#last update was in march T^T it is slow going

[inevitably-johnlocked]

long time no ask

how about a long one that is fluff?

Hi Lovely!!!

LONG TIME NO REPLY!!! I'm so sorry I put this one off for so long, I've been working through my asks that I have lists ready for slowly but surely <3

I LOVE getting asks like this because it gives me a chance to post asks that people rarely ask for, yay!

So, I perused my list of fic lists that are ready-to-post (and not already drafted from an ask) and from the longer lists I've chosen First Kisses! I'm hope this list pleases you!!!!

As usual friends, please add your own if you have any! Enjoy!

FIRST KISSES Pt. 2

See also: First Kiss (Updated March 24/23)

Evermore by SosoHolmesWatson (G, 2,068 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4,  5-Year-Old Rosie, Love Confessions, Song Fic, Parentlock, Oblivious John, Pining Sherlock, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Disney Songs, Beauty and the Beast) – For the past years, John and Sherlock have lived at Baker Street again, raising Rosie together--as friends and nothing more. Ever since the little girl has watched her first Disney movie, she is obsessed with princesses. When John comes home one day, he finds his friend and his daughter in the middle of a reenactment of her current favourite. Part 1 of Made of Music

This Year by DiscordantWords (T, 6,283 w., 2 Ch. || TEH Divergence / No Mary, New Year’s Eve, John’s A Mess, Jealous John, Awkward Conversations, Trapped in a Closet, Estranged After Return, John POV, Semi-Reunion, Angry John, First Kiss, Reconciliation, Clueless Sherlock, Happy Ending) – Last year, Sherlock Holmes showed up at the Landmark with a fake moustache and a bad French accent and threw John's entire life into disarray with two words: "Not dead." This year, there are more surprises in store.

The Skin Over My Heart by standbygo(E, 8,849 w., 1 Ch. || Post-Hiatus, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, Dog Tags, Military, Homophobia, Gay Bashing, POV First Person Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Declarations of Love, Undercover, Haircuts, Flashbacks, Touching, Pining Sherlock, Hospitalization, Metaphors, Introspection, Hand Jobs, On the Couch, John’s Past, Angst with Happy Ending) – Sherlock and John are still trying to adjust to Sherlock's return from his hiatus when John's friend Bill Murray brings them a case. Someone is targeting the LGBTQA+ members of Bill's unit. John and Sherlock go undercover at the unit, but when they end up having to flirt to flush out the suspect, Sherlock realizes he's in over his head.

A Comprehensive Taxonomy of Tobacco-Ash by Silvergirl (E, 11,475 w., 2 Ch. || No TRF AU || Cranky Sherlock, Alternating POV’s, Self-Esteem Issues, Jealous John, Pining John, Confessions, First Kiss, Frottage, Bed Sharing, Sensuality, Cuddling, Touching) – A handsome academic approaches Sherlock about publishing his magnum opus on tobacco-ash in a prestigious scientific journal. Sherlock is quite flattered and flustered, and John’s nose is out of joint.In this little AU there is no Fall and no Mary. Instead, there is humor and smut. Truly a disproportionate amount of smut.

Both Sides Now by Silvergirl (M, 14,724 w., 5 Ch. || Post-TEH / Reunion Fix-It, Bed Sharing, First Kiss / Time, Undercover John, Couple for a Case, Assassin Mary, Big Brother Mycroft, Norfolk Coast, Angry John, First Kiss, Worried Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Alternating POV, Infidelity, Meddling Mycroft, Emotional Love Making, Matchmaker Mycroft) – Sherlock, undercover on the Norfolk coast, texts that he needs help; John is still seething after Sherlock’s gambit in the train car, and he refuses. When Sherlock goes missing, Mycroft sends John in to pose as Sherlock’s bit on the side.

The Slow Dance and Death of a Carbon Copy by batslikepastel (T, 15,576 w., 8 Ch. || Angst with Happy Ending, Mutual Pining, Mental Health Issues, Mary is Not Nice, Idiots in Love, Eventual Fluff, Developing Relationship, Alcoholism, Love Confessions, BAMF John, First Kiss) – He hasn’t talked to Sherlock outside the bedroom since that first night. Today, though, when Sherlock painstakingly makes John’s favourite breakfast- eggs Benedict- he smiles delightedly and kisses his cheek. “Thanks, Mary.” The first sign of delusion.

A Quiet Life by DiscordantWords (M, 25,176 w., 6 Ch. || Post S4, Retirement, POV Sherlock, Awkwardness, Established Relationship, Family Dynamics, Minor Character Death, Questionable Parenting Choices, Non-Linear Narrative, 20 Year Old Rosie, Meddling Mycroft, Pining Sherlock, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Angst, Sherlock Whump) – There had been three days of silence and a funeral. Sherlock had the terrible feeling that whatever happened next would depend, entirely, on him.

Rupert Street by WritingOutLoud (M, 27,262 w., 9 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting || Case Fic, Sexuality, Demisexual Sherlock, Drugging, Smart John, Sherlock Has Internalized Biphobia, Fluff, Angst with Happy Ending, Gay Bar, Flirting, John Manipulates Sherlock to Eat, John Deduces, Arguments, Kidnapping/Torture, Hospitalization, John Whump) – Discharged from the war with nothing but the clothes on his back and a realisation of his bisexuality, John Watson has to learn who he’s become. He can’t afford London on an army pension, but the city is the only friend he has. In an effort to understand his newfound queer identity, he heads to a bar one night, where he stumbles across a mysterious stranger who turns his life upside down. ‘I dug around inside myself, and I'm not quite sure what I found, but it was beautiful and terrifying all at the same time.’

Domestic Matters by ohlooktheresabee (M, 29,404 w., 6 Ch. || Fantasy AU || First Meetings, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, BAMF Sherlock, BAMF John, Idiots in Love, Misunderstandings, Supernatural Elements, Implied / Referenced Child Abuse, Elf Sherlock, Human/Elf Politics, Emotional Abuse, Possessive Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, Buddy Greg) – All flatmates need to work out domestic matters between them - who does the dishes, who takes out the rubbish, how often does the carpet need to be vacuumed - these are part and parcel of sharing a living space together. However, when you’re an elf and your flatmate is going to be a human you just met, this rather complicates things…Very loosely inspired by 'The Elves and The Shoemaker' by The Brothers Grimm.

Deck the Halls by itsalwaysyou_jw (T, 31,018 w., 24 Ch. || Advent Fic / Multiple One-Shots, Assorted Tags) – One Johnlock ficlet for every day leading up to Christmas. Who is ready for pining, first kisses, established Johnlock, and everything in between? This collection of stand-alone ficlets will have it all. 

Swallow the Night by ArwaMachine (E, 87,873 w., 15 Ch. || TSo3/Stag Night Fix It, TAB/S4 Divergence, Toplock, Mutual Pining, PWP, Drunk / Public Sex, Anal Fingering/Sex, Alcohol-Induced Amnesia, Everyone Knows Except Them, Emotional Love Confession, Demisexual Sherlock, Internalized Homophobia [John], Parentlock with Rosie, First Kiss, Drug Relapse, Infidelity, Texting, Masturbation, Oblivious John, Emotional Love Making, Angst with Happy Ending, Dreams and Nightmares) – “Do you know how long,” John panted, his cheek scraping against the wall, looking back at Sherlock through half-closed eyes, “I’ve wanted this?” Sherlock pressed himself against John’s back, biting at John’s ear. “Not nearly as long as I have,” he whispered.

Bakers with Benefits by Raina_at (E, 88,130 w., 14 Ch. || Great British Bake Off AU || Strangers to Lovers, Switchlock, Friends with Benefits, Mentions of Alcoholism / Past Drug Use, Banter, Flirting, Fluff, Light Angst, Semi-Public Sex, Past Sherlock/Victor, Mutual Pining, POV Sherlock, Obsessive Sherlock, John’s Bum) – Sherlock Holmes has a successful YouTube baking channel, but what he really wants is his own bakery. When an old friend sends him a call for the very first Great British Bake Off, he seizes the opportunity to finally win a sponsor for his bakery. Here's the plan: Win Bake Off, get the bakery, don't fall in love with the handsome Army doctor at the neighbouring station. Easy.

Fade To Black by twistedthicket1 (M, 93,389 w., 29 Ch. || Split Personality Disorder / DID, Action, Romance, Violence, Implied Rape/Non-Con, BAMF John, Fluff and Angst, Baskerville, Human Experimentation, PTSD, Implied Self Harm, Trauma Amnesia, Past Child Sexual Abuse, Protective Sherlock, Smoking, Meddling Mycroft, Past Victor/Sherlock, Gay Sherlock, Sherlock’s Past, First Kiss/Time) – John Watson believes one day he'll just fade. That he'll drown in the black spaces of his mind, and that one day he will no longer exist. It's always been like this, the dark spots marking out moments in his life he can't remember. Where for just a moment he's someone else. Having a Dissociative identity disorder, he can't even be entirely sure he's really who he says he is. Then he meets Sherlock Holmes. A brilliant detective who when he looks at you can read your entire life story. John is immediately fascinated and afraid, half-wondering if maybe Sherlock can see the other personalities in him and half terrified of the thought of him finding out. Becoming his flatmate seems at once to be a wonderful and horrible idea. Yet as John's Blackouts become more and more severe and his other personalities begin to truly awaken and show themselves with Sherlock's help, the two soon discover that sometimes even the kindest person can harbour a demon best left untouched inside of them. Because not all of John's other personalities play nicely and some may be hiding secrets best left undisturbed...

Drawn to Stars by Silvergirl (E, 109,272 w., 60 Ch. || S4 Compliant to TLD / TFP Doesn’t Exist, Sherlock’s Italian Adventure, Sherlock/OC and Johnlock, Jealous John, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, First Kiss/Time, Idiots in Love, 3 Part Story, Slow Burn, Inexperienced Sherlock, Bottom Sherlock, Introspection, Alternating First and Third Person POV, Separation and Reconciliation, Emotional Love Making, Love Confessions via Letters, Angst with Happy Ending) – After the Culverton Smith case Sherlock is clean, working, and looking for a romantic partner—since John has told him that’s what he needs. Shame John didn’t mention he was interested in that role himself, before Sherlock went off to Rome with a gorgeous Italian copper to try to fall in love and become a complete human being.  Part 1 of the Drawn to Stars series

Out There by DiscordantWords (T, 131,695 w., 10 Ch. || X-Files Fusion || Past Soldier John, Panic Attacks, POV Alternating Present Tense, Anxious John, Canon Adjacent, Deductions, Obsessive Sherlock,, Travelling, Sherlock’s Family, Jealous Sherlock, Mind Palace John, Awkward Flirting, Batting Cage, Kidnapped/Abducted John, Semi-Reverse Reichenbach, Worried/Anxious Sherlock, Hospital, Slow Burn, UST, Case Fic, Government Conspiracy, Aliens, UFOs, Mutants, Mutual Pining, First Kiss, Coma John, Forehead Touching, Hand Holding, Drinking/Bars, Past Jolto) – FBI Special Agent John Watson, medical doctor and army veteran, is assigned to assist eccentric genius Sherlock Holmes with paranormal investigations on the X-Files project.

[waywardrose]

THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY 17

stranger things

eddie munson x reader

rated e

4.4k

spotify playlist

for @punk-in-docs​​​

fem/witchy/goth!reader, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, no y/n only pet names, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, mutual masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, consensual pursuit and capture, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, reader’s father is a dirtbag, mild spanking, magical violation, mental torture, body horror, aftercare, nightmares, strict parenting, panic attack, past child abuse and abandonment, semi-public sex, break-ups, angst with a happy ending, tags will be updated as needed

Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird? Weird weird? He shrugged. He liked weird. In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.

note: We've hit S4! Yay?

17

The school’s basketball team had been gunning for a state championship, and no one would shut up about it. Banners exclaiming Go Hawkins! hung in the hallways. Go Tigers Go had been written on the main office’s windows in orange and green chalk markers.

During lunch, jocks whooped like howler monkeys. Their chirping sneakers and laughter pierced the hush of the library. Despite teachers issuing lukewarm warnings, a few even dared to dribble a basketball in the hallway.

On Wednesday, Eddie shared an exasperated look with you while O’Donnell assured two jocks the next test wouldn’t be until after spring break. The jocks high-fived each other.

At that point, you’d wanted them to lose just so they would pipe down.

However, they didn’t.

The radio DJ announced the Tigers had won against Christian Academy last night. You groaned as you turned the car onto the ramp leading to the school’s parking lot. Students swarmed from buses and cars. Teachers directed them to the gym.

That meant another pep rally — which no. Hell no. You’d been dragged to one last week during Western Lit — and that had been enough pep for the school year.

You claimed a parking spot at the side of the building. That afforded you options, whether that was smoking a couple of Djarums at Eddie’s picnic table or hiding in the bathroom. You checked your purse to find you’d forgotten the cigarettes, your lighter, and your watch.

“Fuck.”

Hiding in the bathroom, it was.

Grabbing your purse and backpack, you locked your car before heading inside. Fortunately, the halls on this side of the building were deserted — and your locker wasn’t far. The marching band’s bright music echoed through the building as you unloaded the backpack’s contents in your locker.

Male voices laughed from a nearby junction. You glanced their way, seeing first the Hellfire t-shirt, then Jeff’s familiar face. You turned to your locker with the hope its door would hide enough of you. With another peek around the door, your gaze snagged on Eddie. He hung back from the group, watching you. Swaying above him was a banner that said ALL THE WAY — TIGERS 86.

Yeah, all the way. You’d gone all the way, alright.

Your hands trembled as you grabbed what you’d need for your first two classes and closed the locker. Dammit, you shouldn’t be so shaken. It was only Eddie, who distracted you and made you laugh and nearly broke your heart. Your stomach swooped when you noticed the way the t-shirt clung to his torso. You’d held onto those shoulders, clawed at that back, and kissed down that chest. His jeans hugged his thighs, too. You’d been between those thighs—

You wanted him too much. You needed to retreat.

Fuckity fuck—

No, you couldn’t think about that: the act or his cock.

He said your name as you scurried in the opposite direction. Your long skirt flapped around your ankles. You almost hiked it to get away faster. His rapid footsteps gained on you by the second.

A short connector-hallway was on your left. You darted into it, heart in your throat. There was a ladies’ bathroom on the right. If you moved quick enough, you’d disappear, and he’d never be the wiser.

You rushed to the bathroom door, swung inside, and shoved the heavy door to the jamb.

You could lock it, just in case, but the noise. He’d hear the click and know you were inside. You backed from the door and around the tiled barrier.

You rested against the other side of the barrier, clutching your books to your chest and straining to hear his footsteps pass. Your pulse thudded high in your neck.

A moment ticked by with nothing. Maybe he hadn’t seen you turn into the hallway. No, that was impossible. He’d been close behind when you had. Maybe you’d been successful in evading him…

A tinge of disappointment surfaced at the thought.

The bathroom door creaked open.

You held your breath as your gaze shot to the dull floor.

“You know, I can see your reflection,” said Eddie.

You looked at the mirror above the nearest sink, seeing him in it. You sighed; your shoulders slumped. At the same time, a trickle of silvery, twisting warmth grew in your gut.

You hadn’t evaded him after all.

“Why aren’t you at the pep rally?” you asked, and headed for the row of sinks to balance your books on a sink ledge.

“Why aren’t you?”

The door clanked shut behind him, then its lock schnicked into place. You met the eyes of Eddie’s reflection. You recognized his dark-eyed, steady expression, had seen it after Halloween. He wanted you. He thought of sliding deep inside you. Your cunt gave a single throb as you remembered him bending you over and eating you out. He could do that here: direct you over the sink, flick your skirt over your hips, pull your underwear to mid-thigh, and bury his gorgeous face between your legs.

