#anyway this is why i read fanfiction

[biggiedraws]

mannnn the rvb writers did washington so dirty. like, theres the obvious example from the Season That Shall Not Be Named, but even from the very beginning......

when he first shows up, hes shown to be very traumatized by what happened with epsilon. refusing to let another ai in his head, and spacing out in the middle of a conversation..... like he doesnt even have much screentime and hes so clearly affected by it.

then in the recollection they write it off by saying that the ACTUAL reason he didnt want another ai was because he knows about the alpha and stuff. then theres one throwaway line from alpha about "youve got some heavy stuff in there" and thats it. and not saying that he couldnt ignore it and push through it and ACT like hes fine, im just saying that they made it such a major part of who he is and then never addressed it again.

and also: the fact that he fully betrays the reds and blues for his own personal gain??? and not only did the reds and blues take him in after he did nothing to redeem himself (believeable tbh), there was no conflict! no tension! i mean, a couple seasons later tucker and church get into a HUGE fight because church left them without saying goodbye, but when someone who legitimately tried to kill them for his own gain shows up, theyre all just like "yeah thats chill". ??????

and like, my problem isnt that it HAPPENED, lots of nonsensical stuff happens in this show. its that they never addressed it! wash didnt do ANYTHING to show that he had changed, at least on screen, and now we're supposed to believe that hes part of the family? the freelancer saga would have been a GREAT place for a wash redemption arc, especially as tensions rise after carolina shows up. i mean, sarge does have some distrust in washington, but its framed as "silly sarge, wash is a friend!" like- he literally shot donut!! hello???? and the bit where wash stands up to carolina would have been that much more meaningful if wash had to fight to earn the trust of the reds and blues, instead of playing both sides.

and then on chorus he FINALLY actually gets a character arc, but it doesnt really fit him at all?? like, the fact that hes focused on surviving, and frustrated that the reds and blues are dicking around? totally plausible. but why the obsession with turning the blues into good soldiers? to prove himself as a leader? why?? im not saying its a bad arc, i really like it! it just doesnt really track with what we've learned about wash so far.

season 15 he gets very little screentime, and most of what he does get is actual brain damage used for a cheap joke (which.... disappointed but not surprised, given how the show treats caboose)

the rest of the shisno trilogy he has a solid arc about coming to terms with his disability, but i feel like at some points its still used as a cheap joke? idk id have to rewatch it, i think the characters are pretty serious about it, but i feel like there were times where youre meant to laugh because "haha hes so silly now!" which...... yeesh

and then. AND THEN. THE ABSOLUTE AUDACITY TO WRITE IT OUT IN THE VERY NEXT SEASON???? as if the whole shisno trilogy didnt happen???? the fact that they immediately sidelined wash and carolina is bad enough, but thats just a whole new level.

anyway wash is my fave and theres so many things about him that i would have LOVED to see explored in the show. and instead we got this.

[collophora]

Do yourself a favor and go read the entire fanfic work of @fanfoolishness

(In order: Under sun and shade, Blind Side, and Breathless (patching up is one of my fav too, I just had no cool sketch idea for it)

[aimasup]

throws up my hands in mock resignation but also a hint of frustration Okay Valentino is a cool villain I guess

He's like. Genuinely unsettling. Wish the show struck a better balance with his character sometimes (like sometimes when he's onscreen I have to skip over because I feel queasy and sometimes he's so unsubtle he feels more like a prop than a guy who's going to be a Huge Deal in s2)

[bekkachaos]

I just think it's fucking wild how novels, like published books, average between 70,000 and 120,000 words and there are fanfic authors out there posting regular 80k+ works for free, for the love of the thing (or in spite of the thing)

[mikakuna]

Hey! This is the music anon again! I was wondering if you had any jayroy fic recs? Or, given your latest post lol, only child Jay fic recs (or even JUST Jay and dick as Bruce’s kids fic recs) and if not that, then, an au where Jason didn’t pick up the mantle/was convinced not too, and is living his civilian life. I’ve read rara Avis by zoeleo already lol, Idk if you read that one?

omg hey!! i have a few fic recs for what you'd like to see but honestly i'm lacking a bit in jayroy! i'll link the ones that i rlly enjoyed tho <3 and alsooo the only-child jason fics are all set during his childhood sadly, so i don't have any where he's an adult and still bruce's only child :(

