#this is inspired by me doing a little bit of math and realizing that there are probably less than 100 people in total who are radqueer

[vingtetunmars]

A New Heartbeat

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel Miller never thought he'd get another chance at building a family—especially not at his age, especially not after everything.

Tags: Fluff, pregnancy fic, domestic fluff, birthday surprise, emotional feels, warm, age gap (reader is early 30s, Joel is 58-59), set between season 1 and 2, jackson!Joel Miller, soft joel miller. No physical description of reader. No use of Y/N.

A/N: Thank you @dedicatedfangirl2001 for inspiring me! So this is technically a continuation of this fic, but it can also be read as a stand alone. If you have any requests, suggestions, or thoughts, feel free to send me a message. Reblogs are appreciated. Please do not steal or cross-post it on another platform without asking. Thank you.

Word Count: 3.3k

masterlist

You didn’t think much of it at first.

Between the early mornings at the stables and the evenings spent passed out on the couch beside Joel, days had started to blur into each other. Your body always felt tired this time of year—mud season clinging to your boots, cold air snapping at your fingertips even under gloves. You’d chalked the nausea up to bad stew from the dining hall. But when your headache lingered past the usual, when the scent of hay and leather turned sour in your nose, it hit you.

You hadn’t had your period.

You stood in the feed room, half-empty bucket of oats dangling from your hand, the realization sitting heavy in your stomach. The math rolled around in your head, tumbling over itself. It had been… what? Over a month? Maybe more. You weren’t exactly counting days when every morning looked the same—Joel sipping black coffee, Ellie stealing bits of toast, and you rubbing sleep out of your eyes as you layered up for work.

But now, standing there, the silence of the stable around you, something clicked. You set the bucket down on the ground a little too quickly, pressing your palm to your stomach. No pain. No bloat. Just… a quiet sort of stillness.

The horses shuffled in their stalls. One of the younger colts let out a soft snort. You leaned your back against the wall, heart hammering in your chest.

You weren’t sure. But something deep in your bones told you—you already knew.

You didn’t tell anyone where you were going that morning.

Said you had errands to run—needed new gloves, maybe stop by the library. Joel didn’t press. He’d kissed your cheek, grumbled something about checking in with Tommy about a busted water heater, and told you he’d see you for dinner.

You walked to the clinic with your hands jammed deep into your jacket pockets. The cold bit at your cheeks, and every step felt heavier than the last. Not from dread exactly, but from the weight of maybe.

The clinic wasn’t much to look at. Two rooms, patched-together equipment, and a nurse named Carla who used to be a vet before the world ended. She was kind, though, and knew how to keep her mouth shut. You told her you wanted to rule something out. She just nodded, handed you a cup, and pointed toward the bathroom.

You stared at the strip of plastic on the counter like it held your whole future.

Five minutes. That’s all it took.

Carla didn’t say anything right away. She just looked down at the test in her hand, then back up at you, her expression soft.

“Well,” she said, “you’re pregnant.”

The room didn’t spin. It didn’t crash down on you, either. Instead, everything went still—like the moment before a horse takes off into a gallop. Heart pounding, lungs full of something sharp and sweet.

You were going to have a baby.

Joel’s baby.

Carla asked if you were okay. You nodded before you really even felt it, voice rough when you said, “Yeah. Yeah, I think I am.”

The walk back home was slower. Like you were afraid to jostle the news loose, or maybe afraid it still wasn’t real. But your hand drifted down to your stomach more than once, resting there in quiet awe.

Now, all that was left was telling him.

And with his birthday just a few days away, you couldn’t help but wonder how in the world you were going to tell him.

Joel didn’t like birthdays.

He never made a big deal out of them before the world ended, and now… well, now they just felt like reminders. Reminders of what he’d lost. Of how much older he was getting. Of how goddamn long he’d been carrying around all this weight.

He’d never forget waking up on that birthday—the one that split his life into a before and after. Many years later, the world had changed, but the ache hadn’t. Not really.

Still, this morning started like any other. The early light crept in through the crack in the curtains, soft and gray-blue. Beside him, you were curled under the blanket, one arm slung across his stomach, your face tucked against his shoulder. Warm. Familiar. Home.

He didn’t move at first. Just lay there, eyes on the ceiling, listening to the quiet. The muffled sound of someone in the street. A rooster off in the distance. You breathing slow and steady beside him.

You made it better—this day, this life. You had a way of pulling him back from the edge without even trying. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve that, to deserve you, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to take it for granted.

Your fingers twitched slightly against his chest. You were starting to stir.

He turned his head just enough to watch you, that soft haze of sleep still in your features. He found himself smiling, just a little. The lines in his face stayed, though. The ones that came from time and sorrow and holding it all in for too long.

You blinked up at him.

“Mornin’,” he murmured, voice low and rough.

“Happy birthday,” you whispered back, eyes warm and knowing.

He groaned, turning his face away slightly. “Don’t remind me.”

You gave a quiet laugh, but didn’t tease him for it. You never did. You just leaned up to press a kiss to his jaw, fingers brushing along his ribs, gentle and grounding.

“I’m makin’ you pancakes,” you added softly. “Don’t fight me on it.”

He huffed, but it wasn’t real. “‘Course you are.”

He didn’t need gifts. Didn’t want anyone making a fuss. But if the day started like this—your warmth, your voice, your lips on his skin—then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Even if he still carried the ghosts, this morning... it felt different. Like maybe something was waiting on the horizon, and he wasn’t sure what—but he trusted you’d tell him when the time was right.

You flipped the last pancake onto the plate, steam rising as you added a handful of thawed berries���ones you’d carefully saved from the last supply run. They weren’t exactly fresh, but they were sweet enough, and they made the stack look a little more festive.

Birthday pancakes.

Joel would pretend to grumble about it, but you knew he appreciated it. The small gestures. The quiet kind of love. You’d learned early on not to make a big deal of his birthday. Not out loud, anyway. But that didn’t mean you’d let it pass by like any other morning.

“Damn, something smells good,” Ellie mumbled as she shuffled into the kitchen, hair sticking up in five different directions, sleeves too long for her arms. She plopped down at the table, blinking slowly. “Is it somebody’s birthday or somethin’?”

You smirked as you slid a plate in front of her. “Could be.”

Joel followed behind her a second later, moving slower, like his body hadn’t quite forgiven him for being nearly sixty.

He rubbed at the back of his neck as he sat down across from her, eyes drifting to the plate you set in front of him.

Pancakes. Berries. A little dab of honey. No candles, no singing—just the kind of breakfast you didn’t make unless the day meant something.

He glanced at you, brow raised.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said.

“I wanted to,” you replied, brushing your hand over his shoulder as you passed. “Don’t argue with me on your birthday, Miller.”

Ellie shoveled a bite into her mouth. “Holy shit,” she mumbled. “Are these the blueberries?”

Joel chuckled under his breath, fork already in hand. His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he took his first bite. You saw the tension ease in his shoulders, just a little. Maybe the day still carried shadows for him, but right now? With a warm plate in front of him and people who loved him on either side?

He was okay.

You sat down beside him, resting your hand on your lap, feeling the thrum of nerves underneath your skin.

A knock on the door broke through the calm.

Joel looked up, chewing his last bite with a quiet grunt. You stood up to answer it, already guessing who it was. Sure enough, when you opened the door, Tommy stood there with a crooked grin and two hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets.

“Mornin’, birthday boy,” he called past you, stepping inside without waiting for an invite. “You look real good for a hundred.”

Joel let out a groan, dragging a hand over his face. “You had to come by, didn’t you?”

“You think I’m missin’ the one day a year I get to remind you I’m younger and prettier?” Tommy grinned, clapping his brother on the back as he passed by.

“Debatable,” Ellie chimed in, still chewing. “And you missed the berries.”

Tommy’s eyes lit up. “Berries?”

“Yup,” you said with an apologetic shrug, walking back to the stove. “Saved 'em for Joel. There’s still pancakes, though.”

Tommy sniffed the air like a bloodhound. “You spoil this man.”

“Someone has to,” you quipped, already grabbing another plate.

You served him a healthy stack—no berries this time, just a bit of honey and some leftover butter—and slid into your seat again. Joel was watching you, his eyes soft beneath the usual weight. He hadn’t said much, but you could feel it in the way his hand drifted to your knee under the table. Just a gentle touch. A quiet thanks.

Tommy shoveled in a bite and made a loud, satisfied sound. “Hot damn. You better marry her before someone else do.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “You wanna lose a tooth today?”

You laughed, elbow resting on the table, chin in your hand. The teasing, the warmth, the way Ellie rolled her eyes and asked if she could have seconds—it all made the house feel full in a way you never took for granted.

Still, under it all, the secret sat in your chest like a fluttering heartbeat.

You’d give it a moment. Let them finish breakfast. Let Joel have this calm before you turned his world upside down.

In a good way, you hoped.

The house felt quieter once the door shut behind Ellie and Tommy. The laughter lingered in the walls for a moment, then faded, replaced by the gentle creak of wood and the soft clink of dishes as you rinsed them off.

Joel was still finishing the last of his coffee, sitting back in his chair, watching you. He looked more relaxed now—shoulders looser, lines around his mouth softened. Birthdays were hard for him, but this one… it hadn’t been bad.

You dried your hands on a dish towel, heart thudding steady but loud. You knew you couldn’t wait any longer.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping toward him. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

His brow knit slightly, but he nodded, setting the mug down. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“No,” you breathed, sitting down across from him, your hands resting in your lap. “Not wrong. Just… big.”

Joel leaned forward, elbows on the table. You reached for his hand without thinking, grounding yourself in the warmth of his calloused fingers.

“I didn’t know how to bring this up earlier. Didn’t wanna spring it on you in front of everyone,” you started, voice quiet. “But I’ve been feelin’… off. The past few weeks.”

His expression shifted—concern flickering behind his eyes, guarded like always. “You sick?”

You shook your head, a nervous smile tugging at your lips. “No. I went to the clinic yesterday. Ran a test.” You swallowed, heart climbing to your throat. “Joel… I’m pregnant.”

The words hung in the air like dust caught in sunlight.

Joel blinked. Once. Twice. He didn’t say anything—just stared at you, eyes wide, unreadable. Then slowly, without a word, he stood up from the table and took a step back, hand resting on the edge of the counter like he needed something to hold onto.

“You’re… you’re sure sure?” he asked, voice hoarse. “I mean—are they sure?”

You gave a soft laugh, heart aching with affection. “Yeah. They’re sure. I’m late, the test was positive, and… I feel it. I know it.”

Joel let out a breath like he’d been holding it for years. His shoulders dropped as he sat back down, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

“I just—I didn’t think—I mean, hell, at my age?” he muttered, almost to himself, eyes wide and almost dazed. “I didn’t think that was even possible anymore.”

You reached for his hand again, thumb brushing the top of his knuckles. “Well… apparently it is.”

He looked at you then—really looked at you. And something shifted in his face. Like the ground underneath him had tilted, but he was choosing to stay standing anyway.

“You’re… you’re okay with this?” he asked quietly.

You nodded. “I wouldn’t have told you today if I wasn’t. I know it’s gonna be a lot, but… yeah. I’m okay with it. More than okay.”

Joel’s eyes started to glisten, and he cleared his throat hard, blinking fast as he turned his face away for a second. When he looked back at you, his voice was thick.

“Thank you,” he said.

It broke something open in you.

“For what?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“For this. For you. For givin’ me a reason to think there’s still more life out there for me than just survivin’.”

He reached out, cupped your cheek with a rough hand, his thumb brushing just under your eye.

“I didn’t think I’d get a second chance,” he murmured. “Not with someone like you. Not like this.”

You leaned into his palm, smiling through the tears that started to slip down your cheeks.

“Well… surprise,” you whispered.

Joel gave a breath of a laugh, then leaned in and kissed you—slow, steady, reverent. The kind of kiss that said everything his words couldn’t. The kind of kiss that promised he would be here for all of it.

For you.

For the baby.

For the life you were building together, one quiet moment at a time.

Sunday dinner was loud in the best way.

Tommy and Joel had spent the afternoon repairing one of the water lines near the edge of town, and both were still rubbing their lower backs like old men. Maria was bouncing little Benji on her knee, spoon-feeding him mashed carrots between exaggerated airplane noises, while Ellie recounted an incident involving a runaway chicken and a pitchfork.

You’d always loved these nights—long tables, shared food, laughter that made the walls feel smaller in the best way. But tonight, your hands kept drifting to your lap, nerves curling in your stomach even though you’d done this a dozen times in your head.

Joel’s knee brushed yours beneath the table.

He glanced at you, gave a small nod.

It was time.

You reached for your glass and gently tapped your spoon against it. “Uh… can I say something real quick?”

The table quieted. Benji let out a soft squeak and tried to grab a carrot off Maria’s plate.

Joel cleared his throat. “We’ve got some news.”

