#mostly in fic ig

[blanketforcas]

remember 2021 destielblr when many people pretended to like sam more than they did but at some point that pressure evaporated and everyone stopped blogging about him altogether i think that was funny

[ghostbsuter]

Danny had been around Gotham for a while.

The crime was never ending, but since Batman's arrival, it had gotten better.

The unmistakably CLANK! From around the corner had him jump, wary now. The man walks around the wall, eyes on the black car with— with Batman's symbol at the front.

A child sitting on the ground with a car tire next to him, the Bat Symbol a stark contrast to the shadows.

"Shit, kid. You're bold to rob Batman." Danny didn't really realise he was speaking until the kid looks up, spooked.

"What the fuck?" The kid was clearly of Gotham breed, yelps with a glare.

"I'm impressed," Danny doesn't give the kid the chance to talk, not with the way the tiny terror seems to be glaring and holding his wrench.

"You're quick, got eyes for details and know how to work around cars."

The suspicion in the kids eyes didn't lessen, having gotten up to press himself against the wall, eyes never leaving Danny.

"Here," Our local spook threw a card on the hood of the car. It was his business card.

"If you need income with far fewer risks than stealing from Batman, call me."

He didn't really wait to see the kids reaction, just leaving, bot before shooting a look into the sky the kid clearly caught.

As danny left, the kid looked at the entrance of the alleyway, back to the car, and then to the card.

They had talked for too long. Jason had to leave now, lest Batman actually caught him.

With one last look to the tires and the car, he leaves eith a scowl.

Just barely missing the man with the cape.

[dukeofthomas]

I don't want Jason as a declawed version of himself, all 'murder Is Wrong' and part of the batfam, but I also don't want him as an evil 'I blow up schools and shoot people for fun' villain.

I also once saw someone say a big part of the divesiveness here comes from how Robin!Jason and Red Hood!Jason are practically different characters. If you want villainous Red Hood, you make Robin Jason more aggresive, angrier, you make him more like what he'll become as an adult. And if you like Jaybin, you explain his murders and mistakes as side-effects of the pit and make Red Hood nicer and more agreeable, like how he wss before.

But I feel like both are a disservice to his character, but the 2 extremes of him are also really hard to reconcile.

[conanssummerchild]

writing a fic abt rick having an ed bcs why would i recover when i can just project all my issues onto fictional old men in cartoons and pretend everythings better now ‼️

tw eating disorder, minor self harm and vomit near the end

Morty stopped in the open doorway of the garage, watching Rick who was sat scribbling down some kind of invention idea, or equation, or whatever it was he did when Morty wasn't around, for all Morty knew he might well be writing fanfiction.

An involuntary smile pulled at his lips at the idea of his almost 70 year old genius grandfather spending his free time writing silly little stories at his work bench. What would he even write? Ball Fondlers fanfic? Maybe he wrote about his stoic bird friend, Rick had always been touchy with him and Rick wasn't touchy with anyone.

When Morty focused back on Rick he wasn't writing anymore, the slightly crumpled piece of paper shoved to the side as he fiddled with what looked like a small metal box with a bunch of brightly coloured wires poking out of the sides. A small spark shot out of one of the wires Rick was holding and he cursed loudly, shaking his hand.

"Fuck, Morty, are you just gonna– gonna stand there, or are you gonna pass me the fucking, uh– the thing."

Rick waved his hand in the general direction of the shelf nearest to Morty, but there were so many assorted trinkets on the shelves, Morty had no idea if Rick wanted a wrench, or a hammer, or one of his laser guns, maybe the box was like a new battery for them?

"W-what thing, Rick?"

"The thing, Morty! The fucking– the uh, destornillador."

"What? Rick, I don't know what that means. W-w-what is that?"

"Jeez, Morty, what are they teaching you at that crap school you love so much?" Rick scowled, tossing the box to the side and getting up to grab the screwdriver himself.

"I havent been to school in like a month, Rick!" Morty exclaimed. "And even then I only got to stay for like an hour before you were dragging me out again!"

"Whatever." Rick said with a burp, "School's dumb, Morty. I'll teach you Spanish myself. B-but, uh, not now."

He turned back to his box, done with the conversation, but Morty stayed hovering in the room, remembering what he had come for in the first place.

"Okay, um, w-w-well lunch is ready."

"I'm busy."

Morty sighed, having expected that answer already. "When's the last time you ate, Rick? Or slept? Or... showered?" Morty said, wrinkling his nose a little.

Rick ignored him, pulling at a blue wire.

"Rick!" Morty frowned.

"What, Morty? J-jesus christ, what the fuck do you want?"

"I want you to have lunch with the family."

"And I said no, so screw off."

"Rick, come on, it would make mom so happy."

Rick glared at him, not bothering with an answer.

"...Wouldn't y-you do it for your original Beth if you could?" Morty tried.

Rick slammed the box on the table, causing the thin metallic shell to crack, sparks flying from it, the sudden noise making Morty jump.

"The fuck did you just say?" Rick snarled.

"S-s-sorry!" Morty squeaked. "I didn't m-mean– mean it in a bad way!"

"Get the fuck out." Rick said icily, eyes blazing.

Morty stumbled out of the room, shutting the door behind him to the sound of something crashing. Probably Rick throwing the damaged box across the room.

Morty winced. In his defense he was worried about Rick, and sometimes, depending on his mood, something like that would've gotten Rick to cave, clearly he wasn't feeling so sentimental today, more annoyed and angry.

"What was that about?"

Morty startled a little and turned to see Summer looking at her phone behind him.

"Just, y'know, Rick being... Rick."

"Mhm, pro tip, don't bring up his dead daughter to try and blackmail him into something he hates." Summer drawled. "You can only do that if he's already half convinced, or if he's feeling especially depressed sometimes.

"Summer! That's– that's messed up!"

She quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah, so only you can manipulate grandpa Rick?" Summer scoffed. "God forbid women do anything." She said sarcastically and turned to walk away.

