#my two dads fanfic

[miloscozycorner]

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬.

Carer!Michael Taylor x Little!Reader

• Getting up in the mornings was always a bit of a pain, especially when you were so tiny. Michael makes it a bit easier.

cw: age regression.

( 665 words )

Michael’s nails scratched on the top of your head, the sunlight making his skin glow. The curtains were white, not doing a very good job of concealing the daylight. You groaned as you flipped over on the sheets, your palms hiding your face.

“Tired, pup?” Michael asked, tilting his head as he looked down at you. You grumbled incoherently, before forcing your head up to meet his warm gaze.

Finally, you have a short nod as you covered yourself in the warmth of the blanket, holding your stuffed bunny tight to your chest. “I don’t wanna go to work.” You complained, pouting as you flipped on your side.

Sunlight warmed your form but still, the grogginess remained in your eyes. Michael gave a short sigh as his strong arms helped you sit up on the bed, ruffling your hair. “C’mon, little one. We have to get up. I have work and so do you.”

While you wanted to protest, he helped you place your feet on the carpet floor, ignoring the pour curling your bottom lip. Plus, you couldn’t deny that you loved the attention he gave you in the mornings.

“Why don’t you get dressed, sweet pea? Dada will make some breakfast.” He patted your cheek, and you mumbled to yourself grumpily but obligated. The smell of pancakes and bacon wafted through the apartment, and you couldn’t deny how your tummy rumbled.

Soft footsteps pattered down the stairs as you walked up to the kitchen, perching on a bar stool as you watched him flip the bacon over. You held your stuffie close in your arm, juice sitting in your favorite sippy cup.

“Nicole and Joey are out for breakfast, so we should have the morning to ourselves.” Michael sighed playfully, “Who even knows what shenanigans they’re up to.”

You giggled into the head of your stuffie at Michael’s playful words, placing bacon and a stack of pancakes on your plate. “Alright sugar, eat up. Or I’ll be very offended.” He joked, sitting next to you.

Per usual, you decided to add lots of toppings. But of course, Michael always indulged you despite how silly your pancakes looked drizzled with sprinkles, hot fudge and whipped cream. “Dada look- is a smiley face!” You exclaimed proudly, showing him the face on your pancake shaped out with whipped cream.

Michael gave a little gasp as he looked at the pancake, ruffling your hair. “I do have quite the little artist, hm?” He cooed teasingly, watching you take a bite out of the pancakes.

Giggly laughter escaped your lips as you ate, shifting in your seat. “Dada, you’re being silly.” You replied, finishing your breakfast slowly as Michael rose from his chair and checked his watch.

“I’m sorry to give the bad news baby, but I think it’s about time for work.” He finally spoke, looking at the time with a small frown. “Go brush your teeth, and we’ll get a move on, okay?”

A pout curled at your lips as you huffed, standing up from the chair with your arms crossed over your chest. “But I wanna stay here, with you.” You insisted, grumbling as Michael gave your arms a reassuring squeeze.

“I know honey, but we both have some kid responsibilities to get done. But guess what?” Michael said, crouching and looking down at you. His hand wrapped around your fingers, giving it a gentle squeeze.

You tilted your head, looking down at him curiously.

“Once we both get done with all our boring, big kiddo stuff, dada will put on your favorite movie and maybe we can even have some ice cream, hm? How does that sound?” He offered softly, giving you a small smile.

Even though you grumbled, you still nodded in agreement, perking up at the idea of ice cream. “Mkay, dada, I guess.” You mumbled as Michael stood, giving your hair a small ruffle.

“Alright, good job, pumpkin. Now go brush your teeth, alright? No stinky breath here, you silly goose!”

[erinwantstowrite]

it's so crazy i can't share spoilers. i thought of smth so funny and wanted to tell y'all but then i realized i literally can not because it's major spoilers and it would ruin the fun. to remedy this problem for myself i yapped about it to the various spider-man trinkets in my room. they thought it was hilarious btw

[shyguygubbs]

I was thinking about kotlc recently and how the Black Swan originally wanted to wait to bring Sophie into the Lost Cities until way later, probably when she turned 18, and how different of a person Sophie would have been if that were the case.