Maria looked up first, brows raised. Ellie paused mid-chew.

You smiled nervously, heart thumping. “I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, no one said a word. Then—

“What?” Ellie blurted, voice cracking halfway through the word.

Joel chuckled low under his breath, his hand slipping onto your thigh, grounding. Ellie set her fork down slowly, blinking like she hadn’t quite heard you right.

“You mean like… an actual baby?” she asked, eyes wide. “Your baby?”

You nodded, leaning closer to Joel's side. “Yeah. Our baby.”

Ellie opened her mouth, closed it, then reached for her water like her brain needed a reboot. “Holy shit.”

“Language,” Joel murmured.

“I’m gonna be a big sister?” she asked softly, blinking hard. And then her face cracked into a smile—wide and kind of watery. “I’m gonna be a big sister.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair and let out a low whistle, grinning ear to ear. “Joel, buddy. You still got swimmers at your age?”

Joel groaned loudly. “Tommy, I swear—”

“I mean, damn! You’re nearly sixty and still makin’ babies? What’s in the water over at your place?”

You laughed, covering your mouth with your hand. Joel muttered something under his breath, but he was smiling, too, shaking his head as Tommy clapped him on the back.

Maria just laughed and leaned her cheek against Benji’s soft hair. “Honestly, I had a feeling.”

Joel looked at her sideways. “You did?”

“You turned down a glass of wine at dinner last week,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “You. You never turn down wine.”

You shrugged with a grin. “Was trying to be subtle.”

“Well, I’m glad you told us now,” she said, smiling warmly. “Benji’s gonna need a little buddy to boss around.”

Benji cooed like he somehow approved.

Then Maria stood and crossed the space to pull you into a hug, tight and full of warmth. Ellie joined a second later, throwing her arms around both of you, mumbling something like “I’m not crying” even though she very much was.

Tommy wrapped an arm around Joel with a playful shake and muttered, “Old man,” while Joel just rolled his eyes and let it happen.

In the middle of it all—arms tangled, laughter echoing, and that familiar scent of home-cooked food still hanging in the air—you felt it.

Family.

Not perfect. Not always easy. But real. Rooted. Growing.

And you were bringing another piece into it.

Dinner had long passed. The dishes were done, the laughter faded into memory, and Ellie had gone back to her room with a final hug that lingered just a little longer than usual.

Now, the two of you were tucked beneath the soft quilt, the chill of Jackson’s night air kept at bay by Joel’s familiar warmth beside you. The house creaked gently, like it was settling in for the night too.

You lay on your side, facing him, his arm already around you. The bedside lamp was off, but the moonlight spilling through the window was enough to catch the faint lines on his face—the quiet, thoughtful ones that only ever appeared when he let his guard down.

He hadn’t said much since the others left. Not out of hesitation, but the way he always got when something mattered so much it felt sacred.

His fingers brushed your stomach lightly under your shirt. Slow. Careful.

There wasn’t much of a bump yet—just the slightest swell, barely there—but his touch was reverent, like he was afraid to miss even a second of it.

“That’s really ours in there,” he said quietly, more to himself than to you. “Whole little person. Just... growin’.”

Your hand covered his. “Yeah. They’re in there.”

He shifted closer, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then just above your temple.

“I keep thinkin’ I’ll wake up,” he murmured. “That this is some dream I’m gonna lose. But then I touch you, and it’s real.”

You turned your face to kiss the underside of his jaw, voice soft. “It’s real, Joel. You’re here. I’m here. We’re here.”

He nodded, throat tight. His palm stayed resting on your belly, like it anchored him.

“I ever tell you how much I love you?” he asked, voice thick with quiet emotion.

You smiled. “You show me every day.”

“Gonna say it anyway,” he whispered, kissing you again. “I love you, darlin’. More than I got words for.”

The two of you fell asleep like that—his hand over the life you were building together, your fingers laced with his, hearts beating steady in the dark.

And for the first time in a long, long while, Joel Miller didn’t feel haunted by his past.

He felt ready for the future.

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

We need a part two of the harley quinn mother headcanons!

SUGAR & SPICE!

pairings ⸺ Mother! Harley Quinn x Teen! Reader.

(PLATONIC FIC)

¿Request? Yes!

This is a Headcanon!

sinopsis ⸺ Every mother reaches the moment when she sees her chick starting to become independent from the nest. Harley loved you from the moment she found you in that abandoned alley, and now she finds it hard to accept that you are drifting away.

If she knew why you were leaving her behind, she would probably be thinking about putting Robin in the oven.

warnings ⸺ Fluff and Angst, Platonic Cuddling, ¿OOC Harley? Idk, Disturbing Content, Street Fights, Violence, Trauma.

A/N ── Honestly, I didn't plan on making a continuation of that headcanon, but since you asked (and your requests are sacred to me), here it is! Shoutout to @animequeen4 for the inspiration too!

Pt.3

When you grow up as the child of one of the most notorious supervillains in Gotham, things get a bit complicated. Harley knew this since you entered school, and especially since she separated from the Joker. She had prepared for everything: to protect you from clowns, snakes, and even snakes disguised as clowns. But what she didn't see coming, what truly drove her crazy, was the biggest challenge of all: your adolescence.

Harley noticed it almost immediately. At first, it was small things. Like how you no longer wanted to listen to the music she played at full volume in the lair. Instead, you started listening to your own songs, the ones she described as "unbearable noise." Then came the decoration of your room, which went from posters of heroes and villains to something "weird," according to Harley. “Since when do you like bats so much?” she would say with an eyebrow raised. But what broke her heart the most was when you stopped letting her dress you. She got frustrated every time she tried to put something on you that she thought looked great, and you would just say, "No, mom, I don't like that anymore."

But the worst, the worst of all, was when you entered high school. You made friends. Friends whose names Harley didn't even know. Horrible! For someone like her, who was used to knowing all the details of your life, that was the worst that could happen. And on top of that, you no longer asked for permission to do things! The worst part was that she had raised you "well" (according to her criteria), so she didn't understand how you ended up at the police station several times for vandalism and disturbances.

"I raised you better than this!" she would shout, completely indignant, while signing the papers to get you out of another detention. Inside, she knew you were going through that rebellious phase, but that didn't make it any easier to cope.

One day, Harley stood at the door of your room, frustrated because you didn't even ask her for help with your math problems anymore. She stared at you, her hands on her hips, and exclaimed, “Look, little birdie, I get you! I know you're growing up and all that, but can you please stop doing it so fast? You're slipping through my fingers!”

It was a mix of desperation and tenderness. Harley wasn't ready to see you grow up. She knew you were becoming more independent, but in her heart, you would always be her little one. And even though she got frustrated with all these changes, with every new friend or every time you snuck out to go to a party, deep down she just wanted to make sure you were okay.

Puberty was a roller coaster, and Harley was starting to realize that nothing in her villain life had prepared her to deal with it. The first thing she noticed was that you no longer wanted to go out with her for taco Fridays with the girls. Those days when they went shopping, wore neon clothes, and had laughs while window shopping stopped being your thing. Harley watched you from the doorframe, taco in hand, saying, “What happened to my buddy? Where's the kid who loved to eat until stuffed full of carnitas?”

Sometimes, Harley tried not to take it to heart, but it was hard. She crumbled a little every time you locked yourself in your room instead of watching her roll around on the sofas with the Birds of Prey or with the Sirens, planning their next crazy scheme. It was then that she realized she needed help. So, as a good mother (or as close as she could get), she turned to the only person who could understand her frustration... Catwoman.

But the chat with Selina wasn’t exactly helpful. “Harley, sweetheart, I don’t mix with kids. I don’t know what you want me to tell you, mine has four legs and purrs,” Selina said, taking a sip of her martini while checking out a new leather whip. It was a "thanks, but no thanks," and Harley left with more questions than answers.

Next stop: Ivy. Harley had high hopes that Ivy, with her serenity and green wisdom, would give her the key to understanding you better. But Ivy just shrugged and said, “Plants grow, Harley. Just like kids. You can't stop the natural process.” Harley frowned. “And what do I do when they doesn’t want to tell me who he's with all day?” Ivy, very zen, replied, “You could always... spy ” It wasn't exactly the help she was looking for.

After exhausting her resources with the girls, Harley did the unthinkable: she turned to Batman. Yes, Batman! In a conversation that turned out to be as awkward as it was effective, the Dark Knight explained to her what he had learned from raising his multiple Robins: “It's part of growing up. You just have to be there, but give them space. You can't control everything.”

Harley, of course, took it with her usual dramatism: “Give them space!? But they doesn’t even want to go for tacos anymore!?” It was as if the world had turned upside down.

Meanwhile, at school, things weren’t going smoothly either. Your new “friends” were... questionable. People that Harley, if she had known, would have kicked out. But, for your luck (or misfortune), those friends didn’t last long. In the end, the problems they brought with them distanced you from them, and unexpectedly, you found yourself spending more time with Damian again. Harley, of course, had no idea about this. To her, Damian was just the rude boy you sometimes talked to.

There was always something about him that intrigued you, and despite his constant grumbling and "I don't care" attitude, you managed to see beyond that. Between talks about anything (and often about nothing), Damian became someone important to you. Harley had no idea about this mini romance, because if she did, she would probably already be plotting a plan to scare the Wayne boy. “If you think he’s cute, go for it,” she had once said with a mischievous wink. And although she didn't think you would take it seriously, here you were, emotionally entangled with Batman’s son, even though at that time you didn't know he was Batman's son.

It all started with an idea that, in retrospect, wasn’t the best: throwing paint cans at Robin. In your defense, it sounded like a funny prank at the moment. What you didn't calculate was that Robin, being Damian Wayne, wasn’t exactly easy to evade. You ran as if your life depended on it, covering almost twenty kilometers, and the most frustrating part was that he wasn’t even sweating. Every time you turned to see if you had lost him, there he was, impeccable, with that unfriendly look and his expression of "When I catch you, say goodbye to your legs."

When he finally threw you to the ground, ready to give you the lesson of your life, you looked at him more closely. That perfectly styled hair, that look of a thousand deaths, and the sarcasm in every phrase... "Damian?!" you shouted, more out of disbelief than fear. Because, of course, it turns out your boyfriend wasn’t just a rude jerk, but also the damn Robin. The pieces finally fell into place, and you didn’t know whether to laugh or feel betrayed. In the end, you did both.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he reprimanded you with that authoritative voice he usually reserved for criminals and his family. "Throwing paint? Seriously?"

The funny thing is that, even though you were completely exhausted from the chase, your brain didn’t stop working. So instead of apologizing like a normal person, you shrugged and said, "At least it wasn't green paint. That would have been offensive." He didn’t find it so funny.

From that moment on, the romantic dates became something much more... practical. Damian decided that if you were going to get into trouble, at least you should know how to defend yourself, so starry night strolls turned into intense self-defense training sessions. "Nothing says 'I love you' like a well-placed punch," you thought every time Damian corrected your stance. And although at first you considered it the least romantic of gestures, there was something sweet about how he insisted on keeping you safe.

Of course, these "dates" weren’t just training. Eventually, you met Jon Kent, the super-sweet boy who contrasted so much with Damian's serious personality. The trio you formed was a disaster waiting to happen, yet somehow it worked. Between secret missions, night escapades, and 'lots of fun,' the three of you became inseparable. But it was all super secret, because if Batman found out, well, the reprimand wouldn’t be exactly gentle. And Harley... well, don’t even think about what Harley would say if she found out.

But Harley, being Harley, didn’t take long to notice the changes. For her, it was alarming to see how her kid, her little birdie, was starting to come home late through the window, with two colors in his hair that reminded her a bit of her own lifestyle, and some bruises that you, of course, tried to hide. "Did you fall down the stairs again? Seriously?" she would ask skeptically while helping you tend to your wounds.

Her biggest fear wasn’t that you would get into minor trouble, but that he would have come back. Harley began to suspect that the Joker had found you, and that kept her in a constant state of alert. She watched you more closely, trying not to show it, but it was obvious. Nights with Damian always seemed to fly by. Between training, talks, and that connection you both shared, the hours slipped away without either of you noticing. That was how it happened that one particular night, after a long and exhausting session, he decided to walk you home. Not that you needed it, you were perfectly capable of getting home on your own (or so you said), but Damian liked to make sure you got home safely. Plus, it was an excuse to spend more time together.

It was already four in the morning, and you were ready to say goodbye with a kiss when suddenly, three giant hyenas sprang out from under your bed, and Harley, in full ninja mode, dropped from the ceiling with a baseball bat in hand. "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!"

You had to close the window, leaving Damian outside, to prevent your mom and the hyenas from getting to the "mom, chill," you tried to calm her, putting yourself between them. "It's not what it looks like."

"Oh no! It looks like you're turning into a mini-Harley with a boyfriend and everything, and I'm not going to sit back and watch how they break your heart like that stupid clown broke mine!"

