#and then the tag wranglers make it all work so well

[mariana-oconnor]

The AO3 search/filtering system has just ruined me for every other search function ever. I genuinely go onto websites, click 'advanced search' and then look at what paltry options they've given me in utter horror. How does anyone find anything? How do people survive?

[ao3org]

Another Update Regarding "No Fandom" tags

AO3 Tag Wranglers recently began testing processes for updating canonical tags (tags that appear in the autocomplete and the filters) that don’t belong to any particular fandom (commonly known as No Fandom tags). We have already begun implementing some of the decisions made during the earliest discussions. By the time this post is published, you may have already noticed some changes we have made.  Several canonical tags are slated to be created or renamed, and we will also be adjusting the subtag and metatag relationships between some tags to better aid Archive users in filtering.  Please keep in mind that many of these changes are large and require a lot of work to identify and attach relevant tags, so it will likely take some time to complete. We ask that you please be patient with us while we work! While we will not be detailing every change we make under the new process, we will be making periodic posts with updates on those changes we believe are most likely to prove helpful for users looking to tag or filter works with the new or revised tags and to avoid confusion as to why changes are being made. 

New Canonicals!

1. COVID-19

Due to long-standing demand, we will be creating a number of new canonicals related to COVID-19. These canonicals include:

COVID-19

COVID-19 Pandemic, which will be subtagged to both COVID-19 and Pandemics

Alternate Universe - No COVID-19, which will be subtagged to Alternate Universe

Post-COVID-19 Pandemic 

COVID-19 Lockdown

Created During COVID-19 Lockdown 

How to Use These To Filter For/Filter Out Works Tagged as relating to COVID-19 ❌ Filtering Out: To filter out all works that use tags referring to COVID-19, the COVID-19 pandemic, or the COVID-19 Lockdown, add COVID-19 to the “Other tags to exclude” field in the works filter. This will also exclude works making use of the subtag COVID-19 Pandemic. If you’d also like to filter out COVID-19 Lockdown, you would need to exclude that tag as well.

☑️ Filtering For: Add COVID-19 to the “Other tags to include” field in the works filter. This will also automatically include the works making use of the subtags COVID-19 Pandemic. If you wish to filter for only the pandemic or the lockdown, you can do so by including either COVID-19 Pandemic or COVID-19 Lockdown only.

2. Isekai and Transmigration

Given the similarities of the concepts, we will be creating a single canonical tag to cover both concepts to allow for easier filtering. Additionally, we will also be creating a canonical for the concept of Reverse Isekai and Reverse Transmigration. This tag will be subtagged to Isekai and Transmigration.

As with the COVID-19 canonicals above, you will be able to use these tags in the works filter to filter for or filter out these concepts. If you filter for/out Isekai and Transmigration it will filter for/out both Isekai and Transmigration as well as Reverse Isekai and Reverse Transmigration. If you would like to only filter for/out Reverse Isekai and Reverse Transmigration, you can just filter for that tag instead.

3. Mommy Kink

This oft-requested canonical will be canonized as Mommy Kink.

4. There Was Only One Bed

The ever-popular trope is now getting its very own canonical and all relevant synonym tags from Sharing a Bed will be moved over to this canonical, which will be canonized as: There Was Only One Bed.

Renaming Outdated Canonicals!

The Archive has been around for a long time, which means there are a lot of canonicals that make use of old and outdated terminology.

6. Asperger Syndrome

One of these canonicals is Asperger Syndrome, which is an outdated medical term which is no longer acceptable, and so will be de-canonized and made a synonym of Autism Spectrum.

7. Fantastic Racism

In the early days of the archive, the tag Fantastic Racism was canonized as a tag that was meant to represent Racism specifically concerning Fantasy or Science Fiction races (e.g. Elves, Orcs, Goblins, Vulcans, Phoenocats, etc.). To correct this particular issue, this tag will be renamed to Fantasy and Fictional Setting Racism to clarify the actual purpose of the tag and will remain subtagged to Racism. Fantastic Racism in particular is a case of exceptionally poor choice of phrasing for what should have been a relatively straightforward concept. The tag wrangling committee is working hard to continue to develop a robust and sustainable collaborative discussion format for making decisions in regards to the canonization of canonicals which are not specific to any fandom in the hopes of avoiding such mistakes in the future.

Reorganization of the Gender Tree and Genderswap/Genderbend Freeform Canonicals!

We will also be re-organizing a number of tags related to the concept of Gender in the coming weeks. The early days of the Archive saw the canonization of a lot of similar concepts which makes searching and filtering for these concepts needlessly complicated and difficult to navigate. 

To help eliminate one such complication, we will be merging Genderbending, Genderswap, Gender or Sex Swap, and Sexswap into a single canonical and renaming this new canonical to Changes to Gender or Sex. 

Similarly, we will be making a number of other similar renames to bring related canonicals in line with this change:

Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex will become Alternate Universe - Always a Different Gender or Sex.

Canon Genderbending will be renamed to Canon-Typical Changes to Gender or Sex

We will also create a new canonical for the concept of temporary gender or sex changes: Temporary Changes to Gender or Sex.

Other gender-related changes freeform tags we will be making in the next few weeks include:

Transgender, Transexual, and Alternate Universe - Trans will be de-canonized and made synonyms of the Trans canonical. 

A canonical will be created for Medical Transition.

These are just some of the freeform tag changes being implemented. While we won’t be announcing every change, you can expect similar updates in the future as we continue to work toward improving the Archive experience. You can also check out some of the other recent changes we have made in our previous update on No Fandom tags. Feel free to follow us on Twitter @ao3_wranglers or keep an eye on this Tumblr for future announcements. Thank you for your patience and understanding as we continue our work!

(From time to time, ao3org posts announcements of recent or upcoming wrangling changes on behalf of the Tag Wrangling Committee.)

[littlejuicebox]

Camping for beginners.

Written to sort of kill two birds with one stone. @coyote-mint this isn't Astarion soothing a baby, but it is Astarion giving Tav a break as she goes on a little, well-deserved vacation! @davenswitcher I also worked your storybook prompt in! Hope you two both like it; thanks for prompts! Special thanks to @chickywickers for helping me name the twins. :)

Summary: Tav/You are out of town and Astarion is full-time daddy duty without the nanny. In an effort to keep three children entertained, he decides upon camping in the backyard.

Tags/Warnings: all fluff, parenthood, children, dadstarion, the mildest reference to sexual encounters, mildest reference to bg3 events and trauma

Word Count: 2.5K

*

Astarion is pitching a tent in the ground, cursing to himself every few moments as he goes about the task. Once upon a time, he’d had Tav or Karlach… or perhaps even an unenthusiastic Lae’zel or an overenthusiastic Wyll to assist him.

But now, it’s him and three little boys in the midsummer heat. Tav won’t be back until tomorrow morning, after a week away visiting Shadowheart and Lae’zel in the Dalelands. It’s a sunny Sunday, and Winifred, the nanny, has weekends off.

So it’s all up to papa for a day longer. He’s sweaty, tired, and pulling from deeply hidden reserves of patience he didn’t know he had until now.

Astarion thinks he has never missed his wife more in all their time together. One more day. He can do it, right?

“Gale, hold this for me,” The frustrated father directs, guiding his ever-obedient and sometimes now shockingly stoic six year old to one of the tent poles.

Gale nods and follows his father’s instructions as his little brothers scream and run around the orchard with toy swords, wreaking havoc as usual. The younger Ancunins are a tornado of scraped knees and sticky fingers at any given time. Their parents consider it a win if the twins make it an entire day without breaking something.

Evander and Finnick are naturally more wild and unruly than their older brother ever was. Astarion is painfully aware that the streak of disobedience in the duo comes entirely from him. The twins test his patience far more than Gale ever had, and in the absence of their mother, the two have become almost completely unhinged.

Tav is the twin wrangler; they are softer with her – but then, she’s always had a way with the more surly, roguish types. Her unique charm somehow soothes them into compliance. Astarion lacks the same skills and is, unfortunately, paying for it this weekend.

The younger boys are straying too far away for Astarion’s liking, and as he hammers a stake into the orchard’s fertile earth, he shouts at the twins, “Evan and Finn, you two had better get your little behinds back—“

He stops and sighs; the twins are too interested in their make-believe and paying absolutely no mind to their father and his chastisement. Astarion resumes his task and without even looking back up at his eldest asks, “Gale, will you please contain them for a moment until we finish this?”

A lazy wave of Gale’s hand, reminiscent of Astarion’s own flippant movements when he speaks, and vines spring from the earth. The tendrils wrap around Evander and Finnick, holding each of them by the torso. A second tendril springs to life from the soil and wraps around the brothers, pulling them into its embrace just as the first tendril recedes. This process continues in a domino effect until the twins are but a few feet from their father, struggling against the vines and expressing their displeasure with grunts and screams.

Astarion lifts his head from the stake and watches the scene in a mixture of amusement and amazement, and when the boys are sufficiently contained he turns to smile at his eldest, “You really are exceptionally talented, you know that, don’t you?”

Gale smiles and nods before he looks down at the ground, unable to meet his father’s proud gaze as he says, “I know, Papa.”

The eldest Ancunin boy struggled in school all last year. His fragile confidence took a huge tumble, which his parents were working to restore to the best of their ability. Gale always required softer hands in comparison to his brothers; Astarion was still learning how to navigate this difference.

“Let go!” The twins shout in unison, short limbs flailing against the vines gently containing their three year old bodies.

They look like mirror images of one another, down to the dark wavy hair parted in opposite directions and vitiligo patches splattered across opposing green eyes. Evander’s is on his left eye, Finnick’s is on his right. Together, they look like a Rorschach Test.

Astarion’s patience is gone; part of him considers leaving the duo trapped in the vines until Tav returns. He narrows his eyes at the youngest Ancunins, pointing accusingly at them with the hammer, “You two asked to camp outside, and after very insistent pleas, I agreed. So if you don’t want daddy to pack up this entire thing and take you both back into the house, you are to stand there. Quietly.”

Finnick, the younger of the twins by a few minutes, wrinkles his nose in displeasure at his father, “Mean, daddy.”

A slow, long exhale escapes Astarion as he stares at the surly three year old with furrowed brows.

“My child, you have no idea how mean I can be, now hush so that your brother and I can finish this,” Astarion instructs, and then returns to work pitching the tent, ignoring the frustrated whines and protests from the twins all the while.

*

Around the small campfire, the Ancunin boys roast marshmallows on sticks as Astarion reads a tale from one of their story books. Apple is, as almost always, curled up next to Gale. The eldest Ancunin boy sneaks the dog marshmallows and his father pretends not to notice.

If that’s the most rebellious Gale ever is, so be it. The twins are a different challenge, entirely.

The story is all about slaying dragons, knights in shining armor, damsels in distress… the usual. The topic is exceptionally boring to the father of three, given all he’s experienced, but he’s gotten used to pretending this ridiculous droll is highly entertaining and throwing his voice for his kids amusement. 

And, plus, if the twins are entertained, they aren’t causing mayhem, which is all Astarion can ask for tonight. Tav will be back in less than twelve hours, he reminds himself.

All hail his wife, Lady Ancunin, the Hero of Baldur’s Gate, and the hero of this household. 

This weekend has Astarion regretting any moment he might have taken her for granted or not shown enough appreciation for her.

While the father of three continues to read, a sudden rustling at the edge of the orchard catches everyone’s attention. The three-year-old twins instantly cling to one another in fear and Apple’s head snaps up to peer towards the possible threat.

“Werewolf!” Evander shouts.

“Vampire!” Finnick continues.

Gale giggles and shakes his head, “No… it’s a raccoon. I can hear her. She smells the food.” 

Astarion’s nose wrinkles in distaste as his silver-haired son takes his plate of leftovers and meanders toward the edge of the property, but he chooses to remain silent and let his son feed the vile creature. With Gale around, it’s a wonder they aren’t overrun with vermin and rodents galore. Though, the feral cat colony the little boy single-handedly created is likely keeping the other animal population at bay.

Gale places the plate down, whispers something to the raccoon, and returns back to the campfire, nestling his head into Apple’s side as he settles back into the dirt.

“Papa… there aren’t really vampires and werewolves out in the woods… right?” Gale questions, his eyebrows shooting up into his forehead in concern as he thinks.

“Perhaps not in the woods right here…” Astarion responds, trying to figure out how to be honest with his children without frightening them entirely, “But they do exist… I’ve killed a vampire before.” 

At this the two younger Ancunins gasp and Gale shoots back up to sitting, his green eyes widened in shock as he asks, “You’ve killed a vampire before?” 

Astarion chuckles. Sometimes he forgets how little his children truly know of his past. He shuts the storybook in his lap closed and nods, a small smile crossing his face, “I have. Your mother helped me. Would you three like to hear about it?”

“Yes!” The boys all shout in unison, all coming as close to their father as they possibly can.

“Very well,” Astarion agrees with a grin, and then he launches into the tale of fighting Cazador, mindful to keep everything as child-friendly as a gorey battle can possibly be and leaving his enslavement entirely out of the picture. The children will learn about that later, he thinks, but now is not the time.

The boys are wholly captivated by their father’s tale until the twins begin to drift off, slumped against one another. Gale is the only one still awake when his father finishes the story. There is a moment of quiet at the end as his eldest reflects upon all that was revealed to him.

“Were you scared, Papa?” He finally asks, his fingers threading into the curled fur on Apple’s back.

Astarion nods in response, “Of course, Gale. But… I think you cannot be brave if you don’t feel a bit scared, first.”

The eldest Ancunin boy sighs. He has feelings about this that he has not yet been able to put into words. Gale’s general kindness and gentleness is such a stark contrast to many of the kids at school; he’d gotten himself into more than one scuffle. He was perceived as an easy target, because he knew better than to use his powers on the other children. As a result, Gale often simply let the other children attack him, not ever wanting to hurt anyone, even if it was in his defense.

Astarion had, more than once this year, gone to the school and threatened to retract their donations if the issue was not resolved. One of the child’s parents had been hit with a lawsuit after Gale returned home with a black eye. But come the start of next term, there was a strong chance this behavior would continue.

He and Tav had both lost countless hours of sleep over this very topic.

“How do you know…” Gale starts, and then stops with another sigh, staring up at the stars as he tries to find his words, “How do you know when it’s time to fight back?”

There is a moment of silence as the older elf considers this question. How do you know?

“If someone doesn’t listen when you ask them to stop, that is how you know, Gale,” Astarion responds, finally, his hand coming to ruffle the curls upon his eldest’s head, “And if someone is hurting you or someone you care about, and they refuse to stop when you ask them the first time, that is all the permission you need. Your mother and I will always agree with you if you are protecting yourself or your brothers in defense, little prince.” 

The silver-haired six year old nods with a yawn, his fingers still curled in Apple’s fur.

