#and i needed to be sure. FOR MY FANFICTION.

[cosmickid-inmotion]

When You Build Your House, Then Call Me Home

Frankie Morales x AFAB!Fem!Reader

Masterlist : Triple Frontier Masterlist

Taglist

Summary: You are pregnant, and don't want to be.

Warnings: Abortion. Addiction. Explicit mentions of drug use. Pregnancy ofc.

A/N: Thank you to my beloved @toxicanonymity for encouraging me with this, and for being so outspoken about abortion access, how it effects lgbt, poor, and POC people different, sharing resources for access etc. Thank you to EVERYONE in this tumblr fanfiction community who has come together to make it clear they do think abortion is murder, and it is healthcare. I don't know who all has personal reasons, but I do.

A/N2: This fic is from the perspective of "I want this with you, but now now" I plan to write another of the perspective of "we know we both dont want kids, it's an easy choice, but all these factors (protestors, medical lies etc) make it harder" Sometimes it's a difficult choice to abort. Sometimes it isn't

Resources and some myths linked

Enough yapping.

***

You couldn’t look at the test results. 

On the floor of the bathroom, you stared up at the counter where the blue tip hung off the edge. You still had piss on your fingers from taking it, and you were pretty sure there was still coke on the counter from last weekend’s rager. God knows you’d been too high or in a stupor to do anything but drag yourself to work. Frankie was too far in the same state to clean either. It’d been going like this for months, worse and worse every week…

Now was not the time for a baby. 

By the time you heard Frankie’s voice approach, it was too late to realize you hadn’t locked the door.

“And Ben says he-” Frankie stopped, a look of concern on his face at seeing you dead-eyed on the bathroom floor; the room was so small, the door opening grazed your toes. “I gotta go, she’s taking a pregnancy test.” Yup, definitely high if he’s saying that outloud to Santi.

‘Wait, what-’ But Frankie hung up, practically throwing his phone blindly. It clattered against the sink as Frankie dropped to his knees. The cheap linoleum floors that had been bubbling up creaked under him.

“Baby…” He hands on your bunched up knees. “You’re pregnant?”

You wish you could say you felt anything at the confirmation of your fears, but you knew already. In your gut, you knew. “That what it said?” You let go a breath when he nods.

“Two lines, right?” His gaze is unsteady, but it’s soft. You reach out, guiding him to sit down for fear he’s going to fall over. You both confirm each other: yes, it showed two lines. Yes, two lines mean pregnant. A smile grew on his face. “We’re having a baby.”

But instead of warmth, your face whips to him. “We can’t have a baby, Frankie.”

Confusion blisters his face. “I mean… there is one. Already.”

“It’s not a baby.” You snap at him. “It’s a fetus. And we don’t have to have it.”

Whatever he’s on that created the cloud lifted. His face fell. “Oh. Right.”

Tears prickled at your eyes, feeling like he was disappointed in you. “Francisco Morales, don’t you dare make me feel guilty about this.”

Frankie scrambles to sit up, unsteady but his eyes wide with worry. “I’m not! Baby, I’m not, I swear.” He was earnest. You know where Frankie stood on abortion; your body, your choice. You also know you and him talked so often about having children together, this must be a shock.  He takes a hand, kissing your knuckle. You don’t tell him you haven't washed yet. Might be the wrong hand anyway, you are sure anymore. “I just think… we could do this, you know? I’ll get sober, we can get sober. I’ll get a real fucking job, stop the parties… Santi said we could stay with him for a bit if we were sober… save up a little for the baby?”

You would need to save up a lot more than a little. You had $27.53 in your bank right now. You sigh. “Frankie…”

“I bet he’d let us stay a while too. Will could probably help me get some help at the VA”

Your eyes close. “Frankie.”

“Ben might know a good job too, if I’m sober. He knows a lot of peo-”

“Frankie!” Your voice is louder than you want it to be. You grip his hand back, only realizing your nails are digging into his skin. You wonder if he can even feel it.

“We can’t have a baby right now! No amount of help from your friend is going to change the fact we are drug addicts. We can’t just- we can’t quit magically! It takes time! I’m what, 4 weeks? How much fucking drugs do you think I’ve had already? I can’t go through withdrawals and detox like this! I can’t be a new mom and be what, 8 months sober? Jesus Frankie, you aren’t even supposed to start a new relationship until into sobriety minimum! You think a baby is better?” His eyes are large and sad, but understanding is seeping in. “I’m high right now, Frankie.” You couldn’t take the test sober.

The reality settled onto his face. Still holding your hand, he sat beside you this time. You both looked out the open door, to the cracked wall of the studio apartment. 

“Yeah. I am too.” A beat before he spoke, a little more steady now. “You’re right. It’s not my choice to make, but I support you. It’s the right choice.”

You rest your head on Frankie’s shoulder. He’s thinner than he used to be, but still strong. “I want this life with you. I do. I love you, more than anything I’ve ever known, my sweet, sweet man. I’m not keeping it… but are you serious about getting sober?”

“Yes.” He was firm, definitive. His head rested on yours. “I’ll get sober.”

A deep breath. “We’ll have to ask Santi to visit him. I’m probably at 6 weeks. Heartbeat. All that.”

He nods. “He’ll understand.” And you knew he would. Santi lived in a blue state. They’d keep it under wraps, only tell Santi. They wouldn’t even really need to tell Santi at all, but you’d want to stay a few days to recover and you felt wrong doing that without explanation. Besides, you weren’t ashamed. It was healthcare, and you were doing what’s best for you. For Frankie. For your lives and family together.

“I want a family with you. Children.” You blurt out. “We can do it. I know we can. We’re gonna get better.”

Frankie kissed the top of your head. “Yeah baby, you’re gonna get better.”

*

Santi is driving. You and Frankie in the back seat. Suitcases in the trunk.

It was your drop off first. St. Monica’s would help you through detox, something Frankie was scared to leave you alone for. He’d held you through many before, but this was something you had to go alone. You’d had your abortion, and Santi wanted to help you guys get on your feet. Santi would take Frankie to his treatment center next. After giving you a hug and a sincere goodbye, he sat in the car while Frankie held you.

“I’m gonna get better for us, okay baby? I’m gonna be the man you need, from now on.”

Tears wet the flannel your face was buried into.

“Me too. We’re better together, as a team. We’re gonna be there for each other. Always.”

His hug was tight enough it felt like he might never let go. He never did, not really. When you focused on getting better, it wasn’t always easy in the rehab center… But when you closed your eyes, you could still feel that last hug, and you knew he’d be right there waiting when you both got out. Better, and ready to start a new life.

