#fic blip

[selineram3421]

*takes a deep breath* Fuuuuuuuuuuuck-

Delicious

Alastor X Powerful Reader-Blip

(That has been on my mind for a while)

Warnings? ⚠

⚠ food mention, cussing, does this count as implied/suggestive?, I want a damn cheesecake now ⚠

🎨Art provided by my friend!

You sat at a table near the bar, waiting for a desert that the little cyclops Niffty had made.

While the wait, the fluffy spider demon sat across from you and started up a conversation. It was quite normal, just some mindless chatter. He had a drink in hand, one you assumed that he'd been drinking for a while.

At some point you notice Alastor walk over to the bar, getting his usual drink before sitting on the bar stool,

"Hey, I've got a question.", the spider speaks up.

Turning your attention back over to the demon before you, you reply. "Yes?"

"What's your type?"

"Type?"

"Yeah, like your type in men, women, or ya know..", he waves a hand around. "Let's go for men right now, how do you like them?"

"I like my men how I like my desserts.", you shrugged and checked your claw-like nails.

"Oh yeah? And how exactly do you like them?", Angel asked, leaning closer to hear your response.

You glance over at Alastor and smile when he meets your gaze.

"Absolutely fucking delicious.", you answer, looking at the spider demon, hearing a slight choking noise coming from the bar.

"Women?"

"Wild and free.", your smile widens. "I go for personality, that applies to all genders and the non. If they are attractive, then that's a plus." You now lean forward with your elbows on the table, chin resting on the back of your intertwined fingers. "I wonder..why the question?"

"Just because.", Angel says with a shrug and leans back in the chair, taking a sip from his drink.

The dessert arrives, Nifty carrying it over her head on a tray.

"I've got your cheesecake!"

"Thank you Nifty.", you say and take the plate and set it down on the table, accepting the fork she hands over.

"Enjoy!", the little demon says before scurrying off.

"Pardon me Angel, but I'm going to be busy.", you say and cut a piece to eat.

"Whaddya mean-", the spider demon doesn't get to finish asking his question because after you take a bite a small moan escapes from your lips. "Nevermind, you're busy."

Damn that cheesecake drawing looks so good-

~Seline, the person.

Cheesecake Art

Taglist@

@ducky-died-inside @naelys-the-aster @c4rved-pumpk1n @willowaudreykeyes @scary-noodlesblog @kiraisastay @stolas-thebirb @biromanticboba @+?

ML for Alastor 🎙️

[buckrecs]

𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩 𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙧𝙚𝙘 : 𝙈𝙖𝙮

masterlist | monthly fic rec masterlist

FLUFF

Buchanan by @barnesmurdock

baby, it’s bad out there by @intrepidacious

set me free by @/intrepidacious (40s!bucky x nymph!reader)

When I’m With You by @phantomspiderr

You’re Worth It All by @/phantomspiderr

Scotty Doesn’t Know by @/bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

cherry blossoms must be magic by @witchywithwhiskey

aisle 4 by @buckyhoney

Grump : The Musical by @itsapeterthing

Trough Sickness… Except Bucky’s by @teamcap4bucky

Wrong Number by @/teamcap4bucky

Alcohol You Later by @/bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

Possible-Future-Girlfriend by @jurassicbarnes

Vegas, Baby! by @bxcketbarnes

Love in the Workplace by @bxcketbarnes

Too Hot, An Arm Cold by @t-lostinworlds

almond milk by @buckysblanket

After Words by @justsomebucky (Modern AU)

Once Upon A Dream by @abovethesmokestacks

cut my hair by @buckybarnesdiaries

Mind Reader by @espinosaurusrexex

Chain Around my Neck by @/bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

Sweet and Strong by @navybrat817 (tattoo artist!bucky x baker!reader)

Charmed by @rookthorne (mechanic!bucky)

Rule Number One by @sidepartskinnyjeans

A Solid Foundation by @writing-for-marvel (fiancé!bucky)

It’s Not My Cup Of Tea by @malum-forev

The Weather by @saltsicklover

Silent Nights and Sorry Mornings by @veelacurse

In The Name Of Love by @moonbeambucky

Fallin’ For You by @/moonbeambucky

I’m Gunnin’ For You by @rookthorne (drifter!bucky)

Morning Workout by @sparklefics

ANGST

Call Me When You Get This by @/bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

I’ll Wear Your Ring by @/bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

After by @wkemeup

Spiral by @buckyalpine

Until We Meet Again by @bucksangel

Try Anything Once by @/malum-forev (doctor!reader)

A Place by @/malum-forev

SMUT

Silent Screams in Wildest Dreams by @buckets-and-trees

Ring Ring by @adrinktostopyourthirst (roommate!bucky)

Convince Me by @teamcap4buciy

Roadside Assistance by @urvenicebtch (mechanic!bucky)

