#unsurprisingly i have received anon hate over something as simple as 'do what you want i just dont want it here'

[triptychofvoids]

Hey, sorry if this was asked before, I was unable to find clarification by just browsing the posts you tagged with Heavy, or looking the word up (great search system, Tumblr, thank you). Could you elaborate on your opinions about Heavy? And, by extension, HeavyMedic, since it's clearly only really a platonic thing in your work.

Which isn't a complaint, to be clear, your work is honestly rather refreshing, considering how often Those Two are just "the couple" in so many fanworks.

i like heavy, we are good friends and im rather fond of him! in addition to being a a valued asset on the battlefield and a good test subject, hes a quite an agreeable and interesting person as well!

i just dont feel anything more than platonic towards him, and i fail to see why this is such a problem! i understand heavymedic is rather popular and it seems some people care about shipping characters more than anything else when it comes to fan interactions. originally when i first saw it i had no problem with it, and even found some of it amusing or endearing in some cases. but over time, well. it stops being endearing very quickly, especially when you can never get a break from it. its a shame too, because heavy is quite fun to draw and id love to draw more interactions between us, but at this point i tend to avoid drawing him or even talking about him altogether because some people sadly do not know how to behave

[lynnsfics]

Feisty

Pairing: Racetrack Higgins x Reader

Request: “race or spot x feisty reader/oc + prompt #84 (sarcasm) from list 2 could be really fun! if it's not a bother, tysm 🖤”

Prompt: “I can’t date him! He hates sarcasm! That’s like my second language!”

