#this is my third time trying to post this because tumblr is a little bitch

[chereus]

Oblivious Boyfriends | D. Winchester

Summary - Dean had been neglecting his boyfriend bedroom duties and you were getting frustrated [set in season 10ish, they’re fully moved into the bunker]

Pairings - SoftDom!Dean x Fem!Reader

Warnings - Dom Dean, daddy kink, if you squint there’s angst before the blinding smut, spanking, choking, hair pulling, p in v, unprotected sex, breeding kink, hot angry Dean, sexual tension, talk about love and marriage??? Kinda??? It was done tastefully though I promise!!!

Cherry’s notes: Whew! That was spicy—in honor of my new phone I decided I’d post this as a thanks to people who’ve supported me throughout my writing journey <3. I’m still getting used to this writing format that tumblr has so pls be nice!!!

P.S ~ This may have been sorter than intended due to tumblr deleting half of this while I wasn’t looking. Still upset about that. Also sorry for the time delay because of said tumblr issues, had to rewrite most of it + an ending -_-.

Word count: about 1.2k

You were kind of being a bitch today. But in your defense, your boyfriend Dean had been so busy with work that he hardly had time to satisfy your in the bedroom needs. When you’d try and communicate that this was becoming an issue you’d been brushed off every. single. time. So naturally you started to get frustrated and decided to take control into your own hands for the time being.

“Y/n, have you seen my gun?” Dean announced himself as he stumbled into the library. You just continued to sit there and do your research without so much as a morsel of acknowledgment.

He cleared his throat and tried again, “Y/n have you seen my gun?” only this time he got a small clench of the jaw and a silent flare of the nostrils. Still with no response he decided to try a third time when you suddenly just got up and left leaving him completely alone in the library.

Wondering what he did he promptly followed you, but once he realized he wasn’t getting far by just following in your footsteps he bravely spoke, “Okay, seriously, is this how we’re acting today?”.

This immediately caught your attention but you showed no signs of making a huge scene so you quickly and calmly stopped while turning around to face him while replying with, “I don’t know Dean, is it?”.

He really didn’t like the passive aggressiveness in your tone. It hadn’t helped that you’d quickly spun around and once again resumed ignoring him. Being ignored was one of his top ten pet peeves and you knew it. That’s exactly why you chose this method to piss him off. Get him all worked up, he’d have to take his frustrations out on you then.

“What the hells’ that supposed to mean?” He countered, following you into the kitchen.

“It means that if you don’t know then it’s not worth talking about.” You said truthfully. Suddenly Dean found himself recalling the days to see if he’d missed a birthday, a dinner, an anniversary, anything that would constitute this type of treatment and he came up empty.

As you noticed Dean sitting there dumbfounded you took it upon yourself to grab one of his beers from the fridge and march back out successfully initiating phase one.

You’d been toying with the idea for quite some time but never had the means or justification until now, you were going to go around the house and dump all of the alcohol.

This was seemingly easy considering after your and deans little spat, he’d decided to give you some space to cool off seeing that you were angry with him. It gave you the perfect opportunity to do what you needed to do. This was phase two.

Phase three was to just sit back and watch the anger seep from deep within Dean Winchesters veins until he couldn’t see anything but red.

Sam had been on a hunting trip for the last couple of days and you were thankful because the things he would’ve heard…

“Y/N! Where is all the beer?!” Dean hollered as you passed him in the kitchen.

“I dumped it.” You simply said. Deans face went slate.

“You-you…dumped it.” He said as both a statement and a question. You could see the vein on the side of his neck start to pop and you knew he was close to blowing a gasket at how he had been treated.

“Yup. I dumped it. Decided that we’re now alcohol free. Have fun with your green juices and detox tea.” You were beginning to walk away when he grabbed you and spun you back around so that your chests were touching and he was holding your wrists on both sides of your head.

“Is there something that needs to be sorted out? Cause’ I’m getting’ real tired of the way things have been going around here.” He seethed. He probably just wanted a nice cold beer after working a long hard case all day but you weren’t about to let that happen. You were horny and determined to do something about it.

You got closer to his face and begun to look into his eyes while simultaneously brushing your lips together with his. Nudging your nose against his you whispered, “if there was a problem you’d know.” And you ripped yourself away from him and swiftly dropped out of the room beginning to feel yourself getting wetter by the instant.

Not even ten seconds later Dean came marching out of the kitchen behind you demanding that you work this out by pushing you against the hallway wall. You responded by grabbing him by his belt loops and smashing his hips against yours. He’d finally gotten the hint.

“Is this what you wanted? Was my pretty baby just horny and desperate for her daddies attention?” He said as he grabbed you by the throat and kissed you. You whimpered at the gruffness of his touch, desperate and craving more.

“I need you to answer me, y/n. You know daddy doesn’t like it when you go silent.” Dean enforced. You let out the tiniest little ‘yes’ lost in your own world of pleasure and fulfillment.

“Louder, y/n.” He commanded putting slightly harder pressure onto the sides of your throat that were sure to bruise later but you didn’t care. The feeling of his body on your body was enough to drive you wild.

“Yes!” You deeply moaned wrapping your hands around his hips and flushing your pelvis’s together. Dean leaned down and planted an earth shattering kiss on your lips, tongue swirling around with your own while he still held the position of holding your neck firmly in place without making you dizzy from the lack of air.

“Up.” Dean forced. Slipping his hand under your thighs and wrapping your legs around his torso. When you were situated your hands found their way to his hair to gently tug at the roots.

Hiking you up by your ass you were looming over him with every adjustment. Your hands made their way to either side of his face while you ferociously kissed him. He started to stumble his way down the hallway, careful not to drop you. You moaned as his grip on your ass got tighter the more aroused he was getting.

The warm smell of cinnamon from your hair, the combined scent your vanilla bourbon perfume and your honey body lotion, it reminded him of home. Although you’d been getting in spats and arguments all day you’d still somehow made him feel loved and cared for by the way you’d responded to his touch.

It was at this very moment he decided that he wanted to marry you. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, or hell— maybe not even next week, but someday If you’d let him.

Finally stumbling into your shared room dominant Dean was back in action. He gently put you down and then shoved you back onto the bed signifying the fact that he was done playing the game you’d been playing all day.

When you adjusted yourself on the bed he immediately ripped your pants off annoyed at the extra fabric keeping the two of you apart. Dipping down he gently put his right hand to your jaw and repeated what you had to him earlier. Brushing your lips together your noses tenderly touched and he gave you one last affectionate kiss before looking down at your tank top and ripping it in two.

Your eyes widened with desire, you’d never seen Dean like this and it was extremely sexy. The mix of softhearted kissing and rough manhandling was driving you insane. Kissing down your stomach the torn shirt was quickly discarded never to be seen again.

Only in your bralette and underwear you start to feel cold with Dean still fully clothed. Grabbing him by his hair you pull his head up from your panty line. Giving him a single peck on the lips you start to peel off the layers of flannel and cotton until his top half was fully nude.

Reaching down to undo his belt buckle he stops you with a questioning glare. He shoves your hands away and moved away from the bed and to the closet where a medium sized black box was laying on the top shelf. Getting that box down you knew that something freaky was about to happen.

Pulling out four long black ropes he looks back at you with a smirk. You gulp and back away slowly, however he was faster and started tying your left wrist tightly to the headboard. Positioning you in the middle of the bed he ties your right to the other side of the headboard.

Deciding to discard the last two ropes, he resumes your playful foreplay now teasing you at the fact that you can no longer touch him in the way you wanted to.

“M’ gonna fuck you in this pretty little bra. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Been walking around all day getting on my nerves so I’d have no choice but to fuck the aggression out. Well, you should be careful what you wish for.” He says menacingly pulling off your underwear.

Leaving your bare pussy in the cold Dean jumps off the bed and begins to slowly undress. And I mean slowly. You thought you were about to combust when you finally saw Dean unbuckle his pants and slowly drop them.

Getting back on the bed Dean slides his hands up and down your curves on your sides, trailing down to your hip bones and finally your throbbing heat. It really was no surprise that you’d gotten worked up so easy considering you and Dean hadn’t had really any sex in almost four months. Orgasms, yes. Sex, no.

It was killing you not being intimate with Dean like you used to. So when he finally put his cold hands on your warm aching pussy you could’ve cried in relief even though it was only through your panties you could feel his fingertips rubbing up against your clit causing you to softly moan in delight.

Gripping the tightly tied ropes Dean tormented you by pulling off your panties and just sat there. Staring. It would’ve made you insecure had you not known that Dean would’ve loved you no matter what you perceived your vagina to look like.

“Would you let me put a baby in you?” Dean asks out of the blue. Your eyes widened and your breath hitched, “In the future of course. Your still on birth control, right?” He thought out loud. You were speechless so all you could do was nod and let out a small ‘uh-huh’.

Dean could tell you were now really tense after that question so he took his hands and smoothed them over your stomach and said, “Don’t worry. Not until your ready. But until then, I’d like to practice.”

Your muscles were slowly untensing as Dean assured you there would be no baby making until your ready. “If we’re practicing, do you mind going in raw? I’d like to be closer with you.”

Dean was now blushing but tried to hide it through dominance. He spread your knees apart and quickly dove in licking and sucking your clit. Pulling at the ropes, you moaned and groaned until you were so close to cumming that you could cry.

Dean could tell how close you were so he sped up his tongue motions and hooked his arms around the base of your thighs so you couldn’t move anywhere.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned as your first orgasm took over you. Dean wasted no time in sliding his manhood into you with great force.

Putting his hands at your hips he began roughly thrusting into you at an angle that kept hitting your g-spot over an over again. As you were getting louder and louder with your moans Dean reached down in between your legs and rubbed your clit. He was fucking you so hard at this point you were seeing spots.

“Yeah. Your such a good girl. Taking it so good for me. Gonna be doing this to make a baby one day, huh sweetheart. Look at me.” He said as your eyes were starting to droop. Your eyes tiredly opened and you seen Dean look at you like your the queen of the world. His world. With adoration and love.

“Gonna let me fill you up, hmm? Gonna let me take care of you while your carrying our child? Gonna let me go out at three am to fill some ridiculous request of bread and butter pickles from that grocery store half an hour away?” Dean asks with a fond smirk on his face. Like he’d be so excited to be able to do those things for you.

Just hearing how happy it would make Dean to be your caretaker in your time of need makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Not just because he’s still fucking the life out of you.

Once you get close enough to the edge Dean starts to get greedy. He wants you to cum and he wants it now. “Give it to me y/n. Now.” He says wrapping his hand around your throat and pounding into you like there’s no tomorrow.

Seconds later it felt like fireworks had been let off in your stomach with how hard you were orgasming. At one point you were certain that you were seeing stars.

“Fuck! Dean!” You moaned as you made other noises that you had no idea you could even make. Before you could even come down Dean slipped out of you and was undoing the ropes.

“All fours. Now.” Was the command. Still a little dizzy, you comply wanting to see where this was going.

Upon getting on all fours dean was already behind you thrusting upwards at a new angle. Letting out a deep groan you dropped to your elbows and grabbed the sheets.

“Having that attitude all day really drove me nuts all day, y’know that? Now I get to fuck it out of you and I couldn’t be happier.” He said slapping your ass hard. You yelped and tried to go forward but his hands at the crease of your hip and thigh bone wouldn’t let you.

“Your not going nowhere. Your gonna sit here and let me breed you like a good little slut.” You couldn’t deny hearing those words made the sex ten times hotter. When you leaned your head back to moan deans hand was there to grab you by your hair and continue fucking your pussy until you exploded.

Pulling your hair was the final step in your third and final orgasm. Pulling away slightly at the overstimulation Dean speeds up, chasing his own climax. With one last grunt Dean came spilling into you with force.

“Oh God,” you shuddered, suddenly very cold. Goosebumps lining your skin, you get off the bed leaving Dean to fend for himself.

After you cleaned up you got back in bed with Dean. “Did you really mean what you said? Do you really want kids with me?” You asked as you lifted up the covers where Dean currently resided.

“Well yeah, I’d also like to put a ring on your finger too whenever you’ll let me.” Dean said shyly playing with the edging on the covers.

You quietly smiled and kissed Dean as you settled down. “I love you, and I want to marry you. But kids are out for a while. At least until I’m sure one of us isn’t going to end up dead with the shit we deal with on the daily. I won’t put another generation of kids what we went through. I just won’t.”

Although Dean was disappointed, he understood. His childhood sucked and he’d do anything to make sure that his kid didn’t live the same life.

“But we can still practice though, right?” Dean asked cheekily. You laughed, “yes Dean we can still practice.”

You both chuckled when you heard a voice booming from the kitchen, “Dean, where is all the beer?!” It was Sam.

“You were kidding though about the beer weren’t you?” He asked and you laughed harder.

“No, I wasn’t. I was committed. I really dumped all the alcohol in the house. Sam will understand given his healthy lifestyle.” Dean groaned and sunk into the mattress. You were still cracking up at the whole situation now that you felt better after your release.

[lyonnerileyauthor]

hitting your writing goals

I've been getting a lot of asks lately about how I write, so I wanted to put it all in one post.

this was my writing history for Five Gifts for the Blacksmith's Wife.

it helps IMMENSELY when I go into a book with a Tumblr short to use as my outline. it gives me a sense of the mood, the characters, the central conflict, everything I need.

I rarely use outlines because most of the time, I have that base to work with. the other thing I do is WRITE A BLURB. write out what it would sound like if you were pitching someone your book.

here's the blurb for Five Gifts:

When her village faces a winter of starvation, Sita draws the shortest straw. Now she’s to be given to the orcs across the river in exchange for food and supplies so her family can survive. Given the chance to choose her own husband from among the eligible orc bachelors, she selects Gurrek, the reluctant blacksmith, who clearly doesn’t want her. He’s the safest option. Gurrek has always wanted a wife of his own, but not like this. Now he’s saddled with a human woman who needs new shoes, new clothes, and can’t even speak his language. He wants nothing to do with her, and yet her sweet, strong personality draws him in closer with every passing day. As Sita and Gurrek try to find a place to fit within each other’s lives, attraction begins to bloom between them. But Gurrek refuses to touch a woman who never wanted to be his in the first place. Can Sita break through the blacksmith’s high walls to become his true wife, mind, body, and soul?

boom! you know where it starts, what the central conflict is, and the question leading into the second half of the book. then I usually have a separate doc called "third act" where I work out what the climax and resolution will look like. this is sometimes when I'll write another little short to capture the tone and vibe of the climax.

okay so the writing part.

you can't wait for your muse to come to you. the more you wait, the less she visits. you have to go out there and chase that bitch down.