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48627046/chapters/122658637

When Batman rescues a twelve-year-old boy from a sex-trafficking ring, he ultimately makes the decision to look after him for a few days, feeling responsible for his current condition. Revealing his identity to the boy is the logical next step. Building trust was important, and Bruce needed Jason to trust him. There’s one slight problem with Bruce’s plan. Due to the effects of the Joker Venom, Jason doesn’t remember anything about meeting Batman, let alone Bruce Wayne. In Jason’s eyes, he’s been trafficked. And the man who brought him is none other than Bruce himself.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29237001/chapters/71790027

Jason’s background as a victim of abuse and childhood homelessness means it’s hard for him to trust, and to ask for things. After only a couple months in the manor, he still isn’t sure about Bruce Wayne.

https://archiveofourown.org/series/575182

When Bruce brings a new child home to the manor, Dick has a few choice words for Bruce about making him Robin. Convinced that Jason needs a stable loving family more than he needs a crime-fighting outlet, Bruce, Dick, and Alfred take on the challenge of bringing Jason up as civilian while still keeping their caped careers a secret.

Or: Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Dick Grayson is a Great Brother, Alfred is the Best Grandpa, and Jason is smol. Tooth-rotting fluff ahoy. (i'm linking this even though you read it for people who haven't yet! also i never read the ones with tim in it but those are a lot later in the series so don't worry, it's still jason and bruce centric)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26730145/chapters/65210116

Jason Todd was kidnapped at nine-years-old and given two options. Work for his keep, or be forced to to work for his keep.

His life was not pleasant, but Jason was nothing if not a fighter, and dammit if was he going to let the hell around him kill who he was as a person. Or his dreams of growing up and going to college.

Those dreams suddenly came a little more into focus, when his idiot of a pimp accidentally tried to rent him to Bruce Wayne. Poor bastard could have never guessed he was the Batman himself. Heck, not even Jason figured that out, at first. And Batman had practically adopted him. (i loved this so much)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/49876537

Jason doesn't die at the hands of the Joker. There are a couple of things he and Bruce might need to work through.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55020211

“You will fix this,” Alfred corrects him. “You will fix this, and let Master Jason know that you don’t care about his sexual orientation, that it changes nothing. That you were mistaken in what you said to him. That you certainly didn’t mean to imply that you thought any less of him for his choice in reading.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22637476/chapters/54102781

Batman makes it in time to save Robin from the bomb. He doesn't make it in time to save Jason from the Joker.

Or Batman is too late in every universe, but Bruce Wayne doesn't have to be.

+ jayroy:

https://archiveofourown.org/series/1328723

i've linked this one in a previous rec list but basically, this is an au series where jason escapes an abusive relationship and meets roy!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30004014

It was just dinner with family. A family large enough to be an independent militia, but that was all. Nothing serious.

Lian disagreed. (one of my fav crack fics!!)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52945642

a fic where the bats find out, one by one, that jason and roy are dating!

i really don't have much for jayroy since i'm pretty picky when it comes to jason fics and ship fics in general, but i'll reblog this if i find any others that i enjoy! in the meantime, hopefully these are some new fics for you to read!!

[4esthetic-dissonance]

I'm working on a fic and was like 'how in the hell do you make LINGUANG JUN the least bit redeemable?'. I mean, /Linguang jun/ who tossed a developmentally four year old Mobei Jun to a pack of humans? The kid could have died. And then I saw a translation of the extras. It describes lgj as mbj's 'young uncle', says that he 'wasn't that much older than him (mbj)'. And I just- its a hell of a lot different, a Scar type tossing his nephew to the proverbial wolves than it is for a maybe dumb, maybe petty, maybe developmentally five or six year old to shove their annoying technically-nephew-who-in-age-and-context-is-more-like-a-brother-than-lgj's-actual-brother into a situation that the text implies was more frightening than actually /dangerous/. And that- well I can work with that.

[lost-tardis-room]

Crowley reads books (a fanfiction)

summary - Crowley has been reading books for years, but Aziraphale has only just noticed. under 2000 words, nothing too angsty.

this is the first fic i've ever written and if you want to ask me anything about it please do i'll be delighted to answer you questions :D

Crowley was draped across the couch as usual, both legs over the armrest and one arm dangling off the side. The warm evening light was still glowing gently through the window, the last beams of summer sun illuminating the dust in the air. The bookshop was peaceful, still and reddish-warm. Aziraphale was in the storeroom trying to find a particular book he’d just remembered about, and it was late enough that no one was even going to bother checking if they were open–no one was going to interrupt. It was a warm evening, and the window was open a little. There was distant street noise, the eternal hum of Soho, and vague chatter from the restaurant, but everything was soft and muffled.

