#but it feels like ages ago when i first learned about the concepts

[vinelark]

i don’t remember if i ever shared this here, but a while ago i posted a little twitter thread about bats and gas station snacks and some very talented podficcers made a podfic of it! 🎧

[podfic] Jersey Vigilantes Don't Pump Gas by isweedan & reena_jenkins

original thread (text under the cut):

nested tweet reading: ever since i learned gotham is supposed to be in new jersey i can’t get this concept out of my head: [a badly drawn bumper sticker that says “jersey vigilantes don’t pump gas”] / quote tweet reading: the batmobile can’t just slip in and out of a gas station unnoticed. an employee HAS to go fill up the tank. meanwhile the tired night shift cashier knows the various robin eras because they come in to buy different snacks as time goes on.

one night while the manager is out filling *the literal batmobile* the cashier blinks and comes face to face with a child in a leotard and green boots, buying a pack of twizzlers. “thanks!” the first robin calls, somehow vaulting over two rows of shelves on his way out the door.

years later, after a stretch of quiet weeks, a new, curly-haired robin comes in and grabs a bag of flamin hot pepper puffs. the cashier doesn’t even think robin 2 actually likes them, but he looks really satisfied with himself every time he drops them on the counter.

(even after the second robin abruptly stops coming in, the cashier keeps slipping flamin hot pepper puffs onto their order list. no one else ever buys them, but it just—feels like the thing to do, somehow.)

a stretch of months without a robin, oddly tense. then the third robin appears, even smaller than the first two. he slips inside and buys a cup of black coffee and drains it in one go right at the coffee station, nervously eyeing the door like he’s afraid he’ll be caught.

the fourth robin, when she shows up, makes a beeline for the protein bars. finally, the cashier thinks, someone remotely sensible for this line of work. (though maybe not sensible enough—or maybe TOO sensible—because small caffeine robin is back a few months later.)

the fifth robin, when he first appears, approaches the counter. “you will direct me to the best snacks new jersey has to offer,” he tells the cashier.

“uh,” the cashier says. “i like sour patch kids, myself.”

robin 5 nods. “i will take a bag of sour patch children.”

(one night, not much later, red hood strolls through the door. the cashier has lived in gotham for over a decade now; they barely blink, even when nightwing bounds in after him.

“oh, shit, flamin hot pepper puffs,” red hood says. “i haven’t had these in ages.”

“aw, come on,” nightwing says, already holding a pack of twizzlers. “no one else can stand those.”

“why do you think i got them in the first place, dickhead?” red hood says. “to fend off new jersey’s number one snack thief.” and he buys buys every bag in stock.)

[vivwritesfics]

im not sure if this is something you’re comfortable writing but what about an age gap reader (like mid 20s) with nando and she’s a BRAT! but he likes it and feeds into it

Okay so today I learned that idk what being a brat really means but I just ran w it lmao

Warning: blowjob, slight bratty reader (which I need to get better at writing bc oh my what a concept)

Fernando had never woken up to having his cock sucked before. It was a feeling like no other, yet also embarrassing to wake up to your own moans filling the room.

It was something they'd discussed previously, of course. Laying in bed together, her delicate fingers drawing patterns on his skin as she asked if it was something he'd be okay with.

Fernando obviously said yes. Of course he'd be okay with waking up to his girl with his cock in her mouth.

But that had been some number of weeks ago. Fernando assumed, at this point, that she herself had forgotten about their conversation.

She didn't acknowledge him when he woke up, just kept working his cock. Sucking and swirling her tongue around the tip before taking all of him into her mouth, nose reaching the tight curls at the base (it had been something she couldn't do when they first met, something Fernando was so proud of her for learning).

When he wrapped his hands around her hair and bucked his hips up, she let out a whine and pushed against his pelvis, keeping him on the bed.

"No," she managed to say, glaring up at him through her lashes.

Fernando let go of her hair and held his hands up. But, still, her pretty mouth didn't return to his cock. Instead she sat back and let out a hum as she looked down at him.

Evil little minx.

"Mi corazón," he said, voice low. But the smile he wore as he stood to chase her through the house told her enough.

He loved her bratty antics. Loved them enough to pull her into his chest once he caught her, pressing kisses to her skin as his hand cupped her cunt through her shorts.

[russellsppttemplates]

I'll never give up on you (Franco Colapinto)

You think your age is an obstacle, but Franco is set on proving you otherwise

Note: english is not my first language. It's the big doe eyes, the curly hair and the fact that he's very funny, isn't it? It's a very crappy situation for everyone how they got here, everyone recognises that. This is also the first time I'm writing for him 🤍 I always feel and know I have to put this - for those who are here and have stayed, thank you for being so patient and for staying - I hope this is good enough ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm not taking requests right now, so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to send them in but know that I don't know when I'll be able to get to them!

my masterlist

Cw: reader is slightly older than Franco (three years), alludes to previous bad relationships, alcohol consumption, relationship insecurity, reader gets accidentally hurt

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3 @sltwins

"You look gorgeous, Y/N! I love love love this!", Olivia squealed, clapping her hands when she got to your bedroom.

"It's nothing special", you blushed at her compliments.

"It will catch some eyes, you will catch some eyes!", she smiled, "can you help me with my dress, please?", she turned around so you could zip her up.

You and your bestfriend Olivia shared an apartment in university, and once you entered into the job market, you quickly realised that it would be best to keep the same living situation, knowing you'd save some money in a beginner salary and you both felt comfortable about eachother. Her boyfriend Mark had just got a work promotion and he wanted to celebrate it with his friends, so you had been invited.

"Who else is going to be there?", you mused as you packed the essentials on your small purse.

"Some guys from the new department he's in now, Luke - the one we met a couple of weeks ago at the shops -", she began listing the names she recalled, "Amber, and Franco, I think - he doesn't have a race this week", Olivia said.

"Oh, okay", you smiled.

Franco Colapinto knew Mark from one of the teams he had driven for, and despite his career, he was an incredibly down to earth guy. You had met him in a few other occasions and he was funny, kind, always up for a challenge and not easy to persuade out of things. "Things" including flirting with you. At first, you thought it was just his nature and posture towards new people, but after realising he only acted like that towards you, and the fact that he kept making advances and going as far as talking to Olivia about it, you knew it was something else.

"You still haven't changed your mind about him? He's such a good match for you, Y/N/N", Olivia pouted.

The premise was simple - Franco was younger than you, and as much as he seemed interested, it would never lead to anything good. He was young, aspiring an amazing career you were sure he would achieve, and frankly, you couldn't see you in there. He would like to party all out, not have responsibilities and certainly not have to date someone older than him. And this was just at the top of your head - if you let your insecurities really work you up, there were many other reasons.

"We are not! If we did date, it wouldn't last long and I'm not up for that - I've learned my lesson", you tsked.

"You know he's very into you, I'm not sure you can get him to back down", Olivia advised, "I get that you have your walls, but maybe you could give him a chance?".

"He'll probably find someone else, if he hasn't already - now let's go!", you pulled her with you, not wanting to arrive late.

Once you were inside, you quickly spotted the group, greeting everyone and ordering some drinks.

"You're sure you don't want anything else?", Mark wondered.

"I don't feel like drinking anything strong today, but I'll toast to your promotion - congratulations again!", you hugged him.

"Careful, everyone!", you heard the argentinian accent call out, getting you to make room on the table so the bartender could set the tray with all the drinks, "Hello, Y/N, how are you?".

Turning to face Franco, you were instantly met with his bright smile, shiny eyes and wavy hair perfectly tousled, "Hi, I've been good, and you?".

"Even better now that you're here", he winked, "you look amazing by the way, that colour looks beautiful on you", he complimented.

Hoping the dim lighting hid your blushing cheeks you nodded, taking the coaster to our your drink on before looking at him, "thanks, it's not new or anything", you brushed him off.

The night was on a good roll until you came back from freshening up in the bathroom - just as you were about to sit on the high stool, a guy pushed his friend in a playful manner, only for him to accidentally hit you and making you hit your knee on the piece of furniture.

"Fuck", you mumbled, bracing yourself against the table as the sharp pain climbed up your leg no matter how much your hand tried to soothe it.

Before you could process the whole thing, a large hand was placed low on your back, "are you okay, Y/N? What happened?".

"It was us, I'm so sorry", one of the guys apologised as he carried his friend to their table, "do you want me to get something? Again, I'm so sorry".

"It's fine, I've got her", Franco dismissed them before looking at you again, "are you okay?", he asked worriedly.

"Of course", you attempted to speak firmly even though you were sure your face said it all. Your mother always told you you weren't a great liar.

Franco didn't seem to be convinced either, and ignoring your words, he bent down to check your knee, "you should sit so it doesn't swell up, and ice it too", he stated, tapping his shoulders for you to support your weight in them and help hoist you up on the stool.

"I'll go get some ice", Olivia offered.

As she excused herself, Franco gingerly touched your knee, fearing that he would hurt you even more, "is this fine?".

"It's not terrible, but it's hurting, like, it's a pulsation", you winced as he squeezed.

"I'm sorry, Y/N", Franco apologised, "just needed to check that it's not broken".

"You don't need to stay here, Olivia is coming back already", you added, watching the rest of the guys back on the pool table after you assured you were fine all things considered.

"You're the only one I care about, the rest can wait", Franco spoke.

"Look at that group over there", you pointed with your eyes, "wouldn't you prefer to hang out with them?".

The balloons let you know it was one of the girl's 20th birthday, and judging by the way they were looking in your direction, they noticed you too. Or Franco, you assumed.

"I've told you, I don't care about them, now where is the ice?", he muttered, looking around in hopes of spotting your friend in the darkened room.

"She's coming back", you pointed out.

The ice pack seemed to help relieve the pain and perhaps help with the bruising you were sure was going to take over your knee, "Franco, you can go be with the guys, I'll be fine", you reassured him again, "or be with the girls over there, they're very keen on you", you nudged.

Franco looked up at you, his gaze intense and serious, "those girls don't interest me", he replied, "you're the only one I care about".

There it was again.

"Don't say that", you tried to push it away before it dwelled on, "they're all very pretty, your age I'm sure".

Franco smiled softly as his eyes remained fixated on you, "who I pay attention to is you, you're the one I've always paid attention to", he spoke, not caring about the fact that Olivia was right there as she seemed distracted, "I don't care about their age or what they do. They're not you, and I want to be with you, so I'll stay here with you", he stated.

You heart took a lep, and even though you wished you could say something rational, something that made sense, the way he was looking into your eyes didn't let you. There was honesty and sincerity that never seemed to fail and that you could never ignore.

"Let me help you", Franco spoke softly, "right now, you're the only thing worrying me".

Hesitating, you allowed him to adjust the ice pack and keep talking to you about random stuff to take your mind away from the state of your knee, and for the first time in a while, it felt good to let someone else take care of you.

.

"Do you really think that we won't workout because of our age difference?", Franco spoke.

Mark and Olivia went to get coffee for all of you and left you and Franco on the picnic blanket to save the spot and keep your belongings safe. The plan for the afternoon was to enjoy the sun outside and while you were sure your bestfriend had something to do with this whole arrangement, you decided to let it slip and focus on relaxing for the afternoon.

"What?", you mused.

"You always point out that you're older than me, and whenever I make any advances, which I assume you're not too blind about, you never say yes, but don't say no either", he offered, "is it an obstacle?".

"We're good, aren't we?", you spoke.

"We could be better", Franco spoke and he supported his torso on his hands on his sides, "do you know how much I care about you?".

"We're friends", you replied.

"And you're telling me we couldn't be more?", Franco wondered.

"You have so many things to do still, I can't imagine you'd want to be tied to a 24 year old with a job and mundane responsibilities", you chuckled.

"Is that what it is? Do you really think our age difference is an obstacle?", he spoke softly.

"I can't say with such certainty", you mumbled.

"Can I keep on showing you that it isn't?", Franco spoke.

"I'm very stubborn", you recalled, "and I don't want you to waste your time".

"I'm not going to pressure you, but I'm not going to stop trying to show you how much you mean to me - you're very important in my life, Y/N".

.

"Did you salt the water already?", Franco asked as he grabbed the pasta from the cupboard.

"I did", you told him as you chopped the peppers and onions to add to the sizzling pan.

Franco happened to be around the area for lunch, and after he saw your story about being on your own, playfully claiming that Olivia had abandoned you, he offered to keep you company. Taking Olivia's advice that you should give him a chance and explore what you felt for eachother, you invited him over for lunch.

"Can I ask you something?", Franco asked as he dried his hands on the kitchen towell, throwing it to you so you could do the same.

"Now I'm worried...", you joked, "but sure, go ahead".

The smell of garlic browning in the pan filled the kitchen as you added the rest of the veggies, and you could feel the driver's eyes watching you. Up until now, the atmosphere was light, but there was an unspoken tension at the prospect of the question.

Franco couldn’t take it anymore. He was spending time with you whenever he could, getting closer little by little, but he felt there was a wall. A wall that you held strong, despite your shared glances and conversations that often stretched into the night.

“Why…”, he paused for a second, as if he was choosing his words carefully, “why do you keep pushing me away?”.

You stopped stirring the pan, slowly setting down the spoon aside and turned to face him.

“What are you talking about?”, you asked even though you knew exactly what he meant.

Franco turned fully to face you, his eyes fixed on yours, “You know what I’m talking about,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper, "I’ve been trying to… get closer to you. You know how I feel about you, but every time I take a step toward you, you back away. There’s something you’re not saying, and I want to understand why, and if it's the age thing...", Franco let it out.

You sighed, fiddling with your hands as you gathered your thoughts.

“It’s not simple", you murmured, looking down at your feet.

"Then explain it to me", Franco's voice was calm, but insistent, "because from my side, it seems very simple. I like you. You like me, or at the very least you don't seem to hate me and…”, he hesitated, leaning a little closer, "whatever is stopping you… I can deal with it, we can talk about it".

Your heart raced as you looked up at him, "the age difference", you began hesitantly, “we’re from different worlds, different lives. You have so many options, people around you who… who are more in your vibe and in the line of life you can have. I’ve been through things you haven’t even begun to experience. What makes you think this… us, would be a good idea?", you mused.

Franco took a deep breath, taking a step closer until he was almost touching you, “What makes me think this would be a good idea? That we may have something to explore here? Have a shot at something good together?”, he repeated, looking directly into your eyes, "because every time I’m with you, I feel like I’m in the right place. Because no matter how much you think age is relevant, for me, what matters is how you make me feel. I’m not interested in anyone else, because you’re the one I want to explore these feelings with".

You fell silent, feeling his words invade her defenses. No one ever stood up for you like this.

“Age?”, he continued, "That doesn’t scare me. What scares me is losing you for a reason that, in the end, has no bearing on how I feel about you. You're so amazing and I don't want to lose that".

You bit your lip, feeling yourself wavering between the logic you had always used as a shield and what Franco was doing to your heart at that moment.

