#kid named tater

[pinetreeshack]

booger with his other little booger

[mcgucketfanwhore]

Hello tumblr.com

Here’s my locket with Tate mcgucket and tad strange in it. When you close the heart shaped one they kiss. The art it the heart and the non colored one are done but @jaspereatsbugs and the colored one in the circle lockets done but THE @raspberryjellybrains!!!! I’ve been a longtime Tate mcgucket truther and Tate mcgucket love has been growing in recent months and I’m glad people I finally recognizing him. But I’m hoping that leads to an increase in Tatetad love because they are the reason I keep going I love them so much

[1winxie510]

Can we talk about Netflix being welcome to gravity if down? It still annoys me so much.😭😭

[magicpotatomaster101]

been brainrotting about domestic bumbleby being parents so here you go

[a-lonely-tatertot]

seeing a post with a time stamp that says 3 years ago and you just have to sit down for a sec. like god so much has happened and yet it feels like yesterday

[tinfoil-jones]

Tate Pines AU 

(aka Tater McGucket is an oops baby Fiddlestan kid)

Note: LONG POST. This is me hyper fixating on a brain worm because the Gravity Falls Fandom roared back to life. This is probably misspelled in a lot of areas, and not the clearest or most concise post because this is me rambling at 2 in the morning. Also the characters are maybe OOC. Also, this is written without accents because I'm not from the Midwest or southern United States.

In this AU/Scenario, Stan is a transgender man, and 'encountered' Fiddleford during his vagabond years. It was a heavily drunk/high one-night-stand, so they never properly met or even knew each others names. This happens after Ford graduating Backupsmore University, and for this scenario to work let’s say that Fiddleford went to BMU for his undergraduate program, but then went to the local university in Palo Alto for his graduate studies.

Years later, just like in the OG show Fiddleford is Stanford's research partner in Gravity Falls, and married to Emma-May Dixon; but they don't have any children together at this time, and they got together *after* his encounter with Stan. So this isn't an affair baby scenario.

Tatum "Tate" Pines is 5 years old, living on the road with his dad, currently staying in a motel but they're about to move into a real apartment for the first time ever because Tate needs to start school soon. Stan is still a drifter and a con man, but he recently came upon a large sum of money because Tate accurately guessed the lottery number for the state they were currently in.

Stan still receives a postcard from Gravity Falls that says "Please Come", and is allegedly sent from his estranged Twin who he hasn't seen in almost 12 years. But this is roughly a few months before it would have happened in-canon.

Given Stan's disownment, no one knows that he even has a son, not even Ma Pines. Not like he'd want them to know. Having his own son and loving him unconditionally made him realize that his own dad Filbrick was a monster, who he didn't need to prove himself to. But he still wants to reconcile with Ford, so he decides to go just like in canon.

This post card, however, wasn't sent by Ford. It was sent by Fiddleford, who was watching Ford spiral in real time and hoped that if anyone could convince Ford that he was acting crazy and unstable, it was his twin brother.

While Stanford doesn't greet Stanley with a crossbow like in the original because this is before the portal test with Fiddleford, he's definitely shocked to not just see Stanley there, but Stanley with a tiny gap-toothed child in tow.

Stan doesn't know that Ford wasn't expecting them, and excitedly introduces Ford to his nephew.

Ford: Stanley, are you sure this child is yours? Stan: ...Ford, did you forget we're not identical twins?  Ford: ...Oh! Oh my, Stanley... Stan: *thinking* 'I don't know if I'm touched that you don't see me as anything other than a man... or insulted that you forgot something so fundamental about me'

Flabbergasted, Ford lets them both in; Fiddleford is welding something downstairs so he doesn't see or hear any of this. Ford plants Tate on the couch in front of the TV and practically drags Stan to the kitchen to talk to him privately; he's too surprised by Stan having a child to question why they were there in the first place.

Ford: Is there a... another parent..? Stan: ...It's just me and Tate. Always has been. Ford: How did...? Stan: I didn't plan a pregnancy... but I had no money for T-shots for months on end, and without the T, everything down stairs went to factory default.  Ford: Do you know who it is? The father- I mean, the other father? Stan: Not exactly, some southern guy, don't think I ever got his name. Ford: What happened? Stan: Funny you should ask. (FLASHBACK) Fiddleford, high out of his mind: -and that's how I won a golden fiddle. Stan, drunk out of his mind: That's crazy, dude. *grabs him aggressively by the shirt collar to pull him close* Now shut up and fuck me until I can't walk. Fiddleford, horny out of his mind: Hoo-whee, well don't you diddly-darn mind if'n I do. (END) Ford: Stanley? Stan: Hmm? Ford: Are you okay? You just said 'its funny that you ask', and then stared off into space for 10 seconds. Stan: Let's just say I never touched tequila ever again.

Eventually, Fiddleford does come upstairs when he notices Ford didn't come back downstairs, and see's the brothers in the kitchen just as Ford asks Stan why he even came here.

Fiddleford admits it was him who sent the postcard, that someone needed to 'talk some sense' into Ford, and then introduces himself to Stan.

While Stan isn't perplexed by Fiddleford because he was too drunk to remember a face- Fiddleford, who has very good memory, immediately knows he met Stan somewhere, he just can't quite place where, when, or why.

Ford does show Stan the portal, saying it's his life's work and he'll need to test it soon, and casually asks Stan if he wants to stay and help. Before Fiddleford can protest that's a bad idea and Ford should just stop, Stan agrees because he wants to reconnect (and also keep a roof over Tate's head, what were the chances they'd win another lottery?), it did hurt his feelings that Stanford hadn't reached out out to him after all, but maybe they could work on that.

While Ford hasn't exactly forgiven Stanley for the science fair incident, he can't just let his brother, a single father be homeless with a five-year-old (Stan had to drop the lease with their intended apartment to come to Gravity Falls). And... well, Ford gets attached to Tate quite early:

Tate: ... *staring at him* Ford: Can I help you with something, Tatum? Tate: Uncle, is your name "Stanford"?  Ford: Yes, but if you prefer you can call me Uncle Ford. Tate: Oh. Okay. It's funny, Stanford is my middle name. *later* Stan: Kiddo, why has your uncle been sobbing in his room for the past thirty minutes? Tate: *shrugs*

Not realizing the gravity (hehe) of the situation, Stan gets settled in the house and helps Ford and Fiddleford where he can (usually just moving heavy objects or punching paranormal creatures, or forcing Ford to shower). He does notice that Ford seems a bit... unhinged, and weirdly obsessed with some new geometry based religion, but people change after college right?

He does get unnerved by Fords weird episodes where his personality seems to shift and he goes into town to act like an absolute menace. Stan can't help but think that isn't Ford; its been years since he saw him but damnit he knew his brother and whatever entity possessed him just to slap a cops belly, *that* was not Ford. But Ford always brushed him off when he tried to bring it up, and one time 'Ford' even coldly reminded Stan that he could remove Stanley and his son from the home at any time if he wasn't going to be useful.

During this time, Stan and Fiddleford get to know each other, they get along quite well actually; Fiddleford is fond of little Tatum, who along with Stan enjoys listening to him play the banjo. One could say, given Fords obsession with his current passion project and prioritizing work over his relationships, that Stan and Fiddleford become close. 

Fiddleford picks up, however... that little Tate is a genius. Although he's a quiet kid, he has an advanced vocabulary for his age. He's able to read and write at what must be a 2nd or 3rd grade level despite not even starting kindergarten yet, and... one time Fiddleford left an 8x8 cubiks cube unattended, and came back no more than five minutes later to see that Tate had already solved it. And Stan had told him that Tate has actively predicted lottery numbers before.

He brings it up with Stan, who admits that he already knows Tate is a genius, but he also knows what academic pressure and high expectations can do to someone (referring to Ford), and he just wants Tate to live life by his own terms, not let other people dictate that for him based on his IQ.

Fiddleford... also see's resemblances between himself and Tate. Sure, Tate has browner hair like Stan, but the wavier texture is just like his own. And while Stanley does have a prominent nose, it's not as prominent as Tates, which is much more similar to Fiddlefords. 

Fiddleford begins to ask Stan about his past, specifically bringing up that he believes they may have met before.

Fiddleford: Say, Stan, did we meet before you moved here? You're so familiar to me. Stan: I wonder where you could have possibly seen my face before? *glances at the lab* Fiddleford: No. I feel like we've met before - you ever been to Palo Alto? Stan: That city in Cali? Yeah. I'd say about six years ago. I was just passing by, resupplying, and selling weed to college students. Fiddleford: You were a weed dealer? Stan: Among other things, yeah. California's *the* place to go to for weed. I don't do it anymore. Fiddleford: Did you... ever visit the university there? Stan: A couple times. Hated going there because it reminded me of... well, I think you know. Why? Fiddleford: I did my graduate studies there, maybe I met you there? Stan: You think so? I only saw buyers, did you buy weed from me? Fiddleford: No... I had a dealer, but it wasn't you. Stan: Other than that, I did get invited to a frat party once. Think they were called "SigEp" or something. Fiddleford: That's 'Sigma Phi Epsilon'. That was the fraternity I belonged to. Did I see you at that party? Stan: Probably - oh man that party was crazy. I made so many bad decisions that night. Fiddleford: Stanley... how old did you say your son was? Stan: Five, why? Fiddleford: ... Fiddleford: Stanley... *reaches out* Stan: *jerks back, before pointing away* Hey look over there, a distraction! Fiddleford: What- *looks away* Stan: *jumps out the window and makes a run for it*

Stan does not entertain any further discussions with Fiddleford about his past, and goes out of his way to keep Tate with him and away from Fiddleford. Given his criminal past, he's afraid that if Fiddleford is correct, he could make legal actions to take Tate away from him.

Fiddleford eventually goes to Ford about his suspicions.

Fiddleford: Stanford I'm going to tell you something, and I need you to promise you'll stay calm. Stanford: *doesn't look up from microscope* Are you going to tell me you suspect you're Tatum's father because you slept with my brother around the time he would have been concieved? Fiddleford: ... Stanford: Because you are. Fiddleford: What in tar- Stanford: *tosses a file folder towards Fiddleford* I have all of our DNA on file - Fiddleford: You do???? Stanford: Of course I do! I store the DNA profile of everyone who's entered my residence, just in case there's a shifter afoot. Comparing yours and Stanley's DNA to Tatum's, there is only a 0.001% chance that he isn't your biological child. Fiddleford: ... *speechless* Stanford: Congratulations, according to science you're a father.

Fiddleford does eventually manage to talk to Stan about it, and clear the air between them. Stan is apprehensive because Fiddleford is married, but he's at least relieved that Tate happened before Fiddleford was in a relationship with Emma-May. Stan allows Fiddleford to spend more time with Tate (supervised), but they agree Tate doesn't need to know just yet what Fiddleford is to him.

Fiddleford also holds back on telling his wife about Tate, he'd prefer to tell her face-to-face.

