#this post wasn’t supposed to get this long uhhhh

[wtftaylr]

I love Companion Benny. I love the idea that he gets huffy-puffy and “just a little” jealous if you switch him out for another companion. He simply cannot cope with the fact that you’d toss him aside like yesterday’s trash for… what, some scribe in rags? A boring-ass first recon guy? A vaquero ghoul? (ok he thinks Raul is kinda cool actually but he won’t openly admit that)?? Benny has STORIES, baby. Interest. Intrigue. You wanna know all the juicy strip gossip? Guess what, you CANT now because you DISMISSED him. How DARE you.

Benny is VERSATILE, baby. His tagged skills are guns, melee, and unarmed. Good luck finding another companion that can do what he can. Yeah Craig “Frowns” Boone can headshot a cazador from a million yards away or whatever, *mumbling* show-off, he would’ve seen that cazador eventually *end mumbling* but Benny can shoot, stab, AND punch. Hey courier, watch this. I’m gonna punch the fuck out of this deathclaw. He does it (you gotta administer a few stimpaks) BUT HE DID IT. And he was only at half health. 400+ health honeybaby, Benny can take a few whacks from those deathclaw freaks. What was that? Showing off? Benny doesn’t have to show off, sugar plum. He’s just that good.

He also won’t complain that his feet are getting tired. Yeah he’ll complain about minor inconveniences and wants you to do something about them regardless if you realistically can or not, but at least he’ll walk miles upon miles in a day and not complain. He also won’t complain about going back to the Lucky 38. (he’ll just complain about not being able to get in there before the Courier showed up.) What, no one else complains about their feet hurting? Uhhhh BOOT-RIDERS. Silly name. But that’s how they rode the Mojave, dig? On their feet. He’s done this before. Experienced.

AND ANOTHER THING. how many companions shout words of encouragement during a fight. Go on. He’s waiting.

You’re doing great, baby! Show these punk losers what you got!!

I bet all the caps in Vegas you’ll miss that while getting shot to shit by the Fiends or whatever. Grumble. Benny hopes you come back in one piece, of course. He’d just rather see to it himself that you remain in one piece. Uhh BECAUSE HE’S JUST THAT GR-

(The courier left with their choice of companion hours ago. Swank is trying to work but Benny won’t stop gabbing his ear off. Dear god Benny just go be the Head of The Chairmen somewhere else. Swank is trying to do actual work here.)

[aealzx]

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Update Post

Prologue | AO3

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It took some time to get Jazz to calm down enough that the others didn’t feel like they might scare her again accidentally. But by that time Alfred had come upstairs to fetch everyone for lunch, so they decided to wait just a little longer before they started looking more into Danny’s condition. Maybe after a good cry and hearty meal Jazz would be more at ease with the investigations. And once Damian was able to convince Jazz to leave the bedroom by having Titus and Ace watch over Danny they were all heading to the dining room.

“You guys didn’t find anything you like?” Tucker asked when he and Sam joined them again with Stephanie and Duke alongside them.

“Got distracted by the dogs,” Danielle claimed, knowing he was wondering why she and Jazz were still wearing the clothes they got from the safehouse. It was only part of the truth, but she didn’t want to dig into the mess that they were still trying to smooth over. Jazz didn’t need more opinions on her behavior to worry over.

“They have dogs?” Tucker asked, looking around in interest.

“Yeah, they’re watching over Danny while we get lunch,” Danielle confirmed, having to pause when they entered the dining room and noticed a few unfamiliar faces.

“Heyyyy, welcome back guys,” Stephanie chimed, cheerfully skipping slightly over to the four newcomers.

“YOU!” Tim accused, pointing his finger at Stephanie, offense saturating his posture. “You were supposed to come with us, and you ditched us! Do you know how annoying it was to pretend like Clark had no idea that I knew that he knew about the kids but I wasn’t going to say anything even if he asked?”

“Uhhhh…. No, because I have no idea what you just said,” Stephanie retorted shamelessly. “Also of course I ditched you. I knew you could handle it and I wanted to see how long everyone could last pretending the kids didn’t know them. They lasted about a minute and a half, if you were wondering.”

Tim seemed about to scold Stephanie more, but then got sidetracked by her announcement of the time it took. “Wow, that fast? What gave everyone away?”

“Jay jay,” Stephanie admitted easily. “Dani picked him out like a red apple in a barrel of grapes.”

“Hey! You’re the one that laughed first, so I say you get the blame,” Jason retorted, already finding a chair to claim for lunch.

“She knew it was you before I laughed,” Stephanie countered.

While they bickered Tim rolled his eyes and followed Cass’ lead in more formally introducing themselves to Jazz and the others. “Hey. Good to see you guys are settling in okay. My name is Tim, and this is Cass,” he greeted, holding a hand out to each of the four.

“The one in the black and red that wasn’t Jason?” Jazz asked, just to clarify.

“And you’re the one that almost dislocated my arm after I kicked you in the ribs when we first met. Nice,” Sam recognized, taking Cass’ offered hand and giving her a mildly amused smile.

It could have been seen as an accusatory comment, but Cass could easily see Sam wasn't feeling malicious about it. So Cass just nodded with a smile, shaking Sam’s hand before pointing at her face. ���I like your makeup. Steph’s?”

“Yeah, I asked if I could borrow some since she had the colors I like. I have to say I’m really loving the lip gloss,” Sam confirmed. It was nice to feel more like herself again, having her hair brushed and pulled into an elastic, and face properly decorated.

“It looks good. So you like black and purple, and not just black?” Tim added, noting that Sam was also wearing purple in her clothes.

“As long as it’s dark enough,” Sam confirmed.

“Okay, so are we just supposed to keep pretending we don’t know about them, or are you going to introduce us?” The question came from one of the others who had returned with Cass and Tim, leaning in towards Dick after having conversed with him shortly and whispering loudly.

Dick just snickered, but Bruce was the one that responded first. “You two weren’t supposed to be here until this evening,” he chided, giving the two of them a stern stare.

“Ehhhhh, afternoon, evening, it’s only a few hours apart,” the blonde visitor dismissed, shrugging. “We figured we'd just follow the family home. Besides, this way we can get a headstart on what you wanted us for.”

“And we get some of Alfred’s cooking,” his companion chimed in, snatching a small sandwich from the platter.

“Iiii knew that’s why you followed Tim home,” Dick grinned, folding his arms and shaking his head at his friend. “Wally, this is Jazz, Sam, Tucker, and Dani with an I,” he finally gave in, gesturing to each of the guests in turn. “Guys this is my friend, Wally, and his mentor Barry.”

“Nice to meet you,” Barry greeted, offering his hand.

“Finally,” Wally chimed in, the sandwich already gone.

“Yeaah figures you already knew. Stalker,” Tim jabbed at Wally, earning a snort from Danielle.

“Stalker? What earned you that nickname?” Danielle asked, knowing there was a story behind it if they were still friends despite the accusation.

“Wally gets bored, so checks in on all of his friends throughout the day,” Dick explained, starting to usher everyone to join the others at the lunch table.

“Only because my friends like to get shot at, stabbed, thrown off buildings, and engage in various other activities that are generally detrimental to their health,” Wally counters, flicking the bandage on Dick’s head. “Seriously. I just checked on you this morning and then you went and got attacked by Slade.”

“Should have been on time instead of early then,” Dick brushed off, “We handled it.”

“Well, as far as the Justice League is concerned, you did. But I’m betting she helped,” Wally snickered, pointing at Danielle.

“You bet I did,” Danielle confirmed proudly while dishing up her plate with way more food than the others.

“Aw, you have a new sidekick, Dick,” Wally snickered, then noticed just how much food Danielle had. “Hey wait- She’s not another speedster is she? You’re not replacing me are you?”

The accusation caused Dick to snort, shoving his hand in Wally’s face. “As if,” he declined with a huff. “She’s not a speedster. Just eats a lot.”

“Bet I could eat more than you,” Danielle challenged, not fully knowing what she was getting into.

Wally belted a laugh at the response, but didn’t immediately turn her down. “HA! I doubt it, but it’s been a while since someone tried. You’re on!” he accepted, even if he wouldn’t actually compete with her. No one else would get any lunch if he ate everything he could after all.

While Dick and Sam shifted away from the two children who started devouring their food as Stephanie started taking pictures, Sam looked over to Barry. “So… why are you here?”

Instead of answering Sam, Barry just passed her question onto Bruce by also looking to the man for an answer. Tim told them to stop by this evening, but he hadn’t told them why.

“Barry works as a forensic chemist. I wanted a second opinion on the analysis I have of ectoplasm,” Bruce responded easily. He wasn’t above using the resources he had, especially when someone’s health was on the line.

“Ectoplasm?” Barry repeated, face scrunching in confusion. “Why would I know anything about that? Shouldn’t you ask someone like John for ghost related stuff?”

“No,” Bruce answered simply, not caring to elaborate while Jazz and the others could overhear, even if Jazz was currently updating Sam and Tucker about the diluted ectoplasm that he had managed to obtain.

It wasn’t much of an answer, but having known Bruce for as long as he did Barry wondered if it was because of reasons better not discussed right then. “Fair enough. Sure, I’ll take a look,” he agreed with a shrug, filing the conversation away for later and returning to the meal.

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The rest of lunch was just another meal at the Wayne Manor. Once everyone had finished eating, with Wally deliberately making the challenge with Dani a slight win on his side, the kids helped Alfred clean up. Bruce was quick to head back upstairs with Leslie, Barry and Jazz, eager to start making more progress on getting Danny taken care of. It ended up being like they had thought, and now that Jazz had had a moment to cry and be comforted, and a good meal in her belly, she was a lot more patient and receptive to their explanations. It helped that Barry could explain the more chemical side of things when Leslie’s medical knowledge wasn’t quite enough. Because of them Jazz was easily able to accept them using a burn cream Bruce had added a plant toxin neutralizer to on Danny’s injury when Leslie changed the bandages and inspected it this time. And, with a little more explanation for why a blood draw was necessary for a metabolic panel to make sure they weren’t giving Danny too much vitamins as well as to help Bruce and Barry isolate a true sample of ectoplasm, Jazz allowed them to fill the vials they needed. Though it did take longer than Leslie was used to considering the ice fueled stasis appeared to be slowing his blood flow as well.

Something they would soon find was a good thing for more than just prolonging any natural deterioration from being in a coma.

“Huh, so this is the substance you’re looking for,” Barry commented, the tiny sample of blood enlarged under the microscope he was gazing into. Even without having seen various forms of contaminated blood and having to pick apart the details before, it was easy to focus on the brightly glowing green substance.

“Yes,” Bruce confirmed. “When the others treated the kids the first time they were able to get dead tissue samples from all of them, but only enough to run DNA tests to try to pinpoint their identities. There was residue of ectoplasm in the samples, but this was all I was able to gather for it based on that,” he recapped, passing the bottle with the remainder of the diluted ectoplasm to Barry when he looked up.

“Makes sense why she said it was like skim milk,” Barry noted, looking at the bottle as well as the microscope images of its substance that Bruce had pulled up on the computer. “I have to admit, I don’t think it’s a chemical. At least not in the sense that I’m used to. It isn’t like anything I’ve seen before- honestly it looks more like the magic saturated fragments I run across sometimes working on League stuff. You sure you don’t want to contact John, or even Zatana about this?”

“Constantine is an exorcist,” Bruce reminded tersely, “Manipulative personality aside, I don’t think bringing a ghost hunter to help with an injured ghost child would be a wise decision, nor make a good impression on the others.” Not to mention he just didn’t want to deal with the magic user if he could help it. “And Zatanna is trying to keep her distance from the Justice League. I’d like to respect that.”

“Good point,” Barry agreed with a wince, refraining from commenting that Bruce was doing surprisingly well about not completely avoiding the supernatural part of this situation.

“Should I contact Raven then?” Damian spoke up from where he’d been silently watching the process. He was curious about how this ectoplasm substance was apparently so different from the Lazarus pit water, but the current conversation had made him think of his friend.

“Raven?” Bruce repeated, prompting Damian to continue.

“She’s an experienced mage, who is also familiar with living and traveling between dimensions, like Zatara. She also has high empathy, and is closer to the others in age. They might be more receptive to her,” Damian responded.

Bruce was silent as he thought about the proposal, but eventually nodded. While Bruce knew Zatanna would help if she found out it was for Danny, someone who was severely injured, he would still respect her need for a break since they had other options.

“Bruce,” Leslie suddenly called over to them as Damian turned to his phone, sounding tense, borderline afraid. “Is that antitoxin you made safe for intravenous injection?” she prompted when Barry and Bruce paused to listen to her.

Instead of answering her immediately, Bruce stole the microscope from Barry and adjusted the dials. It was hard to tell at first, but there was definitely something else unfamiliar in the blood other than the ectoplasm. Something much smaller, but familiar enough to Bruce from his studies of the blood blossom toxin while he was trying to create an antitoxin. “...It hasn’t been tested for that. We shouldn’t risk it with the state he’s in,” Bruce finally answered, pulling back from the microscope with a furrowed brow as he realized what had Leslie so stressed.

“What’s wrong?” Barry asked, taking a peek at the microscope again, but figuring he should just ask to see if they would give him a quick answer.

“The toxin is in Danny’s bloodstream,” Leslie responded, raising her hands to her arms in stressed discomfort. “That topical cream isn’t going to be effective enough.” And they didn’t have an antitoxin they could give Danny either.

“Ohhh, that’s not good,” Barry agreed. So that’s what the bright red substance he’d seen was. “You said this toxin doesn’t exist in our dimension?” he asked, getting a confirming nod and hum from Bruce. “Trying to figure out an antitoxin injection would take way too long then. What other options do we have? Dialysis? If we can’t neutralize it then we should try to strip it out, yeah?”

“Dialysis is for fluids. But…,” Leslie half corrected, but the question did bring up another possibility. She had to take a moment to consider the effects it might have though, speaking up semi hesitantly. “Hemoperfusion could potentially work if we can find which resin the toxin will attach to.”

“Hemoperfusion resin, got it,” Barry nodded, ready to run off and find whatever he could get for them to test. They already had some of Danny’s blood, they could just test it under the microscope to make sure they were using the proper resin. But Bruce reached out to grab his shoulder.

“Hang on Barry. We agreed to talk to Jazz first before we tried anything with Danny. Don’t run off just yet,” Bruce scolded lightly, ignoring the subtly pleased expression Leslie got about him sticking to his promise to keep Jazz included.

“I’m worried about the side effects as well. If he needs ectoplasm then we have to make sure the resin doesn't also filter that out. And it’s common for hemoperfusion to strip out a percentage of platelets, white blood cells, and other components of blood that should stay,” Leslie admitted. There was a reason hemoperfusion wasn’t commonly used.

“We can monitor him closely during and after the treatment. And we can ask Danielle if she’s willing to give some of her blood for a transfusion if he ends up too deficient in anything,” Bruce offered as a potential course of action if the side effects were too much. Low platelets, blood sugar, or the like was better than being poisoned.

“Danielle?” Leslie asked, extremely uncomfortable with asking someone so young for a blood donation when they should have been looking for a compatible adult.

“Danielle is a clone. Obvious differences aside, she and Danny have the closest DNA match we could ever get. Plus her blood is already saturated with ectoplasm, so we won’t risk diluting what he already has,” Bruce responded, though it seemed just mentioning Danielle was a clone was enough for Leslie to understand.

“Very well,” Leslie sighed, accepting the proposed course of action. “Let’s talk with Jazz then.”

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IIiiiii hit this story WAY too hard in the beginning and gave myself a slight burnout X'DDD whoops. And then this part just did not want to make pretty words in my head or on page, so I'm just dumping it like an overcooked potato

Having too many characters in a scene is haaaard yo. Also Wally seems to have an inconsistent appearance, so I hope he looks okay 8'D

I learned that hemoperfusion is a thing that exists because of researching for this X'DD

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Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @megacharizardx99

@bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch, @tkiesai, 

@fanaroff, @raven1508, @nebulainajar, @serasvictoria02,@oliocelottafanfics,

@honeysuckletook, @omniithe-deer, @wolf-under-the-stars, @gingernutcalo, @that-random-fangirl,

@op-sys-chaos, @kirasigncomics,

[604to647]

Strawberry Shortcake (part 2 of 2)

13.4K / Frankie Morales x fem!reader

Summary: How are you supposed to avoid Frankie when your son and his daughter are becoming best friends?

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Angssssst and mutual pining. Single parenthood, mention of the death of a spouse, divorce (no detail). Mention of f!masturbation, slow burn, nicknames (Shortcake, baby, hermosa), minor appearance by TF boys. Everyone is a dummy. Wee bit of spice for these dummies at the end (no spoilers but let’s just say Frankie may be a dad, but he's also daddy).

A/N: Uhhhh sorry for the word count 🫣 Thank you so much for the lovely reception to Part 1 🥹🍓🍰The feel of this part is very different than the first; due to the setting of Part 1, it was a lot more sensual. This part is more domestic, almost a friends-to-lovers slow burn - I hope people who liked the first part will still find it enjoyable 🫣 Unfortunately, Frankie does not get 🍴😺 in this part (spoiler) which is honestly just a darn shame, so I wrote an Epilogue that I will post together with Part 2, which is a bit more of mixed vibe of the two previous parts. Thank you for reading!

Part 1 / Epilogue / Series Masterlist 🍓🍰

Strawberry dividers by @saradika-graphics 😘🍓

It could be two seconds.  Possibly a whole minute.  Maybe even ten.

You honestly can’t tell how long you and Francisco stand outside the kindergarten class room staring at each other.

At a loss for words, you don’t even know how to begin a conversation that you couldn’t have imagined ever having.  You never thought you’d see Francisco again, and certainly not under these circumstances – that he has a daughter is entirely news to you, though not unfair.  Afterall, he didn’t know you have a son.  During your time together, you had omitted certain personal details out of self preservation and it would seem, so did he. 

After you had left the club, Francisco remained an ever-present figure in your fantasies: your handsome and courteous gentle giant who made you feel safe and desired, and whose touch you only knew once – a first and last kiss that still makes your body strum just to recall.  His soft looks and soulful expressions dominated your nighttime dreams and sometimes even your daytime ones.  He wasn’t supposed to come to life. 

And yet, here he is, standing in front of you looking even more striking than you remember.  Your memories failed to capture the way his brown eyes fleck with gold, or the way the facial scruff you loved running your fingers through is adorably patchy in that one spot along his left jawline.  His hair is slightly longer than you remember, but the curls that peek out from beneath his familiar Standard Oil cap look to be just as touchable as the ones you’d twist around your fingers in that private room at the club.

Your fingers itch as if recalling some latent muscle memory, but it’s Francisco who moves first.

Stepping forward, he approaches you with his hand out to shake yours, “Hi, I’m Frankie. Valentina’s dad.”

Oh.

That’s what you’re doing.  You’re pretending you’ve never met before.

Your heart constricts painfully in your chest as you reciprocate his gesture and introduce yourself as your son’s mother.  Francisco’s smile at your name is kind, but you see nothing more to it behind his eyes. 

It’s not lost on you that this is the first time Francisco has reached out and touched you of his own volition.  Unless you counted that soft kiss you had felt on your back after he helped you redress on your last night together; in this moment, you think you must have imagined it – perhaps it would be best not to count it at all.

Frankie’s warm, firm hand lets go of your softer one as quickly as he had grasped it, darting past you to shake the hands of the other parents standing in the same hallway.  You turn and smile, introducing yourself as well, and for the next several minutes your small group of parents makes small talk about your children and continue to sneak peeks into the kindergarten classroom until the teacher comes to close the door with a reassuring smile.

Once the remaining parents have said their polite goodbyes, you turn to look for Francisco but find that he’s already left the building.  You see his retreating figure halfway down the path to the parents’ parking lot, walking hurriedly.

He can’t get away from you fast enough, you realize, devastated.

You manage to hold your tears in until you park outside of work.  Sitting in your car, you sob stupidly.  You had thought of Francisco every day since you left The Midnight Palace.  Wondered if he had been hurt when he had come back and found out you had left.  Thought about what he might be doing and if work at the hangar was less stressful these days.  Fantasized about where your relationship might be if you had met and dated like regular people.  Heard his soft voice in your head while in bed, guiding your hand between your legs and bringing you to a thundering climax to images of his handsome face, playful smirk and lustful gaze.  But never in your wildest imagination did you think he would pretend not to know you.