That’s The Way Love Goes by @dirtytomatoedwrites

Surrender by @barnesmurdock

i was made for lovin’ you by @buckycuddlebuddy (rockstar!bucky x bassist!reader)

On My Tongue by @angrythingstarlight (chubby!bucky)

Sweeter Than Sugar by @/angrythingstarlight (chubby!bucky)

Destined to be Yours by @buckyalpine

sinner by @writingsbychlo (demon!bucky x angel!reader)

[soup-guts]

The saga continues

[drbtinglecannon]

Hm yeah Frimmel is kinda driving me insane nowadays

[sighonaraa]

*peeks out from behind the curtain* heyyyyyy

if you have NOT been rendered sick and tired by my incessant daredevil-posting on this fine day, then you may be interested in this lil thing i made (and will continue to make for many moons to come)!

summary below:

It happens like this: The pain erupts along every synapse, like each nerve has been lit on fire and set to burn, and Matt crumples in on himself. In one ear, he listens as Hell’s Kitchen explodes simultaneously into a compressing silence and a cacophonous chaos. In the other, Foggy and Karen are telling him to breathe, breathe, please just breathe. But he can’t. He can’t. His bones are splitting apart— No. His bones are atomizing. They are disintegrating. Their heartbeats thrum together, faster and faster and faster until the silence consumes and then— —Matt stumbles forward and lands hard on his hands and knees. And he is here. It’s only been a second. But Karen and Foggy are gone, and they have been for a long, long time. [ or: matt gets blipped, and karen and foggy are left behind. five years later, matt finally comes back. ]

[athenadione]

Richard really does try not to meddle.

He’s watched Damian grow into a fully capable (and very tall) young man. He knows that Damian is perfectly fine on his own. There’s no one he trusts more to be his Robin. So Richard tries to keep the older brother shenanigans to a minimum.

But sometimes he can’t help it.

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| As It Was ||

Frank Castle x Matt Murdock

Tags/warnings: blip angst 😭 but don't worry I wouldn't hurt you like that 😊 @munsonownsmyass gave me the title for an ask game where I'd answer with what kind of fic I'd write for it. I didn't even know it was a Hozier song when I replied that I'd write a blip fic where Frank loses Matt... then I listened to it so many times, read the lyrics and I was just like, fuck.

There is a roadway, muddy and foxgloved

Never I'd had life enough

My heart is screaming out

And in a few days I would be there, love

Whatever here that's left of me is yours just as it was

"I'm just looking after the place y'know, for when he gets back."

Karen nodded, her hand resting softly on Frank's arm as she hoped that them all just believing it would happen would be enough.

When he had found that Karen had been covering the rent and bills for Matt's apartment, Frank had taken them on and eventually with her encouragement, he moved in.

At that time it had been almost a year since half the world went away, since half of Frank's heart was lost. A void that suddenly appeared in his life and sucked everything into the deepest, blackest hole.

Of course there were others, close friends and all the everyday figures in their lives that they must have taken for granted before, all disappeared without trace, but none of them hurt as deep as the love he'd lost. He was shredded up inside, hollow and empty but for the small sliver of hope he held up, the only thing still keeping him going. Keeping him alive.

The empty apartment was both a blessing and a curse. There he could be closest to what remained of Matt, his scent ingrained into the place. Sometimes it was the biggest comfort, but the memories also made it the hardest place on earth to be. He had wandered at first, like a lost dog looking for his owner. He had to try to look, people just didn't vanish into thin air, it just wasn't possible. Although with the kind of shit that had been happening in New York in recent years who knew.

Eventually he admitted that he had to find a coping mechanism. He threw himself into work, helped Foggy and Karen as much as he could, tracking down case leads and threatening those that stood in the way of justice for the people who had lost everything. And before returning 'home', he'd work second and often third jobs just so he didn't have the time or energy to think or dream about him, using hard labour to try to achieve such a state of physical exhaustion so that sleep came sterile and dreamless.

Even so he'd wake up with red eyes, dreaming of Matt reaching out to him and then blowing away on a gentle wind, disintegrating right before him. It didn't even happen like that. He wasn't even with him. They were miles upon miles apart, Frank chasing yet another gang across Middle America for vengeance. Fuck, how selfish he'd been in hindsight. If it wasn't for his blind rage he could have been there with Matt, maybe it could have been different. Maybe it would have taken him instead somehow, he didn't know but it killed him that he hadn't been there.

Just as it was, baby

Before the otherness came

And I knew its name

The love, the dark, the light, the flame

He knows it's futile but his iron grip never lessens even after the months turn to years. The worst part of it is it's not like missing someone as if they had died, at least then you know they're really gone and never coming back. Sometimes he'd experience something, hear something and think, you'd love this, Red.

Years passed and he witnessed others 'getting back to normal', trying to make something of their forever changed lives, some of them meeting to talk through it as therapy, some moving on and dating again.