Word Count: Approx. 1.7k

~~~

“Wait up,” Race called as you ran down the steps of the newsies boarding house. Although you felt bad, you didn’t stop. You had barely had time to get dressed before you heard the morning bell. The papes were already being sold and you had just left the house. Race being late was his own problem, not yours. 

As you finally reached the distribution center for the papers you sighed with relief. Fortunately for you, they hadn’t completely sold out. However, that meant the headline wasn’t an easy seller, so you’d be in for a long day. Race caught up with you at the selling window. 

“Hey, why didn’t’ya wait up?” he asked. 

“Because it’d be great if we were both late,” you said, rolling your eyes.

He looked confused for a moment and then sighed with exasperation. “Oh, youse is bein’ sarcastic again. You know I hate when you do that.”

“Sorry Race,” you laughed. “But you know I can’t be late. ‘M already almost behind on my payments for the lodging.” 

Race nodded in understanding. It was the same story for a lot of newsies, not being able to scrape together the money for lodging and then being out on the streets. “Why don’t we’s sell together today? I already has enough for my rent this month, so you can take some of my extra papes.” 

You didn’t want to accept help from anybody, least of all Race. Part of you was worried he would resent you if you held him back, and for some reason that terrified you. “Are ya’ sure? I’ll be fine on my own as always, really.”

He shook his head, “Just because youse is ‘fine’ doesn’t mean that you should have to be all alone.” 

Looking down, you nodded in appreciation. “Thank you, Race.” You prayed to whoever was listening that he didn’t notice the blush spreading across your cheeks. “We’d best buy some papes and start selling then, huh?”

You handed your money to Weasel, who was standing at the window counting the day’s profit. “I’ll take 50 papes, as usual.” 

“Are you sure you can sell that many?” Oscar Delancey taunted. “It’s not a great headline, and you ain’t exactly the top seller anyways.”

Race shot him a glare but you already had a scathing response prepared.  “Oscar, I know it’s difficult for youse to understand, but sales ain’t based wholly on the headline. Stunning good looks also factor in, which must explain why you and your brother never made it as newsies.”

“You’d better watch it,” Oscar threatened, balling his hand into a fist. He narrowed his eyes and you could tell he was getting irritated. 

As soon as Race bought his papers you were off. Although you weren’t opposed to punching a Delancey, you would hate to get all mussed up. After all, you had to at least look a little bit respectable, that way you could sell in the wealthier areas without attracting any trouble. 

You turned to Race with a grin, “So, where to first?”

He shook his head, “Youse is gonna get in trouble for talking back one of these days, you’re too feisty for your own good. But I found a great selling spot in upper Manhattan. People there give great tips too.” 

“Perfect,” you said with a light laugh. “And I thinks I can take care of myself, thank you very much. Those Delanceys won’t even know what hit ‘em.”

Race simply rolled his eyes in response. “I certainly hope so,” he laughed. “Let’s head out before everyone in this city already has a pape.”

It was a fairly quick walk, but the brisk morning air made it seem longer than it was. Race looked over at you, noting that you had been strangely silent for most of the trip. When he saw you silently shivering he smiled to himself. Of course you were too proud to even mention it. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. He already knew what your answer would be, but he decided to ask anyway. At least then it would seem like he hadn’t already made up his mind on what he was about to do.

Just like he predicted, you answered with a simple, “Yes, why?” However a visible shiver passed over you as you answered, giving away your lie.

“Because you seem cold,” he said, trying his best to sound exasperated and not concerned. He knew if he seemed worried you’d refuse his offer, not wanting to seem weak. “Here, take my coat, I don’t need it.”

“Race, no,” you shook your head. “You do need it.”

“Not as much as you do,” he countered. Despite your protests he shrugged off his jacket and placed it around your shoulders. “Don’t even try to give it back ‘til we’s done selling.”

You sighed and nodded, “Fine.” To be honest, it really helped against the chill. Although you knew Race didn’t need it as much, it still pained you to take it from him. There was no way he would take it back, though. He could be as stubborn as you when he wanted to be. 

When you finally reached the neighborhood you breathed a sigh of relief. There were no other newsies in sight, which meant you were probably the first ones there. Or, you thought, the others had already sold everyone a paper and you wouldn’t make any sales. Hopefully it wasn’t the latter. 

Once you began calling out headlines, both real and slightly made-up, you realized your initial impression was correct. Your papers sold fairly quickly and you received a few nice tips too. The whole time you weren’t selling you spent talking to Race about anything and everything. 

Before you knew it the day was winding to a close and you had sold all your papes. Night was falling quickly and you had to hurry back to the lodging house. There was hardly any light on the streets and you became turned around. 

As you tried to navigate on the darkened street you realized you had become separated from Race. You called out to him, “Race? Where are you?” Someone grabbed your hand and you jumped. Your heartbeat calmed, however, when you saw it was just him. “Don’t sneak up on me like that,” you scolded, “I could’ve had a heart attack.”

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “I was jus’ worried ‘cause it’s easy to get lost here. Since I know the way I thought this’d be a safer way of heading back.” He motioned to his hand, still linked with yours. You nodded silently, thankful he wouldn’t notice your blush in the dark. 

The trip back to the lodging house seemed to drag on for eternity as your heart raced in your chest. While you had always considered Race a friend, you had secretly wondered if there was any chance of something more. After the day’s events you realized how much you wanted the chance to be real. 

When you finally returned to the lodging house you quickly said goodnight to Race before rushing to your room. On the way, however, you were stopped by Jack, who was looking at you confusedly. 

“Are you wearing Racetrack’s jacket?” he asked you. 

Shit. You had entirely forgotten to give it back in your haste to get to your room. “Oh, yeah, he lent it to me for sellin’ today. It was chilly so…” you trailed off, praying Jack wouldn’t ask anymore questions. While he had always been like an older brother to you that also meant he teased you like an older brother would. Which, unfortunately, included joking with you when he thought you liked someone.

Somehow Jack had figured out that you had a tiny crush on Race and was determined to set you two up, and tonight was no exception. “Well I didn’t know youse was sellin’ together,” he said with a smirk. 

You answered quickly, “It was just for today, no big deal.” 

“Well, if youse ever does get together don’t say I didn’t call it.”

Rolling your eyes, you began to grow defensive, “I can’t date him! He hates sarcasm! That’s like my second language!” Even as you said it you knew it was a bad excuse. 

Jack chuckled lightly, “Sounds like something someone makin’ up excuses would say.” Damn it, he knew you too well. “Maybe you should go give him his jacket back and, I dunno, talk to him a bit.”

He was right as always. There was no way you could keep living like this, you had to confront how you felt, which meant confessing to Race. “I think I will,” you said softly. “G’night Kelly.” 

You slowly made your way to the front of the lodging house. Somehow you knew Race hadn’t gone to bed yet. When you stepped out into the cold night air, you knew you were right. The faint smell of cigar smoke wafted up the steps from where Race was sitting. 

“Hey Race,” you said quietly. “I realized I never gave you your coat back and,” you shrugged, holding it out to him. 

He took it silently and you sat down next to him. “Thank you, by the way. For helping me sell my papes today, and for lending me your jacket and, everything, really.”

Race smiled, “Of course. It was nice having someone to sell with.” You could tell something was on his mind, he seemed distant. 

“I’m glad you came out here,” he said. “I wanted to talk to you about something. Lately I’ve been thinking, and well,” he paused before continuing, “what if we went out sometime? If you don’t want to that’s fine,” he said quickly, “but I was thinking we could go on a date or something.”

Before you could second-guess yourself you leaned and pressed your lips to his. Your heart was pounding in your chest and after a split-second he returned the kiss. His lips were surprisingly soft, and unsurprisingly, the kiss tasted of cigar smoke and something sweet that you couldn’t quite place. When you finally pulled away you were breathless.

He grinned, putting an arm around your waist, “So, is that a yes?”

You laughed as you rested your head on his shoulder, “It’s a yes.”