He took another step forward and gently placed his hand over yours, “I just need you to tell me… is it really age, or is it something more? Because if it’s just that… then we have a lot more to gain than we have to lose.”

You looked at his hand on hers and, for the first time, let yourself relax a little, allowing your brain to consider the possibility.

“What if it doesn’t go well?”, you whispered, voice hesitant and full of vulnerability, "I don't want to make a promise I can't keep, and I haven't let myself explore these feelings yet and... I don't want to hurt you, Franco".

"Y/N", he sighed softly with unexpected tenderness, “What if it does?", he smiled, "I'm not going to pressure you, and from the moment you tell me that there's no interest, I'll stop and we can remain friends. What I'm asking you is that you consider it first... take your time, I'll wait".

In a moment of confidence, Franco cupped your cheek and kissed your forehead, and for that moment you allowed your wall to lower a little more.

.

The good thing about the hot temperatures outside was that most people had taken their Saturday plans to the beach or the pool, so there was less traffic on your way home. You parked your car in the building's underground garage and went up the stairs to the floor where the apartment you share with Olivia is. Judging by how late you left work, your best friend must be home given that she has the free afternoon on Saturdays.

Turning the key in the lock and opening the door, you find a completely dark apartment, which is strange considering you left the blinds half open this morning to let in sunlight. As soon as you step inside, closing the front door behind you, you're surprised by lights that suddenly turn on and a chorus of voices singing the Happy Birthday song.

You hadn't felt in the right mood to celebrate your birthday this year, given and the changes from studying and the stress of your new job, so to say you were caught off guard by this surprise was an understatement. You had told Olivia that you could have something special for dinner to celebrate the day, and while she insisted a little more, she ended up dropping the subject. And you thought that meant the had agreed to your simple plans - that morning, she caught you when you were having your breakfast, wished you happy birthday and gave your her gift, a very simple necklace with a medal with your initial in it, and didn't make any more fuss.

You definitely didn't expect her to be preparing a surprise like this for you.

Besides Olivia and Mark, Franco is the first person you see in the living room of your apartment - which makes you feel a little bad about yourself considering you hadn't even told him that today was your birthday. Besides the three of them, Maria and Julia, your two closest friends from school, were also present, as well as Pedro, one of your best friends from high school that moved to another city, and as it turns out, came all the way to your party.

When the chanting ends, Olivia approaches you with the cake so that you can blow out the candles, everyone's attention still on you. You know you should say something, but right now, you were completely surprised, and talking under pressure was never your strongest suit.

"Thank you everyone!", is all you can say at first, earning laughs from your friends.

You rolled up the blinds, as they had been down so the surprise had full effect and opened the windows, allowing the air to circulate as everyone gathered in the living room, picking at the foods and drinking on the table you were sure were Olivia's doing for the small celebration.

She is the first one you turn to, tapping her shoulder softly.

"I know... I know you said you weren't in the mood to celebrate, but I thought that this is actually what you need - being with the people that adore you and care about you", Olivia goes first before you can utter out a word, "so, please, just enjoy this, okay?".

"Thank you, Liv", you smiled as you pulled her into a hug, "I can't believe that you went through all this trouble".

"It wasn't too much trouble, and Franco helped a lot", she answered, "the guy didn't even know what day your birthday was, Y/N... That's cruel!", she jokes, to which you roll your eyes.

"I probably forgot about that detail", you answer with a giggle, "thanks again".

"Stop being annoying and enjoy it", your best friend says, joining her boyfriend Mark's and Pedro's conversation.

You take the opportunity to greet Mark and then Pedro, who you haven't seen in person for a long time, "I can't believe you came all this way for this!", you exclaim.

"Of course I came! Olivia told me all the news and not only could I not miss your birthday, but I couldn't not come at a time like this", Pedro explains, "besides, how long has it been since we've been together in person?".

"Too long", you reply with a smile on your lips.

"Exactly! We need to catch up!", your friend exclaims, earning your agreement, "but go greet the rest of your guests first and we'll talk more later", he squeezed your shoulder.

You approach Maria and Julia, hugging them both tight. Although you finished your master's degree as they finished their undergraduate just over a year ago, you hadn't seen each other very often since then as work kept you all busy.

"I'm so happy you're here!", you smile, feeling genuinely happy at having all your people together in one room.

"We couldn't miss it. Besides, we've been missing you so much - you were truly a mother to us and I miss being coddled by you -, and we've already noticed that there's news you haven't been telling us...", Julia comments, wiggling her eyebrows and sharing a suggestive smile with Maria.

"What are you talking about?", you wondered with a quirked brow.

"You don't know? I'll tell you then! About Franco Colapinto!", she snickered, "you didn't tell us you were that close", Maria says.

You're quick to roll your eyes - a common response at her usual antics over the years -, "I told you we were friends", you recall.

"Yes, but we didn't know you were that close!", Julia insists.

"I see your annoying curiosity hasn't ceased", you joked, rolling your eyes again, "Anyway, thanks for being here, I really appreciate it", you joined your hands over your heart before excusing yourself.

Your eyes are quick to search for Franco, but you can't find him in the room. A few seconds later, you spot him returning from the hallway, assuming he had gone to the bathroom or had to take a phone call.

"I should be mad at you for conveniently forgetting to tell me when it was your birthday...", Franco starts, to which you shrug your houlders, trying to put on your best angelic and innocent face.

"I know, I'm sorry... with everything going on, I barely had time to think what month we were on and I wasn't exactly enthusiastic about it to be honest", you explained, "but I must confess I'm happy Olivia arranged this, and I know you helped a lot, so thank you so much, Franco".

"I get, I was just messing with you", he smiles, "and you don't have to thank me for it, you know I'll always do anything to see you happy".

"I know, and that's why I am so grateful", you smiled back.

"Might as well give you the present I got you now", Franco points out, "give me two seconds so I can get it from where Mark told me to put it so it wouldn't be in the way of Olivia's plans and before she started staring at me with her 'I'm going to chop your head off' eyes", he chuckled.

You nodded and waited long enough for Franco to pick up a bag and give it to you, " I racked my brain to decide what I should gift you, because nothing seemed good enough, but I hope you like this".

Undoing the bow keeping the paper bag together, you found a copy of your favourite book with a collectable cover. The intricate detailing of the golden foil complimented the colours beautifully and there was a bookmark inside it, the little tassel falling to the side. Taking it to inspect it closely, you read the delicate lettering Don't lose the sparkle that makes you.. you.

"Wow, Franco", you gasped, completely enamoured by the beauty of it all, "this is spot on, I love it!", you exclaimed, hugging him.

"I'm glad", Franco smiles, jokingly wiping sweat off his forehead and making you laugh.

"Have you met my friends?", you wondered.

"Yes, Olivia did all the introductions", the driver answers.

"Good, let's find out what they're going on about", you suggested, setting the present back in a safe place and pulling Franco with you to join the rest of the group.

You spend the rest of the afternoon and early evening chatting, while you eat and drink the things that Franco and Olivia kindly prepared, and playing some board games. At the end of it, you end up having a really good time, in a way that you haven't in a while, feeling really grateful that Olivia had prepared this surprise. Without knowing it, this was exactly what you needed: your friends and some good moments of relaxation.

"Are you leaving already?", you ask Pedro when the young engineer announces his departure.

"I still have to drive back, Y/N, remember?", he reminds you, earning a nod, "but don't worry your heart too much, I'll keep bothering you with messages and calls and stuff... You won't get rid of me that easily".

"Fine by me!", you smiled at him, "thanks for coming, truly!".

"You have nothing to thank me for. I'll be here any time if you need me - I'm a phone call away", he reminds you, "Are you okay?".

"Of course", you smiled, "let me know when you get home, okay?".

"I will. I had a great time meeting you guys today", Pedro waves at everyone, "until next time!", before leaving the apartment.

At around 10pm, Maria and Julia also announce that they need to leave since they would have an early morning. You bid them goodbye to your friends with the promise of a lunch whenever you could find the time to catch up.

"Don't tell me you're chickening out now and going home too?", a slightly tipsy Olivia teases Franco as he got up from the his spot in the sofa.

"I've already told you that I have the day off tomorrow, my friend", Franco teased her back, getting you and Mark to laugh.

"Let's play another round then", Mark suggested, "since there's only four of us now, we can split into two teams and play Party & Co.".

"This is a recipe for disaster if I have ever seen one", you muttered, "Olivia is a terrible loser and you are a racing driver".

"That's why you should want to have me on your team, I'm used to competing", Franco argued in his favor.

"Strong point, argument accepted. Let's do it!", you declared.

During the game, Olivia ends up making up consequences for those who make mistakes, making everyone drink a few sips of their drinks and even Franco joins in with these punishments, arguing that today is an exceptional day to his usual regime.

By the end of the first game, it's clear that you're all drunk, so you make the responsible and sensible decision not to play anymore. Mark and Olivia end up retiring to the room, leaving you with Franco in the living room.

"I hope they don't make too much noise", you point out as you adjust your position on the sofa so that you're facing Franco, making him burst out laughing at your words, "What?! I'm not telling any lies! Have you imagined how uncomfortable it would be for us to be here and hear them having a baby making practice session?".

"You're right, you're right. I hope they don't make much noise", Franco repeats your words and, this time, you both laugh, "So... did you and Pedro date in high school?".

"Did he tell you that?", you ask, unable to contain your giggles.

"Yes, why? Is it a lie?", Franco asks.

"Half, half", you answered with a gesture.

"How is something half half a lie? It's either the truth or a lie", Franco states.

"I had a crush on Pedro, I tried my luck, but nothing ever happened between us", you admitted, deliberately pausing briefly before continuing, "Because Pedro is gay, Franco, and he was clearly making fun of you", you finally let out a laugh that's been bubbling up since he first asked you.

"Are you serious?", Franco mused.

"Yes. Apparently, he found a weak spot in you and decided to exploit it", you answered amused by the situation that must've enrolled when you weren't home yet.

"A weak spot? Nah... We were talking and he just dropped it, I have no idea why", Franco said, shrugging his shoulders.

"What were you talking about?", you wondered.

"Considering we were at your birthday party... We were talking about you", the brown-haired man answers.

"Please continue", you encouraged.

"Curiosity killed the cat, Y/N Y/L/N", Franco declared, but your glare was enough for him to keep going, "He asked me how we met and I told him. And then he told me about you. And he clearly told me a lie".

"Does it make you feel relieved that it's a lie?", you spoke before thinking properly about it. The sudden courage is unusual for you, but you're playing with all your cards on the table.

"I don't know what you're getting at, Y/N", the driver changes the subject, which makes you roll your eyes.

"I know you undertand it, stop acting like you don't. It's a yes or no question - are you relieved or not?!", you insist.

"Honestly? It doesn't do much. If it were true, it would be something from your past, not your present. We both have a past", Franco responds in a somewhat evasive manner.

"But it could be my present again, especially since he was here today", you decided to insist, wanting to understand how far you could push him.

You weren't sure about the game you were playing, and you couldn't quite say that you were thinking clearly, but this feeling of dominance and being in control was enjoyable. Understanding that this was making Franco uncomfortable also made you realize that he wasn't so sure about talking about what he felt for you. The part of you that wants to understand what he really feels for you is ignited, and you can't tame it down.

After the conversation you had, Franco didn't make any advances and never showed that he wanted more than a friendship, which, in a way, left you at ease, but also perhaps a little disappointed. Had he realised that you weren't worth it?

"Honestly, I don't know what you're getting at...", Franco pretends not to understand again, which makes you sigh loudly, "What's wrong?".

"What I'm trying to understand is if what he said to you bothered you or not. And if so, why. But clearly you are not ready to admit it", you state.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Y/N... You're trying to cross a very complicated line", he warns.

"Why?", you keep going.

"Because you asked for time and space and I gave it to you. And now you're trying to cross a line that I've been trying not to cross, because I'm trying to respect your wishes", Franco answers, this time sincerely.

"That's true, I asked you for time and space and you gave it to me. And I appreciate it", you begin, "but... I know I'm getting closer to that line, maybe I'm even playing a dangerous game too, but I'm doing it consciously".

"What if you're not ready for my honest answers?", Franco argues.

"Well, that's a me problem, isn't it?", you shrugged your shoulders, "can I ask my questions and get back honest answers?", and Franco's answer comes out in form of an unhappy sigh followed by a nod of agreement, "did what Pedro told you bother you? Did it bother you to think that we had dated and that he was back here?".

"Like I told you, we both have a past", Franco avoids the question. Tries to, anyway.

"Honest answers, Franco!", you exclaimed, pleading in exasperation, "of course we have a past, but I'm not going to give the past a shot and I think you won't do again what you did before! With Pedro, it would be different, because if we had dated and he was here, that would mean we had a good relationship. So, I'm going to repeat the question again, and I want you to give me an honest answer - did it bother you or not?".

"It bothered me!", Franco suddenly exclaim, "do you want honest? Here it goes! Yes, it bothered me exactly because of what you just said. Even if, by some act of the devil, your other boyfriend came back into your life, I know for a fact that he would never have another chance with you. However, if you had dated Pedro and if he was here today, it meant that he had a chance with you. And if he had a chance with you, then he was someone I would have to look at as competition".

"And now that you know that there never was and there never could be anything between me and Pedro?", you ask him.

"It makes me feel a little less worried. It means that I still have time to try to continue to mend the damage that others have caused, it means that I can still work to show you how much you mean to me and how high I hold you in my life", Franco replies in a calm and honest tone, which surprises you.

Faced with his words, this time, you are the one who doesn't know what to say. You did ask for honesty and there it was.

"You wanted honest answers...", Franco argues, as if he could guess what was on your mind. Lately, it seemed like he could do it effortlessly.

"I know, I'm not complaining", you admitted, "Does that mean that what you feel for me goes beyond friendship?", you ask directly. You needed to hear it from his mouth.

"What can my answer change in our relationship?", Franco asks, not answering your question.

"Nothing. I won't walk away from you this time, I promise. I just need to know", you clarified.

"Do you really want me to be one hundred percent honest with you?", Franco asks.

"Yes, please", you ask.

"Yes, what I feel for you goes beyond friendship. I tried not to let it be like that, I tried to pretend that I wasn't falling in love with you, but there's no way to control what we feel", he declares honestly without ever stopping to fix his gaze on yours, "Every time I look at you, I see someone with whom I can imagine a future... And I know how hasty this may seem, and I know your reservations about us, but it's simply how I feel. You asked me to be honest and I'm being as honest as I can... But I don't want to lose you, Y/N. In fact, I can't lose you, because, the moment that happens, I think I'll end up losing myself too", Franco stated.

His words leave you completely disarmed, not knowing what to say. Looking at it, you don't think anyone has ever said something like that to you. The words overwhelm you and there doesn't seem to be a right thing to tell him back.

"Can we just forget I said all this?", Franco says, "I don't want things to get awkward between us".

"But I don't want to forget it", you answer quickly, "It was the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me".

Judging it by Franco's expression, he was also caught off guard by your words, probably because he thought this would change your relationship again and brung unwanted distance between you.