I show up almost every day to write. (I do take off days, usually to do admin or make videos.) I just eke out what words I can, even if it sucks ass. eventually, if you really just muscle it, let yourself get EXCITED about the characters and the story you want to tell, the words will start coming. but you can't do it if you don't show up.

I've also trained my brain in some very specific ways. making coffee is my "start" button. when I make coffee and sit down at the desk, I've trained my brain to say "okay writing time." I always make the coffee, then open the doc and write. no exceptions. it took a while to build the habit but now it's like pavlovian. sit down with coffee, write book. I've also adapted this to having a bubbly water or tea at night.

rolling the ball downhill

the goal is to get the ball rolling so the book starts writing itself. you know that feeling, the ZONE, where you know what's going to happen and it just streams out of you.

I use something I call the but-therefore method. stg learned it from a video by the South Park guys.

if you're reading your outline aloud to yourself and you say, "and then this happens," I often find myself running into that and being like "but what?"

every step in the outline should be a but or a therefore. the blacksmith wants a wife, but not this one (a human wife). therefore, he's mean to her because he wanted an orc wife. but, he finds himself growing fond of her because she tries so hard. therefore, he wants to court her. etc etc

this gets me out of all KINDS of pickles. when I run into a roadblock I just try to think of 1) what could get in the way of where they're headed or what they want, 2) what consequences it could have. good time to think about what your character's buttons are and what would push them.

setting goals

goals really help me push through when it's hard. I know it CAN be easy so it's like, how do I find the stream that I can get swept off in? you gotta hunt and hunt around for it sometimes and there are days when I never get into the zone.

I set a range for my daily goal, like 2500-5000. if I do 2500, that's fine, I can set it aside for the day. if I do 5000, keep pushing if I want but that's a good place to stop. I find that by 2000 words is when I know whether it's going to be a good writing day or a bad writing day. bad writing day, i can stop at 2500 and be happy. good writing day (especially toward the end of a book when the dominoes are falling over) I can get up to 8k, but I try not to do that anymore because it turns my brain to mush.

ok that's all for now I hope this was helpful :)

[solar-wing]

okay, just so you guys know...

I'm still working on Shadowing Nightwing. Just making edits and doing my best to tone down the length because it's well over 40k words and I–... I just can't.

Also, I'm trying to make sure that it's good and spicy enough for what y'all are expecting, but also something that won't get taken down on patreon, tumblr, etc. the literal second it's up—because again, it's spicy. Honestly, what I might end up doing is posting the first part of it, and then doing what I did with 'One Kent Was Enough,' linking the rest of the story to AO3 cause I'm tired of having to jump through hoops and loops with these platforms.

like Patreon is taking forever to "review" and put back one of my stories for "violating" community guidelines. And don't even get me started with Tumblr and their nonsense because I just saw one of my mutuals get his post hidden on here due to "explicit sexual content" that was "outside" of user guidelines.

and the crazy part is, his fic was under 1,500 words and was nowhere near as bad as some of the fem!reader content I've seen on here. Like I know I keep ranting about this (and I'll damn sure continue to), but I'm so sick of the bias against m!reader content, especially when it's explicit.

We already get a bunch of fem readers getting mad at us for not wanting to write content that includes them even when we explicitly state that we are m!reader authors and only write for male or gen!neutral readers. Then, the content we do write for our audience always ends up getting flagged or taken down for being outside of user guidelines, when it's barely anything bad.

Like the amount of abduction, non-con/CNC that could be considered borderline grape without the g, coercion, manipulation, Stockholm Syndrome, YANDERE, etc. f!reader fics I've read on this platform and others that have no warnings, flags, or shadowbans from what I can tell is truly something ridiculous. Matter of fact, they'll literally have the most likes, reblogs, and engagement I've ever seen. But, our male reader fics get flagged for using the word bussy instead of pussy...I'm not even joking.

but, I digress.

ANYWAY, with all that being said, once Shadowing Nightwing is posted, I'm gonna take a break away from smut and Omegaverse fics for a minute only because trying to do that specific stuff has started to feel more like a job than something I enjoy and have fun with, and I don't want to burn myself out or give y'all content that I'm not proud of or feel like it's half-assed.

Plus, I'll be honest, this past week has been really hard mentally, emotionally, and creatively for me given the results of this election, I can't even say I'm surprised, but I can damn well say I'm pissed off. Like, I can barely write without sitting there thinking about the fact that this orange peel of a FELON AND THUG—yeah I said it for you sibling and cousin fucking, buck-tooth, bobblehead, ding-dong, dropped ON your heads, mindless little minions—ahem—I mean, conservatives (if conservative means conversing brain cells that is) and his adult sid phillips looking ass v.p. cheated like someone trapped in a room with all their favorite foods while being on a diet, or more than half this country is really that stupid.

keep in mind, we're talking about a country with a lacking education system paired with a population of *checks note* sibling and cousin fucking, buck-tooth, bobblehead, DING-DONG, SLAMMED on their heads, mindless little minion bitches—AHEM—conservatives so that last part really wouldn't be surprising.

but again, I digress.

Shadowing Nightwing will be out soon, and we'll be returning to some PG-13 content for some time until I can wrap my head around this—or find the cheapest and quickest flight to Saturn—whichever comes first.

anyways, pls stay safe out there guys in these next four years, especially my minorities out there WHO VOTED FOR KAMALA AND TIM. If you voted third-party, didn't vote, or voted for the felon and adult sid phillips, I PRAY you get everything you voted for 😉. no seriously, I'm really rooting for you 😊

MWAH 😘 kisses, bitches 💛

to the rest of my lovelies, I love you all, stay safe and shine bright, and I'll be here soon with Shadowing Nightwing (that is if I haven't found a direct flight to Saturn first...fingers crossed🤞🏽)

[skydigiblogs]

okay i slept on it and i think the summary of what i feel was wrong with tri really is "this is misery porn"

like, of all the new characters introduced (daigo, himekawa, meiko, meicoomon), all of them needlessly suffer to a degree the legacy cast isn't really allowed to feel (at least not genuinely to me, since we know the epilogue is canon--- the fakeout in movie 5 never could have worked)

and like, by the end of the movies literally only one of them is left alive because the others all die horrible, horrible deaths???

i don't necessarily need all of them to survive, but i do think that their deaths feel cheap, narratively speaking, and compounded with tri's obsession with mentioning other things without entirely thinking about the consequences (yggdrasil, apocalymon, the dark masters, the four holy beasts, the quantum sea, reboots in general, oh look it's the digimon emperor!, etc.), it makes the experience feel a lot less pleasant to rewatch.

i do recall enjoying tri when it was coming out, but that was as it was coming out. the fact it doesn't hold up when you know what happens is frustrating to me.

ouagh, anyways, i think i'm almost done talking about tri, but i did try to go into the tag and look for any previously existing commentary. i could not find any that easily (tumblr really gets mad at you when you scroll past so many gifs), so if you're someone who likes tri in any way, i'm inviting you to come into my ask box or reblog this post with things you did like about tri that i may have missed.

i did enjoy enough of tri that i really want to hear what folks who like it saw in the movies. while a lot of my liveblogs were bitching about the movies, it's a lot easier to verbally complain about things that frustrate me than it is for me to vocalize the lots of little things that i did like about tri.

i know i vocalized how much i enjoyed izzy and sora's characterization in loss, but i barely spoke any about the second and third movies (i think? idk i literally just sat down and enjoyed those two movies for the most part) because i was too busy just enjoying the silly shenanigans. the school festival and hot spring stuff may come across as "filler" (air quotes because genuinely what the fuck does that mean these days?), and maybe they could have better spent that time fleshing out parts of the plot that they really should have let bake a little longer, but also??? if we didn't have those scenes, idk if i would have been so fucking pissed about the hand bandai dealt meiko and meicoomon.

[gayashelljatp]

Prince Charming x James Hook | Trophy Boy ChapteR

Tags :Sorta Enemies to Lovers Fake/Pretend Relationship Not Canon Compliant, Inspired by Cinderella (1997), I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Prince Charming is a Bi-King, Prince Charming Is Filipino, Because the actor is and I also am one so yeah, Prince Charming gets a lot of bitches but no love, Merlin Academy (Disney), James Hook is gay, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, I don't know how to tag in this fandom, No Beta Like Not Going To Castlecoming

Summary:

Charming had himself caught up in a pretty little lie, telling his parents he had a date for his birthday ball. Desperate to stop their meddling in his love life, he came up with a plan: show up with someone who’d make the court gasp—a notorious pirate at school, James Hook. It was supposed to be a quick fix: fake a romance, cause a stir, and be free from the royal matchmakers forever. But the more time Charming spent with Hook—as a person, the sharp banter—the more complicated things got. This wasn’t just about pretending anymore. He was starting to get hooked. Or The sorta enemies to fake dating to lovers between Hook and Charming no one asked for.

Content Rating: Teen and Up.

Wordcount: 5,931

Notes (Same On AO3):

Hi, I'm Ace. But I'm here posting and writing more gay shit for the Descendants fandom.

I'm one for a crack ship and these two don't even interact in the movie so you may be wondering what made me do this. Three things actually:

I'm in the Descendants editing community and I saw this edit by @jewishvarian. Hook's actor Josh pretty much showing his support to this ship has made we want to do this.

The second inspiration is Once Upon A Time ship Captain Charming my sister had a Once Upon A Time phase so I know quite a bit about them. The third thing the catalyst for this is the fanfic Stage Call by Montythecrow. (The first chapter is really good can't wait for more. Also R.I.P. DBD I never got to make a DBD fic before it got cancelled *sighs in JATP*)

Let's do some housekeeping and explain the lore because this fic grabs from fifty million things.

- The Brandy Cinderella movie or Rodgers & Hammerstein's Cinderella (1997) as it's also known are major inspirations. I pulled the characterization of Charming from this film and the new Descendants film and I pulled the whole of Charming's parents and his butler Lionel from this movie. (Pls watch this movie. It's really fun, campy and entertaining.)

- I also took from various Prince Charming media from Cinderella movies from Disney to non-Disney. Charming (2018)'s Trophy Boy by Avril Lavigne, Ashely Tisdale and G.E.M. is where the title of this fic comes from. It's a bad movie but this song is legendary and pop perfection. A K-pop star, a Disney star, and a rock star all in one song is crazy.

- This fic has multiple POV's for Charming focused parts 👑 emojis are used on the other hook if it's James it's this emoji 🪝.

- Finally, this isn't a GayashellJATP fic without a playlist of songs I have on that help immerse you in the universe. Spotify playlist here!!!

Now that we are done with some housekeeping. Enjoy the fic & Remember to give feedback!!! It is always appreciated.

Notes (Tumblr):

I'm trying to do better on posting on here and being on time. With being a cross platform author. I still don't know how Tumblr works pls help me. Once again I suggest you read on AO3 my formatting is way better on that.

Chapter 1: Before The Ball

👑

Charming was so screwed.

He'd been excused from class by royal summons, which only meant one of two things: either bad news or... well, worse news. Lionel, the family’s loyal servant and his assigned guardian at the academy, was jittery, practically fidgeting as he escorted the skateboarding teen to the castle. 

Lionel’s nervousness only heightened Charming's suspicion—did he tattle on him sneaking out of the academy for a late-night date? Again? Or worse—had he forgotten some royal obligation that would now come back to bite him?

Despite the comfortable life he'd been born into, Charming had a talent for getting into situations that made it... uncomfortable. Usually of his own making.

The moment they arrived at the vast, gilded throne room, the knot in his stomach twisted tighter. His mother stood. Not good. Queen Constantina only stood when something serious—truly serious—was about to be discussed. Lionel cleared his throat and began the ceremonial introduction. 

“Your Royal Highness, Prince Charming—”

The Queen interrupted with a sharp glance. “Prince Christopher Rupert Windermere Vladimir—”

“Mom,” Charming sighed, cutting Lionel off. “He doesn’t have to say it every time.” The poor man practically bowed in relief when Charming gestured for him to be seated. The full name was ridiculously wordy, one of the many reasons why "Prince Charming" stuck much more easily.

“Son, you didn’t need to dismiss him,” King Maximilian spoke up from beside the queen, kissing his wife’s hand. Charming had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. 

His parents were constantly doing that—displaying affection as if they were still teenagers in love. Any love hater would have gagged, but Charming simply tried to suppress a smirk. Even he couldn't deny they were a good match, for better or worse.

“Mom. Dad. What is it this time?” Charming asked, his voice strained but trying not to sound too impatient.

“Watch your tone, Junior,” his father said, though not harshly.

Charming forced a deep breath. “Fine. What’s the big news?” he said, layering on enthusiasm that was just short of sarcasm.

The Queen exchanged a meaningful glance with her husband before turning to her son, her posture regal and dramatic all at once. "Your eighteenth birthday in two days."

“I thought—” his father began, but a sharp elbow from his wife stopped him. “We thought it would be appropriate to throw a birthday ball.”

Charming's heart sank. "A ball?" His voice came out strained. "Father, is that really necessary?"

Queen Constantina's eyes glistened with an air of theatrics as she responded, “You haven’t shown any of your potential picks for marriage. You are two years overdue for at least a partner!” Her voice hitched as though it were a tragedy in itself.

Charming had tried, of course. He'd gone on more first dates than he cared to count, but none had led to anything serious. His royal reputation for being “charming” only went so far, especially when he wasn’t charmed by anyone.

“I’m working on it,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “But Mom, I don’t think a ball for my birthday is necessary.”

“Necessary?” His mother’s voice shot up an octave, her hand flying dramatically to her chest as if she were about to swoon. “Is it necessary that I should die knowing my only son will be a lonely king?!”

Charming’s eyes widened. “Mom, please. You’re not going to—"

“I might!” she countered, her voice trembling as if the mere thought of his supposed future loneliness was too much to bear. “The idea of you being all alone without a wife or family—oh! How tragic it would be!”