"Wait!" Morty fidgeted with his hands. "Can you... help me? To get him to have lunch w-with us? Please?"

"Yes, but not now. He's already upset so if we double down on trying to get him to eat he's only gonna clam up."

Morty nodded. "I know that– but how do you? You don't spend as much time with Rick as I do."

"Because he's like mom. Who do you think got her to stop drinking before parent-teacher conferences at school?"

"Wow. That's pretty fucked up that you had to do that, though, y'know, Summer."

"Yeah, well, we're the Smiths, Morty. Is anyone in this house not disordered?"

Morty winced at the blunt statement, Rick really was rubbing off on her. But it was kind of true.

"Guess it runs in the family." He muttered

"Guess it does."

---

Morty hadn't been planning on seeing Rick again until the next day. He knew that when Rick got upset he needed his space. Morty didn't quite get it because when he was upset all he wanted was for someone to hug him and tell him everything was going to be okay, but Rick wasn't like him he supposed.

If he was being honest it made him nervous to leave Rick alone in those bad headspaces he got into. Rick was volatile and unpredictable and a borderline danger to himself and often others. He'd walked in on a couple... compromising situations where Rick had had to explain away why he was passed out in his chair or why there was blood on his hands and his lab coat despite being the only person in the room.

Morty pretended to believe him when he said he had been doing a messy dissection experiment or that "This isn't blood, this is Balorkian dust I mixed with red Squanchenite fluid from Planet Squanch, Morty." But truthfully those moments haunted him.

However, he didn't want to invade Rick's space, so he let him be and tried to eat and sleep until Rick emerged like nothing had happened, even though Morty knew what habits of his went on behind those closed doors.

Of course Morty's patience had it's limits, like when two hours after he had left Rick in the garage, angry, there was the sound of something smashing, closely followed by an unmistakable sound that Morty had grown too familiar with since Rick had moved in. The sound of a body thudding to the ground.

He was up from the sofa in a flash, at the garage door before Summer could even put down her phone, flinging it open.

He felt like he couldn't breathe, but the only sight that greeted him was a smashed bottle and rick lying on the floor next to it, not looking any more dead than usual, looking up at Morty blearily, cracking a smile.

"Oh, hi Morty. H-hey buddy." He slurred, clearly drunk out of his mind.

"Jesus fucking christ, Rick." Morty said weakly.

"What happened?" Summer breathed, now standing at his side.

"He's just drunk." Morty muttered, wrinkling his nose at the overpowering smell that he hadn't registered before between his state of panic and shallow breathing.

Summer ventured into the garage, picking up an empty bottle and sniffing it. "God, grandpa Rick, what the hell are you drinking in here, fucking rubbing alcohol?"

"Sum-Sum! 'M just having some– some fun drinks. Fun drinks just a lil' bit. Besides I only ever drank rub-rubbin' alcohol once, n' it was– tasted like shit."

"What? I was being sarcastic, why would you drink that?"

"Because I was sad... was sad 'nd lonely after B-b-blood Ridge, couldn't find anythin' else. But 'm not s-sad now."

"What's Blood Ridge?" Summer frowned, "Actually it doesn't matter right now, you need to sober up."

"Get him some water," Morty interjected. "I'll clean up the glass. I also know where he keeps all his hangover serums and stuff, but he told me not to let you into any of his drug stashes."

"Fair enough." Summer shrugged, leaving to get Rick some much needed water.

While she was gone, Morty felt along the wall until he found the small hidden panel under Rick's desk. He fished out the light blue vial of fluid for hangovers, the red one he'd forced Rick to make that would sober him up and a green one that basically equivalated to getting your stomach pumped if you took it, just in case he'd taken more than just alcohol.

He shut the panel securely and placed the three coloured vials on Rick's work bench, grabbing a purple tube-like gadget from a shelf. He pressed a button on the back of it and typed in "Broken Glass" on a small hologram keyboard that emerged, then pressed that first button again. A blue ray shot out, scanning the garage, and the pieces of smashed bottle disappeared in a matter of seconds.

Morty looked over at Rick, who was still lying on the floor, but now he was tracing his fingers along a crack in the cold ground, his expression so solemn he almost looked sober.

"Rick?" Morty asked hesitantly.

"I miss her." He said flatly. "I miss her s-so much."

His words were still a little slurred but his tone had lost all the previous levity.

"I tried to save her, Morty, I t-t-tried, but I couldn't bring her back. And no one could ever replace her." A rough sob escaped his throat. Morty felt frozen. "I'm a crappy fuckin'– piece of shit father but I didn't want to be. I was gonna fuckin' give– give up everything for them, and I would've been happy. I would've been so happy as long as I had them, but he fuckin' took that from me! I nnever even got a chance."

Rick was crying, he was crying so hard that his tears stained the concrete dark grey and snot ran down his face sideways. He was shaking like a leaf and gasping for air.

Morty crouched down next to him, fists clenching and unclenching, unsure if he should hug Rick, or if that would make it worse. What else could he do?

"Oh– oh shit, Rick, I–"

"My little girl, my baby." Rick continued between sobs. "She meant everything to me. S-so yeah, I would be better f-for her if I could, but she's gone. There's no point."

Rick's sudden fit of violent sobs was calming down, replaced by a look that Morty could only describe as pure hoplessness and defeat washing over his features.

"'S no point in anything."

Shit, this was bad. Rick didn't admit defeat, and he certainly didn't talk so openly about his feelings like this.

"Aw jeez, Rick, come on don't– don't– don't say that. we killed Rick Prime, remember?" Morty said, wringing his hands anxiously.

"Yeah, I remember." Rick said, tone now devoid of emotion. "I remember killin' him with my bare hands, watchin' the life drain out of his eyes as his blood dripped down my fists. And I remember nothing changing. W-w-what d'ya do when you achieve your life long goal and nothin's better? It didn't bring them back, it didn't– didn't give me closure or give me a reason to live. I still can't sleep, petrified he's in the fucking house, comin' for my new family, that he'll kill all of you to teach me that t-that's what happens when I-I care about people."

