#I don’t know why I made this a week long

[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

Fandom can do a little gatekeeping. As a treat.

So I finally decided to archive-lock my fics on AO3 last night. I’ve been considering it since the AI scrape last year, but the tipping point was this whole lore.fm debacle, coupled with some thoughts I’ve been thinking regarding Fandom These Days in general and Fandom As A Community in particular. So I wanna explain why I waited so long, why I locked my stuff up now, and why I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a-okay with making it harder for people to see my stories.

Lurkers really are great, tho

I’m a chronic lurker, and have been since I started hanging out on the internet as a teen in the 00s. These days it’s just cuz I don’t feel a need to socialize very often, but back then it was because I was shy and knew I was socially awkward. Even if I made an account, I’d spend months lurking on message boards or forums or Livejournals, watching other people interact and getting a feel for that particular community’s culture and etiquette before I finally started interacting myself. And y’know, that approach saved me a lot of embarrassment. Over the course of my lurking on any site, there was always some other person who’d clearly joined up five minutes after learning the place existed, barged in without a care for their behavior, and committed so many social faux pas that all the other users were immediately annoyed with them at best. I learned a lot observing those incidents. Lurk More is Rule 33 of the internet for very good reason.

Lurking isn’t bad or weird or creepy. It’s perfectly normal. I love lurking. It’s hard for me to not lurk - socializing takes a lot of energy out of me, even via text. (Heck it took 12 hours for me to write this post, I wish I was kidding--) Occasionally I’ll manage longer bouts of interaction - a few weeks posting here, almost a year chatting in a discord there - but I’m always gonna end up going radio silent for months at some point. I used to feel bad about it, but I’ve long since made peace with the fact that it’s just the way my brain works. I’m a chronic lurker, and in the long term nothing is going to change that.

The thing with being a chronic lurker is that you have to accept that you are not actually seen as part of the community you are lurking in. That’s not to say that lurkers are unimportant - lurkers actually are important, and they make up a large proportion of any online community - but it’s simple cause and effect. You may think of it as “your community”, but if you’ve never said a word, how is the community supposed to know you exist? If I lurked on someone’s LJ, and then that person suddenly friendslocked their blog, I knew that I had two choices: Either accept that I would never be able to read their posts again, or reach out to them and ask if I could be added to their friends list with the full understanding that I was a rando they might not decide to trust. I usually went with the first option, because my invisibility as a lurker was more important to me than talking to strangers on the internet.

Lurking is like sitting on a park bench, quietly people-watching and eavesdropping on the conversations other people are having around you. You’re in the park, but you’re not actively participating in anything happening there. You can see and hear things that you become very interested in! But if you don’t introduce yourself and become part of the conversation, you won’t be able to keep listening to it when those people walk away. When fandom migrated away from Livejournal, people moved to new platforms alongside their friends, but lurkers were often left behind. No one knew they existed, so they weren’t told where everyone else was going. To be seen as part of a fandom community, you need to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known, etc. etc.

There’s nothing wrong with lurking. There can actually be benefits to lurking, both for the lurkers and the communities they lurk in. It’s just another way to be in a fandom. But if that is how you exist in fandom--and remember, I say this as someone who often does exist that way in fandom--you need to remember that you’re on the outside looking in, and the curtains can always close.

I’ve always been super sympathetic to lurkers, because I am one. I know there’s a lot of people like me who just don’t socialize often. I know there’s plenty of reasons why someone might not make an account on the internet - maybe they’re nervous, maybe they’re young and their parents don’t allow them to, maybe they’re in a bad situation where someone is monitoring their activity, maybe they can only access the internet from public computer terminals. Heck, I’ve never even logged into AO3 on my phone--if I’m away from my computer I just read what’s publicly available. 

I know I have people lurking on my fics. I know my fics probably mean a lot to someone I don’t even know exists. I know this because there are plenty of fics I love whose writers don’t know I exist.

I love my commenters personally; I love my lurkers as an abstract concept. I know they’re there and I wish them well, and if they ever de-lurk I love them all the more.

So up until last year I never considered archive-locking my fic, because I get it. The AI scraping was upsetting, but I still hesitated because I was thinking of lurkers and guests and remembering what it felt like to be 15 and wondering if it’d be worth letting a stranger on the internet know I existed and asking to be added to their friends list just so I could reread a funny post they made once.

But the internet has changed a lot since the 00s, and fandom has changed with it. I’ve read some things and been doing some thinking about fandom-as-community over the last few years, and reading through the lore.fm drama made me decide that it’s time for me to set some boundaries.

I still love my lurkers, and I feel bad about leaving any guest commenters behind, especially if they’re in a situation where they can’t make an account for some reason. But from here on out, even my lurkers are going to have to do the bare minimum to read my fics--make an AO3 account.

Should we gatekeep fandom?

I’ve seen a few people ask this question, usually rhetorically, sometimes as a joke, always with a bit of seriousness. And I think…yeah, maybe we should. Except wait, no, not like that--

A decade ago, when people talked about fandom gatekeeping and why it was bad to do, it intersected with a lot of other things, mainly feminism and classism. The prevalent image of fandom gatekeeping was, like, a man learning that a woman likes Star Wars and haughtily demanding, “Oh, yeah? Well if you’re REALLY a fan, name ten EU novels” to belittle and dismiss her, expecting that a “real fan” would have the money and time to be familiar with the EU, and ignoring the fact that male movie-only fans were still considered fans. The thing being gatekept was the very definition of “being a fan” and people’s right to describe themselves as one.

That’s not what I mean when I say maybe fandom should gatekeep more. Anyone can call themselves a fan if they like something, that’s fine. But when it comes to the ability to enjoy the fanworks produced by the fandom community…that might be something worth gatekeeping.

See, back in the 00s, it was perfectly common for people to just…not go on the internet. Surfing the web was a thing, but it was just, like, a fun pastime. Not everyone did it. It wasn’t until the rise of social media that going online became a thing everyone and their grandmother did every day. Back then, going on the internet was just…a hobby.

So one of the first gates online fandom ever had was the simple fact that the entire world wasn’t here yet.

The entire world is here now. That gate has been demolished.

And it’s a lot easier to find us now. Even scattered across platforms, fandom is so centralized these days. It isn’t a network of dedicated webshrines and forums that you can only find via webrings anymore, it’s right there on all the big social media sites. AO3 didn’t set out to be the main fanfic website, but that’s definitely what it’s become. It’s easy for people to find us--and that includes people who don’t care about the community, and just want “content.”

Transformative fandom doesn’t like it when people see our fanworks as “content”. “Content” is a pretty broad term, but when fandom uses it we’re usually referring to creative works that are churned out by content creators to be consumed by an audience as quickly as possible as often as possible so that the content creator can generate revenue. This not-so-new normal has caused a massive shift in how people who are new to fandom view fanworks--instead of seeing fic or art as something a fellow fan made and shared with you, they see fanworks as products to be consumed.

Transformative fandom has, in general, always been a gift economy. We put time and effort into creating fanworks that we share with our fellow fans for free. We do this so we don’t get sued, but fandom as a whole actually gets a lot out of the gift economy. Offer your community a story, and in return you can get comments, build friendships, or inspire other people to write things that you might want to read. Readers are given the gift of free stories to read and enjoy, and while lurking is fine, they have the choice to engage with the writer and other readers by leaving comments or making reclists to help build the community.

And look, don’t get me wrong. People have never engaged with fanfic as much as fan writers wish they would. There has always been “no one comments anymore” wank. There have always been people who only comment to say “MORE!” or otherwise demand or guilt trip writers into posting the next chapter. But fandom has always agreed that those commenters are rude and annoying, and as those commenters navigate fandom they have the chance to learn proper community etiquette.

However, now it seems that a lot of the people who are consuming fanworks aren’t actually in the community. 

I won’t say “they aren’t real fans” because that’s silly; there’s lots of ways to be a fan. But there seem to be a lot of fans now who have no interest in fandom as a community, or in adhering to community etiquette, or in respecting the gift economy. They consume our fics, but they don’t appreciate fan labor. They want our “content”, but they don’t respect our control over our creations.

And even worse--they see us as a resource. We share our work for free, as a gift, but all they see is an open-source content farm waiting to be tapped into. We shared it for free, so clearly they can do whatever they want with it. Why should we care if they feed our work into AI training datasets, or copy/paste our unfinished stories into ChatGPT to get an ending, or charge people for an unnecessary third-party AO3 app, or sell fanbindings on etsy for a profit without the author’s permission, or turn our stories into poor imitations of podfics to be posted on other platforms without giving us credit or asking our consent, while also using it to lure in people they can datascrape for their Forbes 30 Under 30 company? 

And sure, people have been doing shady things with other people’s fanworks since forever. Art theft and reposting has always been a big problem. Fanfic is harder to flat-out repost, but I’ve heard of unauthorized fic translations getting posted without crediting the original author. Once in…I think the 2010s? I read a post by a woman who had gone to some sort of local bookselling event, only to find that the man selling “his” novel had actually self-published her fanfic. (Wish I could find that one again, I don’t even remember where I read it.)

But aside from that third example, the thing is…as awful as fanart/writing theft is, back in the day, the main thing a thief would gain from it was clout. Clout that should rightfully go to the creators who gifted their work in the first place, yeah, but still. Just clout. People will do a lot of hurtful things for clout, but fandom clout means nothing outside of fandom. Fandom clout is not enough to incentivize the sort of wide-scale pillaging we’re seeing from community outsiders today.

Money, on the other hand… Well, fandom’s just a giant, untapped content farm, isn’t it? Think of how much revenue all that content could generate.

Lurkers are a normal and even beneficial part of any online community. Maybe one day they’ll de-lurk and easily slide into place beside their fellow fans because they already know the etiquette. Maybe they’re active in another community, and they can spread information from the community they lurk in to the community they’re active in. At the very least, they silently observe, and even if they’re not active community members, they understand the community.

Fans who see fanworks as “content” don’t belong in the same category as lurkers. They’re tourists. 

While reading through the initial Reddit thread on the lore.fm situation, I found this comment:

[ID: Reddit User Cabbitowo says: ... So in anime fandoms we have a word called tourist and essentially it means a fan of a few anime and doesn't care about anime tropes and actively criticizes them. This is kind of how fandoms on tiktok feel. They're touring fanfics and fanart and actively criticizes tropes that have been in the fandom since the 60s. They want to be in a fandom but they don't want to engage in fandom 

OP totallymandy responds: Just entered back into Reddit after a long day to see this most recent reply. And as a fellow anime fan this making me laugh so much since it’s true! But it sorta hurts too when the reality sets in. Modern fandom is so entitled and bratty and you’d think it’s the minors only but that’s not even true, my age-mates and older seem to be like that. They want to eat their cake and complain all whilst bringing nothing to the potluck… :/ END ID]

-

“Tourist” is an apt name for this sort of fan. They don’t want to be part of our community, and they don’t have to be in order to come into our spaces and consume our work. Even if they don’t steal our work themselves, they feel so entitled to it that they’re fine with ignoring our wishes and letting other people take it to make AI “podfics” for them to listen to (there are a lot of comments on lore.fm’s shutdown announcement video from people telling them to just ignore the writers and do it anyway). They’ll use AI to generate an ending to an unfinished fic because they don’t care about seeing “the ending this writer would have given to the story they were telling”, they just want “an ending”. For these tourist fans, the ends justify the means, and their end goal is content for them to consume, with no care for the community that created it for them in the first place.

I don’t think this is confined to a specific age group. This isn’t “13-year-olds on Wattpad” or “Zoomers on TikTok” or whatever pointless generation war we’re in now. This is coming from people who are new to fandom, whose main experience with creative works on the internet is this new content culture and who don’t understand fandom as a community. That description can be true of someone from any age group.

It’s so easy to find fandom these days. It is, in fact, too easy. Newcomers face no hurdles or challenges that would encourage them to lurk and observe a bit before engaging, and it’s easy for people who would otherwise move on and leave us alone to start making trouble. From tourist fans to content entrepreneurs to random people who just want to gawk, it’s so easy for people who don’t care about the fandom community to reap all of its fruits. 

So when I say maybe fandom should start gatekeeping a bit, I’m referring to the fact that we barely even have a gate anymore. Everyone is on the internet now; the entire world can find us, and they don’t need to bother learning community etiquette when they do. Before, we were protected by the fact that fandom was considered weird and most people didn’t look at it twice. Now, fandom is pretty mainstream. People who never would’ve bothered with it before are now comfortable strolling in like they own the place. They have no regard for the fandom community, they don’t understand it, and they don’t want to. They want to treat it just like the rest of the content they consume online.