Like at the start of the series, she's this child prodigy who has to go to community college in the fall at the age of 12 because her parents won't let her go to Yale (a totally valid parental choice btw), and the thing is I think she would have THRIVED in that environment. Like at first she would be scared and hesitant because in all other school environments she has been bullied for being as smart as she is, but now she's going into a school that people choose to go to in order to learn. Community college doesn't just have mean, jealous teenagers who attend, there are people of all ages and all walks of life who are ready to learn. Sure, Sophie would still be the youngest one there, and I doubt it would be super easy with the whole mind reading thing, but she would be in a much more supportive environment when it comes to learning than anything else she's experienced.

She'd be able to make friends with her peers, being able to bond over a shared love of whatever they're studying, and these friends don't think she's too smart or too weird. She maybe finds some way to muffle the voices in her head better than her earplugs did. Yeah, she still gets headaches, but she can manage it. I can see her taking as many classes as she can, figuring out her passions and what she might want to do as a career. She'd be in a fantastic place academically to transfer to any school she wants when she turns 18. I can even see her parents letting her graduate when she's 17 and allowing her to transfer to a four year college to get a bachelor's in whatever she wants to study, whatever she finds her passion for, because she worked hard for this, and doesn't hate school now, and has found a path for herself in life that feels right.

And then the Black Swan shows up and whisks her away from all of that, and she's heartbroken because she doesn't need to be taken away from everything she's worked so hard for. Yeah it feels nice to finally have the whole mind reading question answered, but she doesn't need a new place to belong, she has one. I imagine this Sophie being a lot more confident in herself, but a lot angrier too. She's fascinated by her new world, but desperately wants to go back home, to just live out the life she's been working towards. I can see her working side by side with the Black Swan from the jump, because she's in a world with injustice and she can't just sit back and let this slide, but constantly fighting back this resentment for them and how they took everything from her. I think of how canon Sophie had a brief moment of hesitation when it came to training her Telepathy, and I think this older Sophie would be conflicted between wanting to know more about this abnormality that she's been dealing with her whole life, and wanting to cling to her human identity and her old life as much as she possibly can. Because she's been ripped away from it, and no matter what her genetics say, this Sophie still views herself as human.

[blueeyedgrlwrites]

WIP Wednesday, May 29, 2024

Hey, it's Wednesday again. It's a short work week for us in the States and time is irrelevant this week. That said, I may or may not have obsessed over a certain English dude in Monaco for the GP over the weekend, and my hand may or may not have slipped and opened a new doc. Oops? But also, if it's not your thing please scroll on by. I won't be offended.

Thanks for the tags today @stellarmeadow @onthewaytosomewhere @suseagull04 @kiwiana-writes and @getmehighonmagic.

Have a bit of new to the neighborhood Alex thirsting over Divorced Dad Henry:

Alex manages to cram enough work into his morning that he can plan for a relatively low key afternoon. When he gets to the pool, he's pleased to see Hot Dad is there. Alex finds his favorite lounge chair and spreads his towel out on it, and makes a show of stripping off his shirt and letting it fall to the ground. He straddles the lounge chair watching Hot Dad take a Nerf football to the shoulder. Alex files away the thought of having those broad shoulders covering his own for later, but grins anyway, satisfied enough that Hot Dad's attention was apparently elsewhere. "Dad, you didn't even try!" his son whines.  Hot Dad clears his throat. "I wasn't ready for you to throw it." Alex is going to unpack all of this later, but for now he rubs sunscreen into his skin and settles back in the lounge chair to soak in the midday sun. Hot Dad throws the football with his son a few times before the little boy moves on to a cycle of getting out of the pool, running around to the side, and jumping back into the water, buoyed by the inflatable floaties on his arms. Hot Dad moves on to pushing his daughter around in a clear, purple inflatable tube with a mermaid tail for decoration.  Alex absolutely does not file away for later the way Hot Dad's muscles flex and contract under his skin with every move he makes. He also doesn't have a complete crisis when Hot Dad plants his hands on the edge of the pool and hauls himself out of the water to sit on that same edge, thick thighs on full display, and Christ, Alex wants them wrapped around his hips.

My tag is open as always and I would love to read your words if you want to play but haven't been tagged yet.

