#when i was a kid i thought i wasn't Being Kid enough

[silvermoth-reblog]

This one is a bit odd for me, because I'm back to square one.

As a little kid I knew I wasn't attracted to others the way I was expected, AND I knew I wasn't my assigned gender (but when asked if I was the other one, I realized "no" very quickly, which confused me so I immediately assumed I must be cis and just fighting gender norms)

I later thought I was just sad straight, then Ace but definitely not aro since I still formed very tight attachments.

Now I'm back to being trans enby, aro-ace, but gray/demi/aego about it. I've accepted my identity is so fluid I can't ever lock it to a non-changing definition, and I'm pretty happy this way.

Letting myself be attached, without having to claim I'm NOT aro or ace, has been wonderful. I'm fluid, in gender and orientation. And that's enough for me.

Everyone introduce yourself by what you thought your OG queer identity was and what you currently identify as

Ill go first: hi I was bisexual now I’m a pansexual aroace

[warmilikeit]

Isekai reader x Batfam (Neglected au)

Female reader

Prologue

______________________________

You woke up as a baby, daughter of a waitress and some unknown guy, your grandmother (mom's mom) kept telling you that you were weighing her daughter's life down, whatever, that old hag died a few months after you were born

It was bad enough that you were born poor, it's the fact that you were born poor in GOTHAM

Fake Mom was a waitress and she worked with a catering job, at one of her jobs, at a charity gala with some rich people, she had sex with a rich dude there, she didn't know she was pregnant and you were a surprise

But it didn't matter, you were hers and she loved you, she didn't have much to give you because you were poor, but what little thing she had, she gave to you

That meant nothing to you, she wasn't your actual mom, your real mom had a nice crib for you to sleep in, not some moldy probably a 4th hand one, your real mom took time off her work to properly take care of you, not put you in a baby carrier and bring you to jobs like cashier, janitress and other stuff

She wasn't your actual mom.

You didn't care, you're not supposed to care.

You were merely 6 months old, at your crib, you were trying to sleep, key word. Try, but your fake mom's cries were too loud, you didn't understand her anguish, it was just a fever, you've had fevers before, why is your fake mom freaking out about your fever now

"I'm so sorry my baby... Mommy can't afford to buy the medicine-" she stops as she hears your heavy breathing, you are struggling to breathe "mommy is very selfish... If I gave you to your dad, he could get you the medicine, maybe you wouldn't get sick at all- but that would mean you are away from mommy- I'm really sorry baby.... I'll work harder"

She took a wet cloth and placed it on your forehead, she hung her head low and cried

You thought she was being dramatic, all this crying for a fever?

______________________________

Now you're 6, you don't know if fake mommy is stupid or what but there's no light and the electric fan stopped spinning, there was only one fan in your apartment, did she forget to pay the electric bill or... Did you guys not have enough money, you can't ask her that because fake mommy is at work, who leaves a 6 year old at home!?

If fake mommy can't pay, you'll do something about it, you were not going to spend a hot night without a fan, you go to explore and you grab some wild flowers off the streets and tie them with long leaves, then you sell

You forgot to leave a note.

When you get home, there's cops, your fake mom is crying and she sees you, she runs to hug "God! (Name) Where did- did you go, I- was so worried!" She cried and sobbed, the cops went away after some time

You hand her 12 dollars "I sold flowers, 2 dollars a bouquet, the lights went out, so I sold, we don't have any money to pay right?"

Your fake mom smiles at you, "my thoughtful baby... Mommy just forgot to pay because... Mommy enrolled you in school!" She said excitedly,You raised your eyebrows "how much money do we have? Won't we go bankrupt?"

But your fake mom is crazy because she just laughs and hugs you

You hated being poor, being poor means you get bullied, it means you can't buy the stuff you want, it means using stuff someone else already used, it means your lunch would also be your dinner

You hated it

Because it also meant being looked down on, being the smartest kid in class (ofc) means nothing if your school bag had holes and patched up, it meant sometimes you'll see other kids your age buy something you wanted

It didn't matter, you could make do, you avoided being bullied and actually became popular by showing off, you landed bottle flips, you could do a handstand, needless to say, you were definitely invited to birthday parties, plus you were smart and well-behaved, parents and teachers love you, it didn't matter if you brought a present or not, all that matters is your presence

And when your birthday rolled around, the kids got used to the fact you were too poor to hold a birthday party, that didn't matter to them, to those kids and parents, you were the kindest person they've ever met, so they gave you presents, at first you tried to refuse (because you were ashamed you couldn't give them anything that's not handmade to their parties) but they insisted

Your fake mom was always busy, with so many jobs, she couldn't attend all award ceremonies and PTC's

You just won for the best science project in the fair (despite having the least resources), you were fine with fake mom not being able to attend the award ceremony, she was out cleaning someone's house after all

"where is her mom?"

"I don't know, but that poor kid, she's so sweet and smart, I feel bad that she has a mother like that"

"I heard (Name)'s mother got pregnant with (Name) while she was at college, thank God that (Name) won't end up like her, how could such a talented girl end up with a mother like that? She couldn't even attend her own daughter's award ceremony"

"the mom is probably off somewhere sucking someone's dick, if she gets pregnant again, I hope the kid takes after (Name)"

"(Name)! Sweetheart! Mommy's here! Oh sorry I'm late, I was at work" you fake mom smiles as she runs at you, she looks at your blue ribbon and hugs you "You're so smart baby! Mommy is so proud"

______________________________

You're 8 and you earn 5 dollars for every lawn you cut grass for, some of the people even give you snacks! You're already an entrepreneur! You smile to yourself, you weren't going to be like your fake mom, you were going to be rich, so maybe you and fake mom can get out of the cockroach infested house and fake mom won't work for an awful manager who hits on her and she won't clean toilets just so the both of you have something to eat

You come home with 40 dollars, you plan to give 30 to your fake mom for the bills and you keep 10 as a reward, but when you open the door your met with a bang

A bang from a party popper "Happy birthday my sweetheart!" Fake mom says

You look at the cake and decorations, you sigh, the money out in this could have been used for groceries

Your fake mom seemed to read your mind "Oh hush my baby, it's only once a year! Plus this is nothing to what you do for my birthday!"

That's a lie, your fake mommy is lying, your birthday decorations for her were handmade by you and her cake was just a muffin because you couldn't afford something more expensive, your birthdays were much more grander than hers

You give her the 30 dollars, you try to give her, but it seemed to make her sad, he smile wore off

Did you do something? Shouldn't she be happy? You were providing and helping!

"I'm sorry you think you have to do this my baby... You should be playing outside- not- not working, I want you to be a kid! Don't work anymore okay?"

But you're not a kid okay! You're reincarnated! And your previous life was much better than now!

So your fake mom should just let you help! Because you're trying to make things easier for her, why won't she let you help!?

But you keep it all to yourself and you and your fake mommy celebrate your fake birthday

______________________________

You're 10, and your fake mom seems... Weaker?? Is that how you put it? Her eye bags seem darker and her skin looks paler, you don't like this look from her, your fake mom is a pretty woman, who would have married good if it weren't for you, nevermind

You don't want your fake mom getting ugly, so every 9:00 pm you crash into her work place and you don't care if she still needs to keep on working and her shift ends at 9:30, your fake mom needs sleep! Someone else can cover for her

It's her birthday when she starts coughing, she starts coughing bad. The sounds were coarse and harsh, it hurt to even hear the coughs, you didn't want to know how it felt like

She grabs a tissue and coughs into it, you're sure you saw blood

Usually you're a master of minding their own business, but this time you rummage, you rummage through your mom's fake mom's room, and you find it, doctor appointments, medical certificates (when did she even go to the hospital!?), fake mom is sick, really sick, why didn't she tell you???

When your fake mom gets home, you show her what you found, instead of confronting you she acts like it's nothing, you get mad, of course you do, why wouldn't you?

"Mom are you crazy? Why didn't you tell me? The bill is huge? And why would you keep on working!? Did you forget what a sick person does? They rest!" You cry yell

She just smiled at you??? Is this woman crazy? "What was I supposed to do? Sweetheart, these things are for me okay? Don't worry about it, I'll be fine... Did you do your homework? If you haven't I can help you"

"I did... Mom?"

"Yes?"

"I want you to pull me out of school" you say

"what why? Are you being bullied? You can tell me"

"No I'm not! If you pull me out of school, instead of worrying about my tuition, you could just pay for your medical bills and actually buy yourself some medicine and get better!"

Fake mom turns silent "You don't have to do that"

"it's the only way! We can't afford both my school and your hospital bills! Mom! Your health is much more important than some certificates! And while I'm out of school I can work as well, even though I get paid a little, money is still money I can give to you-"

"NO! A mother's job is to provide for their kids and your my kid! You don't have to go to work, you don't have to stop going to school, you don't have to think about whether you'll be able to eat tommorow and the day after that, you're a kid! You're my baby! Stop worrying about me and instead, worry about boys you like or girls you like, worry about— I want you to be a kid"

You clench your fists "How can I be!?!? You think I don't hear you!? You come home when I'm supposedly asleep so you can cry about not being able to give a better life, I can hear you! I hear everything! You hate that your manager flirts with you! You hate that the mother's at school talks about you! You hate that I'm the only kid in school who can't afford a birthday party!, I'm trying to help! I can bring in money! I tutor, I babysit, I mow lawns, I can do more if I'm out of school!" At this point you're crying

Fake mom has never yelled at you, never. Whenever you get mad she hugs you and kisses you forehead, why is she yelling at you, you just want what's best for her

______________________________

You didn't care, after school you took on more jobs, you even started doing your classmate's homework and homework from higher and lower grades for money

Fake mom's medicine... It was expensive, that didn't matter, you'll work harder, you were so tired

You started selling bread for a family bakery who felt bad for you, that kind of money doesn't come up in thin air

But you were going to try

And you did, you really did, you did whatever you could

You and fake mom had another argument when you found out she got life insurance and placed you as the sole beneficiary

Fake mom's illness got so bad that she had to quit her jobs because she didn't have the strength to even walk, the amount of blood that comes out every time she coughs kept increasing

You stopped going to school to work more, you started to sweep and mop up for local grocery stores, the owner being a dad of one of your classmates

You knew your mom wouldn't approve, so you fed her with fake science fairs, fake school plays you had to practice for so she wouldn't get suspicious why you returned home late

"Don't stay out so late sweetheart, the riddler just escaped Arkham" your fake mom would warn you with a hint of love in her voice

If you could just make it work, even for half of the money you need, maybe you could put a down payment, and they'd give you the medicine and you'll pay them back later

So why wasn't your fake mom waking up?

You got home, after grueling hours of painting fences, you plan to tell your fake mom that you were just painting some backdrops for a school play

"Mommy?" You call out, you expect your fake mom to be either watching on a broken down TV or probably sewing some of your clothes with holes on them

It's eerie quiet, a quiet you don't like "Mama?" You see her in a chair, asleep and eyes closed

Is she that tired? "Mommy, do you want noodles? I'll make some?"

....

.........

"Mommy?"

You shake her body trying to wake her

Nothing.

"Mommy?"

Your heart drops "No... No. No. No. No. No. No... No!" You keep shaking and shaking her but nothing, it was then you notice her lips have gone horrifyingly pale

"no.. this- this- help! Someone help us please!" You yell trying to call your neighbors, someone, anyone!

______________________________

"I'm sorry kid, Your mom's gone, we'll try to find any other relatives you have" the police officer looks at you with pity

"I don't have any relatives left" you say

You're not going to cry, why would you? She wasn't your real mom, she- she....

Fuck, now you're crying, you're doing what you said you wouldn't do

The officer knelt to you and hugged you "We'll find you another loving family, one that will buy you toys and-"

"I don't want another loving family! I want my mommy! I want my mom" you cry

"it's okay... Everything is going to be okay" he pats your back

After a few days at the orphanage, the news came, everyone was shocked, a few staff who got attached to you were happy you'll be with someone who could provide, a few staff who also got attached to you angry that he abandoned such a sweet girl, a DNA match to the one and only Bruce Wayne, that man is your father.

You stand In front of doors a hundred times bigger than you, you see him- no you see them.

The infamous Wayne family, all in their glory

"Father, will it stay with us permanently" Damian asks

Dick the older one laughed and responded "Unfortunately for her, she will stay here"

Holy shit, you think

Holy shit.

Is this? No it can't be...

You refuse to believe you reincarnated in a Batfam x neglected reader story- surely not-

Welcome Reader! To the Neglected AU!

Prologue: dead mom- finished

Progress:100%

Chapter 1: "I wished I stayed at the orphanage"- start!