The rest of your work day is filled with free floating thoughts about Francisco popping up to distract you from your work - all depressing.

Could he be married?  You suppose you had never asked, just assumed he wasn’t from the lack of ring.  With some distress, you allow that you didn’t know he had a child - a hidden wife wouldn’t be too farfetched.

Suddenly ashamed, you realized that while there had definitely been some kind of connection, due to the nature of how you met, every physical advance had been made by you.  You were the one who had pushed forward your physical relationship, taking every next step that he had never asked for. 

No.  You can’t bring yourself to believe it.  The Francisco you had met didn’t seem like the type to cheat – he had been honourable, respectful, kind.  But then again, it’s possible you didn’t know him at all, you concede sadly.

Maybe his reaction this morning’s reaction had been due to shock.  You had felt it as well, and you suppose everyone processes the unexpected differently.  Perhaps after school you’ll get a chance to speak with Francisco, or rather Frankie, and the two of you can figure this out together.

But pick-up goes much the same as drop-off.  You see Frankie among the other parents waiting in the hall, amiably chatting, and though he acknowledges you with a small nod when he sees you join the conversation, he otherwise ignores you.  You’re grateful for when the bell rings, not sure how much longer you can maintain a neutral expression and keep the tears prickling the corners of your eyes at bay.

The children stream out of the room in a sudden burst of activity, each ramming themselves into a waiting parent, excitedly chatting about their day.  Your full attention happily turns to Raynor, and you don’t even realize that Frankie has left until you see him drive by on the way to your car, Valentina’s smiling face pressed up against the back window waving wildly to your son.

And it’s the same every day after: simple salutations and impersonal small talk at drop-off and pick-up.  More often than not, Frankie barely looks at you - he’s never rude or unkind, but disappointingly detached and uninterested.  It’s as if those summer nights in that private room never happened, or worse, they did but didn’t mean to him what they had meant to you.  It becomes painfully clear to you that they didn’t.

Some time during the third week of school, an epiphany hits you like a ton of bricks: he’s embarrassed.  Maybe even ashamed.  And while you don’t think it’s warranted, you can empathize.  Maybe he’s embarrassed to have seen the mother of his daughter’s friend half naked.  Or maybe he’s embarrassed that someone outside his army buddies knows how often he frequents a strip club.  As far as you could tell, he had been candid and honest with what he did choose to share with you in that room, and perhaps he hadn’t expected those raw and vulnerable feelings to be known by someone he would see nearly every day.  Maybe he was just embarrassed by it all, you.  It crushes you that what are cherished memories for you would cause Frankie any distress, but you’re not so unfeeling that you would want to force him to feel any more discomfort than he already does.

So, you don’t push and you don’t engage; you let Frankie ignore you and even though your heart is broken, you can’t find it within you to harbour any malice towards this man who was once the source of so much comfort and desire.

This works as well as it can until Raynor starts asking if he can have a playdate with Valentina.

“Just call her.”

Completely useless advice.  His friends are full of absolute nonsense suggestions.

Frankie has no idea what to do.  You’re slipping away again and he has no clue how to coax you back to him.  And neither do Santi, Will or Benny, apparently.

Every recommendation they make is predicated on Frankie having not made a total ass of himself since the start of school.  So absolutely useless.  Frankie presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and groans in frustration.  You’re an idiot, Morales.

On that first day of school, he had been so preoccupied with comforting Valentina that he hadn’t noticed you until you turned around in that hallway.  It was you – in a much more covered up state of dress, hair and face softer in the light of day that he had been used to, but it was you.

A million emotions race through his very soul the second he recognizes your face: shock, disbelief, relief, desire being the most prominent.  Frankie’s immediate instinct is to pull you into his arms and cup your pretty face in his hands – to trace every slope and line with his fingers (and maybe his lips) to make sure you were real.

Fuck.  He had missed you so much. 

Returning to The Midnight Palace two weeks after that unforgettable kiss, Frankie had been confused, then worried when you weren’t there.   He knew you were planning on going back to your lab assistant job at the end of the summer, but that wasn’t supposed to be for a few more weeks.  Your unexpected absence left him hallow and worried, realizing that he actually knew very little about your life – something could have happened to you and he would never know.  He had sat stage side with the boys, fidgeting and anxious the whole night; eyes darting to the employee entrance every time there was movement - thinking, hoping you might walk in and flash him that drop-dead gorgeous smile of yours that he took comfort in every day.

But you never showed.

And two weeks later you still weren’t there.  After Frankie had sulked for hours, terrifying the new cocktail waitress with his scowl, Will had taken pity on him and asked Sasha, the dancer from whom you borrowed the strawberry scented glitter gel that he loved so much, and that’s when he finally learned that you had left three weeks ago. 

Frankie was despondent.  He hadn’t felt the way he felt about you in a really long time and he had harboured secret hopes that the two of you might try take what you shared in the private room out of the club, into the real world.  After one too many pep talks from his friends, he finally worked up the courage to ask you out only to discover you gone for good, leaving him no way to find you.  The boys tried to cheer him up by offering to buy him a lap dance, but Frankie had refused – he didn’t want it.  He wanted you.  He had cut the night short and hadn’t joined his friends at The Midnight Palace since; he didn’t need your absence thrown in his face on a regular basis.

He dreams of you constantly.  Hazy, dimly lit dreams illuminated by that smile he can’t forget; flashes of soft curves and barely-there wisps of fabric that laid snug overtop.  Your lithe fingers dance into his mind’s eye until his sensory memory kicks in and his skin prickles while he sleeps, remembering how it felt when you would touch him – silky soft caresses along the worn lines of his face, lips, hands that always made him long for more of you.   He wakes up hard and missing you more than when he went to sleep, deflating when he remembers that he’ll never feel your touch again.

Now here you are and it’s not a dream.  You’re here.  Close enough to touch.

But just as Frankie is about to reach for you, two things happen simultaneously.  The first is he realizes the two of you aren’t alone and that a few other kindergarten parents stand behind you.  He suspects that you might not want to share your reunion with strangers or field any potential questions about how the two of you might know each other.

The second is that he’s hit with a wave of crippling doubt.  What if you weren’t happy to see him?  Maybe you hadn’t thought and dreamt of him every day since that last, incredible encounter together like he did you.  Afterall, you hadn’t left him a note or any way to contact you; perhaps you had put him out of your mind and left him behind as a memory of the summer, much like you did the club.

So, at the very last second Frankie pivots and shakes your hand, introducing himself then immediately does the same with the other parents, not wanting to single you out in front of them.

The look of hurt on your face flashes for only a millisecond, but Frankie sees it.  He immediately regrets his actions, but as the subsequent minutes tick by, filled with inconsequential small talk among the parent group, he can’t think of a way to recover and like a coward, he runs.

Frankie meant to start over with you at pick-up, but once more the two of you aren’t alone so he again opts for a polite interaction over an overly familiar one.  And then his priority is Valentina, as yours was your son, and the chance to reconnect once again slips through his fingers.

It’s same the next day and the next, and the following week and the one after that, until it’s been so long and the list of things left unsaid between the two of you grows overwhelming, that even if you had missed him and wanted to rekindle something, you most certainly didn’t anymore.  Maybe you even hated him a little.

So, Frankie resigns himself to having what he can of you without crossing any lines, just like it was for him back at the club.  He steals glances at you at school when you’re not looking and catches up on your life based on what he overhears you sharing with other parents or when he’s lucky enough to be part of the group you’re addressing.  The more he learns about you, the more he admires you – you make juggling parenthood and an impressive career look easy.  You were still the sweet and gentle creature he had fallen for over the summer, but now he knows you to be whip smart and a wonderful mom.  He didn’t think you could be any sexier or more beautiful than how he remembered you, but he’s happily proven wrong day after day. 

And you still smell like strawberries. 

Sometimes it takes all of Frankie’s self control not pull you into his embrace and spill out his feelings right there in front of your children’s hung artwork, so he tries not to look at you too much.

His heart calls for you.  But you aren’t his to have.  Maybe you never were.

It’s possible that Frankie may have just gone on living with this ever-present dull ache in his heart, resigned to being near but so terribly far away from you, if it weren't for his darling precocious daughter who insisted on being best friends with your son. 

Fed up with her father’s evasive answers and non-committal promises of talking to you about a playdate, young Valentina Morales decides that she’s going to try her hand at those “good decisions” her teacher is always talking about.  She and her best friend Raynor whisper secretly as they exit their classroom at the end of the day, looking up in tandem when they’ve stopped right in front of you.

“Raynor’s mom?  Could Raynor and I have a playdate?” Valentina smiles sweetly.

“Oh!” they’ve surprised you but not really - Raynor has been ask for the same for the past two weeks.  Your son and his best friend look up expectantly at you, eyes full of hope and excitement – manipulative little buggers, you chuckle to yourself.  Valentina’s little smile is especially beguiling; Francisco must never be able to say no to this face. 

Francisco.  Right.  You look up to see Frankie looking at his daughter with a mortified expression – you almost laugh out loud.  Yep, it’s clear who the boss in the Morales household is.

You kneel down to get to the kids’ level, “Alright.  How about this, girly-pop?  I’m taking to Ray-ray to the aquarium this weekend and if,” you pause here for effect and reiterate again, “if your father says it’s okay, you should definitely come with us and we can get lunch, and catch the walrus show, and stick our hands in the touch pools until they tell us to stop.  What do you think?”

Valentina and your son nod their little heads eagerly.  You smile at them and then up at Frankie, the two of you exchanging soft, familiar smiles.

“What about right now?”

Your head snaps back to your son and his friend, the two of them now smiling conspiratorially.

“Mama, Valentina says her and her dad are going to the park right now.  Can we go too?”

Ohhhh… you had underestimated these two.  Completely unable to come up with an excuse on the spot, you open and close your mouth two or three times, “Well… um… I’m sure that… uh…”

Frankie saves you, “If you’re free, we’d love for you and Raynor to join us at the park.  It’s the one a few blocks from here and we were just going to walk.”

You look at Francisco, wide-eyed.  This might be the most he’s spoken to you since the start of school; this smidgen of attention shouldn’t make your heart beat the way it does, but you feel nervous and maybe even excited about spending some time with Frankie after all this time.  Dumbly, you nod.  The children cheer and high-five each other.

The walk to the park is short and easy, the children happily skipping hand in hand ahead of you and Frankie – but between the two of you, there is a vague undercurrent of tension that settles in the pit of your stomach as you walk.  This is the first time since the club that you’ve been alone with Frankie – it’s funny, in the private room you wore nothing but your underwear and never felt as exposed as you do now.

The children run straight to the playground as you and Frankie settle on a nearby bench, sitting on opposite ends with snacks for the kids laid out between you. 

Frankie opens a Tupperware container full of cut vegetables and unscrews a little container of ranch dip, sucking his fingers clean of any overspill; you can’t help but stare, practically drooling at the sight of him popping his thick, meaty fingers between his plush lips.  When Frankie catches you looking, he chuckles and you avert your eyes quickly with a smile. 

To save face, you say the first thing that comes to mind, “That’s a lot of snacks.”

The two of you share an easy laugh while Frankie offers you the container and you gladly select a few cucumber slices.

“Gotta have all the options,” explains Frankie, “Valentina changes her mind about food constantly.  Never know if this is the week she decides grapes are evil.”

“Oh, Raynor is the same way.  Some days I feel like the lunch I pack him is just performance art for the teacher.”

There’s a pause of quiet after you both chortle at the ridiculousness of your children’s eating preferences.  It’s not uncomfortable, but it is palpable.

You find yourself obliged to fill the unaddressed divide between you and Frankie; you’re almost loathed to broach this topic, but you can’t be sure this new pleasantry isn’t a one-time thing so tentatively you ask, “Does Valentina’s mom ever do drop-off or pick-up?  I work at home at night as part of my flexible hours arrangement so I can do both, but it can’t be easy as a mechanic and pilot.”

It’s the first time either of you has made even the slightest allusion to having known each other previously, and though you look nervous to have done it, Frankie finds it a relief that you broke the ice.

“Twice a month I work weekends to make up the hours, but the boss isn’t that strict – it’s Pope,” he grins, and you do too, having forgotten that his friend helped run the hangar Frankie worked at. 

“Oh my goodness!  How is he?  How are Will and Benny?” you ask amiably.

“They’re all great – I don’t see Will and Ben as much as I do Santi, but at least once a week, they come by for tea time with Valentina,” Frankie grins.

Your giggles at this image are so pure and unadulterated, Frankie feels his heart lighten just from the sound.  You seem to have forgotten the part of your original question about Valentina’s mom, but Frankie hasn’t, “… and Valentina stays every second weekend with her mom.  Friday night to Sunday afternoon… so no school stuff.”  He flits his eyes to the playground to check on the kids who are playing some type of pirate ship pretend, and mouths the word ‘Divorce’.

“Oh,” you nod, sympathetically, “I’m sorry.”  You realize this explains why Frankie would only come in to the club every second Friday.

“It’s okay,” says Frankie, matter-of-factly, “it’s better this way.  We’re both happier.  And I think that’s a good thing for Valentina.”

You nod because you vehemently agree.  From what you’ve seen of some of your friends’ marriages, divorce is hard on kids, but an unhappy household is worse.  You follow Frankie’s lead and watch the kids for a bit too before you hear him hesitantly clear his throat, “And Raynor’s dad?  He isn’t one for pick-up and drop-off?”

Eyes shiny, your tone is gentle, “Raynor’s dad passed when he was just a baby.  He never knew him.”  It’s been over five years and your grief still comes and goes, sometimes sharp, other times dull.  Sometimes Raynor will do something that reminds you so much of your late husband, you find yourself locking yourself in the bathroom and sobbing.  Other times, the resemblance will fill you with nostalgia and joy, and you’ll startle your son with your seemingly sudden burst of affection – you never really know how it will go, but you’ve learned to let it come in whatever form it chooses; just feel it and ride it out.  Today, here with Frankie, it’s a small tug to your heart that prickles just a little so that tears mist your eyes but don’t spill over.  You glance over at Frankie who’s looking at you with such a kind and loving expression that you have to turn away, afraid your naïve heart will misinterpret his look for feelings that don’t exist; you finish softly, “It was a car accident.”

Frankie feels his heart clench upon learning that you’re a widow.  He would have never guessed.  At the club, and during the limited time he’s spent with you at the school, you always seem to carry yourself with such an unflappable grace - voice gentle and laughter ready and light.  That you do so having suffered such tragedy in your life makes him admire you more than he already does; Frankie’s heart is bursting with emotion and his hands itch to pull you in for a hug.  Instead, he clenches his fists and says with as much tenderness as he can, “I’m sorry for your and Raynor’s loss.”

“Thank you,” you say softly; you don’t detect any pity in Frankie’s voice – only sympathy and compassion.  You’re grateful for him.

You wouldn’t have predicted it, but this small moment of vulnerability seems to wash away all the awkwardness and hesitancy that you and Frankie never even acknowledged.  Your conversation flows easily afterwards, much like it did back in that private room when you would sit in his lap and the two of you would just talk.  Talking to Frankie now is as easy as it was then - he’s as good of a listener as you remember and his own stories and comments are shared with an infectious light humour, engaging and inviting.  In fact, you end up so engrossed in the conversation, you absentmindedly eat half of Valentina’s snacks – for which Frankie teases you mercilessly.  In response, you pull secret snack bags out of your purse and he doubles over in laughter, “You’ve been holding out on me!”

When the kids have had their fill of play and snack, your foursome starts on the walk back to the cars.  During this time, you easily pull from Valentina that she prefers your snacks over her fathers; you mockingly pat Frankie on the shoulder and declare that it’s about variety.  When Valentina pointedly says to you she hasn’t forgotten about the aquarium playdate, Frankie leans over and whispers, “Now we know why she said your snacks are better,” and you giggle uncontrollably.  Frankie thinks his heart might burst out of his chest.

And that’s how your friendship with Frankie Morales begins.

He comes to aquarium on Sunday and the visit is beyond pleasant, all the more so due to the company – you and Frankie hang back while the kids walk hand and hand from exhibit to exhibit, only being called forth when they need an adult to read from info cards about the exotic marine life.  The two of you chat animatedly with no awkward pauses, the only breaks coming from gentle looks exchanged when you pause to take in the happiness and joy of your children.

You have to admit, in the darkness of the aquarium, Frankie looks exceptionally handsome – reminding you a little of how he looked in the dim lighting at the club.  The shadows cast by the watery tanks accentuate his strong jaw line and aquiline nose, making Frankie’s already striking profile all the more breathtaking.  When you unexpectedly see him through the jelly fish tank, a gasp escapes on the soft exhale of your breath at how his expressive eyes catch the light reflecting off the water; he’s really so beautiful.  You quickly look away so not to be caught in your ogling – the two of you have only begun to reconnect as friends; you don’t want things to go back to being awkward and stilted just because you can’t keep things appropriate.

The walrus and seal lion show put Raynor and Valentina in such high spirits, that you can’t bear to separate them so soon after; all agree to extend the playdate longer to a fun and lively dinner, where you and Frankie show off your crayon colouring skills on the restaurant placemats. The children declare your masterpieces to be a tie.

Your renewed ease with one another and Raynor and Valentina’s fast blooming friendship lead to more afterschool park playdates with Frankie during the week and you hosting playdates at your house on the weekends.  Every so often, Frankie’s friends will organize an activity for the kids; it might be a small cookout, some mini sports game for the kids (t-ball, soccer, touch football), or even one of those famous tea parties that Benny likes so much – but Uncle Santi, Uncle Will and Uncle Ben welcome your son with open arms and you couldn’t be more grateful. 

You don’t have any brothers, and one thing you’ve always felt a little insecure about is the lack of male figures in Raynor’s life – you don’t think it means anything’s missing, but the truth is you don’t know how what you can’t provide impacts your young son.  You’re thankful for the positive male camaraderie energy and filial love that Frankie and his friends demonstrate and shower upon your son; when you tell Frankie this, his heart shatters and soars at the same time.  He finds single fatherhood to be more challenging that he’s sometimes willing to admit, but in some ways, he chose it with open eyes – he can’t imagine what it must have been like to have Raynor’s father, your partner, ripped from you, and have to carry forth taking on both parental roles.  Frankie thinks you’re doing a more than admirable job and when he tells you so, you cry a little.  

You’ve watched Frankie as a father: he’s kind and doting, gentle and patient when he needs to be, and models for Valentina how to be selfless and considerate.  Ever aware of his own and his daughter’s limits and boundaries, he keeps her safe while encouraging her in the most energetic and supportive way in all her endeavours.  You find Valentina to be a charming, smart and forthright child, capable of a wonderful mix of compassion, sweetness and playfulness – her outgoing personality is such a welcomed compliment to your son’s sometimes more cautious nature; Raynor’s own strong confidence often tempering her impulsiveness.  She’s such a lovely friend to Raynor and you find that you love her very much.  You attribute so much of what you love about to Valentina to her fantastic father; for him to compliment your own parenting means the world.

As the months go on, the children’s ever more frequent playdates tie you and Frankie together for most days and even some nights.  Daytime play easily extends to include dinners at your respective houses, and somehow dinners start to transition into movie nights on your couch that are spent with the four of you under blankets and passing the popcorn back and forth.  On that first night of many where the kids fall asleep before the movie ends, you agree with Frankie that it would be a potential disaster to move Valentina too much when transporting her home and risk a full out melt down – you offer the guest bedroom as a much more amenable option.  A relieved Frankie sleeps on the couch. 

The next morning, the two of you wake before the children and meet in your kitchen, already bright with sunlight streaming in through the big bay window that overlooks your backyard.  You realize with an ache that Francisco does smile at you in the morning light the way he used to in the club: soft and disbelieving.  You hope he can’t hear the loud beating of your heart as you make coffee, and try to settle the racing of your heart before the two of your sit at your kitchen counter and enjoy the luxury of a warm cup of coffee in the quiet, a rare respite from needing to cater to the needs of your small children.  The quiet conversation during what becomes a regular weekend morning occurrence is always comforting and comfortable; it confirms what you’ve always known: Frankie Morales is a catch.