Charming rubbed the back of his neck, suppressing a groan. He loved his mom, truly, but sometimes her dramatics were... a lot. “Okay, fine. I get it. But… I have someone. Already. A partner.”

The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to think them through. His heart nearly stopped as both his parents' faces lit up.

“You do?!” his father exclaimed, clapping his hands together in glee.

The Queen looked like she was about to burst into tears of joy. “Oh, my darling boy! You’ve found someone! You’ve—”

Charming quickly nodded, feeling his stomach churn with regret. “Yep. Found someone. Really great.”

His father beamed. “That’s fantastic news, son! We were beginning to wonder if you'd ever—"

“But the ball,” Queen Constantina interjected with a flourish of her hand. “The ball must still happen! After all, it’s been paid for, and all the preparations have already been made.”

Charming’s shoulders slumped. “Of course it has…”

His mother took his hands, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, darling, I can’t wait to meet this special someone of yours. Bring her to the ball!”

"Yeah. Absolutely," Charming forced a grin, though inside, his mind raced. He was so, so screwed. Not only was the ball happening no matter what, but now he had to show up with a date—someone bad enough to stop his parents from meddling in his love life ever again.

Where on Earth was he going to find that?

👑

Charming zoomed through the academy gates on his skateboard, the wind whipping through his hair as his thoughts churned. Why had he lied? It gnawed at him, the weight of a falsehood pressing on his conscience. Lies weren’t really his thing. Now, he’d have to turn that lie into reality, or it would eat him alive.

As he skated through the courtyard, his gaze caught Fay, a fairy in training and his hexalogy class partner, sitting cross-legged on the grass, her nose buried in a spellbook. She was mumbling under her breath, waving her wand with exaggerated movements as sparks of magic fizzled in the air. 

“Hey, Fay,” he called, slowing down as he rolled over.

Fay glanced up, her wide eyes narrowing with playful frustration. “Charming, where were you?” she asked, tapping her wand against her open book. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to hex yourself and then unhex yourself without your partner? I nearly turned myself into a frog!”

“Royal duties,” Charming shrugged, offering an apologetic smile.

Fay’s expression softened immediately. She knew all too well the burden his title carried. “What did the queen say this time?” she asked, her tone light but sympathetic.

Charming rubbed the back of his neck. “We’re throwing another ball.”

Fay’s face lit up. “A ball? Isn’t that fantastic—” she paused, noticing the scowl creeping over Charming's face, “—ally… impossible to enjoy?” She attempted to course-correct, her enthusiasm dimming as she realized how much the idea clearly weighed on him. Fay wasn’t the best at being negative, but she tried.

“But I’ll make it up to you. I’ll be there for the next class.”

“You better be,” Fay huffed, but her tone was forgiving. 

“The whole kingdom’s invited. Maybe I’ll catch you at the ball?”

“Nah, I doubt it. I’ll be here practicing my spells,” she said with a shy smile, already inching back toward her book. Fay wasn’t one for social events—she always seemed to vanish from them, though Charming never asked why. 

“Well, I’ll see you later,” Charming said, giving her a quick wave.

“Later, skater!” Fay called, attempting to sound cool, which earned a chuckle from Charming. She couldn’t help but laugh at herself as he rolled away.

But as Charming skated off, Fay accidentally mispronounced her next spell. Instead of reciting "double the bubbles," she muttered "double the wobbles" under her breath. Without realizing it, she had casted a spell on Charming’s skateboard, causing it to take on a life of its own. 

Charming, an experienced skater, didn’t notice anything at first. But as he glided past the group of notorious students hanging out by the courtyard's edge, the board beneath his feet began to wobble violently, as though possessed. 

His body lurched forward, trying to steady himself, but the board had other ideas. It veered, zigzagging uncontrollably, and before Charming could react, it shot straight toward a cluster of students.

In a blur of motion, Charming collided with none other than Captain James Hook—his pirate classmate, and perhaps the academy’s most infamous heartthrob after Charming himself. With a loud thud, both boys went crashing to the ground, Hook's shiny golden hook clattering against the stone courtyard as they tumbled in a tangle of limbs.

Charming groaned, disentangling himself. “I’m so sorry!” he blurted, scrambling to his feet. His skateboard had spun off and smacked into a nearby tree, finally bringing the spell to a halt.

Hook stood up slowly, glaring down at Charming with narrowed eyes. His gaze was sharp and menacing, but there was a flicker of something else—jealousy? Amusement? It was hard to tell. 

“You really are a royal asshole, aren’t you?” Hook growled, dusting off his crimson blazer. His voice dripped with venom, but there was something undeniably captivating about the way he spoke. “Gunning for me, were you?”

“No! No, I swear. I didn’t mean to—I lost control of the board.”

Hook didn’t seem convinced. He stepped closer, his imposing presence casting a shadow over Charming. “You were heading straight toward me, mate,” Hook said, his tone dangerously low. His golden hook gleamed as he pointed it directly at Charming’s perfect face. “That doesn’t seem like much of an accident.”

Charming’s heart pounded as his eyes flicked from Hook’s face to the hook hovering too close for comfort. He held up his hands in surrender, his voice calm and soothing. “Whoa, easy,” he said, gently grabbing Hook’s wrist and pushing the hook away from his face. For a brief second, his fingers brushed against Hook’s skin.

For just a moment, Charming couldn’t help but notice Hook. The sharp features, the dark, windswept hair, the way his crimson blazer framed his broad shoulders. And those eyes—intense, narrowed in suspicion, but undeniably alluring. 

Charming blinked, snapping out of it. He was in trouble, not admiring the guy who was about to gut him like a fish.

Hook, however, seemed to notice Charming’s lingering gaze. His eyes flashed with something almost wild, and a wicked smirk curled on his lips. “What’s the matter, Prince? Distracted?”

“Uh, no. Not at all. Just… don’t want to get impaled, that’s all.”

Hook raised an eyebrow, amused but not backing down. “Right.” He clicked his tongue, his hook gleaming in the sunlight as he let it fall to his side. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today. Or else…” He let the threat hang in the air, his eyes still burning into Charming’s.

“Right, yeah. Lucky,” Charming muttered, his pulse still racing. He wasn’t sure if it was from the near-death experience or the fact that Hook was standing way too close. He hadn’t expected Hook to be so—well, so much. Why was he noticing that now?

Hook’s smirk lingered as he stepped back, finally giving Charming some space. “Try not to skate into any more of your classmates, mate. Especially not me or my crew got it?.” He turned, flipping his collar with an air of superiority, though there was a glint in his eye as he strode away. 

Charming watched him leave, shaking his head. Hook was dangerous—and not just because of the hook. There was something else there. Something he really needed to avoid.

But as he glanced back at his skateboard lying against the tree, the thought struck him: maybe, just maybe, Hook was exactly the kind of problem he needed. 

If he could bring Hook to the ball, that would surely get his parents off his back. Right? 

How would he ever get Hook to agree to that? He was really, really screwed.

🪝

Hook was seething. What a clueless little prince, he thought, his jaw clenched as he stormed through the academy's halls. Charming had to be the most oblivious royal he'd ever met. For someone so poised and charming, the prince had no idea how to navigate the real world. 

Not that Hook expected much more from royals—they were all so privileged, so sheltered, so painfully clueless. That’s what made them easy marks. Their money, their fine clothes, their trinkets—it was all just there for the taking, practically begging to be lifted.

But this? This was different. Hook’s pride was bruised more than anything. Charming had made him collide with the earth, of all things, and Hook wasn’t going to forgive the little prince for sullying his pristine, mint-condition vintage blazer. He cast a quick glance at the fabric—no visible damage, but that didn’t matter. The fact that it had touched the ground at all was an unforgivable offense. 

And worse, Hook knew his crew would never let him live this down if they found out. His reputation couldn’t take a hit like that, not when he had spent so much time cultivating it. He had to get his revenge. Teach the prince a lesson.

So, during storybook history class, Hook slipped out unnoticed. He snuck across the academy grounds to the royal dormitory— Full of one bed and customized rooms, unlike less privileged students. They weren’t allowed to deface their rooms and they had a roommate system. But Hook wasn’t complaining his roommate was pretty great.

But he wasn’t here to brood. No, he was here to act.

Charming’s dorm was up ahead, and Hook was relieved to see no sign of that bothersome butler Lionel. Of course, the little prince needs a servant to wait on him hand and foot, Hook thought, rolling his eyes. He always found it odd—off-putting, even—that Charming couldn’t go anywhere without a personal attendant. How soft and pampered could you get?

Hook approached Charming’s door, a sly grin spreading across his face. With a quick glance down the hallway, he slipped his golden hook into the lock, working it with practiced ease. Today, he was wearing his favorite hook—the golden one that added a touch of class to his ensemble. He’d have to be careful not to scratch it. The lock gave way with a soft click, and Hook pushed the door open, slipping inside.

The room smelled of expensive cologne, and everything was arranged perfectly. Typical royal. Hook sneered. He moved to the wardrobe, his eyes scanning the rows of pristine clothes. 

Charming had quite the collection—mostly royal-styled barongs and beige outfits, which made Hook wrinkle his nose. Beige? Ugh, he thought with disdain. Not his color at all. Where was the flair, the vibrancy? Not a single dark or deep color in sight. Charming had such a boring taste in clothes for someone so well-dressed.

Still, a theft was a theft. Hook rifled through the clothes, trying to find something worth taking. Surely the prince won’t miss a few pieces, he thought, tossing aside a particularly dull-looking beige tunic.

What Hook didn’t realize was how much time he’d spent browsing

But time had gotten away from him, and Hook hadn’t realized how long he’d been sifting through the prince’s belongings until he heard the unmistakable sound of the door opening behind him.

“Looking for something?” came a voice that was far too calm for Hook’s liking.

Hook froze, hand halfway through a drawer of silk cravats. Slowly, he turned around, his heart sinking as he locked eyes with Prince Charming standing in the doorway with a smirk, arms crossed over his chest. He hadn’t expected to get caught—he never got caught.

Hook blinked, trying to regain his composure. “Ah skater boy,” he began, straightening up and smoothing his jacket. “This… is not what it looks like.”

Charming raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Really? Because it looks like you’re in my room rifling through my wardrobe.”

Hook swallowed, his mind racing for an excuse. He’d been in tight spots before, but this? This was a mess. “I was, uh… inspecting your clothing choices. Offering a little… constructive criticism, you might say,” Hook replied, flashing a crooked grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He wasn’t used to feeling this off-kilter. “No offense, mate, but 50 shades of tan and beige? Really?”

Charming’s expression remained neutral, though there was a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. “And you thought breaking into my room was the best way to offer fashion advice?”

Before Hook could answer, Lionel appeared in the doorway, eyes wide as they flickered between the pirate and the prince. “Am I interrupting, sir? I didn’t expect a guest,” Lionel said, his voice a touch too polite, suspicion creeping in.

Charming, without losing his cool, glanced slightly over his shoulder at Lionel but didn’t shift his focus from Hook. “It’s fine, Lionel. Could you give us a moment?” His tone was dismissive but not unkind, the sort of royal command that left no room for argument.

"Of course, Your Highness," Lionel replied, a touch too formal as he bowed and quickly excused himself, but not without one last curious glance, probably wondering if he had just witnessed the beginnings of some lovers' quarrel. The door closed softly behind him.

The moment Lionel left, Hook let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He eyed Charming warily, wondering how much trouble he was in. He hated the feeling of being cornered, especially by a royal.

“So…” Hook began, his voice dripping with false confidence. “No need to make this a big deal, yeah? You’re not going to go crying to Merlin, are you?”

Charming’s lips curled into a small smile. “I’m not planning on it, no.”

Sweet relief washed over Hook, but it was short-lived as Charming took a step closer, his tone turning just a shade more serious. “But I can’t just let this slide either, can I?”

Hook swallowed, his bravado faltering for a moment. “I only did this after our little incident,” he blurted out, trying to regain control of the conversation. He gestured vaguely between them, referencing their earlier collision.

Charming tilted his head slightly, as if considering Hook’s words. “And you thought breaking into my room and raiding my wardrobe was the right way to even the score?”

Hook’s mind scrambled for a sweet escape. “Look you don’t need to turn me in,” he said, practically begging now.

Charming considered this for a moment, his gaze flicking over Hook’s disheveled form and the mess of clothes scattered around his room. Then, almost as if a thought occurred to him, his smile returned—this time, sharper. “Actually, I think I might have an idea. Meet me by the castleteria at dinner time.”

“A dinner? You’re not going to tell anyone about this?”

“No, not yet,” Charming replied, his voice smooth but tinged with mischief. “But if you don’t show up, then maybe we’ll reconsider the whole punishment thing.”

Hook’s stomach twisted. He hated feeling like he was at someone’s mercy, especially Charming’s. But something in the prince’s eyes told him this wasn’t just about revenge—it was about leverage. Hook didn’t know what Charming had in mind, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

Still, he nodded, trying to regain his bravado. “Alright, Prince. Dinner date it is.”

Charming smirked, stepping aside to let Hook pass.

Hook left the room, heart still pounding, cursing himself under his breath. He’d been caught, and now, somehow, he was in too deep.

🪝

“Hook, what bullshit did you get into?” Uliana’s voice cut through the room like a whip, her tone sharp with irritation as she lounged on Morgie’s bed, her tentacles subtly shifting.

The five of them were crammed into Hook and Morgie’s shared dorm room, a small space that felt even smaller with Uliana’s dramatic presence filling the air. Hook, on the other hand, was sprawled lazily across his bed, legs crossed like he had not a care in the world, but deep down, his stomach churned with unease. 

Hook glanced at Uliana, who was tapping her nails against her belt buckle.. “Relax, Uliana. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Is it a date?” Morgie piped up, his eyes wide with genuine curiosity as he fiddled with a piece of parchment,

Hook scoffed. “Really, wizard-oo? That’s your question?” The brunnete pirate shot back, but he didn’t quite meet Morgie’s gaze, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face. “It’s not a date, you idiot.”

“You didn’t deny it, Hook, so that means you’re going on a date with that royal eyesore,” Maleficent added with a sly smirk, reclining against the wall. She twirled a strand of dark hair between her fingers.