Also gently nudging @anincompletelist @affectionatelyrs Dr. @theprinceandagcd (congrats again, Alex!), @14carrotghoul @piratefalls

@hgejfmw-hgejhsf @thinkof-england @taste-thewaste @nocoastposts @cactusdragon517

@eusuntgratie @sparklepocalypse @agame-writes @cha-melodius @cricketnationrise

@firenati0n @happiness-of-the-pursuit @heysweetheart-writes @indestructibleheart

@myheartalivewrites @inexplicablymine @junebugclaremontdiaz @leaves-of-laurelin

@littlemisskittentoes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @ninzied @notspecialbabe @stereopticons

@read-and-write- @rmd-writes @sherryvalli @thesleepyskipper @tintagel-or-cockleshells

@itsmaybitheway @welcometololaland @priincebutt

[sloaaaa]

i enjoy toxic yuri mafuena as much as the next person but sometimes i wish people would focus more on how ena takes care of mafuyu. like when ena held her hand in one of the guiding a list child card stories. or when she was telling mafuyu to move when the light turned green in that one area conversation. they complement each other in so many different ways that's so fucking good and idk how to put it into words and i want to explode

[taddymason]

ao3 is down rn so i cant comment on the new chapter but jay lost an eye and his soul he truly is having a time. amazing chapter i looooved it!!!! cant wait for jay to kill cinder next chapter hehehe

thanks! I love how things have escalated in this fic

I read somewhere that losing your left eye means losing your soul, so... Yeah, he's definitely having a bad time.

[mechazushi]

After the Fall {AN ACTUAL SHORT STORY THIS TIME} [Kaiju No. 8] (Could be considered as possible Ep11 spoilers; interpreted artistically)

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"Kafka Hibino." Captain Mina Ashiro started, "No. Kaiju Number Eight. I am taking you into custody." She leveled her gun to him. Her voice as steady as her hands, taking care not to let an ounce of sadness that had filled her soul melt her outward resolve. The companies were distraught and heavily wounded. Most of the infrastructure in the training area had been reduced to ash. An arched border line had been etched into the pavement around them. One side was mostly intact with spider cracks in various locations. The other side was a pale, dusty mess. No surface from the border and beyond was traversable with all of it being splintered, jutting, and uneven.

At the peak of the arch stood a half dissolved monster, melting back into a man. When the flecks peeled off and drifted into the remnants of the wind, a face began to emerge. Kafka Hibino, the former member of the Third Division had ousted himself as the elusive Kaiju Number Eight. He stood stone still, letting fragments of his alter form slough off as he never took his eyes off his captor. He wanted to think he knew what she was thinking, that this is just protocol, that there was no place in her heart that harbored ill will or intent. Mina wouldn't use her gun against him, right? They could still be friends, that he could still fight for his spot at her side.

He couldn't tell. Mina was unreadable as ever and Kafka couldn't blame her. He had been reprimanded enough times to know that this was just how she had to be in front of others in the Division. Her place wasn't a position where she was afforded the leeway to be physically emotional. Emotion was considered weakness, and she had to be strong for the others. To the officers, she was being seen as a strong captain, standing against a Daikaiju threat. It didn't matter that this was Kafka, that everyone had seen that it was Kafka who made a harrowing choice to save the lives of thousands. All they saw now was a monster, no matter how human and familiar its face was.

"Hoshina. I need you to cuff him." Captain Ashiro commanded. Hoshina heard, but was refusing to act. He couldn't bring himself to look at the situation in front of him. A man he trusted, a man he had considered as a friend and compatriot, was confirmed to be a threat to the world. Hoshina wasn't sure at the beginning what Kafka's circumstances were. He knew that things were off, but he chose to ignore them. The whole reason for letting Kafka join as a cadet was so Hoshina could investigate him, and he failed to do even that. All because he couldn't look past his smile. How could a man with a smile so bright and genuine ever be a threat to others. He didn't believe it, refused to believe it. He wasn't going to slap cuffs on a man that didn't have a threatening bone in his body.

But was he a man? Everyone saw Kafka gain impossible speed. They all saw Kafka, as a kaiju, blast into the sky and launched the bomb to a safer distance. Was Kafka a kaiju now because he was strong and dangerous? Or was he still a man because he understood sacrifice? Kaijus didn't need to deal with pesky feelings. They didn't have to worry about what others thought of them. All there was in kaiju minds was to eat and destroy. Kafka could express emotion, and has expressed desire outside of destruction. If Kafka knew that others would turn and run in fear if they knew what he was and what he could do, why did he do it anyway?

