#some day i’ll learn to post in time

[liliumblooms]

He looks like a Pepito

For @anonymous-dentist’s Spiderbit Week Day 2

Prompt: Modern AU/Family

.

Cellbit would think that, for the third time he received a call of this type in his life, he would be somewhat more prepared for the flood of emotions that quickly took possession of his chest, but, as an experienced father, he recognizes that it was inevitable, and that the nerves and anxiety he felt at that moment were a natural part of the process.

Just a few minutes ago, he was in Esperanza’s room, helping her with the hairstyle she had chosen for that day and laughing at the faces she made at him from the reflection of the small vanity mirror in her room. His husband, just one floor away, was still struggling with their children, especially Richarlyson, to get them to take a bath and get ready to go out. Bobby, a natural instigator, was simply playing along with his younger brother, just for the satisfaction of seeing their apá run after them around the house.

If they kept going at that pace, they would be late for the family lunch organized by his in-laws, unpunctual to celebrate his sister-in-law Leo’s recent victory in a fencing tournament. However, all plans they originally had went out the window the moment he felt his phone ring and recognized the call's origin. He quickly gave his daughter a look through the mirror, which she immediately understood, placing small bands at the end of her unfinished braid and leaving her room with the mission to find her dad.

Without thinking much, he took his phone, inhaling quickly and mentally preparing himself for the words he knew he would hear. Four days earlier, he and Roier had received a call from the agency, informing them of the possibility of receiving a small baby of just three months old who had tragically lost his parents in an accident, his fate still undecided as the police were still searching for any relatives willing to take custody of the child. His guapito, bless his heart, quickly moved by the information, promptly informed the social worker that if needed, they were even willing to be foster parents for as long as it took to find the baby a permanent home.

It was impossible for his mozão to avoid feeling and acting quickly on the baby's situation they had just learned about, reminding him of his eldest son and how he had come into his and Jaiden’s life, just a one-year-old infant who had lost his mother, a close friend of both, after a long battle with cancer. And he didn't blame him, for just thinking about the child, his paternal instinct screamed with an intense need to care and protect.

Finally, after months of paperwork and extensive investigation, their family was first on the list of potential adoptive parents of the Federation, a government agency dedicated to the safety and protection of children and youth in dangerous situations. Cellbit knew better than anyone how cruel the system could be, having grown up in it and experienced firsthand the suffering it brought to children abandoned by life itself, deciding from an early age that if he ever became a father, it would be to a child from the system, just like him.

That's how Richarlyson and Esperanza had come into his life. The first, like his older brother with his dad, came his way at the mere age of one, being the youngest patient of Pac, his friend and one of his roommates at the time, who was in the process of creating a special prosthesis for the little one considering the rapid growth of the infant. Just a couple of sessions with him were enough to have his friend wrapped around his little finger, being legally adopted by him and Pac and raised among the group of friends and roommates, whom Richas considered all his parents, affectionately nicknamed Favela as their family name.

At that time, he had only been dating Roier for a few months, who quickly became one of his lifelines in the process of becoming a father, embracing fatherhood with an open heart. His little Bobby also played a crucial role, who, with his short three years, helped his little brother quickly adapt to his new environment and life, eager to teach him everything he was learning and ready to play with him for the rest of his life.

Esperancita, on the other hand, joined their family a year after their marriage, already a five year old girl, whom they adopted out of the foster care system after a short but painful life of abandonment, having moved from family to family without a permanent home. It took a while for her to adapt to the chaotic but loving family unit they formed with his guapito and two whirlwind sons, but there was no one like his beloved to get even the most tormented soul to come out of its shell, having experienced it firsthand in those times when they were just a pair of namorados. Their princess had come to change their lives and fill one of the missing pieces of what was their family, the perfect little sandwich right between her brothers.

Since then, their precious family of five had become his main focus, leaving his detective career aside to pursue his dream of writing a mystery and horror book series, and to be able to spend more time with his children from home, while his husband continued to grow his private psychology practice. This was until a few months ago when, right around the second anniversary of adopting their daughter, after a sleepless night talking with Roier about everything and nothing at the same time, they jointly concluded that it was the right time to finally complete their family and add one last member to it, starting the process again to adopt another little one into their egg carton.

