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ginsengkitten · 8 months ago

Text

༺ Beautiful Dangerous ༻

A slashxreader fanfiction

༺☆༻

Chapter Seven

Rocket Queen

wc: 2800

smut warning

The one y’all been waiting for lmao

The anticipation of seeing Slash again was completely palpable. You bee lined your way to the stage door. A familiar sight of a dark alleyway surrounded by shady figures. But this time you felt less….afraid. All you could think about was him. You felt brave enough to let yourself in the stage door after a random crew member leaves and you slip your way inside. The backstage was a dark seedy cavern of chaos and crewmen. You feel a large heavy grip on your shoulder. You turn around hoping it’s him but are disappointed to see a large intimidating bouncer. “No groupies back here girl. “ he bellows. “It’s cool she’s with me.” A voice says from behind him. The bouncer doesn’t care much to verify that and walks away. “Looks like you found your own way in then.” He smirks as he approaches you. He’s almost stunned and takes a second to examine your obvious style change. His eyes eat up your body from head to toe and you blush. You pull nervously at the edge of your mini dress. Almost confident but not quite. “Look at you Foxey…” He says quietly eyeing you. As much as you want to be simply eye candy, you want to get to the bottom of his query of inviting you tonight. You nervously cross your arms. “So….you called…” you start

“I called.” He confirms cheekily, still eyeing you.

You shift anxiously. “ ….so?”

“So?” He replied again even cheekier.

“Soooo- is there something you wanted to tell me or?” You pry, desperate for answers.

“Does there have to be something to say? Cant a guy just want to see a pretty girl?” He replies boldly smirking down at you as he walks closer.

You nervously look around the two of you to confirm no one is witnessing this private moment.

“Follow me.” He turns sharply and heads to the back of the stage. This backstage was different. It was larger and had rooms. Private dressing rooms. While not fancy by any means. You follow discreetly behind him into a main sitting area where the rest of the band was passing around a bottle of whiskey. You join them. Slash taking a widespread seat on the couch and pulls you on his lap. This time, less layers of clothing lie between you and him. You could feel him underneath you. Hard.

Knowing and feeling this gave you a jolt of electricity and heat in the pit of your stomach. Did you sitting on his lap feel good to him?

“Our groupie returns!” Axl proclaims excitedly. “Fuck you.” Slash laughs. “Oh Right boys, this is slashes special toy, don’t be messin with her now or Slash will kill you in your sleep!” They joke. You wonder if they are at all serious. Special toy?

Slash snakes his arm around your waist from behind and holds you on him. This touch gives you butterflies. You need more of this, of his touch. As the conversation peters onward you can’t help but want things to go in a different direction. You start making small adjustments on his lap, slight shifts in movement that gave friction to him. You can tell it startled him in a good way and he tightens his grasp around your waist in response. He felt good underneath you like this. While you had never been sexual with a man before, all of this felt and flowed naturally for you.

You got more brave and decided to start tracing the denim seam on the outside hip of his jeans. A simple yet effective choice. You wanted him to know what you wanted but were too shy to say. What you’ve been wanting. The rest of the group too drunk or pumped up to notice or care, the backstage lights low gave way to much more freedom in the low light. As the conversation loudly carried on, the two of you slip into your own exchange. He leans you back on him so that his mouth is next to your ear. His warm, cigarette flavored breath heavy on your ear as he whispered to you. “Need something Foxey?” He whispers sultry. His words and cadence makes you weak. A feeling of warmth between your legs as his words warmed your ear. You can’t help but smile mischievously. Torn between the nerves of having never gone to such sexual lengths with a guy before and the animalistic ferocity that was taking you by storm.

You look to him. He looks at you with a bloodthirsty gaze. The two of you in a mutual agreement of sorts. He returns back into the conversation at hand. His hand wrapped at your waist begins drawing little circles in the side of your dress. Casual to any outside but agonizing to you. His reply in this little game. The group is getting up to go somewhere. “We’re gonna hit, you coming?” They ask as they all round up to visit the bathroom together. “We’re gonna hang back.” Slash says. Once they file out of sight it takes Slash all of one second to get off the couch and lifts you up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You let out a yelp of delight. “Slash!” You chirp as you laugh. Now what?

Slash doesn’t respond and proceeds to carry you down a dark hallway into a small dingy dressing room. He locks the door and as soon as he sets you down you’re up off your feet again and pressed up against the door by Slash. He lifts you up and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. “Slash!” You giggle again. Slash roughly presses his lips against yours. Sparks fly again. Harder now. His curls hiding your face into his in a little curtain. You melt into him. His touch is addictive. The way he holds you like your going to get away but that’s the last thing you want. He towers over you, cradling you entirely in his grip like it’s nothing. His hands grip your ass hard and he lets out a heavy breath against your lips. “You know how long I’ve wanted you?” He growls. The two of you fall desperately deeper into the kiss. His wet tongue dominates your lips and slides its way into you. He tastes so good. One of his large hands slides it’s way up from your bottom to your waist, and then up your side and finally, hugging over your breast. You let out a soft moan of pleasure. Something he had been imagining in his own head for some time. How you looked, how you sounded…He smiles viciously. “God I need you to do that again for me sweetheart.” He pants out in a frenzy and gives your breast another loving squeeze to which you oblige another soft moan out into his lips. He smirks again.

He shifts away from the door and carrys you over to a beaten down futon in the dressing room. Setting you down roughly. As he sets you down he stays low and comes to his knees, yet met you at your height sitting down. His large hands rested heavily on both your hips, he kisses you and then works his way with his lips and his hands down your chest, to your stomach, his hands slipping down your thighs, he firmly prys open your legs but for some reason, maybe due to the pure foreign nature of the action you reflex and slightly close them accidentally. This takes him aback and he looks up to you with a devilish grin turned concern. “What is it Foxey?” He asks while pecking sweet kisses on your knees. “Oh - sorry I don’t know why I - I - go ahead I-“ you stumble to find remedy. Slash looks at you in a total realization. “Foxey…have you ever…?” He asks. You shake your head shamefully. “Oh Foxey…” He coos sweetly and lowly. “Let me show you baby.” He continues without further conversation. You didn’t need convincing but hearing that helped you relax again and your body surrenders to his touch. He continues on and prys your legs open gently. It takes him all his strength to not completely devour you so quickly. He smooths his rough muscular hands up your inner thighs, mirror one another’s movement. He hikes your dress up further. Speckling sloppy wet kisses across your waistband and over the top of your panties. He looks up at you through a curtain of dark curls to watch you. “ I’m gonna make you feel so good baby, I just need you to do one thing for me.” He whispers and he slides down your panties and discards them. The cool air hitting you. “Yes Slash?” You ask with a breathy desperation. He smiles at your eagerness. “ I need you to moan for me baby.” He says and slides a finger inside of you effortlessly with the already slick wetness that had accumulated down there. You let out a soft gasp and moan. “Oh god!” You gasp. He smiles. “Good girl.” He smirks with barely an ounce of morality at his deflowering. He begins pumping his finger inside you. You feel something cold and realize it’s the finger with the snake ring. He never took it off. Nevermind that now. Pleasure swayed within you echoing through with each gentle pump inside you with his finger. “I wanna hear you baby.” He whispers desperate to hear your moans and adds a second finger. It only hurts for a moment but the pain turns to pure pleasure. He’s not hard with it, just soft gentle pumps into you like he’s fingering a guitar. You let out another moan. He exits you with a grin and climbs up to you, leaning you back onto the couch. He brings his wet fingers to your mouth. “Open up Foxey.” You obey his sweet command and he sticks his fingers into your mouth softly. “Suck” He commands in a low gravelly tone. His eyes piercing you as he watches through darkened eyes. You obey again. “You taste so good huh.” He affirms. This seemingly strange action gave you coils of hot sparks through you. You keep eye contact with him while you wrap your tongue around his fingers and suck generously. He returns to you below and this time flattens his tongue across your lips in one long broad stroke. You throw your head back again and let out a moan of surprise and pleasure. “Slash.” You moan.

Your voice moaning out his name drove him to his limit. He stood up and unbuckled his jeans. You take off your jacket and hike your dress up further. Need more of him. “I want you inside me. Please.” You blurt out in a breath. As if you even had to ask. He smirks devilishly at your admittance. “Just do it just go.” You beg. You’ve never wanted anything more. He pulls your towards him with your legs wrapped around him . In an instant you feel him push into you. Pain and pleasure spark out of you. “Fuck” You moan out. He lets out a sharp breathy groan and throws his head back and pushes his hair back although it falls back over him immediately. “You feel so fucking good Foxey girl.” He groans out. He slowly begins pumping in and out of you. Watching for signs of displeasure from you but all you feel is ecstasy. He throws his shirt off, exposing his sweaty happy trail to which you could now finally see where it led to and it was in-fact- happiness. His abdomen glistening again with sweaty specks. He looked so good on top of you. Thrusting into you faster and faster. He leans down and cradles your head in his hand while holding himself up with the other he rests it forehead atop yours as the frequency increases bigger and bigger. The two of you moan in harmonious rhythms, he rocks his hips into you. This incredible dance of rough and romance. His moans sound so pretty. His curls swayed with every thrust into you.

You both pant heavily into each others faces as knots of pleasure twist inside both of you. “Here.” He pants out like a dog and reaches his fingers down over your clit. The added stimulation sending lightning strikes down your legs. You start to feel yourself tensing up and be did too. “Slash-“ You pant out softly. “I-“ you don’t succeed in your speaking before stars are spinning through you. “Oh fuck-“ You cry out. He cradles your head through it and watches you squirm underneath him in pleasure. You dig your nails into his back. He doesn’t stop. As you begin to descend slightly, the sight of you underneath him. Everything. You, the way you moaned his name, the way you dressed, the way you looked, spoke, laughed, walked. All of his deep seeded infatuations with you built up finally coming to a grand release. He lets out a concealed rough grunt and quickly exits you as white hot spurts out over your legs. Still dizzied with pleasure, you watch. He finally halts and slightly collapses himself onto you. The two of you stay silent, staring into one another’s eyes, catching your breath. You had never felt so connected to something in your life like him, like this.

“What’d you think Foxey?” He asks smirking arrogantly. You blush as you come to your senses. Slightly embarrassed by the scene you made. “It was..so good.” You grin. This makes him happy and he comes back down to you and gives you a hot exhausted kiss. “God I could kill for a cigarette right now” you laugh at that sentence coming from your own mouth. He laughs and gets up. Before his pants are even fully buckled he’s got a lit cigarette in between his lips again and passes it to you, you take a big inhale and total cool bathed your entirety. You stay half naked lying down, staring at him and the smoke leaving your lips. “Do you think anyone heard that?” You ask him. To which he chuckles - “probably.”

You smirk. “ Good.”

#slash #slash fanfiction #slash gnr #slash x reader #gnr smut #slash smut #gnr #saul hudson #gnr x reader #saul hudson x reader

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leezlelatch · 1 year ago

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Terzo x GN! Reader

A very kind person pointed out that I had a gendered term in here and I apologize if it took anyone out of the story. It has been fixed!

~6,200 words, contains diner shenanigans, dancing, and sad to happy Terzo. You spend your evenings writing at the old diner in town, looking for your next great story idea. And then Terzo Emeritus walks through the door.

The neon diner sign of rocket red and electric blue illuminates the small parking lot and the few cars strung about haphazardly in their spots. Next to the dumpster in the back, a young couple attempts to get a few heated touches in before the back door swings open, sending them running while the whistling cook pours a bucket of grease into the grassy patch nearby. The few patrons inside sit on different ends of a diner that hasn’t changed a wink since it was erected, although the same couldn’t be said for the diehards who have been coming since their kids were kids or since they were kids. The lone waitress on duty pours another cup of coffee for an overworked cop, while a businessman in a booth runs a hand through his well-oiled hair, his eyes vacant while he comes up with another excuse for his wife as to why the paycheck is short again this week.