Rick wiped his face with his lab coat sleeve, rubbing away the snot, drool and dried tears while Morty just kneeled next to him, frozen and unsure what to say.

"Rick..." he started but then Summer stepped through the doorway and Rick's demeanour instantly changed.

"Summerfest!" he called out and Morty watched, a little shocked, as Rick's whole face changed in the blink of an eye, going back to the cheerful, goofy expression he'd been wearing when he and Summer first came in. It didn't look artificial to Morty at all, even now that he knew it was. How could Rick just switch it on and off just like that?

"I brought water and coffee." Was all Summer said, placing two mugs on the workbench. "And a cereal bar."

The second statement sounded a little more unsure and Morty could've sworn he saw Rick's jaw clench for a second.

"Gimmie coffee." Rick said, making grabby hands, still lying on the floor.

"Water first." Summer replied, handing him the larger of the two mugs.

Rick pouted a little but as soon as the mug was in his hands he drank thirstily, finishing the whole thing in one go.

"You want more?" Summer asked, taking the mug, but he just shook his head quietly.

"Okay," Morty cleared his throat when his voice came out a little shaky. "drink this."

He handed Rick the red 'get sober' vial and Rick chugged it obediently, making a face. "Tastes like– like shit." He offered.

While he seemed a little calmer after the water and serum, his eyes were still unfocused and his voice sounded thick, like his tongue didn't fit in his mouth properly, hints of his accent were slipping through too.

"Did you- are you on drugs r-right now?" Morty asked, reaching for the green vial of serum.

"Maybe." Rick mumbled. His eyelids were starting to droop a little and he curled up more comfortably on the floor.

"Hey, Rick, don't go to sleep okay? What did you take?" Summer asked, crouching down next to him, shaking him a little. He groaned. "Come on, we just have to make sure you're not overdosing and then you can sleep. Maybe not on the floor."

"'M not overdosing." Rick grumbled.

"What did you take?"

"I dunno. Just some random alien drugs I found i-in my pocket." He said dismissively with a burp. "Actually one of 'em was probably adderall. Look at me bein' all responsible an-and takin' my meds n' shit."

He of course immediately showed his 'responsibilty' by gagging and then throwing up on the floor.

Morty winced, reaching for the purple device again while Summer tried to coax him into drinking the green liquid, frowning deeply.

Finally Rick gave in, sipping from the small vial, and almost instantly his eyes began to clear up a little bit.

"Why'd I make these work so well?" He groaned. Then, "My head is killing me, I want coffee."

Summer passed him the second mug and he gestured toward the hangover serum, which Morty promptly passed to him and Rick poured it in his coffee.

He gulped down half the coffee and sighed, wiping his mouth with his already rather dirty sleeve. "Fuck, that's better."

He downed the rest of it and placed the mug on the ground, getting to his feet shakily. He swayed and nearly fell, leaning onto the wall to steady himself as the dizzy spell passed, and then stretched, his back cracking loudly.

He took a few wobbly steps towards the door but Summer blocked the way.

"Fuck– fuck off Summer I gotta– I'm gonna go take a nap."

"Could you maybe eat something first?" She asked firmly, holding up the cereal bar.

"No."

Rick tried to sidestep her but she blocked the way again.

"Summer, don't fucking piss me off right now, I'm serious."

She stood her ground. "Just eat the cereal bar, grandpa Rick. Please."

"Summer, for fuck's sake, I said no!"

"Grandpa," She sighed, the arm holding the bar dropping defeatedly back down to her side. "Do you have an eating disorder?"

The garage was deathly quiet for a second.

"Wha-What?! I'm not a teenage girl in a f-f-f– goddamn netflix drama, Summer." Rick snarled. "What the fuck kinda question is that?"

He gestured wildly, taking another step forwards, which quickly seemed to be the wrong option as a sudden wave of dizziness hit him hard, making him almost loose his balance. He blindly tried to grab onto the back of his chair somewhere behind him, but missed and fell on his ass.

"Rick!" Morty and Summer both rushed to his side, Morty's eyes beginning to well up a little from all the stress of the day.

"I'm fine, don't– don't fucking touch me." He said, shaking Summer's hand off his shoulder, which caused another wave of nausea to hit.

"Please eat this." Summer said nervously, voice shaking as she pushed the cereal bar into his left hand, his right one gripping at his hair.

"Summer, I promise you if I eat that shit right now I'm gonna throw the fuck up."

"Please?" Morty pouted, eyes big and teary.

All it took was one look at him, and with only a brief moment of hesitation Rick snatched the cereal bar from Summer, muttering angrily under his breath.

Morty only caught "Me cago en la puta." and "Maldito cabrón." which he more or less understood, more familiar with swear words than any other words in the Spanish language.

Rick peeled away the wrapper slowly with unsteady hands and took a small bite.

Morty and Summer watched in silence, not wanting to discourage him by saying the wrong thing—which with Rick could be anything—as Rick uncomfortably ate the cereal bar.

"There you fucking go." He said weakly, Throwing the now empty wrapper at Summer, but missing as it was too light to travel more than a couple centimetres, landing somewhere by his feet.

"Thank you." Summer almost whispered.

They sat in silence for a while, Morty sniffling and rubbing at his eyes and Summer shuffling a bit closer to him for both of their comfort.

Rick was sitting with his knees losely bent and his head braced in his hands, trying to overcome another hit of nausea.

He wouldn't exactly say he tried super hard to keep the cereal bar down, but it wasn't deliberate when he vomited it down the front of his shirt.

"Oh! Aw jeez..." Morty winced.

"I did warn you."

"In our defense, you had every reason to be lying to us."

"Fuck you, Summer." It sounded weak even to his own ears.

She sighed softly.

"Morty, get his shirt off. Do you have pijamas or do you sleep in jeans and a lab coat?"

"Jeans an-and a lab coat."