These last few years the bookshop had become haven-like for them both, for Crowley especially–a place he could hide away, not have to worry so much about anything outside. Not have to hide himself under dark glasses and swagger. Especially since the lockdowns, he’d spent increasing amounts of time there–sure, he’d miracled the Bentley bigger on the inside, but he got bored (and lonely, they both did, though he could scarcely admit it to himself) and so when he simply showed up at the bookshop, it only took him a few minutes of convincing before he got Aziraphale to let him in (he did wonder, though, if Aziraphale had been waiting for him–hoping he would come? It had hardly been a convincing and more Aziraphale agreeing ‘well, now that no-one’s looking’). And after that–well, he went back to the Bentley to sleep, to spare himself the experience of Aziraphale offering that he could stay the night, but he did spend most of his days there. And he parked the car two minutes away. Just in case. 

Crowley turned a page of the book he was reading. He’d found it on a shelf a few days ago, buried in Aziraphale’s somewhat baffling filing system. Crowley could usually find things in the shop, but every time he thought he had it he’d find a book in the randomest spot and have to reconsider that opinion. 

Aziraphale bustled down the staircase holding a dusty blue volume, looking rather pleased but with a hint of the manic glint in his eye he’d get when he was in the middle of some research project. 

‘Found it, excellent, there’s a few pages near the end of this one and then I just have to find the–’ He glanced at Crowley and then looked back, fully staring.

‘Are you– are you reading a book?’ the angel sounded genuinely astounded.

‘Mhhmnh, yeah, I started it the other day’ said Crowley, leaning the book down on his chest for a moment. ‘It’s quite good, it’s about this guy who–’

‘Reading, Crowley? Really?’ Aziraphale said in shock.

‘What, I thought you liked reading?’ Crowley replied, not sure if he was supposed to sound confused or jokey. 

‘Well yes obviously I like– but that’s not the point! I didn’t know you read!’

‘Well, nhm,  you never asked,’ he replied, trying to keep a nonchalant tone at the angel’s fluster.

‘I didn’t think I needed to ask, I thought I would know something like this. Reading, really, and you never told me,’ Aziraphale said, gesturing at the book Crowley was holding, then looked off to the side a little.

Crowley sat up a bit, suddenly more serious, swinging his legs over the couch and putting the book down. He leaned forward, moving more into the last light from the window, the rich orange glow of the (battery powered) candles on the wall.

‘Oh no no nonono angel, don’t get upset, I just didn’t think you’d– I thought you’d– oh no–’ 

Crowley mentally whacked himself in the forehead–Aziraphale was obviously unsure about this, standing there looking somewhat perturbed, a little irritated maybe, in his sweet round cherub face. Crowley always got a little panicky when Aziraphale got upset. Kids he could deal with fine, with Aziraphale it always felt personal.

‘I thought you liked movies. You always used to want me to come to the movies with you.’

Now he sounded… confused? Hurt? Crowley had tried to take him to the movies, loads of times, but Aziraphale always got fidgety halfway through. Even when those clever humans had worked out talking films, Aziraphale had just never quite caught on. He was still stuck in the early 1900s, for the most part. And the tension of sitting in a dark room for an hour and a half might prove… too tempting.

‘I do! I do like movies! I just– also like books. Look I know it’s your thing, I’m not trying to encroach on your thing, I just– sorry, I should have told you.’ He said, suddenly feeling awful.

‘Oh no, that’s not what I was worried about at all, it’s just that–two hundred years we’ve had this bookshop and I didn’t know you liked to read?’ said Aziraphale with exasperation, and still a little hurt.

Crowley felt himself blushing and suddenly felt exposed without his glasses and jacket. He pushed his sleeves back up where they’d slipped back down his arms. He could feel Aziraphale watching him. 

‘I guess I thought you’d– ernhnhn it doesn’t matter I’ll put it back,’ he said, embarrassed, standing up from the couch.

‘You thought I’d what?’ asked Aziraphale gently.

‘I thought you’d laugh at me. Y’know. For reading. I know it’s not really–it doesn’t seem like my kind of thing. Forget it angel, I’ll put it back.’

‘Oh Crowley. Why would I laugh at you? I have a whole shop full of these things, do you really think I’d laugh at you for reading one? It’s–it’s quite nice actually. To know they’re being read. Considering I don’t sell very many.’ 

And he sounded so sweet just then. Crowley glanced at him, but barely needed to, he knew the face he’d be making–the same look of beaming adoration he always got whenever Crowley did something rather-less-than-demonic. 

‘Oh,’ said Crowley. He felt the angel take a step closer, put his own book down on the desk.