Progress: 0%

The screen appears In front of you

"Fuck" you whisper

______________________________

Alr so technically this is the prologue, "yes" won Soo...

Also goodbye mom

My ass wrote this with a fever, while playing chess with my cousin, I'm built diff like that

Also I won, if you want pics of the chessboard and the thermometer I'll provide🔥

[cyberdollface]

╔══ ❀•° Daisy Chains °•❀ ══╗

Summary: You seduce your dad's best friend, the hound of the underground.

fem!reader x Vander.

Warnings: smut with a little tiny bit of plot; size kink; sexual frustration; sexual tension; masturbation; fantasizing; teasing; slightly bratty reader that torments Vander.

word count: 4.457.

Sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

Your dad asked you to take the order for the newest deal inside the store, as it was too heavy for Ekko, his new adopted kid, to gather from the spot you were on to the middle of the alleys 3 feet below.

Your dad’s best friend was there too. The big, mighty Vander was busy saving a small salesman from a beating and making the dealer pay the money. It was cute how caring he could be to the nation of Zaun—his people. It made you want him more. 

You were a teenager, barely 16 years old, when everyone followed him, marching to the other side of the bridge, and taking the first seat when it all came down. Now, you were standing in the same place as they did, but 10 years later.

You admired the old man, the best guy around Benzo. You even missed him while doing business away from home in the Noxus Empire, but you couldn't deny it. He looked even better now with his softer belly and pepper and salt hair.

You felt his gaze before you could see it. He had been looking at you since you got back to town. You pretended that you didn't see his longing eyes on you every time you went to the Last Drop with your friends in your short, pretty dresses, or whenever you hung out with Vi and the kids, teaching them to climb their way up to Piltover.

He always got himself together, though. One who wasn't chasing his behaviors wouldn't have noticed, but you did. You loved his attention; how couldn't you? Being desired wasn't new to you, but it being him made it different. All that authority and aura made you feel a little bit cogent. You couldn't help it; it was going to your head.

His eyes following you when you walked away for the day or even fixed your voluminous hair couldn't go unnoticed for you. Even around your poor, unaware father…  Benzo could not even suspect it. His own friend gawking at his older daughter, full family gatherings passing around more rapidly with your new game of catching his attention.

Vander approached you, cutting off your thoughts:

“Where are you going with all that heavy stuff?” 

It wasn't late, the sky had just got dark.

“I'm going to drop this off at the shop” You smiled at him. “I wouldn't mind some help, you know.”

He raised his eyebrows, contorting his face into a slight grin.

“Can’t deny helping a lady, right?” His posture straightened when he heard your giggles as if he was more sure of himself now.

You kept walking steady, even though one step of his equaled two of your own, he was ensuring that you were walking at the same pace. You guys even managed to make small talk now and then, cutting through the crowd.

“You’re going to the market tomorrow? Heard there's gonna be some good stuff there.” 

He said to you while minding his steps.

“Of course, I'm going, Van. Wanna buy some more skirts and dresses, you know? Quite like this one I'm wearing” You smiled again.

“It looks cute on me, doesn't it?” You posed for him the best way you could with the small box in your arms. Of course, he grabbed the bigger one to carry.

His eyes went momentarily darker as he stared at you. It lasted only for a few seconds before Vander averted his eyes. A trash can now looked really interesting at that moment.

“Yeah, it looks… good on you.”

You were having too much fun.

As you two neared the back of the shop, you thanked him, soon enough you would be putting the boxes away in the stock and closing its locks. 

“You know what else I want to buy at the store?” He leaned in closer to you to hear you better. 

“A new nail polish. It's green, kinda yellowish” You hold your hand in front of you, passing one finger atop a nail as to illustrate the act of painting them.

“Hmm, quite close to this color” you approached him, lightly touching the buttons of his shirt.

He stopped breathing, swallowing thickly while looking at your hand on him. He cleared his throat.

“I better get going, you know… open up the bar.” You couldn't help but laugh a little, looking up at him through your browns.

You had his full attention, Vander was radiating heat, and you could almost taste his want for you, for something.

“You wanna fuck me, right?”  You ask him while playing with the buttons on his shirt. You couldn't help but notice how big he was, standing at least 40 centimeters taller, his frame twice your size even though you weren't exactly a small girl.

His left hand goes to your waist, playing with the bow tied to your red dress. You lift your eyes to hold his gaze, raising an eyebrow.

"You know I would do anything, for it – for you. But we can't, you know it right? We shouldn't – I shouldn't"

It was working—hell, yeah, it was working. It made you feel powerful, how much of a reaction you could get from a man like Vander, especially when you knew he wasn't so easily charmed.

"Well, that's a real bummer, huh? I need someone like you...—" You made a show of tightening your arms together, showing more of your cleavage to his hungry eyes. "... Ya know, I've been thinking 'bout it, daydreaming, but it's never enough. Can't ever fill me deep enough with my fingers, it doesn't matter how hard I imagine it's your hand instead of my own." 

You pout at him, grabbing his fingers from his right hand just feeling how wide and long they are, not stopping your mind from wondering how they would feel inside. Could you even accommodate more than one? Hell, you would die to know. You let out a hot breath and realized that the hand you were holding was trembling. Did you just make the hound of the underground shake?

You grab him, making him press you more against the wall, one of his legs between your tights. The slit in your long dress gets higher and higher the more you flex your thigh.

Vander let his head lay low on the wall, his nose right in the curls of your hair. It smells good, he thinks, it's always good. He took a deep breath, no more fighting the hard-on he was growing.

"Think about you too, princess... Too fucking often" He pinches your waist then drags his hand lower and lower, reaching the skin of your thigh revealed by the slip in your dress.

You reach between your bodies and put your hand on top of his to ground him, making him grab the fat of your thigh harder. It made you gasp a little, eyes closed but you didn't need then to know he lifted his head to peek at your reaction. Fuck your face was pretty... Dark skin shone with the low lamplight of the street you were in.

The frenzy you two were in reached its end as you heard a loud crack on the streets, followed by voices.

It was like his mind returned to earth, his hands were more sure of themselves, Vander cleared his throat, getting off your hold and adjusting your dress.

As he distanced himself, you couldn't help but finally look at the obvious bulge in his pants. It was promising and Vander could feel the wet spot he made in his trousers with his precum.

You knew that he was close to breaking. You would eventually get what you wanted; you always did.

You watched as he fixed himself, trying to hide the taint but failing, his cheeks pink.

He tried looking at you over the wall, the disappointing expression on your features, damn you were pouting again. The sight made him throb in his pants so he looked away.

"I should go, fuck, should've never come with you in the first place–" he passed a hand through his hair, which was falling in his face and sighted "– Good night, I guess."

You will eventually get what you want, you told yourself. You always did. 

Vander avoided you for some days, never letting his eyes lay on you for too long, making conversation short. He could see that he was getting on your dark side by denying you attention.

He couldn't help it, he already had a good imagination by just flirting, your little escapade with him only served to feed into his fantasy.

In the late nights, he found himself palming his trousers, mind drifting to you. Vander wished he would have kissed you that night, smudging that pretty shiny lip gloss off your lips. He grunted slowly, he hated that he had to do that again, beating one off to his friend’s daughter. Fuck he was disgusting, but the kids were sleeping, he had time for this at the very least. Vander never thought he was being so obvious, but honestly, how could he help it? When you went to his bar on Friday nights you always wore the thinnest mini skirts ever, fuck that black one was his favorite, hanging low on your hips, your soft tummy lightly poking out… The memory made him throb. 

Suddenly his pants were too tight, he needed some relief, needed you. Sitting upright in his bed, he pulled his sweatpants down below his balls, just enough to free his cock. He let his imagination hang free, thinking about how easy it would've been to just bend you on one of the tables, making you feel him, how you made him feel. 

He spat on his hand, leading it to his dick, smearing it up and down. You would have offered your body to him, he knew that now. Fuck, what type of panties would you wear? One time he got a peek, white and frilly with some lace, really cute. Vander loved your thighs, he knew it would feel amazing between his hands, around his cock. His hands were working faster on his length, he was panting a little, biting his cheek to remind himself not to make too much noise, that the last thing he needed was some of his kids waking up.

You always smelled so good too, sweet, it was sweet. In his fantasy you giggled at him that way he found endearing, looking back at him and arching your soft body so the skirt would flip over your butt.

He was getting close, fuck his balls were aching so much, he needed that release.

You nodded at him, as to say ‘Go ahead, Van’ wiggling your bottom to encourage him, he didn't need to be rushed twice, he touched your ass, countering the fabric of the frills, when he got to the bottom he found the spot wet, it was so easy to imagine himself pulling the cloth aside and filling you up. You looked tiny under him. God, he tried his fingers around his fat tip in the upstroke to mimic the tightness of your hole, letting out a grunt. It was all he needed to cum in his hands, cursing your name under his breath. Fuck, he was disgusting. 

God, he prayed Benzo would forgive him. Vander can never let this fantasy of his come to life if he gets all worked up with just a few stolen glances and some dirty talk… Imagine what actually fucking you would do to him? 

“We are closed.”

You said when you heard the door from Benzo’s open thinking it was just a regular customer. To your surprise, it was Vander, and by his stunned face, you could see that he wasn't expecting to see you behind the counter.

He stood there awkwardly, sucking his teeth and gazing at his feet with a pack of papers in his hands.

“I thought Benzo was working today, I’ll… I’ll come back another time.”

You rolled your eyes at him and said: 

“My dad will come back at night. You should look for him around 8 pm, Van.”

You said while returning to paint your nails on the counter. He recognized the color, it was that green nail polish you had talked about that night.  You had indeed bought new dresses in the market, he had memorized your everyday clothes by now. That dress you were wearing right now was pretty, the pinkish color looked good on you.

He was already turning his back to leave when you dared to speak again:

“You have nothing to say, Vander?”

He sighed. You have always been stubborn since you were a teenager. He turned around irritated, his brows furrowed ready to scold you.

“I’m sorry about that, okay? Shouldn't have never gone that far.” His eyes were sharp as he was exasperated for just having to talk about that.

It made you even angrier. That day you played with yourself all night because that stupid man didn't want— no he didn't dare to finish the job. He left you hot and wanting in that damn alleyway.

“Now you say you didn't mean it? Hells Vander, now I am offended!”

You finished painting your nails and got off the bench, pouting as you made your way to the center of the store.

“We both know damn well what you did when you got home that night… You've been rubbing one off thinking about me for quite some time now.”  Now you were standing in front of him, trying to look mean, pointing at his chest with your manicured nails.

“Too bad you're too much of a pussy to do something with the real thing.” 

You waited for his reaction with a smug look on your features. Did you want attention? You would get attention.

He took a sharp breath and looked down at you. Vander was getting tired of this game of cat and mouse, if there was a proper time to solve the issue, it was now.

He sighed loudly before saying:

“Stop this shit, you know damn well we can't do this.” His voice was low, holding a bite to the words.

 It was a warning, he freed his hands from the paper and held your arm down. It made you smile, he was so much stronger than you, and you wondered what he could use that strength for.

He saw the grin on your lips and he tightened his grasp on you, face twitching into something dangerous. You pressed against him, closing the distance even more, not running from him.

You flexed your fingers in the air, your hand in an odd position with the way he was gripping you. It was like the world disappeared around you two, you wanted to kiss him, make him lose it, so you got on your tiptoes, your face closer to Vanders now, being able to feel his breath on your face.

“Not asking you to marry me, ya know? Just asking to be fucked…” You sneaked your other hand up to his side, grabbing the fabric of his shirt near his hips tight with your fingers. Oh, you hoped you didn't ruin your nails with all this playing.

He leaned down on impulse, only realizing his movement when you two kissed. Vander pressed you more against him, if it was even possible to get closer, now one hand was still gripping your arm as the other went to your waist. The hound tasted addicting, like mint and cigars. You moaned slightly in his mouth.

“Thought you could do this for me… Been wanting this for so long ” You said, making a trail of kisses from the corner of his mouth down his bearded jaw as his right hand kneaded your skin, feeling up your body.

“Know you want it too, old man. So why not just do it?”

You said with your lips grazing his. Vander couldn't escape your affection, you had him wrapped around your daisy chains. 

He brought you forcefully around the counter, getting you easily on top of it. 

He kissed you with purpose, as to compensate for how long he took to do it, even though he was still apprehensive to touch you.

You let your hands wander from around his neck to his big shoulders, down his muscled arms, finally reaching his hands and leading them around your bum.

Vander groaned, breaking your kiss away, and gathered your skirt past your hips, revealing your lower body. He broke the kiss away to take in the sight, his body between your legs with you on the counter. 

He could see your soaked panties from this angle. Damn, he was losing it. He gazed at your covered pussy intently, tracing his fingers to the outline carefully making you gasp.