"...I was joking, but okay." Summer said, flipping the switch that opened Rick's garage closet and grabbing one of his sets of identical outfits.

Rick squirmed, making noises of complaint as Morty tried to take off his current shirt.

"Rick– stay still, you have vomit on your clothes."

"I'm not fucking two years old, Morty." He scowled. "I can change by myself."

Rick tried to sit up but wobbled and then slumped back against the wall, needing more time to recover. Morty reached for his shirt again and this time Rick let him pull it carefully up over his head without resisting. Morty took the new set of clothes from where Summer had left them on the floor next to him.

Summer wasn't looking but Morty still shielded Rick's body from sight with his own, pointedly not mentioning the raised scars and jagged, angry, red cuts littering his arms which he had already suspected would be there.

Rick shifted uncomfortably, seeming relieved when Morty didn't want to talk about it.

"Okay." Morty said, helping Rick pull on his clean lab coat too.

"I'm going to bed." Rick grumbled, not waiting for him to continue, just getting up slowly.

He felt weak and shaky and his brittle old bones weren't exactly helping out. Despite his thousands of cybernetic implants he was still human, much to his dismay, and he couldn't treat his body as badly as he did when he was 30. Not that that ever seemed to stop him, managing to still maintain the same shitty habits he'd had for years at the ripe age of 67.

He stumbled through the dining room, Morty and Summer trailing after him, not discouraged by the glare he sent their way.

As soon as he reached his room, he slumped onto his bed with a groan.

"R-rick?"

"Fuck off, Morty." He snapped into his pillow, a little muffled by it.

Morty hesitated, exchanging a glance with Summer, who shrugged.

"...Ookay, Rick. Uh, see– see you at dinner, today? maybe?'

"Don't count on it."

Summer frowned, Starting to say something, but Rick interrupted, "I'm gonna apply my room's Lock Protocols in ten seconds, so i-if you're still in here, I'm not letting you out until I'm done sleeping. A-a-and if you're standing in the doorway, you're gonna get fucking squashed in the doors."

"Whatever, Rick, fuck you too." Summer huffed, pulling Morty out of the doorway with her.

"Room, activate Sensory Protocol 2. And t-tell Summer to go fuck herself."

"Sensory Protocol 2 activated." Came the mechanical voice and a heavy metal door snapped shut. "Go fuck yourself, Summer."

Summer scoffed. "Dick." Followed by a sigh. "What are we gonna do?"

"I-I don't know." Morty admitted. "There's not much we can do if Rick won't accept help. And he won't."

"So what? We just give up on him?" Summer asked accusingly, putting her hands on her hips.

"No, Summer, J-jeez. I just– We're gonna have to get creative."

"Fuck."

---

thats it thats the end i didnt know how tf to end this but my goal wasnt to rewrite like the bible idfk it was just to put rick through shit and put completely unfair expectations on summer and mortys shoulders so that they could ALL suffer in this fic !! :3 also this is so mf long i sincerely apologise if u read all that

[miraclewoozi]

(TEASER) HIGH FIDELITY. - c.hs

getting back on the horse is hard, and failing to hit it off with the cute gamer guy you went for a drink with last night has the potential to be your love life’s last straw. but when up and coming rockstar VERNON unexpectedly canters into your life, you find yourself asking very important question: do you have it in you to saddle up, one more time?

pair ; vernon x fem reader. ( also starring: besties!seungkwan + chan. ) content ; strangers to lovers. up-and-coming musician!vernon x record store owner!reader.  fluff, angst, smut. (MINORS DNI). slow burn.  warnings ; drinking + alcohol is a theme throughout. mentions of a past relationship breakdown. reader experiences a lot of stress, anxiety and feelings of doubt. reader is the monarch of self sabotage. wc ; teaser, 1.5k. full fic, est. 40k. note ; if you saw any of my posts about the show high fidelity… you’ll know where this came from. ( it doesn't stick to rob + liam's plot too closely with the exception of the first few encounters. )

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

“It’s just my opinion!” 

From your perch on top of the store’s counter, you raise both of your palms in a display of your innocence. Chan stands in the middle of the R&B aisle, looking personally offended, fingers curled around the top of one of the wooden crates holding your stock. 

“Me saying ‘I don’t think Welcome to the Black Parade is the best track on that album’ is not me saying that it’s a bad song.”

“But how can you say that?” Chan groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Who’s hearing the opening note to Famous Last Words and feeling the same way as they do with the Black Parade?”

“Most iconic doesn’t mean the best,” you counter. “Besides – I never said you weren’t allowed to have it as your favourite. It’d be a boring game if we all had the same answer.”

“I cannot cope with you anymore,” Chan whines. “You know what? No. I don’t even believe you. You’re just being a contrarian.”

“Why would I do that?” you ask. 

“Because it’s the best song on the goddamn albu–”

The bell above the door chimes loud and clear through the store and both of your squabbling voices fall silent. Your head turns in the direction of the entrance, an autopilot greeting already forming on your lips, but you feel them fall slack the moment you realise who it is that’s just walked in.

It’s been five days. Though it would be a mistruth to claim you hadn’t thought about the singer since the night of his gig, it’s not one to say you didn’t think he would ever actually come into your place of work. 

Much less at 3 o’clock in the afternoon. On a Thursday.

He pops his wrists as he walks a little further into the store, glancing around. Barring one of your regulars who walks about with his earphones in all the time, the store is completely empty; an adrenaline spike prickles the hairs on your arms, all the tiny muscles beneath your skin pulling them to stand upright. 

“Hi,” he says once he deems himself to be close enough, stopping in his tracks and bumping the toe of his shoe against the floor.

“Hey,” you greet him in return. 

“I’m-... Vernon. We met at the show, the other night?” 

“Yeah — yeah, I remember you,” you smile. “I’m-... well. I’m still y/n.”

“Still y/n,” he says on a relieved exhale, grinning and glancing away from you. “I uh… I just had some free time. Thought I’d swing by and see what you guys had going on here.” Vernon adjusts the collar of his t-shirt, the silver of his rings glinting under the flickering yellow light overhead.