But then the portal test happens and Fiddleford gets a glimpse of the horrors beyond the portal, which traumatizes him just like in the original. This doesn't convince him to leave, because Ford is becoming dangerous and Fiddleford is worried about what would happen if Stan and Tate were left alone with him. He invents the memory gun, but holds up on using it on himself.

The relationship Ford has with both Stan and Fiddleford  becomes more explosive. Stan and Fiddleford are both telling Ford that he's messing with forces beyond his control.

To get Fiddleford off of his back about the portals, Ford instead lashes out at him about something else.

Stanford: Fiddleford... you know you're my best friend right? Fiddleford: ...Of course. Stanford: Stanley and I don't have a good relationship... we haven't in a long time. *puts a hand on his shoulder* But don't you dare hurt my brother, or nephew. I don't care how strained things are between Stanley and myself, or how close you and I are... He's my brother, and I'll always protect him, even if it's from you. Fiddleford: Do you think I would try to steal Tatum, Stanford?! *Pushes him away* Also, if you're going to threaten me, you could at least not be such a hypocrite. Stanford: How dare- Fiddleford: You say you care about Stanley? That you'd protect him? He's been homeless for over a decade! You SAW him get kicked out of home when he was still a minor! He escaped three different prisons, had extremely shady black-market top-surgery, chewed his way out of the trunk of a car, and gave birth by himself in an alleyway! He had walking pneumonia for nearly a year straight and almost died from it because he had to choose between himself and Tate over who needed treatment more!  But you didn't know any of that, did you? Because you don't talk to him or try to reach out. You still avoid him. You still treat him like he's your enemy. You're still resentful about that damn science project.  You don't know him or what he went through. You didn't even want him here, I called him up here so maybe somebody could set you straight!  Working with this portal, messing with these forces beyond comprehension and control- the only threat to Stan and our son is you! Ford: Get the hell out of my lab- and stay the hell away from my twin.

But this 'Mystery Trio'-esque era of their lives has a Bad End:

After Ford gets sucked into the portal the same way as he did in the original, Stanley decides to take over his identity; Fiddleford helps him with everything up until Stan fakes his own death.

As Tate's biological (other) father, and Stan having recently altered Tate's birth certificate to add Fiddleford, the boy is given to Fiddleford right away following Stan's 'death' and not put into foster care or an orphanage. This window of time is also when Fiddleford establishes the Society of The Blind Eye, but he chooses a leader after he founds it rather than leading it himself.

When Stan makes it clear he's going to dedicate himself to fixing the portal and bringing Ford back, Fiddleford makes a drastic decision. 

Knowing what the portal obsession did to Stanford, Fiddleford doesn't want Tate to be around if- no, when, the same thing happens to Stan. 

He uses the memory gun on Stan to make him forget about their son entirely. He does the same thing to Tate to make him forget about Stanley, legally changes his name to Tater McGucket, and takes him back to California with him.

He makes this decision because in this scenario he never used the memory gun on himself, so the memory of what's on the other side of the portal still haunts him, making him more desperate and callous, especially with a child involved.

It breaks his heart that he did this, but he doesn't want Tate to be dragged into Pines drama. He takes the boy home and tells his wife that he was conceived before they were together (looking at Tate's age, he was born at least a year before they started dating), and uses the news clipping about Stan's death to explain how he got custody without any trouble, and Emma-May adopts Tate. Tates memory gaps are excused by his young age, and the trauma of losing a parent at such a young age, so Fiddleford and Emma-May decide not to tell him about Stanley.

Stan forgets about both Tate and Fiddleford, but he has this deep sense of loss and betrayal that he can't place. He figures over the years that maybe it's just some of his feelings about Ford having gone through the portal...

Decades later, and after a divorce, Fiddleford moves back to Gravity Falls, bringing Tate with him so Tate can start his Bait and Tackle Shop somewhere quiet. Fiddleford is there to check up on the Society of the Blind Eye, and also to check on Stanley because he feels guilty about what he did. Although he knows that this is Stanley pretending to be Stanford, he says nothing to anybody about it, it's the least he could do.

When Stan see's Fiddleford again - he doesn't know why, because he's 'never met the guy', but just looking at his face pisses him off. And every time Stan see's Fiddleford from then on, whether its across the street or at the shops or what have you, he is openly hostile towards him even if he can't adequately explain why he feels this way about Fiddleford. Also strangely attracted to him, particularly his banjo playing, but its overshadowed by his hostility.

Stan meets Tate shortly after the Tate and Backles Bait and Tackle shop is opened... and he doesn't know why, but this young man he's never met makes him feel sad. But also... Relieved? Elated? Proud?? He comes by often, sometimes not even buying (or stealing) anything, he just chats with Tate (and Backle to a lesser degree).

Tate himself feels strangely fond of this frequent flier customer. Like he's met a dear old friend. He is awfully confused why Stan will sometimes call him 'Tatum', seemingly without noticing, and why he never feels like correcting him. 

Fiddleford knows why, because he never erased his own memory, and he feels so guilty. But it's been 30 years, he can't say anything without ruining his relationship with Tate (which became strained after the divorce, which in this timeline happened maybe around Tate's late teen/early adult years). 

One way that this whole thing can be revealed is when Dipper and Mabel deal with The Blind Eye society, they find two memory tubes, one labelled "Tatum S. Pines" and another labeled "Stan Pines" take it with them because it has their last name, and Grunkle Stans name, on them.

They play the one labeled Stan Pines at first, and realize it's Tates early childhood memories of Stan.

When they play the one labeled "Tatum S. Pines" they see it's all of Grunkle Stans memories of Tate, leading up to his confrontation with Fiddleford.

(MEMORY) Stan, backing up: Wait, what is that thing? Fiddleford, what are you doing with that?! Fiddleford, pointing the memory gun at him: I'm sorry Stan, I truly am. But I can't let you drag our son into this... I do care for you, and I wish things could have been different. But you're just like him!  **BLAST** (END OF MEMORY)

This horrifies them, and they have a real moral conundrum of if they tell Stan and Tate, or if they keep it to themselves to keep the peace. 

They deserve to know... but it'd be so painful. And this would take place before "The Tale of Two Stans" so they don't even know what Fiddleford was talking about to justify stealing Tate, or who 'him' is.

Eventually, it's Wendy and Soos who confront McGucket and tell him that he better be honest with Stan and Tate, or they're going to do it for him. That he's a selfish coward who ripped someone's young child from their arms.

Or, an alternative scenario; Fiddleford never stored those memories in the first place, or at least didn't store them with the Society of the Blind Eye, and it's Ford who brings this all up to Stan. Ford was already through the portal when Fiddleford decided that parental abduction was totally okay if there was amnesia involved.

Ford: Are these Tatum's children? *motioning to Dipper and Mabel*. Stan: They're Shermie's grandkids, and - who? Ford: ...Tatum? Tatum Stanford Pines? Your son. Stan: ...I don't- I don't have a son. *tears gathers in the corner of his eyes, but he either doesn't notice, or chooses to not react* And if I did, I wouldn't give him your name as a middle. Ford: Yes you do, and yes you did. You introduced us right before the portal incident. I even DNA-sequenced him to confirm that his other father was Fiddleford. Stan: WHAT? And- who?? Ford: Here, look *pulls up his DNA files from ones of his secret safes in the lab and shows it to Stanley, which not only has the DNA results but also pictures of Stanley, Fiddleford, and Tate from the time* Honestly Stanley, how could you forget a child you car-.

Ford realizes something is wrong when it's clear that Stanley is distressed, but also confused, like having a son is legitimately a surprise to him. He's so shocked he has to lie down for a bit. His eyes keep leaking tears but he doesn't know why 'Fords cruel and oddly elaborate joke' is making him so upset, because 'clearly it's not true'.

When Ford hears Fiddleford lives in Gravity Falls, he seeks him out and demands answers.

At first, Fiddleford tries to play it off like maybe Ford was remembering things wrong - but with enough pressure, and a ray gun pointed at his chest, Fiddleford finally comes clean. About what he did. Why he did it.

Ford is still angry at Stan for getting him trapped in the Nightmare Realm Multiverse for 30 years; and then stealing his name, identity, and house, but that's still his twin brother. And what Fiddleford did was to him was horrendous, especially after Stanford had already warned him years ago to not to hurt Stan or Tate. This was a crime against the whole Pines family. 

So Ford beats him up. No, he doesn't kill or maim him, but he beats the living dog shit out of him until Fiddleford promises the glass tubes of Stan and Tate's memories in exchange for mercy.

Mabel, Dipper (and Soos/Wendy) are clearly confused (because they wouldn't have seen the memories in the "The Hall of the Forgotten"). Although, this whole revelation does bring Dipper closer to Stan, because Dipper had no idea he wasn't the only transgender person in the family.

Ford shows these memories to Stan first, who is going through all kinds of emotions especially after getting Ford back and their bitter reunion. This allows Ford and Stan to somewhat reconcile early; just like how Ford lost 30 years of his life to the portal, Stanley lost 30 years with his own son because of his conviction to fix it.

Ford also has to physically stop Stan from hunting down and murdering Fiddleford (who Stan only knew as McGucket up to this point) with his bare hands. Reminding him that it's more important that he reaches out to Tate.

But Stan is conflicted. He wants to be Tate's dad again but... Tate is in his mid-thirties, he doesn't need him like he did when he was 5. And Tate already has two loving parents, both of which don't have an extensive criminal record, and who provided him with a stable home, which Stan never did because they were homeless the whole time.

Does he really want to uproot Tate's life and/or peace of mind with a revelation this big?  

This goes all the way to Weirdmageddon, where everyone gathers in the Mystery Shack for security; faced with a possible end of the world, Stan takes Tate to the side, dragging Fiddleford with them, and tells him the truth. Fiddleford confirms it all, ashamed and apologetic. Finally, they give Tate his memory tube, which he watches.

For a moment Stan and Fiddleford have a moment of solidarity; Stan can see that Fiddleford really did want to spare Tate from whatever unknown-at-the-time fate had befallen Stanford because of the portal.

Fiddleford finally faces his past mistakes, and apologizes for what he did. That what he did was wrong, and he can never make it up to them, but if they survive this maybe he could try to make things right.

This is their last family moment between the three of them pre memory-wipe.

The mind wipe thing still happens. Gravity Falls is saved. Mabel and Dipper manage to jog Stan's memory but there's no way to make him remember Tate - the glass memory tubes have already been used, and Stan didn't keep any photos from his homeless era because he couldn't afford it most of the time, and when he could he always managed to get kicked out of whatever state they were in before the photos were done developing.

Once again, Ford comes in clutch. Throughout his last journal, just like how he made entries about Fiddleford, he also made entries about Stan and Tate, including detailed sketches. How Tate liked to get into high places, exasperating Stanley who was afraid of heights. How Stan would take him to the woods to follow the creeks because Tate was intrigued by waterways. How Tate said so few words but Stan always seemed to know exactly what he wanted or needed at any given time. How Tate only liked eating the green M&M's but Stan was fine with it because he got to eat the rest. 

Now while Stan's heartwarming memories of his son come back, so does his desire to break Fiddlefords neck. 