~~~

Requested By: anon

Why do my newsies fics always end up longer than I originally plan? Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist and as always likes and reblogs are appreciated! Love you all! <3

[sankta-arya]

Nothing Compares to You (1)

My entry for day 6: stars of @jonsa-week

An anon on someone’s Tumblr commented on Sophie's engagement announcement coming so soon after Kit's. I don't like speculating on real people's lives (especially after all the Rose hate from K*milia shippers), but for my writer's brain it was enough to bring a new plot bunny to life :')

This IS a Jonsa fic, but I'll honour my source of inspiration through the setting and by including some details alluding to Kit or Sophie.

When Trystane proposes to Sansa, she wants to say no, but she ends up saying yes.Marrying Trystane is not what she wants, but what can she do? The man she truly loves is engaged to another woman and probably sees her as nothing more than a sister. At 22, she's barely more than a girl, why would a 30-year old man be interested in her?Sansa has tried to get over Jon, but starring in a hit series as a couple who are falling in love hasn't exactly helped her case.Acccepting another man's proposal is probably the most desperate thing she's done so far, but who's to say she won't do something even more reckless when she sees Jon again after months of being apart?

Sansa unlocks her phone and taps open the link Mya has sent her via WhatsApp. It's an online article from Lannisport Daily. The title reads: A Closer Look at the Suspicious Timing of Sansa Stark's Engagement.

Last weekend, Viper's Nest-actress and model Sansa Stark posted a picture on her Instagram page announcing her engagement to former Martell Brothers' lead singer Trystane Martell. At 22 and after only seven months of dating, the news surprised insiders and public alike! But we have reason to suspect there's more to the young star's sudden desire to get hitched. The news came not even a full month after co-star Jon Snow announced his own upcoming nuptials to longtime on-and-off girlfriend Margaery Tyrell.

Sansa quickly closes the article and shoves her phone back into her purse. This latest issue is no different from the usual trash tabloid 'writer' Cersei Lannister likes to publish about her. The only reason why it's affecting her is that for once, Cersei's fabrications are hitting too close to home.

She sinks into the back seat of the taxi and closes her eyes, taking deep breaths to steady herself. I could still cancel. She could tell Jon something came up or that she caught a stomach flu, and he wouldn't hold it against her. But she's missed him. It's been months since they've seen each other, with their busy schedules making it nearly impossible to meet.

But now they both happen to be in the same city with a bit of free time on their hands and the thought of seeing him sends a flurry of butterflies through her stomach, giddy excitement warring with nauseating guilt and shame.

Trystane sensed her melancholy after she received the news that Jon and Margaery were tying the knot, confused as to why it bothered her so much. Finally, in an ultimate attempt to cheer her up, he surprised her by proposing, assuming that's what she wanted.