Truth was, you weren't going to run away anymore. You didn't want to, and you couldn't do it.

Yes, you were scared, but you knew you need to move on. The comfort zone can be very good, but no boat was made to stay at the dock and you needed to drop the anchor and launch yourself into the unknown. Besides, you know that, in a few years time, you won't like to look back and regret what you didn't do.

"Can I ask you the question back, then?", Franco tries and you nod, "Is what you feel for me just friendship? Or something more?".

"I don't have an answer as assertive and confident as yours, but I know that I look at you and I don't see you just as a friend. You are very special to me, Franco. You are the person I want to talk to about everything, the good and the bad. You are the person who I know will never judge me, who will always try to understand me and help me. After all, you were the first person I was able to trust one hundred percent", you admit, "and I'm still figuring out how I'm supposed to allow myself to believe in love again after everything that happened, but I really wish you were by my side on this journey... That you would make me believe in love again", you offered.

"I don't like to make promises, Y/N/N, but there's one thing I'm absolutely sure of - I'll do everything in my power to make you believe in love again", Franco says, pulling you into his lap and embracing you in a hug that makes you feel safer than ever.

.

When Franco called you and asked if you could join him in the park, you were quick to let him know you were leaving work and heading to meet him. The past two weeks had been crazy with him travelling to races and you visiting your family, so texting had become the way you found to maintain contact.

As soon as you spot him by the trees, you walk a little faster, hugging him as soon as you are able to, "can I say that I've missed you?", you joked.

"I missed you loads, so I think it's only fair you tell me", he smiled, "Hi, how was your day?", he asked as he squeezed you against him.

"I missed you", you spoke, "and it was good, better now that I'm here".

Lately, your walls had lowered progressively - Franco's reassurance and a constant defiance of your thoughts had helped you break down the worries you had. Olivia pointed it out, everyone noticed how much happier you were, and even Franco could sense you were feeling more comfortable.

You end up sitting so close to each other that your knees touch and you rest your arm on Franco's and let your head fall on his shoulder, closing your eyes for a few seconds and just inhaling his scent.

"I...", Franco begins but soon stops before saying anything else.

"What is it?", you ask, raising your head to look at him.

"Nothing, nevermind", he shrugs.

"I don't like it when people say that to me. If you were going to say something, don't tell me to forget about it", you state firmly, "Whatever you were going to say, you can say it. Always. I will never judge anything you tell me. I know you, okay, Franco?".

"Yes, but...", he sighs, "I think I'm missing the courage".

"Please, just say it!", you exclaim, starting to get anxious and worried about his hesitation, "Is it something serious? Is there a problem?".

"No, nothing like that!", he clarified.

"Okay, then...", you encouraged.

"It's about a conversation I had with my mother", he says and, although you don't say a word, your expression lets him know he can continue, "about you".

"About me?", you ask curiously.

"She doesn't know it's you, but... It was about us and about what I feel for you", he offers.

At these words, your heart suddenly accelerates, "she told me that life is supposed to be lived and that..", he gulps.

You remain silent, because you don't know if ot what your supposed to answer. There's nervousness and anxiety as you're not sure exactly where this conversation is going to end up at.

"We can't predict the future, we don't know how much time we have", Franco spoke, "what I mean by this is that I've been thinking that, many times, we waste time on things that, perhaps, don't make that much sense. And I think I've been wasting some time in the sense that I've wanted to do things calmly, I've wanted to respect your time and I think I'm the one who's been afraid of taking the next step. I'm too afraid of losing you, but I'm wasting time and we never know when it is too late".

Part of you knows where Franco is going with this, but the other one doesn't fully understand what he's trying to say.

You're nervous, your heart feels like it's beating out of control and there's a lump in your throat. Despite not crying often, you feel the tears right at the back of your eyes, ready to fall at any moment.

"I'm not particularly good with words, Y/N, but what I'm trying to tell you is that I'm madly in love with you. Damn, I'm trying to tell you that I love you. And I know you're scared and I'm scared, because there have been bad experiences, and because what we have is very special and neither of us wants to ruin it. But I think we're wasting time apart when we could make the most of this time together", Franco continues, "I believe we were very lucky to have found each other when we did. I think we had the perfect timing. And every time I look at you, all I can think about is how lucky I am to have found you. I love you, Y/N, and I want to be with you one hundred percent", the brown-haired man stops his speech as if to catch his breath, and then concludes, "That is if you want to be with me, obviously".

What can you say to someone who declares themselves to you in this way? What do you say to someone who has told you everything? How can you say something that comes even close to what you just heard?

"Did I misunderstand everything and after all you don't like me the same way, is that it?", Franco asks, "it's just, your texts and the way you talk, feels like you do".

The insecurity in his voice is the trigger you need for the words to simply come out of your mouth without having to think much about them, "No, it's nothing like that!", you exclaim, "It's just that it's hard for me to say anything after everything you said. I don't want you to doubt for even a second what I feel for you, Franco. I know I haven't been the best person to express my feelings, because when we say things out loud, they become real. And I was so afraid to admit the truth, so much so that I preferred not to say it. But you're right. Life changes in the blink of an eye and it doesn't make sense to keep leaving things unsaid or undone and wasting time. I'm in love with you, Franco. A part of me has wished, since the moment you made an effort for me, that I could have someone like that by my side, willing to protect me, take care of me and be there for me. I have no doubt that my life has changed for the better because you came into it. And I should have told you all this sooner, because you deserve to hear all this and much more. You are an extraordinary person and you deserve to be happy. And I want to be able to make you happy", you stop for a few seconds, taking a deep breath and gathering all the courage in the world to say the dreaded words out loud, "I love you and there is nothing I want more in this world than to be with you and be your girlfriend".

Despite all the nervousness you felt when expressing your feelings, the relief that follows leaves you feeling like a weight was lifted off your shoulder. Suddenly, you understand that fear paralyzes people and prevents them from moving forward.

The fear of not being enough for Franco, that he couldn't possibly have a girlfriend older than him and the fear that he would suffer from that was what was holding you back, stopping you from being happy. Now that you got that off your chest, that you said what you feel out loud, you realise you're ready to be happy again with someone else.

The smile that appears on Franco's lips makes your day. He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you towards him, pressing your lips together.

You close your eyes and savour every second of the moment: from the way his hand is resting on your waist, while the other caresses your cheek, to the way his lips slide over your and your tongues touch.

When you break the kiss, needing to breathe, you keep your eyes closed for a fraction of a second, enjoying the sensation his lips left on yours.

"I have something to ask of you", you say, opening your eyes.

Franco's arm continues wrapped around you and you remain very close to him without moving, appreciating the closeness.

"Whatever you want", Franco says.

"Don't give up on me. Whenever I try to push you away, pull me to you. Whenever I yell at you because I'm angry, hug me. If I don't answer your texts or calls, look for me. When I feel too insecure, remind me that I'm the only one and how lucky I am to have you. If I'm giving up on us, kiss me and remind me why I shouldn't give up. And I know this is asking too much, but I know you love me enough to do this, to stay with me. I promise to do the same with you, to never give up", you declare.

"I promise, mi amor. I'll never give up on you, not even if you ask me to", Franco smiles as you cup his cheek, bringing your faces closer once again to kiss him.

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

Shaking (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have an anxiety attack in a public setting, but luckily, the doctor is there to help you through it.

Word Count: 2450

Warnings: Anxiety attack, mild cursing, mostly just ANGST and then comforting FLUFF

A/N: Wanted to write Spence comforting the reader during a panic attack. Fanfiction is better than therapy, right? At least, it’s cheaper! Also not my GIF

——

“You don’t want to just order it online?” Spencer asked as you walked beside him down the sidewalk. His longer legs would typically mean that he’d be several steps ahead of you, but he always slowed his pace so you wouldn’t have to strain to keep up with him. He also walked on the outside of the path because, let’s face it, he was a gentleman.

You shook your head. “No, I want the whole experience,” you said excitedly as you walked, your face lighting up in anticipation. You were on your way towards a local bookstore, where the third book in your favorite series was being released today. The bookstore was going to be packed, but you were so excited to be one of the first ones in the door, to get your hands on a physical copy. “I don’t ever do things like this, but it’ll be something I think about every time I look at the book sitting on my shelf.”

Spencer nodded, lifting his hand, his thumb and forefinger in an O-shape as he spoke. “Ah, the age-old concept of symbolic treasures. One of the main reasons why souvenirs are such a prevalent part of going on vacation. Did you know the tradition dates back to Ancient Egypt?”

You shook your head as you continued to walk with him. Your boyfriend carried on without fault. “As far back as 2200 B.C, Egyptian Prince Harkhuf traveled to what is now known as Sudan and returned with all sorts of objects to present to his father, the pharaoh,” Spencer explained. His words spat out quickly, compulsively, as though they had to exit his encyclopedic brain. “He brought back items such as incense, ivory, even the skins of leopards to show off to his father.”

“I had no idea,” you told Spencer as you neared the bookstore, smiling sideways at him. You loved it when he spouted off facts like that, like he had to get the information out or else he’d explode. He had confessed to you more than once before that most people found it weird or off-putting or even annoying, but not you. Rather, you loved learning new things. Whatever information he had to share with you was always relevant in one way or another, and it was just one of the reasons why you loved spending time with him - he made you a more knowledgeable, well-rounded person.

Before either of you could say much else, you’d reached the back of the line of the bookstore. You checked the time on your phone. The store would open in about fifteen minutes. The line stretched down at least a full block, from what you could see. Lots of people dressed like characters from the books, shuffling their feet in excited anticipation.

There were at least a hundred people in the line, and after a minute or two, a couple dozen more had filed in behind where you stood. You pursed your lips for a moment, scanning the crowd until your eyes met Spencer’s.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, inclining his head to the side.

You shook your head. “Nothing,” you said. “Just… lot of people.”

Spencer nodded understandingly, then reached down to take your hand. Your fingers twined with his and he squeezed his palm against yours. “I’m right here,” he reminded you. You didn’t love crowds. They always made you feel anxious, perhaps even a little claustrophobic. You and Spencer had gone to a fairly crowded French film festival a few months ago and there hadn’t been an organized line to enter; rather, it had been a cluster of people, all pressed together. And you had felt like you couldn’t breathe. Spencer’d had to pull you to a seat off to the side so you could catch your breath, and you’d missed getting a seat up front like you’d been hoping for.

Right now, you were okay, though. There were people in front of you and behind you, but they weren’t flush against you like they had been waiting for the film festival to open. And Spencer was holding your hand, and you were outside, with the cool, spring morning breeze hitting your face. It was fine. You were going to be fine. You inhaled deeply and exhaled, then nodded your head, feeling the anxiety dissipate. “I’m good,” you told Spencer, looking up at him.

Spencer nodded. He squeezed your hand once again before letting go, only so he could wrap his arm around your shoulders and tug you so you leaned against his chest. He kissed the top of your hair. “It’s going to be just fine,” he promised you, and you just smiled to yourself.

About ten minutes later, the store opened. You only knew that because the line started moving, and more quickly than you thought. You squealed in delight and matched the pace of the people in front of you, Spencer by your side with an amused grin on his face. He loved books just as much as you did, if not more, but this outing was definitely just for you. He’d read the other preceding books in this series (literally just because you asked him to and it took him an hour, tops), but he wasn’t a total geek for it like you were.

You finally made it inside the bookstore, a small business, a local place. You’d been inside several times before, but you hadn’t realized just how small the building actually was until you stepped in now. It was two stories, but everyone was tightly packed, with the people and the bookshelves crowding around you as you made it fully inside the store. There was even a line to go up to the second floor, like a queue at an amusement park.

There was little to no breathing room. Everyone was talking as they waited their turn to grab a copy of the new book, and the sound seemed to bounce off the walls and the ceiling and smack you right in the ear. The air felt thick despite the front door and handful of windows being opened, allowing the cool spring breeze to ruffle the pages of the paperbacks on display.

But it wasn’t refreshing. Rather, it was another stimulant that caused the neurons in your brain to fire even faster. You felt your palms get slick. You felt your heart start to pound, and your knees wobble as you shuffled forward in the line. What were you even waiting in line for? You momentarily forgot, blinking a few times before looking up at the man beside you. Spencer was engrossed in looking around the bookstore, the corners of his mouth quirking upward as he seemed to find something amusing. But when his eyes came full circle back to you, they were immediately filled with concern. “Y/N?” He asked softly, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You couldn’t even hear him. The sound of his voice just bounced off your brain, like you were trapped inside of cellophane. All you could think was trapped. I’m trapped. No way out. Stuck. Caged. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe.

You felt your breathing go heavy, and your eyes fill up with tears. Your cheeks were red, bright red, judging from how hot you suddenly felt. “Leave,” you managed to choke out, your voice coming out from your throat. It felt like your throat was lined with thorns, like the words you wanted to say kept getting caught.

Spencer nodded. “Leave? Yeah. Yeah, baby, we can leave,” Spencer grabbed your hand, tugging you along behind him as he murmured “excuse me, pardon me,” to the other patrons, to get through the crowd. Moving against the crowd was so much worse than standing still. All those eyes on you, seeing your red face and the anxious tears trickling down your cheeks. It was so embarrassing, freaking out like this is such a public space. Everyone thinks I’m a freak, you thought. Your anxiety became not about the crowd, but about your anxiety, about how you were being perceived. Your breathing picked up, quickened, and by the time Spencer led you out into the morning sun, you were fully hyperventilating.

The thoughts in your head were racing at the speed of light. You hated feeling nervous like this, but moreover, you hated that Spencer had to take care of you because of it. You felt like you had ruined the day because your head wasn’t on straight, because you couldn’t stand in a crowd of people and hear the cacophony of voices and tamp down your panic.

Spencer led you down the block, about twenty feet from the store, away from the crowd, and your breath was still coming out staccato, unstable as you looked down at your shaking hands. You were crying and hyperventilating and the whole world felt like it was spinning. Spencer kept his hold on your hand and stood in front of you, squeezing his palm against yours. His eyes, those light brown irises with little flecks of green, stared into yours. “Hey, Y/N,” he said, bending his knees so his face was level with yours. “Breathe with me, okay?”

You shook your head, your eyes clamping shut. You were so mad at yourself in that moment. You didn’t want to have Spencer take care of you, to have to drag you out of a bookstore because you were having a panic attack. “Baby, you’re trembling,” you heard Spencer’s voice laced with concern. “Look at me. We’ll get through this together.”

You opened your eyes slowly, and that’s when you realized your entire body was shaking. You looked into Spencer’s eyes and he released your hand so he could cup your face. His fingers anchored under your jaw, his thumbs rested on your cheeks, and his eyes were wide, full of worry, but his voice managed to stay soothing and calm. “Follow my breath, Y/N. Do what I’m doing, okay? In for four, hold for four, out for four.”