‘You were going to tell me about your book?’ Aziraphale asked. Crowley felt his heart melt a little and gripped the edge of the desk, leaning on it to stop himself throwing his arms around him. 

‘Yeah, alright angel,’ he grinned, still blushing a little. ‘It’s about this guy called Zachary and he finds himself written in a book he finds in a library, and he goes and find a girl at a party who knows something about and and then he meets this guy who stole his book, and the girl sends him to this underground library place where everything is like a dream, it’s pretty cool–’ 

Aziraphale had put a hand on his arm. Was still looking at him with his eyes of stars. Was still smiling up at him with all the love he had for the demon who had found enjoyment in his favourite thing from earth. Crowley relaxed his hand on the desk but was still fighting the voice in his head screaming why don’t you just touch him you idiot?. He put his hands in his pockets, breaking off Aziraphale’s touch. Fine then, avoid it again, won’t make you feel any better, said the voice in his head.

‘Ngk, okay, I don’t want to spoil it for you.’ he said, in what he hoped was a chill tone of voice. He didn’t think it was. He was shaking slightly from the combined shock of having upset Aziraphale and then having him touch him, and look at him like that in the space of a few minutes. He slung himself back over the couch and picked the book back up again, trying to hide behind it a little, though he could no longer focus on the words on the page. 

‘Oh of course, that does sound quite interesting, I’ll have to read it later,’ Aziraphale beamed. He turned to walk away.

‘Oh, just one thing, Crowley?’

‘Mhm, angel?’ he replied, still nervous.

‘Try not to leave books face down, they are all first editions. There are bookmarks on my desk just there, you can use one of those.’

‘Of course, angel,’ said Crowley. 

He watched as Aziraphale disappeared around a shelf, peering over the top of his book. He laughed a little, hidden behind the pages, grinning like an idiot that Aziraphale, lovely little dumbass that he was, would look at him like that just for reading a book.

[frobby]

Lets all name fanfics that formulatively changed our lives

Ill go first: there's this haikyuu kenhina fanfic where Kenma works at CVS and every time I see a CVS I think 'Kenma work there'

[rollercoasterwords]

your fanfic doesn't need to be Content

ok so thanks to this lovely anonymous message i've been motivated to organize my thoughts on the increasingly common phenomenon of fanfic writers treating their own fics like Content for consumption, the way an influencer on social media might (all of this is in the context of the marauders fandom specifically -- no idea how or whether it might apply elsewhere)

what i mean by that is, essentially, instances of fanfic writers playing into the idea that fanfiction is a product created for the consumption of readers (and thereby the idea that fandom is a community that can be clearly divided between "producers"/writers and "consumers"/readers).

some examples i've seen: people "advertising" their fics on platforms like tiktok, sometimes even before they've started writing said fic ("hey guys i'm going to start writing a fic with x y z who's interested??"), or making posts asking outright "if i wrote a fic with x y z would people read it??" i've also seen people share concerns that if they write a certain thing they want to write (i.e, heavy smut, heavy angst, etc) then it will make their fic less "accessible" to a broader audience ("i want everyone to be able to enjoy my fics!")

another recent example that comes to mind is the "jegulus strike." while i'm sure it was largely well-intentioned, a strike is a form of protest tied inextricably to a consumer economy, and positioning writers as laborers who are standing in opposition to readers demanding that labor reinforces the framework of a consumer economy in which fanfiction is a product for consumption.

something i want to make clear here--i'm not saying that any of these behaviors are like....Moral Failings deserving of Ridicule. i think we are all very much conditioned by late-stage capitalism + algorithmic social media to view everything, even our hobbies, within the framework of a consumer economy. this is just me observing some of the ways i see that mindset creeping into fandom spaces.

like. i think there's this unspoken assumption that art is only worthwhile if it has an audience; that creative pursuits only matter if you can profit from them. if people are applying this mindset to fanfiction, then it makes sense to see this impulse to advertise fics the way authors advertise their books on tiktok, or twitter, or whatever. it makes sense for writers to become preoccupied with audience perception, perhaps changing their stories to make them more palatable for a certain audience or even going into the writing process with the audience already in mind--an overhanging and ever-present anxiety, asking yourself "how will this be received?"

the problem is that fanfiction doesn't fit into this model. it has always been meant for a niche audience, never the mainstream, and it has always existed outside the profit economy. trying to turn fanfiction into broadly consumable content is antithetical to the medium itself, and, in all likelihood, will fail. the vast majority of fanfiction is never going to be read by hundreds of thousands of people. if you go into writing it with an audience as your end goal, you will likely be disappointed.