***

It's not a heartbeat

Abortion resources (thanks Tox and @dark-scape for sharing these)

LGBT and abortion

Abortion as an economic issue

Where to donate

Indigenous women rising rain fund

Adriana Smith fundraiser

Other perspectives

Indigenous perspective on abortion

Reform Judism perspective on abortion

Asian countries and abortion

Progressive christian pro choice

Islam and abortion (Debate among leaders, but generally more open than the fear mongering right would have you beleive. I know less about these arguments than I do Christianity and Judaism, so if anyone else has resources hmu.)

Thank you all for reading! I'll keep my asks open for now incase anyone wants to share their story but if I get nonsense, I'm closing it.

You won't change my mind on abortion. I co-founded an anti-choice youth group as a teen. I know all the talking points, propaganda, and lies. I changed my mind.

If you got the abortion you wanted, I'm proud of you.

Shout out Haru bc when I sent this header to the server you asked if frankie was having an abortion and given my toe dipped into mpreg i wouldn't put it past me.

to show I’m putting my money where my mouth is I may respond to comments but im largly on hiatus still i just felt the need to post this today.

regular tags (i know this can be triggering or not someones cup of tea so its okay to not read!): @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @pedge-page @hornystan @mani-pedro @femmeanonymelives

[warpdrive-witch]

why are you using AI to write your fics? it is very obvious. first with “It Worked.” it is impossible to write that many words in just a couple of months. now your latest smut that you posted on here. you should know that all of your fanfictions are flagged by AI checkers.

when will it end?

Let’s make something extremely clear. I don’t use AI for my writing. At all. That accusation is fucking bullshit and I can’t believe that you had the audacity to accuse me of it.

I’m a PhD student. When I write, I fucking write. It’s not “impossible” just because you or others can’t do it. Again, accusing me of using AI because you feel like it’s impossible is another fucking level of audacity. It’s summer break, and you know what I’m doing all day? Writing. Fics I have been working on for months, fics I had outlined while in my semester and wrote in my spare time while teaching/research/ family time/ and just trying to be a functional person. I also don’t owe you an explanation on why/how I do things. So let’s make sure you understand that going forward. Not just for me, but for other writers you have said this bullshit to.

Now let’s talk about AI checkers. As an academic who has worked with them, do you know how absolutely faulty they are? I’m also pissed you felt the need to upload my work to an AI checker, which I did not give you permission to do, and you have now allowed AI to have access to my work and ideas that I worked months on, which other people could now be used as an example for AI. So real big thanks for that. NOW if someone uploaded my work and checked again, guess what, it’s gonna show as fucking AI because you couldn’t believe a queer woman could write like I do. Fanfuckingtastic.

If you use Grammarly to help with spell check (I have a processing disorder and a few other things) to catch missteps or my dyslexia misspellings, it could pop up. Hell, if you use spell check on Word it can be flagged by AI. All that to say, academics in the field have stopped using checkers because of this. Unless you have undeniable proof of someone using AI (I had a student that forgot to erase the “absolutely, let’s make this more direct) statement, you can’t say they used it.

Let’s be also add this for others who accuse writers of using AI. This right here is why people stopped uploading to Tumblr & only allowing comments and readers on AO3 who have a profile. This right here is why writers stop posting. All because people like you had the audacity to accuse their writing and plots for AI.

I’m still flabbergasted that you uploaded all my fics to AI. I just…. Wow.

Fuck you and your AI checker.

[atricksterproblem]

All right. This has been making the rounds again lately and I'm not sure why.

I write X-readers sometimes. There is nothing wrong with the genre IF you write it PROPERLY. I don't use this format for my stories unless I'm damn sure I can leave it open-ended enough to avoid these pitfalls and unless it is the only way I can tell the story the way I need to tell it.

I don't understand why we're seeing so much unique hate for an entire format of fanfiction. I've seen plenty of extremely badly written fic in every other format that exists. X-readers aren't special for that and if you don't like them it's very easy not to read them. A lot of the comments on this post are absolutely rancid.

This to me is something we should be avoiding in fandom interaction. It smacks of cringe culture. Let people write and read what works for them and find what you like if that ain't it.

hate an x reader fic do not put me in a situation

[yeah-sure-amanda]

Emmerdale Musings

This “Robert and John fake being nice and family like” screams we had this plan for Robert and Andy but couldn’t fulfill it. Still makes me laugh. It’s gonna get weird.

Good time for Andy to appear just for a short stint. I always had a soft spot for the Robert/Andy relationship. Good time to see the brothers work together for the greater good (*looks down and whispers* the greater good).

There is an Aaron shaped hole in this plot and I’m not sure if it’s on purpose or Robert is a stand in while Danny is in and out with baby stuff. (Official term obvi). Aaron is guarded. Aaron doesn’t want to admit his feelings. Aaron is settling for less so he doesn’t have to feel the pain again. Too bad Aaron. Soap Soulmates(TM) crack but always mend. Robert being back is the start of the mend.

Lots of talk about former land and family names (Sugden). Robert is the longest running character. Legacy character. Born on screen. Grew up on screen. Time for Robert to become the patriarch of the show? Every soap has their main male and female leads that are the show. They make the show recognizable outside its confirmed 30-45 minute world (ex. Victor and Nikki Newman or Luke and Laura). Robert can easily become that character. Always thought they were setting up Cain and maybe Chas or Charity for that but now? Hmmm.

John could be an interesting villain if the show would allow it. Oliver is doing a great job with what he is given. He tends to shine more against Ryan or Isabel but that might be on purpose. Aaron and John don’t fit so they don’t spark or shine. If that is true, great acting on their part.

I’m still thinking Robert now needs to do his own thing. Get back on his feet. Get his own place. Get a job. Do his own thing while watching John from afar. I’d love for him to work on the garage just so we can get a reverse “grease monkey” Robron moment but my gut says Robert might be heading back to the farm world. He is different now. He isn’t wearing the tight suits anymore. He is looser and bit less controlled. The mask he has carefully crafted since jack threw him out of the village is slipping.

I’d like to know where Robert’s old clothes are. Car too. Did Aaron sell them or are they in storage? Sounds like a good fanfiction prompt. Along with the reverse dirty little grease monkey moment. (I’m a hack writer but I know this fandom is full of wonderful writers! Hop to it!).

Oh! I noticed in the cast lists that Aaron is still listed as Aaron Dingle and not Aaron Sugden-Dingle or even Dingle-Sugden. That was just with Robert? ADORABLE! 💕

Sarah and Jacob are too young for this story! Right? Wait, they are in their twenties? Fuck I’m old.

I want Wedding 3.0 to be in Vegas with them eloping but somehow all the Dingles and Sugdens (minus John…he is in prison trying to save people there) keep showing up in random casinos to annoy Robron. They can make a big episode out of it like the old days when they filmed on location.

I’d love to learn the timeline of when Ryan and the producers started their talks for him to come back and how early those talks shaped certain storylines going forward. Also, I’d like to know if any storylines from the past 6 years were set up for a Robert return. There are a few to me that look suspicious now.