You make eye contact with a young boy sitting at a table with his sister and parents. He smiles at you, and your lips curve in a genuine one yourself. There’s a diversity here. That’s the reason you keep coming back, although the cheeseburgers certainly make their own argument. You make a silly face at the boy and wink, his smile broadening as he giggles before turning back to the chicken nuggets his mother is trying very hard to get him to eat. You take a breath and rub your fingers against your palms before turning back to your laptop, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth as you regard the blank document.

Writing is so damn difficult, and honestly, you wonder how James Patterson gets away with publishing a hundred books a year. At this point, we all know it isn’t him writing. No, the real writers are out here, plugging away in old diners and trying not to go insane. At this point, you don’t even know where the plot is going, and you regret not making an outline. But you need ideas for outlines and you’re fresh out of them.

“I should just go back to writing fanfiction,” you mumble, resting your chin on your hand while sighing in frustration.

The dainty ring of the old bell above the door draws your attention to the front, and you watch with interest as the newest addition to this motley crew enters. You’ve never seen him before. In the weeks that you’ve made this place your writing home, you’ve gotten to know most of its patrons. They’re typical small town people with problems, just like you have problems, but they’re the type of people who always have a good morning on the tip of their tongue and call you honey. But this guy. Boy, did he break the mold.

He’s older, maybe above 50, close to 60. The wrinkles around his eyes and forehead are cut deep, and it draws your writer’s curiosity to wonder if they’re from laughter or pain. His face is set in a neutral expression as his eyes scan the diner, and you feel yourself inching forward in your seat, squinting a little.

Am I seeing right? you think, watching as the man moves toward the counter. His left eye looks strange, milky from where you’re sitting, and you immediately conclude that he must be blind in one eye.

You quickly look away and down at your table, your eyes a little wide. Judging much? you scold yourself. Jesus, get a grip. You’re not that damn bored.

Despite your internal reproach, your eyes flicker back up to watch the man as he takes off his jacket and lays it over one arm, politely waiting for the waitress to turn around as she refills the coffee pot. He’s wearing a dark purple button-up, sleeves rolled up to expose dainty wrists and forearms covered in dark hair. He’s that dark and debonair type, his hair that kind of black that’s almost unnatural, probably dyed. His bangs fall into his face, a long-fingered hand coming up to brush it away from his eyes. Your eyebrows raise as the errant lock of hair settles in a perfect wave with its brethren, unmoving. So the handsome older stranger has perfect hair, entirely unsurprising and very much appreciated.

You quickly glance down at your laptop when his eyes sweep across the room, likely looking for a place to sit, and you’re faced with your blinking cursor once more. Ignore the most interesting person you’ve seen walk in here in weeks, and write your damn story.

“Hello, how are you doing?” His accented voice floats across the diner.

Fuck it.

You watch him greet the waitress with a smile, his arm not holding the jacket coming up to rest on the counter as he casually leans, crossing one foot over the other. Penny, the poor woman caught in the clutches of that peculiar stare, flounders like a fish for several seconds before asking what she could get him. You try to peg his accent as he asks for black coffee with a squeeze of lemon, but all you can think about is how lovely the words sound coming out of those full lips. At this point, you begin to wonder if you’re in heat.

“You sure you don’t want cream, honey?” Penny asks him, pouring his coffee in one of those chipped porcelain mugs.

“No, thank you. I am lactose intolerant,” the man chuckles lightly and presses a hand to his stomach. “It will come back like a ghost.”

“A ghost?” Penny frowns.

“Eh, to haunt me. Stomach troubles. This is what I get for trying English phrases, no?”

“Oh. Right,” Penny laughs a little uncomfortably and slides his coffee across the counter. “That’ll be a dollar fifty.”

The man slides a twenty across the counter and smiles pleasantly at her with a quiet, lilted, “Keep the change, per favore.”

He turns and makes his way to a table about two away from yours, and reaches into the pocket of his jacket. He pulls out a small notebook, moleskin, and leaves the jacket draped over the empty chair beside him before taking a seat. Your eyes peer over the top of your laptop, watching as he warms his hands on his cup for a moment, just staring into the mug with an unreadable expression. There is something sad about him, something you can’t quite put your finger on. Honestly, you shouldn’t be trying. It’s rude. You’re rude. And the poor man probably just wants to enjoy a cup of joe before going home for the night.

As he lifts the mug to his lips, his eyes catch yours. His left eye isn’t milky, the iris is entirely white, pupil like a pinprick. God, you just wanna fling your laptop across the room. You are so goddamn nosy, and look what happened. Embarrassed, and thoroughly blushing, you look away for a moment before compelled, you return his odd gaze. He smiles at you and tips his mug in greeting before taking that first sip which prompts a satisfied sigh to escape that perfect mouth and you want to die.

You start to type on your keyboard, nonsensical stuff to make it look like you’re working and not obsessing, but all you can manage to write is, “I am as thirsty for this old man as he is for his cup of coffee.” Oh my god, delete that now. What is wrong with you?

I’m never leaving my apartment again, you think. I’m not doing it. He’s been in here for 10 minutes and I am acting like a looney toon.

Taking a deep cleansing breath, you take a big bite of your nearly cold cheeseburger like a feral animal before cracking your knuckles, determined to get back to your story. You begin to write a descriptive opening for the scene, and as the story progresses, seemingly slipping from your brain to your fingers to the document on the screen, you decide that it’s going to be a romance. Perhaps entirely inspired by the man a few tables away from you, but hey! That’s the reason you come here. It’s paying off.

Your eyes unwittingly fall on the man once more, and he’s hunched over the little notebook, a pencil in his hand as he writes. His lips move, silently reading along with each stroke of his pencil, and he more than once has to brush that bang away from his forehead, causing a smile to light your face. Not so perfect hair after all. Ah well, who are you kidding? Even the messy bang is its own perfection.

His fingers rise to his face and he pauses for a moment as if he’s remembering something before shaking his head a little with a barely perceptible smile and scratching his nose. He heaves a sigh and looks about the diner again, his eyes falling on the sign that claims the diner sells Pepsi fresh. You watch his eyebrows turn in, deepening the wrinkles which pucker above the bridge of his nose, giving him an angry look which coupled with his white eye could make anyone shiver in intimidation.

The family sitting nearby finish their meal and stand up, the kids talking exuberantly as they put their jackets on. The little boy runs ahead of his parents and nearly trips, the man on instinct half-standing, his chair scraping across the linoleum as he makes a small lunge toward the boy in order to prevent his falling. The kid rights himself without help, and looks at the stranger with a nervous, wide-eyed stare.

“It is alright, little one. I fall very often,” the man says with a soft smile, making a show of nearly tripping and falling back into his seat with an “oof!” The little boy starts to giggle, and you feel your own cheeks heat as you watch them interact. It’s so incredibly sweet, and the way the man’s eyes shine as he nods the family out the door makes you wonder if he has his own children at home. Likely grown. But the lack of a ring on his finger says otherwise, although…that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.

Your stranger turns back to his notebook and picks up his pencil, taking another sip of his coffee with his free hand. When he presses the lead to the page, it snaps. He stares down at the broken piece for several seconds before his hand curls into a fist, and it looks as if he may throw the pencil across the room in the very same way you considered throwing your laptop. His expression changes, no longer soft and sweet as it was with the boy, or politely curious. It crumbles as if he was just given bad news, his mouth cutting a severe line. That bang falls into his face, and he doesn’t bother to push it away, letting it hang limp in front of his eyes that are hollow, vacant.

And then he looks up. And it’s gone. He looks only minorly inconvenienced, his gaze once more falling on you. He leans across the table slightly, an arm reaching across the expanse as he attempts to catch your eyes which are hyper focused on your laptop. You are the master of being inconspicuous, for sure.

“Excuse me? May I bother you for a moment?” Such a basic question, and yet his accent caresses each word with a musical quality.

“Hi, yes?” You inquire, finally meeting his gaze. If there ever was a moment to ‘audibly swallow’ as so many fanfictions describe, it would be now.

“Well, I must have a very strong grip because my pencil broke before I could get a single line on paper,” he says, holding up his broken pencil. “And as my brother would say, I do not have a brain, and forgot to bring another.”

He pauses for a moment to admire your amused smile at his words which bolsters his own. He gives a little shrug, “He also says to get out of my room and write, but I cannot do so without a pencil, sì? I end up bothering a lovely young person like yourself who have better things to do than entertain such an old chatterbox.”

“Is there a question in there?” You tease, arching a brow. You tilt your laptop screen down to better see him, and you don’t miss the way his eyes scan your face.

He puts his hands up and you take note of a signet ring on his right hand, but from this angle, you are unable to see the symbol adorning it. “What did I say, huh? I talk too much. My question is, do you have a pencil? Or a pen, if it is not too much trouble.”

“Are you a writer?” You ask, picking up your bag to rummage through for the pen you know is hiding at the bottom.

“Perhaps it is one of many things I do.”

“Perhaps?” You find the pen, and pull it out, scooting back from your chair.

“No, no, please don’t get up,” he says, slipping from his chair to approach you. You feel a rush in your chest as he comes to stand beside you, your head tilting up to meet his eyes, immediately entranced by the lovely shade of green in his right one.

“One would have to write to be a writer, no?” He continues, lightly taking the pen from your hand. His ring has the sigil of Lucifer carved into the face.

“Which is what you were doing, until your pencil broke,” you point out.

“It is more of a hobby than a profession.”

“A writer is a writer no matter if you do it day, night, or in between time spent staring into the void,” you say, your eyes returning to your half-closed laptop.

“Ah, I am familiar with the void,” the man chuckles softly.

“Hell?” You question, your gaze once more falling to his ring.

His handsome features turn confused for a moment, following your gaze before stretching out his fingers and making a small noise of acknowledgement. “Ah, my ring! Sì, sì,” he laughs again, turning his hand this way and that to admire the gold. “Do you believe Hell is a void?” He asks you then.

“I don’t believe Hell is particularly anything,” you return, watching as he pulls out the chair next to you, pausing for a moment to give you a questioning look before you nod, and he settles himself in.

“What if I told you Hell is a beautiful place?” The man asks.

“Are you preaching?”

“Preaching is one of the things that I do,” he shrugs.

“Usually one introduces themself before trying to convert another to their religion…or cult?” You smirk.

His eyebrows fly up into his hairline and his full bottom lip drops open. There’s a beat of a second before those fingers are once more running through his dark hair as he leans back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other. “I am being not very nice,” he shakes his head. “You can call me…Terzo. And no, I am not trying to convert you. And no, it is not a cult.” He slaps his lips, waving his hand around like a conductor. “Okay, maybe it is a cult, but it is a good one!” He pauses. “Sometimes.” He pauses again. “It is trying to be.”

“Interesting,” you say slowly.

“I am bothering you,” Terzo mumbles, placing his hands on his thighs as he moves to stand. “Mi dispiace. Sorry. Sorry.”

“Hey!” You reach out a hand to touch his arm. As your fingers wrap around his wrist, the both of you freeze - you in your seat floundering like a fish and Terzo half-standing, the oddest expression on his face. You quickly let go with a small apology before saying, “I meant interesting as in actually interesting. I’m interested.” The last part comes out almost like a quiet plea.

Terzo nods slowly and sits back down, his knees cracking as he does. He gives you a weak smile as he reaches a hand down to rub at one absently. “Do not get old.”

“Are you Italian?” You question.

“What gave it away?” He teases, arching a bushy brow.

“Accent and interwoven Italian words aside, it was your name. Terzo means third, right?”

“Do you know Italiano, uh…okay, now you are the rude one not giving me your name, huh?” He smiles.

