that if you let him. His hands are always on them, kneading them around or just to feel you.

When you proposed to let him fuck your tits, he had no idea it was a thing. He likes the idea, in theory, when it comes to practice you get to find out just how much he really likes it.

He’s leaking so much it makes him practically slide around in them.

It’s not long before he finds himself covering your chest in cum.

It quickly becomes one of his favorite spots to cum on.

[just-sg]

And if "just ignore them and write it anyway" doesn't overcome the anxiety, here's alternate advice:

Remember that these are opinions, and it is perfectly reasonable to consider others' opinions, but if you ask enough people, there WILL be mutually exclusive opinions out there. You CANNOT please everyone, as in it is literally physically not possible, you have slightly higher odds of your molecules lining up exactly the right way to jump through a solid wall. There is not a single decision you can ever make that will avoid the chance of someone not liking it; if enough people see your work, someone WILL have an issue with something, which means you don't have to worry about "what if". Might someone misunderstand? Might someone find it annoying or boring or upsetting? Immutably, yes; if the answer is ever no it just means not enough people have seen it yet. So stop trying to do the impossible!

And once you've got that part, think about what you can control. Look at the opinions you're worried about and actually break them down. Why does dirtysocks574774757 hate that trope?

If it's "overdone", is that actually a problem? Is it popular because many people enjoy it? Is it a little cliche, but something you personally enjoy seeing in other words even knowing that it is? Or if the problem with "overdone" is that it's overshadowing other good options, does anything else appeal to you? Is there a way you can add a unique twist to the trope, keeping what you like while also making it stand out and having all the more fun with it?

If it's "unrealistic", are you trying to be realistic? Is this an escapist fantasy or personal venting where making things better/cooler/gritter/edgier/whatever than real life is part of the point? Is pushing this idea harmful, and if so, what about it is the problem? Is there a way to address that part without avoiding everything even slightly adjacent to the trope with a 40 foot pole?

Remember that no one's opinion is objective law. Even if something is overdone to a point of becoming a stereotype, as long as that stereotype isn't spreading harmful misinformation or actively shitting on people, it doesn't mean you have to avoid anything that even might look close as much as possible at all costs, it means be careful.

Ex: Your gay character can be flamboyant, I promise; the problem isn't camp gays existing, it's when the one (1) gay character or couple in a series is always Like That and little if anything else. So just don't do that part! Remember context, too. It's very different having a whole group who all act a certain way vs a group where only one/some do, ya know? I know this post was more about pet peeves and stuff but I'm saying, if even stuff that can be genuinely bad doesn't have to always be, then you also definitely shouldn't be stressing harmless fun tropes.

Above all else: remember it's better to do something right than to do nothing wrong. There is no amount of effort you could put in to make your work appeal to everyone, but the closer you get to making it tolerable to everyone (still impossible to achieve fully), the less likely you are to appeal to much of anyone. So don't worry yourself to death (or worse, to a point of never making anything) avoiding everything that might be offputting. Instead, when you find yourself worried about a potential issue, examine it, weigh your options, and make a conscious choice about if you want to keep, alter, or scrap it. As long as you're being mindful about your decisions rather than just throwing things in with no regard, you should be FINE.

People relate to messy complex characters, and what one person finds "unrealistic" could just be a thing they don't get, but that makes someone else feel incredibly seen and validated. People like stupid indulgent fantasies! And if you need proof people will actively seek out and enjoy reading the same shit over and over, look no farther than "Coffee Shop AU" or "Only One Bed".

In the end, there's little more powerful than passion from a creator. Write what you like, write what you'd want to read, make the points you want to make. There will always be people who just don't like the things you like, and no amount of trying to water yourself down for them will make them anything more than tolerant. So write for you and the people who do like what you like, and put your whole body into it. Someone will always hate it and someone will always enjoy it, and the more you write something you enjoy, the more likely it is that the people who do like it will really, really like it. Don't hold yourself back!

hey, writers. especially neurodivergent writers with anxiety or OCD.

if you see one of those writing advice posts that is literally just, ‘these tropes suck’, ‘this story idea sucks’, ‘this sucks’, ‘that sucks’, ‘all of this is horrible’.. don’t dwell on it.

these are just random people on the internet, okay? they’re just acting like they know everything and that their personal preferences are universal.

you don’t have to listen to them, write whatever you want, regardless of if dirtysocks574774757 on Tumblr/Pinterest doesn’t like it.

(ahem, if a user by the name of dirtysocks574774757 from Tumblr or Pinterest actually does see this.. sorry 😅 i’m sure you understand)

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

You'll Poke Your Eye Out

Prompt Day 25: Christmas | Word Count: 541 | Rating: T | CW: Lingering Upside Down Trauma, Language | Tags: Future Fic, Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Established Relationship, Christmas at Wayne's, Eating Nuts (Not Like That), Hurt/Comfort

Steve sits on the couch at Wayne's, a large stainless steel bowl in his lap, the nut cracker tool in one hand and metal pick in the other.