Now that Robert’s been on screen for a full week, does that mean he can start mixing with other people? I’ve seen talk on here that is wondering if we have a lack of other characters because the set was limited to main people while they kept Ryan’s comeback a secret. Hmmm.

I’m convinced nothing good happens at The Hop. People are shot, drugged, and killed there on the regular. Just stay away.

I’m one of the few that liked Seb. WAY too early to consider him for a plot on the show right now but when things are settled and maybe a bit dull for Robert and Aaron, this blonde green eyed boy will walk into their lives with an attitude that will throw Aaron, Robert and the village for a loop. (Maybe by then we have another kid Robron adopted in the mix thus a new generation of Sugden-Dingle power struggles is born).

I’m convinced Robert is going to date Steph while Robron are still on the outs. It also brings Ross back into that picture in a weird way. If not Steph, I’m also convinced Robert might get his own Dr. Hair that Aaron will have to contend with. Not because I want Aaron to pay or be hurt. Robert might have to move on for real while keeping a ‘best friend’ eye out for Aaron and his safety. You know, try someone else out for a while just to prove that is still all about Aaron and Aaron finally admits it’s all about Robert. A reverse of 2017 into 2018s plot.

At the end of the day, we want Robert and Aaron to need and want each other and know for sure they are both on the same page.

Anyway, here’s Wonderwall…

[cerealmonster15]

looking at the occasional nicknames leona gives people he doesnt like,,,

[trey i guess needs to be updated, in the most recent story he kept calling him That Guy With Glasses or w/e lol] i like that vil gets "you". like im assuming he also calls people you, but perhaps this is a japanese pronoun thing where maybe he doesnt say temee with others as much. or maybe he does idr LOL i feel like he probably would. why is it just listed for vil tho.

this is so funny where the fuck did scarlet boy wonder come from . i dont remember him ever saying that jfklshgkljdfls 😭 tho maybe the fan translations i saw just did it differently [or maybe this is the official eng's tl?? idr] or maybe he only said it once and i forget. i think in my google translating today he was calling him something like the red little demon sjdkflshgk

the first years,,, "you little bastards. and also epel" LOL

they gotta update and put ortho in the first year category wadda hell,,, but also it does make me laugh whenever he sees ortho and is like. radish sprouts little brother. i think malleus also just calls him The Littler Shroud. idia 2................

[paintedcrows]

It is imperative to me that Bill and Stan do torrid Duchess Approves roleplay and argue about character motivations

[choccy-milky]

💖🎊the end, & thank you for reading!!🎊💖

im so thankful for all the support i got on this story, and i wouldn't have finished it if not for all of you, and for the love i got for seb and clora. so thank you again for giving me the motivation to write this 600k+ monster, and to see it through to the very end. LOVE YALL💖🫶 (ao3/wattpad)

[oh-no-its-bird]

Every time someone without warning deletes their fic, an angel loses their wings.

[catcake24]

Universal Misunderstandings

Summary: Based on @keferon's Mech Pilot Jazz AU. Jazz is a Mech Pilot who gets lost in space.

I wrote this in like... an hour, so I'm sorry if it isn't very good. I just needed to get it out, even if it's a little clunky. (Also I don't write Jazz and Prowl often, so they might be a bit ooc)

If you had asked Jazz what was the craziest thing he ever saw, he would say the moment the giant ships entered earth’s atmosphere for the first alien invasion. Or maybe when he joined the mecha program to fight those aliens, and saw the mecha suits they would be piloting for the first time.

He wasn’t sure if meeting a race of giant robots was any crazier than that, but it was at least top three now.

Being a mecha pilot was surprisingly routine in some ways, similar to the times he was a NASCAR driver in some strange ways. How he would check his machine before every mission, how he piloted it like it was an extension of him, and how painfully aware he was of the danger all around him.

Only now, instead of being at risk of crashing into another driver or spinning off the track, he was at risk of being killed by giant aliens with five faces and so many tentacles.

No one was even sure why the aliens attacked in the first place, only that they desired some sort of potent energy source that was only discovered after they drove the aliens from one of their mines on Earth - and what was found in them revolutionized their technology forever.

They called them Lightning Crystals, based on the blue glow and the little shocks they delivered. The crystals were rare, but extremely potent in energy unparalleled by anything on earth.

Exactly what they needed. Oh, sure for solving global warming and creating efficient technology of course. But they also were the missing element in the new M.E.C.H. program – giant robots which could be controlled by a single person, able to pack as much punch as the aliens. With the Lightning Crystals, they could power these giant machines and finally drive them from their planet.

Jazz was one of the top pilots, though his Mech Suit was focused on rescuing people from peril and buying time as they evacuated a city that would be attacked. It was almost once a month, or several times if they were unlucky – the aliens would land, attempt to get a foothold on their planet, but were driven off by the Mecha. Only to appear again the next time.

And so, the routine was set. Go out, punch some aliens, retreat and recover, and start all over again later. It wasn’t glamourous, but Jazz knew he was doing his part in protecting the planet.

That changed when the Space Program was initialized.

The director of MECH realized they needed some sort of foothold in space, to fight back before they landed on the planet and destroy the ships they had just out of striking range out in the void.

Jazz was selected as one of the first, as his smaller robot would be more ideal for space travel – or so they told him, he wasn’t totally sure if that was bullshit or not anymore.

And so, Jazz found himself being launched into space to fight Aliens. He wasn’t sure when exactly his life turned into an anime, but it definitely felt like one.

During the fight though, something went wrong.

Jazz had been thrown into one of their ships, there was frantic beeping and flashing, and suddenly he felt his whole body feel every sensation at once – and when he got his bearings and noticed the ship was in motion again, he realized, with a sinking terror, that he couldn’t see earth in any direction around him.

His worst fears were only confirmed when he was thrown off the small space shuttle, and couldn’t contact ground support after he crashed onto an unknown planet.

He had to take a few hours to himself, and screamed inside his mech suit’s protective armour. Jazz didn’t know when he passed out from crying, but he felt somewhat refreshed. Not any better, but… not exhausted.

All things considered… he would be alright for a little while. He found more lightning crystals on the planet, and had some rations he could stretch out for awhile. But he wasn’t sure what to do, without any idea where he was or how to contact home.

He set up his homing beacon, and just hoped again all odds that maybe it would be picked up by someone.

-

Prowl wasn’t a very social cybertronian, everyone knew that about him. He wasn’t anti-social, but he didn’t have an easy time communicating with others.

He would be too blunt, or maybe just not react the right way, and suddenly they were upset for reasons he didn’t immediately recognize. He got better at learning what was and wasn’t acceptable in the broad terms, but he struggled with specifics sometimes.

But Prowl was also brilliant – that wasn’t ego, it was repeated often enough that even he had to accept it. The Tac-Net within his processor was faster than any standard internal strategy computer, but that was only a tool. His processor was able to churn through all the data it gave him, and utilize it to its fullest extent with his own creativity and intelligence.