And then they’re surprised when those of us who understand fandom culture get upset. Fanworks have existed far longer than the algorithmic internet’s content. Fanworks existed long before the internet. We’ve lived like this for ages and we like it.

So if someone can’t be bothered to respect fandom as a community, I don’t see why I should give them easy access to my fics.

Think of it like a garden gate

When I interact with commenters on my fic, I have this sense of hospitality.

The comment section is my front porch. The fic is my garden. I created my garden because I really wanted to, and I’m proud of it, and I’m happy to share it with other people. 

Lots of people enjoy looking at my garden. Many walk through without saying anything. Some stop to leave kudos. Some recommend my garden to their friends. And some people take the time to stop by my front porch and let me know what a beautiful garden it is and how much they’ve enjoyed it. 

Any fic writer can tell you that getting comments is an incredible feeling. I always try to answer all my comments. I don’t always manage it, but my fics’ comment sections are the one place that I manage to consistently socialize in fandom. When I respond to a comment, it feels like I’m pouring out a glass of lemonade to share with this lovely commenter on my front porch, a thank you for their thank you. We take a moment to admire my garden together, and then I see them out. The next time they drop by, I recognize them and am happy to pour another glass of lemonade.

My garden has always been open and easy to access. No fences, no walls. You just have to know where to find it. Fandom in general was once protected by its own obscurity, an out-of-the-way town that showed up on maps but was usually ignored.

But now there’s a highway that makes it easy to get to, and we have all these out-of-towner tourists coming in to gawk and steal our lawn ornaments and wonder if they can use the place to make themselves some money.

I don’t care to have those types trampling over my garden and eating all my vegetables and digging up my flowers to repot and sell, so I’ve put up a wall. It has a gate that visitors can get through if they just take the time to open it.

Admittedly, it’s a small obstacle. But when I share my fics, I share them as a gift with my fellow fans, the ones who understand that fandom is a community, even if they’re lurkers. As for tourist fans and entrepreneurs who see fic as content, who have no qualms ignoring the writer’s wishes, who refuse to respect or understand the fandom community…well, they’re not the people I mean to share my fic with, so I have no issues locking them out. If they want access to my stories, they’ll have to do the bare minimum to become a community member and join the AO3 invite queue.

And y’know, I’ve said a lot about fandom and community here, and I just want to say, I hope it’s not intimidating. When I was younger, talk about The Fandom Community made me feel insecure, and I didn’t think I’d ever manage to be active enough in fandom spaces to be counted as A Member Of The Community. But you don’t have to be a social butterfly to participate in fandom. I’ll always and forever be a chronic lurker, I reblog more than I post, I rarely manage to comment on fic, and I go radio silent for months at a time--but I write and post fanfiction. That’s my contribution.

Do you write, draw, vid, gif, or otherwise create? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you leave comments? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you curate reclists? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you maintain a fandom blog or fuckyeah blog? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you provide a space for other fans to convene in? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you regularly send asks (off anon so people know who you are)? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you have fandom friends who you interact with? Congrats, you're a community member.

There’s lots of ways to be a fan. Just make sure to respect and appreciate your fellow fans and the work they put in for you to enjoy and the gift economy fandom culture that keeps this community going.

[444lec33]

The Arrangement // Mafia!Lando x Reader Pt. 2

Part 1 can be found here

Summary: Your engagement party is underway and Lando has a surprise up his sleeve

WC: 2k

No descriptions of reader's physical appearance

Warnings: Lando being extremely soft?? Arranged marriage AU, terrible parents

Author's note: I'm kind of obsessed with the way this turned out. Happy reading everyone 🧡

Exactly one week later you found yourself the center of attention at the lavish engagement party your family and the Norris clan planned. The night dragged on at a snail’s pace as you made your rounds talking to dozens of people you didn’t know but had to invite for your families’ sake. What surprised you was how little of your fiancé you’d seen thus far. The two of you had barely spoken except for sharing a hug and exchanging pleasantries for the nosy onlookers that filled the grand space. Even though your interaction was brief, Lando didn’t miss the chance to compliment your choice of outfit for the occasion.

“Any particular reason why you aren’t wearing the dress I picked for you? You know, the one your father and I spent thousands of dollars on.” Leave it to your mother to make her biggest priority her desires instead of yours even on a night that was supposedly about you. You sighed as your mother tugged you close to her leaning in and whispering while maintaining a smile for the guests. “We don’t want the Norris family getting the wrong idea about you and pulling the plug on all this. You know your father and I will never forgive you if you ruin this for us.” 

You beckoned over a passing waiter and downed a flute of expensive champagne in one gulp. “Well my future husband had nothing but good things to say about my choice of dress.”

You could feel your mother’s energy shift at this new information. Of course she’d be satiated as long as nothing got in the way of her scheming. “Well in that case, good choice.” 

Your rolled your eyes and put space between yourself and your mother, seeking out the company of people who’d actually care about you. Your friend Hannah was more than happy to oblige your need for camaraderie. It wasn’t long before the rest of your girl friends joined in on the gathering. 

Your friend Elisa joined the group next. She couldn’t help but laugh as she shared the juicy intel she was clearly holding in. “Your boyfriend is outside,” she wiggled her eyebrows at you. Well now you definitely had the attention of the your entire bridal party. 

There was a sly smirk on your face as you put your glass to your lips. “Which one?”

A series of laughs erupted among you all as you wondered which of your flings would be stupid enough to show up here of all places, especially with the threat of crossing paths with Lando and his men. Probably Charles. No, definitely Charles. 

The new knowledge gave you an added layer of confidence you planned to carry throughout the night. Even though you’d spent the week effectively ended things with all the men in your contacts it was still nice to know they were having trouble letting go of you. Besides the Ferrari Pista, you wondered what other luxury cars lingered outside the venue hoping to act as your getaway car. 

It wasn’t long before your father approached you all, reminding you this was an engagement party. Your engagement party, not some girls’ night out. You couldn’t be bothered to talk back so you simply obliged, quickly finding yourself sharing conversations with everyone from your future in-laws to other prominent members of the lucrative world you and Lando belonged to. The most serene moment of the night came when you sat with your grandmother. She was the person you were closest to in this world so the solace she provided you was no surprise. 

You rested your head on her shoulder and closed your eyes thankful for her proximity. “My little angel is all grown up now.” 

“And yet I still feel like a child with everyone making all my decisions for me…”

Your grandmother chuckled, ready to scold you. “Maybe you’ve forgotten but I was in your shoes once. You know your grandfather and I came together this exact same way.” You groaned hating the fact that she was right. A lecture was definitely coming your way. 

“Do you think I loved your grandfather?”

“Of course.”

“And do you think he loved me?”

“Of course he did! More than anything.” Anyone who’d ever spent time with your grandparents was well aware of the deeply genuine love shared between them. 

“It didn’t happen overnight but we learned to love each other. I know you are about as stubborn as they come but I want you to listen to me. If the two of you are open with one another you never know what may be in store. Then maybe when you’re my age you’ll be the one giving your granddaughter advice from your own love story.” 

Her words hung heavy in your mind. There wasn’t a chance to respond before a recognizable form approached the secluded area you and your grandma inhabited. You tried not to stare as he sauntered over, his well tailored suit giving him an appearance nearly as illegal as his family business. 

“Ladies, I hope I’m not interrupting,” Lando began standing in front of you both. Your grandmother swatted your knee underneath the table knowing it was all she could do to keep a sly remark from leaving your lips. 

“No need to apologize, honey.” Your grandmother reached out, giving Lando’s hand a gentle squeeze. 

“Nana, would it be possible for me to steal your granddaughter for a moment.” Did he just call your grandmother ‘Nana'? The sweet smile gracing her face was enough to show that Lando’s charm had unmatchable reach. 

“It won’t be long before she’s all yours and I’m the one asking for time with her.” Although her tone was lighthearted you knew there was merit to her words. 

Lando was quick to quell your grandmother’s concern, assuring she’d be welcome as often and whenever she pleased once the two of you started your life together. Lando pulled your grandmother in for a hug that honestly made your heart swell. Maybe he wasn’t as cold as you’d written him off to be. He laced his fingers through yours, his authoritative grip dragging you through the crowd of guests who couldn’t help but ogle the golden couple of the night. 

“Where the hell are you taking me?” You questioned as Lando pulled you out of the venue and into the night air. He gave a nod to his men that littered the lawn letting them know the two of you would be needing privacy. 

The light of the full moon was the only thing illuminating your faces as Lando finally spoke. 

“Did you think about our chat from the other night?” Just ripped the bandage right off. 

You knew exactly which aspect of your talk he wanted answers for but you weren’t going to give in that easily. 

“Yes actually,” you tilted your head at him. “Pretty hard to forget you accosting me in my mother’s garden and shoving your tongue down my throat.” 

“Accosted,” Lando scoffed in disbelief. “I did not accost you into doing anything. In fact, I recall you being a pretty involved participant in the entire ordeal.” 

“Hmm, whatever helps you sleep at night,” you conceded, hating the enjoyment he felt at rehashing your last link. 

“But seriously, what did you decide?” 

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes before you began. You were going to have to admit you were giving into Lando and his proposal. “I gave it some thought.” You but your lip and found yourself picking at your nails feeling more awkward than ever. “I’m in. Let’s give it a try.” 

Lando’s eyes were the size of saucers. Your words had clearly caught him off guard. Of course he’s spent the last seven days hoping he’d win you over but he never expected your turn around to come so quickly. 

“Are- are you serious?” You couldn’t ignore the hopeful glimmer in his eyes as he scanned your face praying to God this wasn’t another one of your jokes. Knowing that you’d caught him off guard was enough to make this all worth it. 

“Yep, I’m in. Don’t make me say it again or I might change my mind.” Lando nodded seriously willing to do whatever you said at this point. 

You stretched your hand out towards your fiancé for a handshake. “Best business deal you’ve ever made, huh?”

Lando ignored your offer of a handshake, instead opting to lace his fingers with yours. “I was hoping this would be more pleasure than business.” His eyes were bore into yours, hoping to get a rise out of you. His thumb brushed softly against your knuckles. 

“I’ve got something for you. Can’t have you thinking I don’t live up to my word.” You were going to question what he was on about but then Lando did something you didn’t expect. Your gaze was fixed on him as he lowered himself to one knee before you. He took your hand in his as you started back at him bewildered. Was he really doing this?

“You and I know this situation is far from conventional but that doesn’t mean I respect it or you any less.” Lando reached into his jacket to reveal a dark velvet box. His thumb moved to open it as your breath caught in your lungs. Your full name rolled off his lips easily as he revealed the most beautiful ring you’d ever seen. “Since we’re actually doing this I don’t want to skip out on any steps. I know how you feel about all this but the fact that we’re both willing to try must mean something.”

He spoke your name in a dreamy way as his gorgeous eyes fixed on you. “Will you marry me?” 

Your eyes closed and your throat felt dry as your brain began to comprehend that Lando wasn’t the man you’d always assumed him to be. If your gut feeling was right, you couldn’t have been more wrong about the man your family was selling you off to. 

“I mean technically I don’t really have a choice,” you trialed off with a playful tone. What the hell. “Yes Lando, I’ll marry you.” 

Lando couldn’t contain his excitement as he sprung forward pulling you into a passionate kiss. You could feel the smile on his lips as the intimate moment deepened. You were the one to to pull away first, your hands gently pushing against his chest. 

“Not that I didn’t enjoy the kiss or anything but can I have my ring?” 

Lando patted his pockets looking for the ring before he found the small box cast aside in the grass. He was so engrossed in you that he couldn’t focus on anything else. An honest smile spread over your face as you looked at the ring he’d slipped onto your finger. He listened. Like really listened. The ring was better than you ever could have imagined, the gold band perfectly encasing a large, elegant Dutch marquise stone. You were in a trance as you admired your engagement ring. 

“Alright I should probably get you back inside before people start asking questions.” Just as before you found yourself being draped in Lando’s suit jacket, the scent of rich cologne on his lapels causing feelings you’d rather ignore to stir in your stomach. “Wouldn’t want your parents thinking I was out here ruining your innocence.”

Your eyebrows raised at his words. “What the hell makes you think I’m innocent?” A smirk was plastered across your face as your fiancé guided you back towards the venue. “Lando, there’s so much you have to learn about me.”