He inhaled for 4 seconds, and you tried to follow his lead, but you just couldn’t control your lungs. “It’s okay,” he assured you as your brows furrowed, presenting frustration. “C’mon, try again.” He inhaled for 4 seconds, and you managed to match him this time. “Hold for four,” you held your breath while Spencer counted. “And out for four,” you exhaled deeply. “Good, okay, let’s do it again.”

Spencer guided your breath for a few minutes, until you finally felt like you could do it on your own. And when you finally felt yourself coming down from the rush of panic that had sent you into fight-or-flight, you wiped at your wet eyes. “I’m sorry,” you croaked, and Spencer just shook his head.

“No,” he insisted, taking your hand and placing it on his heart. You could feel it beating through his long-sleeved t-shirt. “No, you don’t have to be sorry.” You rubbed your hand against his chest, finding it comforting as you hung your head. “Baby, look at me,” he requested, and you met his eyes.

“Please don’t ever apologize for having an anxiety attack, okay? For one thing, it’s not your fault. You can’t control the chemicals and waves in your brain and how your body reacts to situations,” Spencer began, his hand on top of yours that rested on his chest. You nodded, using the heel of your free hand to wipe away your tears. The crying was over, you were fairly certain, but god, did this suck. “You also should never feel ashamed for having a panic attack, Y/N. It happened, and we’re working through it. It’s a lot like boiling a pot of water, isn’t it?”

You let out a garbled sounding laugh and your brows furrowed. “How so?” You stammered out.

“Well, you set the pot of water on the stove, right?” Spencer began, and you nodded. “And then when it starts to bubble, that’s your anxiety. Some sort of external stimulant - the stove, or, in your case, the overwhelming feeling of being in a crowd - is causing the water to bubble. And when the external stimulant increases in intensity, so too does your anxiety. And sometimes, yeah, the pot boils over.” Spencer shrugged like it was no big deal. “But then you just turn the stove off, grab a dishtowel, and clean up the mess. Problem solved.”

You cracked a half-hearted smile. “So in this metaphor, you’re a dishtowel?” You asked, curling your fingers around the fabric of his shirt.

“Technically, I think it’s a simile, but yes,” Spencer grinned as he looked in your eyes.

“But the book,” you sighed, looking back at the bookstore, which was still filtering people in and out slowly. The patrons leaving the store clutched their new copies of the book in their hands, grinning and taking pictures with their phones, laughing with their friends excitedly.

“Do you want to get back in line and try again?” Spencer asked, and you bit your cheek pensively.

“I don’t think so,” you said softly, defeatedly.

“That’s okay,” Spencer said. You loved that he wasn’t coddling you, he was just feeling it out, seeing what you were up for. “Do you want to get brunch somewhere and come back? Maybe the line will have died down by then?”

You nodded, your lips curling into a small smile. “Yeah,” you agreed. You realized your hand was still over his heart, rubbing at his chest. Your movement halted and you retracted your hand, but before your arm could fall completely at your side, Spencer scooped your hand up and kissed the back of your palm. “What if we come back and they’ve sold out of the book, though?” You asked as Spencer walked with you in the direction of one of your favorite brunch places, just a short walk from the bookstore.

“There are twenty-two independent bookstores in the D.C. metropolitan area alone,” Spencer rattled off. “If this one doesn’t have it, we’ll drive around until we find one that does.”

“What article did you read that told you how many bookstores were in D.C?” You asked. You often liked to challenge him by asking him to cite his sources.

“No article. I did a search on Google Maps last night,” Spencer explained.

“What, because you knew I’d freak out when we walked into this one?” You asked him.

Spencer shook his head. “No, just wanted to have a contingency plan in case our first stop sold out before we got there.”

“Always thinking ahead, huh, Boy Wonder?”

“Damn straight.” A smirk formed across Spencer’s lips.

You shook your head. “You’re the best dishtowel a girl could ask for.”

[justin-chapmanswers]

Sorry if this is a bit rude, but how do you consider yourself as he/they or they/he? I am questioning my sexuality and gender at the moment and seeing you (idk if ur lgbt) makes me find comfort, if you can, how did you realise you were not straight and how I can find mine! :3

Oh golly uh. Let's see if I can keep this short and then bury it under other answers. <3

Labels are fun cause they're so funky and ever-changing as you learn more about yourself. So, firstly, don't stress about finding something so perfect right away and bounding yourself to it. You're still you, any way you word it.

Gender-wise I'm in a state of def preferring they but being chill enough with he. Like whateverrrrr. It's hard to get around societal norms and perceptions, so my expectations are calibrated accordingly. I of course feel that for people who feel more strongly about a specific label, it's important to fight for it to be recognized whenever you're in a safe-enough environment to do-so. But for me, the concept of pushing for a specific label or, even more-so, of seeing other people pushing others to use a specific label for me is veryyyy anxiety-inducing. I tend to avoid spotlight when possible. But at the same time, a lot of it just comes down to not wanting to be grouped/perceived gender-ly at all. I tend to use the label agender. But I'm sure a lot of people have similar experiences with different labels. I just, ya'know, wanna be me.

Gender exploration is funnnn. There's no one right way to learning about yourself. Some people know from a young age, almost inherently, some people figure things out a lot later. It's never too late. Some people learn with outfits and styles, some with looking to people/characters who they want to be perceived more-like, some with experimenting through new names/pronouns and feeling-out how being called different things makes them feel. If you have friends you feel safe around with all of this, on or offline, can't hurt to say "hey would ya mind calling me x-name or y-pronoun for a bit?" And if you don't like it, you don't need to stick with it. But really be cognizant of it feels right to you.

Then on the romantic orientation side, that's been a much longer journey haha. I was calling myself straight through middle schooler, bi for a bit in early high school, gay starting in later high school, then for a long while. Nowadays I just say queer. Labels make things easier, until they don’t haha. For me, if you imagine a scale of feminity to masculinity with like little pegs running down the line from 0 to 10, with 5 in the middle, I tend to find myself attracted to people in like the 4 to 8 range? Something like that. But even that's not perfectly consistent! There's never going to be a perfect word for everything. That's why I like queer as an umbrella term. It's also just a cute word, I don't make the rules.

Hence earlier when I mentioned that you should just feel free to keep it open and not close yourself off. Maybe nothing'll change, but what if something does? But of course, I assume you're asking from more of a place of just starting this journey. I'm trying to get my mind back to where I started with that. I think the first time the not-straight realization hit was when a friend of mine didn't show up to an event and I was all like "why am I so miserably sad that he wasn't there?" And then a lightbulb appeared over my head and out-loud I said "aw damnit." And then things have been weird and confusing ever since.

But in terms of giving advice, it's hard to not just be like "uhh idk just hang out with people that makes you feel gooey." But obviously it's more complicated than that. A decade ago, I was taking random "am I gay" tests online. But they're kinda silly cause the questions on those would ask me to fill in information about how I feel, but how am you supposed to know how I feel without the test telling me how I feel??????? So realistically, I'd advise private journaling. Just take some time, even five minutes. Start now. Write out who you are drawn to, in any sense, and how they make you feel. Especially if you're like me and have trouble self-reflecting unless I force myself to. Like. In a Tumblr post.

There's so many ways to explore. It's also nice to look at relationships in life and media and seeing if you connect to any relationship or long to fit into someone's place within a relationship. That's why representation matters, baybeeeee! But also, ya'know, talking to people goes a long way to learning about yourself. Trial 'n error let's gooooo.

And above all: you got this.

[merakiui]

MERA IVE BEEN HAVING THIS THOUGHT AND I THINK YOURE THE RIGHT PERSON TO SHARE IT WITH BC ITS SO PERFECT FOR THE TWEELS 😭

A long time ago, back when i was a teenager and still a wattpad girly, I read this one really good story called "Family Comes First" about a family of cannibals that lives in the middle of nowhere. They only keep boy children who are born, no daughters. Whenever a boy turns a certain age (I think 21 but I cant really rmbr), the father goes out to the nearest city, interviews girls under the guise of offering them a job, and kidnaps the best one as a birthday gift and bride. The mother-in-law teaches the new girl how to be a good wife (cleaning, cooking that strange meat, etc.), and the husband is otherwise responsible for his wife, to the point of selecting and laying out her clothing every morning. The ultimate honour is to birth a son, and so the husbands are CONSTANTLY trying to get their wives knocked up. I can't help but imagine Jade and Floyd in a story like this, it suits them perfectlyyyyy

In the book, one of the boys ended up catching feelings for brother's wife (the main character) instead of his own, and it causes fights serious drama in the family. This works so well with the recent ideas about Jade stealing Floyd's cute little wifey except it would be even better for them because they're twins and Jade can pull all his nasty tricks 😭 maybe when she finally gets knocked up with a son, they won't know who it belongs to, because he looks just like his daddy, but the potential daddies look the sammmeee OTZ

Oh oh oh and imagine if reader tries to escape and the family decides to let her try. Let her have fun. Hell, they even join in on the fun. She was blindfolded when they brought her and she's never been out of the house before, so she doesn't know her way around the woods, whereas the men in this family have been hunting humans for sport and food in these woods for generations. Now she's lost in the dark forest with daddy leech and the tweels rapidly closing in on her. She's going to be taught a lesson after they drag her home. After all, she lost the game, and losers never get rewards >_<

OHHH!!! Omg that concept is perfect for the tweels!!!! And they would absolutely draw out the chase in the forest just to scare you even more. Maybe then, after spending an entire day and night being hunted like a wild animal, you'll learn your home is with them. There's no point in running from your family, after all.

Hehe running from the three of them and you injure yourself, so now you're even more panicked because what if they can smell the cut on your leg? What if they can hear your pained grunts as you drag yourself along, limping through the forest? >_< omg and it doesn't matter who finds you; it's going to be frightening either way. Floyd who drags you out of your hiding place by the ankles, or Jade who stands over you as he patiently waits for you to take notice of him. Or Papa Leech wrapping you up in big, strong, scarred arms to carry you back to the house. Maybe you're kicking and screaming all the way, and it's useless to struggle because there's no one else out here for stretches. Just you and your family, who care so very much for you. You should be grateful! Mr. Leech's sons fight over you to be named your husband. Aren't you lucky to have the two of them? Most of all, aren't you lucky you're alive and not on their murderous menu?

AAAAAA and Papa Leech picks your clothes for you going forwards! They were far too patient and lenient with you before, far too forgiving. Now you're living under a new schedule, a fresh set of rules. Your clothes are selected for you, and your meals are prepared in advance (gone are the days in which you were given choices; each meal is healthy and has properties meant to boost your fertility). When you aren't learning to be the perfect housewife, you're getting bent over every possible surface and bred by the twins. Or if the twins can't behave, then maybe Papa Leech ought to knock you up instead........... thinking thoughts.

In conclusion, the entire family is crazy and you're stuck with them forever. orz

[hansensgirl]

summary. | Your landlord isn’t ready to let you go.

prompts. | Andy Barber + roommate/tenant AU + “Isn’t it beautiful? Bulletproof, too.” + dumbification, requested by Anonymous.

pairing. | dark!landlord!Andy Barber x fem!tenant!reader.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON, kidnapping, violence (andy hits the reader’s head against the wall, briefly), drinking, obsession, possessiveness, dumbification, mean!Andy, age gap, captivity in a basement, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

author’s note. | this is a part of my Dark Concepts (2023) request form. thank you for taking part in this event! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY! taglist: @hansensfics

The ad said they were renting a room in a beautiful suburban home. You did a quick Google search about the man and learned he was the Assistant District Attorney—a respectable man. You were hesitant at first, of course.

But you should’ve been more careful.

Andy’s hand grips the back of your neck as he gives you a tour of his new home—the one he forcibly took you to. You know precisely what made him snap. 

After almost two years of living in his house, you finally found a place of your own that you could afford with your job. When you told him about it, he stared at you in disbelief before walking off, leaving you in the dark for almost two days.

You had already begun packing your things, knowing that when Andy would come back, he’d want you out immediately. That was fine, you said to yourself. You had a friend you could stay with until the moving day. 

Andy had always been so kind to you. He didn’t make you feel like a stranger in his home. He often brought you food whenever he assumed you’d be hungry. He certainly wasn’t a friend, but he wasn’t a lousy landlord. His demanded rent was reasonable yet not questionable. 

“You’ve always been such a stupid girl, huh?” he sniffs when you try to fight him again. You’re shivering in the thin dress he made you wear once you woke up. You faintly remember him banging the side of your head against the wall, just enough to knock you out. “Thinking you could leave me. Haven’t I been good to you? You’ll never find a man like me again,” he scoffs.

You bite your tongue, tempted to mention how his ex-wife divorced him and left him for a much gentler man. 

“C’mon, get a good look around. Let’s see if any of it will stick in that empty head ‘a yours,” he sneers, and the words cut through you like a knife. He’s heard you sniffling over your notes and cramming for exams, only to receive an average mark. How could he do this to you? Who does he think he is? A powerful man, that’s who. 

“You’re definitely not seeing up here for a few months. Not unless you’re being a good girl—and clearly, you haven’t been one,” he comments, and fear consumes you. He will leave you in the basement—the same dark, dreary place you found yourself in not too long ago. 

Andy shoves you in and out of different rooms, barely letting you examine your surroundings properly. But you’ve seen enough to realize just how demented he is—he’s got stock photos of different lifetime milestones in photo frames that decorate almost every wall. Ready for replacement.

Other than that, the place is boring. There truly is nothing special—until he gets to the stunning, stained-glass window. Ironically, in the centre of it, there’s a dove. Roses surround her, and she looks content despite the limitations of the material she’s made of. 

“Isn’t it beautiful? Bulletproof, too,” he comments, voice rough as he spits the words out. His breath smells like alcohol, and it makes you think about how deep down, Andy Barber is still some suburban man who has a few too many screws loose, yet not enough courage to admit it.

“Don’t even start thinkin’ about gettin’ outta here. S’not happenin’,” he grumbles. “But I’d love to see a stupid little girl like you try. It’d be funny,” he chuckles, and he lets you stare at the coloured glass for a little while longer.

“What is wrong with you?” you seethe, though your words are wobbly. You’re on the verge of tears, undeniably scared for your life. “Me? Nothin’. I just can’t believe you’d try and leave your future husband like that. What a dumb girl,” Andy smirks before shoving you back towards the door to the basement.

You would try fighting him, but even if you managed to get out of his strong, painful hold, where would you go? The doors are bolted and have keycodes to them. Maybe he was lying, but what happens after if you manage to break a window? You’d run outside, but you know you wouldn’t make it that far. 

Not in the cold—not with a desperate, crazy man chasing after you.

[plusultraetc]

what do u think of traitor!mic 🫶 i honestly was confused abt it when i realized how popular it was relatively speaking … there was a lot of it from like? 2020-2021?!?! i wanted to know ur take on him ദ്ദി ( ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ )

BESTIE YOU ARE ALWAYS ASKING THE DIFFICULT QUESTIONS. OKAY LET'S TALK ABOUT TRAITOR MIC.