It made him one of the vital assets to the Autobots, and later to the combined cybertronian armies which fought the Quintessons – a walking battle computer, able to analyze a battle field and begin a counter strategy before the opponent even realized it.

So, his communication issue was merely a minor inconvenience in comparison.

Even still, he didn’t have many friends, and he was used to his own company. Prowl didn’t think on it often, just focusing on his task.

Prowl was alone while crossing a large stretch of uninhabited space, a spiral galaxy system which consisted of planets either barren or void of sentient life, when he received the ping on his console.

Unknown Energy Signature, Distress Beacon Detected. Prowl frowned as he read across his screen, because it didn’t make sense at first. He pulled the ship around for a second look before he lost the signal, and saw it was located on a nearby planet.

His Tac Net spat back possibilities when probed, ranging from “Quintesson Trap” to “New Emerging Sentient Life”, and he deemed the risk low enough to check at least.

Prowl wasn’t a social mech, but he wasn’t as heartless as some soldiers said he was.

-

Jazz didn’t notice the ship until it was almost right above him, but he was still in his Mech Suit luckily enough. Using the larger bulk of this robotic body, he tried to wave the ship down using his long arms with a burst of frantic energy.

The Mech robot was psychically linked to himself, and so it was easy enough to arrange the machine’s body to look like a crazy person looking to hitchhike on the highway. He didn’t care though, only happy that someone, anyone, had found him.

It definitely wasn’t human, there were basically no ships of this design and even if there were none had launched yet. Another alien race didn’t seem too far off either, whoever they were. But really, they could be made of goo and Jazz would probably hug them in thanks.

He only really started to realize that this might be a bad thing when the ship landed, because that thing had some pretty big guns. Or maybe those weird energy blasters he saw before, and this was one of the aliens trying to colonize his planet.

Still though, he swallowed his fears and put on a brave face – even if no one else saw. He strutted up to the large ship like he owned it, and… waited.

The ship door opened soon enough, lowering down into a ramp, and out stepped… another robot?

Jazz blinked, suddenly very aware of his body inside of the mech suit, when he saw it… or them?

He didn’t know what to think, seeing the human-like face and odd proportions of their body. Was this another mech suit of some sort? Why did it have wheels?

Jazz had to snap out of it, because the robot started talking to him.

“Dobbqfkdp,” they said with a stoic demeanour, “xj F ql xpprjb vlr ibcq qeb afpqobpp pfdkxi? F txpk’q xtxob qebob txp olylqfz ifcb qefp cxo lrq fkql qeb dxixuv.”

Unfortunately, Jazz didn’t understand a word of it. The robot was holding the blaster on their hip, obviously ready to attack if Jazz proved hostile.

Hesitantly, he turned on his communications radio and spoke.

“Umm, sorry my guy, but I don’t know what you’re saying? I’m a bit new around here is all,” he said with a somewhat nervous laugh. He almost wished his own mech had a face, so he could express how he wasn’t hostile.

There was silence for a moment, the wind blowing by around them and picking up a barrage of maroon plantlife that looked like flowerpetals. It was serene to see, but Jazz kept his focus on the robot whose eyes were widening in surprise.

They then cleared their throat, deliberately taking their hand off the gun and offered something. Jazz stepped forwards hesitantly, seeing it was a small chip.

The robot gave a forced smile, obviously trying to not appear threatening but looking awkward instead. “Jv xmlildfbp. Bah-weep-Graaaghnah, weep ni ni bong.”

Somehow, against what was rational, the phrase they said made Jazz relax a little. It was a ridiculous nonsense in English, but somehow it made the offer seem less unknown.

Hesitantly, Jazz accepted the chip and plugged it into his mech. His eyes nearly bugged out when it started interfacing with his systems, almost pulling it out, before seeing what it was doing – it was scanning the coding and language of his mech’s sytems, pulling them out into a strange dictionary. Soon, it was done with a PING, and the chip ejected itself.

Holy shit, he thought, they have a fucking universal translator, like Star Trek!

The robot’s hand was extended again, obviously asking for the chip, and Jazz gingerly placed it back in the robot’s open palm – somehow having five fingers, which somehow was one of the first things Jazz noticed right now.

He was really overwhelmed, okay?!

The robot inserted the chip into the back of their head, and Jazz had a sinking realization.

Maybe he was jumping the gun, but the way the robot’s eyes went dim briefly as it processed the chip, made Jazz think is this an actual sentient robot?!

“Thank you, I suppose this must be very confusing for you,” the robot then said, in perfect English.

“Ugh… kind of?” He said, shrugging slightly which translated to his robot around him. It was a reflex hard to break, even if it was unnecessary for his mech to emote.

“We’ve known about aliens, but this is the first time I’m meeting one that doesn’t want to kill me,” he said, with a slight laugh at himself. “Sorry, this is really weird.”

“Well,” the mech said, giving a soft smile which looked much more genuine, “I’m sure my kind will be eager to welcome another robotic race to the galaxy.”

Jazz’s mind went blank, as he had two sudden realizations.

Holy shit, I was right, this is an actual sentient robot who is actually talking to me, quickly followed by, they think I’m also a robot.

This… might be messy.

Despite this, Jazz just gave a nod, “Well, I’m sure the feeling is mutual!” He said awkwardly.

“Now… can you help me off this planet?”

The robot gave a brisk nod. “Of course, it’s not uncommon for new space faring species to have transwarping incidents like these. Come with me, my people will help you get home.”

Without any better options, Jazz hopped onto the ship. As he went inside, he realized the whole thing was scaled to the giant robot he was with. Scaled to his mech as well, conveniently enough.

“So, could I get your name?” Jazz said, as he finally was getting ahold of his anxiety. At least he wasn’t dead, and he was going home, so suddenly this was feeling a lot less intimidating.

“Of course, I’m Prowl of Praxus. You?”

“Ummm, Jazz. Jazz Wilson,” he said.

“Very well, it’s nice to meet you Jazz Jazz Wilson,” Prowl said, and somehow that phrase, which wasn’t nearly the craziest part of this situation, got a bark of laughter from Jazz.

“Just Jazz is fine. It’s nice to meet you too Prowl.”

He got a nod of acknowledgement, as the ship flared to life and prepared for takeoff.

Jazz might need to sleep for a decade when he gets home.

(Translation for Prowl Earlier: Greetings, am I to assume you left the distress signal? I wasn’t aware there was robotic life this far out into the galaxy.)

I also won't apologize for using the transformers universal greeting :P, I love that thing. Canonically, it's a phrase so ridiculous that anyone who says it must mean no harm - which is why Jazz somewhat relaxes when he hears it despite not knowing what it means.

I hope you liked this short little story (≧∇≦)ﾉ it's more just exploring the concept than anything.