He approached you, somehow predatory yet cautious. It made you want to give in. You couldn’t give in, though. There was still a month until the Battle of the Bands. He’d said he wanted space until then. However, he’d already brushed aside that space at New Year’s. It’d been a weakness on your part to have given in.

You said, “You shouldn’t be in here.”

Because you were weak for him. You were crumbling. You’d missed him so much.

“Maybe not,” he said, while drawing closer. “But I am. So, what’re you going to do about it?”

“I should turn you in.” You pivoted to face him, hands braced on the sink edge. “Tell the principal.”

“He hates me.”

“I know. He’ll ruin this senior year, too.”

Eddie looked coy as he asked, “You wouldn’t do that to me, though, would you?”

You wet your bottom lip and glanced at his mouth.

“No.”

Instead of replying, he captured your lips in a greedy kiss. Though inappropriate, you welcomed it. Kissing was better than distance and certainly better than a stupid pep rally. He kissed your mouth open with a soft groan. His tongue, faintly tasting of toothpaste, met yours.

Then your hands were in his hair; his were on your hips. He sucked at your bottom lip, making you whimper and your knees go weak. Heat poured down your body to concentrate below your navel. It intensified when he pressed closer.

He smelled of leather and cigarettes and soap. You wanted to eat him alive.

You nibbled on his lip and soothed it with kisses. His face was a mask of pure hedonistic delight with his full lips parted and eyes closed. You could see that expression every day and never tire of it. He deserved to feel good — and you wanted to make him feel good.

He hitched one of your thighs over his hip. His touch went from muffled by your skirt to downright electric with skin on skin. You gasped, meeting his intense gaze, yet didn’t fight. He straddled your other thigh and ground against your belly. His callused hand slid to your ass, fingertips sneaking under the leg of your underwear.

Despite the thickness of denim, little was left to the imagination. His hot erection pulsed as you hooked your leg around him. You angled your pelvis onto his leg. Your pussy dragged against his firm thigh. The friction of your underwear on your clit was almost too much to bear.

Then he pulled you tight until the pressure ground your clit on your pubic bone.

You arched with a groan when he rocked.

“God, you have no idea how bad I wanna pull your panties to the side and fuck you.”

You dug your nails into the shoulders of his vest.

Breath caught in your throat, you said, “Don’t say things like that.”

However, it was tempting. Damn the consequences. You wanted him raw. You wanted to feel every silky, veined inch of him stretching you open.

“If we weren’t in school, would you let me?”

He trailed delicate kisses up your neck. You tilted your head.

He whispered in your ear, “Would you?”

You couldn’t answer. If you did, you wouldn’t stop imagining it: the salt of his sweat, the slap of his skin against yours, the feel of his strong hands digging into your flesh as he pounded inside you. You’d give in, tear open his jeans, and fuck yourself on his cock.

You grabbed his hair and maneuvered him for a hot, open-mouthed kiss. He moaned into it as he thrust his hips. His velvety tongue slipped over yours, encouraging you to move with him. You held his shoulder and his smooth jaw. It seemed impossible to put into words how much you’d missed him, so you said it with your body.

You held him close, pulled him in with your thigh, and kissed him harder.

He responded in kind, making you feel like you were the only person in the world for him. The antiseptic smell of the bathroom, and the reason you were locked in there with him, dissolved to nothing. It was only you and him, sharing breath and warmth and pleasure.

The bathroom door rattled. You both started and broke the kiss to look at the door, his cheek on yours.

Softly, he said, “It’s okay. It’s locked.”

“I know, but we have to get to class.”

“Or we could skip.” He leaned away to study your face. “Your parents home?”

They weren’t, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t come home for lunch.

“No, but…” You lowered your leg from around his hip, skirt going with it. “We can’t.”

He smirked with a shrug of his shoulder.

“Worth a shot.”

You grinned and shook your head.

“Incorrigible.”

“That’s my middle name.”

“Edward Incorrigible Munson, huh?”

“Yep.”

“I like it,” you said before moving in to kiss him a last time.

He hummed against your lips in approval. His arms wrapped around your back, holding you securely. He straightened and took you with him. You clutched at his shoulders as he slanted his head to deepen the kiss.

The bell rang, making you jolt. You didn’t know if that was for the beginning of first period or the five-minute break before.

“Crap, we’re going to be late.”

He hid his face under your jaw.

“Don’t care.”

“I can’t be late to Trig.” You prodded his shoulders. “Eddie, I mean it.”

He grumbled, placing a kiss on your neck. It melted your resolve a little. A few minutes either way wouldn’t matter. Everyone would be too excited by the pep rally to care.

He released you with a playful sigh. You turned to the mirror and attempted to make yourself presentable. Your lips were swollen, lip balm gone, and clothes askew. Over your shoulder, Eddie fluffed his hair and righted his jacket and vest. His lips were swollen as well, high color painted his cheeks.

“I got Hellfire tonight. Last session for the campaign,” he said, adjusting the crotch of his jeans. “But I could stop by your place after…”

“I don’t think I can sneak you in.”

Before the attack, you would’ve been able to with no problem. Now, not so much. Studying your magic books was on your to-do list for break — along with a few minor household improvements Mom wanted to tackle.

“Okay, well…” He worried at his bottom lip. “How about lunch or something tomorrow?”

“I’d like lunch or something tomorrow.”

A smile lit his face, making his make-out glow even more radiant.

“I’ll call you,” said Eddie as he bounced backwards to the door.

You gathered your books and followed him.

“Wait,” you said, remembering: “I’m running errands with my mom after breakfast, so how about I call you when I’m done?”

“Sounds good. You ever been to Mac’s Drive-in?”

With a shake of your head, you replied, “No.” You’d never heard of it and assumed it was outside of town.

“They have the best chili cheese fries.”

“Sounds good.”

He took hold of the door handle and flipped the lock.

“Be careful.” You inched behind him. “We don’t want anyone seeing us.”

He stepped aside and cracked the door, saying you should check.

You peeked in either direction. A few people hustled through the main hallways. The coast was clear, so you stepped out of the bathroom. You lingered across the hall by the drama club’s eye-searing bulletin board, which advertised Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat coming in April.

Eddie sauntered beside you to study the board.

“Would it be ironic to attend?” he asked with a nod.

“It would’ve been more ironic to be cast.”

“Well, there’s still time.”

You snorted and nudged him with an elbow. His eyes sparkled with something. He put a hand to his chest as he backed away.

Then he sang in a terrible French accent, “Those Canaan days! We used to know! Where have they gone?”

You moved closer, eyes wide, while trying to keep the smile from your face.

“This is how we get caught.”

He spun to the side, throwing out his arms.

“Where did they go?”

You laughed, “Eddie, shut up!”

“Eh bien, raise your berets!”

He shooed you towards the opposite end of the hallway. You walked backwards as you mouthed ‘tomorrow.’

He nodded and continued, “To those Canaan days!”

You reached the corner as he sang, “Do you remember those wonderful parties?”

From Eddie’s side of the building, someone called, “Oh la la!”

.

Your head hurt beyond a normal headache. Your temples and face throbbed. The muscles at the back of your skull wouldn’t loosen. Nothing from the medicine cabinet had dulled the pain, nor had turning off the lights and music.

You’d tried an ice pack on your nape and stuck your head in the freezer. When that had no effect, you wet a washcloth with warm water for your forehead. That hadn’t helped, either.

Something about the headache made you want to flee into the woods. Like an injured animal looking for shelter. You wanted to hide, but you knew whatever this was would pursue. There was no escape. You were locked in here with it.

You lay on the cool floor of your bedroom. Pressing your fingers over your eyes, you commanded the headache to go away.

Go away.

It didn’t. It persisted until it overtook everything. It buzzed in your ears like insects. You couldn’t feel the floor, couldn’t feel your limbs. It nipped at your mental heels, hounding you to some unforeseen destination.

You didn’t want to go. You didn’t want to die — because surely that was where it steered you.

With a snarl, you pushed back. You shook off the maggots and flies that wished to bury themselves in your flesh. You wouldn’t die like this. You weren’t fodder for whatever this headache was.

It fought you, clawing at your brain. Talons hooked in the seams of your skull. It wrenched your head to expose your vulnerable neck.

You turned onto your side, but that made everything worse. The meat of your body twisted while your bones remained still. You heaved and twitched as it forced you supine.

A scream not your own pierced the night.

Your mouth opened as caustic ruptures eclipsed the pain: one, two, three, four, five.

They bled and bled and bruised and drained. Bitter energy coursed through your veins. It burned like road flares, burned like death itself.

You choked as you went beyond the pain. Your eyes opened to darkness. It knit around you like a tenacious spider’s web. You scratched at it, nails snapping, until the darkness tore apart.

You hit the floor, head bouncing on the hardwood. Your lungs pumped as though you’d been running a marathon. As you caught your breath, you patted yourself down. Everything was normal. Your bones and nails remained intact and whole.

And the pain was gone.

.

You’d awoken this morning and reached for the telephone. You’d wanted to call Eddie last night, too, but then you’d remembered Hellfire. He probably wouldn’t have been home. If Wayne had picked up, you wouldn't have known how to explain to him why you sounded upset.

Something involving magic had happened last night, no doubt. Eddie knew magic was real, but that didn’t mean he’d told Wayne. Actually, you were sure Eddie had told no one.

You now sat diagonally from Mom at the kitchen table as you ate breakfast. Your father cycled between eating his buttered bagel, browsing the Saturday paper, and watching the Bloomberg channel on TV. On a garden-center flier, Mom circled shrubs and flowers she might want to plant around the property. You’d suggested rosemary by the deck stairs, miniature roses on either side of the garage door, and planters of lavender by the front door.

Mom wasn’t convinced on the planters by the front door, but you thought she’d change her mind if she saw ones she liked.

You took another bite of your bagel. The crust was all wrong, too smooth and not crackly enough. You missed New York bagels and the golden-toasty-yeasty scent of a decent bakery. The bakeries in Hawkins were okay, but they catered to… well, people who didn’t know good bagels.

Once you and Mom finished breakfast, you went to the garage to fold the tarps into the trunk of her car. She kissed your father goodbye. He looked content for once and wished you happy shopping.

Mom cracked the car windows and turned up Fleetwood Mac for the drive. The fresh air ruffled your hair and had you remembering sharing Djarums with Eddie. You wished you could smoke one now, but Mom wouldn’t approve of your dirty little habit. Though she might not have such a problem with Eddie. He was cute and charming and talented.

Perhaps you could introduce him to her before going to lunch. It could be quick. Just a ‘this is the guy who saved me when I sleepwalked’ kind of introduction. You’d run the idea by Eddie when you called today.

At the garden center, the atmosphere was weirdly tense. You picked out two hardy rose bushes and placed them on the platform cart. Mom was examining a baby rosemary. A few older ladies talked amongst themselves on the other side of the display table. Nevertheless, it was impossible not to overhear their conversation.

“—such a trashy place. It’s not surprising.”

“No, it isn’t! They should’ve bulldozed that trailer park years ago,” said another one before leaning in. “I can only imagine what led to this latest episode.”

You met Mom’s gaze as you attempted to keep a neutral expression. There was only one trailer park in Hawkins. Eddie must be freaking out if something happened in his neighborhood.

“Oh, probably some drug deal gone awry. Young people these days are always stoned,” the first one said with a flap of her hand.

To hide your agitation, you crouched to inspect the roses. There could be more than one drug dealer in Forest Hills, you assured yourself as you rubbed a glossy leaf between your fingers. This gossip might not be true and didn’t have to involve Eddie. He’d been at school last night playing D&D, anyway.

A third said, “I wonder who the victim is.”

“I think by Sunday night we’ll all know — and who the guilty party is.”

Victim? Guilty party? Had someone been attacked?

You straightened, stepped closer to Mom, and asked, “Did you see anything about this in the paper?”

“I didn’t bother with it today.”

You nodded and plucked a random rosemary from the array. It looked healthy enough.

“You okay?” Mom asked.

You nodded again. Jumping to conclusions wouldn’t solve anything or make you feel better. You’d call Eddie when you returned home. He’d tell you what he knew.

As you both headed up the aisle, Mom asked, “Do you think there’s been a shooting?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“That seems so unthinkable in a town like this.”

You hummed in agreement, though you didn’t share her opinion. Hawkins was fucked up. That fucked-up-ness was sure to manifest in mundane ways.

At home, you helped unload the car, shake the soil from the tarps and store them. Your father had disappeared into his office, yet had left the newspaper folded on the kitchen table. Mom said she’d peruse the front page to see if anything unusual had been reported. You went to call Eddie in the privacy of your room.

Without bothering to remove your jacket or shoes, you went straight to your phone and dialed his number. The line rang and rang until you gave up.

He should be expecting your call. He never missed your calls.

Of course, if something had happened near his place, he might be giving a statement to the police. That took a long time — especially if the police wanted to speak with most of Forest Hills. Besides, it was only half past noon.

You got comfortable and sat at your desk to take notes from a book on magic. Your eyes kept darting to the phone. Something wasn’t right. Eddie wouldn’t want to give a statement. Wayne probably would, just to get the cops to leave. At least, that was the impression you’d gotten from your brief interaction with him.

By the time five o’clock rolled around, you were ready to vibrate out of your chair. Your notes were disjointed and would have to be redone. You went downstairs for something else to do and turned on the living room TV. It was tuned to Channel 9. The top news story was the discovery of a dead Hawkins High student in Forest Hills, where a correspondent was reporting.

You recognized the white trailer behind the correspondent. It was the Munson’s. Policemen went in and out of the open main door. The broadcast cut to the studio, where the newscaster clarified the report had been recorded earlier in the day.

You couldn’t think of one person Eddie, or Wayne, would kill. Eddie could be a dickhead sometimes, but he wasn’t a murderer. He could’ve been defending himself. Maybe a deal had gone wrong. Or maybe he’d had nothing to do with it and someone had killed a person in front of him.

In that case, he would’ve been kidnapped and murdered in the woods somewhere. You couldn’t recall if his van had been parked by the trailer…

No, you would’ve felt his death. You weren’t that mundane to not feel something like that.

As commercials played, you wondered if you were strong enough to cast a tracking spell. That typically took a personal item from the person being tracked. You still had his ring on a necklace, of course, but you’d been wearing it since Christmas. It might not have a trace of his energy anymore.

Mom interrupted your train of thought by announcing dinner was almost ready. You turned off the TV and went to the powder-room to wash your hands. When you came out, your parents were talking about the dead student. Your father wasn’t concerned, because people die every day. Mom agreed to a point, but everyone was talking like this was a homicide.

“Know any rotten apples at school?” your father asked you when you sat at the kitchen table.

By your father’s definition, Eddie would be a rotten apple. There were plenty at Hawkins High, but Eddie wasn’t one of them.

“Not personally.”

He harrumphed before leveling Mom a look.

You remained quiet as spaghetti with a hearty meat sauce was served. It smelled of oregano and pepper, but you weren’t interested and took half of what you normally would. Your parents continued talking about the myriad of circumstances around the death: lovers’ quarrel, argument taken too far, overdose, drug deal gone wrong, ritual sacrifice.

“Ah, yes,” your father said in jest. “Satan in the suburbs.”

Mom tittered at such a ridiculous idea.

You grinned to disguise the thread of panic at the idea. Witches had been associated with Satan for centuries, but you’d never evoked him. You wouldn’t rely on any entity for your power. Because they all had agendas, and you didn’t want to be a pawn. However, no one — not even your parents — would appreciate your stance if they found out what you were.

You opened your mouth to say you thought the situation must be a misunderstanding, but stopped short. Your father would make you defend your idea, like this was a case in court. He’d appoint himself lawyer for the other side, jury, and judge.

Instead, you twirled spaghetti on your fork and let your parents talk.