"You'll always love him Frank, I know that, but it's okay if you want to. Matt would want you to live your life." Karen would tell him, but he would shake his head and give her the same stubborn look.

"I don't wanna live my life without him."

The eyes at the heights of my baby

Let's hope at the fight of my baby

The lights were as bright as my baby

But your love was unmoved

And so Frank didn't move on. He carefully tended the memories he had for fear they would fade, honoured Matt's way of doing good for the people of their city, and prepared for the time when his lover would walk through that door and back into his arms again.

Except he wasn't prepared, no-one was.

When it happened, Frank was backing up the truck in the workyard.

"Woah woah! What the fuck dude?!" A female voice was screaming from behind.

Frank slammed on the brakes, his eyes darting up to the rearview. He could have sworn there wasn't a single soul around when he checked his mirrors and blindspot just a second ago. He cut the engine and got out. The girl he saw in the mirror strode angrily up to meet him.

"Hey buddy, look where the hell you're going next time, you nearly leveled me coming out of nowhere like that!"

Frank squinted at her for a second as she looked around in confusion.

"Where's my car? I parked up right here a couple of minutes ago…"

He shrugged. "Look, I'm real sorry for the scare but there ain't nobody else here but me lady, and I ain't seen no car either. You okay?" Frank asked. The girl was clearly convinced someone had stolen her car.

"It was literally just here! I just locked it to go to the sto-" she cut off, her eyes flicking around the building site they were standing in the middle of. "Where's the… store?"

Frank shook his head. "Ain't been a store here for 'bout 3 years now, you sure you-"

Realisation hit him so suddenly that his heart felt like it was going to fall through him, his awareness spreading out to the frenetic sounds of the nearby street, yelling, car horns honking and a hell of a commotion. Frank paled. The girl tipped her head as she heard it too.

"Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on, mister?"

Frank takes a deep breath to try and keep his heart from exploding in panic. "Kid, do you have family nearby? Can I give you a ride someplace? I'll explain everything on the way, trust me."

.

Frank sped home as fast as he could after dropping off the girl to elated and tearful parents, but the streets were pure chaos with nearly everyone trying to do the same thing, desperate to find their loved ones. He caught himself trying to make rare contact with the Big Guy under his breath, a prayer, a mantra that Matt would be there when he got to the apartment, that he'd just appear like the others did. His phone rang out as he ditched the truck streets away and took to running. It was Karen.

She was yelling the words out at a hundred miles a minute. "Frank, they're back! They just appeared, we blinked and there were clients in the office! They don't know, oh god they don't know what happened! Frank where are you you've got to-"

"I know, I'm on my way, he's gotta be there… he's gotta be."

She murmured her agreement. He could hear the tears in her voice. "Let me know, please let me know. There's people I need to- we all need to check on–"

"I know sweetheart. Don't you worry, I'll catch up with you later. You be careful alright?"

She sobs. "Frank… they're back."

He stops before unlocking the door, gives himself a beat.

To do what? Prepare himself to be heartbroken again?

Fuck it.

Just go in, get it over with.

He opens the door, it's quiet. It's like it always is, empty.

Then he feels it.

A draft from upstairs where the door is ajar.

The roof.

He takes those fucking stairs three at a time, slamming the door open all the way when he reaches the top.

"Frank?"

And tell me if somehow some of it remained

How long you would wait for me?

How long I've been away?

The shape that I'm in now is shaping the doorway

Make your good love known to me

Just tell me about your day

Frank stares. He's looking at a ghost. Matt is right there, standing on the roof turning to face him. He doesn't dare blink in case he loses him again. Matt is there. He starts walking quickly towards him, bundling him into his arms, holding his face, kissing him all over and squeezing him so tight that Matt starts laughing.

"Hey! You're back earlier than I thought." Matt says in surprise, momentarily turning his attention away from the unusual commotion he can hear from the nearby streets and apartments. "What's going on?"

Frank buries his face into Matt's shoulder, still hugging him like a bear. He tries to stop his hands from shaking by pressing his fingers into the soft fabric of Matt's hoodie, feeling him so solid and real under them.

"I–I'm gonna need you to say my name again, please baby…"

Matt's brow furrows in confusion but he does as he asks. "Frank, you're only been gone a few days, did you really miss me that much?"

Then the tears come.

"Baby, you don't know, you don't know–" Frank sobs against Matt's shoulder, his voice breaking.

Matt holds him steady. "Hey, you need to tell me what's wrong, what happened? I can hear so many people crying, so much confusion… the air smells different, your heart's beating so fast, I know something's changed, tell me…"

Frank pulls back a little, tries to wrangle his emotions for long enough to try and explain this unbelievable thing, but where the hell do you start?

"God, I don't even know how to…"

Matt's hand comes to his face, he strokes over Frank's damp cheek with his thumb. "It's alright, just take your time."