Also sorry for using the term mech or mecha wrong, I don't watch enough anime ( ´･･)ﾉ(._.`)

[inlovewithyoucest]

Since day one, I defended this game from all of the hate, telling people to stop being miserable, and give the game that isn’t even out yet a chance. I’ve been playing this game, and I hate to say it, but yeah, everyone hating on this game was right. My main issue with it is that it feels so performative.

The first red flag was in the goddamn character screen. I put in my name, my pronouns, where I live, and when I went to press the next button, the game screamed, “WAIT! YOU DIDN’T CHECK THIS BOX!” Why would I? It was grayed out! I know I’m not the only person who didn’t notice that box the first time they played. Hell, at one point, I started over, and I still didn’t notice that box! [Required to show you are committed to jump through hoops when asked.] Hahaha, so funny… And sums up this game so perfectly. You are not dating these people, you're doing shit to entertain them. It also perfectly shows off how this game loves to gaslight you, give you 'options' and if you choose the 'wrong option,' the game will gleefully call you an idiot when you had no fucking choice in the first place. Yes, I know, this is a meme game, but the creators want us to take it seriously. Or maybe they don't, I can't fucking tell.

This game has ‘content awareness warnings,’ which are just content/trigger warnings, nice try, and the content awareness warnings make NO SENSE. Betty, my favorite character in the game (though, honestly, I’m not even sure if she really is my favorite or not anymore now, considering I’m not finishing this game after hearing that everyone you romanced and realized fucking leave you. Have the creators of this game ever played a dating sim? Do they even like them?), and the only character I really want (along with 5 others, but I only really care about Betty) has a content awareness warning because she’s sexual. That’s it. Ben Hwa, the literal sex toy, also got a content warning for, no big shock, being sexual. Like, duh? They’re a bed and a sex toy, of course they’re sexual? Who is playing a dating sim not expecting some of the characters to be flirtatious and horny around you? Plus, the ‘sex’ in the game is so tame a mormon might have written it. It’s all ‘you spent a passionate night together,’ and that’s it. No splash art (speaking of splash art, WHERE’S THE SPLASH ART?) showing you fucking a character or anything, just a very mild description of supposed sex. Mac, the character who makes you delete your fanfiction to update them, only for them to not have changed at all (Yes, I knoooooooow, that’s the joooooooooooke, but it’s not funny) and then fuck off and say that they’re seeing other people doesn’t get a warning? Keith, the guy who is written like a joke, being very cartoony and obvious about his manipulation, gets a warning, but Mac, who realistically acts like a manipulator, gets no warning? Errol doesn’t get an extremist religion warning, Beverly doesn’t get an alcohol warning (Yes, the steam page has an alcohol warning, but it doesn't say it in the game) etc, and so on. I’m not saying I want content warnings EVERYWHERE, in fact, I hated them and I hated Skylar, but when you give us a game with content warnings in it, you better take them seriously. It just looks like you put them in here so you wouldn’t get shit for not having them.

Another character I can't stand is Holly. Omfg, Holly. The whole game was like, "She's a workaholic and that's bad! We need to help her stop working so much and relax!" I was like, yeah, of course, so, I do that, and guess what? Holly hates me afterwards! The game told me that this was the ONLY WAY to help her, and when I do that, the game turns around and goes, "WHAT THE FUCK, WHY DID YOU DO THAT? NOW, SHE'S OUT OF A JOB!" You told me this would help her, that's why!

If you like characters like Mac and Holly, then THAT’S OKAY! IT’S GREAT! WONDERFUL! FANTASTIC! I love shitty characters as much as the next person, this is NOT me saying you can’t like Mac or Holly or any of the characters in Date Everything, this is me saying that since you’re putting warnings in this game anyway, I think Mac and Holly should have been given a warning.

The game loves to pat itself on the back for being anti-capitalist, but they still had day one DLC and they brought in Brennan Lee Mulligan, you know, the anti-capitalist guy, to say some anti-capitalist stuff once or twice, and then never again. This game is all about quantity over quality. Yeah, you have big name voice actors, but you also, again, have Brennan Lee Mulligan, who can’t voice act. Every time Parker talked, I didn’t hear Parker, I heard Brennan. Like, it just really took me out of the story.

This game is filled with disabled characters, but there were no accessibility features. Where is the skip button? Where’s the auto button? Where’s the log? Where’s the dyslexia font? Where’s the option to make the subtitles different colors and sizes? Why does only some parts have subtitles, but not others? Where’s the key remapping? Where’s the text to speech? These are all basic things in visual novels and games as a whole, and they're not here. It feels so bare-bones.

"We have just as many words as Baldur's Gate 3!" Yeah, but the writing is so lackluster. Instead of comparing yourself to a different game, maybe use that energy to write a better game.

The tutorial is SO BAD! The whole time, it’s just like, “POINT THE GLASSES AT THINGS!” and that’s it. Like, did y’all know you can crouch in this game? I didn’t, not until my wife told me I could! Why didn’t the tutorial tell me that? It feels like the game doesn’t want you to play it! I still don’t know how to use the candies and I’ve tried everything to give people candies, but no, nothing.

The game is called DATE EVERYTHING, and I thought they meant you CAN date everything, not that you HAVE TO date everything. I don’t want to date everything! I’m ambiamorous, I can be polyamorous or monogamous, it doesn’t matter to me, but when the game talks about consent over and over and over again, and then pulls this shit, it makes me feel like they don’t really mean it. That's made even more apparent when you're trying to romance a character, and if you tell them no, even once, they suddenly hate you. Huh? This isn't how dating sims work. In fact, this isn't how dating works, or at the very least, it shouldn't. Telling someone no shouldn't lock me out of trying to date them. Where's the consent y'all love to talk about? I should be able to tell a character no without them throwing a tantrum.

The game loves to talk about healthy relationships, and then does this. Romance isn't about 'saying the right things' until someone loves you, and other dating sims understand that because other dating sims know how to write relationships, all kinds of relationships. Dating sims aren't just games where you click the flirty, romantic option, and the character falls in love with you, they are explorations of relationships. You can't really explore relationships when you can only do 5 things a day, and then go to bed, only to do it all over again and again and again. So fucking boring.

I love dating sims, and the thing with dating sims is that you wanna date people in the game. Most people who play dating sims want to date characters, fleshed out characters, that we can connect with. You can’t flesh out 100+ characters in the short span of playtime we’re given and definitely not with the limited dialogue. This was too ambitious. I don’t need 100+ characters to romance, I only need a few, a few who feel like people. These characters don’t feel like people. And before anyone says, “Well, of course they don’t, they’re inanimate objects,” the whole game is about turning them human, and they talk about how they’ve been alive this whole time! Or maybe they haven't, the writers couldn't decide. Yes, I know that if I don’t want to romance them, I can befriend them or make them my enemies, but I don’t wanna do that, either! I don’t want a personal relationship with everyone in this game!