Eddie walks by behind the couch, brand new Polaroid camera hanging around his neck. It's been a full morning of Eddie taking pictures of anything and everything, laying the instant pictures out across every flat surface.

"You'll poke your eye out," Eddie says flippantly as he keeps moving. 

Well, that's not the plan, but if he does, maybe it'll have been worth it.

Because nothing, nothing, says it is Christmas like the big bowl of partially cracked open pecans on Wayne's coffee table. Steve had never had anything like it in his house while growing up. A big bowl of in-shell nuts, just sitting in the living room? His mother would have never allowed such a thing. The mess that could have even potentially been created would have given her hives.

Steve doesn't know where Wayne gets the nuts, or why they are such an integral part of the Munson family tradition, but he's grown to anticipate them every year.

The first time he'd seen the metal tools, they seemed kind of like medieval torture devices. Eddie had to show him how to use them: Putting the pecan between the metal claws, squeezing until the shell breaks. Then using the pick to dig out the meat. Eat. Rinse, repeat.

Sometimes it's walnuts, but it's usually pecans.

It gives him something to do with his hands, and he prefers that most of the time. He can't just sit still. Idle hands, and all that. Keeping his mind busy, even in this mundane way, is the best thing he's found to keep everything running smoothly. Steve knows Eddie bounced back from his tangle with the Upside Down almost totally unscathed. 

Steve didn't. 

That's not true. Not totally. 

He thought he was fine. The first year, even the second, he'd had no problems at all. But in time it snuck up on him, and knocked him to his knees. Eddie picked him back up, and he's been picking him up ever since. 

The physical scars he can deal with just fine, but the mental scars that were hidden away where he couldn't even tend to them fucking suck, and he prefers to keep busy.

So, today, he cracks nuts. 

When Eddie finally sits down next to him, Steve starts cracking them for him. One after another, handing over the small slivers of nuts, and occasionally entire halves in perfect condition. He'll be better at it by New Year's. The rust will be shaken off, and he'll be able to crack more without breaking them into small pieces. It just takes time to acclimate, he knows that and accepts it. 

It is what it is. Nothing is perfect, definitely not him, and he doesn't expect to be. Not anymore.

At the end of the night, he picks his empty shells out of the bowl, and tosses them in the trash. Eddie runs the Dustbuster around the couch, and it's like Steve never made a mess at all.

Tomorrow, Wayne will have refilled the bowl and Steve will start the process all over again, Eddie at his side.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

Notes: I feel like I often explore Eddie struggling after the events of S4, but what if Steve felt it more? What if Eddie bounced back like a cat using one of his nine lives?

[kaeyachi]

HOW WE CAN USE KAEYA'S CHARACTER VOICELINES TO PREDICT THE PLOT OF GENSHIN IMPACT:

Really long lore post! Grab a small serving of popcorn, maybe.

So, do you all remember my post about how frequent Kaeya mentions fate ? And how suspicious it is, especially with the current plotlines in Genshin?

Other than that suspicious thing he's got going, there are several voicelines from him that are incredibly interesting to go back to as well, especially with all the current facts we have.

Just to name a few, we have him talking about his grandfather fighting a hydra before we even went to Liyue, and in a short animation posted in Genshin's YT account a year before the Albedo quest, he tells Klee to be careful at night because monsters walk around looking like a knight to trick people.

But for now, I will focus on a certain group of his EN voicelines- More about Kaeya".

ALL "More about Kaeya" voicelines could have been AND can still be used to predict the plot of genshin- very fitting for someone who keeps despairing about fate. Here is how:

First, with the 2 voicelines have already been officially addressed in Archon Quests by other Khaenri'ahns:

"Khaenri'ah? You sure know a lot! The legacy of Khaenri'ah is long gone. The sinners are all that's left, and they're not worth mentioning."

Back then, before the interlude quest from update 4.7 was ever released, I actually just assumed this was just the teachings of Kaeya's father to him, because Clothar had mentioned back in update 3.5 that "salvation for a sinner can only come from a sinner". We probably assumed at the time that being a sinner included ALL Khaenri'ahns.

It turns out that Kaeya had told us who the sinners are- The Legacy of Khaenri'ah: the group of characters that put their nation under Celestia's terrifying gaze for their work. They are called the Legacy not only for their power and influence, but also because they are what made Khaenri'ah the cursed nation that it is today. This is the sinners' legacy.

Meanwhile, Clothar told us what these sinners are doing - finding out how to give their cursed nation "salvation." This is why Vedrfolnir (Dainsleif's brother and one of the said sinners) had inspired Clothar to form the Abyss Order. This could be taken as our twin agreeing with the sinners' plans.