Frank chokes out a sad laugh. "Fuck, I've had nothin' but time, five years of it, Matt. You… and half the world… you were just gone, nobody knew where, what had happened." He leans his forehead against Matt's, "but I knew you'd come back, goddamn I just knew it somehow."

It's Matt's turn to hold onto Frank as he tries to process what he's hearing.

"I… was gone for five years?"

"C'mon let's go inside, huh?"

After he does his best to explain the Avengers, Thanos, and the infinity stones, Frank finds he's not so surprised with how well Matt has taken the news. He fills him in with the work he'd been doing with Karen and Foggy and Matt beams with pride and relief that his friends were okay.

He doesn't know if Matt's ready to answer such a question, or if it's too much, but he has to know. It's been eating him up since that day.

"When it happened, did… did you feel it?"

"It was strange. I guess it was like, everything just kinda… falling away." He reaches for Frank's hand, placing his own on top.

Frank scrubs his free hand over his face. "Jesus-"

"Hey, it's okay, I'm here." Matt soothes, interlocking their fingers and leaning his body against him.

Frank can't stop pinching himself, making sure this isn't just another cruel dream, that Matt was definitely here to stay and wouldn't fade into a whisper on the wind again when he least expected. He stays close regardless, sits with him on the couch as he touches his face, feels his way around those rugged features even though to Matt it was only a few days ago that he last mapped them out in bed. He's not much changed, maybe the lines around his eyes are a little deeper. He can feel Frank's body as they hold each other, he's leaner, muscle distributed differently to how he was before. Some of his edges have worn, he's softer in his demeanor.

Frank draws Matt's hand to his chest just above his heart. "This is the one thing that ain't changed. Never once stopped thinkin' about you. Never stopped loving you."

Matt sees a reel of what Frank has gone through in his mind, waiting for him, holding on to the thinnest morsel of hope, never moving on. It's a bittersweet thought, his own heart breaking thinking how he'd feel if it had been the other way. His eyes shine with tears.

Frank caresses the side of Matt's face, runs his fingers through the strands of his hair as he peppers kisses along his jawline, treasuring the small gesture so much more now.

The eyes at the heights of my baby

Let's hope at the fight of my baby

The lights were as bright as my baby

But your love was unmoved

"Couldn't bear acceptin' that you were– you'd gone for good y'know? I just couldn't. It kept me goin'."

The tears fall down Matt's face and Frank does his best to kiss them all away. His voice is cracked and rough and he's a mess, they're both a fucking mess but they don't care.

"You waited for me?"

Frank can't help acting like it's an insult to think he wouldn't. "You kiddin' me? You're worth waitin' for baby. I'd wait twenty, hell, I'd wait fifty years if it meant I got to see this face again."

"God, I'm sorry… I'm sorry I left you like that. I'm sorry I left you–" Matt croaks the words out and Frank's shaking his head hard, pulling him closer, holding him to his bones. He can't bear Matt feeling like it's somehow his fault.

"Nah, c'mon don't you do that. Don't you try and take on guilt that ain't even yours. You're here baby, you're back, everyone's back and that's all that matters, right?"

Matt sniffs and finally nods. They sit in silence for a while, content just to exist with each other.

"There's so much to catch up on."

Frank can hear a slight lift in the tone of Matt's voice and it makes him chance a smile, hoping it will stick, that there will be so many more reasons for him to smile like this again.

And the sights were as stark as my baby

And the cold was as sharp as my baby

And the nights were as dark as my baby

Half as beautiful too.

[craykaycee]

I FEEL SO BAD---

DCA TUMBLR IS SO COOL N NICE

[crumbleclub]

unreliable narrator.

a short one-shot from William Afton's perspective–sort of a character study– canon to blips. notable warnings for physical and emotional abuse and neglect, s//h, and sui// behavior.

William Afton did not want his son to die.

When his favourite child– Elizabeth, of course– had died, he had not enjoyed the feeling. William was far from an emotional man, so he was surprised by how absurdly difficult balancing his work and his science became over the following weeks. Sure, he wasn't blubbering on about it for ages like Henry had been after his daughter's death– which was cute, at first, but became rather grating after the first month or so– but he did feel as if something was missing. It disconcerted him.

No matter. It was an oversight; one of the few mistakes William had made in his life. It was not going to happen again.

William Afton did not want his son to die.

Of all his children, William understood Evan the least. The boy was... strange. Sensitive. He had been alright as a baby– quiet, but adventurous– but, as he got older, the child's temperament had changed. He cried and cried over every little thing, and– while it was annoying, yes– William found it to, more notably, be confusing. He hadn't thought much of it at first– his first boy had gone through a similar phase– but the fact that he hadn't outgrown it by the time he was entering his school years was baffling.