Fiddleford still buys the Northwest Mansion and converts it to "McGucket's Hootenanny Hut", but because the Pines families are the heroes of Gravity Falls, they (Ford) manage to convince the local government to put Fiddleford on house arrest for an indeterminate amount of time as punishment for 30-something years of parental abduction and alienation (also the whole starting a Cult thing). Fiddleford accepts this, and Tate still lives with him.

Post memory-wipe Stan still reconciles with both of them, and his relationship with Fiddleford is... weird, but not entirely bad. It's like they're dating, but with a lot of emotional distance. Like, Stan still tells Ford he wants to murder him... but also tells him to never, ever, check their texting history. 

Stan still goes to sail the world with Ford on the Stan O'War II. They do invite Tate, who declines because "He'd rather just live the simple life in Gravity Falls, and not get involved in whatever supernatural gobbledygook his dad and uncle are sure to get into".

And Stan is so proud of him... because just like he said thirty years, there's nothing he wanted more for Tate than to live his life by his own terms. He video chat's with him as often as he does with Dipper and Mabel. 

Tate ends up keeping McGucket as his last name, but he changes his first and middle back to what it was originally.

And that's the end of this tale, thanks for sticking with me. Here's a passage where Ford teases Stan while they're on their sea adventure;

Ford: It was so sweet of you to give your son my name. Stan: Poindexter, I swear to Moses. Ford: Even after a decade apart. Admit it, you missed me so much. Stan: *rolls his eyes* Of course I did. Stan: Stan: But the real reason that's his middle name is because he was conceived at Stanford University. Ford: I- Ford: I really didn't want to know or think about that.

The End... Go home.

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

title: toyin’ with them older guys

pairing: bartender!joel miller/female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

chapters: 1/1

read on ao3 | masterlist

summary:

Joel Miller is the grumpy bartender and owner of your favorite bar near campus, where you attend trivia every Tuesday night. Thinking there’s no way Joel could return your feelings, your friend suggests trying out Tinder.

But when you bring them to the bar for a date, they keep leaving mid date with no explanation.

Maybe there’s something Joel isn’t telling you after all.

author’s note: thank you to everyone who hyped me up to post this when i wasn’t sure how i felt about it. your comments mean the world 💕

content warnings/additional tags: explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), alternate universe - no cordyceps outbreak, no use of y/n, unspecified age gap, alcohol references/consumption, possessive behavior, jealousy, mild violence (in the form of Joel kicking someone out of his bar), brief reference to Sarah’s mom and divorce, tinder dates, bribery, dirty talk, begging, pet names, praise kink, unprotected p in v, oral (m receiving), spanking. let me know if i’ve missed anything!

There’s a bar near the university that you love to go to for multiple reasons.

For one, they have great drinks. For two, their loaded tater tots are the best drunk food you’ve ever had the pleasure of consuming.

But the number one reason, above all else, is the grumpy bartender and owner, Joel Miller.

The first time you saw him, he was challenging a kid with a fake ID, his arms crossed over his broad chest, emphasizing the strain of his flannel over his biceps. When the kid tried to take a swing at him, he grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back before marching him out of the bar and kicking him to the curb.

Your friend had to remind you to breathe.

He hosts a trivia night at the bar on Tuesday nights, the perfect excuse to see the man weekly. You sit at the bar each time, scribbling your answers on the notepad as you sip on a vodka cranberry and sneak glances at the older man while he works.

One night, you were struggling to answer a question about where the Lord of the Rings trilogy was filmed when Joel leaned across the bar, bringing his lips close to your ear to say, “New Zealand.”

You’d gotten the point, thanks to him. And from that day forward, he’d linger near your corner of the bar, watching to see if you needed help with an answer. Eventually, you started showing up earlier and earlier for trivia night, just for the chance to talk to him.

You told him about your PhD program and the research you were conducting. You wanted to be a psychologist, but for now you’re just a perpetual student. You miss winter weather in Colorado, but appreciate not having to store a giant jacket anywhere in your small apartment. Your favorite season is fall, and your favorite holiday is Halloween.

He tells you about buying the bar a few years ago, after his divorce from Sarah’s mom and ensuing custody battle had been finalized, an investment he made with his brother Tommy. They’d fixed it up themselves and made it a popular local spot. His favorite movie is Indiana Jones and he prefers whiskey over any other drink.

It’s no surprise that along the way you’d fallen in love with the man.

Too bad he’d never feel the same.

————

Joel remembers the first night he saw you. Your rosy cheeks and tipsy smile as you leaned forward to say, “Vodka cranberry, please. With lime .”

“Lime, huh?” He remembers saying. You nodded your head vigorously.

“The lime is the best part,” you insisted. He chuckled.

“Not the vodka?”

“Gross, no.”

He tossed in three lime slices and you shimmied your shoulders with glee.

You come into the bar, alone, for trivia night on Tuesdays now. You’re a fountain of random facts, but every once in a while he’ll feed you an answer to help you out because he likes the smile that you give him in return.

He has no right to be looking at you the way that he finds himself doing every week. Eyes wandering to the way your jeans hug your ass or drifting to your cleavage when you rest your elbows against the bar.

But between the conversations and the trivia and the sweet smiles, he’d gone and fallen in love.

Which is why when you come to trivia night with a man who wraps an arm around your waist, Joel loses his goddamn mind and does the stupidest thing ever.

You get up to go to the bathroom and Joel leans across the bar to address the guy, keeping his eyes on the bathroom.

“I’ll give you $100 if you leave right now,” Joel says.

“What?”

“Hundred bucks if you walk out that door and don’t talk to that girl again,” he says again. He digs his wallet from his pants and pulls a bill out, setting it on the bar top.

Without further question, the man grabs the money and stuffs it in his pocket as he heads out the door. Joel feels a flash of guilt when you return from the bathroom and look around for your missing date.

“Said he had an emergency,” Joel lies. He’s surprised when you look relieved.

“He was kind of boring, anyways,” you shrug, dragging your notepad and pen closer to you. “He probably would have just dragged us down.”

Us, Joel thinks.

He could get used to that.

________

Your friend, Marie, had convinced you to try out Tinder. She was absolutely certain you were missing out on the love of your life by not swiping mindlessly through profiles that held no interest to you.

You weren’t about to confess your unrequited love for the local bartender to get her off your case, so that’s how you ended up on a date with Michael. He was a law student and liked kayaking and hiking.

You liked neither of those things, but he had curly brown hair and you had a type, so why not give it a shot?

You didn’t have it in you to be too upset when you returned from the bathroom only to find out from Joel that Michael had left. Joel slid you another vodka cranberry with lime and your night went as it always did.

When Marie asked you the next morning how the date went and you told her he bailed, she insisted on picking your next one. She chose Scott, a financial analyst at a local bank.

You’re starting to think Marie doesn’t know you very well.

Regardless, you show up at the bar for another trivia night date. Scott is tall and lean, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and he wore a suit to a bar. When you comment on it, he pulls a face and says he came straight from work.

“Not all of us are lucky enough to not have real jobs,” he says. You blink at him, surprised by the hostility.

That hostility continues when Joel approaches the two of you at the bar, lips turned down in a scowl, and Scott decides to order for you.

“She’ll take a vodka water with lemon and I’ll have Bulleit, neat.”

Joel raises his eyebrows at Scott, his eyes flicking to you briefly, before he sets a plastic cup on the bar top. He holds Michael’s gaze as he pours a shot of vodka into your cup, before using the soda gun to dispense cranberry juice. You have to bite back your smile.

“Vodka cranberry with lime,” he says, sliding you your drink. “And your whiskey will be right out.”

“That’s not what I ordered,” Scott replies.

“Yeah, but it’s what she would’ve.”

Scott sputters, face going an alarming shade of red with his indignation.

“I’ll be right back,” you mutter, taking your drink with you as you head to the bathroom.

________

“I’m not paying for that drink,” the blonde asshole says, knocking his knuckles against the bar for emphasis. Joel huffs a laugh.

“I don’t give a shit, kid. I want you out of my bar,” he says, planting both hands on the wood.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Get the fuck out of my bar.”

“I’m on a date!”

“Not anymore.” Joel rounds the bar and gets up in the little weasel’s face. “Get. Out.”

The boy’s eyes go wide, like he realizes that maybe Joel isn’t playing around. He scrambles from his barstool, standing to his full height like he’s about to challenge Joel.

“You can’t kick me out, old man,” the blonde snaps.

Joel’s had enough. He fists a hand in the starched white shirt collar, driving him back towards the exit. The other patrons move out of the way, some whistling and cheering Joel on. He shoves the man out the door and looks at the doorman.

“He doesn’t come back inside,” he says. “And you? Don’t ever fuckin’ talk to her again.”

Joel returns to the bar as you’re walking up. For a moment, he worries that you may have seen him acting like a caveman getting rid of his competition, but you look around in confusion.

“Where’s Scott?” You ask.

“He forgot about somethin’ at work,” Joel says. Your brow furrows.

“Kinda weird that’s happened to me twice now,” you comment.

Joel just shrugs.

________

You don’t tell Joel about how you saw him throw Scott out of his bar that night.

You’d just left the bathroom when you saw Joel stomp out from behind the bar, his eyes dark and fixed on your date. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but based on the affronted way Scott was responding, it wasn’t anything good.

You crept closer to the scene, but stayed amongst the crowd. Joel marched Scott backwards with a fist tangled in his collar, shoving him out the door.

“And you? Don’t you ever fuckin’ talk to her again.”

Your mouth went dry at his words and your mind reeled at the implications. Was he doing this from a place of friendship? Or…could he maybe feel the same way you do?

Only one way to find out.

You call up Travis, a good friend from undergrad who still lived in town.

“Trav, I need your help,” you say when he answers the phone.

“Burying a body type of help or financial type of help?” He replies easily.

“Actually, more experimental.”

“I don’t swing that way.”

“No, listen to me, I have a hypothesis,” you insist, explaining the situation to him. How you’ve been on two dates at Joel’s bar but each time, the men have left without another word. And how after what you witnessed, you’re inclined to believe that it’s not a coincidence.

You ask Travis to come with you to the next trivia night. All he needs to do is pretend to be there on a date with you. A bit of hand holding, maybe an arm around the waist. Nothing more.

“But what if he tries to threaten my life?” Travis asks.

“Well…I mean…every experiment has risks,” you reply flippantly. He sputters indignantly down the line. “I’ll buy you your drinks and get you tater tots.”

He’s silent for a moment before responding, “Fine. Extra jalapeños and I’m not getting well liquor.”

“Thank you!”

________

You come into his bar with another man. His arm is draped over your shoulders as you approach the bar and Joel has to set the glass he’s drying down before it shatters in his hands.

“Joel! This is Travis,” you say, gesturing to your date. He forces a smile, reaching a hand across the bar to shake his hand.

“What can I get started for you?” Joel asks. The man, Travis, orders an old-fashioned with top shelf whiskey, while you request your regular.

“I’ll be right back,” you say as Joel is pouring the drinks. You weave through the crowd towards the bathrooms and Joel leans in to address Travis.