She should have said no. They have only been dating for little over half a year and she's quite sure she's not ready for that type of commitment. After all, relationships are so fleeting in their line of work and they're both so young. Worst of all, it's not fair to him to make him believe this is what she wants.

But Sansa has always been a people pleaser, unable to say no to anyone, and when Trystane went down on one knee, gazing up at her with those soft, brown eyes, adoration clear on his face, her mouth went dry, all words escaping her, and she nodded, even with the voice in her head screaming that this was wrong.

You could still change your mind, she told herself after. People have long engagements nowadays and marriage isn't for life anymore. But even so, it wouldn't be wise to marry someone she doesn't love.

Sure, she likes Trystane and she's attracted to him, but she is not in love with him. How could she when her heart has belonged to another for a while now?

It all started after season four of Viper's, when audiences and press started speculating that her and Jon's characters on the show were heading toward a romantic future based on their on-screen chemistry and the way their scenes were filmed.

Af first Sansa had shrugged it off as people reading too much into it. Jon was like her brother, how was it even possible people were spotting romantic chemistry and sexual tension in their scenes together? The idea of kissing him was ridiculous, a little repulsive even.

Then after the umpteenth time a reporter asked her about Jae and Alyssa's future relationship, Sansa snapped. "No way!" she told the journalist. "Never gonna happen!"

As the interview took place on the red carpet of some award show, Mya witnessed her reaction live on television and immediately sent her a text.

- The lady doth protest too much, methinks ;-)

At the afterparty, Sansa drank way more than she had planned. At one point she threw her arms around Jon's neck, the liquor making her touchy-feely, and almost planted a kiss on his lips, which she somehow managed to redirect to his cheek at the last moment.

Her hangover the next day was worsened by her shock at what she'd almost done. She couldn't make sense of it. Why had she almost kissed Jon?

She got her answer later that day, when she saw him in the lobby of their hotel as she went to check out. He smiled at her when he noticed her and her heart leapt up in her chest. Then she saw Margaery next to him and her stomach churned, making her bolt straight to the ladies' room.

Marg knocked on the door of the bathroom stall minutes later, as Sansa was retching her guts out, to come and check if she was okay.

After assuring her she was fine and didn't need her help, Sansa slumped against the door, sinking down to the floor before bursting into tears.

Sansa was aware Jon and Marg had some sort of agreement that they could still see other people, which she supposed was their way of dealing with the high pressure on celebrity relationships. Marg wouldn't have even blinked at Sansa kissing Jon. The guilt that started consuming her had nothing to do with a kiss that had never happened, but with what it would have meant.

(She did end up kissing him later, on set, and even though that kiss happened between Jae and Alyssa and Sansa prides herself on being extremely professional, she thoroughly enjoyed it. Turns out Jon is a wonderful kisser. The sex scene they filmed later on was mostly awkward and uncomfortable, but she can still recall the tingle that coursed through her body at the touch of his skin against hers.)

No, a simple kiss would have meant nothing, but the problem was that she had feelings for Jon and that she wanted him for herself. Marg had been like a sister to her, always ready to give her advice on fashion, boys and any other issue a teenage girl might be dealing with. She'd guided her through the minefield that show business could be at times for a young woman.

Sansa must be a horrible person for betraying her friend like this, for leading Trystane on, for-

The taxi driver clears his throat. Sansa blinks and realizes they're parked in front of the Visenya Hill Hotel. She's meeting Jon in the bar. She quickly pays and thanks the man and scrambles out of the car as elegantly as she can manage in her short dress.

She enters the hotel lobby, picking up her pace as she sees a couple of curious glances being thrown her way. If she's quick, they won't have time to realize who she is.

She pauses at the door, wishing she'd taken time to check her reflection one last time -  she can hardly get a good look in the glass doors - and takes another deep breath, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach.

Jon is standing at the bar, casually leaning on a stool. Unsurprisingly he's all in black, shirt and jeans clinging tightly to his lean but muscled form, and she takes a moment to drink him in.

