#thats why i write fanfic

[jacqcrisis]

Every time i look through a fandoms explicit tag, most (usually over 90%, sometimes 100%) of the trans headcanoned stuff is 'what if the bottom kind of effeminate subby guy was trans and the masc dommy top guy was cis-'

But what I'm asking is what if the headcanoned dom top was trans and wrecked the headcanoned cis bottom dude's whole shit with phenomenal strap game? What about that? Where's that at? What if we played in that space for a while?

[konigbabe]

frosting of my cake

DAY 5 ⇢ Breeding Pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader Word count: 1.2k Tags/warnings: no y/n; smut; breeding kink; manhandling; mating press Summary: You want a baby. Satoru is determined to give it to you. [Part of NSFW Gojo Week 2023]. Divider by @benkeibear [source].

event masterlist • masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

"My last, third wish," you put up three fingers, "want a baby."

He looks at you in silence, not quite comprehending the request you've just made. Casual over the breakfast bowl in your hands, hair still all messy and tangled from sleep.

"I was thinking you'd say more of a food play when you said you got the idea when grabbing lunch with Shoko…or another threesome. Both would be acceptable."

But this...this was unexpected. You've surprised him for once, made him speechless.

"Is baby not acceptable," you query, setting your breakfast bowl on the kitchen island.

Satoru shakes his head quickly and puts his breakfast on the table. "No–god no," he moves to stand beside you, one of your hands in both of his. Yes, it might've been sudden, but Satoru can't deny his heart skipped a beat when your words reached his ears – body shaking with anticipation and excitement, mind already running ideas of how you could make a baby.

"It's acceptable. Of course–completely acceptable. Very sudden but that's it."

"So…do you want a baby with me?" you suddenly feel timid. Even though this conversation has been long overdue.

The question seems to linger in the air. You remain still, staring into his face. Waiting.

"I do–yeah," he exhales oppressively, squeezing your hands between his own in a reassuring manner as if he knows exactly what you're thinking without ever having to say a word.

And so you get to work.

You should've seen it in highsight–

Satoru's determination – no matter the cause – has always been unwavering. Perpetual and steadfast, he's committed to his goals regardless of the situation or objective, whether in the jujutsu world or your love life. And if it involved you, Satoru Gojo has become anthropocentric.

–so when those words left your mouth a few days ago, you should've been more aware of the consequences.

It's also the reason there's a calendar on his nightstand, today's date circled in red – ovulation.

And why your cries resonate through the dimly lit bedroom. Sheets sticking to your back, slick with your sweat as Satoru pivots his hips into your quelching cunt. Puffy and swollen; already leaking his release, creating sounds that would make your face burn with shame if it weren't for the pure greed in his hungry eyes..

"Satoru–," his name flows out of your mouth, head fuzzy and unable to comprehend no more, "agh–feels so good."

Satoru's hand settles on the dip of your knee, pushing the leg into your chest more as his chest presses against your legs.

"Fuck," his hips roll into you with fervor devotion, "squeezing me so tight."

Once more you utter his name in a shattered tone. Satoru's response an unsteady thrust of his hips. It makes your back to arch in his grasp, toes curling as he relentlessly batters that sweet spot that sends waves of ecstasy crashing over your senses.

His thumb brushes against your slick, swollen lips, and his kiss is a wild, intoxicating mess. Sloppy. Messy. Unhurried with languid strokes of his tongue against yours. An oasis in the storm; a brief reprieve from the intensity that throbs between your legs. Satoru's hand drifts to your breast, cupping it like a precious gem, as he slows down.

The pressure moves from your breast, trailing along the curve of your waist until it presses against your throbbing clit. Small, filthy noises escape from the back of his throat as his lips meld with yours; a satisfied hum that spreads through your body with each thrust he gives you.

"Ahg–I'm gonna cum, Satoru–"

A guttural moan rolls over his tongue, past your lips. A rumble of approval that makes your stomach flutter with glee.

Your limbs pinned, unable to do anything against the relaxation that overcomes your body. And in this position, even if you could move, you wouldn't. You savor the leisurely gliding thrusts, the euphoria and warmth flooding your veins, the sensation of his body covering yours and the breathless sound of his moans against your lips.

"I love you so much," it's barely above a whisper, lips brushing against your skin as you feel his mouth curve into a smile against your neck. Satoru's name tears from your lips, fingers digging into the meat of his shoulder blades, legs straining painfully as he folds you in half.

It's your third time today and your second time in a row. A record for you. The sheer amount of energy you've expended almost unfathomable. A few minutes of rest to catch your breath is all it takes to has Satoru all hot and bothered again.

His name a constant thread beneath your breathless lips, heart racing so fervently that it threatens to burst from your chest before it's pulled back into your throat.

"Fuck–fuck–love you s'much," he babbles, feeling your pussy flutter around him. helpless to resist the temptation as your slick warmth pulls him in again and again–

The white stars in his eyes have always been mesmerizing but when he's close – about to blow – you've never seen anything more stunning.

–milking him dry when he reaches yet another climax.

(Fourth, you think. But given the passage of time, you wouldn't be surprised if it was even more.)

Satoru waits until you calm down, limp and pliant in his arms, before he lays a palm over your abdomen.

"I think we need more."

Satoru stretches his muscles as he rolls onto his back, his arm extending beneath the bed. Fumbling around in the dim light, searching until his fingers close around a thin, lightweight book. The image of a newborn on the cover already gives away the content, so it comes as no surprise when you read the title: BABY MAKING 101.

With an almost magical swiftness, Satoru produces a pen from somewhere and flips the publication open to its last page. You watch as he scribbles inside for a moment, his actions causing a curious intrigue to build within you until you can't help but ask, "What is that?"

He glances at you, his cheeks still sporting a faint pinkish hue. "A book. It has a list of all the best positions for breeding. Look, "and he turns the open page toward you, revealing a bulleted list of various positions—missionary, reverse cowgirl, wheelbarrow, waterfall, mating press—some of which you've never heard of before.

You raise an eyebrow and notice that some of the positions have a star drawn next to them. "Should I be asking why some of them have a star next to them?"