Even so, William had treated him rather well. There was food available to him in the fridge, he was given clothes that fit, toys to play with, and high-quality medical care. Evan had been born with a cleft lip and palate– which William had paid a handsome sum to repair– and he'd required tube feeding as a baby. His mother had been wrought with the aftereffects of a turbulent pregnancy at the time, so the boy's care had fallen to William.

Caring for any infant was both tedious and fairly unsanitary, and this one had come with extra responsibilities. Still, William had done a good job. If he had grown up in William's childhood home, he...

Well, no matter.

As Evan got older and grew more daring in his exploration, the boy's father had gone out of his way to keep him safe. Nothing like what had happened to Elizabeth would ever happen again, because William would find a way to always be watching him.

The bear had been perfect. A radio, a camera. William would always know what the boy was doing, so there was no risk of him running his mouth, and there would be no repeat of Elizabeth's fate. Evan would be safe.

William had sacrificed quite a lot for children he didn't love. Elizabeth was likeable, at least, but the others...

Meh.

William Afton did not want his son to die.

The scene had been bloody. William could smell it as one of the panicked party hosts led him out to the dining area. His composure was intact, but the speed with which his legs carried him to the site was uncharacteristic.

The boy was pulled down. He lay limp in his father's arms; lifeless, but breathing.

Michael had done it, apparently. William was only a little surprised. It wasn't as if William hadn't encouraged the behavior. He wanted to see how far it would go, whether the boy had any potential, but Michael had always been just a bit too concerned with the wellbeing of living creatures for William's taste. His incessant fussing over the wounded mutt in their driveway had spoiled William's opportunity for a perfect kill. The behavior was swiftly corrected, of course, but William couldn't do those things at home anymore. Michael had ruined it.

Light bullying aside, doing any serious harm to William's things was off-limits. Michael should have known that.

William Afton did not want his son to die.

Six days. Evan had fought for six days, and William had been by his side in the hospital the entire time. He'd even taken off work.

William had been there when he died. It was a peaceful occasion, unlike any of the deaths William had seen before.

He was holding his son's hand when the breathing stopped, eyes fixed on the tight gauze fastened over a broken skull and swollen cheeks.

It would be fine. William could fix this.

William Afton did not want his son to die.

Michael couldn't be left alone anymore.

It wasn't something William had expected. Evan's death had carried the glimmering hope that Michael may have taken after his father– a delightful treat, because nobody was ever like William– but the man felt his hopes being quashed with each moment he spent with his remaining child. In response to the event, Michael had become... irrational.

William hoped it was temporary, because his patience was wearing thin. The last time he'd been left unattended, William had come home to a fairly lackluster attempt at hiding the arm Michael had made striped and bloody, the sound of something metal clattering into the sink.

It was a curious behavior that William didn't really understand, but– after a few cycles of observation, and one occasion of the boy losing control and going a bit too far– it was one that he had decided was bad.

Michael had been disobedient with the new rule. He'd also gotten more creative; more impulsive. William had to start child-locking car doors. It would cast a very unflattering light on William were all of his offspring to die in such a short span of time– and he was conscious of that– but there was something else.

William Afton did not want his son to die.

The boy quaked where he lay curled up on the couch, lip quivering and eyes on the telly. William watched from the other end of the sofa, exhaustion starting to seep into the look of dull interest that marked his features. This had been going on for too long.

Twice. Twice, today, Michael had broken the rule. William was tired from a long day of work, but he wasn't confident that, were he to go to bed before the boy fell asleep, Michael would remain relatively intact by morning. So, William sat with him.

Hours later, though, he was still awake.

William spied the clock on the wall. Four in the morning. This was getting ridiculous.

Sighing, William leaned over and tugged the boy towards him, pulling him by the back of his collar as if it were scruff on a cat.

Startled, the boy flinched, almost trying to wriggle away before deciding better of it and falling eerily still. He stared up at his father in frightened askance, voice faltering as he hesitated in questioning the action.

"Father, what...?"

William situated the child in his arms, feeling a twinge of annoyance at the inconvenience. Michael was nearly fourteen; he shouldn't need such coddling.

He positioned the boy's ear over his heart, allowing him to hear the steadiness of his father's breathing and heartbeat. This maneuver had always helped Michael fall asleep when he was a baby, and it was going to help now.

"Pipe down." William shifted, as miffed by his own actions as he was annoyed with the request for an explanation. William was as unused to this sort of thing as his son was, and he was making himself uncomfortable. "You need to go to sleep. I don't want to have to miss work because of you."

Still shaking, the boy quieted. William leaned his head back and closed his eyes, a silent request for sleep to consume them both.

In the quiet of early morning, the simplest of sentiments was the only one that rang true.

William Afton did not want his son to die.