During these tranquil mornings, there’s always a moment when you have to catch yourself from falling into the dangerous trap of admitting just how attracted to Frankie you are.  Sometimes you do deep breathing exercises while you rinse out the coffee cups, other times, you’ll have to step away to ignore how sweet Frankie is when he draws smiley faces on the kids’ waffles with the whipped cream.  But you always have to do something.  You can’t let yourself fall for Frankie.

As your children grow closer, so naturally do you and Frankie, but neither of you ever bring up your past together at the club.  Not a word about how you met or what you shared those months in the summer, and certainly no mention of that last night where you bared your body to him and the two of you shared a kiss that still haunts your dreams.  Any time one of you alludes to something about the other that you could have only learned during your time together in the private room, you carry on without acknowledging how you might be privy to that tidbit.  It’s as if it never happened.  And while those summer months live in your memory as a time when you had felt special and desired, you accept it doesn’t hold the same sentiment for Frankie. 

Frankie.  Always Frankie.  You never ever call or think of him as Francisco.  Francisco is a man who only exists in your dreams – a fantasy who openly desired a you who was sexy, in control and mysterious.  He was kind, respectful, and made you feel gorgeous and wanted.  For your own sanity, you force yourself to separate him from Frankie.  Frankie is the father of your son’s best friend.  You’re no mystery to him: he sees you at your most frazzled, tired - when you forget it’s pizza day or when you’re so late for drop-off that you’re still tucking your shirt into your skirt while rushing Raynor down the path to school.  He’s kind and respectful as well, but about different things – he understands your struggles as a single mom and knows just how to lift your spirits and encourage you when you need it the most or lends a helping hand with the kids and household tasks before you even had to ask.  He makes your life happier, lighter. 

Francisco had been yours for a short time, and for that you remain grateful, but he wasn’t someone you would ever hold or kiss; you’d never know him like you had known him for those sweet summer months.  He was gone.

Frankie is your friend.  He’s here now and you don’t ever want to lose him.

You don’t conflate the two men because you can’t – it’s too dangerous to want something that isn’t meant for you.  So, you mourn Francisco and you cherish Frankie, always holding yourself back from loving him, except perhaps in the deepest, most secret chambers of your heart.

Raynor’s birthday party is in full swing.  You found one of those bouncy castle rental places that set-up inflatables in people’s backyards for a totally reasonable price and now your backyard is full of happy, bouncy kids having the times of their lives tumbling and scrambling through giant blow up houses and castles; there’s even a maze that ends in a massive ball pit.  There are kids from school, kids from the neighbourhood, a few of your friends and co-workers’ kids, and even some kids whose moms have moms that play mahjong with yours.  Raynor is over the moon and as far as you’re concerned, the more the merrier.

Frankie and Valentina had come over before the party started; Valentina wanting to give her best friend his present early and maybe sneak in some extra bouncy castle time.  While the kids bounced, Frankie helped you set-up tables and chairs and inquired if he could run the BBQ for you; you had protested, saying that you would be able to handle it, but Frankie insisted.  Now that the party is underway, you have to admit that between greeting all the kids and parents, supervising the bouncy castles and making sure that drinks and snacks are readily available, you would have struggled to cook lunch as well.  As a bonus, you admit, grinning to yourself, Frankie is looking pretty good at the grill.

Getting an early start on dishes before prepping the cake, you have the perfect view of Frankie through your kitchen window; turning over hotdogs with his tongs and plating cooked hamburger patties in an adorable blue apron, Frankie looks positively delicious.  His tan face brightened by his good mood and sweat from the heat of the grill dotting his rugged neck, he’s smiling a smile that reveals his elusive dimple as he takes pride and joy in his domestic responsibility. 

Maybe, you think, just maybe you can allow yourself just one moment of fantasy where the food Frankie’s currently grilling is the main course to a side salad you’re preparing in the kitchen of the house the two of you share.  And he’ll come in when the meat’s done the way he knows you like and wrap his arms around you from behind, pressing sweet, but hungry kisses to your neck before murmuring cheekily that he really could eat.  In your daydream, you squeal when he spins you around with blinding speed before sighing into the slow, tender kiss pressed to your lips. 

And perhaps your imagination might even take your make believe even further if at that exact moment you didn’t see Amanda, your mom’s mahjong friend’s daughter sauntering up to the grill flirtatiously.  The happy illusion you conjured dissolves as you watch her chat up Frankie and put her arm on his bulging bicep just before his piercing brown eyes crinkle and he throws his head back in a loud laugh at her touch.

Immediately, your eyes fill with tears and the devastating scene in front of you blurs.  Unable to stop them from spilling over, you strip off your dishwashing gloves and run to the bathroom as quickly as you can; locking the door behind you, you lean over the sink and sob.

Stupid.  Stupid.  Why are you crying?  Frankie isn’t yours. 

If anything – he’s less likely to be yours than anyone else’s; the two of you forever separated by your shared past at the club that embarrasses him so.  And yet, you can’t help wanting him, and not even Francisco, but Frankie – the considerate man who derives simple joy from helping others, whose unwavering support has made you a more lighthearted, joyful parent, and who has readily taken up the mantle of being a calm and stable presence in your son’s life.  It seems this same Frankie can also be flirty and coy, but that was for other women.  Not you. 

Stupid.  Stupid.  He doesn’t want you. 

But you still wanted him.  Gosh, you wanted him so much.  But he isn’t yours to have.

It's so dumb to cry over a boy, you tell the tear-stained you in the mirror.  You grin, imaging yourself saying that to an older Valentina one day; but even that small comfort is ripped from you as you realize with sadness that it may not be your place.  No.  Frankie will meet someone, it’s inevitable.  He’s sweet, smart, funny and kind, and stupidly gorgeous – one day, there will be a woman who captures his heart and then you’ll have to give up your friendship for fear of succumbing to a broken heart.

Wiping away your tears and cleaning up the best you can, you tell mirror you to get it together.  It’s your son’s birthday – today is about him and not your pathetic pining over his best friend’s father.  The comically accusatory look you give yourself galvanizes you enough to exit the bathroom, and you walk back to the kitchen ready to finish your chores and check in on the party.  Instead, you find the object of all your desires and the source of your current distress waiting for you in the kitchen.

---

Frankie’s sweating – the BBQ is hot and the party guests are gobbling up everything he cooks before he even has a chance to put more on the grill.  As sweltering as it is, he’s very glad to play grill master if it means one less thing for you to have to do.  He’s spent most of the party watching you juggle your multiple roles with hurried grace: mom, party host, snack fetcher, drink refiller, clean-up crew, boo-boo fixer.  When he saw you bravely dive into the ball pit to help a child find her lost shoe, he had grinned to himself so goofily he almost burned the chicken wings. He didn’t think he could be more hopelessly in love with you, but he should have known you would prove him wrong, as you often did with matters of his heart.  The only downside to being stationed at the BBQ is that he hasn’t spent any time with you today.  He thinks he saw you duck back into the house with a stack of dirty dishes – have you eaten today?  He closes up the grill and does a quick check on Valentina and Raynor before plating you some food and heading in.

He's just been standing in the kitchen wondering where you were for a few minutes when you emerge looking a bit off coloured and somewhat startled to see him.

In what has now practically become second nature, Frankie forces his body to ignore the near constant urge to reach out to you – his immediate impulse being to hold you close and stroke your face with his fingers to soothe and comfort you.  You wouldn’t want that, though. 

Instead, he shows his concern another way; holding out the plate of food in front of him, he looks at you with some tenderness, “Have you eaten, Shortcake?”

Heart racing upon hearing this long lost term of endearment, you’re too stunned speak, able only to silently shake your head in response.

Frankie knows that you’ll come up with some excuse to put your needs behind that of the party goers, so he puts the plate down on and guides you to sit before you can do so, “You have to eat.  I’ll keep an eye out on things from here.”

Admittedly, you’re starving and the food Frankie’s brought you smells mouth watering good; with a small nod of thanks, you acquiesce.  For several minutes there’s a comfortable silence while you eat and Frankie looks out the window to keep watch on the party.  Between bites, you gaze adoringly at the handsome profile of the sweet man before you - he knew you hadn’t eaten and he came to take care of you, feed you with food he cooked himself.  Your heart swells at his thoughtfulness and quietly you say, “You haven’t called me that in a long time.”

Frankie looks back at you.  He doesn’t need to ask what you mean, “I didn’t think I should.  Not in front of the other parents.”

You nod, understanding, “I guess it would be rather embarrassing to have to explain.” 

Brows furrowing, Frankie looks at you for a beat before turning to face you fully, trying to keep his voice even, “I want you to know, I would never tell anyone about the club… please know, I’m not embarrassed by it and I don’t think you should be either… not saying you are, just that you don’t have any reason to be… but some people can be weird and judgemental about that kind of thing… I want you to rest assured that I won’t ever put you in a position like that.”

It’s the first time since the start of the school year that Frankie’s acknowledged how the two of you met or even mentioned the club – it never occurred to you that his avoidance of the topic was to protect you.  For the billionth time since you met him, you’re touched by the considerate nature of this man, “Thank you, Frankie.  I wasn’t worried that you would, but I appreciate you looking out for me.”

“Always, Shortcake.”

The two of you exchange a soft smile, not unlike the ones you used to share back at The Midnight Palace, as if you’re each thinking back to your time together there.  Afraid of becoming too wistful, Frankie jokes lamely, “Plus, I would be outing myself as a loser who has to pay a beautiful woman to talk to me every two weeks.”

Even if he’s saying it like a joke, there’s an undercurrent of melancholy to Frankie’s tone that you don’t understand – but you try to reassure him anyways, “No, no - don’t say that, Frankie.  I could never think you’re a loser.  And it was never about the money for me – I wanted to talk to you, really.”

Lifting his cap and running his hand through his hair before rubbing the back of his neck, Frankie chuckles softly, “Ok, thanks… that’s good to hear.”

It strikes you that he may be looking for some similar reassurance that you won’t “out” him, the way he had assured you, “And same here.  I would never share that about you.  You’re right, you never know how people might react to that kind of thing.  I look back at the time we spend together so fondly and I’m so very appreciative of how well you treated me… I could never forgive myself if how we met somehow caused you any problems, or got in the way of anything you wanted.  So, please don’t worry about me telling anyone either.”

Your wording choice seems a bit odd to Frankie, but still, his heart perks up a little to hear you say that your memories of your time together at the club are pleasant, and he simply says, “Ok, thank you.”

You didn’t realize that having this unspoken thing between you and Frankie had been like an albatross around your neck, but suddenly you feel a lot happier and cheery.  Having finished your food, you clean up after yourself and head to the fridge, chirping, “Do you mind helping me with the cake?”

You know Frankie’s answer without even seeing him nod; this generous man has never turned down an opportunity to help you.  When you place the cake in front of him, he beams, “Oooh!  Strawberry shortcake!  My favourite.”

Smiling, you say somewhat shyly, “I remember.”  Your mind immediately travels back to sitting in Frankie’s lap, scantily clad, the very glitter gel that inspired him to tell you this fact about himself spread generously over the ample curve of your breasts.  Frankie’s mind goes straight to the same memory and his face reddens.

Practically stuttering, you try to explain, “… but that’s not why I made it!  Raynor requested the cake!”

Your flustering doing nothing but endearing you to him further, Frankie can’t help but tease, “Sure, sure.”

You swat at his arm, playfully, “He did!”

Grinning, Frankie lets you off the hook, “Okay, okay - lil’ dude has good taste in cake then.”

And though your heart is still far from healed, this is the best you’ve ever felt around Frankie, so reminiscent of how he and you would flirt and tease back when you first met, easy laughter always coming naturally to the two of you.  You smile gratefully at him and pretend not to notice when he steals two strawberries off the top of the cake while you go to get the candles.

---

“Hey, come look.”  Frankie calls to you softly from the kitchen doorway that leads to the living room.  Putting down the containers of leftover food you were trying to fit into the fridge, you wander over to be greeted by the sight of Raynor and Valentina completely passed out on the couch.

A smile comes over your face when you hear their peaceful snores and you whisper to Frankie, “Can I admit something to you?  It’s been ages since Raynor dropped his nap, but sometimes I really miss it.”

“Oh, I know.  Sometimes I want to say to Valentina that she might be willing to give up naps, but I never agreed to forgo MY nap.”  The two of you chuckle heartily. 

If it were Friday or Saturday, you would offer to let them sleep and then stay up for a late sleepover, but tomorrow is the start of the school week, “What do you say we let them sleep for… an hour?  Enough to burn off today’s sugar, but not too long to ruin bedtime?”

“Sounds good.  I can help you clean up.”

You try to protest, Frankie has already helped so much with the party today, “Oh!  Don’t feel like you need to at all!  You’ve already helped me so much today, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.  You really can just put on some TV or something.  Sit and relax, I’ll bring you a drink.”

Frankie cocks his eyebrow at you, and it takes you a minute to realize the humour in you offering to serve him a drink.

“No!  That’s not what I was… shut up!” you laugh, spinning to return to the kitchen with Frankie following, snickering.

The two of you in good moods start to do the dishes, you washing and him drying – him knowing where to put things away, having done this with you many times over the last several months.  It’s quiet and comfortable.  You hum to yourself a little, and while you seem content – the party having gone off without a hitch, Frankie can’t help but remember the sad look on your face from when he had come into the kitchen earlier to bring you food.  He could have sworn you had been crying.

“You had an okay day, Shortcake?”

You nod, “Just a little tired, maybe?  But it was so worth it.  The kids all had so much fun!”

It was just like you to put others before yourself, Frankie thinks; he finds it to be one of your sweetest traits, but wishes you would take care of yourself too.  Maybe let someone take care of you.  He tries to push down the plea from his heart that wishes he could be that someone.

He’d like to think he’s gotten rather good at reading you after all this time together and is sure that there’s something still bothering you.  While he dries the dishes, he thinks back to your conversation earlier; it had a been a long time coming and he’s glad the two of you finally ripped the band aid off the one topic you never seemed to talk about.  He didn’t know how heavily your opinion of the time you shared in the private room mattered to him until he heard you say that you looked back upon it fondly.  Upon him fondly.  That you hadn’t thought him a total creep.  He had felt a weight lifted off him immediately, and in truth, a little hope started to burrow into his heart that maybe that time had meant something to you the way it did him.  He suddenly recalls something you said that he remembers puzzling over, but hadn’t asked you about at the time.

“What did you mean earlier when you said you didn’t want how we met to ‘get in the way’?  Get in the way of what?  You said something I wanted.”

“Oh,” you look down, embarrassed at the tears that are starting to form at just the thought of Frankie dating, “I just meant… like you said, sometimes people get weird and judgmental about strip clubs… and if you were interested in someone… like that girl, Amanda?  I wouldn’t… I mean…”  You’re tripping over your words.  The last thing you want to talk about is Frankie being interested in someone else, the whole concept feels like a vice around your heart.  “… you shouldn’t be judged for something like how you and I met before they get a chance to know you.  You’re so sweet and respectful, and just kind and such a good father… but… I… any girl would be lucky to date you.  And I would never want to get in the way of that,” you finish lamely.

“Is that what you want, hermosa?” Frankie takes a step forward, causing you to look up.

There’s a look in Frankie’s eye that you haven’t seen before.  No, wait – that isn’t exactly true.  You’ve seen it before but on Francisco’s face.  It was the expression he had sometimes when you would just look at each other, no words exchanged – one filled with longing and desperation.

“You want me to date other girls?” he practically spits out the words, as if they don’t belong anywhere near his mouth.

You don’t know how to answer, except honestly. “It doesn’t matter what I want,” you say quietly.

Frankie looks at your fallen face and thinks he might have to walk back his earlier self assessment that he knows how to read you.  You seemed sad, disappointed – but why?  A big part of him just wants to comfort you and make you feel better, regardless of the cause of your unhappiness; but another part of him, the part where hope had been planted earlier and is starting to grow at a rapid pace, watered by the mere idea that you might care at all who he dated, has to know if you feel something for him.  His selfishness wins out and he decides to go for broke, “It matters to me what you want.”

Your eyes soften at this declaration, and the downturn of your mouth rights itself slightly into a quizzical ‘O’, but still you say nothing so Frankie presses on.

“It matters because I’ve thought about you every single day since I met you.  The whole summer, all I thought about your sweet laugh and the way you always smiled at me like what I was saying mattered to you.  And how those pretty eyes of yours would light up every time you said something you already knew was really funny and you were just waiting to see if I would catch on and laugh.  I thought about what it would be like to take you out, court you, treat you like you deserve.  Hold you without a time limit,” the look Frankie gives you at this confession is of both despair and relief, as a dam has broken and now nothing can stop his words from overflowing. 

“And since that first day of school when I found you again, I’ve only thought of you more.  I think of the way you’re so full of patience and compassion, and that your son is so kind and considerate because of you.  And that my daughter and I are so lucky to have you both in our lives.  I think about how Valentina told you once that she liked those cheese biscuits you made, and now every time you bring her a snack, there’s always at least one included.  I think about how you always take of others and how everyone around you is happier for being in your presence.  I think about how I want to take care of you too.  I think about how I used to think you were beautiful in that club, but now you blow me away time I see you at school, or in the park, or when we’re just hanging out with the kids.  I think the way you look in the kitchen on those mornings when it’s just you and me before the kids wake up is the most gorgeous a person has ever looked.  It makes me think about how much I wish I was waking up next to you instead of just meeting you in the kitchen.  I think about what it would be like to fall asleep holding you.  I think about making you feel good, the way you deserve to feel good.  I think about what it would be like to take you to bed and make you scream my name.”  You’ve never heard Frankie talk like this before and your breath hitches in your throat – this is everything and more that you’ve always dreamed of hearing him say; you’re afraid to interrupt, for fear he might say it’s a mistake and take it all back.

Frankie seems to collect himself, calming, “Did you know the night I went to the club and you were gone, I was going to ask you out?”  You shake your head, you didn’t know – you had harboured your own hopes, of course, that you and Francisco might see each other outside of the club, but the possibility seemed so slim and laughable, you had never even spoken them out loud.

“The guys finally hyped me enough to convince me you might say yes.  I wasn’t sure, you know?  I only saw you every two weeks, and I thought I was probably making more of our time together than it really was… it would have been perfectly within your rights if you were… just doing your job, you know?” Frankie is miserable at the thought.  In truth, he still harbours this insecurity – since the two of you have reconnected, you haven’t given him any indication that you had thought him as more than just some patron you had to entertain every two weeks.  Then again, the two of you never spoke of the time at the club at all; he had worried that this was a sent message in and of itself.  Moreover, you haven’t said anything since he started his confession and he’s starting to think he might just be humiliating himself and ruining your friendship at the same time.

You shake your head violently.  No, no, no.  This won’t do at all! You really don’t know how Frankie could have ever thought that, but then again, you had thought he was ashamed of your time together – you can’t let another minute go by without him knowing how you felt, how he made you feel, “No, please, Frankie – don’t ever think that please.  It wasn’t my job – I never went to the room with anyone but you.  I never wanted to go with anyone but you.  I only wanted you.  I looked forward to out time together and every two weeks never felt like enough.  You were so sweet and respectful, and you made me feel so perfect and desired, and so very cherished.  I wanted you more than you know, Frankie.  Everything that happened in that room, everything I said, everything we did – I loved it all.  It was real to me.”

“Yeah?”  Frankie’s feels hope he’s never felt before when he sees you smile and nod, “When you weren’t there, I was so confused.  You didn’t say goodbye, so I didn’t know if something had happened to you, or if you were sick, or… I don’t know.  Then I realized, you didn’t owe me a goodbye – I was just some guy whose lap you sat in…”

“Oh baby,” you reach out to touch his face.  Baby.  Frankie closes his eyes and leans into your touch.

“I’m so sorry!  I wanted to leave you a message, but I… didn’t know what to say.  I didn’t know what was okay to ask from you.  Maybe I was just a girl who sat in your lap, you know?”

Eyes still closed, Frankie nuzzles deeper into your palm, “No, hermosa… you weren’t.  You’re so much more than that.  You’re everything to me.”

Tears now prick at the corners of your eyes for a much happier reason and you cup Frankie’s face fully in your hands and soothe him by scratching his scruff, hoping he’ll recall the affectionate gesture as you say sincerely, “I would have said yes.”

“Hmmm?” Frankie revels in the feel of your soft strokes on his face – this simple but loving gesture taking him back to the club when he had you to himself, when his want for you always simmered close to the surface but where he wasn’t allowed to let it boil over.  But he’s not at the club now.