Unlike other dating sims, Date Everything doesn’t let me play as me, I’m playing as a character that’s romancing a bunch of other characters who they barely interact with until the game is just like, “WELL, THEY’RE IN LOVE, TOTAL BESTIES, OR SWORN ENEMIES!” The writing is so bad.

The game kinda feels mean-spirited towards objectums, mean-spirited as a whole, really, like it was mocking you for playing a dating sim, while at the same time touting that it was a dating sim.

Sam, this faceless character you work with, all she does is mock and talk down to you for being attracted to inanimate objects, and it’s like, that’s the point of the game? You can poke fun at things you enjoy, but this didn't feel like that. The game's whole premise is that you date inanimate objects, but actually, it's not, because the main goal of the game is to turn all of your inanimate objects into humans. So, it isn't DATE EVERYTHING, it's date humans.

It just sucks because I wanted to like this game.

This is not a dating sim, I don't know what this is, but I am genuinely happy if you enjoyed it. I'm NOT calling for this game to be censored or removed, I would never, I'm just really disappointed and I'm tired of so many people telling me that this half-finished 'dating sim' is really good when it's really not.

Guess who just wrote almost 1000 words on why I don't like Date Everything? lmao

[daydreamerwonderkid]

I need to find that one fic where Bruce accidentally hits baby Tim with the Batmobile and Jason is sitting in the passenger seat in absolute shock that his father figure just killed a kid while Bruce has multiple heart attacks because he just hit a toddler-

[caramelpenguin]

reincarnation au coffee shop simons pov

reincarnation au coffee shop willes pov

What Wille has learnt, in all these lifetimes, is that they don't have a chance. Simon will inevitably die- sometimes his life ends without ever remembering Wilhelm. Most often, he does remember, and they only have a few days together before the world plots against them.

They were foolish this time. Simon remembered six days ago and he hadn't yet died. For one blissful moment, Wille had let himself believe it was over- the curse broken, the cycle done. They would live.

He nods at the palace guards before rushing down the dungeon corridor, the smell of candle wax and dust echoing in his ears, heart in his throat. He dashes past inmates who have been stored for months, past inmates who would probably never see light again, before arriving at the newly imprisoned, the people who slowly began to trust him through all their secret meetings. And there, Wille finds Simon curled in the shadows, alone in a cell towards the end.

"Simon," he breathes, falling onto his knees and clutching at the bars separating them, as if they'll dissolve under his desperation. He'd heard the rumours murmured around only fifteen minutes ago, how a rebel group had been caught. "Simon, what-"

Moonlight slinks through the small window in the cramped cell. Simon is glistening in sweat and dirt, face gaunt with exhaustion, clothes ripped at the seams, frayed at the edges. He crawls to the bars and clasps Wille’s hands tightly through the bars. His eyes are shining. "I have until tomorrow."

"What?"

"I'm first on the list. To be executed. The guillotine-"

"No!" Wille exclaims, the word erupting from him like a wound. He presses forward, as if he can break the iron bars. He slips his fingers through, touching Simon's cheek. "They- i don't understand- why-"

"They want me dead by 9 am tomorrow," Simon says, voice hollow. "That's around exactly seven days since I remembered everything. Our time's up."

“We could run,” Wille almost cries. He should be used to this pattern. “I’ll get you out. I’ll-” But the rest breaks against his throat. He knows it’s too late. The execution is scheduled. The wheels are already in motion. The machine is already hungry.

“You always say that.”

Wille swallows hard, fingers trembling. “But I mean it.”

“I know.” A soft smile ghosts over Simon’s face. “You always do.”

The stone floor is cold beneath them, history thick in the air. Wille wants to memorize every detail - the line of Simon’s jaw, the warmth of his breath, the calluses on his hands. In this lifetime, they had met in whispers and rebellion, kissed behind cellar doors lit by flickering flame. It was danger itself, plotting against the crown, but Simon thrived. Wille could do nothing but follow, pretending with every aching heartbeat that this was the first time they'd ever met.

“Can you stay?” Simon asks.

He nods. “Of Course”

Simon pulls him a little closer, voice shaking. “Don't let go.”

Wille bites down on a sob, presses his forehead against the bars again. “I don’t want you to go. I- I can’t keep losing you, Simon.”

He closes his eyes. “But you will.”

Wille doesn't let go. Not until the sun creeps into the sky as dawn approaches, as the guards unlock the cell door. Simon clings to his hands until the last second, until their fingers are forced apart. He goes screaming.

Wilhelm doesn't watch the execution, but he hears the guillotine fall.

[drowned-cypress]

“Do you mind if I play some music?” Robin asked, shuffling through her PDA.

“What is music?” Al-An asked.

Robin had to stop and think about that one. “It’s… a form of expression,” she answered, setting the PDA aside.

“Expression?”

“Communication. Art,” Robin clarified. “Music is a combination of sounds using rhythm or harmony or melody or words, or some combination of those, which attempts to communicate complex or elusive ideas and emotions.”

“Is this not already a function of your system of language?”

“Well, yes, but music isn’t nearly so precise, and there’s an aesthetic component to it as well.”

“If it is not precise, why utilize it?”

Robin frowned. “The value of music isn’t in its utility. Music is often very beautiful, though not always. Usually music is just… more visceral than language. We experience it on an emotional level.”

“It is instinctual?”

Robin opened her mouth, then shut it again. Oh. Al-An wanted an explanation from a biological standpoint. “There is evidence of a biological basis for music. There have been arguments that it was an adaptive trait for our ancestors–a means of social cohesion when living in large groups, to convey and regulate emotions. It’s a kind of communication that’s thought to be older than language. Some research suggests that language evolved from music.”

“I would be interested to hear an example.”

Robin shrugged and scrolled through her PDA’s menu system to put on one of her favorite songs. It was a mostly instrumental piece, but it had choral accompaniment. She always felt like it conveyed triumph in adversity and a kind of breathless elation, the joy of success. It made her feel like she was flying. She closed her eyes and listened. There was one part of the song that never failed to give her chills.

“I believe I understand,” Al-An commented once the song faded to silence. “It has an impact on your pulse and breathing. It makes you move differently. This response could come from a kind of synesthesia endemic to your species, connoting combinations of sound frequencies with specific emotions in your brain’s emotional centers.”

Robin fidgeted with her PDA as she thought about that. He had apparently been observing her reaction as much as he had been listening to the music. “You’re probably not wrong, but the experience isn’t universal. The emotional responses people have to specific pieces of music depend on the kind of music they’ve been exposed to in the past, especially during their developmental years. It’s like language in that respect: a learned social behavior. Also, musicality isn’t limited to just humans. Plenty of other animals enjoy, and even make music. For example, there are many species of bird native to Earth that produce complex melodies as part of their calls.”