Satoru grins mischievously, and the tip of his pen clicks against the word "lotus" on the page. "For future reference," he says playfully. "My personal favorites."

You can't help but chuckle before he continues, "It even has tips and research on how to make babies."

"I'm pretty sure I know how babies are made."

[sugusearrings]

( ' glass children. ' )

violet wrists and then her ankles, silent pain. then he slowly saw their nightmares were his dreams. monster, how should I feel? creatures lie here, looking through the windows i will hear their voices. i'm a glass child, i am hannah's regrets.

— summary: with the star plasma vessel dead, satoru and suguru need you (fem!reader) to lead them to their next path. — genre: angst. heartbreak. — playing: monster by meg & dia — note(s): i'm a sucker for what ifs. i love what ifs. good and bad. i thought about this what if a lot. i wanted to write about this since halloween and didn't have time to post it. i just know suguru and satoru are better than me cause everyone would have gotten this smoke. that's all imma say. anyways, mentions of blood & death. probably some spelling errors here and there. — word count: 866

Those beautiful cerulean blue hues still sparkled as the light down on them.

But the spark of life was gone. They were dull. Lifeless. Emotionless. You never saw them like this before.

You could feel the anxiety swallowing you whole. If someone looked closely, they can see your legs trembling slightly. The two boys in front of you were having a brief conversation but you couldn’t hear it. You couldn’t hear anything over the loud sounds of your heart rate picking up at a rapid pace. You couldn’t even hear the round of applause the strangers that crowded around the white hair teenager who held the lifeless body like he did the first time meeting her.

They were clapping for Satoru. Fucking clapping.

You just stared at the crowd in disbelief. What kind of people would approve of this? What kind of people are happy over this? The death of a young girl.

A young girl you considered your friend.

Monsters...monsters... “Suguru...should we kill these guys? The way I am right now I doubt I’d feel anything.” His voice was hoarse. But what made your heart ache was hearing no emotion in his tone. It matched his stare. Dull. Lifeless. Emotionless. Your eyes went over to Suguru. His back was faced to Satoru but you saw his almond shaped eyes were as wide as they can be but soon he pulled himself back together. He always does. He has too. “No. There’s no point. It’ll be dissolved soon enough.” His voice mimic the tone Satoru set. He began to walk towards the door to get out of there. He was sick of the clapping and the smell of the dried blood that lingeried. He was sick of this. He was sick of this life. He was sick of death. He was sick of curses. “No point, huh? Does there really need to be any point to it?” Satoru asked or stated. You couldn’t really tell. You went to follow behind Suguru like a lost puppy but Satoru called out your name.

“Name...”

"Y-yes...Satoru?" your gentle voice trembled.

"What do you think we should do?" Satoru asked you. His eyes didn’t look at you. They just looked straight ahead into nothing. Suguru's eyes went over to you almost forgetting you were even there. Your eyes was puffy and red from crying. You were the emotional one out of the three. That's why Satoru would tease you about being weak. You were a crybaby. But Suguru didn't see an issue with it, he likes you like this. So did Satoru but he wouldn't openly admit it. You reminded him about those certain emotions he swore he couldn’t feel anymore. "Name...what should we do?" Suguru also asked willing to do anything you said. The self proclaimed brains of this trio couldn’t think straight or logically. So it was up to you.

The boys looked over at you for an answer. An answer you didn't have. This wasn't fair. These higher ups using you children. Not caring if you killed one another or died in front of each other. You loved your best friends. Especially Satoru and Suguru, willing to do anything to protect them. Even Riko. They were the only family you have. But would the higher ups mourn you? Would the higher ups sink into a dark hole of depression? Would the higher ups get revenge on you? Or would they replace you like a piece of livestock. They would probably replace you in a matter of days.

They probably would assign Satoru and Suguru a mission while your ashes are still warm.

Satoru and Suguru.

The thought of leaving them behind made you feel sick at the pit of your stomach. How would Satoru handle it? You knew Suguru would break in a matter of days. He bottles so much inside of him it would just burst out. Would they keep it together if you were to die? Or would they lose it themselves.

You know you would lose it if either of them or both of them were to die. Leaving you all alone. To defend yourself. To love yourself. You couldn’t imagine a world without them. The three of you were glued to each other, couldn’t really function without the other.

You could feel the anger replacing the fear and anxiety. On the inside your morals and humanity was being teared apart, stripped away from you the more you stared at Riko's lifeless body in Satoru's arms covered by a thin white cloth. "Name..." Suguru called out to you once more. There wasn’t much time to make a decision. "Kill them," you finally answered losing all emotions you had that day, "kill them all." That's all Satoru needed to hear. His lips formed a wicked grin as Suguru silently summoned the rainbow dragon. You stood watched the blood being splattered on the walls and floors. The screams made you smile like that day on the beach with your best friends.

That’s where your mind was. The day on the beach with Riko and Satoru laughing at the sea cucumber while you, Suguru, and Misato were on the beach towels just watching them with smile of your faces.

[melooooo17]

@openphrase123 your fanfic(s but i mainly made art of the mira and siffrin one because i cant remember words for the life of me for i do not speak french) IS???? ? SO GOOD. SO GOOD IM FOAMING AT THE MOUTH finally something to look forward to in the week fr

Mild spoilers for it ig!! But nothing too explicitly groundbreaking i dont think it'll kill your mom to look at these without having read the ff first

Don't mind the shit quality i??? I drew all these so fast theyre kinda shit and i have yet to fully acclamate isat to my artstyle so it's mid

Teehee me when i make shitty rushed fanart to show my appreciation that i cannot put into words for my faovorite games and also authors

peep the rant in the tags

[pure-oddity]

Fast foodies know the deal

Ghost x reader

(not proof read, this is just fluff straight from the source

Warnings: none, ovulation mention maybe? Its brought up a single time.)

The craving hits around 3 in the morning, it's ovulation week so the idea of not getting chicken nuggets from the drive through makes you want to cry.