Smiling wide, your heart bursts with joy and affection for this sweet man in front of you that you’ve wanted for so long - you never want him to be unsure of your feelings for him ever again, “I would have said yes, if you had asked me out.”

“Yeah?”  Finally allowing himself to believe that you return his affections, that you’ve always felt the same for him as he did you, Frankie opens his eyes and allows his grin to overtake his face.

He’s so cute and boyish when he smiles like this – you spy that cute dimple making its appearance again and you beam back, “Yeah.”

Happy emotions spilling over, Frankie breathes out the question that he’s wished to ask since the first night he laid eyes on you, “Can I touch you, Shortcake?”    

Voice husky and so full of need you’re practically vibrating, you nod with conviction, “Yes please, Francisco.”

Upon hearing his full name roll so sweetly off your tongue, the only name you ever called him back at the club, Frankie closes the remaining distance and is on you in an instant - lips crashing to yours with a force that nearly knocks you off your feet.  His hands immediately encircle your waist to catch you just as you throw your arms around his neck and pull him close. 

It’s another first kiss of sorts, this one needy and expressive and full of emotions previously thought unrequited.  You kiss Frankie like you can’t quite believe you are, part of you still can’t - by some miracle of a second chance, he’s here: Francisco is here and he’s real.  And he’s also Frankie, who knows you in the real world and still wants you.  The very thought makes you dizzy and you take off his worn cap so you can thread your fingers through his soft curls for something to ground yourself.

Your mouths clash and tangle, every brush of your lips is frenzied, desperate, greedy.  Frankie urges you to open your mouth to his and when you welcome him, he licks in, over and over, exploring and claiming every soft moan you emit as his own.  His tongue slides alongside yours reassuringly and lets itself be captured by your teeth; you teasingly tug and suck on the muscle before letting it invade your mouth once more. 

You’ve dreamt about your and Francisco’s first kiss a hundred times, but this, this first kiss with Frankie is something for the books.  He can touch you – his hands won’t stop touching you and it makes your entire body sing.  Frankie cradles you head in his big hands and lightly tugs your hair back so that you arch into to him.  Once he’s satisfied, his hands roam your back, stroking up and down your spine with that just right pressure that toes the line between relaxing and electrifying; you want to melt into his touch and let him caress you with this type of reverence everywhere.  Then when his hands wander down over the plush globes of your ass with feather light touches, you giggle from the ticklish feel only to dissolve into a puddle when he grabs fistfuls of your cheeks and kneads – his hands so big that the tips of his fingers nearly graze the core of you that’s already warm and clenching just from all this kissing.  And throughout all this touching, as if to make up for lost time, Frankie never stops kissing you.  He kisses you like he’s been starving for your touch, because he has – and now that he’s been given the go ahead to satiate his hunger, he positively devours you.  You think you might pass out from the way Frankie kisses.

As he continues to overwhelm your senses, Frankie slowly walks you backwards towards the dining table and helps you hop on top; without being asked, you spread your legs to accommodate his width as he presses himself against your centre; unable to help from grinding against him, you’re sure Frankie can feel how wet you are through your leggings.  You lean back, putting yourself on display and he takes the invitation readily, kissing down your neck sensually and teasing you slowly - a marked contrast from how greedy he’s been with your mouth.  First, he lets loose breathy groans by your ear right before lightly nibbling your earlobe and leaving you shivering.  Then, Frankie places fluttering kisses that alternate with the nuzzling from his strong nose below your ear; the subsequent transition to open mouth kisses, all nips and sucks, down your neck that ending in the laving of his tongue across your collar bones has you gasping for air.

Lightheaded and giddy, all you can do is take and whimper words of praise that have Frankie moaning against your skin:

“Oh god, Frankie, that feels so good.”

“Fuck, baby, right there… yes, oh god, right there.”

“Never stop, please.  Please, Francisco, I’ve wanted this for so long, I – OH!”

Frankie’s hands have found your chest, groping and palming – somehow managing to zero in on your nipples even through the layers of your shirt and lingerie.  He pinches and twists, tugs and rolls as you throw your head back and positively whine.  Chuckling into the sweet spot at the bottom of your neck, he murmurs, “Can’t wait to see you in some slutty lacy thing again, Shortcake.”

You’re practically bucking into him now - wet and throbbing, all the build up to this moment has the waves of your desire and arousal cresting shamefully quick; you’re starting to feel the telltale coil below your belly tighten when you realize with a start - “Frankie!  We can’t!  The children!”

Frankie looks like he wants to say something else as he pauses in his efforts, but he stops and presses his forehead to yours, panting, “Right, the children.”  And mutters something about how this might be worse than the no touching rule.

You giggle. 

Looking at you with a mixture of unadulterated joy and devotion, Frankie finally asks, months in the making, “Next weekend when Valentina’s at her mom’s, can I take you out, Shortcake?  Like a real date?  Dinner?”

Shyly, you nod, “It’s a date, Francisco.” And you press your lips hard to the giant grin that spreads across Frankie’s face, catching a glimpse of that dimple you love so much before closing your eyes and sighing in happiness.

---

*Bzzzz*Bzzzz*

“Hey Frankie!” Already laying into bed, you answer your phone - giddy when you see the caller ID.

“Hey Shortcake.”  You can hear Frankie’s smile.

“I miss you already.”

“I miss you too, baby.”

“Did everything go okay with bedtime?”

“Uhhhhhhhh….”

“Same here.  Valentina fought sleep like it was her job.”

“Raynor tried to bribe me with a ‘it’s my birthday’.”

“Little devils,” Frankie chuckles good naturedly, unable to hide his affection for your children.

“Totally.  We can’t ever let them gang up on us!  It would be the end, I fear.”

“Can’t be the end, baby.  It’s only the beginning for us.”

“I’m so excited for our date, Frankie.”

“Me, too hermosa.  I’m going to wine and dine you like you deserve.”

“What about the other thing you said you wanted to do, Francisco?” You’re feeling cheeky.

“The other thing?”

“Something about making me scream your name?”

Immediately, he’s stuttering, “Oh… fuck, sorry.  I- that was out of line.  I promise, I don’t expect anything like that…”

“Frankie.”

“I would never put any pressure on you for sex or for anythin-“

“Frankie.”

“Yes?”

“Do you think you might like to make me scream your name right now?” Suddenly shy, you cover your face even though Frankie can’t see you.

His head spins, “Wh- oh, fuck.  Yes, baby.”

Your voice breathy and low, “You want to know what I’m wearing, Francisco?”

“More than anything.”

“I’m wearing that black lacy bra and panty set from the club,” you had put it on after getting ready for bed, inspired to set the mood for a solo session starring Frankie, but then he had called.

“The one from our last night together?”

“Mmmmhmmmm…. Do you remember, baby?”

Frankie groans, picturing you and the lace set so perfectly in his mind, “Remember? I can’t get the image out of my mind.  You know what it felt like to see you at school everyday in your pretty work clothes and know that underneath is the sexiest, hottest body I’ve ever seen?”

“Tell me what you liked about it, please.”

“So polite, baby.  Such a good girl.”

You actually whimper.  “Thank you, Frankie.”

“Love your pretty mouth, Shortcake.  And love how that pretty lace sits on those curves of yours.  Your ass bouncing just right, peeking out below the fabric.  Love how those gorgeous tits of yours look, ready to spill over the tops of your bra.”

“Ohhh… Frankie baby.  If we were back in that room and you could touch me, what would you do to me?”

“Holy shit, hermosa.  So many things…”

“Tell me, please.”

“First I’d ask you to dance and touch yourself like you did the last time, but over your bra.”

“Nghhh-huhhhh.”  You feel a warmth spread over your skin, remembering how sexy and desired Francisco always made you feel.

“Are you touching yourself right now, baby?”

Fingers tingling from just his voice, you run your hands over your breasts, softly rubbing and massaging, imagining your small hands are his. “Yes, Frankie.”

“Good girl, baby.  Feel those pretty tits for me, ‘kay?  I want you to grab them, be a little rough with them.”

“Oh god, yes…”

“How do they feel, hermosa?”

“The lace is smooth but the edges tickle my fingers.  My tits feel so soft and full, but Francisco, baby… they’re aching for you.”

“I’m right here, Shortcake. Hook those little fingers of yours in your bra and think about me pulling those lace cups down and playing with your pretty nipples when they pop out.”

“Please, yes… daddy.”  The honorific just falls from your mouth, wrapped around a soft moan that emanates from the very chest you’ve now uncovered.  Yes, he may be a dad, but right now, as you arch your tits up towards the ceiling towards his imagined touch, Frankie is also your daddy.

No one has ever called him that before, but fuck if Frankie’s dick didn’t just twitch.  “Oh fuck, baby… Daddy’s going to take real good care of you.”

“Feels so good… they’re so hard for you.”

“If I we were at the club, I’d roll them in between my fingers, pinching and pulling on them until you cried out, hermosa.”

You tug a little harder on your nipples at his words, before letting them drop, letting your breasts jiggle, “It hurts… but it hurts so good, daddy.”

“Let daddy kiss it better, Shortcake.  You’ll feel even better when I suck on your pretty tits, baby, don’t you think?”

“Ohhhh goddddd, yes please, daddy.  Want you sucking on my nipples and flicking them with your tongue.”

“Holy sh-.  Run your thumbs over them gently, ‘kay?  I wanna suck on those pretty peaks until you cry.  I still remember them from that night, so perky and pointy.  Prettiest tits I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you, Francisco.  I love being your pretty girl.”

“You are my pretty girl.  Tell me what my pretty girl wants now.”

“I wish you were here to touch me, baby.” Your voice comes out needy, bratty.

“Need your words, hermosa.  Where?  Tell me where you want my fingers and daddy will give you what you want.”

“My pussy, please.  I want you to touch my cunt, daddy.”

“Didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth on you, baby.”

“I’m going to keep my lips and tongue on those gorgeous tits of yours and start to drag my hands down your sexy body.  Think I’ll take my time tickling your stomach and hips.”

“Then when you’re squirming and begging for more, that’s when I’ll dip my hand down the front of those lacy black panties.”

You follow the guidance of his words and goosebumps rise on your skin in the wake of everywhere you drag your fingers.  “Ohhhhh... baby.  You’re making feel so good.  I’m so wet, Francisco.”

“Want you to tell me, baby - are you touching that pussy the way you want to be touched?”

“Yes, daddy.  I’m petting my pussy so slow and gentle and I love it, but I don’t want you to be gentle.”

“I know, Shortcake, and I’m not going be.  Waited too long for this to be gentle.  Tell daddy how wet you are.”

“I’m so wet, daddy – I’ve soaked through these panties and I’m dripping out of my needy hole.” 

“Can you hear how I’m spreading it everywhere, even all over my swollen clit?”

“Holy fucking shit, Shortcake, the mouth on you.”

“I’m your dirty girl, Francisco.  My dirty mouth is all yours.  Wish I could take your cock in this mouth.”

“Jesus.  Baby, I’m supposed to be making you scream, not the other way around.  Slip a finger into that slutty little cunt for me, hermosa.”

“Ohhhh god yes, baby, I’m tight.  My pussy is hugging my finger so close.  Wish it was yours.”

“Oh, Shortcake, if you wanted it to be me, you would need to add a finger or two.”

You hiss at the stretch, “Gahhhhhhh – oh fuck, Frankie! It’s too much.”

“How many, baby?  How many did you add while you were thinking of my thick fingers?”

“Two more, daddy.  It’s too much, please.”  Whining now, you feel stuffed and full, the slight sting turning you on even more and a fresh wave of arousal coats your hand.

“No, don’t take them out.  Need you to stretch out your pretty hole for me.”  Frankie’s tone is dark and stern, and it makes you clench down on your slippery fingers.

“Uhhhh... Fuckkk.  Francisco, I can take it.  Please.” 

“Baby, your fingers are no match for this dick.  This dick is going to ruin you.” 

“I can feel my pussy gushing and dripping down my wrist.”

“If we were back in the club, I’d take your hand and lick those fingers until you were clean.”

“Frankie.  Mhhmmmhhhhmhhh.”  You make sure Frankie can hear you stuff you glistening fingers in your mouth and every single slurping and smacking noise you make as you lick them clean of your own juices.

“So fucking dirty.  Fuck, I’m so hard for you baby.  Need to get you ready so I can feed you my cock.  You want that, Shortcake?”

“Yes, oh yes please daddy.  All I ever wanted back in the club was to sink down on your thick cock.  Wanted you to fuck me till I was cock drunk and dumb.”

“I’ll give you everything you want, baby but we have to prep that greedy cunt of yours, okay?  If you want my cock, put three fingers back in baby.”

“So big, daddy.”  Sighing, you ease your wet fingers back in; the squelching sound of your fingers sliding through your slick makes you quiver with anticipation.

“Do you know now much I wanted to taste you when we were in the club?”

“Oh god, Francisco.  Please.”

“Wanted to run my tongue over that pussy of yours.  I knew it would be the prettiest pussy I ever saw.”

“Your pussy, baby.  This pussy is only yours.”  You sigh at the simple truth of your words as you work your fingers in and out of your cunt, pretending they’re Frankie’s.

“You still have my pussy stuffed full of your fingers, Shortcake?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl.  Now use your other hand to rub your little clit and pretend it’s me stroking it with my tongue.”

“Uhhhhhhh, nghhhh, fuckkkkkkk, Frankie… your tongue feels so good against my slippery clit.  Are you touching yourself, baby?”

“Got my cock out the minute you told me you were wearing that same slutty lingerie you wore at the club, hermosa.”

“Did you like what I wore at the club, Francisco?”

“Hell yes, sweetheart.  Everything you wore made me so hard.  You made me so fucking hard.  Made me want to rip those skimpy outfits off of you with my teeth.”

“I wish you did.  Wish you were here to do that right now.”  You look down and see your tits, having spilled over the band of your bra, bouncing while both of your hands are stuffed in your panties, and you visualize looking down past your feet and seeing Frankie’s gaze upon you with his big dick in his meaty hand, “Stroke yourself for me, daddy.”

“Stroking my cock right now, imagining what it would feel like in your tight little pussy, Shortcake.”  His hands glide over his length, throbbing just from thinking about the way you’re stretching out your cunt so that you can take him.

“Wanna feel your thick cock in my pussy, Francisco.  Can’t wait for you to ruin me.”

“Going to wreck that little hole of yours, hermosa.”

“Need you so bad, daddy.  Can you hear how wet you’re making me?  I’m going to come so soon.”  The wet sounds of your fingers pumping in and out of your pussy fill your bedroom - an obscene percussive beat to the song of your moans and cries; your arousal leaking down your ass and making a mess of your sheets underneath.  Frankie can hear it all and your whorish symphony urges him thrust into his fist faster to keep up.

“Keep rubbing that clit for me, Shortcake.”

“Wish I could see you, baby.  Wish I could see what your pretty face looks like right now, imagining my fingers curling deep inside that sweet pussy.” 

“Can’t wait until you give me that dripping wet cunt and I show you what I want do to you.”

“Please!! Francisco.  I’m close!  Tell me what you want to do to me.”

“I’m going to lick your clit until it’s swollen and puffy then I’m going to suck and nibble it with my teeth until you push my head away.”

“Gonna pound into that pretty pussy until your walls are stretched and bruised.”

“You won’t be able to breath.  I’ll punch every breath out of your lungs.”

“I’m going to fuck you until you scream that this is my pussy.”

“My pussy.”

“To fuck.”

“To ruin.”

“To wreck so no other man will ever be able to fill you the way I do.”

“Fuck you the way that I do.”

“Fuck you stupid like I do.”

“Fuck you until you don’t know your own name.”

“Fuck you until you’re just a cock drunk slut who isn’t good for anything other cock.”

“My cock.”

“Frankieeee! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…. Frankie I’m coming…. I’m coming, daddy, I’m coming!”  You seize and cry out to his name, chanting it over and over like a prayer as your orgasm overtakes all your limbs and you arch off your bed, practically pushing out your fingers from how hard you’re clenching down.

“Ohhhh fuck, hermosa.”  Frankie’s grunts are followed by heavy panting, his uneven breaths as he comes down from his high like music to your ears.

“Daddy, I came so hard.”  You giggle as you wipe your cum covered fingers on your stomach.

“Me too, Shortcake.” You can hear him grinning through the receiver.

“Really?  I made you feel good, Frankie?”  You wish so much that he was next to you right now.

“Always, baby.  You always make me feel good.  The best.”

“Good.  You made me ruin my sheets.”

“And I made you scream my name.”

“Just like you promised.”

“I always keep my promises, Shortcake.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.  I promise I’m always going to take care of you, baby. Never letting you go again.”

“Oh, Frankie… how did I get so lucky?”

“I’m the lucky one, hermosa.  My perfect woman, screaming my name while she comes.  I’m living in a dream, I swear.”

“I always come so hard when it’s you, Frankie.  But it’s never been like this.”

“Yeah?  You touch yourself to the thought of me a lot?”

“Yes, daddy.  Always you.”

“I think of you all the time too, hermosa.  Always make such a mess, just like I did tonight.”

“If we were together right now, I would clean you up with my tongue.”

“Fuck… baby, you’re going to make me hard again.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Francisco.”

“That’s what I’m going to make sure of, Shortcake.  You’re always going to have a good time with me.  Going to make sure you come every time.”

“I believe you, daddy.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh.  The moment I met you in that club, I knew you would make me feel so good with your hands.  And your tongue.  And your cock.”

“Jesus... Baby, what did I say?  Don’t start what you can’t stop, because if you keep talking like that I’m going to be hard again really soon.”

“Well, I’m still sloppy and wet, daddy.  Ready to scream your name again.”

“You’re a dream, Shortcake.  I’m going to make sure you come harder than you ever have.  Tonight, tomorrow, every day after.”

“Promise, Francisco?”

“Promise.  And I don’t break my promises.”

“Ok, daddy.  Show me what you got.  Just remember, tomorrow is a school day, so we can’t be up too late.”

“I also don’t make promises I know I can’t keep, Shortcake.  Now be a good girl and take off those messy panties.”

Epilogue

Tagging a few people who commented on Part 1 they were interested in Part 2 (thank you! 🥹): @aurorawritestoescape @magpiepills @pastelpinkflowerlife @southernbe @heareball

@mermaidxatxheart @nandan11 @mellymbee @jessthebaker @milla-frenchy

@littlemissoblivious @tuquoquebrute @inept-the-magnificent @posting-my-time

[bluewithpurplepolkadots]

Honestly I might (might) write a longer post about it at some stage but like… my current feelings on finishing MAWs second season is that the new characters (as in those introduced in this show and didn’t exist prior to it) were very solid.

Certain older characters (as in: those that existed prior to this show). Uhhhh.

Um.

In any case I feel a reason for this is because those in charge of season two did of course watch season one: or at least had it fresh in their minds.

Because of this, they were aware of some things which didn’t work in that first season in terms of its newer characters and that the ending wasn’t satisfactory (particularly for Tylor and Val) and decided to make something better out of it: all while still making it feel like something that could organically grow out of the events of season one.

Things like monsters thinking comedy wasn’t respectable feels realistic. Tylor failing hard at it is also inevitable. Val being well suited to it also. (Especially as being more like a cool babysitter rather than doing stand up). I thought the fact they made them into a comedy duo was a very clever idea I didn’t see coming: but also didn’t feel like it came out of nowhere. It’s really a way for Tylor to be realistically involved with comedy again which doesn’t feel as forced and off as season ones doughnut joke did.

This is good solid writing to me. With their own new characters that they themselves made, while they may have stumbled in season one: I feel the show really gets them now.

But… I honestly wonder if the writers watched either MU or MI upon first starting to write for this show. At least recently. Since they got the job in question I mean.

They’ve clearly seen it at some point in their life. They also perhaps fast forwarded and zeroed in on a specific scenes like Sulley in the laugh floor with Boos picture in season one. They’ve researched the sets that were available and expanded. That sort of thing.

But otherwise it feels like they based the older characters off vibes and half forgotten memories they had of what they thought they were like. Like it’s possibly been more then a decade anyway since they’ve given it a look. Even in season one something feels off with Sulley to me. I’m not sure how to describe it.