"Hoshina." Captain Ashiro commanded again, dislodging her Vice Captain from his thoughts. He still didn't want to do this, still choosing to believe in the man behind the monster's mask, but it wasn't a good idea to make the Captain repeat herself. Reaching into his side pouch, he dug up one of the plastic handcuffs that most officers are issued with. They were issued with the intent that defense members might encounter people taking the opportunity for ransacking during invasions and could preform arrests until the offender could be picked up by proper authorities. Hoshina walked up to Kafka and held the industrial zip-tie in his hands. Every neuron in his skull felt like it was screaming in retaliation, making his hands hesitate in the action of placing Kafka under physical arrest. He almost wanted to laugh. Did anyone here actually think that these meager restraints could hold back a person with a registered fortitude rating? Kafka slowly held out his wrists in front of him, looking like a toddler that was expecting a ruler to come down on them in punishment.

"It's okay. I know." Kafka whispered imperceptibly to him. His head was bowed solemnly, but he looked at Hoshina as his face remained ever reassuring. He almost felt like slapping the look off of him. How dare he act like this. How dare he try to be apologetic and caring for others in this situation. Why couldn't he be an asshole and run, fight, do anything to save himself. For god's sake, why can't he be selfish. Having to deal with a daikaiju on the loose would have been less gut wrenching than having to send a fellow soldier to an uncertain fate.

"Captain Ashiro, I can explain-" Reno Ichikawa was shouting as he came barreling over the fallen debris as nimbly as possible. Following behind at a much slower pace was Kikoru Shinomiya.

"Save it Officer Ichikawa!" Ashiro barked at him, "Telling by your outburst at this time of all places, tells me you have some knowledge on this as well." she holstered her side arm now that Kafka had been successfully restrained.

"You too, Shinomiya. Hoshina told me about his suspicions about how you managed to neutralize the honju at the acceptance trials earlier this year and with you showing up behind Ichikawa here, I can assume that you're in on this too." She began to wordlessly direct those around her and made moves to stand behind Kafka and Hoshina.

"Okonogi, send several vehicles over to the training area. We have multiple wounded and a lot of tired soldiers that I think would rather drive than walk back to barracks. Leader Ebina, gather some of your people and start marking a path through the rubble so we can transport the wounded."

"Roger that, Captain. Do you want me to send an armored vehicle for Kaiju Number Eight?" replied Okonogi. Captain Ashiro looked hard at Kafka, now back to appearing completely human and in the plastic cuffs. Hoshina was looking right at the captain. Blood had stopped dripping down his face minutes ago, but it was still clear that he wasn't in any shape to fight anything more powerful than a mouse right now. She took in the fact that his hands were placed gently on top of Kafka's limply curled fists, a sight that Kafka couldn't pull his eyes away from.

"No. Leave the armored vehicle for now. We might need it to be fueled and stocked for whatever happens tomorrow." Ashiro replied back after serious consideration. With most of the Division looking the way it did, and the person most capable of going head to head with a daikaiju of small size looking like death warmed over, she acknowledged the fact that Kafka; or Kaiju Number Eight, she hadn't stopped her brain from fluctuating between the two, hadn't taken the opportunity to bolt for the hills. She figured if he was going to try anything, he would have as soon as she leveled her sidearm at him. In the bright moonlight over head, she could see the person she once considered a friend chuckle noticeably.

"Thanks for that, Captain Ashiro. Those trucks don't have the best air condi-"

"Save it. I don't want to hear another word from you tonight." Captain Ashiro commanded. She could clearly see the word's effect on him as he visibly flinched at her sharp tone. As the officers around her got into position and steadied their hands on their rifles, she pointed her finger off over Hoshina's shoulder, indicating that they should start moving. Kafka's feet regretfully began to shuffle around to face the direction he was supposed to go in, but when he tried to take an actual step he hissed loudly and nearly collapsed to his knees onto the pavement. Hoshina didn't think for a second as he rushed forward to catch him before he landed, propping himself under Kafka's broad chest and grabbing his shoulder to keep him balanced. The chorus of six safety switches all clicking off in unison could be heard behind the two of them.

"Shit- Sorry, sorry! Knees were locked." Kafka said, glancing over his and Hoshina's connected bodies.

"Sorry." He added, seemingly addressed to no one in particular.