In the present, as the social worker confirmed that indeed, the baby they had only known about for a few days was theirs, he felt his husband approaching him. Quickly thanking her and informing her that they would be at the hospital as soon as possible to pick him up, he quickly ended the call and turned to look his guapito in the eyes.

“Gatinho?” Roier looked at him with eyes full of hope and anxiety.

“Guapito… Our baby is waiting for us.” Saying those words alleviated some of the nervousness gripping his heart.

In a special and intimate moment, they exchanged a look full of excitement and love, before each going their separate ways to prepare quickly, just as they had planned. Cellbit hurried to their room, speeding to grab the bag they had prepared for their little one in case the long-awaited call came and started getting the car ready, while Roier ran to find their little ones, updating them quickly on the news they had been waiting for as a family and taking them to Jaiden’s house for her to watch them, thanking the universe and the gods above that she was just a house away.

Once in the car with his husband and heading to the hospital, he drove carefully fast to the Quesadilla Hospital, anxious to have the youngest member of their family in his arms as soon as possible. Roier, on his part, apologized to his parents for not being able to attend the organized lunch and shared the happy news, hearing Leo's screams of joy through the speakerphone of his husband's phone. After a brief shared laugh at hearing his in-laws' excitement, they spent the rest of the short drive in comfortable silence, both still in the process of internalizing what was about to happen and feeling their bodies vibrate with that familiar paternal anxiety.

At the hospital, everything became a blurred memory until they were outside the room where their son was, squeezing his husband’s hand in his to give them both the courage they needed to enter the room. The social worker, after greeting them, briefly updated them on the child's health status and gave them the go-ahead to meet the newest member of their family, congratulating them in the process.

The moment their eyes fell on their baby, the tiniest thing he had ever seen in his life, wrapped in a blanket and in the center of a crib that looked too big in comparison, all the anxiety running through his veins vanished and was quickly replaced with a love so intense it made every cell in his body vibrate. It took just one look to know that he was the missing piece in the puzzle of the family he had built with the love of his life.

Feeling his husband’s hand leave his, he redirected his gaze to him, watching as he slowly approached the little sleeper to take him in his arms and kiss his small head with few light brown hairs. If before he felt his heart couldn’t handle all the love coursing through his being, seeing his guapito with their baby made it finally explode. He loved the emotions his children unleashed in him, but nothing compared to the blinding joy that filled his chest at seeing him, his guapito, in the precise moment he became a father again. “Gods,” he thought, “how I love sharing this life with you.”

“Cellbo… he’s here, finally.” Roier’s eyes were filled with unshed tears, just like his. The small room emanated an aura of peace, wrapping them in a blanket of love and the radiance typically associated with new parents. Not wanting to exclude himself from the moment, he embraced his husband from behind, his hands gently resting on his guapito’s, holding the little one. The baby smell reaching his nose was what made his tears fall freely down his cheeks.

“His name is José,” said the social worker. Honestly, he had forgotten she was in the room with them, blinded by his emotions and the divine sight before his eyes.

“Yes, he looks like a José,” he quickly commented, analyzing his little one’s fine features, from his long eyelashes, his plump and rosy cheeks, to the small pout on his lips, so similar to his husband’s that he could easily pass as his biological child. A soft yet strong name for this little boy, a gift from his parents that will accompany him for the rest of his life.

His guapito, for his part, begins to gently rock the baby as he feels him move in his arms, still enchanted by the mere presence of the little one in his hands. When the baby’s tiny eyelids fluttered open, he could not help but let out a small sound of delight as his gaze meets a beautiful pair of green irises looking at them with curiosity. He knew that, technically, the color of the baby's eyes could still change, but he wanted to engrave those sweet green eyes into his memory and into the permanence of life itself, as they perfectly completed the image of sweetness that was his youngest child.

"He looks like a Pepito… ¿No lo crees, corazón?" Roier softly mentions, as if speaking louder would disrupt the tranquility enveloping them. And he couldn't agree more, that sweet look called for a fitting nickname. While he had the face of a José, Pepito felt just right.

"Você está certo amor..." he murmurs as well, the words escaping his lips naturally. "Pepito, bem-vindo à família."