After the sun set and you’d retreated to your room, pain sliced into your head. Your heavy stomach churned so abruptly, you wondered if you should make a dash from your desk to the bathroom. Covering your mouth with a hand, you breathed deep through your nose.

It was similar to last night. Death had you by the throat. You smelled the cloying, steaming rot of it. Your fingers went numb as if you’d been pummeling at something for hours. The desk light dimmed until you could no longer read the book before you.

Everything became heavy. You couldn’t lift your head. Your muscles weren’t strong enough to lift you from the chair. You ordered your body to move, yet it wouldn’t. Even the hand at your mouth wouldn’t obey.

Icy pressure squeezed at your chest. Instinct compelled you to drive it back. You wouldn’t be suffocated in your own bedroom by nothing.

For the first time, you prayed. You didn’t know to whom. All you asked for was strength. You needed strength to conquer this thing. Because if it was going to happen every night, it would kill you. And you couldn’t die yet. Your attacker was still out there. Eddie was missing. You were so close to graduation.

The book you’d been reading clattered across your desk. Its pages stirred, then rippled. You silently requested a solution. Light returned to the desk lamp. The book came to rest, a short spell on the right page: The Veil of Undeath

[anangelcalledinquisitor]

Thank you everyone for being so awesome to me and each other! Holding the World update under the cut.

Until then! Please listen to the most absurd song in my library, to celebrate my mom and a life well-lived!

So, as some of you know, I've had a very wild year since starting writing Holding the World. Ups. Downs. Losses. Gains. I've made so many friends, it's almost unreal! Seriously, I can't thank you all enough. Between the abscess recurring, COVID, my wife getting to visit in March, surgery, you all have been very gracious as updates have slowed to a crawl. I have managed to write some? but not much lately.

As some of you know, my mom lost her sudden fight with a cancer that no one saw coming. Blood work was fine in January. Beginning of May, she wasn't feeling well. I took her to the hospital the day before Mother's Day. I lost my mom this last Tuesday.

It's still so unreal.

Since joining this fandom, I have found myself a little bit of a family and I can't thank you guys enough for being so understanding. I want to thank everyone who has said such wonderful things and helped me in this most difficult time. I hope to get a chapter done here by the end of next week, but no guarantees--I'm... I'm still trying to get myself into a groove, ya know?

For the last year or so, I've spent so much time with her when she was living next door to me (it's a duplex). Not every day, but many days, and for a long time. A couple of years before that, she and I were cohabitating (she got out of a bad situation, I found it cheaper to rent with someone, I could bake, she could cook, and we managed to keep each other alive to the best of our abilities) for a couple of years, so we saw each other every day. My mom heard the bad D&D jokes, she made me and my wife laugh so hard we cried. She was with me when I wanted to cut off all my hair because of the cruel and thoughtless comments of other people. She was with me when I was getting on the plane to go see my wife to propose (technically my wife is my fiance). She picked me up when I got back in the middle of the night. She comforted me when my dog had to be put down. She comforted me through moves and school changes, the loss of pets, my accidents, my graduation, my first job, celebrating twelve years at my current one, through flat tires and dead transmissions, through ambulance rides, through first loves and heartbreak, through miscommunications and laughter and tears and a hundred million moments of my life where I just lived. She got me through my first drawings, my first stories, my first paintings, so many hobbies, so many firsts and lasts and made sure I was included in things. Yeah she irritated me from time to time, but whose parents don't from time to time?

Today, I made beef stew for the first time without her help. Today, I went to see a movie without her that she and I had made plans to see just back in April. Today, I resolutely forced my brother to take back the bag of clothing items he had left when he moved last year (a jacket, a blanket, and a few other miscellaneous things).

Today, I think my mom would've been proud of my progress.

I still wish she could be here with me. I still have so much I wanted to do with her first. Had I known this would've happened, I would have done so much more, so much differently. But that's the way it always is, isn't it? When it creeps up on you, when you don't know the end is going to be right there, you just tell yourself it'll be okay.

It will be okay.

Different... but okay.

Anyway, I wanted to just get that off my chest a bit. I didn't get to say anything at the memorial, just walked around and thanked people for coming and learned names, so it was nice to say a few things.

My favorite Lemony Snicket quotes:

"It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things."

I'm still at this stage. Still finding myself going up the stairs and miscounting the steps.

“I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday. [...] I will love you until every fire is extinguished and rebuilt from the handsomest and most susceptible of woods. [...] I will love you as we find ourselves farther and farther from one another, where once we were so close... I will love you until your face is fogged by distant memory. I will love you no matter where you go and who you see, [...] That is how I will love you even as the world goes on its wicked way.”

I have been here for my whole life. I love my mom. She may not be here to love me in person, but I know she loved me for me. She wasn't perfect, but she was warm and loving and an excellent mom to me.

[a-god-in-ruins-rises]

another ck3 saxony update

so like i said in the last update, my current player character, bernd, has created a new "empire" (i am roleplay as peasant republic so i prefer the term "federation") encompassing saxony, frisia, pomerania, all of scandinavia, and all of the british isles.

this new federation is called "thiudisca"

i am only a few years into the reign of bernd so far. it's very slow-going right now. he's got a lot to manage. but there are a few notable developments.

first, bernd created a new culture to represent a new pan-germanic "national" identity for his federation. he hybridized it with our bureaucratic anglo-saxon cousins. this new pan-germanic culture is named simply "thiudisc" which simply means "the (saxon/germanic speaking) people"

second, the king of poland died and the lords of poland then proceeded to elect bernd as their new king. apparently the late king of poland was a distant relative of bernd. he was a saxon of the theodericling dynasty (my player's dynasty) and was a germanic pagan and had already converted much of poland to germanic paganism. so yeah, i guess we've added poland to the federation, unexpectedly.

third, perhaps the most interest development: i mentioned previously that some random anglo-saxon who still held the title "king of wessex" (of the house of wessex) still reigned from a single county: the isle of wight. somehow he has escaped my notice over t hese generations. i don't know how he can still claim to be king of wessex while i am king of england but it is what it is. anyway, this "king of wessex" who reigns from the isle of wight was somehow in line to inherit the empire of francia.

and he did. and somehow he took the duchies of cornwall and wessex with him. so now francia has a foothold in the british isles.

but here's the funny thing; apparently this house of wessex had converted to our germanic pagan faith a long time ago. several generations ago.

so the previous emperor of francia was a roman catholic. just like all of francia itself is catholic. but now? the current emperor of francia is an anglo-saxon pagan. and honestly, this new emperor's first few years reigning (he inherited the throne of francia around the same time bernd inherited thiudisca) have been more interesting than bernd's.

basically as soon as he inherited the throne of francia he started handing out kingdoms to his sons. he had three sons. two adults and one child. his eldest son was gifted the kingdom of aquitaine and his second eldest son was gifted the kingdom of burgundy (and also most of the lands of middle francia, without the title of middle francia which hadn't been created yet). the emperor kept the kingdoms of wessex and france for himself. and he gave the youngest son the kingdom of east francia.

again, this emperor and all of his sons are anglo-saxon pagans. ruling over a french catholic francia.

needless to say, all hell immediately broke loose. the entire empire and every kingdom saw revolts. i don't think these catholic frogs were very happy about the situation.

so what does bernd do? well, he married his daughter to the emperor's grandson (his sons were already married or betrothed). this ensures his family will be joined with the imperial family.

then the emperor of francia added the saxon elective law to the empire. but! he was then killed in battle shortly thereafter. and unfortunately, in an empire that is still dominated by catholic vassals, a catholic was elected emperor.

however, my daughter was married to the anglo-saxon prince of the kingdom of aquitaine. which means we were in an alliance. and when the king of aquitaine eventually pressed his claim on the throne of francia, i was able to join him in the war.

this was the most exciting part of bernd's rule so far. i marched my army into the heart of france. me, the king of aquitaine, and his brother, the king of burgundy, all joined forces and deposed the catholic emperor and seated the anglo-saxon pagans back on the throne.

also, the youngest anglo-saxon king was mysteriously assassinated and the second son inherited it.

so the current situation is: the oldest son is emperor of francia and king of aquitaine and france. and his surviving brother is king of burgundy, middle francia, east francia, and wessex. the king of burgundy then waged a war to press his own claim against his brother. and obviously i'm allied to his brother, the emperor of france, so i came to his aid.

and last i recall, that's where i left off. with the emperor imprisoning his brother and crushing his rebellion.

francia is now back in the hands of the pagan anglo-saxon house of wessex. and its vassals are a mixed bag of pagans and catholics.

francia has now become the center of the conflict between christians and pagans.

[travel-my-kashmir]

Gulmarg gondola update: Gulmarg Gondola available on most dates, Gondola Phase-1 tickets available on all days while as Phase 2 is sold out till 27 January 2024. Don't fall for the Gondola scam, no one is going to provide you with Gulmarg cable car passes. Gulmarg Gondola ride tickets must be booked at least 7 or 10 days prior to avoid last-minute hassles. If you miss the Gondola ride you will receive a refund within 7 days.As of now you can book Gondola tickets till 31 January 2024.Book Gulmarg cable car here upto 31 Jan: https://travelmykashmir.com/book-gulm...Prebook your gondola ride here for further than 31 Jan:  https://travelmykashmir.com/pre-book-...Have any questions about Gulmarg gondola check here: https://youtube.com/shorts/nNWviAoqh8...Valentine rush in Kashmir:Many couples are planning to enjoy their valentine day celebrations in Kashmir. If you are also planning to celebrate the valentine day in Kashmir, be sure to confirm everything before coming to Kashmir. In order to make the Valentine celebrations hassle-free and enjoyable, you can consider Travel My Kashmir for your Kashmir tour packageBook here : https://travelmykashmir.com/kashmir-t...or call us : 9796466052Book Urbania traveller in Srinagar: Urbania is the latest luxurious cab service, perfect for those who love group travel. You can book Urbania 10-seater, Urbania 12-seater, and Urbania 17-seater taxis in Srinagar.Off beat places in Kashmir update: Due to less snowfall in Kashmir, all the offbeat destinations are now accessible. You can explore places like Doodhpathri, Simthan Top, Yusmarg, and Sonamarg.Read more about off beat destinations in Kashmir : https://travelmykashmir.com/unexplore...Kashmir Highway update: The Kashmir highway is open for both ways with slow movement of traffic. Please confirm and wait for traffic police green signal before starting your journey to Kashmir.Srinagar Leh Highway update: The Srinagar-Leh road is open, but it is recommended to avoid driving on it.Heli skiing in Gulmarg: Tourists in Gulmarg often opt for helicopter services to reach the upper regions of Afarwat Peak for skiing. For the cost of the helicopter service in Gulmarg is Rs. 7500.contact Travel My Kashmir for online booking.Tourist rush in Kashmir: Tourist flow in Kashmir will increase from the end of February. The famous tulip garden in Srinagar will also open in the month of March or April. To enjoy the beauty of vibrant flowers in the Tulip Garden Srinagar, plan your Kashmir trip in March or April.For more details click here : https://travelmykashmir.com/tulip-gar...Flights rescheduled in Srinagar:  Due to republic day shows and practices sessions , all flights between 8 am and 1 pm,   from 19 Jan to 26 Jan from Dehli Airport have been rescheduled or cancelled. , Including 6E-5123 to KashmirReconfirm the ticket for easier and prior information. Snow is available on these places in Kashmir .Sinthan top, Gulmarg phase2 and Peer ki gali. You can visit these places to enjoy the snow in Kashmir. Snowfall in Kashmir update:The Meteorological Department of Kashmir has predicted moderate to heavy snowfall starting from January 26 onwards. Plan your Kashmir trip accordingly.Kashmir weather update: Present weather : Sunny and Negative temp after evening. Snowfall expected in all places from 26 Jan onwards.

[steamishot]

holidays

the holidays are over and there's some post-holiday blues. this is better than the holiday blues that i've experienced previously, haha. i have a longer time to settle back into reality because the first week back at work was very slow and chill. all of the managers in HR, as well as some of my colleagues were out of office. my teammate L has officially left us to go to a different department. the work that i transferred over to her when i received a promotion will likely fall back on me again. our immediate team has had a very low turnover rate. S, L, I and i have all been part of our academic team for 4 years now and there was only one switch for the 5th person. however, it makes sense for L to jump because she's still young (3 years older than me).

sometimes, i find it difficult to transition between the lifestyles between NYC and here because it's so different. i'm definitely feeling some "in-betweener" symptoms. yesterday, SZ and i checked out a local yoga class in echo park at 9am. the first thing she said when i picked her up was that it's so windy and chilly outside, and that she was gonna be blown away by the wind (which in my mind was normal tolerable wind). then, when i got to yoga class, so many other people were talking about how windy and cold it has been. the yoga instructor even thanked people for coming out on such a chilly morning. i had no idea because my baseline of cold and wind has now changed, and i was oblivious to the wind/chill because it's way more tolerable and pleasant than the cold weather in NYC. i've been feeling really confused about how "cold" things are supposed to be to be considered cold now.

job search updates: matt had a 30 minute interview with COH last thursday, and we're in the process of setting up one with kaiser woodland hills. but no updates on LA general, UCI, or UCLA. the interview with LA general was back in late november, and we are hoping for an update this month. gah, i hate this anticipation and uncertainty. i explained in therapy that interviewing feels like a black hole sometimes. you expend so much effort into this one thing (prepping, and interviews that are sometimes 5 hours long) for it to be a gamble whether or not you move on. i've again started feeling more discouraged and pessimistic as time passes.

relationship: i've been feeling emotionally disconnected recently. it's just been difficult with his long work hours, on top of preppping for interviewing and interviewing, that our quality time together has been very limited. the last time i was back in LA, i felt depressed/sad that we were back to where we started - long distance with nothing to show for it. however, i feel more optimistic this time around and am seeing it in a more positive light. i am getting the human interaction/community feeling that i was craving, and he's getting the space to unwind after work and do his own thing without someone constantly there (and bugging him). although i miss him, the space does allow for us to focus on our own things, rather than always be intertwined due in part because of the small space. i'm proud of him that he's learning to human, take care of all his chores and make healthier meals, make time to gym/run. matt will be flying back to LA again tomorrow (he's working really hard) and we'll fly back to NYC together this sunday.

limbo: although i feel like our lives have been in limbo, not having roots in a specific place and always on the go, i am grateful that i have solid connections and some kinda roots on both coasts now. i was able to meet up with M&J and SZ this time around, and also met a bunch of family members. on the east coast, S&I are already planning for a double date home-cooked meal at their apartment (which i feel is reserved for close friends/family so it is a privilege), R&T will have a bday celebration in march, and T would like to celebrate my birthday with me. matt also booked another staycation at the equinox as my birthday gift. 🥰 although being in limbo and forced to be flexible has been difficult for me (as a rigid person), i'm trying to focus more on the positives of my situation instead. in LA, i also had the privilege of celebrating christmas and new years with our families. i'll also be going to vegas this week with matt's family, meeting up with previous coworkers and attending my nieces bday party this weekend before heading back.

LA winter: this is also the first winter that i've ever WFH in LA. besides it getting darker and colder, i don't remember that winter had that much of an effect on me when i was commuting to the office. it was the same ish everyday/autopilot. now, i've been getting sleepy at like 7pm because it gets dark at 4pm. i also don't feel inclined to leave the house when it's dark. it's been harder to get up in the mornings because the bed is too comfortable and warm. and i do feel myself getting lazier to workout because of the cold.

life: my dad's cousin/family member passed away recently at 80. it was sad because my family had just had dinner with their family a few months ago and he seemed fine. we grew up meeting with their family periodically since i was little, and they were the only reason we would ever eat at vegetarian restaurants. my dad will be attending the funeral this week. this is the closest "family" member's death that we've had in america in a while. when my parents were on the cruise, they also learned of another friend's death. recently, my mom's cousin in france also passed away after battling cancer. i've never seen my parents cry, get emotional, or grieve over someone's death. it's always been a stoic understanding of "this is part of life". at their age 60+, death seems like a frequent topic ("did you hear this person died?" etc). it reminds me to stay present and cherish the times we have with all our loved ones.