Hook sat up, trying to regain his composure, his golden hook glinting as he gestured wildly. “He’s got a little rebel streak in him, sure, but a date? With me?” Hook forced a laugh, but it came out a little too harsh. “He’s too soft for that.”

Hades, who had been lounging in the corner, arms folded and his fiery blue hair flickering lazily, chimed in with a smirk of his own. “I dunno, mate. You see those blue streaks he’s rocking these days? Kid’s got a little fire in him. You pick them well, James.”

What did the prince have in mind for him? Why had Charming asked him to meet at dinner? He was good at handling himself, but this was different. Royals had a way of twisting things to their advantage, and he wasn’t sure he’d come out on top this time.

Uliana’s tentacles flexed, her eyes narrowing. “This better not blow back on us, Hook. You get tangled up with that prince, and we’re all screwed. I’ve got enough on my plate without cleaning up your messes.”

Morgie, ever the optimist, gave Hook a hopeful smile. “Maybe it won’t be so bad? You two could, you know... find common ground?” He shrugged, completely oblivious to the heavy glares that Uliana shot his way.

Hook grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Trust me, I don’t belive in common ground I’m a pirate after all. The seas are what matter,” he muttered, but even as he said it, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that Charming wasn’t as simple as he’d like to believe. Whatever the prince had planned, Hook had no choice but to play along—for now.

👑

Lionel watched as Charming’s fencing movements faltered, his usual grace replaced by distracted, half-hearted parries. The clanging of their swords echoed through the gymnasium, but the prince’s mind was clearly somewhere else.

“Sir—I mean, Christopher, what’s the worry face for?” Lionel asked, lowering his sword slightly, his tone a mix of concern with playful scolding. “Your mother would say frowning is terrible for the face.”

Charming winced and laughed, “Ouch. Thanks for that reminder, Lionel.”

Lionel tilted his head, eyeing the prince with the same scrutiny one might give a misbehaving child. “Having love problems, are we?”

Charming hesitated mid-lunge. “Sorta… kinda... undetermined.” He shrugged, trying to mask the uncertainty in his voice with nonchalance.

“I’ll try to make sense of that, sir,” 

Charming straightened up, tossing his sword onto the nearby rack. “I do have a problem,” 

“And what may that be, Your Highness?”

“I lied to my parents,” Charming confessed, running a hand through his streaked hair. “I told them I had someone to bring them for the ball, but... I have no one.”

Lionel gasped theatrically, hand flying to his chest in mock horror. “Oh dear! The end of the world!” 

Charming grinned, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t panic. I’ve got it under control. I think…”

“Is that why there was a handsome pirate rummaging through your wardrobe this morning?” he asked with a pointed look. “Is he part of your grand plan?”

Charming blinked, caught off guard. “He’s not that handsome,” he blurted out, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them. Lionel’s amused smirk only deepened. Charming’s cheeks flushed. “I mean—he’s alright,” he backpedaled quickly, though Lionel’s knowing look said it all.

Lionel chuckled softly, tapping the flat of his sword against the ground. “What would your parents think of him, then? A pirate at the royal ball?”

“They did say every suitor in the kingdom that doesn’t exclude male or pirates. But they’d be terrified,” 

“And here I thought you were planning to bring a princess,” Lionel mused, shaking his head with fond exasperation.

“Well, ‘pirate’ does start with a P,” Charming quipped, unable to suppress his grin. “Might be close enough. Don’t ask for permission ask for forgiveness.”

“The ball’s happening no matter what, Christopher. Your parents are set on it,” Lionel reminded him, though there was no judgment in his voice. He was used to the prince’s antics by now.

Charming nodded, tossing his fencing jacket aside. “Yeah, well, might as well make it a little more exciting.” 

“If I’m going down, I’m going down singing.” The prince sang.

Lionel chuckled, stepping forward to ruffle the prince’s hair. “You’re always causing trouble. But… you're going to be fine, you always are.”

Charming laughed, a bit of the tension easing from his shoulders. “Thanks, Lionel.”

"Just... try not to start a royal scandal this time," 

"Can't make any promises," Charming shot back with a grin.

👑

The night had settled over Merlin Academy, and the castleteria was buzzing. On the lower level, students from various backgrounds sat together, some attempting to eat in peace while others whispered and laughed in tight-knit groups.

The second level, however, was a different story entirely—a separate, glass-enclosed space designed for royal students, a consequence of the infamous "Ariel incident" from freshman year. Uliana, the sea witch, had stirred up a food fight with the sophomore Little Mermaid herself,  (A girl her older sister bullied aswell)

which ended with food flying and a lot of egos bruised. Now, extra security stood guard, and Charming hated it.

It drained his social battery to be so isolated. He used to enjoy mingling, making polite conversation with his peers, but now he found himself perched in this sterile room, looking down at the rest of the academy through the glass window like he was in some kind of fishbowl. 

It didn’t help that Lionel, who usually provided some form of company, was off handling royal duties whenever it was mealtime. So Charming sat alone, poking at his food, waiting.

Well, not exactly alone. He was expecting someone. Or rather, a pirate . The word "victim" had crossed his mind, but that sounded too cruel, and blackmailee was just unpleasant. So, pirate it was.

Charming’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a scuffle outside the door. Voices—loud, irritated voices—drifted in, and he didn’t need to guess who it was.

“Let go of me! Easy on the coat!” came the familiar accent, sharp and indignant.

The guards were clearly manhandling Hook. Charming sighed, standing up from his seat and making his way to the door. He opened it just in time to see one of the guards tugging on Hook’s crimson coat, and Hook, true to form, looking royally pissed off.

“Stop it!” Charming barked, a little more forcefully than usual. “Let him go. He's with me.”

The two guards immediately released Hook, straightening up as they realized their mistake. One of them, the taller one with a stern face, glanced at Charming apologetically. “Apologies, Your Highness. We didn’t know he was—”

“Yeah, clearly,” Hook cut in, brushing off his coat like he’d just been dragged through the mud. “A real fine welcome, I must say.”

The other guard, younger and more nervous, muttered, “We thought he might’ve been here to, uh… cause trouble, Your Highness.”

Charming sighed, rubbing his temples. “He’s not here to cause trouble. I invited him.” He shot a look at Hook. “Sorry about the mix-up.”

Hook crossed his arms, glaring at the guards. “Way to go, Prince. You invite me, then forget to tell your people I’m coming. Real nice lad, aren’t you?”

Charming gave him a sheepish look, stepping forward and placing a hand on Hook’s shoulder—more of a placating gesture than anything. “I said I was sorry.”

Hook immediately shrugged off his hand, the familiar click of his hook against Charming's wrist. “Easy on the coat. You and your lot have already helped it deteriorate faster than it should.”

“Shall we?” he said, gesturing toward the table.

Hook huffed in response but said nothing, striding past the prince and into the dining area. His eyes scanned the lavish room, taking in the gleaming chandeliers, the velvet-lined chairs, and the royal setup. For a moment, Charming saw a flicker of appreciation cross his face—just for a second—before Hook’s usual facade of nonchalance slipped back into place.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Hook said, though the casual tone didn’t quite match the look in his eyes. “Bit excessive for a meal, don’t you think?”

Charming smirked, crossing his arms as he followed Hook inside. He could see through the pirate’s act. “If it hadn’t been for that food fight with Ariel and your friend during freshman year, none of this would’ve happened.”

“Yeah, well, she was pretty awesome for that.”

Charming rolled his eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Right. Let’s just sit and eat before you start a revolution in here too.”

They settled into their seats, a tense silence hanging between them. Charming could feel the weight of Hook’s gaze, sharp and calculating. This wasn’t some casual dinner. Both of them knew it, even if neither wanted to admit it.

The dinner had been silent for too long. Hook, never one to let tension sit without poking at it, decided to break it “So, what are your intentions, Your Highness? You’re a popular bloke around here. Getting lonely?”

Charming’s fork paused mid-air before he set it down, carefully. “I have friends.” His mind flickered to Aladdin and Jasmine, who often joined him for meals, bringing stories of their magic carpets adventures.

Then there were Ella and Bridget, after the two got together they always found time to drop by with baked treats—often enchanted with strange, unpredictable side effects, like turning his hair fully blue or making him float for a few minutes. 

Zelly, ever the life of the party, would bring her chameleon Pascal, and they’d all end up doing karaoke. After all, the royal dining area inexplicably had a karaoke machine tucked in the corner.

“So it’s not loneliness or complete boredom, why have me here?” Hook pressed.

Charming hesitated, trying to maintain a mysterious air. He knew Hook was too clever to show his cards too early. “I have something to ask,” was all he said, keeping his tone casual.

Hook leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips as he lounged in the velvet chair, clearly amused by the prince’s attempt at suspense. “What’s this all about, then? A royal invitation for little old me? You're not planning on throwing me in the dungeons after dessert, are you?”

Charming chuckled, though there was a hint of nervousness behind it. “No dungeons. Just… an arrangement.” He felt Hook’s guard go up instantly, the pirate’s smirk hardening into something more defensive.

“Arrangement?” Hook’s brow arched in mock curiosity, though there was no mistaking the sharpness in his tone. “What sort of arrangement would a prince want from moi ?”

“I need you to be my date,” Charming said, the words slipping out before he could fully gather his nerve. He paused, seeing Hook’s expression shift, and hurried to clarify, “Not in the traditional sense.”

Hook’s face didn’t change much. He leaned in slightly, his gaze sharp, like he was toying with a fish on a hook. “You went to so much trouble to impress me,” Hook said with snobbish amusement, “I’m flattered, but you’re not my type.”

Charming felt his face flush but pushed on. “My parents are throwing me this stupid ball, and I hate it. It’s all about me, and I just—” He suddenly found himself unraveling, words tumbling out in a rush. “I blurted out that I had a date, thinking it would stop them from pressuring me, but now it’s just worse, and I don’t know how to—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold your horses, Prince,” Hook interrupted with a bemused smirk, holding up his hand. “That’s a lot of whining for me.”

Charming blinked, startled by Hook’s bluntness. Somehow, those few words snapped him out of his spiraling rant. He let out an embarrassed laugh, the tension easing from his shoulders. For a second, he found himself thinking Hook looked oddly…kinda hot. 

The pirate, for all his snark, had an air of control about him that made Charming’s stomach twist in a way he didn’t quite understand.

But Hook was getting up, clearly looking like he was about to leave. He couldn’t let him just walk out, not after coming this far. Desperation flickered in his chest, and he scrambled for a last-ditch effort.

“Wait!” Charming stood quickly, his hand brushing against Hook’s arm as he reached out. “I haven’t told you the benefits yet.”

Hook paused, turning halfway with a knowing gleam in his eyes. “Alright. I’m listening.”

Charming exhaled, thinking quickly. “You’ll get lots of opportunities being seen with me. The ball is in two days. You won’t have to pretend for long. You’ll get to live lavishly, and you don’t have to worry about me telling anyone about your… thieving incident.”

Hook’s eyes flickered, but instead of biting, he turned fully away, stepping toward the door. Charming felt his heart sink. He'd blown it. This was going to be harder than he thought—time for Plan B, whatever that was.

Then, Hook stopped, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk that made Charming’s pulse quicken. “I’ll do it.”

“What?” 

“I said I’ll do it,” Hook repeated, turning fully now, his expression unreadable. “I’ll be your boyfriend. For rent, of course.”

Charming bristled slightly. “That doesn’t sound very nice.”

“Well, that’s the reality, babe,” Hook teased, the last word slipping off his tongue like a taunt. The prince stiffened at the word. He didn’t like the way it sounded coming from Hook’s mouth. Or maybe he liked it too much, and that was the problem.

“Fine, we’ll talk tomorrow, lay down the ground rules. We can discuss everything over breakfast.”

“Blah, blah, so boring. You don’t need so many pleasantries to fake-date me, you know. We’re not writing a treaty.”

Charming stepped closer, his face inching into Hook’s space. “I’ll pick you up in the morning. We’ll discuss the plan then.”

Hook gave him a mocking grin, eyes flicking down between them before meeting Charming’s gaze again. “You just love a good scheme and a meal, don’t you? That’s pathetic—and kinda cute, actually.”

Something inside Charming snapped at that last line. “Who are you calling pathetic?” he growled, stepping even closer until they were face to face.

Hook’s eyes danced with amusement, but there was something else beneath the surface, something unreadable. For a brief moment, they stood there in awkward silence, close enough to feel each other’s breaths, their hands grazing.

The bell rang suddenly, cutting through the moment and pulling them back to reality. Charming took a step back, clearing his throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asked, his princely demeanor slipping back into place, though his voice was quieter than before.

Hook smirked, already slipping toward the door. “You know where to find me, Your Highness .”

Charming was still screwed how was he going to pull this sham? But he did make some progress he just hoped the pirate didn’t cause too much trouble.

👑

Notes:

Hope you enjoy the fic & Remember to give feedback!!! It is always appreciated. The fate of this fic is in y'alls hands its up to all of you whether this continues. (And if you reading this on tumblr. Thank you so much for giving this a read.)   Request go here on my tumblr.

[cheshire-castle-library]

The op who made that "wahh why isn't fandom fun anymore" post LITERALLY maintags their hate lol, they've done it for ATLA characters and ATSV characters among others. It's so embarrassing.

See this is why I don't participate in many fandoms.

Honestly, everyone is a little blind about themselves once in a while. And you and I are no exception. I'm not in the business of checking into every op on every post on this website. I have like,,, a job and shit. I don't have time for that.

OP can be right and still mess up. OP might just have unpopular opinions that you don't like, and are assuming malice where there isn't any. I don't know, and I'm not here to put that OP on the coroner's table. All I can do is reply to you.

People are allowed to have opinions. People are allowed to share their opinions in fandom space (which is the main tag, I can send you scientific papers that explain this). People are allowed to have unpopular opinions, Publicly, and SHARE THEM. What they are not supposed to do, is lord those opinions over others and use them to hurt people.

What I was agreeing with when I peer reviewed those tags was when people vent into main tags, or frankly this kind of thing? Like, when people can't stay in their lane and have to make a "judgement call" on other people? Or when people are just straight up resentful of a character or fandom, and so they like spit vinegar at everyone over it? I don't know anything about the person you are talking about, and I don't plan to look for it, but unless they're literally pointing fingers and calling people evil for liking 'unlikable' characters, I doubt it's as serious as you're concerned it is.