You turn towards the sleeping lug beside you. He's on his back, breaths deep and even. Still as a grave but at your movement he takes the arm you had been using as a pillow to drag you further into his side.

Your Simon, took you forever just to get the man to admit he did more than tolerate you. even longer to admit he cared for you. It took you almost using his toothbrush to realize that the man might actually (gasp) like you. That one you didn't push, figured he'd come to terms with it on his own.

As you look at how peaceful he seems you try to fight the urge, you really do, but as you prop yourself up on your elbows and move closer to Simon's ear you resign to begging his forgiveness later.

"Simon, my baby? You sleeping?"

You wouldn't have known he was a awake had it not been for the lone eye opening to check on you

"Was, love. I was. Whats wrong, bad dream? Y' Can turn on the telly to that duck cartoon or the robots - won't bother me none." He rubs a comforting hand up and down your back, he's being so sweet you really do start to feel bad.

"I want chicken nuggets."

Silence.

Both eyes are open now.

The silence continues.

You smile sheepishly.

Wordlessly simon extracts his arm and turns so his back is to you.

"Nnooooooo! Simon pleeeaase. Pretty please? I want chicken nuggets so bad!"

"Go ahead. keys are on the rack, tanks full."

"Nooo you have to take me! come on baby please, for me?"

"My love. Sunshine. Light of my life. If you're hungry i made a perfecly good roast last night. Heat that up and let a man rest."

"I dont want a perfectly good roast! I want chicken nuggets. And a burger. And fries - oh maybe a shake?" You lean over him, hair purposely hung over into his face. He turns quickly and you're nose to nose

"So youre gonna have me get up at 3 fucking a.m. to get you a greasey, artey clogging, cholesterol raising gastrointestinal disaster of a meal - when we have a perfectly good home made dinner in the fridge."

"....please?"

Silence.

A deep suffering sigh.

An ecstatic squee

"Just get your fuckin shoes on"

------

You lean back over into the passenger seat, simon grumpy faced as you insisted that you should be the one to order.

You pat your thighs in glee as he pulls up to the window, gives you a dirty look , and hands the cashier his card.

The second window delivers your meal and drink quickly, you dig in like a starved animal. You're mid chew when he gives a grunt. A snooty sounding eh hem.

You grin and giggle, slowly airplaning him a nugget.

"Give me the chicken or i'll take the whole box"

You squeak and shove it to his lips quickly. His jaws snap around the nugget and it's gone within a single bite - you retract your fingers, still intact but wet with spit.

You give an 'eeeech' and look for somewhere to wipe your hand.

"Any of this ends up in or on my interior and it'll be your arse."

You roll your eyes and reach in the bag for a napkin, knocking the fries over in the process.

Silence.

The car drifts slowly to the left and is parked along the side of the road.

Not a word spoken.

You try to shove as many back into the carton as possible.

He stares at you.

You smile sweetly at him before leaning over the center console and kissing him. You meet his lips, they're stretched into a dangerous grin.

"Love" kiss "did you" kiss "spill salt" kiss "in my truck?"

You might not know a lot, but you know that voice means you're in trouble, which means it's distraction time.

You continue your sweet onslaught of kisses.

"Thank you for taking me baby, I love you so much. ", another smooch

is delivered.

"Youre my person, my favorite guy, love of my life."

He bites at your lip and you barely manage to slip it from his teeth

"Wanna spend the rest of my life with you, grow old with you"

He grips the back of your head and maneuvers your ear to his mouth, in a deep rumble he asks

"Are there fries on my floor, love?"

The dangerous smile still present.

"No of course not baby! i cleaned those up."

"So my truck is fry free?"

"Well - no didn't say that. there's a, a few under the seat"

He's grappling you into his lap now, the man looks a hint deranged.

"And why, my love, are you telling me about them instead getting them?"

he presses.

"'Cause I - hehe - I can't reach!" You giggle out as his hands slink towards your sides.

He pokes and prods at you, growling not unlike a bear while you squeal and squeak out little laughs.

"Gets a man up at ass o'clock-"

"Oh please, you get up early anyway!"

"makes him drive to get congealed grease-"

"you had a nugget too!"

"Then trashes his truck."

"Oh please it's like a handful of fries, I'll get them, i'll get them!"

He frees you with a huff and you dive back over to your side of the car. You pop open your door and hop outside to get a better angle at the underside of the seat. He gets impatient as you fish around for the last few fries, giving a little hurrah as the last one is snatched.

Clambering back into the truck you grin at him, happy as can be. He hums a short laugh, and you're off to home again.

He makes a beeline for the bedroom and you trot over to the counter to finish your meal, most of it having been shared and eaten in the truck. You sit back a moment to enjoy the feeling of fullness when you see Simon emerge again.

"Bed. Now. Kept me up long enough" he's already on you before you can think of a reply, slung over his shoulder. He makes quick work of getting you both situated in your proper spots.

You're snuggled into his side for the night, full and content. He breathes in deep and exhales slowly. you draw nonsensical patterns on his bare chest, playing with the hair there. As sleep overtakes you, your palm flattens over the spot where his heart resides; and you feel him relax just a smidgen more.

[envy-of-the-apple]

as much as I like the idea of a older!reader with gojo, I can't shake off the connotation of grooming (esp if it's a 16-18 gojo with like a 30 year old woman).

Oh my godddd fuck off I’ve literally never made an age gap fic where Gojo is younger than 21.

why do I feel like you would not complain if I made a fic where 28 year old Gojo went after a third year student MC???? cuz these fics are made all the time and i dont see anyone complaining about grooming for those fics. fun fact all student teacher relationships are grooming, regardless of the student is 18 or not!