[smhnxdiii]

does anyone have any fic recommendations for Steve Rogers x you, where you get blipped & he has to grieve & mourn you for those 5 yrs while also trying to get you & everyone back?? I read one about Frank Castle & you & now I want NEED to read one with Steve 😭🫣 happy endings only pls bc my unstable ass can’t handle heartbreak!

[sibillascribbles08]

Okay! Finally got this done (focused on a lot of other things but I did not forget). This is the 9th prompt that @sehfi asked for (it is not letting me @ you love tumblr it's great)

Promise I'm still workin on these y'all just a bit slow going alskdjf

anyway have more dads

Raising an infant who was still relatively half turtle, maybe just a little less—approximately 43.7% according to Donnie—made it very different from raising a typical baby. Any advice they got was usually from Splinter, who raised four of these kids once, and anything Splinter couldn’t answer, Jason and Donnie would put their heads together to figure it out. 

For example, as Splinter warned them early on, the turtle gene kinda destroys the whole immobile to crawling to walking phases. Holly could crawl pretty much a day after she was born, and she got proficient at it. Jason sometimes felt bad that her “room” at present was a giant decked out tank. But given her size at the time—she fit in his palm for crying out loud—it became a necessity. Heaven knew where she’d end up if they let her wander free. 

But when she got bigger—at least big enough that Jason held her with two hands—she was allowed to scurry about the apartment with minimal supervision. And scurry she did. Any room that wasn’t closed was immediately explored. She crawled under furniture, into crevices, up a few shelves, and somehow onto the kitchen counter once. 

Jason asked Splinter if his boys ever did this. Despite the fur on his face, it was easy to imagine him sweating when he said yes. Just imagine keeping up with four of them in a sewer of all places. He assumes it's why his hair went grey so fast. 

And if she could get around like this on all fours, well, Jason dreaded what would happen when she figured out the whole bipedal thing and her hands were much more free. 

At a year and a half, Holly figured that out. Longer than usual for most babies but considering she could navigate so well on four legs, the transition to two wasn’t nearly as pressing. Evidently the motivator was trying to climb up to the table to get to the freshly fried shrimp Donnie or Jason would leave on the table. 

And, like Jason suspected, the trouble only increased.

If only he bothered to realize that her scampering around on two legs wasn’t the only concern when it came to her getting bigger. 

“Get back here!” Jason shouted after his daughter. 

Donnie laughed and encouraged Holly to run off with the big bag of fruit snacks. Damn his husband for not helping. The last thing they needed was her ripping into that package and eating herself sick, because that is something she did on the regular. And Jason would clean up the puke nine times out of ten because Donnie would get way to squeamish with it. 

Also those were his fruit snacks. 

Holly giggled as she took off down the apartment hallway toward her room, the bag crinkling as she went. Jason began to catch up, only for an arm to catch him by the stomach.

“Donnie!” He immediately snapped and tried to thrash out of the turtle’s grip. “Let go.”

“No way, she deserves a head start.”

“She is going to eat those and get sick.”

“Relax.” Donnie pulled him closer. “Let her have some fun.” 

Jason didn’t stop trying to wiggle free. “You’re going to say that until she steals your snacks. Now let go.” 

Donnie lightly shook him back and forth, teasing. 

“Quit it.” Jason snapped. “Quit it or I’ll bite.”

“How do you know I won’t be into that?”

“I know for a fact you are not into that, Donnie.” 

Jason felt the breath on the back of his neck before Donnie’s sharp teeth gently brushed over the skin. “Bite me and I’ll bite you.” 

Jason quit struggling but turned his head to glare. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.” 

Donnie shrugged. “If you insist.” He sat on the floor, arm still tightly wrapped around Jase’s middle. 

Jason didn’t get a warning besides that when he felt Donnie nip at his ear. He jumped and fought to hold back his laugh. “Hey. Knock it off.” 

“Nah.” He bit his earlobe next, then trailed down his neck. They were all gentle, only enough to tickle, and that was possibly the worst part about it.

“Donnie!” Jason squeaked and tried to tug away. “You’re making me ticklish.” 

“A successful distraction.” 

“Oh yeah?” Jason managed to say despite another nip to his shoulder. He saw Holly leaning out of the door to her room. The fruit snacks were gone, but it was doubtful she’d eaten them. Perhaps she couldn’t open the bag. Or maybe Jason’s laughter caught her attention. Anytime she saw her dads having fun she just had to join in somehow. 

Donnie blew a raspberry against the back of Jason’s neck. He burst out laughing again. 

Holly scurried over—on all fours this time—her eyes wide and curious. 

“Ah, the criminal returns.” Jason held out a hand for her. “Where did your spoils go, ma’am?” 

Holly took his hand. Her four little fingers held onto his. She stared at it, then at her dads, then at his hand again. 

Then she giggled, opened her mouth wide, and bit him. 

The pain hit, hard, but thankfully it was still dulled enough by shock that Jason didn’t rip his hand away, which would have made everything worse. He just stared at his daughter, who still had her mouth on the part where his thumb meets his palm. 