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎

Tags: @jfang97 @notturlover @dr4g0ngirl @noreri @randomnessis-mine-me

[natashaslesbian]

For You

Summary: You’ve been going through a rough patch with your moms for a while, after a big argument you finally tell them how you feel.

Word Count: 1.2k

Parings: (Wandanat x Daughter!Reader)

Warnings: none I believe :)

————

The walls shook as you slammed your bedroom door shut, the tell tale sign of another fight with your moms. Most teenagers have arguments with their parents, who usually have high expectations of them. But being the daughter of the Black Widow and the Scarlett Witch meant that your expectations were set much higher. Growing up your moms were your best friends, you spent every second with them, it was the three of you against the world. You had a magical childhood and all your school friends were jealous of your home life, however after your 13th birthday Natasha and Wanda decided that it was time for you to start training alongside Peter. It was nothing extreme, a few hours a week in the gym and some basic self defence. As Peter progressed you soon fell behind, not only disappointing your teammates but also your mothers.

You let out a sigh as you slumped down onto your bed, rolling over to face the wall incase of any unwelcome visitors. You replayed the row in your head, Natasha’s words loud and clear in your mind. “Why can’t you be more like Peter, he’s doing so well, he puts so much work into his training, he’s not lazy like you!” She had shouted across the room. That was your final straw. If only they knew the effort you held within you, they just didn’t care about it as it had nothing to do with being an avenger. As a kid you loved to draw and paint, and as you got older it became a favourite hobby. At first your moms would take your cute little drawings and put them around the compound to be admired but as they transitioned back into work and long missions they didn’t really have the time to appreciate your art anymore and very quickly they forgot about your favourite activity.

A knock at the door arrived as another tear slipped down your cheek. “Go away” you huffed. Shortly after came a gentle click of your door. “Who said you could come in?” You asked. Your mom didn’t say anything just yet, she simply walked over to your bed and took a seat next to you. “Y/n” Wanda said “I- I’m sorry. I hate when we fight kiddo” she said as she reached for your hair. “Mama started it” you replied as you pushed away her touch. “Baby mama didn’t mean what she said. We had words after you left and she knows she was wrong, she’s gone for a walk to calm down” your mom said as she shuffled closer. “And I know that I was wrong too” she said, causing you to look up at her. “I shouldn’t have shouted like I did” Wanda said with a hint of guilt in her eyes. Your mom never usually shouted at you, she was normally the calm one although still echoing everything your mama was saying.

Wanda’s vulnerability made you think for a moment. You had always hidden how you truly felt, putting on a tough act so you didn’t disappoint your moms even further. When Wanda had come to see you, you were prepared for round two with her. But the delicacy she had entered the room with caused something in you to shift. “Why am I not good enough for you and mama?” You cried out, the sight breaking Wanda’s heart. “Baby don’t say that!” Your mom cooed as she pulled you up into her embrace “you are good enough for us darling” she said. “You just want me to be like Peter” you sobbed “you’d rather him be your kid” you tried to push away from Wanda’s hold, but she tightened her grip around you, “we don’t think that y/n” she said. “I know I’m not as good as him at combat and weapons and stuff but I am good at other things! Why can’t you see that? I’m trying so hard to make you proud of me but nothing I ever do is good enough!” You cried.

Without realising, a second pair of arms had been wrapped around you, a steady hand was trailing through your hair. “Mama?” You mumbled as you looked up to see her green eyes. “I’m never gonna be good enough for you am I?” You said as you melted into her arms. Natasha had been stood outside your room for a few minuets listing to yours and Wanda’s conversation. She felt so guilty when she heard what you said and came running to your side, crying along with you. “Oh my little spider, look at me” Nat said as she cupped your cheeks, bringing your gaze towards her. “I promise you’re enough baby girl, I’m so sorry I made you feel like you weren’t. Your mom and I are so proud of you but we’ve been blinded by our own want for you to become an agent. But it’s not what you want is it?” She asked. You looked at her confused for a moment, finally starting to calm down again. “Your artwork” Natasha whispered.

“Mama you remembered?” You asked. “Of course we did sweetie” Natasha said “baby you’re a fantastic little artist we loved when you used to bring us all your drawings” Wanda said as she brushed your hair back from your face. “But I thought you didn’t care anymore, you just wanted me to focus on being an avenger” you cried “you never had any time for me” you mumbled as you laid in your moms arms. “You’re right baby girl and mama and I are so sorry” Wanda said as she kissed your forehead. “Y/n being an agent and an anger is all your mom and I have ever known” Natasha said “we’ve not put being mothers first and we know that now. We thought we were putting you first by pushing you into training but we weren’t and we are so sorry” she finished. You sat up so both your moms could see you, you took a deep breath as you prepared to tell them the truth “mom, mama” you whispered “I don’t wanna be an avenger” you cried out “I’m sorry” your moms both scooped you up immediately, both now crying with you.

“We know that now sweetie” Wanda calmly said “you don’t have to be sorry” she said. “I don’t wanna disappoint you” you mumbled as you wiped your nose “dekta you could never disappoint us” Natasha said “this is your life and you’re old enough now to decide how you want to live it, all we want is for you to be happy” your mama said. It was like a breath of fresh air had hit your bedroom, everything you had wanted to say was finally out in the open. “I think I know what I wanna do” you said looking up at your moms “what is it darling?” Wanda asked “after I finish school, I wanna go to college, to study art. Is that ok?” You sheepishly asked. “Oh y/n of course it is” Natasha said “it might be expensive though” you frowned “well that’s what uncle Tony is for” Your mama giggled “and besides we’ve got some money put away from you, it’s plenty enough to get you where you need to be” Wanda said “really?” You asked, trying hard to hide your excitement. “Really baby” Natasha said “whatever you need, we’ll sort, we’re your moms and that’s our job” Wanda said as she ran her hand under your chin. “I love you mom” you said to Wanda “I love you mama” you said to Natasha.

————

Taglist<3

@saraaahsstuff / @dannipotatoo / @tobiaslut / @a-simpfortessa-lesbriean / @marvelnatasha12346 / @yelenasdiary / @mousetheorist / @ashadash0904

[diejager]

I have a fucking insane idea based on a DnD thing I saw once lmao. So basically, if someone went through an immense amount of trauma, it could sort of manifest into another being used for self defense. This being was literally only limited by their imagination. It could be a damn house cat or a fucking dragon. It was basically an extension of their body that was a result of a dangerous or traumatic situation. It could help with other tasks as well, but its main purpose is defense. I need to see the men react to this, I’m begging

Monster au. Plz

~🧋

Cw: trauma, inaccurate magic, tell me if I missed any.

They were familiar with all kind of magic. Be it Old Magics and Magiks, enchantments, hexes, curses, dark arts, and everything known to the world, yours was…. peculiar. Quite peculiar for a person without any ties to a magical lineage or prior knowledge of powers. You were just a normal human - as normal as you could be with all your fearlessness towards monsters and hybrids alike - with a few unique perks and qualities, but a human no less. You weren’t any different from your parents, your extended family or any friends. A mortal with soft flesh, resilient and persevering, wild imaginations and genial abilities to adapt and conquer, and yet, were so, so fragile. 

They hadn’t expected it, with Farah - the only witch they personally knew - tied to Alex by the hip and always on the move, their repertoire of magical knowledge was lacking. So, there was a mass of confusion between them, one that made understanding your strange ability difficult, but not impossible. They had Laswell’s help to sift through all existing records, some confidential, hidden under red tapes and confidentiality regulations, and others public, open to any curious eyes and prying noses. 

The black Maine Coon that seemed to follow you, her lumbering figure and elegantly, curled fur that stood out among patches of grey and military green and browns of the base brought many questions, but all shrugged away at the mere sight of those piercing green eyes, vibrant lime that seemed to glow in darkness. She could light up the room with a single glance. It was as odd as it was menacing, and she was fiercely protective of you, shadowing your steps, curling her tail around your leg, laying on your lap when you sat and glaring at anyone who tried to approach you. 

A spirit animal someone had commented, a guardian in the shape of a cat another had hushed. She was all speculations and would stay that way until someone found out more about your Maine Coon, or if someone grew a pair and actually asked you rather than treating it like a secret mission conducted behind your back. A mystery to resolve, a like game they thought it be amusing to play until you found them out or someone gave up after grueling weeks of hitting a brocade —a dead end. 

It was fun and all, at least while it lasted. They felt like they were so close to figuring it out by themselves - pride and ego, you’d cackle. You’d have a field day laughing at them for them, then praise them for holding out so long - and Soap went out and begged for an answer. 

“I was wondering when one of you would crack,” you smiled, running your fingers through her fur, brushing away knots and tangles, “Took you longer than I expected.”

You had known of their investigation, but never spoke up. It riled them up, a thrill at finally being given the knowledge they’re hungered for, an adrenaline that pumped from their hearts to know the answer. And you stalled, teasing them with the pretty curl of your lips, taking all the time you needed to have them squirm in their seats and hang at every word that fell from your mouth.

“She’s a… trauma response, of some kind. I don’t really know how or why, but she just appeared one day while I was recovering. I was confused,” you laughed, nuzzling her scruff when she sat up to lick your chin, “Really confused. But I did some tests, experiments out of sheer boredom and discovered she came from my mind- or a product of it.”

“Your mind..?”

“You know humans have vivid imaginations, as physically unfortunate we are, our minds are a… strange thing, and she came right out of it.”

“So she could be… anything?”

You threw your head back, pulling her up in your arms as if she was the lightest kitten ever, your smile so wide it was infectiously making them smile.

“Anything that my mind can conjure up.”

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce @sobbingnshtting

[rendy-a]

Sorry, househusband Headcanons with Silver 👉👈✨💕(sorry the first questiom accidentally sent incomplete ) 👍

Ha ha ha. That first request would have been enough. Househusband Silver? Say no more. I'm with you there!

You have to keep an eye on him when he does chores to watch out for advice he picked up from your father-in-law.  Lilia passed on some of the strangest housekeeping habits to Silver and you never know when they’ll pop up.  You remember the winter that both of you were sick at the same time and Silver made an actual bathtub full of soup because that was the correct amount advised by Father. 

You do all the cooking prep together.  It’s not that you don’t like Silver’s cooking (even he knows to avoid using Lilia’s recipes), it’s just that you worry too much about his safety in the kitchen.  There have been some close calls where Silver has fallen asleep with a hot stove on or holding a knife.  Now, you have little dinner-prep dates to cook up meals for the week.  Each finished dish is one your spouse can finish off in the microwave or by setting a timer on a kitchen appliance.  It’s not foolproof but you certainly worry less.  Seeing Silver in an apron is just an added bonus!

You never thought you’d say this, but small forest animals are your back-up plan.  It’s like nature itself has decided to help your husband escape danger and accomplish his goals.  You’ve literally seen mice help him sew up a rip in your clothes and a deer pull your sleeping spouse out of the street.  You are grateful that Silver is so beloved by the animals, or you don’t know how you’d bare to leave him home without you!

You were sitting at your desk hard at work when suddenly a chill runs down your spine.  You look at the clock, there are three more hours of work left in the day.  You frown and decide to quickly check your phone messages, just in case.  When you pull the device out and look, your heart drops when you see the message, [Father is here for a visit.]  Oh dear, your famous Father-in-law is alone with your spouse, and you can’t do anything about it. 

You quietly take your phone and sneak away to the parking lot for a quick call.  It rings several times with no answer.  You hang up and try again.  This time, you get a sleepy, “Hello,” at the fourth ring.  You smile at the sound, picturing your spouse just awoken from a short sleeping spell.  “Hi dearest, I got your message.  How are things going?”  There is the smallest hint of a smile in the tone that replies, though you know he is stoic as ever on the other side.  “Father is helping me clean out the attic.  It’s going along well.  We’ve got everything moved out and into our living room now.”  You look out into the distance.  All the dusty things hidden away in the attic are now all over your clean living room.  Well, it could be worse.

You force an extra amount of cheer into your voice, “That’s great honey, and you are keeping an eye on him?  Making sure he…doesn’t work too hard?”  Silver assures you that he only fell asleep for a moment, but that Lilia was back where he expected him to be.  You feel a sense of dread, “Silver, it is nearly lunch time.  He hasn’t been cooking, has he?  Did you check?”  There is a long pause before Silver mutters, “I better go.”  You wish him the best of luck and disconnect.  Then, you gaze at your phone for a moment before dialing the nearest pizza delivery place.  Better safe than sorry.