But you managed to slow her down, and with Harley calmed down (more or less), the tension of the moment seemed to dissolve, but she didn’t stop there. The next morning, she showed up at the Batcave (Only God knows how she found the Batcave), furious, and ready to confront Batman for allowing his son to "seduce" her little birdie. "What kind of father lets his son stay out late with my kid?! This is unacceptable!"

Bruce, who was busy with his screens, barely looked up. He listened to Harley’s furious monologue while maintaining his typical calm posture, nodding from time to time. When Harley finished, he just raised his thumb calmly, as if giving his approval. "Damian has good taste," was all he said.

"That doesn’t help me, Bats!" Harley exclaimed, frustrated. But Bruce, in his minimalist style, simply added, "You... should spend more time with your kid, Harley. Don’t worry so much. And if you need help, just let me know."

Harley was left speechless. It wasn’t the response she expected, but deep down, she knew Batman was right. She sighed and, resigned, left without more than a warning for Bruce: "Just because you told me that doesn’t mean I won’t hit you with my bat if things go wrong."

But the truth is that as Harley made her way home, she reflected a little. You were growing up, and although she didn’t like it, it was part of life. You couldn’t be her little one forever, and while the fear of losing you was always present, she knew she had to trust you. After all, she had raised you well (in her own way), and now she could only let you fly a little, like that little bird she often mentioned.

Back at home, she found you lying on the couch, still with some paint in your hair from the prank on Damian. Harley watched you for a while, noticing how much you had grown. Not just in height, but in attitude. The way you had started to move through the world, making your own decisions, forming relationships outside the little universe she had built for you. And that, even though she sometimes denied it, hurt her a little. She sat on the edge of the couch, sighing as she stroked your messy hair.

Harley noticed it before anyone. First, you stopped getting excited about taco Fridays with the girls or going out to dye your hair neon. Then, it was the uncomfortable silence when you no longer sought her advice for anything. You had become more independent, but Harley only saw you drifting away.

Harley sighed and looked at you with a mix of nostalgia and worry. “You’re growing up... and even though I hate it, I know I can’t stop it. I just want you to know that you will always be my little birdie. No matter how big you get, you will always have a place with me.”

You stayed silent, noticing how difficult it was for her to say it. Harley had been many things, but she had never stopped being your mother. You smiled at her and nodded, feeling a familiar warmth in your chest. "I love you too, mom. I promise I’m not drifting away, I’m just... growing."

Harley gave you a tight hug, and in that moment, you knew that even though everything might change, you would always find that common ground, whether it was stealing marshmallows or just sharing a night under the stars. "Puberty sucks," Harley joked, and for the first time in a long time, you both laughed together.

As the hug lingered, you felt how the outside world faded away, leaving only Harley and you in a bubble of safety and love. "I’ll be here, always ready for you, even if sometimes I’m a little... crazy,” she replied with a soft laugh. “But you know that’s what makes everything more fun, right?”

You nodded, and inside, the worry you had felt about drifting away from her faded. There was comfort in knowing that even though the road ahead might be complicated and full of challenges, you had a beacon lighting your way. A mother who, with her craziness and unconditional love, would always guide you home.

"Let’s promise to do more things together, then," you said with determination. "No matter if it’s stealing candy or painting our nails bright colors. There will always be time for that."

"Deal," said Harley, raising her pinky as if sealing a pact. You smiled and linked it with yours. The connection you shared was stronger than any challenge you could face.

"And when it’s time to face the world, I’ll be your ally," she added, a spark of determination shining in her eyes. "Because we will be a team, always."

After that, everything changed, but for the better. Learning to divide your time between everything you loved wasn’t easy, but you knew you would succeed. After all, you had the strongest support: that of your strange yet endearing family, that of your partner, and above all, that of the best mother you could have ever dreamed of.

A/N ─── Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to request anything, don't hesitate to ask. I read all of your comments and questions!

Take a Bath!

[daiourage]

TFO Dual Rulers (?) AU

I've been seeing people do like a "what if D didn't go fuckin' coconuts" AU, and it kinda inspired me to start thinking of what other events would be changed in those scenarios.

(yes i'm still in denial)

Please take these lightly colored sketches!!! Also I'm sorry for lazy handwriting;;

Also also, as always, please click/press the image for quality!!!

("Brief" explanations for each of the numbered panels is under the cut (the numbers are just the order of when I drew them, and not in chronological order of the scenes)!!!)

1. I think, because D won't be the one to shoot at Sentinel because he's grounded in this AU, Sentinel would be the one to use the last of his strength to try and shoot at D, only for Orion to block it. I couldn't figure out how to draw D in immense agony about it so I just decided to make this paper a collection of ideas. If anyone has any ideas, please tell me because I want angst--//shot (I also finally remembered to write my signature this time!!!) 1-2. The main problem I had trouble figuring out was how D would possibly let go of Orion... He'd still say the "Why did you do that, why?!" line, but I don't know where to go from there. Would Sentinel still have energy to kick D's hand? Would Orion be too heavy to hold on? Would Orion tell D to let him go? Maybe they wouldn't even be hanging over the ledge and D would just be holding him--but then what? There was too many things to ponder about just one scene, and I wanted to get my other ideas out before I forgot about them. Guyssss give me your ideas please-- 2. It always bothered me that Orion and Bee left D in Sentinel's office(?) to hold him off on his own;;; like, I get it, D won't listen, but at least tell him you're leaving??? 2-2. I think the "What did he do to you?" conversation would be much longer. Not as comical and cheesy as the comic I sketched a little bit back, but... 3. (Please read it right to left;;; I just got done reading manga when I had the idea to draw this panel;;; also the entire page honestly. I'm so sorry y'all--)At the High Guards' base, I think D'd be the one to initiate a fight with Starscream still, but do it calmly. 4. I wanted to keep this line, because it would make sense still. Also might hurt a little more *screams* (D would not do the Anime Girl Pose™️, but I wanted him and Orion to match oop--) 5. After apprehending Sentinel, somehow we'd get his (Megatronus's) cog and Orion (now Optimus) would give it to D as a token of trust. Based off of @/momonsalmonmon on Twitter/X's absolutely gorgeous comics!!! (I also DO NOT remember how the cogs looked I'm sorry for not doing further research ;w; Will do better next time I promise;;;) 6. Bee and Soundwave BFFs???? (+ annoyed Shockwave) Please. Also maybe bring back Senator Soundwave as a concept??? Miss he;; It might be interesting, with Bee also "working for the government" now,,, (Edit: 2/7/2025): Hi. just realized my typo and it's been months. Guys. It's Senator Shockwave guys. Why didn't y'all tell me;;;; I knew who I was thinking of I promise;;; guys please don't nod along to this and just ignore my huge ass typo 😭 (thank you for the support though but OH MY GOD) (Edit: 3/3/2025): GUYS. I FORGOT THEY WERE BOTH SENATORS AT SOME POINT (in different comics though but) GUYS. I'M A PUSHOVER. THEY CAN BOTH BE GOVERNMENT OFFICIALS AS A TREAT AJSDLKFAJLKSDJFLKA I'm a fraud ;w;)b 7. Headcanon that Orion is bad at math and confides in Elita and D for enforcing the taxes so the citizens don't become outraged but also so that the government has enough money to do stuff. D might be like "Aww he needs our help" and Elita would be like "godddd let me work out" 7-2. I feel like I draw Elita with an annoyed expression too much I'm so sorry milady;;; I promise I love you;;;

[ultimate-marysue]

This post inspired me to think about secret identity logistics and I think Cass being so cavalier with her secret identity would actually help. Like, it makes the rest of the family's secret identities better because Cassandra Cain is obviously Blackbat/Batgirl. By contrast they would look even more civilian and if someone is not going to realize their kid is a vigilante is Brucie Wayne.

"But wouldn't they connect the dots to the rest of the family?" Listen, If those were bats they'd simply get out of the kidnappings and hostage situations they get themselves into like Cassandra. The fact that they always need to be saved proves they're, indeed, civilians.

Also, I doubt the math would math unless you knew very specific internal things to connect each vigilante to their civilian identity. Brucie is, for starters, as civilian as can get and thanks to the Mandela effect everyone is convinced that he was caught on camera making out with Batman anyways. So that's a non-starter.

Dick Grayson is trying to be a regular person, so the public would know he exists and comes back to important things but he's mostly out of the public eye. Plus, he's a police officer, why would anyone assume he's in kahoots with his little sister that was adopted after he'd already left Gotham?? And when he came back to Gotham for a while to take care of things for his father, is not like there was a new vigilante. It was still batman and Robin (the Robin was new, but Dick Grayson is an adult so, not likely).

Then we get to the big one: Jason is legally dead. You can't assign him any vigilante because he's mmm super dead. I'm sure there's a true crime podcaster trying to argue that he was the second robin and died doing robin shit, that's why Batman and Bruce broke up. But even if it's compelling, it's also considered in really bad taste. Also, can't be tied to Cassandra because she arrived after his death.

Tim gets a similar reaction to Brucie in the sense that there's no way he is a vigilante. He's the immunocompromised Twink from Forbes "30 under 30". He's literally physically incapable of being a super hero due to both a lack of Muscles and a lack of time. That boy has to run an entire massive money making machine and, for all gothamites know, he may very well be asthmatic as well. Plus, he gets kidnapped like crazy. If he was a hero he would at least now how to avoid being put in those situations. They suspect he's covering for Cass though, since he's smart enough to realize his sister is freaking Batgirl.

This means that even if Cass is Batgirl they can't really trace Batman, Nightwing, Red Robin or Red hood back to the family (not to speak of Batwoman, Catwoman, Huntress, Batgirl a 1 and 2, Oracle or spoiler). So at this point why would you even try to connect the others? Clearly Cass is the exception, not the rule.

Like, sure, Duke did survive the Riddler ruling Gotham and if you put some effort, it wouldn't be impossible to tie him to the We Are Robin movement. But also ...is it because he's black? Is it because he's the only black person from Gotham you know of?? His sister is a vigilante, and he is black, so he must be the black vigilante of course (He would be the one making this comments in social media through his sock puppet accounts and the True Crime/conspiracy communities would be too scared to touch that one with a ten foot pole)

Damian is another one where I think Bruce would do what he can to protect him from the press (partially for his own good and partially because he's the opposite of media trained). Most of the info the tabloids would get is from people tangentially related to him. Like, sure, he does look a bit like the new robin, and his sister is Batgirl. But, unless you're one of the people claiming he's the lovechild of Bruce Wayne and Batman (test tube baby??? Batman trans???) it wouldn't make a lot of sense now, would it?

Like Cass is so fucking weird compared to the rest of her family's civilian identities it makes them look rock solid by comparison.

[fakesorbet]

bad kid design , set in between junior and senior yr

hc below because !! I have so many

Fabian: he/she bi !! Fabian is absolutely a transman . Most trans coded character, and I think he Identifies as just a man. But, I think once she finally reconciles / comes to term with hallariel and all the faults she has, I think he’d explore femininity after years of avoiding it. I think hed’d change their hair regularly , because typically keeps it in long dreads . only the bad kids , jawbones, and Mazey can use she her for him no one else knows abt it . very unrelated but I think fabian has like, 2 veneers. Being a child of dangerous parents and being around violence as a kid let a physical reminder

Riz: no prns/ he . gonna be so fr i dont think riz would care abt gender and sexuality labels, like yea if ppl ask he’ll say aroace nby but he also . does not care. It’s hard to tell and I wanna make a whole post but a lot of Riz’s tattoos are based of physics / math equations . Because im a nerd and rip riz u would’ve loved calculus and relativity . also i do not believe in any qpr riz , thats not riz’s vibe . Lastly, I think because of genes and dental being so damn expensive his teeth are crooked and stained . also autistic.

Fig: she/any. I think she should look weirder. I want to make her look weirder but For now this is how i imagine her :] the face tattoo is meant to be representative of cultural wood elves tattoos [ if they had any ] because fig and sandra lynn story remind me So much of what it’s like to be related to ur mom and yet not culturally feel related. as in, Sandra lynn is an elf, and fig is a tiefling, and had fig stayed an elf how she grew up would be vastly different. Anywayz i think fig would get face tattoos to match her mom, ik Sandra lynn doesnt canonically have face tattoos but in my mind she does. The facial tattoos is Absolutely inspired by swana facial tattoos, more specifically Iraq because i love projection :] I also think she’d get other more non cultural tattoos once she drops it.