what makes fanfiction so wonderful and unique is that it is meant to be written, first and foremost, for the writer. fanfiction as a medium grew out of personal joy in creation, out of individuals who thought "I want to see this story for myself" and then wrote it. because fanfiction is specific, catered to individual tastes and niche audiences, it lends itself to a unique sort of community in which your work attracts other people with that same niche taste, making it easier to strike up a conversation or start a friendship by saying, "hey, i love this story you wrote for yourself! it just so happens to be the exact sort of thing i wanted to read."

so i guess at the end of the day, my question for other fic writers is: if nobody was ever going to read this, would you still want to write it?

and if the answer is no...i think that's something that calls for reflection! where is your motivation rooted? is it rooted in a desire to create, in the joy of creation? or is it rooted in a desire to be seen, to be validated? wanting to be seen and validated is entirely natural, and it is by no means a bad thing. oftentimes, both these impulses--creation and validation--will be part of the decision to write + post a fic. but if validation is your primary motivation, and if you have internalized the idea that validation means getting as many people as possible to look at the thing you're making and click a heart button, then you will probably end up disappointed. you will probably end up feeling like your writing isn't good enough, no matter how many people end up reading it--because no audience will ever be big enough to validate you if you aren't able to take pride in your creation independent of any metrics of consumption.

i'm not saying that you should never share your fics on social media. like i mentioned above, community is one of the best parts of fanfiction--but are you posting in search of community? or are you posting in search of an audience? i know the line can get blurry sometimes, but i do think those two things look different, and i do think it is productive to look inwards and ask what you are truly seeking when you throw your writing into the void of social media posts. and i think as writers it's important not to fall into the trap of acting like our fics are a product intended for audience consumption, because to do so contributes to the deterioration of a fandom culture that is separate from the profit economy. plus, i just think all of us would be happier if we started trying to actively unlearn the idea that art is only worthwhile if it manages to amass a huge audience.

[leonscape]

Lovers Swapped Personalities

Chemma or Emmalier?

Anyways, an alternate universe where Chevalier actually received loved from his mom and didn’t become the brutal beast.

Emma walked through the halls, minding her own business. She abruptly stopped when she saw tripwire in her path. With a sigh, she stepped over it and kept walking.

Pranks come with the territory of marrying into the royal family. Actually, even getting hired to work in the palace would subject you to Clavis’ pranks. Anyone in the palace was at the mercy of the third prince.

“You think you got away from that one huh?” Clavis asked Emma. She whipped around and frowned. “Well I apologize, but that isn’t the case.”

“What are you going on about?” Emma questioned.

“Well Chev and I teamed up on this one and we came up with quite the clever scheme,” Clavis said proudly.

Emma turned back around and continued walking. As she passed by a door, it opened and a bunch of rose petals exploded into her face from inside the room.

When the rose petals settled, Emma did not look amused. Chevalier popped out from behind the door. “I can’t believe you let him rope you into one of his pranks. Again,” Emma said.

“Chev is my big brother, of course he’d help me if I asked him,” Clavis said.

“Your shocked expression is adorable,” Chevalier told her. “I couldn’t pass up the opportunity, I had to see it again.”

“And we got to use the rose petals one last time before they get used to make rose water,” Clavis added, proud of himself. Emma shook her head at Clavis and walked away.

“All right, clean this up,” Chevalier ordered.

“Fine,” Clavis huffed and pouted.

When Chevalier caught up with Emma, he approached her with caution. “I’m sorry, please don’t be mad.”

“I do not understand why you entertain his foolish ideas,” Emma told him.

“He’s my little brother. No matter how foolish he seems, he’s my brother. I have to humor him,” Chevalier explained.

“I never had brothers or sisters, so I’m not familiar with this concept of foolishness.”

“He’s always been mischievous like this since we were little. My mother always encouraged me to entertain him.”

“I see…” Emma said.

“I apologize. I won’t involve you in his pranks from now on,” Chevalier told her.

“I’m not mad, just… annoyed, I think.” Emma told him. “Only a mere nuisance, that’s all.”

“It was supposed to make you smile.”

“I can’t see how exploding rose petals in my face was supposed to make me smile.”

“Okay, maybe it was actually to make me smile,” Chevalier laughed. “I love you.”

Emma’s lips cracked a smile in response and Chevalier’s smile widened.

[bleeding-hart]

some sketches

based on @theicarusconstellation's writing

I keep thinking of details I left out and stuff I need to fix but if I let myself do that I'm going to go insane so we're leaving it at this

Also some Sirius because they're a fucking king and we love them (I very strongly hc them as genderqueer and using any pronouns, but specifically he/they/she/it)

The dress was a bit of a failure but hey it looks like fabric at least I think maybe

[jamietxrtt]

.