(It was definitely somewhere on your list of things to get fixed. Honest.)

“Sure, yeah,” you nod, swallowing hard and trying your best not to stare at him. It’s hard, though – in broad daylight, the way the flannel tied around his waist floats down over his hips and the way his jeans hug at his thighs is… you don't even have the words. “Let me know if you need help finding anything, okay?” 

“I will.” He starts to thumb through one of the wooden boxes, offering a small smile your way. “Thank you.”

You’re holding your breath a little as he pulls a few 80’s rock albums out, his lips downturned in surprised approval at some of the records you carry. He holds onto a couple as he moves around the store and the entire time, you can feel Chan and Seungkwan staring at you. If there wasn’t a very real danger of Vernon looking your way again at a moment’s notice, you know you would be showing them your middle finger.

Really, they come away lucky.

“You don’t even know how long I’ve been trying to find some of these,” Vernon says after a few minutes, sauntering toward the desk – you’re still sitting on top of it, your legs swinging in the air beneath you. “Might have to make this my new stop.”

And displayed beside you on the counter – right by the cash register – are a few of his albums. The ones Seungkwan picked up after the show; until about two seconds ago, you had forgotten they were even there.

Vernon’s face lights up when he notices, turning to Seungkwan. “Come on, no way. Dude, I thought you were kidding.”

“We love our locals in here, man,” Chan chimes quickly, seeing you start to freeze up. You nod to agree, biting on the inside of your cheek. “It was on the speakers yesterday. Four people asked us about you.”

“For real?” Vernon asks, but when all three of you nod your heads, you see the beginnings of a blush start to creep up his neck. “Wow. Thank you – um. That’s really cool of you guys.”

“It’s good music,” Seungkwan shrugs. “You’re super talented.”

Vernon doesn’t seem to know what to do with all the compliments he’s receiving. Even so, he thanks your friends again with a stomach-twisting sincerity before he turns back to you. 

“I’ll take these,” he says a little breathlessly. You find yourself a tiny bit lost in the warmth of his eyes and it takes you a moment to remember to swivel around and slip off the other side of the countertop. You do, though. Eventually. 

“Nice,” you say softly as you shuffle through them, ringing each one through. He’s got pretty decent taste, even if less than a week ago you were actively cringing at his choice of cover song. (It’s okay. That was before you knew better.) “Do you– need sleeves, or…?”

“I’m good. Thank you, though.” Vernon rests his hands against the edge of the counter and drums a quiet rhythm out with his thumbs as you tap away at the register. “Are-... you guys busy tonight, by the way?”

You look up from placing the records into a paper bag, glancing over to your colleagues who both rush to shake their heads. Vernon looks from them, to you, and you mirror their motions. Even if I was, you start to think wistfully. I’d make time.

“I’m down at the Velvet Lounge later on. Across town? It starts at eight thirty; I could get you guys on the list, if-... um…”

“That’d be awesome,” Chan says, nodding so hard you’re surprised his head doesn’t roll off his shoulders and start bouncing across the floor. 

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Seungkwan adds. 

Vernon grins at them both, humming softly, before turning back to you and fumbling with his wallet to take out his card to pay for his purchases. You turn the machine around to face him; he hovers with his hand just above it. 

“Maybe… I’ll see you tonight, too?” He says.

You can’t help the delight that rises inside you, as if it’s been injected straight into your bloodstream. It’s everywhere, all of a sudden. In your brain and your heart and your bones and in your lungs.

Yet, you somehow manage to keep your composure when you say, “yeah. Maybe you will.”

The payment goes through and you slide the bag over towards Vernon, your eyes never leaving his and his eyes never leaving yours. His fingers brush over yours as he takes it from you, the bite of the cold ring on his index finger a shocking contrast to the warmth the rest of his hand radiates. You hope your little gasp isn’t too audible, but… the way Chan whirls around to face away from the scene in front of him (presumably to poorly conceal his laughter), you know you haven’t gotten away with it.

“Cool,” he says, hesitating another second before finally pulling himself away. He bows his head in the direction of your friends, sending another of those irresistibly sweet smiles at you, and then he starts off towards the door. “See you, then.”

You feel your pulse finally start to slow as you grip the counter for dear life, setting out a long, drawn-out breath. What just happened? Why do you feel all… fuzzy?

“Maybe… I’ll see you tonight, too?” Chan asks in the deepest voice he can muster, snapping you out of your own head none too pleasantly. You turn in their direction as your other favourite moron feigns tucking hair behind his ear and flutters his eyelashes across at Chan.

“Yeah… Maybe you will.” And Seungkwan’s imitation of you is a little too accurate. Creepily so, and you want to curse him out for it. Instead, you scrunch up a bag to throw towards the pair of them, grinning despite yourself as they both swerve to dodge it.

“Oh my God, shut up,” you chastise them. You don’t have any bite, though, your brain still tingly and positively reeling and seeing Vernon’s dazzling smile every time you so much as blink.  And when Seungkwan takes a running start and launches himself, full-force, into Chan’s unsuspecting arms? When Chan lifts him up and spins him around, and when they start making kissy-noises at each other between unearthly cackles? 

You know that the next few hours are going to be the longest of your entire life.

thank u for reading!! i hope you liked this lil snippet!! i got kind of impatient with myself and needed to post something about this, so if you're interested in the full fic please feel free to drop a like, an ask, a reblog or a comment to tell me your thoughts! this piece has become sort of my passion project the last six months or so and i'm really excited to share the whole thing with you guys when it's done.<3

[yourbustedkneecaps]

age swap au fic where everything is the same except that peter/spidey’s group switches with tony/iron man’s.

peter takes tony’s place. mj takes pepper’s. ned takes rhodey’s etc etc. “i am spider-man” press conference, tony sneaking out as iron man/becoming peter’s intern, may helping run the company, howard being a dick/owning a small business or smth — you get the gist

iron son and spider-dad i guess? tony (not lacking in intelligence) wanting to be as kind as peter and terrified of losing another good father figure in his life. peter “oh my fucking god kid if you’re not gonna stop at least let me show you the ropes” parker meeting tony during an expo/tour.

i want to see teen tony in high school desperately trying to be normal with his dad on his back about MIT and his tiny business or something. i want to see adult peter running a company with his besties and being loved as spider-man and trying so hard to help out some traumatized and angry kid in a rocket powered tin can.

this has tv show vibes to me in the best way

[janetbrown711]

Stay with me here but I think I just had a realization about Wukong.