“Uh,” Donnie said. “Is that—”

Jason saw the drop of red start to slide down his skin. Holly stared at him, clearly confused. Then her face twisted in disgust and she pulled back, smacking her now red lips. 

Oh, that was a lot of blood.

“Okay!” Donnie immediately scooped Jason up and carried him into the kitchen. Jason held his hand under the sink for a moment, letting water run over the injury and oh that made it sting twice as bad. As soon as he pulled it back Donnie pressed a spare dish towel over the injury. 

“Sit. Sit.” Donnie gave the demand before he simply picked Jason up again and plopped him into the kitchen chair. “I’m calling Leo.” 

“Donnie, I doubt it’s so bad—”

“Calling Leo.” He announced and walked out of the room. 

Jason pouted, but kept pressure on the injury. He heard Donnie speaking on the phone, and then Holly’s concerned whines. After a few minutes, his husband returned and carefully sat her on the counter as he worked on cleaning out her mouth. Holly protested at first, a few sharp whines and even a scream, but eventually relented. 

It was during this that Jason actually realized just how big her teeth had gotten. Not something you think about with how fast kids grow. 

Leo flashed into the apartment with a portal, a med kit tucked under his arm. 

“Man, where is it this time?” The slider already cracked a few jokes as he approached the table. “Is your daughter going to give you a scar to match the one Donnie gave you?”

“Not funny, Nardo.” Donnie snapped and picked Holly up. She clearly wanted down, waving her arms and reaching towards the floor and then towards Jase, but he didn’t loosen his grip. 

“Sorry, I’m going to make fun of that until we all die.” Leo kept grinning as he rolled his eyes. “Come on, let’s see the damage.” 

Jason let Leo work, keeping his eyes on his daughter rather than the injury in question. He didn’t really want to know how deep it was. Seeing stuff like that would still remind him of that nasty injury he got on his leg years ago. Despite how much time had passed, anything that made him think he was back in that storage room made his breathing halt. 

“Thankfully not bad enough for stitches, but you’re gonna wanna keep this clean and avoid moving your hand too much or you’ll reopen it. Hope you don’t mind some tight bandages.” Leo said before stretching out some medical tape and getting to work. 

With everything properly wrapped up, Leo stowed his supplies away and stood. “There, let me know if anything weird happens with it. As for you.” He turned toward his niece and tapped her on the nose. “Watch your chompers.”

Her answer to that bit of advice was to open her mouth and try to nip at Leo’s finger.

“Hah, apparently not.” The slider kept smiling. “Cya Tuesday Donnie.” 

“Yeah, thanks Nardo.” Donnie called after his twin as he vanished through another portal.

Jason sighed and stood. He walked over to Holly and reached out for her, but she opened her mouth again and he retreated.

She really didn’t like that, her whine shifting into tears and a wail.

“Whoa, whoa.” Donnie shifted his grip so she was laying in the crook of his elbow instead. “What’s wrong?” 

Jason frowned as he watched her. He reached out again and the tears slowed, but once again when his hand got close enough she opened her mouth. He didn’t let go, but he moved his hand away, and once again she got frustrated.

“Wait,” Jason said. “She probably thinks it’s a game.”

Donnie blinked at him. “Huh?”

“You were playfully biting me and we were laughing. She probably thinks it’s a game but she doesn’t realize how hard she’s biting.”

“Oooooh.” Donnie carefully lifted her up so she was at eye level. “Holly. No no on the biting.” He snapped his teeth again. “Yes yes with this.” He gently smooched her head. 

Holly still didn’t completely get no and yes sometimes. She knew what the words meant, of course, but sometimes it was harder to explain specifically what about her actions were a no-no. 

Thankfully even at this age she was pretty good at mirroring, so sometimes it was just a matter of repeating a behavior until it stuck. In fact, Donnie repeated himself a few times, showing the actions again. Then he shifted her around so she faced Jason.

He reached out for his daughter again. He let her take his hand. But this time instead of opening her mouth she instead pressed the bottom half of her face against it. She didn’t exactly give him a kiss. More like she just pressed her lips together and blew out some air. 

Jason snorted, then laughed. 

Her face lit up and she repeated the motion a few times.

“Okay, okay.” He took her in her arms. “Don’t do that too much. It’s so cute I might throw up.” 

“No, no, keep going.” Donnie pulled out his phone. “I need a video.” 

Holly giggled, still repeating the motion over and over again. Who knew how long it would take for her to get tired for it. 

Oh well, he could tolerate it. Her delight made the lingering pain in his hand more than worth it.

[confusedkittensposts]

Now that I no longer have an on and off fever, btw getting one in summer not recommended, AT ALL, I can rationalise my wired thoughts

One of them was Cas getting a little forehead kiss and having an out of body experience

I am going to write that because a lill kiss will do him some good, the question is who is giving it?