'Maybe that was addressed to all of us.' Hoshina thought as he helped Kafka readjust to his feet. Once he felt okay enough to walk, he began to move forward at a sluggish pace. It was clear to Hoshina that he wasn't walking slow on purpose, and that it really must have taken a lot out of him to propel himself into the air and sucker punch a twenty kiloton yoju bomb into the lower stratosphere. Hoshina kept a hand on Kafka's upper back as he gently guided him through the path Ebina's team had marked earlier. With the moment they were in being as quiet as possible, save for the occasional echoing crash of broken rubble hitting the ground all around them, Hoshina took a second to think.

'I mean, when you think about it, that should be enough to knock the wind out of anyone capable of doing that in that sort of situation.' He stunned himself with the words in his head. How could he even try and logic out what a man with the power of turning into a Kaiju was even qualified to accomplish? This whole situation was absurd and he hated it. He hated everything in that moment. He hated Kafka for putting himself in danger, he hated Captain Ashiro knowing she was only doing her job, he hated himself because he was the one who told Kafka not to get attached to others on the job because God only knows what could happen and here he was, feeling attached knowing damn well that he was going to feel like shit because he was basically loosing the best damn thing this Division had going for it!

Hoshina couldn't writhe in his personal hell for much longer as the group had made it to the busted doors of the training grounds. The remnants of his fight with Kaiju Number Ten as well as debris from the explosion had all been pushed to the sides as best as possible. A few tents had been erected to preform triage and separate the barely scratched from the mortally wounded and treat them appropriately. A rotating convoy of open air trucks and military jeeps were set up at the far end of the street carrying the tired and lightly wounded to somewhere else on base for rest, if it was available for most. All activity seemed to slow, almost stopping in some areas as Kafka led his paltry parade showcasing his imprisonment through the masses. It almost felt like a display of a man being condemned. Okonogi pulled ahead of the line in her own commandeered jeep and pulled it to a stop in front of Kafka and Ashiro. The captain told the six behind her to grab a vehicle for themselves and follow close behind, before wordlessly hopping into the passenger seat of the car. As Hoshina hopped in the exposed backseat, he could hear Kafka groan and hiss as he settled into the spot on the bench next to him.

"Hssssss, haaaa, hoooo. Wow, sitting down. A novel idea. Who knew?" Kafka talked exhaustedly as he fumbled with the lap belt using his restrained hands.

"Miss Okonogi, not to presumptuously assume your driving skills, but you mind being careful and avoiding potholes and barricades on the way to my cell. I'm gonna take a nap." Kafka's head slumped unceremoniously against the metal bar framing the back of the jeep and immediately started to breath heavily, almost as if he was asleep already. His closed eyes meant he didn't get to see Mina's irritated glare she sent his way before she took the clipboard that Okonogi brought with her. Hoshina rested his elbow against the car's sidewall and placed his face in his hand, staring at an unaware Kafka.

'He's asleep. This no good, dirty, rotten, lying, mutant Kaiju bastard is asleep?' Hoshina thought angrily. As he felt the car move forward and tuned out Captain Ashiro and Okonogi's conversation, he realized all he could think about in that moment was him.

'A man saves an entire base and this is how we thank him.' Hoshina's inner monologue continued. He knew he wasn't the only one here who felt like this, and when the news got out in the morning he was sure lots of others were going to have mixed feelings on this as well. Arresting him was for the best, he knew that as well. Good intentions or no, human or no, it didn't change the fact that Kafka can become a kaiju. The whole purpose of the Divisions was to eliminate kaijus. The fact that Kafka was allowed to breathe, let alone sitting in the back of a car with the two most powerful people on base at rock bottom of their best, spoke volumes about how crazy and fucked up these circumstances were. Protocol was kill on sight, and Kafka knows this. Yet here he was, sleeping the rest of his freedom away.

'It wouldn't be hard, either.' Hoshina thoughts continued, 'I may not be able to put up a good fight at the moment, but we can assume he's mostly human right now. He's asleep and tired, which means he's vulnerable' He played with the tip of the handle connected to his sword. 'I could end it all for him right now and he wouldn't be wiser.'

But he wouldn't. Hoshina couldn't lay any hand on him with deadly and harmful intent behind it, now and forever. Monster or Human, it didn't matter anymore. Nothing could ever change the fact that Hoshina had one percent of trust in this man right now. And he wondered if Kafka could feel that too, because why else could he be so blissfully asleep right now.