[ourotteradventures]

Your Birthday and Life Updates

I have been wanting to make a post for a while, but with our move across states and all the other things that fell out (my car being totaled :,( rip) I didn’t have the energy. Thankfully, things have slowed down a little bit before this academy starts. Actually, let’s just start from the last time that I updated our blog. 

January/February time frame our work situation began to get a little messy. I was tired of certain people at the company taking advantage of my kindness and skills. As well as my time, that was being taken from my little one and it wasn’t even for good people or a good cause. Our mutual friendships blossomed in some ways and detached in others. For that, I’m sorry that it happened how it did because I never wanted that to be the end result. It was super fun though to go out with Austin and Kiara and Nicole to just have a good time without work being involved. March we returned to finish the rounds of testing for this new career. It was fun and we got to do some trails, but we also got rear ended (in the same damn car...bro what is the deal?!) and the meth head fled. We took a picture with my bumper to laugh it off as we went back home. I think that is one of my favorite things about you and our relationship. I don’t have to consume myself with dread and misery (I know, I know, but you’re “emo” *shush*) unnecessarily (see how I closed that out?). No matter how shitty the situation is, you find a way to make me smile and we take it on together. It’s the first time in my life that I haven’t been so uptight in a relationship.

April was an eternity as we prepared for our last month before the move. It was the anticipation stress that was killing us (me...it was mostly me). The tensions kept rising and I told Jason he could basically suck my dick - which he didn’t take well in the team area. Too bad bitch boy. Then Jason wanted to go to war in Signal, which is honestly so weird. What a weird platform and principle (being wrong) to die on bro? Like are you good? May was a whole year within the first week of the month. My official last day was the second. I got a giant nail in my tire with a washer on it (that’s convenient isn’t it?) and had to get a new set of tires.... to then get t-boned with my little one in the backseat...just trying to get Dingy his damn patch. Then he had a fever of 105.6 and I had to take him to urgent care, and of course they cancelled my health insurance early. My dad was in my uncle’s plane when it crashed. Honest to god, it was a country song and if we had a dog babe....it would have died. I cried at my munchkin’s Kindergarten graduation and everyone wanted to bring that up. Then came the move, the dreaded move and the insurmountable (so it seemed) move/road trip. The Uhaul reservation kept changing because they didn’t have a 20 footer available. Then the one we got had a check engine light on it so we had to go to a different location. When you started it that check engine light came on....then they forgot the dolly. Then my mom delayed our start time because she wanted her “last night of freedom”. Finally, once we touched down at the apartment... the fucking UHaul’s battery died mysteriously. It started to hail while my new car was in the open parking for us to download the garage and the maintenance dude pulled in when I was trying to get it to cover. You got to meet Minns though! I’m so glad you both liked each other and you had a good time listening to his stories - that dude is honestly the biggest life saver I have out here (aside from you now).

And now? June! Your birth month. The month that I usually pay no mind to and don’t really enjoy as I’m not the biggest summer fan (at least out in the desert, but here it is nice!) You started your new position while you build for your future. I’m doing the admin stuff to prep for the academy and we got a new kitten!! He’s such a snuggle bug and Athena ended up loving him. Hades has grown into the home and our family. So I decided that I was going to make you your favorite meal and get some of your favorite snacks. It turned out pretty ok! Honestly, I wish that there was more magical wording and pretty phrasing to  wrap everything up but my brain is only letting me use like 50-60% capacity. This? This is the best that we are getting currently. Let’s get to the photos already!

[thelostkilns-comic]

Prompt 13 - Goron City

Goron City at the foot of Death Mountain :D

Beginning - <Previous - Next>

[beels-burger-babe]

A Pain You'll Soon Regret - Pt. 3

Poly!MC Summary: MC and the demon lords get in a fight resulting in MC leaving. They planned on going to Purgatory Hall until things cool off, but they never quite make it there. TW: Heavy Angst, Violence, I don’t know what to tag this, but there is a pretty nasty verbal fight, Gore/Injury

***I legitimately teared up while writing this. This...This is heavy folks. Please remember to take care of yourselves before, during, and after reading this fic. Be safe lovelies ❤ -B ***

Part 1: HERE, Part 2: HERE, Part 4: HERE

The day had passed by agonizingly slow. The brothers really had no choice but to follow Solomon's orders, so they waited. With every second they could feel the invisible hands grasping their hearts squeeze tighter and tighter.

None of them had left the living room where they had gathered. They were all too frightened that an update on your condition would come in and they wouldn't be there to receive it. At least that's what was silently agreed upon. In reality, they were each taking comfort in being with the only people that could possibly understand what the other was going through.

No one knew what to do or say. There really was nothing to do or say. They had promised to always protect you, and because of a foolish argument, they had failed that in the worst way possible. Finally, after nearly twelve hours of radio silence, Asmodeus's D.D.D. dinged.

Asmodeus had never taken his phone out so quickly before. "Simeon and I are awake. MC is still unconscious. We will let you in and try to get you to see MC. Luke is still adamant about not letting you all in, so be ready for him," Asmo read out loud. Satan huffed as he started towards the door. "I don't care who Luke thinks he is, he's not stopping us from seeing our partner. Let's go."

*** As they arrived at the Hall, all of them were shocked to see a trail of now dried blood leading to the doorway. No matter how long it had been there, the scent still made it glaringly obvious that it was yours. Asmodeus gagged and turned his head away from the sight. "If it's already this bad out here, what are we going to be walking into?" He managed to choke out.

Lucifer swallowed down the lump in his throat and marched ahead. "It doesn't matter. Right now, MC needs us. We failed to be there for them earlier, I refuse to do so again." The eldest lead the charge to the front door of Purgatory Hall. He raised his fist to knock when several voices started shouting from the other side. "You never should've called them here!" "Luke, that's not for you to decide. They're-" "I don't care who they are!!!"

The door suddenly was thrown open just enough to reveal Luke.

You would think that the small angel was the Avatar of Wrath and not Satan. He glared at them with all the fury of the Celestial army. His face was red and his teeth were bared in a snarl. Despite all this anger, however, his eyes were still tinged red with tears.

"Leave now! You're not welcome here!" he barked before going to slam the door; Beel quickly caught it with his hand. "We're not leaving until we see MC." A growl that they had never thought they would hear from sweet little Luke, vibrated from deep within his chest before he began throwing himself at the door, clearly doing everything he could to try and close it.

"NO!!! You don't deserve to see them! You monsters are the reason they're like this! GET OUT! LEAVE!!" Simeon suddenly appeared from within the Hall and pulled Luke against his chest. "Luke, stop it! You're going to hurt yourself!" The young angel screamed and struggled as Simeon softly shushed him. It wasn't long before the screams turned into sobs and Luke broke down in Simeon's arms. The brothers didn't know how to react. Was the state you were in truly so bad to merit such an emotional response from Luke? Dread began to grow more and more within them as guilt kept them frozen in place.

The older angel sighed and gently began to rub Luke's back, before looking at the brothers with an emotionless expression. "As you can see, Luke is greatly concerned with MC's well-being, as we all are," he tightened his hold on Luke before he continued. "You may see them-" "WHA- Simeon, no!!!" Simeon gently shushed him and ran a hand through Luke's hair. "I know. I know you don't want them to, Luke, but they love MC just like you do. At the very least, we should let them see the results of their negligence, don't you think?" The lords winced at the jab and the harsh edges on Simeon's words. It was clear that no one in that house truly wanted them there. Luke pouted. "Fine. But I want to be in the room when they do." Simeon nodded and released the young angel. "Of course. I'm sure MC will be grateful for how attentive you've been to them when they wake up." He ruffled Luke's hair before glancing at the brothers once again. "Follow me." Their footsteps echoed through the quiet halls like a death knell. Each one rang louder and louder in the ears of the worried demons. They hadn't even seen you yet, and even so, each and every one of them were already beginning to wonder how they could ever let this happen to you. Images of you might look like flashed inside their heads. Perhaps you would resemble a mummy from the number of bandages required to heal you. Perhaps you would resemble a corpse, half-dead as you struggled to keep your heartbeat steady. No matter what they imagined, however, nothing prepared them for the real thing. Simeon swung open the doors to the lounge without any word or warning. The brothers' stumbled to a stop and collectively choked at the sight. You were laid out on the table in the middle of the room. Gauze covered a large section of the left side of your cheek and a strip around the circumference of your head. What little skin was visible was sunken in, making you appear dead. If it hadn't been for the shallow rising and falling of your chest, the brothers most certainly would have believed you were. Solomon had been in the process of checking the bandages on your shoulder when they entered, giving each of them a good eye full of the deep bite marks that covered your shoulder, collarbone and neck. There was so much red, that they could barely make out what was an injury and what wasn't. With a nauseous thought, they realized that small chunks of skin had even been torn from the flesh. They must have had to remove your clothes at some point during your healing process, for the only thing that covered you was a thin blanket that was trapped over your torso. All, except Satan, recognized it as one of the blankets from the Celestial realm. Though Satan had put two and two together when he spotted the small tag hanging from a corner with Luke's name written on it in golden cursive. The fact that you were barely covered meant that they could clearly see your bandaged thighs and the small, bandaged, stump of where your leg had been cut off from the knee down. The silence was cut off by a strangled sob from Asmodeus.

Solomon's head snapped as he only now noticed everyone. Rather than moving comfort the demon whom he's had a pact with for centuries, Solomon only narrowed his eyes into a glare and silently went back to work.

Asmodeus moved towards you, shakily reaching out a hand to touch. But he was stopped as Luke quickly slapped the hand away. The angel starred icily at him. "They're still recovering, you idiot. Touch them with your filthy infernal hands and you could infect and kill them."

Asmodeus snarled through his tears, and opened his mouth to shout at Luke, but was stopped when a hand sat on his shoulder. He glanced over to see Satan shaking his head as tears ran down his cheeks.

"He's right," Satan whispered, not bothering to hide the pain in his tone. "They're in an extremely fragile state. We should all, at the very least, wash our hands first." the others looked at him surprised. There wasn't a trace of anger in his voice. Only grief and regret. Satan looked over at Solomon, "Then I'm sure we'd all like to sit with them?"

The others held their breath as they waited for the reply, but Solomon simply remained silent and refused to acknowledge them. "Please," Beelzebub begged through a sob. Belphie held on tightly to his twin's hand. It may have looked as though he had down it to comfort Beel, but in reality, that hand was the only thing keeping him on his feet. Beel took in a stuttered breath before continuing, "W-We messed up last night, and we can't t-take that back, but I-I need to be with them right now. Please. I-I can't leave them again." Again there was only silence, with the exception of Luke grumbling under his breath from where he sat beside you. Mammon huffed and moved towards the basin of water that had been set up on a side table. "Well I'm done waiting for permission," he thoroughly washed his hands and moved towards MC when Simeon moved in front of him. Mammon growled and had to keep himself from bursting into his demon form. "What's the big deal?! You said we could see 'em!" "I said see. Not touch," the angel provided pointedly. Leviathan frowned and came to Mammon's side. "Luke is literally holding their hand right now! He cleaned his hands! There's no reason why Luke should be able to touch them, when we, their significant others can't!" Luke's nostrils flared as he went to lunge at the demon, but was stopped by Solomon putting a hand on his shoulder. The young angel huffed and settled for snarling at them. "I was the one that saved them! I was the one that washed the blood off of their skin after Simeon and Solomon both nearly collapsed from exhaustion after working for four hours straight on keeping them alive. I was there for them! And you weren't!" "We messed up!" Leviathan screamed back, his demon form bursting into existence as he cried. "We messed up and we want to make things better! We want to be there for them now! You can't just keep us from them!" "Leviathan," Lucifer placed a hand on his younger brother's shoulder. "Breathe. Please, I know you're upset. We all are. But we shouldn't forget what caused all of this in the first place." Leviathan ripped himself away from Lucifer's grasp and turned away from everyone. The occasional sob could be heard from him as his shoulders trembled. Lucifer sighed and looked pleadingly at Simeon. "Simeon, please. I know you owe us nothing and that MC may not even want to see them when they awake. But look at them. They're-" he cut himself off as his voice cracked and took a deep breath, "We're a mess. Please, just let us have a moment with them. That's all I ask." For the first time, Simeon's expression softened. He gathered up Luke and nodded at Solomon. The wizard pursed his lips in annoyance and glanced at the brothers once more before leaving the room. Simeon gave Lucifer a hard look as he held on tightly to Luke. "You will notify us immediately should even the slightest thing change from their current condition." Luke gaped at his fellow angel. "Simeon! No! We can't just leave them with those demons! Are you insane?" Simeon gave Luke a small smile. "They won't hurt them. I truly believe they wish to reconcile things and apologize for their words and actions. No matter how upset you may feel, this isn't our relationship Luke. It is not our place to meddle. MC will be safe with them." Luke grumbled under his breath and glowered at the brothers. "If so much as a hair is out of place when I get back, not even Micheal will be able to stop me from the vengeance I will inflict upon you." Mammon opened his mouth make a comeback, but was cut off by Lucifer. "Understood. Thank you for looking after our beloved in our absence." Luke scoffed and shook his head, before leaving with Simeon following behind him. The brothers stood in the room alone. They were with you, and yet they had never felt so far from you. ***To be continued in part 4! Still don't quite know how this will end, but it's bound to hurt. Sorry not sorry. In between uploading parts of this series, I will be doing other fics as well, just since this seems to be quite longer than I

had originally thought 😅 Thank you all for supporting this series! I hope you enjoyed it. Remember to drink water and take care of yourselves! I love you all!***

[hansoulo]

lead me to the promised land

part two of “Pillar of Salt”

Pairing: Boba Fett/Princess!Reader (she/her pronouns, no Y/N)

Warnings: NSFW - language, kissing, heavy petting, dom!Boba, gagging/choking, marks and bruises of the Spicy nature, hand and finger kink, allusions to canon-typical violence

Word Count: 2k

Gif Credit: (x) by @/tylowen

A/N: good day gremlins i am not very good at updating but i bring u some fun times as penance pls forgive me

༓ series masterlist ༓

7:00 PM: T-MINUS 14 HOURS UNTIL IMPERIAL CONVOY DEPARTURE

You were used to being moved around by other people, poked and prodded and lifted up so that stays could be tied or burdensome headpieces be attached to your head. Shuffled around to smile and be proper, sedated by heavy skirts and perfume. It was a fact of life.

Your dress was unlaced by the mechanical hands of an attendant, the change happening quickly and without fond regard from any party. It was early evening now and the sky peeled itself into a burnt orange. If you closed your eyes, you could almost taste citrus.

“Careful, please,” you whispered with a slight wince as the woman’s thin fingers brushed against your neck, both of your reflections cast warm in the mirror you now stood in front of. They were almost-bruises. Little ghost flower petals. Delicate and pretty, trailing behind your neck and not quite noticeable.

The woman only nodded. Servants weren’t ones to ask questions.

 ⫸ ———————————————————————————— ⫷

3:25 PM: T-MINUS 17 HOURS AND 35 MINUTES UNTIL IMPERIAL CONVOY DEPARTURE

The world seemed to tip on its axis, spinning too fast and not at all. It’d only been a minute, maybe two, but Boba’s words hung out to dry in the summer air and there was nothing else to do but wait for the actions to fulfill themselves. It shouldn’t have been as easy as it was to let him keep kissing you, but you only broke away to warn in a jolted, harsh whisper when his touch became too sharp. “Don’t leave any marks.”