[800db-cloud]

i’ve been wanting to do this since day one

[quibbs126]

I’ve been listening to No One Mourns the Wicked (well at least the first half, because I really like that part), and now a thought has come to my head to have Megatron die in my AU, with him also taking all the blame for the virus and the creation of the Decepticons and the chaos they caused

Since while he wasn’t fully responsible, he is technically the reason the virus broke out, and was intended to cause destruction in the first place, and it’s his clone responsible for that intended destruction, so he does have at least some part in it. Also he’s got his whole guilt thing going on, and presumably the clone guy also died, so someone needs to be held responsible, so Megatron decided it would be him

I did work out a scenario once where he tries to take blame for it all before, with it being after he learns the truth and doesn’t take it well, but I never figured out how that would be resolved, so maybe this scenario can take from that? But with the context different, since in that original he was absolutely in the wrong for doing so

I don’t know, it was just a thought, I haven’t worked out the logic. It was just the idea of the conflict ending with Megatron dying a hero, but being remembered by everyone outside of his friends and those there as the villain of the story. And also Optimus is still alive and just having to live with everyone seeing him as such

[karaspal]

i find it kind of funny every time someone brings up clark leaving kara in an orphanage as a source drama and angst™ and how kara should still hate him for it (even if that hasn’t been canon since pre-crisis), when in reality 1) it was during the silver age where you shouldn’t take everything at heart and 2) by the end of kara’s initial action comics run, not only did she get adopted by a loving family, she also found out her bio parents were alive. she literally had two full sets of parents. she was fine, guys. and she had a genuinely good relationship with clark.

[quinn-pop]

yet another oc that only exists because i wanted to write something very specific

(middle is a little older, hence her scar healing. i like to think she gets a glass eye at some point)

anyway this is mira! (they/she) since that wip is almost 20k words and counting i won’t give away too much but long story short she’s the result of meta going “one last time, i promise” and adopting yet another kid

also galaxia kinda indirectly picked the name :)

i’ve mentioned before that i headcanon that pretty much all astrals are autistic and this is just kinda an extension of that. whereas meta tends to suppress his emotions and conform to others, mira…doesn’t. she gets uncomfortable and upset and lashes out at people easily, and working through their emotions is no small task.

the main reason i chose to write them that way was for the sake of narrative but i’ve grown attached to it because there’s a lot of ideas there i’d like to explore. stuff about navigating emotions and relationships when existing is so suffocatingly uncomfortable. it’s not something i could center around Kirby himself, but i think it makes sense with a post character development meta knight.

they are very loved (omg oldee cameo???)

kirby was definitely very excited to have younger siblings after being used to being the youngest in the room for so long!! (with the like. one and only exception being gooey.) he’s super affectionate with both of them and wants to have a close relationship one day, but for now mira is pretty unappreciative of that fact lol. they don’t like being pestered for hugs

everyone else is okay tho

(i know that’s hard to read. oops. “obvious bite marks”. siblings being siblings.)

mira also has a very love/hate relationship with the egg kid, being so close in age they kinda Have to get along but in typical sibling nature they also fight a lot. sure it’s probably rough for a while but i think in the end they’d be good buddies. maybe not as close as Kirby and Bandee but still.

anyway i have a lot of thoughts and am very busy but. i’m really enjoying writing about all this lately it’s been fun ^^

[loderlied]

sharing some thoughts about deactivating here because it’s been difficult pondering idk.

[thesarcasticism]

this is soooo dumb of me i know that but like when someone corrects my translations one part of me is like oh! yay! learning new things! learning and growing and improving!

and then another part of me is like “just translate it yourself if you’re so fucking smart, asshole” and it’s like ok calm down time. what is wrong with me fr

[e77y]

Glad I’m starting therapy so soon after moving out ☝️ I am already feeling the helplessness and loneliness

[peapod20001]

The oc thoughts in my brain... immense

[killuaisaprincess]

finally queued up all my fics

[humanjarvis]

the world when you're with me

synopsis: you seek out sylus for comfort after realizing you were wrong about him.

tags: comfort, fluff, implied avoidant!reader learns to trust sylus, implied avoidant!reader clings to sylus, sylus takes care of reader from afar, sylus has mephisto and the twins follow reader but wbk pairing: sylus x reader, reader is mostly mc word count: 802

a/n: is this the peak of literature? no. did i need to write it after the day i had? yes. did i need to post it today? no, because i’m trying to stagger my posts more, but here we are. anyway 4k caleb pwp coming tomorrow 

For the first few weeks after you’d infiltrated the N109 Zone, you’d avoided Sylus Qin like the plague. 