“Now come on, let’s get you and your brothers inside the tent for the night,” Astarion directs, picking up one of the twins and holding the flap open for Gale. He gets the two boys settled before returning to retrieve the remaining one and calling for Apple to join all four Ancunins. 

The fire is left glowing its final embers as the men all drift off to sleep.

*

You find the tent in the orchard after returning to a house filled with only your regular employees. Winifred, the nanny, and Pascal, the steward, are both clueless as to where your children and husband are this morning. When you enter the backyard, a snuffed fire and Apple keeping guard outside the tent not more than ten feet from the manor signal you’ve found your family.

You crouch and open the tent flap, only to be greeted by an adorable image. Astarion is on his back, one twin clinging to each leg and Gale nestled into the crook of his arm. All four of the Ancunins are still sleeping, seemingly exhausted from the night before. 

“Good morning, my little loves,” You greet in a soft murmur.

Astarion is the first to open his eyes and smile at you as he sits up, expertly maneuvering himself around three sets of other limbs.

“Welcome back home, Tav. We missed you. I think that perhaps I missed you the most.” Astarion greets, leaning forward to press an affectionate kiss upon your cheek and grabbing your hand to give it a squeeze.

“No, me!” Evander protests through a yawn as he scrambles to wrap his arm around your arm.

“No, me!” Finnick echos, sitting up and pushing a cluster of curls from his face to grin at you.

“I think it was me, mama.” Gale calls softly, his head still resting upon the pillow, eyes still shut.

You chuckle in response to this ridiculous argument before standing and lifting the tent flap entirely, “I missed you all, too. Alright everyone, let’s get inside for breakfast. I’m making pancakes.” 

A clamor of excitement from the Ancunin boys fills the orchard as your children exit the tent and begin the short journey back toward the house. Apple is running after them, her tail wagging excitedly because she knows she will get whatever leftovers the boys cannot finish.

As the children disappear into the house, Astarion grabs your hand with a mischievous grin, insistently pulling you into the tent with him.

“My love, the boys–” You begin to protest, but your husband cuts you off with a kiss pressed against your lips as his nimble fingers quickly shut the tent behind you.

“It’s Monday, surely Winifred is already in, hm?” Astarion questions, his mouth already trailing kisses along your neck, “She can handle the trio for… oh, twenty minutes?”

You gasp as the elf’s fingers slowly trail under your dress and up your thighs to grip at the flesh around your hips. And then you turn to meet your husband’s face as he pulls you into a kiss. Being in the tent reminds you of old times out on the road, all those years ago, and you quickly fall under the Astarion’s spell, just as you had back then.

Your husband breaks away from the kiss and begins to pull your dress over your head. He grins and roams his eyes over your body when you’re left in nothing but your underclothes, “And… not that it’s a competition, little love. But I maintain I missed you the most.” 

He doesn’t leave room for response as he pounces upon you, eager to show you just how much he missed you this past week. 

Less than twenty minutes later, the twins are back outside the tent, screaming impatiently for pancakes as an apologetic Winifred calls after them from the porch. Astarion groans and is forced to throw his trousers back on with a whispered, “We’ll finish this later tonight, hm?”

And then he’s climbing out of the tent, corralling the two younger Ancunin’s back into the house and buying you a moment to throw your dress back on before exiting yourself. 

When you enter the kitchen, Astarion has thrown his crumpled shirt back on and is already starting the pancake batter among a chatter of excited storytelling from the boys. Winifred is forcing the twins to wash their hands as they speak about the raccoon they thought was a monster and Gale asks you to confirm the two of you really killed a vampire.

At this last part you shoot Astarion a questioning look and he shrugs while flashing you an apologetic smile. He looks like the twins when they’ve been caught breaking something. You know you’ll have to follow up later, but for now, all you want to do is focus on your little loves.

They all missed you, and you missed them just as much. Perhaps more.

But it’s not a competition.

[somekindofpoet]

FilthX

Summary: X AU where Pearl isn't a homicidal maniac and R is the star everyone wants, including Lorraine

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: 18+ NSFW! Language, smut, strap-on sex

A/N: I think I've combined a least three asks/requests into this little guy, so its for all of you who asked for Lorraine. The pacing is absolutely out of control and self serving, and that just is what it is

This was art. Primal and undomesticated, animalistic artistry. People turned their noses up at it in public, but in private, everyone knows just how fast their own pants can come unzipped.  Everyone watches porn or has at some point in their lives, and anyone who says they haven’t, well, they’re just outright lying to you. 

It’s not like it was your dream to get naked and fuck on camera, but it paid the bills. And it was fun, that much was true. You were 21 when Wayne, Bobby, and Maxine found you, working as a wrangler for rodeos on the west side of Texas. They took one look at you, with your broad shoulders and tapered waist, and knew you’d be an instant success. They propositioned you, promising you wouldn’t have to do anything you didn’t want to and that Bobby would rock your world. You went with them that night and never went back to the rodeo. 

Now, Wayne has this great idea to film at some guesthouse in the country, and he’s hired a pretentious film student called RJ to record what he’s promising will be a universal success. A tasteful, dramatically shot film of the picturesque countryside and cunts. But the thing that’s really caught your attention is who tags along beside RJ. You can’t tell if she’s his girlfriend or not, but you don’t really care because the girl is absolutely stunning. 

When she climbs into the van behind RJ, you don’t even hide the fact that you can’t stop staring. She tucks herself into the corner, quiet and shy, her eyes wide behind the dark curtain of hair falling around her face. You can feel Bobby watching you, a knowing smirk on her face. Jackson slaps your knee, grinning ear to ear. 

“Don’t you go barkin' up the wrong tree now y/n, some girls are too good for you.” He says, making Bobby giggle.

“Oh, I don’t know, Jackson, I think she could convince just about any girl to set aside her halo,” Bobby says, eyeing the girl behind RJ. 

RJ frowns over his glasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose with his knuckle, and glances back at the girl. “Lorraine here volunteered to help me with the film, that’s all.” 

Maxine turns around in the front seat, eyeing Lorraine, “Oh, I’m sure she did. Tell us, mouse, you ever done somethin like this before?”

Lorraine’s lips turn down in apparent distaste, and she shakes her head no. Maxine’s eyes light up, and a condescending smirk stretches across her lips. You brace yourself, knowing she’s going to eat this poor girl alive.

“You don’t like pornography, mouse? You tellin' me you ain’t never seen two beautiful bodies, ruttin together and just felt all hot and bothered? Enough to slip those pretty little fingers in-“

“Enough Maxine,” you interrupt, noticing pink creeping up Lorraine’s neck, turning the tips of her ears red.

Maxine gives you an exasperated look and sighs, “You know mouse, if you are gonna give it a spin, y/n is the ride of a lifetime.”

You roll your eyes, and Jackson playfully slaps the side of Maxine’s chair, “Maxine, you told me I was the ride of a lifetime just yesterday!” He exclaims, sticking his bottom lip out in staged hurt.

You bark out a laugh and kick him, “No way Jackson, you slept with my girl?”

“Your girl?” He cries, “These ladies are all mine!”

“Please, both of you belong to us, if anything.” Bobby retorts, smacking on her bubblegum and twirling her blonde hair between her fingers.

The three of them continue to bicker, but you carefully remove yourself from the conversation to shoot Lorraine a soft smile. She gives you the smallest of nods and looks down at the equipment in her hands. RJ narrows his eyes at you but quickly averts them when you smile at him, flexing your arm discreetly. 

The van turns down a long dirt road, marking your arrival to the promised countryside. Wayne parks aside the farmhouse, and you all clamber out, gathering your luggage and helping with the film equipment. Wayne sorts out your arrangements with the old man sitting on the porch, and you all make your way to the small guest house. On the walk over, you can hear RJ nagging Lorraine about carrying her weight and wince when you hear him call her a prude. You consider standing up for her but decide against it, you hardly even know them, and you don’t want to stick your nose in someone else’s shit. 

Bobby, on the other hand, is more than happy to stick her nose in. She hooks her arm through RJs, her hands unsurprisingly empty of any luggage or equipment. She strokes his arm and giggles at him, wrapping him around her finger. She pulls him ahead of the group, batting her eyelashes and picking at his shirt, leaving you and Lorraine to bring up the rear. You smile down at her, and she glances up at you, quickly looking down at her feet.

“Don’t listen to Maxine,” you tell her, dragging your feet to slow your pace down to hers, “she gets territorial.”

Lorraine readjusts her grip on the box she’s carrying and shrugs, “It’s okay. And I never said I thought what y’all are doin is wrong.”

You tilt your head at her, “Your face kinda said it for ya, gorgeous.” 

The box in her arms slips, and she stumbles, trying not to drop it. She’s blushing again, you see it creeping up her neck when she tosses her hair to the side over her shoulder. 

“It’s not that,” she clarifies, “she called me mouse.”

“Ah,” you say, your eyebrows raising in realization, “yeah, I guess that wasn’t the nicest nickname to slap on ya, was it? Hey, you need help with that?” 

You stop and tuck the two suitcases in your hands under your arm, offering your empty hand out to help her. She fumbles with the box again, trying to get a better grip, and gives up, nodding her head. You scoop it from her hands easily, wrapping one arm around it and continuing to walk. She falters for a moment, watching you carry everything. 

She jogs a few steps to catch up, and looks up at you, “You been with them long?”

“Few years, why?”

“You seem…different. From them.” 

You snort, “What, like, not depraved?”

She shrugs, her arms swinging out wide as she tries to keep pace with you, “Yeah, I guess. Quieter.”

“Oh don’t you worry, I can be as debauched as the rest of them. I usually just save that for when there’s far less clothing.” You wink at her with a grin, making her blush again.

“So what they were sayin…” she hesitates, “about you…”

You stay silent, quietly choosing to force her into speaking the question you already know she’s asking. Forcing her out of her comfort zone. 

She chews at the inside of her lip, “Do you film with Jackson at all?” She asks, beating around what she really wants to ask.

You chuckle, “Oh no, honey, he couldn’t handle me on his best day. Besides, Bobby and Maxine are much prettier’n he is.”

“So…how-“ she cuts herself off, her brow furrowed.

You stop in front of the door, turning to face her, “I have my ways. Why? You curious, Lorraine?” You drawl her name out, pressing your tongue hard against your teeth, your eyebrow raised. 

She takes a sharp breath in, her mouth opening and closing as she sorts through her justification for asking. She’s saved by Wayne, who throws the screen door open from the inside.

“Y/n, let’s go! I wanna get this first scene done before the sun sets.”

You nod at him and turn back to Lorraine, winking at her again, “Duty calls.”

——

The bedroom is set up with a camera sitting on a tripod at the foot of the bed. RJ is standing behind it, tapping his foot nervously. Lorraine hovers in the corner, the boom mic resting on her shoulder. The scene Wayne wants to film is between you and Bobby, with heavy involvement from a particularly large dildo strapped to your waist. The scene plays out, you know the acting is horrific, but that’s not the point of the movie. 

The point is quickly made when your pants are dropped around your ankles and the dildo springs out. You go through the motions, stripping Bobby down and railing her, stopping when you’re told so they can change the camera angle, and then starting back up on Wayne’s command. Bobby is more enthusiastic than usual, and not for any lack of effort on your part. But you think it has something to do with proving Maxine’s point to Lorraine, who is trying her very best not to tremble under the boom. 

You catch yourself glancing over at her, listening to Bobby moan, and you begin to really put on a show. She’s bent over the bed, one of your hands on her waist and the other pressing between her shoulder blades. 

“CUT CUT CUT!” Wayne’s voice brings you to a screeching halt making Bobby whine into the mattress. 

You look over your shoulder at him, releasing her hips, “What the fuck man, she’s almost there!” 

“Yeah what’s the deal Wayne, y/n is giving the fucking performance of a lifetime,” Bobby says, breathless.

“You keep looking away from her, it’s taking away from the scene,” RJ grumbles.

Maxine laughs from the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest “I think the church mouse has her distracted.”

Wayne looks at you and runs his hand over his chin, “You gonna focus any time soon y/n, or do we need to switch you out with Jackson?”

“No fuckin way!” You reply, gripping Bobby’s hips again, “Roll your god damned camera and let me finish my job.”

Wayne rests his hands on his hip, nodding, “That’s what I thought. Now let’s wrap this up. Bobby, you know what to do.”

———

The group has settled into the living room, clothes returned, and cameras off. You finished the scene without another glance in Lorraine’s direction, and Bobby did her job in the way only she could. You knew the scene was going to be amazing, and you were feeling proud of yourself. Cheap whiskey is poured into small paper cups, and everyone is in good spirits. 

The conversation gradually turns to the morals of making pornography and the lesson you’ve all learned about taking your youth for granted. The talk seems to spark something in Lorraine, she takes a sip of her whiskey and leans forward, eyes bright.

“I want to do a scene in the movie.”

The room goes quiet, all eyes are turned to her. You fight every urge in you not to smile like a schoolboy who’d found a puppy on his doorstep. Bobby grins at you, and Maxine pushes your leg with her foot from the end of the couch. A shadow passes over RJs face, his feelings clear on the matter.

“You can’t be in the movie Lorraine.”

“Why not?” She asks, cocking her head in challenge.

Maxine pipes up, “Yeah, RJ, why not?”

“She just can’t.” He says, gritting his teeth.

Bobby frowns, “You told me she ain’t your girlfriend no more, RJ. And even if she was, you don’t get to tell her what to do.”

RJ’s jaw drops open, unable to form words. Lorraine looks smug and flashes a grateful smile at Bobby. You’re full-on smiling now, giddy at the thought of seeing this play out.

Wayne lightly slaps Maxine’s leg with a smile, “You wanna take Jackson for a ride then, church mouse?”

Jackson laughs, “Oh no sir, she don’t want me.”

You wink at Jackson, thankful for his deflection. Wayne nods solemnly and looks over at you.

“What you think y/n, you wanna take that big boy between your legs for another spin?”

You throw back the rest of the whiskey, wincing at the taste, “I think I can find it in me.”

RJ stands, “We can’t film it tonight, the lighting is bad.”

“Hm,” Wayne hums, squinting out the dark window, “he ain’t wrong. How’s about we plan for tomorrow, that work for you, church mouse?”

Lorraine swallows the last of her drink and shrugs, nodding, “Guess it’ll have to.”

——

When you drop into your bed for the night, you fall asleep almost instantly. Work always did that to you, siphoned off any gas you had in the tank, and left you dead tired. The whiskey made you feel pleasantly heavy, and you sank into a sweet, dream-filled sleep. 

You weren’t sure how long you had been out, but you woke slowly. It took you a moment to figure out where you were, the silver moonlight washing into the window and the thin cotton blanket scratching at your chin. You blink a few times, trying to figure out what woke you up, but a weight shifting on the bed behind you told you what you needed to know. You roll onto your back, half expecting to see RJ there with a steak knife to your throat. 