“Are you commanding me?” Boba sneered, his voice slightly cruel as his gloved thumbs rubbed circles into your hip bones. You didn’t bother opening your eyes to look at him, letting his mouth skid over your jaw. Your answering yes or no wouldn’t make much of a difference. You had the feeling he would do what he liked either way. You had the feeling you’d let him.

It was strange, too fast. Too fast because really, what did you know about Boba? Were you even on first name terms? He’d never called you your name, and you’d never called him his. You’d only known of him for a few weeks. Had truly talked to him for even less than that. Maybe you should stay a capitalized Princess and he should be “Fett.” For the sake of clinicality.

Letting him lift you up and onto his lap was most definitely not clinical. “That depends,” you croaked out after a moment, finally looking at his face in your half-stupor. He’d sat you up to face him and you’d gone with, pliable and keening. Being champagne drunk felt like this; like his eyes coal-black and the way he seemed to take up everything in your mind until there was no room for reason.  You traced over the scar on his forehead with a light mouth, knees bowed to nestle closer and every muscle in your body flexing, tensed as if dripped over with sunshine. “Are you going to listen?”

The smile of a predator was the only answer he gave you.

⫸ ————————————⫷

3:30 PM: T-MINUS 17 HOURS AND 30 MINUTES UNTIL IMPERIAL CONVOY DEPARTURE

Men were vile. They had clammy hands that wandered to your thighs at banquet dinners, slimy mouths when they pressed their lips to your hand in greeting. They were all insufferable and you promised never to go near one as long as you could help it. But promises were a boring thing to keep sometimes. They were much more fun to break.

Boba spoke but it was swallowed in your interlocking mouths, hungry and escalating desperate. You were still sitting with—on?—him, too cowardly to do anything more than kiss and let yourself be felt by the strength of a man’s greed. He tasted like teeth and blood and pink flesh. That was the thing that no one had ever told you about kisses; about men like him. They tasted like broken skin. 

You were eating Boba whole. He was eating you piece by piece. 

You were just kissing. Had been just kissing for what seemed like ages but was actually only fifteen standard minutes. Fifteen standard minutes for your stays to be dragged loose, your lips to be bitten plush, and both sandals abandoned somewhere in the slow scramble. It wasn’t so much desperation as it was just a sheer curiosity goading your irrationality, but the end result was the same: a man squeezing the back of your neck, calling you lovely in the same breath he called you naive. 

“Take them off,” you almost demanded, pulling desperately at his gloves as the warm leather dragged against your fingernails. Learned manners were added in as an afterthought. “Please.”

His one-handed grip on your thigh tightened. It would bruise, likely. Raise questions, definitely. You would have to chalk it up to something else. A fall. A bad trip on a set of stairs. Anything besides what was happening now. The words rumbled against your chest and registered vaguely as a threat. “What was that?”

Huffy and impatient, you answered in a much more keening, undignified echo. “Please, pleasepleaseplease—”

Boba put his fingers in your mouth.

Boba put his fingers in your mouth.

Stuffed was the more apt word. You tried not to think about how he could only fit two of them inside without hurting you. It made you feel temperature-hot, physically burning until your cheeks and your insides twisted into smoldering ash because his fingers breached the alabaster edges of your teeth until they almost gagged you on your own tongue. Boba drew his hand back only when you sighed around it, sedated with fluttering eyes and no longer asking questions. His voice seemed to get deeper, raspier around the unplaceable accent from a place you’d never heard of and probably never would. “Good girl.”

The gloves stayed on. Why they did and why you couldn’t just get him to do what you wanted like everyone else you had no idea, but your frustration quickly ebbed into hazy, sparking pleasure. He called you good. You liked being good. 

Your hips stuttered when they caught on Boba’s trousers and suddenly you were giggling into the thick muscle of his shoulder, quiet and juvenile in your own disbelief. Everything about this was absurd and inappropriate, which formed the basis of your amusement. It was something to play with. Someone. Big and shiny in the most literal sense of the word. 

The hunter let out what could be construed as a laugh but sounded more akin to a growl and two large palms settled again on the soft rise of your hips. “Not here,” he repeated into your jaw, the words that were previously muffled so long ago now clearer. Not here. Which implied a theoretical somewhere other than here where you would possibly, hypothetically be doing more than- “We need to go.”

You should go. You should be pushing him off of you and running and screaming or something equally inflammatory because this was… because his...

“No,” you protested weakly with a slow shake of your head. Your hands curled around his pauldrons and rested there, limp and slightly shaking. “No, they- they didn’t actually need me for anything. My father just had to—oh Maker-” his cuisse plate pressed up hard between the warm softness of your thighs. “—had to send someone out to search for me—” you rutted against his leg once, twice before the arms around your waist tightened again and inhibited any further attempts at movement. You recovered from the loss of friction quickly, instead letting yourself sag into his solid chest as one set of fingertips dragged along your spine. “—’s just a poor look for him not to,” you finished flippantly, barely audible from where your face settled smushed against the creep of stubble on his cheek. “Bad press.”

“I’ve still got places to be, princess. Even if you don’t.”

“Oh I’m terribly sorry,” you tried replying sarcastically as his mouth flattened against the thin skin of your neck. His lips were soft, but they pressed against you like anything but. You tried rolling your hips again but were thwarted. “Am I in the way of a prior engagement?”

“Something like that.”

“Well then,” you flattened your palms against his chest plate and broke away from the seal of his touch. It wasn’t fair. You couldn’t breathe right and looked like you’d been dragged through a sarlacc pit, but he was just sitting there. Watching you. His eyes were hungry though. “Why let me keep you?”  The words were shot through with airy exhales as you were lifted up off the smooth stone. “I was under the impression that you hated me,” you continued into Boba’s neck with hands curled around the dark curls at its nape.

You did think that, before… this. Now you didn’t know what to believe, what his intentions were. Most likely they were the same as yours. Nothing good.

Whatever either of your motivations were, they would have to be paused now. For his mysterious, vague “engagement” and probably for the betterment of your health, because you were certain if you stayed here with him, shielded away from prying eyes and marching men, your heart would burst right out of your chest and through your ears. 

Your legs wobbled slightly when he set you standing on the ground, Boba’s helmet still laying on the fountain’s edge, and you handed it to him with a reverence that belayed the previous minute’s informality. When it was restored to his head you found yourself mourning the loss of his face. You’d been spoiled this last hour. You didn’t like not seeing it anymore.

“I don’t.” was his short reply. What a wordsmith. 

“Aren’t you still my escort?” you huffed, trying to catch your breath. Your chest rose and fell in panted inhales. Wiping haphazardly at your mouth, you leaned over the fountain’s reflection and attempted to compose yourself. The circlet usually pinned neatly to your head lay crooked and loose, glimmering its delicate metals in the daylight as you fussed with it this way and that. The pool of water currently acting as a mirror rippled too much to be of any real use. You pressed your palms to your flushed cheeks and mumbled. “My penitentiary guard, more like.”

Boba turned you around to face him with his hands on your shoulders and you imagined his eyes to still be edged in charcoal embers. The last smudge of lipstick on your chin was rubbed away by a broad thumb and you watched, curious to his intentions and surprised at his actions, when he reached up to right your crown.

“Let’s go, princess.”

You didn’t argue. You’d been sated from rebellion for the time being.

 ⫸ ————————————⫷

4:10 PM: T-MINUS 15 HOURS AND 50 MINUTES UNTIL IMPERIAL CONVOY DEPARTURE

The mercenary stood by the side entrance watching you. 

“You look a mess!” your mother admonished, harried with the exertion of the day’s events that you somehow managed not to be privy to. Apparently there was to be a dinner with the guests leaving the next morning, and apparently you specifically were asked to be present. Both would be dull pieces of information on the best of days but now, after the events that had just transpired, they were positively brain-numbing. 

The queen consort motioned for you to turn around and you complied with a slow spin as your being was examined for minor casualties. Once the woman assured herself of your being alive and unharmed, barely registering the tall figure that stood mere yards away, she allowed herself more frantic inquiries as she shuffled you down the hallway. “What were you doing out there?”

“Oh nothing,” you answered vaguely, eyes trailing as far back towards the doors as they could go without actually turning your head. There was a flash of green armor. “I just wanted to take a walk, is all.” You turned to her and smiled your best attempt at a brilliant, royal-white assurance. “Clear my head.”

[edupunkn00b]

Punks, Poets, Parents - Ch. 11: Home

Prev - Ch. 11: Home - Next - Master Post - [ A03 ]

Fic rated M, this chapter rated T - CW: Remus likes to swear (not around Jay) - WC: 4331

All the heroes in the bright burning truth Makes you feel real, real good in your bones When the hunger stops, and the truth is known My life, my light is coming home - Coming Home, Fleetwood Mac --- Tuesday, March 13, 1984 Instead of going home after school the next day, Logan returned to Remus’ apartment.

Remus had gotten home early from the Fists’ Tuesday rehearsal. Whether from unresolved anger at his brother or residual guilt from punching him after their last concert, Roman would barely look at Remus. After quickly working through the newer songs for their set planned for Thursday’s performance, Roman asked to wrap early, complaining of a headache.

Remus had been more than happy to oblige, uncertain how much longer he would be able to dodge Virgil and Hilly’s questions about Jay and Logan’s unexpected absence from their rehearsal.

Logan and Remus ate dinner together, then worked through the remaining tasks on the checklist Remus had created with Theresa the night before. Remus had personally delivered his application to BCW that afternoon. He’d been in their main building only once before. It felt smaller now, but no more welcoming than it had when he had been fourteen.

Patton had met him down in the lobby. Even after showing his identification and the completed foster application, the wizened security guard in the lobby had been reluctant to grant Remus access.

“Well, now, let’s just give Mr. Sanders a call up at his desk, all right?” The guard had eyed Remus carefully as he'd dialed, as though he half expected the man to make a mad dash for the elevator banks.

Remus had simply nodded and pictured Jay's face. “Yes, sir, of course.”

After about twenty minutes, Patton finally came downstairs. “Mr. Puños?” A small half-laugh escaped Patton’s lips, though his face twitched. “I’m surprised you didn’t just come up.”

Remus looked down at the scuffed floor of the lobby, hands in his pockets. His eyes shifted over to the security guard as he shrugged slightly.

“Ah, I see.”

“I have the application." Remus held out the precious packet of documents. "And you should expect to hear from Jay’s teacher, as well as the principal at the school. And there’s a letter from Jay’s doctor that he faxed over to me this morning, as well.”

Patton nodded, accepting the documents. He opened the envelope and scanned the first page before flipping through to read the letter from the doctor. Remus now knew this wasn’t the first time Patton had heard from Jay’s doctor. When he’d called the doctor’s office to request the recommendation letter, Dr. Hopkins had confessed to Remus that it had been his diagnosis of failure to thrive and the resulting report to BCW that had triggered their investigation in the first place.

Remus sucked in a breath, suddenly realizing he’d stopped breathing, waiting while Patton checked the application. “This looks complete, Mr. Puños.” He tucked everything back inside the large envelope. “Based on an additional recommendation from Foundling to find Jay a placement in a non-group home setting as quickly as possible, I will seek to accelerate your application and—”

“What did the group home say about Jay?” Remus stepped forward, feeling the blood drain from his face. The security guard started to step around his little podium and Patton waved him off. “Is he all right? Is he hurt?”

“He is safe, Mr. Puños, however I’m not at liberty to disclose anything else at this time.” Patton stepped closer to Remus and lightly patted his upper arm. “I will call you tomorrow with an update on your application, all right?” Remus nodded, working to slow his breathing. “In the meantime, just…” Patton sighed. “Just sit tight.”

Logan’s tasks that day had gone similarly. After showing Jay’s latest test scores to Principal Wilks, he’d been able to convince the man to make a formal recommendation to BCW to approve Remus’ application as an emergency foster placement.

Later that afternoon, Logan had spent the better part of an hour on the phone, speaking first with the resident counselor and then the Vice Director of the preschool group at Foundling, describing the depth of Jay’s progress while in Remus’ care.

With Remus’ application successfully submitted, including the recommendations from Logan, Principal Wilks, and Jay’s doctor, all that was left to do was wait.

Watching Remus’ knee bouncing as he fought to sit still, Logan moved to stand behind him, letting his hands rest gently on his shoulders. Remus tilted his head back against Logan’s stomach, eyes closed, as he reached up to hold his hands. Logan leaned closer, kissing his cheek. “Would you perhaps be more comfortable sitting together on the couch?” Remus nodded and Logan watched as his mustache twitched and his Adam’s apple bobbed. He moved carefully, like a coiled spring.

In the quiet living room, they sat down together and a thick silence fell between them.

Remus sat on the edge of the couch seat, knee still bouncing, as he cracked his knuckles. Logan sat next to him for a few moments, battered by the waves of worry pouring off of him. Finally, Logan scootched back into the corner of the couch, then reached for Remus’s shoulders, pulling him closer and laying him down, setting his head in his lap.

Remus let out a short sigh, turning to rest his cheek against Logan’s thigh and tucking his legs up on the couch. He traced little circles on Logan’s knee, opening and closing his mouth several times before finally voicing what had hung between them all evening.

“So how was Jay in class today?” Remus’ voice shook and his breaths were stuttered. “How did he seem to you?”

Logan pursed his lips, stroking Remus’ hair. “He seemed cared for. He was clean, perhaps… a little more tired than I’ve seen him lately, but…” Remus pressed his lips together, rhythmically tightening then loosening his grip on Logan’s knee. “When he came into the classroom in the morning, he had the little apple they give the students with school breakfasts, so I believe he ate breakfast at school, as well.” Logan rubbed Remus’ shoulder with his other hand.

“But how did he seem?”

Logan paused, biting at his lip. “Well…” He took a deep breath and Remus turned in his lap to face him. Logan looked down at Remus, choosing his words carefully.

“Jay wouldn’t eat lunch in the cafeteria. When I brought down the class, he rushed ahead and got his tray, and then stuck close to me until it was time for me to go back to the classroom while the students ate.” Logan omitted the sharp words he’d exchanged with the lunchroom supervisor when the man had tried to force Jay to remain in the cafeteria, or the way Jay had watched Logan throughout the day, never getting more than a few feet away from him at any moment.

“I sat with Jay in the classroom while he finished his lunch and… he stayed inside for recess, coloring.”

Logan swallowed hard against the lump in his throat when he remembered the drawing Jay had created, his ordinarily happy little figures hanging from a giant, toothy maw.

“Then, after school, someone from Foundling came to pick him up.” Logan gently drew his hand through Remus’ hair, rubbing at his scalp with the pads of his fingers. Pressing a smile onto his face, Logan pushed down his memory of the way Jay had cried and clung to his leg after school when he saw, not Remus as the boy must have been silently hoping, but instead the counselor from Foundling who'd come to pick him up.

“Is he…” Remus’ jaw trembled and he blew out a sharp breath, “Is he with the elementary aged kids or…?”

Logan smiled sadly, “He’s in the preschool group. Only the director and the counselor know his real age.”

Remus nodded, lips pressed tightly together.

They sat together quietly for a long time. Logan continued to stroke Remus’ hair, gently wiping away the few tears that escaped down his cheeks. Remus’ shoulders started to shake. Finally, he whispered to Logan, “Will you hold me?”

Nodding, Logan shifted his body as Remus sat up, then pulled him back down against his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around his body. Logan pressed gentle kisses into Remus’ hair, rocking him as he cried.

A child's drawing in crayon of a red monster face with sharp teeth and big eyes. There are three figures in the monster's mouth. The three figures are the same as the ones in Jay's earlier drawing.

---

The following evening, Remus unlocked the front door, both hands carrying several Key Food grocery bags. He held the door open behind him, letting in a similarly laden Logan. “Thank you. You… you really didn’t have to do this.”