After being scared out of your wits by the first version of him you'd met—the cold, unavailable criminal mastermind who’d forced you to shoot him within 5 minutes of knowing one other—you were unashamedly wary of working with him again. 

But Sylus’s intel was unrivaled. More and more often, you found yourself visiting the N109 Zone to meet with him, eventually not even bothering to book a place to stay. There was always a guest room at the Onychinus base prepped for your arrival.

As you spent more time with Sylus, he’d noticeably changed his approach to interacting with you. Rather than forcing you to resonate with him, he’d explained to you how his Evol worked, letting you aim his hands at some training dummies to test it out yourself. Instead of unceremoniously shutting you out when he was tired, he’d drag his robe-and-slippers-clad self to sit beside you on the sofa, answering your cautious questions by practically giving away all his secrets. 

His shift in attitude hadn't stopped there. Sylus had clearly been using that endearingly incorrigible crow to keep tabs on you, but for the strangest reasons. 

Whenever you had a bad day at work, some building-wide maintenance emergency would magically appear, forcing your team to cease operations for the rest of the day. He’d text you a couple hours after your early dismissal, saying he was in the city and inviting you on an evening joyride to clear your head.  

The day after you’d lugged a case of water up the stairs to your apartment, having to pause a couple times to catch your breath, you came home to see your fridge mysteriously stocked with groceries. The only traces left behind were the masked twin figures you spotted scurrying away from your window. 

When a new phone showed up at your doorstep one day—you never even told him you’d shattered your screen, you thought—you’d decided that Sylus wasn’t as bad as you’d once assumed. Not anywhere near as bad, in fact. He was thoughtful, generous, and helped you without taking credit or forcing you to ask for it. You’d never had that before.

Which is why, somehow, you find yourself standing in the doorway of his armory, studying him silently as he polishes an antique-looking gun.

When he notices you, Sylus looks up, raising a delicately arched eyebrow. “Something wrong, kitten?” he drawls, subtly checking your body for injuries. 

Mind numb from your absolutely dreadful day, you stay silent while Sylus looks at you expectantly, his hands forgetting their earlier task. 

But for the next minute, you remain hovering in the doorway. You expect him to get annoyed—you almost want him to, so you have an excuse to go back to relying only on yourself—but all you see on Sylus’s face is patience.

When you start shuffling toward him, that patience mixes with a glimmer of anticipation that he visibly tries to suppress. You need him to be calm right now—an anchor, he thinks. If he loses his composure, if he startles you with his excitement at your approach, you might bolt at any moment. 

Sometime during his inner struggle, you reach him. Meekly, you stand before his chair, briefly opening your mouth before closing it. 

“What is it, sweetie?” he asks softly. “Tell me, and we can figure it out together. I’ll personally track down whoever seems to have stolen your words from you.”

At his offer, you break, collapsing into his lap. His large, warm hands immediately encircle your waist, and you bury your face into his neck, inhaling his leather and spice cologne. 

“Aw,” he coos in his baritone voice, rocking you slowly in his embrace. When he lifts your head an inch, you resist, letting out a soft whine. Gently, he guides your head back to his chest, his quickening heartbeat thumping in your ears and grounding you in the the moment. 

After several moments of silence, your deep, shuddering breaths the only interruptions, Sylus murmurs into your ear. “When I noticed you never ask for help, I was worried the world may not be treating as well as it should. You must be very tired, hmm?” he asks, rubbing his chin against your hair. 

Tightening your arms around him, you sit there for a while, his steady breaths seeming to mend a decades-long rift in your heart.

The next time Sylus tries to lift your head, you let him. He pulls your face from his neck so he can look into your eyes, hoping his gaze conveys his sincerity, before pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. 

“You don’t need the world when you’re with me,” he promises. “I’ll treat you better than it ever could.”

[animazed]

i came on here originally to say i was lonely and my head hurt but then some posts made me laugh so i’m reblogging them despite them being like the last thing i posted.

but such is life.