“My people have encountered species with complex vocal calls before. We have determined that those calls often elicit an emotional response in other members of the species.”

Robin nodded. “Exactly. Humans are not unique in that respect.”

“So music is the vocal call of humans?”

Robin hesitated. “We don’t really think about it like that, but you wouldn’t exactly be wrong to interpret it that way. Music can serve some of the same evolutionary functions as animal calls. Though, while humans are incredible vocal mimics, we use instruments as well as our voices to make music. These days though, music is mostly viewed as entertainment.” Robin paused before asking, “Does your species have a call? Even if you don’t use it anymore, I’d be interested to know more about the evolutionary origins of your species.”

There was quiet as Al-An gave the question some thought. “No, we do not have a vocal call,” he finally said. “We did not evolve a biological means of creating complex vocalizations. However, before we evolved telepathy, our ancestors first expressed emotions through bioluminescence.”

Robin’s eyes widened. “I would like to see that. That sounds amazing. Do you still have bioluminescence? Do you make visual displays with it as an art form?”

“Yes, we have kept the bioluminescence, but while we can control it to a small degree, it is largely an involuntary part of what you would likely call our limbic system.”

“Ah, so more like body language.”

“That is accurate.”

There was a long moment of quiet between them as Robin thought about what Al-An had said. “Didn’t you describe the network as a kind of harmony of strings?”

“Ah. Yes, but in a metaphorical sense. I had not realized your species utilized harmonies.”

“But you understand the concept of harmony? That’s a musical concept.”

“It is a known phenomenon. My people find the mathematics of sympathetic resonance to be aesthetically pleasing.”

Robin blinked. They found the mathematics to be aesthetically pleasing, but they held no opinion on the actual sound? She supposed that explained why he didn’t really understand music. Or perhaps they did have their own music, but it was unrecognizable in comparison to what she had played. “But why use that metaphor?”

“It is…” Al-An made an inarticulate, frustrated noise. “Trying to describe the sensation of the network to you is trying to describe a sensory experience you have never had using a communication method that is imprecise and inadequate for the task. Your language does not contain a word for the sensation because no human has experienced it. The best I can do is use one of your own senses as metaphor. It is like describing your tactile ability to detect vibrations as similar to your ability to sense temperature. They may be somewhat similar, and serve similar functions, but are by no means the same.”

“Ah, so the network doesn’t sound like literal strings.”

“No, it does not sound like anything at all. But as a metaphor for the network, the concept of harmony is appealing. Each individual has their own frequency, and when grouped properly, interactions may produce resonance. Your sense of hearing also works better as a metaphor than any other sense you possess, because humans communicate primarily through hearing.”

Robin chewed her lip, thinking. The picture he painted of his species was very alien: they didn’t produce complex sounds, and communicated through telepathy and bioluminescence. It sounded fascinating, but she didn’t want their differences to become a wall between them. “Will you still be able to communicate with me once you get your own body?”

“You need not worry.” Al-An’s usual monotone carried a softness Robin was not used to hearing. He was getting better at picking up on her emotions. “Even if I could not calibrate my telepathy to a frequency you are able to receive, I would still be able to produce sounds in your range of hearing through my cybernetic components.”

Robin smiled. “Want to hear more music?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Yes,” Al-An replied with a kind of eagerness that made Robin’s smile widen. “Please, proceed.”

[youchangedmedestiel]

I feel the need to clarify that I have really written this fic.

It's not IA, I know I've said I didn't write it, that I was just the hands typing it BUT it's because of how easy it was for me to write it. Words just kept flowing and flowing and it changed me from my current wip. So, it was a nice feeling. No worries, I DID WRITE it.

[osamusriceballs]

Kinktober Day 13 <3

Bokuto x edging

Warnings: NSFW, fem reader

Words: ~1,6 k

Kinktober Masterlist II -> Next day

"You like that? Oh, I can feel you clench, you really like that."

A grin sports his lips as he dives into your pussy again, his tongue relentlessly licking along your folds and teasing your clit. His arms confidently grab your thighs and press you further down on his face, the sudden movement almost causing you to fall over as your hands nearly slip off the bed frame.

"Kou- slow down-" you whine, trying to sit up slightly, but his hands keep a firm grip on your legs and prevent you from moving away from his face. "Close already?" he rasps, attaching his lips on you again the second he finishes speaking. His tongue finds your entrance, ever so slightly pushing inside while his nose nudges your clit. The slurping sounds mix with his groans, your walls clenching every time he rubs against your clit a little harder. You know there is no stopping him once he has started eating you out- he could literally do it for hours, as he has proved to you in the past already. You feel the tension in your body, your high approaching way too fast under his thorough ministrations. He notices how you tense, his golden eyes observing you carefully when you clench repeatedly, and he slows his movements down, just enough for you to take a few steady breaths. "You taste so good, always so sweet for me."

Your hands clench around the wood, your body almost overwhelmed when he presses his tongue flatly on your core, it feels like a sweet torture to know that he won't make you cum just now, yet it still feels so good- but you can feel him slow down gradually until he's just sweetly kissing along your folds. His hand moves to your ass and squeezes the flesh before he slightly lifts you off him, his hot breath now only faintly meeting your clenching core.

You lift your body just enough for him to slide out from underneath you, and he wastes no time to turn your body towards him and to press his lips against yours. The salty taste of yourself meets your tongue, only spurring you on in kissing him even further and allowing him to explore your mouth. He groans, the kiss getting messier with every passing second, and his passion and lust are driving you crazy at this point. He slightly pulls back to look at you, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he leans down to kiss just below your ear. "You were close, right? I could feel it." The kisses turn into small bites, one of his hands now resting between your bare shoulder blades to hold you close. "Hmm, so close, Kou. Only you can make me feel so good." You grab his hair and let your head fall back while you enjoy the way he's kissing down to your chest, making sure to suck a small mark just belllow your collarbones. "I'll make you feel even better. Come here, baby."

Bokuto releases his grip around your body and grabs your hips to turn you around, which you willingly do. He presses your back against his bare front and keeps your legs spread with his hands, effectively exposing your cunt to the chilly air. You know exactly what he's planing to do, but you still find yourself arching your chest when he kneads your tits a few times, his thumbs brushing against your nipples ever so expertly, eliciting small moans from you, before his hands move down between your legs. His fingers quickly find your pussy, rubbing ever so softly along the folds and smearing the wetness along your folds. You gasp when two fingers slowly enter your hole, pumping at a steady and slow pace as he works them carefully into you. Your hips slightly buck into his hands, eager to have his palm rub against your clit and he immediately complies and presses his palm against you the second his fingers are buried knuckles deep inside of you. "That's it, baby, just take what you need," he proudly groans as he watches how his fingers disappear inside of your cunt, taking him so well.