You rub your eyes with your knuckles to ensure you were seeing what you thought you were seeing. Lorraine was crawling into your bed, wearing nothing but a yellow bra and panties. Something cold lands on your stomach, and you look down to see your strap-on rising and falling on your belly with your breathing.

“Lorraine?” You say, your voice raspy with sleep.

“Put it on.” Is all she replies, sitting back on her heels next to your elbow.

“What?” Your sleep-muddled brain is struggling to catch up.

“Put the thing on,” she gestures to your strap-on, her eyes wide and her lips parted.

Your brows knit together in confusion, “We ain’t filmin til the mornin'.”

She sighs, “If you don’t want to, I can go back to my room.”

You blink hard again and finally realize that she’s really there and she’s really asking what she’s asking. She moves to get off the bed, but you reach out and grab her by the elbow. You push yourself up the bed, sitting against the headboard, the strap-on sliding off to your side. Her eyes flit down to your exposed chest, and you smirk, proud to show her your body again. She reaches out timidly, her hands shaking with the slightest tremble. You watch her face as she runs her fingers down your stomach, tracing over the hard-set lines between the muscle there. She licks her lips and looks back into your eyes, catching you with a smirk on your lips. 

You pull her into you gently, your hand on the back of her neck, and kiss her. She’s stiff, unsure at first. You pull back and look into her eyes, searching for a signal not to continue. She leans forward further and kisses you again, her lips softer and her hands wandering. Through cracked eyelids, you see hers close, and you pull her in closer. She swings one leg over you, sitting in your lap, her hands running over your shoulders. 

You run your fingers down her spine, sending goosebumps across her skin. Your hands find purchase on her hips as you pull her closer, encouraging her to grind into your lap. She whimpers into your lips, and your heart begins to pound. You’re a little taken aback at your own excitement. You had sex for a living, and you enjoyed it, but this felt different. This wasn’t for everyone else to enjoy, this was for the two of you only. You hardly knew this girl, and yet, you found yourself being impossibly gentle with her. 

She breaks your lips apart and leans back, reaching for the dildo at your side. She bites her lip, evaluating it, and looks back at you.

“You don’t have to, you know.” You say softly, reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear. 

“I want to,” she says and hands over the harness. 

You take it from her, your lips curling up in a devious smirk. You push her to the side and flip her onto her back, your knees between her legs. Her breath leaves her in a huff when her back hits the mattress. You work at sliding the harness on, tightening the buckles, and ensuring it won’t move. When your eyes return to her face, she looks positively delicious. Edible even. Her eyes are heavy lidded, her full lips parted and pouty, her skin bright in the moonlight. She waits for you, her arms above her head, completely surrendered to you. 

Your tongue wets your lips as you take her in, allowing the tension to build between you. You lean forward on your hands and press a kiss into her stomach just below her bra, your tongue lazily tasting her skin. She gasps and winds her fingers into your hair, your tongue making its journey over the plane of her stomach. Her breathing quickens when you reach her hip bones, her stomach twitching under your mouth. You glance up to meet her dark eyes and pull her panties down her legs. She whines when you kiss the inside of her thigh, pushing her legs open further. Her fingers tighten in your hair, pulling at your scalp.

You kiss up her leg, drawing small sounds of excitement out of her above you, encouraging you. The sweet, musky smell of her arousal fills your senses, sharpening your mind to a razor point. You run your palms up the tops of her thighs and press down on her hips, driving her into the mattress as you run your tongue through her. A quiet, throaty moan leaves her lips, your touch surprising her. You work into her entrance, savoring every centimeter of her on your tongue. You pull out and drag it flat across her clit, the pressure soft and exploratory. Her hand leaves your hair and retreats to the pillow, where she grips the cotton until her knuckles are white.

You lick a stripe from her entrance over her clit again, working her up. You don’t want her to cum from this, you just want to get her going. You wrap your lips around the swollen bundle of nerves and suck on it, loving the way her back arches off the bed when you do it. She’s dripping down onto the mattress, and you decide it’s enough, to begin with, so you lift your head and kiss the inside of her thigh. Your crawl up her body and her hands are reaching for you, pulling your face down into a feverish kiss. She groans at her own taste on your tongue, her fingers right around the back of your neck. The dildo drags up her thigh, making her whimper into your mouth, one of her hands racing down your back to grip at your ass. 

Just when you thought you knew what she wanted, she’s pushing you over, flipping you on your back. You help her and swing around, pulling her to sit on your stomach as you fall back. She’s hot and wet on your belly, rutting against the ridges of your abs. Before she can get much further, you sit up and wrap your hands behind her back, kissing her chest and unhooking her bra in one fell swoop. She lets it fall to the side and pushes you onto your back, leaning over you, her hair falling into your face. She kisses you quickly and then pulls back, lifting her hips and gripping the base of the dildo in her hand beneath her. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, watching her rub the tip around her entrance, coating it in her slick.

She sits slowly on it, letting it sink into her inch by inch, one hand pressing on your chest, the other holding the dildo in place. When her hips settle into yours, the whole toy inside of her, she sighs. It makes you feel like an explosion, fragments of what you thought you knew ripping out and embedding themselves into the walls of the room. Your mouth drops open when she runs her fingers down your body and then up her own. She rolls her hips forward, rocking them up on the backstroke. You’d always found strap-on sex extremely satisfying, but for the first time, you’re wishing you could feel everything. You’d give your left arm to feel the toy being gripped inside of her. The thought nearly takes your breath away. 

She begins to move in earnest, the muscles in her legs flexing as she rocks over your hips. When she runs her hand into her own hair, her fingers combing it out of her face, you feel the itch to have her closer. You reach out and settle for holding her hips, pushing and pulling her as you begin to roll your own, keeping the timing and rhythm perfectly on her pace. You slide one hand from her hip over her stomach, up to her nipple, and roll your fingertip over it, her hips moving faster. The lewd sound of skin slapping on skin fills the room, only broken up by your occasional grunting and her soft moaning. 

She shudders and drops down on her hands over your body, panting, a bead of sweat rolling from her neck to the hollow of her throat. You watch it puddle there, rocking side to side with the movement of your bodies. You bend your knees and plant your feet into the bed, giving yourself support to properly fuck her from underneath, rocking her forward with every thrust. A low groan tears out of her throat, too loud for a quiet, sleeping house. You pull her down into a kiss to silence her, forcing her whining down to a more appropriate timbre. 

Your arms wrap around her back, and you hold her weight as you sit up with her in your lap, still riding you. She rests her arms over your shoulders, her fingers pressing into the muscles in your back. Her fingertips soon turn into nails, the stinging making you gasp. She drops her head on your shoulder, holding you tight. Her hips jerk off her cadence, her breathing uneven and shallow. Her teeth dig into the skin of your shoulder, making you groan in her ear. She releases you and throws her head back, using the back of your neck to anchor herself. 

Her body freezes up, her hips moving in choppy strokes. You can feel her dripping around the toy inside of her, running down your legs. It’s enough to send a perfectly sane person off the edge, and you’re suddenly aware of why people were able to be seduced into cults. Her body was an altar, and you were drinking her in like holy water, content to die of thirst if she so wished it. She collapses against your chest, and you fall back into the pillows. You give her time to recover, letting her catch her breath and cool off as she put the puzzle of her mind back together. Eventually, she lifts herself off the dildo and rolls to your side, her head resting on your chest. 

As much as you want to continue touching her, you want the harness off your hips more. It was squeezing you in an unpleasant pinch, and the hours you’d spent in it meant chafing had begun. You carefully unbuckle it without moving her from your chest and push it down to your knees. You use your feet to wriggle out of it and kick it off the end of the bed, sighing in relief. 

Lorraine places her hands on top of one another over your chest and rests her chin on them, looking up at you, “I imagined it was gonna be good,” she says, a sleepy drawl in her voice, “but I had no idea it’d be like that.”

You yawn and take a lock of hair between your fingers, twirling it around them and rubbing it with your thumb, “You should give yourself credit where credit is due, you rocked that like it was your business.”

She smiles, her eyes crinkling, “Tomorrow it’ll be my business, tonight was just because I wanted to.”

Your eyes are sliding shut in spite of yourself, the whiskey and exertion settling into your bones again. Lorraine presses a kiss on your ribs and pushes herself up. You crack your eyes open and shake your head, your hand resting on her back.

“Stay.” You tell her, closing your eyes again. 

She takes a moment to consider, then pulls the blankets back and crawls under them, covering you with the other end. Just before you fall into the abyss of sleep, you feel her press her nose into your neck, drape her arm and a leg over your body, and you’re out like a light.

[ao3commentoftheday]

Does AO3 have a tag implication system? For instance, will fics tagged as "Menstrual Sex" automatically appear in "Menstruation" searches, but not vice versa?

I'm going to do my best to explain this, but I'm not a wrangler so take this with a grain of salt.

AO3 tags are handled by humans named Tag Wranglers who sort tags and connect them to their synonyms, making them searchable and filterable within the database.

The organizational system for tags is based on trees - sort of like a family tree. There are parent tags, metatags and subtags, and you can actually see which ones get nested underneath which if you do a tag search.

Here is the results page when I search for "menstrual sex"

You can see the name of the tag you search for, as well as buttons that will take you to all Works that use that tag and all Bookmarks that use that tag. You can see that this tag is considered "No Fandom" - meaning it doesn't belong to any particular fandom. Then you can see a long, long list of the various tags that people have used that mean the same thing.

If you scroll to the bottom of the page, you'll find the Metatags section:

The tags Menstruation and Sex are both metatags to Menstrual Sex. That means that they are both higher up the family tree than Menstrual Sex is. If you filter out menstruation, you'll also filter out menstrual sex because of this.

If you click on Sexual Content, you'll see it has no metatags (tags above it) and only subtags (tags below it). If you're someone who doesn't want to read smut, you can get rid of pretty much all of it (unless it's untagged or the tag isn't wrangled) by filtering out Sexual Content.

Since Menstruation is above Menstrual Sex in the tag tree hierarchy, filtering out Menstrual Sex will not filter out Menstruation.

[kitkatt0430]

So big shout out to SquidgeWorld for the news update acknowledging and encouraging the use of the tilde relationship identifier for queerplatonic ships!!!

I actually had a bit of a hand in how this one came about, which is pretty fun. (Story time!)

So a few years ago the Character A ~ Character B format was introduced over here on tumblr to represent QPRs. There is a post I know I rebloged a few times buried on my main somewhere about this and I'll have to try to remember to dig that up later. And there was bit of a push to try and get Ao3 to officially acknowledge the tilde or at least for those of us who write fic there start using it in tagging regardless of official acknowledgement and see what happened. And, well, what largely seems to have happened is that the tag wranglers have let us use the tilde, but there's been no official acknowledgement as the Tag Wrangling page for relationships on Ao3 still only discusses the '&' and '/' identifiers. (If there was anything official said about it elsewhere, sadly I must have missed it.)

I started using the tilde... two years ago? I think? And went back to update some of my existing fics to add in ship tags with the tilde. I still made sure to keep the Queerplatonic Relationship tags because those are still the best way to find fics that have QPRs included in them. And I've seen a few others using the '~' out in the wild, but discussion about it kind of faded again. If you knew, you knew. And if you didn't... there was always that Queerplatonic Relationship tag.

Then, about a year ago, I signed up for SquidgeWorld. I'd never heard of it before (which is likely because I'm just not super active in fandom outside the niche I've carved for myself; I admit, I am a bit under a rock at times...) but Squidge been around in one form or another since 1994. One of the fanfic authors I followed was moving their works there and so I followed and did what I always do on new sites I'm curious about - I lurked.

Fast forward to more recently. Fanfiction.net that I've been loyally using as my backup fic location for years after leaving it as my main fanfic archive... it's getting buggier and more unstable by the year. I don't intend to pull my fanfiction off it - I will leave what's on there up until the site collapses in on itself - but the day is coming ever nearer that the bugs and lack of tagging updates will finally make cross-posting there entirely too much of a hassle. And much as I love Ao3, I don't like the idea of only having all my fanfic in one place. I've seen enough archives big and small get destroyed over the years that no matter how stable or permanent Ao3 feels... I'm more comfortable knowing my fic can be found in multiple places. (Of course, the biggest hurdle for getting my fics cross-posted in multiple places is... executive dysfunction.)

I started finally cross-posting to SquidgeWorld recently and honestly just didn't really think too much about it when bringing over fics tagged with the QPR identifier. I just copied over the Character A ~ Character B tags and hit post. :D

But admin-squidgie over there - who I believe is found here on tumblr using @squidgiepdx (hi! Thanks a bunch for the news post!) - asked me about the tilde usage and what that was being used to represent. So I responded with an explanation about how it was a relatively new identifier used because queerplatonic relationships aren't really well represented by romantic or platonic identifiers. And then admin-squidgie got back to me to let me know there'd be a news post soon about this new identifier type. Which was so awesome.

While the wrangling guidelines haven't been updated on SquidgeWorld to note the use of the tilde yet (and could take a while, I know official docs always wind up being the last thing updated), the news post really is a very big deal for those of us who like to write and read queerplatonic ships.

For those of you interested in cross-posting or moving your fanfic to SquidgeWorld, I do recommend the archive. I've lurked long enough to see that the community there is pretty friendly, the interface is a clone of Ao3's so it should be familiar to a lot of you and is easily customized to make it more accessible (or covered in rainbows if you prefer ^_^ ), and (as seen here) the admin over there is open to helping make the archive an inclusive place for all of us.

And with at least one fanfic archive both acknowledging and encouraging the use of the queerplatonic relationship identifier, it'd be nice to see information on that making the rounds here on tumblr again. I bet there are a lot of aspecs who don't know about the identifier but who would be glad to know it exists and start using it themselves.

[bitchinbarzal]

Plastic Palm Trees | J Drysdale

INSTALMENT IN THE THINK LATER! SERIES

It’s not great but this song wasn’t giving much.

-

Used to drive 'round in your wrangler, in our deadbeat town. In the parking lot, we would talk about all the drama. Had nothing better to do. Now I go out with my new friends to a party downtown, in a new dress, 'til the liquor runs out. Every weekend, go out somebody new

You and Jamie were the romance in the movies. He made you feel like the star of any show at any given time.

He didn’t need to treat you to fancy dinners and vacations. Your favourite times spent together were when you’d borrow Trevor’s wrangler and he would drive up the coast before finding a car park to stop in and you’d both hold one another listening to the radio.

“I love you, jamie”

“I love you more pretty girl”

You’d told each other for the first time in that car. On those nights.

If you had asked anyone who you were as a person they would say quiet, conserved and completely, totally in love with Jamie Drysdale.