These Alberich men and their subtle and confusing lore drops, I swear...

Technically, I guess we can say that this was a lesson from Kaeya's father, but now it was clear that his father was talking about an actual group that can be called "The Sinners of Khaenri'ah".

But that brings up a question... why did Kaeya try to divert the focus from said group? Why are they "not worth mentioning"? Especially with the fact that our twin is actively working with them? Was this meant to guide us away from that trail? Or perhaps this is a subtle foreshadowing that the plot of these sinners would fail in all their attempts/plans?

"Is the Abyss Order causing you trouble? If there's anything bothering you, you know you can talk to me."

Either way, this actually confirms that Kaeya knows of the Khaenri'ahn/Abyss Order plot in general. Like, come on now, he already spoke of half truths when questioned by Dainsleif! He didn't know what the full weight of carrying an Alberich surname is, but he did mention that what Dainsleif told him finally answered questions- questions he wouldn't have had if he was told nothing. He is really proving Diluc's assessment of him- you can really only trust half of what he says at best.

This one right here actually predicted/foretold what update 3.5 will contain. There was a reason why this is what we got for "About Kaeya". This wasn't just about him as a knight, it was because his ancestor, Clothar, involved in the Abyss Order's creation. This is part of his family history.

This, however, makes me curious as to what his personal relation to the Abyss Order actually is. Do we take this voiceline as him just being a knight that recognizes our problems with the Abyss Order after what happened with Dvalin? Or do we take this as special treatment from a descendant of its founder who is reluctantly watching over his birthright? This is not the only concern regarding this. If he really is loosely working with the Abyss Order, this means that this entire time, he may have been in cahoots with our twin! Suddenly, the intel he gave us during the prologue is less truthful than it originally was, huh? The information is real, but how he really got it is being put into question...

It seems like both of the dialogue made me think that he has been in contact with our twin in some way this entire time. Very interesting...(at the very least, it would make Kaeya get a laugh at Amber posting missing posters in the most random of places)

Also...it was actually in the surname too lmao. Alberich means "ruler of supernatural beings" after all. (technically, this would have referred to elves, but there doesn't seem to be a clear connection from the Alberich clan to the elven race yet...but one can only dream of elven Kaeya)

Now onto the voicelines that will for sure tell us about what comes next (and what might possibly happen):

" The title of Cavalry Captain is nothing to grt excited about. Now that I think about it, the Grand Master took all the cavalry from Mondstadt, so there's none for me to captain..."

It's the age old question of "Why did Varka take the cavalry, but not their captain?"

It's a funny thing to think about, but it really does raise the question as to why Varka did so, because it's really REALLY weird to not take the captain. The simplest answer is that Kaeya's intel network is far more important than taking him away on an expedition, and gathering intel is hard when the head of it isn't starionary, but we also have to consider the fact that Varka would have an idea about Khaenri'ah in the first place.

Perhaps bringing Kaeya around what seems to be a search for answers and solutions isn't the best idea? What if all this searching is connected with Khaenri'ah? Learning more about how the nation was destroyed would probably be beneficial for the Grand Master to know to protect his nation, after all...

But what if it doesn't involve Khaenri'ah at all? Well, we still have the alternative of Varka wanting Kaeya to be by Jean's side. Kaeya is efficient with his work, but he is also the first to hammer in the idea of self care.

Kaeya has shown several instances of caring for Jean in secret (just like he does for so many others, actually). The first being in Jean's story quest where he planned a party for her. Another is Jean calling him out and thanking him for doing the backlogged KoF paperwork in secret. Finally, he convinced Jean to go with him, Albedo and Klee in Simulanka.

Kaeya is also the 2nd in command if Jean is out of commission AND the one who seems to be doing negotiations. Varka knew that Jean needed support, and Kaeya is the best support anyone could ask for as an official Knight.

As for the last idea, Kaeya could have rejected the offer of joining the expedition himself and offered his entire cavalry to go in his stead. It could be for various reasons, ranging from wanting to stay for Jean and Diluc to being afraid of going against his father's orders of Kaeya needing to stay in Mondstadt. The Grand Master's expedition is taking too long compared to Kaeya's short negotiations meetings in Sumeru and quick vacations in Liyue, Veluriyam, and Simulanka.

But one thing is clear- this situation will definitely be addressed someday, and I'm sure it goes deeper than Varka simply wanting to take the cavalry away from their captain.

"There are a total of ten captains within the Knights of Favonius. But truth be told, not all of them have what it takes to be leaders."

There are 5 captains stationed in Mondstadt- Jean, Kaeya, Albedo, Eula, and Hertha. The other 5 went with Varka.