[machveil]

okay wait, because I was immediately struck with more Boyfriend!König after posting this

Boyfriend!König who comes home from a deployment - he reeks, he’s sore, everything aches and he feels like death. but, as soon as the door clicks shut behind him his eyebrows furrow. somethings cooking and it smells familiar. he’s kicking his boots off at the door and shrugging his coat off as he walks towards the kitchen. and there you are, standing next to the stove with a spoon held up to your lips, listening to music and unaware of his presence

Boyfriend!König who coughs, not wanting to startle you with his sudden presence. it’s worth it though, seeing you look over at him, eyes lighting up as you practically tackle him for a hug. it’s a sweet, short moment, but König’s eyeing the stovetop. when you let go you excitedly tell him you’re making dinner, something special since he’s been gone for a couple weeks. “You can’t look! It’ll ruin the surprise— uh, actually, maybe take a shower. I’ll call you when it’s done, okay?”, he chuckled at your rushed words, moved towards your bathroom when you gave him a gentle shove

hair wet and dressed in some ratty sweatpants, Boyfriend!König comes back to the kitchen while toweling off his hair. the scent from the kitchen is stronger than when he came in, but it’s nothing compared to what’s on the counter. he freezes, a little wobbly when he puts his foot down and looks at the food. tafelspitz. and suddenly that familiar smell registers in his head, his mama’s cooking. you had called her regularly while he was deployed, spent every other day learning how to cook some of König’s childhood favorites

Boyfriend!König whose eyes get watery when he starts eating because, oh, it tastes exactly how his mama makes it. he hasn’t been back home in a year and a half - purely from bad timing and deployments - and he’s missed his mama’s food so much. König who gets up from the table, walks over to you while chewing and hugs you, not giving you the chance to stand up or properly hug him back. as soon as he swallows he’s babbling ‘thanks you’s and kissing the crown of your head, murmuring how ‘you didn’t have to’. he’s got you in a death squeeze, eyes closed as he presses his nose to your hair, “Ich liebe dich— you’re too good to me, Liebling.”

[sunsetcupid]

EYES OFF! ; F1 GRID.

synopsis: When you are catcalled on the street, it is only natural that your boyfriend reacts a certain way, be it possessive or enraged.

trigger warnings: Use of feminine pronouns from the reader’s perspective; Descriptions of romantic acts and behaviors; Suggestive remarks; Descriptions of cat-calling; Mentions of physical altercations

a message from the author: Once again, I added Daniel Ricciardo to this fic. I think I’ll be doing that for the rest of the stories in this series. If any of you would like to add a driver or request a certain scenario, don’t hesitate to message me in my inbox!

ISACK HADJAR

He can’t believe his ears – he can’t begin to fathom why someone would make such a vile comment, especially to his girlfriend, the sweetest, most loving person he knows. It physically repulses him, and for a moment, you think he might vomit all over the sidewalk.

Likewise, as soon as he hears the leering statement, he freezes in place. Head cocked to one side, fists clenching until the knuckles turn white. You have to practically drag him away, telling him that “It’s not worth it” because the boxer in him is just itching for a fight.

“No one should be saying those things. Not to you, not to anyone. They need to learn a lesson, and I’ll fucking teach them.” He repeats it as if it were his personal mantra, over and over.

For the rest of the day, he’s sulking. An invisible rain cloud is hovering over his head, but it doesn’t stop him from being extremely clingy. If you dare move out of his eyesight for a second (to get a snack or to put your phone on charge), he immediately panics and can’t stop kissing you afterward.

OSCAR PIASTRI

Oscar is not a confrontational guy at all. His version of arguments are stony silences, unanswered texts, and the cold shoulder. Nevertheless, he rather enjoys keeping a level head and remaining calm. But when a guy walking down the street wolf-whistles at you and cracks some lewd joke about wanting to explore the curves of your body, Oscar wants to tear him apart.

He takes a few deep breaths, attempting to regulate his rapidly pounding heart rate before it explodes out of his chest. He might consider walking away, but when he sees your panic-stricken expression, it’s game over.

Oscar stalks over to them, his voice low and gravelly as he makes the catcaller regret his existence with a few well-chosen words. He’s more forceful, more direct than you’ve ever heard or seen him be, and it turns you on. 

LANCE STROLL

His head whips to look at the culprit, his eyes widening in astonishment. For a moment, he thinks he’s imagined it, but the leering smirk on the offender’s face dashes his hopes. “What did you just say to my girlfriend?” Lance’s voice is eerily calm, not a hint of his inner rage visible on the surface.