Now, you were out every weekend. You could be found in any club in downtown LA.

You were posted up on Instagram wearing little to no clothes, a drastic change from the oversized vintage ducks crewneck you would be found in.

Those instagram pictures would always include a new boy, never tagged.

Jamie would scroll through and try figure out who they were but he never could. They were simply, in his mind, douchebag.

He talked to Mason and Trevor who told him they’d seen you around. That you were a shell of the person they’d all once known before.

Before Jamie broke you.

Thought that it was real, thought that it was worth it, Out the window everything was looking perfect. Caught in a dream, it's not what it seems. Thought that I was fine sitting in the backseat, In the mirror really looked like I was happy caught in a dream 'til something in my head said ‘I'm sorry’ You were just lookin' at plastic palm trees

Everything was fine, it was perfect.

From the outside it seemed like you were coping with everything so well when in reality you took a back seat to Jamie.

Jamie’s trade was nothing short of terrifying for you and your relationship but you both wanted to make it work so you did. Jamie held you in the airport, holding your cheeks in his hands

“I love you pretty girl”

“Don’t forget me Drysdale”

“Never”

The first few weeks proved that while you might have been in this, Jamie certainly wasn’t.

He aired your calls and when he did pick up he wasn’t talking much just agreeing to whatever you said.

Everyone online and in your life awed over you both, how good of a couple you were for taking the distance in your stride.

Until the distance wasn’t just between you two, it was now you three.

You spotted her in the background of his pictures or fan images and you knew. You knew he’d replaced you.

For a while you just went on, not wanting to lose Jamie at all but something kicked you one day to decide to walk away.

Walk away from sadness and Jamie.

You called him and left a message “there’s not enough room for the three of us Jamie. You said you’d never forget me and you replaced me”

It's not how it used to be

The phone rang in your bag, you pulled it out without checking the caller.

“Hello?”

“I- I shouldn’t have called” your throat tightened at the sound of his voice

“Jamie…”

There was a silence that hung between you both for a moment. It wasn’t the silence that was warm and welcoming. The silence was cold and screamed at you to hang up.

He spoke, “I’m so sorry for what happened, I still love you pretty girl”

You clenched your eyes, stopping the tears from falling and sighed “It was all fake Jamie. You didn’t love me then and you don’t love me now. It was fake”

“It was never fake to me, you were real!

we are real”

“We were never real, my smile was fake, your love for me was fake… nothing was real Jamie”

“I love you… that’s real” he croaked, tears streaming down his face “It’s real, I promise”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I can hear my heart breaking”

“Funny… I thought it was frozen”

[proxima-writes]

Hanged man with frankie please!

thank you for the request 💕

tarot pull: hanged man - reverse

meaning: the hanged man in reverse can indicate impulsive and rash decisions.

title: invisible string

pairing: frankie morales x female reader (nicknamed Baby)

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 5472

summary:

After fifteen years, the invisible string that ties you to Frankie Morales pulls you back together.

author's note: i had this in the works before my tarot announcement but it fits great, so i hope you enjoy. please consider reblogging or commenting if you do!

content warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), no use of y/n, friends to lovers to strangers to lovers, childhood sweethearts, reunion, reader is nicknamed Baby, potentially bad spanish translations, alcohol consumption, dance floor altercations, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v, dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, multiple orgasms, references to their childhood together, enlistment. let me know if any are missing!

Frankie vividly remembers the day that he met the love of his life.

He was six years old, a gangly kid with messy brown curls running barefoot around the ranch, catching frogs in the stream before the sun got too low in the sky and his mamá called him inside for dinner. He heard the moving truck and peeked at the palatial property that bordered his parent’s own humble farm. Men carried furniture and boxes from the trucks while another man watched on, hands on his hips in the same way Frankie’s own dad would watch him to make sure he cleaned up his room.

A blur of movement darted from the front door, startling two men carrying a rather ugly floral couch. The blur barreled straight into the legs of the man in charge, and Frankie watched his stoic face light up as he wrapped his arms around what appeared to be a young girl.

Later that night, at the dinner table, his parents discussed the new neighbors, and how they wanted to welcome them to their new home. The next day, his mamá baked two loaves of bread and collected some eggs from the coop, arranging them in a basket that she placed in Frankie’s arms with a warning to watch his step as they made their way next door.

His papá knocked on the door, smoothing his hands down his Wranglers. The door was opened by a lady he hadn’t seen while spying yesterday. She looked kind and gentle, and had welcomed them inside, thanking them profusely for the basket. Frankie had looked around the grand entrance, all marble and gold, before the man appeared. He shook hands with his parents, thanking them as well and offering everyone a drink.

Then the blur came down the stairs and Frankie got his first good look at you. A girl with big, bright eyes and an uneven smile.

“Oh, there you are, sweetheart.” Your mamá opened her arms to you, which you folded yourself into as you peeked shyly at Frankie and his family. “This is the Morales family. They live on the farm next door, and they brought us a gift.”

“Hi,” you said, waving your hand. 

Your mamá had introduced you by name but added, “Everyone just calls her Baby.”

You’d looked Frankie right in the eye before grabbing his hand excitedly. “You wanna go find tadpoles in the pond?”

“Sure!”

And that was the start of it all.

________

Frankie also vividly remembers the day he lost the love of his life.

He was eighteen and about to graduate from high school with no solid plan. All he knew is that he wanted to fly. 

The problem with that dream was the price tag. 

With that in mind, the Army recruiting table called out to him. They would pay for flight training. He barely had to hear about anything else before he signed his name.

“I’m gonna learn how to fly!” He announced that night at dinner, waving his enlistment agreement in the air. The conversation around the table went quiet.

“Mijo…,” his papá had said, eyes flicking to you. 

He’d been too excited to see the pain in your features. 

“They’ll pay for flight school, and there’s an enlistment bonus,” he continues. 

“If…if that’s what you want to do,” his mamá said with a watery smile. She picked up her empty plate, nudging his papá with her elbow. “Help me in the kitchen.”

His papá had given him one last loaded look before following his wife through the doorway. Frankie turned to you.

“I know it’s a lot, but as soon as you graduate we can get married and then you’ll be able to live on the base with me,” he told you as he reached for your hand. 

You pulled back. “What are you talking about, Frankie?”

“I’ve got it all planned out. You graduate next year, we get married, and then you can move in with me.”

“But…what about college? You know I want to go to school.”

Frankie huffed. “You can go to school online or somewhere near base.”

“That’s not…,” you trailed off. You blinked rapidly, trying to clear the tears from your eyes. “I want to go to UCLA, remember?” Your voice was smaller than he’d ever heard it. 

He rolls his eyes. “So, what? You’re not gonna come with me? What about us?”

“I…no. Why should I have to give up what I’ve been working toward? What makes your dream more important than mine?”

“This is the only way I can even touch my dream, Baby! Not all of us have a rich daddy who can buy them a college degree!” 

He regretted the words as soon as they left his lips. The gutted look on your face and the tears you refused to let fall would all brand themselves on the back of his eyelids from this point forward.

“If that’s what you really think,” you took a deep breath, “then I guess there’s nothing more to say.”

Frankie held strong despite wanting to crumble. “I guess so.”

You nodded once and stood, tossing your napkin on your plate. Without another word, you walked out the dining room and out the front door.

And out of his life.

His mamá joined him at the table and rubbed a soothing hand across his back. “Mijo,” she murmured. “Is this really what you want?”

“I want to fly,” he replied. “But I don’t…I don’t want to lose her.”

“I don’t think you’ve lost her. But I think you’ll have to find each other again.”

__________

Fifteen Years Later

Frankie’s nursing a pint of beer at the hotel bar, surrounded by his best friends and fellow soldiers. The ambient noises of Las Vegas filter through the door every time it opens. Will is giving his brother, Benny, a hard time about where he disappeared to last night when they had all been taking advantage of the casino. 

“I don’t kiss and tell,” Benny replies, feigning insult. “Besides you were obviously occupied enough. Bet you didn’t even miss me.”

“Oh, really? What were you occupied with exactly?” Claire, Will’s fiance, asks. 

“We were playing poker,” Santi chimes in. “Will lost, by the way. Hope you weren’t looking forward to a honeymoon.”

Will punches Santi in the shoulder. Claire checks her phone. She’s waiting on her best friend and maid of honor to come down and join the group. Her flight had been late so she was running behind schedule.

Claire and Will opted not to have separate bachelor and bachelorette parties and instead wanted to do a bar crawl with everyone who’d come in early for their Vegas wedding. She’s wearing a crown and a sash proclaiming her as the bride, which her maid of honor had shipped to her ahead of time so she’d have it in case she was late.

“She’s a doctor, so her schedule’s super hectic. She was supposed to be here last night, but she had to rebook her flight for late today due to an emergency case,” Claire had explained. “I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

“Your mystery best friend,” Benny jokes. “I’m starting to think she doesn’t exist.”

Claire and Will have been together for three years now, and have decided to finally tie the knot. And for all three of those years, he and the guys have heard about her best friend and former college roommate who lives in California, but no one, not even Will, has met her. 

Claire looks toward the entrance of the hotel bar and her eyes light up before she shoves away from the table, teetering on precariously high heels at a speed Frankie can’t even fathom in footwear like that. She collides with a woman in the doorway, enveloping her in a hug as she squeals.

Frankie watches in amusement before the two women turn, putting the newcomer in better view. His heart stops.

Claire drags you over to the group, introducing you by name before adding, “But everyone calls her–”

“Baby,” Frankie finishes. Your eyes go wide.

“Francisco?” 

“You two know each other?” Claire asks, looking between the two of you, brows pinched in confusion.

“We used to be neighbors,” you reply softly. Frankie feels his heart fracture the slightest bit more at being reduced to just neighbors, but he supposes he deserves that.

“Wow! What a coincidence!” Claire exclaims. Frankie can feel Santi’s eyes trying to drill a hole through his head for how hard he’s staring at him. “Alright, Baby, now that you’re finally here, let’s do introductions. This is Will, obviously, you’ve seen him in pictures, and this is his best man and little brother, Benny. That’s Santi, and of course you know Frankie. Tom was supposed to come, too, but his daughter got sick so he stayed home.” She points to each man in turn. Will gives you a solid handshake. Benny and Santi both pull you into hugs. Frankie has no idea how you’re supposed to greet the woman he’s missed for fifteen years.

Thankfully, you put him out of his misery by looping your arms around his shoulders, giving him a quick squeeze that he doesn’t even have time to reciprocate before you’re pulling away. You smile politely at everyone before Claire drags you off to the bar to order a round of shots. Frankie stares after you.

“What’s the deal there?” Santi asks, arms crossed in that way that tells Frankie he better not try to lie, because it’s not going to work. He sighs.

“She was my high school sweetheart. We broke it off when I enlisted.” He runs a hand through his hair before redirecting his nervous energy into chugging the remainder of his beer. Benny’s eyes go wide.

“No shit?” He looks towards the bar, his eyes sliding over you and Claire in a way that makes Frankie’s jaw tense. “Bet you feel like a fuckin’ idiot now.”

Tell me about it, Frankie thinks. 

When you and Claire return to the table with a tray of tequila and limes, the bride-to-be leads everyone in a toast. 

“To good times, great friends, and better drinks,” she announces before tapping her shot glass to the table and slamming the tequila back with a tilt of her head. 

Frankie watches you, files away the vision of your lips wrapped around the rim of the shot glass and the movement of your throat as you swallow the liquor. Your face screws up in disgust and you reach frantically for a lime.

He passes you one, his fingers brushing yours and sending goosebumps down his arms.

“Thanks,” you murmur, biting into the sour fruit. You glance up at him and the flutter of your lashes feels like a fist straight to the heart.

Fuck.

________

To say seeing Frankie among the group gathered for Claire and Will’s Vegas wedding was a surprise is an understatement.

After leaving the Morales ranch that evening fifteen years ago, you’d removed yourself from Frankie’s life. You didn’t attend his graduation, or the party that his parents threw him. You didn’t see him off to basic, you weren’t there when he came home for leave. You didn’t answer his calls or open his letters, still too hurt from his parting words to hear from him. Until leaving for college, you would occasionally visit Mr. and Mrs. Morales for dinner, where they would slip in little tidbits of information about how their son was doing and you did your best to pretend like you didn’t care, even though you soaked up any information they would give you.

“Frankie’s finished basic. He’s planning on applying to warrant officer candidate school…”

“Did we tell you that Frankie got to Alabama? He’s really on track to becoming a pilot…”

“Frankie finished his officer course and now he’s going to start aviation school. We’re so proud of him…”

And while Frankie chased his dream, you were admitted to UCLA, where you pursued a degree in biology on a pre-med track. Your roommate, Claire, was getting her degree in criminology on a pre-law track. You got along with her like a house on fire and you stuck by each other’s sides through undergrad, and even applied to professional school together, leaning heavily on each other through the long nights of studying. 

When Claire finished law school, she moved to Florida to be closer to her parents, where she met Will while you remained in California for your residency in neurosurgery. You stayed in touch, video chatting at least once a week, sometimes more if Will was deployed. 

Turns out Claire’s amazing new boyfriend came with a whole crew of men that were part of the same spec ops team as him. You’d heard their names plenty of times before, but never did you think to make a connection between “Will’s friend, Frankie” and the boy who’d broken your heart.

Now you’re shoulder to shoulder in a crowded bar  with a man you’ve never met before, a part of you mourning the boy you’d left behind. But years between that night and now have left you with an understanding that you were both wrong and stubborn in the way teenagers seem especially guilty of. You’d like to get to know this new person with the face of your old love, if he’ll let you.

Claire shoulders her way through the crowd to the bar for another drink, Will pressed at her back, head swiveling around as he cases the place in the same manner the other men with you are doing as they sit around the booth with their drinks.

“You guys look like owls,” you say to Frankie. He looks at you in surprise.

“What?” 

“Owls. With the head turning, scanning for threats.” You take a sip of your martini. 

“Hard habit to break,” Frankie finally says after a moment, his cheeks pink in the low light. 

“I’ll be back,” Benny announces, eyes focused on a group of girls in short skirts, one of which is sporting a birthday sash not unlike the bridal one you got for Claire.

Santi sighs. “I better keep an eye on him.”

That leaves you with Frankie, who’s picking at the label of his beer bottle like it’s personally offended him. He takes a deep breath.

“I should apologize,” he rushes to say. You tilt your head. “For how things ended. I’m sure you hate me—“

“I don’t hate you, Francisco.”

He looks surprised. “You don’t?”

“If you had asked me that when I was nineteen…I’d probably have a different answer. We were just dumb teenagers who didn’t know any better,” you tell him. His shoulders relax.

“You were never dumb,” he replies. “I was the idiot there, diving headfirst into something I hadn’t even thought through. Like usual.”