And: Randall is indeed violent in MI. There he’s the kind of guy to turn invisible, throw a scream canister at you, state he’s always wanted to do that, darkly chuckle and then choke you out while your friend blathers on at you without realising what’s happening. Randall in MI can be dark man. But: The MAW version… it isn’t really Randall at all. He’s way too… cackling and bouncing off the walls for some reason. He doesn’t know these mifters. With Sulley, Randall has been bitter as hell for a long time and he wasn’t like this. The only take away from the original movie would be a call back to Sulley unplugging the machine to save Mike: like Randall did to them to stop them from taking back the laugh power.

The only possible explanation I’ll take is that his head got scrambled by the shovel. Which would be… fairly dark and possibly interesting as an implication. For Sulley and Mike to be responsible for that happening. But rather like the fact that in season one they just have CEOs legally able to banish monsters if they have the right excuse, I kind of doubt we’ll ever get a look into it or we’re supposed to think on things like that in any real depth.

Also, as a major Sulley fan. I have to say the whole evidence in Tylors locker things and jumping to belief of guilt kind of pissed me off. Granted while better than only-fifteen-minutes-lunch Johnny, he ain’t the best boss at points. (He had his comedians work a double shift? Mike almost dying from a drug overdose on energy drinks Etc) But once again… I’m not sure we’re supposed to take it that way or as a potential thing he has to work on which is kind of… disappointing?

Like he could have an arc. Learn to be a better boss? Maybe Roz shouldn’t have done the random idea of throwing it on them immediately. (Where is the board of directors Waternoose complained about anyway? Yeah see: this is why I think it’s been a while since any major writer has seen the movie).

Johnny was actually pretty solid until the finale and until he chose to tell Tylor of his plans for…. Absolutely no reason. Like Tylor had been working there for a day. He was expressing doubt even. Before this, given vague spoilers I had, I thought Johnny was being handled well and they could make his secretly-evil!Johnny reveal be good even if Randall wasn’t exactly sounding too hot.

Like just have Tylor sneak around and be suspicious of something. Did you run out of time? I guess it’s possible. Season twos pacing before the final two is pretty solid. But if you only had ten episodes? Hrm. Idk. Hard to know what to cut honestly to make room if you don’t want a cliffhanger ending.

I guess this may be an odd example of competent original fiction writers failing to write convincing fanfic.

[rubbathetum]

hey so uhhhh

I made a weirdo freaky script and I don't know if anyone will ever voice it. But I thought I minus well post it here for all my freaks to enjoy. POV: you are demon sex club host and an angel boi comes in to eat too much, fuck and puke. Stuffing and emeto abound, enjoy!

"..." implies demon is talking, its a one sided script.

[reader standing outside club, muffled music]

(whispering, nervous) Ok, this has to be the right place... right?

Oh lord, what am I even doing here... I should just-

No! No, not now, we went all the way to Hell for this.

We- I, can’t waste this chance.

[reader enters club, music gets louder and there’s people chatting, door swinging open and closing]

(sharp inhale) Here goes nothing...

[listener walks to the front desk, bell ring sfx]

Excuse me, m’am!

I-I’m here for an appointment, its under-

...

Ah... It probably wasn’t, too hard to guess it was me, was it?

Was it my name?

Or wait, it’s the wings, isn’t it? Yeah, probably aren’t a lot of angels down here, huh?

...

W-Well y’know, what isn’t an angel doing down here, right?

I just... heard of your establishment from a few friends and the services here caught my interest.

...

Well of course I can’t find anything like this in heaven, I can’t imagine anything like it would be permitted up there. It’s far too-

...

Well, sinful is surely one word most would use.

Now then... uhm, will I have to wait for my match to get here? Is there somewhere I should go?

...

Oh, I uh- you’re my match?

...

No no no, that’s not a problem at all!

Quite the opposite in fact! You’re a v-very gorgeous woman, I-I’m honored to spend this night with you.

...

Y-Yes, I’m ready. Please,lead the way.

[reader is lead to to a room, insert footsteps if you want or just skip to being there]

Oh my, what a beautiful room! You have quite a knack for ambiance, miss. These candles really tie it all together!

Do you mind if I take a seat?

...

Thank you.

[reader takes a seat on the bed]

Ooo, comfy! You know it is quite difficult to get a good bed in Heaven. Not to say it’s impossible mind you, but we tend to only ‘take what we need’ so to speak.

A place to sleep is a need, but a bed so nice as this is a luxury!

I’ve never... oh! Forgive me, miss! I have a tendency to ramble, I do hope I don’t bore you tonight.

It’d be inconsiderate of me.

...

Oh you are too kind, miss. But I know I shouldn’t be spending my time here lecturing you about bedding.

We have other activities to get to tonight, do we not?

But before we get into things...

I saw on the poster my friend gave me, you succubi have quite powerful magic, yes?

Especially when it comes to... fulfilling fantasies.

...

Well its uh- it’s just a bit hard for me to explain exactly. I’ve never had the opportunity to be so... open.

...

I-I suppose this probably wouldn’t be the most bizarre thing you’ve ever heard, no.

I’m sure you’ve had plenty of odd requests, so I’m not sure why exactly I’m so nervous.

...

(chuckles) Well, if you’re really sure you’d have no qualms hearing me out.

So, you probably already know that I don’t usually get the chance to indulge myself in much of anything at all.

It’s not befitting of an angel to give into worldly pleasures.

But despite that there’s this very... hedonistic fantasy that I keep coming back to, it’s always lingering in the back of my head.

...

Sometimes... sometimes I wish I could be treated like gods of old. Which I guess isn’t very befitting of someone like myself either.

I am nowhere near worthy of such decadence, but I can’t help but yearn for it.

I-I want to feast and drink far beyond my heart's content, until I can't hold down another bite! And to make love with whoever I wish, for as long as I wish!

I just think it’d be nice to let go, to give into a mindless pursuit of pleasure, just for a day.

Do you think that we could do something like that? I-It’s fine if no, I’d be happy just-

[sfx: magic sfx insert a poof or something. Reader has been magic-d into a new (skimpier) outfit. That, and now there’s a bunch of food n shit.]

Oh, that was a lot faster than I was expecting. I didn’t know dark magic was so... instantaneous!

...

I think the clothes you picked out for me are lovely, miss! A-A bit more see-through than I was expecting, but still lovely!

And all this food- Are we sharing this meal?

...

Well I don’t know if I could finish all of it, I think this is more food than I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

...

Oh really now? I suppose if such a gorgeous woman would be willing to help me in my pursuits, it’d be foolish of me to refuse her~

Now where to begin...

...

You bring up a fine point, miss, cake does sound quite good.

I think I’ll have a few pieces before the main course, in fact.

...

Oooo~ And hand fed to me by a beautiful acolyte no less, how kind of you.

Ahhhh~

[fast forward to later in the night, reader has eaten a lot, has also drank a shit ton of wine. Everything is just now starting to hit him, and it’s just as arousing as it is nauseating.]

(drunk, kinda slurred speech, can lessen over time) Miiiiss- (hic) Miss, can we take a break really quick?

...

Mmmm no, I‘m having lots of fun, miss, food’s really good. Its just like... ‘m kinda- (reader audibly heaves, but manages to swallow it back) I’m really full, miss...

...

Nooo, I’m fine I promise, I can keep goin! Innn fact, I feel better than fine, f-feel really good actually.

...

Mmm, I feel all hot now. It's kinda strange, cause I feel like I‘m gonna be sick... but I’m also really fuckin horny.

Miss, will you help me out a lil, please~?

[sfx: kissing noises, clothes ruffling. Listener n Reader makeout sesh while listener rubs at reader’s cock through his clothes. This goes on for a few secs before they pull back]

(panting, breathless and whiny) Nghh, please don’t tease me miss... c’mon, I’ve been really good.

‘M so- (burp) I feel so fuckin sick, please help me. Please make it better, please~

[listener begins to trail kisses alll the way down from his neck to his cock, he’s moaning and squirming around the entire time.]

Misss, you’re going too slow! I want- I need your lips on my cock.

I can’t keep going on like this, go lower, go faster-

[sfx: blowjob sounds]

(whimpering, moaning, y’know what it is) Oh yes~

Thank you, m-my faithful follower, you’re s-so good to me.

God- shit your mouth feels amazing.

[blowjob continues, keep going for however long you want. Feel free to adlib a little or include some more queasy sounds if you’re based ;) ]

I-I can’t- if you keep wrapping your tongue around me like that, I won’t last much longer.

Keep going keep going, I want- mmmm- want you take it all. I want all of me inside you when I cum.

Yes, just like that.

I can feel your throat clenching around me, I...

I’m close, almost there, almost-

[listener suddenly pulls herself off reader’s cock]

Huh wha- why’d you stop?

...

Cum inside? But I was already gonna- oh, I see what you mean. I’d love to~

...

Hm, what now?

...

Another piece of cake? I dunno about that, I don’t even know if I’ll be able to keep everything else down...

...

Well, maybe I could... if you’ll help distract me while I eat.

...

Of course, Miss, I’ll eat every bite. Just please let me inside you, I need to cum so bad, please.

[listener stradles reader’s lap, starts rubbing against his cock]

(whimpers) you won’t even put it in till I start eating, you’re so (hic) mean...

...

Nooo, I’ll do it I’ll do it, just- (deep breath in and out) be patient with me, ok?

[reader takes the first bite, swallow sfx if you’d like, its a challenge to get it down. Luckily though, listener takes the plunge on his cock]

Oh god, your pussy’s so warm...

Mm, you’re really wet too... I didn’t know you’d like seeing me in this state so much~

...

I’m getting back to eating, don’t worry.

Just, if you don’t stop I won’t stop, ok?

...

Ok, then lets get back to it.

[back to fuckin and eating, this goes on for a while. Reader takes bite after bite, slowly going farther and farther beyond capacity, until finally his stomach’s finally had enough. He launches upwards and puts a hand over his mouth as he heaves, the last bite he tried to swallow being sent right back up between the two of them. Splatter sfx.]

S-shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to! I- (swallow) I don’t think I’m done yet...

...

No, I... I don’t wanna stop. But if you do, I-

...

Mmm but I’ll make a m-mess...

...

Then... then put your hands to good use n’ help me

Can’t eat anymore, can’t keep it down either…

Help me get it up, miss.

[reader puts listener’s hands on his stomach]

I’m way too full… you can feel it, right?

…

Mmph, be careful miss, it hurts…

Press down on it, but be gentle.

…

Trust me, it’s not gonna take a lot of pressure to get me to puke right now.

Now then, will you keep riding me, please~

[back into action, fuckin and moaning and whining, now with added heaving! Once again, goes on for a bit, with reader slowly getting further and further to the edge. But now also on the verge of climax.]

Ugh- I’m gonna be sick, I-I’m gonna cum.

I- (gag) sorry-

[orgasm and also puking kind of a lot. More vom sfx, or just like liquid sfx]

(exhausted, shaky) I’m… I’m done now.

…

Feels lots better.

Thank you for your services, miss.

…

Yeah, a bath sounds really nice.

[flash forward to bath scene, reader and listener enjoying a good bath together, running water sfx]

Hey uh, thanks for everything tonight, I had a lot of fun.

Do you think maybe… we could do this again sometime?

Only if you’d like to, of course.

…

Oh, well I’m glad I could show you a good time, miss.

Maybe I could be a regular customer, given I get enough free time to come and visit.

…

(chuckle) well consider me excited, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of fun ideas for next time.

…

Oh yeah, I can get your back, just a moment.

[trickstarbrave]

concubine au part six!! part five can be found here

ive felt like shit for several days now and idk if im entirely coherent. but. please enjoy

i feel like this story is just an emotional rollercoaster but tbh dealing with trauma is just like that sometimes

uhhhh warnings for trauma responses and talking about slavery and abuse. nerevar feels like a mess. voryn is here to help him. a sorta kinda not really but yes really confession.

“Are you alright?” Voryn asked, now back in the safety of the bedroom with a silencing spell. Voryn thought it had been going well, all things considered. Nerevar even seemed to be enjoying it, all but begging for more. Then, at the end, he got tense and froze, mortified. He knew it wasn’t an act either, he could tell from the look in his eyes--or at least, he thought he knew. 

“Yeah, just…” Nerevar’s hands were shaking a little. “It was different from practice.” He mumbled, as Voryn wrapped a blanket around him before pulling him close. Nerevar sank into the embrace, though he still felt far too stiff for Voryn’s liking. 

“Did it remind you of before?” Voryn asked, his voice soft. The last thing he wanted to do was make Nerevar relive the horrifying experience all over again. 

“No no,” Nerevar shook his head, before nuzzling into his shoulder. “Not that. It’s just…” He fumbled for words, before sighing.

Nerevar didn’t want to tell Voryn it was because, for a brief moment, he got far too into it. How was he supposed to mention that? That he, post climax, was actually fantasizing about having Voryn’s baby? It would make the whole thing all the more awkward and uncomfortable. Not even Nerevar enjoyed that his brain had went there; the two weren’t in a relationship and Nerevar sure as hell wasn’t ready for that kind of thing at all! He was still trying hard not to get dragged back to House Dres in chains, what the fuck was he doing thinking about Voryn knocking him up?! He could have punched himself, but luckily he was currently being held by Voryn. 

“It was just… Intense.” Nerevar finally admitted. “S-someone was watching, and it started to get overwhelming…”

“Are you going to be alright?” Voryn asked, stroking his hair. 

“Yeah, I can still do the act--”

“I didn’t mean the act.” Voryn whispered. “Are you going to be okay?” He asked again, his voice a bit more firm. 

Fuck. How kind Voryn was being was not helping whatever the hell was going on with his mind. Nerevar couldn’t tell if it was the imprisonment making him like this, or if his feelings for Voryn were always this strong. But the touching, the gentleness from someone he knew could be so ruthless, the care in his voice…

Nerevar wanted more. He wanted more than just an act where the two had sex to save Nerevar. He wanted more than friendship behind those touches and the care in his voice. He wanted Voryn to have meant it when he said he loved Nerevar so passionately and desperately while fucking him for all he was worth. He liked the roughness in the act, but he was also longing to make sweet, languid love like all the poets wrote about right here on Voryn’s bed. He wanted Voryn to whisper sweet nothings in his ear, telling Nerevar how much he adored him and would keep him safe, and that he’d never let Nerevar go again. 

Maybe it was because of his imprisonment. Maybe he did just want to feel safe and loved. But the intensity of his desires was… Frightening. He was still healing and recovering from the two years of hellish abuse. Two years of never being certain he would be free again. Two years of finding reasons to go on. Two years of trying to just survive no matter what he had to do. Now he was finally back somewhere safe where he was protected and cared for and… Nerevar didn’t know entirely how to feel. He welcomed the feelings of safety, sure, but he didn’t feel secure. He didn’t feel like himself. He felt like there was something missing he was desperate to fill.

What if he did confess and later on realized he didn’t mean it, he was just lost and scared? What if he confessed and Voryn rejected him, making him spiral and he only felt worse? Or what if he confessed and the feeling of genuine love and belonging left him an absolute wreck and he couldn’t act properly? He didn’t know his own feelings anymore or what to expect. He didn’t understand his desires or even knew what he really wanted. And that uncertainty was terrifying. He depended on making predictions, trying to figure out risks versus outcomes and how to outsmart other people, but how was he supposed to do that when he didn’t even understand himself? 

“I-I…” Nerevar pursed his lips. He didn’t have an answer. He could lie, and say he would be--that the wounds from being enslaved and abused would eventually heal but that Voryn was doing everything right--but he knew Voryn could catch him out on his lies. Already he looked even more concerned, lifting Nerevar’s face to look at him, his eyebrows bunched together in worry. 

“You look scared.” His voice was soft. “Did I go too far?” Voryn was stroking his cheek so gently, and Nerevar felt guilty making him worry. 

“No,” Nerevar insisted. “I told you, you didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“But you don’t feel well.” Voryn replied. “And you look terrified.” 

“I don’t… Know what’s wrong.” Nerevar finally confessed, closing his eyes so he didn’t make a fool out of himself staring up at Voryn’s perfect face. “It felt good. You always make sure it feels good for me. But I just…” He sighed shakily. “I don’t… Feel like myself.” He tried explaining without revealing anything incriminating. “I felt like I was melting away, losing myself in it, and then when it was over I… Felt untethered. Unsteady.” He wasn’t lying; the sensation of coming down from the high, realizing how much he enjoyed it while lost in the pleasure was akin to realizing you were drifting out to sea, the current carrying you faster than you could paddle back to shore. 

“What can I do to make you feel more secure then?” Voryn asked.

“You’re doing everything right.” Nerevar stressed. Already he felt like he was taking too much from Voryn; Voryn already was having sex with him as a cover story, what more could he ask for? Nerevar couldn’t bring himself to sit and whine that he wasn’t being genuinely loved by Voryn and needed more. “You’re doing everything right, I just--” Voryn was wiping his cheeks with both hands now, brushing away tears. Fuck--was he seriously crying for no reason again? He grit his teeth angrily at that, frustrated and pissed off he was even less in control of his emotions than he thought, before Voryn tilted his chin up, and kissed him.

Kissed him. On the lips. No acting, no practicing. Just… A kiss. 

It was soft, warm, and tender. Absolutely everything Nerevar hadn’t realized he was craving. Nerevar was shocked, at first, before his eyes fluttered shut and he wrapped his arms around Voryn in return, savoring the kiss. 

Honestly, Voryn was relieved when Nerevar kissed back. He took a bold risk--he didn’t know what to do or how to make the situation better, all he knew was he wanted to kiss Nerevar. He wanted to show Nerevar how much he cared for him, and could only think of a way to do so by kissing slow and gentle, pouring his affection into it. He tilted Nerevar’s head gingerly, deepening it only so far, making it clear this wasn’t a kiss for sex, but because he genuinely wanted to. 

“Voryn…” Nerevar whispered softly, the worried look now faded, replaced by flushed cheeks and warmth in his eyes. Nerevar’s lips still tingled slightly, already craving more. 

“Did that help?” Voryn whispered back, now with one hand rubbing at his scalp. Slowly, Nerevar nodded. 

“We…” Nerevar’s eyes went to the blankets, nervousness creeping in again. “We shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” Voryn probed.

“We’re…” Nerevar swallowed. “We’re not together.” 

“Do you want us to be?” Voryn asked in return, and Nerevar felt like all his blood had turned to lead. Nerevar had no answer. No, he didn’t want to ruin their friendship. Yes, yes he very much wanted them to be actual, genuine lovers. Maybe not, as he wasn’t sure of his own feelings--his thoughts kept flipping between the two answers. “Don’t overthink it, Neht.” Voryn reassured him. “Just tell me.” 

“I…” Nerevar cursed himself for being so weak, to suddenly not have a damn spine. “What if it ruins everything? Our plan? Our friendship?” 

“If you change your mind I won’t hold it against you.” Voryn answered. “We can just… See where this takes us, if you want it.” Nerevar’s eyes fluttered shut again at how relaxing it felt for Voryn to be rubbing small circles against his scalp, playing with his hair. “Just relax for me.” 

Nerevar soon found himself nodding, letting the stress melt away. To hell with overthinking everything… So what if he had a little fantasy in the middle of sex? He could just dismiss it for now. So what if he enjoyed it too much? Maybe Voryn could actually be his lover. They’d just play it by ear. Ease into it and see where it went. He could trust Voryn for now and stop worrying about where the line between them as friends started and their acting ended. 

“A bath might also help.” Voryn added, wiping some more smudged kohl from his eyes. “Want me to help you clean up?” 

“Yeah,” Nerevar’s eyes cracked open, feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Getting cleaned up would probably help clear his head more, and right now he… Didn’t want to be alone. Voryn being by his side would only help relax him more. “I’d like that.” 

[friend-of-giants]

Lines Tag Game

Tagged by @elfinismsarts to post some choice lines from my fic! I guess I will tag @mareenavee @paraparadigm @thana-topsy @boethiahspillowbook @wildhexe @archangelsunited @rhiannon1199 @rainpebble3 @snippetsrus @thequeenofthewinter @thelavenderelf and anyone else who wants to participate, consider yourself tagged! I'm pulling lines from both Into Ash and Ascent from the Ashes.