The long & short of it is that I SEE the vision but unfortunately, he's just not for me 😭 That isn’t to say I’m not interested in other people’s takes on him (and am super open to post/fic/art recs if anyone has any; I recently saw this piece and had a full-body flinch reaction when I Realized. Like. OMG). I just have like. Zero thoughts of my own lol, because traitor!Mic is conceptually so opposed to my understanding of the character that I can’t quite au about it.

(Before I get into my longwinded nonsense, let me just add that we should have known Mic wasn't the traitor from the very start because if he had been the League of Villains would have been way more successful lmao)

So full disclosure, when I watched the first few seasons of MHA a couple years ago, I heard there was a traitor at UA and the first thing I blurted out was 'IT'S PRESENT MIC.' I honestly am not sure why I thought so at the time, other than the fact that he seemed like an incredibly unlikely candidate, and therefore was Very Suspicious to me lol. Like, I don't even think I knew he was the one who proposed the traitor theory--if I had, it would have been so over for him. I would have been convinced he was the traitor & trying to throw people off his scent maybe for the rest of my life. In reality I probably just thought he was too loud and goofy and therefore must be hiding something (what he was hiding was a tragic backstory, whoops!) But anyway I was actually really surprised when I learned traitor!Mic had become such a prevalent theory!

In many ways, I can totally see why. Mic makes a good candidate for a traitor! He's smart, he has reasons to be dissatisfied with the pro hero status quo, and as we learn, he has very distinct public and private personas--one of which is radio DJ Present Mic, and the other is really, really angry.

THAT BEING SAID. Looking back on it, I feel like the more we learned about Mic, the more the traitor theory kind of... falls apart. I almost feel like he's Too Angry under all that leather and hairspray to be a spy for the League. For example, if I was trying to stay under the radar as a villain spy, I wouldn't turn to the guy next to me and be like ‘HEY let's beat these civilian reporters up for trespassing ♥’

Mic has every reason to be angry. He lost a close friend in a villain attack at a young age, watched the toll his death took on his friends and family even while processing (or failing to process) his own grief, and later had to confront the reality of what really happened to Shirakumo--how intentional and therefore avoidable it was--as the world was falling apart around him. I’ve talked a little bit on this blog about my many Big Sad Feelings about the ‘middle generation’ of pro heroes between All Might and the up-and-coming UA students, but more than anyone else, I think the UA teachers are a very conflicted group. It’s like… not quite ‘former child soldiers raising current child soldiers,’ but a similar concept, especially for characters like Mic, Aizawa, and Midnight, who had such a traumatic experience during their own years at UA. Now they are very much responsible for the children they are going to *checks notes* send into the same, and in some cases even more, dangerous situations that chewed them up and spat them out as teenagers. Very healthy, very mindful.

So Mic does have reasons to be disillusioned, but the thing is, he very actively participates in an often-hypocritical pro hero society. (This is not a criticism of him btw; many characters in the series do, and it’s often what makes them interesting!) Something that’s come up in book club is the fact that Present Mic is a public figure with a platform of his own and absolutely no problem loudly critiquing other heroes and even students, but he like. Really Hates the media. It’s almost funny how much he dislikes them. This is as good a reason as any that traitor!Mic should have been a hard sell, because his feelings about the media are directly opposed to those of the early League of Villains--ie, the iteration of the League when the traitor’s intel would have been at its most valuable. The early League loves the media; they want to use them to sensationalize and legitimize their message. Present Mic, meanwhile, uses his incredibly limited screentime to quite literally get in their way. He could have 100% made better use of his platform & connection to the press to aid the League.

I did try to approach this question from a non-erasermic lens, but I feel I would be remiss if I didn’t talk about Aizawa at all for two reasons: 1) unfortunately, Mic is a side character. He doesn’t have THAT many appearances throughout the series, and most of the time, he appears with or somehow-relating-to Aizawa, and 2) you can’t talk about a traitor without talking about who they’re betraying. And honestly, I just can't see him betraying Aizawa--not after everything they've been through together, not after weathering Aizawa's darkest years, and not now, when All Might's imminent retirement (that the UA faculty is aware of in advance) means that big changes are looming on the horizon for all pro heroes. Mic himself acknowledges that the age of All Might has made them complacent--he knows that the end of the Symbol of Peace spells trouble, and that current pros are largely unequipped for a world without All Might. He has a tendency to prioritize others, especially Aizawa and those he cares about, above himself, and right now would be the very worst time to sell All Might/UA/etc out to the League.

And then of course there's the obvious: he really is just. Very kind. We don't get nearly enough Present Mic throughout the series, but what we do get tells us that he's supportive, protective, somewhat-sassy and Doing His Best. Like yeah, he roasts the other characters literally every chance he gets, and he can def be judgmental, but when it counts (when Uraraka was feeling guilty that Midoriya stayed behind to rescue her during the Entrance Exam, when Bakugou and Todoroki needed someone to supervise their remedial training, when Ms. Ikoma became overwhelmed by her students' admittedly poor behavior), he steps up for the people around him. Idk he's just a really solid hero. This is my formal apology to Present Mic for suspecting him in like 2018 or whenever it was.

THANK YOU FOR OPENING UP THIS CAN OF WORMS, do you have any thoughts on traitor!Mic? Any recommendations? Does anyone? 👀

[sitp-recs]

liv, do you have any idiots to lovers recs? I’m thinking things in the vein of “keep it down” by warmfoothills; where draco and Harry like each other so much but are just so dumb about it! it also works if only one of them is an idiot (usually Harry, my oblivious king!!) huge bonus if they have a big, combined friend group that everyone in it either 1.knows they’re in love with eachother bc duh or 2.already thinks they are dating/fucking

It took me ages to post this but if you’re still around I got you, anon 🫡 That’s also a favorite trope of mine, I adore that warmfoothills fic. Here are some recs for you, I’ve had so much fun putting this list together. I also did a reclist for roommates AU a while ago. Hope you enjoy!

Still Life (2019, M, 3k)

Take A Stab At It by @sorrybutblog (E, 3k)

It’s a bit pathetic, Harry knows, to have a hard-on for the guy who bullied you in school. Kind of cliché to look back on years of obsession and hatred and think, Oh.

Closer by @pennygalleon (M, 5k)

All who know them are convinced that Harry and Draco are a couple. But that's just ridiculous.

Tread That Fine Line by disapparater (E, 5k)

Harry could cope with being in love with Draco, it was the needing to get fucked by him that was driving Harry insane.

Mise en Place by @corvuscrowned (T, 5.5k)

Draco needs to learn how to cook, and luckily, Harry knows his way around a kitchen. The fact that Draco is using his newfound cooking skills to impress another man... Well, Harry just tries not to think about that too much.

Two of Us by @sorrybutblog (E, 5.5k)

The gang goes to a gay bar. Or: five times Harry accidentally pretended to be Draco’s boyfriend and one time Draco told him to put out or shut up.

Per my last letter (I hope you choke on it) by @fluxweeed and @lastontheboat (T, 10k)

Or: the one where Harry has writer’s block and Malfoy isn’t helping.

Party of Two by fireflavored (E, 13k)

Drinking, sex, and a total misreading of the concept of fuck buddies.

Take the Moon by @tackytigerfic (M, 15k)

Harry Potter has always wanted a family of his own, and when a deadly blood curse forces him into a marriage bond with his best friend Draco Malfoy, it looks like he might just have found one. It's just a shame they’d always planned to break up after a year…

An Act of Kindness for One Harry Potter by a Sympathetic Draco Malfoy by 0idontknow0 (E, 15k)

As Draco leaned on the wall to wait for them to get dressed, he could not help feeling like he had done a very kind thing by disrupting them. Someone should give Potter a better rogering than that sorry sod had. The man had saved the bloody world—okay, mostly Europe—the least someone could do was give him a proper shag.

It's Friday (I'm in Love) by @punk-rock-yuppie (E, 16k)

At first, Draco only hangs out with them on Fridays after work; then he starts shagging Potter after pub nights. Then all the rest of the gang tries to befriend Draco and even worse, Potter tries to date him. It’s an absolute disaster, if you ask Draco. Or, Draco and Harry fall in love over the course of several Fridays and some other days of the week.

solemates by @shiftylinguini (E, 17k)

It starts because Harry has no self-control when it comes to meaningless and entertaining competition. Actually no, that's not quite right. It starts because Harry is absolutely plastered.

Five Weddings and a Potions Accident by lauren3210 (E, 19k)

In which Harry thinks he’s a playboy, everyone else knows better, and Hermione will kill Seamus if Ron tries to collect on that bet.

Nothing But You On My Mind by @moonflower-rose (M, 29k)

Potter has been in Australia on an internship for almost a year, and Draco cannot wait for him to get back home. They'll finally have a chance to talk about their feelings for each other. What could possibly go wrong? Loads, as it turns out.

Around You Moves by ignatiustrout (M, 29k)

Harry knew Draco was gay when he invited him to move in. He’s never had a problem with this. So why does he feel so weird about Draco bringing men home all of a sudden?

(The Piece) I was Missing All Along by lauren3210 (E, 30k)

Draco and Harry have been flatmates and best friends for years, and Draco thinks life is just perfect that way. But when something comes along and threatens to take all that away, Draco has to decide what it is he really wants, and just how hard he's going to work to get it.

A Love Story of Less-Than-Epic Proportions by InnerLilith (E, 39k)

Harry and Draco are just friends. Sure, they work together, and live together, and go to gigs together, and do pretty much everything else together—so what? That’s just what friends do. And Harry has no interest in messing with their friendship. He certainly doesn’t need everyone else constantly meddling, pestering them to just get on with it and get together already. He’s having a hard enough time as it is, trying to come to terms with the fact that he probably isn’t ever going to find love. But who needs love, anyway, when you’ve got a best friend?

Another Heart Whispers Back by @slytherco (E, 53k)

At twenty-five, Harry Potter is still a virgin and sorely lacking in options to change that state anytime soon. To help him find a plus one for Ron and Hermione’s wedding, and maybe kill two birds with one stone, Harry’s friends set him up on a series of blind dates. The only problem is, there’s something not quite right with each of their candidates.

Nights With You by @the-sinking-ship (E, 58k)

Draco is mortified when moments prior to departing for the most anticipated destination wedding of the year, he is cruelly dumped. But when he learns that Harry Potter has, at long last, split with his horrible boyfriend, Draco is certain his luck has changed. Never a man to squander an opportunity for revenge (and what would probably be a spectacular shag), Draco vows to make Potter his for the weekend.

All Must Draw Near by Saras_Girl (M, 61k)

Harry doesn't have time for rumours; he has a shop to run. Which is just as well, really.

The Pure and Simple Truth by lettered (G, 65k)

Harry, Draco, and Hermione go to a pub. Harry, Draco, and Pansy go to a pub. Harry, Draco, Pansy, and Hermione go to a pub. Harry, Draco, Hermione and Ron go to a pub. Harry, Draco, Hermione, Ron, and Pansy―you guessed it―go to a pub. I could go on. In fact, I did. Harry, Draco, Hermione, Pansy, Ron, Blaise, Luna, Goyle, Neville, and Theodore Nott go to a pub. In various combinations.

[novelconcepts]

It has taken me seven days to run a marathon. Seven days to pound out a little over 26 miles. Seven days in which I coax my body into motion despite my perpetual fatigue, despite my aching chest, despite the fact that my brain is on fire what feels like three-hundred percent of the time.

There was a time when the idea of running 26 miles in any number of days was laughable. Beyond laughable; it was a concept so nonexistent, I did not know how to dream it up. I did not grow up a runner. I grew up with a stellar baseball swing, a killer capacity for sinking free throws, and a vomitous terror of being seen by any kind of audience during a game. I grew up a graceless, sports-focused tomboy. I grew up terrified of embarrassing myself via athletic feats. I talked myself out of almost every game I could have excelled at. I talked myself out of so much.

I picked up running a few years ago just to see if I could. To see if it was in me, despite my breathlessness on flights of stairs, despite convincing myself at age twelve that I had a bum knee. I picked up running a few years ago to see if I could, in the comfort of my own living room, squirming out of binders and into sports bras and feeling a little bit insane all the while. I kept up running anyway. Even though my personal best was seven minutes. Even though a mile felt like drop-kicking my own sternum off a mountain. Even though my body felt wrong with every step, because--let's all be honest now--my body had felt wrong since I hit puberty.

I kept up running in the privacy of my own living room, and then the privacy of my home office. Wherever I could fit a treadmill. I kept it up because I'd already told people I'd started, and I have a propensity for stubbornness. If people know, I can't give up, or I will be a failure. The potential for shame kept me driving forward. I kept it up, and, slowly, I began to dream about it. I dream of running the way other people dream of flying. In my dreams, I am weightless. I do not even have a body with which to battle. My lungs know how to do nothing but breathe easy. My legs could carry me across oceans. I run, and I run, and I am running not away from anything, not towards anything. I am just running. Humans are like that. Humans are supposed to be like that. We move because moving is innate, because momentum is beautiful, because in motion, we are alive.

I kept up running in private, and then, in 2022, I had top surgery. I couldn't run for months. I had to heal. I had to relearn the angles of a body I had been at war with for over half my life. I spent weeks in bed, my brain foggy, my depression worsening not because I regretted my decision to get the surgery--I have never regretted anything less than that surgery--but because I had taken off the table one of the biggest obstacles to my own joy. My body was more my own than it had ever been, and I was...still unwell. Still very much not okay. I laid in bed, and I listened to audiobooks, and I rewatched my favorite shows, and I ached to fill the spaces in myself with something joyful. Something as positive as the miracle I'd just enacted on my own body. I healed slowly. I accepted needing medication for my depression. I returned to running.

I ran outside for the first time in my life. I ran outside, and everything I'd already learned, I had to navigate through fresh eyes. The upheaval of sidewalks that twist and turn, that slope unexpectedly upward before sending you skidding downhill again. The presence of other runners, of dog-walkers, of cars and children and unexpected rainfall. I began listening to podcasts. I listened to podcasts about queer joy. I listened to podcasts about movies worthy of love and hate simultaneously. I listened to podcasts that made me laugh, and stories that made my chest feel like it would cave in. Sometimes, I listened to music, and I wrote a soundtrack for a revolutionary kind of cinema in which I, at last, played the lead. I ran, and I learned how to breathe through my new chest, and I learned how to straighten my spine and twist my hips and feel, for once, as though the body I inhabit is one that wants me around.

I run now, in the summer, mainly in my office again, because climate change is a bitch. I run shirtless, watching my reflection out of the corner of my eye in my cabinets. I am still not in love with my body. There is too much about it that feels outside of my control. I am even less in love with my brain, which--despite the exercise, despite the Lexapro, despite the happy home life and loving community I am fortunate enough to have around me--wants me dead more than ever. I run largely because I am trying to outrun the negatives. The anxiety burning a pit in my stomach. The self-loathing I can't switch off. The fear of the future. The burden of observation in a world where every bit of bad news is available at all times. I run as though I am trying to escape a tiger, and I know it can't get through my front door, but I can sense its teeth in my neck all the same. I run two miles. Three. Five. Six. I run, and I keep track of my running, because every mile is another day I've won the war.