Kaeya doesn't seem to have any problems with the ones that stayed with him in Mond...so does this mean that this is a setup for upcoming conflict within the Knights of Favonius? Is there a captain or 2 that would cause concerns?

Also, I'm not sure if this is a translation error, but " not all of them have what it takes-" sounds like he doesn't count. If it isn't an error, I could also connect a theory on that.

What if Kaeya isn't the official cavalry captain? What if they are just saying that as his public role because they can't expose the real one- intel. Suddenly, Varka leaving him would make even more sense because the cavalry isn't his to captain, and this could also confuse their enemies' information. This has been a long standing theory in the fandom, but I wonder if this would actually hold up well and accurately based off of Kaeya's lines.

"My eye? My eye is fine. There's nothing unusual about hiding one's body parts from view. It's the same reason I wear pants... or any other item of clothing, for that matter."

Just gotta put it out there, but his eye is definitely not fine ✌️

Technically, this was already explained as him having a scar, but also, did we consider the idea that he could be lying again? Also, we should consider that Kaeya is really good at telling half truths, and a good actor to add.

Also, I kinda hope his hidden eye will be revealed as gold for a specific reason. From the source material, Alberich stole the gold of the Rhine river (yes, from Rhinedottirs) to create a ring. What better place than in an eye? The current model for his skin has it the same color as his visible one, but placeholders exist.

There actually isn't much to say about this one because we don't even know if there really is anything wrong in the first place. We could hypothesize that it's a spying eye, a curse-containing eye, the eye of King Irmin, or the eye that could see beyond the fake sky, but that is as far as we could go with it.

But the odd voiceline from Paimon regarding that eye sure did fuel a ton of those theories. We don't know where Paimon really came from, and all we know of her is that she is part of Teyvat that has a connection with Celestia, so her mentioning that Kaeya is hiding a "big secret" in regards to that eye is sure to send alarm bells to any theorist.

So yeah, that's about it for now. Kaeya definitely has way more voicelines to be concerned about, but the way these specific ones ended up playing out in the released lore is very interesting to me.

Also, I just found out that my dot connecting regarding the travelers were proven by the damn XBOX wings of all things... and you know what? I'll take it. A win is a win *eyes my other theories warily*

If you are still here after my long somewhat delulu theories, then congratulations! Have a Cookie:

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Fresh from the oven!

[helluverse-rewrites]

Random tidbits/headcanons

I mostly just made this because I think there's some things I forgot to put in the other posts so here you go Ig

Starting off with a big one, Millie proposed to Moxxie using sign language

Millie often translates for Moxxie when he's talking to others

Moxxie won't admit this, but it really means a lot to him when someone learns sign language for him. He grew in a place that told him that no one would learn such a thing just for a worthless, waste of space like him. So it contradicts what his father said to him when someone at least puts in the effort and tries

Not only is Sallie May trans, Millie now also has a trans brother

Verosika would probably listen to boyfriend asmr for shits and giggles

Asmodeus hates alpha male podcasters

In my rewrite, Moxxie is more apathetic than in canon, so the conflict in Murder Family is different. That's all I'm gonna say

Stella is the living embodiment of "I'm not just a regular mom, I'm a ✨cool mom✨"

Fizz has a shit tone of medical trauma

Octavia has crippling abandonment issues

^ this is because Stolas would constantly tell her as a kid when she would be crying "Cut this nonsense out or else I'm leaving you. For good." Stolas would also say he'd take Stella with her. So basically she thought that if she cried as a child, her parents would leave her

^ this is why she's so quiet and pretends she doesn't care about anything. She learned that everyone will leave her if she shows any emotion

Yeah she doesn't like to cry in front of people anymore (Stella is completely unaware of this btw)

She just bottles everything up in general

Stella will just accept anytime Stolas or Andrealphus yells or threatens her, but she'll attack you if you mention her daughter

After some character development, Fizz would be good friends with Moxxie I feel

^ They would play a game where they would see how much random shit they could say in sign language before people start to catch on how much they're bullshitting. They would be saying the word 'watermelon' over and over again. Everyone is confused while Millie and Asmodeus are laughing their asses off

If M&M were to have kids, they would definitely go for adoption (COUGHSINSMASCOUGH) also because Moxxie is trans so they wouldn't be able to have children biologically

^ also they're broke so they need more money before they even consider that

Millie often worries about Moxxie when she's not there to translate his sign language. It's not that she doesn't think he can handle himself, Moxxie has been surviving on his own for a long time before he met Millie. It's just that he has a tendency to force himself to talk when no one can understand what he's saying, and Millie knows it hurts and exhausts him

Millie's family adores Moxxie. I hate the trope of dad disapproves of daughter's boyfriend. It's just pretty annoying and oftentimes the boyfriend is the sweetest guy ever

