#i NEED to see some of the things they are doing properly

[grotesquevi]

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ I WANNA BE THE TATTOO INK THAT SWIMS ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ DOWN THROUGH THE NEEDLE IN YOUR SKIN.

cw  # 18+ mdni, public sex, use of strap-on (it’s refered as cock/dick too) strap sucking, use of pet names.

side note  # if you recognize this, might be because this is a request from my previous blog vicorices (terminated blog 2025-2025 r.i.p) this is my new account. i'm trying to get all my writing back up slowly and with my whole heart. check out my arcane directory to see the process of re-uploading fics.

to be fair, sevika did want to marry, the thing was organizing a wedding.

you've been running non-stop the last months so she gets you're burnt out. your fianceé can be many things, but her patience it's a golden treat even when she don't have time to properly fuck you lately, she knows you'll be back to your own self after the celebration, and sevika’s not afraid of having to put up with your grumpy side any time of the day.

she can handle you, simple as a summer day with the air conditioner turned on. what she cannot handle instead, was that backstabbing shit you were pulling on her after being so well behaved, playing the part of an understanding wife until one of your friends give her the first photo and she has to look at it twice to be sure she's looking at it right, cause there's no way you're standing in a tiny polaroid picture wearing a purple set of underwear, comfortably laying around in bed — a bed you share with her every night.

it sends her into a spiral. the music is loud in a room full of celebrating guests and still, her mouth is suddenly dry and she feels like it has been a fucking year now without having sex, so dramatic as she's searching for you even when you're already looking at her, raising your champagne glass in a silent toast with a playful smirk.

and she thinks you'll have the decency to be kind to her after all, but your friends kept the photos coming, and each one seemed to be more obscene than the last one as she looked at them a couple of times afraid someone else could see it before tucking it away in the safety of her suit. at first a casual set of purple lingerie that scaled insanely quick to a very close frontal shot of your full lips slightly parted, and sevika can recognize your hands squeezing your tits together for the picture, you fucking tease — the third picture steals the air from her lungs at the sight of you already on your knees, looking up to the camera with nothing on top.

did your friends see them too? do they know how low they are helping you play? you're making her put up a show ‘cause you're laughing at her face, her erratic movements, how she forgot to keep on talking to the guests, show some manners from a zaunite already in the council, but shit she's so weak. you've deprived her for what? a month or two? can you really expect her to behave and not to act up stupid? you're wearing this beautiful white gown and sevika cannot help but wonder, truly wonder, by the look in your face, what are you wearing down all that expensive fabric.

low.

you're looking at her while you talk to your close ones and sevika fights the need to drag you away from everyone as the photos kept appearing randomly, hitting her in the worst moments, cause she thinks she got it figured it out, that she finally collected herself as the minutes pass until another friend appears with a sinful picture and she thinks to herself, she's going to have a word or two with you about that teasing game she didn't agree to be a part on.

how can she be mad at you anyway? when you're so good at taking those photos for her? when you look so beautiful making your underwear to the side to have a look of your soaked pussy you so eagerly show to the camera lens? you're biting down your lip cause you really are enjoying it, showing that nasty side you cannot hide and she just loves to have every single time.

her devotion to you knows no barrier at that point, cause people are laughing loudly, singing and dancing under the changing lights and the bands playing in the background, yet sevika's blatantly stealing you from the rest and there's no point in saying no when she's pulling you to the tiny photobooth you thought it'd be cute to take up pictures for the guests and have a little token of your union to your wife to take home, closing down the red curtain to corner you against the camera wall.

"did you like the photos?" you have the audacity to ask with a smile on your lips — "it's a reward for being so good to me all this time."

"is this your idea of reward, doll?" sevika cannot hide the smirk on her face, not when she’s actually enjoying all the talking for once. "haunt me the whole night until i can finally get you alone?"

"it's fun" you try to defend yourself, but you already lost the whole case as her big hands fall against your figure, tracing your sides as she mocks your words: you have different views of fun clearly. "i was going to make it up to you later, vika. the two of us."