Patton had called Remus earlier that afternoon. “Mr. Puños?” Gripping the phone with shaking hands, Remus had held his breath, heart pounding and it had taken every stitch of his self-control to try not to over-interpret anything from Patton’s generally positive tone of voice. “Mr. Puños, do you plan to be home this evening?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll be here, unless you need me somewhere else…” Remus crushed his eyes shut, forcing himself to inhale slowly. “For whatever it is, just give me a time and place and I will be there, Mr. Sanders.”

“A judge just approved your application, Mr. Puños. The group home’s efforts to move it forward…” Remus leaned back against the wall, tears of relief falling down his face. He sucked in a breath, trying to listen to the rest of Patton’s explanation. “…just some final documentation. I can bring Jay to your apartment by around seven tonight. I will need you to sign some papers, but—”

“I’ll be here. I’ll be here,” Remus repeated breathlessly. “Thank you… Oh my god, thank you. Thank you, Mr. Sanders.”

“Thank you, Mr. Puños, for your cooperation. See you at seven.”

As soon as Patton ended the call, Remus tried Logan’s number at home. He hung up when he got the machine. Remus checked the time on the coffee maker and he chewed at his lower lip. 4:01. Logan was probably already on his way. Okay. Okay. Jay will be here in three hours. A sob forced its way past his lips and he slapped his hand over his mouth. But will he really? What if the judge reads my foster care records and changes his mind? When he'd first started at the Voice, Theresa had helped him get a copy of his records and Remus has read his old group home’s evaluation of him. Runaway. Corrupting influence. Addict. Deviant.

Moral degenerate.

Remus shook his head and sucked in a breath, counting in for four, holding for four, then exhaling for four. No, Mr. Sanders wouldn’t have called if there was any doubt.

The sudden ring of the doorbell finally ripped Remus from his spiral. He checked the clock again. 4:19.

Racing to the door, Remus peeked through the peephole and grinned, crying out before he’d even finished opening the door. “Logan, Logan, your brother called… he’s bringing Jay tonight!”

Logan’s jaw dropped, an open-mouthed smile spreading across his face. “He called you?” Remus’ voice failed and he’d just nodded, pulling Logan inside the apartment and into his arms, letting the door close behind them. “Oh, Love…” Logan whispered, squeezing him tight and Remus melted into his embrace for a few moments.

He suddenly lifted his head. “I should get some stuff at Key Food… I don’t know if he’ll have had dinner yet… I should’ve asked…” Remus broke away and started putting on his boots. “We’re out of tater tots and I wanna get some chocolate milk and Jay just tried kiwis for the first time and liked them and—”

Grinning broadly, Logan had opened the door, then had followed Remus back into the hall. “It sounds as though you could use a hand, then.” An excited laugh had slipped through Remus’ lips as he’d locked the door and given Logan’s hand a quick squeeze.

“Of course I didn’t have to. I wanted to.” Logan smiled as he put down his bags then took Remus’, placing them on the floor near the kitchen. Remus began to protest, but Logan reached up, cradling his face with both hands. “It was cold out on the way back. The groceries can safely sit for a moment.” Logan pressed a long kiss against his mouth, feeling a small laugh bubbling in his chest from the tickle of Remus’ mustache against his upper lip.

“Remus, I am happy to help you in any way I can.” Logan leaned forward, hands reaching back to thread behind Remus’ neck, tugging him down for a deeper kiss. He smiled, murmuring against his lips, “And not just because I can do this now.”

When they came up for air, Remus tilted his head forward and pressed his forehead against Logan’s. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Humming as he kissed Remus one more time, Logan took his hand and turned toward the mass of bags they’d left near the kitchen. “I will help you get these put away and then head out.” Heaving up the bags containing milk and cheese, Logan brought them to the tiny counter next to the refrigerator, plucking out cold items first. “It would be good to give the two of you time together.”

Remus’ face crumpled for a moment but then smoothed. “Are you sure?”

Nodding firmly, Logan set aside a small stack of tuna cans, uncovering a box of frozen spinach.

“And you’re not just avoiding your brother?” Remus asked quietly, setting down more bags on the kitchen table.

Chuckling, Logan shook his head. “No, we have a planned discussion tonight.”

“You scheduled an argument?”

“‘Argument’ is a strong word, but….” Logan shrugged, joining Remus to empty the bags covering the table. “It would not be entirely inaccurate.”

When the last of the groceries were neatly put away, Remus convinced Logan to stay for just another few minutes while he started dinner. “How can I help?” Logan asked.

Remus looked up as he finished drying his freshly washed hands. Grinning, he took each of Logan’s hands, gently moving the man to stand behind him. Remus then wrapped Logan’s arms around his own waist. Logan chuckled, holding him from behind as Remus sprinkled pepper and salt on the chicken pieces he was preparing to put in the oven. “Not that I mind, but will this really help you prepare dinner?”

Closing his eyes briefly and nodding as he let out a soft sigh, Remus hummed. “Mm-hm… You have no idea how much.”

After a few minutes, Remus patted Logan’s arm and stepped back to add the tray of chicken to the oven. He then turned in Logan’s arms, facing him. “Thank you for everything tonight, and… and for the last few days. I don’t think I could’ve managed without you—” Remus’ voice cracked and he tilted his head forward, leaning against Logan’s.

Logan carded his fingers through Remus’ hair. “You are stronger than you realize. I know you would have managed.” Smiling, Logan met his eyes. “But I’m glad you didn’t have to,” he whispered before kissing him softly.

Glancing at the clock, Logan swore under his breath. “I do not wish to leave but…” Remus nodded, closing his eyes as Logan pressed one last kiss against his mouth.

Remus walked Logan to the door, feeling a dull ache in his chest at the realization that they would spend the night apart. “Will you call tonight? After you talk with your brother?”

“You can count on it, Love.”

---

Remus checked the time on the coffee maker for the seventh time in the past five minutes. 6:53. He took a deep breath and looked around the kitchen, checking for the fuck-knew how many time that everything was ready. The table was set. Dinner was cooked and covered in foil in the oven on low to stay warm. He’d already re-organized the fruit in the fruit bowl three different times, first sorting by color, then arranging the pieces in a kaleidoscope of different colors, then going back to sorting by color and type. Remus had displayed and taken down Jay’s latest drawing at least four separate times before finally leaving it up, carefully setting it just above Jay’s eye level so he’d be sure to notice that Remus had found it.

Making himself wait until he’d counted to ten, he checked the clock again. 6:54.

Fuck. Bending down and crouching on the floor, he gripped his hair, tugging just hard enough to make himself wince. Remus was convinced the waiting was actually going to kill him when suddenly there were four sharp knocks at the door. He jumped to his feet and raced to the door, taking a microsecond to peer through the peephole before flinging it open.

“Jay!” Remus’ voice came out as a sob and he dropped to his knees, arms opening just in time for the boy to throw himself at his chest. Jay wrapped his little arms around his neck, burying his face against his shoulder. Soon Remus’ shoulder was wet from the little boy’s tears, and he realized his own crying was similarly seeping into the corduroy of Jay’s jacket. “I missed you, Jay.” He whispered into his hair. “So, so much, Buddy.”

His little arms just tightened as Remus rocked him back and forth, one arm wrapped around his back, the other gently cradling the back of his head, ruffling his hair. After a few minutes, Remus stood, still holding him close. He wasn’t sure what it would take to get the boy to let go of him, but he was in no rush to even try.

Finally, Remus looked up at Patton who’d been standing silently in the hall, a large file tucked under one arm, Jay’s backpack slung over his other shoulder. Remus was surprised to see tears in the social worker’s eyes. “Will you come in, Mr. Sanders?”

Nodding and pulling a tissue from his pocket, Patton wiped his eyes and stepped inside, murmuring in a rough voice, “Thank you, Mr. Puños.”

They walked into the kitchen, Jay peeking at Patton over Remus’ shoulder, fingers tightly gripping the back of Remus’ shirt. The boy stiffened as Remus shifted him to one arm. “It’s okay, Jay, it’s okay. Just needed my arm to open the oven.” He smiled, “Can you smell what’s for dinner?”

Jay’s stomach rumbled in response as he nodded.

Remus frowned briefly, then pushed a little smile on his face. “Let me get your plate, okay?” He plucked the plate from Jay’s usual spot and set it on the counter next to the stove, piling on tater tots, chicken, and green beans. When Jay’s stomach audibly grumbled one again, Remus caught Patton’s eye, glaring sharply. He softened his gaze when he turned to ask Jay, “I guess you haven’t eaten much today, huh?”

Jay looked away and tucked his head against Remus’ neck in response.

“The counselor told me that Jay didn’t eat much at dinner last night and…” Patton shifted the folder from one arm to the other, looking down at the floor. “And he refused to come down at dinnertime tonight.”

Remus clenched his jaw as he stared at Patton, breathing hard through his nose. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Later. He relaxed his jaw and smiled at Jay, “It’s a good thing we’ve got plenty here, then, yeah?”

Meeting his eyes, Jay’s mouth upturned slightly as he nodded.

Kissing his forehead, Remus’ voice cracked as he murmured, “Yeah.”

He set Jay’s plate down on the table and poured him a large glass of chocolate milk. “Do you wanna sit down to eat?” Jay looked at his chair, then at Patton and shook his head, grip tightening on Remus’ shirt. “Do you want me to sit with you?” He nodded quickly, eyes still fixed on Patton.

“Okay, no problem. I need to sign some papers for Mr. Sanders”—Remus glanced over at Patton—”so how about we all sit down and you can eat while I sign, okay?”

Patton used the chair furthest from Jay while Remus got him situated in his lap so he could reach the plate and his milk. Jay continued to cling to Remus, his tiny hand darting out quickly to snatch a few tater tots from his plate.

“There aren’t many forms I need Mr. Puños to sign, Jay.” Patton said quietly. “And then I’ll go.” Jay frowned at Patton, but nodded as he took another bite of his food. Patton opened his folder, taking out a small stack of carbon-copy forms. “Just at the bottom of each of these, please, Mr. Puños.”

Remus read quickly as he signed. Jay gradually relaxed in his arms enough to turn and face the table completely, drinking his milk and having two pieces chicken. Remus had gotten through most of the papers by the time Jay wiped his mouth with his napkin and again settled against his chest, watching Patton.

After he’d signed the last form, Patton tucked everything back into the large folder and stood. He tilted his chin toward Jay’s slowly dipping head as he lolled drowsily against Remus’ shoulder. “I can let myself out, Mr. Puños,” he said quietly.

Remus smiled as he looked down at Jay’s sleepy little face. “Thanks.”

Patton was turning to leave when he spotted Jay’s new drawing on the refrigerator. He looked at it closely, head tilted.

“Did Jay draw this?,” he asked Remus, eyes fixed on the picture.

Jay was drifting off to sleep in his arms. Remus nodded, his voice just barely above a whisper. “Jay really likes to draw.”

Patton stared at the picture, a shaky smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He looked at Jay, nearly asleep, head resting against Remus’ chest, fingers tangled in his shirt. He nodded as he looked back at the drawing. Patton chuckled. “I recognize the tie.”

---

The following Tuesday, Remus, Logan, and Jay walked together into CBGBs for The Fists’ rehearsal.

“Hey!” Hilly looked up from where he sat surrounded by booking calendars and flyers and called out when he saw the trio. “We missed you two last week! Good to see you!”

Logan nodded and smiled while Jay gave Hilly a little wave as they made their way over to Jay’s usual table. Remus swallowed hard against the growing lump in his throat as he recalled just how empty their little corner had looked last week. He looked up as Virgil and Roman approached.

Giving a little high five to Jay, Virgil looked at Logan, “So where were you two last week?”

Logan peered at Remus, frowning. He raised an eyebrow, the question clear. ‘You didn’t tell them what happened?’

Virgil looked carefully between the two, narrowing his eyes. Remus gave all of his attention to his bag, sifting through it and pulling out Jay’s headphones, a large box of crayons, and a stack of construction paper.

Resolve withering under Virgil’s unrelenting glare, Remus stalled, muttering a quick, “Well…” while rubbing at the back of his neck. He exchanged a look with Logan, who simply smiled and kissed his cheek before sitting down with Jay and helping him adjust the headphones.

Logan studiously avoided the pair’s eyes as Virgil and Roman grinned at each other. He glanced at Remus, his smile quickly growing into an amused smirk. “Jay and I are fine here, please do not let us impede on your limited rehearsal time.” Remus stood awkwardly for a moment until Logan winked at him before giving his attention back to Jay.

Remus cringed at Virgil and Roman’s expectant expressions. “Can we rehearse first and then get into it?”

Roman started to shake his head, but before he could speak, Virgil rubbed his arm and nodded at Remus. “Sure, man. Let’s go.”

After a several songs, they took a short break, gathered around Virgil’s drum set as he made a few adjustments.

Remus stood with his hands in his pockets, glancing up from time to time at Logan and Jay as they sat at their table. “So, last week, a social worker”—he shook his head, waving away the rest of that part of the story—”took Jay for a couple of days and… and put him in a group home while they processed my paperwork to be an official emergency foster placement.” Remus’ voice cracked and he drained the last of his water.

Virgil’s eyes ballooned. “What!? That’s why they weren’t here last week?”

Remus nodded, an echo of last week’s ache blooming again under his breastbone.

Virgil lightly shoved his shoulder. “What the fuck, man?” He stared at Remus, shaking his head. “Why didn’t you tell us? We coulda, I dunno, helped or something, man….”

Remus shrugged, glancing briefly at Roman then looking away, “It just didn’t seem like the time to—”

Shoulders slumped, Roman mumbled, “You mean you didn’t feel like baring your soul to the guy who’d just punched you?”

“Well…” Remus muttered, “Things were getting kinda strained between us, you know?”

Virgil met Roman’s eyes and stepped closer to rub his back. “Yeah. Yeah, I know they have.” Roman said quietly. Remus looked closely at his brother, suddenly noticing how his hands shook and that he had dark shadows peeking through the cover-up under his eyes.

Virgil whispered something in Roman’s ear, then jumped down from the stage and headed to the bar with Roman’s empty water glass.

“Yeah, I’ve been working on not making it worse.”

“You wanna talk about it?” Remus put his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, but, maybe later? I need to… Later. I promise.” Roman looked down. “I’m… I’m sorry I swung at you, Re. Being drunk is no excuse, and I…”

“You looked like Dad.” Even as the whispered words spilled out of his mouth, Remus fought and failed to pull them back. Instead, they hung in the air between the brothers, almost palpable.

Finally, Roman muttered, “Yeah, I know. Virgil said the same thing when we got home.” He shifted his arms, first putting his hands on his hips, then crossing them, before finally squeezing his hands into the pockets of his tight leather pants. “I’m really glad you got Jay back. I…” Roman breathed hard through his nose, looking away.

Remus gently bumped their shoulders together, shaking his head. “Later, Ro Bro, it’s okay.”

“Can I… hug you at least? I mean, I—”

Remus laughed, plowing into his brother, squeezing him in a bear hug. “No.”

“Oh, okay, as long as that’s clear,” Roman chuckled, squeezing him back.

Virgil appeared with two glasses of ice water, handing them to the brothers. “So… when were you planning on telling us you and Teach were finally ‘you and Teach ?’”

Remus shook his head, a light blush dusting his cheeks, “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Oh. Oh, okay. I’ll just go ask him, then. Hey, Lo—” Roman began to walk to the edge of the stage.

Yanking on the back of his collar, a broad smile softening his words, “Don’t you fucking dare.” Roman laughed and remained on stage. “Don’t we have another song to rehearse?”

---

taglist: @mavenmush @melaniidarling @braingoburr @lunatatic @demon9980 @crossiantgay @psychedelicships @justmeandmygayships @ts-creator-boost @bluerosesbleedred

[ahtsumu]

-ˏˋ hq masterlist ˊˎ-

last updated: 21 of march, 2021

R E Q U E S T S

are CLOSED and taken as suggestions!