Her family is the most accepting family in the Wrath Ring and upon first meeting them, Moxxie was certain they hated him

That was literally the opposite though, they even helped Millie set up the proposal. They just wanted Moxxie to be their in-law so bad

Striker is kind of an older brother figure to Millie, he used to have playdates with her when they were little

Stolas is the most powerful Goetia, which is something he brags about constantly

Asmodeus is a huge fucking nerd and loves reading

Moxxie and Blitzø constantly steals Millie's fidget toys for fun

Dw Millie thinks it's funny

That's all I can think about for now! If I think of anymore I'll do a part two

[bunabi]

I've been thinking about this a lot since the interview with John. And this post really encapsulates why I dislike it. Can I add my respectful two cents on this post? 😖

Being able to kill one Dalish clan per game like a running joke was an issue. We lacked characters like Davrin and Bellara. And I really appreciate DAV for those things!

But having the Dalish abandon the Dread Wolf Army offscreen, stand unanimously against the Evanuris, and put resistance to the wayside does belittle them imo.

Theyre not rallying against widespread oppression, being prohibited from making settlements, or being relegated to Alienages because theyre all* suddenly on the same wavelength. They are presented as a monolith in DAV. And that doesn't feel quite right to me.

I love Dav and Beautiful Bellara. But I want them in addition to the messy complexities of prior games. Alongside city elves like Sera, Dalish like Velanna, and so on. You know what I mean? Speaking for myself I don't care if theres anti-Dalish dialogue I just wanted the choice to be pro-Dalish too in my choice-driven role-playing game.

I get what they were going for and appreciate the energy but I think its a stretch to call it a solution, let alone one fans asked for. Same with the similar handling of slavery.

“Every game I want the Dalish to have a rich culture that isn’t belittled by the narrative.”

Kay. You got that with Veilguard.

Bellara, and the rest of the Veil Jumpers are reclaiming Arlathan. Ya know, the ancient seat of their empire. She is rediscovering their past and I know I always choose to save the archive because knowledge is power. She takes you through their funeral rights. She stands up to her own brother because it’s the right thing to do. She stands up against tyrants unflinchingly. She’s a genius. She’s kind. She’s brave. She’s a hero. Full stop.

Davrin follows the Way of Three Trees. His Dalish heritage is very much a part of him even as a Warden. Him leaving behind his family didn’t change what he’d learned from them. He carries Eldrin’s lessons closely because they tempered his blade and helped him find his purpose. I love this about him in particular by the way because I’ve also moved far away from my family but still carried my heritage with me. Through him you can return the griffons to Arlathan, which I always do. I like biological cascades they’re fun for me. He’s also a hero who doesn’t blink at doing the right thing.

Like I actually don’t understand how you think the narrative is belittling to the Dalish at this point when the team has two Dalish heroes, both who reclaim important parts of their heritage by the end of the game. I for one am really glad the narrative didn’t paint them as idiots who would blindly follow Elgar’nan and Ghiln’nanin like the Venatori. The Dalish are a fractured people by design. They had to be for survival. They do not act or think as a monolith. Stop ignoring what’s in the text to make your points.

[watarfallar]

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate! *holds out this post*

Grian, grinning: I have a knife! Scar: Put it down, Grian. Grian: Make me! sprints away

Grian: What's the most illegal thing you can do with one dollar? Scar: Exchange it for a hundred pennies, put them all in a sock, and then beat someone to death with it.

Scar: Can you be serious for five minutes? Grian: My record is four, but I think I can do it.

Scar: Are you an F5 key? Because that ass is refreshing. Grian: Are you a software update? because not right now.

Grian: Hey, can you do me a favor? Scar: Sorry, I have to go do literally anything other than this. Grian: You don’t even have a legitimate reason? Scar: Oh, no, I do. Grian: Well, what is it? Scar: You see, I simply don’t give a fuck.

Grian, holding a box of Lunchables: Ah, I loved these when I was your age… fine dining. Scar: Fix yourself.

Scar: Okay, help me, please! Grian: Got two words for you. Scar: I bet they won't be helpful. Grian: Your problem. Scar: I was right.

Grian: Can I borrow five dollars? Scar: If you’re only borrowing it, does that mean you’ll pay me back? Grian: Of course. Grian: Not directly, but with my love and affection. Scar: So that’s a no.

Grian: Wow, did you hear that voice crack? Scar: That wasn't a voice crack, that was a whole voice meth.

Scar: …My man Grian just killed a goldfish. Grian: licking their lips Yup. Delicious.

Scar: I just got the best idea I've ever had in my entire life! Later Grian, to Scar: That was the worst idea you’ve ever had in your entire life.

Scar: Grian, you need to calm down. Grian, slamming their fists on the table: BUT HOW CAN IT BE "BIRTHDAY CAKE" FLAVOR IF A BIRTHDAY CAKE CAN BE ANY FLAVOR?!