[gingerbreadmonsters]

actually fuck me

[sighonaraa]

continuing to bang out plot points for the post-blip daredevil story when i'm suddenly hit like a train by the thought of foggy being diagnosed with cancer during the five years that matt was gone and then doing his absolute goddamn best to hide it once the blip finally reversed, resulting in some eventually-incredibly-cathartic angst.

[fanboy-sloth]

theres... theres another chapter... 👀

[mockiery]

ok but Steven's attempts at a Time Out mid-fight has gotta work eventually right?

.

Steven is talking. He's talking a lot, hands up and open, he and his bright white suit and mask a confusing vision to the armed infiltrators before him.

Marc is in a reflection of a pane of protective display glass, trying not to force himself to the front.

"When has this ever worked?" he tries, talking over Steven where only he can hear.

Between sentences about taking 'a minute to get on the same page, yeah?', Steven, under his breath, says "It's always worth a shot, innit? I've got this," and continues his somewhat meandering attempt at convincing these would-be-thieves to thieve elsewhere.

Marc groans. "Fine. But I'm not stepping in when you get stabbed this time."

(Steven knows he will, he has every other time. Even since Steven has learned to fight properly, Marc still won't let him take the brunt of the damage.)

Then, miraculously, it actually works. At Steven's explanation of what exactly it is they're trying to steal for their boss: valuable cultural artifacts, to be kept for status, for a personal, private collection, not even to /sell/? They step down, put away their weapons, and leave, not interested in putting their lives on the line for their bosses' self-aggrandizing colonialist decor that won't even earn them any money.

Steven's unsullied white suit, glowing eyes, and infectious energy juxtaposed against the unconscious, tied-up bodies of their rival gang's guards helped too, Marc figures, but he wasn't going to bring that up to Steven.

Once they're out of the warehouse, leaving Marc and Steven to themselves, Marc takes the front, dissolving the suit away. He refuses to look at the reflection of Steven in the display glass.

Steven doesn't wait for him to. "Told you it would work, didn't I?" He is radiating when Marc finally looks to him, pumping both his fists in victory. "All it takes is a little chatting to sort shit out sometimes, y'know?"

Marc sighs, rolling his eyes. He sets his jaw, maintaining his unamused expression as best he can. He's annoyed that Steven's right, but he's also holding back a smile at Steven's winning lap, moving from glass pane to glass pane, pacing in excitement.

"Kid's got a point." The not-yet-familiar voice comes out of nowhere, and Marc flinches hard, swearing as his shoulders seize up to his ears. He finds Jake opposite Steven in another reflection.

Marc barely hears Steven's, "Kid?" as he's recovering from the shock, exhaling all the breath and forcing (some of) the tension out of his body.

"I told you not to do that," Marc half-grumbles, through gritted teeth, gesturing pointedly with one hand at his newly acquainted alter.

Jake's flat expression shifts minutely, a suggestion of a shrug.

Marc exhales and stares. "What?"

"He said I have a point." Steven beams, seemingly over the "kid" thing for now.

"Yeah?" Marc side-eyes Jake, skeptical.

"Sometimes talking shit out is the best way to go." He shrugs fully this time, hands finding their way to the pockets of their jacket.

Marc makes a sound in his throat. "Thought you were more about bashing heads."

Jake scoffs, and if Marc didn't know better, he'd think Jake was offended. "I'll bash heads, sure, but I'm gonna fucking get out of a shit situation whatever way I can."

"So time-outs have worked for you?! More than once?"

"'Course. Everybody wants something. A little sweet-talk goes a long way." Another shrug. A small smirk, Marc thinks. He is still so un-used to seeing their face be used by another person, with his own range of microexpressions. "Cash too."

"Huh."

"That's aces, mate. Next time, you should step in and show us how you do it!"

"Uh. Maybe." Jake's sharp eyes land on Marc for a second, before jutting his head slightly to him for Steven. "If el jefe is good with it."

Marc pauses, turning in full to Jake's image in the glass.

"How come I'm 'kid' and you're 'the boss'?" Marc can hear Steven say over his shoulder, but he's focused on Jake.

It's still not easy to read him. Marc had never found it easy to read anyone, much less the brick wall of a man he'd only recently learned was living inside his head too. But as he eyes Jake, he thinks he sees it, what it means. He's reaching for Steven's outstretched hand, but asking for Marc's before he takes it.

The furrow of Marc's brow lessens and he stands a little looser. "Yeah, maybe. We'll see."

Jake nods curtly, and there's a shift in his eyes, a loosening of his expression. A softening, even. Marc gives a nod back.

Steven's reflection pokes into the pane next to Jake's, his soft grin turning down as he eyes the unconscious men on the floor. "Lovely. Now, what exactly are we doing with these blokes again?"