He had grown a chub in his pants and it throbbed badly. He wanted to see it bare — needed to. You noticed him staring, dropping the weight of your body on your elbows behind you and chuckling at his reaction.

“You can take it off, Van.”

He eyed you, hating the expression on your pretty face, so full of yourself for what you accomplished. He wasn't himself now, he wanted to see it, your cunt felt chubby against his fingers, your wetness sticking to his skin.

He tried to still his hands while taking your underwear off, but failed. He noticed that you had seen it and yanked your bottom forward into him, kissing you to cancel his annoyance. You pushed him closer to you, making him bench a little as you left his tongue to dominate yours. 

Vander was so affected by the act that he started to grind his bulge against your folds, hands groping all your body with his big calloused hands.

You got out the kiss, letting lose a little moan against his ears, which turned him on even more, hells, you had him cursing under his breath. 

“Fuck me, please!” You whimpered under your breath. Vander opened his eyes he didn't notice were closed to look at you, your pouting face and doe eyes. It was wrong. The whole situation was fucking  wrong, he can’t fuck you in the damn shop, in your dad’s counter, what the hell was he doing.

“You don't need to put it in, Van!” 

You wiggled your hips to try to get more friction from the rough material of his jeans that confined his borderline painful erection. Your bare pussy leaving dots of slickness on the fabric, he realized he said that out loud when you answered.

“Just rubbing is fine!” You whined closing your eyes when it grazed your clit just good. 

“Take it off, please? Please!” You begged.

He grabbed your hips firmly, Vander couldn't help but gaze at your pussy again. "Stop the fuss, princess– fuck" He panted into the air.

You opened your legs wider, "Van, if you just use it to jerk off it's fine, right?" You used your hand to open the inner lips wider to his hungry eyes.

"I-if you just don't put it inside it's going to be fine, just rub your cock right here" 

You gathered slick in your fingers and ran them up and down your folds, which made you hiss, grabbing your bottom lip with your teeth.

You were giving him a headache, but when he returned to himself he was already taking his hard cock out of his trousers with trembling hands. You pushed him closer with your legs and put your hands on his member for the first time, your fist not quite closing from the thickness. It was feverish hot and so heavy it wouldn't even stand, instead, hang low right next to your center.

You stroked him to the top lightly, pushing it into your pussy, so he could feel your entrance. Vander let out a trembling sigh when you started to guide his cock up and down your folds, coating him in your essence.

His eyes closed when you started to moan for him, he was bumping your clit continuously with that big head of his cock. It was a shade darker than his skin and so fucking big... You know you were the one to propose to him to just use your cunt to jerk off, but you wanted to feel it inside, stretching you.

"Fuck, fuck, you're so..." he opened his eyes to see you shyly smiling at him.

"Is it good for you too, Van?" You meowed when you felt him take hold of his member, lightly shoving your hand off. He applied more pressure on it, so it was rubbing harder against you. You were so fucking wet and hot against him, he could barely speak, instead, he let his mouth open panting slightly.

His other hand found itself holding your right thigh open from behind your knee, sure it would leave bruises.

"Wanna feel it inside, please?" You moaned, your hands reaching the neckline of your clothes, pulling them down to reveal your chest to him. You knew what you were doing to him, turning his brain to mush.

"Can't do it, you know I can't" he grunted closing his eyes not to look at you in fear, he knew once he saw your pouting face he would listen to your every word. 

You got that quickly, lifting one hand to his face, pulling him atop of you so you could give him a smooch on his lips and moan into his mouth as his tip grazed just right against your folds. His hands are now caging you, arms successfully holding his weight so as not to crush you.

"Open your eyes, want to see you" He tried to say no, but you caressed his face in such a loving way... He'll be damned, you will be his downfall for sure.

When he stood comfortable still kind of hovering over you, he opened his eyes, and what a sight was you, sparred all over Benzo’s counter, opened wide for him with your tits spilling from your dress, one of your hands guiding his dick down your slit to your entrance. Fuck, Vander could feel you spasm around nothing trying to pull him inside.

"Just the tip, Van." 

You sighed, giving him your best puppy eyes as your right hand on his face caressed his jaw, your thumb firing his mouth agape, gathering his spit and bringing your fingers to one of your nipples, pinching lightly.

"Wanna feel the stretch…” You moaned for him. “Don’t you wanna feel me too?”

His hips jerked upwards, his eyes wide as his gorgeous tip stretched your opening. Your toes curled and Vander tensed on top of you, holding himself back from pushing all his length inside.

"Fucking hell, you're so, f-fuck" his eyebrows were scrunched. You couldn't help but smile drunkenly, haha, the big scary Vander was at a loss of words over you, because of you.

The thought made you clench, his hands flying to your hips as to make you still. All Vander wanted was to empale you on his dick, make that sly smile on your face disappear and give space to a scream.

You put your hands between your bodies again, he was more relaxed and that was the perfect time for you to guide his head slowly in and out of your cunt, tightening your fist around him a little.

He was all grunts as he manhandled you alone, taking your hands off him and putting it to his heart, that you realized later that was racing. Vander's eyes were moving intently between your cute face and your cunt glistened in slick.

You brought your other hand to your mouth gathering spit and dragging it over your soft belly into your hooded clit.

Vander was losing rhythm, "Gonna cum, ahh" 

He was panting like a dog, trying to pull himself out of your grasp, but you used your legs to cage him.

"Please, let me out, princess, can't do it like that." 

He was falling apart, too pussydrunk to do anything about it. His tip still going in and out of you in shallow thrusts.

You said: "No, no! You gotta do it in me, inside! Wanna feel your cum filling me up.”

You were stubborn, grinning between meows and moans, it made him irritated, you were always the brat, fuck now he was angry.

He shoved his whole cock inside you and gave you what you wanted, cumming deep inside with a grunt as your nails dragged across his arms.

You whimpered while he took his time being milked by you, as he worked your clit at a fast pace.

You finally came on his cock doing a final clench that made him shudder.

He got down to earth eventually, removing himself from inside you, and admiring the mess he made of you. You giggled shyly, waking him up from his stupor. Suddenly his brows furrowed, he remembered he was mad now, at himself for being fooled, at you for charming him.

He stopped his seed from spilling on the counter, which was already a mess with your slick, pushing his thumb slowly inside.

"Happy now?! You got what you wanted, just know it won't happen again."

He was putting himself back in his pants with a scow on his face.

"Let's see how you manage, old man.”

Your legs were trembling when you tried to stand to gather your underwear. He had to support you with one hand, then helped you fix your dress.

He got away from you, trying to find the bottle of water Benzo got at the shop, filling a cup and giving it to you.

He gathered his documents long forgotten on a side table, getting ready to leave.

"Oh Van, no goodnight kiss?" You approached him slowly, damn he could see his cum running down your plush thighs.

"Maybe if you play it nice I’ll let you fuck me again, this time properly."

He passed one hand through his hair while closing his eyes.

"That ain't gonna happen, I already told you"

Was he scolding you right now?

"Then I gotta have to look for another man to do the job."

He gave you a look, his eyes dark. Tormenting him was always so much fun! He turned his back to you.

"I should probably go, before... Before someone sees me"

Vander felt so upset, but when he closed his eyes he saw you, your body under him, the thought making him bulge again.

He knew damn well it was going to be another time, honestly, he could not wait for it.

Wrote this with my pussy btw. It was clapping in morse code, all I had to do was type it down.

Happy Christmas, guys!

The cute divider is from: @strangergraphics-archive

[ghost-proofbaby]

Something my family always did was qe would open presents very carefully because we had to reuse wrapping paper (we were poor) and reuse bows. We didn't get much st Christmas but it always meant something to me as a kid. There were times my parents got nothing just so me and my sister could have something.

I can see Eddie being raised the same by Wayne

i absolutely agree with this. it was harder in my household since we always bought such cheap paper that ripped if we even breathed on it, but bows? always reuse. name tags? save them. any sort of gift bags? don't even think about throwing those away.

and i just... it's nice to think about Eddie being raised that way as well? like a sense of comfort in knowing he wouldn't give us a weird glance when we still do it, even if now we're not in the same position of necessity.

also, i can so clearly picture the first christmas where wayne does this, only his second christmas with eddie. and he's just downright scared. which is weird, because why is the weight in his chest turning so heavy at the thought of letting his nephew down? just this thirteen year old boy who's gone through hell, whose standards might just be six feet under. but it's all he can think about, all he can worry about, as he's wrapping up that damn guitar so carefully. eddie's only gift that year - the only item he'd even brought up in the last six months. and wayne had spent his entire check on it, no room left for frivolous wrapping or shiny new bows. wayne is reusing last year's paper, using an insane amount of tape he'd borrowed from a neighbor to patch up any and all tears his shaking hands make in his rush to wrap the guitar in time.

and you know what? eddie would notice.

make a small comment, saying "is this last year's paper?". and i can feel wayne's heart dropping as he waits for eddie to be upset but then the boy does this easy thing, something wayne watches him do many more times over the years, where he turns it into something positive.

"sick," he'd say, with a toothy grin and buzzed head, eyes genuinely shining as he looks up at wayne, "this paper is sick. i'm so glad you found it again this year."

wayne doesn't have to tell him to carefully unwrap the gift. because eddie wasn't stupid at thirteen, and he knew had to still his shaking hands just long enough to not leave a single extra tear in that paper, just in case wayne needs it next year. he doesn't mind - he's just glad to be celebrating the holidays again with someone who cares.

but it's all over when eddie sees that guitar. wayne expected shrieking or yelping or just... he doesn't really know, just anything. but all he sees is some kid with hair that's a little bit longer this year, shoulders a little less slumped, and tears pouring down.

"son-" he'd start, not even sure how to comfort the boy but needing to.

eddie does the last thing wayne had expected. the boy had been distant since showing up at the trailer, keeping to himself quite a bit, flinching away from touch. but for the first time in over a year, eddie doesn't flinch away.

he launches himself at wayne.

hugs him through his tears, just babbling out his thanks on repeat. they both agree to never talk about it again after the tears dry, and wayne even sheds a few of his own. but something melts that night for them - jokes happen easier, awkward side hugs and messing of eddie's blooming curls as wayne leaves for his shifts are more frequent. every damn day he hears him playing on that damn guitar, even without an amp. the next christmas wayne gets him the amp, another lonely present, wrapped in the same paper (probably for the final time -- it's seen far better days and he's pretty sure eddie could see the gift through one of the torn corners two days before christmas even came) and eddie once again makes a comment about how lucky it is wayne can still find that paper in stores. they both know the truth, and neither really care.

eddie keeps that guitar for the rest of his days, adorned with the nickname of Sweetheart. and they keep reusing paper, both knowing it was more than some bit but deciding to make jokes all the same as if they were actively choosing to do so. it makes it all a bit easier.

eddie doesn't care if wayne never has another dime to spend on another present for him, or can ever wrap another gift. he'll take his damn christmas presents in paper bags if it came down to it, cause the love is there, and god, he had missed that.

[omgcatboi]

When I was a kid I was kind of chubby, and in my teenage years I adopted the mentality of ' if I get fit then I guess I'm better than I was ' ( which was internalized fatphobia , an extremely weird kind that was only intended to be directed at myself. Very strange considering I've always loved fat people and been obsessed with how much I love fat people and even have had fat characters even when I was thin. But even if the intention was only directed at myself, inherently, fatphobia affects everyone. But mostly fat people. )

This post puts it into words perfectly. Getting fit didn't make me happy at all, it just gave me a very inflated and untruthful ego. And that ego was used as a safeguard for fat phobia. Even if it isn't intended to affect others again it still affects others. There is just simply no way around It.

It wasn't until I was able to start testosterone and transition medically that I felt comfortable enough in my body to gain weight. And after that, all those thoughts of how amazing it should feel to be fit melted away. Because it was always a should and never a matter of fact. I never actually felt better, I just felt lighter and tougher. I was tough because I felt like I wasn't allowed to be vulnerable in this world.

And that's lame. That's a very lame way of thinking. It's super lame to think that you can't be allowed vulnerability in this world. It is a Injustice to yourself to deny yourself comfort and softness. I used to feel so weird about perceiving myself as fat for the longest time as a teenager. And my adult life it was nothing but longing to be fat. And then I was able to transition.

So if you feel very uncomfortable about being fat, you should really get down to the root of that. Because it could just be that you aren't happy living the life that you are currently living. And if you delve deep into it and take the dive and find out that you actually don't want to be fat in the end that's okay too. But in this world you need to question everything about yourself in order to solidify it, without over questioning.