I am not well. I am not okay. I know this. I say this to my wife in tears. I say this to myself in stoic, flat tones. I say this, and I feel my mouth shape in a crooked smile, and it is not funny--but I sometimes laugh, anyway. Sometimes, you have to. That's human, too. The momentum. The graveside humor. The miles scorched into the soles of shoes you must, someday, replace if you're going to keep going. I am not well. I am not okay. I did not, quite honestly, expect to make it this far. Thirty-five is a country unexplored. Thirty-five is a galaxy I've only just found the keys to. Sometimes, I think this will be the last year of my life--but then, I think I thought that last year. And the year before. In 2020, in 2016, when I was 19 and 17 and 12.

I've run a marathon in seven days.

Time to look ahead to the next seven.

[acupofqueercoffee]

“With her sweetened breath and her tongue so mean”

Andromache the Scythian x Witch Reader

gif ▸ queen-shuri ( i don’t know how to link a gif ㅠㅠ )

request ( found here ) by @nightly-polaris

i left her powers to your imagination though i did play around with the idea of them being soulmates. wow it did take me a while. this was harder to write than i thought. frankly, i’m not very pleased with it. i went too long without writing and i feel like i’m getting rusty. i just hope that i managed to do your idea justice 🥹

(=^･ω･^=) leonora the cat made a cameo appearance

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Myriads and myriads of millennia. That was how long the Scythian had been walking the earth. There was not a corner of this world where her soles had not touched. Many a time had the sky borne witness to her downfalls, and thereupon, her immediate beginnings. Throughout her journey as an immortal, she had seen it all, privation, plenty and everything in between. The wonders and weirdness of the world could no longer provoke in her a sensation that would otherwise have six thousand years ago.

Regardless of her very old age that could have her certified as a living fossil, and the boundless knowledge that she had collected throughout her very long life making her a walking encyclopaedia, there existed many mysteries that even Andromache had yet to see. Amongst them, magick was a concept that still remained foreign to her; therefore, a threat. Unfamiliar though it was, it was not entirely unheard of. After all, she herself had been caught in the crossfire while trying to free the accused from the witch trials. In the end, they were just that: accused. There ended the extent of her experience regarding witchery or anything supernatural for that matter.

The only occult phenomenon that she knew to be bona fide was their immortality. The rest was sham. That was, until her team notified her of the all too familiar dream. Until a family of four bar Quynh and Booker, became a family of four, plus a hazardous, peculiar individual.

━━━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━━━

The arcane parts of you that had remained concealed for the better part of your life had only recently come to light when you unfortunately faced your demise.

The cause of your death had been as good as silly, slipping on a wet tile and cracking your head open on the edge of your bathtub, but it had shed light on an important piece of information nonetheless.

One second, you were dead, and the next, you woke up in a pool of your own blood. To you, who had been revealed to the bombshell of an information about a week ago, that you were a witchling, you were just in assuming that it was part of your newfound identity.

However, on the following day, with the arrival of a mysterious woman on your doorstep, your life was turned upside down. Going with her had not been of your own free will, having been meticulously knocked unconscious and finding yourself on an unfamiliar bed upon awakening.

The root of your sudden perturbation stemmed from the absence of Leo, a majestic Somali cat with gorgeous red mane that resembled a smaller version of a fox. She had been your greatest companion long before you had been made aware that she was your familiar. It appeared that the bond between a witchling and her familiar became only stronger once a witch unlocked her true potential. Only when a fluffy ball of scarlet hopped onto your bed could you calm.

In addition to, quite frankly, the charismatic complexity of a woman that you eventually learned named Andromache, you met three other people; Nile, who looked the closest in age to you, Nicky who had the kindest face out of the four, and Joe who appeared the most laid-back. All five of whom, four who you had just met, and the remaining one who, as explained by them, was away to carry out his punishment, were not entirely unfamiliar to you. You had seen them in the dream that had sought you right after your very first’s death.

Regardless of your non-involvement in being here, the decision to remain here was done of your own free will, reached by not only your instinctual feelings but also the support of Leo. Growing up alone, you had no one to miss you, and no one to be missed by you. It seemed sound to stick with those as peculiar as you were, than to stick out like a sore thumb amongst the ordinaries, or so you had believed.

Oh, how terrible of a mistake you had made by assuming that being immortal would make you the same as them, or them the same as you.

Although the others welcomed you warmly, making you feel at home as best as they could, your confession about your true being was not received kindly by Andy as the others called her. In fact, even the nickname was a privilege that was beyond your reach.

“That’s Andromache to you.” so she had corrected, lips the very picture of a straight line, when you had made a slip of your tongue.

Being forced out of slumber one night by a curious dream, similar in kind to the one you had on your death’s day, led you to seek the group with a question in mind. No sooner had you set foot in the room than the Scythian made herself scarce without so much as acknowledging you.

“Andy, albeit not being the most open person, can be ridiculously protective of her team. You are now one of us which means that she cares.”

“Humans harbour fear of the unknown. Even Andy cannot be entirely immune to it. Give her time.”

“She’ll come around. Take me for example. I had been killed once, beaten to a pulp, and had my bones broken by that woman, all of which transpired within the same day.”

Despite the reassurances from Joe, Nicky, and Nile, you would rather she kill you than disregard your existence altogether. Her aloofness stung you all the more for you felt oddly, albeit rather profoundly, connected to her.

You wanted to believe that it was time she needed, and time, you gave her, but when you were being actively avoided by her like you were the very plague, it only made sense that your tolerance would eventually run thin.

Unlike the Scythian along with Joe and Nicky who had been protecting humanity for centuries, and Nile who used to be a marine, you lacked experiences when it came to being a warrior. Additionally, being a witchling meant that you were a complete novice in magick. During one of your first missions, due to an error on your part, you had hindered your team by causing their unnecessary deaths.

You were not oblivious to the fact that the Scythian’s immortality had reached its end. In fact, it was by dumping all your attention onto the woman that you had not a dot to contribute to your part of the task. Although the mistake was borne of your all consuming concern for the Scythian’s safety, appreciation was the farthest thing from which you ended up receiving.

“Andromache, I keep having this dream of a drowning woman. Is she someone like us?”

When you had brought the question to her with a flimsy hope of instigating communication, sapphire green eyes had coldly held your soft-eyed gaze.

“There is no us.”

Such had been her words, thickly laced with venom that it rendered you absolutely crestfallen.

Thereafter, you were left alone in the room along with your question neglected. The answer to which was being delivered to you presently in what you could only describe as the most unkind fashion.

“You wanna know who that woman in your recurring dream is? That’s Quynh and if I could, without question, I would trade you for her. You should be the one locked up, not her. Quynh isn’t a witch. You are!”

“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-“

“Every day, I worry over whose immortality will be stripped away next now that you’re in existence. What use are your abilities when you can’t even make good use of them? A hazard to the team. That is what you are! Nothing but a liability.”

Razor-sharp and poison-bitter, her frankness certainly did a splendid job of maiming you.

Despite not only being shunned, but also having your sorry little heart wounded by the very kingpin of the team, withering was the last thing that befell you. If it did, you were doing a good job of putting up a front, fragility hidden behind a tough facade.

You trained more. You smiled more. Always so cheery, always so carefree until one day, a relatively trying mission brought about the shattering of the mask that you had painstakingly put in place.

“Have I done something wrong? Why does she loathe me so?”

Having been bursting at the seams with bottled up emotions, it was no wonder that your heart reached its breaking point.

“I can’t. I can bear it no more.”

An endless leakage of tears marred your features as you came apart at the seams, revealing to the team the depth of the wound the Scythian’s coldness had burned into your psyche.

━━━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━━━

You were different as they were but at the same time, you were different from them altogether. The Scythian had her suspicions to begin with when, after swiftly sketching the picture of the one who had visited their dream, Joe had handed her the book in which a familiar face stared eerily back at her.

Losing her immortality meant that she was no longer privy to these interconnected dreams. However, there was no mistaking the face that had been plaguing her dreams for years. Andromache did not know what it suggested for them, and it was disconcerting to say the least. Then, once the fact was made known that you harboured powers beyond immortality alone, with her suspicions solidified, you were deemed a threat.

As was with Nile, there, too, was a strong possibility of you coming to be at the cost of one of the veterans’ immortality. The staggering awareness that it could very well be Quynh was a bitter pill to swallow. It did not make it any more palatable that Quynh was unfairly accused of being a witch, and locked up in the bottom of the ocean for centuries upon centuries only for a real witch to take her place.

If her rationality had not been muddled by stress, and the deeply rooted guilt and resentment of having to lose Quynh, she would see that her judgement about you had been done with extreme unfairness. Cruelly subjective instead of reasonably objective.

In the end, Joe and Nicky had to play the role of an eye-opener.

“What’s wrong with you, Andy? You’re being unreasonably cruel to the kid.”

“She proved hazardous to the team.”

“She is a part of the team!”

“She’s not entirely like us.”

“That’s absurd!”

“I lost my immortality upon Nile’s arrival. Quynh is next in line. What if she-” Brushing her palms over her face, a sigh was heaved into the cocoon of her hands. “The innocent has to suffer while the guilty takes her place? Don’t you think it’s unfair?”

Joe levelled her with a glare that screamed incredulity while both of them sounded truly disappointed.

“My god, Andy, are you hearing yourself?

“Where is the Andy I know who’s endlessly caring to her people?”

“Your anger is dreadfully misplaced. It is those pea-brained bastards that should be rightfully crucified, not an innocent kid.”

Even amidst being chastised, Andromache could not help but be awed by the couple as they effortlessly supported each other.

“You’ve been nothing but, to be brutally honest, a heartless bitch towards her, and yet, she’s always been heedful of your safety. Despite her lack of experience, the kid’s been tirelessly pushing herself. Can you not really see? Or, did you blatantly choose not to?”

“The way you treat her is cruelly unfair. You know it to be true. You can’t tell me otherwise. Whether she is a witch, or- or say, a vampire, or whatever the hell she is, she’s irrevocably one of us.”

“Poor kid’s devastated by your actions. You would do well to own up to your mistakes and ask her for forgiveness.”

Slowly but surely, the Scythian was beginning to see the errors of her actions, but it was only after having been knocked some sense into her by her very family could she truly grasp the extent of her callousness.

And thus, she came seeking you, a mission that was accomplished rather swiftly.

The sight that she had walked in on forced her to a stop. Keeping herself hidden behind a wall, she was caught off guard by a pang of…perplexity, she decided to name for now, that started pounding against her ribcage.

You were locked snugly in Nile’s arms, face buried in her chest as you dissolved into tears. Seeing you so broken, and knowing that she was undeniably the culprit behind your suffering did something inexplicable to her, but when the pang only intensified, her mind was transported back to a period of time many many moons ago. She had found the amour who she was particularly fond of mingling with someone else, and needless to say, it had not sat well with her.

The green-eyed monster had taken possession of the Scythian then.

Now, the same monster was knocking on her door, bringing with it an unpalatable sensation.

Confused and overcame with labyrinths of emotions, Andromache who had never, in her immortal life, willingly backed down from a challenge experienced her first surrender. Incapable though she was to approach you, the Scythian’s night was spent fruitfully as she dissected her puzzling reaction.

By morning, the puzzle was solved, and her feelings, understood. The pang of perplexity, as it so happened, turned out to be a pang of jealousy, followed closely by guilt and something else entirely that she was not yet ready to admit out loud.

The question however was, had she been too late in realising her mistakes, and thereupon, her feelings?

She had every intention of talking things out with you, but the sudden emergence of a mission compelled her to put it on hold.

Joe and Nicky took care of driving, and as much as she disliked seeing you stick to Nile the entirety of the ride, she knew that she had no rights interfering. For that, she had but herself to blame.

━━━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━━━

Raining down around Andromache in a violent downpour were bullets. None of them were offered a chance to reach her, for as she fought with her foes, her team had taken it upon themselves to guard her. They were playing defence while she did the offence. Although at first, their strategy was working remarkably well, as the troops multiplied on the opposing side, their stance faltered.

Being a burden to her team was the last thing she wanted, and having had enough of her team suffering in her stead, she took off from the formation, aiming instead towards the enemy line with her beloved labrys in hand. At her lead, her team followed suit, coming to grips with the enemy team. They covered her, as one after another, the opponents were annihilated by the Scythian’s effortless execution.

Everything had been working in their favour until, all of a sudden, Andromache found you planted firmly in her way. Although, if only for a moment, she was confused, she learnt just as quickly that a bullet had found home in your flesh. A moment later, and her axe, too, found sweet purchase directly between the eyes of your aggressor. Together, you made light work of defeating your opponents. As you kept them restrained with the help of your powers, she delivered finishing blows.

Between using your powers to assist her in combat and taking damages for her should the assaults were to prove lethal, one too many times had you use yourself as a shield. As a result, your body was riddled with many an injury which the Scythian noticed were taking longer than necessary to heal. Through the wounds leaked blood, and it made Andromache nauseous with worry.

What she perceived next, she heard it first, before she saw it. A loud bang of a gun that sounded from behind you.

Almost instinctively, her hands found home on your hips, soft flesh yielding beneath her calloused fingers as she quickly did a swap of positions. If a bullet were to hit, it would be her instead of you. The inevitable pain, which she was bracing for, never came. She understood why by the time her eyes fell on you. Tendrils of glowing green were dancing to your fingers’s desire as a protection was conjured around the pair of you.

The mission, once again, accomplished, she took the time to admire the delicate blossom of a smile on your lips. A feeling that quickly dissolved into worry upon hearing the little whimper that escaped them. By the time your eyes slipped shut, and your legs gave out, with her heart in her throat, she caught you in her arms.

━━━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━━━

The shock Leonora the familiar felt upon seeing you in the Scythian’s arms only continued to crescendo when you were carried not into your room, but, hers.

“She isn’t healing. Why isn’t she healing?”

The question was evidently for her, and so, she answered.

“Immortality doesn’t grant her immunity to damage done by her mate. A mate’s rejection to a witch is quite possibly the most harrowing form of torture. It leads to deterioration of the body.”

Her response took a while to come. “How can I find them?” Leonora eyed the Scythian curiously as plethora of emotions flashed across her face before the words were hissed through gritted teeth. “Her mate.”

“A witch’s familiar cannot be understood by just anyone. Only her true mate can.”

“What are you implying?”

“You’ve been seeing her in your sleep, have you not? Long, long before her immortality came.”

By the way she was looking at her, sage green eyes shimmering with shame, she almost felt bad, emphasis on almost, because in the end, she did not shy away from rubbing salt on her wounds.

“Given your time on this earth, I had surely believed that you would know better than to jump to conclusions. I’ve overestimated you, it seems.”