“I’ll pay you $100 to leave this date,” Joel says.

Travis smirks. “Make it $200.”

“Are you serious?”

“That depends, are you?”

Joel’s eyes flick towards the back of the bar and he reaches into his pocket for his wallet. He pulls out four fifties, dropping them on the bar.

Travis pockets the money before adding, “You know, there’s cheaper ways to get the girl.”

“Get out,” Joel grunts. The younger man laughs his way to the door, and you appear at the bar a moment later.

“Where’d Travis go?” You ask.

“Oh, he—“

“Can I get an order of the loaded tots?” Travis asks, cutting Joel off from making up an excuse for his absence and sitting back down on the stool beside you with a shit eating grin. “She owes me.”

“Owes you?” Joel asks through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, she lost a bet. I told her I could get the number of that guy over there in less than three minutes and she doubted my charm.”

“Travis and I went to undergrad together,” you explain. “We just wanted to hang out and catch up.”

Shit.

________

Travis decides to leave after two plates of loaded tots and one too many drinks. You help him call an Uber, but you stay behind as the bar starts to clear out.

It’s just Joel behind the bar, wiping down the wood and setting bottles back to their rightful spots as you sip from a cup of water. The kitchen has closed down and the music has been shut off, leaving the two of you in loaded silence.

“So…,” you say, twirling your straw in your near empty cup. “You wanna tell me what that was all about?”

Joel’s shoulders go tense before he releases a deep sigh, turning to face you. The bar separates you, and it feels like miles of distance when all you want to do is get your hands on him now that your hypothesis has been proven.

Joel Miller likes you. And he’s been sabotaging your dates because of it. Perhaps you should be more upset, but all you can feel is an effervescent giddiness bubbling in your veins.

While he struggles to find the words, you decide to take matters into your own hands. You reach across the bar, hooking your fingers into the collar of his t-shirt and tugging him forward. You lean over to meet him halfway, pressing your lips to his.

You pull back and look into his eyes. The coffee colored brown of his irises seems darker, his eyes half lidded as he looks at you.

“You wanna get out of here?” He asks.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

________

Joel’s got one hand on the wheel of the truck and the other resting on your thigh. He has to keep a hand on you because he’s worried that if he doesn’t anchor himself, he’ll wake up from this dream.

You kissed him. You reached across the bar and dragged his lips to yours in a way he’d only dreamed of doing a thousand times since you’d sauntered into his life.

He can’t help the small smile that tilts his lips up at the thought.

“What’s got you smiling over there?” You ask, your voice teasing. He glances at you.

“You do, darlin’,” he says. He relishes in the pink that blooms across your cheeks at the pet name.

Joel drives to his house, parking the truck in the driveway of his little bungalow. His bachelor pad, as Tommy calls it.

Maybe not for much longer.

He circles the truck to open the door for you, helping you down from the cab. He keeps his hand on your low back as he leads you up the porch steps and through the door.

You toe off your shoes in the entryway, letting them join the pair of sneakers Joel left by the door. You’re wearing a pair of socks with tiny cats printed on them, the sight so endearing to him he can’t hold back his laugh.

“What?” You ask.

“Nothin’, just…like the look of you here. In my house,” he says.

“Yeah?” You take a step closer to him, toe to toe as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Yeah,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging your body against his. The heat of you even through the layers of your clothes sends a shiver down his spine.

You press your hands to his chest, sliding them up and over his shoulders before linking them behind his neck.

“You gonna give me a real kiss?” You whisper back. Your lips are so tantalizingly close that they ghost across his as you speak.

He closes the distance, lips dancing with yours as he kisses you senseless. The feel of you against him, moving with him, sends sparks skittering across his skin. He’s unable to hold still, hands roaming from your back to your waist to your hips as your mouths part and your tongues tangle with increased desperation.

Joel slides his hands to the backs of your thighs, crouching slightly to lift you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. Your core slides against his growing hardness and he groans at the sensation as you let out the neediest whimper.

He wants to hear more.

He walks you both through the empty house until he reaches his bedroom, tossing you on top of sheets still rumpled from last night’s sleep. You scramble to sit up on your knees, moving to the edge of the bed and curling your fingers into the waist of his jeans.

“Can I suck your cock, Joel?” You ask, voice all breathy as you stare up at him with your big doe eyes. “Please?”

Joel’s mouth has gone bone dry. “Yeah? You want my cock in that pretty mouth of yours, sweetheart?”

You nod your head, fingers working on the buckle of his belt. His hands work in tandem with yours to get his fly open, shoving the denim down his thighs until he can step out of them. His cock tents his boxers, a wet spot already apparent on the fabric and he watches as you reach a hand out to stroke him, a groan escaping him at the feel of your warm palm against him.

“Take your clothes off and get on your knees,” Joel commands. He lifts his own shirt over his head as you unbutton and remove your pants, shimmying the tight fabric down your legs. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed as he watches you lift your shirt up and off.

His eyes rove your body hungrily. Your perfect tits and gorgeous curves, the way you flush beneath his gaze.

“Come here, baby,” he says, crooking a finger. You come to stand between his legs and he reaches around your back, unhooking your bra with deft fingers.

“You’re rather skilled at that, Mr. Miller,” you tease.

“I’m old, not dead.” He slips the straps from your shoulders, tugging the last barrier between him and your tits away. “God, baby, these all for me?”

“Mhm,” you him as he wraps his hand around the weight of one breast, thumb teasing your pert nipple.

“Tell me somethin’,” Joel asks, “why’d you bring all those boys around when you knew you needed a man?”

You lick your lips. “Didn’t know if the only man I wanted would want me back.”

Your voice is small and vulnerable as you say it, and that just won’t do. “Don’t just want you, baby. Need you.”

Your face lights up in the brightest grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby. Need you so fuckin’ bad,” he tells you, digging his fingers into your hips. “S’why I had to play dirty.”

Your smile turns downright salacious. You drop to your knees, running your hands up his thighs. “Show me how much you need me, Joel.”

________

Joel shoves his boxers down, exposing his cock to your hungry gaze. It’s gorgeously thick, the head a dark red from his arousal, a pearl of precum sitting in the slit. You lean forward and dart your tongue out to gather it.

“Don’t tease, sweetheart,” Joel says through gritted teeth. You keep your eyes fixed to his as you take him in hand, swirling your tongue over the sensitive head before taking him further into your mouth.

His hand is instantly in your hair. Not pressing, but his fingers tangle in the strands and tug deliciously against your scalp. He moans as you take him as far back into your throat as you can manage.

“Fuck, your mouth is better than I ever dreamed,” he says, voice rough.

“You’ve thought about this?” You ask when you draw back for breath, hand pumping his length in place of your mouth.

“‘Course, baby. These pretty lips wrapped around me, beggin’ for me to make them all swollen and used,” he says, standing and bringing a thumb to your lips and swiping it across their spit slick surface. “Open up.”

He uses his thumb to press against your bottom lip, opening your mouth as he takes his cock in hand and feeds it slowly between your lips. The smooth, hot length of him dragging across your tongue makes you moan.

“You like that, baby?” He growls, pumping his hips in shallow thrusts. “Like me usin’ your mouth how I want?”

You try to nod, your movement restricted by the grip of his hand that’s returned to your hair. There’s spit trailing down your chin and tears gathering in the corners of your eyes from the effort of keeping your mouth open for his thick length. You know you must look like a mess but with Joel staring down at you with his lust drunk expression, you feel on top of the world.

“I gotta fuck you, baby, will you let me, huh? Let me feel that pretty little cunt strangle my cock?”

You hum around his length and he withdraws, tugging you up by your hair and pulling you into the dirtiest kiss, all tongue and teeth and blatant desire as he turns your bodies, shoving you down onto the bed.

Joel slips an arm beneath your low back, using it to pull you up the bed as he crawls on to join you. He positions himself between your legs, tearing the soaked fabric of your panties down in a frenzy.

He slides his fingers through your wetness before bringing them to his lips, sucking them into his mouth with a groan.

“Christ, I’m gonna feast on you for hours, baby, but I wanna fuck you so bad,” he says.

“Then fuck me, Joel, please,” you beg, lifting your hips so that his cock slips through your center. “Come on, wanna feel you.”

He lines himself up, pressing into you with a delicious stretch, the slight sting of it making you whine. He shushes you, not stopping until his hips press against the back of your thighs.

“Good fuckin’ girl, takin’ my cock like you were made for it,” he says, leaning forward to kiss you, the shift in angle making him go impossibly deeper. “Tell me when I can move, sweetheart.”

You shift your hips restlessly beneath him. “Please move, Joel, wanna feel it.”

Joel pulls back before slamming forward, the force of it making you slide up the bed as all the air leaves your lungs in a whoosh. His grin is sharp as he does it again and again to the tune of your desperate cries.

“Joel!” You cry, clawing at his back with each thrust. “Fuck, yes, yes!”

He withdraws abruptly, the loss of him as you clench around nothing making you whine pathetically. With a bruising grip on your hips, he twists your body until you’re on your belly, ass in the air and chest pressed to the mattress.

Joel slides back inside your tight heat, a palm slapping across one cheek then the other as he resumes his powerful thrusts.

“Fuck, darlin’, you’re so goddamn tight,” he growls. A hand presses to the back of your neck for leverage, changing the angle yet again. “Can you cum for me? Can you soak my fuckin’ cock, baby, I bet you can.”

You nod, the movement restricted, but you can’t form words. All you know is the feeling of Joel pounding into your body like he owns it.

The hand on your hips moves to the front of your body, fingers finding and pinching your clit. You sob against the mattress, the sheets wet beneath you from tears and drool.

“Come on, baby, fuckin’ cum for me,” he growls. “Won’t fill ya up until you do.”

That’s the visual that does it. The thought of Joel finishing with you, inside of you, dripping out of you too much for your lust addled brain. With a shout, the thin remnant of your control snaps and you pulse around him.

“Fuck yes, that’s it, sweetheart, good fuckin’ girl,” he praises, his hand leaving your neck as he sits up, his tempo fast and sloppy as he chases his release through yours. “You want me to cum in this tight little cunt, honey.”

“Yes, please,” you manage to slur, muffled by the sheets. With three more harsh thrusts, he does as promised, spilling inside of you with a shout.

He slows before withdrawing, your body collapsing against the mattress without him there to hold you up. He chuckles as he flops beside you, dragging you into the cradle of his body.

“You done playin’ games with those boys?” He asks, smiling smugly against your neck.

“Yeah, think I might be into older guys,” you tease. He pinches your hip, making you laugh.

“See if I ever help you during trivia again.”

________

Joel’s standing in front of you, arms crossed with a scowl on his face as you stare up at him with pleading eyes.

“Come on, baby, help me out,” you ask sweetly, batting your eyelashes.

“Last call for an answer to our final question! What is the only song credited to all five original members of the band Fleetwood Mac?”

Joel sighs, biting back his smile. “The Chain,” he tells you. You scribble the answer, running your paper up to the emcee. When you return to the bar, you lean across the polished surface and tug him towards you, planting a kiss to his lips.