I have always stressed that in ALL of my age gap fics that first: its unrequited love. Second: the gojo/geto/whoever is at least 21. this is NOT grooming. If anything, it's the opposite of grooming cuz the MC is constantly getting manipulated/harassed by these shitheads. i have never written a fic where the MC responds to any of younger gojo's actions ya that would be weird (at most, Gojo misinterprets the action or the MC is threatened into playing along)

the reason why I love older woman/younger men is because I cannot project onto these MCs. I can't relate to being married or having kids or being 30, and it makes me feel more comfortable when I write these fics. I will never write a fic where the MC is 21 and Gojo is 19 cuz that's my age and it makes me feel icky. But 22-year old Gojo and 34-year old MC??? I cant project onto that. that's what makes the trope so good. I cant even bring myself to write a 21-year old MC dating 28-year old Gojo because the likelihood of me/people I know getting manipulated by a 28 year old irl is very very high (for the record THATS grooming)

[im-not-buying-it-ether]

I need Billy to get Clark Kent-ed in a fic and sent to cover a Wayne gala

Billy and Bruce meet, names are exchanged, and Bruce worries if this kid is doing okay and if there’s a father position open. Billy is there for some Wayne-Sivana partnership with Magnificus, asking a lot of well informed questions and acting like a little cherub.

Them bad guys break in, one has a gun to Billy’s head and Billy, in true street kid fashion and with the experience from his last 57 kidnapping attempts; bites the hand over his mouth, throws the guy whose twice his size over himself and twists his arm, and dismantles the gun before Batman swoops in and saves the rest of the day.

Batman checks on him, asking if he’s okay, and Billy drops the good kid act and straight up tells him to piss off because he’s not getting adopted by a furry man-child who lives a state away from his hometown

Any Robin or sidekick that was there just cheers the kid on from the roof top screaming “DODGED THAT BULLET!” after having spent the whole gala trying to keep them apart before Bruce could bust out the adoption papers

[aarontaylorjohnsonsdivorcelawyer]

library card ➵ valgrace university au

valgrace university au - PART 5 [masterlist]

[justalittlelilac]

Smug Wine

If you hadn't known Baxter Ward any better, you'd think he had brushed off your suduction. His lidded, dark eyes and smirk at you from across the restaurant table gave nothing away to the untrained eye. The clasped hands in front of his chin as if you were both in a meeting didn't fool you either.

It was the way his nostrils imperceptively flared with a quick inhale of breath. The twitch of a relaxed brow. The slight straightening of his spine that gave you the satisfaction you were looking for. Your ego flared even hotter as you observed the smallest change of pale skin transitioning to pink at the top of his ears.

Swirling the wine in your glass you took a languid sip of the sweet liquid, eyeing him casually over the rim. It was a favorite game of the both you. Saying the most insinuatingly devious things, all while keeping a nonchalant demeanor. Teasing all the while sounding as if you were simply asking about the weather.

There wasn't necessarily a winner or prize aside from the pride of getting under the other's skin. For you personally, it was the prize of Baxter Ward not showing it, but you knew to expect your delightful comeuppance from him when you got home for riling him up somewhere he could do nothing about it.

Baxter often won these little games you played, his cool, calm, and collected facade made it so. Though, the longer you were together, the more you gained on him. You were learning what made him tick, what got a reaction out of him, what he liked. So, it was when he had finished the last dregs of his own wine and asked for the check, with his eyes trained on you, that you knew you had won this round and it was time to return to your shared abode for a completely different parry.

[conanssummerchild]

ive dipped my toes into a little bit of unserious fic writing for rnm and i felt it was about time i dropped an autistic rick fic 🫡

ive had this idea circling around in my head for a while but i wasn't really sure what direction the fic would go in but ive decided to go for some good old internalised ableism (me writing angst? shocking /sarc) bcs rick never seems to see his autism as a disadvantage which is super slay BUT there is also a lot of difficult things to deal with being autistic and you know that old fucker hates admitting he needs help with anything so im gonna fucking force him to >:) this is set in like maybe season 2 or early season 3 btw just to make rick even less inclined to admit he needs any help !!