“My time on this god-forsaken place is precisely why I can’t trust people outside of my team. On more than one occasion have I been led to plight by pity and my sense of duty. Some of which have caused me my comrades.”

“And you thought it wise to reject one of your own?”

━━━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━━━

“I fucked up, I know. But I don’t want to fuck up any more than I already have.” The Scythian’s voice was laced with genuine upset as she pleaded with your cat, eyes desperately beseeching. “So, tell me, please. How can I fix this?”

“There are quite a few things you can do. That said, physical contact with her mate is the easiest and the most effective way for a witch to replenish her energy. I would strongly advise cuddling.”

Thus landed the Scythian into her bed that was presently housing your unconscious frame.

Only now, as she was lying face to face with you, did she realise how little she had looked at, let alone appreciated, you.

Tentative fingers touched a cheek so soft to unveil your face curtained by a few strands. Battle-hardened though they were, they executed the task with tremendous tenderness.

The scars that her eyes discovered upon wandering down your neck had the effect of jogging her memory. With the long forgotten memory now dug up and on the forefront of her mind, she was transported back in time.

During one of her travels, she had chanced upon a house on fire. Even though, normally, she would avoid involvement in fear of exposing herself, and consequently, her secret, she felt compelled to enter the roaring flames. What, or rather, who she found was a little girl trapped inside a room. Instead of crying as any child in such predicament most likely would have, she was busy murmuring reassurances to the little kitten that was cradled protectively in her tiny little arms. There was no doubt that she was in intense pain if the wound that had been leaking blood on her neck was any indication.

Now that she thought about it, the familiar dreams began on the very same night. It had been so dark in the house that she did not get a chance to properly see your face. Nevertheless, your cat was right. Andromache should have known. If she had only taken the time to think carefully instead of rushing to conclusion, all the suffering would have been spared. After all, in all the dreams that she had of you, you had never so much as harmed a hair on an ant’s, let alone, a person’s head. How big of a nitwit had she had to be to harbour the thought that you would be capable of intentionally sabotaging them.

With your face as sweet as Baklava and your heart so golden, you had to be the quintessence of innocence, pure, unsullied white, sent into her life to remind the Scythian, who was tainted with darkness and death, that the world was not only teeming with war and wickedness. In contrast, she had to be the wickedest of them all to be able to trample a delicate little bud without giving her a chance to prove herself.

She had, Andromache admitted, oh so cruelly, snuffed out the little shimmering ray of light. Come hell or high water, it was now the Scythian’s duty to chase away the heavy, stormy clouds that were threatening to devour the little sunshine.

If you were to allow it, she would, in fact, declare you her sunshine.

━━━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━━━

Meanwhile, feeling rightfully smug, Leonora the cat revelled in having her head scratched as the ginger fur-ball lounged in Nile’s lap.

She might have made a drama out of a crisis while playing cupid, but what she had said, in her defence, were not entirely incorrect. She would be a fool not to make the most of a stellar opportunity if it meant making her best pal happy. After all, unlike you who was annoyingly upright, she was a firm believer that if used wisely, trickery always bore the sweetest of fruits. Plus, if you finally found someone to cuddle with, then, she would hopefully, thankfully be spared the odds of being squeezed to death.

And viola! If love was on your side and luck on hers, you would win yourself a girlfriend, while she got to experience freedom. It might just be the best example of killing two birds with one stone, if Leonora did say so herself.

━━━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━━━

Waking up to a muscled body pressed against yours, and strong arms cocooning you, you had half a mind to believe that it was a by product of your sleep-ridden mind.

Only when you heard Leo’s voice in your head did you realise it was in fact not a hallucination.

“You really don’t have to do this.” Unlike your utterance, your actions suggested otherwise. As if possessing a mind of its own, your face had sought solace in the warm dip of her throat. When you spoke again, it was but a murmur. “I’m aware that you love Quynh.”

Her reply came a moment later in the form of a merciless stab to your heart. “I won’t lie to you. I do love Quynh.” Your endeavour to escape from her embrace was doomed to failure. “But, it is no longer the kind of love that I felt once upon a time. Loving her doesn’t equal falling in love with her.”

“It was hard, losing Quynh, and I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive myself.”

You were wounded, and thereupon, healed by her words. The choice, essentially, lay in her hands.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive myself either if something were to happen to you.”

She coaxed your face out of its little haven in favour of her soft-eyed gaze roaming over the planes and hills of your face.

“You must have felt scared. Lost. I was supposed to be there for you.”

In addition to the collapsed eyebrows, her voice had a sad lilt to it as a thumb gingerly caressed your cheek.

“I know a simple sorry cannot fix all the pain I’ve caused you, but if you’ll let me, I truly wish to earn your trust.”

Since the mood had been too gloomy to your liking, you opted for a lighter, more benign route with your response.

“Now, now, Andro-“

“Andy, please. Call me Andy.”

“Andy.”

Her name tasted sweet on your tongue.

“You were saying?”

“-someone might think you’re trying to woo me.”

You came dangerously close to disclosing your desire, and if you were being honest, you had been entertaining the idea of confronting her after your facade fell in front of the team. It was an all-or-nothing decision.

After everything she had said and done, you would be lying if you said you were not hoping for her to ruthlessly reject you. At the same time, saying that you were not foolishly hoping for her to miraculously return your feelings, too, would be a downright falsehood.

“What if I am?”

In the end, it was neither foolish nor impossible, though, it did feel miraculous all the same.

You liked her. Tremendously. And although it was true that she had hurt you, you knew for a fact that her reason for doing so was not ill-intentioned. It was done out of worry for her team, and blaming her for it would be ludicrous. You did admit that she had been terribly unkind to you, but you knew that she was altruistically caring at heart. Not only could you feel it, you liked her too much to deem the errors of her way irreparable. Mistakes came to be in the first place as an opportunity for one to learn from them. You were all to willing to give her a chance.

“Well then, Andromache of Scythia, luckily for you, I’m not very hard to please.”

“Kiss me as much as you’re sorry, and I’m all yours.”

You watched, giddy and gleeful, as a smile bloomed on her handsome face.

“With pleasure.”

Fanning the flames of heart palpitations by bombarding one with kisses, as sweet, and soft as soufflé, should be included in the ever-growing list of ways she knew how to kill a man. Of course, she was allowed to use this delightfully tantalising technique on you and you alone.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

this is how i imagine leo would look like as a cat

[raineydays411]

My Father's Daughter

Part 6

Tony Stark x daughter! Reader

Hey guys! So I know it's been like nine thousand years since I updated, but I honestly didn't have the motivation till now. Im sorry if this kinda sucks but I'm still getting back into the groove of things.

From the moment you arrived at the Wayne Manor, you knew you were going to be miserable.

First of all, it was incredibly different from the technological paradise you called home. This was a gothic, old fashioned manor, you don't even know if your Bluetooth would work out here.

Secondly, this manor is full of people who you would rather not have any interactions with. Including , but not limited to : your mother, who abandoned you, her husband, who she abandoned you for, her son who she abandoned you for, and so on and so forth.

And finally, if you have to deal with these stuck up, stand offish, gloomy ass kids your mother adopted for a second longer you are going to--

"Y/n?"

A voice snaps you out of your thoughts and back into the giant living area, seeing multiple pair of eyes staring at you. Mixed with concern, annoyance, and amusement.

You turn your attention to Bruce, " I'm sorry can you repeat that?"

You hear a snicker coming from one of the three million kids, whos name you really cannot be bothered in learning.

Bruce sighs and repeats goes to repeat his words, " I said, I know that this must be a change for you. And although your mother and I are ecstatic that you're here, we understand that it will take you a while to be comfortable. So when you're ready....blah blah bla"

You start to tune him out again, retreating back into your brain. Really, these long winded speeches are really annoying, especially when it could be cut short.

That's when you hear a "Tsk".

"Honestly Father, I don't understand why you waste your breath. She obviously has a hard time comprehending even the simplest of concepts."

"Damian!"

oooh you're gonna end up killing that kid.

"Keep talking like that shrimp and you'll have to comprehend my foot up your--"

"Y/n!"

Bruce shouts with an exhausted look on his face, you and Damian have been exchanging sly remarks ever since you got here....about five hours ago. Christine decided to take the rest of the kids with her grocery shopping for a special dinner for you, leaving behind only Damian and Cassie.

They really were not fond of the idea that you were biologically their mothers.

"Damian, Y/n is part of our family and you shall treat her as such. This is no different than the other times we brought in someone new to our family."

"Well I can name a few differences" You mutter, looking down as Bruce shoots you another exhausted look.

You really do feel bad for the guy. Despite everything he has been rather nice to you, and you bet his whole world has been turned upside down, once again. He's really taking this extra marital child thing with stride. Although you guess being who he is he has to be ready for the inconceivable.

Before you can say anything else however, the front door opened revealing Christine and her hoard of children. And it's like a circus suddenly burst through the door. All of them yelling at, to, and over each other. It honestly was annoying to hear. You never really interacted with other people your age. Sure there was Peter but he actually was younger than you, and when you were in the Tower was quiet. You really were going from only child to a house full of children.

"Y/n!" Christine says rather loudly, " Oh I was hoping to make it back before you go here. I guess grocery shopping to a bit loner than I expected." She giggles.

"I've been here for about five hours." You deadpan.

You catch the glare Damian shoots you as the energy in the room dims down. The rest of the kids give each other awkward glances, not really daring to say anything.

That is until Dick decides to speak up wrapping an arm around Christine.

"Well, Y/n I hope you're hungry! Cause I know Mom has a special dinner prepared for you." He smiles, "She makes it every time someone knew joins our family."

You don't know why but his overly joyous tone really gets on your nerves.

"Is it roast beef with mash potato's and garlic bread?" You ask innocently watching almost everyone in the room react in shock.

"Um, how did you know that" Dick asks hesitantly.

"Yeah every time mother dearest over here came to visit me at the tower that was her "special meal"' you say " A special meal to show just how much she missed me."

Now the room was tense.

Christine's face dropped, realizing that if she wanted to get closer to you, she can't use the same tactics she used on her other kids. So instead of saying anything outright, she takes a deep breath to regain her composer. The she smiles again

"You have a good memory Petal. How about to come help me in the kitchen?"

The children gasp, as long as they lived in they mansion, they knew to never step foot into their mothers kitchen. It was her way of decompressing, if she was a captain, that was her ship and she sailed alone. The only one allowed to go into the kitchen while she was cooking was Alfred. And that's cause no one could say no to Alfred. And because everyone was scared of him.

Needless to say, this request struck jealousy their hearts.

Dick, Jason, and Tim all were able to somewhat put it aside, understanding the situation behind the request. But Damian... he refused to see anything other than him being replaced. That was his mother, his home, his family. He doesn't understand how one girl could come in and ruin it.

And even worse, you turned it down.

"Yeah, I'm no Betty Crocker. Sorry" You say, " Is there anyway I can get settled in my room?"

Everyone looks at each other, speaking with their eyes. But before anyone could speak Alfred came to your rescue.

"It seems Ms. Stark is rather tired from her trip, I shall show her to her room. I'm sure she'd like to freshen up before dinner."

You sigh in relief, glad he took the attention off you even if it was for just a second. You were getting frustrated with the way they were looking at you. It seems that this will be a common theme while you live here.

You quickly gather your things before anyone says anything, shrugging off Dick before he's able to help you with your luggage. Then balancing everything, you march forward with a,

"Lead the way Riff-Raff"

And ignoring the confused look from Alfred and glares from Damian as you pass by. You hold your head up high, despite the looks and judgement.

Once again feeling like an outsider in a place you are forced to call home.

[heroictoonz]

king I've been putting off a rewatch of s15-17 for ages do u think its worth it

My instinct is so say no save yourself but like jokes aside I think that’s up to you like, I always said that they gave the RvBs a “bad ending” and that they ruined Tucker’s character post Chorus however, that was back when season 16 was literally first coming out

Flash back here but so when s16 was coming out I was just getting more and more upset with the writing of the show especially and honestly almost specifically Tucker. Somewhere near the end of s16 I stopped watching (didn’t even finish the season) and then after a bit I heard that the next season was gonna revolve around whole new characters

Now this, I only recently learned was weird miscommunication. See I’m trash ass shit at keeping up with news of shit even shit that I like so for the longest time I thought the story of this group I’ve been following since I was a teenager ended at s16 which KILLED me inside so I swore off the rest of the show and vowed to never watch it. Instead I mostly just rewatched Chorus or s1-s13 if I wanted to rewatch the “whole” show. Basically just watching till the end of Chorus and stopping. Every time I tried to go rewatch s15 to mmmaybe finish the show I kept remember how bad things got and kept running away

I’m gonna give some vague spoilers from here on out but it’s cause I do genuinely wanna talk about how I feel having literally only a few minutes ago finished s16 and s17 for the first time

I decided to finish RvB LITERALLY last night like no joke and it’s cause I saw spoilers out of context for s19 and I was like fuck it I need to see what the hell that is show is over anyways might as well finish it. So I am doing that now

I rewatched/finished s16 and fucking hated it. The good parts were Wash being cute and silly and my favorite guy ever of all time and forever. There’s also Grif and this character named Huggins they’re like on god one of my new brotps of all time damn RvB writes some good ass season specific supporting cast cause holy shit man. Also! I liked that Kai was in it! I enjoy Kai so so so so so much! I’ve always wanted more of her in the show! UNFORTUNATELY!

Tucker is so hard to watch. It’s so honest to god painful to watch. Maybe that’s what they were going for I don’t know. But, having now seen season 17 I get what they were TRYING to do I just don’t fully like how they did it.

In s17 Tucker admits to himself that the reason why in s16 he was acting so weird and gross and toxic masculinity “I have to have the biggest and most talented dong in the room at all times or I’ll kms” character ever is cause he was trying to be a leader

It’s sounds stupid and personally I think it IS stupid but now that I know what they were TRYING to write it makes these post Chorus seasons more bearable.