'He's not going to be like that for long.' Hoshina thought bitterly. The protocol was kill on sight for honju and yoju, yes, but that stopped at daikaiju. they were killed like any other threat, but whatever that was left of the body after the fight was sent off for research. Research and experimentation. Hoshina knew that it was a snowball's chance in hell that the leaders of the Defense Force were just going to let them keep Kafka on base, but were they going to let Kafka stay alive and intact? Hoshina could feel his heart be poisoned and start to cramp up at the thought. He had to look away for a moment , lest tears started to mix with the blood and stain his cheeks even more. It took several sharp breaths and a solid minute of mental filing to help his chest feels normal again.

Hoshina tried to take another look at the mystery that was his fellow soldier. A face as still as a forest pond, covered in already healed scratches. Light from the moon created soft shadows on his eyelids and neck. flickering and shifting in tandem with the shakes and jolts coming from the moving jeep. His worker's tan looking more pronounced than it usually did. Kafka looked stoic and peaceful, which created a stark contrast to the unearthly and demonic visage Hoshina has associated with Kaiju Number Eight. It was an awful situation Hoshina found himself in.

On one hand, he wanted to come across the bench and hold him. Whisper calmly in his ear that everything was going to be okay. That he won't have to worry about whatever that's going to come for him in the morning. On the other hand, he wanted to be the one that was being held. To have all those sweet and empty promises whispered back at him, to be told that things would be fine for him too. Kafka won't have to leave the base, that this whole kaiju transformation business was just the concussion talking, and the base will be back to operational in no time at all.

None of those things were going to happen. The base reconstruction was going to take forever, Kafka was going to have to leave, and nothing was going to be fine. Hoshina turned away again, feeling the chest tightening again and wanted to keep his tears to himself for the time being. He couldn't cry now because there was a superior officer present and didn't also want to wake Kafka. He couldn't cry in the morning because he needed to be strong in the face of whatever decision that was to come down on his officer's head. As the first shifts of color indicative of the approaching dawn began to brighten the night sky, Hoshina tamped down every bit of emotion he had to let out later into the first few minutes of however much sleep he was going to get in those twilight hours.

This was going to be a rough few months, wasn't it?

[tangledinink]

Chapter Fifteen of I'm Sorry, Teenage Mutant What Now? is now live. Please read it on ao3 or below the cut.

[ prev ]

My Dear Children,

The other day I saw a story on TV about a man who's friend had died at a young age. He decided to create what he called a 'life list'.  What many refer to as a ‘bucket list’ he turned on its head, instead making a list of things to do with his life. He's become something of a celebrity as he posts videos of himself accomplishing his numbered goals. He's spent a week on a deserted island, he's helped a stranger, he's gotten married to a person he met that day in Las Vegas, etc.

So as I watched the story it struck me - if everyone made videos of their ‘life list’ there would be hundreds of thousands of videos and no one with enough time to watch them all.  Plus, many of life's more important accomplishments don't really translate well onto video.

So I decided to work on my own life list which I am sure will never get a lot of you-tube play, but I think is kind of important nonetheless:

1)  Give some very worthwhile children a chance to see if they can make it in the world and achieve their own sort of happiness

2)  Find people honest and kind and who love you for who are - despite your failings and flaws

3)  Be kind to your world and treat it as if it's important and needed by those who will come after you are gone

4)  Be a good and respectful neighbor for all and treat those you meet with kindness and helpfulness

There are probably tons of other stuff that should be here, but these four are at the top. Call it my Mt. Rushmore of life achievements.

I love you all,

Dad

[ next ]

[browneyesandhair]

If These Walls Could Talk by browneyesandhair

Summary:

“Don’t you dare,” Penelope stood up. “That money was as much for you and keeping your current lifestyle. You never hesitated to tell us about the money problems. But when it came to Cousin Jack, you kept it to solve on your own - Oh!” Portia eyed her daughter warily. “What is it?” “I need to speak with my husband. I owe the man an apology.” Penelope turned to leave.

Link: ao3 | ffn

Okay - this probably should have stayed in the drafts (aka my notebook), but I already wrote it so inflicting it upon the world anyway.

[miloscozycorner]

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 ☀︎︎

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

My ask box is also open for chatting, if you so please.

Feel free to check out these other blogs, if you so wish:

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❥ 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

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𝐈 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. 𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐭 ☁︎︎

• I only write x reader!

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• I will not write for anything outside of my fandom list.