K E Y

[ hcs ] headcanons ; [ im ] imagine ; [ sr ] series ; [ ch ] chaptered ; [ msc ] miscellaneous ; 

[ r ] requested ; [ ts ] timestamp

☂ angst ; ♡ fluff

you can also find me as vogonpoetry on ao3!

M I S C.  D R A B B L E S  /  H C S

#flo goes!

vibes

synopsis: a song and a moment between just you and your man.

K A R A S U N O

–– daichi sawamura

[ hcs ] his type

–– kageyama tobio

[ ts ] 7:32 AM ♡

N E K O M A

–– kuroo tetsurou

[ hcs ] ceo!kuroo x personal assistant!reader ♡

[ ts ] 11:59 PM ♡

[ sr-hcs ] idiosyncrasies ; haikyuu!! college!au hcs

[ im ] the mystery of love ♡

synopsis: kuroo tetsurou does not believe in soulmates. he believes in science, himself, and sometimes other people. but that doesn’t mean he can’t believe in love.

[ hcs ] his type

A O B A  J O H S A I

–– oikawa tooru

[ im ] 目送 ☂♡

synopsis: you spend a lifetime watching him go, sometimes with your stomach tied in knots, sometimes with tears in your eyes, but always with love.

[ r-hcs ] slow dancing ♡

[ r-hcs ] childhood crush!reader being asked out by another ☂

[ ts ] 2:03 PM ♡

[ ch ] thaw ☂♡

synopsis: one-time new york times bestselling author you (24) are suffering from a debilitating case of writer’s block. two-time olympic figure skating gold medallist oikawa tooru (26) is secretly falling out of love with the sport and apart on the inside as he trains for the ISU grand prix. paths cross, personalities clash, things go wrong. and most importantly, love blossoms. (in more ways than one.)

[ hcs ] his type

[ s-ts ] 5:3666 AM ♡

[ s-ts ] 4:44 PM ♡

–– iwaizumi hajime

[ r-hcs ] childhood crush!reader being asked out by another ☂

–– hanamaki takahiro

[ hcs ] his type

S H I R A T O R I Z A W A

–– tendou satori

[ hcs ] as your boyfriend ♡

[ r-im ] the grey area ☂♡

synopsis: tendou thinks you need to live a little. you think he’s the devil incarnate.

[ ts ] 10:33 AM ♡

–– ushijima wakatoshi

[ ts ] 11:03 PM ♡

[ im ] again and again and again ☂♡

synopsis: every august 13th, a void opens in your chest. the universe is one sick bastard.

[ ts ] 10:02 PM ♡

I N A R I Z A K I

–– miya atsumu

[ r-hcs ] slow dancing ♡

[ im ] atsumu: 1, kevin: 0 ♡

synopsis: miya atsumu realises that he’s tired of keeping your relationship “low-key” with a little help from an overzealous fanboy.

[ im ] miss me? ☂♡

synopsis: with you gone, maybe he does need memories.

[ hcs ] college!au hc-dump ♡

[ hcs ] hot things miya atsumu does

[ sr-hcs ] idiosyncrasies ; haikyuu!! college!au hcs  

[ im ] boxer!miya atsumu ♡

[ im ] even if happy is him (i’m happy for you) ☂

synopsis: you break miya atsumu’s heart and get yourself engaged to oikawa tooru.

[ hcs ] his type

[ hcs ] what he smells like

[ im ] cupid’s chokehold ♡

–– miya osamu

[ im ] long shots ♡

synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.

[ hcs ] his type

[ im ] vignettes from a simple and good life ♡

synopsis: a year in review.

–– suna rintarou

[ hcs ] hot things suna rintarou does

–– kita shinsuke

[ hcs ] his type

F U K U R O D A N I

–– akaashi keiji  

[ r-hcs ] slow dancing ♡

[ r-hcs ] childhood crush!reader being asked out by another ☂

[ ts ] 9:05 AM ♡

O T H E R

–– sakusa kiyoomi

[ ts ] 12:10 AM ♡

[ hcs ] his type

[ im ] pictures of you ♡

–– daishou suguru

[ r-hcs ] his type

M U L T I

[ msc ] what your haikyuu!! fave says about you

[ hcs ] how the haikyuu boys fall in love ♡

[ hcs ] the haikyuu boys as asian fuckboys

[ hcs ] the haikyuu boys as “kissing my best friend” tiktoks ♡

[ hcs ] clothes shopping with the haikyuu boys ♡

[ hcs ] insecurities

[ hcs ] the voicemail he leaves you after you break up with him

[ hcs ] one thing you’re getting from your haikyuu man for christmas pt. 1

[ hcs ] one thing you’re getting from your haikyuu man for christmas pt. 2

[ msc ] what type bitch you are based on your haikyuu man

[ r-hcs ] most likely to braid his gf’s hair successfully 

E V E N T S

c0wisland’s first milestone event

cOuNtRy BoY i LoVe YoUuU (collab)

[regenderate-fic]

All the Quiet Nights You Bear: Chapter 14

Fandom: Doctor Who Rating: General Ship: Thirteenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan, Yasmin Khan/Rose Tyler, Thirteenth Doctor/Rose Tyler/Yasmin Khan, Past Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Characters: Thirteenth Doctor, Yasmin Khan, Rose Tyler, Najia Khan, Hakim Khan, Sonya Khan Series: And We’re Not Out of the Tunnel Word Count (Chapter): 1,536 Other Tags: Fluff and Angst, Angst, Emotional, Disabled Character, Chronic Illness, Bad Wolf Rose, COVID-19, Self-Quarantine, Domestic, Autistic Characters, Polyamory, OT3, Slow Burn, Disability Read on AO3 / Read in order

Summary: Rose Tyler-Noble jumps out of her parallel universe, leaving her husband and family behind in the hopes that being back in the right universe will improve her well-being.

Yasmin Khan is out for lunch with the Doctor when she sees a blonde woman sitting on the sidewalk, crying.

The Doctor, Yaz, and Rose travel back to Sheffield to see Yaz’s family, but they have to leave the TARDIS so it can reset, and when they come back, it’s gone. The police have confiscated it, and they want to see proof of ownership before they give it back. And the Doctor left her psychic paper on board. And they’ve landed in March of 2020, just before everything shuts down.

Stranded in Sheffield, they have no choice but to get a flat and quarantine together. Which, when you have three emotionally volatile people who care for each other more than they’re willing to admit, can be complicated.

(Sequel to And Still I Will Live Here, but hopefully readable out of context. Updating on Saturdays and Wednesdays.)

NOTES: my chapters get shorter and shorter as the fic goes on but they also get more emotionally charged so. it's a win <3 that's also why i switched to biweekly updates once i finished the body of the fic. anyway enjoy

Yaz feels herself falling apart. She’d been doing just fine, even adjusting to being back in the 21st century, until suddenly one piece of information hit her and she began to unravel. When she was a kid, she used to make little houses out of twigs in the park, stacking them up until she couldn't keep them stable anymore: she'd gotten good at it, too, creating towers as high as her knees, but even her strongest tower would fall over in a second if she pushed one of the twigs the wrong way. That's how she feels now. She's been a tower of sticks for the last few years, stable, sturdy, doing what had to be done. But now, one of the sticks at her foundation has been pushed aside, and the rest of her is tumbling to the ground.

She cares for the Doctor. Her love for the Doctor runs deep, and has run deep for years. But she hasn't been able to admit it. She hasn't been able to look at it. And now she's looked, she's forced to confront the fact that she really, truly doesn't believe that the Doctor could ever love her back.

And to make it all worse, it's happening in front of Rose, who has her own problems and her own feelings for the Doctor and who definitely does not need Yaz holding on to her and sobbing like a little kid.

“I'm sorry,” Yaz tries to say, her words garbled by her tears.

“'S all right,” Rose replies. “Not like I had any other plans for tonight.”

Yaz manages a laugh.

“It's just—“ She sits up a little, trying to force her feelings into words. “She's so— she's so vast. There's so much of her that I don't understand. And so much that she doesn't want to let me understand. How can I know I love her, when I barely know her?”

It takes Rose a moment to respond. Finally, she says, her arm still around Yaz's waist, “You'll never know everything. But the way the two of you interact— I think you know what matters.” She bumps against Yaz. “I mean, she taught you how to fly the TARDIS. I never knew half of what she taught you.”

Yaz can't meet Rose's eyes. “It's just because she doesn't want me to go crazy trying to figure it out on my own again.”

Rose laughs. “And why would she care so much about that, if she didn't care about you?” She pauses. “Anyway, the Doctor's TARDIS— it's like a part of her. She wouldn't teach you to fly it if it were just about that.” She shrugs, her shoulder moving against Yaz’s. “Besides, the way you talk to each other— have you ever noticed, you can have a whole conversation without saying a word? I can never understand what this Doctor's thinking, but you... I think you know her better than you think.”

“Maybe.” Yaz thinks it through. “She never tells me anything, is the thing. I know some of what she's thinking. But there's too much I don't know. Too much she won't tell me.”

“Yeah.” There's a long silence, and when Yaz looks over, Rose is staring off into space. “It's hard, loving someone like the Doctor.”

And then a new question rises to Yaz's mind. “Aren't you jealous?” she asks.

Rose looks at her, raising an eyebrow. “Are you?”

Yaz frowns. She sort of expects herself to be, but she isn't. 

Rose shrugs again. “The Doctor's old. He loved people before he met me. She's loved people since. It's not a surprise she's picked up someone new, and it's not a surprise it's someone like you.”

“What do you mean?” There's so much about Rose that Yaz doesn't quite get yet. It's something about her expression: she somehow manages to keep her face totally blank.

“I don't know, you've just— you've got that spark,” Rose says vaguely. “The Doctor likes adventurers.” She bumps Yaz's shoulder again. “She won't admit it, but she likes when people argue with her. She likes to be challenged. After all, thousands of years of life, you're going to want people who give you new perspective, aren't you?”

“Suppose so.” Yaz has never really thought of herself as someone who gives new perspective. Sure, she challenges the Doctor sometimes, but that's just because the Doctor is so stubborn and headstrong that someone has to do it.

“Anyway,” Rose adds, still staring straight out in front of her, “I don't know how I feel about the Doctor anymore. I know how I felt about him. I know I love the version of him I married. But this Doctor— it's like I've said. I can't get through to her. Right now, I just miss my husband.”

“Yeah.” Yaz doesn't ask any more questions. “I'm sorry.”

Rose takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Yeah, well. It's not how I hoped our life together would go.”

Her head falls onto Yaz's shoulder, and Yaz stays still, trying to sort through everything she's feeling. It's such a whirlpool of emotion, and Yaz has never been all that great with emotions: she's always been the sort of person to push them down, run away, do anything she can to escape. But now she's stuck here, in this flat, with these people, one of whom she's been completely and secretly in love with for the last seven years.

Seven years.

It's mind-boggling, actually, that she could have the same feelings for one person for seven years. That's more than a quarter of her life. And especially considering she spent three and a half years away from the Doctor, and her feelings didn't fade at all— Yaz is in much, much deeper than she realized. Or— no. She's in much, much deeper than she’s ever let herself realize.

And now here she is, sharing a flat with the Doctor and the Doctor's ex, although thinking of Rose as “the Doctor's ex” feels like a horrible simplification. Rose's relationship with the Doctor is complicated, more complicated than any regular human relationship could be.

Then again, that also applies to Yaz, in a way. It's not the relationship that's complicated: it's the Doctor.

Maybe the complexity is worth it.

Yaz takes a deep breath. It's time for a distraction.

“D'you want to watch TV with me?” she asks Rose. “Pretty sure there's at least a series' worth of Great British Bake-Off I've missed.”

“Sure,” Rose says, lifting her head, wiping her eyes. “Erm, what's Great British Bake-Off?”

Yaz grins, reaching for her laptop. “I forgot. You've missed ten years of culture. We're going to have to catch you up.”

Rose smiles back.

“I won't argue.”

Yaz repositions herself so that she's sitting against the head of the bed, pressed against the wall. She reaches behind her and fluffs up her pillows, creating a back rest. Rose joins her, crowding in to the small space. Yaz spares a passing thought for how odd it is that she feels so comfortable so close to Rose so soon: she can count the number of people she'd normally let get this close to her on one hand. But it's been an emotional couple of days, and Yaz and Rose have shared a lot. It's only natural that Yaz would get comfortable with her fast.

She rests the laptop on her legs, navigating to the first series whose bakers look totally unfamiliar. It looks to be from 2018— the year after Yaz started traveling with the Doctor.

“So, what is this?” Rose asks, peering at the screen.

“It's a baking show,” Yaz explains. “They get all these home bakers in a tent, and every week they do challenges to see who's the best one. And they've got these hosts— although they've got new ones now, I think.” She shrugs. “It's been a good few years since I've had access to the Internet. My memory's kind of fuzzy. But it's good for a distraction.”

“Oh, God, I need a distraction, don't I?”

Yaz laughs. “Exactly.” She hits play.

Halfway into the second episode, Rose's head falls on Yaz's shoulder, and Yaz looks down to see that Rose is fast asleep. For half a second, she considers trying to wake her up, or maybe trying to carry her over to the other bed, but— well, Yaz isn't exactly uncomfortable, and she can't bring herself to disturb Rose's peace. So she stays still and silent, watching the show.

She must have fallen asleep, because suddenly her computer screen is blank, and it's completely dark outside, the glow of a streetlight casting a pale glow on Rose's empty bed. Yaz is slumped into the corner, and Rose is slumped on top of her, her head having drifted to rest on Yaz's chest. Yaz doesn't dare disturb her.

Although— very carefully, Yaz lifts the laptop and passes it over Rose's body to leave it on the nightstand. Bit by bit, she works the covers out from underneath them both, and she covers their bodies with the blanket. She eases herself into a lying down position, taking Rose with her as best she can.

And then she drifts off to sleep once more.

[amelialincoln]

Could you please do a cute family trip to the beach like a babymoon but with scout or something like that?

Hotel California 

“Give it to me.” Link stuck an outstretched palm into her sight of vision. Amelia pulled back as he tried to snatch the phone as a result of not receiving a reply.

“It’s Tom, this patient is critical. He asked for advice.” Amelia leaned away from her frustrated husband.

“Okay, and I’m sure Tom is completely capable of handling it on his own.” Link finally grabbed the phone from her hands, glancing at their conversation. “You’re unbelievable. He didn’t even text you, you were just being controlling and asking for updates.”

“It’s my patient! He should be sending me scans and keeping me informed.”

“Uh no...he should be doing the opposite of that because that’s what I asked him to do.” Link rolled his eyes and leaned back on the beach lounger. “Let it go, Amelia.” She sighed, looking out onto the beach and fixating on Scout who was building a sandcastle a couple meters away.

“He should have sun--”

“I’ve applied it twice in the time that you’ve been obsessing over your phone,” Link teased. “I thought this babymoon was going to destress you but maybe we just should’ve stayed home.” Amelia grinned at him as he beckoned for her to join him on his chair. She interlaced her fingers around the bottom of her bump and slowly moved to sit in his lap. “Man, you’re huge.” Link faked a struggle as she laid back on his chest.

“Shut up,” she laughed. “You're giving your seven month pregnant wife a little too much grief today.”

“Almost eight,” he ran a couple of kisses along her neck as clipped the salty curls out of her face that were getting tangled in the warm breeze. “Did you take your BP this morning?”

“Link,” Amelia groaned. “Can we just relax about everything for a bit?”

“You’re the one checking your phone constantly. The whole reason we’re taking time off from work is to try and get it down.”

“Don’t worry, Carina has made that very clear.” Amelia awkwardly crossed her arms over her swollen stomach and pouted. “It’s weird, I never had a single blood pressure issue with Scout.”

“Probably because you weren’t chasing around a two year old while working full time at the same time as growing a baby.”