"make up to me you say," she chuckles, almost not believing you "well take care of me now then. i deserve it."

she does it really, so you let her push you around, use force to pin you down against the wall as she takes what she's been anxiously craving, cursing against the complex fabric of your wedding dress until she's able to grip it in one hand, noticing the same purple set she saw before in the pictures.

"fucking slut doin' this on purpose" sevika shakes her head in disbelief as she takes a look of your body in the colorful lingerie "and you were going to be cruel and make me fucking wait to have you? on our own wedding day?"

"vika-"

“you took the photos, fuckin´ deal with it.”

“what if someone comes in?”

“i’ll tell them to fuck off,” she promises quickly like she thought about it all already “it’s our day, our wedding.”

there’s something about the way she’s saying it that makes you oblivious to the rest, makes your head spin cause you forgot about your worrying, the guests, the cake and everything in between. so you're not aware of when you pushed the red button on the screen of the photobooth, nor when it activates it's original purpose when sevika's fully into making out with you, capturing the sight of your figures blending together in the same picture — by the second shot you can notice the smirk on her brown lips and in the third, it's not really visible as she seems to be too close to the camera lens, making the image blurry as she attacks on your neck.

maybe it's the thrill of being discovered, the fact sevika can feel the flash of the photos being taken, but she wishes to be patient again — have it in at least a couple of hours on her actual wedding night for a chance, privately, but the strap she choose willingly to wear in a way of fully teasing you, was now pushing against your leg and you have to stop for a second with your brows furrowed.

"is that-" sevika's nodding and you want to say something, but you find amusing to know your wife is wearing a strap-on to your wedding celebration, one you surely have seen already.

"make up to me," she repeats once again, serious this time "for being cruel. after that you can explain me how you took those pictures."

no one interrupts anyway. the music's too loud, the sweat in the air is too strong and guests already drank a lot so no one gives a shit when you're getting on your knees, when sevika's toying with your hair as you're the one to unbuckle the belt from her pants, the one who kisses the happy trail of her lower belly without protesting, noticing the blue silicone as her pant pools in her ankles and your wife cannot seem to care about anything but the sight of you on your knees.

"get it wet" sevika's less gentle now as she's pointing to her fake cock, licking her lips like she can taste yours in them before adding: "so i can fuck you good, okay?"

to be fair — it's just an excuse, cause she knows you're dripping in your pretty purple panties, that the dildo would split you open yes, stretch you out even without making much effort, but she just wants to see how you do it, how you become a drooling mess, salivating all over the floor, getting your dress wet totally unaware of everything else.

and hell she wishes she could feel it all, cause you look so pretty with your mouth full it's insane, pushing against the rubber to take it in your throat further until you make yourself gag, and your wife takes care of you, so she's pulling away but in all honestly the sight of you debauched already only spurs her on 'cause the amount of saliva coating your lips connecting you to her dick makes her insane, cleaning the corners of your mouth with her thumb.

"easy there, get used to it and take it slow," her voice is rough as she helps you put your hair up in a ponytail vika holds in her mechanic fingers, watching your polished moves as you get to work again, relaxing until the tip of your nose is touching her skin, and your eyes are watering but she can feel your breathing on her, the friction between her legs every time you move to take her deeper, the fabric of the harness consistently rubbing between her legs — "there you go bunny. s'good taking it all, go on keep sucking and don't get distracted."

you want to do good, desperate to please her over and over again, you can take it. that's what she says as her hips involuntarily thrust against your mouth, and it's so slippery the rubber cock slides inside your bucal cavity and she's roughly hitting on the back of your throat until there's this sound you make involuntarily each time the strap invades your mouth and makes you choke, leaving you a mess as you're drooling all over your tits.

her flesh hand does a good job on making you move, fingers tightening in your hair as she sets an steady pace against your mouth, swollen lips that close around the shaft as she pushes it deeper, cleaning up your tears cause she don't want your make up to be ruined, all pretty trying hard for her.

she's going to cum like this, inevitable. you're looking up to her with your big eyes, a damn smirk cause even when you're struggling you're having so much fun you cannot help it, and once again she's needy for more than what she'd like to admit.

the movement of her hips rubs her right in the spot when sevika's already so sensitive soaking her inner thighs, forcing her cock in your mouth — it's so good, you're so damn good.

so she cums around nothing, your sloppy movements as you suck on her strap, that zoned out look you have that only makes her moan hastily, leaning against the photobooth to press that fucking button again that's been randomly taking pictures now capturing the features of your wife as you now disappear from the frame, the pleasure on sevika's face she's unaware before pulling you upwards again, making you stand as she parts your legs with her knee forcing you to turn around to have a good view of your ass.