Adaine: she/her demi aroace . i truthfully dont have that many hcs for her . I Gen think everything going on with her works so well so I don’t have that many thoughts 💔 also autistic

Kristen: they/she . non-binary butch . Gives them a little forehead kiss . The amount of damage and crazy shit she been through she absolutely uses her staff as a cane and is missing fingers and an organ . She has trouble breathing because u know . Stabbed through the chest Twice . probably more than I remember . In my heart she and tracker reconcile and get back together , also Adhd

Gorgug: any [ no they ] tfem !!!! I think after junior yr she and Fabian explore their gender and Gorgug realizes he also doesn’t care abt gender but also does prefer femininity . Fabian is more gender neutral / androgynous in how he represents himself Gorgug tends to be more ‘ normative ‘ in whatever gender he wants to present that day . She does present more typically feminine but unfortunately long skirts and working with flammable is Not work place safe . Also at some point in junior yr he blows his ear out and wears implants, he learns sign and so does his friends and family . 3rd autistic member of the bad kids .

I have other hcs but theyre a bit more personal but also . God please ask me abt my hcs abt any character or specifics !!!!

[littlejoyss]

𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔬𝔬𝔫 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 3

Stray Kids - Non-Idol! Hyunjin x Reader

Twilight Inspired Fic (but major differences such as age)

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 1, 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 2, 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 3, 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 4, 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 5, 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 6, 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 7, 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 8, 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 9, 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 10

You sat on the edge of the river. Hyunjin sat beside you, close enough that you could feel his presence, but not so close that it felt overwhelming.

“You asked me why I saved you,” he said after a long silence. “Why I care.” You glanced at him, waiting. “I told you I’m more than what I am,” he continued. “And I’m not the only one.”

“The Strays,” you guessed, remembering the name you’d overheard before.

He nodded, his fingers idly tracing patterns on the damp earth beside him. “We aren’t like other vampires. We don’t hunt the way they do.”

“You don’t kill people?” You asked.

He nodded. “We made a choice a long time ago. We only eat from wild animals. I joke we’re vampire vegans.”

You huffed out a quiet laugh. “Vampire vegans? That’s... not what I expected.”

Hyunjin grinned, clearly pleased with your reaction. “What, you thought we’d be brooding in candlelit castles, sipping from goblets of stolen blood?”

“I mean… maybe a little. The name ‘The Strays’ made it sound like some underground, mysterious group. Not a bunch of ethical vampires.” You look over at him again. “Do you burn in the sun?”

Hyunjin scoffed, leaning back on his palms. “Yeah, sadly. I wish I could tan like everyone else.”

You laughed, unable to help yourself. 

He exhaled, tilting his head to the side as he studied you. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“Well, excuse me for trying to understand the secret vampire society I accidentally stumbled into.”

“Fair.”

You nudged his shoulder playfully. “So, what else should I know? Do you sleep in coffins? Turn into a bat? Have a weird obsession with counting things?”

Hyunjin chuckled, shaking his head. “No coffins. I don’t sleep. No bat transformations, though that would be cool. And the counting thing? Isn’t that from Sesame Street?” He leaned in slightly. “But I am pretty good at math.”

You grinned. “I knew it. Next, you’ll tell me you don’t even have fangs.”

His smirk widened, and before you could react, he let his lips part just enough for you to catch a glimpse of sharp canines. “Oh, I have them,” he murmured.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you hated the way your stomach fluttered at the sight. He must have noticed because his smirk deepened.

“See? Harmless,” he said, flashing them one last time before leaning back again.

You narrowed your eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure the deer you snack on would disagree.”

Hyunjin laughed, full and warm. “You’re fun, you know that?”

You cleared your throat, looking back at the river. “So, what’s the deal with The Strays? How do you never age and people don’t notice?”

“We move around. This is around the fifth time we’ve lived in Forks.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Fifth? And no one notices?”

He smirked, leaning in slightly. “You’d be surprised how little humans actually pay attention.”

“That’s both reassuring and a little insulting.”

“It helps that we tweak things. We switch up our looks a lot. The last time I was here, I had blonde hair and glasses. Before that? A tragic side part.”

You bit your lip to stifle a laugh. “A tragic side part?”

“It was a dark time,” he said, shaking his head.

You shook your head, fighting a smile. “So, what happens when people do start noticing? When they realize you’re not, y’know, aging?”

He sighed, leaning back again. “We leave before that happens. Start fresh somewhere else.”

“That sounds… lonely.”

“It can be.”

A quiet breeze rolled over the river, and you watched the water ripple. You let your gaze drift, watching as your own reflection stared back at you. But, something was off.

You blinked, shifting your focus. Your reflection was alone.

Your breath hitched slightly, and a strange unease settled in your stomach. The space beside you, where Hyunjin should be, was empty. In reality, he was still next to you, but in the water? Nothing. No dark eyes watching you, no familiar smirk teasing at the corners of his lips. Just empty space, like he wasn’t there at all.

You turned your head slowly, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. He looked at peace, his gaze turned up toward the sky as if he hadn’t noticed your sudden shift in demeanor. Like this wasn’t the first time someone had realized.

Then, he noticed you staring at him and looked back. Hyunjin raised an eyebrow. Then, without warning, he scrunched up his face in the most ridiculous way. His lips were twitched and his nose was wrinkled in a silly way.

The eerie weight of the moment shattered.

You let out an ungraceful snort, covering your mouth as laughter bubbled up. “What- what was that?”

“A distraction,” he admitted, grinning. “Did it work?”

You rolled your eyes, still giggling. “You’re such a dork.”

His grin widened, a hint of smugness creeping in. “A devastatingly handsome dork, though.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Unfortunately, yes.”

He placed a hand over his chest in mock flattery. “Oh? So you admit it?”

With an exaggerated sigh, you leaned back beside him, letting your back graze the cool grass. “It’s tragic, really. A dork trapped in an insanely hot body.”

“The burden I bear,” he murmured, staring up at the sky.

You turned your head to look at him, propping yourself up on one elbow. “Must be exhausting.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” he said, shutting his eyes like he was deep in thought. “Constantly being admired, fawned over… It’s a curse, really.”

“Wow. You must be so strong to endure it.”

He cracked one eye open, smirking. “I am, aren’t I?”

Rolling your eyes, you let out a small laugh. “Unbelievable.”

For a moment, the teasing quieted, replaced by something softer. The river murmured beside you, fireflies flickering lazily in the distance. Hyunjin tilted his head slightly, watching you like he was memorizing something.

“You’re not scared,” he said after a beat, voice quieter now.

You blinked at him. “Of you?”

He nodded.

You thought about it, about everything that had happened today. Maybe you should be. But when you looked at him, you didn’t see a monster lurking in the shadows. You saw someone who made stupid faces to make you laugh, who seemed more human than he wanted to admit.

“No,” you finally said. “I don’t think I am.”

Something unreadable flickered in his expression, and then he smiled. It was small but real.

“Good,” he murmured. “I’d hate to scare you away.”

⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

You were busy looking at your phone in the school hallway when Hyunjin came behind you. 

He leaned over. “Tyler wants to ask you to the winter formal.”

You nearly dropped your phone, spinning around to face him. “Excuse me?”

Hyunjin grinned, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “You heard me.”

“How do you even know that?” You narrowed your eyes. “Did you eavesdrop, or-” You paused, then gasped. “Oh my god, did you read his mind! Great. Now I have to avoid Tyler for the rest of my life.”

Hyunjin chuckled. “Not into him?”

You shot him a look. “Absolutely not. Plus, isn’t it still too early to be thinking of that? It’s October.”

He shrugged. “Apparently not for Tyler. He’s been thinking about it for a while.”

You groaned again, resisting the urge to dramatically slide down the lockers. “This is the worst news I’ve received all week.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” Hyunjin said, crossing his arms. “Just say no if he asks.”

You sighed, stuffing your phone into your pocket. “It’s not that simple. Tyler’s nice, and I don’t want to be mean about it. But now that I know it’s coming, I’m going to be stressing over how to let him down easy.”

“Just be honest. That’s usually the best way.”

“Yeah. You’re right. I just hope it doesn’t make things awkward.”

“It’ll only be awkward if you make it awkward.”

“Wow. So wise.”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you when he finally works up the courage.”

You groaned again, already dreading the conversation. “Can all vampire’s read minds or something?” You made sure to talk in a hushed tone.

“No. Only certain vampire’s have powers and they’re all different. Mind reading is mine.”

You frowned, considering that. “So, like… superpowers? Special vampires gets something different?”

He nodded. “Something like that.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “That’s… kind of terrifying.”

He smirked. “Only if we want it to be.”

You ignored that and pressed on. “So, you got stuck with mind reading?”

He scoffed. “Stuck with? It’s useful.”

“You literally just used it to gossip about college drama,” you pointed out.

Hyunjin sighed, shaking his head. “And this is why I don’t tell people things.”

You grinned. “So, if everyone has different powers, what do the rest of The Strays have?”

“Like I mentioned, only certain vampire’s have special abilities. Felix can see the future. He can’t see it clearly but it’s there."

“Just you two have special abilities?”

He nods. “You should really meet my all of my coven.”

“A mortal in a room of seven vampires? That doesn’t sound like a good idea…”

“Oh, come on. You make it sound like we’re going to eat you.”

“You can’t blame me for being cautious. I don’t want to end up as dinner.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “You won’t. Besides, you’ve already been around me, and I haven’t so much as taken a bite. I already told you we’re vegan.” He laughs at his own joke again. “If it makes you feel better, we don’t exactly invite humans over all the time. But you’re… different.”

You frowned at that. “Different how?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “I don’t know yet. But Felix saw something in one of his visions.”

Your stomach twisted. “About me?”

He nodded. “Not clearly. But you’re involved in something. That’s why they want to meet you.”

You swallowed hard, glancing away. “Yeah, that’s not ominous at all.”

Hyunjin gave you a reassuring look. “It’s not like that. You don’t have to decide now, but at least think about it?”

You exhaled, rubbing your arms. “Fine. I’ll think about it. No promises.”

“Good enough for me.”

‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Charlie was going to be working late today. He called saying his team found a new development in the bear attacks. 

This mean’t you had the house to yourself.

You sighed, stretching your arms over your head as you glanced around. The stillness felt heavier tonight. Maybe it was because of everything Hyunjin had told you earlier, or maybe it was just the way the wind howled faintly outside, rattling the windows every so often.

Shaking off the eerie feeling, you decided to keep yourself busy. You put on some music, made a quick dinner, and let the familiar routine settle you. By the time you curled up on the couch with a blanket, you almost felt normal again.

You tried focusing on the movie playing in front of you, but your mind kept wandering. The bear attacks. The Strays. Hyunjin’s mind-reading. Felix seeing the future. And Jeongin controlling emotions.

Just as you were about to shake the thoughts away, your phone buzzed on the coffee table.

The sudden noise made you jump. You exhaled, reaching for it and glancing at the screen.

A call from Chan.

You hesitated for a second before answering. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Chan’s voice came through, steady and calm. “You doing okay?”

You blinked. “Yeah… why?”

“I heard about Charlie working on the bear attacks.”

You frowned, shifting on the couch. “Yeah, he called earlier. Said they found something new.”

Chan hummed on the other end, but he didn’t say anything right away.

You bit your lip. “What’s going on?”

Another pause. Then, his voice dropped slightly. “Just… be careful, alright? Stay inside. Keep your doors locked.”

“Why? What aren’t you telling me?”

“I don’t want to freak you out.”

“Too late for that.”

You could hear the hesitation in his breathing, the way he was carefully choosing his words. “I just think you should stay put tonight. Trust me on this.”

You swallowed, glancing toward the nearest window. The backyard was shrouded in darkness, only the faint glow of the porch light keeping it from being pitch black. The night suddenly felt too quiet, too still.

Your grip on your phone tightened. “Chan…”

“I’ll check in later,” he said, tone firm. “Just promise me, okay?”

“No. This is sketchy. We’ve only chatted around five times since I’ve came back and now you call me with a warning. What’s going on?”

“Remember when I told you about The Cold Ones?”

“Vampires?”

“The Cold Ones.”

“Fine. Yes, I do. Very well.”

“It’s more than just The Strays.”

You frowned, gripping your phone tighter. “I know there are more vampi- Cold Ones. Yeah.”

“Yeah. Actually, don’t worry about it. My family is dealing with it.”

You groaned. “Chan if you know anything you need to tell Charlie and his team-”

"Charlie and his team are looking for bears, not Cold Ones. Trust me, getting them involved won’t help."

You opened your mouth to argue but stopped yourself. As much as you wanted to believe that your dad and his officers could handle whatever was happening, deep down, you knew they were outmatched. Guns and searchlights wouldn’t do much against creatures that could move faster than the human eye.

"Then tell me," you insisted. "Tell me what's really going on."

"A coven passed through last week. They didn’t stay long, but they left a mess behind.”

Your stomach twisted. "The attacks."

"Yeah."

You squeezed your eyes shut, your pulse thrumming in your ears.

Chan spoke again, “Don’t feel the need to tell your inhuman friends. They already know. I just want you to be safe because you’re involved in this world now. You smell like them. Mortal’s don’t usually smell like Cold Ones.”

You froze, the words sinking in. "What do you mean I smell like them?"