Challenging your beliefs builds character, and it builds morale. It gives you perspectives you would have never had without challenging your own views even when your views end up being something you still believe in and still agree with after challenging them which is kind of the point sometimes. Sometimes you need to come from a different angle in order to give yourself more context in order to actually explain something.

And the more understanding you have about yourself the better. No matter what.

So why not take the dive? I'm not saying go to the fridge and start stuffing your face, I'm saying question why you feel so uncomfortable with being fat. Question it and allow yourself to feel the emotion so that you can follow it and trace it to its source. Were you bullied? Did you have an abuser that was fat in your childhood that warped your view? Is your parent fat and you just don't want to be like your parent so it translates into fatphobia?

I think if people were more honest with themselves the world would be a much better place.

not to bat at a hornets nest but. people who were super insecure or were bullied about being pudgy and "got better" by becoming thinner or super muscular never actually got rid of that insecurity, they simply became the image they felt they had to live up to

[misteria247]

It Started with Coffee

Stanley Pines wasn't the type to believe in love. For him love had happened once, and that had ended up with him nearly losing his car to a woman he thought had felt the same. So for a very long time, he carried on. Focusing on what was important to him, rebuilding the portal to get Ford back and taking care of Mabel and Dipper as well as Soos and Wendy. And he was content. Until one day, he wasn't. And it was because of one man in particular who threw a wrench into everything.

Fiddleford H. Mcgucket.

Fiddleford for the longest time, to Stan was nothing more than old man Mcgucket. The town crazy hick who lived with the raccoons and who tried to talk to him on occasion in his half sane ramblings. Then Weirdmageddon happened and suddenly Fiddleford was around more often than not. And with that, came the recovering inventor's attempts to talk to him. At first Stan didn't try to respond back, not wanting to entertain the hillbilly because he was missing his twin. It worked for awhile until one day when the stubborn old coot crossed the line. It was morning and Stanley along with the kids and his brother had decided to go to Greasy's to get breakfast. Along the way they'd run into Fiddleford and Ford of course invited him along as well as the kids. Stanley didn't protest, not wanting to ruin their excitement. It was when they'd been seated and were getting ready to order that it happened.

Ford had begun to list off their orders, and accidentally messed up Stan's. The younger twin was going to leave it be. Not wanting to bother his brother with something so trivial when the skinny bean pole from beside Stanford spoke up.

"Ah wait! Stanferd you messed up Stanley's order, he takes his coffee with 3 sugars. He likes sweet things."

Fiddleford was met with a wide eyed stare from his best friend. Mabel and Dipper were also staring, jaws open in awe. Stanley meanwhile just looked at the genius, dumbfounded.

'How in the hell did he notice that? It's not like I broadcast it to the whole world.'

The con man thought, puzzled and annoyed that he couldn't put said puzzle together. Once the shock wore off, the group of five slowly again resumed conversation. But all the while Stan's gaze continued to flicker towards Fiddleford. Confused and wanting answers. It was when their meals and coffee were finished and Dipper awkwardly and shyly said goodbye to the waitress. (Pacifica he believed her name was). That he finally got the chance to somewhat corner the other man. He walked slower to match Fiddleford's pace, letting the kids and Ford walk further ahead of the two of them. And once far enough Stanley finally looked at him.

"How did you know?"

Stanley's question seemed to catch Fiddleford off guard. Hazel green eyes behind glasses snapping to meet dark brown. Fiddleford opened his mouth to respond before closing it again, looking suddenly sheepish and embarrassed.

"Ah well, I uh developed a habit of sorts. Whenever I have a right old time trying to remember people who are important to me. I'll start watching em and making mental notes about em...."

The country hick rambled, looking nervous and uneasy. Stanley just stared, stunned. Fiddleford had thought he was important enough to remember details about him. And not just details anyone would know, but details miniscule enough to be overlooked.

"Yer implying I'm important enough to remember?"

The con man asked, unable to stop the disbelief. The other man looked at him again, eyes wide with his own disbelief.

"Yes?? I reckon so?? Why wouldn't I?? You're important just as much as everyone else."

Fiddleford said suddenly firm in the statement. Stanley just stared, expression unreadable for a beat before seeming to come to a conclusion.

"Heh, whatever you say Mcgucket. If you're gonna be doing that, then I'm gonna have to start doing it too. Can't have just me being important."

Fiddleford's eyes flashed with something in that moment before a grin came on his face.

"Alrighty then."

Stanley didn't believe in love. Didn't believe in the word nor what people said about it. But......maybe he can learn. Especially if this man was willing to stick around. Perhaps, there was such a thing. If Fiddleford continued to throw that wrench, then maybe Stanley could come around to believing it.

[worldly-fluster]

WARNING: ANGST

Talk of wanting to commit unalive.

You have been warned.

The LADS boys when...they find your 'Diary'

--Zayne-- Part 3 of 4

This is gonna be...fun lol

Zayne-

•He knew, somewhat, of what happened. In the time that he was gone, he knew something happened.

•Before he left, when you were younger kids, you were so...bratty. He may have looked like he hated it but he just couldn't get enough of you, as you were.

•He left in order to learn more, to help your heart.

•But when he was finally able to come back, when he saw you again...it was like whiplash.

•You were so quiet. So...withdrawn.

•This won't do.

•He knew you didn't speak about your family anymore. He didn't pry, they were full of themselves before he left, probably nothing changed with them so he saw no point in worrying.

•So he worked, even more, to get you to come back. His little bratty childhood friend.

•He succeeded after a while. You were confident again, acting like the kid you were a long time ago but...more mature this time.

•Though he may not like that your job puts you in harms way, but he couldn't force you to stop something that made you happy.

•He saw your eyes gleam when you saved lives. He couldn't, wouldn't ever even try to take that away from you.

•Today was no different.

•You just successfully defeated one of the most powerful Wanderers the association has seen in a while, yeah there were casualties but there were more survivors than wounded. Thanks to your quick thinking.

•He took you out to celebrate, after checking you were unharmed.

•You both went to an old restaurant that you used to go to as kids, he wanted to see you happy with memories.

•What he didn't expect was to run into your Mother and...some random man?

•You all stared at each other for a few seconds before Zayne stepped between you and smiled, stiffly.

•"Oh Hi Zayne, it's been a while. How are things?"

•While Zayne talked with your mother, he figured out a few things.

•Your parents got divorced, and your mother is... a complete narcissist.

•She married another narcissist, perfect for each other.

•The whole conversation took a turn however when they asked what you did for a living...

•When told, your Mother frowned.

•"So you were one of the people who failed so save those innocent lives lost?" "No wonder they died. Maybe you should have tried harder."

•When you told her that you got hurt trying your best, she frowned deeper.

•"Still, if I were you I would have tried harder and if that wasn't enough I would have sacrificed myself. I wouldn't be able to live with myself, like you, because I have a soul."

•Upon hearing this, Zayne understood more of why you stopped being around your mother.

•Zayne quickly came up with a work emergency, saying that he was your ride and you left most of your things in his car so he'll take you with him.

•He took your hand gently, paid the bill, and led you away to his car.

•He could feel icy hot anger creeping up his back, he knew if he heard anymore he would accidentally use his evol.

•He loved you since the beginning. He couldn't stand hearing that and knowing that you used to believe that... hopefully you don't anymore, not if he can help it.

•He drove you home and both of you decided to stay inside to read a few books you have yet to read.

•When you got home, you immediately went to take a shower, to get your thoughts together, while Zayne looked through the surprisingly large selection of books.

•While searching, he saw one of your old notebooks that he would see you write in sometimes. He's asked about it and you told him he could read it at a later date.

•He figured now was the later date, so he picked it up to read.

•Only a few pages on and he realized what you ment by 'later'.

•This notebook is the equivalent to writing a Will...and he didn't like how you were 'talking' about your death coming sooner or later whether it be by natural causes or your own hand...he definitely didn't like that part.

•He kept reading, thinking that maybe he should have convinced you to therapy, but he saw something about how you have been to too many therapists and you're sick of it, so he decided not to worry about it quite yet.

•He got to the last entry, which seemed pretty recent, when he heard your shower stop so he immediately snapped the book shut and put it back where he found it, picking up a random book next to it. Something called 'Forgiving what you can't forget', he doesn't know where you got this one nor does it look like something you would buy yourself.

•The entire time you all were reading together, he kept glancing from his book to you and the notebook.

•He decided he was definitely going to make sure that nothing in that book will come to fruition. If it's the last thing he does.

**I'm working on Rafayel's as we speak lol the last one, and imma try and make that one extra angsty cause I'm realizing most of you are Rafayel girlies 😘**

[cakepoppresent]

24 Screenshots of '24 <3

Heyo,

I was tagged by @enniewritesathing and @euphiesims to share my favourite screenshots from 2024. I will try to make this nice and neat! and in no particular order (I'm going to put most of it under the cut so I don't spam up people's dashboards!)

I also tag @jayveesim @jayplaysims @weirdosalike @citylighten @matchalovertrait @pamsimmer and anyone else who wants to do it!!

Blair and Brayden Date Night. - I took them out on a date after everything with Grayson and Gideon died down. Blair was worried that it was a mistake having her kids all live in San My without their parents and Brayden was trying to calm her down

Xavier and his little crew - I love these little munchkins so much.

Brayden Visiting his son - Grayson spent Sulani alone trying to center himself and get his head on straight again. There isn't anything really special BUT I just liked how it looked. I liked that Grayson's father made sure he was doing okay. He even suggested therapy, Grayson refused but Blair and Brayden still have that therapist on speed dial just in case lol

Grayson walking home alone - I liked this shot a lot because I don't think I made it clear how Grayson has never been alone. Gideon has ALWAYS been by his side (or his siblings) so I thought it would be nice to get this shot of him being alone

Apollo - I just think Apollo is sexy af and you should all think the same thing

Bunny Sam - was playing around with Gshade and I just think she's sexy af. Y'all should think she's sexy too. Thx

Dancing Grayson - Grayson dancing to Nasty by Tinashe 😂 he just looked so cute

Miss. Luna V - my sis doesn't yearn but gets yearned for and she likes the feeling. That's a look thats giving "yeah I know you love me why wouldn't you"

Yearning Loser - Benji is so in love with Malcolm. It's embarrassing for him but he just loved being around him. That's his family

Malcolm and Veronica - Nothing really, I just thought they look good and Malcolm works out a lot autonomously so I wanted to show it off

Veronica and Brayden - Future father and daughter business duo in the making. Veronica just looks so good as a business woman. I can't see her as anything else and her dad in the background supporting like he should

Su and Grayson - What could have been! In another timeline where Gideon doesn't exist they would have had a chance. Unfortunately this is all in Su's mind. Poor baby

The Reeves!!! - the family I've been playing for over a year. They are my everything and I'm so happy I made them! They are so beautiful

Xavier's stank face - I like his stank face because it supports my head cannon that Xavier and Veronica are much more similar in personality. Xavier just knows how to hide it better 😂

Unfriendly Black hotties - Luna up until this point as always been smiling and amicable but I love seeing her mad and looking upset. She looks so good

Hopelessly Devoted To You - They are currently on a break but that doesn't stop Gideon from staring at Grayson like nothing has changed. TBH Gideon thinking about how to get Grayson pregnant

Nothing to say - It's Luna looking regal and gorgeous as always. Daiksue so lucky I'm not giving him a love rival (I fucking should)

The Villareal Twins - I just like them and I don't have enough pics of them together

Rainy Nights - this is probably my favorite animation and I love the ambience and the lighting of this screenie so much. I just love them so much

Can you tell who my favorite couple is? Lol. I dunno this was after Malcom and Luna got into a fight. Malcolm went straight home and flew right into Benji's arms. He won't admit it but he loves being in Benji's arms

Taking a break - I wanna redo this scene because I felt like I didn't actually convey what I needed to convey. But I just love how dependent they are on each other even when going through their relationship woes

Taking care of his lady - Luna tried it and Daisuke wasn't having it. He wasn't gonna leave without setting the record straight with his future wife

My Munchkins - please. They are so cute and I had so much fun playing them! Also Xavier's face is so funny here

There was a challenge for simstwt a supernatural theme. I used Sam and Apollo and played around with lighting. I really liked how it turned out

[rdng1230]

Sorry op, you awoke the writing demon and it must be satiated.

—-

Sal groans into his whiskey, silently asking god why he sent him such an idiotic best friend with it seems, an equally stupid ex boyfriend.

"You asked him to move in with you? Buckley I thought he said you were smart."

Buck can't help the sad smile that invades his face. "He really said that??"

Sal ignores him, tapping on the bar like he's Columbo laying out a case. "So tell me if I got something wrong here. He kisses you, you go on a date, you pull the no homo routine, ask him for coffee, invite him to your sister's wedding, fucking insane by the way, you spend the next what, 5 or so months happy as clams not asking any deeper questions at all and you think you can just jump into cohabitating with a smile and a Stonewall Spiel?"