You laugh and hold up your hands, “You got me.” You provide your name, and Terzo lights up, tilting your pen still clutched in his hand toward his chin. “What’s that sneaky expression for?” You add.

“Names have power, don’t you know? You have given me a gift.” He wiggles his foot, tapping the pen against his chin.

“Are you going to take my name back with you to your non-cult cult?” You reach out to close your laptop the rest of the way, wholly invested in this conversation.

“Only if the owner comes with it.” He leans forward, a glint in his white eye.

“Ha! Knew it. You are trying to convert me.”

The both of you break into easy laughter, and you notice that Terzo’s smile has finally reached his eyes, so unlike the half-smile built into a blank face he provided Penny earlier, or the melancholy which overshadowed his playfulness with the little boy. His smile is crooked, wide, and his eyes wrinkle deeply at the corners. It’s sweet, and so very beautiful.

“You did not answer my question,” Terzo continues, tilting his head to the side slightly. “Do you know Italian?”

“Ah, no,” you laugh shyly. “I just know primo, secondo, and terzo mean first, second, and third. Among other random vocabulary.”

“Well, you just named three men of the Emeritus family.”

“Emeritus? Is that your last nam-…wait,” you arch a brow. “I named them?”

“Eh sì, my eldest brother Primo, then Secondo, and myself. My fratellino is Copia, he was spared the numerics,” Terzo shrugs amusedly.

You start to speak and then stop, looking down at the table, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth as you fight a smile.

“I realize it sounds ridiculous. Our father, as Copia likes to say, is a dickhead,” Terzo supplies.

“Okay, it’s funny,” you concede, grinning. “But it’s not…it’s not bad. Terzo is a very lovely name. I like it. After all, three is considered the perfect number. Full of magic.”

“I have been known to carry a few tricks up my sleeve,” Terzo says with a charming smile. “Do you believe in magic? In the alteration of space and time? Conjuration, for example.”

“I believe that there are things in this world that we don’t fully understand.”

“Ah! And Hell is so hard to believe?”

“I don’t know. I guess if I had to believe in something, it would be what you said. That Hell is beautiful. I’d want it to be accepting of flaws. And mistakes. Lucifer was the original rebel, right? I don’t want to believe in a place of pain,” you say, unable to believe that you’re discussing the afterlife with this man, virtually a stranger. Really, you can’t believe you’re talking to him at all. Your night at the diner is certainly not the quiet, uneventful one you expected it to be.

Perhaps a new story began the moment Terzo Emeritus walked through that door.

“That is a Christian concept. And excuse me, fucking wrong. I know this, I am Papa,” Terzo delivers this line as if he’s done it a hundred times and believes it to be one hundred percent true.

“Papa?” The word comes out of your mouth as if he just announced himself as “big daddy” to the entire diner.

Terzo’s expression drops in an instant. The confidence he exuded moments before melts away, his fingers twitching and tapping against the table with a nervous air. He tries to smile, but it wobbles, becoming a strange half-frown. “Forget I said that,” he says. “Per favore, eh…please.”

“What are you trying to write?” You ask, gesturing toward his little notebook which still sits at his table, closed. Terzo gives you a small smile of thanks before getting up and collecting his things, returning to your table to sit and open his notebook to the page he was working at.

He wags a finger at you. “Big mistake inviting me to sit, now I won’t fuck off. Dispiace. I say fuck a lot. And shit.”

“Every writer needs a colorful vocabulary.”

“Ah, sì. And you are so intent on hiding yours, huh?” He makes a playful grab at your laptop. You almost shout in alarm, pulling it back, before looking apologetically around the diner. Penny squints at the both of you suspiciously. Terzo snickers beside you, his hand to his mouth.

“It’s not done,” you hiss quietly.

“You expect me to show you mine then, tch tch tch!,” Terzo shakes his head. “Have you ever heard of a little tit for tat, darling?” Terzo’s smile widens and he ducks his head to try and peer under your half-closed screen which you swiftly close with a click. He tilts his head, gazing at you from beneath long lashes. “Is it erotic?”

You give him a withering look, your cheeks flushing a pink that makes his eyebrows raise with a gentle smile that replaces his teasing smirk. He appears fascinated, his eyes scanning your features for several seconds. You have no words for the sudden change in his demeanor, and you look at him with equal quiet reverence. Something unknown passing between the two of you.

“I should not tease you,” he says then, his voice a few octaves lower. “I never show my writing to anyone, well…that is going to change soon.”

“Why’s that?” You ask, your gaze falling to his notebook where his messy cursive loops across the page, rendering you unable to read it from your position at the table.

“If you must know, curious thing, I am writing a song. I am a musician. A singer,” he says, bending his hand at the wrist which he flings to the side with a grandiose flair.

“Really?” The incredulity in your voice makes him frown at you, a bushy eyebrow arching.

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“No! No, it’s not that. I just would think as a songwriter, you would sing or…like someone would have heard your work at some point. Why keep it a secret?”

“You are full of questions, volpino,” he says with a little smirk, tilting his head to regard you with amused eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you answer immediately, shying away from his gaze. “I guess I’m prying pretty hard. Tit for tat, right?”

“I never said your curiosity was unwelcome. Believe it or not, but I like to talk about myself,” he winks, and it makes you laugh. Terzo closes his eyes and hums a little.

“I’m writing romance. Which, I know. Not exactly original.”

“Che cosa?” His eyes open and he shakes his head. “Not original, pah! Some of the greatest works in the literary canon are romances, yeah?”

“I can hardly write like Jane Austen,” you scoff.

“Sì, but perhaps you are more like a Brontë. Ah no,” he snaps his fingers. “Mary Shelley.”

“Frankenstein isn’t a romance,” you say, laughing softly as he holds up both of his fingers, leaning forward in his chair.

“Then you are not reading it correctly,” he says, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment which momentarily distracts you. “Who do you believe is the true monster? Victor or the Creature?”

“Victor,” you answer immediately.

Terzo smiles and nods, gesturing at you with his hand. “Then it is a romance. Albeit, a tragic one.”

“The Creature wanted to be loved,” you say quietly, looking into Terzo’s eyes, and unintentionally focusing on the white one. “They saw him at face-value, not the soul who celebrated nature, who yearned for purpose, and was cast out by the man who was supposed to be his father.”

“Exactly,” Terzo whispers, nodding slightly. That heavy melancholy was back, settling over the lines of his face like a shadow which he hid behind a mask of easy smiles and witty banter. His Creature.

“Are you okay?” You finally ask, unable to hold yourself back when this mysterious and beautiful man looks so incredibly sad. If you were being honest with yourself, there is something about his melancholy that feels familiar to you, like a beast you are too afraid to poke.

Terzo merely smiles, and leans his head back to laugh a little, rubbing his hands together before picking up his notebook. “Sì! I am always okay. Always good. You asked me about my song, correct?” He enunciates the word, landing hard on the ‘T’. “It is called Zenith. I am not usually the songwriter of my eh…little group. This is a first. And I expect it will not go over well.”

“Go over well with whom?”

“Now you are asking the right questions, volpino. There are…individuals, hmm…authority figures in my organization. Let me rephrase that - there are individuals in my organization who think they have authority. They have to approve the song.”

“And you think they won’t?” You ask, suddenly feeling like you are hearing things that perhaps you shouldn’t be privy to. Secrets unraveling, another chapter of this mystery opening the more the man talks.

“Perhaps they do not like me very much,” Terzo says wryly, a dry smile on his lovely features.

“I don’t see how anyone could dislike you,” you say, that pink touching your cheeks again. Your words make Terzo chuckle quietly, and he rests his elbow on the table as he brings a thumb to his mouth, wrapping his lips around the tip of it as he looks at you with nearly hooded eyes.

“Do you like me?” He asks softly.

The old jukebox in the corner, its light flickering faintly, comes to life with a squeaking click as one of the worn tracks slides into place. It takes a moment for the speaker to push out the song, crackling before settling into a low static hum behind the vocals of none other than Frank Sinatra.

“I love this song,” Terzo says, looking pleasantly surprised as he stands and strides closer to the jukebox, placing his hands on the glass to peer closer at the inner workings of the old thing. You breathe a small sigh of relief, or is it disappointment, as you dodge his question.

“That thing turns on by itself all the time. Something inside must be busted,” you say, standing up to move beside him.

“Ah, not broken. Simply yearning to sing, sì?” He says, glancing over at you with an amused smile. “You know this song?”

“Frank Sinatra?”

“Molto bene, mio volpino.” Terzo takes a step back from the jukebox, a hand pressing against his chest as he tilts his head up and closes his eyes. “Over and over I keep going over the world we knew,” his voice floats effortlessly, soft and persuasive, in the space between you. “Days when you used to love me.”

You watch him sing with parted lips, your brow furrowing as you’re filled with awe, but also an ache deep in your chest. A yearning for the strange man you fear will disappear from your memory forever when you leave this diner. He opens his eyes and pins you with a stare, his smile very soft, but quirks in a way which whispers mischief. Terzo holds his hands out to you, fingers curled slightly as he tilts his head to the side. “Dance with me?” He says, his tone gently demanding. “With Papa now, sì?”

“That’s the second time you said that,” you note with a small grin, reaching out to place your hands in his. His fingers are chilled as he pulls you in, a hand naturally falling to your waist. Your breath catches, and he smiles.

“Ah, slip of the tongue,” he murmurs, his eyes scanning the blush on your features.

“Something you do often?” Your voice is a little breathless as he turns the both of you, and you look down at your feet, chewing on your bottom lip as you beg whatever deity out there to not step on his.

Terzo lets go of your hand for a moment to gently tap your chin. “Eyes up, tesoro. And as for your question…,” a wide smile crosses his face, a tiny chip in his front tooth. “I use my tongue very often.” His pink tongue wets his bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth for a moment before slowly and sensually letting go.

Your eyes widen and you giggle nervously, “You are…something.”

“Something good?” His eyes flicker with amusement before his mouth pops open in a little ‘O’ shape. “Ah, yes! You never answered my question.” He pulls back to spin you around, laughing again when you do an awkward little turn on your heel. He draws you even closer then, his hand flexing against the small of your back. “Do you like me?”

“We just met.” Your voice is small, and your eyes focus intently on the dark chest hair peeking out from his purple button-up.

“Sometimes meeting is all it takes,” he murmurs.

Your eyes find his again, and you don’t think you’re dancing anymore, but you’re still swaying - your heart, your mind. Swept up in the softness of his eyes as they look back at you with…hope. Glaring desperately from green and white depths. The vestiges of a younger, happier man. And there’s a part of you that wants to cry.

“I like you very much, Terzo Emeritus.”

His response isn’t what you expect. His head raises slightly and he peers at you with curiosity, his brow furrowing as he searches your eyes for some kind of answer to a question you aren’t privy to. You get the sense that he doesn’t believe you, that he’s waiting for the punchline to some cosmic joke. “Well!” He says finally, his face dropping back into that easy smile. He waves a hand. “I am an old man. Do you see? I moisturize but,” he clicks his tongue. “The lines, they grow. I appreciate you entertaining me, eh?”

Your brow furrows and your mouth presses into a thin line as you gaze past him with the intent to figure out what the fuck he’s talking about. “You think I can’t like you because…you have wrinkles?” The word comes out slightly high pitched and confused. “Make it make sense, Mr. Emeritus.”

Terzo’s bushy eyebrows fly into his hairline and he looks vaguely disturbed. “I am not called that often…it is weird.”

“Oh, right. You’re Papa,” you wiggle your brows, and the man groans. His fingers dig into the small of your back and he pulls you closer, dipping his chin to regard you with a heated stare that sends a shiver down your spine.

“You should be careful with that, amore,” he murmurs, his voice low like the crackling of firewood, flames licking over the endearment. “I could have you saying ‘Papa’ in a more…breathless manner, hmm?”