“Your scent is different now. You’ve been around them long enough that it’s… noticeable." He spoke almost in disgust. "It makes you a target, especially for the coven that came through. They’ll be able to sense it, and not everyone in that world is friendly." His voice was serious now, the tone of someone who had seen too much. "That’s why I need you to stay put tonight. Lock up, stay inside. Don’t let anyone get too close."

"Okay, I will. But you have to tell me more. How do you know about all this stuff? I know you said it’s in your family history, but you’re also human. How does your family just casually take care of Cold Ones like this? I’m already in deep. I can’t just stay in the dark."

“Do you really not remember anything I told you at La Push?”

“About The Cold Ones? I thought we already established I remembered that very well.”

“Of course that’s the only part you remember…”

“Chan, what-”

He hung up.

You stared at the screen of your phone, feeling a mix of confusion and frustration swirling in your chest. "What the hell?" you muttered, trying to process everything he had just said.

You paced around the room, running a hand through your hair, unsure of what to do next. Part of you wanted to call him back, demand answers, but something about the way he had ended the call so abruptly made you hesitate.

You checked the locks on the doors and windows again, though you knew it wouldn't make a difference if something wanted to get in. Chan said they were long gone but you had to make sure you could do as much as you could.

⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Ultimately, the next Saturday you agreed to meet with The Strays. You needed answers.

As you stepped outside, the cold fall air hit you like a splash of cold water. You could feel the tension in the pit of your stomach as you made your way to the driveway. When you saw Hyunjin’s car pull up, you exhaled, trying to push away the knots in your chest. 

Hyunjin smiled slightly when he saw you approaching. It was moments like this when you were grateful he couldn’t read your mind. He got out of the car and opened the passenger side door for you, gesturing for you to get in.

“You good?” he asked as he helped you into the seat.

You gave him a small nod. “Yeah. Just preparing to be in a room full of vampires.”

Hyunjin gave a small nod back, his expression softening. He buckled you in carefully, taking a moment to make sure the straps were secure before stepping back. He closed your door with a soft click and walked around the car to the driver's side. It was a small action, but the fact that he cared to help you made you smile.

When he slid into the driver's seat, he shot you a quick smile, one that made you feel a little better. “You ready?”

You nodded, but as he started the engine, your eyes wandered to the seatbelt. You noticed that, despite buckling you in, Hyunjin hadn’t buckled himself up. He was focused on the road, hands gripping the wheel loosely as he pulled the car out of the driveway and onto the road.

“Hey,” you said after a beat, your gaze flickering back to him. “You’re not gonna buckle up?”

He glanced over at you, his grin playing at the edges of his lips. “What’s the worst that can happen? I die?” He joked.

You rolled your eyes. Right. He’s already dead.

The drive stretched on longer than you expected, the roads becoming narrower, the trees growing denser as Hyunjin guided the car deeper into the woods. The further you went, the more the town lights faded behind you, swallowed by darkness and thick foliage.

Your fingers curled into your lap as you glanced at Hyunjin. The dim light between the clouds cast sharp shadows across his face, highlighting the curve of his jaw, the slight furrow in his brow. His eyes stayed locked on the road ahead. One of his hands gripped the steering wheel loosely, but it was the other that caught your attention. It rested on the center console, fingers splayed, inches from your thigh. 

Eventually, the car slowed as the trees gave way to a clearing, revealing a house. No. This was a mansion. It looked like any glamorous house, but with more curtains.

Hyunjin turned off the engine, letting the silence settle thick between you.

“Well,” he exhaled, glancing at you. “We’re here.”

You swallowed, staring at the grand estate. “This is where you live?”

He smirked slightly. “What, were you expecting a crypt?”

“I don’t know what I was expecting. But not this.”

Hyunjin huffed a small laugh before stepping out of the car. You barely had time to process the sudden blur of movement before he was there, standing beside your open door, one hand braced against the roof of the car, the other extended toward you. 

"Come on," he murmured, voice smooth, almost teasing. "I promise we don’t bite… well, not all of us."

You narrowed your eyes but placed your hand in his anyway. His fingers curled around yours, cool to the touch, yet oddly grounding. He led you up the walkway to the massive double doors. He didn’t bother knocking. Instead, with a casual push, the doors swung open, revealing the tidy entryway.

The walls were lined with dark wood paneling, polished to a gleam beneath the golden glow of chandeliers hanging high above. The scent of aged books and something faintly sweet, like old wine or honey lingered in the air.

Your steps were slow, careful, as you trailed behind Hyunjin, taking in the way the candlelight flickered against the deep blue of the curtains, how the walls were lined with bookshelves that stretched impossibly high. 

As you moved further inside, the atmosphere shifted. The faint hum of voices drifted through the air, accompanied by the rhythmic clatter of kitchenware. The scent of something rich and savory curled around you, surprising given the nature of the house’s occupants.

When you two went up the stairs you stopped at a display of graduation caps. They were all hung in a row orangzied by the names of The Strays. 

You laugh, “You’ve been to a lot of colleges.”

Hyunjin turned slightly, following your gaze to the neatly arranged caps. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Yeah. You could say we have a thing for knowledge.” He joked.

Each cap bore a different school emblem, some old enough that the institutions they belonged to had probably changed names or shut down. Some were crisp and new and others slightly frayed at the edges.

As you reached the top of the stairs, the scene before you was even stranger than you had imagined.

The kitchen was warm and alive with movement. Pots clanked against the stove, the soft sizzle of something frying filled the air, and the scent of herbs and something buttery filled the air.

Han turned to see you, “Oh, guys! She’s here!”

“You couldn’t tell? I could smell her from a mile away.” Changbin chimed in. 

You stiffened at the comment, instinctively taking a half-step back, but Hyunjin's hand found the small of your back, steadying you.  “Don’t be an ass,” he muttered, shooting Changbin a pointed look.

Changbin shrugged. “I’m just saying. She smells… interesting.”

“Can you not be creepy for once?” Minho sighed, barely glancing away from the pot he was stirring. “We’re trying to be hospitable here.”

Hyunjin cleared his throat, “This is (Y/N).”

A chorus of greetings followed.

Changbin looked up from his phone again. “Welcome, human. We slaved away in this kitchen for hours just for you.”

Seungmin snorted. “You literally cut one vegetable and then sat down.”

Hyunjin pulled out a chair at the long wooden table, raising a brow at you. “Sit.”

You hesitated. “I already ate.”

A collective groan filled the kitchen.

You bit your lip. “I just assumed because vampire’s don’t eat that I wasn’t going to be fed…”

Jeongin spoke up. “It’s okay guys. She was trying to be considerate. We weren’t really getting anywhere anyway…” His eyes shifted to the piles of burnt meat on the counter.

Felix winced. “Yeah… turns out cooking isn’t exactly our strong suit.” His eyes lingered on you. 

Minho scoffed, still stirring his pot with an air of superiority. “I was doing just fine until you guys started messing with the heat.”

“You were about to burn the garlic,” Han pointed out, leaning back in his chair.

“It’s called caramelization-”

“It caught on fire, Minho.”

You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh as the group dissolved into bickering. The whole scene was so normal. You had expected something ominous, eerie, maybe even threatening. Instead, they felt like any other group of chaotic friends trying (and failing) to make dinner together.

Hyunjin sighed beside you, rubbing his temples. “This is why I told you to let me handle the cooking.”

Changbin smirked. “Yeah, but then we wouldn’t have gotten to see the sheer horror on your face when you walked in.”

Hyunjin muttered something under his breath before turning back to you. “Alright. How about we just head to my room?”

You nodded. “Okay. Thank’s for the thought guys.”

Seungmin chuckled to himself. “Just get out of here before Minho tries to force-feed you.”

Minho shot him a glare but didn’t argue. Instead, he turned his attention back to the pan, clearly determined to salvage whatever he could.

Hyunjin placed a hand on the small of your back, guiding you out of the kitchen. On your way out you saw that Felix was still looking at you. You stopped and raised an eyebrow at him.

His eyes widened. “Sorry. You’ve been in a lot of my visions. Seeing you in person is different.”

You nod and follow Hyunjin. As soon as you stepped into the hallway, the warmth of the kitchen faded, replaced by the quiet, eerie stillness of the rest of the mansion.

You followed him up another flight of stairs, the wooden steps creaking under your weight. “Is your room in the attic or something?” you asked, breaking the silence.

Hyunjin chuckled. “Something like that.”

Finally, he opened a door, revealing a surprisingly minimalistic space. The walls were lined with shelves filled with books, old drawings, and a few scattered trinkets. A large window overlooked the dark forest, the trees swaying slightly in the breeze. The only source of light was a single lamp.

You look around some more. “No bed?”

“I don’t sleep, remember?”

“Right.”

Your fingers skimmed across the spines of the books, some titles faded with time, others fresh. Some were in languages you didn’t recognize. Some looked handwritten, as if he had filled the pages himself.

Then, the sketches caught your attention.

Dozens of them, scattered across his desk, pinned to the walls, tucked into books like forgotten thoughts. Each one was breathtaking in its own right.

And then you saw yourself.

Your stomach flipped. “You… drew me?”

Hyunjin leaned against the window frame, arms crossed, watching you. “I draw whats on my mind.”

His words sent a thrill through you, a slow-building warmth curling in your chest. You swallowed, picking up one of the sketches and studying it. “And how long have I been on your mind?”

Hyunjin smirked, stepping closer, his presence like a shadow moving through the room. “Long enough.”

Your pulse quickened as he reached past you, his fingers barely grazing your wrist as he took the drawing from your hands. He studied it, as if seeing it through your eyes for the first time.

“I don’t usually draw people,” he murmured. “Not like this.”

You turned your head slightly, his face now inches from yours. The dim light caught the sharp angles of his features. He was close enough that you could see the slight flecks of gold in his brown eyes.

“Like what?” you asked softly.

His gaze flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes. “Like I want to remember every detail.”

Your breath hitched. The air between you felt fragile, electric. He reached up, trailing his fingers along the edge of your jaw, his touch cool against your skin.

“Are you always this intense?” you teased.

Hyunjin smiled, slow and knowing. “Only when it comes to things I don’t want to forget.”

You felt your breath catch as he leaned in, slow, deliberate, giving you just enough time to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Your heart pounded in your chest as his lips brushed against yours, hesitant at first, as if testing the moment. Then, when you didn’t move away, he pressed in deeper, capturing your mouth with a quiet urgency. His hand slid to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling into your hair as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss.

He tasted cool, like something untouchable, yet here he was, pressing into you as if he needed this just as much as you did.

Your hands found his shoulders, feeling the tense muscle beneath your fingertips, as if holding him in place, afraid he might disappear like a dream if you let go.

Hyunjin exhaled softly against your lips, his other hand ghosting down your waist, barely touching, yet setting your skin on fire. He kissed like he drew. Carefully. He has an artist’s precision as if memorizing every curve, every response, every small hitch of your breath.

Then, just as slowly as it started, he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours. His hands were still resting on you as if he wasn’t ready to let go. Your own breathing was uneven, your heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with fear.

“You’re warm,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I forget what that feels like.”

“And?” you asked softly, tilting your head just enough to meet his gaze.

A small smile tugged at his lips. “I think I like it.”

Slowly, your hands slid down his arms, fingertips skimming over the fabric of his shirt. “Do you always do this?” you asked, voice light but teasing. “Lure unsuspecting humans into your attic just to kiss them?”

“If I said you were the first would you believe me?”

“Proably not.”

“You should. You mean a lot to me.”

“Hyunjin-” you started, but he shook his head, his fingers ghosting over your cheek.

“I’m serious,” he murmured. “You’re not just some fleeting thought, not just another sketch on my wall. You’ve been in my head for longer than I even realized.”

Your heart pounded, warmth spreading through your chest at the way he looked at you like you were something precious, something worth remembering.

“I don’t usually get attached,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But with you… I don’t think I have a choice.” He chuckled. “Which is funny because that’s usually what the mortal is supposed to feel about a vampire. Not the other way around.”

You swallowed, trying to steady yourself under the weight of his words. “You make it sound like a bad thing.”

His lips twitched. “Maybe it is. Maybe you’re the most dangerous thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Then he kissed you again, slower this time, as if savoring every second, as if he wanted to memorize exactly how you felt in his arms. And you let him.

Taglist: @beewilko @darklove2020 @antiyoubutimkidding

A/N: THANK YOU GUYS FOR THE LOVE ON THIS STORY SO FAR I DON'T HAVE WORDS TO DESCRIBE HOW GRATEFUL I AM. <3

[impyssadobsessions]

I don't have much time but I wanted to share this with you while I can! I can't draw but I can write and this is the only way I can share this imagery with you!

The world is passing by in a flurry of colors.

Which usually isn’t that unusual for Clark…usually though it’s because his flying of his own accord. Now…now it was because he was hurdling who knows how fast in piece of metal that was more of a mobile armory then an actual RV then it supposedly was.