Scar: I’m proud to say I’ve come over my fear of ghosts! Grian: Eyy, that’s the spirit! Scar: gasps whErE???!!!??

Scar: So you're looking for information on this thing, huh? Well, I feel like it must be from far away. Grian: What makes you say that? Scar: If it's something even I don't know about, then I'm sure nobody else must have a clue. So it's gotta be from some faraway place. Impeccable reasoning, isn't it? Grian: Scar… You don't have a clue about this thing, do you? Scar: screams in anger

Grian: Scar, you look deep in thought. What’s wrong? Scar: Did you know you can look at any object and know what it’s like to lick it? Even if you’ve never touched it before? Grian: I’m never asking you anything ever again.

Grian, looking at their reflection: Now, that's rubbish. Who's that supposed to be? Scar: Well, that's you. Grian: Me?! Is that what I look like? Scar: You don't know? Grian: Busy day.

Grian: Good morning! Scar: Is it? Is it really?

Grian: Urrrgh…I’ve never felt so sick in my entire life… Scar: Ouch. Shit sucks, man. Grian: I feel like I’m dying… Whyyyy… Scar, under their breath: Because I want to go back to some peace and quiet in this house. Grian:,/b> …DID YOU FUCKING POISON ME-

Scar: Pick a card, any card. Grian: Fine. Scar: Wait, that's my credit card! Grian: You said any card.

Scar: I’m going to get so much done today. Grian: I’ll hold you to that. 8 hours later Grian: So how much did you get done? Scar: One thing. Grian: Well, that’s one more than usual.

Scar: I wouldn’t put it in those words exactly. Grian: Why not? Scar: Because I don't know what they mean.

Scar: When did you become a hero? Grian: Um… the moment I saved you from getting killed. Scar: You’re the last person on earth I wanted to rescue me. Grian: Well… sucks to be you, don’t it.

Grian: You’re a horrible person! Scar: Maybe. But I’m rich and I’m pretty, so it doesn’t really matter.

Grian: Pulls a glass a water from out of nowhere Scar: Where did you get that? Grian: My pocket. Scar: How do you keep a glass of water in your pocket? Grian: Skills.

Scar with a gun to Grian's head: What happens if I pull this trigger? Heaven? Grian: Bold of you to assume I'll go to Heaven.

Scar: That sounds super! Doesn’t that sound super, Grian? Grian: No. Scar: I think I speak for Grian when I say it sounds really super.

Scar: Are pigeons drones? Grian: What? No, I'm trying to sleep. Scar: Think about it. How come you've never seen a baby pigeon? And why do you never actually see a pigeon nest? Because they're DRONES! Grian: Crying Please let me sleep…

[cripplecharacters]

hi! there is a character in a dnd campaign i play who has fd. his current only ambition (as far as i know because he’s not my character) is to Get Revenge on the people who gave him his fd. he already hits a few bad tropes but i scoured your posts on fd and couldn’t really find anything about this specifically. is it a bad trope?

Hi, yes I'd say that it is a bad trope.

Is having a facial difference really that bad to the point your only goal in life is to [insert action] on whoever caused it? That's not only sad as hell but also no one does this. Even people who got their disabilities in traumatic events still have things going on for themselves.

Why does having a visible difference always have to be a metaphor for some event and never just a disability that real people have? One can be bitter and/or traumatized by what caused their FD and not be a villain archetype. It's literally like the first panel in this comic.

As a writer who has a facial difference I just think this is an incredibly bad motivation anyway. I get if they would want revenge because they lost a loved one in the attack that also disabled them or whatever, but who feels so much hatred over getting a scar to be doing all this? This is my perspective but it feels absurd.

Can't they want revenge over getting maltreated or something? Abused? Or whatever else was the Event? Anything that doesn't equate facial difference with something that it isn't? Facial difference is a part of your face. To me my facial asymmetry is as much a part of it as eyebrows are for abled people. If I obsessed over it or my slowly progressed paralysis to the extent that the average OC with FD does I wouldn't be able to function.

Would the character also become obsessed with revenge if the Bad People caused them to lose their hair or is it just that facial difference specifically is so bad you have no other choice but to make it your life's mission to avenge this Worst Thing that could happen to someone?

There's not much for me to say since it's not your character, but I'd advise putting some characters with facial differences who aren't walking tropes who hate their disability and have their existence revolve around it. An NPC who has a burn scar or was born with frontonasal dysplasia (or both, why not) and doesn't make it their entire personality would be cool.

Hope this helps,

mod Sasza

[meideixx]

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First, great post from @redeyeyuna, this is now my canon, plus I made some gifs of the scenes that were in your post (feel free to use them hehe)

(The scenes where Nandor and the Guide stood next to each other are the same but filmed from different angles. And also, who tf would look at their crush like that??? That's not lovey-dovey gaze, that's stare and glare, Nandor.)