His words alone are enough to knock the wind out of you, and he knows it, a twinkle in the man’s eyes that tells you this isn’t his first passion play. The song is long over, the jukebox having gone back to its eerie nostalgic silence, yet he turns you again, his shoes sliding along the faded linoleum floor like butter. You are, perhaps, less graceful.

“I thought you were too old?” You ask him, narrowing your eyes. Terzo looks briefly affronted, and the nearly outraged expression on his face makes you burst into giggles. He wags his finger in front of your face before placing both of his hands around your back, lacing his fingers together and drawing you forward until your hips are flush. That shuts you up very quickly.

“I know what you are doing,” he purrs. “But I can play, too.” He smiles and sighs, looking up at the cracking ceiling before returning your gaze. “And yet I see your point. But it is true, volpino. I am much, much older than you.”

“I think whether or not I’m bothered by that is my decision, don’t you?” You ask.

Terzo concedes, tilting his head a little. “In my faith, it is encouraged to follow your desires.”

“Oh, right. Your non-cult cult. How could I forget,” you tap your finger to your temple and Terzo chuckles. You smile back, wrapping your arms around his neck. A million possibilities, a million ways the night could have gone, and you got the one with Terzo. Your smile softens, your eyes taking on a tender reverence, and you can see pink dance at the edges of his cheeks. His wrinkles smooth as his face falls into almost boyish wonder while the two of you sway to nothing. No, that’s not right. You’re swaying to a music all your own.

“You have a really nice face,” you murmur, your voice coming out in a soft hush.

“You aren’t lying.” It’s said as a statement. Confusion lining his words, his eyes widen just a fraction. This isn’t the first time in the night where you wanted to just…ask him if he’s okay? Hug him. Your words appear to confound him, and a hand lets go of your waist to touch his cheek, his fingers following one of the deeper lines. “You know, in my line of work, I usually wear a full face of makeup.”

“Is this where you tell me you go by…Paprika Smear or something?” You tease, eyebrows raised.

Terzo laughs so hard, everyone in the diner, who isn’t already watching you like you’re the first interesting thing to happen in decades, are gaping now. Penny hasn’t turned the page in her National Enquirer in the last ten minutes. “No, no, no. Ah, my naughty volpino. What I am trying to say,” he clears his throat. “I do not show my face often. What you said…grazie mille. I am often not kind to myself.”

“I have no reason to lie. We just met, Terzo. This is my perception of you. My honesty. I feel like you’re looking for a different answer or…looking for deception.”

“I am looking for something real,” he says, with vulnerability in his eyes. “It has been a very long time since I have had something real.” Terzo releases your waist and removes your arms from around his neck, but he holds your hands in his. His thumbs rub circles into your skin, admiring the contrast of your hands together, and he brings them closer, cradling them near his chest.

“I can be real,” you say, turning your hands to lace your fingers through his despite his tight grip. Terzo takes a deep breath, his lower lip quivering slightly as he thinks.

“And if I told you to know me is to know Satan? If there are dangers in my life, amorino? Things your beautiful, sweet mind could perhaps not comprehend?” His voice has turned nearly desperate in his speech, pained. And yet despite his warnings, you don’t feel afraid, or concerned. There are no red flags waving over Terzo’s head. You just see someone very alone.

The shrill ring of a cell phone slices through the tension like a heated blade, and the two of you freeze for a moment before Terzo sighs, heavily, his shoulders falling like rocks have been placed on his shoulders. He gently pulls away from you, his hands lowering yours back to your sides before he’s digging into his pocket. “Sì?” He snaps into the phone, listening to the voice on the other end. “Perhaps I am not ready to come back…because I am Papa and I say so…of course I understand!” Terzo runs a hand through his hair, the strands sticking up in a few places. “You tell that stronzo he can wait…ah-but…dai!...alright, alright. I will see you soon.”

Terzo puts his phone back in his pocket, and looks at you with an apologetic smile. “It seems our dance comes to an end, eh?” You stand facing each other, and panic seizes your heart in a fist. If Terzo walks out that door, you may never see him again. It almost strikes you as odd, the way he managed to wrestle his way into your very being in your short evening here at the diner. There was no feasible way you could sit back down and go back to writing, surrounded by the same monotony while this man is somewhere in the world.

“You know,” you begin, taking a step toward him. “I’ve been really into theistic Satanism lately. Gosh, if only there was a place, or someone, that could guide me.”

Terzo stares at you with an unreadable expression, and then he takes a step forward, and places his lips against your forehead. He chuckles softly, “My evil plans worked, volpino. I am converting you.” He pulls back to wink. “You like me.”

“I already told you that-”

“Sì, sì, I am only teasing,” his smile broadens and he smooths back a strand of hair from your forehead. “This is a big thing for Papa, no? Something real.”

“You’re going to have to tell me why you keep calling yourself that,” you giggle, shaking your head. Terzo’s fingers cradle your jaw and tilt your head to meet his gaze.

“Come and find out.”

Another look is shared between the diner writer and the mysterious stranger. But this one? It’s a look of yearning. Yearning for a future that changes the both of you. That a man can learn to love himself again. That the walls of this diner will let you go. Terzo grabs his jacket and his little notebook, and you slip your hand into his pocket to grab his phone.

“Already, amore?” He says, his grin wide, and you laugh and swat him with a hand. You type your number into his phone and slip it back, but Terzo grabs your wrist. He brings your hand to his lips and gently kisses the soft skin. “I will see you soon,” he promises.

“Arrivederci, Terzo,” you sigh dreamily.

“Eh, we will work on your Italian,” the man rolls his eyes playfully.

Terzo walks toward the door of the diner, and you sit in your seat. Is it possible to change in a single evening? You don’t feel like the same person who watched this man walk in with the perfect hair and pretty accent. And you get the feeling that he isn’t the same person now either. Terzo stands in the doorway, looking back at you, and he smiles. A smile that lights up his whole face, and is really, truly…happy.

When he’s gone, you open your laptop and stare at the pages you had written earlier. With a wry smile, you shut your laptop off and gather your things. Walking to the front, you toss a few bucks on the counter.

“Gettin’ cozy with that eye-talian man, huh, honey?” Penny asks, chewing her bubble gum as she looks you up and down with the eyes of a seasoned gossip. “Be back tomorrow?”

Your phone buzzes and you glance down, grinning before taking a breath and looking back at Penny, the diner, and its forever patrons.

“No, I don’t think I will.”

#the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus iii fanfiction #terzo fanfiction #terzo emeritus #terzo x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #reader fanfiction #terzo headcanons #the band ghost headcanons

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raccoonfallsharder · 7 months ago

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j’me

let me love your OCs masterlist | doodle queue main masterlist

j’me for @caesarhamato22 has been one of my favorite characters to draw (can NOT beat the source material. i had an amazing model and im CERTAIN i did not do her justice). see her pictured here with an ion pistol (modified by our best boy raccoon) and a rocket-original six-barrel plasma cannon. or something.

isn’t she a badass?? isn’t she great???

thank you so much for doing me the honor of trusting me with this, my friend, and for letting me play with the look a little and brainstorm with you about details. it was so so so much fun and im honestly so grateful. ♡

ps if you haven’t read @caesarhamato22 ‘s fanfiction, you need to.

see behind the cut for more versions & details.

let me love your OCs masterlist | doodle queue main masterlist

#how do guns #i clearly don’t understand firearms #j’me #original character #rfh art #original art #let me love your OCs ♡rfh #let me love your OCs #marvel original character #digital art #guardians of the galaxy #rocket raccoon #oc #oc art #oc artwork #oc artist

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happylittleshrub · 29 days ago

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I wrote something! :D

I don't write much fanfiction nowadays, opting to put my time and energy towards my own original projects, but I just had to write something for my bestest raccoon boy! This was intended to be a short, fluffy drabble about Rocket caring for the baby raccoons, but it ended up expanding into more of a character analysis because when it comes to Rocket I can't shut my yap lol. You can read it here and on AO3! Please enjoy! 😊

I Diagnose You With Fatherhood, 2k words

Rocket had never considered himself as being cut out for fatherhood, never even took the effort to entertain the idea, yet the universe seemed to have other plans. When Groot had miraculously come back into his life as a sapling, he immediately stepped into the role of his primary caregiver. Not because he was in any way qualified to do so, but it felt like the least he could do for his fallen friend.

Raising Groot was a group effort, but it was no secret he was most attached to Rocket. He would play games around his workbench, trying (and eventually succeeding) in getting him to play too. He would come to him each night to beg for a story, and unbeknownst to the others, to get a lullaby. When he’d get sleepy he’d plonk down on Rocket’s head or the spot between his neck and shoulder. At first Rocket tried to insist that Groot only preferred him because of his fur. ‘It’s softer than your fleshy bald bodies.’ were his exact words. But the others knew better.

When Groot called him ‘dad’ for the first time, he just about had an existential crisis. He couldn’t even protect Groot Senior, how was he ever supposed to be a father to the young Groot? A father was supposed to be caring and protective, someone to look up to and be a role model, and that’s not who Rocket was. It was something he never thought he could be. But life didn’t often come with second chances, and Rocket wouldn’t let his best friend down again, he would do everything he could to raise Groot Junior to the best of his lacking ability.

Years later, Groot was all grown up now, he was big and strong and didn’t need someone constantly looking out for him. It filled Rocket with pride to watch him, knowing that despite his fears and worries he’d managed to do right by his son, yet at the same time some part of him missed the days when Groot was small enough to fit in his arms. Bittersweet was the word for it.

His unintended foray into fatherhood seemed to have reached its conclusion. Then overnight he became a father of twenty.

The animals that they rescued from the High Evolutionary’s ship numbered into the hundreds, and it took the entirety of Knowhere pitching in to look after them all until arrangements were made for them back on Earth. It was their home planet, so it was decided it would be for the best to return them to their original habitat, but since they’d been raised in captivity they couldn’t just be released into the wild and left there. It was a lot of paperwork and negotiating with sanctuaries, and Rocket was more than happy to leave the bulk of that particular duty to Nebula and Peter.

The babies he’d rescued, the raccoons, were his responsibility. It was difficult to put into the right words, he’d never been much good at that, but he felt a personal investment towards them. Looking after these tiny, helpless creatures that he had once been gave him a sense of… purpose.

It was no easy undertaking. The little ones needed to be kept perfectly warm, have their weight monitored to ensure they were getting the right amount of nutrition, required help toileting, and of course had to be fed regularly throughout the day. During the day shifts he often had help, which was welcome given how many mouths he had to feed. Adam was ready to assist with anything and everything around Knowhere, feeling some sort of debt to them. Nebula would wordlessly come in before grabbing a bottle and one of the kits, her face always surprisingly tender towards the little babies. And Groot, despite his increasing size, was as gentle as could be while he bottle fed them. During the night shift though, the task fell entirely to Rocket.

The lights in his apartment cast a low, warm glow while the Zune played softly in the background. Rocket casually hummed along as he prepared the babies’ formula. The kits normally stayed in the open topped box he’d created as a sort of nest. It had remote controlled heat settings and was filled with soft, plush blankets. They sat in there now, calling out to him with hungry chitters. “Alright, alright, it’s coming,” Rocket spoke to them in a hushed voice. He placed the tray of bottles on his bed before sitting down on a blanket next to the nest.

He opened the box’s door, pulling out two of the kits and settling them on his lap. Then he held out their bottles to their mouths until they began to suckle. It had taken a few tries before they got used to the bottles, which was the source of a lot of anxiety for Rocket during the first few feedings, but they learned quick enough. Now they ate eagerly, paws kneading into his thigh as they did so. It was an instinctual behavior, he’d learned, that was usually done on the mother’s belly. There was a lot he was learning about: instincts, behaviors, mannerisms. Things that were entirely foreign to him, and yet still felt like discovering pieces of himself he didn’t realize were missing.