There were no support handles to hold on to for just a bit of comfort, no, that was replaced by a handle that would pull down and release a fog horn sound.

So all he could do was pull his knees up to steady himself against the front console, using his size to squeeze himself into a cannonball form in hopes he didn’t get dislodged on a particular rough bump.

Then again if he did, maybe he could get propelled forward and through the front and take the engine out on his way.

Wishful thinking…at least he was doing better then Bruce.

Who was currently sprawled out on the floor of the RV looking like a disheveled cat hanging on to whatever and however he could. Maybe it would look more natural in his Batman outfit but at the moment both if them were in civilian wear and seeing the ‘Prince of Gotham’ doing an impression of a deranged starfish just added on more to today’s bizarreness.

Jack Fenton was giving him a large smile as he drove through another wall, “Don’t you guys worry! I’ll get us to our boys! No speed limit or any barrier can stop a Fenton!”

Clark could only let out a groan of despair as a response...

AMG THIS IS LOVELY LMAO!!! Bruce just imitating one of his sons to keep himself from being thrashed around.. or worse... throw up. ahhhh imagine they both slump out of the rv when they arrive, shaking and so grateful to touch the ground. Bruce is definitely calling for a private jet after this and Clark might agree to ride with him just to have a slower ride.

Danny gives them pity pats when he learns... Jon and Damian like how bad could it be. Damian thinking his father been in a space ship and Jon like we fly that fast every- Only for them to be overheard by Jack by their curiosity, so they all end up being drove back by him. Which bruce and clark like OH GOD please- which becomes a little relief when it turns out Jack drives safer with children.... still deranged but one they can handle. Damian still doesn't see what got their fathers so twisted up. Danny knows though and then asks dad how long it took them. "Regrettably 3 hours son. I was hoping it would be two." Damian frowned and done the math then asking if there was a flying feature in the... rv? "AHA! Nope, but I've been trying to convince Mads to let me install one. She said it would cost too much in gas though, and take up room for the ghost scanner." Damian does the math.. then realizes why his father and clark are shaking in the rv.. even by the tiniest of amounts. "That's my dad! :D" Danny grinning. "He's cool." Jon says innocently enough, not realizing the horror of that statement until it takes them over five hours to get home. Jack decided to play it safe and follow SOME speed limits and road signs. Jack is never allowed to drive again next time they hang out. Bruce or Clark always gets the keys =w= or has limo. ahh sorry got inspired. I LOVE this snippet ;w; !!!! <3 Thank you for writing this. <3<3<3

Link to prompt

[disgruntleddemon]

yayyy better world au shifty posting! up first, is a redraw of a Calvin and Hobbes cover with him and Tate! Calvin and Hobbes is def a big inspiration for me for their dynamic! they are going out on adventures, trust <3

up next is Shifty enjoying some mtv. he watches a LOT of it. both for genuine love of it, and also to try and figure out pop culture. it was kinda funny to try and figure out how to draw Shifty sitting. his true form is so odd ghjkjhj. i think Shifty when he's older laments mtv becoming a reality tv channel, but he also loves jersey shore lol.

i realized i've never drawn Shifty and animals, so i decided to do him as a bunny! despite being the equivalent of a 12yo, he's still behind on things like reading/writing/math/etc. he's basically home schooled for a year before he goes to actual school, so he can catch up. having Tate around, a kid who's still pretty little, does help a bit with the teaching process for shifty. i think it'd become a way he bonds with both Tate, and Fiddleford!

finally, a redraw of my friend, @intothehandsoffate's ever iconic "gubgub loves yaoi" image! it's p much my fav thing ever. this is a face of a young man trying to convince his dads to take him out for icecream lmao

[icantsleepsoiwritefanfics]

18 - Jake Shim (ENHYPEN) Pt. 2

❝ Jake Shim's biggest problem has name, surname and is two years older than him. Who said falling in love with his friend's cousin would be that hard? ❞

Pairing: younger!jake x fem!reader, Jake's POV

Genre: romance, fluffy, suggestive, kinda cliche you know, fem!reader has no name

Inspiration: 18 by 5 Seconds Of Summer

Warning: cursing, kinda suggestive, making out, just a little bit of nudity

Word count: 828

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (WAIT FOR IT!!!!) | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

A.N: Hey everyone! Long time no see right? College life is killing me and I don't even have time to do something more than study, read and write academic stuffs but I need to graduate so that's how it works. Hope you like it!

"But I want to get to know her".

I say to Jay after telling what happened between me and her.

"Are you serious you'll wait?" this is his first question. He snorts out loud while staring at the ceiling. Fortunately we are alone at the library.

"That's what I said" he knows I don't believe my own words. "There's nothing I can do I'm still a minor"

"Fake ID?" the way I look at him is the answer but he raises the eyebrow keeping the suggestion.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"You said there's nothing you could do if you're still a minor but what if you aren't?" ok now that boy has a point but fake ID is a little too much right?

"But she knows I'm a minor"

"You can go where she goes" sounds bad.

"Like a stalker?"

"Like a person who's getting interested in another person and wanna find her where she goes" still sounds bad.

"Isn't it stalking?"

"Do you think you are a stalker?" it's getting worse.

"No?"

"So it isn't stalking"

"Can we just stop talking about stalking, please?" I try to end the topic.

The silence between us makes me feel uncomfortable.

"Do you think I am a stalker?" Jay can't hold his laugh back.

"No I was just kidding" he really thinks this is funny as fuck. "If you think fake ID is a bad idea so you make the good one"

"And what would be the good one?"

"Wait for her" I can see his shoulders raise. "But I don't know if she will wait for you too"

"What do you mean?"

When he looks at me that way I swear to God I can hear him saying I shouldn't be so innocent in the back of my mind.

I know I shouldn't but I can't deny I'm getting delusional when it comes to her.

We just talk once and I'm thinking about it more than the Math test we will have this week.

"Fuck I need to go to the bathroom" the way he gets up makes me think he really needs to go there. "I'll be right back"

I snort realizing I'm alone again. 

Damn it! What the fuck am I doing?

She's eighteen, I'm just sixteen. She will go to college soon and I'll be a senior in two years.

There's a rude gap between us and I'm not talking about age. I know what Jay means when he said that I just don't want to confess it to myself.

I'm not the type of guy who would get a fake ID for a girl but she makes me question everything I thought I ever knew.

I thought being younger doesn't mean a thing but what if it does?

"Hey" and here it is: the girI I’ve been thinking about.

She's wearing the same red flannel I saw last saturday around the waist. She looks like an adult standing in front of a little kid who lost his parents in the supermarket and yeah, I'm that kid. Such a dumb kid, by the way.

“You seen a little worried” when she set by my side I can feel her arm brush on my shoulder. “Math test?”

“How do you know?” that’s the first thing that comes to mind.

“One of my friend is studying for the test right now” she stares at me like a judgement “Guess you should be doing the same big boy”

“I’m not a big boy” but I can’t deny it sounds nice when it comes from her lips.

“Well, you’re taller than me, so…”

“So you’re a little girl?”

That the first time I see her smirking and God, I wish I could say the library suddenly gets colder because that would be the perfect excuse for my stupid shiver.

“I may be little but don't forget I'm still older than you”

Can't belive she put a damper on me in the middle of the library.

Well, you weren't that smart, Jake.

She’ll graduate in a few months and forget about it before getting into college.

It’s not like she would like me too, right?

“I know how you're feeling”

Those words freeze my blood faster than I could think anything to say.

“Look, there's a lof of girls who are much better than m…”

“Don't say it” my voice has never been serious. “It's not my fault you’re so…”

And then I realize her eyes where looking at me exciting for the next words I forget how to say.

Her pupils bright like a mirrorball in front of me. I don’t know if I’m feeling dizzy because of these shining colors or because I forget I should be breathing like every human being on Earth.

“I have to go now” that’s what she say before standing in front of me again. “See you around big boy”

And I swear to God I can hear her smiling between her voice.

[acronym49]

Obey Me! Characters react to mc being a dragon

(trying my hand at writing headcanons, let me know what you think! Other brothers + dateables are a work in progress)

__Lucifer__

He's not optimistic. His brothers are hard enough as it is, but adding in a new large creature? It'd be better to just keep you down with Cerberus. Maybe he'd enjoy the new playmate.The annoyance turns to intrigue when he learns you have the mind of any other demon (or person, if you will). And you can speak? Strange. This wont make him like you by any means, of anything he will be very distrusting. As you live there, though, he starts getting used to you. He even enjoys your odd antics, and especially the way you can rally in any ensuing chaos (despite how often you cause it).On one or two rare occasions, he'd absently try to pet you on the head when he was in that 'dead tired from paperwork' state. Depending on your reaction, he might do it more. When/if he does end up falling for you, expect to be near him a lot (obviously). There's not so many head-pats, but he likes to have you sit next to him while he's working or reading, sometimes absently stroking you neck or asking your opinion on whatever he's working with. There'll definitely be some teasing as to how catlike you are at times, but he means it lovingly. *he might put a collar on you if you ask-*He wouldn't ever be the type to outright ask to ride on your back, but I have the feeling he'd make subtle hints to it.'Ah, darn, the ride canceled last second. How can we get there now?' Ykyk. He'll turn you down the first time when you ask if he wants to fly with you, but that's just the pride talking for him. He'd love nothing more. After all, one of the most powerful lords of hell swooping in upon a dragon? You two would be an awe-inspiring duo, that's for sure.

__Mammon__

Ugh, he's gotta watch the new student? Lame! Humans are so- what the fuck is that?He dosen't know how to react at first. This is the thing he's looking after? It'll be awkward for the first few days, but as we know, he falls for MC fast. Awkward silence changes to him griping about how you always have to follow him. After the pact, though, he realizes you're not so bad. You tease him a little bit, sure, but he notices how you praise him, too. Just simple compliments, like how he looks good in his shades, how he's so good at math, how he's super fun to be around. It makes him feel better, y'know? Other demons also seem to be a bit less inclined to make fun of him when you're around, especially when you growl at them for being so openly mean. After a little bit of time, you two are basically glued at the hip. Depending on the kind of MC you are, you two could be the ultimate partners in crime or the closest confidants (or both!). There'll never be a boring moment with you two.It wont take him too long to ask to fly on you (probably be one of the first things he asks you tbh- it's like a joy-ride squared)He'd be respectful but mopey if you say no, but if you say yes? That's a happy demon on your hands right there. Be sure to set some boundaries, though, he might not wanna go by car anymore (like when you give a hognose snake a toad and they refuse to go back to pinkies lmfao). He'll try and get you to learn some aerial maneuvers, maybe how to spin or go upside-down (it's harder than it looks). When you two aren't flying or causing chaos together, you're both just hanging out. When he's relaxed, he likes to trace his hand over your smooth skin/scales/feathers/fur. He can't help it, the texture's just so soothing. Don't point it out, though, he'll go BRIGHT red. He likes it when you two watch movies together, or when you browse Devilgram with him over his shoulder. Feel free to nuzzle him and cuddle up, this man loves it. Sometimes he returns the favor, using you as his own sort of couch while he talks with you, sometimes giving you a peck here and there.

__Leviathan__

Oh this man is hyped from the start. A whole-ass dragon? LIVING with him and his brothers? What could be cooler? He has an internal war between wanting to get a good look at you and being really nervous to get too close. That nervousnes amps up when he realizes you can talk. You might think he's a hallucination at first with how fast he darts out of sight the moment you try and look at him. Fortunately, Mammon's debt to him is what spurs your first interaction. After, he's a little bit more ok with being percieved. He plays it cool at first, not wanting to seem too pushy, but he can't help but barrage you with questions when he gets the chance. It's actually quite a fun time, especially if you love infodumping as much as he (and I) does. You ask your own share of questions as well, about the Devildom, about him, about the games and figures he loves. As you two get more relaxed with one another, you both love to sit and chat about each other's hyperfixations. You can't exactly game with him due to your talons (not comfortably, anyways), but he lets you watch over his shoulder while he games. It makes his victories that much sweeter, and any losses a tad more bearable. Sometimes he lets you go on the mic to startle or taunt the other players, just for fun. It's hard to tell exactly when the relationship begins and the friendship ends, it's a smooth transition that neither of you really notice until you're literally cuddled up together, watching Assasination Classroom on his phone at 2am. It takes a surprising while for him to ask to fly with you. You may have to be the one to bring it up, actually. Nervous the whole time, 100%. He may decline, but upon numerous reassurances he'll agree. I think it's like... that test drive scene from httyd. It's so unfamiliar at first, being high up, with the wind blowing so fiercely. After a while, though, something clicks with him. He'll gain that confidence, guiding you (with your permission) where he wants to go. Something about that wild, windswept sensation of being a mile up in the air melts his nerves. It's just you two and the sky. The others are def gonna be jealous about how well you fly together.