ok enough yapping, here we gooo

~~~

It was awfully quiet in the house for a Saturday afternoon. Usually by now Rick would've come barging into the living room, demanding Morty come with him and tugging him through a portal without waiting for an affirmative answer, always at least a little drunk on whatever he could get his hands on.

Today there was none of that, only fragrant smells of whatever dinner Jerry was cooking coming from the kitchen, juxtaposed with the harsh screaming match going on between him and Beth. Summer was scrolling on her phone absently next to Morty on the sofa as he pretended to watch some film that Jerry insisted was a masterpiece on non-interdimensional TV.

Overall, it was a normal night at the Smith's house from before Rick had come into their lives, but Morty wasn't relaxed like he would've been before, or even upset over having to listen to his parents' petty argument. No, he was ansty, fidgeting around enough to earn several annoyed glances from Summer.

He combed back through his memories, doubting whether he'd seen Rick today at all. He hadn't been at lunch or breakfast, in fact Morty hadn't seen him at all since their brief adventure yesterday, during which Rick had been in an increasingly foul mood. Had no one else even noticed his disappearance?

"I'm gonna check on Rick." He blurted out, stumbling off the sofa.

Summer didn't even spare him a glance.

He tried not to run down the hallway, nervous jitters going through his whole body. What if he had left again? No, probably not, Morty had seen his ship in the driveway. Shit– Rick had thousands of enemies, what if he was lying dead in his room right now?

Morty knocked on Rick's door so hard his knuckles stung a little, ignoring the small buzzing sound that accompanied the knocks. He heard a groan akin to one of a dying man and some shuffling from inside the room.

"Rick?" Morty called out to no answer, anxiety only rising.

He shifted nervously from foot to foot. If he just barged into Rick's room and he was fine Rick would be super pissed, but if he didn't and Rick was dying Morty would never forgive himself.

He shoved the door open. It didn't have a lock anymore. Morty held his breath as his eyes darted around the room, he feared it would look like a crime scene, but it looked... normal. He hadn't been in Rick's room that many times but, despite the darkness and slight mess, nothing seemed particularly out of place.

Well, that was, of course, apart from the translucent green force field type thing in front of the door.

He frowned, calling Rick's name again, but he was lying in his cot, facing the wall, unresponsive. Not even seeming like he'd heard Morty, the rise and fall of his tense shoulders the only thing showing he was still alive.

Morty chanced a careful touch to the force field, preparing for some kind of electric shock, but none came, only a quiet hum was emmited as Morty's fingers passed through. Rick moved again slightly, but other than that showed no visible reaction.

The field gave way easily and Morty passed though completely, standing meekly at the doorway of Rick's room. He was surprised to find that it was silent, like completely. No sound passed through the green barrier, not the sounds of sizzling pans, or the movie playing faintly in the background. Nothing.

"Rick? A-are you okay?" It wasn't said particularly loudly, but it felt that way in the complete silence.

No answer. He took a step closer, repeating himself louder, in case Rick just hadn't heard. "Rick? W-what's– is everything good?"

He expected anything, from Rick yelling at him to the person in the bed just being an alien wearing Rick's face, not even Rick himself.

He didn't expect Rick to cover his ears and curl into himself further.

"Uh-" Morty hesitated. His head hurt? Was he, like, hungover? Dying?

He only paused for a second more before turning and running out of the room, if something really was greviously wrong with Rick he would much rather be safe than sorry.

"Mom!" He called, running into the kitchen, interrupting the argument going on abruptly.

Beth downed a large sip of her wine glass, emptying it and setting it down on the counter with a sharp clink.

"Morty, honey, the adults are talking right now." She said, rubbing her temples tiredly.

"Mom, something's w-w-wrong with Rick."

"What?" That got Beth's attention, straightening from where she was topping off her wine once more. "What's wrong with Rick?"

"I don't know." Morty replied, agitated. "He's in his room just– just lying there, he's not answering me."

Beth was already heading in the direction of his room—not without grabbing her wine. "Come on, sweetie." She said to Morty.

"Wha- Beth, come on! We were having a conversation here!" Jerry exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

"I have more important things to deal with right now, Jerry." She said coldly.

Jerry's complaints were drowned out by Morty's rushing thoughts as he led Beth down the hall.

She peeked into the dark room without passing the noise-cancelling field, expression changing when she saw Rick curled into a ball, hands still clamped over his ears. While her frown stayed, a sort of realisation flashed in her eyes.

"Um, I think your grandpa just needs a little bit of alone time right now, okay? Let's give him some space." She said, taking a step back and closing the door gently.

"What? Why?"

"He just... Well, honestly, I don't know. I just vaguely remember he would get like this sometimes when I was a kid, when he was stressed. Mom always told me to just leave him alone for a while. I thought he'd probably grown out of it, like it was a midlife crisis thing or whatever. Guess not." She gave a small shrug.

That didn't really answer any of Morty's questions and raised several more, but Beth didn't seem to have the answers.

"Okay."

"Okay." Beth echoed, taking a swig of wine, her demeanour changing back to a bored one. "Well, I gotta go deal with Jerry now, go play video games, or something."

For the rest of that day, and then one more after that, Morty waited anxiously for Rick to emerge from his room. He felt like he was losing his mind, all while everyone else didn't even seem to care that Rick was gone at all.

He was picking at his pancakes uninterestedly when he finally caught a glimpse of blue hair in the hallway.

"Rick!" He exclaimed, making the old man nearly jump out of his skin.

"Jesus fucking christ, M-Morty." He muttered, grabbing some orange juice from the fridge and downing it straight from the carton.

"What happened?" Morty asked, getting up from the table and hovering by Rick. No one told him off for leaving the table. He could tell that they were all listening in on the conversation.

"What happened when?" Rick asked dismissively, playing dumb. He rummaged around in the overhead cupboard until he found an opened box of wafers. "What– who the fuck opened my wafers?"

Morty rolled his eyes. "You did, last week."

"Oh yeah." Rick shoved a wafer in his mouth.

"Rick, come on, seriously, I was worried."

"Well then maybe you should mind your own business, Morty."

Morty huffed. "What so you'd prefer I didn't care about you at all?"

"Yes. Obviously. Why does that surprise you? I've clearly stated it on multiple occasions."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I do care about you, Rick. I just want to make sure you're okay, because it seemed like you weren't" Morty said earnestly.

"Ugh, I'm fine, Morty." He scowled. "Don't be so– so weird about it."

"I'm weird?! Y-you're the weird one, Rick! Wh-what the hell is wrong with you? You just dissapear for– for two days and won't even tell me why? Can you give half a shit about anyone but yourself?"

"Jesus, I was overstimulated! O-okay? I'm autistic! Is that what you want to hear? You– you fucking dick."

Morty shook his head lightly, processing the stream of information "...What?"

"What? You can't be autistic." Jerry chimed in from the dining room.

"Okay, Jerry, and you won't be alive when I stuff your tiny dick in your mouth and freeze you, so we can put you on the mantle like some kind of fucked up decoration with your balls hanging out. Wait, actually, you will be alive. You'll feel the whole thing. Suuuper painful."

Rick snatched up Morty's virtually untouched stack of pancakes and sauntered out.

A quiet washed over the table, Morty looking over at Beth and seeing that she seemed just as surprised as him.

"What, you guys seriously didn't know?" Summer's bored voice broke through the silence.

"Y- you did?" Morty asked incredulously.

"Uh, duhh, Morty. It's like super obvious?" Summer drawled, not even looking up from whoever she was texting on her phone.

"How is it obvious?!"

"Becuase, Morty, I'm not uneducated like all of you guys."

"What? Wh-whatever, I'm just– I'm gonna go talk to him."

Summer didn't grace him with a response.

Morty peered into Rick's room but he wasn't there, so he wandered towards the garage. As he approached, he could already hear the sounds of Rick tinkering with something or other.

"H-hey, Rick." He said carefully, but Rick didn't seem particularly upset, offering Morty a small grunt in greeting.

"S-sorry I said there was something wrong with you." Morty added.

Rick looked up this time, quirking an eyebrow at him. "Okay?"