🜚 updated nov. 11

[spotsandsocks]

Spotty's (not so) Complete Fic List

I’m up to 72 fics now so this needs an update! Now 79 someone make me update this 81 now- something for everyone (but still not updated) guess what 85 and yes maybe I will update this sometime guess what! 91 now and I’m thinking it’s unlikely this list is updating …. But who knows hope springs eternal. 92 ..93 on the way..let’s be honest; we are both men (gnc) of action, lies do not become us 🧐

All the individual posts are done so here’s my final master master fic list because with just over 60 Buddie fics now there’s too many to pin on one post so they’re all sorted into themes and you’ll find links here. All kinds to choose from but all with an eventual happy ending. And also for your delight three amazing commissions by the incredibly talented @macarenaandrad3 and cover art by amazing and creative @ronordmann for some of the stories.

AUs (4 fics)

Obliviousness on the fluffy fun side (12 fics)

Miscommunication and misunderstandings kinda angsty (5 fics)

Explict (5 fics)

Getting together (8 fics)

Buck's Trauma and Feelings (7 fics)

Eddie's POV (7 fics)

[rewritingcanon]

liking this ship is my fulltime job actually

[plaidposh]

“… how it felt to know him—vast and complicated and cruel, determined as a battering ram and sometimes shatteringly magnificent.”

@astolat Blooded Crown

[thesmollestsnek]

Someone is about to have his weekend go from good to great, if you know what I mean. 👀

Inspiration: https://www.tumblr.com/clockwayswrites/728541282761392128/you-all-dont-see-this-nope-didnt-write-it

@clockwayswrites behold: half of a bribe I totally didn’t offer you!

I was originally gonna wait to post this drawing with its partner, but I’ve been sitting on this for a month and haven’t had time to sit down and draw, so… yeah.

This piece was actually really fun for me, as my first real foray into nsfw themes! I've drawn non-sexual nudity before, but it was really fun to see how much I could imply without directly showing the act. I might've gotten a bit carried away adding the hickies, but what can I say it was surprisingly enjoyable. The face was also a nice challenge, since my asexual and extremely sex-repulsed ass has no idea what is and isn't a sexy facial expression. When I asked my allo sister she said I did well, so imma have to take her word for it. And of course, the slight freckles and lichtenberg scarring were super fun.

[dont-hug-me-its-yuri]

Spinach can is such a goober, they could never make hate you Spinach can.

[unfinishedslurs]

Jonathan Byers This Is An Intervention

“You’re not happy here.”

Jonathan looks up, startled. Will stands in the doorway with his arms crossed. They’re alone in the house, El hanging out with Max and their mom on a date with Hopper. They had to practically shove her out the door before she’d leave, rambling a list of phone numbers and where to find them, as well as reminding them where the leftovers were. 

“We know, Mom,” he and Will had chorused, and permitted her to pull them down for one last kiss on the cheek before closing the door on her. Hopper just watched in amusement. 

He and Will had eaten dinner before separating to work on their projects, Will with a dnd campaign idea and Jonathan cleaning his camera out. It has more dust than it should, having been sitting in his closet unused for too long. It makes something in him ache, but he can’t make himself pick it up again. There’s something blocking him. 

“What?” 

“You’re not happy here,” Will repeats. “In Hawkins.”

“It’s Hawkins,” he points out. Being unhappy is a given. He’s always known it sucks here, from the way people treated his mom to the rumors that always flew around when he made his way through the halls. The way they’ve treated Will. He hated this town long before interdimensional monsters factored in. 

Will’s frown gets deeper. “I’m happy,” he points out. “Mom’s happy. El and Hopper are happy. We actually have friends here.”

“I have friends,” Jonathan protests, slightly offended. He and Argyle call multiple times a week. He and Nancy are still good friends, and Steve and Robin are slowly growing on him. In a surprising turn of events, Eddie is the person his age he talks to the least, but it makes sense when he thinks about it. Eddie’s brand of freak has always been loud and dramatic, half relying on shock value. Jonathan prefers the quiet. 

“When was the last time you actually hung out with someone that wasn’t me?”

Is that what this is about? Something in his heart sinks at the idea that Will doesn’t think he’s enough. “I like hanging out with you. You’re the coolest person I know,” he says, shifting over and patting the bed next to him. 

Will sits down with a huff that sounds very fifteen-year-old of him. He’s glad he’s getting to be a kid. “You’re not listening to me,” he complains. 

“Then what are you trying to say?”