“You seem to be doing well, though.” 

His laugh is strained. “It’s been…rough.”

“I’m sorry,” you reply, unsure of what else to say. You rest a hand on his back, between his shoulder blades, rubbing gently. He looks up at you, big brown eyes slingshotting you right back to the days where you’d catch tadpoles together, to the nights in your late teens where you’d fool around in his truck in the woods to avoid getting caught by your parents. 

Claire comes back to the table with another round of shots, passing them to you and Frankie. The man beside you holds his shot glass up, an eyebrow raised at you expectantly. You tap your glass to his before shooting back the liquor, sour mix and vodka burning down your throat as you keep your eyes fixed to Frankie.

You don’t miss the way his eyes go dark as he tracks the movement of your tongue across your lips. 

________

You’re on the dance floor, your body moving with Claire’s to the club mix the DJ is spinning. Will stands behind his fiancé like a guard, legs braced wide and body unmoving as she has her fun around him. His lips tilt in a little smile every time her hands slide over him.

The table Claire had dragged you from is still in view, Frankie nursing another beer with Santi and Benny, who had returned unsuccessful in their chase of the group of birthday girls. Frankie’s eyes find yours, like he can feel you looking at him. 

Maybe he can. Maybe the connection between the two of you, the invisible string that’s been wrapped between your hearts since you were only children, just needs to be dusted off. Not rebuilt.

The slide of hands around your hips and fingertips on the hem of your dress breaks you from your thoughts and your movement grinds to a halt.

“Why’d you stop, gorgeous? Just wanted one little dance,” a voice says, too close to your ear and too loud over the music for comfort. You dip away, turning to confront the man. A different body presses to you, one that shouldn’t feel as familiar as it does. 

“Not interested,” you shout back. 

Stupidly, the man reaches out for you again. Frankie’s hand wraps around his wrist, your old love twisting the man’s arm sharply as he snaps, “She said no.”

The man’s face goes red with rage, but Frankie doesn’t give him the chance to react, using his grip on his wrist to twist it until the man is turned away, arm angled painfully and pinned to his back. Will crowds in next to Frankie while Claire presses to your side.

Frankie gives the man a harsh shove, his body breaking through the crowd of people and crashing to the ground. Men in black SECURITY shirts descend, flashlights pointed at the scene. One grabs the man on the ground while the other grasps Frankie’s shoulder, tugging him along. 

“Hey, wait!” Claire starts to protest, but they keep moving. 

“I’m gonna go with them,” you tell her. She nods, pulling you in to press a kiss to your cheek. You follow the security guards through the crowd until they’re at the exit, shoving both men back onto the bustling Las Vegas strip. 

“Francisco!” You call after the man. He freezes, turning toward you. You look into the man’s face, searching his apologetic expression curiously.

“Sorry, Baby,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t have to leave ‘cause of me, you can go back and have fun.”

“Don’t apologize, Frankie. Come on, let’s just head back to the hotel, I was getting tired anyways.” You turn to walk away, expecting him to follow, but he grabs your wrist, gently, a juxtaposition to the bruising force he’d used on the man in the club.

“You called me Frankie,” he murmurs. Your brow furrows and seeing your confusion, he continues. “You’ve been calling me Francisco but just now…you called me Frankie.”

“I guess I did,” you murmur, your gaze trapped in his. God, the way he’s looking at you makes you feel just like when you were fifteen, when you’d been laying beside each other in the field and he worked up the courage to kiss you for the first time. The hand around your wrist slides lower, warm palm kissing yours and tangling your fingers together. 

“Lead the way,” he says.

________

Frankie has the same rush in his veins that he gets when he’s flying, soaring through the clouds like nothing can touch him, and it’s all because of your hand wrapped in his and the sound of his name from your lips after fifteen long years. It awakened a dormant part of him that he buried behind memories of you, ones where you were laughing and smiling at him like he’d hung the moon and stars in your honor.

When you reach the elevators, hands still clasped, you press the button for your floor. You don’t ask which floor Frankie is on, and he doesn’t offer it. He just holds your hand tighter and smiles when you squeeze him back.

You only let go of his hand when you’re at your door, digging your room key from your purse. You swipe the card, pushing into the room and holding the door open behind you for Frankie.

The room is dark, but the blackout curtains are open, the glittering lights of the Las Vegas strip illuminating the room. You set your bag on the desk before turning to lean against it, regarding him with those keen eyes and open expression that have haunted his dreams since leaving home.

“Hi,” you murmur.

“Hi,” Frankie echoes. He takes a step closer. “What are you thinking about?”

You smile, ducking your head. “You don’t want to know.”

“Well, now you gotta tell me.”

“I was just thinking…I didn’t even get to kiss you goodbye.”

Frankie pauses. “You could kiss me hello instead,” he says carefully, reaching for your hand. You let him pull it from where it’s curled around the edge of the desk and he steps closer, his chest now brushing yours when he takes a deep inhale, the citrus and mint scent of you invading his senses.

“Yeah?” You whisper. 

“Yeah.”

You lean across the scant few inches left between your bodies, pressing your lips to his. His eyes flutter shut, savoring the experience. It feels like a homecoming he didn’t know he missed out on.

He can feel you drawing back, but he doesn’t want this to end. His hands come up, framing your face in his. He almost feels bad about it, holding your precious face between hands that killed while you were off saving lives, but when you gasp and he gets the opportunity to dip his tongue between your lips, he’s forgetting all about his morbid thoughts.

Frankie wraps an arm around your waist, lifting you onto the desk and stepping between your spread legs. He drops his hands to your knees, sliding them up your thighs until his fingers tease the short hem of your dress.

“Frankie,” you whine as his lips descend on your neck, leaving soft kisses and teasing bites of his teeth on your soft skin. He can’t help but smile.

“What do you want, mi querida,” he murmurs. Your arms are wrapped around his shoulders and he can feel your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He thinks back to nights when he’d borrow the truck and a pile of blankets, taking you out to the middle of the fields to stare up at the stars, his head pillowed on your stomach as you played with his hair in much the same way. 

“Just you, Frankie,” you whisper. “Please?”

________

At your plea, Frankie takes a step back, helping you down from the desk. His hands are immediately lifting your dress up and over your head, leaving you in the lingerie set you’d worn.

“Christ, Baby, you’re killin’ me,” he groans. He pulls you close, his lips trailing along the newly exposed skin of your chest, hot as a brand. He snaps the elastic of your panties against your hip, making you jump. “Thinkin’ you would get lucky tonight?”

You smirk at him. “Maybe. Claire did say Will had hot friends, after all.”

Frankie’s eyes go dark, the sweet brown of them swallowed by lust as he turns your body and guides you backwards until you hit the bed. He crawls up after you, lying on his belly as his broad shoulders force your legs apart. 

He turns his head to kiss a trail up your thigh, stopping just shy of where you desperately want his mouth before he gives the same attention to your other leg. You squirm beneath him, already so worked up because this is Frankie. The boy who chased after rabbits with you on the farm when you were children, the one that made you a jewelry box in woodshop in tenth grade, the one who touched you with shaking hands and fevered lips when you were sixteen. 

“Te extrañé mucho,” he says, placing a kiss right over your clit through your soaked panties, making you gasp. He sits up on his knees to give himself space to pull them down your thighs, balling them up and shoving them in the pocket of his pants. You raise an eyebrow at him and he smirks. “You won’t be needing those, don’t worry.”

Frankie resumes his position, flat on his stomach between your legs. He leans in close, his breath ghosting across your aching clit before he puts you out of your misery, his tongue dragging through your folds as he hums appreciatively.

“Fuck, Baby,” he groans before diving in, tongue swirling around your clit and dipping lower to lap at your entrance, his nose bumping your sensitive nub and driving you crazy, your hips already writhing beneath him. He places a heavy hand on your hip, holding you down and you can’t help the little moan that leaves you. 

You reach down, tangling your fingers into his soft curls. He groans against your heat, tongue moving faster over your clit as he reaches up and slides a finger inside of you, your back arching in appreciation. He looks up at you as he works your body with expert precision, mouth and fingers working in tandem and bringing you to the edge with record speed. When he works a second finger inside of you, the stretch of them makes you moan.

“Want you to cum all over my fingers, sweetheart. Come on, I’ve been a starving man for fifteen years, you gotta give it to me,” he says, fingers curling on each withdrawal of his hand.

“Frankie,” you moan, hips pumping desperately, fingers pulling his hair so tightly you’re certain it hurts but all he does is moan, the sound of it music to your ears and enough to send you toppling over the edge.

He works you through it, fingers slowing as he lifts his mouth to smile at you, a lust drunk tilt of his glistening lips. His head tilts to your thigh and he nuzzles his nose against the sweat damp skin. It takes you a moment to realize he’s not removing his fingers. In fact, they start curling against you again, softly at first, then with more intent when you can’t hold back a moan. 

“Can you give me another one? Please?” Frankie asks, his thumb now circling your clit. “Need it so bad, cariño.”

“Fuck,” you whine. “Frankie, please!”

“What do you need, Baby?” 

“Your mouth, god, please,” you beg, nearly incoherent with your desire for him. “Need it so bad.”

The strokes of his tongue are leisurely, wide swipes that drive you wild, your fists curling into the sheets as your back arches from the mattress. 

“Please fuck me, Frankie,” you plead. 

“One more for me, Baby, and I promise I will,” he says, fingers moving faster and sucking your throbbing clit between his lips. 

You come again, clenching around his fingers as you cry out a prayer of his name. He lifts his head, eyes laser focused on you as he works you through this second release.

“That’s right, Baby, such a good girl for me,” Frankie growls. He finally pulls away, standing at the side of the bed to hastily remove his clothes. 

He removes his shirt first, revealing miles of tan skin that makes your mouth water. He’s gotten thicker since you last saw him, his formerly lean muscles now hard with strength. You can’t help but catalog the new scars he’s gained, like the slash across his ribs and a circular one on his abdomen. 

Frankie’s eyes trap yours as his hands come to the fly of his pants, popping the button and dragging down the zipper. He shoves the fabric down his thighs along with his boxers, standing gloriously naked before you, his thick cock 

“You keep looking at me like that, Baby, this is gonna be over before it even starts,” he jokes as he crawls back onto the bed and between your legs. He presses his hips between yours, his hard cock sliding through your wetness and making you gasp. He freezes. “Shit, I don’t have a condom.”

“I don’t care,” you murmur, dragging your nails down his back. “Please, I need you so fucking bad.”

Frankie’s head drops, fevered kisses pressed to your neck, words you can’t make out murmured against your skin as he reaches between your bodies and notches the head of his cock to your entrance, pressing in slowly as you gasp.

“Aquí es donde estaba destinado a estar,” he says. “You feel that, Baby? How you’re still made just for me?”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, your heart bursting with that overwhelming feeling of home as you look up into Frankie’s gorgeous face. He leans closer, his chest against yours as he draws his hips back before thrusting sharply back into you. His cock fills you so completely, dragging against the spot in you that drives you wild, your sensitive walls already fluttering around him. 

Those tears spill from your eyes, sticking to your lashes and slipping down your temples. Frankie leans down, kissing each side of your face where the salty tracks are, so gentle it makes them rush faster.

“Baby,” he murmurs. “Don’t cry. You know I could never stand it.”

That takes you back to when you were children, no older than eight, and a newborn calf had passed in the night. You cried into Frankie’s shirt until it was soaked. 

Or when you were fourteen and didn’t make the cheer squad, fighting back tears on the bus home as Frankie held your hand in his, whispering about how they didn’t know what they would be missing.

Most of all, it takes you back to when he ripped a cavern between your souls. His parting words, the vitriol in them, and the way your heart felt shattered for years.

Frankie captures your lips with his, like he knows where your mind wandered. It feels like an apology and a promise in the same shared breath. 

He pulls back, focusing his efforts on the movement of his hips against yours with deep, sharp thrusts that leave you gasping and babbling his name like the sweetest prayer and plea.

This orgasm is slow, syrupy, all encompassing as it washes over you. You shake beneath him with the power of it and he presses his body to yours as his hips stutter in their rhythm, chasing his release. He buries his head against your neck, his breath warm against your skin as he moans your name, pulsing inside of you. 

Frankie collapses beside you, folding you in his arms as he whispers praise against your temple. You can feel his heart racing against the palm of your hand where it rests on his chest.

“It’s funny,” Frankie says.

“What is?” You ask.

“Mamá said I didn’t lose you, just had to find you again.” He grins at you. “Guess she was right, huh?”

You grin back. “Yeah. She always was.”

________

Six Months Later

Frankie checks his watch for the thousandth time, then checks the arrivals screen at the airport. 

He removes his cap, running a hand through his hair nervously. You’ll be back in his arms any minute but it feels like it’s taking forever.

The baggage claim alarm sounds, the conveyor belt grinding into motion. A wave of people appears at the top of the stairs leading from the terminals to the baggage claim, crowding the escalators and stairs. Frankie’s eyes scan every face in search of you.

A blur of movement from his left is all the warning he gets before a body slams into him, nearly knocking him off balance and punching the air from his lungs. 

“Fuck, I missed you,” you say against his chest, nuzzling your face against the fabric of his shirt.

Frankie chuckles, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I missed you, too, Mrs. Morales.”

The ring on your left hand catches the light, a purchase from the hotel jewelry store in the early morning hours of your weekend in Vegas. Giggly and full of excitement, fingers tangled together as he pulled you along the strip in search of a wedding chapel. It didn’t take long with one on every corner, a man in an Elvis costume having you repeat your vows after him as you grinned at each other. 

Frankie will vividly remember it as the day the love of his life came back to him. 

You pull back from him with a smirk. “It’s actually Dr. Morales.”

Frankie laughs, loud and carefree, ignoring the gazes that land on him.

“Come on, Dr. Morales. Let’s get you home.”

Translations:

Aquí es donde estaba destinado a estar - This is where I was meant to be

Te extrañé mucho - I missed you so much

Cariño - honey/darling

mi querida - my dear

Frankie Morales tag list: @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @cutesyscreennamee @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @str84pedro @brilliantopposite187 @loquaciousferret @milly-louise @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @kirsteng42 @eternallyvenus @midnightswithdearkatytspb @afterglowsb-tch13 @uncassettodiricordi @pedritosgfreall @adriennemichelle98 @mxtokko @gingersince97 @casa-boiardi @sexpoisoned @mswarriorbabe80 @shatteredbaby @tusk89 @mssbridgerton @internetobsessed1234-blog @sloanexx @darlingpedro @pascals-cat @therealcap @Sadbloatedegg @dimitra300 @ievutebebe @gracieispunk @alec0 @vabeachazn

Want more Frankie? Check out the masterlist

[midnightswithdearkatytspb]

MidnightsWithDearKatyTSPB’s Recommendation List: March PT. 2

Welcome to part 2 of March’s recommendation list. Down below, you can find the link to take you back to part 1 featuring Peaky Blinders, Frankie Morales from Triple Frontier, Frank Castle, and the works that I posted. I still have some specialists that I’m traveling to go see, so there might not be 32 links this time around, but we’ll have to wait and see. The goal for March is to write another chapter In This Heart and rewrite The Spark. If you are interested in having your writing challenges featured here, or your stories, or even just your blog, please feel free to tag me in your works, message me, or use the hashtag MidnightWithDearKatyTSPB. I hope you are having an amazing March and you didn’t have such a hard time springing ahead. 