(Feel free to tag with your dragon ocs! Sorry for any spelling errors lmao my eyes tend to skip over words sometimes)

[kynes-breath]

I always thought from a lore/ability standpoint it didn’t make sense for the Vestige to still be able to die and revive using filled soul gems after getting their soul back after the solo main quest fight with Molag Bal. Having their soul in my mind should mean the vestige can no longer use another soul to bring themselves back after a death. When you die with your soul you die for real.

That’s why I headcannon my vestige does not keep her soul-filled soul gem on her person or in her home because she believes/is afraid of the implications of dying for real and what would happen to Nirn without her.

Have a little story my mind made up about it.

Vestige makes a necklace out of her soul gem and gives it to Fennorian for safe-keeping. Believing they can’t be together, it is the closest thing she can do to have some part of her near and dear to him. When Fennorian asks about its meaning, she just kinda shrugs and says it’s a friendship necklace and some people give jewelry as gifts as a thanks and to show how much they value the companionship. Obviously Fennorian meant why a soul gem but figures she will tell him if she wants to.

A couple weeks later Lyris and Sai are visiting and asks about the necklace Fenn is wearing. He gives the BS explanation vestige gave, Lyris and Sai immediately see through it though Sai doesn’t know it’s her soul in there. Lyris does because her and the vestige are besties and she knows how the vestige yearns, plus all they’ve been through together and nothing for her? Lyris promptly shares that last bit implying that it means more which causes Fenn to blush and stammer because duh, and he shares he tried learning why the soul gem specifically causing Lyris to sigh and say something under her breath along the lines of “a daedric prince is fine but of course this is out of the question for her”.

Sai is trying not to laugh, Lyris is trying not to put her axe through the nearest object, Gwendis, Adusa, and Kathad are listening in from the other room because they all have a bet about who will realize they’re both in love with each other and who will bring it up first and how long it will take for them to get together, and Fennorian has the look of a man doing a hundred math problems in his head at once.

The vestige is on her way to the castle to have dinner with everyone and Fenns thoughts are running as fast as a Khajiit on skooma. How is he going to act normal now that his inkling on the soul gem meaning something is true? What does it mean? Could it be that she? No, don’t get your hopes up. Wait, what does Lyris mean by daedric prince? Oh, you idiot why didn’t you finish her gift earlier now she is going to think you don’t cherish her presence either! Wait this soul gem is filled! *light bulb goes off in fenns head causing even more panic and questions*

Anyways I kinda ended in a state of panic that matches my feelings. If you like reading about Fennorian go to my friend @rvnwtch and visit their AO3 page for some amazing stories. I haven’t finished their most recent work as I have been super busy (you will know once I do because I will leave you a kudo and a comment of thanks for using my favorite tag if you can guess it), but it inspired me to share so thanks for bearing with me :)

[ladytabletop]

Have you ever read an RPG that completely changed the way you think about RPGs or how you play them? If so, which one(s)?

I've talked a little bit about this in the past, but come with me, anon, on a journey through RPGs.

Imagine, if you will, a teenaged LT being invited to play a "game like dungeons and dragons" only to find out it was some dude's really sexist attempt at 3.5.

And then it's 5 years later and some friends in college finally manage to convince you that the game they're starting (Pathfinder) will be fun, you should play. And that's your first real ttrpg experience, and it's a campaign that lasts years, longer than your relationship at that time, and it becomes the most important part of your life for a while, and then you make the jump to 5e which isn't that different, and meantime you've been playing some side games, some shorter stuff, and the math isn't great and yeah the game is held together with homebrew but that's just part of the fun, isn't it? it's just part of how you like to play, writing stuff for this system, and in fact you like it so much that you end up publishing/kickstarting a whole 5e sci fi game, and isn't that neat?

but then 5e really starts to lose favor, or maybe you branching out into indie games just exposes you to a lot more people who hate it, even some people who talk about people who play and write for it like they're stupid or ignorant or part of the corporate missteps made by WotC or like it's unfathomable that people would come to this hobby from the most popular roleplaying game in the world, and that kind of sucks! but you're seeing the holes in the game more and more and you're realizing there's games you've been playing that are also ttrpgs that you never thought of that way, but it seems so obvious in retrospect!

and you start writing for these other games, and you back some kickstarters and find some really awesome discord communities and games that inspire you to write things on your own for the first time in a long time, and you start trying to fill in the gaps in your knowledge so you can keep up with people having academic conversations about games, using terms you don't understand and referencing creators and games and publishers and controversies you've never heard of, and you almost burn out so many times because it's A LOT even if you love it, and reminding yourself that you're not in competition with anyone for creating or knowledge or anything like that becomes part of the daily routine, and you don't have to know everything to keep creating and keep learning and keep playing - that's right, it's about playing! don't forget that! and then you're here.

you're here, and games are so fun and so cool and they're not all going to stick in your soul but so many do, so many teach you something or refresh you in unexpected ways and it's like that all the time.

anyway, in no particular order, games that made me think about RPGs and play and design: DnD 5e, Fiasco, Dread, Monster of the Week, Dream Askew/Dream Apart, Thirsty Sword Lesbians, Blades in the Dark, Thousand Year Old Vampire, The Wildsea RPG, Grant Howitt's 1-page rpgs, Artefact, Dogs in the Vineyard, Shadowrun 5e, 10 Candles, Wreck This Deck, Balikbayan Returning Home, Clue, Chess 2, CYOA books, and many many more.

[espumado]

So, google pointed me this old article (probably because of The Bear😅) and everyone knows Kasama, and Genie Kwon, the chef and one of the owners, who appeared in 3x10, during Ever's funeral dinner. It's about the way they started and operate and for me how this can be an example for The Bear restaurant.

Made me think about how Carmy thought about this restaurant when he and Syd needed inspiration, maybe he wasn't talking just about the food but also about the place itself.

When Syd talked about get a star with her dad she said she wanted one -"it's a personal victory and very good for business...that will keep us consistent, low to the ground, but a little bit above it- sounds realistic! But they never really discussed that, the number of stars they want! Carmy seems to be operating in 3 star mode this season, right? Not what Syd had in mind. And one star means: High quality cooking- something they could achieved with the team they have. And three stars means: Exceptional cuisine- something that maybe only Carmy and maybe Syd are ready for. And that's probably why Carmy is acting like only he can do this and taking all the responsibility for himrself.

What I mean is that the way Kasama operates seems like the ideal model for The Bear to follow....that's how they started:

Just like Nat, Carmy and Syd did during the renovation... And that's how they wanted to start, and their "philosophy" and how they work:

They do not want the trappings of fine dining, they cared about their neighbors and customers and the menu prices, cared about food waste and control cost, and found the balance between daytime sandwiches and fine dining... These are the problems that The Bear is having and need to resolve! Nat and Syd are more aware of it and trying but Carmy is lost (mainly in his own mind but he is also terrible with business and math). A lot of people are saying that they have to go back to how everyone were in the first 2 seasons, the love and care for each other and the community, and I agree. Carmy needs to remember or decide how he wants to operate the restaurant, why he wants a star and of course, he and Syd MUST have that conversation!

***side note: I don't know where the showrunners get the idea for this restaurant model like The Bear -with a window for sandwiches and fine dining and a bar- but i realized that none of the real chefs and their restaurants who inspired the show and are Storer's friends (like Mr Beef and Avec) seem to have this kind of model...So made me think that maybe Kasama really was the inspiration for them???***

I think Kasama is a good example for them to follow, they opened at the beginning of the pandemic and "thanks to a smattering of virtual events, sponsorships, and a long patio season, but most of all, those regulars" has managed to keep working which is not easy in this situation (They'll still need outside help and Uncle Jimmy is going broke so who knows... maybe Donna could be help???) But they have a good model with healthy motivation, with sandwiches by day and dinners by night, and costs under control, and the star was just a consequence. Maybe even Richie, who is not happy with the way they are operating and the search for the star, might relate better with this much more functional and healthy model, right?!

Anyway, the fact that this restaurant is run by a couple is just a detail, of course 🙃🫠 These last seasons Carmy is in search of his dream restaurant but also amusement and enjoyment (because he thinks cooking and run a restaurant isn't fun and he needs to look for it outside of work completely), trying to figure out what really makes him happy, and also have a personal life, which is fair. But honestly, to me, maybe not the business part of it, but it seems like what he loves is cooking, or at least it used to be and he needs to rediscover it (he enjoyed cook with Mikey and working at the other restaurants before Chef David, and he asked Syd if she "still love to cook" under the table, as if that was important to himself too). Maybe he'll find a balance, maybe even with Claire (but they will need to talk about it, and he'll need stop acting like one is stopping the other), but here's what Genie Kwon and Tim Flores say about work and personal life, a little about legacy, the star and the people they cook for that both Syd and Carmy could listen:

Like, it's okay not to love the whole thing, the whole process, it happens. But if you like what you do, it may becomes your personal life too and that doesn't need to be a problem, you just need to find balance. And that was what Genie Kwon said during the funeral dinner: I feel like an impostor because I feel like I don't like cooking as much as everybody else does. Um, I knew that I always wanted to make things for people (that made Carmy stop focus on Fields and look at Syd) And then, growing up, you know, my parents were never in a good place, but I always knew that I could make something so specific that would hmmm... bring them joy, you know? (now we see Luca) And that was the thing that I got addicted to, (and now Syd) and I think that I seek approval out of people every single day.

Ps: Now I want to see why Syd started cooking, what motivated her, why she likes to take care of people, if it's because of her mom or dad, something like that...and also Carmy, we know that cooking was the common ground between him and his brother, but how it started? Mikey invited him to the kitchen? It was an escape from their mother? Maybe flashbacks? Maybe they could have a talk about it?...anyway, just wondering...

@brokenwinebox @whenmemorydies @moodyeucalyptus @currymanganese @thoughtfulchaos773 @ambeauty you might like this article

[whatgaviiformes]

Fic: Grannies - Part 4 (Finale)

Summary: Gordon's committed to the bit. The bit just happens to be an obnoxious amount of granny squares.

A/N- In the finale: warning for a bit of whump. Whole lotta love though. Words for this part come to 2K.

Part 1 here | Part 2 here | Part 3 here | AO3

Thank yous: craftyfam, patient readers, my yarn stash for inspiration, Kat for the read through and assuring me this was post ready. FFXIV I can't thank you because you are a menace and a distraction no matter how much I love you.

*****

Part 4: Finale

Because Gordon never goes half-assed into anything, Virgil is still finding granny squares. 

He has to keep reminding himself that he appreciates Gordon’s dedication. He actually relies on this part of his brother’s character. Frequently, in fact. 

But as he pries a stray granny square out of his sock drawer and tosses it into the project basket housing its companions, Virgil has to roll his eyes. Fondly of course. In the project management world, they call this scope creep - with no real end in sight, the project keeps getting bigger and more involved, and it’s all too easy for it to just keep living on indefinitely. But then, Gordon is one big Scope Creep anyway since he was never one for boundaries in the first place. 

His definition of an appropriate time to stop was very different from Virgil’s. 

At this point, the new square isn’t anything Virgil hasn’t seen before. He knows by now what to expect from Gordon’s work. And, honestly, it’s just like Gordon to somehow manage to desensitize Virgil away from everything he knows about color theory, however briefly. So, neither the presence of the piece of fabric nor the color combination provides any shock value anymore. 

What it does do is remind him that he’s got his own project balancing to do. That of actually… you know… finishing the damn thing. And figuring out what to do with the rest of the squares, he reminds himself as he slides on his socks and laces up his boots for the day. 

The newest acquisition - two rounds of golden yellow followed by two rounds of aubergine purple and a final in white - doesn’t look as visually discordant alongside its peers, the scrambled rainbow they are.  They are all the ones that didn’t make the cut for Gordon’s afghan, the  squares Virgil keeps finding anew, and inevitably the future ones Gordon will continue to make until he receives another lightning strike of an idea.

Right beside it is a second project basket. Gordon likes a big blanket, so enough squares to fit a king sized bed are already packed up and labeled in their sequential order. As he’s had time, Virgil has started sewing them together based on the design Scott helped with. There’s enough space still for him to store the bolt of fabric John helped him find too, once it finally arrives. 

Virgil’s grateful for their help, and their part in the project has made it just that bit more special. He hopes Gordon feels that way too. It took Scott reminding him that it wasn’t his own aesthetic he was trying to please for the design to come together. Otherwise, Virgil has no doubt what he would’ve designed would’ve been lesser for his own misery trying to force order into chaos. 

Somehow, with the power of math, Scott’s perspective on patterns and probability and randomization had been just the ticket. Gordon also probably hadn’t realized just how many squares he’d made that started with the shade of yellow or orange or his typical bright shades. Just that little bit of consistency was all he and Scott needed to figure the rest out as they laid out the squares. It wasn’t a pattern, a fade, or even entirely randomized. But a couple edits later, they had the final layout, the squares numbered, and Virgil had gotten to work joining his own granny stitches into his brother’s work in the only color Gordon considered “neutral” - yellow. 