He was especially fascinated when he read about how raccoons’ sense of touch relates to their memory. He’d realized for the longest time that his hands were very sensitive and they played a large role in how his memory worked, but he’d never fully known if it had been another of his cybernetic enhancements or not. Now he waited with a blossoming anticipation to watch how the kits would use this skill in their own way as they got older.

They were messy eaters, so once the first two had their fill he gently cleaned their faces with a warm, wet cloth before placing them back in their bed. Then he’d grab the next two to be fed and the cycle would repeat. The ones that hadn’t eaten yet gave chittering wails to voice their appetites, their movements unsteady as they exited the nest to crawl over his legs, tiny claws clinging into the material of his pajama pants. “You’ll all get your turn,” he chided softly, fondness warming his gaze towards them. They looked back up at him, their dark eyes shining with innocence.

There was a part of him that couldn’t help but wonder what his life would’ve been like if he’d never been experimented on. If he had gotten to grow normally instead of having his body broken and pinned and twisted and molded into someone else’s design. What would he be doing right now? Had he had any siblings? Had he ever been a part of a warm, snuggly pile of sleeping babies, all without a care in the world?

These types of thoughts usually made a small knot of aching form in the center of his chest, the yearning for something he never knew, something that had been taken from him. ‘What ifs’ haunted him, lingering around like a thick, soupy fog that stole away his sight and left him feeling lost and alone. It clung to him, pulling him down unwillingly with a weight not dissimilar to that of a key that usually sat in his pocket.

But now, it was… lighter. What he peered through was more of a mist than a dense fog, and rather than being dragged under, there was a feeling of peace he hadn’t quite experienced before. It was true that his physical pain was a constant reminder of his tortuous surgeries, and he had no idea if his nightmares would ever fully go away, but there was no longer the bitter, stinging ache of worthlessness. He had a place of belonging, his existence wasn’t for nothing. There are the hands that made us, then there are the hands that guide the hands. It seemed almost like a dream to remember it now, his ethereal reunion with Lylla, Teefs, and Floor, but those precious words were lovingly ingrained into his memory.

Even if he couldn’t accept what had happened to him so many years ago, he could accept where he is now. Because, despite it all, he couldn’t imagine his life without Groot in it, without Peter, without Nebula, without everyone in his little ragtag family. He didn’t really believe in destiny, certainly not for himself, but he was still grateful for whatever stars aligned that allowed all their paths to cross.

His past couldn’t be changed, but these babies… He could give them the life he never had, and in a way, he’d still get to experience it. By watching them, and protecting them, and helping them to grow.

Once all their bellies were full, he would put them back in their box nest for the night, but this time quite a few had clambered back out of the box so they could cuddle together by his side. He smiled at them, his healing heart overflowing with tenderness as he gently stroked a finger along one’s soft, downy fur. Gathering them all together, he curled his body around the bundle of babies, letting them nuzzle into him and wrapping his tail around them to ensure they were all covered and cozy. His eyes fell closed, the collective of tiny heartbeats lulling him into sleep. Outside high above, the stars still danced across the endless sky and the galaxy continued to revolve, but there in that warm lit room, for the first time in a long time, Rocket’s mind was calm and still.

☆❇☆❇☆

When the kits had gotten bigger, Rocket took them on their first outing around Knowhere. They had become much more active and curious, and took it upon themselves to get into everything in Rocket’s apartment they could get their tiny little hands on. He’d returned one day to find all of his tools scattered across the floor along with half of his clothes, and one of his lamps was torn down and smashed. On multiple occasions he found that a number of his belongings would go missing, only for it to turn out that one of the kits had taken and left it hidden somewhere. After so many years, Rocket finally realized how Peter felt whenever he would take apart his ship, and the babies didn’t even have the totally viable excuse of creating advanced weapons of mass destruction.

So it came time to have them burn off some of that rambunctious energy by exploring their wider surroundings. Since the outside world was still new to them, they timidly stuck close to Rocket’s side, following his stride in a close group. Though inevitably one or two would become distracted and begin to wander, leading to Rocket having to double back to round up the stragglers. After a few detours, they entered the main plaza where they came across Kraglin and Cosmo engaged in conversation outside the Guardians’ headquarters.

“Hello Smaller Rockets!” Cosmo happily greeted once she spotted them, bounding forward excitedly. The babies scampered back apprehensively at her rambunctious movement, some of them returning to Rocket to climb up onto his shoulders.

“Aww, seems like those little uns’ think yer their mother!” Kraglin remarked with a grin.

Rocket scoffed, pulling tiny Florence up into his arms from where she clung to his leg, “That’s ridiculous. They’re just more familiar with me than with Cos- hey Mac you spit that out right now!” He ran over to Mac, who was experimentally nomming on some unidentified object he’d found on the ground. “Get that crap outta your mouth, that’s disgusting, you don’t know where it’s been! Where’s your brother?”

Mac of course didn’t answer, but Rocket found his missing brother anyway, spotting his innocent brown eyes peering down at them from where he’d climbed up onto an awning.

“Fleetwood, get down from there!” Rocket scolded, “You stay where I can see you!”

Cosmo and Kraglin shared a knowing look of amusement. For someone who insisted he wasn’t a parent, Rocket sure took to the role quite well.

#rocket raccoon #dad!rocket #guardians of the galaxy #gotg #gotg fanfiction #rocket raccoon fanfiction #gotg rocket #rocket gotg #gotg vol 3

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stranger-fanfiction-n-things · 7 months ago

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CHAPTER 5: THE FLEA AND THE ACROBAT

This is an Original Character fanfiction. All Stranger Things characters and content are owned by Netflix and The Duffer Brothers.

a/n: I picture Eddie not being able to express himself through his words so he uses song lyrics. In my head he always had a strong connection to music because of his mother (this was before I read FOI). Finally an Erica/Diana scene! What do y'all think of Steve and Diana?

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 2433

Masterlist

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV

SINCLAIR RESIDENCE

It’s mid-afternoon when we arrive back home from the funeral. Dad stops the car in front of our house to let Mom, Erica and I out before he drives over to the Wheeler’s house to drop Lucas off to hang out with the boys. I follow behind Mom and Erica thinking about what to wear later today for when Nancy and I meet up with Jonathan. I bump into Erica, who frowns at me for stepping on her, and I immediately apologize for not watching where I was going. I look ahead wondering why we stopped when Mom picks up a bouquet of wildflowers and a note laying in front the door.

“Candy Girl? Who’s Candy Girl?”

Erica grunts in annoyance as I push pass her to snatch the flowers and note from Mom. Sure, enough the note said Candy Girl. My face burns and I bite my lip trying my best to hide my smile. Mom’s brows shoot up in surprise at my hastiness and I smile sheepishly at her, apologizing for my behaviour. Her gaze sweeps over me.

“Hm.” She grunts, pursing her lips and guides Erica in front of me to not get trampled on again.

As soon as I step inside the house, I take off my jacket and heels, pushing my sunglasses over my head and rush upstairs to my room. My heart is hammering against my ribcage as I close the door behind me. I admire the array of blue, purple, pink, and white wildflowers tied together with a piece of string. Some petals of the flowers are flat and squished but I think they’re pretty nonetheless. Taking a deep breath, I put the bouquet on my dresser to give my full attention to the note. My hands are practically shaking as I open it.

If the sky that we look upon, should tumble and fall.

Or the mountains should crumble to the sea.

I won’t cry, I won’t cry. No, I won’t shed a tear

Just as long as you stand by me. – Ben E. King

I reread the words three times before flopping down on my bed. A smile lingers on my lips at the gesture. Will’s funeral is of public knowledge, shaking up the entire town. I haven’t seen or spoken to Eddie since we had lunch together two days ago and I know he wouldn’t attend the funeral because despite it being of public knowledge, it was still an intimate event, but I never thought he would do this. Something so simple and thoughtful for me. This doesn’t help my case with Mom and I’m sure this raised more suspicion about Eddie, but I can’t stop smiling. I wonder if I should write a note back. What would I say? How will I even give it to him? We don’t have school tomorrow and I don’t know where he lived to even thank him for being so kind. My thoughts are so scrambled I have to force myself back to earth and the task at hand.

I hide the note in my desk drawer and change into more comfortable clothing settling on a pair of jeans, t-shirt and zip up sweater. I pulled my hair into a ponytail and fixed my bangs in the mirror satisfied with my appearance. Back at the wake, Nancy, Jonathan and I agreed to meet at 5pm and it was now, 2:00pm. Nancy would be here in fifteen minutes and I needed to find a weapon. I can’t go out in the woods to find a wild animal without one. Even though Jonathan had a gun, I’m not sure if he knows how to use it.

I open my door and sneak across the hall to Lucas’s room. Surely, he wouldn’t mind if I borrowed his wrist-rocket for a few hours. I try to be as discreet as I can going through his drawers, closet, even checking under his pillow and I can’t find anything, not even his headband. I frown, pursing my lips in thought. Where could he have put it? Then it hit me. Under his bed. I drop to my knees pushing my arm under his bed to feel for anything. All I find are dirty socks and comic books. I blow my bangs away from my face to get a better look and—

“What are you doing?”

I jump hitting my shoulder against the top of the bedframe. “Ow!” I whimper, holding my arm in pain, praying I don’t develop a bruise. I stand up feeling my lower back seize. Erica is standing on the other side of the bed arching her brow in suspicion. I ignore the pain in my arm, feigning nonchalance.

“I’m just cleaning, Lucas’s room.”

Erica frowns. “His room is always clean.”

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to be cleaner now does it?”

Erica shrugs, not caring about my poor excuse for why I’m in Lucas’s room even though I know she doesn’t believe me. She’s always been a skeptic. Her first word was “no”. She lingers, tilting her head to the side, toying with a loose thread on the duvet.

“Who sent you the flowers?”

“A friend of mine.” I respond simply, though my heart picks up speed. Erica smiles slowly and now I feel uneasy. It’s one of the many different smiles she has. This one isn’t as…devious. That smile is only reserved for Lucas. No, this smile is like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland.

“An admirer.” It’s not a question.

“A friend, Erica.” I repeat, albeit tense.

Erica lies down on the bed, holding her chin with her hands. Any other moment she would’ve looked cute in her bubbles and pigtails, but again, this smile held a hint of mischief.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

I shift from side to side. “No…” I squint. “What makes you say that?”

Tired of the innocent act, Erica’s smile vanishes. “No boy just leaves a bouquet of flowers on your front step with a note unless its an admirer or a boyfriend.”

“That’s not true.” I disagree, sitting on the bed.

Erica gives me a pointed look, pursing her lips just like Mom. “Oh yeah? Prove it.”

My body grows tense under her fierce stare. There are times I wonder if I’m related to Erica. Our personalities are so different. Erica is outspoken and bulldozes her way through life while I’m quiet, awkward and shy.

“I—” I start, then close my mouth. I have no experience with boys to even know where to start about relationships.

“Exactly.” Erica confirms, kicking her feet. The conspicuous grin returns as she continues. “You have a boyfriend.”

“No, I don’t” I reply quickly, my face is burning.

“Well, you sure were eager to take the bouquet of flowers and note away from mom. You nearly knocked me into the bushes to get it which means…” she wiggles her eyebrows.

“Erica.” I plead. I do not want to talk to my little sister about boys, especially Eddie. I don’t know what to think when it comes to him. I just know how I feel and I was definitely not going to try to explain to an intrusive eight-year-old girl like my sister, plus Nancy will be here soon and I needed to get Erica away so I can leave without another interrogation. Erica sighs, rolling her eyes and sits up tucking her knees under her.

“I won’t tell mom or dad if you have a boyfriend,” she says, leaning forward putting her hands on my shoulders. “By the looks of it, mom is already suspicious of you, but she won’t say anything unless you bring it up. Your just lucky dad had to drive Lucas to the Wheelers because if he saw those flowers and note on the doorstep,” Erica eyes widen slightly. “He’d lock you in your room forever and hunt all over town for this boy.” Erica isn’t wrong. Dad is extremely protective. It’s why I’m glad Mom hasn’t told him about Steve’s house.