It wasn’t until the phone was already ringing that Roy thought through the logistics of his plan. Whether he should call Ted or not wasn’t even a question-- he had to get an explanation for this, right now-- but the time difference wasn’t something Roy had considered. It was probably around three in the morning in Kansas right now. Ted might not even pick up the phone at all-- and if he did, he’d be in bed, eyes blinking open and hair askew. The mental image of Ted being woken up by his call almost made Roy feel guilty for a second, but he was too fucking pissed off to feel bad for very long.

Eventually, Ted did pick up the phone, a croaked “Roy?” sounding tinny through Roy’s phone.

“What the fuck did you do?” Roy demanded immediately. “What did you say to him?”

“What’d I-- what?” Ted sounded bleary and unfocused, his voice still hoarse. “W’happened?”

“Jamie. You fucking said something to him.”

“I-- I did?”

Roy’s teeth ground together with an unpleasant squeak. “About his father.”

The line was silent for a moment.

“Oh.”

“You said something to him, about-- forgiveness?! Forgiveness, Ted?” Roy shook his head in disbelief, though he knew Ted couldn’t see it over the phone. “You fucking told him to forgive his father.”

“Yeah, well, I thought it might--”

“Fuck whatever you thought it might do,” Roy growled. “He’s fucking bleeding right now, because of you.”

“He-- what?!” Now Ted sounded more awake. “Wait, Jamie? What happened? Is he okay?”

“No thanks to you.” Roy squeezed the wooden railing of his porch, glaring into the night sky above. “Because of your little fucking pep talk, he ended up letting his father start fucking living with him, and now I’ve had to just spend the past hour talking him down from a fucking panic attack and cleaning the fucking blood off his fucking face and-- fuck, Ted! Did you even think at all about what you were fucking saying?” Roy shook his head again, trying his best to keep his volume under control-- Jamie was just on the other side of a glass door, after all. “Why would you fucking say that to him?”

“I…” There was an indistinct shuffling from the other side of the phone, like Ted was scrambling to get out of bed. “I didn’t tell him to do any of that, I just said--”

“You said to forgive him.”

“No-- well, I--”

“Yes. Jamie said that’s the word you used.”

“But that’s not what I meant.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck what you fucking meant, Lasso. Whatever you meant to say, what he got from it was that he has to bend over fucking backwards to accommodate his father, give him a second chance-- no, not a second chance, a fucking thousand-and-second chance-- or else Ted is going to be disappointed in him.”

There was another moment of quiet, where Ted let out a long, controlled breath. Part of Roy’s brain supplemented a memory of Ted before a game, closing his eyes and performing breathing exercises into cupped palms, but the rest of Roy rejected it outright. He was too fucking blazing mad to be feeling any sort of understanding for Ted at the moment.

“I do think forgiveness is a-- a virtue we should all strive towards,” Ted said finally, calmly, and Roy barked out a laugh.

“You think that fucking matters right now? Your fucking Lasso philosophy? He’s bleeding, Ted.”

“Well, I didn’t know that was how this would end up!” Ted’s voice shot back, suddenly defensive in a way Roy had never heard him before. “Everyone can change, Roy, you know I believe that--”

“Jesus, Ted, you weren’t thinking for a fucking second about the consequences of what you said to him, were you? You saw fucking Wembley! Jamie is terrified of that man! He’s sent him to the fucking hospital before! Sure, maybe he can fucking change, I don’t fucking know.” Roy ran his hands through his hair. “But you really think it’s worth the risk of letting Jamie get hurt again, on the off-chance that this is the time things are different? When that man sends him into hysterics every time he’s around? When Jamie’s still got scars from him? I mean, this is the man that had him fucking raped at fourteen, Jesus, Ted--”

“He-- what?!” Ted squawked over the line, but Roy was too fired up to stop.

“You think it’s worth the fucking risk just to-- just ‘cause he could change this time? What if he fucking doesn’t? Or doesn’t yet? Even if he does change, it’s not gonna be instantaneous. You willing to just let him keep hurting Jamie for another-- year, two years, ten years, until he’s finally changed? That’s worth it? Just ‘cause forgiveness is a fucking virtue?”

Roy stopped to breathe, his cheeks hot with anger as he heaved in one breath after another.