Second, I would like to add some of my points since it fits the theme "Nandor avoiding camera".

After rewatching episode 7, I found that it's so weird for Nandor to express his feelings for the Guide in front of the camera like that in the post-credit scene.

Isn't he the one who secretly hid from the cameras in season 3 to meet Gail? Why did he suddenly bring the cameraman along to film the scene where he invited The Guide to go on a date?

He acted like this before, and now he's smiling happily in front of the camera? Doesn't seem right to me since his personality isn't that easy to change in just a short time.

Wait, there are more. Remember when Colin hypnotized Nandor into Nixon, and then Nandor had to go find Guillermo for help, and he kept looking toward the camera? Not just one, but TWICE.

It was because he didn't want to be caught on camera when he being vulnerable with Guillermo :((((((

If you put the events together, it actually makes a lot of sense.

And that's it for me here. Thank you @/redeyeyuna for letting me borrow the post. The gifs in my post are all mine, feel free to use

WHEN THE CAMS ARE OFF

So, Nandor and Guillermo are canonically doing some things when when they're not being filmed. With knowing this, I wanted to recap a few things from the season.

This post will mainly focus on how Nandor in particular handled himself subliminally towards the camera in certain situations. Also, that Guillermo faked to leave the vampires in E11 just for the documentary got me thinking which other things could be made up too. Giving a false view of facts just to make the audience think otherwise or to distract them from something specific... This specific thing they wanted to keep private, and didn't want it to be anyone else's business. Cause they wanted to solve and figure it out for themselves without having it exploited to the full in front of the camera. And this is the relationship development (secret affair) between Nandor and Guillermo that ran its course and has been cooked in the background during the sixth season.

[Sorry in advance for grammar mistakes and typos. English is not my first language]

The first hint is alreay in the first episode!

Nandor necessarily has to emphasize that he hasn’t seen Guillermo since he left, and Guillermo immediately throws in that he is telling the truth. But Nadja seems already to know what’s going on between these two idiots.

Also, Nandor trying to help Guillermo by searching for a flat and then suggest him to move into the VERY NEAR garden shed… A practical temporary solution if you don't want to be disturbed by the other housemates. I can well imagine that Nandor already thought of a better place for the two of them at this time. *Caugh* Secret underground lair *Caugh*

/|\ ^._.^ /|\

What about Nandor having a crush on the Guide?

... did he really ever have that, though?😏 What if Nandor’s crush on the Guide was made up by himself just for the documentary to distract the crew/viewers from himself and Guillermo, so that they don't keep following them to catch some shots? Yes, I know Nandor’s sudden crush on the Guide was at first caused by the sleep hypnosis… But for Nadja, the hypnosis seemed like a dream… Perhaps Nandor also thought he had dreamt that he suddenly had a crush on the Guide (or maybe Guillermo just told him) and Nandor was like: “You know what? That’s perfect! I use this to distract the doc crew and viewers from me and Guillermo!”

Nandor had one or more love interest in almost every season that he had a crush on. Why should it be any different now?

Due to this the film crew weren’t focussed on following them and wouldn’t wondering if Nandor could actually have something going on with Guillermo. Nandor’s crush on the Guide in general seemed very odd and just pretended for the camera/viewers. Over time, it seemed to appear more and more obviously and artificially.

In E4 "The Railroad" before Nandor said goodbye to the Guide, he looked suspiciously over his shoulder before making his flirtatious move towards her. It seemed as if he was aiming at it. Shouldn't he have been eyeing up his crush instead of making sure he was filmed flirting?

In E7 "March Mandess" Nandor looked very obviously into the camera during the scene used for the flashback, while Nandor is talking to Charmaine about the guide.

I also wonder why it was so important to Nandor that Charmaine would keep the thing of him and the guide to herself. Cause it’s made up and he just mentioned that he would has a crush on someone so that the film crew could add flashback? Generally, threatening to kill her in her sleep just because of that felt a bit too excessive, doesn’t it?

When the Guide finally rejects him perfectly in E9 “Come Out and Play” (you go, Girl!), Nandor seemed to fully ignore her destruction she has thrown at him.

He purposely ignored what she said. Even though he is normally so easily outraged. Especially after these true words that his supposedly "big love" said to him, he should’ve been at least a bit upset.  

Just remember how devastated he was, when Gail rejects him, and she had rejected him way more nicely.

And please just directly compare Nandor’s “look of love” towards the Guide with how he looked at Guillermo in E3…

And the Oscar-worthy performance, in which Nandor fell on his knees saying overdramatically that the Baron should take his life instead of the Guide seemed totally forced.