“I don’t want to have the conversation about working less again. Mer works full time and she has three kids.”

“Fine,” Link sighed, running a hand through his shaggy hair. “I just want you both to be healthy.” He wrapped his arms around her abdomen, providing a bit of relief by pulling up a bit. “I don’t know how you carry this around all day,” he laughed.

“I haven’t moved from this seat in the last three days,” she leant her head back to meet his eyes. Link didn’t have Amelia’s naturally tanned skin and had gotten quite the sunburn on the first day. It had gotten better but his cheeks were still tainted crimson. Link grinned as her deep, blue eyes stared up at him and pressed a lingering kiss to her swollen lips. 

“Maybe we should move to California. I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a bikini all day.”

“Been there done that,” she laughed. “Addie would probably melt if we told her that she could actually see her godson on the daily.” 

“Jake’s a nice guy. I wouldn’t mind having them around often,” Link mused, glancing at Scout and giving him a wave.

“Dadda! I made a hospital in the sand!” Scout hollered. “For you and Mommy!”

“Good job, bud!” Link shouted back, shaking his head with amusement. “That boy is your son through and through.” Amelia grinned as she glanced at Scout, who was resembling her brother more and more every day.

“Does it bother you?” She teased.

“Not at all. The next one’s gonna be all me.” He soothed a couple of kicks that were beginning to flutter over her bladder.

“I need to get up and walk around or she’s going to get restless,” Amelia sighed, placing a hand over his. “This one is going to be hyperactive for sure.” Link ginned, nodding and picked up the newspaper beside him as Amelia put on a straw hat and sunglasses and strolled over to their son.

“Hi Mama,” Scout babbled, handing her a shell. “I finded this for you.”

“Thanks, baby,” Amelia smiled, opening her palm towards him. “We can add it to the collection.” Scout had insisted on giving Amelia almost every shell he’d found on the beach. The “collection” consisted of almost a hundred pieces of shells, barnacles and sea glass at this point. “Can we go see auntie Addie again tonight?” Scout asked absentmindedly, digging a hole with his pudgy hands.

“No bud, we’re going to visit Charlotte and Cooper this evening. We’ll see your auntie tomorrow though.” Scout let out a large sigh but nodded.

“Okay.”

                                                         [][][]

“Aw, look at ya!” Charlotte’s outstretched arms greeted the family from the doorway. “Come here.” She pulled Amelia into a gentle hug before kneeling down to Scout’s height and ruffling his dark brown curls. “Hey, mister. Want a popsicle?”

“Charlotte, you’ll ruin his dinner,” Amelia groaned but Scout was already squealing happily as Georgia led him into the kitchen.

“Look at you acting all motherly. I remember you basically smuggling Mason candy every time he came to the practice.”

“Is he here tonight?” Amelia asked.

“Nope, he went with Coop on the trip. They feel bad about not being able to see ya but we had no idea you were even coming.” 

“Our bad. It was all very last minute,” Link replied, breathlessly leaning over to give Charlotte an awkward hug while juggling a couple platters of appetizers.

“I wanted to help him bring stuff in.” Amelia rolled her eyes. “Apparently, I’m too fragile.”

“Fragile and Amelia Shepherd aren’t two words I would put together in a sentence often,” Charlotte joked, welcoming the couple into the entryway. “Addison mentioned that y’all were having a bit of a struggle with this pregnancy.”

“Oh, of course she did,” Amelia eyed Link with exasperation. “I’m fine, everyone’s been making such a big deal.” She grabbed one of the plates from Link’s hands spitefully and practically marched into the kitchen. 

“Well, isn’t she just a ball of delight,” Charlotte chuckled. “Come on in, Link. It’s nice to see you.”

                                                         [][][]

Saying their goodbyes was hard as always. Amelia would do anything to try and convince Charlotte to come work at Grey Sloan and Charlotte would do anything to try and get Amelia to move back to California. Finally Scout’s grumpiness, as a result of his bedtime passing, meant that the couple had to leave and Amelia’s poor attempt to hold back tears failed as they finally got into the car.

“Hormones.” Both Link and Amelia said in sync as they met each other's gaze. Amelia craned her neck to peer back at Scout who was fast asleep in his carseat, soft snores coming from his mouth. They pulled into their hotel as the sun disappeared from the horizon. Amelia went to pull Scout out of his carseat out of habit before Link tugged her aside and picked their sleeping son up into his own arms.

“You got the hotel key?” He asked.

“Yeah,” she replied with a yawn.

“Tired, babe?” Link turned to glance back at his wife, who was waddling slowly behind him and tried to hide his amusement. Amelia nodded, catching up to him as Link slowed down. “Sounds like it's bedtime for everyone.”

“Apparently not,” Amelia groaned, rubbing the underside of her belly as the familiar flutters started back up again, receiving a sympathetic look from Link as she unlocked their hotel room. Link placed Scout carefully on the hotel’s king sized bed without a sound and began to fish through their suitcase. “His pjs are in my bag. I wasn’t sure if we were going to put him down at Charlotte’s or not.” She took off the heels that she heavily regretted wearing and rubbed her swollen feet.

“Probably would’ve been smart. Poor guy is exhausted.”

“We can sleep in. Flight’s not until one,” Amelia responded softly, brushing her son’s hair out of his face. Scout didn't even flinch, dead asleep.

“She still kicking?”

“Not as much anymore.” Amelia ghosted a hand over her abdomen. “Had me worried for a sec.”

“Don’t jinx it.” Link grinned, finally finding Scout’s pjs in Amelia’s bag and throwing them at her.

“No kidding.” She pulled their son’s popsicle covered t-shirt off and motioned for Link to run it under water in the sink before taking off the rest. Link came to sit beside her as she finished buttoning up Scout’s dinosaur onesie and rubbed her back gently.

“Can I take your BP now?”

“Link, I just want to go to bed,” Amelia sighed, leaning into his touch and closing her eyes.

“I know, babe. It’ll just take a second.” He grabbed the portable monitor from his suitcase and secured the strap around her arm. Link watched the screen intently as the strap inflated and began to deflate before the final number came up on the screen. “One twenty-nine over eighty.” He bit his nail, glancing up at her. “I mean it’s a bit better.” Amelia looked away, shaking her arm out of the band and trudged into the bathroom. “Amelia,” Link sighed, following her and waiting as she splashed water on her face before picking up her toothbrush.

“One twenty-nine over eighty is crap,” she mumbled, through a mouthful of toothpaste. “This whole thing is stupid. The more that people freak me out about numbers and bad outcome statistics and birth plans the more I get stressed.”

“Who’s talking to you about bad outcome statistics?” Link demanded with a hint of anger in his usually calm voice.

“Addie.” Amelia spat in the sink. “She’s worried about placental abruption. She thinks our best bet is C-section.”

“Okay, well Addie is not our doctor. Carina said that as long as we monitor you closely, a natural birth is completely safe.” Amelia shrugged, turning back into their bedroom. “I thought that’s what you wanted?”

“I want our baby to be safe,” Amelia affirmed. “I think Addie should do it.”

“Carina is perfectly capable of delivering. She’s been through this with us the entire time. She knows your condition better than anyone and Scout turned out okay,” Link pressed, watching Amelia trace a protective hand along her bump absentmindedly. She glanced up at him, seeming to give into exhaustion.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” She begged.

“Yeah.” Link nodded, giving in to his tired wife. “Of course we can. Let’s get you to bed.” He unbuttoned her dark blue dress that complimented her eyes perfectly and unclasped her bra before handing her one of his oversized t-shirts.

“My boobs are huge,” she complained, crawling into bed.

“I know. You were in a swimsuit with me all day,” he teased, undressing until he was in his boxers and slipping into bed beside her. “Hey,” he chuckled, as he received a pathetic slap from a pillow. “I wasn’t complaining.”

“My pregnancy with Scout was so easy.” She shook her head, trying to think back to if her ankles were the size of grapefruits back then.

“You were probably just distracted by all the drama,” Link joked. “I remember some good complaints. The braxton hicks were bad.”

“I don’t have anything to compare those to yet,” Amelia nuzzled her head into Scout’s who was lying fast asleep in between the couple and yawned.

“Go to sleep,” Link’s hand found her hair and he ran his fingers along her scalp gently. “My babies all need rest.” Amelia nodded, slowly nodding off to the soothing effect of Link’s fingertips and the crashing of the waves from outside their hotel room.

[bonafidehero]

You've mentioned some fics recently but haven't made a fic rec list in a long time. Could you give us one... please?

Hey! I sure can! Though I gotta warn you. I’ve mostly been reading daredevil fics recently, but I’m sure I can find some Twilight fics I’ve read since reccing last if that’s why you’re here—I also have some Twilight fics that are WIPS that I’m reading when they’re updated of course.

If anyone is interested in any HMC fics I can rec those in the future, but I don’t have time to go looking for those today.

And up first are two that blew me away most recently.

What They Wouldn’t Do by Ashevillain

“Sarah is a secretary at Orion, a shady company previously owned by Wilson Fisk. When Daredevil begins investigation Orion, Sarah accidentally discovers his true identity, and he’s not pleased. Despite her best efforts to avoid him after figuring out who he is, she quickly finds herself on the receiving end of a Daredevil interrogation in a dark Alley. Post S1, slow burn, Matt/OC.”

Fiction T, Romance/Hurt/Comfort, 42 Ch, 492,295 words, WIP.

(Matt’s pretty horrible in the beginning, a little OOC in my opinion but it’s important to the growth of their characters so just stick with it and I promise they get better. Lol)

The Red Thread by Pastafossa

“It's said that every soul is connected to another by a red thread, and that these two souls are destined to meet. The thread, though it may tangle or stretch, will never break. That's not your experience, lucky or unlucky enough as you are to see the strings that bind people together. A red thread is developed and grown, not born, and you've worked hard to weed out any semblance of crimson that might cling to you. You pay your bills, you keep your head down, and you find whatever lost people or items you're hired to sniff out.

Then the Devil of Hell's Kitchen tags along on a job, and your plan falls apart.

Starts prior to Into the Ring, and loosely follows the canon timeline. There will eventually be smut, so enter at your peril.”

Explicit, Matt/OC/Reader, 49 Ch, 353,019 words, WIP.

(I was pretty hesitant to start this one, since insert/reader fics aren’t usually my cup of tea but I promise it’s worth it. Reader has an amazing backstory and power. There is a hide and seek scene that alone makes this fic worth reading. It was equally exciting and hot. LOL)

Undertow by Edwardskhakipants

“Edward Masen has just been adopted by a young couple with a heart for orphaned teens. When he discovers life as the shiny new toy to the even shiner Cullen family may be worse than life as a faceless nobody, he finds comfort in the oddest place: in the dark eyes of a stranger, as deep and mysterious as the ocean itself. Will he find the solace he had been always searching for in this strange, quiet girl, or will he find something greater than he could ever imagine?”

Gen, romance, Edward/Bella, 13 Ch, 51,667 words, WIP.

(Super sweet story! Bella has a fun secret.)

Murdocks Never Quit by Lluvia185 & Pikkulef

“Instead of being killed, Jack Murdock ends up in a coma and he wakes up almost 20 years later.”

Gen, what-if/angst/family drama, 16 ch, 35,900 words, WIP.

(Really love this concept. Fun to watch Jack get to know his son.)

Devils Kindred by Moonlitdaze

“Iris Murdock is finally returning to Hell's Kitchen, her childhood home, after years away. Unfortunately, the city she left behind is home to memories of her father's murder and a brother who thinks she abandoned him. As she struggles to reconcile past, present, and future, her beloved little brother's own inner devils threaten to steer her life on a new, terrifying course.”

Fiction T, Family/Crime, 91,648 words.

(A really fun idea. I love Iris and Matts relationship. I read this a while ago so I can’t really remember any specifics I really liked… I just know I liked it. Lol There are more fics in the series: Devil’s Penance and Devil’s Alliance, that ones still a WIP. )

Vagary Hop by Brandywine421

"Is it true you show your face to kids so they don't get scared?" Sister Maggie asked, conversationally, but not really. Matt knew her well enough by now to tell the difference.

"Oh. A few times, yeah. If they're really scared already, I don't like making it worse. Why?"

"No reason," she lied, steering him for another circuit around the block. Longer coffee break initiated. "Just curious."

(Read this a while ago, can’t remember anything specific but I always love a Maggie and Matt fic)

A Body of Water and Bones by Littlest Cactus

‘"It was a good distinction to make. I wasn't Bella, but for the time being, I could be Isabella." Because time marches on and waking up as Bella Swan is unfortunate, but it's not the end of the world. Only the end of her's. [SI-OC]’

Romance/Drama, Edward/OC, 92,700 words, WIP.

(One of those “OC wakes up in the Twilight universes.” I always get excited when this is updated.)

Some one shots:

Lazarus Open His Eyes by BrownieFox

“Jack Murdocks wakes up in a coffin, six-feet under, very much alive.”

(Do you like torture? Read this! It’s a super fun idea and great start to what could be a fun multi-chap story but it looks like this is all the author plans to do for it. Can you tell this is a trope I love?)

Penny and Dime by Gremlinny

“"You take down druglords and do parkour, Red, but you're tellin me you can't cook?"

"Jeez, why don't you find me a measuring cup that's ADA compliant?"

OR

Frank is helpful and Matt is kinda drunk”

(God, I just really loved this one because I love soft!frank, okay?)

Carry You, Sustain You, Rescue You by Beguile

“Matt's in the hospital; Jessica is called in to babysit.”

(It’s got Jess in it… what more could you want?)

These are just some honorable mentions—authors who I generally like all of their fics and can’t rec all the ones I like because then we’d be here all day. Lol

ScreechTheMighty

Tryptorphan

Pixelbypixel

That’s all I have time for today, friend, hopefully there was something in there to tickle your fancy!

[digi-tama-in-your-pocket]

So, v-pet update, I got distracted for a while since I started playing Stardew Valley, and then I got sick and didn't play with the v-pets for two days. I'm also neglecting the VB big time. No new purchases and probably not going to be any for a while, though I did pre-order those X2s that should be here next month, and I'm expecting some Dim Cards to arrive eventually.

I'm one stage away from adult T-Rex on my Dinkie Dino. This thing is on it's last legs with battery life though so it's going to be a close call. I pretty much have to tilt it all the way back to see my dino. That's the biggest downside to vintage v-pets. No save feature. ( And i'm kind of miffed that Tamagotchi didn't add that or any of the other new features in the OG Tamagotchi remakes )

Put the Virus Busters Pendulum Z away on March 1 to raise Deep Savers Z. I Suspect I have an evo fail on my MarineChimeramon. Guess I'll have to jogress.

I put Pokemon Pikachu away. I got what I wanted out of it, I'd like to pull it out again when my life is in better shape to run pedometer pets that have consequences for inactivity the way pokemon pikachu does. I'm hoping to get better conrol of my life so that can be a reality.

I've made a lot of progress in the Digivice Ver Complete. Slowly but surely... I believe I'm in the Digimon Adventure Tri portion of the series now. I'm annoyed that I can never seem to tell when it's a good idea to digivolve or when it's not, I can burn through my DP real quick on a day where i'm playing actively. I keep it active, because unlike Pikachu, it doesn't give penalties for not shaking the device.

And lastly, the big one that prompted me to do this update, might not be exciting to anyone else but remember when I lost my data on my translucent green DM20th? And how upset I was that my massive log was now empty? Well I finally raised every digimon that was in the log, and then some, so now my log has 68 out of 138 digimon in it. I'm so happy to be back to where I left off.

I apologize for slowing down on the v-pet art... the thing is... I suck at drawing most of those later level digimon with all the armor and intricate details. I don't know how they manage to make a full episode of anime with any of these things without resorting to CG. Mecha artists deserve mad respect for their skill.