The only way you can identify how he truly feels is the vein pulsing on his neck, and the fact that he’s gone rigid, like a tree trunk. You have to place a hand on his arm to get his body to relax.

As a result of the incident, Lance becomes more vigilant, walking in front of you at all times and blocking your body with his – a very attractive shield. He even offers to get you a personal bodyguard, but you adamantly refuse.

LANDO NORRIS

His face flushes with anger, eyes turning into flinty shards. He’s so pissed off that someone would dare to tease you, especially in such a creepy manner.

You have to whisper-hiss at him to not get into an altercation with the person who catcalled you. He’s like an overgrown puppy, growling at the person and trying to tug himself free of your grip in order to go fight the other person. “I don’t give a fuck about race penalties. He’s a fucking bastard!” 

Once he’s regained some composure, he posts a lengthy paragraph on social media, denouncing misogynistic behaviors and urging everyone to make donations to women’s empowerment groups. “We love to believe that the world today is modern and equal, but it can never truly become inclusive if these events are still commonplace.”

CHARLES LECLERC

He curses in French, letting loose a dictionary’s worth of swear words you didn’t even know existed. That’s his clash with the perpetrator. On track? He’s ready to fight. But in person? He’s less eager to do so.

In lieu of this, he wraps you up in his sweater, taking your hand in his and comforting you with his closeness. “I’m here for you, mon ange. And I’ll always protect you.”

He’s big on physical touch after – kissing your cheeks and cuddling, enveloping you with his body like he can shield you from every harsh remark people make. Perhaps he can. He’s just that magical.

DANIEL RICCIARDO

He’s absolutely incensed. The happy-go-lucky facade disappears in a snap, replaced by cold fury. He slings one arm around your shoulder, laughing menacingly. “Hey, mate! Eyes off my girl, and fuck off.”

Daniel would 100% get into a brawl with someone who insults his girlfriend, not because he is a violent guy, but because he wants to properly defend the love of his life. 

He could be bleeding and bruised for weeks after, yet he will forever be proud of his capability to defend his girlfriend.

Later, he tries to make light of the situation by making jokes. Ultimately, however, all he wants is to take you in his arms and never let you go. You’re everything he could ever want, and he hates that other people have the power to hurt you.

Credits: Dividers — @strangergraphics

[kyri45]

A final letter

Hello Everyone!

The queue is paused and everything is scheduled, which means we are ready for the finale!

I know that, in the end, this was just a silly side project for me, with everything else going on in my life. But for this occasion, I wanted to drop some words here and hope they make sense.

I started watching LMK only because a friend told me there was a "Sonadow-coded" ship. I ended up consuming the entire thing in one sitting on July 10th, 2024. At the time, I was still recovering from a bike accident that had left me with a broken right forearm—unable to draw for a little over a month. (I did try drawing with my left finger, but it wasn't exactly fun.)

Not only that, but it was summer, and I couldn’t enjoy the season or practice my main sport, windsurfing. To say I was feeling the blues is an understatement. I remember being in physical pain just from not being able to draw my sillies. But then, watching LMK did something to my brain chemistry that my little undiagnosed autistic self had never experienced before. It hit so hard that I’ve been physically unable to rewatch the show SINCE that very first day. (And y’all still call me the CEO of this fandom. Bro, I just work here.)

A lot of you have asked what inspired me to start this comic or to draw LMK fan art in the first place. While my usual answer is, "I saw Shadowpeach and thought MK could be their lovechild, given his appearance," the moment that actually started it all was THIS ONE—

(I HAD TO REWATCH THIS SCENE TO MAKE THE GIF AND IT HURT ME ON A MOLECOLAR LEVEL)

I have… a thing for characters who discover their entire identity was something else all along. It consumes my thoughts, my dreams, my every waking moment. I live for identity crises, for characters who thought they knew who they were, only to be forced to rediscover themselves, their existence, and their place in the world. If you give me a story where a character has to go through that, I will like it—regardless of how bad the rest of the story is.

Pair that with loads of trauma, daddy issues, the pressure of a legacy, and world-ending stakes, and congrats! Now I’m obsessed, and I will not stop thinking about it for the rest of my days!

At first, my brain just wanted to release some of that energy with a small, four-panel post about the monkeys discovering that MK was technically their kid.

That was supposed to be it.