Sal straightens up and turns to face Buckley full on. "No foolin, is there an actual goddamn gas leak in your apartment?"

Buck stares back at him sheepishly, either shame or booze flooding his cheeks red. "I may have skipped a few steps."

"Boy you skipped so many steps you took an elevator."

Buck bites the inside of his cheek. "Tommy always made your pep talks sound like, you know, actual pep talks."

Sal takes another sip of his drink and signals for another. "Here's the thing I think you've failed to grasp about ole Tommy Boy. There is nothing more baffling to him than a compliment."

The younger man's brow furrows. "What do you mean?"

And this time Sal actually looks sad. Really sad. "I've been his friend for longer than either of us care to remember. I have seen the best and worst of him and I love him more than anyone apart from my girls. I haven't always been good at showing it, but he is my family."

Sal stares at Buck with a strange mixture of vulnerability and laying down a challenge. One Buck desperately hopes he can meet.

"The only thing I would change about Tommy Kinard is that he would believe me when I tell him that. Would believe anyone when they tell him things like that."

Buck reaches out without thinking to grab Sal's shoulder, and surprisingly the old grump doesn't recoil. Buck can't really say Sal and him are friends. In fact they may be far too similar to ever be friends. But Sal wants nothing but the best for Tommy, and for that, they're on the same team.

"The truth is kid, Tommy has a knack for picking roads he knows are dead ends. He was ready to ride the thing with you till the fucking wheels fell off, but he never expects anyone to stick around. There's nothing scarier to him than potential. To him that's the same thing as loss. And believe me, he's lost enough."

Buck stares at the foggy bar mirror. If he wasn't on his second whiskey, Sal would have made an excellent Roman Centurion. Stalwart and intimidating against anyone who would wish harm to the things he cares about. It's probably what makes him such a good Captain.

"How do I make him believe that he's not gonna lose me? How do I convince him that I want to stay."

Sal gives him a sympathetic glance. "I don't know if he'll ever believe it fully. But the best advice I can offer? Stay anyway. Love him anyway. But you gotta love the real him this time, and believe me he will fight you every step of the way on that."

Buck nods sincerely, his whole body singing at the idea of even seeing Tommy, much less being with him. "I'd fight forever if it means getting him back."

Sal grimaces and juts his chin toward the door. "Get the hell out of here and go get your man Buckley, Unless you wanna gimme a toothache on top of this hangover."

Buck grins, tossing a wad of cash on the counter and gunning it for the exit.

Sal goes up to Buck in a badge and ladder bar and asks him what the FUCK did he do to Tommy

And Buck is taken aback and looks so confused as he replies that Tommy's the one who broke up with him?

And Sal juat goes cool, that doesn't answer my fucking question. What the fuck did you do to him?

[starmieknight]

Stars Align

The Hand That Rocks the Mabel Pt. 1

17 Again AU: After a disastrous first day with the twins, Stan swears to do better as an uncle. But fate loves playing tricks on him and the magic 8-ball in the attic is more than it seems.

Now on top of having a pair of twelve year olds around the house while he tries to finish the portal and bring his brother home, Stan has to deal with being back in his seventeen year old body! Summer has never been weirder in Gravity Falls.

AO3 link

Concept Art

Legend of the Gobblewonker (Art)

Prologue, The Legend of the Gobblewonker, Headhunters Pt. 1, Headhunters Pt. 2, Headhunters Pt. 3 (previous)

It had been a couple of days since the Wax Stan fiasco. There wasn't much going on around the Shack apart from the usual tourist groups and the gnomes fighting the local wildlife for trash can rights. Pretty normal stuff. Almost like it had been for the thirty years without the twins around.

Still, the peace couldn't last.

Stan didn't know it at the time, but the next couple of days were about to be more exciting than anything that had happened yet that summer.

And it all started with a television commercial.

Stan grins as the latest tour group gathers around him, all eager to throw their money away into his Mystery Sack. Really, these guys would fall for anything! And they're happy to do it, a few of the older women even going so far as to pinch his cheeks.

It's a weird feeling, having these women look at him like he's adorable or something. Yuck. He's old enough to be their husband. They shouldn't be cooing over him like he was some scamp of a grandson.

He'd never had any old ladies doing this when he really was a kid back in Jersey. They were usually running him off with a broom for stealing pies or something off the windowsill.

Stan plastered his showman smile on as the last lady turned to him, feeling the strain of keeping an act up as she patted his cheek maternally.

"Such a handsome young man," the lady sighs. "And a good son, too ― running this place for your dad. I've met him, you know. The Mystery Shack was a favorite stop of mine when we were younger. I didn't even know Stanford had a son… Is he around?"

The hopeful look in the lady's eyes and the slight pink in her face was enough to keep Stan from bolting into the house. The question felt kind of shady, but he also had vague memories of flirting it up with this particular woman over the years. From dark hair to the silvers he had worn until just recently, she had been around for quite a while.

He still couldn't remember her name.

"Uh, yeah, that's me!" He said as cooly as he could manage, tugging at his collar. Why did the tie suddenly feel suffocating? "Stanford’s son!"

"You said your name was Stan, too, didn't you? At the start of the tour? Are you a junior?" The lady smiled in a way that might have been teasing, but Stan was already shuddering at the thought of being named after his father.

Let Ford have that one all to himself. He was fine with his middle name being his mother's maiden name. Romanoff sounded pretty cool, anyway.

"No! Nononono," he waved his hands frantically. "I'm― Lee! Stanley Pines… The Second! Named after an uncle."

"Aw, how sweet, carrying on a family legacy like that." The lady patted his head once more. "Well, Stanley, tell your father that Dolores is back in town when you see him. Over at the Fall-In Hotel."

Stan felt his ears grow hot. Okay, maybe they hadn't just... flirted it up. More like, if she was around more often, Dolores would have been in line for the next, ex-Mrs. Mystery title.

"You got it, toots." He grinned, winking. Then flinched and backtracked. "I mean, Ma'am. Definitely ma'am. I gotta, uh ― go wash the goat! Bye!"

With the Mystery Sack tucked securely under his arm, Stan bolted for the Shack's backdoor, racing past the stairs to throw himself into his armchair.

"Ugh," he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Dealing with an ex like this is the worst."

Soos patted his back sympathetically while the twins, both sprawled out on the floor, turned to look at him curiously.

"You have an old girlfriend outside?!" Mabel squealed with excitement, stars in her eyes.

"Emphasis on the old girlfriend." Stan raised a pointed eyebrow at her and gestured to his face. "She thinks I'm his son. Had to give her a stage name and everything."

Mabel wrinkled her nose. "That's... kind of weird."

"Very weird." Dipper agreed.

"What're we watching?" Stan asked, hiding his money sack beneath the chair cushion for now. He looked at the TV hopefully. "Tiger Fist?"

"We're waiting on the commercials now!" Mabel said brightly.

"Oh, look!" Soos said suddenly, pointing at the TV. "It's that commercial I was telling you dudes about!"

Stan's lip curled with disgust as the advertisement continued to play, Gideon Gleeful's annoyingly shrill tones ringing in his ears. It sounded even worse without his hearing aide muffling the sound. He missed being able to turn it off when he didn't want to listen to people talk.

He sat up enough to unbutton his jacket and toss it in the direction of the coat rack. It was entirely too hot this summer and he wanted out of his pants five minutes ago. He paused in the middle of stripping to stare at the pile of fabric on the ground, wondering why he had done that instead of hanging it up properly.

He always hung his jacket up ― ever since donning his Mr. Mystery persona.

Admittedly, he was a bit messy by nature, but leaving his clothes laying around haphazardly felt entirely too... teenager-ish.

Stan hurried to right his wrong and turned back to the kids in time to hear Dipper voice the desire to check out Gideon's road show.

"No!" Stan barked, face feeling itchy from the mere idea of getting close to the Tent of Telepathy. "Never! You are forbidden from patronizing the competition!"

Soos chuckled at him. "Dude, I can't take you seriously with that face. You're like a baby bear. So cute!”

Stan made a frustrated noise as he stomped up the stairs.

They'd listen to his warnings if they knew what was good for them.

_____________________________________________________________

And, of course, they didn't listen. They were his family ― why would they?

Pines were never good at keeping their noses out from where they didn't belong. (Usually their noses were too big to even bother with trying, but the twins were still growing into theirs.)

With only a quick stop by the Corduroy house to grab Wendy for backup (and boy was it weird, considering Dan didn't recognize Stan and tried giving him the shovel talk about taking Wendy out), Stan arrived at the Tent of Telepathy just in time to miss the show.

Thank Moses. He really didn't want to listen to Gideon sing some cutesy song and do his little dance. It was unsettling.

The only song and dance he ever sat through was that VHS tape of Dipper's Lamby Lamby Dance the twins' mom had sent him. He still had that, somewhere. Probably had the pictures of him holding the newborn twins somewhere, too.

He should really find those things. The kids would probably like to see them.

"Man, that kid's an even bigger fraud than Stan." Dipper was saying as he and Mabel exited the tent. "No wonder our uncle's jealous."

"I'm not jealous of that twerp!" Stan snapped, startling the kids. They looked up at him guiltily, Wendy merely shrugging when they turned to her for help. "I specifically forbade yous two from coming here and you still did it anyway! And what's worse is you dragged Soos along with you ― where is he anyway?"

"He went to get the truck," Dipper mumbled, tugging his cap over his eyes to avoid looking at his uncle.

"Oh, come on, Grunkle Stan!" Mabel smiled at him, eyes wide and sparkling. Oh, boy ― he'd have to stay strong if he wanted to stay angry. "Gideon's dance moves were adorable! And his hair is like, whoosh. Give him a chance!"

Your niece is being duped by this brat, Stanley.

The ideal of her trusting heart being taken advantage of was enough to relight the fire of anger in his heart.

“Absolutely not!" Stan growled, grabbing the twins and throwing them over his shoulder like sacks of potatoes. "We’re going home ― and I don't want to hear anymore about that Gideon brat or ― or I'll ground you!"

"You're pretty serious about that kid," Wendy observed with mild surprise. "Does he really get on your nerves that bad?”

"Doesn't he get on yours?" Stan retorted with a scowl. "I've heard you complain about him stealin' your fancy face lotion enough times to know you can't stand him, either."

Wendy grimaced at the reminder. "Yeah, that shit's expensive."

"Language!"

"Y'know," Wendy continued, ignoring him. She poked his cheek, earning a yelp from him as she pressed on a tender spot. "You could use some skincare yourself. You're breakin' out something bad, man."

"It's a Pines thing," Stan brushed her off, wincing at the itchy feeling overtaking his face. Now that she’d drawn attention to it, it was hard to ignore. "We got oily skin. What can I do about it?"

"Wash your face?" Wendy snorted. "They make specialty stuff for your skin type now. This isn't the sixties."

"I'm not puttin' any snake oil on my face, Wendy."

"I'll bring you some face wash tomorrow, Maybe a face mask, too."

"Oooh," Mabel perked up. "Spa day?"

"Don't even think about it, pumpkin.” Stan ordered sternly, pointing his finger at her as he deposited the twins in the El Diablo. "Yous guys are on house arrest ― we're not doing anything fun tomorrow except givin' tours and flossing tourists!"

___________________________________________________________

Wendy brought the face masks.

"I think this might even be more fun than my idea of bedazzling my face!" Mabel exclaimed happily, patting her panda mask into place.

Stan glowered at the TV, sat firmly in his chair with his arms crossed. He might have made an imposing figure, if not for the cat mask he was wearing. It was cold and sticky and smelt like plants.

His house was in the middle of the woods ― wasn't that enough nature for his body?

"That sounds like a painful idea." Dipper shot an amused look at his sister, to which she just sighed.

"I'm unappreciated in my time," she mourned, earning a pat on the back from Wendy. The redhead in question was wearing a dog mask and was watching Dipper like a wolf. There was still one face mask left and one blank slate left for her to work with.

Stan was actually looking forward to seeing if she could convince Dipper to go along with them or if Wendy would have to wrestle the boy down to put the product on his face. 

Which was how she'd strong-armed Stan into participating.

Seriously ― she'd put him into a headlock and slapped the mask on him while he was choking.

It would have been impressive ― if he wasn't so humiliated by it.

She would have never even thought about it if he'd still had his old man body!

Ding! Dong!

Stan glanced over his shoulder at the door, moving to take off his mask.

Wendy slapped his hand down and glared at him.

"Fifteen minutes." She reminded him sternly. 

He growled in frustration.