He went back to his project for a bit, but when Morty still didn't leave after several minutes he sighed, setting his wrench down harshly next to Morty's now half-eaten pancakes. "Yes, Morty?" He asked, irritated.

"I-I just... You could've told me, you know? That you're autistic. I'm not– you don't have to be, like... ashamed."

"Screw you, I'm not ashamed." Rick snapped. "L-look at me Morty, do you know how smart I am? You think any fucking neurotypical could ever reach my level of genius? Fuck no!"

He crossed his arms like a petulant child, pouting at the floor.

"Oh– Sorry." Morty stuttered. "I just thought..."

"What? That just because I'm autistic I have to be ashamed? Pretty ableist stuff there, Morty." Rick said sharply.

"No! Jeez, That's not– not what I meant, Rick. Jeez... I was gonna ask why you never t-talk about it, then?"

"Becuase it's none of y-your damn business, that's why."

"But– I mean, sure, but not even my mom knew. Did... did your wife? Did she know?"

Rick's shoulders tensed and he looked away, his loose grip on the table becoming harsher.

"R-rick?"

"She... knew." He said tightly.

"Did anyone else?" Morty made his tone a little gentler, seeing Rick wasn't exactly thrilled to talk about it.

"...Birdperson. And Squanchy."

"That's– no one else?"

Rick frowned. "My parents knew. But they didn't like it... Diane– my wife she was the first person I chose to tell myself."

"I'm sorry." Morty said quietly. "About your parents and... Diane."

Rick sat silently, staring at the work bench in front of him without saying a word.

"Is that... why you guys divorced, or?"

"No, Morty, jesus." Rick huffed. "She was actually the only one that didn't treat me like less than because of it. I mean, until BP and Squanch."

"So why–?"

"I don't want to talk about my failed marriage, M-morty." Rick sighed.

"...Sorry."

Rick shrugged.

Silence stretched on as Rick went back to his project again, it wasn't an uncomfortable silence, but it wasn't exactly comfortable either.

"It's embarrasing. Sometimes." Rick said haltingly. "When I get overstimulated. Becuase I know that doesn't happen to normal people and I don't like admitting I need help with things that other people don't. It's a sign of weakness."

"That's not–!"

"Shut the fuck up, Morty. This isn't a discussion, you got what you wanted out of me, so now you can fuck off."

"But, Rick you–"

"Morty, just fuck the fuck off."

Morty hesitated for a second, before lunging towards Rick and trapping him in a tight hug. Rick tensed up.

"Morty, you little shit, get off me!" Rick wriggled, trying to get out of Morty's embrace.

"I love you, grandpa. Thank you for opening up to me, I know it's hard for you." Morty whispered, which only made Rick thrash around harder. "I don't think you're weak, by the way. Or that there's anything wrong with you."

Morty finally pulled away from the hug and Rick crossed his arms again, his face now a little flushed in embarrasment.

"Don't do that again, you asshole." He grumbled. "I don't like it when you hug me."

"Sorry." Morty said, mostly meaning it. "Hugs always make me feel a lot better."

"Well I'm not you, Morty, and they m-m-make me uncomfortable."

"Sorry." He repeated. "But I-I still mean everything I said."

Rick pouted, turning away. Morty knew Rick was stubborn, and that he wasn't going to erase years of self-hatred and internalised ableism in a few minutes, but he hoped that one day Rick let him in enough to at least try.

"Okay, bye grandpa. Love you."

"Bye, asshole." Rick muttered back.

Love you too he thought, but didn't say.

+ extra

Rick had been in a shitty mood all day, and Morty could tell something was brewing under the surface, but he couldn't tell what until they were already on their way back home from grabbing some crystals from some drug planet Rick stole from all the time.

Usually Rick would be in high spirits after another succesful crystal-stealing mission, but today he just glared through the windshield, gripping the steering wheel tightly. Morty could tell that, despite his intense stare, he wasn't really paying too much attention, so it wasn't a huge shock when an large asteroid chunk flew into their field of vision and Rick didn't even try to swerve.

They crashed into the asteroid hard and an alarm started blaring, red rays flashing in the interior of the spaceship. Rick's hands flew over his ears, squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

Morty had seen this alarm go off several times, due to Rick's often reckless driving, and it usually didn't bother Rick very much at all, not warranting more than a curse and flipping the alarm off annoyedly.

Rick bit down on his knee hard as Morty hurried to shut down the alarm, Rick's hands moving into his hair and tugging when it was finally switched off.

Rick had a tendancy to hurt himself when he was overstimulated and it made Morty endlessly anxious. He searched desperately in the backseat for the noise cancelling headphones he'd given Rick and "forced him to wear" as Rick would say, but Morty could tell he appreciated it. Especially when he snatched them out of Morty's hands before he'd barely even handed them to him, shoving them onto his head agressively and clicking the button he'd added himself for improved noise cancellation, claiming the headphones were trash and that he'd had to modify them to make them at all a useful tool.

He slumped back in his chair with a sigh, his eyes were still shut but Morty could see the tears that had collected on his eyelashes.

"Do you want me to drive us back?" Morty asked, barely finishing the sentance before Rick was hitting the button that switched their chairs around so Morty would be in front of the wheel. Morty let out a small exclamation of surprise, but quickly took the wheel, putting the ship back on track.

Rick didn't say anything else for the short journey home, jumping out of the ship before it was even parked properly. Morty hurried to keep up with him as he unlocked the door. He stopped abruptly in the middle of the entryway and Morty almost crashed into him, managing to stop himself just in time.

"Thank you." Rick said gruffly, not giving Morty time to respond and just rushing off to his room.

Morty still smiled, though. He knew that was about as close as it got to his grandpa expressing affection.

"Love you too, Rick."

---

THE END IM CHEESEY OK I KNOW SORRY BYE

[seriouslagamorph]

can the funnybunny enjoyers of the tadc fandom and the funnybunny enjoyers specifically stop making jax and pomni so painfully heterosexual for five seconds. looking at you ao3.

[untowardsthoughts]

I Believe You Have A Call [dndads brothers au fic]

this is one of the fics that i mentioned in this post; a lil piece of the Glenn and Jodie Brothers AU that's been rollin around my noggin for a few months now. its basically just a rewrite of that one scene where glenn takes the phone call from morgan but brothers au

--

Excerpt taken from Dungeons & Daddies (Ep 28, The Bridges of Dad and Son County) Anthony: The shortest one walks up to Glenn and produces a cell phone. Shortest Robe: I believe you have a call. … Freddie: Uh… Caller ID? Nothing? Anthony: The caller ID says the name of your late wife, Morgan Freeman.

--

Standing face to face with the men who kidnapped their sons was bone-chilling, to say the least. Jodie stood there, ears plugged on account of Erin’s warning to their group, unable to hear anything of what was being said from the purple robes in front of them. 

Jodie and Henry watched the muffled back-and-forth between Darryl, Ron and the robed figures, until Paeden turned to the two of them, flicking his ears in a gesture of take out your earplugs. 

The tallest robe steps forward towards the dads, “You are going to answer yes or no to the following question: you will let us raise your children, in exchange we will help you leave the Forgotten Realms today. And not only that…”

The shortest one approaches Jodie, producing a small cellphone from the depths of their robe. Jodie takes a step back, hand inching towards his firearm on his holster. 

“I believe you have a call.”

… A call?

The only people capable of producing phone calls in this dimension were themselves to their wives, and Scam Likely - and seeing how the latter recently met his demise, Jodie doubts either option. 

Jodie gingerly takes the cellphone from the hooded figure and puts it to his ear.

“... Hello?”

“Hey man! How’s it hangin’?”

The phone almost slips from his hand. That can’t be him- he’s dead, he’s been dead- He steadies his breathing as he can feel himself about to choke up. 

“... Glenn? Is that- is that you?”

“Yeah dawg, did you lose my number already? I’ve been gone for, what, a month now? I woulda hoped you’d wait a bit longer than that, at least two.”

“No, no, no, no - I didn’t- What I meant was.. you’ve- I-”

“Relax dude, I was joking. Anyways, I’m calling to tell you that I’m on my way back! Dad and I are gonna be in town for a couple days and I wanted to see if you were down to hang out. I’m thinkin’ McDonalds?”

“.... What year is it?” Jodie can feel himself beginning to hyperventilate. Out of all things, a call from his late brother was the last thing he was expecting to deal with since coming into this realm and losing his kid. The thought crossed his mind when they were faced with the whole Terry Senior situation, but once all the Dads agreed that they were indeed not dead, Jodie tried not to give it any more thought. His brother’s been dead for at least a decade now, he can’t afford to spiral down that theory again. Not now. Not here, not when he was so close to getting his son back. 