He drags you back for another kiss. And another.

“Anytime, darlin’.”

Joel Miller tag list: @huffle-punk punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfell @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @brilliantopposite187 @mattmurdock1021 @str84pedro @justsomeoneovertherainbow

Join the tag list here!

[artdcnaldson]

I have some fluffy fuzzy thoughts to share... I feel like Patrick is one of those people that babies just unexpectedly LOVE

Like imagine he's at a gathering with Art's family and someone asks him to hold their very new, very small, very breakable baby while they're in the bathroom.

Patrick freaks out expecting high pitched wails and a lifetime ban from Donaldson family BBQs.

But turns out his big strong hands are good for holding little people as well as rackets...

ohhhh <3 this is so, so important to me <3

Because Patrick is the type to loudly and frequently say he hates kids. His experience with children comes down to his older brother's hellspawn that make the pretty young au pairs he hires gray prematurely. Nasty, dirty, loud, annoying, persistent. The kind of kids that need to be told No, but never are.

Art's family is different. It takes a village, and all that. His cousin Beth is a teen mom, with a cute, fat little baby that has the same blonde curls as its mother. It has two front teeth already, a gummy little smile when Art's grandmother feeds it bites of some tater tot hotdish that would send Patrick's bubbe into cardiac arrest.

Art happily holds the baby in his arms and he seems comfortable enough. There are so many young kids running around that Patrick figures he has experience with that sort of thing. In his eighteen years of life, Patrick has managed to hold one baby, at age fourteen, when his older brother had his first kid.

The baby blinks up at him, its eyes wide and brown like Beth's are. Beth— who's off making fruit salad and dumped her kid into the first pair of open arms she could find. It's outfit is stupid— a little set of overalls with pockets that have muppets sticking out. What the fuck do babies need pockets for?

"It keeps staring at me," he complains, trying to move in front of Art to break the creepy eye contact, which doesn't work.

"Stop calling him it," Art insists, face twisting with annoyance as he bounces the baby in his arms. "His name is Noah."

Patrick sighs. "Noah won't stop staring at me. It's freaking me out, so make him stop."

Art laughs at that, grinning in that annoying way he does when he thinks he knows what Patrick's thinking. So what if most of the time he does? "What? He's a baby, I can't just make him stop. You're being weird."

No. Weird was the way that Art's family acted. He knew the detachment in his family wasn't normal, but the closeness, the joking, the passing babies and kids and hugging was weird. It was weird that they had potlucks where they would eat servings of each dish and smile even if it tasted really bad. It was weird that Art's other cousin, George, stood up with his wife and proudly announced they were trying for a baby. For all the Zweig's knew, babies arrived in cashmere swaddles carried by some endangered species of bird.

"I have to pee, dude, just hold him for a sec—" Art says suddenly, and before Patrick can do anything, the baby is shoved into his arms. It— he— is heavier than Patrick expects, so dense for something so small.

"Art—" He whisper-yells, but Art's already darting away, leaving Patrick to awkwardly cradle the baby to his chest.

Noah babbles as Patrick swears under his breath. No one seems to look his way— it's too loud for anyone to really care. Beth at least glances over to check on her kid, sees a yawning Noah being bounced in Patrick's arms. He thinks he gives a help me expression, but it's ignored.

Noah likes him. He rests his chubby little face on Patrick's Hollister polo and babbles contentedly once Patrick manages to nervously walk across the room and settle on an old, sunken in leather couch.

Tentatively, Patrick reaches out, lets the baby wrap his hand around his index finger. Noah yawns, his little face wrinkling and scrunching as he gets comfortable. The baby is asleep on Patrick's chest by the time Art returns.

The blond grins as he sinks onto the couch beside him, holding out a plate of baked goods. "Hungry?"

"I can't move," Patrick whispers. "He's knocked out, dude."

Art lifts a marshmallow lucky charms bar to Patrick's mouth and lets the other boy take a bite. "You're good with kids. Girls think that's hot."

"Shut the fuck up."

[incorrectbatfam]

I still think about your Gotham Gooners.

Any more fun shenanigans for us?

Oh man I completely forgot about these guys.

For those who don't know, they are crack OCs that I created that sorta spiraled out of control for a little bit. But ngl, they were fun. Here is an overview of them and you can also check my tags and my Ao3.

Anyway, some more headcanons:

Milo came up with the name Gooners. Yes he is aware of the double meaning—he is a 15-year-old boy with unrestricted internet access. No he won't change it. He already made T-shirts

Gene makes poor personal financial decisions for someone who used to be an accountant. He once won $100 from a scratch ticket and immediately lost it by investing in a start-up that wanted to make iPhones for pets

Kellin inserted a small implant into their arm to purposely set off metal detectors. That way, after they explain their "medical condition," security guards will wave them in without checking for the multiple weapons on their person

Rob was parentified growing up and refused to make Milo do the same for the twins, especially since Milo isn't even his kid. Cue Rob zooming back and forth like a roadrunner between Jackie's dance recital and Gunner's Little League game

Mac's surveillance vehicle is an ice cream truck he bought for cheap after the owner died in it. He uses the freezers to store his midnight meals, consisting of Midwestern classics like cheese curds, tater tot hotdish, and Detroit pizza. Tangentially related, his full first name is Mackinac—as in Mackinac Island, Michigan

Booker's job as an intern is to schedule meetings, go on coffee runs, and calculate every possible Looney Toons physics scenario that the team might encounter on any given job

Otto doesn't have a yard, so instead, to fulfill his old man duties, he opens his apartment window and yells at people to get off the public sidewalk. Molly brings a blender and makes milkshakes to bring all the boys to the sidewalk

Before becoming a pyrotechnic or professional criminal, Blaise worked a new job every other month (in part because of his ADHD). One of them was a waiter at a furry restaurant and another was a lab rat at Wayne Enterprises

The Gooners take any job that promises them money—and they're not always illegal. One time, they got paid to set up the Tour de Gotham

[pinetreeshack]

Zzz...

[justherebecause15]

Pet names Bruce uses for his kids.

I'm having feelings so let's do this crap

Bruce's petnames are all either really old fashioned or strange. very few normal ones.

Dick: Chum, Dickie, kiddo, his little bird, baby. I feel like Bruce calls all his babies baby because. well. that's what they are. Dick won't let Bruce call him anything when he moves out. Bruce still does.

Babs: she's more of like a niece to him, but i can totally see him calling her barbie and kiddo and little girl.

Jason: Jay, lad, Jaylad, Jaybird (he 86'd that one when Roy started), bean. He calls him bean because he was a little bean. a tiny infant. he still does it when Jason's 6'4.

Tim: Sweetheart, buddy, timbit, Tater Tot, and the much longer Tim The Tater Tot.

Cass: Sweetheart, honey, sugarpea or sugarsnap, princess, my moon.

Steph: Steph, and Angel. sometimes, she's very tired and swear that he calls her "stephy". she's right.

Damian: With Damian, I like to think he reuses his mother's nickname of "beloved". I feel like he knows Damian misses his mama, but Bruce is one hell of an emotionally stunted alpaca and doesn't know what to do about it, so that's his little way of acknowledging her presence. Damian loves it. he also calls him dames, and sometimes little pear or cactus, because he's prickly. like a prickly pear cactus

Duke: he calls duke champ. like unironically. as well as kiddo and sport. Duke calls him an old man. Once he finds out about his powers he calls him a bunch of names to do with that. His little firefly(ONLY OUTSIDE OF GOTHAM), his lightbulb, starlight, sunny, my sun. Once he called him lighting mcqueen. Duke dyed his hair red in his sleep for that one.

I don't really know a lot of the other characters, like harper or cullen or luke. but of the ones I've got a grasp on, these what i think they'd be.

[aruanimess]

any aruani fic recs that you are your favorite?

Hello, anon!

So I've made a couple of posts in the past about this, but perhaps it's time to make a more comprehensive list. Sadly, the list of my favorites hasn't been expanded that much in the past year bc life has been kicking my ass since I haven't had much time for reading while also working on my own writing. But here goes.

Starting with the one-shots because they often get ignored:

Silhouettes by Jelly

Reincarnation AU. Armin spirals into madness as he tries to remember his past life, with Annie at the center of it all. Beautiful and concise, it'll have you sobbing on the floor.

Graffiti Love by brandymallory

Reincarnation AU. Armin and Annie are graffiti artists communicating with each other via murals. The understated, shimmering longing paired with the coolness of the street art scene is something else.

A Fistful of Latent Images by @aquietjune

Post-Canon Fort Salta fic. Armin and Annie navigate their relationship amidst the chaos of a post-apocalyptic world. Extremely well-written with great pacing, it captures the dissonance of normality after absolute devastation perfectly.

Look! by @lucaaazd

Modern AU. Kid Annie, still reeling from the loss of her father and subsequent adoption into her best friend's family, rescues Armin from his bullies. Grief and trauma mixed with the innocence of youth, its haunting carefreeness will fill you with an odd sense of optimism.

a crash course in curve lifts by @corner-stories

Modern AU, ice-skating. Armin and Annie, athletes who usually compete individually, train to perform a Pair routine for a gala (hopefully I got the lingo right). The commitment these two show to each other and their craft is absolutely heartwarming.

Now the multichapter fics:

A warrior in name, A traitor in game by @diam-etrical

Inspired by The Hunger Games. EMA in Marley. Set in a universe where the Warrior candidates have to fight to the death in an arena to get their titans. This will have you at the edge of your seat for sure. Also the character dynamics are expertly crafted.

Cigarette Duet by @darcycrow

Modern AU, set in Istanbul. Armin is a transfer student and new in town, he and Annie share a smoking spot in the schoolyard and bond over their existential dread, love of cats and weird relationship to intimacy. I'm here for the dry wit, the psychoanalysis and the sharp commentary about dating in the modern world.

Tater Tots & Heavy Thoughts by Anonymous

Modern AU. Armin is a social worker with a traumatic past, Annie asks him to help her brother who's a recovering drug addict (and then asks him out). This fic handles some extremely sensitive issues with care and compassion, it's a story about healing and not letting your past define you. Absolutely captivating and at times heartbreaking.

My Yellow Light in Your Soft Whispers by @annawayne

Post-Canon fic. Set roughly ten years after the Rumbling, Armin and Annie try to rebuild their trust in themselves and each other after a traumatic event. One of the most romantic entries on this list, steeped in rich symbolism and metaphor, the love Armin and Annie share is carved in every word, phrase and sentence.

See You Again by @dudewhy3

Modern AU. Estranged childhood friends, Armin and Annie, meet again after years apart, only Annie is sick and Armin is her doctor. It's a beautiful story about enduring love, compassion, second chances and vulnerability.

Love Letters from the Skies to the West Coast by @midnightraine131

Modern AU. Pastor's son Armin befriends Annie, a Californian girl who's new in town and also a bit of a wildcard. This is a sweet and funny story about the batshit shenanigans kids get up to, but also about the stifling confines of small religious communities.