A few hours later, you sneak away to the restroom to text your spouse.  [How are things?]  You wait quietly in the stall until you get a reply.  [Do you think we need to put a bedroom in the attic?]  You look at your phone in surprise, this conversation is already veering wildly from what you anticipated.  [Why would we do that?]  You see the dots appear and wait for your hubby’s text.  [In case we need to use the spare room for a nursery.]  You sigh and roll your eyes, Lilia again.  [We can talk about it when I get home.  Agree to nothing!!!]

After work, your thoughts turn immediately to your spouse, and you head straight home.  You see your house come into view and your sleepy husband is waiting for you at the door with his eyes shut.  You climb the stairs and give him a sweet kiss.  His eyes flutter open and he smiles at you, “I had a wonderful dream and now here you are.”  You brush a strand of his silver hair from his forehead, “Which was better?”  He looks at you with seriousness and replies, “You.  You are always better.”  You turn your head to the side, feeling the heat in your cheeks.

“Ahem,” you clear your throat, “So where is our precious Father?”  Silver drops back until he is only holding your hand, “He left.  He said we needed time alone to work on his grandchildren.”  You laugh and think that sounds very much like your spirited Father-in-Law.  You rub your thumb along the fingers holding your hand, “Well, since he is gone, I suppose its safe to ask about your day.  How did the attic cleaning project go?”  Silver calmly assures you that things went just fine.  Nearby, a squirrel looks up and meets your eye before giving you the most traumatized shake of its little head.  “I’m glad everything worked out,” you say as you make eyes that say ‘I’m sorry’ to the neighborhood wildlife.  You didn’t know what trouble he’d been involved in, but you knew some evil had been conquered today.  You squeeze Silver’s hand and that prompts him to lift you into his arms and carry you over the threshold.  It wasn’t happily ever after, but for today, it was enough of a happy ending for you and your prince charming.

[girlactionfigure]

Jewish Defiance

Below is the speech I gave at a tiny, spirited protest of Jews - and their allies - who faced off a vast, snarling, swarm of pro-Hamas racists marching through London. Thank you to the organisers and those who turn up every week to show the indomitable defiance of the few.

This is a nice day out, isn’t it? What a lovely day out? Isn’t it nice to shlep into London when we could be doing anything else? We all really wanna be doing this on a weekend, don’t we? It ain’t what I want to be doing with my life. I don’t want to be here. I don’t think any of us wanna be here. These idiots are making us waste our time. But you wanna know what’s even more stupid? They’re wasting their time because they are not going to win. The State of Israel and the Jewish people are not going anywhere. We haven’t gone anywhere for three and a half thousand years. We’ve seen off the Romans, the Babylonians, the Nazis. We’ve outlasted all of them. And we’ll outlast these schmucks. Because antisemitic movements don’t have a long shelf life. History is not kind to the antisemite. And neither should we be. Any antisemite who transgresses should be made to suffer within the full scope of the law. They should be made to suffer consequences, socially, occupationally, legally.

Let’s be clear about who they are. We are not the same as them. They are fakes and frauds. Their calls for “ceasefire” aren’t about peace? You’re not for peace if you’re for globalising the intifada. You’re not for peace, if you’re calling for a Palestine from the river to the sea. You’re not for peace if you ignore, justify or excuse Hamas and their rocket attacks and their acts of terrorism against the Jewish People. You’re not for peace if you don’t condemn Hezbollah for firing rockets. You’re not for peace, if you don’t condemn the theocratic, Mullah regime of Iran and their complicity in all of this. You’re not for peace if you haven’t been calling for the complete and unconditional return of the hostages since day one.

If these liars on the streets of London were for peace they would be marching with Palestinian AND Israeli flags. But they aren’t. If they were for peace they would be screaming for the end of Hamas - a criminal rape gang of Islamic fundamentalists dedicated to jihad and the total extermination of all non-muslims. But they aren’t. These liars, these frauds, these Jew haters feign their tears and call for a ceasefire when the rapists Hamas are under the cosh, but they cheer when Israel is attacked. Sod them.

We on the other hand ARE for peace. There is no Jew that doesn’t want a world of peace and love. But you can’t shake hands with someone who’s trying to punch you in the face. And that is all our enemy does. Since Israel’s inception we have extended our hand in peace. But we have been met with punches, and knives, and rocks, and bullets, and car rammings, and rockets, and bombs, and rape, and torture, and murder and kidnapping. And if the world just expects us to take that. And to smile. And to say thank you world for allowing us to be murdered - then sod them. We are not the world’s punching bag, and we will not be sacrificed because of the non-Jewish world’s problems, or because of a superior, supercilious and utterly misplaced notion that they somehow own us and can dictate to Jews who we are, how we must live and how we are to die.

No one else decides our destiny. We do. When our destiny was in the hands of the world - the world bullied and slaughtered us. Zionism liberated us from the shackles of an abusive relationship with the world. And no one gets to tell us we go back into that relationship. The dynamic has changed. Get used to it. Zionism is the self-determination movement of the Jewish people. It is OUR liberation movement. Not yours. It is OUR civil rights movement. Not yours. The minute a non-Jew tries to define who the Jews are, or define Zionism or control our story - they prove exactly why we need Zionism - to liberate us - from them.

And like an abusive partner, many in the world can’t handle us being free. They can’t handle seeing us happy, thriving and getting on with our lives. Antisemites in Europe and America can’t handle seeing a Jewish minority making choices for themselves when they believe that they, the oh so cultured and civilised non-Jewish world, knows best. And antisemites in the muslim world can’t handle seeing a Jewish minority thrive outside the totalitarian confines of Islamic theocracy.

And so they come after us. Wanting to enslave us again. Not gonna happen. We will never be second class citizens or dhimmi again. And if you don’t like it that we fight back - good. I’m glad you don’t like it. Fuck around and find out. We’ll go as long as we need to.

And let me reiterate here: Jews don’t want violence. There are a million things we’d rather do. You are stopping us from achieving our full potential by making us have to fight you. We don’t want to spill blood. Jewish laws reiterate relentlessly the sanctity of blood. And then there was King David - who wasn’t allowed to build the Temple, because his hands were tainted with blood and the wars he had to fight. We are Jews and we wanna do good shit. We want to make advances in art, science and medicine for the good that it brings and for the joy of simply enriching our knowledge of this world.

Jews do not want war. But be under no illusion, if you bring it to us we will give you a war. Because there IS a time for war just as there’s a time for peace. And the time for war is when THEY come to kill us. Don’t fuck with Israel. Because our ancestors weren’t just shepherds and prophets and judges - they were warriors. And what was in them is in us. And just as they gave hell and triumphed over their enemies - we will give our enemies hell and we will triumph and we will win and then we will laugh and we will sing and we will dance - and with a bit of luck - we will make love and create more Jewish babies.

Look at the idiots out there who want to destroy us. They have to sing repetitive rhymes en masse - like morons in a cult - because they’re scared to be individuals. They’re scared to think for themselves. Scared to speak for themselves. They’re scared to be different. They’re scared to stand alone. They need nursery rhymes because they’re scared to engage in the complexities of an imperfect world. They’re morons.

Look at the numbers they have to gather in to feel brave enough to chant what they think? To shout that they want jihad and to kill every Jew between the river and the sea?

People who gather in that volume in order to shout at Jews are scared of Jews - and they should be. Because we’re fucking awesome. Being small in number is not a weakness. It is our superpower. It’s always been the Jewish superpower. It gives each of us ten times the resilience of those who rely on numbers. Never forget, no matter how surrounded you feel, strength is not in numbers, it is in your soul, it is in your heart and it’s in your resourcefulness. And we’ve got all of that. We are small in number but the things we’re each capable of are mighty. So go out every day and be mighty.

And don’t ever forget what Hamas did and what these people support. Darkness. They support darkness. There has never been more moral clarity to a fight than the one we face. What Hamas did on October 7th - demons from hell would ask them to be their teachers. And Hamas promise to do it again and again. A ceasefire is not peace. It’s a downpayment on future blood shed. It’s an investment in future war. The first step for the Middle East to even have a chance of peace is for Hamas to be gone.

Hamas are not the same civilisation as us. No peace can be made with them or anyone who thinks like them.

Our civilisation is worth protecting because it offers something good. The next time you’re in Jerusalem go and visit the Kingdom of David and you will see how precarious our origins were and how miraculous it is that we are still here and the responsibility we have to protect ourselves. David’s Kingdom was tiny. A tiny hillside that offered something new. A small outpost of light in a sea of darkness. It offered a revolution. It rejected what surrounded us. And what were we rejecting? We were rejecting the cruelty of those who engaged in child sacrifice. We were rejecting those who worshipped Moloch and set their own children on fire.

Now look at what’s happening today! Nothing has changed.

We’re facing an enemy who still sacrifice children. Deliberately. In Hamas we have an enemy who encourage their children to die, to blow themselves up, to set themselves on fire, to become so-called martyrs and shaheeds. We face an enemy whose parents praise Allah if one of their children blows themselves up with a suicide bomb to kill other children. We face an enemy that teaches their children in kindergartens, in schools, in mosques and in the home to die. We face an enemy that deliberately hides behind its own, and prevents them from seeking safety, so that they can be harmed in a war that THEY started. We should have no ambiguity and no doubt that we are on the side of good, and that good must triumph. Not just for us, but for this planet, lest that the ancient darkness faced by King David conquer every hillside and plunge the whole world into a night without end.

I want to leave you now with something important. The most important thing. What’s going on with our cruel and wicked enemies is deadly - but it’s also theatre. It’s designed to be a spectacle that scares you. It’s designed to make you crumble inside, give up and walk away. But it’s clear from your presence here today that you will not. And that none of you ever will. I wanna say that you are all fucking brilliant. All of you. You don’t even realise how brilliant you are. Seven months into the most disgusting war against us and here you all are standing tall, not backing down, ready to go on for as long as you need to. You are epic Jews, equal to any Jews of the past.

And don’t let the world spin your heads. Because mark these words: this is the best time to be a Jew in 2000 years. It is the best time to be a Jew in 2000 years. Because we’ve always had enemies. There have always been those who’ve risen up to kill us. But this time, this time we have the State of Israel. The Jewish People are home. They are in their indigenous homeland and they will never be uprooted again.

And because we have the State of Israel we will never be as vulnerable as our ancestors. As bad as things sometimes feel we will never know how vulnerable they felt when the rug was pulled from their feet. And they would be SO happy for us. We are the luckiest Jews in 2000 years. With Israel we can defend ourselves. We can fight back. We have an army. We have infrastructure. We have technology. For the first time in 2000 years the Jews can truly fight back. And if our enemies wanna bring it, they will know we can fight.

So you can be anxious now and then. But never, ever give in to fear.

In this life you can be scared. You can be messed up. You can even be fucked up. But the most important thing is to show up. Always show up and give a good account of yourself and with God’s grace we will always triumph. God bless you. Baruch HaShem.

LEE KERN

[thewitchescreatures]

Hi I hope this isn’t weird for you but could I request a story where reader hasn’t been able to come because no one can do her right so she ends up buying one of those tentacles toys and she basically becomes obsessed with it because she hasn’t been able to come for such a long time, but one night while she’s using it the toy becomes alive

This was a really unique idea, I could not deny it!

Funny I was listening to Ollie Wride's "Back to life" when I read this prompt and it definitely helped with the vibes.

Hope you enjoy~

............................................................................................

Tentacle x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Tentacle smut, masturbation

Disclaimer: Do not use water as lube. I only added that bit as something to the story that just made sense in my smooth monster-loving cum brain

It’s alive!

You were sitting in bed, pursuing the good ol 'web one night. Trying to find something, anything that could help get you off. You’d hit a plateau of not being able to orgasm for nearly a year now. You don’t know why or what caused it, you just couldn’t get off for the life of you.

You tried hooking up with people, you tried all sorts of forms of self pleasure, and we are talking some down right depraved shit. But no matter what you did, you just couldn’t get to that state of pure euphoria.

So again, here you laid in bed, your phone in hand as you browsed online for a solution. A link caught your eye, some branded sex website you’d never heard of before and they sold toys that were “guaranteed or your money back” to get you off. Your interest was piqued and so you began to browse through the selection of toys.

There were a lot of weird looking toys for sale. Clearly this website was marketed towards people with unique sexual tastes. The toys were even customizable!

You bought into it. You selected a tentacle shaped toy curating the color and firmness to your taste, input your credit card info to the site, and clicked check out.