“...Dude, are you okay? Don’t tell me you went through my shit, dammit. It’s like 1 in the afternoon! Did you eat anything? If it was the gummies on my desk- ”

“Glenn, answer the question - please.” 

“It's 1996. Joe, listen to me, man. You’re gonna be alright, just hang in there. Put on a movie, sit your ass down on the couch - I’ll be home in about 2 hours. Is mom home?”

“I- uhh…”

“Alright, forget about that. Just relax, you’ll be fine. Try to enjoy it! I’ll see you later.”

Click. 

[actual-changeling]

Joel cannot remember when it started, not that it is all that important, really, but after only a few weeks the hair tie on his right wrist has become just as much of a constant as the watch on his left. It is not always the same one, he is so attuned to it for some reason he picks up on the slightest variations in pressure and color, and on the rare occasion that he ends up taking it off, he easily finds a new one somewhere around the house. They're everywhere, on the coffee table and the kitchen counter, between the couch cushions, and in his jacket pockets, and he is acutely aware that the growing number of hair ties is his own fault.

Ellie had made a few comments here and there over breakfast or during movie nights that she never has one when she especially needs it. The complaint had buried through his skull and into his brain, taking root until he had made it his most important mission to solve what was a minor annoyance for her at best but oddly important to him.

The first time he had presented one to her, it had taken her several seconds of heavy blinking to fully process what he was offering her, palm outstretched and hovering between them. Once she had, the expression blooming on her face had looked so similar to Sarah's on Christmas mornings all air had left his body.

"What's that for?"

The wonder in her voice had tasted like hot chocolate and cinnamon, his heart filling with a familiar warmth, and he would be damned if he did not do everything he could to give her the childhood Christmases she should have had - hell, the entire childhood she deserves but never got to experience. Joel had heard the smile lacing his words, and Ellie's had grown in turn, her nose scrunching and eyes twinkling.

"Just because."

Ellie had thrown him glances heavy with an innocent curiosity all evening, prompting Joel to hold her even closer than usual when she eventually fell asleep half draped over his lap. Such a tiny, almost casual offering, and for a reason he still cannot quite grasp, it means more to her than he could have ever imagined, so he keeps doing it. Whenever Joel sees one, he trades for it with whatever he has on hand, although most people are happy to give them up without anything in return or a loose promise to come by if there's work for him, and he gives it to Ellie as soon as he is through the door; by now, it has become an expectation rather than an unexpected gift.

Sure, maybe it is less about Ellie's non-existent hair tie draught and more about the beaming smile she still gives him every single time, eyes so bright he has gotten lost in the joy on her face on numerous occasions. Ellie notices whenever it happens, eyes swimming with fond exasperation, and if it bothers her that he hugs her extra tightly afterward, the bubbling mix of love and satisfaction demanding to express themselves physically, if not verbally, she never complains.

Joel brings home another hair tie today, a black one already on his wrist, and he is barely through the door when Ellie practically launches herself into his arms, face buried in his chest as his arms come up to wrap around her, shifting her just the slightest bit to the right to keep them both from toppling to the ground.

"What's that for?"

Keeping the fondness out of his voice is impossible, and he has given up on trying to do so. Ellie doesn't pull back like she usually does, and his breaths come easier despite the fact that her crushing hug constricts his lungs, and Joel gently rests his cheek on top of her head with a love-struck expression he knows deep-down mirrors hers, fingers carding through her hair.

"Just because," she mumbles, and the smile she wears all evening follows him for days, the stitches she uses to put his heart back together looking suspiciously like hair ties.

[nardaviel]

rating: T fandom: Persona 5 pairing: Shuake chapter 1 of 2

Come for the status ailment fuckery, stay for Ren trying to figure out how to live with consigning the guy he loves to death or worse! Come for the despair, stay for the hope! Come for the Shuake, stay for the Royal trio! There's something for everyone.

Link here!

[silhouette-system]

Regrets and Lost Love.

Vox climbed over fallen rocks and bricks. He had come here to gloat over his nemesis, but this was getting ridiculous. 

“The things I do…” He grumbles. 

He brushes some dirt off his pants, and pulls himself up to the ruined radio tower. The ladder is a little rickety, but it’s usable. 

“Alastor?” He calls out. “Are you up here?” 

Nothing answers Vox. He sighs loudly. “You can’t hide! You fucking loser!”

A pained groan sounds from behind him. Vox whips around to see Alastor, huddled in a corner with his arms clutched around his chest. 

“Alastor?!” Vox kneels next to the demon. 

Alastor hisses at him as his ears pin back. “What are you doing here, Vox-“ His voice sounded odd without the radio filter, “-come to gloat?”

Vox hesitated for just a second- but that was more than enough for Alastor to catch on. 

Alastor starts to chuckle, then cackle, but he’s cut off by a wet cough. Blood drips from his mouth and his sclera bleeds black. 

“…Al?” Vox says. “Wait-“

Vox sighs frustratedly and scribbles out his words. The bar where he sat was dimly lit, and his seat was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Alastor, humming softly, was sitting on the couch and twirling his staff that Vox had commissioned from Rosie a few weeks ago. 

“Would you like to dance?” Alastor asks out of nowhere. 

“I- what?” Vox looks up from his work. 

Alastor snaps his fingers, and soft music plays from the candy apple red radio. “Would you like to dance?” He repeats. 

Vox fights down a blush. “I-I don’t know how to,” The demon admits. 

Alastor hums. “That’s alright, I can teach you.” He offers a hand to Vox, who accepts. 

Alastor guides one of Vox’s hands to his waist. Alastor puts his hand up on Vox’s shoulder. The tv demon, knowing this part, clasps their hands together. 

“Uh…what do we do now…?” Vox asks. 

“Step to the left,” Alastor instructs. “Then, cross your right foot over it.”

Vox focuses on Alastor’s feet and matches the steps. 

“Once more.”

Alastor’s ears flick against the screen of Vox’s head. “Okay, now reverse.”

Eventually, Vox gets the hang of it. They step in time to the music, and Vox leads them in a slow circle. 

…Two hearts connected by one beat…

…Your hand in mine and…

Sweet guitar fills the room. Alastor leans his head on Vox’s chest and moves his hands so they cup the back of Vox’s neck. Vox cradles the smaller demon in his arms. 

“I could never choose to love another…” Vox softly sings the closing lines of the song. 

“Maybe one day I could’ve learned to love you too.” Alastor smiles, a real smile. Vox had learned to tell the difference a long time ago. Alastor’s real smile was soft. It wasn’t like the pasted-on grin the world saw. 

“No, no, no! Please!” Vox pleads, but he knows it is far too late. 

The light faded from his love’s eyes and Alastor slumped against the wall. His lifeless eyes stared past Vox, and the hand Vox held fell limp. 

Vox sobs, the mockery of tears filling his screen. “Please…” He cries, to no avail. There is no one to hear his words. 

Vox’s heart shatters into a million shards of blood and tears and glass. He mourns for the love he almost had, for the loss of the person closest to his heart, for his one true constant in this hellscape. 

He gently closes Alastor’s eyes. Now it seems as though the demon is just sleeping- no. Alastor never looked this peaceful when he slept. 

Vox slides his arms underneath Alastor’s cooling body and stands. He teleports out of the ruined tower and walks through the rubble to the Morningstars and their friends. The princess is hugging her girlfriend while the porn star and the cat share a hug as well. Lucifer stands to the side. 

Charlie- that’s her name right?- turns around and spots Vox. 

“Vox?!” She stands in front of him, looking lost as she stares at Alastor’s bloodied body. “Wh…what happened? Did you do this?”

Vox shakes his head frantically. “I-I would never! He was in his tower…I guess Adam hit him harder than we thought. He…he bled out.”

Tears gather at the edges of Charlie’s eyes. “No…”

Vaggie runs to her girlfriend’s side. “Charlie- oh…”

One by one, the group gathers around Vox and Alastor. Charlie hides her face in Vaggie’s arms. Husker looks conflicted while Nifty full-on sobs. 

“I’m sorry,” Vox says. 

“What were his last words?” Charlie asks softly. 

“I couldn’t hear what he said,” Vox lies. “He was…coughing up a lot of blood.”

Charlie cries harder, soaking Vaggie’s shoulder. 