Also most of these lines are actually snippets and this got super long sorry not sorry

A line from your fic that makes you laugh

Into Ash Ch. 5 "Realizations"

“I didn’t ask for your help, but thanks,” [Wren] said, giving [Teldryn] a little smile.  Her teeth were goofy and uneven, almost rabbit-like, and she rarely let them show, but Teldryn thought they were an endearing feature of her otherwise plain face.

“It was nothing, sera.  Now, let’s get going before Neloth pisses himself.” 

Neloth’s face contorted as if he had just smelled a fresh pile of netch dung.  “What?  I do not piss myself, you fools!”

A line from your fic that makes you sad

Into Ash Ch. 6 "As Hermaeus Mora Intended"

"These people you lost, who were they?  If you don't want to answer, I understand."

Teldryn’s question struck like a slap to the face, though it did not hurt as much as it once would have.  Time had dulled the sharpness of the pain and left only a hollow ache in its place, an ache she was trying to forget.  She blinked, then fixed her eyes on an unassuming mound of snowberries at the table to gather her thoughts.  

How much should she tell him, if anything?  Why did he even want to know?  He was only a mercenary and likely didn’t care, but something about him had changed over the last week.  She felt a new sense of security with him, and had found herself speaking more openly with him since that day at Nchardak, when she had proven to him exactly who and what she was.

He had changed, and she almost felt as if she could trust him.  She supposed there wasn’t much to lose by opening up a little. 

"My family," Wren began after a long moment of silence.  "Not the one I left behind, but…”  Her attention turned from the snowberries back to Teldryn, to the light from the fire shining off his goggles.  He remained quiet, the only sound around them being the crackle of the flames and the angry wind rushing against the roof.  

A low, gravelly whisper broke the silence and cut her off before she could even open her mouth again.  “The one you were trying to make?”  

His words caught her off guard, spoken as if they were plucked straight from her own tongue.  She nodded slowly, and blinked back tears that were beginning to form.  “Something like that.  They’re gone because of me.  I’m not meant to have that kind of life, not with what I am.” 

A line from your fic you're proud of

Ascent from the Ashes Ch. 7 "A World Worth Living In"

There was something about the vast Rift forests that calmed her in a way that nothing else could quite compare to.  Perhaps it was the trees rising around her, white-gray trunks reaching for the skies topped with quivering clusters of leaves in every fiery shade imaginable.  Or maybe the sweet scent of old, decaying leaves that covered the ground in a soft blanket, or the crisp mountain breeze that swept through to rustle them.  

Far from those who hated her, who cared for her.  From those who saw her but did not know her name, and from those who did not even know she existed.  She was one with the wilderness, everywhere and nowhere all at once. 

The forest was hers today, there to stand guard and keep a vigilant watch, to take in her secrets and let them blow away in the wind, never to be heard by anyone except the Gods.  

And Dagon, of course. 

A line for your fic you think could have been better

Uhhhh most of the first 3 chapters of Into Ash, honestly. I'm planning a rewrite as I had absolutely no idea what I was doing at the time of writing those chapters lol

A line from your fic that makes you want to punch a character

I hate Rolff, alright?

Ascent from the Ashes Ch. 10 "Respite, Part 1"

“You make me sick,” Rolff snapped. “Don’t take kindly to women talking back to me, ‘specially not some disgusting gray-skin whore.” His cold, hateful eyes fell upon Teldryn once more, who was still flabbergasted that Wren was handling the situation with such a level head. Teldryn himself resisted the urge to leap down and beat him, but she was right. Rolff wasn’t worth the effort. “How much you pay for her? I'd ask for my coin back if I were you."

Wren's posture stiffened and she scooted away, putting a small gap between herself and Teldryn. "I ain't doing that anymore, now get out of here."

A line from your fic that makes you go 'aww'

Into Ash Ch. 7 "Awakening"

Wren nodded again and turned away to head into the bedroom, whimpering softly.  Teldryn tsked.  "Great job, n'wah, you made her cry."

"I did not try to," Frea said, confusion showing plainly on her face.  "What I said should not have hurt her."

"I don't think you hurt her.  Something tells me she doesn't get thanked very often."  

"Oh," remarked Frea, glancing in the direction of the bedroom, where the occasional sniffle could be heard floating out.  "I thought she would be used to the praise.  She has defeated Alduin, yes?  I do not understand." 

Teldryn got up and stretched.  "You'd be surprised.  People can be very ungrateful to heroes.  It's a sad truth that wears you down over the years."

"We were planning a feast in the event of her safe return, but I do not want her to cry again."  Frea grinned slightly.  "Perhaps we can find another way to thank her." 

"No," Teldryn said softly, peering around the doorway to check on the Dragonborn, who had made herself at home in the bed once again.  He saw a smile on her lips, despite the tears trickling down her cheeks.  "I think the feast will be fitting.  Make sure there’s plenty of salmon."

A line from your fic that's full of symbolism

Ascent from the Ashes, Ch. 8 "What Guides Us"

There were a thousand things to be said about [Teldryn's] relationship with the Gods and Daedra, with Azura in particular. He hummed thoughtfully and gazed back out over the waters, to the torchbugs that still flickered and danced along the shores. Most people were small and insignificant in the eyes of the Gods, just as the bugs were to men and mer.

But as the mortal races would often catch an exceptional specimen in a jar and hold it dear, so had Azura chosen Teldryn, her champion, the savior of Morrowind and all of the Dunmer people. Through all of his trials, from the shining, glorious moments to the times where the darkness had surrounded and suffocated him until he had screamed for the merciful release of death, Azura was there. She always was, and always would be.

A line from your fic that contains an Easter egg

Ehhhh, without being too spoilery (as the scene itself is super graphic), have this single line. Inspired by a similar line in Stephen King's Misery, which I thought might perfectly describe the feeling of having ones leg chopped off lmao

The pain was screaming, and so was she.

A line from your fic that's shocking

According to Kel, it's this scene since I'm not a fan of horse death lmao

Ascent from the Ashes Ch. 10 "Respite, Part 1"

Giving a hasty tug on his horse’s mane, he wheeled his mount around and rode hard back the way he came from.  He had to make it to her before the guards did, he had to.  

The pounding of the gelding’s hooves against the road and the rush of wind in his ears were the only sounds he could hear, until a sharp twang caught his attention, followed by the sickening sound of bone shattering and a squeal from his horse.  The gelding staggered for a few steps before he crashed to the ground, and Teldryn was thrown from his back and tumbled to the dirt beside him.  

A line from your fic you want to talk about more

I know this scene got people thinking and theorizing of what the Thing is. I want to talk more about it but i CAN'T! Not yet! Absolutely down to hear peoples guesses though!

Ascent from the Ashes Ch. 5 "Withered Away and Crumbled to Dust"

"I was cleaning up one day and found this.  Thought you might want to keep it."  

Wren squinted at Lydia's closed hands, and her fingers parted to reveal a piece of soft golden cloth.  Upon recognizing the gift, the blood in her veins froze instantly, and it was as if something had forced the breath from her lungs and replaced it with ice.  She knew exactly what this thing was and where it had come from, but she did not want to acknowledge that it was here, right here in front of her.  

“W-what makes you think I want this?"  Her voice was small, weak.  A shadow of what it could be.  Her vision blurred as tears welled in her eyes, and she blindly reached out, grasping at nothingness, until Lydia's hands found hers and pressed something soft into her palm.  

“You need this," Lydia whispered, her voice crackling.  Wren felt fingers comb through her hair and warm lips on her forehead.  It did little to comfort her.  “Take it.  It belongs with you."

Wren clutched the piece to her chest, kneading it between her fingers.  It was incredibly soft and should have been an object of comfort, but now only served to suck the life from within her.

[tiredassmage]

Re your tags on one of the screenshot posts: I’d love to hear your thoughts on tech blade based stuff 👀 stabby stabby my beloved

Teehee, you're in LUCK because I started WRITING ONE. @eorzeashan you, too. Get over here, you enablers.

I preface this entire post with I have no experience in designing combat, naturally (or game design at all, yet. soon, hopefully, if my degree path pans out how I'd like, lol), but I do have loads of bullshit experience rotating the idea of Tyr swinging a sword around in my head. xD Think it'd be pretty hot for him, ngl, but anyway.

SO. Tech-based blade-wielding class. My beloved. I do not know why this does not exist when NPCs can run around swinging swords being discount Jedi. If you’re going to make my poor gun-toting agent fight all these lightsaber swingin’ bastards, at least give him something to actually block with. xD

And I just think it’d look cool. Anyway. The reason this took me so long to actually post about is I wasn’t sure how to handle weapon specialization. Because my idea blade wielder would be able to pick freely between a single-handed blade and something like the spears, staffs, etc. They have made a lot of cool blade and staff weapons. And, personally at least, I’m not usually willing to sacrifice cool lightsabers to indulge in them. Which is a shame. So! Tech-based blade wielder! Win-win!

So, I think one way I settled this was either build a single new class with one specialization into single-handed combat, another into staff/spear combat, and idk, third into tank, probably? Which means less building, I suppose, while maintaining the technical choice element of do you go one blade or really long pointy stick, but rip the unity of 4 to 4 and that’d drive me bonkers.

sO. Alternatively: mirrored classes, one specializing in one-handed weapons, the mirror on the long, pointy sticks. I hadn’t considered dual wielding two single-handed blades before I started writing, but that might also be neat. Specialization path, maybe? Idk. I’d probably bank specializations into tank, pure damage, and damage over time.

This is turning into a bit of a long ramble, so let me drop a cut before we carry on.

Okay. I’d imagine a staff/spear based class to be a bit heavier on aoe focus, but that might be by XIV support DPS class speaking because stars know I haven’t done enough actual group content to consider the actual balancing of it. This is about what would look cool/feel cool, lol. I think a staff/spear class could have a stun based on like, a leg sweep or low blow and uhhhh give the PC that smashes you in the face with the hilt of the blade thing with a single-handed weapon. Bludgeons you bludgeons you bludgeons you blud- Or maybe they get electro-darts, too, idk. There's a lot of cool abilities some of the NPCs run around with that I think could be blended together for a class of this nature really well because it kinda of feels like it already exists. I mean, you run into Regulators on Makeb or whatever running around with blades and only a few of those abilities are kind of mirrored to the Force-users and sans the Force, they have things like electrodarts. I'd also like to see uhm. Spinning Blades? I think it's called? Extract from dualsaber, plug onto spear/staff wielder, PC has aoe. Delighted Dot noises.

Tyr being my main and being an Operative, ofc this kinda all spawned from the idea of copying over some of Operative's poison-based motifs, but something building off the electrodart theme might also be pretty cool and maintain more of an individual identity for each class as far as visuals and naming conventions. Maybe swap out grenades for... oh, I couldn't tell you the ability name off the top of my head, but the Knight or whatever that you fight in KOTFE's Anarchy in Paradise drops like stun/slow puddles/nets, so something like that could be worked into this repertoire, too, I think.

Ahhem. And I call this sword vs like spear/staff or whatever, but obvs you’d have a wider variety of blades develop naturally from this inclusion, too. Though I’m now imagining the Havoc CO leaping over a barricade screaming furiously with a sword and it IS pretty funny akdfnlkdsflsdf. I’m a completely biased bastard that’d play the fuck out of this as a secondary combat style on agent because I’d like to think Cipher 9 learned a thing or twenty about dueling Sith in their... numerous experiences beating the shit out Dark Councilors and the like in their career and there’s something hot about the idea that select Intelligence agents may have undergone training specifically for tracking and combating Sith as a non-Force sensitive given their stealth enforcers position within the Empire that would add a lot of flavor to an already drenched in flavor class story, bUT I’M GETTING OFF TOPIC. Anyway, it’d also hella look good on the BH. Just sayin’.

I feel like I had more coherent and developed thoughts about specializations at some point, but since this is really just an “I think this would be cool huge eyes emoji @ SWTOR like a kid in the Toys R Us aisle” uhhhhh. I would've worried in the past about mirroring and which do you assign to which faction, but they did away with that when they updated Combat Styles, so the sky's the limit.

Spoodle line for 7.2 spoodle reasons because I naturally need to add a shitpost to this semi-coherent ramble.

Bonus fuckery: this all a bit further inspired by the fact that when I slowed down footage of Ruhnuk, I'm half-convinced Tyr was trying to block blows with his blaster pistol and like honey... honey that's noT HOW BLASTERS WORK

Babe I didn't even put you in your armored outfit for this outing, dON'T USE YOUR ARMS thAT'S WORSE. This is one of those sequences none of us are meant to stare at too long I'm so sorry, Just ignore the way he looks like he plans on taking an axe with his whole being kadnfldssfdadsf.

Cipher Nine, everyone. Decorated agent of the Empire.

So yeah. If they ever decide to do something like this, I'd wholeheartedly embrace it as a secondary combat style on some of my agents and I'd love to main it for a Bounty Hunter. Perhaps especially with Mandalorians so front and center in 7.2, we know the galaxy isn't a lightsaber vs blaster dichotomy no matter how funny that running thing is, lol, and especially with the Commander's level of combat experience at this point, I just think it'd be very delicious.

[wykart]

1 12 14 42

thanksss

1. What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?) Uhhhh. Oh no none of them are normal are they. I still think that I’m proudest of Sheer Poetry but it’s also batshit insane. My best work is definitely the stuff that lives in my brain and not the fallibility of actual words so rip. I suppose it’s got to be Sheer Poetry. The whole thing’s a dream sequence and it’s a mess of my Doctor Who hcs, but I liked it. I want to clean it up eventually too. For something more normal, maybe Atomic Fears or my recent post Power of the Doctor fic about Yaz hanging around with AI doc where I get to waffle on about AI. That last one’s more lighthearted and has more dialogue.

12. Are there any tropes you used to dislike but have grown on you? AUs! I used to just write canon-compliant stuff bc I didn’t see the point if it wasn’t just, directly supplementing/supporting the source material. I am still not a fan of AUs that just chuck the characters that were shaped by their world and circumstances into a completely different world, at that point I’m like just make your own characters, but I have come to like canon-divergent AUs bc they’re a good way to explore the characters more fully. I’m not super aware of many tropes, mostly bc I don’t actually read much fanfic (sorry, I live in my own world).

14. Are there any tropes you would only read if written by a trusted friend or writer? I only read anything that is written by a trusted friend or writer. Like, I need to know you have the right opinions about characters (read: my opinions) otherwise I can’t do it. Does this keep me from reading a lot of great fics, of course! I suppose I also take recs from said trusted friends/writers.

42. Have you ever received a comment that particularly stood out to you for whatever reason? I have received many lovely comments on my fics over the years, like some really long, heartfelt responses that I really appreciate. But one that stood out to me was the one where someone said they had to stop reading my fic bc it was making them hate their favourite character too much (Tilda from Horizon). Like good. My mission was a success. (Little do they know, you can love a character not in spite of but because they are a terrible, terrible person).

[wiry-psychiatrist]

5/28/23

(CW vent as always)

So uhhhh, he/they pronouns, am I right? I think it’s time to reintroduce myself. Hello to the zero people that follow me, my name is Maxwell (Max) (yes, I stole my cat’s name, don’t worry about it,) I’m 20 years old from somewhere on the planet and I’m a trans man? I'm still workshopping the last part there but what do we think? 

Now here’s my problem: I’ve moved back in with my parents, an hour away from all my friends or anyone that would possibly genuinely support me, and my bedroom walls are pastel pink. I miss college, solely for the fact that I could mostly act and dress how I wanted, and I didn’t have to tell anyone anything I didn’t want to. I saw my parents maybe once a month, and I could put on a charade for that long. I enjoyed my job, I was actually friends with my coworkers, and some of them even used the right pronouns for me (I didn’t push it on purpose bc I’m not ready to defend my identity to bigoted customers yet.) I’m not gonna say I'm miserable at my first adult job, but it is definitely a stark reminder that the majority of the world is not as accepting as working at a coffee shop, and there's a very likely chance I won’t be respected in my identity at my workplace. I have absolutely nothing in common with any of my coworkers anymore, and now I see my friends as much as I used to see my parents.

I’m afraid I’ll never be able to live the life I want to live, I’ll never be able to be myself around my coworkers or leave the clutches of my parents (I don’t want to come out to them at all, I hate telling them anything but I’m the only child so I can’t just run away and never see them again, although that would be great.)

Pride month is rolling around again, and the irony is definitely not lost on me. Combined with all of the transphobic violence ramping up again, the last thing I feel right now is proud. I’ve never been to pride, but even though this is the first year I could probably get away with going, I’m not going to bother because I’m too scared. I wish I wasn't like this. I wish people saw me as a man in any capacity, I wish I could be around new people who only know me as how I want to be known, not as who I was forced to be. I wish I would be taken seriously if I did try any attempt to be myself. I feel like I’m playing a character 24/7 and it’s exhausting. I don’t have anywhere I can be myself anymore now that I‘m back with my parents. I need to move out, but my parents don’t see why I would want to spend the money on my own place, with furniture and everything, when I’m probably gonna travel for work (just to get away from them.) The only excuse I would have is to shorten my commute to my current job, but the city I work in is even more republican and bigoted than the one my parents’ house is in.

I can feel myself slipping back into depression, I didn’t realize how much better I felt when I was at school. It’s only amplified now that I know what some semblance of freedom feels like, now that it’s stripped away. I didn’t realize how much of a support system I had built up, of friends and a therapist nearby, until it’s gone.

This was supposed to be a happy post about me finally beginning to accept my identity in my own head, but the weight of the world stops for no one I guess. I’m gonna go research apartments now.

[loathemetc]

DELTARUNE THEORY: Angel’s Heaven

This wasn’t supposed to actually come to a conclusion but I accidentally came to one while writing it, oops.

Again no read more because this hellsite is broken but Spoiler Lancer is here to warn you. Maybe I could have drawn a different spoiler but uhhhh I like Lancer.

“ANGEL” and “HEAVEN” are terms used a decent amount in Chapter 2 of Deltarune, though Chapter 1 and Undertale feature references to it as well.

The Angel is first mentioned by Gerson in Undertale (Can’t be mentioned by him in Deltarune cause he’s dead lol) in reference to what the Delta Rune, the emblem of the Underground, means. A prophecy, referring to an angel that’ll free the Monsters from the underground... Or more pessimistically, free them from this mortal coil.

Look guys I’m including images this time I’m bothering to search for them yay.

An angel is referred to several times in Deltarune, especially in Chapter 2 from what I noticed, seemingly as the holy figure worshipped in the town’s religion. No prophecy about the Underground here, since we’re not y’know. In the Underground. I uhhh. Don’t have a screenshot for this I wasn’t taking any while playing and I’m not watching like a 4 hour LP just to get one before writing this post maybe I’ll edit it later sorry!

Heaven, on the other hand, has much less direct references on its own. I don’t think it’s mentioned in Undertale at all, and in Deltarune, well...

We have to talk about Spamton, I guess.

You cannot even begin to comprehend the rush of emotions this boss fight conveyed. Or maybe you do you probably played it too.

Spamton as far as I recall makes the only direct references to Heaven on its own. I just played the game so my memory should be pretty good on this but correct me if I’m wrong.

Not only that, but he does so in a pretty... Concerning manner. There’s his message above in the battle, yes, but even before the battle..

And then he points a gun at you. Ever the charmer.

This especially strikes a chord with me because of the “Dark... So Dark!”, which is pretty close to Gaster’s famous “Dark, Darker, yet Darker.” But of course, Darkness is very much a theme of Deltarune in general... But one that could be directly related to the Entry 17 quote to begin with. After all, quotes from Entry 17 were used in the leadup to Deltarune, on the Deltarune.com website long before anyone actually could have even thought to look there.

Connections between Spamton and Gaster can be expected though, considering Spamton’s known connection to the Knight, and Gaster’s implied connection to the Knight. But I did a whole other post on that, kind of.

The way Spamton antithesizes darkness and heaven is interesting. After all, he is a Darkner. And there’s another reference to heaven that puts them on the same boat.

But that brings us to Angel and Heaven together. More specifically, the Angel’s heaven. First mentioned again, on Deltarune.com long before anyone could know to look there, text in Wingdings that said THREE HEROES APPEARED TO BANISH THE ANGEL’S HEAVEN.

But you probably remember it from the Prophecy given to us by Ralsei.

I’ve been thinking “What the fuck did he mean by this” for 3 years.