The order confirmation said that your package would be delivered in ten to fifteen business days. Damn, two weeks? This thing better work.

You were practically plastered to the window, when you got the email notification that your package was out for delivery. You could not wait, you were aching at the very thought of trying this thing out. You really really hoped it worked and achieved the desired goal.

When the afternoon rolled around, the package finally came. You hurried to the door and snatched it from the delivery driver like a crazed wild animal without so much as a “hello” or “thank you” . You just snatched that bitch and slammed the door shut.

And like a depraved gremlin you scurried down the hall to your bedroom with the box tucked neatly under your arm. Closing and locking your door, despite the fact that you lived alone in a small one bedroom apartment.

You gingerly set the box down on your desk and used a nearby box cutter to carefully open it. You lifted the box flaps and removed the item from the packing peanuts. You held up the new toy, displayed inside of an acrylic tube was your custom tentacle dildo. It did look pretty neat, it was long and thick, and it was curved in a way that when it was inside you, part of the suction cup pads running along the inside of it would brush up against your clit. Hopefully this thing worked like the website said it would. The lack of dopamine and oxytocin your body was experiencing from the rushing high of orgasm was really starting to get to you mentally.

You dug around in the box a little more to see if the manufacturer included lubricant, but instead all you found was the instruction manual. A single sheet of paper stating to clean with warm water and whatever body wash one used, and to never use any kind of lubricant with it. Only water.

Water as lubricant? Okay now that was a little concerning. Water wasn’t exactly known to be an ideal lubricant for sexual activities. But the instructions were pretty clear on only using water, so you figured you’d give it a try and if the water didn’t work you would say fuck it and just go buy some lubricant yourself.

And so without further hesitation, you popped the lid off of the acrylic tube and removed your new toy, taking it with you to the bathroom that adjoined your bedroom to wash it before using it. You didn’t know where the hell this thing was made or who touched it. Besides, washing one's toys was just basic sanitary practice.

After washing and drying the toy off, you brought it and a small glass of water back to your room. You couldn’t believe you were about to try something as stupid as using water as lube. But again the instructions were very clear on only using water.

So you sat down on the floor beside your bed, setting the glass of water on your bedside table and then stripping yourself of your bottoms. You wet your hand a little and rubbed the water onto the tentacle, you immediately noticed how it began to slick up, as if you rubbed oil or proper lube on it.

“Huh.” Was all you could say to yourself in response to this revelation before wetting the tentacle with a little more water, to make it slicker of course. You then press it against the wood floor, causing the suction cup bottom to stick before straddling over top of it. You then slowly rub the tip against your excited pussy and begin to slowly sink down onto it.

A soft groan escapes your lips as you feel the small rubbery suction cups brush against your insides. The curve of the tentacle is just right, especially as you sink down all the way and the remaining curve presses against your swollen needy clit. This prompts another groan.

“Not bad.” You mumble as you slowly begin to rock your hips. Riding the tentacle, enjoying all of its textures in and around you.

You grip onto the side of your bed for support. Soft grunts and moans leaving your lips as you ride the toy faster and faster. You quickly begin to feel that beautifully tight knot in the bottom of your belly.

“Oh god.” You moan as you quicken the pace, now bouncing up and down on the tentacle. “Oh god, yes!” You moan out loudly, throwing your head back in bliss as you finally achieve orgasm for the first time in a year.

You pant softly as you slowly come down from the buzzing high of release. Shocked and in awe that this thing actually made you squirt a little on top of actually orgasm. You smile.

“Fuck yeah.” You whisper excitedly as you bring your body up and pull the toy from the wood floor. A soft pop echoes through your bedroom as you hold it up in front of your face. “Now this is a toy.” You say to yourself as you take it back into the bathroom to clean your juices from it.

You use this thing every day for a month. Every time you get off of work and get home, you shower and then immediately ride the tentacle. For a month straight, you fuck yourself silly with this thing. Reveling in orgasm after orgasm. You can’t get enough, this is single handedly the best god damn investment you have ever made.

One night, you return home from work. You do your little routine of a shower and then you grab the toy from the drawer on your night stand, wetting it with the cup of water that now basically lived on said night stand.

Once the toy was slick enough you set it on the floor and in the usual fashion sunk yourself onto it. Whimpering and moaning as you began to ride.

You were just in the middle of enjoying another mind blowing self care experience when you felt something wriggle inside of you. This causes you to freeze for a moment, trying to gather if you’re just imagining things or perhaps going insane from fucking yourself stupid with this toy.

But there it was again, that wriggling sensation as if the toy was now moving inside of your wet tight cunt. You let out a shaky moan as the wriggling becomes more intense.

It feels like the tentacle is smooshing itself against your cervix. Trying to get as far into your pussy as it possibly can. You look down between your legs and you can see the part that sticks out and curves against your clit is also wriggling. You whimper as it rubs your clit with vigor, causing your legs to tremble.

Your arms and head are resting on your bed, your hands are clinging to your bed sheets for dear life as the tentacle toy continues to wriggle and thrust against your most sensitive parts. 

“O-oh god.” You moan as your hips jerk around from the intense pleasure of the tentacle's movements.

The tentacle continues its assault on your dripping wet pussy. Wriggling, thrusting, and twisting inside and against you. Your clit feels like it's on fire in the best of ways as the tentacle rubs and sucks on it with the small suction cups.

You whimper and cry out in pleasure. Your legs are trembling and you feel like you’re gonna explode from all of the pleasure. And then you do just that, a powerful orgasm like no other rocks your body, sending a prickly sensation across your skin. You cry out and soak the floor beneath you from all of the pleasure.

The tentacle pulls itself out of you, the tip of the toy is now wriggling around trying to rub itself in the small puddle of your juices on the floor.

You pant heavily as you reach beneath yourself and pick the toy up. The tentacle wriggles and squirms in an agitated manner, and you watch it curiously.

“What the hell?” You mumble as you watch the toy. But then a devious smirk crosses your lips. “This is the best damn investment I have ever made.” You say to yourself as you set the toy back onto the floor and offer it your pussy once more.

[queerbuckleys]

LONG MAY YOU ROAR [bucktommy | soft & gentle | 1k] a/n: hi uhh so this randomly popped into my head, and it's the first time i have ever really written in tommy's pov so it's far from perfect but it doesn't really make sense to tell it from another so i tried something new weee. there's some bonus sweet buckley siblings implications <3 title barely has anything to do with the fic/i do not want to be too sad about it, i just love robin from ttpd and it's about childhood so it fit... well enough. tw for mentions of canonical childhood cancer and death of a child

Tommy stands in his boyfriend’s living room, beer in one hand and he takes in the decor. He’s seen it all before but he's still getting to know the man that’s fussing over dinner in the kitchen. And there is something new, resting on the tv stand, is a photo of a boy riding a bicycle, his back toward the camera. It’s the first time Tommy has noticed it. He had never seen any pictures of a young Evan before, it never struck him as strange, not very many people kept baby pictures around their adult home – that’s why this one felt somewhat strange. There were the photo booth strips, Polaroids, and school pictures of Chris and Jee on the fridge or placed in a drawer around the loft, but no other kids were present in this space. Nothing else is so formal. He figures it has to be Evan, and it was special for some reason. So he picks it up and turns to his boyfriend who is smiling and making his way over to him, finally satisfied with letting the lasagna finish baking. 

“Who is this handsome young man?” he asks, a gentle teasing lilt in his voice. 

And Evan’s demeanor shifts, he’s still smiling, but it turns sad and bittersweet. His whole body sags ever so slightly. Tommy watches as his Adam's apple bobs, he takes a deep breath with his eyes closed and steps closer. He traces the edge of the frame, his eyes transfixed on the back of the bike. “This is my brother. Daniel.” Evan swallows again. 

“You’ve never mentioned…Could he not make it to the wedding?” He asks, but there is a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that tells him that there is more to the story. 

“You could say that,” Evan responds with a dry hough of a barely there laugh. “He, he um, he died when I was little. Leukemia. I never really knew him. Our parents–” He shakes his head. 

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.” 

“I want to. It’s just, that I haven’t told the story so far removed from finding out. I told the 118 right away, while I was still numb. And the very messy deep personal feelings version to my therapist, but I’m still working through a lot. So, I don’t know. It might be hard for me to explain it all.”

“Well we can sit down to start,” He says gently with a smile. Taking Evan’s hand, running a soothing thumb over his knuckles. Evan nods and follows his lead to the couch. 

“I just, it’s hard to know where to start,” Evan sighs. 

“What about why you only now have this picture up?” 

Evan smiles a little. “Maddie gave it to me for his birthday last week.” he clears his throat, “So, basically I didn’t even know that I had a brother until just before Jee was born.” Evan looks over at him, trying to gauge his reaction. He lets the words flow over him, and his brow scrunches, tilting his head in confusion.

“My parents kept several secrets from me, forced Maddie to keep them too, for thirty years. They all came to light when I stumbled across that picture in Maddie’s baby box. The past few years since then have been busy, and she found it again after her move and everything and had a copy made for me and had it framed. He has the right for his life to be remembered and celebrated after being a secret for so long.” 

“Why was it a secret?” He lets the question slip out, “If you want to share that.” 

“Well, um,” Buck ducks his head a little, “Have you ever seen My Sister's Keeper?” he asks, looking back at him with a questioning look on his face. It isn’t what Tommy is expecting in the slightest. But Tommy has seen the movie in question, and the dots slowly begin to connect. And Evan has this look in his eyes that tells him he’s right. 

“Oh, Evan.” 

“It just never worked for him though. Sometimes I still feel like I failed him somehow.” Evan rolls his bottom lip between his teeth. “I was always treated like a disappointment by my parents and didn’t know why until I was thirty years old, I was never going to be absolved of a sin I didn’t even know I had committed. Maddie though, she raised me. She always treated me like any kid would want to be treated. So, now we celebrate his birthday when we can and Maddie tells me about him. She always comes up with new stuff she remembers after keeping it tucked away for so long. Or how I remind her of him and stuff. It’s good for her to talk about him, and for me to hear it.” 

Tommy smiles at him at that, “I have never been under the impression that your relationship with her isn’t very special. Thank you for telling me about this part of your family.” 

“Well, you knew most of all the other members of my family before me, as Chimney likes to remind me.” Evan laughs and relaxes back into his arms, tucking his face into Tommy’s neck. “Thank you for listening.” he runs his fingers over his hands, “I wanted to tell you. I just never knew how to bring it up, or what base talking about a dead brother was.” He can feel Evan’s small smile against his neck, and he laughs gently too. 

“Someday soon I’ll tell you about my family too.” He twists his fingers in Evan’s curls. 

“Whenever you are ready. I’ll wait.” Evan places a light kiss on his jaw. 

The oven beeps declaring the lasagna to be finished and Evan groans, ungluing himself from his side. Once Evan is back in the kitchen, Tommy lifts the photo up again from the coffee table and gently returns it to its home. 

[waldau]

hii! I've noticed that you haven't written anything for minghao yet (according to your master list) so I wanted to request something cozy and homey with him. like maybe cooking together or waking up together or something along those lines.. :)

hello anon! i was feeling extra sappy with minghao and this also happens to be my first work for him. thank you so much for requesting it, i hope you see this!