I stand up, combing my fingers through my thick hair in its ponytail. “You don’t have to tell mom and dad anything, okay. Eddie is just a friend.” Any close friend of Eddie’s is a close friend of mine. That’s what Ronnie said. Erica lights up.

“Eddie, huh?” She grins, satisfied that she at least got a name.

“I don’t have an admirer or a boyfriend.”

Erica ignores the sharpness in my voice. “But you like him.” I glare at her, a warning to stop pushing. “Fine,” she sighs, rolling her eyes again. She rolls off the bed strolling to the door. “I’ll leave you alone to clean.” There’s a cheeky little grin on her face as she lingers and it tells me all I needed to know. Erica isn’t going to drop this. She found something new and shiny to play with and will until she gets bored.

“Candy Girl.”

My jaw drops. Erica runs to her room, closing the door behind her before I can gather up my thoughts.

Oddly enough, I didn’t find anything in Lucas’s room which is why I am scrounging around Dad’s tools in the garage. Screwdriver? No. Wrench. Maybe. I pull out a rubber mallet from one of the toolboxes. It’s thick and has a bit of weight to it. It’s no gun but it’s the best I can do right now. I take a few steps back and practice swings trying to get a feel of the weapon. Part of me cannot believe I’m doing this right now; risk going into the forest to find some animal I have never seen before nor, understand to find Barb and Will. I lift the mallet way over my head not calculating my strength because I lose my balance stumbling back on my feet.

“Whoa! What the—” I drop the mallet and the person behind me yelps. I’m ready to bolt into my house when I hear my name. I whip around, my heart beating a mile a minute. There he was, hair and all his glory standing in front of me. He’s the last person I’d expect to be at my house. The last time I’ve seen him was in the parking lot at school confronting Jonathan about the photos in front of Tommy H and Carol ending with smashing his camera on the ground.

“Steve?”

“Hi,” he waves, sheepishly.

I blink, shaking my head. “How do you know where I live?”

Steve stiffens at the question. “Uh,” he stammers, combing his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t—I don’t,” he corrects, clearing his throat. I raise my eyebrows expectantly eying the pink in his cheeks. Was Steve “The Hair” Harrington blushing? “I was driving to Nancy’s and saw you and just…” he takes a deep breath. “Wanted to say hi.”

I squint. “To me?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles dryly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Why wouldn’t I?” Because we’re not friends. I want to say. When I don't respond Steve swallows, rubbing his lips together. "I actually wanted to...apologize."

I pick up the mallet holding it over my shoulder. “For?” His gaze flickers to the mallet then me and I rub my lips together trying to hide my smile. He deserves to squirm a little. Now he knows how it feels when his friends make me feel uncomfortable.

“Being an asshole.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sure Nancy told you about our last conversation,” Steve continues, looking down at his New Balance sneakers. “And you both deserve an apology for the way I acted.”

I blinked in confusion for a moment and then remembered when Nancy came into my room to show me the photos and I mentioned what Steve thought about everything. A momentary look of discomfort crosses Steve’s face when he finally looks at me. Part of me believes the apology wasn’t only for his talk with Nancy or about Barb, but for the way he handled things in the parking lot. I remember the look of sorrow in his eyes before he stormed away. I meant it when I told Jonathan I don’t think Steve needed to break his camera but it was justified. Steve’s privacy was invaded too. What I picked up on that day in the parking lot is that Steve isn’t this aggressive, mean, bully like Tommy H and Carol are. It’s not in him to be that kind of person and it pained him to break Jonathan’s camera. He knows I noticed his shift in demeanour. I oddly notice a lot about Steve. His contradictions, his mannerisms. What he doesn’t do. Steve tilts his head waiting for a response.

“Um…” My brows twitch. “Apology accepted.” I say softly, taking a step back. Steve doesn’t respond and I don’t think anything of it. Thank you seems awkward to say right now.

“Um,” he scratches his nose. “Have you heard from Barb?”

“No, the police think she ran away, but I know that’s not true. Barb wouldn’t do that.” Steve nods his head shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I haven’t known Barb for long, but she definitely doesn’t seem like the type to do that.” Another comment that doesn’t need much of a response.

I fiddle with the mallet letting the awkwardness settle in. Surprisingly it’s not from me, but Steve. Steve, the most popular boy in school who exudes such confidence walking down the hallway, who turns every head without trying…is being awkward. It’s hard to wrap my head around it. Steve takes a step towards me but decides against it. I tilt my head, wondering what was going on in his head. Maybe he’s having a mental breakdown.

“I heard about the funeral. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” I answer, taken aback by his sincerity. “He was my little brother’s best friend.”

“Give your little brother a hug for me.” He winced, regretting his words. I smile. Steve laughs and combs his fingers through his hair. His face is bright red now. “I’ll uh, leave you to…” he gestures to the mallet. “Whatever you’re doing.” I nod my head, grinning. “Bye.” He says, waving awkwardly. I wave back amused by his mannerisms.

I watch Steve walk out my garage his brown hair flopping lusciously through the wind. “Steve?” I call out. He turns around startled. “Thank you.” I see his gaze soften, instantly knowing I’m thanking him for apologizing and he smiles nodding his head before walking to his car. When Steve drives down the street towards Nancy’s I swing the mallet again chuckling softly to myself.

“What a dork.”

NEXT -> PART IV

Taglist 🤍: @tinydramatist

#stranger things rewrite #black fem reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #dianasinclair #eddie munson x black!reader #steve harrington x black!reader #sinclair!reader #eddie munson x female reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader

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thewriterowl · 17 days ago

Note

I would like to preface this out of left field question by saying I absolutely adore all of your work!!! Every story and tumblr post with dark content is something that I enjoy reading!

But do you ever look back at some of your writing and ideas, especially with dark Din, and wonder where the “F**k that came from”?

Like everything you have written is amazing but you have no idea where the premise came from? Like I can day dream up scenarios when I’m going to bed that follow some of your plots but I never seem to come up with anything original.

Please don’t take this question as an insult!!! I’ve just been rereading some of your posts and I had the realization that I never in a million years could have come up with this scenario.

Thank you for sharing everything!!

Hello! I am anything but upset or insulted, so no worries :D

And I shall be honest!

I dunno.

I've liked dark content, with Dark "tops", since I was a teen. I devoured manga and anime, books, and then dove deep into Fanfiction.net and found myself just loving the Bad Boy trope (which also had Bad Girl trope for the yuri/FF pairings). You can see even in my ancient sacred texts of my fanfiction back on FF.Net that I had a thing for possessive/obsessive/controlling lovers who were super sexy for their love interest (i.e. the love interest/bottoms (I say tops and bottoms for all genders FYI, though it's mostly for MM) were always my favorite).

It very well could be from some trauma. It could be I am imprinting myself on the bottoms. I haven't ever truly sat to think about it because it was so normal when I was starting fanfiction that it wasn't really something to think about. But anytime a plot pops up my brain is all "aww...make it dark" or at the very least "make him feral and possessive" and I'm just "(snaps fingers) you crazy sonofabitch I'm in." I mean, i was doing that for the OG Yu-Gi-Oh, Yu Yu Hakusho, Bleach and Naruto (I'm old)

And nothing is really original lol some things just pop up from seeing something that weirdly triggers a story and my brain is just gonna go follow it and see what happens. Sometimes, I am reading manhwas (ya'll are in trouble with all the messed up stuff I'm reading with them anyone heard of suffering stories called Little Mushroom or Save the Hunter??? The WHUMP I am thinking of!) or a book and go "this is nice! but I wish they'd done this instead...hey, why don't I think of a story where they do this instead?" or there is a scene and I'm just "my baby girl meowmeow (aka Luke) needs to go through this" and bam story.

That's what happened for Ghosts of the Bent and Broken. I saw Rocket's past from Guardians of the Galaxy III and needed to inflict that on Luke. Just that scene made me want to write a whole story to simply lead up to that reveal.

So...

(shrugs)

I dunno.

And the clicking of stories? I also dunno. Literally this morning, I watched a few TikToks and my brain whispered "yo...you need to write this" and now I'm nearly 10 pages into a story when I should be trying to finish a story for Halloween or at least doing the Moonblight update but nope. Instead, my brain is on whales.

Maybe it's decades of intense maladaptive daydreaming and intense escapism. Or my brain is just wonky.

Hope that answered??? :D

#owl inbox #writing #dinluke #seriously i dunno either #maybe its no shame in a weird way?#i want the cringe and the cliche and I just allow myself to be enveloped with it

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therotatingvillain · 1 month ago

Text

Funny things in Baby Steps, my unfinished Pokevillain fanfic

Alright, after spending too long in a severe depression hole and also spending like way too much time at work, here I am again!

This is gonna be my first update on the Pokevillain fanfiction that my last post was about. What I’m doing is reading through those 43 pages and just get a base understanding of what the fuck I was even doing.

To have all of you be part of this, you’ll get my live thoughts about it! So be ready for some shitposting and a few sneak peeks at the story haha

Cyrus insisting on just being called ‘Cyrus’ because ‘Mr. Akagi’ reminds him of his father is such a mood. Also, yeah, I use their japanese names as their last names, except Guzma, because Guzmas japanese name is Guzma lol So for him I just used his german name ‘Bromley’. Such an ass name

Having stayed in a hospital for the first time not too long ago, 2020 me was surprisingly accurate when it came to hospital food

“What do you think? Aren’t you supposed to be incredibly smart?” She kept smiling, but Cyrus knew it was fake. It had been ever since she entered. It was the same smile his mother always had when talking to guests or clients. God I hate Cyrus nurse, I made her such a bitch lmao

Forgot I made Cyrus lactose intolerant lol

That smile made Cyrus want to go back into the distortion world No comment needed

‘New Guy’ seemed like a major downgrade from ‘God of a new dimension’ but for now, having terribly failed the latter one, the first one was acceptable. 2020 me had banger humor

Guzma looking at Cyrus and just going “You’re my friend now” is how I make all of my friends

Ah yeah, Giovanni is there because of another failed attempt, except for Guzma the rest is there because of court mandation and Guzma is there because Nanu got him a spot.

almost like touching a Rotom that couldn’t quite control its energy. Foreshadowing? Maybe

Guzma immediately having Cyrus back even when Cyrus is clearly in the wrong is so funny to me

Aaaaaaaah gays bonding over piano music

Ah yes, Maxie and Archie are divorced husbands. Yes, they still love each other, yes, Maxie still actively wears his wedding ring while Archie always has it on him somehow

“Hey fuckers, time for lunch!” Mood Guz

Lysandre desperately trying to socialise with his roommate only to routinely be fucked over by his own shitty mental health and eating disorder is too real man

Dr. Roberts is such a kind soul, he’s the therapist OC I created specifically for this story and he’s just a sweetie who’s fantastic at his job and also, obviously, gay and married with a couple kids.

Cyrus went to college (duh) and majored in: Electrical Engineering, Economics, Computer Engineering, Political Science and Computer Science. And finished all his majors in 4 years. Yikes dude, my boy just wanted to study the stars but he was denied by his bullshit parents

Ah yes, Cyrus sister. Buckle in people, time for a bit of lore:

So we all remember the Old Chateau in Eterna Forrest back in gen 4, right? Right. For a long time there was a theory that perhaps Cyrus grew up in that house. How did we come to that conclusion? Basically, Cyrus in Platinum (and the USUM Rainbow Rocket episode) has a severe obsession with the Pokemon Rotom, supplying Charon with detailed notes and diaries all about it and in the Rainbow Rocket episode, he nearly has a breakdown upon seeing the Rotom dex. Now where do you find Rotom in Gen 4? Hiding in a TV in the Old Chateau. So, we theorized that Cyrus grew up there. What else do we find in the Old Chateau? The spirits of a butler and a small girl. So, the theory goes that Cyrus used to have a little sister, but she and a butler of the family were killed in an accident, probably involving the Rotom Cyrus kept, most likely hidden from his parents. Afterwards, his family moved to Sunyshore, leaving the Chateau, where Rotom was still hiding, possibly having come back in search of it’s friend (Cyrus) and then hiding in the TV because it was scared as it was alone, Cyrus nowhere to be found, and sought comfort in the electrical appliance. That’s how the theory goes. This theory is true in my story.