According to Ralsei, sealing the fountains of darkness and banishing the Angel’s Heaven, whatever that may be, are both goals of the heroes. Perhaps Heaven isn’t the antithesis to Darkness that Spamton makes it out to be...

But it could still be.

After all, the goal of the heroes is to maintain the balance of Light and Dark. If the fountains are an imbalance weighing towards Darkness...

Could Angel’s Heaven be an imbalance that will weigh towards Light?

I dunno I’m just spitballing.

[familyfriendlyweed]

makeup sessions (karl jacobs x fem reader)

a/n : hi! this is my first tumblr post. i have written stuff on wattpad in the past, but it’s still quite new to me, so please be nice :]] i accept positive critism and advice, as that most definitely will help me grow as a writer!

 Y/n let out something between a squeal and a scream at the same time when she saw Karl's tweet. her face was beat red and her lips couldn't help but curl into the stupidest grin ever.

the tweet read :

hey @) y/nhasursocks wanna do my makeup at my stream today :]]

 it was the simplest tweet, yet it meant so much to the girl. Karl and Y/n were always really good friends, they often streamed minecraft together, but never in a million years did he yet ask her to be in his stream in real life.

 Y/n picked up the phone with trembling hands, already seeing a bunch of likes, comments and retweets to Karl's tweet. before answering, she got curious to know what the people say. cautiously opening the comments section, the girl scanned it through with her eyes. a bunch of "awwwwws" and hearts could be seen, which worsened her already red cheeks.

With her heart thumping hard against her ribs, she started writing her reply :

sounds great! <3

 for a moment Y/n hesitated to press the "reply" button with the "<3" emoticon in the comment, but then she figured she and Karl sent lovey dovey emojis/emoticons in the past to each other anyways, so, she pressed the "reply" button at last.

 in an instant, her reply started gaining more and more likes, comments and retweets. Y/n was never really popular, having her clout was only because of Karl being her friend, so seeing this much attention was weird to her. but she didn't care about that right now. all that Y/n cared about at the moment was the fact that Karl appreciated her enough to actually invite her over.

 a little bit later in the day, Y/n received a private message from Karl, which said :

hey Y/n! I'm really glad you're up to stream together <3 i planned on starting the stream at 4 pm, but you can change the time if you're busy :] here is my address (don't tell anyone! :D) - (random address lol)

 Y/n answered :