Also, Nandor knew very well that the Baron wouldn't have killed anyone…

In E11 “The Finale” Nandor and the Guide is only a short topic at the beginning of the episode, when Nadja asked him if Laszlo could use some parts of the Guide for the Monster. Nandor didn't seem to be listening anyway with his mind somewhere else.

After it was announced that the film crew wanted to end the documentary, he didn't even flirt or interact more intensely with the guide in the entire episode.  As if he no longer needed to fool anyone now that he knew the movie crew was leaving.

/|\ ^._.^ /|\

What about Nandor still saying mean things towards Guillermo?

I also want to cover up the thing of Nandor remaining to say mean things towards Guillermo and wiping his hand on him after the intense hand clasp cause it was a bit clamy.

I I have read criticism of it in some WWDITS negatively posts. And this opinion is valid, no question. But I could imagine that Nandor only continued to do this for the camera, or it is just a normal thing between them cause they are a very fucked up toxic couple anyway ;)

Look at the slightly unsettled grin on Nandor's face when he gave towards the camera. As if he was worried that this very unusually long-lasting hand clasp could lead to more while the camera is still rolling. So, he had to come up with a quick excuse to end it. This facial expression from Nandor looking directly into the camera is so different from the looks he gave to the camera while interacting with the guide. It is just a short glace towards the lens before he puts his eyes back to Guillermo.

Guillermo looked as if he was sad not to express his gratitude to Nandor the way he would like to (cause of cameras as well maybe?)

/|\ ^._.^ /|\

The Finale

Nandor was so obviously happy that the documentary crew were going to leave. He was excited to shoot B-roll footage all the time and he sassily said this when Nadja told him about Guillermo being sad about the end of the documentary:

Looks like someone was really excited to no longer be constantly followed by the camera so that they could continue to focus on "other things"... Also, this reference to the will they/won’t they dynamic of Nandermo is insane.

Colin and Nadja suspecting Guillermo of having a secret relationship with one of the crew members could be an indirectly hint of a secret relationship with Nandor as well. @barren-heart already did this post about it which has made me to create this summary (hope you don't mind me mentioning you here :3).

Nadja possibly saw Guillermo making out with someone who looks like Nandor and maybe it was actually just Nandor!

She just don’t recognised it that fast cause they might quickly disappeared somewhere OR it was just another hint from Nadja, because she knew. She had become a bit of a nandermo shipper this season ;)

In the last speech of Nandor for the documentary it was so clearly to notice that the lair is only a metaphor for Nandor’s private life with Guillermo after the film crew would be gone...

This directly glance into the camera during the speech pause... As if he explicit wanted to make clear that he wanted to say something different when the cameras would be off.

And Guillermo’s reaction during that scene is so fucking funny. He seemed to have a moment of hope that Nandor would actually reveal their affair, but no it is the superhero lair again.

/|\ ^._.^ /|\

The Final Scene

In the background, there was played the same song that was used in the pilot episode for the post-credits. I like that really much!

🎶“Tonight in the Moonlight” (Morrie Morrison Orchestra)🎶 Tonight in the moonlight When silver blends with blue We'll do the thing all lovers do Lingering on till dawn breaks through Tonight in the moonlight with you

And again that offensive look into the camera from Nandor in the middle of his speech and Guillermo trying to get something specific out of him...

If, by this time, someone still does not consider Nandermo to be canon, then I can no longer help them xD

Subtext is their thing! That's always been the case throughout all the seasons! And in such a way that it was already too subtle to be subtext.

However, even Guillermos love sick puppy eyes and his cute “What about one… one of the other reasons?" didn't caused Nandor to spit it out. He bravely continued to avoid eye contact and was trying very hard not to become weak.

When Guillermo said that he won’t be here anymore after Nandor would wake up, Nandor’s description of their secret lair feels forced, which again supports the thesis of an actual love cave: “But what about us joining forces and fighting crime in a coequal partnership? Operating out of a hidden underground lair accessible exclusively by a top-secret coffin elevator.”

Of course, Nandor believed that Guillermo wouldn't leave and was just putting on a show for the camera. He knows his Guillermo better than anyone else...

And THIS look of Nandor’s face when he wanted Guillermo to sit with him inside his coffin comparing with a confirming deep voicing “Mm-hmm”

Oh boy, as if they are going to do very spicy things in that lair...

Then finally the relevation of Nandor’s masterpiece...

During the whole season Guillermo had a problem with sexual things in front of the camera while Nandor had a problem with expressing deep and meaningful feelings while the crew was filming. And because of that they prefer do both things IN THE SHADOWS!

/|\ ^._.^ /|\

So, this my view of Season 6 and the Finale and also my special tribute to my most favorute show! 🦇♥️

It has become longer than expected. Thank’s to everyone who has taken the time to read it this far!