~~~~~~~~

The dark red coffin is slowly lowered into the ground with Lucifer’s magic. Charlie sniffles softly, and even Angel has to turn away. 

Vox stands a little separate from the group and watches Lucifer use his magic to fill the grave with dirt. 

Slowly, the other members leave the small courtyard, with Vaggie leading her girlfriend away, and Husk scooping up Nifty and leaving with Angel. Eventually, only Lucifer and Vox are left at the grave’s side. 

Lucifer slips by Vox with a low whisper of, “Don’t stay for too long. It’ll hurt more.”

Vox doesn’t respond, instead choosing to stare at the tombstone. 

It was carved out of granite to look like an old radio.

Alastor 

“I could never choose to love another; maybe one day I could learn to love you too.” - We Become We

Vox had chosen the inscription himself, though it took many tries to get a readable version. 

He knelt by the grave. 

“Hey.” God, he sounded so stupid. But this was the only way to get closure. He would never find closure. It hurt too much. “I miss you. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

He placed the broken staff and a few flowers. A pink carnation, a cyclamen, a purple hyacinth, and a sprig of rosemary. 

Vox stands and brushes off his coat. He stares down at the freshly turned dirt and flowers. 

“I love you,” He whispers. “I’m sorry.”

~~~~~~~~

[granny-griffin]

guys more of you should post in your native language about stuff that isn’t relevant to me as an american. sometimes I want to learn about other languages/cultures via interaction and not from a textbook but it gets kind of hard when everyone only uses english all the time