I think Wukong's biggest weakness as a mentor isn't his overwhelming lack of proper communication/"just swallow your trauma lol you'll be okay if we just don't think about it"-- but instead it's that he doesn't believe in teamwork-- which is the exact opposite of how Pigsy (and Tang) raised MK, and is probably why he hates that monkey so damn much

Pigsy, Tang, and MK have all said "there's nothing we can't do together", leading me to believe it's some kind of family motto/philosophy they all share, but Wukong would rather zip MK up the mountain so that they aren't bogged down by the rest of the group (maybe because he believes, like with most problems, only he can help).

But isolation makes MK weaker and more anxious because he truly relies on his friends and family for everything (bro has never defeated a villain by himself lmao)-- but Wukong doesn't understand this bc he's so used to being so goddamn overpowered that he's never really had to rely on others (and/or when he has, it doesn't end well/he ends up handling it anyways), and he (probably accidentally) drives this into MK's own head, despite it not being the same.

tl;dr MK's habit of isolation (especially when it comes to his self-sacrificial desires) is low key Wukong's fault because Wukong doesn't know how to rely on others and has accidentally overridden MK's childhood teachings (which is also why Pigsy has so much beef with that monkey maybe)

[lonelychicago]

april's fics masterlist! 💌

unbetaed, unedited, unhinged

This is a list of all most of my published buddie fics for the 9-1-1 fandom (will be updated as needed).

I hate accidents (except when we went from friends to this) | teen and up | 4.2k words

"What did you just say?' Buck swallows thickly and reaches for the marriage certificate, passing it to Eddie. "Don’t panic but I think we might have accidentally gotten married." He lets out a breath, bracing himself for the worst case scenario. 'Don't panic', he says, which is rich coming from Buck since he feels like all he'll be able to do for the foreseeable future is panic. Eddie doesn’t react, which is kinda great and definitely something Buck can work with, but he’s also honestly a little worried Eddie went catatonic. “Married?” Eddie repeats, in a hollow voice. from the tumblt prompt: "Don’t panic but I think we might have accidentally gotten married."

i'll heal eventually (but faster if you're next to me) | teen and up | 19.2k words

School Nurse Eddie and the idiotic Gym Teacher Buck that keeps getting injured.

we are a fresh page on the desk (filling in the blanks as we go) | teen and up | 29k words

Buck's a best seller author under a pen name, Eddie is an actor auditioning for the movie adaptation of his books, and somewhere along the way, they fall in love.

made my way to a life i would choose | explicit | 34.9k words

In which Eddie transfers from his station to the Dispatch Center to be the LAFD Liaison, change is hard, staying away from Dispatcher Evan Buckley is even harder and not falling in love with the man is god-damned impossible. Eddie makes his way to a life he would choose and to a family who will choose him back.

he never thinks of me (except when i'm on TV) | mature | 18.1k words

In which Eddie finds out years later that his unrequited feelings for his high school best friend were not actually unrequited, Buck is stupidly famous now and they pine. They get there in the end, they just need to get their timing right. Inspired by the prompt: “you’re famous and just got asked if you were ever in love this should be good– WAIT WHAT."

it can't be unlearned (i've known the warmth of you) | teen and up | 4k words

Buck gets attacked by hunters on his way to Eddie's, Eddie takes care of him and some revelations come to light in the morning.

spinning faster than the plane that took you | teen and up | 9.2k words

Buck flees to the other side of the world, they're both miserable and also pining idiots in love. Somehow it all works out in the end.

the way you move is like a full on rainstorm (and I'm a house of cards) | explicit | 2.7k words

Buck and Eddie play strip poker and things get a little out of control. It's for the best, though.

trust me to take you home | teen and up | 2.2k words

"Listen," Eddie clears his throat. "Thank you for doing this. I—" "Thank me after we get out of this alive." Buck leans forward, his face just a few inches away from Eddie's, he has a conspiratorial glint in his eyes and his cheeks are flushed— Eddie should get an award for how strong he's being right now, seriously. It takes everything in him not to close the gap between them and kiss Buck right then and there. He could do it, though, with the excuse of people watching. They need to keep the charade, right? When Pepa kept setting him up on awful, horrible dates, and Buck offered to pretend they were dating— well, how could Eddie ever refuse something like that? The chance to get a taste for what he's been aching and longing for since forever, even if it'll end up with his heart more broken than it already is. It seemed like a good idea at the time, alright? Eddie's never claimed to make smart, sound decisions. or: there's a wedding in texas, a meddling tía pepa and only one bed. somehow, it all works in the end.

called my bluff (and saw through all my tells) | explicit | 2.3k words

eddie knows exactly how long buck was dead for and buck doesn't really know what to do with that information— so he does the logical and sensible thing and fucks the guy.

believe in one thing (i won't go away) | mature | 24k words

"I think— I think we should go to therapy. Together." Eddie says one night and takes Buck completely by surprise. "Therapy? Together?" "Yeah, like, couple's therapy or something. Frank told me he can recommend someone for us." "Eddie…" Buck says slowly, as if he's trying to explain the hardest math problem in the universe to a five year old. "We're not, uh— We're not a couple." "No, I know." Eddie frowns and looks down, fidgeting with the beer in between his hands. "But we're partners." He says, this time a lot lower that Buck barely hears it. "Right?" or: the one where buck is figuring out stuff after waking up from a coma, eddie misses his best friend and they go to couple's therapy.