Maxie and Archie being extremely angry bordering on violent with each other makes me sad. And I wrote this shit!

The fact that Cyrus, on his first day there, immediately has a panic attack in the evening is relatable.

Also, Giovanni helps him through it and they start bonding and being cute hehe

For every scene involving stargazing, be aware that I have zero idea about stars. I grew up in the middle of fuck nowhere, so I can see them very clearly each night, but I still have little to no idea about how to read stars lol

Lysandre has anorexia and Cyrus is way too oblivious to understand that it’s ana so he’s just constantly like “wow youre thin” until it clicks lmao

Saturn, Jupiter, Mars and Charon are just codenames and Cyrus never bothered to learn their actual names. Is this also foreshadowing? Maybe hehe

YES CYRUS STAND YOUR GROUND TO THAT PISS POOR EXCUSE OF A NURSE i hate her so much man

Cyrus is a deeply kind person. I will not elaborate yet

Yes, Maxie and Archie get over their shit and back together

Yes, it spirals Giovanni into another suicide attempt

No, I shall not elaborate how one leads to the other

But yeah, there’s a pretty intense part of this that deals with Giovannis shitty mental state and his active suicide attempt (that only barely failed) and Cyrus ends up having a severe breakdown because of it. Like I said in my last post, this story deals with some heavy topics.

Guz and Ly really take on the roles of dads to Cyrus, to help him be more open in his expression and just be who he is and I think that’s beautiful

His breath was caught in his throat, his chest and stomach spreading a comfortable warmth through his body.

What was this? A heart attack?

No, those felt different. There was no stabbing pain. I love writing Cyrus

THERAPY POKEMON EVERYONE yes the leaders are getting therapy Pokemon

Here’s a list of who they get:

Giovanni: His Persian

Maxie: Toxel

Archie: Hypno

Cyrus: His Rotom

Ghetsis: Castform

Lysandre: Levanny

Guzma: His Golisopod

I’d love for yall to theorize on why each leader gets their respective Pokemon! I actually put some thought in all of them haha

Cyrus grandfather has a big role in Cyrus’ recovery, and it starts with a simple visit that is still one of my favorite parts of this story so far

Cyrus grandfather (Paul Akagi) is the polar opposite to his parents, Paul is kind, loving, supportive and really just wants Cyrus to be happy and their relationship???? it warms my heart

A big part of connection for all of the leaders, specifically everyone else and Ghetsis, is a broken piano in the common room that they all work together to fix and that piano really is a symbol for Cyrus’ recovery and especially his willingness to get better.

GUZMA IS TRANS and this is a fact because I am trans and I said so. Also Ghetsis is a bigot. End of sentence lol

Ghetsis saying some transphobic shit and Guzma then going to PULL HIS NON PARALYZED ARM OUT OF ITS SOCKET is such a girly pop move

Also yes everything I’ve written so far ends on Maxie and Archie remarrying and Dr. Roberts allowing everyone to drink alcohol in celebration and yes of course it escalates lol

Alright everyone, that’s it for now, I’m all caught up, hopefully I’ll get some time to actually write a bit more the next few days.

As always, please please please interact with this, tell me your thoughts so far, ask questions, I NEED IT okay cool thank you.

I have work tomorrow so I shall go and kill myself lol

Have a great whenever you are! Stay hydrated

Love all of you.

#pokemon #fanfic #pokemon cyrus #pokemon villains #fanfic idea #fic ideas #absolutecontrolshipping #perfectworldshipping #hardenshipping #galactic boss cyrus #guzma pokemon #team skull #team skull guzma #giovanni #team rocket #lysandre #I need help people #the brainrot is real #guzma is literally just me in this lmao

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gautierprotectionsquad · 2 years ago

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All of my Favorite fanfics

Fandoms: DCU, Ace Attorney, ORV, AFTG, FE3H, TMA, Junoverse, SOC

Ace Attorney

Saturation: Just read it

A Boy at the Airport : AU where Phoenix runs into a tiny Apollo Justice who just immigrated from Khura'in and takes him in.

The Phoenix, and Other Early Birds: AU where Apollo watches the Enigmar v state trial and insists on helping Phoenix get his badge back

A Crack in the Marble : AU where Miles Edgeworth is the prosecutor for State v Wright (with Dahlia)

And If My Wishes All Come True : Apollo adopts a cat, Klavier pines, and they make a lot of divorce jokes

The Complete Turnabout: Phoenix sent to an AU where he's a prosecutor

Burning on in my heart: Klapollo sickfic that explores their insecurities and internal struggles.

Exorcism: AA4 rewrite. Serial Killer known as the Devil has killed every innocent defendant from Klavier’s cases.

Dirty Paws: Crack taken seriously: Larry Butz writes Warrior Cats fanfiction to cope.

Sharing A Dream: Klapollo bodyswap highschool au

Gonna Make this Place Your home: Klapollo fic. Apollo and friends and love and home

His Highness the Second: AU where the Revolution happens early and Apollo gets to grow up in Khura’in. Apollo has a loving family.

In lipstick on the mirror are the lyrics to my obituary: Klapollo bodyguard AU.

Man of Mist: AU where Kristoph adopts Apollo. A dark story about a toxic familial relationship between a serial killer and the boy he loves.

Miles von Karma: Gregory Edgeworth Lives AU and Gregory Edgeworth POV where Miles is sent back in time and to an alternate universe. Miles has lost his memories and works as a detective.

The Legacy of Gregory Edgeworth: AU where Raymond Shields adopts Miles

The Infernal Prosecutor vs The Defense Heir: Narumitsu Role swap AU

Revival: Dual Destinies rewrite

Alt (better) ending for AA5

Soleil and the Demons: Apollo finds his bio family but when the family falls apart after his step father's disappearance, Apollo embraces his performer side and joins a band

It Never Rains but it pours: Apollo joins Wright and Co early

DCU

Gotham by Messier_47: Superbat Identity porn. Clark hates Gotham but meets a man who IS Gotham and learns to see the city in a new light

Jason Todd's terrible, horrible, no-good very bad Week: Jason gets captured by the Justice League and his brothers sneak into the Watchtower to save him

Loading and Aspect Ratio: Batfam wings au (kinda) with Superbat

Plagiarism is Not a Joke, Batman: Batman reveals his identity to the Justice League. He is far younger than they thought.

Smoking in the Boys Room: Superbat identity porn. Clark finds Bruce injured in a bathroom stall

Space Cellmates: Identity porn Superman and Bruce Wayne are kidnapped by aliens

The Man Behind the Curtain: Superbat identity reveal. Superman slowly learns more about batman.

The Mask Behind the Mask: Justice League learns about Brucie's reputation

The Waynes, Damsels in Distress: Batfam lets themselves get kidnapped bc they think it's funny (it is)

thirteen: Clark/Bruce. Clark Kent is hired as Bruce Wayne's nanny. All the batkids are close in age and Clark is not Superman.

The Longer You Stay: Domestic Selina/Bruce. Selina pov. A retired vigilante and retired thief live a quiet life and adopt three children.

Trust through the ages: De-aged Bruce Wayne. The Bats and the Flashes are close friends.

In Love with Justice: The Justice League think Batman and Nightwing are dating. they are hilariously wrong.

a heart just can't contain all of this empty space: Young Justice Team are tired of Bat secrets

Sneaking out for superhero teenagers: Tim needs to go to Central City without the rest of the family knowing so he comes up with a plan to sneak out. He runs into some superheroes on the way

through different colored glasses: It all started when Jason was trying to rescue his rocket launcher. (this fic is for me specifically bc of my experience with broken door handles.)

Two Sides: Jason meets Damian in the League of Assassins.

Equal Magnitude: The Robins' favorite superhero.

Batman, go grab your Robin... Wait, wrong Robin!: Tim goes trick or treating only to get kidnapped!!...By Batman?

In this Town We Call Home: The Drakes use Batman as a boogeyman to make their son behave...it didn't work out how they expect.

I wish I was: JayRoy no vigilantes au/romcom au. Jason and Roy have a meet-cute at a bookstore and then keep running into each other. 5 times Jason accidentally turns Roy down and 1 time he says yes.

In Your Pocket: JayRoy no vigilantes romcom au. For the dramatic irony enjoyers. Wrong numbers.

Familiar: JayRoy. Romcom with a vigilante twist. Contains fun banter, fluffy fluff, Austen levels of slowburn, Roy and Jason being dads, and heartbreak.

Cause You Mean More than Anything: Series of fics about the justice league's dramatic theories about batman's love life.

Lighting Bolts and Breaking Clouds: Jason and Roy adopt Billy Batson

tribute: Billy Batson dresses up as his favorite hero for Halloween

Dangerous and Noble: The Bats investigate their missing neighbor. Tim and Cass meet in the LOA au.

Things My Heart Used to Know: Jayroy. Jason Todd has been missing for 6 years and there's a 5 million dollar reward for anyone that can bring him home. Roy finds someone who happens to look a lot like Jason and they're both desperate for money. Inspired by Anastasia.

farthest you've ever flown: Robin!Tim gets kicked out of Drake manor. Red Hood finds him. Alternate first meeting.

No Strings Attached: Boostle no capes/powers au. Friends with Benefits to Lovers. Superhero groups are bands in this universe

In This or any Other Universe: Nightwing ends up in Battinson universe.

The Bachelor: Robin Edition: Batman needs a Robin. Tim knows just the plan. Kidnap several black haired blue eyed children to train and test them to become the perfect Robin until only 1 remains. He doesn't know how to test for "lovable" but he'll figure it out.

Come Alive: Dick went to Infinity Island on a mission to rescue three and ends up with Jason and Damian, too. 3x06 of Young Justice AU.

Now you will not swell the rout: Tim wants to be Robin but Batman is too overprotective and won't let him out into the field. So he tries street fighting to prove to Bruce he can take a hit and train himself. He meets a vigilante in a red helmet, too.

Little Bird's Wings: Jason comes back to Gotham only to find Batman and the Joker missing. He wants answers and instead he finds a few teen vigilantes running around.

break: Tim retires from vigilantism. If only Gotham would let him stay retired.

Working With Professionals Once: Red Hood has a plan. That plan backfires when his goons kidnap Bruce Wayne

Forecast: Red Hood pulls Dick's body out of the water. ANGST hurt/comfort. Jason coming home/identity reveal

False Words: One of the best handlings of Dick during RR/Dick and Tim's reconciliation after RR. (specifically chapters 3, 8, 12, 13, 15, 16)

reset: Circe puts a spell on Red Hood that gives him temporary amnesia. Jason wakes up confused why his family is so distant

The Nuclear Option: Tim blackmails Alfred into going to Comic Con with him. SUPER CUTE

Fluent And Not Drawing Blood: Cass and the batfam

(Honorable mention to Either Side of the Median by CaffienatedCopyeditor which is no longer on AO3.)

FE3H

Keep Him Safe: Sylvix adopts a son

the courage to love, a guide to fatherhood by felix fraldarius: Felix adopts a daughter

TMA

(i don't read tma fic much)

Rather Interesting: Crack treated seriously. jonah magnus/elias bouchard. canon compliant somehow. Elias is able to regain consciousness whenever Jonah smokes weed.