But since I never seem to learn my lesson, it didn’t stay like that. Because once I started drawing, I just... continued.

And

I

never

stopped.

A lot of you have also asked how I found the motivation to draw so much, to never take a break. Well, I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it one last time: I am my number one fan. No matter how much you laughed, cried, screamed, or went feral over this story, I did all of that and more. Because I got to think about the chapters months before they released. I got to daydream about them. I got to watch them come to life—first through sketches, then line art, then dialogue. And finally, I got to witness your reactions and see the incredible creations you made, inspired by my story.

So yeah, in a way, it was almost an addiction. A good addiction. Because, for the first time in my life, I actually understood what loving art means.

I’ve been drawing for ten years, working professionally for five, but I never loved art before. I just liked it because I happened to be good at it. But creating this comic made me understand why artists say, "Oh, I’ve loved drawing since I was a child!" This was the first time I allowed myself to create purely for my own enjoyment. Something I hadn’t had the privilege to do for a long time.

Other than making me feel even more single than I already was, this story somehow also helped me a little with my own family relationships. So yeah. Crazy how the gay monkeys changed my life.

Of course, I never could have predicted how much traction my AU would gain. Man, y’all were really starving to latch onto something this silly. /j

But yeah—thank you. Thank you for sticking around until the end, for having the patience and trust to follow the story even when I made you rage with angst and cliffhangers. (The statement in my bio still stands: I am not responsible for any physical or emotional damage my art has caused.)

I’m absolutely shit at thanking people, or at writing, or at talking in general, honestly. I’m the furthest thing from being good with words, so I hope the final chapter will be enough to show you my gratitude.

Through this story, I met so many wonderful, talented people. I watched as fans across different platforms found each other through memes and fanart of the AU. I saw artists start their own AUs inspired by mine, growing their own communities. I witnessed an explosion of creativity and collaboration through our takeovers. And I laughed along with you all.

And yeah—at its core, this story has always been about love. Whether it’s platonic, sibling, parental, romantic, or whatever the hell Mac and Wukong had going on for millennia.

At its heart, it’s a story about family.

And maybe, in the end… the real family wasn’t just the one in the comic, but the one we’ve found together along the way. 💛

See you all at the finale.

Love you all, freaks /affectionate

Jade

[moonstruckme]

hi mae!! may i get a poly marauders x reader where reader just completely becomes quiet and stuff around negatively raised voices? like if two of the others (not necessarily reader) are arguing and suddenly theyre arguing in raised voices and reader has grown up in that kinda household so she js makes herself absolutely scarce in fear of one of them snapping at her or smth? sorry if this is very specific or if its not something ur comfortable with lol have a great day :)

Thank you for requesting <3

cw: implied trauma around shouting/aggression

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

“You didn’t think to look for a sign?” 

“I didn’t see any sign.” 

“There was a sign less than ten feet away.” 

“Okay, I saw that one.” Sirius reaches up into your cupboard, shuffling things around until he gets to the sleeve of biscuits in the back. His attention is noticeably not on Remus. “I thought it was only for the spot it was posted in front of. They ought to make those things more clear.” 

“The rest of us always manage to interpret them fine.” There’s no bite you can find in Remus’ tone. He’s not standing stiffly, or crossing his arms. But deep in your chest, there’s a small coil of tension brought about by something in your boyfriend’s demeanor you can’t identify. It has you lingering at the edge of the room. You think Remus is more upset than he’s letting on. 

Sirius seems to sense this, too. “Oi, it’s nothing to get your knickers in a twist about. It’s being handled, isn’t it?” 

“It is being handled,” Remus says. He rubs his thumb into his temple. “I’m beginning to wonder how many times it’ll have to be handled before you learn how public parking works.” 

“I did think after three tickets we’d be done with it,” James jokes, oblivious to the rising tension. “Surely at some point the towing company must start giving us a discount.” 

Sirius pops a biscuit in his mouth. He folds his arms, speaking around it. “I’m taking care of it, alright? I’ll pay the ticket. I’ve already paid the towing company and gone to the lot to get the car back—which ate up a good chunk of my day, by the way, so I don’t really fancy coming home to be lectured about it.” 

“Sirius.” Remus sighs harshly, eyes closed as if this is all giving him a headache. “Do you really want me to feel bad for you about a mess you got yourself into?” 

“I just don’t see what’s left for you to be pissy about!” 