Abandoned but worth a read regardless:

These City Lights by Katsy0c0

1920s AU. Armin is an up-and-coming Hollywood director and chooses Annie as his leading lady. An oldie but a goodie, the setting is exciting and glamorous and the relationship between the two is sweet and thrilling.

I Shall Slay by GoldenDoodleLover

Modern AU. Crack fic. Armin is recruited by his lit teacher Levi into a team of students who shall be participating in underground rap-battles. Absolutely hilarious and the verses are kinda fire.

[cakerybakery]

@sir-tater-of-the-tot That continuation of the Cow Adam story

Milk Snake Part two.

-

The bell around Adam’s neck jingled, interrupting his nap.

He loved to lay in the sun-dappled shade of the apple trees. Adam always felt calmer being out in the fields as the fields around the farm had soft, warm grasses and flowers. It was the perfect spot for taking his pregnancy naps in.

A little miffed, he tapped the cowbell on his collar and answered the call. “What do you want, snake?”

There was a playful hiss as Lucifer answered. “You. But for now I’ll settle for seeing what you want for dinner. I’m at the grocery store getting snacks with the kids for tonight. Figured I’d see if you were craving anything we might not have at home.”

He must have slept through Lucifer taking their kids out. Adam’s annoyance at being woken up dissipated.

Lucifer was a good dad and partner, taking the kids to run errands and letting him rest when he needed it, and checking to see if he wanted anything. It made his pregnancy hormones gush love and affection for his little bull.

The farm was more of a hobby than a full-blown working farm. They had some chickens, fruit trees, and berry bushes, and grew some vegetables in the garden, but it wasn’t like his first go-around with kids. They didn’t need the farm to survive. Often just purchasing items instead of making or growing them and relaxing in the small village not far from Pentagram City.

Adam hadn’t liked raising the kids in the city. The hotel had quickly proved to be too cramped for life with a baby. Not to mention, the city was full of violence and mayhem that often attempted to destroy the hotel. And when they moved to Lucifer’s place, that wasn’t exactly kid-friendly either. Half abandoned and overrun with Lucifer’s projects didn't leave much safe space for toddler. And of course too many people wanting to know more about who he was and who the new prince was.

As Finn got older and when he was pregnant with Holly, Adam really started to crave wide open spaces. A quiet place to be left alone and call home. Somewhere safe to grow their little herd.

And growing their herd they were.

The twins in his belly kicked. He already had names picked out. Beckett and Robin. They weren’t sure if the twins would be boys, girls, or one of each. The names seemed gender neutral so Adam had decided on them. Adam had been too excited to wait to find out the genders for Finn and Holly, but having one of each already, Adam was happy to wait this time.

Last fall, when she and Finn were both finally in school, and Holly hadn't been in the nursery for a few years. Adam had decided it was time for his little bull to breed him again.

When they had dropped the kids off at school on the first day and then hurried home, Adam brought Lucifer to his favourite spot in the little meadow. They both had something they wanted to talk about.

Lucifer dropped to one knee and asked Adam to marry him. Every single thing about the moment had been perfect. The weather, the leaves only just turning, trees full of crisp fruit. His handsome milk snake with the brightest, shining eyes looking up at him hopefully with an equally shiny rock the size of a fucking blueberry.

Adam said no.

He’d been married twice already and had no plans or desire to do it a third time.

His little milk snake had been so upset. That cute little bottom lip quivered, his shoulders slumped, and his voice got quiet.

Adam pointed out they lived together, had children together, and that Adam had dragged Lucifer out there to see if Lucifer wanted to breed him again.

They were as together as they could be. What did Lucifer want, to put a collar on him?

He was surprised, because the way Lucifer's dick popped up at the idea, it was a miracle that it didn’t tear the old bull’s pants clean off.

Adam had to agree to wear a collar when seeing that display. Just for sex anyway.

The conjured leather collar with ‘Morningstar’ embossed on it and a shiny golden cowbell had been oddly hot.

Especially when Lucifer made himself a matching one.

During Adam’s pregnancy with Finn, Lucifer had started keeping his normal form more bull-like. Adam liked Lucifer’s cow ears and horns. He really liked that thick cock. As a shapeshifter, what form he took never really mattered to Lucifer. He had kept himself mostly like how he had been as an angel purely because he didn’t really care. Lucifer's switch to the more bull-like appearance was because it drove Adam wild.

Lucifer had barely had the collar on himself when Adam tackled him down into the grass and dirt to make out. Their bells clanging together as Adam started to tear into Lucifer’s clothing.

His little bull looked so good. Maybe that was the cow sinner part of him talking, but Adam couldn’t wait for Lucifer to fuck another calf in him.

He easily stripped his little bull. Not like Lucifer was going to put up a fight. And swallowed that cock down.

Lucifer always did like the vision of Adam's head in his lap and ass in the air. His little cow tail moving as Adam bobbed up and down that dick.

Adam liked how Lucifer looked at him like Adam was a sex god sent to hell just for him.

Kneading Adam’s large tits, Lucifer had moaned about how he couldn’t wait to drink Adam’s milk again.

That wouldn’t be a problem. In fact, Adam encouraged it. He produced so much milk that without Lucifer, it would go to waste, or he’d be in pain. He still donated while he had milk, but that took time, and he’d rather feed the baby, put them back to bed, and pass out at night while Lucifer helped himself instead of pumping.

“If Daddy Bull wants milk, he better cum in Mommy Cow.” Adam pulled off Lucifer’s cock to tease him.

“Oooh, I love it when you talk like that.” Lucifer leaned down and kissed him. “I can’t wait to see you round with another calf, my pretty golden cow.”

He helped Adam strip down, had him turn around, and teased his little tail before kissing Adam on the back to activate the spell.

Lucifer conjured lube and was quickly able to prepare Adam.

Mooing happily, Adam’s bell clanked as he fucked himself on Lucifer’s fingers.

After nearly a decade, Adam was no longer embarrassed by the mooing, especially since his little bull couldn’t stop himself either.

Speaking of, Lucifer’s moanful moo as he replaced his fingers with his cock in Adam’s ass sent shivers down Adam’s spine.

His breasts swayed, his bell clanked, and Lucifer was hitting just the right spot inside of him. Adam was in heaven.

It all felt right in the universe. He was made for this. To be impregnated in a field by his bull.

He had to wait ten thousand odd years to get here, and he was going to spend at least ten thousand more enjoying it. Perhaps he’d slow down on the baby-making by then, but it didn’t mean he’d stop enjoying getting wrecked by Lucifer’s large cock as he feels the sun and shadows playing across his back. The grass tickling his heavy breasts and the warm breeze blowing over his bare skin.

Every thrust inside him made him moo in pleasure. Lucifer wrapped a hand around Adam’s cock, and the electricity tingling his spine bounced around his brain. His mind was melting.

His brain and cock dripped with pleasure.

“Cum for me, Adam.” Lucifer groaned. “I need my pretty mama cow to squeeze my cock dry.”

He mooed Lucifer’s name and came.

Lucifer let out his own loud moo. He gripped Adam hard and tensed before sighing and peppering Adam’s back with kisses.

They cuddled under the trees, and Adam forgot all about his collar and bell. They were still wearing them by the time they realized they had whiled away the day naked in the meadow as though it were Eden. Having sex and eating from the trees and bushes. And they needed to rush to get dressed and pick the kids up at school.

“Adam?” Lucifer’s voice came through the bell and pulled Adam from his memory.

“Hmm? Just thinking. You know, I could go for something salty. Can you bring me home some chips?”

He gritted his teeth and breathed heavily through his nose for a minute.

“Sure thing! Okay, my little imps. Mama wants some chips. Let’s go to the chip aisle!”

Adam could hear Holly start to chant out, “Chips, chips, chips. Getting Mama some chips!”

And Finn scoffed. “You’re such a baby.”

“Am not!”

“Oh no,” Lucifer groaned. “I better go. See you soon, Adam.”

“See you soon.” Adam repeated back, and the bell returned to normal.

Huffing, Adam hauled himself to his hooves. He placed a hand on his large belly and felt one of the babies kick. Then the other kicked in response.

“You two better not start fighting. One sibling fight at a time, please and thank you.” He hummed as he walked, and the rocking settled the babies down. “It won’t be long now, and you two will have all the room you need.”

He had to pause at the fence on the way back to the house. Adam gripped the wood hard. Now that he was up and moving, the contractions were coming faster.

“Yeah,” he rubbed his belly. “Not long at all.”

It really was nice of Lucifer to take the kids out while he laboured. They’d known since the morning that the twins were coming when how they were coming appeared.

Adam had gone out to the field to nap and rest since the contractions were still unsteady and only once an hour or so. But now they were closer together, and they had maybe a half a day at best.

Every pregnancy is different, every delivery is different, but Finn and Holly both came quickly once the ball started rolling, and Adam had no reason to think this time would be any different.

He gathered up the clean linens he’d set aside a few weeks ago and settled in the time-out stall Lucifer built in the living room.

It was just a small area they sent the kids to calm down in when they’d been misbehaving or throwing a tantrum. Where they could be in a quiet space, still close to everyone, but not be overwhelmed by being overstimulated by the rest of the family.

There was already a soft daybed on the ground so a toddler can climb in and out on their own. Plenty of room for Adam to rest.

The two walls, one half wall, and wooden baby gate made the cow part of him feel secure and safe.

Adam texted the midwife, and she’d be by shortly. For now he enjoyed the last bits of peace and quiet for some time.

The midwife was a sweet but tiny cat sinner.

He could hear her cheery voice as she and Lucifer were coming into the house.

She steered the old bull to go put away the groceries he had picked up and to wash his hands before joining Adam.

Lucifer gave him an apologetic look as he was ushered towards the kitchen.

“I dropped the kids off with Charlie. How are you doing?”

Adam mooed. He hadn’t meant to, but a contraction started, and it popped out.

“Ahh. That bad. I’ll make stew then for dinner. To give you energy.”

A couple of contractions later, Lucifer was at his side as a clone made their dinner.

He held Lucifer's hand, and Lucifer kept his mind occupied with jokes and things that the kids did. Lucifer told Adam about the bitch in the parking lot at the grocery store that tried to take his spot.

Adam laughed at the idea of Finn and Holly both flipping some demon the bird, and it quickly turned into a moo as another contraction hit.

The little midwife checked him, but Adam felt the switch into active labour. The contractions were more intense and painful. He gripped Lucifer tight and bellowed out a moo. His hoof pawing at the ground.

It was a killer contraction that left him panting and mooing softly for comfort.

Lucifer petted his head and told him he was doing a good job.

He needed to move a bit, so Lucifer helped him up to his hooves for a moment. There was a gush between his legs, and Adam felt a little relief as his water broke for at least one of the twins, and he no longer felt as much pressure.

There was the need to push, and Lucifer held him steady as he bore down and pushed with each contraction.

Adam couldn’t feel anything but the contraction as he breathed quickly to keep oxygen going to the babies and pushed.

It took a couple of good pushes, but their baby was out and caught by they midwife.