AFTG

(there's not that many here bc i didn't start keeping track till later)

Love Hurts: Aaron/Katelyn before the start of TFC

Red Right Hand: Au where Nathaniel Wesninski works for the Moriyamas and has been assigned to collect Kevin Day.

This was Home: Someone's OC joins the foxes

Pie Another Day: Pushing Up Daises AU

TPP

(there's not that many here bc i didn't start keeping track till later)

up the wolves: A nine-year-old juno stumbles into one of jet's post-heist hiding places

Six of Crows

(i don't read soc fic much)

The Meadow: Kaz dreams of his brother while finding himself past the age he thought he'd die at, and feeling stuck while all his friends have changed.

ORV

A Circle to Your Square: ORV rewrite where Yoo Joonghyuk and Kim Dokja were dating before the scenarios started

Ascension, Love, and the Ever Present Push and Pull: De-aged Dokja

Rendezvous: ORV in Yoo Joonghyuk's POV

and at the very least, the wall will change: No Scenarios Soulmate AU

World's End Rhapsody: After the epilogue, there is love.

how the mighty fall (in love): Yoo Joonghyuk can't stop thinking about Dokja. Eventually decides to settle the matter. (it's horny with no sex)

Knight in shining (plot) armor: Kim Dokja gets isekaid into Ways of Seduction, a smutty stallion novel. (spoilers for tls123's identity)

All the things we didn't say: ORV rewrite where Kim Dokja writes letters to Yoo Jonghyuk

Down: 1863 Yoo Jonghyuk meets a stranger. A thief. An uncanny man with all-knowing eyes and a too-clever tongue. A man of harsh words. A man of soft touches. The Wall tells him a story about this man and another version of himself and he listens.

Grim Reaper's guide to keeping a human alive: grim reaper yjh interferes with a human's life to get them to stop annoying him during work

A Star Without Light: A fairy tale au

Mortifying Ordeal: Joongdok soulmate/no scenarios AU. Kim Dokja spends years thinking his soulmate simply had no interest in him only to find out Yoo Jonghyuk never even knew he had a soulmate.

Solace In Company: Kim Dokja appears as an apparition during Yoo Jonghyuk's regressions

#fanfiction #fanfic #ace attorney #batman #orv #penumbra podcast #aftg #soc #FE3H #TMA #romanticsap #long post #rom's fanfiction collection #fic recs

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legofanguy1999 · 2 months ago

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Sci-Fi September: androids

A Team Fortress 2 fanfiction for @thepromptfoundry event Sci-Fi September day 6 androids featuring Mimi Sentry.

The Engineer said to his fellow mercs, "You boys may be wondering what I has been doing for the past months. Well, I have making a way for my sentry to not be a sitting target for spies, soldiers, demoman, and Sentry Busters. Now, boys..." a little robot girl that look like a mix of a anime girl and a sentry come up as the Engineer said, "This is Mimi Sentry." The mercs look at Mimi before they laugh and Demoman ask the robot girl, "You are a cute little lass, are you?" which Mimi point her right arm that hold her firing at Demoman along with making the machine guns and rocket launchers of a level 3 sentry appear on her back and surprised the team, which made Engineer joke, "You boys been careful. She doesn't like to be mock at." While looking at Mini with fear, the Spy ask Engineer, “So, where did you the thing for Mimi, Engineer?” and he reply, “This Japanese comic book that I found laying around one day. One of you boys must be a fan.” and Scout nervously laughed as he look around.

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 engineer #sentry girl #mimi sentry #the prompt foundry

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popculturebuffet · 4 months ago

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Next up for Nickelodeon era of shows, who is your favorite character from each of the late 2000s to 2010 Nicktoons shows (notably the longevity of Nicktoons around this time began getting less with only a handful from this point onward getting more than 2 seasons, Nickelodeon getting more reliant on SpongeBob around this time, and Nicktoons often getting moved to the Nicktoons channel for burning off episodes if didn't match SpongeBob's ratings instantly became a frequent occurrence at this point) you've seen like: El Tigre The Adventures of Manny Rivera, Tak and the Power of Juju, Back at the Barnyard, The Mighty B, The Penguins of Madagascar 2008, Fanboy & Chum Chum, Planet Sheen, and TUFF Puppy?

Now that i knew but nick being shitty to their cartoons was a constnat. Something they ALWAYS did this is just where, with nicktoons in place, they started being way faster about it. Had to put up less pretense.

El Tigre: The boy himself. He has an intresting dynamic of not being a villian or a hero (more anti hero), that really could use more exploration in a possible revivial or fanfiction (Wink wink), as the show generally lead to the good side and din't have manny do crimes too often. But he's still charming, funny and likeable kid with an intresting power set. As for the show it's pretty good, a bit broad for it's concept, but it works, with nice over the top comedy and gorgeous animation. Jorge Guteirez always brings it and I need to watch his other show and his film at some point.

Tak: Hal sparks kid only because he's hal sparks. I have an attachment ot the guy since I watched him on I love the 80s , which I also need to rewatch. Tak.. not so much. I hear the games are geninely solid 3d colllectithons and nick could do to rerelease them or have updated versions ala rehydrated, but the show takes a possible epic fantasy show with some goofy humor.. and turns it into "Kid with a lot of power fucks up a lot"

I've watched cartoons up to present day and while I fell off nick due to lack of cable and previously being awful at putting stuff on streaming (they've gotten better), so you have to wait some time and they can spread a season over years in some cases (*cough* loud house *Cough), I did watch for a long time.. and I was just.. not intrested in this at all. I'd seen it so many times. Just above el tigre does it better, as the villian or hero choice lets Manny get away with more shit than say Otto Rocket. And thus it dosen't work here: everyone's either vaugely filled otu or a dick, the mythology isn't really well built, and any hope of another action show is gone... I don't mind comedy in my action, the golden trinity of superhero shows i've covered here and the previous CN list should make that very clear... but I mind wasting another good fantasy show on this shit, especially at a time when the bar was sky high.

Back at the Barnyard: This one I remembered as being.. eh. Pretty weak first season I noped out of the show after.. but any time I caught a later episode... I saw a changea nd wish i'd gone back. Just from out of context vids i've found while season 1 had it's gems that are featured it fucking lost it as it went, including a full on war with weird al (Who did a LOT of voice acting back then and should keep doing it, he was great as milo murphy). So a show I didn't think much of but seemed to get a lot better once it stopped being a bland imitation of am ovie few people saw but is apparently good and started just embracing i'ts looney tunes esque madness.

The Mighty B: Don't really have one. This one was eh. I know some hate it, I thought it was okay and like many of these shows it got better but no one got to see that because nicktoons. It was nice to see amy pohler in a cartoon, hope she does it again, but overall like Tak , and a lot of the weaker shows from here on out, it comes out as a weak copy of stuff the network had done better: grossout, hero whose goofy but isn't like by most people but a select few.. there just isn't anything to what I saw of mighty b that makes me WANT to go back versus barnyard, which geninely improved and simply shed it's more standard trappings for something far more fun.

The Penguins of Madagascar: A spinoff.. honestly better than the movies. At least the ones i've seen and I really LIKED 2 when I saw it one time in a theater, so it's a compliment. (I hear 3 is really good). Like most film based spinoffs Nick has done, it takes a second to get going but was a lot of fun in highlight. I can see why kiean carlyle (Fan animator and youtuber whose covered both suite life shows (with the new video finishing the saga having just come out), wizards of waverly place, mighty med, labrats and mighty med and labrats) did a retrospective on it and need to watch that. The show isn't one of my all time favoirites, but it works really well and honestly WAY more than it should. A spinoff that just has "the characters the audeince took to" (the lemurs and the penguins) and no real ties shouldn't work.. but it does because the penguins are that strong and them doing various heists or other shenaigans work. Jullian and Maurice work as comic relief and having seen their show, work well enough on their own too. And Marlene and the Zookeepr were great additions. They let marlene be the voice of reason/love intrest without having her be boring. Granted getting Nicole Suilvan to play her helps, but the show was really good. Top notch stuff.

Fanboy and chum Chum: Their crazy totally amazing MAKE IT STOP PLEASE MAKE IT STOP. Yeah this one has an annoying theme song and like about half the shows in this block is a poor xerox of stuff that worked better in other shows. yet... it's more mediocre than bad. This may be THE most hated nicktoon, with only our next contestant rivaling it from what I can tell.. but it's just.. okay. It's not good, it dosen't really have anything going for it and most of it's gimmicks are taken from other shows , but it's not so bad it's good or high tier awful either. it's just a lame copy of better stuff trying to be spongebob or ren and stimpy or even regular show without any of the pizzaz those had. It's what an AI would make if it made a nicktoon. It's not really wroth hating it's just... there.

Planet Sheen:

Now for the oppisite. Fuck this show, First off I found out later it was supposed to be it's own thing.. and woul'dve worked better that way, with a pizza dude getting shot up into space. That.. sounds more fun and most of the cast would've worked. Making it a jimmy neutron spinoff.. was a terrible idea. The show had more to tell so instead of just.. reviving that if they wanted more jimmy neutron with a revivial/spinoff, they instead shoved Sheen into a concept that dosen't really work WITH sheen. Granted part of it is, especiallya fter revieiwng the christmas special recently.. sheen is more layered than he tends to be remembered. Even I forgot his nice well of sarcasm. Sheen in Jimmy Neutron is fucking weird... but he's often the straight man in their comedy trio to a degree I forgot. Carl really is the weird as fuck one, Jimmy is a man of science and can be the straight man to his doofier best friends, but can also get caught in his ego. Sheen tends to be the one calling jimmy out when Cindy isn't present or calling cindy out when LIbby isn't early on. Here.. he has none of that. He's just an obnoxious idiot who cheats on his girlfriend, also wanted to make out with carl (which isn't innacurate but of all the tthings to pick up on form jimmy neutron, and didn't use carl because of executiv emeddling. This one is the worst nicktoon so far.. simply because Nick tried to cram too much generic bullshit into it. It COULD'VE worked. Idiot stumbles into glory isn't new, but it would've worked better with a protagaanist they didn't dumb down in a new property. I dont' know why Nick made a terrible spinofff to a show they clearly don't care about, and I wish they hadn't.

TUFF Puppy: Kitty and Dudley tie.. both because they purdy, and because they play off each other pretty well when the shows working at it's best. Overall this show is just.. fine though. Not a bad get smart reboot, doofus with some talent lead and cat suited sensible sidekick, but like , say it again A LOT OF THESE SHOWS, it feels like reheated leftovers. It's just not AS bad because there's some creativity. For as much as butch hartman sucks, and he does, he can make a decent cast. He was half assing it a bit more here, but I suspect it's also because he didn't have say steve marmel to help iron things out. But as a broad comedy it's fine. It's nothing amazing, but it's not AGRESSIVELY medidocre like the bulk of shows around this time. It's stuff w'eve seen before, idiot, woman as foil, weird techie, chief whose goofier than he lets on, but it's also not bad. Maybe it's the furry in me... probably ti's the furry in me, but it also just has a lot of fun stuff to it. I can't really hate it like I did planet sheen or eh it away like most of these shows. It did try a little. Not a lot and it shoudl've tried more as it could've been really great, a new darkwing duck.. but it wasn't half bad. again Grey and Jerry do a LOT of the lifting. THe voice cast for this one is fantastic. But i'll take "it's eh but it has really good perofrmances " over "let's make the generic ideal of what a kid wants" anyday. CN hit a rough patch too, we saw it, mostly trying to follow nick's footsteps.. but nick REALLY slid in quality as it went with only a few bright spots. And what good shows it did have it gave up on too fast. and it just won't stop doing it either.

#nickelodeon #el tigre #the mighty b #back at the barnyard #planet sheen #the penguins of madagascar #fanboy and chum chum #TUFF Puppy

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