Will won’t meet his eye, suddenly nervous. “Everyone your age here is leaving,” he says quietly. “Nancy is going to Emerson soon, Steve and Robin are going to Chicago, and Eddie…uh, I don’t know his plans, exactly, he might be going with them. He’s not staying here, anyway. And Argyle is on the other side of the country. So all the people you’re friends with are leaving.”

“They are,” he agrees, laying what he hopes is a soothing hand on Will’s shoulder, “but you know I’m not leaving you, right? I’m not leaving you and Mom.”

Will squeezes his eyes shut. “Maybe you should.”

It feels like ice water being poured over his head. 

Something in his stomach twists uncomfortably at the idea of calling Hopper his dad. He doesn’t know if he’s ever going to. He doesn’t even know if Hopper would want him to. But “dad” is always a word he’s associated with bruises and yelling, the stink of whiskey and a gun in his small, shaking hands. Jim Hopper, with his gruff, fumbling way affection and sweet smiles at his daughter will never fit his version of the word. 

“You’re not my dad,” Will says. “You’re my older brother, you should be my brother. You should be moving away and going to college and living your life! You shouldn’t be stuck here because of me.” He seems near tears now, and Jonathan flounders. He’s always been pretty good at making Will feel better, but now it’s different. Now it’s him making his little brother upset.

Will takes a deep, stabilizing breath.

“You’re not my dad,” he says again. “You shouldn’t have to be my dad.”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” he says weakly.

“You’re doing a better job than he ever did.”

“Okay, then how should we start?”

“You could tell me why we’re always running out of tylenol.”

He didn’t even realize anyone noticed that. He’s been replacing it before it was even empty.

The words stick in his throat, reluctant to come out. But he promised. He promised he’d tell him, and he hates to break a promise to Will.

“It’s my back,” he admits. “My boss hit me with a chair, and it hurts all the time now. I used to smoke it away, but…”

He smoked a little too much. He was too reliant on it. He was being neglectful. The reasons stay on the tip of his tongue, unable to admit his shortcomings. 

Unfortunately, Will takes it another way. “You stopped because of me.”

“No!” 

“Why didn’t you tell me? Or Mom? We can go to the doctor now, we have insurance.”

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you go? Why can’t you just take care of yourself?”

“It’s just a little back pain,” he defends, “it’s not a big deal.”

It’s really not. It’s practically nothing compared to what some of their friends ended up with. Will has respiratory problems, Eddie uses a cane now, Max is in a wheelchair and her eyes might never work again. Not to mention Steve’s mix of migraines, glasses, hearing loss, and scars he’s accumulated over the years that put Jonathan’s to shame. His issues pale in comparison.

“It is when you take as many painkillers as you do! You’re going to eat holes in your stomach.”

“If I get an ulcer, it’ll be because I know there’s another world out there full of things that want to kill us,” he says, poking Will in the stomach. He giggles, and then looks mad about it. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you actually happy. I feel like it’s my fault.”

What does he say to that? It can’t be your fault, because I don’t remember the last time I was happy like that? I felt like this long before you went missing? Anything he says will make him worry more. 

“It’s not your fault,” he finally settles on. 

“But if I hadn’t disappeared—“

“I would still feel like this,” he says, because he has to. He can’t stand the idea of Will thinking it’s his fault when the truth is that something has been wrong with Jonathan for a long, long time. “It’s not because of the Upside-Down, bud. It’s not something you can fix. I’m pretty sure I’m just…like this.”

He’s had moments of happiness, obviously. Sometimes he’ll get days, or even weeks, where he genuinely looks forward to the future. When he was in California with Argyle, he felt even better. But eventually, the heaviness in his chest always comes back. It’s just something he knows how to live with now. 

Will sits up, glaring at him. “That’s bullshit!”

“It’s just how it is.”

He squares his shoulders, a telltale sign that Jonathan isn’t going to like whatever he says next. “Mom and I think you should see a therapist.”

Jonathan really doesn’t like that. “You’ve been talking to Mom about this?”

“She’s worried about you!”

“She shouldn’t be!” He’s almost offended. He’s been taking care of himself for years. He was taking care of her for years. “I’m fine! I know how to live with it!” 

“I haven’t seen you smile for real in two months!”

“I’m fine!” He snaps again, and immediately regrets it. Will’s lower lip trembles. 

“You’re not fine,” he says. “You’re not. Don’t lie to me, Jonathan. You just said you weren’t going to lie to me.”