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

muse — xu minghao | 1,382 words | fluff

minghao blinks his eyes open to the sound of silence. there’s not much he can hear right out, except for the distant sound of cars going past. he lazes around for a few more moments before giving in and checking the time on his phone.

it’s just shy of six in the morning. he needs to be up and at the studio by nine, but he doesn’t feel like moving just yet. he puts his phone away and turns around to you, to watch you sleep.

the first time he’d ever done it was unfortunately a time you weren’t actually asleep, and he’d ended up staring at you for ten minutes before you woke up and apologized to him, saying that you couldn’t pretend to stay asleep without wanting to burst into laughter.

he still remembers how embarrassed he’d been by that, and how you made it up to him with kisses and multiples reassurances that it had been okay, that he could do it again, that it wasn’t a problem at all, you’d just been caught off-guard the very first time.

the thing is — minghao adores you. he’s in awe of you. to him, no one else on this planet even compares to how exquisite you are. he loves how like-minded the two of you are, how affectionate you’re with him, and how much you support him without even saying any words. of course, he loves going out on dates with you, seeing new places with you, seeing you match the outfits he wears, but this might just be his favourite sight in the world.

this being seeing you asleep on your side, facing him, a hand tucked under your head and the other holding his own. as an artist, he’s used to noticing the finer details about everything he sees, so when it comes to you, he could lose himself for hours noticing every single thing about you that makes him love you more.

minghao gently untangles his hand from your grasp, drawing his own blanket over you properly so that you don’t feel cold. he immediately feels the cold winter air hit his bare arms, and he winces as he gets used to it. he’s going to need to workout before he leaves, because there’s no time for it in the evening. not if he wants to finish work fast enough to come back to have dinner with you.

his fingers itch for a brush. it’s been a while since he’s painted something. the last thing he’d put on his canvas had been a rendition of a sunset he’d been able to see with you a few weeks ago. it had been magical; the beautiful hues of orange and yellow blending with the shimmering brightness of the sea, contrasting the pale hue of the sky.

but nothing looked more beautiful than you sitting next to him, watching the sun rise and letting the water wash over your legs. he’d been tempted to paint you instead, right there, but you’d dragged him out on a monday morning for inspiration, despite the fact that both of you had work soon, and he wasn’t going to let it go to waste.

but he doesn’t really need inspiration. not when you’re his muse.

he runs his fingers across your face as gently as he can, glad that you’re still asleep. you’ve been having trouble sleeping recently, and he’s glad he’s part of why you’ve been sleeping better. he smiles when he notices two faint pillow creases stamped into your cheek, angry red lines that he hopes don’t hurt you at all. you somehow manage to look even more perfect with them.

he doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at you before your eyes blink open slowly, and somehow his eyes are the first thing that yours find. he holds his breath, waiting for you to speak.

“hao?” you ask, voice croaky. “what time is it?”

minghao checks his phone again. “six thirty-seven. you still have twenty three more minutes to sleep, if you want.”

“mm,” you say, before you roll in closer and pull his arm to yourself. “wake me up at seven, then.” before he can say anything, you look up at him. “aren’t you supposed to leave early today?”

he nods. “do you want me to leave?”

you huff and tug at his arm to pull him closer to yourself, and he goes down willingly. “you know that’s not what i meant.”

“what did you mean, then?” he asks, pinching your nose softly.

you’re used to his teasing by now, so you just roll your eyes throw an arm around his waist. “did you sleep well, hao?”

“really well. you?”

“me too. but…how long were you staring at me this time?”

he feigns shock. “you could tell?”

“i can just…feel it, somehow,” you giggle. “won’t you tell me?”

“do you really want me to?”

“of course,” you say, eyes shining despite the layer of sleep clinging to them. minghao wishes he could spend more time with you like this. it’s almost like you’re forcing yourself to stay awake despite having some more time to sleep, just to talk to him. the thought warms his chest.

“maybe forty minutes? maybe more.”

there’s a grin on your face. “correct me if i’m wrong, but…i think you love me?”

he could just refute it, tease you a little, joke that you’re in too deep, but he can’t. there’s something about the early hours of the morning combined with the fact that he has the honour to wake up with you that makes his heart heavy. he’s lucky to even have this, especially with you.

“you’re right,” he says, voice rough, feeling his waterline sting suddenly. “i love you.”

the grin on your face disappears slowly. “hao? is everything okay?”

“of course it is, darling,” he says, bending down to kiss your forehead, brushing off some rogue strands of hair to kiss it properly, tucking it behind your ear so he can see your beautiful face better. “i love you. is that wrong?”

“no, silly,” you say, leaning up to cup his cheek in your palm. your hand is cold. maybe he should’ve warmed you up better. “you sound…sad. like there’s something eating at you.”

he closes his eyes and indulges himself in your touch, trying to work out his words, marvelling at how easily you can read him. “i…love you. you know that, right?”

“yeah. i love you, too. but…?”

“but,” he sighs, “i just…don’t have the right words to tell you how much i love you. i could say i love you a thousand times, but it wouldn’t be enough. i could kiss you a thousand times and it wouldn’t be enough. i could…i could ask you to marry me but nothing would be enough to tell you how thankful i am that you’re here with me. that you’re mine.”

silence, just the two of you in your bedroom, the sounds of life filtering in from outside the window.

your breath is shaky when you speak. “hao.” you drop your hand down to his arm. “i love you, too. you don’t…i don’t need any grand gestures from you. just…be with me. every single day. be mine forever. that’s it.”

“there’s nowhere else i want to be.”

“then that’s all i need.”

minghao presses a kiss to your head. he hopes it conveys everything he’s feeling right now. he’s about to say something more when your alarm goes off, and he really should get going if he doesn’t want to reach work late.

“see you in the evening?” you ask, hand catching his as he attempts to get to his feet. “maybe we can talk about…getting married? for real?”

minghao hasn’t even opened the curtains yet, and he feels like he’s standing in front of the sun again. he’s going to go to work, do well, come back home to you and hold you and hear about your day and eat with you. he’s going to surprise you with a painting of yourself, and he’s going to marry you. that’s the life he’s built for himself with you, and he loves it.

it’s all he needs to keep going, every single day.

“i can’t wait. i’ll be back before you know it, darling.”

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu @bewoyewo

[wonyrs]

𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 (𝐔𝐍)𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘 ꨄ

pairing nishimura riki x fem reader genre fluff, drabble, established relationship warnings food/restaurant mentions, threats of breaking up, physical touch (kicking used once)

? date night gone wrong

“are you being serious right now, riki?”

your anxiety levels peaked as u stare at your boyfriend in disbelief. he shares your panic and frowns.

“why would i lie about this, babe?” he answers, his tone nervous. niki looked like he was going to shit his pants— whereas you would’ve taken a photo of if it weren’t for the current circumstances. “please forgive me.”

“i’m so close to punching you right now, nishimura. who forgets their wallet on a date at a millionaire’s restaurant?” you whisper-shouted.

there was a server behind you two, secretly eyeing you both in suspicion while handing out the meals. any decibel louder and the security might be called in.

“i’m sorry, okay?” niki pleads, his hands pressed together in a begging motion. you sigh and shake your head.

so much for a date night.

it took both of you weeks of preparation to be able to match the restaurant’s vibe. the establishment being settled at the top of the namsan seoul tower made the prices (un)reasonably expensive.

your boyfriend, who was on your last nerve, dismissed your worries on whether the prices were too high (quote: “i got the money under control. just leave it to me, princess ;).

turns out all his smugness about the finances went back and bit him in the butt seeing as how he forgot his card at home— almost an hour from the tower AND no one is back there to fetch it for him. talk about bad luck.

“if i could just call jay-hyung to go back and bring it here then mayb-“ a voice cut him off. you turn to the sound and your heart drops down to your ass. the last possible person you’d ever want to see.

“excuse me, sir and ma’am,” the staff started off. “we’ve noticed that you’ve… um… been finished for quite some time and,” they give you an awkward smile. both of you reciprocate.

“were wondering if there is anything else you’d like to order, or if you’d like the bill now?” your eyes widen. you whip your head to your boyfriend and signal with your eyes ‘no!’. he looks indecisive and nudges your foot underneath the table.

you held back a remark and resorted to softly kicked his shin instead.

“um… we’d actually like to order this special please,” you point to the menu, “if we can.”

the waiter grins and nods his head. he straightens his posture and walks back to the kitchen, ready to inform the team of the new order.

“riki. babe. love of my life. please call jay right now, i’m afraid this distraction won’t last long,” you lean over the table and grip his hands in yours. niki’s phone was in his hand, dialing the numbers of your potential saviour.

“it’ll be fine, n/n,” he assures you, rubbing his thumb over yours in an attempt to calm you down. “the most we’ll get is a scolding- but at least we won’t wash dishes!” niki laughs.

you roll your eyes and pinch him, inciting a small ‘hey!’ from the boy. while he did relax your nerves- just a little bit- the annoyance from earlier was still there.

with other couples chat in brisk, you two are stuck in a dilemma with only one person to rely on. your hands still intertwined, niki squeezes yours as comfort- whether for you or himself, we’ll never know.

“if we finish this next meal and jay isn’t here, consider this our last restaurant date, ‘ki.”

niki’s eyes widen in fright, practically leaping over the table to grab your shoulders. he shakes you around like a ragdoll while the other customers send over weird stares, their own conversations dimming down slowly.

“wait- please don’t say that, babe!”

NOTE ✃ : hi!! first drabble kind of bad :P but its ok!! more room for improvement (also TXT at knotts?? ARGHH) @cupidhoons read this before i posted :3

[sen-ya]

own terms

Summary: “We have to tell ‘em soon.”

Law huffed, hurrying across his room to find a sweater to take refuge in. “As I’ve told you,” he hissed, rummaging through a drawer, “I’ll be waiting as long as possible.” 

Warnings: gender dysphoria, unplanned pregnancy

Word count: 1494

hi hello this is kinda part 6.5/7 of that comic series I’ve been posting. I have lotsa thoughts abt a lot of other points in this timeline but this is the only other one I’ve done something with oops.

“We have to tell ‘em soon.”

Law huffed, hurrying across his room to find a sweater to take refuge in. “As I’ve told you,” he hissed, rummaging through a drawer, “I’ll be waiting as long as possible.” 

Luffy sighed, flopping to the foot of their bed with his head in his hands. “That’s what I’m saying,” he reasoned. “I think it’s been as long as possible.” 

Law rolled his eyes at his husband. “Well, you think wrong,” he insisted, freeing an oversized black hoodie from his dresser. He pulled it on and observed himself in the mirror. “I’m hardly showing, and I have plenty of clothes like this.” He nodded, satisfied with the way the fabric swallowed him. “Honestly I may be able to conceal the whole thing without even using my powers,” this part was muttered to himself.

”Why though?!” Luffy whined. “My crew knows!”

“And I wish they didn’t!” If looks could kill, Law would have been guilty of mariticide and, in this moment, he didn’t even think he’d regret it. “Do we have to go through this again? I don’t want my crew to know I’m pregnant. It’s bad enough that Bepo made me tell Penguin and Shachi.” 

“Why’s it bad that your brothers know we’re having a baby?” The irritation in the Pirate King’s voice was becoming increasingly familiar to Law, it’d been weeks of this conversation and he was, quite frankly, sick of it. 

“I can’t believe you keep making me have this conversation,” Law sat at his desk and crossed his arms tightly across his chest. “At this point it’s just insensitive.” 

“Did you forget we’re pirates, Torao?” 

This was a new talking point. Law quirked an eyebrow. “And that means you can be insensitive?”

”I mean, kinda? – But wait, that's not the point,” Luffy sighed heavily, speaking slowly like he was explaining something to a child. “Your crew should know the kind of coverage you need.” 

Law shot to his feet. “You’ve proven my point,” he said sternly. “I don’t need additional cover. I’m just as capable as I’ve always been.”

”Torao—“ 

“I’m not having this conversation again.” He waved his hand dismissively and swiftly sent himself to the deck of his ship. 

Left behind, Luffy let himself indulge in a long, frustrated groan. 

—-

“You don’t understand,” Usopp implored. “If I were in his shoes I’d be sensitive about it too, okay?” 

Luffy crossed his legs on top of the crate he was perched on in Usopp and Franky’s workshop. “But he’s always so…I dunno…practical,” he sighed. “And not telling your crew — y’know, the ones you fight with — that you’re fucking pregnant is totally not practical!” 

“I dunno, dude,” Franky offered from his work bench. “You sure that’s why you’re so hung up on this?”

Luffy’s face scrunched up at the question. “What else would it be about?”

Franky lifted his welding mask and shared a knowing look with Usopp. They nodded back and forth and whatever nonverbal conversation they were having led to Franky sighing. “Okay, okay. Think about it. When’s the last time you ever saw anyone land a hit on Traffy?” 

That was a tough question to answer. Truthfully, most pirates wouldn’t touch the pirate king or his consort. The new World Government still required levels and levels of approvals to engage with either of them, and even then it’s not like Koby would grant that approval unless a lot of things had suddenly changed.

”Doesn’t matter,” Luffy decided. 

“Exactly,” Franky continued. “Now tell me, why else would you want the Hearts to know?”

Another tough one. What other reason could there be?

”They were the last ones to know about you two being together,” Usopp added helpfully. Franky cleared his throat, clearly he’d wanted Luffy to get to that fact on his own. Usopp shrunk into himself sheepishly in apology. 

“Yeah, I still don’t get why Torao was so embarrassed,” Luffy muttered, paying no mind to his friends' silent exchange.

”And how’d it feel knowing he was embarrassed?” Franky encouraged.

”…I…” Luffy looked down at his hands in his lap. “…Didn’t like it.”

”Bingo!” Usopp cheered. “But it wasn’t that he was embarrassed of you, was he?”