I woke up just in time, (now I wake up by your side) | teen and up | 2.9k words

"Fine, I'm his fiancé." Eddie rolls his eyes and ignores the stares of his teammates behind his back. "It's fairly recent, we haven't had the time to finish the paperwork. Are you really not gonna let me see my fiancé?" or: Buck is in a coma, the nurses are being difficult and Eddie pretends to be engaged to Buck so they would let him see his friend. prompt: what are the ethical implications of pretending to be engaged to a comatose man?

romance is not dead (if you keep it just yours) | teen and up | 2.8k words

Buck went on a mysterious date, he's being oddly secretive about it and his family is just too meddling to let it go. (Eddie is having the time of his life.)

i've spent my whole life trying to put it into words | teen and up | 4.1k words

5 times Eddie was in a car with Buck, trying not to tell the man he loves him +1 time he says it. prompt: you're in a car with a beautiful boy and you're trying not to tell him that you love him.

I'd marry you with paper rings | general audiences | 1.7k words

In which Buck has thoughts about Valentine's day, he makes paper rings and somehow ends up proposing to his best friend. It kinda works out for him in the end.

I'm so in love that I might stop breathing | teen and up | 5.5k words

In which Eddie's parents come to visit, Buck is an idiot and as always, a family dinner goes wrong. BTHB Prompt: Allergic Reaction

my hands are shaking from holding back from you | explicit | 7.5k words

5 times Eddie sees one of Buck's thirst traps/nudes. Inspired by the prompt: whoops I accidentally found a naked/sexy selfie of you on your phone and fuck how am i supposed to function around you now?

pining and anticipation (I don't want you like a best friend) | teen and up | 3.3k words

"So teach me. Show me the Buck 1.0 moves or whatever." He grins at him and moves his hand, brushes his knuckles against Buck's forearm— ghosting over his skin. Buck gets goosebumps and pulls away, nearly falling off his stool. When he straightens, wincing, Eddie is grinning at him, delight all over his face. "Who doesn't have game now, Buckley?" or: Buck inadvertently challenges Eddie to try to hit on him by laughing at the fact that the guy has no game. It ends up being the best thing ever.

the songs i wrote as your other (are the best i´ll ever sing) | explicit | 7.4k words

“Should we take this new romantic love song to mean there’s someone new in your life?” “No.” He flashes another smile, all teeth and confidence he doesn't really feel inside. But he feels the weight of the cameras on him and the weight of Eddie's gaze against the side of his face; he needs to keep the act up. “Trust me, you don’t need to be in love to write a love song. It’s ingrained.” He glances at Eddie. or; Buck and Eddie are in a rock band together and have this friends with benefits thing going on. They try to keep things casual... except Buck keeps writing love songs about Eddie.

this is my idea of fun (playing video games) | explicit | 5.1k words ( co-written with @cowboy-buddie )

Eddie’s just trying to enjoy a day off filled with video games, but when Buck comes home, well, he has a diffrent sort of game in mind.

it's what my rotting bones will sing when the rest of me is dead | teen and up | 12.4k words

the one where a call goes wrong and leaves everyone thinking eddie was dead, buck finds about the will through a letter and comes to some other revelations in the process. and in which eddie finds his way back home and finally gets to be happy with the love of his life. BTHB Prompt: Missing and Presumed Dead

situations, circumstances, miscommunications ( i just may like some explanations ) | teen and up | 4.3k words

from the prompt: We're best friends and have been dating for over a month now but you won't kiss me so should we just break up and just be friends? But turns out you didn't know we were dating

the night i nearly lost you (really thought i'd lost you) | teen and up | 2.9k words

"Buck! Buck, baby! Stay with me, okay?" Eddie. Eddie's voice washes over him like a warmth blanket, comforting and grounding even amongst all the pain and fogginess. "Buck! Buck!" The screams calling his name pierce through Buck’s skull like a freight train. The pain pulses behind his eye and echoes down his spine until it falls into the churning waters of Buck’s stomach. Nausea rolls through him and he groans, closing his eyes. or: The woman sleep driving her car into the station goes a little faster and hits Buck... Eddie doesn't handle it well. BTHB Prompt: Ambulance Ride

I'm the one on the phone as you whisper | teen and up | 1.2k words

Buck's date cancels but he has already made the restaurant reservation, so he decides to call Hen and ask if she'd like to take Karen there. He dials the wrong number. It all works in the end.

i don't want to keep secrets just to keep you | teen and up | 5.5k words

Buck insists on keeping their relationship a secret for longer than Eddie thought they would. It causes some problems... until he finds the reason why.

[skitskatdacat63]

This is my personal crossover event of the century

[m3vl0vesu]

I love moots! I want more moots!

[gendermeh]

Fanart for @splickedylit's fanfiction Domestic Diplomacy (And Other Minefields)

getting back into the swing of digital art lol.

Sort-of predecessor to this below the cut (its just a height chart of the fic I did a bit ago. which is not the same heights as above.)

lineup :)

[bubble-popping]

Does c!Punz feel guilty about what happened to c!Dream in prison? Do they feel at fault for it, on some level? That they didn't try to come up with a different plan? Or at least stop Dream from going through with this one?

Obviously neither of them could've predicted or prepared for everything that happened, but it never would've occurred if Punz didn't feed Dream's self-destructive tendencies. Would seeing Dream in such a sorry state after prison change their mind on 'the ends justify the means'? Or, since Dream hides how much the prison really affected him, would they downplay it in their own mind as well?

He's definitely angry about it, shown by how he takes getting revenge for it into his own hands. But, is it anger on Dream's behalf or because they blame himself and need to take it out on someone/something? A mixture of both, perhaps?

Punz is such an interesting character to analyze because, much like Dream, we see so little of his perspective. His only known motivations are money and Dream, but those are vague and we all (hopefully) know people are more complicated than that.

Does anyone have thoughts on this?