"It could be a tour group!" he protested. "I can't give a tour like this!"

"It could also be a salesman or something." Wendy rolled her eyes. "You're not getting out of this yet, man."

"Wendy..."

"I'll get it!" Mabel volunteered easily, hopping off Stan's lap where she'd been pinning him into place. "If it's a tourist, I'll scream really loud so you can get ready!"

Well, Mabel didn't end up screaming, but Stan thought that she should have.

From the first twangs of a Southern accent floating through the front door, Stan felt his blood pressure spike.

He threw himself out of the armchair, no longer worrying about Wendy and her face masks, and bolted for the door.

Gideon smiled up at him in a false show of innocence.

"Why, hello there! I'm Lil―"

Stan snatched Mabel back and slammed the door in Gideon's face.

"Grunkle Stan!" Mabel cried out in shock, staring at him with the most wounded face he'd ever seen from her before. "Why did you do that?"

This was no accident, Stan! You did this!

Stan grimaced and shook his head to dislodge the unwanted memory. He fixed his glare on his niece and fought to stay in the moment.

This was a problem in the present, not the past.

"I'm not going to let that little fake lead you on, Mabel." He said sternly and crossed his arms. "He's no good."

"He's adorable and appreciates my style!" Mabel retorted hotly. "I'm just trying to make a friend. This is my summer vacation! I'm supposed to be out riding bikes and doing stupid stunts without adult supervision."

"You'd rather run off with a stranger than hang out with your family? You were just having fun putting slime on my face, in case you forgot!"

Mabel deflated slightly. "It was nice to do something I like with you and Wendy... but you're such a sour puss about it! Gideon actually likes doing stuff like this..."

Stan slumped, sighing. He ruffled her hair gently and pulled her into a hug.

"I'll try to keep the complaints down." Stan said quietly. "But no promises! I never did anything like this as a kid and it's strange to me. I― I never had friends as a kid, just a brother. And boys back then would've been in hot water for doing girly stuff like this. There ain't nuthin' wrong with it and takin' care of yourself. But the world was a lot more small-minded. Even for those free lovin' hippies."

He shuddered at the reminder of a certain long-haired guitarist.

"Yeah, I guess you and Grandpa would have been doing other stuff when you were my age." Mabel smiled weakly at him. "Kinda like us now. He's older than you, too. It must be weird being the 'teen' role model instead of being the little brother, huh?"

Stan's brow furrowed and he wondered how Shermie got pulled into the conversation.

He'd been so much older than them, so Stan and Ford didn't bond with him like―

Never had friends... Just a brother.

Stan froze.

Oh. Oh shit.

Ohnonono.

"Pretty weird kiddo." He said hollowly, ushering her back into the living room with Wendy and Dipper. He could feel his control slipping by the second and he knew he only had moments before he broke. Already his chest felt tight. "I gotta go ― make a phone call! Berightback!" 

As soon as Mabel crossed the threshold of the room, Stan turned on his heel and bolted for his bedroom.The door slammed behind him and he sank down against it, burying his fingers in his hair.

Oh, sweet Moses ― he'd nearly ruined it all!

He was grateful, for what seemed like the first time in his life, to have another brother.

All his life, Shermie had felt more like a stranger to Stan than a sibling. Too old to play with his dumb baby brothers, then away at war while his wife and son crashed at the pawn shop. Then Stan was on the streets and Shermie moved across the country to Washington. He hadn't even come to 'Stanley's' funeral.

In fact, the last time Stan had seen his oldest brother was nearly thirteen years ago when the younger twins were born. They'd sat together outside the NICU, sharing anxious looks as they waited to hear if Dipper was going to live through the night after the complications he'd been born with. Shermie and Stan had even shared a relieved hug after they found out the boy was going to be fine and Shermie shared a story about something similar that had happened with Stanford and Stanley.

Not only had the Stan twins shared a placenta, but Stanley had been breached. While the nurses were quietly, exclaiming over Stanford's extra fingers and shooting nervous looks at Filbrick, who had forced his way into the delivery room, the doctors had converged on Caryn and were discussing the possibility of surgery to help deliver the second twin.

Stanley, however, was impatient and didn't take being separated from his twin well, even as an infant.

There hadn't even been enough time to unlock the brakes on the hospital bed and move their mother to the operating room before Stanley forced his way out into the world. 

Poor little Shermie, who'd snuck into the room, was both horrified and amazed by the whole experience.

Little brothers, he'd commented while holding a tiny, baby Dipper, are a handful. You always gotta be on the lookout for them cause they'll give you a heart attack if you look away for a second.

And then he put Dipper in Stan's free arm, the other already occupied by a sleeping Mabel, and left him with the youngest Pines twins.

And Stan fell in love in an instant. So much so that he'd nearly gotten into a fistfight with Shermie about whose turn it was to cuddle the babies later.

But as much as he'd loved Dipper and Mabel, being around them was dangerous.

The more time he spent with his family, the more risk he took in keeping up his ruse.

So he'd stayed away and only sent letters and the occasional gift by mail. 

He had planned on keeping the twins at an arm's length this summer, but that was proving futile at this point.

He nearly let precious info about Ford slip to Mabel in an attempt to connect with her and keep her out of Gideon's clutches.

Stan groaned miserably and leaned his head back against the door.

"Oh man, Sherm," he muttered into the empty room. "Little brothers may be a handful, but older siblings are no picnic, either."

[sjsmith56]

Snowfall, Part 5 - Shadows and Light

Summary: Bucky is joined by several Avengers, eager to support him by helping to find Leia. After the case is resolved, Bucky and Leia discuss their future.

Length: 4.9 K

Characters: Leia, Morrison, Bucky, Sam Wilson, Clint Barton, Joaquin Torres, Happy.

Warnings: Violence causing injury, near death experience, perceived hallucinations, medical treatment (edited for this story), emotional reveal.

Author notes: Final part of this short fiction piece. Originally, I tried to write in another half-sibling blaming Leah for the sins of their shared father, but it just didn’t work so this is the ending that felt true to me.

<<Part 4

Leia

Watching Bucky selflessly helping others during the evacuation of the building was uplifting, especially when he carried the older lady down the stairs. It was obvious she was impressed with his strength and gallantry as she kept telling him what a good man he was. He just accepted the compliments with quiet grace. When he heard the call for help with some others outside, he didn't hesitate to step forward, with Leia's blessing. As she watched him pick up another senior, she felt something hard poke into her back. Turning her head to see it, she was stopped by a man's voice.

"Don't turn around. Leave the cat and your purse and come with me, or I'll set off the bomb I have hidden out here."

Slowly, she lowered the cat carrier to the ground, placed her purse on it, then felt herself being pulled away, through the phalanx of fire department and police vehicles, to where a car sat parked at the side of the road. As the man reached for the car door, she whirled around and hit him several times in the face with her fists, knocking his beanie off in the process. His surprise at her resistance didn't last, and he hit her back hard enough to knock her senseless, before pushing her into the back seat and driving away. She remembered looking at him from where she was sprawled in the back, struggling to stay conscious, and seeing the adult face that the sketch artist had drawn. Bucky's recall of the man's features was on the money, except his bloody nose looked swollen now, thanks to her punches. Then, the darkness took over and she passed out.

It was barely light outside when she came around, still in the back seat. The car was in motion. She must have made a noise as the man turned his head back to look at her briefly.

"I was beginning to worry about you," he said. "I must have hit you harder than I thought. Sorry about that."

"No, you're not, Mitchell."

"You remember me, now? Well, that's something. When you didn't recognize me at the farmer's market, I was quite offended."

"Well, you have changed since you were a kid," answered Leia, sitting up and looking outside in the hopes of seeing a road sign. They were on a country road, surrounded by farmland, no buildings in sight. "It wasn't until they did a police sketch of you and de-aged it that I recognized you."

"We're not on the highway," he said, noticing what she was doing. "In fact, we're taking the long way home. Your real home."

"It hasn't been home since Mikey died." She slid her hand into her coat pocket, feeling her house keys in there, threading them in between her fingers. "Do you still live there?"

"I never really left." He gave out a quick laugh. "Well, I did live in a state facility for a while but I'm never going back there." He looked forward again. "Why did you abandon me? I was hurting so bad and you just left without even saying goodbye."

Oh boy. "I was twelve years old, Mitchell. My dad was with his girlfriend while my brother accidentally shot himself. There was no way my mother was staying around. It's not like we were involved. We were kids."

"We were friends!" He shook with the anger he was feeling, his nostrils flaring and his breathing heavy with emotion. "I was going to marry you."

"I didn't even like you."

He slammed on the brakes and reached into the back seat to grab her. Leia pulled the keys out, raking them across his face with all the force she could muster. He screamed and pressed the accelerator then twisted the wheel violently, causing the car to plow into a large snow drift at the side of the road that enclosed the front part of the car. The front seat airbags deployed, enveloping Morrison in their sudden embrace. Leia, who had managed to hold on, glanced quickly at him noticing he appeared dazed. Taking advantage of the opportunity, she scrambled out through the back window that still worked, landing in snow up to her hips and slogged through it then began to run on the country road. She kept running, doing all she could to put distance between herself and the car. Every time she looked back, she didn't see him coming after her.

You're doing good. Keep going. Bucky will find you. He promised.

Without her watch and phone, Leia didn't know how long she ran. It felt like forever, but with her head still feeling sluggish and the cloud cover preventing the sun from casting shadows, it could have been only minutes. More snow fell here than in New York as everything was covered. There was no sign of anyone, no cars, no one outside any of the buildings she saw in the far distance across the empty fields. She had already lost one glove, when she tripped and fell hard enough to knock the air out of herself.   It wasn’t until a short time later that she realized it was gone and that was only because she moved some hair off her face and saw the bare hand. For a moment she considered going back to look for it but the fear that Mitchell was coming after her was so strong that she kept going instead, experiencing another surge of adrenaline. In the loud silence the only sounds she could hear were of the wind, her breathing and the dull plod of her feet in the snow. When that surge of energy finally wore off and she slowed down to a walk she knew she had to find shelter. It was obvious the temperature was dropping. If she could find someplace with a phone she could call for help. As if a higher power heard her, she came to a crossroads and saw a warehouse building in the distance on the road that went left. It was the closest building even though it was at least half a mile away. She picked up her pace to reach the entry into the property. Its parking area had been plowed at some point although it was empty now and covered in a thick layer of snow with some drifts. Still, she could break in and trigger the security alarm; that would bring help.

Staggering up to the glass door, she pounded on the frame, calling for help but there was no one there. Looking around, she saw a large rock, about the size of a grapefruit, used to edge the parking lot. It was partially exposed, and she tried to pick it up, but it was frozen into place. Kicking at it repeatedly until it loosened, she picked it up, smashed the glass, then reached inside and turned the lock mechanism, opening the door. There were no indications that the place was being used; no furniture, no papers, or personal items were visible. It didn't even seem to be heated but at least it would block the wind. Seeing a phone, she picked it up, but the line was dead. Every phone she picked up had no signal. Unless a realtor was bringing someone to see it, she was on her own. She was going to have to wait for someone to find her because she couldn't go any further.

It will be alright. He's already looking. He'll come for you.

Bucky

He was inside his storage locker, pulling out his combat gear and a satchel of weapons when he heard the footsteps from the indoor hallway of the storage facility. With a shake of his head at how fast the man got there, he turned just as Sam appeared at the doorway.

"I was wondering if Pepper would call you in," he said to his friend. "Obviously, I fucked up and need Captain America to save the day."

"You know that's not how it works," replied Sam, coming closer and looking at the assortment of weapons. "You really need all that?"

"I've underestimated him one too many times. He hurt the agent who was watching the outside of the building so he couldn’t warn us. Don't know if he's working alone or if he has followers, or what. But I'm not taking any chances." He glanced at Sam, noticing he wore the suit but not the wings. "You're almost ready for action. I have to be as well."

"I'm not a super soldier so I need all my tools. I got the alert yesterday about the purse snatcher from Pepper. Figured I would come up anyway to offer a hand, but he didn't waste any time, did he?" Bucky grunted as he zipped the satchel up. "What are you planning to use for transport?"

"Beg for the use of a car or truck, I guess." He looked at Sam again. "What alert?"

"You might be on secondment to the FBI for this but the rest of us already think of you as an Avenger, even though we're not official. You really think we're going to let you handle this alone?" He went back to the door and jerked his head towards the hallway. "Come on."