Like for example, I don't like Twilight. I don't personally find it interesting. I've never read it, but my friends were really into it when it came out, and what I heard of it didn't like... sound fun to me at all. There was a while in my life when I was a little bitch about that, and I'd like make fun of Twilight and I didn't think about how that might upset my friends, and it absolutely never crossed my mind to try and read it and like idk trust my friends to have good taste?

So I try to be better now that I look back on that and see how much of a tool I was. Twilight has stuff in it that's unique. It has stuff in it that's silly and melodramatic too, but its pulp and it explores some interesting themes of romance and "otherness" and age and mental health and stuff like that. So I understand that it appeals to people and it has value, regardless of whether I personally find or make use of that value.

But if I were on tumblr in 8th grade when it came out, I 100% would have been maintagging Twilight hate memes, because I was just kinda tonedef and dumb. That's being a kid. But being a kid doesn't excuse the hurt it causes.

And that is what I think people need to be careful about. Not making fun of things they don't like. Not hurting people for no damn reason, when it would be healthier for everyone to just not interact in the first place.

So also like... this anon message you sent counts as that same thing. Sending an anonymous message (so there's no accountability for what you say) to someone over the character of a third party is not a responsible way to act, and innately causes drama and stress. The OP has nothing to do with me. I have nothing to do with them. I literally don't even know their URL, and I don't plan to go looking for it. Because I know how to stay in my lane and not go looking for drama. That's an important part of adulthood, is choosing your battles. Choosing what to spend your energy on, and not looking to cause problems for yourself and others where it's not absolutely necessary.

For instance, I'm choosing to reply to this, because I think there's something important I can share about my long years in fandom with not just you, but the rest of Tumblr as a whole. I also can take this time to clarify something that obviously wasn't as intuitive as I assumed it was.

Anon, I don't know why you sent this. I don't know whether your intent was out of innocence, whether you were cross with me for some reason, or some secret third thing that I can't fathom. But if you'd like to talk about it more, my dm's are open to everyone. I won't keep replying to anon's, because that's just going to gum up my followers and friends' dashboards; but I'd be more than happy to have a one on one conversation about what you are concerned about, and your fandom experiences, and mine and how fandom has changed over the years.

This type of message isn't very effective at communicating problems.

The best possible outcome of the message you sent me is me not taking it personally as an attack or judgement, and either replying like I am here with civil and clear communication, or me just deleting it and going on with my day. Which, isn't much of a positive impact. The worst possible outcome is you hurt me badly, trigger past traumas, scare me or cow me from ever voicing my opinion again, and cause me to cut myself out of fandom again. Which has happened to me, and enough that I only interact with precious few fandoms as it stands - something you should already know since I mentioned it in the tags of the post we're talking about.

So again, please DM me if you want to talk about this or have other concerns you need help working through. But hiding behind anon and not fully explaining yourself doesn't give me a lot to go on. I just don't know what your intent is, and I'm not going to bend myself into funny shapes trying to guess.

In all honesty, the words you wrote kind of feel like you want me to feel embarrassed about OP or about agreeing with OP or about something I did? And if not, you are asking me to agree to throw a stranger that I don't know and have no interactions with under the bus to validate your opinion.

This sort of thing is why its hard to exist in fandom spaces. This is "big brother" behavior, and turns fandom into a police state. Pointing fingers only makes people retaliate, it doesn't help fandom heal or grow.

That is what people need to stop themselves from doing.

[clatoera]

Picket Fence is Sharp as Knives Chapter 7: They Got No Idea About Me And You

Heyyyy Besties. Long time no see. March was rough. It's been rough. But tell a friend to tell a friend she's baaack.

Title from t swift Dress. I almost used a chappell roan lyric but I have committed so hard to the t swift bit I couldnt do it.

ao3

masterpost

It is the long awaited cashbaria chapter, featuring a scene of them during the 74th games and then a post war follow up of them! I specifically need to mention and notice my friends @bodyelectric77my go to cashbaria queen and @kentwells who has had MANY many conversations about these things with me. They write the Cashbaria that I read so please check them both out!!! I don't think @ohhowwehavefallen even uses tumblr anymore but at this point she gets tagged in any post I make ever so..hello bestie.

I am not a cashbaria writer and I hope I did them justice in this fic. It was a LOT of fun. I had wanted to get it up earlier this week for Sapphic Visibility day along with @bodyelectric77 because it's funny they have similar vibes of sapphics being blatantly visible but the people closest to them being absolutely oblivious. Thank you my friend, you're incredible, your writing inspires me.

Alright. Lets rock this bitch.

“Mmm…think they’ve noticed yet?”  

As the voice comes from behind her, Enobaria can’t help the coy smile that etches it’s way on to her face. She doesn’t even need to turn to face the source, as she is hit with the combined smell of vanilla and honey and something floral that is just uniquely Cashmere. If the scent alone weren’t enough, the flurry of blonde curls that leak over her upper arm as a familiar face rests on her shoulder, with lithe hands wrapping around her waist would be the dead giveaway that it is her girlfriend. 

Well, her girlfriend, or someone with a very creative death wish.

“Noticed what? That they’re trying to fit four people on a couch made to fit two?” Enobaria muses, bringing her hand up to rest her fingertips along Cashmere’s cheek bone. “I know Cato thinks he needs to live inside of Clove, but it’s a little nauseating to watch.”

It isn’t even Enobaria’s style, this blatant display of hands-on skin and kisses on cheeks, but it wasn’t like she was ashamed of such. It was dangerous, to give the president any further leverage to dangle above either of them. It wasn’t public and it wasn’t secret, but a third undefinable thing. The kind of thing that was open to their safest friends—Brutus, Gloss, Finnick, Johanna and such—and on a need-to-know basis with all the others.  That group of safest friends would of course include Cato and Clove, if they ever figured it out that is.

Still. They are mostly alone, doing what District Two called “mentor mentoring” but what Enobaria and Brutus so affectionately call babysitting. It was just the right time of day, when the action died down, and victors were either slipping off to self soothe (medicate) or prepare for whatever the evening presented in terms of sponsors and clientele. 

And honestly, if anyone needed babysitting to ensure they actually learned how to mentor, it was Cato and Clove.

“They’re just excited to be together!” Cashmere assured, settling into the space between Enobaria and the bar, wrapping her other arm around her to pull her fully into a hug from behind her. “They’re kids, they’re just having fun. You knowwhat I’m talking about them noticing, ‘Baria. Have they noticed this.” To emphasize, she kisses along her jawline, but keeps her eyeline trained on the four young victors loudly taunting each other on the couch. If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought they were just normal teenagers, up too late and laughing loud enough that their parents would be down to yell at them at any minute. 

Unfortunately, they were not normal kids, and they were barely raised by their parents at all. They were raised by combinations of victors, trainers, and violence in various combinations. 

The four of them, practically on top of each other, mocking other teenagers as they screamed on television, was somehow as close to normal as they were ever going to be. 

Enobaria lets out a little sigh as she leans into Cashmere’s affection, before she gives a little shake of her head. “I mean it. It’s like they don’t notice anyone but each other. They probably don’t even realize they aren’t alone on the couch.”

“And they were going to go into the games together? That would have been a real PR disaster for District Two, you know.” Cashmere teases, before she slips around from behind Enobaria to the side of her, before slipping one of her legs on top of the other woman’s knees and nearly sitting right in her lap. 

“You’re telling me. It would have been an absolute nightmare. We used to think they were this perfect pair, they just understood each other so well. Yeah, it could have been hard when it came down to the final two but nothing they couldn’t handle. But then…you know, they thought they were so good at sneaking around, but they’re fucking idiots. They didn’t talk to anyone else. One was always missing from their bed. They were great together, apparently a little too great. It was a liability to send them in together. I know I was afraid of what we would pull out of that arena in whichever won.” Enobaria took the opportunity to be the one holding Cashmere now, resting her head against the blonde’s. “Sometimes I wish we had done it, though. He’s fucking infuriating. It’s gross to watch them.”

“Oh, you don’t mean that, Enobaria. They’re cute together. They’re happy, and they get to be openly happy. Unlike the rest of us. I’d kill for that. So would Finnick…and Glimmer too.”

“They don’t even know how lucky they are.” It does not need to be said what luck Enobaria was referring to. By some miracle there was never any demand for the two of them, no clients to be at the beck and call of. It was probably becauseof each other, and for that, Enobaria really was thankful for their mutual survival. 

That was not something she was prepared to explain to Clove quite yet. 

“You busy tonight?” Enobaria slides in, intentionally sliding in vague phrasing due to the risk of ever listening walls.

She feels Cashmere physically sag in her arms, practically collapsing the lines of her body to press flush against her. “The usual. The gamemakers get bored at this point in the games until things spice up.”

Enobaria tenses at the phrasing. It was clear what (and more importantly, who) was going to be spicing things up for the gamemakers tonight. She gently scratches her nails over the pale forearms she holds in her hands, drawing little swirling patterns with the very tip of her index finger. “Gloss and Glimmer too?”

“Gloss is with Finnick. Glimmer’s got the fullest schedule of all of us tonight.” Cashmere feels the coolness in her voice at the statement, and if someone didn’t know her, they may even mistake it for jealousy over her little sister’s popularity. Little did they know the layer of self-loathing that overtook Cashmere and Gloss both, anytime the schedule of Glimmer’s nightly roster of abusers was sent over.

“What’s going on with your sister and Marbles up there?” Enobaria took the opportunity to ask, cocking her head just slightly as she watches the two victors opposite Cato and Clove, and from where she’s standing, Glimmer may as well be curled up in the lap of her own fellow District One victor. “It’s like career victor inbreeding these days.  Cato and Clove…Shimmer and Sparkles up there…Finnick and crazy Cresta…”

“I’m not sure. She never told us something was happening with them. They’ve been friends for a long time. He’s sweet to her. She hasn’t told me anything specific, though, and I’m sure she would if they were together.” Cash sticks her hand out blindly to the side, grabbing the glass off the bar that Enobaria had been drinking before Cashmere slid into her arms. It’s always easier, to deal with those bored clients, with a little bit of a sedative in her system. She doesn’t even get more than a sip before she shutters, harshly reminded that District Two does not believe in mixers. Instead, she taunts Enobaria gently, “Would we be part of Victor inbreeding then, Baria?” 

“Absolutely not. We can’t actually accidentally breed. Besides. We’re not from the same district, we’re adding diversity to the Victor gene pool.” Enobaria teases in response but raises a playful eyebrow. “You think Glimmer would just...tell you? Remind me again how she found out about us?”

“Oh, Enobaria that’s not important- “

“No, I like to hear it.”

Cashmere’s eyeroll was nearly audible as she let out an annoyed sigh. “She noticed I changed my nail shape for the first time in ten years.”

“And why did you change your nails?”

Enobaria grins, watching the flush actually flood Cashmere’s neck and trail up to her face. “You know why, you aren’t being funny!”

“I know. I just like how you get all flustered about it.” Enobaria squeezes her arm playfully, before she leans up to kiss right under her ear. “And I appreciate the consideration.”

“Enobaria!” Cashmere huffs, twisting in her arms before crossing her own over her chest. “So, they didn’t notice youdon’t have your little razor nails?”

“Baby, I don’t think Clove knows you can even paint nails, let alone notices the shape.”

“You practically raised her. I remember you coming to the Capitol that one weekend when we were young and asking me how to teach her how to throw, oh it was so cute, Baria. She knows you so well, she has to notice something!” At the mention of them, nearly ten years ago, she wriggles back into Enobaria’s embrace warmly. “That’s how I knew there was some love in that scary District Two Victor shell, the notorious Enobaria asking how to teach a little girl the proper technique. Not just a little girl at training, but one you actually cared about!”

“Exactly. I spent the most time with her. You’ve been part of my life almost as long as she’d be able to remember. I’ve always been just like this.” Enobaria sighs, before she brings her hand up to run through the very end of Cash’s curls. “I actually don’t think she’s ever once considered I may actually like…yeah. I don’t think that’s crossed her mind.” 

“Mmhmm, were you kissing pretty blonde girls in your lap back in District Two?” Cash teases, wrapping an arm around her girlfriend’s shoulders, beyond testing the limits of how far she could go before any of those damn kids noticed. “Cato seems like he knew his way around the girls his age, you mean he never even made a comment about it?”

“Cash, you are literally on top of me, and he hasn’t noticed. He isn’t the most observant career boy you’ll ever meet. He actually was so obsessed with Clove, he wasn’t that hard to keep off other girls. I just wanted to keep him off of— and out of—Clove. Besides. I don’t think he knows that girls...can be with girls. That might break his fragile little brain.”

Cashmere throws her head back in a genuine laugh that should have pulled the attention of the whole room. Somehow, the four of them are so in their own little word they don’t even bat an eye. 

Thank God all four of them weren’t in the games together. They’d never pay enough attention to their surroundings for any single one of them to come out a winner.

“What do you mean? He doesn’t know girls can like girls?” 

“His only two modes are kill and Clove. We’re lucky he remembers to breathe. Or unlucky, depending on the day.”

“Are you going to tell them then?” Cash teases. It’s evident that Enobaria isn’t hiding anything from Clove. They are truly just not observant enough to notice anything but themselves.

As if to emphasize they are truly paying no attention to the girls in the back of the room, Clove can be heard making some snide remark as she gets off of Cato’s lap, reaching down into the fruit bowl on the glass coffee table in front of them. At the same time, they watch as Glimmer shifts to the side so Marvel climbs out from under her. He walks to one end of the room before Clove takes her hand full of something they cannot yet identify to the other. 

Enobaria and Cashmere watching in a shared sense of amusement and confusion as Clove quite literally starts throwing, with unyielding precision, something small directly into Marvel’s mouth. 

“Are those...?” Cashmere muses, tilting her head in bemusement, an inquisitive expression on her face. 

“I think they’re grapes?” Enobaria confirms.

Enobaria laughs, actually openly laughs, when Marvel lets out a sharp yelp as he gets absolutely drilled in the eye by a little green fruit. 

“Clove! What the hell, I thought you don’t miss!” Marvel whines, bringing his hand to cover his stinging left eye. 