[meowsticmarvels]

HEY MINECRAFT STORY MODERS.... posting this here so i can hype myself up to finish it. but. ive got a fic cooking in the works. centered around radar and his inner turmoil just after That Fucking Torture Scene in s2 e3. if youve read my previous analyses on him this might make more sense but its okay... i just mostly came here to see if anyone's interested. so far it's. pretty crazy. i plan on also posting an annotation/kind of author's notes on some hidden details and meanings and symbolism because it gets really crazy here.

here's a few snippets. not many because i want most of it to be a surprise but how are we feeling about this one.

^ also yes. in said fic they/them will be used for jesse and radar's heavily implied autistic.

i've thought a LOT about my characterization of him here and it will be kind of insane in a good way. yeah. so just interact with this post if it sounds interesting. can be a comment or a like or whatever...... but i Will post the ao3 link once it's done so keep an eye out for that !!!!!!

[cherryjuicegf]

There was always this specific stillness when he held her in his arms.

It is there now, too, as his arms crawl around her body, trembling, clinging. Despite all his pretty and ugly words, he has no language to describe it. A warmth, perhaps, of the kind that an all-consuming fire leaves behind in a scorching battlefield, and then nests scared in its middle. And it's still, lifeless, quiet, a graveyard.

This kind of stillness, then. Such that, the moment he feels her body against his, all the fire and the doom of the world ceases, all the shouting and the blood blurs and all that remains is her, and the quivering fire, and the ashes that smell like lilac and gooseberries.

And he, who only ever knew to run from the fire, welcomes her with open arms.

He holds her tight, gripping. Almost regrets it. He doesn't want to bruise her, but then, her porcelain skin and the chaos in her veins prevents him from that. It's a relief to remember. He cannot control the might with which his fingers dig into her body.

Silently, he apologizes.

Back then, in the few nights they had spent together, she would smile once she felt the desperate force of his touch. The smile bordered on a content smirk as she read in his eyes what she wanted to know, as the helplessness of his desire settled between her brows and eased the fine line that would have been carved there during all these years of uncertainty and craving, if it wasn't for unblemished magic. And oh, how he loved to see the way her lips quirked. Because he knew he would do anything to see it again.

A fortunate thing, for he was not known for his ability to quench his ever-present, gaping, devouring need.

For a moment now, it seems to him that she smiles again amidst the agony and the loss and the drying tears. Shaking, he traces the corner of her lips with his thumb, and the smile disappears, and it's like it was never there.

But that was always the case. And maybe he doesn't tell her, he never did. He never found the words, and what words could he ever find for loss, what words could he ever find for love?

It's only in the way he grips her tight and begs the world to stop for a moment, begs for her to stay right there, close, still, just for a moment, before she slips through his fingers once more like a dancing flame and disappears, as if she was never supposed to be there in the first place.

As if every time he holds her, he loses her all over again, little by little. And with her goes a piece of his heart.

He knew. He can't deny knowing. What kind of storyteller doesn't know the way their story ends?

He nuzzles in her hair, buries his face. They are soft, despite the ashes, and it's just like the way he always does while lying beside her, while pulling her close. He almost can't help it, the affirmation of her presence being a place he can bury himself in.

A grave that keeps walking away.

He knew, of course he did. If not from the start, then from the first time he felt her arms around him, clawing and grateful. To this day, he curses himself for not hugging her back if it meant he could steal just one more moment of stillness.

Well then, he thinks, at least now they are even.

A hug, unrequited, as his heart begs to feel hers against it, but she only hangs limp and lifeless in his arms.

The story, he knew, ends in grief. It is always like that with him, for some reason. Always the knowledge that something will end.

And now that it's over, he can't help but cling, grasp, hold on, for as long as he is allowed to, because suddenly he can't imagine any use for his arms if they are not able to hug her again, no use for his fingers if they can't tangle in her hair, play her praises, no use for his voice if he can't utter her name.

And thus, he is done.

He can only hold her now, just like he always did, except for once, and carry her down and let her go with a hope of seeing her again, and let his wretched hope bring him to his knees.

And he will still hold on, for it is all that remains.

Slowly, he leans and places a kiss on her forehead. Remembers how she smiled, how she ran into his arms, that one time they hadn't yet named the last.

Her body is still warm, forever warm, for he was no time to feel her getting colder. He can't even fathom it. The cold only seeps in as he lays her down the wooden boat, and nails his heart like a shard of ice, like a winter's wind, and the only comfort is that he will remember the coldness of her absence, for that, at least, was familiar. And this is it. This is how it always has been.

She slips through his fingers once again, and this time the stillness remains forever.

[waywardsalt]

Hello! I hope you’re having a good day!

What do you think about the new Zelda game that was announced? (echoes of wisdom)

P.S. idk if this question has already been asked or if you posted about it already so I apologize in advanced.

Hi! I hope your day's going well, too!

I don't think I really have any strong feelings about Echoes of Wisdom right now, honestly. I didn't really feel much when I saw it announced, mostly just feeling glad for the people who are excited; I'm glad that people are finally getting a proper playable Zelda, and I've decided to withdraw/keep quiet about my my cynical opinions about it since it's not out yet, and people do really seem excited about it. I think totk just really wore me out, so I'm not totally optimistic about what we'll get. But I'm hoping that it's good, and that the people really excited for it have a good time with it when it comes out!

I'm not the biggest fan of that art style, honestly, and I'm not the biggest fan of make-your-own-solution type puzzles, and the controls look like they're going to be really clunky to me, just looking at what the trailer shows.

Either way, I'm likely going to end up playing it anyways, since I did tell my mom about it, and she's pretty excited! At the end of the day, I at least hope she enjoys it, so despite my own feelings I am just hoping that it's good and that people like it.

[horsegirl-curtis]

Posting another snippet just to pspspsps people into being intrigued by the fic I'm working on. Two-Bit is gonna be such a prominent character. The fic is about everyone really but like he's one of the more central characters.