☘️ March '23 Pt. 1

April '23 Pt. 1 🌸

Masterlist

37 of 44 Years (Moodboard) ... Dedication to my parents.

All For You My Daisy (Moodboard) >> Garret Hedlund, Pedro Pascal, and Tommy Shelby

Begin Again (Moodboard) >> Ted Lasso x OFC!Penny Fletcher | Moodboard made for @teds-mustache-wrangler story Begin Again.

Innocence and Sadness (Moodboard) >> Arthur Shelby ... dedicated to @cillmequick

Peaky x Lana Challenge (Moodboard) >> Alfie Solomons x Reader x Tommy Shelby | “I’ve got a black limousine and two gentlemen who escort me through these halls.” 

Two Broken Souls (Moodboard) >> Tommy Shelby x OFC!Estella Holland | “Come, Josephine in my flying machine. Going up, she goes, up she goes.”

Update//Calm Down by All Time Low (Moodboard) >> Garrett Hedlund, Luke Grimes, and Pedro Pascal

ONE-SHOTS:

As His Daughter by @sneakyblinders >> Dad!Tommy Shelby x Reader ft. Daughter!Kate Shelby - Summery: As Kate Shelby becomes an older sister yet again, she realizes she doesn't really know her father. Her mother is on a mission to change that. | You'll go through the emotions with this one, I promise. For those who need the warning, there are mentions of childbirth!

Loving Girl by @valentine-in-my-quinjet >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: You've always known you would be a better partner for Tommy. After Grace died, you had to reassess your motivations for being close to Tommy because he needed a friend more than ever before. | You will need a tissue with this one. TW: Suicide Mentioned

Make Your Heart My Home by @look-at-the-soul >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summery: Y/N hasn't had the best life. In fact, she's physically running from it into the physical arms of one Tommy Shelby, who saves her. | Read this, get a little emotional, but fall in love with its ending.

Mr. Girraffe by @teenwolf-theoriginals >> Dad!Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: Florence's giraffe gets lost in Johnny Dogs camp. | The family dynamic in this is quite adorable, and I love how sweet Tommy is as well.

The Perfect Team by @runnning-outof-time >> Arthur Shelby x Reader - Summary: Arthur's ability to reason with (Y/N)'s child has them realizing that they work rather well together. | This is absolutely adorable and light-hearted, definitely recommend reading it.

'Teach You a Lesson by @celticmelody >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: you’re soon to marry Thomas Shelby, the infamous horseman amongst the gangsters in Birmingham. however, when he finds out you’ve never ridden before, he makes it a task to teach you… amongst other lessons that unravel afterwards. | If all riding lessons with Tommy were to end this way, I would take them every day as well. 🥵

When One Heart Breaks The Other, Follows by @little-diable >> Tommy Shelby x Reader | Summary: Tommy has been at war for months, and the only thing the reader can cling to is the letters he kept writing. Until the day when he no longer writes to her, when she no longer knows if he's alive or not. All until one last letter finds its way to her. | I've been emotional lately, okay? So did I need tissues when I read this? Yes! But was I smiling by the end? YES!

SERIES:

*A Different Sort of Man Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 by @evita-shelby >> Tommy Shelby x OFC!Eva, Canon!Tommy x Grace Burgess - Summary: Or where Eva plays around with magic, and Tommy wakes up in a universe where Grace is his wife. While in that universe, Tommy discovers just how different his life would have been if he had pursued the pretty witch in 71 Watery Lane. | My mother always warned me growing up to never fiddle with magic, but this just makes me want to... Only two chapters in, and it's so good. The switching of points of view is everything I could have asked for.

The Photographer // Part 13 by @midnightmagpiemama >> Modern!Tommy Shelby x Photographer!Reader - Summary: Hired to take pictures of your boyfriend's cousin's wedding, you are excited to spend the night in the presence of your boyfriend doing what you love. The night, however, doesn't go as according to plans. Or, the one where Gina and Micheal get married, Gina sits Lizzy at Tommy's table. And people have opinions on your relationship with Tommy. | Erin is such a fantastic writer, and I truly love this series. In this chapter, she just captures Tommy and Polly so beautifully.

A Royal Wedding of Small Heath Part 1 // Part 2 by @sneakyblinders >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: Tommy is getting married in what the newspaper is calling The Royal Wedding of Small Heath with the announcement of their engagement. It's fitting, as his wife is his Queen. | If I had to picture my wedding to Tommy, this is exactly how I would want it to go. I love how some parts came straight from the TV show. It was just perfect.

Welcome to Downtown, Mr. Shelby by @notyour-valentine >> Tommy Shelby x Crawley!OC - Summary: He was born on a boat, with neither of his parents sure of the date after the fact, unregistered and unlisted until he went to fight for his country. Her birth had been celebrated with the ringing of church bells, champagne toasts, and announcements in newspapers on both sides of the Atlantic. Their worlds could not have been more different, and perhaps that was why, when Thomas Shelby looked at Lady Charlotte Crawley, he saw more than her title, more than her looks- he saw an opportunity. | Enjoyed reading this and emerging myself into this little world, and look forward to what is to come for Charlotte and Tommy.

SERIES:

*Push & Pull // Chapter 4: Coming Of Age by @milkymoon2483 >> Frank Castle X Plus Size Jewish OC Hannah Friedman - Summary: You’re going back to your small town for your father’s funeral and Shiva. You know you’re about to face family drama, but what worries you the most is that you’re going to see HIM, your dad’s long-time friend and probably the most attractive man you have ever met.  When Frank finally sees you and realizes that you're all grown up, he struggles with accepting his budding feelings for you. | This chapter had me feeling so many emotions. You start with a stomach drop, then you feel so sad, and then you end it on a great high, needing a tall glass of water to cool down. Anna knows how to make you feel every emotion that the main character is going through at every moment of the chapter. That is a true talent.

Triple Frontier:

🍑 Appeteaser Benny Miller + Shower Sex by @dameronscopilo >> Benny Miller x Reader - Summary: Benny comes home after a long day and enjoys some time with his girl. | Let me just say this is really hot, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Here With Me by @pasukiyo >> Frankie Morales x f!reader - Summary: When your husband promises it will only be one week, your gut tells you it won't, you beg him to stay if not just for you, but for your family. (Horrible summary by me) | This starts off so sad and emotional, and it ends on a spicy note. It's perfect.

A Proposition by @dameronscopilot >> Santiago "Pope" Garcia x f!reader x Benjamin "Benny" Miller - Summary: Benny returns to Florida after six months of backpacking his way across Australia, and the surf and sun have treated him well. Very well. You can't help but notice. ...Santiago thinks that maybe it's time for the two of you to change things up in the bedroom. Because if he's going to share you with anyone, it's most certainly going to be Benjamin Miller | Is it just me, or is it really HOT in here right now? 🥵 I think I better go open the window after reading this one.

Untitled Sick!fic with Benny by @dameronscopilot >> Benny Miller x Reader - Summary: benny knows exactly what you need when you're sick—in more ways than one. | If Benny ever wants to come to take care of me like this when I'm sick, or now even, he's more than welcome.

"Wear whatever you want, I can fight." by @plaguedoctorsmistress >> Benny Miller x Reader - Summary: When your boyfriend can’t seem to do anything but whine about your outfit, Benny’s jealousy finally gets the best of him, and he takes matters into his own hand. | Benny can defend my honor any day and call me princess all he wants.

*The Wedding Party by @goodwithcheese >> Frankie Morales x f!reader - Summary: Series Summary: A combined bachelorette/bachelor party introduces you to a brown-eyed pilot. | I loved this series so much that I read it in one night on AO3 when I came across it. I'm so glad it came up on my dashboard so I could share it with you guys here. It's both fluffy and sexy!

You Again?! by @theunbearableweightofpedropascal >> Benny Miller x Reader - Summary: You keep running into the guy you had sex with in an airport bathroom. | If you looking for some good spiciness and a mixture of giggles, this one is for you.

CILLIAN MURPHY:

Chances Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, & Part 4 by @creativepawsworld >> Cillian Murphy x OFC!Paige - Summary: A single mother meets an unlikely lover after a concert. Putting herself out of her comfort zone. Can she find herself a mate for life? | The story has everything in it, fluff, a little bit of angst, and some spiciness.

Quicky by @peakyscillian >> Cillian Murphy x Fem!Reader - Summary: Cillian just can't wait. | If you are looking for something romantic, hot, and with a dash of laughter, this is it.

GERALT OF RIVIA:

Late Bloomer by @cherienymphe >> Alpha!Geralt x Omega!Reader - Summary: Geralt of Rivia saves you from more than just a werewolf attack. | Sometimes, a one-shot is so good you share it twice with your followers. I'm pretty sure I shared it when I first started doing recommendations, and I'm sharing it again.

PEDRO PASCAL CHARACTERS:

Chokehold by @psychedelic-ink >> Joel Miller x Reader x Ezra - Summary: Joel’s frustrations run deep; to him, you were a twisted source of purity; touching you forced him to think, forced him to feel. But not Ezra. With him, he could do anything. A scary yet also exhilarating feeling. Or alternatively: You wake up to Joel and Ezra having sex. | The emotions you feel while reading this are just too good for me not to share.

I Forgot About Time and Space by @psychedelic-ink >> Ezra x Fem!Reader - Summary: You cook for Ezra's guests, and seeing the sight of you being so domestic awakens something in him. | The smut in this *chef's kiss* and the plot in general. Please read this when you are alone. You'll thank me later.

*The Infinity Cube by @littlemisspascal >> Marcus Pike x Reader ft. Various Pedro Characters - Summary: When you play with a strange cube, you’re transported out of your current reality with your boyfriend Marcus into brand new ones starring alternate versions of your boyfriend who look and act entirely different every time. With each encounter, you start to wonder if you’ll ever make it back to your real universe? | Such a good use of the Multiverse and it introduced me to characters that Pedro played that I haven't yet watched. Rae does an amazing job keeping you at the edge of your seat and passing off such deep emotions. It's a must read for Pedro Pascal fans.

*Meet The Millers by @musings-of-a-rose >> Joel Miller x Benny Miller x Will Miller x f!reader - Summary: Moving into the Boston Quarantine Zone after nearly 20 years on the outside takes some adjusting. A misdirection one night guides you to the 3 men who will change the course of your life. | This series has a little bit of everything from drama to love and spiciness. There isn't much more you could ask for out of this series other than wishing for more.

When You're Reading Me by @psychedelic-ink >> Joel Miller x Reader - Summary: If you had to make a list of things Joel Miller might buy you as a gift— nipple clamps would not be a part of it. | *Internally screams* This was really hot, and I think I'll go grab a cold shower now.  

STRANGER THINGS:

The Grief of Losing Eddie Munson by @eufezco >> Steve Harrington x Reader - Summary: Best friends with Eddie Munson, the reader goes through the stages of grief of losing her best friend with her family at her side. | Someone pass me the box of tissues. This was so good. I cried through almost the whole thing.

MOODBOARDS:

My Luck by @forgottenpeakywriter >> Tommy Shelby x Reader

My Sun, My Moon and All My Stars by @zablife >> Tommy Shelby x OFC!Aurora Sabini | Lee puts together a breathtakingly beautiful moodboard for a what-if scenario in the Peaky Blinders universe. It leaves you wanting to read more and more for the couple.

Your Bread by @forgottenpeakywriter >> Alfie Solomons x Reader

Your Eyes by @forgottenpeakywriter >> Tommy Shelby x Reader

You Like That by @dearshelby >> Tommy Shelby x Reader | Tall glass of cold water to cool down, please!

@psychedelic-ink - SIL, is such an amazing writer, writing most recently for Pedro Pascal's characters and sharing her amazing works with us here. Her masterlist includes more than just Pedro's characters, having written for the MCU and Oscar Isaac, to name a couple. I love the emotions you feel through every piece of writing she puts out, and I have yet to find a piece I don't like. I think you'll find you like or perhaps love her writing just as much as I do.

@shelbydelrey - Isa is a Peaky Blinder writer whose work I enjoy reading and love seeing the moodboards she puts out as well. I would definitely give Isa a follow because she brings positivity to your dashboard with her reviews and welcoming spirit.

[the-final-sif]

A03 and the SMP Problem

Hello Tumblr!

If you've been a fan of any major SMP for the past however long, you may've noticed that we've got something of a problem on A03. For reasons unknown to me, SMPs are constantly categorized as Video Blogging RPF. Characters on the SMP are forced to share a tag with their content creators and be listed as RPF even when that isn't accurate and makes tagging complicated. Worse, if a content creator plays more than one character, both characters are merged into the cc tag. Which is incredibly confusing, and hard to follow tags for.

In the past, I've contacted A03, and gotten this reply:

Thank you for writing in about Dream SMP. We are currently reviewing the Dream SMP situation and having discussions about creating a Dream SMP fandom tag. The tag wranglers will look into other servers of similar types in the future. If an SMP is canonized, all fandom tags that clearly reference the server will be moved over to the new canonical tag. There are a number of issues we need to work through before we can do so, including ensuring that users are aware the tag is for Dream SMP members, not for other Minecraft streamers. While we can't promise that all the issues can be resolved, please do know that we are doing our best to resolve them.

Now, I was hopeful when I got this message back in November that changes would follow. However, we are now at well over 5 months past, and there's still no changes for any tags. Tags keep getting wrangled and forced into categorizations.

A03 is a fandom space, it is supposed to be by fans for fans, and it's ridiculous that a huge chunk of fandoms, including Dream SMP, Hermitcraft, Last Life, Empires, and more are forced into RPF tags that aren't remotely accurate or reflective of the works. It sucks for the people writing about the SMP, and it sucks for the people writing actual RPF. Series like Critical Role or The Adventure Zone don't have their actors listed, so why should SMPs be forced into the RPF tags?

Thusly, I would like to propose a coordinated campaign to put pressure onto A03 to create proper fandom tags for SMPs, separate from RPF tags, and with separated tags for characters and content creators. I think that a show of support for this change would help demonstrate how many people are currently being effect, and that this isn't something that can just get brushed off. They need to see how many fans are actively upset about this failure of tagging. At the very least, we deserve a public statement with what's going on and the timeline for fixing this problem.