“I don’t.” Clove reminds with a smug smirk on her face.  

Cashmere audibly sighs, burying her face in the lengths of Enobaria’s hair at her neck. “…you know what, on second thought, maybe they should figure it out themselves.” 

______________________________________________________________________

There are approximately fifty steps between Clove’s front door and Enobaria’s. Forty-four if you walked fast, sixty if you took your time. It’s not a hard path to cross, even in a District Two blizzard.

It is a miserable trek, however, when someone else’s child is screaming at you the entire walk.

“I know, I know, you miss your mother that we just saw fifteen seconds ago.” Enobaria mumbles, practically slamming her front door shut behind her the second she is fully inside. The heartbroken mumbles of ‘mama’ coming from the one-year-old, with his teary blue eyes staring at the door like his mother would walk in and rescue him at any moment, give Enobaria a sense of Déjà vu she wishes all too well she didn’t know how to place.  For all he looked like his father—and by god Cato may as well have cloned himself— there evidently was some of his mother in him, too. “I’m not going to steal you forever kid, trust me. I know you’d live inside her if you could, but unfortunately for you so would your dad.”

She kicks her shoes off, fully intending to lay on the couch for the next few hours, hoping to lull the boy to sleep until Clove would be back to collect him after…wherever the hell they were going. 

She had tried to pay attention to Clove’s plans for the night. It isn’t her fault that Clove made such a clingy little thing that cried any time he was out of her arms.

“Alright, buddy, lets just stop with the sad eyes, if you go to sleep, she’ll be back when you wake up—” When she makes that promise of a returning mother, she is at least sure a liar will not be made of her this time.

As soon as Enobaria goes to sit with him, she hears some sort of chatter elsewhere in the house. The sound of a hairdryer pairs with the voices, and immediately she knows Cash must be singing to herself or something as she does her hair.

“Oh, Aunt Cash will be so excited to see you.” She is drawn to the sound she shifts him from her shoulder to lower on her hip, his endless babbles of mama nearly blending into the background now. 

As soon as she reaches the top of her stairs, she hooks the right to the bedroom, as the sound of the dryer gets louder and louder. Smiling to herself, she nudges the door open with her foot. “Hey baby, I didn’t know you were coming home yet, I brought—”

Enobaria is stunned to silence as she is greeted by not one, not two, but three blonde girls sitting on the bathroom floor looking up at her. The baby, too, even stops his incessant babbling to stare at Cashmere and the girls.

Cash sits, with her back to the bathtub, hair dryer in her hand, and a little blonde toddler sitting cross legged on each of her knees. She flicks the dryer off with a wide smile on her face, looking up at Enobaria. 

One of the twins steals the first greeting, big green eyes blinking up at her and the sweetest little smile on her face when she sees her. She pushes off of Cashmere’s knee, to close the distance between herself and her other aunt. “Hiiiiii Aun-ie Baria! We’re visit-in your house!!” 

Enobaria softens, leaning down to scoop up the little girl with her free arm. It had become surprisingly easy to tell the twins apart once they got a little bigger, and from personality alone she knew who she was talking to at any time.

 “Hello Miss Stella,” It was always a little shocking, claiming Cashmere’s nieces as her own, and it was almost unsettling at times how much they looked like they could be Cashmere’s girls. Still, they’re sweet kids and they’re cute as hell. It is shockingly easy to love them. “How did you end up here in our other house! It’s a long way from your house…”

“Uh you told me that we were babysitting today, Enobaria.” Cashmere reminds her as if it is obvious. She shifts Aurelia to sit between her legs as she reaches over and grabs a curling iron off the tile floor beside her. 

“Yeah, Cash, I was watching him.” Enobaria nods her head towards the little blond boy, who’s resolved to resting his head on her shoulder. At least he had finally stopped crying—

and hey, she gets it, she likes to look at Cash too. “You just... brought the girls on the train and didn’t think to like... mention that?” 

“Oh, it’s not a big deal! They were excited to come see our other house, huh sunshine?” Cash waves off, before she brushes through her niece’s long baby soft hair with her fingers one time before she takes the curling iron to a small section. Aurelia sits so uncharacteristically still for a two and a half year old, clearly well trained on how to have her hair done. 

“How did you even end up with them today?” Enobaria decides her best course of action is to just join Cashmere on the floor, and kicks the door shut behind her. She presses against the wood with her back, sliding down while still holding both the toddlers in her arms without missing a beat. “aren’t they kind of little for your to be heating up their hair like that?”

“It’s the second Wednesday of the month!” She explains as if that means anything, carefully placing the hot iron out of reach before reaching for a handful of pink ribbon which she ties around the little half ponytail she makes on her niece’s head. “Don’t be silly honey, I used heat protectant on it! They like to feel pretty!”

“Does that mean something to me that it’s second Wednesday?” 

“It’s nail day, Enobaria. Second and Fourth Wednesdays are nail days. Stella, show Auntie Baria your nails!” Cashmere instructs, and Stella does stick out her little hand towards Enobaria’s face. Enobaria, to her credit, does give an appreciative glance at the incredibly tiny pink nails. “I think they’re all doing something together, Glim said she’ll be in Two anyway to pick them up tonight. Like I said, I thought we were already babysitting them, and Glimmer didn’t correct me so...”

Aurelia is the one who pushes off of Cash next, little blonde curls bouncing as she half runs across the room. She settles herself between the two children Enobaria already holds, reaching out her own little pink nails to grab the baby’s hand. “Hiiii baby.”

“Look at you, covered in career babies.” Cash teases, her hand over her heart playfully. “Come here Stells, it’s your turn.” She cocks her head as Stella does as she’s asked, and Aurelia shifts to take her place with Enobaria. “How old is he? Is he one yet?”

“Yeah, well, remember when I called it Career Victor inbreeding? This is what I meant.” Enobaria teases playfully, glancing down at the baby who was finally, somehow, done with his crying. Now, he just stared at the twins with wide blue eyes, fascinated by the shimmering gold ribbons on the middle of their dresses. “Mmm… he’ll be one I think next month. It’s soon.”

“He’s just so freaking big. He’s like... twin sized and they’re nearly three.” She mumbles, taking a few moments just to hold Stella in her lap rather than go straight for her hair.  “Oh, come on, Enobaria, at least they’re cute! They’re so worth it. And we get to give them back at the end of the day, that’s the best part.”

“Of course he’s huge, his dad is a mammoth.” Enobaria reminds, gently prying his hands off of Aurelia’s tulle skirt that he had managed to lean forward to grab. “They are pretty cute kids; I’ll give them that. Even if this one looks like his dad.”

“Poor Clove, he’s practically bigger than her. That had to hurt...” Cashmere mumbles, going back to her task of brushing through Stella’s soft hair. 

“….Cash?”

“Yeah, baby?” She replies absently, spritzing Stella’s hair before going in with the curling iron. 

“…we are watching all the kids. All their parents are alone right now.”

“Yeah, and? I think they were doing something tonight?”

“Yeah, probably each other!” Enobaria nearly hisses.

“Oh, relax Enobaria! They aren’t doing that! Aren’t they all together?”

Enobaria half whispers, glancing between the two little blond kids she held and the one in Cashmere’s lap. “They won’t be together all night. We are not watching a fourth one, Cash. I draw the line at a fourth. How did we end up watching three children who do not belong to us?” 

Cashmere tries to stifle her giggle, failing miserably as she reminds her, “we didn’t pay enough attention when babysitting their parents.”

[daedalusdavinci]

MY Davekat Fic Recs

i read everythign in the davekat tag a couple years back. yeah. everything. the whole bitch. it was a couple of years ago, so that might date this post, but heres a bunch of fics that i thought were so good i put a little note on them in my bookmarks about how hard they went

>Dave: survive three years on this rock

by MadSeason

Growing up on a flying meteor is hard work. You know this from experience. TG: dude what is this piece of shit you just sent me CG: TO PUT IT IN YOUR HUMAN TERMS: CG: IT’S A FUCKING LOVE STORY, DAVE. Well, it's a bit more than that.

this is a meteor fic, and youve read any davekat fics, thats a summary in of itself. however, from what i remember, this particular meteor fic goes really hard bc it does such a good job of building dave and karkats relationships with the other meteor residents and it leans hard into dave and roses friendship which is so important to me, bc guys they are BEST friends and theyre just so ; ; its just important ok. also according to the note i left for myself on this fic it made me cry a lot so thats always good

catch me, keep me

by CurlicueCal (@curlicuecal on tumblr)

Dave drops by the twinkle vermin class transport-ship Calliope to visit Captain Crocker and her crew. He engages Jake for some repair work, bugs his brothers of the corporeal and non-corporeal varieties, and stops in to harass chat with Karkat. Absolutely no flirting ensues.

frankly everything curlicuecal writes goes hard as fuck, so write that one down. read everything. they never miss. they are SO good at handling side characters and dealing w the complexities of homestuck characters, never shying away from the things that make them miserable little assholes. their fics are always so fun + funny and this is a really good one

just two guys being dudes being moirails and smooching a little

by MisPronounce_and_MisAccent

DAVE: yeah id be down DAVE: just two guys being dudes being moirails and smooching a little im not opposed DAVE: if youre cool with that A few options flit across your mind. The first is picking up the couch cushion next to you and screaming into it for a solid minute. The next is just screaming, sans-pillow. The third is, of course, throwing in the towel and flinging yourself off the meteor, because it is abundantly fucking apparent that you possess an inherent incapability to maintain any simple, good relationship without getting your feelings in a bullshit fucking twist. You decide to do none of this.

if you are like me and you really really love fics where they blur the lines between romantic and platonic and flushed and pale, this is the one. this is the fic.

Car Accident Blues

by ode

Dave Strider is good at looking fly, but he sure isn't good at not getting run over!

fuck i remember this one actually. its really short but its SO fucking funny

midnight soliloquy

by apocalypticTaco

If you had the time, you could wax poetic about every inch of him. Well, it’s past midnight. You could spare a few minutes to wax. If someone asked you what was it specifically about Karkat that you fall head over heels over, you honestly could not tell. It's everything.

its short and sweet, really cute fluffpiece. i CANNOT remember this users tumblr un anymore but they were huge in the davekat fandom for a while and they have a really good grasp on dave and karkat as characters which makes all of their davekat fics hit hard. highly recommend checking out their whole page rlly

We've Got Time

by acedavestrider (@acedavestrider on tumblr i think)

He’s very pointedly trying not to smile, trying not to give you the satisfaction of knowing you made him smile, but his eyes completely give him away. They’re far too fond to give any sort of impression other than absolutely smitten, regardless of how hard he’s trying to seem annoyed, and the way he blinks at you - quickly like he’s trying to clear his vision, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re real or if he’s imagining you - is enough to make your heart swoop in your chest.

another REALLY cute sweet one. honestly i think this is one of my favorite davekat fics ever. acedavestrider writes some of the best davekat in general and you should 100% read all of their stuff, because it ALL goes this hard. ofc anyone w a un this good is bound to have a good grasp on the characters so like what more do you even need me to say

Fait Accompli(cation)

by IntelligentAirhead (@dragonomatopoeia on tumblr, but im p sure it was cowritten w someone else? dunno theirs)

In Which a Mutant and an Alien Meander Towards a Quadrant of Indeterminate Identity at a Glacial Pace While Examining the Internalized Toxicity Perpetuated by Their Respective Societies, and The Nature of Friendship is Determined to Be More Universal Than Originally Theorized [Banned In Alternia]

this IS the best davekat fanfiction. this is the one. ive read it multiple times and its good each time. im just going to copy my notes straight from ao3 on this one, i think theyre from a second reread some time after the first

"ok this does slap. this slaps super hard. its a meteorstuck fic wherein karkat and dave both have to question toxic ideas theyve internalized from their own planets and eventually fall in love and get together. no one is delegated to rosemary therapist, all of the charas are beautiful and just as important, and the characterization is so flawless it couldve been written by hussie himself. this TOTALLY holds up, holy shit

"#literally the most beautiful piece of prose known to man"

The Eurydice Suite, v2.0

by callmearcturus (@callmearcturus on tumblr)

Dream-sharing: a highly illegal little industry in which agents delve into people's dreams, and unearth their deepest secrets and memories. Within this business, the Strider-Lalondes are known as the best there is — until Dirk Strider gets his fool-ass trapped within the confines of his own subconscious, with his Auto-Responder playing malicious prison warden. To save him, the best and brightest dreamers in the world will have to form a team. Backed by the token rich friend, lead by the surliest extractor ever bribed out of retirement, haunted by the shade of the latest, greatest agent in the biz, and on the run through a dangerous tiered dream in a hostile mind... It's going to take a miracle to pull this one off.

ive read this one so many times and honestly its still really good. the writing style is fantastic and i have spent many a year trying to capture the same beautiful atmosphere arc does. its a really creative au with really cool ideas about classpects and the characterization in this fic is awesome

Crash Standing

by Asuka Kureru (@asukaskerian on tumblr)

It's been eight days since the end of Sburb and Davesprite is not coping especially well.

ive already listed my favorite davekat fic, but THIS is my favorite homestuck fic period of all time ever the end. this is the best one. this is the ONLY one, as far as im concerned. you dont want to know how many times ive reread this fic ok. i love davesprite/karkat way more than i love dave/karkat (bc you know me w my doomed characters) and the way this author handles the interpersonal relationships between not just karkat and ds but also like ds and all of the OTHER characters is SO. GOOD. davesprite and kanayas relationship in particular lives in my brain rent free at all fucking times oh my god they are so perfect. shes so perfect. i love kanaya so much in this. oh my god and JOHN. the senor strider thing is so fucking funny sldkjfnsdf just. AUGH. its such a good fic just trust me ok just trust me

there are probably more i could recommend but its been so long since i read them im just going to stick to these bc like. man. i do NOT remember some of the bookmarks ive got in there anymore. ask me again when i finally snap and reread homestuck

[raincitygirl76]

I’m beginning to think Tumblr is the website for normal, non-insane internet people. Which is bizarre, because I’ve met some real eccentrics on Tumblr.