Laying down to rest, Adam let Lucifer go so he could assist with the afterbirth process.

Half the pressure was gone, and he could breath much easier.

“Come on,” Lucifer said to the baby.

“It’ll be okay.” The midwife said reassuringly as she did something just out of sight. “There we go. The airway is clear.”

There was high-pitched scream, and Lucifer’s shoulders relaxed. “Thatta girl.” Lucifer praised the baby and brought her over to Adam after a quick check-up.

She had Adam's golden spot over her left eye and Lucifer's white skin. She was scrunched and looked angry. Kicking when her hooves were touched. Her chubby hands were fists.

Adam brought her to his chest. Compressing the tissue so she could get as much as possible in her tiny mouth. She latched easily, and Adam winced as a contraction hit.

There was pleasure as hormones flooded his brain as the sight of his baby feeding from him and pain as his body got ready to push out another baby.

After ten minutes she pulled off and fell asleep. Adam handed her off to Lucifer to put down safely in one of the baskets prepared for the babies.

“Robin.” Adam decided. That one felt like a Robin. The midwife wrote it down along with the other information from the birth.

Another contraction hit, and Adam knew Beckett was coming.

He bellowed, and Lucifer helped him to stay steady once more. This one came much quicker and didn’t need their airway cleared, so Adam was soon holding their boy. Adam touched the light brown spot on their boy's fuzzy ear. He was as perfect as his sister.

“Hello, Beckett.” Adam was relieved from the loss of pressure inside of him, even with the small, stinging contractions he felt when Beckett nursed.

The midwife finished up, made sure everything was out that needed to come out, and said she’d send someone around in a few hours to make sure the littles were doing well before she took her leave.

Once they were alone, Lucifer fed him some of the hearty stew he’d had his clone make. Then, when Adam was ready, he helped him up to shower to wash off the blood and other fluids Adam preferred not to think too hard about, before tucking Adam into their large bed.

Lucifer brought up the twins, and Adam's chest ached. He was already filling with rich yellow colostrum. More than the twins could ever eat.

Waiting patiently for Adam to settle down and be comfortable, Lucifer hovered close by until Adam undid the top of his clean maternity nightgown, exposing his breasts, and welcomed his little bull to turn into his little milk snake.

The snake slithered under the covers and wrapped himself securely around Adam. Cuddling him close, before latching onto an exposed breast as easily as a babe.

Adam mooed with relief as his breasts were drained. Lucifer drew the fatty milk out of one breast and then the other. Pulling off, Lucifer licked his serpent mouth, searching for any stray drops. When no more milk could be found, he settled into his little bull form. He curled up against Adam, resting his head on Adam’s chest.

“How are you doing, darling?” Lucifer asked.

“Sore, but good.” They’d added two more to their herd that day; Adam was pleased. Perhaps the next ones would come a little sooner. He was already missing having his belly full of babies.

[tianasficrecs168]

Venom fanfic recs

A black dot • means it's a one-shot

A heart ♡ means it's focused on Sexy times (it's pure filth PWP, or like, a plot focused on getting to the porn part lol)

Wildehack: “Intra-personal negotiation” (Eddie/Venom) • How fucked is that, that a compromise that ended with eating raw shark liver under the Golden Gate Bridge in the dead of night is probably the most interpersonally mature he’s ever been? Intra-personally, Venom corrects, not really paying attention.

Arahir: “Wrapped around your finger” (Eddie/Venom) • Venom goes about love in every wrong way he knows how. Thank god for late night television. “Me. They invited me for dinner,” Eddie insists, trying again to make his hair look some specific way in the mirror. He’s given up and started over three times. It’s a double date. Like on that show. “What—what are you watching that there are double dates? Jesus. I should cancel cable. Make you read a book instead.” No!

Impertinence: “Something Like A Pipe Bomb” (Venom/Eddie) Eddie already had enough problems, what with being a busy reporter with an alien parasite, when he caught one of his neighbors holding a fridge above her head. Now he has twice as many problems, including a kid who won't stop treating him like the big brother she never had and a moody alien parasite. Or: you can totally secretly pine while sharing a brain with someone else, as Venom and Eddie are both determined to prove.

Pepperfield: “That blessed arrangement” (Venom/Eddie) • That’s us, Eddie, Venom says suddenly, with a bizarre amount of intensity. We’re like these two fools. Eddie squints at the screen for a second before he understands. “What, married?” Venom is well aware that they live in a romantic comedy. Eddie isn’t, but he’ll get the picture eventually.

Dezemberzarin: “The no dating policy” (Venom/Eddie) • a two-shot series What’s the point? Eddie glances around to the other people hurrying along the sidewalk, lowers his voice until he’s muttering into the collar of his jacket. “I like sex! I want to have sex again in the future, so you’ll have to find a way to deal with it.” If you say so.

xzombiexkittenx: “Nice to Taste” (Venom/Eddie) • Eddie doesn’t do well when he thinks the symbiote died in the fire. He doesn’t tell Dan that suicide is the reason he’s in this mess in the first place. He didn’t go to the Golden Gate Bridge to throw Anne’s engagement ring into the water, he went there to throw himself but got distracted by Dr. Skirth’s messages and justice against Drake instead.

Tuesday: “Terms of Endearment” (Venom/Eddie) • In which there are accidental pet names, Eddie leaning into being in love with an alien symbiote, and an ill-advised kidnapping. — The first time Eddie called Venom dear, it was automatic. They were shopping, and Eddie bypassed the freezer section to pick up some chocolate first. Venom said, "Don't forget the tater tots." Eddie, well-trained by more than one serious relationship in his life, said, "Yes, dear."

Ottergirl: “Heartthrob” (Venom/Eddie) ♡ • He feels encompassing when Eddie says that, he feels like there's no end to him. All that affection in Eddie's voice and the knowing, knowing he wants to be with Venom, wants to belong to Venom. Eddie calls Venom by a pet name, and Venom likes it. Maybe a little too much.

MercurialTenacity: - “Nightlife” (Venom/Eddie) ♡  • Eddie is soft when he sleeps. During the day he’s wound taut, one thing or another always running through his head and keeping tension in his muscles, but when he’s asleep - oh yes, when he’s asleep his defenses melt away. All the hard edges smooth out, his body goes all loose and pliant, and his mind mellows into the background. Venom loves when Eddie sleeps, and he does it for hours at a time. Sometimes even eight or nine. Nine whole hours, and Venom has its host’s warm body right there to explore.

Redredribbons: “Storms” (Venom/Eddie) • The Symbiote struggles to understand human habits and biorhythms. Especially Eddie's, when his own brain seems intent on sabotaging him.

Stereobone: “No Idea That You’re in Deep” (Venom/Eddie) ♡  • If the last eight months have shown Eddie anything, it's that foresight is not his strong suit.

Surveycorpsjean: - “Lovesick Baby” (Venom/Eddie) Eddie spent his whole life alone in his head. Now he’s not sure he could ever go back. Sometimes, you want things you shouldn't.

[dazeddoodles]

I think people are being kinda weird about that show tbh. They don't seem to get the representation is supposed to be a lived experience here in the US.

One of my best friends was excited to hear it was still happening cause she's Mexican American with a big family and she could absolutely relate to what they were showing.

I kinda think so too. I mean the kids names are absolutely atrocious, but a lot of the others things people were upset about from the theme song alone could be explained.

Like the sky being yellow is a racist stereotype of Mexico, except Primos doesn't take place in Mexico, it takes place in America.

The stereotype that Latinos have a lot of kids. Except the main characters parents only have three kids. Everyone else is her cousins, likely from different sides of the family seeing how they all range in skin tone and appearance.

Shoes being tied on the phone line mean there's drug dealers in the area, which is also a stereotype of Latinos. Except it's actually common for kids to try throw their shoes up on the powerline not knowing the implications.

Since this show is based on the creators childhood it's likely she also lived in a neighborhood where kids threw shoes up on the powerline, and also included in the show not knowing the implications.

However I feel like a lot of the backlash could have been avoided if the crew put in more effort. Supposedly the 'Oye Primos' is SUPPOSED to be wrong because the main character Tater can't speak Spanish. But there nothing in the intro that implies that.

I heard the the creator doesn't speak Spanish either so it's likely she doesn't know how bad the names of the cousins are, or the implications of the yellow skies, the shoes on the powerline, and the town being named TERREMOTTO HEIGHTS.

All these things can be explained separately but all together look BAD. Plus that stupid response the lead voice actor gave worsened the backlash.

Though at the same time I feel like people put in WAY too much ire and hatred on any "woke" media that is bad compared to other bad media. Same thing happened with that Spice Gaurdians show.

With shows who's entire goal just being to piss off (Velma, Mr Birchum, New Norm, etc), I don't think it's fair that shows who GENUINELY try to do something good but fail become internet puching bag.

TLDR: The crew definitely deserve the criticism but we should actually watch the show before deciding it's racist. Honestly I feel like it'll be a pretty okay show, nothing special. But because of the backlash people are going to act like it's the worst thing ever.

[bbuzz28]

Tate's First Night at the Shack

Transferring some of my Notes App Fiddlestan fics over to Tumblr. Have the most recent as I clean some of the others up a little. Enjoy some domestic af messy men :)

“Do ya really think he’s gonna be alright up in the attic?” Fiddleford asked as he climbed into bed next to Stan. It was easily the 20th if not the 200th time he had asked the same question in the time that they learned Emma- May had decided Tate would be allowed to come spend part of his school break with his father for the first time since the divorce. Stan sighed as he lightly tossed his glasses off and onto the side table. “The only reason he wouldn’t is if he heard ya worryin’ yourself to death from down here Fidds. If we had the resources, I think you’d have reinforced the room with steel- do us all a favor n’ try n’ relax for Moses’ sake.”

          Fiddleford continued to stare at the ceiling as if he could see through it. “We both know I’m capable of many a thing, but ya should know by now that ain’t one of ’em. Askin’ me not t’ worry is like-”

“Askin’ a fish to stop swimmin’- don’t I know it cowboy.” Stan wiped his hand down his face, exhausted both physically and mentally. He had hoped the boy’s arrival would settle Fiddleford’s anxiety that had been building in anticipation of his arrival. From what he could see, it was doing the opposite and he didn’t know how to fix it. “Call me stupid if ya want, but gettin’ yourself all worked up ain’t helping either of ya feel better.”

That remark finally helped drag Fiddleford’s gaze from the ceiling, his eyes meeting Stan’s. “ First, I dunno how many times I need t’ say it but you’re not stupid Stanley. Secondly…I s’pose you’re right. I’ve done just about everything I can think of t’ make him comfortable. I even asked him if he wanted me to stay with him, since it’s his first night ‘n he’s in my room n’ all.” Fiddleford nervously wrapped his hand with a bit of their sheet as he continued. “My little Tater, he said I needn’t baby him-that he hasn’t needed a nightlight for almost a year now. If I was worth my salt as a father, I should have known that, Stanley. ”

Stan raised an eyebrow, refusing to feed into his partner’s spiral “your room? It ain’t been your room for a while Fidds, why’d ya tell him that?” Fiddleford broke eye contact, focusing on the sheet wrapped tightly in his fist “well I…I didn’t wanna confuse him none. N’ it’s not entirely untrue. It used to be where I was until we...until I moved down…I just. I don’t think he needs t’ know everythin’ that goes on here between us. I mean, as far as he knows I’m still…well, I am still your research assistant.”