Having finally caught up to the conversation, Luffy rolled his eyes. “No,” he whined. “He’s insecure.” 

“Exactly!”

”But he’s not like that anymore!” 

“And this isn’t the same situation as before,” Usopp insisted. “You’re asking a trans guy to walk into a room full of people and say ‘hey everyone, I have a uterus!’”

”But they’re his nakama! And everyone knows Ikakku’s trans and it’s not like anyone’s ever been stupid about it,” Luffy pouted. 

“No one’s gonna be stupid about it,” the sniper agreed. “But that doesn’t mean they can’t subconsciously change parts of how they interact with him, even if it’s only while he’s pregnant.” Usopp huffed a laugh. “Even if he weren’t a guy I’d think someone like Traffy’d want to keep it under wraps. When Kaya was pregnant tons of randos wanted to touch her belly all the time. It’s fuckin’ weird.” 

“…Torao does hate it when people touch him,” Luffy muttered. 

“And Ikakku talks about being trans, those are conversations she chose to have. I get to talk about it if I feel like it, like only when I'm comfortable enough to. I’ll bet Traffy hates not having a say in the matter,” Usopp sighed in empathy.

Luffy straightened up at that realization and a momentary silence fell over the trio. 

Franky cleared his throat. “Just keep an eye on him if anyone’s dumb enough to fight us,” he said in summation. “He’s his own captain. Let him handle his crew.” 

He hated to admit it, but Luffy knew he was right. He offered a grunt of acknowledgement and nothing else. 

—

Luffy returned to the captain’s quarters of the Polar Two greeted by the sounds of his husband emptying his stomach in the en-suite bathroom. It wasn’t an uncommon state to find him in these days, but it certainly didn’t make it any better. He made his way to the ajar door and poked his head in. Law sat on the floor, forehead resting on his arm that was slung across the toilet. Upon noticing his company, he shot his husband a glare.

”Lunch taking revenge?” Luffy offered light-heartedly. 

Law held his glare for a moment longer before allowing his face to soften slightly. “What else is new,” he grumbled, looking away. He decided his stomach was settling enough to relocate so he flushed the toilet and moved to get to his feet. Luffy was there in a flash, gently taking his arm.

”I don’t need any help,” Law sighed, pulling his arm back and reaching for his toothbrush. Luffy hovered, waiting for him to finish brushing his teeth before he spoke.

”I’m sorry,” he offered, hanging back in the doorframe of the bathroom while Law went to sit at his desk. 

“Are you now?” Law cracked open a book, pulled a few pages of loose leaf from a precarious pile on the desk, and started to scribble on them. 

“Yeah,” he replied, tentatively crossing the room to stand behind his husband. “Usopp and Franky reminded me that when you didn’t tell your crew we were together it wasn’t ‘cause you were embarrassed to be with me.”

Law placed his pen flat on his desk. “…That’s what this has been about?”

Luffy wrapped his arms around the other captain’s shoulders and nuzzled into his hair. “Maybe.”

They stayed like that in silence for a few long moments.

”I’m not embarrassed to be having your baby,” Law muttered after a while.

”I know.” 

“I’m embarrassed to be having a baby period.” 

“I know.”

“I’m certainly not embarrassed of her.”

“I know.”

”And I’m their captain,” Law continued. “I don’t want them thinking I’m less capable because…”

”They’d never think you’re not capable. They may be more protective though, and I get that you don’t want that.” 

Law nodded. “…Yes,” he agreed, leaning back into his husband’s embrace. 

“But if someone’s dumb enough to come after us, you can’t do anything stupid okay?”

That earned a hearty laugh. “Look who’s talking,” Law chuckled, looking up into Luffy’s eyes. 

“I mean it!” Luffy insisted. “You’re super strong. But…” He let his hand travel down to rest protectively on the front pocket of Law’s hoodie. 

“I know,” Law whispered. “If I’m being honest, I have been thinking about your point. It’d be…practical for them to know.” 

Luffy grinned at that. “And you do love practical.” 

Law nodded pensively. 

“Anyway, you tell ‘em when you’re ready. I’ll get off your ass about it.” In one swift motion Luffy hooked an arm under his husband’s legs and whisked him out of his chair bridal style. 

“Excuse me,” Law protested. “I have work to do!” 

“Yeah, I got stuff to do too!” the other captain laughed, turning on his heel to close the short distance to their bed.

[jrow]

May Prompt (18)

Day 17 here. Start at the beginning here.

Blanket

The blanket looks absolutely ridiculous.

She pulls it tighter around her shoulders and looks around anxiously. She has a part to play and she’s playing it well. He expected no less.

He sighs. It’s time to play his part in this charade so they can get the hell out of here.

“Darling,” he says, tucking his umbrella under his arms as runs towards the ambulance, knitting his brow to show his concern. “I came as soon as I could. How are you?”

They make eye contact and for a split second he can see how amused she is at his display. But then the mask returns and she looks on the verge of tears.

“I am okay, love,” she says shakily. “It was awful. That poor man. I just want to go home.” She turns to the paramedic whose standing off to the side, pretending not to eavesdrop. “Can I go?”

The man looks back sympathetically. “As long as you won’t be alone. The police will call if they have any questions about your statement. You have the card for the trauma counseler?”

“Yes, thank you,” she says. She sounds so damn genuine.

“Let’s go,” he says with a nod to the paramedic. Right now it’s just the paramedics and one constable on the scene. They need to get out of here before someone arrives that would actually recognize him.

He wraps his arm around her and she leans into his chest as they walk. She’s also gently stroking the atrocious orange blanket draped over her shoulder as if it’s keeping her tethered.

“Calling an ambulance for a man that had bred dead for, how long?” He asks once they are out of earshot.

“At least 6 hours,” she replies, her voice back to its usual strength. She continues leaning into him, although the stroking has stopped. Who knows if someone is watching their retreat. “Calling in the cavalry was an unfortunate necessity.”

“Someone caught you placing the body,” he says. It isn’t a guess.

“Yes. Restaurant owner taking out the trash. I was almost done too.” She sighs. “It was easy enough to feign that I just happened on the body and was traumatized. It was in a sorry state.”

“When did you actually happen on the body?”

She looks up at . “An hour ago. Agent H reported Larkin hadn’t been seen or heard from in several hours. So, I paid him a visit.” She wrinkles her nose. “There were rats. It was disgusting.”

“Overdose, I take it?”

“I think so.”

“And the move?”

“H got word Larkin’s girlfriend got off work early. Takes her between 28 and 34 minutes to get home on an average day. H thought the search would be faster without Larkin in the flat. Plus, it buys us a bit of time before people figure out Larkin is dead.”

“I assume there will be no ID found on the body?”

They turn a corner and she immediately pulls away. “Of course not. What kind of amateur do you take me for?” she says with faux offence before tossing the shock blanket on the pavement. “Glad to be rid of that.” She pulls a mobile out of her pocket. “A gift. H’s team is already working on it but I know how you like to go through for yourself.”

He takes the phone and pockets it before opening the back door of the car waiting for them. “Thank you. After you,” he says, letting her enter the car first. “Any highlights?” He asks as he slides into the seat beside her.

“Larkin had never been hired for murder before agreeing to off Watson. At least not in the messages read so far. Never used injections before either. Usually he just makes threats or breaks a leg or two. Had several tire irons in the flat. Some ‘used’ so to speak. Explains why he bunged up the assassination attempt.” She leans her head back. “Still don’t have a name for who made the hire, but several messages note that Larkin owed him big favour. It’s a thread to follow.”

“Was there any pre-payment?”

“Some rings. Likely from one of the jewellery store thefts.” She pulls out her own mobile and looks at the screen. “Looks like they were from Boodles, which was hit a couple of weeks ago. There were 6 rings in the flat worth about 50 thousand pounds total. Bespoke pieces. Would be difficult to sell without being flagged unless you knew the right people.”

“Hmmm,” he says. Larkin didn’t know the right people. Maybe their jewel thief didn’t either.

The sit in silence for a moment. She closes her eyes as if relaxing, but she’s tapping her fingers on the leather between them.

“Will you be telling your brother?” She asks eventually. He bristles at the accusation in her tone despite the fact that it’s entirely warranted.

“No,” he says, brusquely. It’s the truth. None of this information would be particularly helpful at this stage anyways. But soon, they should have something more concrete on whoever hired Mr. Larkin. Even then, he won’t tell Sherlock anything.

John on the other hand …

@keirgreeneyes @raina-at @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @jolieblack @phoenix27884 @friday411 @calaisreno @quimerasyutopias @lisbeth-kk @safedistancefrombeingsmart @momma2boys @helloliriels @dapetty

[evilwriter37]

My cat Loki is dying.

If I’ve been acting weird or distant lately, this is the reason. He lost an entire pound in 2 weeks. He’s skin and bones. We don’t know why this is happening and for some reason the vet wants to wait till June 1st for testing.

He is not going to make it that long.

I knew he was sick, but it’s so scary and devastating seeing how fast this is progressing, how fast he’s becoming not himself.

I don’t know when the right time to say goodbye is. This is my little guy. This is my nephew. I love him with all my heart and it’s just shattering.

I’m so glad he made it to his 11th birthday. Honestly, with his structural epilepsy, I was scared that he wouldn’t. But we had a great party with him on his 11th birthday.

And it hurts because I’ve never had to say goodbye to a cat this early before. My cats generally live to 17-18. (Alley Cat, for example.)

And I’m devastated for her too. She loves him so much and will miss him terribly just like the rest of us.

Loki, honey, Auntie loves you.

And I’ll always have been his Auntie despite my gender realization later in his life. Cats don’t know gender or care about that. They care about love.

And Loki really knows how to love.

The world will be lesser without him in it.

[em-harlsnow]

short mini-fic 🫶

ian mainly gets tiktok because Debbie won’t shut up about it. She tells him it’s simultaneously terrible and really good, and starts posting videos of Franny to her private account. She whines that she doesn’t have enough followers, so okay, ian will bite the bullet.

he downloads it, only to see Franny. it’s pretty boring at first because the FYP hasn’t caught up to what he likes yet. eventually, though, he gets a bit more into it.

he starts following some gay or lesbian or straight (although there are fewer of those) couples on the app, watching some of their content because it’s funny. he follows people who know about gardening and people who aim to motivate you to run and eat healthy.

he’s been on it for around three weeks when he starts understanding trends. They don’t last very long, and some are kind of interesting. It’s almost like an inside joke but for the whole internet. one trend in particular, ian thinks is actually hilarious.

it’s a couple trend. it involves one person asking the other to leave while they get changed. maybe the beauty’s in the simplicity, because the reactions to it are wildly entertaining.

he just has to try it on Mickey.

he’s not gonna record, because he doesn’t really care for people knowing their private life.

Mickey’s sat on their bed on his phone when ian comes in, happily chuckling away to YouTube. ian walks over to the draws, grabbing his pyjamas so that he can change for bed.

“hey, can you leave while i get changed?” he asks Mickey, and the reaction is immediate.

“What?” eyebrows raised incredulously.

“Can you leave the room while i get changed?”

Mickey scoffs. “No.”

“Come on. I’ll be quick.” He tries to persuade.

“Then you can change here.”

“I just want privacy, i’ll literally be ten seconds.”

Mickey all out laughs at him, putting his phone down. “Privacy? fuck off with that bullshit. i’ve been up close and personal with both your cock and your ass, fuck privacy.” And then in a move ian doesn’t expect, mickey sits himself up and watches him.

“Mickeyyy, just please let me get changed. or at least turn around.” He pleads.

“No. I’m watching you get changed now.”

“Why?” Ian’s sort of running out of excuses as to why he wants to get changed away from Mickey, but he needs to continue.

“Because I like watching you get naked.”

Ian scoffs, then turns to go into the bathroom and change. Mickey grabs him by the back of his jeans and gently tugs him back to the bed.

“Is this an insecurity thing? coz you know you’re the hottest guy i’ve ever seen.” he says, blue eyes staring up at ian.

ian smirks. “thank you, and no, not an insecurity thing. i just don’t want to get changed while you’re watching me like a perv.”

Mickey smiles back. “i am your husband, we have been together ten years, i am perfectly fucking entitled to watch you like a perv. now get changed.” he grins, smacking ian’s ass to make a point.

“i feel like you didn’t do it right.”

Mickey’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “Didn’t do what right?”

“It’s a tiktok trend where you tell your partner that you want them to leave so you can get changed. you made it sweet.” Ian argues lightly, finally getting changed.