Unable to resist the smile it brings, Virgil tugs the blanket out of the basket and unfolds the two rows he’s finished, with the third halfway complete. It doesn’t bother him that his connecting yarn is still live - the hook has his last loop stabbed into the working skein, and even if it does come unraveled a little, crochet is not so difficult to start again. 

It had taken a few tries to find the right hook to help him match Gordon’s stitches. Even though Virgil taught him a few years ago, no two makers’ work was exactly alike. And Gordon was as carefree with his gauge as he was in the rest of his life. 

Excitement thrums through him; it’s morning, the birds are chirping, and he’s feeling motivated and productive. The crochet work is soft in his hands, the next square in the sequence visible in the project basket below but hiding the rest of the queue for the third row. It’s the perfect day to grab some coffee, hide away in his studio for a few hours, and let the project surprise him. 

That’s the way a WIP should work: it should inspire along the way. 

Virgil has just thrown a towel over the basket to make it seem like it could be laundry - just in case he runs into a wayward squid - when the alarm in his room sounds and John’s voice comes over comms. 

They have a rescue. 

~*~

Virgil awakes to the smell of antiseptic and the uncomfortable feeling that his mouth tastes like cotton. 

Something about that makes him want to giggle, except he can’t actually do that. 

“Easy, Virg.” Hands, soothing, graze his hairline. “They’ve got you on the good stuff.”

He can tell. He hasn’t opened his eyes yet to know if he’s in a hospital or the infirmary, nor does he know what happened to land him there.

Based on the cotton in his throat and in his head and in his lungs, maybe he ate Gordon’s blanket. 

The giggle turns into a groan. 

“You’re okay now. Rest, Virgil.” 

Since the voice is Scott, he does so.

~*~

The next time he remembers waking, he’s in the infirmary on the island. Again, this he knows not because he’s opened his eyes to figure it out, but because his senses tell him so. Only one brother knows sea shanties enough to be familiar with that one and, if Gordon is here humming it, they’re both definitely not in a hospital.

The words he wants to say trudge through the molasses on their way out.

“Wha’ happ’n?” 

“Virgil!” It’s surprise, and excitement, and relief all rolled into one, but Gordon has the good sense to keep his voice low once the original shock of him waking settles.  

Gordon knows the drill well, his voice barely above a whisper as he closes the blinds and scoops some ice chips into a cup. Virgil’s grateful for the gentle way he moves about the room; he can hear him shuffling around, dictating as he goes. By the time Gordon returns with the cup of blessed relief for the feeling in his esophagus, Virgil has managed to tearily blink his eyes half-open. 

Beneath his brother’s brushed fringe hides a bruise the size of a fist, purpling so harshly at his hairline that Virgil ignores the ice chip Gordon offers him in favor of reaching up to check the injury out for himself. Immediately, his body protests the movement, and Gordon urges him to lower his arm back to the support of the bed.

“Yeah, maybe don’t try that?” Gordon waves him off. “I’m fine. What do you remember?” 

Through the pain in his lower half and the color of Gordon’s face, the memories of the rescue come back clearer. Unfortunately, of all things, they’d been called out to a mudslide. He’d checked Gordon out in the field, he remembers. A panicked civilian with a wayward right hook while Gordon was calming his husband. The man had been incredibly apologetic, and Gordon assured him no harm was done, but Virgil pulled him off duty as a concussion risk and left him in Two with  Grandma talking to him.

Then, when Virgil went after a lifesign in a toppling two-story… 

“A house hit me.” 

“Well, more mud than house. You’re ok though. You were buried from the waist up. Had some compartment syndrome. Everything you’re feeling - or not - is temporary.”  

“You came to get me.” Virgil could argue that grounded meant grounded, that Gordon should never’ve gone after him in such dangerous conditions, that he’s the big brother and Gordon’s the little one and he should keep himself safe when he’s told to do so. But there’s a challenge in his little brother’s warm honey eyes already, and he remembers faintly words spoken in worry and fear, assurances that tighten in a coil around his heart.

“I did. There wasn’t anyone else.”  

He owes Gordon everything.

Virgil hums, “Thank you.”

Between the pain medication and water soothing the grittiness in his throat, he feels more aware by the minute and ready to try sitting up for a time. Gordon helps him settle a few pillows into position and raises the head of the infirmary bed to the appropriate level. He’s got to let Scott know he’s awake - and Grandma -  Gordon tells him. Before either of them decide to have scolded Squid for dinner. 

Virgil doesn’t have the energy to chuckle, but it does as he knows Gordon intended: leave him with a smile for the few moments Gordon needs to step away to communicate Virgil’s situation. 

His heart is music, his soul is color. Where sound is oversaturated with the wisps and hums of machinery tracking his vitals, his heartbeat in rhythm, color becomes his touchstone. Outside the window will be the cerulean of the sky and sea. Green, which he thinks in its most basic form because it’s every combination of the hue throughout the robust plant-life of their Island. Dandelion yellow - the sun and safety and Gordon’s baldric. 

Past the shut blinds, it’s all just a sliver. More prominently, there’s just white and infirmary clean grey.  He has to blink away the dullness, as he tears his gaze away from the window and finally musters the strength to glance at himself and especially at his lower half past the pain where Gordon promised his lack of feeling, muted through painkillers, was temporary. 

Color, so much of it that it’s blinding, greets him with the neon of signage amidst the Las Vegas cityscape and the celebration of the New York Pride parade they attend each year. The blanket draped across his lap is authentic Gordon through and through, in familiar squares assembled in a chaos true to their variety. No rhyme, no reason. 

So much care. 

“Grandma will be in shortly.” Gordon plops into the chair at his side, wiggling in the armchair to reacquire the work he’d placed on the seat cushion. He catches him looking, wide-eyed. “It’s not your project, promise. Though I did bring it in for you to work on when you’re feeling better. It’s over by the holoscreen whenever you want me to bring it over. You’ll be here for a bit healing, so I figured…” He shrugs, trailing off. 

“Gordon?” He slides his fingers between the stitches and curls them gratefully into soft, comforting colors. “What are you doing?” 

“I’m - uh -” Gordon flushes in dim light. “I’m weaving in my ends finally,” he admits, holding up the darning needle. “Sorry if you had another idea for the squares, but once I finished putting yours together, I realized we had enough still to donate some more blankets and those really should be finished.” Gordon weaves a red tail end back and forth between the strands the way Virgil taught him, and the way their mom taught Virgil. “I really did go a little overboard on granny squares didn’t I? I just figured it would be okay for me to help you along. So you could finish what you were working on. Was that ok?”

“More than.” 

It also tells him a significant amount about how serious his injuries were and how long he might have been out of commission, if Gordon’s found the time to finish as much as he has. The concern for what he’s put his family through spikes his heartbeat again, and his younger brother glances up to check on him, the monitors, back at him.

Virgil gives him a weary smile, tugging the blanket further up his chest. “I’m ok,” he assures him. “Thanks to you.” 

“Don’t do it again,” he admonishes, shaking his head.

Neither of them can promise the other, not in their line of work, and they both know it. 

The words go unspoken, but they are woven delicately in the strands of their gifts to each other. Virgil feels the care against his skin, in colors that chase away greys, and soft cotton that sifts fear and worry out through openwork patterning. And when Grandma finally makes her way in to check in on him, his heart is so full with the chance he’s been given, the support he’s always had by the people he cares for, that the love hits him with a wave of exhaustion. 

Into sleep he falls, deeply into dreamless rest by the time Grandma finishes her checks and  Gordon tucks him in with a thankful salute to the stars above.

The End

[escrivoir]

For the send me a fic, can I have "stay all night" pleeeease?

Oh lord, the fic you inspired! Congratulations and thank you for that, @reallylilyreally haha.

My favorite scene

Right after the awful snow/Bastogne-adjacent scene, wherein Nix accidentally kisses both Dick and Tab and then nearly wrecks his car when he realizes what he's done, racing home to call his secretary and tell her that he won't be in because they're all sick - and she's already rescheduled all of his meetings.

My favorite chapter (if it's a multichapter)

Chapter 8: Dick scaring Stanhope, and everything related to planning the wedding, especially because everyone in Easy is so fucking baffled about it. And there's the Easy reunion / real wedding.

Hardest scene to write

This one - it kickstarts so much insanity.

So: while she travels, she’s been bringing along reading material - journals and articles about fertility and birth control, both of which are progressing in the most marvelous way these last few years. In the most unlikely of fashions, it appears that her Stanford education is serving her well. It turns out there are options she’d never thought of, although some of them are … undignified.

“Undignified!?” her brother yelps when she lays it out to the boys that evening. “It’s a farce!” 

Dick and Tab exchange a significant look. Neither of them are rejecting it out of hand, which is encouraging. It’s something that had never even occurred to Dick, she can tell; there’s surprise and a little bit of discomfort at the frankness of the topic, but he’s not disgusted, and he’s certainly not panicking like Lewis.

“It works in animals,” Tab points out reasonably. “With quite a bit of success, and even less dignity.” Of course Bunny would know; agriculture engineering was a lot of math and science, but he’d also spent time at working farms, which has paid off in the immediate success of Ferme Parachute, as she’s now termed it. Blanche doesn’t actually know what their business is, and she’s not sure she cares. It has something to do with… food for cows?

“My sister is not a cow! ” Lewis cries. She rolls her eyes and bites back the urge to look him straight in the eyes and moo. It’s a tough sacrifice, but that’s what good sisters are for.

Favorite character to write in the fic

Blanche! The struggles of being a wealthy heiress sound laughable, but just like Nix, there were so many impossible expectations thrown at her.

Favorite dynamic to write in the fic

Friendly: Blanche & Nix - siblings with a whole lot in common, and similar chips on their shoulders Unfriendly: Stanhope & Tab - very very mildly touched upon. I love that Tab is everything Stanhope despises, and steals his daughter and son from him, more or less.

Why I chose that title

Most folks know Stay All Night, Stay a Little Longer as a song by Willie Nelson, but it was originally recorded in 1945 (released in 1946) by Bob Wills and his Texas Playboys. It's a swingy tune, and the chorus is so good for Blanche and Tab especially: Stay all night, stay a little longer Dance all night, dance a little longer Pull off your coat throw it in the corner Don't see why you don't stay a little longer

A fun fact about the fic

The fic was literally born because I had just started to talk to @reallylilyreally and we were joking about how weird it would be for Blanche to meet Tab, which is when I came up with the opening scene, and the whole fic kind of spiraled into what it is now. Will say I did NOT expect it to go the direction it did at first, and then I was just like, shrug, guess we're doing this!

[anamelessfool]

Headcanon request! How would the Terzo or Copia act with an significant other who is a teacher? 😁

Terzo

He would absolutely love the long stretches of summertime you have together, but then get cranky as it gets closer to September. He tries to help you grade and organize and write lesson plans, but he gets bored very easily and starts to moan about it after only one or two papers.

Things really come to a head when he gets fussy and bratty about you being too tired Monday through Friday to really give him attention or go out because "It's a school night". You basically read him the riot act right then and tell him how exasperated and overwhelmed you feel. Even though Terzo can be a bit bratty, he does take your feelings to heart, apologizing and vowing to support you in any way he can.

And he does, quickly after that. He makes dinners and packs your lunches. When you come home after a particularly long day and just want to lie on the couch he waits on you and gives your aching calves and feet an expert massage. He's not really one to give advice, but he is an understanding ear when you feel like you need to vent. He quickly realizes that with all of this support you feel more comfortable and more energized, you're more likely to jump his bones at 4PM on a Tuesday after work.

Copia

Copia takes academics very seriously, with his background as a CPA before his sudden pivot towards running the church and performing. He was drawn to you originally because of your shared love of learning and feels honored to be with someone that makes such an impact on the world. He knows how hard you work and does everything in his power to help you catch up. He takes you out to dinner whenever you feel like you need a pick me up. He is very good at grading. There are many very cheerful Saturday mornings with you and him at the kitchen table with a pile of math work to grade, matching coffee mugs and a record on the turntable.

One problem though is Copia is just horrible with computers and gets very defensive when you try to explain something new to him. He had never once emptied his Recycle Bin on his desktop that Sister forced him to use to "automate and streamline the Ministry accounts"....until you showed him how to do it (and also to stop saving every fucking thing on the desktop.) He doesn't understand why you need to upload all the grades into the byzantine grading system ("Aren't they going to just change the name again next year, mi amore?") and can very easily calculate averages in his head or on his ancient calculator for you.

He gets so inspired by you and your successes that you share with him that during an extended break from touring he tries his hand at substitute teaching at a local high school. He quits after the second day because the kids intimidated him a little bit. He is in awe of how you do it.