If you're interested in participating in this campaign, my proposed dates are May 1st - May 7th.

During this period, people can, and should:

Send polite, constructive, messages to A03 support requesting:

Separate tags for SMPs and RPF, for fandom and for characters.

Separate tags for characters on SMPs, with character tags only using usernames/character names, not the names of content creators.

Separate tags for distinct characters played by the same content creators.

Reblog and create posts discussing this issue on social media. Encourage your followers on different platforms to reach out to A03 and ask them to fix the mistagging. You can use the tag #SMPsNeedTagsToo on any platform to help spread the word.

Within this tag, it would also be lovely if lists of SMPs that need this change could be created, as well as a list of characters + other tags that will need to be split from the RPF tags. These lists could also be sent to A03 to make the process of splitting easier.

If you are already planning to post a chapter or fic on A03 during this period, consider including an author's note encouraging your readers to reach out to A03.

Remember to remain polite! This is not a harassment campaign, A03 is an amazing website, and the point of this is to call attention to the issue and improve the website we love. Not drag it down.

Equally, please do not be nasty or judgemental towards RPF readers/writers. We're not trying to shame anyone for what they're reading or writing, we just want to have proper categorization so people can post their works correctly!

If this is something that interests you, reblog this post to spread the word, and when May 1st rolls around, get started! If you have questions, feedback, or suggestions, feel free to add on to this post or send me an ask!

[qpr-prompts]

Will there be any more prompts?

hi hello!!! this blog has been suuuper dead. mod tragedy is super busy, and i think qce might've just lost interest in tumblr altogether, but im still around!! (also, im engaged to my qpp now??? queerplatonic MARRIAGE is REAL guys)

unfortunately i dont think im all that good at coming up with prompts on my own :( i started this blog because i really want to see more qprs written about and drawn in fandom! ill try my best to come up with some ideas if there's still interest in filling this niche! in the meantime, the inbox is always open for you to send prompts of your own!!

now, this part is slightly unrelated but since this blog has been dead, i want to say it somewhere! i know a while back there was a movement to start (tagging QPRs on AO3) with the tilde (~), but AO3 support didn't go for implementing the idea on their own? if i recall correctly, they told everyone to just do it themselves and added the idea to a waitlist. which... means we'll probably never see it, given AO3's track record :(

but since then, ive come across a different archive project that's just like AO3 called squidgeworld archive (SqWA)! they've (officially implemented the tilde as a relationship marker, as well as given QPRs their own relationship category)! its been super refreshing to be able to correctly tag and post fanfictions on there as QPR and have it be recognized, so that's where ive mostly been posting my own works. the tag wranglers on SqWA are also super quick to canonize tags and make them available for everyone to use, so it's very easy to trailblaze a fandom on there, and squidge is extremely responsive to their users so it feels a lot nicer than AO3 :)

~ Mod Comedy

[satashiiwrites]

messy draft monday

was tagged by @rosieposiepuddingnpiefor a snippet sunday and well… it’s monday…. So we’ll do messy first drafts. From a fic i’ll someday get time to write.

Tagging @tkwritesdumbassassins @quietborderline @missanniewhimsy @whimsyswastry @westernlarch @monsterrae1 @outtoshatter with no pressure, this is all for fun.

From: Jack Carter, Wrangler of Starks

Fandom: Eureka, MCU

Pairings: Jack Carter/Nathan Stark. Someone will also end up with Tony but no clue who. Could be WinterIron, could by Stony (unlikely) or could be IronHawk. Haven’t gotten that far….

Warnings: this is really a zero draft outline but I’ve made some progress in outlining for once. I have sworn that i can’t work on this until i get some other wips finished. Set vaguely in Iron Man 2, post Nathan resetting the atomic clock.

Sheriff Jack Carter is confused as to why he’s meeting with SHIELD—a federal agency more likened to a more secretive spook team than law enforcement agency.  

You could knock him over with a feather when Nick Fury stalks into the room, eyepatch and all, glowering at Jack and studying him.   

Jack: do I have something on my face?

Fury is dead silent for half a minute then laughs then goes back to RBF.

Jack is internally freaking out.

Fury: Sheriff Jack Carter, former Air Marshall.  I’ve heard things about you. 

Jack (gulps):  good things I hope?

Fury scowls. “I’ve heard that you know how to handle a Stark. 

Jack, now upset because Nathan has been dead less than a year and he’s not over his death in the slightest: Don’t.  Don’t you dare bring him up. 

Fury: I have a business proposition for you. 

Jack, still sad but now angry:  unless you’re going to tell me how to bring him back, we’re done.

Fury is silent.

Jack gets up to leave then realizes Fury hasn’t answered him and he’s heard things about SHIELD and what they get up to from the scuttlebutt at GD. He turns back. “You can’t do that…. Can you?”

Fury: I need you to do something for me.

Jack leans over the table: What could I possibly do for you?

Fury: I need you to wrangle Nathan Stark’s cousin—Tony Stark.

Jack’s seen the news about Tony Stark’s latest falling off the wagon, paparazzi fueled disaster of a life. He hadn’t known that Nathan had been related to the billionaire playboy genius but it makes sense. 

[miscfandomwrites]

Mama Chapter Nine

A/N: SO I WANT SOME THIRST and y’all are gonna get it. Just a small hint: the next few chapters will be more action and angst. As usual, if you want to be on the taglist please let me know. Also, sorry for the half-month hiatus, I’m not doing too well in school and mentally. Working on it.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Mom! Avenger! Reader

Warnings: Language

Words: 3.4k

Tagging: @tyler-t0t

~~

“I love you Mom!” was Lillith’s only reply as she ran towards the playground, her red backpack bouncing along with her each of her steps. 

I chuckled as she immediately dumped her backpack on the ground and went for the slides. I stood and watched her for a bit, before turning and getting in my jeep. Per Lillith’s request, she wanted to come to school in my old wrangler. That thing was older than me and that was definitely saying something. 

I started it, feeling the entire frame shake as if my jeep was not in fact, a machine but a living breathing beast that had just woken from a ten-thousand year nap. Damn, this thing needed to be fixed. I hummed along to the radio as I drove back to the tower, enjoying the cool fall morning. 

As much as I hated to admit it (I didn’t hate it) I would miss my kid. She was definitely the light of my life these past few years. It’s a wonder that she’s basically a little human and had thoughts and-Wait, I was starting to dissociate. I turned my focus back onto the road, and was delighted to find that I was less than a block away from the tower, instead of halfway to Poland.

I parked and got out, deciding to work in my workshop rather than face my empty floor. After making sure my phone and other miscellaneous belongings were with me, I headed to my main work area.

Dumping my coat and eventually my shirt on the island, I kept going through and loggin my ammunition. Someone had fucked my systems up, and I had been dutifully working on organizing things. The one thing that really fucking pissed me off was the fact that my experimental batches of my 45 ammo were mixed. It seemed like someone just took the trays and dumped them in a spare ammo can. Like seriously? Every batch had different power and some had different primers and oh-was this frustrating!

I decided that it was better to get rid of them than to deal with having ammunition that wouldn’t work out in the field. I’d rather not rest my or anyone else’s life on defective ammunition. 

I kept muttering to myself about how stupid someone had to be to just mix ammunition without looking at labels as I retrived my old 45 from my gun cabiniet and grabbed some empty magazines. 

I’d used the gun range in my workshop before, but I wanted to see what the tower had to offer, after all it was made of steel and glass. In fact, I was surprised I hadn’t seen the tower’s range yet. 

I took out my personal 45 from its place at the small of my back and replaced it with my old one, and started loading the magazines. Bullet after bullet, magazine after magazine. I was roughly halfway through the box when I decided that two guns would be more fun, and I grabbed one of my thigh holsters and slid my personal 45 in. 

As much as I’d like to not fuck with my concleled carry, I had nothing better to do the rest of the day. I was still figuring out some things as far as S.H.I.E.L.D. went to pay me, and was mostly trying to figure out if I’d need an actual job or not. Besides, I had the parts needed to make another 45 on hand.

I finished loading the magazines and counted them as I placed them back in the ammo can. 

“Seventeen? Damn, I thought there’d be more…” I quietly said as I placed the last one in. I grabbed the can and headed to the elevator, where I asked FRIDAY to take me to the range. 

Not even two minutes later I arrived on the sixtieth floor, which only furthered my anxiety. Glass windows surrounded us on all sides (Although they were mirrored so we could see out, but no one could see in) and there were the standard targets and stalls. Thankfully, most of the team was up here anyway. Steve was talking with Sam and Bucky around a table that held various revolvers, and Natasha was showing Wanda how to hold a handgun properly. I headed over to the boys and set my can down on the table before turning towards the rest of the room, trying to figure out how we could shoot in it.

“What’s in the ammo can?” Sam questioned me as he pulled it over to him. He opened the lid and nodded to me. “Looks like you’re gonna have some fun.” 

I only grinned wolfishly in response. “So, the glass windows won’t break if we shoot them?” I asked Bucky. He nodded as he held one of the revolvers on the table, examining it carefully. 

“Good to know.” I replied as I headed to the farthest range away from everyone. I grabbed a pair of headphones as I walked past Natasha and Wanda, and didn’t stop even as the both turned and stared. It’s been too long since I’ve been able to shoot. To feel the recoil. The cold metal of the handle… The smell of gunpowder. Man, I miss it all. 

I set the can down on the shelf next to me in my stall, and sent my first target down the line. I pulled the 45 out of my back holster first, and grabbed a magazine. Muscle memory had me snapping it in place and sending the slide forward. The metallic click brought me back, and I centered my feet and took up my stance. 

I focused down the sight of the gun to the center of the target and took several breaths, focusing my heartrate and my body. I curled my finger on the trigger and the muffled bam! had me already craving the recoil. 

Breath in, pull. Breath out, pull. Breath, pull, breath, pull, breath, pull….

The same pattern had me going through magazine after magazine after magazine. I paid no mind to the burning hot shells as they occasionally hit my arm, nor did I feel anything besides the recoil and the steady calmness that accompanied it. 

It was only until the seventh magazine  in which I stopped and took a breath. I lowered the now-smoking gun and ejected the magazine, and pulled back the slide and set it on the side table. I stood there for a minute or two before deciding to send the target towards me. 

The target was almost torn in half; I had shot at the midsection of the outline and there was just a huge hole, or rather several smaller ones that made the target almost completely obliterated. 

“Jesus Christ, (Y/N)...” Came Steve’s voice from behind me. 

I turned to see everyone just….staring. What, like this chaos wasn't what Natasha and Barnes inflicted upon the enemy every mission?

I shrugged and took the target down, balling it and tossing it into a nearby bin as I grabbed a second one. 

“I think I should reinforce those windows some…” Stark muttered as I loaded a handgun and stacked more magazines next to me. I sent the new target down the line and I repeated the cycle of emptying the magazines. I swear, next time I’m just going to move everything by myself. Although this is fun. 

Everyone eventually went back to what they were doing before, and before long it was only the boys and I on the floor. Eventually even they left for what I was assuming lunch. I finished emptying the magazines and headed back downstairs, gun oil and the scent of gunpowder sticking to me. Either way, I needed to keep myself moving. Pausing gives time for my anxiety to reappear, so it was better that I keep myself busy.

I set the handguns on the reloading bench as a reminder to clean them later, and restacked the ammo can where it belonged. I turned off the lights and headed up to my floor, skipping lunch. Once there, I changed into a pair of black workout pants with a baggy sleeveless shirt and my pair of running shoes.

Grabbing my water bottle and wireless earbuds, I took the elevator down to the gym floor. The gym floor, or, floors rather, were two floors merged together in the middle. All sorts of expensive exercise machines and weight bars, along with punching bags and mats scattered the space. The middle of the floor had ropes that hung from the ceiling of the second floor and had the largest mat. Thankfully we had a multi billionaire that paid for this place, and Stark went all out with it.

I started with stretching, then moved to the punching bags for a bit, then decided on pull ups. I haven’t really been able to take time out of my day to work out, rather the afternoons and mornings.

That was the great thing about being my own boss-My company was my own. I did a little bit of everything, or as I liked to refer to it: Freelance Hacker / Creator.

Yup. I checked servers for weak points and helped people create websites and platforms. Hell, I even took down a few...unsavory websites when I could. I had my own hours that I adapted as I needed. Especially with Lillith, it was easy for me to look after her when we were at home. 

Shit, I need to clean up the space. I remembered. I stayed up late last night making a draft of a site for a client….which I had to make a meeting with tomorrow. 

I drifted off into my thoughts as I ran through my cycle of sit ups, push ups, pull ups, and bench presses. Twenty per each set, five per each round. Damn, when was the last time I took a self care day? I let my brain sort out ideas and organize my thoughts for a few more minutes before focusing on what I was doing. I finished two rounds before heading over to the left wall and grabbing a pair of heavy chains.

Natasha and Wanda were sparring, with Natasha pushing Wanda back with offensive moves. Hand-to-hand combat wasn’t Maximoff’s strong point, but after insisting from both Strange and I that there might be a point where she would need to use physical combat despite her showing practically limitless magical abilities, she started. 

First it was with both Strange and I, with my abilities making me a bit more resilient to her magic and Strange being….strange. Then her and Natasha started sparring when my long days turned into longer nights, and I’m fairly certain Barnes is taking some part in the cycle. 

I finally watched Wanda get a solid hit on Nat’s torso in, and the assassin didn’t even flinch as she swept Wanda’s legs out from under her. The redhead was panting heavily, her hair tied back in a short ponytail with some hair framing her face. Wearing a black t-shirt and some black leggings, and black tennis shoes (Not going to lie, black looked really good on her). I tore my gaze away, albeit with some difficulty as I turned the mental list of tasks into a digital one on my phone.

After doing that and sipping some water, I used the hem of my shirt to wipe away the sweat on my forehead. Deciding to forego the shirt entirely I peeled it off and tossed it next to my water bottle. Draping the chains over my shoulders and grabbing the bar, I pulled myself up. 

First few rounds of ten were easy, but the added weight of the chains (about twenty pounds, if the labels were correct for each) soon slowed me down. Which was fine, it had my arms and shoulders using more effort than usual. I looked up and was surprised to see both Natasha and Wanda looking at me. Both girls were by the water fountain, Wanda holding her water bottle and phone, and Natasha sipping hers with a towel over one shoulder. If it wasn’t the fact that they both were working out, I would swear that Natasha’s face was red. I could feel the sweat dripping down my chest and stomach, and was eternally grateful for the serum that kept me at a decent four pack.

I winked, and Natasha choked on her water. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she cleared her throat and headed towards me. Wanda stayed there, and started scrolling on her phone again.