When Ted spoke again, he sounded terrified. “I didn’t-- now, Roy, a lot of that stuff I didn’t even know about--”

“Bullshit,” Roy spat. “Bullshit, bullshit. You were there at Wembley. You saw enough. You saw.” Roy dug his fingernails into the wooden railing. The wood was soft from the rain last night. “And even if you’re right-- even if that man could change, did change-- even if he never hurt Jamie again, you still think-- you know what he said to me? He said, ‘I thought it’s what I had to do to be a good person.’ That’s what he said. Because of what you fucking told him, he thought he’d be a bad person if he just deleted his dad’s fucking number and went the fuck on with his life like I told him to do.”

“That’s not what I said to him. I was just giving advice, I didn’t say that not following it would make him a bad person--”

“Jesus, Ted, that doesn’t fucking matter! The boys look up to you, they--” Roy growled, slamming his fist down on the railing. “How many times have you given me this exact same fucking talk? ‘Careful what you say to them, Roy, you know how they look up to you. You say jump, they say how high.’ Yeah? Didn’t you fucking say that to me?”

“Roy--”

“You tell them that something is the right thing to do, of course they’re gonna assume it’s the fucking-- universal truth of it. Of course they’re gonna wanna do what you say, ‘cause Ted’s the best person, so if he says this is what’s right then it must be what I have to do to be good too, yeah? Of course they’re gonna fucking listen to you. Christ, Ted. Surely you know the effect you have on people.”

Ted was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice wasn’t shrill or defensive-- it was just soft. “Well, I didn’t mean…”

“Yeah, whatever,” Roy huffed. He turned to peer through the glass door back into the house, but Jamie wasn’t in his line of sight. He should probably get back in there-- Jamie had been alone for a while now. But he turned back toward the backyard, back toward the night sky, to address Ted one last time. “I’m fucking pissed at you, Ted. I’m pissed that you fucked this up so massively and then just fucking left. I’m pissed that it’s my job now to pick up the pieces of the thing you broke. Why do I have to be the one to clean up your fucking mess?”

Ted said nothing.

“Whatever. I have to go take care of my fucking player.”

“Hold on, now. Roy--”

Roy hung up.

After tucking his phone back into his pocket with shaking hands, Roy gripped the railing tight, bending forward to shut his eyes and breathe down into the floor. He couldn’t go back in there like this, still flushed red and shaking with rage, not when Jamie was still so fragile. He gave himself a minute to breathe, counting to ten and taking deep breaths and thinking of Phoebe and all the things Fieldstone had told him to do when he got too angry. And he tried not to feel any kind of way about the fact that his phone in his pocket hadn’t buzzed again once.

Eventually, he was calm enough to go back inside.

[fluffypotatey]

Monkie Destiny Challenge Day 4

yes i am 3 days late to this prompt but i am here now >:)

so actually this little ficlet will be a part of another installment in my tournament arc, but i am too tired rn to write the second half of this (bc day 4 is a flashback and the 2nd half is day 5). so! have this "sneak peak" of my tournament arc under the narration of Macky <3

prompt: Peaches//Thief

word count: 753

* * * * * * *

“How much do you want to bet the peaches in Heaven taste like?”

The Six Eared Macaque gave his friend, the Monkey King, an incredulous look. Said friend huffed in response. 

“What?”

“Seriously?”

“I’m just asking—”

“About Heaven’s immortal peaches? Casually? I’m not an idiot, Wukong.”

It had only been a couple days after Sun Wukong arrived back from Heaven. He hadn’t given Macaque any real information over what went down or why he arrived in such a rush— cheeks flushed dark red, breath heavy and fast, eyes wild and ravenous, excited, exhilarated— 

Macaque mentally shook the image away. Wukong was his friend. His only friend, actually. He could never really count the Brotherhood as a group he would trust implicitly like Wukong. Feel comfortable around or even know wholeheartedly like Wukong.

Speaking of knowing Wukong wholeheartedly, Macaque recognizes the signs for when his friend is hiding something. He had been ignoring it ever since Wukong came back, assured that the monkey king would tell him, and it looked like today was the day Wukong chose to come clean.

Sun Wukong pouts, bottom lip jutted out exaggeratedly with his eyes blown wide and adorable. He would always complain about how Macaque always ruined his surprises with his need to know everything. Macaque liked to call it his incredible observation skills, Wukong called him a creeper (which absolutely did not hurt his ego that first time at all). 

“J-just answer the question!” The monkey crossed his arms and looked away, cheeks flushed and tail twitching.

Macaque sighed with a smile. It was so hard to stay annoyed when he did that. It wasn’t even on purpose and yet there Wukong was, acting childish and fussy in the cutest way possible. Macaque couldn’t help but cave.