Basically, Tucker spent all that time in Chorus forced to be a leader. Once he finally got comfortable in the position of one Chorus no longer needed them. He wanted to keep being a leader keep feeling like a leader and it went to his head. He tried acting cool and tough and macho cause that’s what he thought a leader was and he says this! Out loud he admits all this to himself in s17! And honestly? That’s SUCH a good fucking concept it’s super fucking interesting and I really dig it plus with Tucker FAILING at being the leader it gave Donut well deserved character growth. I’ve always hated how sidelined Donut got compared to the others cause I’ve always liked him but s17 is definitely Donut’s season and to see him finally get screen time and respect and also have genuine moments of connection with the others was honestly really fucking awesome

So, do I like s16? God no. Do I recommend it watching it? Hard to say. You have to watch it if you wanna finish the show. Is finishing the show worth it? Honestly I dunno yet I haven’t seen 18 or 19 so it’s to be seen rn. But s17 where not perfect was definitely better than 16 and gave better insight on what they were trying to do. I don’t like the execution I don’t think it was as done very well but I like the ideas I like what they were attempting

S15 I admittedly do not fucking remember at all cause again it’s not a season I’ve rewatched more than maybe twice cause I kept stopping cause I just did not wanna deal with what I knew was coming. And I know me I know myself I know if I tried rewatching the show from the start or even s15 in an attempt to finish it I’d ever fucking do it so instead I just started from s16 and went forward

I don’t remember out right hating s15 but similar to the above I think there were good ideas and not all of them were perfectly done in writing. Also there’s this like really cool interesting thing that is about Tucker that then ends up being a stupid child support payment joke and that sucks so much it makes me so burningly livid I don’t even have a joke here it just makes me mad

But! It brings in the concept of other reds and blues other soldiers that were left in the rubbles of project freelancer which is super interesting again I think they coulda done more with specific parts of it and the “Tucker doesn’t pay child support for the buncha kids he fucked into existence” joke sucks especially when they CONSTANTLY SHOW HIM AS A VERY DOTING AND LOVING FATHER it’s fine I’m not mad I’m not bitter I promise

But uh yeah honestly if you like the show a lot I say watch it even if it sucks. Some of my biggest special interests are GARBAGE shows with writing so bad it makes me wanna commit actual arson. But, I love the characters I love the settings and I love what could have been maybe that’s why I always keep sticking around in stuff like this lol even if it sucks I like to imagine what could make it better cause I love it! And if I didn’t love it I wouldn’t care to put as much energy into wanting it to be better as I do! That’s the same with RvB! I wish it was better I wish SSOOOO BADLY that it was better but it’s cause I love it so fucking much not out of any sort of hate if that makes sense?

Idk tldr it’s up to you and you might suffer a bit but if you love the show I say go for it

Aaaand it’s 2am and I read ur ask wrong I thought that said “watch” not “rewatch” but? Points still stand I’m the kinda person that will rewatch even the seasons I hate to remember why I like the ones I love (I’m looking at you Ninjago season 3 you hot fucking garbage that I’ve sadly seen more times than I would like)

[btheleaf]

What made you like Pema? :3 Just out of curiosity, I feel like she's a character many people tend to kind of ignore or dislike.

Short answer: Spite

(Very) Long answer under the cut:

Tenzin was my first love and obsession when I got back into LOK. I went to AO3 to read about him and his wife! and found the attitudes towards Pemzin... odd? The ship is way less popular than Linzin, which was strange to me at the time, considering Pema/Tenzin are literally married in canon. But hey, whatever, to each their own. Maybe people just like Linzin more. Lin is a sexy badass, so I get it. Maybe people don't wanna write about the air babies. Maybe the age gap or any other countless things were giving people the ick about pemzin. Fine. It's all good to me. I began to look for pemzin fics to enjoy and found 🥲 strange things.

Pema was usually written as some kind of man-stealing demon with a magic coochie that could make Tenzin bend to her will and stay with her despite the fact that he loved Lin more, but at the same time she was a dumb and useless broodmare? More often than not, the Pema/Tenzin fics seemed to be written by people who didn't actually care for the ship and had Linzin endgame in mind.

I thought, "Okay, I'll check out Linzin, surely with way more fics to pick from, I'll find something that focuses on Lin/Tenzin and not Bad and Evil Pema."

I was disappointed to say the least.

So much cheating and lying, so many secret babies. SO MUCH Pema v. Lin, which doesn't do anything for me. I could understand it if there were Actual Reasons, but it was like Pema was showing up to be an emotional homewrecker despite her being IN HER OWN HOUSE. I just... like what the fuck is going on there?

Why does Pema hate Lin SO MUCH? Did the stories ever touch upon that? No. She just hates Lin. Obviously. Lin dated her husband 20 years ago, so she hates her. Logical. Much logic. No explanation. Look no further. Your bad guy is here. Bye-bye interesting concepts. Pema is a bitch and a snake and a man-trap and she never loved Tenzin anyway. She just wanted to be a trophy wife who ushered in a new generation of airbenders. No explanation. Don't question it. She's one-dimensional in a 3D world.

Pema is everyone's favorite bad guy in Linzin fics all because of that one line from Book one that is honestly super fucking cringe about her "seeing her soul mate with someone else." Linzin shippers asked if anyone was going to demonize this mother of four and didn't wait for an answer.

Both Pemzin and Linzin shippers need to learn how to tag their fics for both "emotional cheating" and just straight up "cheating." Navigating this shit is terrible. I once read 50k of a very interesting concept, and then all of a sudden Pema came out of nowhere and just started acting like a jealous 13 year old for no reason and Tenzin QUICKLY left her and the kids to go be with Lin. Like?? I do not understand what the fuck is going on in some people's minds.

WHERE WERE THE FICS THAT PAINTED PEMA AS A WHOLE HUMAN PERSON WITH FLAWS AND WANTS AND DESIRES??? I think most of my comments started having "thank you for writing Pema like a person" somewhere in them.

When I first made this blog and Let It Be Known that I ship pemzin, I got a looooooot of weird anons asking me stuff about like, if I support cheating and shit? I realized that these attitudes towards Pema were not Old Beliefs. These were very real people in the year of 2024 still unable to conceptualize an interesting idea for a character that has SO MUCH room to play with.

We know jack shit about her. We know just enough that makes her entire character like candy to me. She's not around a lot in the show, but also somehow is always still right there? She goes through Some Very Real Shit in every season, and her absence from screen time is like free real estate to fic writers. I literally don't understand how so many people manage to summarize her entire being into the word "snake" and move on. The potential for expanding on her character is limitless because of how little we know. The more people try to stuff her into a box, the more I'll pull her out of it.

I didn't really care about Pema until it became clear that everyone else disliked her. The more people hate her, the more I love her and the more powerful I become.

I'm like this because of how the fandom treats her.

[fabuloustrash05]

TMNT 2012: Medieval AU

This is an AU I had in mind long ago, but never did anything with it. I had a lot of ideas and concepts for this AU, but I never had the time to write a fanfic for it (busy writing other fanfics plus personal stuff going on).

However, I did write these plot/character introduction summaries of the Turtles and Karai, so I thought it would be fun to share them with you! Enjoy! <3

Plot Summary:

The Hamato Kingdom was a peaceful land full of joy and laughter. The land was ruled by King Splinter. Not only was he a wise, brave, kind and was loved by all his subjects, but he was also a loving father of his five children, a daughter and four sons, Princess Miwa, Prince Leonardo, Prince Raphael, Prince Donatello, and Prince Michelangelo. The Kingdom was happy, until one fateful day. The King mysteriously fell ill and too soon he met his untimely death. The kingdom was devastated and the king's children were in despair. Now that the king is gone, Miwa must take the throne and become the Queen her father has prepared her for her whole life, but is she truly ready for the task at hand?

Character Introduction Summary:

King Splinter's oldest child and only daughter, Princess Miwa, is known for being one of the most beautiful and most intelligent maidens in the kingdom. Though she is a lady, she is very knowledgeable when it comes to the battlefield and is skilled with a sword, though her father worries for her safety with her dangerous interests. Her whole life her father has molded her to become the perfect future queen of the kingdom. Everyday preparing her for when she must take the throne, though she does not look forward to her fate as queen. Rather she wants to see what's beyond her kingdom and be free from her royal status. She has a fascination with the dark arts of magic, wanting to learn about it, but she fears to tell her family of this secret desire and true interests. Instead she stays inside the castle walls preparing for her time on the throne to arrive, giving her family a false personality and persona and hiding her true self.

Prince Leonardo is the oldest son, but the second oldest child, of King Splinter. The Prince is as kind and wise as his father, many say he reflects his father at a younger age. The prince loves his kingdom and family dearly. He looks up to his father and idolizes him. He’s responsible, wise, and knowledgeable of the royal court, but his insecurities often take over him for he believes he’s not good enough to be given the title of King and believes his sister will make an excellent ruler instead of him. Leo instead spends his days reading, practicing his sword fighting, or riding his horse around the kingdom’s land. He’s known as a handsome young man who many of the maidens in the kingdom admire. Prince Leo is also unaware of a certain arrangement his father has made with another king from the neighboring Kingdom of Salamandria that involves him and their princess. He loves his family and his kingdom and is willing to do anything to keep them happy and safe.

Prince Raphael, the third oldest, is the most rebellious of the King’s sons. A confident and charming young man who loves to hunt and has a fiery passion to fight for and defend his kingdom alongside the royal guards. However because of his royal status he is obligated to stay in the kingdom, just like his brothers, and work on his royal duties. Though he can’t go to war Raphael still trains with his friend, one of the royal guards, Sir Casey, or chats with the royal blacksmith, Slash, there he learns more about weaponry and how to properly use a blade. Sometimes he envies his older brother Leonardo for the attention and praise he gets from the citizens, often feeling stuck in his shadow. While he’s talented with a sword, Raphael is also blessed with the skills of an artist and a poet. Next to hunting, painting is one of his favorite hobbies. Though he may not seem like it at first glance, Prince Raphael is a kind soul with the heart of an artist, who just wishes to live the life he desires, but his biggest struggle and personal sin is his blooming attraction for his older brother’s betrothal.

Prince Donatello is well known as the most intelligent young man in the kingdom, almost always seen having a book in his hand. Though he is smart he tends to not acknowledge the world around him since he practically grew up in the royal library spending most of his days reading and learning from his private tutors. Practically isolated in the library for years. Some rumor that the young prince was born in the library, hence why he almost never leaves. Being fourth in line to the throne, Donatello doesn’t care if he’ll ever become king or not. The young prince just wishes to travel the land beyond his kingdom and explore the world to learn new things. His intelligence can often make him stubborn and will often refuse to admit wrong. Though his stubbornness was one day called out by his sister’s lady in waiting, April, who told him to be more open to the world and get out of his comfort zone. After that day, Donatello has had an admiration towards April and the mysteries of the outside world.

The youngest child is Prince Michelangelo. The kindest of the four brothers, Michelangelo is rumored to have a heart so pure it's made of gold. He cares for the poor and often donates his riches to charities. His kindness however, can often be taken advantage of. It makes him naive and unsure of the dangers out there in the real world, quite often getting himself into trouble. Because of that, the young prince is required to have a personal guard, Sir Leatherhead, who must keep watch of him everyday. Even with that however, Michelangelo loves to spend time with the servants of the castle for he considers them his family as well and even assists them in their chores when his family is not looking. Michelangelo is a carefree young man with very little duties who’s loved by many and is open to try new things.

Fun Fact: I originally planned to make a fanfic of this AU instead of my other AU fanfic "Turtles in the Roaring 20's", but I had more of a story put together and more passion for the 1920s AU compared to this one, so it was scrapped.

[constelationprize]

ROBIN/ELODIE ??????

if this about to be like my eva josten/adèle moreau scenario i will cry then ask u to please marry me.

i need this more than i need air. u don’t understand. i love u. ur the freaking best. tell me more.

Yeah that one came to me in a vision.

The thing is that like most of my other niche rarepairings I just cannot resist the allure of Narrative Parallels™. Mostly I just realized how similar Elodie and Robin's stories are (in concept) and that they could actually be around the same age (considering Elodie would be around 15-16yo in 2007 and Robin joins the Foxes in 2009 after Kevin graduates, and assuming Robin didn't get held back due to the Horrors, that would put them at around a 1-2 year age difference).

So the basic concept for the AU is that Elodie survives and is rescued by Stuart during TSC and then brought over to the USA to live with Jean and the Trojans. This goes about as well as you would expect, which is to say not at all – she's heavily traumatized, barely speaks English for the first couple years, and is resistant to any kind of help that would result in her having to leave Jean's side. She also at first does not want anything to do with the other Trojans at all because she sees most of them as adults she can't trust and also resents them for monopolizing Jean's time, and none of these college sports players is anywhere near qualified for unpacking All of That.

Elodie and Jean effectively make each other's recovery worse for a long while because they immediately try and fall back to their childhood dynamic, which can no longer work for multiple reasons. But through Betsy Dobson all things are possible and eventually they get to a point where they aren't actively standing in each other's way anymore, though things are still Not Good.

It gets tough again when Jean graduates and they move out of LA, which just uproots what little stability Elodie had again, and he has developed a need to constantly check on her that cannot be good for his now even busier pro player schedule. Also, Elodie is almost 18, and at a point where she should be graduating high school and thinking about her future, which she very much is not doing because until a couple years ago she didn't even HAVE a future so she doesn't really know what to do with it.

They start floating the possibility of getting her into a community college or something in the state Jean's in, but eventually the possibility of having some strings pulled to get her into PSU is brought up, and Elodie latches onto it immediately, mostly because she both feels stifled by Jean's helicopter parenting AND kind of wants to punish him for not actually spending time with her by moving away. Jean doesn't want to let her, but he also doesn't really have a choice, and PSU might be far but at least he knows Elodie will have people there to reach out to if she needs it.

Joke's on Elodie though because going to college to annoy your brother does mean she just conned herself into taking classes and figuring out what to do with her life now and she has to do it while dodging 20 phone calls per hour. Anyway now that she's on PSU she has to learn how to do human person things like making friends. She ends up joining a roller derby team as a combo meeting people-getting exercise-venting anger deal.

Robin, on the other hand, is going through a similar situation where Andrew just graduated, and Neil is in his last year, so she's about to lose her anchors at PSU. Once Neil graduates, she won't have anyone to night practice with anymore, so she also joins the roller derby team to fill in her nights, in a way of trial-running how to maintain some sense of routine and normalcy and maybe make some friends as well.

And that is how the world's saddest most traumatized girls meet. They have no idea who the other really is at first because Elodie doesn't follow exy out of spite and they also don't tell each other their full names because they are very googlable and the team is for both of them a way to finding who they are outside of what happened to them, so they don't want to invite the past in there.

Neil figures it out pretty fast though, since he's been keeping an eye on Elodie, but he tells no one because he thinks it's going to be funny when Andrew and Jean (who absolutely hate each other) discover they're dating (He's right). The basic idea I have is that everyone kind of finds out at the same time when Andrew and Jean play against each other in a nearby city and both Elodie and Robin come to watch and it's a very spiderman pointing meme moment all around.

Getting to truly know each other then is a blessing and a curse because the similarities between their stories are as important as the differences. Elodie would have given everything to have parents that would want her back home and want to protect her and Robin would kill to have her family understand and relate to her trauma the way Jean does. Elodie genuinely cannot understand Robin's guilt over escaping by dooming another girl because she would have actively killed without remorse to break out. Robin doesn't get why Elodie is bitter over having to be rescued when she used to dream about someone finding and saving her. It's a very "grass is always greener on the other side" situation, and they clash a lot, but eventually they work it out.

I'm also thinking of having Robin being conflicted over whether she wants or even is capable of going pro (since as per the EC she technically wasn't good enough to be recruited if not for Andrew's constant endorsement). I'm not sure what Elodie would be majoring in, but that's fine because neither is Elodie. So that's something else they're both dealing with.

That's mostly what I have so far, I'm hoping some day this fic will grow a plot that can hold my attention so I can actually write it.