“Right, well, you’re not the one who’s going to have to go to court for it, are you? This is our fourth parking violation, and the car’s in my name. I’m going to have to use a sick day for it.” 

“Just let me go instead, then.” 

“That’s not how it works, Sirius.” 

You find yourself retreating from the room on silent feet, disappearing down the hall. 

“Would you stop saying my name like that? I can’t bloody well help what’s already happened. I’ve said I’m sorry, what else do you want me to do?”

“I’m not sure you have said that, actually.” 

“I’ve said I’ll go to court for you!” 

“Hold on,” James cuts in, “let’s just—” 

“Doesn’t sound quite like the same fucking thing, does it?” 

You shut the bedroom door with a soft click. It deadens the voices, though the sharp tones seem to pierce the wood. You push out a breath, forcing it around the tension in your chest. 

Everything is fine. Nothing truly bad is going to happen, not with these boys. You feel caught between pressing your ear to the door to hear every word and putting in your earbuds to drown it all out. 

It doesn’t take terribly long for the tones to soften into something safer. Not kind, exactly, but less jagged. James’ voice chimes in more often. You hear more sighs than scoffs. The feeling in your chest stays, primed. 

When Sirius comes to find you, you’re scrolling aimlessly on your laptop. 

“Hi,” he says, giving you a little smile as he slips in the door. 

You smile back. “Hi.” 

“It’s all clear out there, just so you know.” Sirius sits at the end of the bed, a gentleness in his features that makes you feel sheepish. “Safe to come back out if you want to.” 

“Are you okay?” you ask quietly. 

“We’re okay, baby.” 

“And you and Remus…” 

“He’s still a bit miffed with me,” he admits, “but we’re alright. I’m going to see if they’ll let me go to court for him since I was the one using the car.” 

You nod. The inside of your cheek finds its way between your molars. “I’m sorry you got a ticket,” you say. 

Sirius smiles, gray eyes soft with fondness. “Thanks, sweetness. It’s okay. It happens, you know?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Some could argue it might happen less if I was perhaps a bit more cautious.” 

Your lips quirk. “They could.” 

“But it’s all fine. Everything’s really alright, we’ve made up. Do you want to come have dinner?” 

“Oh.” You get up. “Yeah, sorry.” 

Sirius tsks. “What’re you sorry for?” 

“I didn’t mean to hide.” 

He hums, pulling you close to press his lips to the side of your head. “I don’t blame you,” he murmurs. 

James is stirring a pan of vegetables in the kitchen, his arm wound snug around Remus’ neck. They appear to be speaking quietly between kisses. When Sirius pulls out a chair for you at the table, James turns with a smile. 

“Hey, lovie.” His voice shines with affection. 

It’s not a scene you’ve always been used to after an argument. Smiles and a shared meal, all of you in the same room together without a sharp look exchanged. 

“Hi,” you say back, trying to smile in the same way. Your feet come up onto your seat, legs folding into a pretzel. 

Remus leans around James to see you better. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to drive you off.” 

“You didn’t drive me off,” you reply. You both know it’s a lie. Remus’ mouth slants sympathetically. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Yeah,” you say, honestly. Sirius rubs your thigh like he’s going to make sure of it. “You?” 

Remus smiles softly. “I’m alright. Thanks, sweetheart.” 

“I think we should institute a new system.” The vegetables hiss as James pushes them around in the pan. “Whenever two of us are having a row, the other two get to vote on who’s right, and that’s the end of it.” 

“But,” you hesitate, “there’s four of us? What if it’s a split vote?” 

“Then that’ll be the least of our problems.” You can practically hear the eye roll Remus is holding back. “Taking sides would never work.” 

“Agreed,” says Sirius. “I vote that James doesn’t get to institute new systems.” 

“What?” James sulks. “You always take Remus’ side.” 

“Clearly not.” 

“Well, you always do when it’s against me!” 

“I’m going to leave again,” you joke, gratified when James instantly apologizes and Sirius puts his hands over your ears. 

“You heard her.” Remus smiles, dropping a light kiss to James’ hair. “No more bickering, you two. Honestly, I’ve no idea what possesses you. Can you believe them, dove?” 

“Nope,” you say, smiling. 

Sirius fixes you with a look. “I’m going to start bickering with you next if you’re not careful.”