I was discussing Young Royals on a different platform, and came across someone who was convinced Simon had lied to Linda about the bullying Sara endured at Marieberg. Apparently Simon minimized it all to make Linda feel better about her terrible parenting, and to think Sara was lying about being bullied. I found that a remarkable assertion, and asked them about it. They had based this entire elaborate theory on a few lines of dialogue from one scene in episode 1.01. Their interpretation of that scene was not my interpretation.

But they were passionately defending Sara, and convinced she had excellent reasons for all her morally dubious decisions across both seasons, because Simon is a toxic brother. They didn’t directly SAY Simon deserved for Sara to ally herself with the sex offender who posted child pornography of him, but it was heavily implied that he had it coming for all the times he’d made his sister’s life hell. At which point I backed away slowly and disengaged.

I’m not saying Simon is an angel. He clearly isn’t, or August wouldn’t have had blackmail material on him in 2.06. And the Eriksson family dynamic is definitely dysfunctional. Simon isn’t a perfect brother. But this idea that he actively worked to conceal the extent of Sara’s bullying at Marieberg from Linda, just to stop Linda from feeling bad, it’s not based on anything in the text.

In any event, even if Simon HAD repeatedly told Linda not to worry about Sara getting bullied, Sara was just exaggerating (which I doubt he did), it clearly didn’t work. Sara was so scared of her bullies she stopped going to school for so long that she had to repeat a year. There is NO way Linda, as the custodial parent, could have been unaware either of the extent to which her daughter was being bullied, or that she had to repeat a year of school as a result of repeated absences. It’s absurd.

Linda is a flawed parent, and both she and Simon make plenty of mistakes in their interactions with Sara. It’s hardly surprising Sara feels like a third wheel in her family sometimes. But August is a SEX OFFENDER who victimized Sara’s little brother. Demonizing Simon doesn’t actually make Sara’s decision to ally herself with August any more morally defensible.

But rather than continue to argue with this passionate Sara fan on the other platform, I’m bitching about them behind their back on Tumblr. Childish, but probably better than getting into a heated argument with someone who will never accept that Sara is anything but a victim of her malicious, cruel mother and brother.

It’s okay to like a character who is flawed, and makes bad decisions. Simon dealt drugs, Wille has made so many bad decisions that threatening his cousin with a deadly weapon is only the worst of them. Even my darling Felice is a kleptomaniac, on her own admission. But demonizing other characters on flimsy evidence to justify bad decisions taken by your favourite character, it’s just silly.

Not to mention that Sara herself, in 2.06, seems to finally realize that by repeatedly protecting August, she has done a great moral injury to her brother. Also that August wasn’t worthy of her faith in him. So this Sara fan is justifying Sara’s actions in a way even Sara herself is no longer trying to do in canon.

There are crazy people on the internet. Even crazier than me. Which takes some doing.

[wickedsnack]

Hi!! I wanted to mention that the reason Tumblr is changing is because they need to draw in new users!!

They kinda have to develop because they need people to give em money, and they've essentially accepted that most of the current user base would rather kill them than give them a dime.

i unfortunately know how corporations work but thank you!

i’m assuming this is in response to my tags about how the user base doesn’t want someone to develop the site; we want someone to maintain it.

since you came to me to politely explain why tumblr needs to progress as a company, i’m going to politely explain why tumblr repeatedly fails to progress as a company (as i am 29 and have been here half of my life). i’ve touched on this in another recent post of mine, but to expand on it a little, tumblr (the company) is facing a two-pronged issue here;

1. as you said, the current user base would rather kill them than give them a dime. this is partway true. on the one hand, we have the fact that much of the user base is SO BROKE they couldn’t spend money on this site if they wanted to. on the other hand, we have the company trying to sell us the same kind of shit other socmed sites sell, but tumblr (as we know) is not anything like other socmed sites.

in a normal situation where you have a largely “unwilling/unable to spend money” user base, you turn to ads. but, like my previous post explains, tumblr as a community is not friendly to advertisers. the last major attempt to make us more friendly to advertisers—the great porn ban—had the adverse effect of driving half the user base away. it becomes a lot harder to sell yourself as an advertiser if half as many people are seeing your site. which leads into the second part of the problem

2. the current user base doesn’t want a new user base. we especially don’t want a new user base that is more friendly to advertisers; the whole reason we’re here is because people like that have been unkind to us everywhere else.

you’ve seen joke posts about “keeping the rent low by firing shots” followed by some superwholock shit or “keep the rent low by calling my friends faggots”—they aren’t jokes. they are very real ways to keep tumblr from drawing in a new user base that would make this site as unkind to us as every other site is. they compare, in a joking manor, making this site more advertiser-friendly to gentrifying a neighborhood, and in some ways it is similar. (though author’s note here to say that gentrifying a neighborhood is obviously WAAAAYYYYYY worse than making a website advertiser-friendly. community is important, but housing is a necessity.) it’s taking a place where an “Othered” community is safe and “fixing it up” so that it’s easier to sell, for the profit of a third party.

when i say we don’t want someone to develop the site we want someone to maintain it, i say it with the knowledge that it will 1) come at the cost of profits and therefore 2) never fucking happen. but a bitch can dream.

(as an aside i don’t think it’s true that the current user base would never give tumblr money. i think tumblr’s just largely barking up the wrong tree for what to sell. the fake internet check marks did numbers—maybe not as many numbers as tumblr wanted, but it did do numbers. merch i think was a bad idea—few of us want to talk about our tumblrs in the real world let alone advertise them, plus merch has a lower profit margin than, say, the badges, because they have a physical cost associated with them. they try to sell subscriptions when half of us came back to escape a subscription. they’re trying to sell to us based on what’s worked on other socmed sites when we have proven time and time again that shit doesn’t work on us.)

[thelordofgifs]

Right so if I tell you all about my silm wips, then I'm obligated to actually write them at some stage! so here's a non-exhaustive (because I keep coming up with ideas) list to guilt me into doing some writing:

First of all is the tentatively titled the fairest stars, the unhinged bullet point thing I'm partway through posting on tumblr. currently the main project because it's possessed me.

Half-finished documents include:

all the world lay then in wonder, a tiny little thing about the first rising of the Moon. hasn't been worked on for a while because Curufin was being a bitch.

the untitled thing whose doc name is Himring, in which Maedhros yells at C&C re: Nargothrond Incident. hasn't been worked on for a while because Curufin was being a bitch. hmm. my vision for this thing is a several-thousand word one-shot filled with complicated brotherly relationships and the ominous sound of the approaching Nirnaeth.

The Unburied, an actual multi-chapter because my ambition knows no bounds. canon-compliant longfic covering the time from the ship-burning at Losgar to the rising of the Sun, povs Fingon and Maglor. currently two chapters in, but I'm determined not to publish until it's fully drafted.

Then there's the Sticky Note, a list of ideas I spend far too long daydreaming about but haven't actually started writing yet. except now I'm telling you about them so I have to!

boats against the current is an AU where Maedhros doesn't swear the Oath. I have the plot of the first part of this, and the overarching theme, fairly figured out, but whenever I try to write the first sentence ("What are you doing?", ftr) it goes wrong. very fond of it though.

The Returned is the sequel to The Unburied, which probably means it will never get written. a fairly standard post-Thangorodrim longfic. I love daydreaming this one.

no morning glory mostly exists in my head because I love the title (it's from a Taylor Swift song). A Russingon WW1 AU. only problem is, I know nothing about WW1 :)

some sort of thing about Maedhros and Maglor post-Dagor Bragollach. unsure if I'll ever write this, I just have a very clear image in my head of one scene which means it can't be taken off the list.

Little Pity, an AU where the Eagle arrives after Fingon has killed Maedhros on Thangorodrim. yeah idk what to do with that really. it's on the Sticky Note, though.

something about why Elros makes his Choice, various influences on him as he grows up. an excuse for some kidnap fam history lessons.

an untitled longfic about Celebrimbor in Nargothrond. mainly because Tyelpe and Finduilas deserve to be besties. also fun exploration of Tyelpe's relationship with his father. and Huan will be there. absolutely NOT to be even TOUCHED before The Unburied is finished.

as small as a world, the story of Elwing and Earendil growing up in a refugee camp at the end of the world. the Sea is basically a third main character here. my vision for this, which I am almost certainly not competent enough to execute, features plenty of Idril, complicated politics on Balar, childhood trauma, and Sirion as this multicultural hub that's the last hope of Elvendom in Beleriand and it's so tragic that it even exists but its resilience brings tears to your eyes. also you should taste salt the entire time you're reading. can't even be DAYDREAMED about until The Unburied is finished.

a very very tragic oneshot about Celebrimbor meeting Maglor for the last time in Eregion. haven't done anything about this bc I'm not sure it's even canonically possible. it makes me tear up sometimes though.

Ashes is a missing moment from between the only two written chapters of The Unburied. Maedhros, post-Losgar. I adore him so unsure how long my self-control will last before I snap and write this.

[alligatorjesie]

What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I've been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I'm the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You're fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that's just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little "clever" comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You're fucking dead, kiddo.

Whoa there Sparky. How about you take a minute and wipe some of the saliva froth off the keyboard there because it looks like your fingers slipped a few times.

So, what you're telling me is you're a 300 kill confirmed member of the navy seals, one of the highest ranked snipers in your class, presumably an adult man if any of this is true, and you're going to use all this skill and power of death and murder at the snap of your fingers to uhhh... Lemme check here again Take out a single furry reylo on the internet who told you to get the fuck out of the tags to a fandom you're not a part of if you're going to act like a complete set of cock and balls? I absolutely adore how vague this rant is. You're gonna have to be way more specific about what I called you and when because this is tumblr and I call a lot of people a lot of things on here. But I only ever yell at antis so either this is horseshit which is way more likely than the second option which is this full grown adult ass man who has killed a little less than a third of the people the whole United States Police departments have fatally shot in the last year (over 1,080 by the way) is just cruising tumblr and being a part of shipping wars and using all the deadly powers he gained from killing innocent people overseas to threaten death to women just trying to enjoy a fictional ship without dealing with harassment.

You need a whole secret network of spies to do what any neckbeard can do in their own basement for free? This sounds like a massive waste of resources. I guess the navy seals don't have courses on doxxing. I don't think you need a whole ass network of spies of that shit yo, not when darthpussy69 on any random star wars forums can do it in like a minute.

You can't even figure out you only need to press send once for the post to go through. Bitch you can hardly figure out how to use fucking tumblr. I don't believe you can shoot a gun, much less accurately. You know better yet, how about you re-send this 5 more times using your actual account because I wanna see the person who typed this out. I'll bet like 100 bucks and one free smut drawing by yours truly that this is a teenage girl. Butt hay guys! We gotta update the banner yaaaaay!

If we're playing pretend I wanna be a real anthro alligator brought to life by hell magic and I can breath fire. My fursona can't breath fire and I feel like it was a really wasted opportunity.

[mommalosthermind]

Gonna rant a bit:

Stumbled across another post demanding everyone who follows that person put their age into their bio upon pain of being blocked. This is to prevent minors from looking at their posts.

So. To protect the tiny innocent little babes. You are telling them. To put their age. Online.

You are telling minors to tell you they are a minor.

You are trying to force minors to out themselves and claiming it’s for *your* safety? I’m???

Fandom, we’ve made a shape, but I’m not sure it’s a fucking circle.

I cannot stress this enough, if you are a minor do not tell anyone, literally fucking anyone, your age, your real name, or your location. You owe no one that information. Handing that out is dangerous.

Become a fucking cryptid, kid, tell no one shit about you.

You are now an OC.

You have heterochromatic eyes, magic powers, are older than the sun, live in a teapot, and when you see preps you put up your middle finger at them (but not really because you are laying low. You are quiet. So quiet. Shh. Leave little love notes where you will, but you are being sneaky! So sneaky. Because the first rule of infiltration is shut the fuuuuuck uuuuuup oh my god I am so serious.)

I’ve got a teen and a preteen beginning to feel out unfettered access to the internet, and I don’t really think I’d internalized how drastically different kids’ experiences are now. Full fucking offense, but rule numero uno for my monsters being allowed to more actively engage in fandom was lie your ass off. Second was be kind, be kind, be kind, and third was the block button and the back buttons are your new besties, use them well and often.

Fourth, because these are my kids, was that I expect them to come talk to me when they run into weird or upsetting or baffling shit. Literally whenever.

Oh hidden minors of tumblr: find a friend, a sibling, an actual adult in the real world you can comfortably talk to about shit you find in the insanity of the internet, I’m begging you.

My entrance onto the great wild internet was “Everyone there wants to murder you and eat your eyes, so like, stick to these two websites and nowhere else.” I…did not stay there. I did however develop a fascination with the screensaver and the fuckin…. Pinball thing. Solitaire. Oh, and fanfic. Just. So much fanfic. Literally fucking saved my sanity, by the way, by giving me a place to just. Exist.

Yes, yes, people have a right to curate their spaces and it makes some people uncomfortable to know kids are looking at their shit.

There are kids looking at your shit, man. This is what kids do. This is what I did. Those sites that required a fuckin’ birthday or a special password? I was absolutely not over majority. “Adult only” spaces are valid and all, but please, please stop demanding kids tell you their exact fucking ages.

And for the random ‘wow, so you want your kids to have access to things I dislike and have deemed bad? How bad of a parent are you?” I’d like to point out that the first time I read sex it was in an actual physical novel that my mother handed to me— a gift from one of her nursing home clients. It was. Bad. So much sexual violence. Extremely graphic. Fucked me up for a while, and when I tried to talk to the adult in my life, I was told I was being a little bitch and just wasn’t mature enough to handle a little romance.

I was like. Ten. Maybe.

What I want? Is to know that my kids have a safe space. I am that space. And I’m teaching them how to turn their online experience into as happy a bubble as I can.

Kids are gonna find fucked up shit. There are ways upon ways to make it better but this whole ‘you HAVE to put this personal information in your header because, *I*, some random blog on Tumblr, have decreed it a requirement for Being Able To Look At Me’ is. Maybe not it.

Tl;dr: if you are a kid: shush about it. Be kind, be quiet, hang out. If you are an adult, do not. Do not tell kids to give you personal information. Just. Don’t.

[unhingedhearties]

Protecting People's Jobs Is Selfish

There's a bunch of these types of posts:

Liz is older than Erin and has no job BTW. I have a feeling that's the case with most of these people.