Stan felt half a dozen emotions at once; he finally landed on trying to remain as neutral as possible even though every internal voice was telling him to be angry or resentful or any of the other emotions he would have historically stewed in. “Yeah well, I guess a roadside tourist trap’s co-owner really don’t have the same ring as ‘mechanical engineer’.” Fiddleford looked at him with a face full of guilt, his eyes holding an apology and Stan just waved him off. He knew what they were doing with the Shack in order to save his brother was a major step down from Fiddleford’s previous career at best. And at worst? The voices were right and he would always be something to be ashamed of. Putting on his brother’s name for the world wasn’t going to change that where it mattered.

He reached over and ran a hand up through the Fiddleford’s hair, eventually settling at the back of his neck, his thumb tracing his hairline. “I understand not tellin’ him everythin’ Fidds; we both know what’s in the basement. But he’s yours-which means he’s probably a whole hell of a lot smarter than any kid ought to be. For once, I really don’t think that lyin’ is the best route to take. I mean, how’d he react to us uhh…“bunking” together while he’s here?”

Fiddleford furrowed his brow as he leaned into Stan’s touch “well, I just said that there weren’t enough beds and that both of our backs are too old t’ be sleepin’ on the couch every night. Both of which is true- but I couldn’t read his reaction all that well. He’s just…grown up so much in such a short amount of time. Maybe you were right to be wary of him comin’.” Fiddleford wrapped his hands around Stan’s and closed his eyes-tears whispering at the corners. “I love him so much, but after everything…what if I don’t know how t’ do this anymo-“

“Papa?” A small voice called from the doorway

The young boy stood in their bedroom doorway, fish shaped stuffed animal hanging by his side and his green pajamas wrinkled as if he’d been tossing and turning for the last hour he’d been meant to be sleeping. Both men sat up in bed, Stan immediately making space as Fiddleford beckoned his son forward. “What’s the matter bug? Didja have a bad dream?” Tate shuffled forward until he was stood by Fiddleford’s side of the bed “I want to sleep in here. I’m pretty sure there’s a monster in your closet.” Stan could swear he almost felt Fiddleford’s blood pressure skyrocket at his son’s words; his knowledge of what lay in the forest surrounding the shack clearly running rampant through his head. Before he could say anything, Stan offered the boy his hand across the bed. “Smart thinkin’ kid, we’re stronger in numbers. Let’s agree t’ go check for monsters in the mornin’, okay? Gotta say though, they’d be nuts to hide in one of my closets when they know I’d rather have them as an attraction in the Mystery Shack.”

Tate stared at the outstretched hand for a few seconds before he took it and with some help from his father hoisted himself up in between them, quickly getting beneath the covers and hugging his fish to his chest. “Monsters can’t be seen in the daylight” the quiet boy said as he snuggled in close to his father, keeping his one visible eye trained to Stan’s face. Stan made sure he was giving the boy enough space as he positioned himself on his elbow, throwing a look at Fiddleford before he grinned. “ Again, you’re absolutely right squirt. However, your pop here has special monster specs he cooked up so that we can see them during the day- isn’t that right Fidds?”

Tate angled his face up towards his father, who while still pale at the thought of a monster being anywhere near his son’s room nodded in agreement. “Your uhh…Uncle Stan is right Tater. We will just go check everything out in the mornin’ ” His father’s confirmation seemed to persuade the boy to relax a little, but Stan could tell he was still a little nervous. “I gotta tell ya, wish I had your pop’s big brains back when I had to face my own monster back in Jersey around your age. I know he would have come in mighty handy.”

Tate’s eye widened “ya mean you’ve seen real monsters? Not just all your fake ones that are downstairs?” Stan flicked his eyes towards Fiddleford quickly before he raised his eyebrow down towards Tate. “And who said all my attractions were a sham, huh?” “Momma.” Tate replied very matter of factly. “She said that you and Papa both lost whatever sense ya ever had when ya started foolin’ people for money with your carnie bullspit.” Stan did his best to choke back his laugh as Fiddleford turned a deep shade of red. “Tater! It’s impolite to repeat wh-” Stan interrupted, a grin clear across his face. “No-no, it’s fine Fidds. He has a very smart mother and enough sense to listen to her. We’ll maybe just have to work on his delivery movin’ forward.” Stan winked at Tate and Fiddleford mumbled something that sounded like a prayer asking for strength.

“Now, as for everything being fake…well that’s just not the word I’d use. I’d like t’ say they’re…enhanced. The general public ain’t smart enough to see through the smoke and mirrors like you are squirt. That’s why some of my attraction’s downstairs are not always the genuine artifact. I don’t have to put the real thing on display to get the right reaction from them.”

Tate squinted his eye at Stan, giving him a look far too old for his years- a look he had seen on his father’s face more than once. “Ya said ya have seen real monsters?” Fiddleford made a noise in the back of his throat. “I dunno that monster talk isn’t the best idea before bedtime boys.” Tate scowled and Stan chuckled. “Let’s make a deal kid-I tell you a story n’ the minute ya start t’ get even a little bit scared, your father can kick me out of here n’ I’ll go sleep in the attic with whatever might be in that closet.” Tate’s eye widened as he stuck a small hand out from under the covers “deal!” Fiddleford sighed and shook his head, but Stan noticed the smile that fell across his face.

Stan recounted his (and Ford’s) experience with the Jersey Devil- only changing a few small details (he really wasn’t trying to give the kid nightmares after all.) By the time he was done, Tate had spread out in between both men, fast asleep with his short arms resting on both of their chests. “I don’t know that we’ll be getting him back to his own bed after this. He’s going to want a story every night now” Fiddleford whispered, pulling the blanket higher over his son as he tucked his fish next to him. Stan chuckled, rearranging himself so that he could reach Fiddleford and gently brushed his fingers through his hair “ah well, whatever gets him to sleep. Plus, ya look a lot more relaxed with him in here.”

He turned and made to slip out of the bed when Fiddleford’s arm caught his elbow. “N’ where d’ya think you’re going?” Stan smiled, closing his hand around the one on his arm. “Like I said, you look better already. I can go bunk in the attic, give you both some space.” Fiddleford shook his head “I always sleep better when you’re here. Now that I got both m’ boys within arms-reach, I reckon it’ll be the best night’s sleep I’ve had in years.” That was enough reason for Stan and he rearranged himself in the bed, throwing a loose arm across both McGucket boys. Fiddleford drew Stan’s hand up to his mouth and tenderly kissed the back of it. Stan suddenly couldn’t remember ever wanting to leave somewhere less.

—————————————————————

Early the next morning Fiddleford woke up to the smell of coffee and one less person in the bed. The memories from the night before came flooding back and he couldn’t help but smile. He had been so worried about how Tate would react to Stan and vice versa but he should have known better. Stanley Pines was always full of surprises.

He tucked the blankets back around a still sleeping Tate and made his way to the kitchen. From the entryway of the sunlit kitchen he watched as Stan stood at the sink, nursing a cup of coffee as tears silently streamed down his face. Upon seeing Fiddleford, he quickly tried to wipe them away as he walked towards him. Stan managed to mumble something about there being coffee before Fiddleford’s hands found their way to his face, cradling it to make him look him in the eyes. “What in the world is wrong Stanley?” Stan shook his head and Fiddleford scoffed “oh no Mr. Mystery, not today. You go on n’ tell me what has ya up at the crack of dawn cryin’ this very instant.”

Stan stayed silent for a moment before he melted; wrapping his arms around Fiddleford’s waist and drawing the other man close. Stan touched his forehead to Fiddleford’s for a moment and took a deep breath. He leaned back and looked at Fiddleford with one of the most solemn expressions he had ever seen on his face. “When I woke up this mornin’, everythin’ was just…real. It felt right, wakin’ up next to you two. Perfect, even.” Fiddleford softly chuckled “perfect mean somethin’ different in Jersey n’ this is the first you’re tellin’ me?”

He knew Stan was being serious when his joke didn’t get any reaction, so he waited for him to continue, running his hands down to rest on his shoulders. “This past year with you…not everything has exactly been roses, t’ put it mildly. One thing I know though is that I wouldn’t be half as held together as I am if ya weren’t here. You just make everythin’ so much more worthwhile. N’ now with Tate being here…everythin’ just feels complete. I know he’s not mine or anythin’, but I’ve… always wanted this kind of life. Maybe the details are a little different that I imagined, but it’s true. N’ now that it’s here it…terrifies me.” Fiddleford held his breath as Stan drew him even closer. “That’s why I was worried about the kid comin’ up here. I know how I feel about you, n’ how’d I feel about him because he’s yours. I…I ruin everything I touch Fidds. My life, then Ford’s and now yours might be next. I just don’t know what I’ll do when I end up ruinin’ this too.”

“Stanley, will ya look at me?” Fiddleford asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Eventually brown eyes met blue, both rimmed with tears. “Do ya have any intentions on hurtin’ me or my son?” Stanley shook his head furrowing his brows as he said “but I never set out to ruin things. Just like with Ford I-” Fiddleford put his hand over Stan’s mouth, stopping his next sentence. “ It’s my turn now. Ya said just now that ya didn’t know where you’d be without me-I need ya to know I feel the exact same way. After the incident…I was so lost. I was using that damn gun at every negative thought that I came across. So much so that I felt myself losing my place in reality; my sanity even- but you’ve been my rock.” Fiddleford leaned forward and touched his forehead to Stanley’s, close enough to feel his breath. “You, Stanley Pines, helped me find myself again. I know without you, Emma-May wouldn’t have felt secure in sending Tate to stay here-as well she shouldn’t. but you’re the reason I even have a life Stanley Pines, n’ I’m not going anywhere come hell or high water. Have I made myself clear?”

Stan didn’t say anything- he couldn’t. He was never good with words in any meaningful way, and how could he tell the man who meant the world to him that he understood something so crazy. For some reason Fiddleford chose him, and Stan would do everything he could to make sure he kept choosing him. He poured every single emotion he felt for Fiddleford into a kiss that was eagerly reciprocated. They were a mess, but together they were truly a mess united.

The sound of little feet thudding down the hallway towards the kitchen gave them just enough time to compose themselves as Tate scampered into the kitchen. “I’m hungry” he said solemnly, as if he was telling the men terrible news. “Hi hungry, I’m Stan” Stanley replied as Fiddleford gathered his son up into his arms. “What do ya boys say to goin’ out to breakfast?” he asked, a knowing smile on his face. Tate cracked the first smile they’d seen since he got there while Stan scratched the back of his head. “I was gonna make some Stancakes, but Greasy’s does sound like a good idea.” The trio was in agreement as they made their way to dress for the day, all three feeling a little bit lighter than the night before.