With some trepidation, Bucky locked up the storage locker and followed Sam outside in the pre-dawn light to see a quinjet in the parking lot; its bulk dwarfing the cars and trucks beside it. He could see through the cockpit window that Clint was in the pilot's seat, giving him a small salute. Beside him was Joaquin Torres, the young intelligence officer that helped with the Flag Smashers. Sam had spent a lot of time with him after the lieutenant repaired the broken EXO-7 Falcon suit that John Walker destroyed. It was also one of the reasons Bucky returned to New York, although he never mentioned to anyone about feeling left out by their training, thinking it made him seem jealous of the time Sam spent with the eager recruit. Torres grinned at Bucky in that annoying way he had, but the fact he stepped up meant a lot. As Bucky walked up the ramp he was surprised to see Happy Hogan at the computer station.

"You didn't think I was just a pretty face did you, Sarge?" he asked. "You needed transport and someone to monitor the situation while you guys are doing your thing. I have some leads."

"What about the FBI?" asked Bucky. "What about Alpine? I left her with you in good faith."

"Alpine is with Mrs. Stark and Morgan. She's in good hands. As for the FBI, they've decided we're better equipped to deal with the guy, something about us not being bound by protocol. But they provided us with some information. The blood that was at the scene of Ms. Dunn's abduction is confirmed to belong to Mitchell Morrison. First diagnosed with an obsessive love disorder when he was 15, which is a delusion that he is in love with a certain individual, he's been arrested for stalking the object of his obsessions several times. Ordered to give a blood sample after an incident about 5 years ago, he's managed to avoid forced incarceration by voluntarily undergoing treatment several times at a state facility for his disorder. He walked out almost two months ago, a few days after he got a day pass to attend a farmer's market with his mother and a nurse." He looked compassionately at Bucky. "It's where he saw Leia again, apparently, the first girl he obsessed about according to his mother. She still lives in the same house, but she swears she hasn't seen him since. There's a good chance he's headed there, according to the profilers. He always comes home."

"They've been wrong before," said Bucky, stubbornly. "He shouldn't have known where we lived."

"True, but he's shown flashes of genius at the state facility and seems to have a passion for spy craft. He's definitely a lone wolf type of guy, making friends with only a couple of people, one of them an outpatient named Edward Ruskin. I think he's been two steps ahead the entire time."

"Okay, what's the plan?" Bucky sat next to Happy, looking at the screens he had up of the road systems of Pennsylvania.

"He's using his mother's car which she didn't report stolen because, let's face it, he's still her son. The FBI have already checked New York City roadways and picked him up on several traffic cameras, showing him heading west towards New Jersey. But there's been nothing on any of the major highways or toll roads since then, so he's using smaller roads, which aren't in good shape the further west we go as they actually had a blizzard." He gestured to the screen. "That's a lot of roads to cover. He's either switched vehicles, removed the car's GPS or has hacked into it to turn it off so we can't find him that way. So we do it the old-fashioned way by a grid search. Which is why we have the winged guys, and the quinjet. Based on the time Leia was taken, and the top speed we could expect Morrison to drive on a country road in these conditions, we concentrate our search in this area."

He pressed a button on the console, bringing up a more precise map of country roads from the eastern border to where Morrison's mother lived. There was still a lot of ground to cover.

"Are local or state police involved?" asked Bucky.

"Yes and no," answered Happy. "This snowfall has made road travel difficult and many of them are dealing with accidents or rescuing stranded motorists, as the wind is still blowing snow into heavy drifts. If they see something they're supposed to contact us, but given the size of the area it's still a long shot."

"We'll configure the sensors in our suits and the quinjet for two heat signatures inside a car or truck, just in case he's switched vehicles," said Sam. "At least that way we can narrow down the vehicles we're tracking."

Don't go there. Don't go there. Don't go there.

"What if he's ... dealt with her already and got rid of her?"

No one said anything, then Sam gently put his hand on Bucky's shoulder.

"Then we hunt him down. No one will blame you if it gets out of hand."

"She was wearing her red coat. Can the sensors pick out colours?"

Sam looked at Clint then at Happy, who each considered it for a moment.

"Only one way to find out."

The big man's pudgy fingers flew over the keyboard of the quinjet's system computers, looking for anything that indicated a filter that focused on a certain colour. When he found it, he activated it then sent the command to Sam's and Joaquin's suits. With that done, Clint and Joaquin returned to the pilot's chairs and raised the quinjet into the air just as the sun came up, with Clint advising air traffic control of their takeoff. Within minutes they were crossing over the Hudson River into New Jersey. Ten minutes later they were approaching the coordinates of the first part of the grid. Sam and Joaquin both suited up and checked to make sure their systems were working properly, then the ramp at the back opened and the two men flew out, Joaquin flying to the north of where the quinjet's flight path was, while Sam took the southern path. Bucky assumed the co-pilot's seat and the search began.

Forty minutes later they were at the outskirts of the town where Morrison's mother still lived, but no results. Happy sent the next coordinates for their second pass, and they headed back east along the path with no results. The third and fourth passes also didn't provide any hits. They began the fifth pass and halfway along it, Joaquin radioed.

"I got a hit on a large metal object stuck at the side of the road. Going to investigate."

He hovered over it, confirming it was a vehicle partially buried in a large snow drift. Landing gently on the side that was accessible, he noticed the window was open in the back seat. Peering inside, he could see Morrison, slumped in the front seat, covered in blood.

"Man down," he said. "It's Morrison. Sensors indicate his life signs are unstable. He's got injuries."

"Calling for medical assistance," said Happy. "Stay with the vehicle. We're coming in."

Before the quinjet landed Bucky was back at the ramp, pressing the button that lowered it. He jumped the final 50 feet, landing hard on the frozen roadway and strode to where Sam had already landed. They both looked inside at Morrison, noticing the deployed airbags, and because of his injuries, realizing that Leia must have forced him into the snowbank.

"Smart woman," said Sam, "but where is she now?"

Bucky looked in all directions. The blowing snow had covered everything. Tracking her footsteps would be difficult in this wind as it filled in everything within minutes.

"The purse snatcher remarked that her coat made her visible. But in this cold, she needed to keep her coat on, so she must have been sure she hurt him badly enough to do that." He looked back at the vehicle, at how it was positioned, then at the large drift that enclosed it. There was no sign of anyone trying to climb through it other than the few spots that showed where she came out and even they were quite filled in. She had to have gone back the way they came. "This way. We look this way."

Sam rose into the air, while Bucky used his comms earpiece to tell Clint he was following on the ground.  The quinjet took the other direction, just in case, while Joaquin stayed with the car, promising to join them after medical help arrived.  It was slow going as Sam's sensors were confused by the lack of definition in the snowy landscape.  If she were unconscious, and covered in the snow, he could easily fly right over her.  Bucky had to push through several drifts which must have formed after the car hit the one it did.  There was no sign that Leia had gone through after they were formed.  Just as they were about to re-evaluate their search, Bucky saw a flash of colour in the road, between two smaller drifts. Scrambling to it he brushed the snow off and recognized it as one of Leia’s gloves.

“Found something, a glove,” he reported, then looked up to where Sam had circled back towards him. “She definitely came this way.”

“There’s a lone building about a half mile east then another half mile north from your location,” said Happy, from the quinjet. “Sam, check it out. We’re on our way.”

Sam reported sighting a warehouse about a half mile north from the next crossroad. He flew closer to investigate, reporting it was part of a new industrial park being built, according to the sign.

"I'm going to check it out," said Sam. "It's the closest place to the car." Bucky sped up after reaching the road north, just as Sam landed beside the structure. "The door was broken into. Entering the building." Another moment passed, then just as Bucky reached the parking area, he heard Sam. "She's here. Barely conscious and hypothermic. Clint, land in the parking lot and get the med kit ready. She needs immediate treatment."

Bucky stepped through the small drift that had formed through the broken door, finding Sam in an office where Leia was curled up, almost triggering a PTSD episode from his own time in cryosleep. He forced it back down then reached to pick her up, but his friend hesitated and put his hand out to stop him.

"My sensors read her body temperature as 84°. That's right on the edge between moderate and severe hypothermia. We have to handle her very carefully."

"Just tell me what to do," replied Bucky, his face showing his worry as Leia moaned incoherently.

"Bring a stretcher and see if there is a portable heater in the cargo hold that we can use to raise the temperature in here to warm her up a little. If I can get her internal temperature up a few degrees, we can move her."

Removing his wings, Sam began assessing her using his medical knowledge from when he was a pararescue. He did what he could before Bucky returned with the stretcher and Clint brought the med kit and heater. The heater, battery powered, was set up and turned on. Sam went through the med kit and brought out the thermal coverings they had, wrapping Leia up in them. He instructed Bucky to gently hold her exposed hand with his right hand, knowing his body temperature ran warmer than everyone's. As the interior of the room warmed up, there was more lucidity in Leia's manner. For a moment she focused on Bucky.

"Found me," she murmured. "He said you would come."

"Shh, baby, it's okay." He spoke to her soothingly. "You're going to be alright. You did good."

She nodded her head, then closed her eyes. When Sam's suit sensors showed her temperature almost at 90°, he gave the okay to move her and they loaded her onto the stretcher, then into the quinjet, where Happy pulled out a sliding platform used as a cot. With Joaquin signalling that he was on his way, they waited for him before lifting off and heading for the nearest hospital with a trauma unit. Bucky never left her side.

A week later

Comfortably set up on the couch, pushed near the window so the late afternoon sun would warm her up, with several cushions behind her, and a blanket and sleeping cat on her lap, Leia sipped the tea that Bucky made for her. He sat on the floor just below her, reading a book, occasionally leaning into her hand as she stroked his hair. The swelling in her hands, a reaction from the hypothermia was completely gone now, and other than often feeling chilled she suffered no other effects from her brush with death. As she watched Bucky read the same page several times over, Leia knew it was time to talk about what she went through. It had taken her several days to think on her experience, but she wanted to tell Bucky first.

"I'm ready to talk," she said calmly. "I know you've been patient but if I have to watch you read that page again, I might take the book out of your hands and toss it away."

He folded it shut and placed it on the coffee table, then turned so that he was looking up at her from the floor. Gently, he kissed her hand.

"Where do you want to start?"

"Well, you already know what I did to him," she said. "I broke his nose when he first took me, then I cut him up a lot when I jammed the keys into his face when we got to Pennsylvania. After that I got out of the car and went on instinct, running away for as long as I could, just putting as much distance between us as possible. Every time I looked back, I saw nothing, so I figured I hurt him enough to keep him there. I was still afraid that he was coming for me." She hesitated as this is where it got strange. "Have you ever heard of the third man factor?"

"Yeah, there's a book about it that I've been interested in reading," he answered.

She smiled. "Good to know. Maybe I have time to order it for your Christmas present." Her face became serious again. "After I ran for some time, I heard a voice tell me I was doing good and to keep going, because you would find me. It did keep me going. Then when I found that building and hunkered down in one of the offices the voice came back and said I would be alright because you were coming for me. I just had to hang on and wait."

"You did," he smiled, kissing her hand again.

Leia let out a shaky breath. "Just before you and Sam got there, I was ready to give in and let it all go." Her eyes teared up. "I was at peace with it. After all the bad things that happened in my life, Mikey dying, Dad and Jake being cheating husbands, the stalker ... I at least got to be in real love with a good man who loved me back." She wiped her nose, then laughed a little when Bucky handed her his handkerchief. "I saw who the voice belonged to. It was Mikey, but he wasn't a boy anymore. He was a man, and he was so beautiful, surrounded by this glowing light. He told me you were almost there and that I couldn't give up now, not when the love of my life was coming to my rescue. Oh Bucky."

She cried in earnest now and Bucky got up from the floor, picked Alpine off her lap, placing her further down, then he lifted Leia onto his lap, blanket, and all, holding her in his arms, rocking her like a baby. He cried as well, knowing that she believed in their love as deeply as he did. It wasn't one-sided, or an infatuation, or wishful thinking; it was something real, and incredible, and life changing. As she gradually calmed down, he wiped the tears away from both their faces then kissed her on the forehead.

"There's something I want to ask you," he began. "We've only known each other for a few weeks but I want to know if you'll move in with me."

"Aren't we doing that already?" she chuckled. "I kind of assumed we were going to continue on. I can't imagine you moving out now."

"I mean, in our own place, that we own, and furnish ourselves, with room to grow." He ran one hand through his hair. "It never came up before but I'm quite well off, having received my settlement for back pay, adjusted for inflation and whatever, plus for damages over what was done to me. When I was on my own, I was content to live in my little flat, being a bit of a hermit, and frankly, floundering a little. But then I met you and now I want more. I want a life with you. It's not a proposal or anything because that's a whole other thing to consider ...."

Her mouth crashed onto his, as she kissed him deeply, leaving him no choice but to respond in kind. It felt so right, holding her close enough to feel her heart beating against his chest, almost like they were working in synchronization. As they kept kissing, they stretched out on the couch, sending Alpine to the floor, with a meow of complaint. They ended the kiss and watched the cat walk away, definitely offended that they took over the couch.