She walks up to him, hesitating when she's only three feet away from him. He sees her then, a bright smile lighting up his handsome brooding face, and he opens his arms.

She launches herself into his arms, which close around her so tightly, he almost lifts her off her feet. She breathes him in, eyes closed, relaxing at his familiar, comforting smell, suppressing the urge to nuzzle her face into his neck or rub her cheek against his beard.

He's still beaming at her when he releases her. "Hey, San," he greets her.

She smiles back at him. "Hi, Jon."

The bartender puts a glass of whiskey and a crimson cocktail in front of them and Jon pays her with a nod. "I already ordered," he explains sheepishly.

"You better hope I like it!" she warns him, narrowing her eyes.

"You want to get a booth?"

She nods and takes his jacket from his stool, following him as he carries the drinks to a quiet table in the corner. She folds both of their jackets over an empty chair as they settle down and she takes the glass intended for her, closing her lips around one of the straws.

It's sweet but a little tart- there are definitely strawberries and something citrusy in it- and quite strong. She glances up at Jon, who wets his lips, jaw a little tense as he stares at her intensely, and averts her eyes again before she can start to blush under his scrutiny.

She leans back and grins. "Official stamp of approval," she tells him.

He rubs the back of his neck while still trying to look smug. "Knew it!"

They chat about everything and nothing for a while, until Sansa remembers she should probably congratulate him again.

He takes a long sip, looking into his drink before thanking her. "I heard Trystane popped the question as well?" he asks, his lip twitching almost imperceivably.

Sansa leans forward, extending her hand to show him the ring. Jon doesn't have Instagram, so he might not have seen the picture yet.

He takes her hand, eyes on the ring, and purses his lips before taking another swig of whiskey. He sweeps the pad of his thumb over the diamonds, fingers tightening ever so slightly around hers. His hand is warm, but his touch sends a shiver down her spine.

She takes in the frown on his face. "You don't approve?" she asks in a small voice, something akin to hope fluttering in her stomach.

He squeezes her hand before releasing it and slumps back in his seat, shrugging. "You're still so young."

Something in his tone makes her cross her arms defensively.

"I'm sorry. It's none of my business," he grumbles, still adding: "But you did ask."

She bites her lip and almost asks him to elaborate on his objections to her decision, but then his phone vibrates loudly against the surface of the table. He glances down at the screens as it lights up and groans: "Seven fucking hells, Satin!"

Sansa's eyebrows knit together. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," he sighs, smoothing his hair back. Sansa's fingers itch to do the same. "Satin has found himself a new hobby. He googles me and then sends me the most interesting results."

She rolls her eyes. "Ugh, Mya does the exact same thing. It's so annoying." She feels a blush creeping up her neck as she realizes exactly which article Satin might have sent him. She hears the question rolling off her tongue before she can stop herself. "What's it about this time?"

He glances up at her. "Huh?"

"What did he send you?" she asks foolishly. You idiot! What are you going to say? That it's true?

"It's just more of the same," he explains. "Apparently I'm having an affair with Daenerys Targaryen."

"No smoke without fire?" she teases him, shoulders sagging in relief.

He rolls his eyes, then shrugs. "I mean, we did hook up once, on a singles cruise, but there was no click... You know, sexually," he adds at the look of confusion on her face.

"Oh." She shuffles in her seat, embarassed that she didn't catch on immediately. She arches an eyebrow. "A singles cruise?"

He grins awkwardly, eyes crinkling in the most adorable way. "Theon's idea," he clarifies, which is enough explanation for Sansa.

"I'll get us another drink!" she offers, standing up.

She orders a beer for Jon and a virgin version of the drink he picked out for her earlier. She's had two already and she has no intention of getting hammered tonight.

As she turns back around to their table, a balding man knocks into her, beer and juice sloshing out of the glasses she's holding and all over her cleavage and dress.

She gasps at the cold sensation, fighting back tears as she tries to offer the man who's apologizing profusely a strained smile.

Suddenly Jon is there, taking the drinks from her hands before wrapping a jacket around her shoulders as he leads her away. "Come on," he mutters. "Let's go to my room so we can get you cleaned up."