She practically sauntered over, and my face slipped into a grin as she stopped right in front of me. Not bothering to pause, I kept going, making sure to keep my chin above the bar when I went up.

She stopped and crossed her arms, smirking at me. I returned her smirk, along with “Anything I can help you with, Ma’am?”

She grinned, before walking straight in front of me. She stopped, not even a half a foot away as I was about to pull myself up again. She gently ran her fingers along the chain of my dog tags, and tugged them out of my sports bra. I kept them in there so they wouldn’t make noise and so I had them close to my heart. 

There were three tags in all on there, two of them being mine. She held the third up to read it and I stayed still, almost stiff as she smiled softly. It was my wife’s tag. 

She let the tags fall back onto my chest and pulled them straight, and as she let go she gently, almost ghosted, her hand over my stomach. I stiffened more, and then dropped from the bar. She backed away a bit as I took the chains off and returned them to their spot on the wall, then as I wiped away the sweat on my face with my discarded shirt.

“I think….” She started as I opened my water bottle. Facing her, I gestured for her to continue. “That is something that is honorable. There’s no other word to say it, but it is. It’s out of love and respect, yes?” She questioned, pointing to the tags. I nodded, setting my water bottle down.

“Hey, do you want to come pick up Lillith from school with me?” I asked her, throwing my shirt over my shoulder and grabbing my water bottle. I checked the time on my phone and tucked it in my pocket. 

“Sure. Can we get coffee?” She said as she walked besides me to the elevators. I selected both of our designated floors as we got in, and we started chatting about my little human. 

Her floor was first, and with a wave and a “I’ll see you in the garage in fifteen minutes” she got off and headed towards wherever her room was. 

I ran a hand through my hair, tugging it out of its ponytail as the elevator stopped at my floor. Getting off, I headed towards my room. Grabbing a pair of black jeans, a black shirt and some new undergarments, I quickly took a shower. Brushed my hair, teeth, and decided on a bit of eyeliner and mascara for the rest of the day. Pulled on some boots and grabbed my black leather jacket, making sure I had everything I needed for heading out. Finally, I grabbed my silver aviators and headed downstairs, before almost tripping over the shoes that littered the front entryway. Damn, my entire floor needed to be cleaned. 

I met Natasha by my car, wearing a white, loose sleeveless tank top and leggings. Along with sneakers. Her hair was damp and down, and she had a black duffle bag over her shoulder.

“Where are we going?” I questioned as I popped the trunk to the challenger. 

“I was hoping you could take me to my studio, if that’s alright.” she said as she shut the trunk lid with her duffle in it. 

“Yeah, that’s no biggie. Coffee first?” I asked, starting the car. 

“Please.” She sighed as she leaned her head against the seats. I smiled and pulled up to the open street. 

We got our iced coffees and I made sure to get a frappuccino and cookie for Lillith, and I drove towards where Natasha said her studio was. 

“I’ll just be about forty minutes. I need to get some stuff done and it might be a bit.” She said as she leaned in the car door frame, her duffle over one shoulder and a hand on the car door.

“That’s fine. I’m going to go pick up Lillith and then I’ll drive back here. Is that alright?” I asked, looking at the redhead. She smiled and nodded, shutting the car door.

I picked up Lillith from school, who excitedly told me that she made not one, but four new friends in her class. Her happy shriek had me laughing as I gave her the frappuccino and cookie. “I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!” She yelled as she grabbed said drink from my hand. 

“Careful with it please.” I chucked as she quickly sipped on it. She hummed in response, staring out the window.

I shook my head and shifted the car into drive and headed downtown. Not even halfway there, and already….

“Mom I have to go pee” Lillith said, scrunching her nose and the bag the cookie came in.

“Okay. We’re almost there to pick up Natasha and then we can go inside and you can go pee.” I replied as I turned another corner.

I had no idea if her studio had a bathroom, but I had the idea that my toddler couldn’t hold it very long. That girl drank more water than I did, and that was saying something. 

We pulled up and immediately she was getting unbuckled and wiggling her way out of the car. I got out and tucked my keys in my pocket, and helped her out of the car.

I gently kicked the door shut and led Lillith through the doors with a hand on her back, and followed the signs to where the bathroom is. Other than the fact that this place looked completely deserted, it was nice. 

No outstanding decorations, and there was little furniture. An old cork board held flyers and photos of various ballet dancers and activities. I paused at that, remembering what Nat had said that one night.

I dance. 

After having Lillith wash her hands (Which she complained about, but did anyway) we walked around until I found a half wall, half window point.

Lillith was short enough to where she couldn’t see in, but thankfully I wasn’t. It must’ve been a two way mirror, judging by the same pattern around the walls. A set of hip bars in the middle on a hardwood floor, and one of the most beautiful women lightly dancing to music I couldn’t hear.

My grip tightened on Lillith as I took in the sight before me.  Natasha was wearing a black leotard with black tights, and the thing that caught my attention was the shoes. Pink, with the ribbon wrapping around her ankles. The way she moved reminded me of all of the ballet shows I went to in school when I was a kid. There was something majestic about how she moved, how delicate she seemed.

Of course, it was Natasha Romanoff. She may appear delicate, but she’s the complete opposite. 

She turned on her heel and bowed down to the floor, hands barely brushing the wood. She went up, arms gracefully moving out in a way that kept my focus on her. That was, until Lillith yelled at her. 

“HI NATASHA!” She yelled, jumping up and down and aggressively waving at said women. Natasha didn’t start, rather smiled at the small child and waved. 

I facepalmed, dragging my hand down my face as I tried to fight down the flushing of my face.

[chomperblue]

Intro Post!

[Icon made using CIM by Dolldivine]

Hey all! Maeve here, thought I should introduce myself. :)

I'm 26, live in a small town in Hoenn, and often visit family in Alola. I'm the local 'Pokémon Wrangler,' which really just means I take care of any Pokémon in town that end up where they shouldn't. When not called on a job, I sell honey from my Combee hives and jams and berries from my orchard. Many Pokémon consider my property their home, and I don't discourage them from visiting so long as they remain friendly.

My team (or really, the Pokémon who hang around the house the most) is currently six Pokémon strong!

Astrid is my Garchomp and my partner Pokémon. She tends to be standoffish, but she's a sucker for poképuffs if you have them <3

Cassia is my Luxray, she's very protective of me and offers comfort when I'm upset. She's wonderful with kids though, and I take her with me whenever I'm invited to a school to talk about Pokémon safety.

Bryony, my Mudsdale, helps with my work in the orchard and is my ride Pokémon whenever I travel. She's stubborn, like any Mudsdale, but my most loyal friend.

Dusty is my Arcanine, and definitely in love with Cassia (probably the main reason he sticks around). He likes lazing around in the sunbeams on my porch, and I sometimes have to clean up scorch marks when he soaks up too much heat.

Atlas is a Totodile, and adopted rescue from one of my wrangling jobs. He has been adopted by Astrid and she's been taking wonderful care of him; this is unexpected, but promising for Atlas' well being. Atlas loves running around after Astrid and being held by people.

Kiska is a shiny Mareanie (yes, I know her image is of a normal one) who I adopted from Floaroma Sanctuary. She's feisty, but has proven to be a great friend to my established team. I'm definitely keeping her away from the local kids until she's been trained.

That's most of my info! Questions / Asks / Interactions are welcome :)

--

ooc: As I am developing this blog information about the character(s) may change. Please keep content surrounding my blogs and interactions with me positive and respectful. No NSFW, drugs, or mentions of being drunk/inebriated. Thank you!

Current character list page here: chomperblue.tumblr.com/CharacterList

There are a couple of characters associated with this blog, but Maeve is the official 'owner' and so is the default speaker. Each character will have a tag associated with them to clarify who is speaking on each post or ask response. For example, Maeve is tagged as "#Chomper says hi," and Helena is tagged as "#Helena Posts."

//mod info below!

[Picrew Here]

Hi! Call me Sundew. I’m a young adult, busy from Uni, based near the Arctic Circle. Please be kind! I curate my internet experience very harshly and will not interact with anyone/anything that makes me anxious. Tone indicators help a lot! (Especially when it comes to jokes) If you’d like to RP or plan an interaction drop me a DM!

I’d prefer if people under the age of 16 didn’t DM me. I want this blog to be enjoyable for anyone, but I’m uncomfortable with privately talking to someone younger than any of my real-life friends. Feel free to send an ask though!

If you want to send an ask to me instead of my characters, just address it to Sundew. :)

[mariana-oconnor]

Tagging on AO3

Because I've come across this a number of times in the past few weeks and I know other places work differently:

On AO3, you don't need to add variations of your tags.

What I mean by that is if you are tagging a certain ship, you don't need to tag "Name A/Name B" and "Name B/Name A" and "ABShipname". AO3 has a system that's pretty well established now that, with the help of many tag wranglers* (All Hail the Tag Wranglers) behind the scenes, does that for you. All of those tags are linked together so if a person filters by one of them, they see all fics tagged with any of them. In fact, it's probably better for you to stick to a single tag, because that means potential readers can scan through your tags more quickly to check what's in the fic, making them more likely to read it if it's got tags they like.

Not only does it link tags with the same meaning together, the wonderful tag wranglers (their praises be sung) also create a sort of hierarchy of tags, so multiple more specific tags are all included under a more general umbrella tag.

For example, if you are tagging your fic where beloved side-character Tom Fakename is a werewolf, you can tag it "Werewolf Tom Fakename" or "Tom Fakename is a Werewolf" or "I made Tom Fakename a Werewolf Because I Love Werewolves LOL" and all of those mean the same thing. BUT your fic will also appear if someone filters by the more general tag "Werewolves"**. And all those fics, as well as fics where Tom Fakename (or his fan favourite ship partner Matt Blorbo) are tagged as being werecats, wererabbits, werebats or were-stick-insects can ALL be found if you filter by the tag "Were-creatures". Weirdly, were-creatures doesn't seem to come under the Shapeshifters tag, but I assume that was the result of careful consideration on the tag wranglers' (may their days be filled with joy) part.

In summary:

"Matt Blorbo/Tom Fakename" = "Tom Fakename/Matt Blorbo" = "Fakebo" = "Tom x Matt" (only one of these tags is needed***)

"Were-creatures" > "Werewolves" > "Werewolf Tom Fakename"

"Were-creatures" > "Matt Blorbo as a Werekitten is Something That Can Actually Be So Personal"

(You can tag with multiple of these if you want, but you only really need to be as specific as you'd like)

Of course, the tag wranglers (may the fandom gods bless their names) are only human and literally do not have time to read every 100k fic out there to check every single tag is absolutely correct, so sometimes things do get mixed up. However! You can aid them in their mighty task by using the tags that already exist where available and appropriate for you!

When you start typing tags into the little input bar on the AO3 New Work screen, you'll see a dropdown list of tags that are similar to what you're typing. If one of those has the right meaning for what you want to tag and it works for you, you can click on it, and your fic is already connected to the great tag web in the right place. Of course, if it ruins your comedic tagging rant, feel free to ignore this.

All good things come with a downside, though, beware the autofill!

Sometimes, when you're typing Werewolf Tom and you press enter, there may be another fandom with a character called Tom Otherguy who people love to make a werewolf (Tom Otherguy is just crying out for werewolf AUs, you know how it is. He's just a werewolfy li'l guy). And if you press enter, you'll find that rather than you tagging your work simply "Werewolf Tom", AO3 has autofilled the most popular tag that starts like that: "Werewolf Tom Otherguy".

Naturally, this can confuse both readers and the tagging system, so in general I'd recommend always including a second name where available****. I.e. it's better for everyone involved if you tag your fic "Werewolf Tom Fakename" rather than simply "Werewolf Tom" so it's clear at a glance who you're talking about and AO3 doesn't accidentally jump to conclusions. Just to be sure, make sure you check your tags after you've entered them, in case one of them autofilled without you noticing.

*To learn more about the tagging system and tag wranglers (bright stars of the fandom sky), check out the AO3 wrangling guidelines. Or, if you're interested in becoming a tag wrangler yourself, they will post information here when they're looking for applications.

**The "Alternate Universe - Werewolf" tag is a little different because it depends on whether your fandom has canonical werewolves. It comes under the umbrella tag of "Alternate Universe". Likewise with the "Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known" tag.

***Canonical pairing tags (the ones that appear in the filter list) are written in alphabetical order by surname (If they have a surname). Therefore "Matt Blorbo/Tom Fakename" is the standard tag for that pairing. Or "Matt Blorbo/Zara Diedforplot/Tom Fakename".

****If the character only has one name then usually that name will be followed by the name of the fandom in brackets to distinguish them from other characters with that name, i.e. Name (Fandom). Some characters have nicknames they are more commonly known by and those are usually inserted between their first and last names in inverted commas, e.g. "James "Bucky" Barnes". Other characters have nicknames and half a dozen other names, e.g. "Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski De Rolo III". If you have irritating motherfuckers (affectionate) like these in your fandom, I'm going to assume you already know about them.

Disclaimer: I am not a tag wrangler, nor have I ever been one. All information above is presented as I have come to understand it from having used AO3 for over a decade. If any of the information above is incorrect, please let me know so I can correct it.

TL;DR - You only need to use one version of a tag, AO3 will make sure anyone searching for variations can find your fic, and be careful to check your tags before you post to make sure they're right.

[justacasualidiot]

new fic!!! (botw pre-canon role swap)

summary and tags below

Rating : Teen (as of now)

Achieve Warning : Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category : Gen (for now?)

Fandom : The Legend Of Zelda: Breath of the Wild (fight me tag wranglers) (edit: I MISSPELLED THAT SO BADLY WTF)

Relationships : Purah & Robbie, Purah & Robbie & Zelda, Link & Zelda (Links not here yet, he will be next chapter), Link/Revali (gimme ten or so chapters to make it happen)

Characters : Zelda, Purah, Robbie, Link (soon), (champions will appear just not yet)

Additional Tags (well, the important ones) : Angst, Pre-Canon BotW, Role Swap, Panic Attacks, Many headcanons will be shoved into the fic, I’m writing this as I go

Language : English

summary :

Zelda is a scholar who on a research expedition into the Lost Woods ends up in Korok Forest and finds the Master Sword and pulls it, thinking someone left their sword placed there and that she should return it. Now, she's stuck being the knight to Link. She has no training with a sword whatsoever and just wants to go home to see her dad and friends back in Hateno.

Link is the selectively mute transmasc prince who has the blood of the goddess in him and is expected to awaken his powers (which he is struggling a lot to do) when all he really wants is for his father (that bitchass King Rhoam, he would rather his father die then keep praying every moment of his life) to stop misgendering and deadnaming him and to be a knight. Then someone pulls the sword that seals the darkness and he has to go with them to get all the divine beast shit sorted out while also trying to awaken his powers. He may even possibly find that he’s been charmed by a certain divine beast pilot…