“Alright, okay, um…” He pursed his lips. “They taste like peaches?”

“Mac!” Wukong whined

“Okay, okay! Sorry, couldn’t help it.” 

This time, Macaque actually sat down and thought it over. 

“Well,” he began, “I’m guessing they taste sweeter? Never under or overripe, yeah? And you don’t have to worry about the pit because it's an immortal tree.”

Wukong giggled, tail now wagging to and fro.

“What?” Macaque could feel his face heating up. “What did I say?”

“Nothing! Nothing!” That goofy smile was still on his face. “These are very astute assumptions.”

“Astute? Really, Wukong.”

The giggle was now a full-body laugh. Ugh, and Macaque still couldn’t find it in himself to stay mad. He should be embarrassed, feel like his intelligence was being mocked, but…Wukong would never do something like that on purpose.

Not to him.

“So”— Ah, here it is— “what if I told you, you could test your theory?”

Macaque gave the monkey a blank stare. Wukong stayed firm despite his fidgeting nature and how much he was smiling. Macaque could not believe what his friend was insinuating.

“You don’t mean—”

“SO I HAVE THIS BAG!”

* * *

The peaches were amazing. Better than Macaque ever expected. Sure, they still had the pit at the center and they were still messy enough to annoy him, but they were (and excuse his pun) heavenly. Even if no one told him of their immortal properties, Macaque would have imagined that just from taste alone, these peaches were magic itself.

Delicious magic, if Macaque says so. 

“So?” Wukong waits with barely contained excitement. “Better than your wildest dreams?”

“Oh, I’ve had wild dreams.”

“Mac, come on!” He whines again.

“Sorry, sorry!” He laughs. “You make it too easy.”

Wukong grumbled something about I’ll make you too easy as if Macaque wouldn’t hear him. Which he did, but it was so confusing that he just laughed some more. Of course that simply led to the monkey king whining at Macaque once more, and the cycle repeated.

“Next time I steal peaches, I ain’t giving you nothing!” Wukong said with a huff. “And to think, I offered them out of the kindness of my heart.”

“Next time?” Macaque chuckled. “You honestly think Heaven would even let you in after this?”

“Why not? I’m adorable!”

Macaque didn’t even bother to answer that one, too amused by how Wukong played up his innocence in all this. Sure, he was worried about Heaven’s reaction when they finally realized who stole the peaches and trashed their peach festival, but with Wukong smiling so brightly and acting so nonchalantly, Macaque decided it was better to place this issue on the back burner. For now.

The mortal realm moved a lot faster than Heaven. They had plenty of time.

[tiredhawks]

Hunting falcons are so interesting because everytime they bring prey back to you, they're making a choice. They are free, in that moment, and they have just proven through their own talon that they can hunt and provide for themselves. That they are self sufficient. But when you call for them, they being that prey back to you only for a price to be given in return. The falcon is raised from birth to think it needs you, to rely on you, yet the dynamic is entirely one sided. It can be said you provide protection and food when a hunt fails, but the bird will always be wild at heart, and it's dependency is something you created. Everytime you let it go to hunt, it has to decide to come back. Yet if it ever chooses to fly the other way, there's nothing you can really do to stop it.

[easyaesthetics]

Imitates human behaviors to an uncanny degree, Akira remembers from the lab notes. Mimic skill on par with any natural predator that imitates another animal to lure in prey.

Scene from the amazing mermaid fic, I like to think I’m a good person by @relationshipcrimes (READ THE TAGS BEFORE BEGINNING)

[perfectly-clear-from-here]

inhaler chapter 4 is up now!!

Chapter 4. anticipation has a habit Fandom: The Last Shadow Puppets, Arctic Monkeys Rating: Mature Relationships: Miles Kane/Alex Turner Additional Tags: Friends to Lovers, pre-TAOTU, miles has insomnia, Slow Burn, Lots of denial, Light Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Mutual Pining, Drunkenness

Snippet:

“Mate, could those jeans get any tighter?” A lad in the crowd hollers at Miles's skin-tight white denims.

“Course you’d like to know, wouldn’t ya?” Miles jests, followed by the chorus of girly giggles and rough whistles. The frisson of the party starts to settle into his bones.

“Ah don’t worry ‘bout that, ‘m sure they’ll be off before the end of t’night,” Matt assures them with a grin. “Ain’t that right Alex?” Alex forces an elbow into Matt’s ribs, but he might as well just be adding a bathtub worth of fuel to the fire. "Aye don't think your bloody oglings going unnoticed, 'nd I've only been here five seconds!"