Liz, believe it or not some people (most people in fact) consider it incredibly shameful to live at home well into middle age while not contributing an income. You have no place criticizing anyone for wanting to keep their job.

"But that's how actors are-most of them. ("Me! Me! Me! Look at me!")"

Projection much? Every third post you make on Twitter is some woe is me "why isn't anyone responding to my posts!? you all must HATE ME!".

Lucas fans are good little cherub babies that have never done anything wrong. This Tumblr is all an illusion. And if it isn't an illusions, it's just a few bad apples. And if it's actually more than a few bad apples, well then they probably aren't true Lucas fans. And if they insist they are Lucas fans and post nothing but Lucas related stuff, then they're probably all Nathan fans coordinating with each other to make Team Lucas look bad.

HOLD THE FUCK UP

I want proof of this. Now. You do not get to make claims like this without evidence. "I heard" isn't good enough. I could easily say that about any of the lunatics that get featured on here regularly. I could just as easily claim that I heard Writer Janine was questioned by the FBI for supporting terrorist groups. I mean it sounds plausible. She did try to minimize the massacre of people in the middle east a day or so after it happened. Several other Team Lucas fans I've shown on here are visible on that post defending her.

This right here is profoundly... a slur I can't say because it would be against the TOS. But it is very much that word.

Erin isn't the only one who works on When Calls The Heart. Here's the imdb page for the cast AND crew. Obviously these crew people don't all work on the show at the same time, but that's still a lot of people. I'm also willing to bet there's probably a ton of people who aren't credited. Erin, as the star and executive producer, probably has to consider not just her job, but all these people as well.

I'm going to tap the J. Michael Straczynski sign again because I think you people need a reminder of what happened there.

Gina Corbo, I don't know if you are American, but right now you sound like a stupid American. I know you people have a twisted sense of hyper-individuality and think that every decision you make only affects you, but you need to get out of your bubble and realize you aren't the main character of the universe and the people around you aren't NPCs. People can't lose their jobs and not have it impact the people around them, especially their family. Last year their was a strike that shutdown almost all movies and TV shows. Somehow TPTB on WCTH pulled some miracle and got an exemption. The crew who make the show you love to watch and love to bitch about probably didn't have to starve or miss paying rent or medical bills. This show has been going for over 10 years. I'm sure Erin's probably known most of them for that long. Do you really think she isn't thinking about their jobs as well?

[charkie-ee]

HDBSJDHSJHSSHSHJSHSHAJAHSJAHDGJSHSHDJDJSKCHSimnotrespondingsuperlateyouareNDKDJSJKSKFHDJDJDHDJDKDJFJJFJFJFJFJDHAKSIJGJDKFJDKD

yup! turns out everything is ok! sleeping was weird after the first few days but im all good now.

is so funny that you can hold 3 different conversations thru tumblr. like thats awesome. we’ve been talking about several things from drawings to lore to…whatever this post turned into, and i am so here for it. tumblr: the place for multitasking.

and yes i am quite literally ‘lmao’ at all of them.

HELPPPP FHDJDHJDD ah yes instead of going to my room to read your posts i am actually just going in there to do lots of drugs. tons of them. like um. yea. because thats what people do. ahaha. i would know, i am a person. totally. 100% all human being here. i say as my skin suit is falling off

yo followers‼️ you best get ready for this insane lore we’re totally gonna drop soon‼️‼️ you’re asses better be fully equipped with arg gear‼️its gonna include my whole lobotomy + other stuff i got in 3rd grade‼️ its coming very soon‼️ definitely‼️ this is certainly not a LIE‼️

awhhh!! thats so sweet!! sometimes when i’m at the store shopping/out and about in the world— ill see a specific color of red that looks exactly like the background color of your pfp. i’ve named it ‘semifontos red.’ creative name, i know.

also 🫵 fellow tea drinker. whats your favorite kind. 🫵🫵🫵

(i’m a heavy chai drinker, and and a black tea, earl gray bitch. BUT! occasionally i add some green teas into the mix)

aaaaaaaaaahhhhh!!! i need you to stop being the #1 nicest tumblr person i’ve ever met on this website, or i might explode again from happiness. ditto my friend, ditto indeed. you’ve filled the last few months of my life with indescribable joy, and every time i open the app, i cant help but smile because i know ill see your posts on my dash. your just as silly as i am, and i even start giggling before i read your posts because i know they’re gonna be good. thanks for being my parasocial pal <33

holy shit u right— tbh i kinda forgot abt that. sigh. he should get another thoracotomy? gastrectomy? both of those??? again. that’d be peak comedy, and you know what they say, third time’s the charm

yes, i agree, we may have become mutuals via slimecicle getting another chest & stomach surgery, but i dont think we’d be talking back and forth and exchanging drawings of our little silly sonas if it weren’t for bisexual purga(y)tory post. so for that, it will always have a special place in my heart.

yup, i repeat, if you have STUPID EYES that CANT SEE without GLASSES/CONTACTS you could instead buy ONE NINTENDO SWITCH or TWO EXPENSIVE GAMES FOR NINTENDO SWITCH EVERY YEAR if you give up on your eyes. INVEST NOW!! BUY TODAY!! just DONT TELL ANYONE THAT *I* SAID THAT!!!

speaking of glasses!!! i finally got a new prescription!!! yippee!! (round of applause.mp3 starts playing)

i might also be trying contacts? its a bit tricky because apparently my eye is more oval shaped than the traditional round shaped, (i think its called asigmatism) but its still possible! so ill see how it goes!!

ahhh, my bad my bad. sooo, if thats the case?

~~~~~~ - ~~~ = ~~~ ?

(explosions in the background)

oh. maybe not.

(also just to put it here i have seen your drawing request in my ask box and i am working on it dw!)

@semifontos

GRAAAAAAHHHHH!!!! (i crawl out of my grave but this time kill bill style)

IM STILL ALIVE!!! I PROMISE I PROMISE I PROMISE I PROMI—

but it is done!!!! i did it!!!!! after years in training, various classes in alchemy, and many many engine failures!!!!!!! it is FINISHED!!!!!!!!!

behold, the SEMIFONTOS DESIGN:

im so so sorry that this took so long and might not be as high quality as my other art— but i hope you enjoy it!!

gonna be honest, a screw was loose on my glasses and my right lens fell out just as i started working on this again. so. if any lines look wonky you can file all complaints to my prescription glasses.

but, yea!! there it is!! i plan to start being more active! i swear! i just have a lot goin on rn!! may reblog/post some other things later. we’ll see how it goes. luv u pal & thanks 4 bein patient!!

[onemilliongoldstars]

“Come on Adora, where are you taking me?” Catra stalks a few steps behind her. Her nimble limbs and long tail would easily allow the girl to catch her if she really wanted to, especially as the overgrown ground beneath their feet, covered in vines and moss, is uneven and occasionally unstable. Catra though, chooses to linger behind, dragging her feet and bemoaning the loss of their warm bed. 

Admittedly, dragging her love from the cocoon of blankets and cushions in their Bright Moon apartments had been something of a challenge this morning. Catra loves to sleep in, a trait she attributes to years of 6am wake up calls in the Horde, and what she loves even more is to drag Adora’s arm around her waist and curl up so small that she fits in the bracket of Adora’s body, breathing her in. Pulling her to her feet this morning, before the sun had even risen, had been a trial that involved cajoling and threats, sleepy hisses and even the flash of dulled claws. 

It hadn’t helped that the moment Catra had risen, grumbling darkly, Melog had slipped onto the bed where they had been and curled up in a ball with a smug swish of his tail.

“Adora. Adora.” Catra whines now, and Adora risks a glance back over her shoulder, though she knows what she will find. As expected, Catra is glaring at her, her dark jacket thrown over her shoulders, and her hair pulled up in a messy ponytail that appears as wild as Melog’s mane in the dawn light. She’s pouting, sulky, and it’s all Adora can do to not sweep her into her arms at the sight and kiss her pout away. Instead she reaches back and offers her hand. 

Catra takes it, of course. She always does now.

Still, she complains. “Seriously, the sun isn’t even up yet. There had better be a good reason for this.”

“There is,” Adora assures her, squeezing her hand. She sets big blue eyes on Catra, “Trust me?”

Catra’s mouth drops open, protesting soundlessly, and she grinds over her response for a moment before admitting defeat. “You know I can’t say no to that face. It isn’t fair.”

The grouch is too much for Adora, who darts forwards to capture a kiss from her lips. Catra gasps, but it takes her only moments to wind her hands around Adora’s neck, her claws scratching so very lightly down Adora’s neck until she pulls away again. Catra stares at her, eyes wide and lips pink, and her expression twists with annoyance when Adora grins and begins to pull her along again. 

“Do you know where we are?” She asks, over her shoulder, and Catra springs over a vine covered lump to walk by Adora’s side, their shoulders brushing and their hands still intertwined. Every so often her tail flicks playfully at Adora’s hair. Adora watches her from the corner of her eye, looking for any flicker of discomfort, but Catra seems calm and a little exasperated when she answers.

“Of course I do, we grew up in the Fright Zone. You think I wouldn’t recognise it now even though Etheria has covered it with green stuff?”

“Do you mind being back here?” It had been a risk, Catra doesn’t often return to the Fright Zone, not even when they go to hunt for remnants of old tech. Adora knows she used to find it too unnerving to return, the memories of the Horde and their childhood prickling over her skin, but it’s been years and Catra is able to smile at her now. 

“No,” She answers and their years together tell Adora that she’s being honest. “At first it was… hard to come back here. So many memories.” A shiver runs through her and Adora can’t help but lean closer, still the protector after all this time. “But now... “ She casts Adora a quick glance from her yellow and blue eyes, and a rueful smile sits at the corners of her lips. “I suppose I remember the good parts more than the bad.”

The words bring a slight flush to her cheeks and she brings their hands to her mouth to brush her lips against Catra’s knuckles, and then disentangles their hands. “Race you to our old spot.”

She shoots off through the undergrowth before Catra can protest and behind her she hears the girl let out a bark of laughter, before hurried feet set a pace behind her. The Fright Zone really is a different place. In the years since they defeated Horde Prime the lush foliage of Etheria has taken over the metal structures and rough hewn earth of the old Horde stronghold. Some of the space has been cleared to make room for new villages and towns, but it’s only the bravest of Etheria who dare to return to these old haunts, and even Scorpia has chosen to make her home in Perfuma’s peaceful kingdom of Plumeria rather than returning to her ancestral home.

Still, her hands and muscles remember the push and pull of these familiar climbs and she throws herself up the towers with the abandon of youth. Despite her head start Catra passes her by easily, swinging her way past, her tail curling to keep her balance. She smiles down at her, her eyes glowing with enjoyment, and Adora grins back. Despite her smile though, nerves are fluttering through her stomach now and she swallows, trying to remember the encouraging words of her friends when she’d told them what she intended to do. 

It’s been years since that fateful day in the heart of Etheria, with Catra’s arms cradled around her, but she’ll never forget the sight of her face appearing in her most desperate hour or the outstretched hand that she’s clung to ever since. Her friends understand, to an extent- they fought as well after all, they lost people just like she did- but it is only really Catra who knows how much being She-Ra nearly cost her. 

She hauls herself over the lip of the tall mechanical tower minutes after Catra and finds her stood near the edge of the platform, where the railings have long fallen away, looking out over their childhood home. Adora joins her, linking their fingers together, and Catra casts her a smile over her shoulder, but her eyes are soft with thought. 

“It looks so different.”

“It does,” Adora follows her gaze to the luscious green jungle that surrounds them. Trees are beginning to grow between the ruins, saplings reaching up for the sky, and every so often she catches sight of a magical creature flitting through the undergrowth. If she fixes her eyes on the horizon and ignores the skeletons of metal groaning beneath the weight of the greenery, she could almost forget what it used to be. “I like it like this.”

“So do I.” The sun is just beginning to rise and the watery sunlight is golden, picking up the threads of lighter brown that have become prevalent through Catra’s unruly mane since she began spending her time under the bright Etherian sun instead of the fluorescent bulbs of the Horde. The girl in question turns to set her with a quirked eyebrow, “As nice as the view is, do you wanna tell me why you dragged me out of bed before the sun?”

“Oh, yeah sure,” She smiles nervously, digging her fingers in her pocket and closing them around the small golden wings that she’s been carrying for far too long. “I don’t know if you know but… Etherians have a custom… joining people together.”

Catra’s ears twitch curiously, her tail swishing a little impatiently behind her, but it says a lot that she doesn’t interrupt. 

“I know it isn’t something that we used to do in the Horde and I totally get it if you think that it’s stupid or not-”

“Adora.” Catra’s hand on her shoulder draws her from her rambling and she blushes a little, giving her a grateful smile. “Just ask me.”

“It’s called marriage, and it means that you pledge to love each other always. No matter what.” She pulls the wings from her pocket and unfolds her fingers, offering them out. “Traditionally you give the person something of yours, to signify that you love one another.”

Catra’s eyes are wide now and her ears are perched just so, just as they always are when she’s surprised. “Kind of like a Force Captain’s Badge?”

The words pull a laugh from Adora, and she nods, smiling. “Yes, kind of like that, but much more romantic.”

“So you’re saying…” Catra is staring down at the golden wings in her outstretched hand. “That you love me… and you’ll always love me? That’s what this is?”

“Y-Yeah,” Tendrils of worry are beginning to wind their way up her stomach and clutch at her heart now, and she feels a hot flush of embarrassment work its way over her neck and cheeks the longer Catra stares, mute. “You think it’s stupid, never mind,” She rushes to shove the wings back in her pocket, but a familiar hand clasps around hers, stalling her and when she looks back Catra’s eyes are wet with tears. 

“You really want me? Forever?” 

Adora’s lips part with understanding, and she feels everything within her soften. Her arms wrap around Catra’s waist and she draws her closer, until their bodies are flush and she can rest her forehead against her love’s, draw a tender hand over her cheek and murmur. 

“Don’t you get it? I love you. I always have.”

Catra lets out a watery laugh and this time it is her who wraps her hand around Adora’s neck and draws her in to kiss her, lips soft and affectionate and filled with the salt of their combined tears. 

Needless to say, Catra wears those wings for the rest of her life, and snarls at anyone who tries to touch them.