“fuck off. i’m not sweet. and fuck off with your toktik bullshit.” Mickey replies, and watches Ian like a perv as he strips down and pulls on his pyjamas.

“sure mick, you’re definitely not sweet.” ian states sarcastically, and Mickey rolls his eyes.

[sugusoneandonly]

Quixotic - STSG - ch 3

mb for the long long wait finals r eating me up😞 chapters should be coming sooner after this week maybe. hopefully.

cw: jealous!gojo ,, gojo/mc lore drop ,, thats it i think ,, swearing (but it js me) ,, gojo breaks the 4th wall

i didnt edit for shit smd

prev

Eventually the three of you had reached the elevator of Suguru’s studio that led down to the main lobby. The elevator doors had closed, and your arrangement of positions left you standing in between Geto and Gojo. Their expensive colognes were radiating off of them and making home into your senses. You blink around, avoiding any accidental eye contact.

The elevator halted a couple floors down, there was at least four more before you would reach the lobby. The doors opened, revealing an all too familiar dark haired man with a scar on his nose. He made eye contact with you, a soft smile contrasting the rest of his features. You smiled back, which didn’t go unnoticed by the two men at your sides.

“Y/N,” the man spoke out while getting into the elevator. “Hi, Cho!” you replied with bubbles in your tone. Gojo held back a scoff, Geto set the eyebrow he raised back down before it could get up.

what a downgrade - geto

how come he gets an exclamation point?- gojo

“How are you, what are you doing here?” Choso mumbled out, unaware of your connection to the other two.

“I’m good. I’m actua-” before you could finish, Gojo cut you off.

“She’s actually here on an internship, with us”

Choso finally paid mind to the other occupants, “Oh, Geto and Gojo, my apologies. I hope I didn’t bother you too much Y/N.” The slight wind of embarrassment over his face squeezed your heart.

“oh, no! not at all.” You frantically responded, however the elevator had reached Choso’s stop, which was still two floors above yours. curse this big building

Choso waved goodbye and exited the elevator, once again leaving you isolated with Geto and Gojo.

Gojo hummed, yet this time it was Geto who spoke up. “You, know him??”

You nodded in response, a slight pout playing at your lips at the cut off interaction with him. “He’s my neighbor, kinda. He lives a floor down from me.”

Gojo could only think of stopping his eye from twitching. “Really? I don’t remember him being there.” He grimaced out.

“Yeah, I moved??” you responded, eyebrow raised in confusion.

The doors opened and you all walked out, this didn’t stop Gojo from carrying on the conversation though. “What? When?” The white-haired man was appalled, bewildered if you will.

“Quite a while ago, actually. You didn’t know?” What was all this fuss about?

Gojo let out a dry chuckle, “How would I, since someone blocked me on everything to exist, even though we agreed that we were on good terms.” His voice raised a pitched at the end, noting his sarcasm.

Ah, you’ve been caught red handed. Your mouth dropped into a small circle. Your faced burned and tensed up at the acknowledgment. “Um, my bad?” a sheepish grin played on your mouth in attempt to cover and brush it off. The two watched you like a pair of hawks while you unblocked him. Gojo had calmed down, and even felt bad a bit. Yet he wouldn’t show that, yet.

Geto cleared his throat, “Is there a particular reason why?”

“fifteen hundred per month gets hard to handle, especially as a student who get’s bombed with the news their roommate’s dipping asap.” You sent a well-deserved glare to Gojo, who looked away. Geto had a wave of shock on his face, he hadn’t heard that part yet.

———

By now, you’ve reached your food destination. Which happened to be the restaurant you’ve been eyeing every since you’ve moved into the area, yet the place was way out of your tax bracket. You stood there for a second, awing at the building unsure of what you were doing there. You remember telling a whole tale of this restaurant to Gojo, back when you were both broke.

Unsure, you glanced around at Geto and Gojo. In response, Gojo had only lightly held the tips of your fingers and guided you through the entrance, mumbling a small “let’s go”. Your heart grew frantic, he shouldn’t be doing that. Matter of fact, why was he doing that?

Before your thoughts could weight you back outside the door, Geto’s hand had feathered itself along the small of your back, ushering you forward. Savory scents of tteokbokki, fancy ramen, and kimchi flooded your senses. The aura and promising food of the restaurant wafted away any of your worries.

The waitress had ushered the three of you into a secluded area of the place, with a warm overhead lamp lighting the area. The mood was down to earth, yet intimate. You glanced back at Gojo and Geto, large figures accentuated with luxurious clothing that made them stand out like sore thumbs. You hardly suppressed a giggle. The two slid into the two seats set in front of you, across the table. This arrangement made you feel both their gazes, setting you as the center of attention now.

tag list !! : @ladytamayolover @akemiixx01

i hope i didn’t miss someone 😭

[rosiesramblings]

My Mummy and My Simon

Fandom: Ted Lasso

W/C: 1.5k

A/N: Ok, I'm back with a fic, but fair warning it isn't a tickle fic. This has been rotting in my drafts for months and I just happened to be struck by the inspiration stick today. I hope you enjoy anyway!

“This is my Mummy and my Simon.”

It was how Jamie had introduced them for as long as he could remember. When he was a lad, he felt special when he said it - everybody and their Mummy had a Da, but Jamie was the only one with a Simon.

Jamie didn’t see them as often nowadays, with the distance between Richmond and Manchester, but he suspects that if he had anyone to introduce them to, that was still how he would do it.

He wasn’t sure why he was thinking about it, to be honest, while he stared at today’s post on his kitchen island. His housekeeper usually brings it in when she arrives and leaves it for Jamie to sort through. It’s rarely anything special - who uses the post anymore? - just the usual notices from the town and sometimes one of those circulars with coupons from the Tesco. Jamie wasn’t really sure why he felt so sick when he looked at it that day, until his brain processes what his eyes have already seen - the neatly typed James Tartt, Jr. across the front of one of the bills.

Jamie hated his full name with a passion - forever a reminder of the man who haunts his nightmares, the man who Jamie himself could become if he’s not careful. Jamie grimaced and turned away, forcing back the memories of what had happened when James overheard him telling someone that he lived with his Mummy and his Simon.

Simon was an odd duck, to be sure, but then again so was Jamie. He was a large man, still taller than grown-up Jamie, but he never made Jamie feel small or unsafe. Jamie was pretty sure it was impossible for Simon to make anyone feel that way, with his soft pastel jumpers and his obsession with that baking show and his job at the library. When it took Jamie so much longer than the other kids to learn to read, Simon never said a word about it, just gifted Jamie CD’s that Simon had recorded of himself reading Jamie’s favorite books for Jamie’s eighth birthday. He was pretty sure Simon didn’t know that after Jamie got his first Premiere League cheque, he had paid someone to put the recordings on his new phone. Jamie still listened to Simon’s voice read Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief when he came down with a cold.

Jamie fixed himself a post-training smoothie and sighed. Roy was bringing Phoebe over for Jamie to babysit since Roy had a coaches meeting and Ruth was busy saving lives at the hospital. Jamie idly washed out his blender, thinking of Simon and Mummy and how he really should give them a call soon. He was so lost in thought he didn’t hear Roy and Phoebe let themselves in before they were in his kitchen and Roy said, “Why the fuck do you get that wanker’s post sent to your house?”

Jamie whirled around, hand on his racing heart, before he processed what Roy was saying. “What?”

“Hi Jamie!” Phoebe waved cheerfully before going right over to the coffee table where he had gotten out the coloring books he kept specifically for Phoebe Days.

“Why is your arse of a father getting his post here?” Roy restated, gesturing to the pile of mail on the counter. “Thought you said you didn’t talk to him anymore?”

“I don’t,” Jamie said, confused. “That’s my post.”

Roy did a double take. “You’re named after that piece of shit?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you change it?”

“I did change it.” Jamie said. “Don’t go by James, now, do I?”

“I meant legally,” Roy explained. “So you don’t have to be fucking James Tartt Jr. in the fucking public record.”

“You can do that?” Jamie asked, incredulous, just as Phoebe called, “That’s five pounds so far, Uncle Roy!”

“Put it on my tab,” Roy called back. “And yeah, you can do that, you muppet. Costs like fifty pounds and might take a couple of weeks for the paperwork to come back, but you can do it. I still badger Ruth sometimes to change her name back to Kent, but she doesn’t want the fucking publicity.”

“Huh,” Jamie said, a whole new world of possibilities opening up before him. Roy kissed Phoebe goodbye and left for his meeting, and Jamie and Phoebe spent the afternoon coloring and playing kickabout in the yard.

***

A few days later, Jamie found himself on some government website, since you can do everything on the internet these days. He carefully typed Jamie into the form where it asked for what he wanted his new first name to be, cause it would be super embarrassing to have a typo and then have to do the whole thing all over again. The next box asked if he wanted to change his middle name, and Jamie paused. He hadn’t thought about that.

Jamie thought of James. He thought of Mummy, and he thought of Simon, and found he didn’t really need to think about it at all.

***

Simon’s birthday rolled along, and Jamie made the usual arrangements to donate to the library in Simon’s name. He’d done it every year since he could scrounge up the money, mowing lawns of council estates after Under-10’s training and looking after neighborhood kids until he had enough for a ten or fifteen pound donation. It never failed to bring a tear or two to Simon’s eyes, even now that Jamie had more money than he knew what to do with and made monthly donations to Simon’s library anyway, not that Simon knew that.

Jamie packed a bag to go and visit Manchester for Simon’s birthday, and as he printed his receipt showing the library donation to give to Simon, his eyes lingered on the email he’d received from the Royal Courts of Justice, notifying him that his change of name had been processed successfully. Before he could talk himself out of it, Jamie printed that off too, carefully folded it up with the donation receipt, and placed it in a small gift bag patterned with cheerful yellow ducks. It was made for kids, but Jamie knew Simon would appreciate it.

The drive to Manchester wasn’t too long, especially once Jamie put on Simon’s narration of the second Percy Jackson book. He’d made it through a good fifteen chapters by the time he was pulling his flashy car into the old familiar row of council estates.

Georgie shrieked, as she always did, when she flung open the door to her ‘sexy little baby!’ and Jamie picked her up and swung her around. 

Simon’s familiar, “Oh, there they go!” sang in Jamie’s ears as he put Mummy down and turned to wish Simon a happy birthday. 

The three of them migrated to the kitchen, Simon having made an impressive array of Jamie-friendly desserts. Georgie and Jamie sang an off-key rendition of Happy Birthday, and Simon pretended to conduct them with his candy thermometer. Soon enough, Jamie was pushing his be-ducked gift bag onto the table in front of Simon.

“Now, what could this be?” Simon grinned as he snagged the donation receipt from among the tissue paper. He unfolded it and, to no one’s surprise, unsuccessfully blinked back tears. “Oh, Duckie, thank you so much!” he said, and launched into an explanation of the new kids learn-to-read program that the donation would fund for the next year.

Not expecting anything else, Simon placed the receipt back in the bag and reached for Georgie’s gift. “Actually, there’s one more thing in there,” Jamie said sheepishly.

“More!” Simon mouthed amazedly to himself as he went back to the yellow bag. Jamie watched with anticipation as Simon drew out the email and carefully unfolded it, squinting his eyes a bit as he began to read.

Jamie watched as a dumbfounded look came over his stepfather, and he opened his mouth to start to say he could always change it back, but before he could Simon looked up at Jamie and burst into tears. Georgie startled, and Jamie leapt up in alarm, not sure whether to run away or try and comfort him. Simon made the decision for him when he stood and threw his arms around Jamie, still sobbing noisily.

Jamie, bewildered, gingerly patted Simon on the back, before swallowing and asking, “It’s alright then?”

Simon just sobbed louder, clumsily running his fingers through Jamie’s hair as Georgie muttered, “What on earth?” and snatched the paper from her husband’s hand. Before long, she too was sobbing, though still quite a bit more composedly than Simon. There, clearly written on the page, were the words: Official Change of Name - Jamie Simon Tartt.

Eventually everyone calmed down enough for Simon to say that it was more than alright, that he loved Jamie so much, that he was so honored by Jamie’s choice, and that was enough to get Jamie and Georgie with the waterworks again, Simon himself following not long after. 

They sat on the sofa for the rest of the evening, watching old reruns of Simon’s baking show and eating too many of Simon’s desserts. Jamie sat between his Mummy and his Simon, who wouldn’t let go of his boy for anything, relishing in the evening spent with his family.