"We should get a big chair just for her," said Leia. "You know, one of those chair and a half pieces."

"There's no such thing," scoffed Bucky. "There are sofas, love seats, and armchairs. What are chair and a half's?"

She reached for her phone, searching for it, then showing him the picture. He raised his eyebrows then nodded his head conceding her point.

"I stand corrected. Can we get one of those big sofas that would easily fit both of us lying down if we wanted to watch a movie together?"

She nodded, then put her phone down and ran her hand through his hair, looking lovingly at him.

"We're going to do this, huh? Move in together for real, not just for the assignment?"

"For real. Maybe even find a place with an office for you to write in. How else are you going to be the next Margaret Atwood?" He grinned. "I just want a home that is ours, one that we can grow into, if we, you know ... make it permanent someday."

"Bucky, home is wherever you are and as far as I'm concerned, we're permanent now. I'm yours because you're the love of my life. I believe that with all my heart."

"So do I."

They kissed again; languidly enjoying the taste and touch of each other. As the late afternoon turned into dusk, then evening, they laid on the couch, watching the snowfall through the window. It reminded them of their first date, when they walked back to this apartment and shared their first kiss. That's when they initially knew there was something meaningful between them. Whatever was to come would be faced together, with love and trust. As they kissed, neither of them saw Alpine playfully bat at a barely visible glow in the corner of the room that subtly pulsed and shifted. They didn't notice she followed the glow to another window beside the unlit Christmas tree, where it seemed to pause before dissipating through the glass and joining the snowfall outside. Then Alpine turned back to the couch, jumping up and purring as she settled beside her humans. The other one said he wanted her to watch over them and she was quite happy to accept the assignment.

The End

Series Masterlist

Please support the author by reblogging.

[housederiva]

The second chapter of the fi I'm working on right now is up if anyone feels like reading it here, the first is under the cut. Also thank you guys for almost 7000 hits on this series this is a part of, I wasn't expecting people to care about my Rook this much xx

This one is a more in-depth first conversation between Rook and Lucanis after getting back from the Ossuary

Varric shifted himself against the pillows propping him up for the fifth time since Rook entered the infirmary, “And then what did you say?” He asked?

“You mean after I mumbled ‘well that’s awkward’ like an idiot?” Rook huffed, “I said that it couldn’t have been the only solution. There has to be a way we can reason with Spite. What about your friend, Cole? He was merged with the spirit.”

He looked over to Bianca, remembering something that wasn’t going to be shared, “Kid, Cole’s special – his host was dead when he merged with his body.”

A sigh left her as she methodically worked an ointment into the burn set into the palm of her hand. Viago insisted she take with her as she left the Cantori Diamond. It smelt like lavender, her favorite. “Not helpful, Varric.”

“Normally my advice with dealing with abominations would be, ‘don’t’ but in this case,” He looked over to her uneasily from his place on the bed, “Just keep an eye on him.”

Rook set the tincture down before inspecting her now greasy palm. She shouldn’t have cast fire-based spells in the Ossuary without the aid of her focus. It was careless to let her anger get the better of her like that, “I’m doing a great job of that now aren’t I?”

Once again, Varric shifted himself, the pillow didn’t have as much of a give to it as Rook thought it should when he sank into it - almost like he weighed nothing, “You needed to take care of that.” He gestured to her hand, returning her attention to it.

“I’m a mage Varric. I should be able to heal this without a salve.” She glanced over at him remorsefully, “I should be able to help you. It doesn’t feel right that you’re just cooped up in here while the rest of us are running around.”

He paused just long enough to make her worried that she had said something wrong, “There’s plenty of time… You said Spite made him bleed?” Varic was always so skilled at shifting conversations, it was as if he was editing a story simply by speaking – Rook was glad his injury didn’t change that.

“From the way he had jerked his head to the side? Yeah, I’d say it looked like a punch. But the spirit is inside Lucanis, right? He shouldn’t be able to interact with things physically.”

It was obvious that the cushion behind him was not curving with his weight. There wasn’t an indent in the mattress either. The moment that realization and unease latched onto her, a pain cracked at the base of her skull. It webbed its way up and over till it caressed her forehead, like the tendrils of the branching tree.

With a blink, Rook forgot the thought waving frantically for her attention.

Varric was looking at her with an uncharacteristically neutral expression when her vision refocused.

“Why did you leave, Rook?”

“Lucanis asked me to.”

“Do you think that was wise?” Varric re-situated himself against the pillows, the candlelight moving with him as he sank into the fabric. It was the same way he would bundle up when they traveled on the road in front of a fire at night. He always took a shining to a particular dark grey pelt; said it reminded him of a friend. She knew he wasn’t talking about Solas.

“Of course not. But he just – Lucanis looked so pained. He’s gone so long without his agency; I don’t want to be a hindrance to it being returned now that he’s free.” The night that Viago killed her master some fifteen years prior was just a whisper of a memory now. Her mind had put a proverbial wall between her and the events of that day. When other de Riva’s would mention those first few months she was in Antiva, it was like they were describing a story to her - not events she had lived through. One of the few things she remembered with certainty was what that gifted freedom felt like. Euphoric and terrifying at the same time.

Varric made a point of looking at her for a moment before moving his gaze to the door, “I know you’re stalling going back there Rook; you’ve put the same vial of ointment on your hand three different times.”

“I don’t want to overstep myself,” She sat down on the bed next to him and began fidgeting with a roll of bandages, “I keep trying to think about what I needed the first night I was free- I know it’s completely different from what he’s going through but-”

“What did Viago do to make you feel safe?”

She was certain they had this conversation before somewhere on the road between Antiva and Tevinter while Harding curled up between the roots of a tree to sleep. The topic had come up after Varric mentioned that the popping of the fire before them reminded him of Hawke.

It was Rook’s turn to steer the conversation, “Did you ever send that letter? The one back to Hawke and Fenris?” She asked, unrolling a section of the bandage before recoiling it and repeating the process several times over.

Varric would not let a week go past without at least drafting something to the Hawke. Harding said he had been doing so since his friends from Kirkwall reunited to retrieve her from the fade. Rook rarely saw any of them be sent though. It was a beautiful kind of loyalty he had for her. He spoke about Hawk the same way Viago would about Teia - it made her heart ache for the dwarf.

“You’re deflecting, Rook.”

“I learned it from you.” She matched his smile, though his didn’t reach his eyes like normal. She put genuine thought into his question. Trying as hard as she could to remember fragments of that night. She remembered him swearing quite a bit after her previous master fell, and she lied bleeding out on the floor. She remembered the ever so brief hesitance before he knelt out and put her in his lap, his head and clasping over her slipped throat.

The master had attempted to use her as a shield to stay Viago’s hand. Much like his attempt to poison the man that morning – it didn’t work.

“Well once he had stopped Calling me a careless idiot and the bleeding stopped…” She reached up and trailed over the scar resting on her jugular with a tip of her fingers, "He took me back to the Inn he was staying in, tossed one of the softest blankets I have ever felt at me and left to get me a hot chocolate of all things.” It probably wasn’t the best thing to do for someone who just had their throat slit open, but at least he tried. Viago was nineteen at the time and he had led a life of causing injuries instead of healing them - she couldn’t blame the clumsiness. He was so much more cynical and harsher with his words back then. Angry at the hand he had been dealt she supposed.

After much deliberation, which was more intense on Viago’s part than her own, it was decided that Rook was at oldest fifteen and at youngest thirteen the night of the incident. He liked to lean more towards the older end of the scale. Whether that was because Viago was fifteen himself when he was indoctrinated into the Crows or because it made the cruelties in which she suffered under her master slightly easier to swallow – she wasn’t sure.

“Start with getting him a blanket.” Varric cut into her reverie, holding a hand out towards the stack of quilts and knitted throws stacked in the bed beside him. It was odd that he hadn’t taken a single one for himself, especially with the draft that was in the room. In the low light of the infirmary, it was like she could see the candlelight through his skin. A cruel trick of the light.

Rook looked over every part of him carefully. She didn’t remember Varric being so pale or his beard that grey. He always kept it short and regardless of there not being a pair of scissors in sight, seemed to be keeping up his routine as it hadn’t grown in any length since their arrival in the Lighthouse. The question on the tip of her tongue wilted and rolled back down her throat.

The mirror he always used to shave was resting on the bookcase in Solas’ – now her room. He was a stickler about only using that to keep up his grooming habits. It was a gift from Hawke after all, the Amell crest was embossed on the back. There were a many a night or early morning where she would catch him staring at the engraving, lost in thought.

“Your shaving mirror,” She asked, “Would you be alright if I offered it to Lucanis – just to borrow of course?”

That elicited one of the first genuine smiles she had seen from him in quite some time, “Sure Rook, he can borrow it for as long as he needs.”

[hadesisqueer]

Okay, I'm going to tell you the full context of the particular protagonist of this post so you tell me if this guy is just rightfully complaining because he's sick or if he's being a whiny asshole. His wife is an old family acquaintance that told us this over dinner in Christmas.

Guy had a blocked nose and a headache. He started rightfully complaining about it and his wife asked if he wanted to go to the doctor. He said that no, and when his wife offered some medicine, he refused to take it, saying that "it's not that bad" and he just sat on the couch watching TV. Wife also felt unwell, with a blocked nose and a huge headache as well. So she took some medicine and went to bed to take a nap. Then, barely half an hour later, the husband called her from the living room. She asked what did he want. Guy told her that their kid made a mess trying to pour himself some juice and broke something and there was glass all over the floor. Wife got up from the bed, went downstairs and started cleaning the mess because the option was that or her 5yo son getting hurt while trying to clean it herself while the husband stayed on the couch. Then two minutes later the guy calls from the living room again saying he wanted some warm milk and honey. Wife told him where the milk and the honey were. He said that he didn't feel well and told her to bring it to him. Wife, who's also sick and busy cleaning at that very moment, asks him again "do you wanna go to the doctor?" and he refused. She asked if he wanted some medicine and he, really stubborn, said "no, it's not that bad". Then the wife already fed up tells him "well then if it's not that bad you can either warm your own milk or clean this up" and the guy started whining about how she wasn't being fair to him. So, yeah. The guy is just a whiny asshole when he's sick.

As to how many stubborn guys do I know that whine a lot and become jackasses when they're sick. Well I have a huge ass extended family so unfortunely many dudes. There's people like my cousin's boyfriend who starts absolutely coddling her or their daughter the moment they start feeling bad and there's some others who do really not do anything when their kids or wives feel sick, they just sit around and hope they don't get sick too, and if they do they do expect to get babied and even though when the wife was also feeling unwell he didn't do anything. Generation shift, those guys are all boomers.

A big change is that my dad isn't a jackass when he's sick; my sister is (diversity win: women can be assholes when they're sick too /j). However, when I'm sick, my mom is the one who takes care of me, and when she's sick I'm the one who takes care of her. When we're both unwell at the same time? Good luck. Dad works a lot and my sister is never home.

How many times have people disbelieved my suffering? Very often unfortunely. And mostly by guys, too. Cis men teachers who believed period cramps isn't enough reason for me not to be able to do P.E. that morning and forcing me to run anyway. Doctors who thought the reason I felt sick was my period without even checking anything and then it turned out I had the stomach flu. Me not even complaining about anything at all but looking off and being asked what's wrong and I say "migraine" or "my bad ankle hurts today" and this man whining saying that I always have something. You're damn right men deserve to complain if they're sick but there's a difference between complaining and like you very well said being a jackass, and that guy and many other guys I know are jackasses. And you're damn right I deserve being able to complain, too. I do and I don't care if people think I'm faking it. I'm just not a jackass.

Is there any creature weaker and that whines more in this world than an adult man who's mildly sick

[cubbihue]

Anytime I see Changeling Tim, "One Normal Night" from The Addams Family musical starts playing in my head

(btw love your ittie bitties AU!!! Your worldbuilding is awesome :D)

OOHH!! I've never heard of The Addams Family having a musical!!

I went to listen to it and.. yeah. Timmy would love one normal night. Or many normal nights.

[vynnyal]

This is a pretty good point in the wip to share this, methinks :]

Map part for the hole dwelling map, starring... Not my ocs! I wanted to use ocs, but I don't have any-- so I just used the characters from a fic I was reading at the time 😂

Turns out, the symbolism was so much fun to twist into the 11 seconds I had to work with, I ended up going way more complex than I meant to. If you wanna read the fic this was based on, please do!! And tell the author I said hi! :D

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

finished hazbin hotel and what the fuck it's actually kind of??? good???