He brings you close again with his steady pace, so deliciously close, yet still not enough. A needy whimper escapes your lips when he picks up his pace, his fingers curling gently inside of you to meet your sweet spot. He almost completely pulls his fingers out before he pushes them inside again, making sure you never feel empty when his fingers keep on fucking you. You feel the coil inside of you ready to snap, your body so, so ready to let go. Your head falls back against his shoulder, your mouth agape- but then he pulls them out for good this time.

"Not yet, baby." He brings his dirty hand up to your tit and squeezes it, smearing your arousal on your body. You're sensitive at this point, your pussy clenching repeatedly in need of more, in the need of your sweet release. "You're gonna cum on my cock tonight," he announces, his voice full of excitement as he has made his decision. "Please, Kou- fuck me then," you whine and wiggle your hips, and he kisses your shoulder one last time before he grabs your hips and presses your back down until your ass sticks out in the air.

You gasp for air when you feel the tip of his cock running along your slit, giving your clit, just enough friction to take your breath away whenever he rubs it a bit harder against you.

"Oh, baby, wanna put it in so bad, can I? Can I make you feel good?" He groans when he spreads your cheeks to look at your glistening cunt- almost like an invitation for him to keep going. "Do it, Kou, please put it in. Want your cock, need you so bad," your whole body is aching for him at this point, your pussy throbbing with need and making it impossible to think. A groan leaves his lips when he finally pushes his cock inside, slow and steady, but still determined and strong-willed. He always stretches you so well with his girth, the feeling so welcome and just what you need and you only manage to whine into the bed sheets as he keeps on filling you up. A groan leaves his lips when he bottoms out, and he stills for a few moments, his chest heaving heavily when he takes a few breaths. "Please, please, move-" you whine, feeling like you're going crazy with every second that he's making you wait any longer, and he finally does. His hips move hard against yours, moans leaving your lips at every particular deep thrust, but your body moves on autopilot, meeting each and every of his thrusts, which makes him dig his fingers deeper into your hips. You can't even speak at this point, your body getting closer to your high so fast after being edged for a few times already, yet you don't care, only encouraging him to move faster and deeper to get closer to your high.

His pace is punishing and fast at this point, the sound of skin clapping against skin filling the room, along with your moans and his groans. "Feels so good, feels so good-" you gasp, your body almost burning at this point, so close to stumbling over the edge.

"That's it, come with me, let go for me-" a desperation coats his voice that makes it impossible for you to stay sane any longer, and you find yourself cumming hard on his cock when he brings one hand to rub on your clit, giving you just enough pleasure to lose control. Your back arches further, allowing his cock to slide in even deeper while you moan his name, your walls clenching around him, making it almost impossible for him to move when your walls grip him like a vice.

"So good, baby, so good, keep cumming for me-" a groan gets stuck in his throat and he stops his movements when he's cumming too, your walls fluttering around him while he coats them white. He's calling your name, always so vocal when he's reaching his high, and fucks into you until he whines of overstimulation, but his hands never release their tight grip on your hips.

He slowly pulls out after a few moments, making sure to be soft and gentle, giving your ass a last squeeze before he lets himself fall to the bed dramatically. His hands make a grabby motion towards your body and you weakly comply and lay down on him with your head on his chest, basically feeling his strong and fast heartbeat under your hand. His arms wrap around you immediately, the warmth of his body so welcoming and cozy. "Was that okay?" he is quick to ask, while his arms soothingly rub your back.

"Always so good to me, Kou," you weakly whisper when manages to pull a blanket over the two of you, and he happily hums and presses a kiss to your head. "Wanna spoil you, baby. Wanna give you everything." He entangles his legs with yours, not leaving an inch of space between the two of you, yet still making sure you comfortably lay on top of him. "Get some rest, baby, I'll take care of you when you wake up." You tilt your head and look at him, his smile so bright that it rivals the sun. You weakly whisper something against his chest, and his smile widens when he understands and responds.

"I love you too, baby."

[itsnobodysproblem]

Ok well. Exactly one person said i should post these so. @theverycoolfish here they are

Sherlock and Co fic recs that I initially compiled for a friend of mine

Very subjective. Most of these are hurt/comfort.

I did attempt an order but it ended up an ambiguous mix of when I read them, when they take place and who wrote them so ehh. Yeah.

Overworked And Underslept, I Think by holyflyingswisscheese

Someone heard "Sherlock hasn't been feeling well" in reig and ran with it, this is the backstory

It's... So good… And it’s one of the first sh&co fics I read.

4k

seventy-four by SupposedToBeWriting (aka @organchordsandlightning )

Early days, they don't know how important they are/ will be to each other yet.

John is thrown off a balcony

(Such a good mix of lighthearted and angsty)

(Contains the funniest line I’ve heard in any Sh&Co fic)

4k

The Dancing Men: Part Four by dykeiel

SOOSOSO GOOD THE PERFECT FIC TO READ AFTER DANC IDK I LOVED IT

They talk!!!!

9k

The New War by ProjectOrthus

Post-Danc fic. Both of them are rattled. John's nightmares are back.

I don't remember to tell you more but I did leave this comment:

"Oh man... That was amazing. Wow. Just. Really.. wow"

8k

hey girl why are you dreaming about losing me every night by consistentjpw

POST DANC

There is One Quote in this fic...... Bro. BRO.

1k

hey girl why are you dreaming about my hands every night by consistentjpw

John's in love. Sherlock thinks he's mad at him :))

So you know how cringe John was in the early days? One thing he says in this fic rivals every cringe thing we ever heard from him. You have been warned.

I don't remember much about it tbh but I do remember I really liked it so

8k

hebb's law (anonymous)

Sherlock falls. Watson catches him. But he can't hold on.

Reichenbach feels.

Honestly so good wtf

3k

schrödinger's law (anonymous)

Fix-it fic to some other fic

John's dying. Dead already. Sherlock's trying to keep him alive.

2k

[Yes, I see you, person who read murphy’s law, it’s not on here because I haven’t read it yet. I know, I know. I will.]

No Words Needed by Coyote_Writes

Sherlock experiencing a dissociative episode. He goes and finds John.

Very well written. The prose, I mean.

1k

The Dying Detective by blush_bite

What it says on the tin. The Dying Detective story but make it sh&co.

15k

it only takes a taste (of your shoulder) by @lxvenderjewel

5+1 things but the things are Sherlock biting John lol

180 mood change at one point you have been warned

3k

much too blind to see (the damage that he's done) by lxvenderjewel

The girls are fightinnnn

Actually Sherlock is not, John just. Doesn't communicate his feelings. It's good, I remember I liked it

3k

And you know obviously you could 👀 check out my fics, at the moment there’s two, Ghost of a Christmas Present (4k, super lighthearted, lost christmas gift) and Untethered (8k, very very angsty but it all ends well), but there will be more.

Mmmkay byeeee