 thanks for inviting me bestie!! 4 pm is cool, I'll be there! <33

 she set the phone down, unable to remove the blissful smile from her face. she has never felt this way before - it was really weird, but the constant butterflies in her tummy reminded her that it's a good feeling. taking a few deep breaths, Y/n reminded to herself that all she has to do is to go to Karl's house and have a good time AS FRIENDS - no romantic stuff is needed.

  ~~~~~time skip~~~~~

  Y/n got off from the bus at 15:50, but she still had about 5 minutes to reach Karl's house. in what felt like forever, the girl felt a sting of what was unmistakably fear and guilt - what if she was late? and what if Karl would be annoyed with her for that?

 slowly she broke into a panicky run. passing careless citizens, who all looked at her fear-stricken face curiously, she finally made it to the front door of Karl's home. Y/n pulled out her phone and found the code that she was supposed to enter next the main door. she quickly dialed it, a beep beep beep was heard and she entered.  

 finally making it to Karl's apartment, Y/n stopped to smooth her hair and straighten her clothes so she doesn't look too shabby. her body seemed to be moving on its own - her finger pressed the doorbell automatically.

 Karl opened the door almost in an instant - he wore a warm smile and before Y/n could stutter a "hello", he pulled the girl into a big welcoming hug.

 "hey Y/n! it's so cool you made it!" Karl exclaimed, still holding her close.

Y/n's head was spinning, she needed more time to process what was happening. but nevertheless, she finally lifted her own arms and hugged the guy. burying her face into his sweater, she inhaled Karl's scent deeply - he smelled something like honey and warm days.

"hello, Karl." she mumbled with a grin on her face.

"come on, do you want to eat something before the stream?" Karl asked, letting go of the girl and taking her hand into his instead, leading Y/n into the house.

"oh no, I'm full. let's get straight to business." she answered, the blissful smile and content blush never leaving her face.

"alrighty! you already know, but we'll have an eventful makeup session, and then I thought maybe play some minecraft so the stream isn't too short?" the guy asked, opening his bedroom door.

"sounds great!"

Karl smiled and went to his computer :

"you ready? I'll start the stream now."

the girl quickly fixed her hair again and gave him thumbs up :

"ready."

Karl started the stream with facecam on and as soon as the chat saw Y/n, it went absolutely wild.

"guys, give her a rest, poor girl just came!" he laughed, drawing her a chair. Y/n thanked quietly and sat, waving to the chat timidly. in the corner of her eye, she saw comments like "she's so adorable" and "look at Karl being a gentleman" in the chat and her cheeks grew more red, but this time from satisfaction.

"well, as you guys know, Y/n agreed to be in my stream today, and since some of you don't really know her, she's a really good friend of mine who also streams and does youtube videos - so go support her!"

from that moment Y/n relaxed more and more with each minute. it was fifteen minutes into the stream when she already felt as if at home.

"Karl, you have a hell lot of lipsticks, where did that come from?"

"uhhhh, I only bought them for the stream today!"

"oh really? why are they all used, then?" Y/n asked giggling and showing them to the stream.

"hey- don't expose me like that!"

"chat, clip it, CLIP IT!"

all was going really well, Y/n was having a really good time with Karl AS FRIENDS. it was really nice. but all hell broke loose when the time to put eyeliner came.

"alright, I have no idea why, but you have four eyeliners."

"they're my sister's."

"haha, yeah, yeah, alright. Which one do you want big man?"

"hmmm, the one in your left hand!"

Y/n set the other eyeliners on the table, quickly glancing at the chat. her cheeks grew very very red…

"Y/N DO THE MEME SIT ON HIS LAP" "SIT ON HIS LAP" "THE MEME, DO THE MEME!!!"

  a/n: if anyone is confused, this is an example of the meme i’m talking about :

the girl tried to act as if she hadn't seen the comments, but Karl was already by her side, reading them with her.

"meme… what meme?" he wondered out loud. Y/n got the impression that he was genuinely confused.

'chat, shut the fuck up, please shut the fuck up.' thought Y/n, but of course chat was just being chat.

"SHE SHOULD SIT ON UR LAP" "THERE'S A MEME WHERE A GIRL DOES A GUY'S EYELINER WHILE SITTING ON HIS LAP" "WE'RE NOT FORCING BUT YOU GUYS WOULD LOOK SO CUTE"

Y/n hid her face in her hands, unable to control her blushing. Karl just chuckled sweetly :

"chat, calm down, she's going to die from blushing."

he put on the "please stand by" screen and scooted over Y/n :

"hey, it's fine. we won't do it if you don't want to," Karl then leaned closer and whispered, "I'd be pretty glad if you agreed, though."

Y/n lowered her hands, showing off the big red hue on her cheeks. for a split second Karl's eyes widened -  she looked really adorable.

"I'd also be glad." the girl said, almost not believing her own words.

Karl's adorable smile came back and he leaned back:

"well then, come here."

Y/n stood up shyly and straddled his legs, grabbing the eyeliner in the process.

"do you want me to turn on the facecam?" Karl asked quietly.

the girl nodded :

"I don't mind."

he turned it on and put his hands onto Y/n's hips. even without looking at it, Y/n knew the chat was blowing up at the moment.

"you guys better subscribe, because we're providing very good fanservice." said Karl jokingly and Y/n laughed. turning to him, she opened the eyeliner and put it next to his eye, only to find him staring at her in an awe. the girl blushed as a strong urge to kiss him kicked in. it looked as if Karl wanted the same thing.

at the precise same time, they both leaned in and pressed their lips together, Y/n putting her hands onto Karl's cheeks to hide the view from the chat. the kiss was very short and with no tongue included - but it was the most sweet kiss Y/n has ever shared with someone. she pulled away, an identical grin to Karl's on her face and hugged him very tight - they almost fell off the chair.

laughing, she continued to do Karl's makeup as if nothing happened and everyone watching the stream wasn't fainting and clipping the kiss. this will be talked about for a long time, but as before, Y/n didn't care about that, and nor did Karl.

a/n : anddddd cut! it’s quite wonky, but i believe it’s pretty swell for my first mcyt fanfic :]] let me know what you think of it and if you have any tips or advice on how to make my future stories more enjoyable! thanks for reading and i hope to see you around <3

[sortasirius]

what makes you think the writers want deancas? not trying to be an asshole, i'm just genuinely curious as to why you think that. i know berens' episodes are pretty heavy with subtext so i can see why you'd say that he wants it, but i'm not so sure about the rest of the writers/dabb. it seems like meghan isn't a huge fan either, given her "they twisted it so fast" tweet :/ of course she's a very new writer (think she's only writing one ep this season?) but still

OKAY this is a great question, welcome to my dissertation.

I’m going to address the end of your question first. Meghan is actually DeanCas positive, she has been for quite a long time. She actually, a few years back, posted a picture of her reading a literal book about Destiel and captioned it “writing reading” or something like that.

This whole thing just comes out of a boiling over of tensions because of how nasty fandom twitter can be. Like I said here, I think this has just gotten blown out of proportion, they shouldn’t have posted all this randomly disparaging stuff, but also like...can you blame them? The fandom is a lot, we always have been, and they’re probably also under a gag order not to talk about the finale, and are annoyed that people keep asking.

So nah, Meg is not anti Destiel.

To the first part!! So let’s take a look at the show runners since Cas has been around.

Seasons 4 and 5: Kripke

Seasons 6 and 7: Gamble

Seasons 8-11ish: Carver

Seasons 11ish-15: Dabb

So starting with Kripke. Okay, yes, I will be the first to admit that we have some pretty incredible Destiel moments in these seasons, but it’s less directly written into the plot and much more from Misha and Jensen’s uhhhh ~chemistry~. The only times it was directly written into the script was when the episode was handled by someone like Edlund (“On The Head Of A Pin,” “The End,” “My Bloody Valentine”). And you have to remember, if in season 5, there are moments here and there where you’re like huh that’s suspiciously romantic dialogue, remember that Cas took Anna’s place. Anna was supposed to be endgame for Dean, but due to a myriad of issues and Misha’s general greatness, Anna was replaced with Cas.

Onto 6 and 7. Hmmm. Gamble. 6 and 7 are my two least favorite seasons and that’s no secret, and that’s not only due to the plain old weird shit in the overall storyline, but also that homegirl killed off Cas in s7 and then Bobby like four episodes later. (Also it ALWAYS rubbed me the wrong way they couldn’t have Baby in that season lol). We still had some great DeanCas moments, but again, it wasn’t really written into the overall arc (until they had to change the end of season 7 because of tanking ratings and bring Misha back lol, anyone remember the fact that Dean kept Cas’ jacket and would randomly dream of him? Yeah.). But we still had those moments, those distinctly romantic moments, probably the best example in these two seasons is from Edlund again, specifically “The Man Who Would be King,” I wrote a little about that here.

We move onto Carver, who gave us, at this point, the most overt DeanCas season with season 8 (season gr8 is a better name imo), and this is the first time Dean and Cas’ relationship is directly written as an arc of the season.  I mean, you have everything in Purgatory, Dean “seeing” Cas everywhere, the fact that he felt so guilty that Cas stayed in Purgatory that he manipulated his own memories to think that he was the one that failed Cas, because he couldn’t comprehend that Cas would want to leave him, and let’s not forget Dean snapping Cas out of Naomi’s hold on him in “Goodbye Stranger.”  It was a very obvious shift, not enough to alert the general audience, but more than enough for most of us in fandom.

It’s also important to note that this is when Andrew stopped co writing with Loflin and started writing his own episodes (”Hunter Heroici” anyone?)  I like Loflin fine, but Dabb was able to stretch his legs a little bit more once he stopped co-writing, and we also began to see some DeanCas themes in his solo episodes.

In any case, them and their issues being a big part of the seasons continued with Carver, and Berens entered the scene, his first episode (”Heaven Can’t Wait”) is one of my favorites, with human Cas and the fanfiction gap and Dean and Cas just generally being awkward and funny and sweet.  This is Bobo’s FIRST episode, remember that.  He comes right out of the gate with it.

Also in Season 9, this is when Dean takes the Mark of Cain, and the Cas/Colette mirror is born, so obviously, Dean and Cas are the fabric of the season once again.  This is also the season where Metatron says Cas is “in love with humanity,” and then immediately refers to Dean as Humanity so uhhhh yeah.

Onto season 10, Dabb and Berens continue with their greatness (I could write pages on the DeanCas date in “The Things We Left Behind” alone).  And then we have one of the best scenes in the entire show in “The Prisoner” where the Cas/Colette mirror continues and Dean, driven by grief and pain and rage and the Mark, still doesn’t kill Cas.  He still can’t kill Cas.

Season 11 is important because it takes choice away from both Cas and Dean, and shows us, as the audience, how much losing each other takes out of them. We saw in season 10 how much losing Dean takes from Cas, but what about Cas losing Dean?  Dean loses his choice with his connection to Amara this season, and loses even more when Lucifer reveals he’s been possessing Cas, and plays on Dean’s connection to Cas like a mockery.  It’s also worth noting that, similarly to season 8, Dean breaks out of the connection with Amara when he’s worried about Cas, and that’s something that even SHE is surprised by.

But then season 12, the beginning to the Renaissance.  This is when we get the writer’s that become important for what Dean and Cas are today, and, truly, why I believe they want canon Destiel as much as we do.

This is the first season with Dabb’s writers: Davy Perez, Meredith Glynn, Steve Yockey, and of course Bobo all come in with their incredible talents and gave us episode after episode of good content.  “Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets” is probably my favorite, probably the best example of what I’m saying.  An episode where Dean is called out by an enemy directly, told to “roll the dice” on Cas’ life.  And Dean won’t, it’s not even really a hesitation.  And this comes from a character that has known Dean for ten seconds.  I also wrote more in depth about this episode here.  There are also some.....distinctly domestic details we get this season, specifically in “The Future” (written by Berens and Glynn) with the mixtape.  The most tropey of tropes mixtape.  Yeah, I’ll just leave that one here.

And then season 12 ends with Cas’ death, but also with the parallel between Sam and Dean with Jess and Cas.  Sam literally has to drag Dean away from Cas, just like Dean had to drag Sam out of his burning apartment in the pilot.  The episode drives it home in every way that it can: Dean is the one left kneeling by Cas’ body, while Sam goes to find out what is upstairs.  Dean is the one who stares at the sky, finally broken.  This isn’t a random thing, this is Dean’s whole arc, it’s the entirety of the beginning of 13.  Dean’s pain, his anguish, his anger.

Season 13 starts with them burning Cas, with Dean, who has begged God to bring him back, who has split his knuckles punching a door, standing, staring at Cas’ pyre with brokenness on his face.

I mean.....

Anyway, season 13 is where it gets interesting (well, I think all of this is interesting but I’m a writer nerd so).  So Cas comes back from the Empty in “Advanced Thanatology” written by Steve Yockey, and then a wombo combo of “Tombstone” by Davy Perez next (”Brokebacknatural” as the PR said at the time).  Listen.  This is the part that SPN crossed a line that they couldn’t come back from.  With Cas being Dean’s “big win,” the fact that Dean and Cas watch movies together, “I told you, he’s an angry sleeper.  Like a bear.” Talked about it here.

This is where, in my opinion, the network stepped in, but the damage was already done.  They had already established that Cas was Dean’s big win, that Dean’s poor coping was not due to Mary’s disappearance, but solely due to Cas, and that Dean and Cas have more married energy than anyone else.  The network had nixed blatant canon at this point, and they writing room had been pushing the boundaries of what the network would allow. 

After these episodes, we see a marked drop off of DeanCas heavy scenes.  They’re still there, still a part of the fabric of the season, but not as...obvious as it had been in early season 13.

And this continued through season 14, we’re back to scraps of Destiel scenes here and there, but to me it always felt like there was something bubbling under the surface, something distinctly unsaid in the themes of the season, even after the walk back of obvious “Dean and Cas are in love” scenes.

And then we get to season 15, which, y’all know I talk about all the time.  What’s important here is that Bobo and Glynn are both executive producers, calling more of the shots than ever before.  Additionally, it’s important to note that, though they only co write occasionally, Glynn and Berens refer to each other as “work husband” and “work wife.”  Each episode has just turned up the volume, and, not for the first time, but certainly the most obvious, Dean and Cas ARE the season.  Sure, they’re trying to beat God, they’re trying to finally find peace, defeat the final big bad, but really?  This season has been about Dean, and Dean’s relationship to Cas.

And not only do we have obvious and clear Destiel in nearly every episode, but we have episodes like “Last Call” which canonize bi!Dean (wrote about that here).

And, maybe most importantly so far, we have “The Rupture,” the breakup, and “The Trap,” Dean’s confession (both written by Berens).  And here’s the thing.  These episodes feel connected, but also feel like they’re missing something.  Beren’s last episode is 15x18, “The Truth.”  We’ve all spec’ed about what could happen in this episode, and I think *I* know what it’s leading to.  But for it to be leading to that, it means that the network has to have approved what we’ve all been waiting for years for.

Who got this change to happen?  Who got the network to change their minds?  It wasn’t us.  It was them.  I am fully convinced that Dabb and Berens quite literally put their careers on the line for Dean and Cas.  They believe in them, they’ve shown that from the beginning, but the only thing standing in the way was the network, never allowing them to take the final step. 

So, to answer your question: I think the writers want canon DeanCas because they’ve already shown us that they do.  Take a look at their episodes, at Dabb’s, at Beren’s, at Glynn’s, at Perez’s, at Yockey’s.  They’ve been telling us what’s going on with Dean and Cas for years.

Sure, I’m not in their heads, I guess I don’t know for *sure* that this has been their thought process, but if we put it all together, from the marked shift when Dabb fully took over in s12, to the change right after “Tombstone,” to the new shift, the blatantly romantic shift in season 15, what else is there?

I’ve said for a long time that we, the SPN fandom, are beyond lucky to have the writer’s that we do.  They’re all going to go on to have prolific careers and we were lucky to get them at the end of our little show.  I give them a lot of credit for what we have in the show today.

Just remember, they’ve been telling us in all of s15 who Chuck is.  He says he’s the writer, right?  But a writer who doesn’t have control of his characters?  A writer who wants to do the same ending over and over because it “works”?  That doesn’t sound like a writer, it sounds like a network exec.

They’ve been showing us what they want for years, and the way s15 is going?  I think they may have convinced the network to let us have it.

[maluspuerum]

i was reading the fate stay night manga ( also the first like scene of the hf manga but kgskhg hf ) and i want to Address a thing, this is going to get long mostly because of scans … but 

shinji matou used to be a skilled mage and arguably still is and is probably connected to the root and here’s why

this is the first part where shinji shows up in hf i think, honestly i can’t read hf bc it just no. but as we can see, shinji is a small child, he’s reading all these complex books, ‘we hadn’t lost the records of those mysteries we had accumulated nor the pedigree of our family’ ok ok yeah sure go on say shinji has this warped view of himself, but he’s not addressing himself here, he’s talking about his family. a very traditional mage family where as we see in f/z, there’s a Single Heir even if there are siblings. kariya gets the magecraft and byakuya gets to uhhhh fuck around being drunk like 24/7, because to the family, his lack of ?? to-standard magecraft made him useless. 

so i’m going to tell you all about some psychology things that don’t line up. shinji is said to have believed that he would be head of family, this is the matous we’re talking about. a family where power is so highly valued. he would never have that notion if he didn’t qualify at some point in his life. 

these are some scans of shinji and sakura as kids, with sakura being adopted into the family. shinji tells her that he’s going to succeed as the greatest person ever in the matou family. if he didn’t have the ability to do so, that notion would have been quickly beaten out of him, quite literally. there is no way zouken matou would ever allow someone who was deemed incompetent in magecraft to think that way. if we look at f/z, the way he treats kariya who does have the potential but he still basically ‘oh hey look you survived what a shock’ —- yeah, shinji wouldn’t think of himself as someone who could be the greatest person in the family if he didn’t have what it took. if he didn’t have magecraft and if he wasn’t really fucking talented. 

there’s a part in one of the character materials that notes that shinji would have been able to go to to toe or possibly outdo rin in magecraft prowess and rin is ‘an average one’, the only other noted mage to have all five elements to classify as ‘average one’ is paracelsus, the creator of the philosopher’s stone —- who is also implied to have the first magic, but i digress. the point being, shinji matou, who is shown in media to basically be a flat out disaster non-magus, had the potential to outdo rin, who can be compared to paracelsus right down to the gem magecraft. 

ok so i know this all sounds pretty weird, probably, but i do in fact have more evidence. so, moving forward to fate unlimited blade works which is where i get most things from, because i go with ubw for this blog. so we have a lot of scenes where shinji is basically put in situations where it’s supposed to be ‘oh shinji is the butt of the joke’ but i have mentioned before in other posts that when you look deeper, it’s less funny and more terrifying. 

first up: bloodfort andromeda

which i did write about before, but a recap of what it does —- “victims within the barrier are dissolved into blood as if they were inside a stomach, and their magical energy is given to either rider or her master. THOSE WITH A PROPER AMOUNT OF MAGICAL ENERGY ARE ABLE TO RESIST THE BOUNDED FIELD, such as a SERVANT or PROPER MAGUS, but those without any are instantly drained […] stronger people can resist it for a small amount of time, while weaker people will instantly have their skin start to melt, have inflammation resembling a keloid, and their eyes will look like those of a dead fish. those closest to the origin of the barrier will suffer the most severe effects, such as their blood being instantly vaporized and having the look of pale wax dolls piled like corpses. someone with a slight resistance, such as shirou, will feel instant discomfort as if their senses were revered, nausea, dizziness, a sensation of being extremely hot, and they will have trouble breathing as if the oxygen had suddenly dissipated.” 

well uh hey here’s shinji

in the center of it, not dead, not melted, certainly as chipper as can be, very mobile. also for those of you who go ‘oh but isn’t that medusa’s noble phantasm’ 

yeah well, rin thinks otherwise. also, it’s a little odd … gaining territory creation rank b from a noble phantasm as a rider class servant, just saying. so, for the area to work like bloodfort andromeda, either medusa is the power source or shinji is. that would explain why he’s unharmed and why other people go down, why he defies all logic of the effects of the field, because he’s powering it. he made it and he just hides that he has ability —- or, his abilities are sporadic, but when they work they work. 

second: being a matou in general

a great deal of that sporadic nature is likely trauma based. no matter how you look at it, growing up a matou means growing up being abused, being a victim. the crest worms are a way to give magecraft to someone without it, but they can also act as extra circuits, and all the heirs seem to go through this experience. something interesting that happens repeatedly is shinji is always the person to initiate physical contact without having some dissociative reaction to it. 

in fact, he seems to usually keep his distance from most people . 

then, shirou grabs him by the shoulders and he just sorta … vacates his body. also note the brown haired boy in the background and the two girls sorta have those ‘u should not do that’ expressions, because honestly, i doubt there was anyone in the school who Didn’t know shinji didn’t like being touched without warning. 

i’m willing to bet that’s because he has been. now, as much as i yeet out the really not logical things, the scenes still stand for reference: shinji touches rin first, shinji touches gilgamesh first, he doesn’t seem to be uncomfortable doing so, because he’s initiating. for those of you who don’t know how the matou crest worms work, it is the epitome of lack of consent in literally every manner possible. now, something else from this —- how shinji reacts to being attacked.

he impulsively retaliates, runs, or he hardcore dissociates. the first and second both happen with cu, first he threatens, then he runs. actually, the third happens there, too, it’s noted in the vn that when he goes outside, he flat out dissociates and thinks about what it would be like if he tore the arms of his opponents off. gilgamesh shows up after that and shoves the grail in his body and of course, that sets off a chain reaction where he should’ve died, but he didn’t. he just sorta … merged with the grail body as horrific as that is, but he lived. i’d just like to note that in fate he dies by herc (?), hf sakura kills him, but he lives in ubw after becoming the grail which basically seems like a black hole so it’s a constant slow collapse of his entire being, but he lived. that logic is a bit odd but ok sure whatever. 

other people who survive being in the grail? manaka. manaka ‘freakishly op, very creepy, can sustain like 7 servants and a beast class’ sajyou, who is in fact connected to the root. now, i won’t say that the exact same thing happened, but you don’t come back from the root the same. clearly, manaka became a zombie basically and shinji’s personality seems to revert to the person he was before everything awful happened. 

but the point of this is shinji not only may be an obscenely powerful mage, he might very well be connected to the root, which would ensure his survival … other people connected to the root: david sem void from fate grand order, who is noted to be ‘an abnormal genius’ who da vinci recognizes which is very rare  but also ( fuck the english butchering of his name holy shit )

so uh i know this got pretty scattered but thanks for coming to my tedtalk. 

[corysmiles]

Little streamer AU prompts!

-Thinking they were all humans, either Wil or Phil bought tickets for them all to go to an amusement park....but Tommy’s too short to ride. Where does it go from there? Does Wilbur feel bad and sob out apologies? Does Tommy say it’s fine and that they can go without him, only to get kidnapped/lost? Does Tommy say f*ck it and try to sneak on with Tubbo? Your choice :)

-The bois at the arcade during the meetup. They try to cheat the games by having Tommy roll skeeballs into the best slot, or go inside machines to fix the game in their favor

-While Tubbo has Lani, and Phil has probably had like a borrower coworker or something, this is Wil’s first time heavily interacting with someone so small, and constantly watches the others and stays up at night googling how to best handle a borrower. Some of the suggestions he gets from online are way too formal and Tommy is confused as heck at where he’s getting these ideas. Like Wil you don’t have to wash your hands before picking me up if we’re RUNNING LATE C’MON LETS GO

-(the angst prompt) Tommy was so excited to meet others his size and during the meet up he doesn’t feel included or something, and he ahas a mental breakdown. Maybe he hides in a small space so the others can’t find/reach him

-If you don’t have plans for techno yet, maybe he’s also a tiny and thought he was the only one of any of his online friends, but the group FaceTimes him and he sees Tommy is small too but doesn’t make a big deal out of it, just a mentions it in the conversation at some point. Tommy feels instantly better. “Technoblade’s a bigger bad ass than any of you talk freaks!” “Techno was already the coolest, but none of you have a chance now.”

-Tommy wrestles with everyone’s hands

If you can’t tell I love this idea so much lol

-🦎anon

omg I love your ideas so much thank you and I’m so so sorry this post is so long I was gonna split it up but then I was motivated and got really excited (also pls forgive me for any spelling errors this is long and I didnt want to go back and edit it) :]

Little streamer au drabbles

—————————————————————

When Phil and Kristen had originally been planning out all the things they could do at the meet up they didn’t take into account the possibility that any of their friends might be well...tiny. So when the day came for the group to go to the amusement park and they were stopped by security at the first ride Phil knew the day wasn’t going to end well.

“Sorry sir,” the man said to Wilbur who currently had Tommy in his front pocket, “Tinies can’t go on the rides here, it’s too much liability for the park.”

Wilbur just stared at the man in mild confusion, “What if I hold him though, there’s no way anything could happen.”

The man just shrugged, “I don’t know it’s the park’s rules not mine so you can either stay out here with him or pass on rides for today.”

Wilbur looked down at the small teen in his pocket and could tell he was getting upset by the confrontation. Tommy’s shoulders drooped and he kept his eyes down as if to not show the others his disappointment.

“Its alright big man, go on I can stay down here,” Tommy whispered and patted Wilbur’s chest reassuringly. The attempt at comfort just made Wilbur’s frown grow.

“Hey it’s alright Will I’ll stay down here with Tommy,” Tubbo said, “I’m not the biggest fan of heights anyways.”

Wilbur reluctantly agreed and handed over the tiny to the other teen who walked over to one of the benches to wait for the others.

When Wilbur and Phil got off the roller coaster they panicked when they couldn’t find the two teens until they found Tubbo riding on a carousel horse with Tommy hanging off the pole.

Safe to say Wilbur didn’t let Tubbo take Tommy the rest of the day. (Sorry i didnt do angst for this one)

(More under the cut)

—————————————————————

Tommy was so excited to go to the arcade with his friends. When they got there though and Tommy saw all the prizes he could win he started to form a plan.

Tubbo of course would be the one to help him out though since he was the only one that was willing to let Tommy cause any chaos.

It started with small things like having him help them cheat on skeeball or hit targets with his hands on shooting games until they started to look for more ways to cheat.

For the final plan, Tubbo watched as Tommy climbed through the slot of a crane machine and tried to push a large bear toy into the hole.

When he saw the bear he thought Wilbur would like it and while Tubbo was usually opposed to crane games since it’s just a “waste of fucking money” he wasn’t necessarily opposed to helping Tommy get into the machine.

Everything was going fine until a woman with a child came over to the machine to play for themselves; immediately Tommy ducked down beneath the plushies so they wouldn’t get caught and Tubbo began to panic when he lost sight of the tiny.

It was at that moment that the rest of the group came over to Tubbo and asked where Tommy was.

“Uhhh hes in the bathroom,” Tubbo said nervously.

Phil tilted his head at the boy, “Uhuh...where is he Tubbo?”

“Ummmm so about that big man we uh-“

However, Tubbo was interrupted by his phone dinging and his face went pale as he read the text from Tommy.

-Pls get me out of here big man I can’t get this shit off me anymore-

“Uhhhh...oh fuck,” Tubbo muttered, “Um I have not the best news for you.”

“And what’s that?” Wilbur asked.

“Ummm do you have any coins on you?”

Phil looked at Tubbo with confusion, “Yeah, why do you ask mate?”

Tubbo turned back to the crane where the mother and daughter had left and laughed nervously, “well....ummm so by bathroom I kinda meant uh the crane machine? Yeah, Tommy’s in there.”

The adults immediately freaked out at the situation because what the fuck were the kids thinking. And when Tubbo told Wilbur they were just trying to get the teddybear for him cause Tommy thought he’d like it, he felt even more dread.

After almost an hour of Wilbur and Phil putting in money into the claw machine they finally got enough toys out of the way to see the tiny.

With one more try Tommy was able to grab onto the claw and let himself fall out of the machine. Wilbur immediately scooped him up to scold him for being a dumbass but when he saw that Tommy’s face was red and swollen he decided instead to just slip Tommy into his pocket to rest.

With the extra cheated tickets though they were able to buy Tommy a tiny plastic nerf gun from the arcade before they left.—————————————————————

Wilbur was surprised at how quickly Phil and Tubbo were okay with Tommy’s size. While Tubbo apparently had a tiny sister and Phil had had tiny friends before, Wilbur couldn’t recall ever actually interacting with someone so small expect for in passing.

He really cared about Tommy as both a friend and as a brother and he was so afraid of messing up with the teen. He didn’t want to hurt or offend Tommy in any way so of course he went to the best place to figure out what to do: wikihow.

The articles were strange for sure but anything to make Tommy feel more comfortable with him would be worth it.

So the next day when Tommy was supposed to be eating breakfast at Wilbur’s house and Wilbur wouldn’t pick him up to put him on the table he thought the taller man was just being a dick.

Then when Tommy asked him if he would pick him up Wilbur walked away from him to go to the bathroom instead of helping him.

After a minute the brunette man walked back and reached a hand down to lay besides Tommy. Tommy stepped onto his palm and expected him to pull him up towards him but when he didn’t he started to get really annoyed.

“Hey you can move what the fucks up witb you right now you’re being all weird and shit man,” Tommy grumbled.

“Huh? Oh I just...I was looking up some stuff about uh tinies and I thought maybe it would make you more comfortable?” Wilbur whispered with embarrassment.

“What?” Tommy laughed, “Why the fuck would you do that you were fine before I would tell you if I wasn’t comfortable big man you don’t have to worry about that.”

Wilbur felt his heart swell at the comfort and slowly lifted Tommy up to the table for them to eat together. It was still strange having someone so small around but Wilbur would get used to it for Tommy.—————————————————————

Tommy usually didn’t have any problems with having bigger people around. All his friends at home and his family were all humans so he knew he was overreacting about none of his online friends being tinies. But when they went out to dinner together and Phil, Tubbo, and Wilbur were all talking together while Tommy sat next to Wilbur’s cup something broke inside him.

The reason he loved streaming so much was that he thought he finally had met other people like him, but he guessed it was his own fault for never really checking.

As the three laughed loudly Tommy felt himself becoming more and more overwhelmed by the chaos in the restaurant. He couldn’t cry now though his friends were having fun, it would be a dick move for him to ruin the meet up for them just because he expected them to be tinies.

Throughout the meal and on the way home Tommy was mostly silent, he sat in Wilbur’s pocket as they arrived at the man’s apartment. Wilbur waved goodbye to Phil and Tubbo as he took Tommy inside.

Wilbur sat Tommy down on the counter as he changed and Tommy finally felt a few tears fall from his eyes. He heard the sound of a door opening and quickly hid behind a tea box so Wilbur wouldn’t see him in this state.

He started to shake as the tears kept coming while he heard Wilbur searching around for him.

“Tommy?” Wilbur called out but Tommy couldn’t even get a solid breath much less respond.

After a few moments Tommy felt the tea box he was hiding near shift as a large hand wrapped him up gently.

“Oh jeez Tommy are you okay?” Wilbur asked as he lifted Tommy to his eyes.

Tommy wiped his eyes and slowly nodded to Wilbur who looked heartbroken by the tears.

Wilbur sighed, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Tommy shook his head no and Wilbur gave the boy a sad smile.

“I’m sorry Tommy, we’ll talk about this later okay,” he whispered as he tucked Tommy up against his chest. He held the tiny until he heard soft snores replace the sobs and promised himself that whatever made him this sad would never happen again.—————————————————————

Techno had been tweeting at the rest of the sleepy boys since the start of the meetup. The American wished he had gotten to meet up with his friends but sadly because of covid there was no way to safely visit the UK, so instead they settled for FaceTiming one night so that Techno wouldn’t feel as left out.

Techno grabbed his specially made phone and anxiously waited for the call. When Phil’s contact showed up Techno opened it immediately and was greeted by the familiar blonde human’s face along with Tubbo in the corner.

“Hey Techno!” Phil smiled as Tubbo waved aggressively.

Techno smiled and waved back, “Hullo.”

After a little bit of shuffling Wilbur appeared on the screen with something cupped in his hands.

“What you got there Will?” Techno asked with an amused expression.

“It’s me bitch! Ayyy Techno,” a loud and annoying but familiar voice yelled form the taller man’s hands.

“Oh hey Tommy,” Techno laughed, but besides that there was almost no reaction to Tommy’s height.

“That’s it? No big ‘wow you’re small’ or like ‘poggers’ or anything?” Tommy asked.

Techno hummed in response, “Nah why would I care your nothing special cause you’re small.”

Tommy huffed and crossed his arms at Techno, “I’m not special bitch? I’m the only tiny here I’m amazing!”

A small chuckle left Techno as he realized the situation.

“And why are you so sure you’re the only one huh?”

Tommy blinked wide eyed at Techno before a wide grin spread across his face.

“Wait you’re small too?” Phil asked.

Techno nodded to his friends who all had different ranges of shock on their faces.

“Oh fuck yeah!” Tommy screeched causing everyone to laugh.

“See I knew this is why you were so much cooler than these bitches were alpha men you see,” Tommy laughed.

“Yeah,” Techno smiled, “I’m sure that’s why.”

The rest of the call was calmer however Tommy continued to insist that Techno and him were much cooler than the rest of the them. —————————————————————

The first time Tommy had been grabbed to try to get him to calm down or stay still it had been by Phil when he was trying to cook breakfast and Tommy kept getting too close to the stove top. Phil placed his hand over Tommy to keep him still when he felt the kid latch onto his pointer finger and try to pull it away.

“Ay what are you doing mate?” Phil laughed as the tiny continued to struggle with his finger.

“I’m wrestling you big man can’t you tell, and I’m fucking winning!” Tommy grinned.

Phil chuckled at the kid before flipping him over with his thumb.

“Yup you’re winning sure,” he said slyly.

When Wilbur and Tubbo walked in to Phil trying to pin down Tommy with his fingers while the small boy laughed and pushed them away as much as he could they had no fucking clue what was going on.

[firelxdykatara]

Please don't reblog SessRin. She was 13 when he got her pregnant. When he first adopted her, she was 8.

Oi vey.

No, she wasn’t.

It’s really funny that somehow I know more about the source material than people who are actually in the fandom, despite being much more of a casual viewer, but like, it’s not that hard to look up??? And realize that Sesshomaru never ‘adopted’ her (fuck, I know that and I’ve only seen like three seasons of the show), because literally all their relationship consisted of was Rin following Sess around for a year (one (1) year), while basically taking care of herself (he didn’t even feed her ffs), occasionally with Jaken’s help. All Sess himself did was keep her alive, which.... man, if that’s what y’all consider a father/daughter relationship, I’m genuinely concerned. Especially since, after that year was over, Sesshomaru dropped her off in a human village so that she could be raised among her own kind and then choose, for herself, where she wanted to be. If that kind of relationship when Rin was young makes their relationship after she grew up off-putting to you, that’s completely valid! What isn’t valid is claiming that your feelings are the only valid ones, and that Sess must have had romantic feelings for her when she was a child, which is never suggested anywhere in canon.

Secondly, there’s no reason to believe she was thirteen when he got her pregnant, what???? Everyone looks weirdly young in Yashahime’s art style, for one thing, (though notably, she just doesn’t look that much younger in the birth scene than Kagome) but I’ve been over the timeline (more for curiosity’s sake than anything else) and, quite apart from the fact that Rin had no canon age in the OG series (idk how the fandom settled on 8, but that was never actually stated, and she could easily have been a few years older--she was small but also uhhhh she’d been living like a feral child and pretty constantly malnourished before Sesshomaru found her so she would have been tiny for her age anyway), at the youngest she’d have been 16 or so. Which you may not think is great, and that’s fine, but it’s not the worst thing to come out of canon pairings in shows, so I fail to see the issue there.

Sess is supposed to be physically/mentally 19, the way Inuyasha is meant to be physically/mentally 15. The show wasn’t great about conveying this, but no one yelled about 150 year-old half-demon Inuyasha falling for a high schooler, so??? (Nevermind that this is a staple in shows with immortal protagonists. Which isn’t everyone’s cuppa, and that’s fine, but I get the appeal. I kinda have to, Bangel being one of my ultimate OTPs.) They are demons. They don’t view human lives and mortality and morality the same way we do. They don’t have to! It’s actually really interesting to think about that juxtaposition, how demons view humans but then some of them fall in love and those views change, and how half-demons bridge the gap between those two worlds... it’s fascinating. And for Sesshomaru, famously disdainful of humankind, to have fallen in love with a human woman and had half-demon kids of his own??? That’s even better.

I really gotta ask, though, who y’all even thought that human might be before the reveal lmao.

The thing is, I’m not even really in this fandom. I have a passing interest, I’ve seen a good chunk of the show and enjoyed it, I don’t really ship anything except inukag and a bit sesskag because I’ve seen some artwork and fanworks that really intrigue me, but I thought that piece of art was cute and reblogged it. I don’t have any real opinions on the ship itself, except that people are losing their minds for no reason, because it’s easy to blacklist tags and block content and also if the show itself disgusts you bc of its canon pairings then don’t watch it??? There are plenty of shows I don’t watch because I hate the things they do in canon (see: why i never got into Game of Thrones) but I’m not about to ask people to not reblog things from those shows just bc I don’t like them. If it bothers me that much, there’s blacklisting and tumblr’s filter system. Also blocking, if it’s really that huge a deal.

But I’ve never had patience with this kind of argument where, like, people who really hate a ship have decided that it MUST be pedophilia, despite their insistence on information that isn’t even canon, like. It happened to me, not long back, when a group of atla blogs decided that Jiang was an adult, despite there being no canon basis for that belief (and a lot of canon basis for her being a teenager, since all her crew were around the gaang’s ages), and so if I shipped her with Katara I must be a pedo. I hated it then, and I hate it now, and if you don’t like my particular stance on this, you don’t have to, but I’m not budging.

For the record, I always tag ship things, and I tagged that post, so if you hate sessrin, I implore you, please blacklist or filter the tag. It’s genuinely not that difficult. And I’m not even in the fandom, but I’m also not gonna go out of my way not to reblog things if I find them cute or the art good or whatever, so I can’t promise I’ll never reblog sessrin again lmao