"my good little cocksleeve, always ready to be stuffed," she praises, leaving wet kisses on the expanse of your shoulders, going down your spine as she don't bother to take your panties off, no, she wants to fully fuck you in them "spread yourself open, help me sink in you."

your hands come up to grip on your asscheeks, pulling them aside to help your wife reach deeper, use you better by all means. the tip of the cold silicone wet with your own saliva kisses your entrance, and you melt away when sevika's finally fucking you until the base of her cock disappears inside your warm cunt, holding you still even in a secluded space.

she's shoving her fingers in your mouth, making you suck on her digits with a hungry look: lame, she's gonna cum again and she's acting up so fucking lame.

"fucking take it," the damn camera flashes again and sevika has lost count of how many pictures are waiting outside the booth of you two, but she's too busy to say something when she's sinking inside your drenched pussy, pulling on your hair as she grips on the curve of your hip, making you move with her as her movements get rougher, each time more demanding, deeper — "that's it. make space for me, it's not that hard, isn't it?"

she's on a sinking ship either way: slow is now overrated and she would rather dive in headfirst to openly drown in you.

was that so bad? i mean, you're married to her now.

[spyglassrealms]

yes, things are bad right now. some even say it's irreparable. it's hard to imagine a world that is better with such crushing evil everywhere.

but I need you all to remember that we live in an age of miracles, too.

about three weeks ago, my dad almost died. he had a brain aneurysm rupture at 2 in the morning. if he had not been staying at his girlfriend's home, he very likely would have died. as it was, he ended up at the hospital very quickly. the neurology team diagnosed the problem and placed a drain tube in his head to moderate pressure while they formulated a strategy for the impending surgery. the day after, they placed scaffolding inside the broken blood vessel. they kept him on certain medications for several weeks to ensure he healed properly.

twenty years ago, my dad would have come out of this ordeal with at least minor —more likely moderate to severe— brain damage. he could have lost the ability to walk, or see, or speak, or remember anything for longer than ten minutes.

yesterday we shared some jokes about terrible hospital food and then he walked out of the hospital on his own two legs.

it's going to take more time for him to fully recover. he lost a lot of weight. he's still in some amount of pain. but he is here, whole, with a life expectancy of twenty to thirty more years.

yes, it is probable that a large part of his incredible recovery is due to sheer luck, and his natural physical resilience. but an even larger part is the fact that a team of highly trained, highly skilled people, armed with modern knowledge and technology, saved his life.

we live in an age of miracles, and I don't mean the divine type of miracle. every day, millions of human beings across our planet dedicate their waking hours to beating back the four horsemen their damn selves. and it is working. all of human history is defined by those who chose to look Old Grim himself straight in the eye and say: "I am smarter than you, I am faster than you, I am stronger than you, and I will not stop until you loosen your grip on all of us. Blink, motherfucker."

And by force of will, they make him fucking blink.

yes, things are bad. but don't you dare forget the good we can do.

[moki-dokie]

and i'm gonna say something wildly unpopular here but frankly even the worst human beings alive deserve rights and bodily autonomy. yes, even if they took it away from someone else. saying otherwise is the same fucking rhetoric as saying rapists deserve to be raped and thus wanting MORE rape and rapists in the world.

i say this as someone who has been sexually assaulted, many times, as a child, by both family and strangers. i say this as someone whose sister was violently raped and murdered as a child.

if i can have a shred of decent human empathy, what the fuck is yalls excuse for calling for more harm and more abuse and more trauma and more ways to fuck up an already fucked up person?

chemical castration is nothing short of barbaric, long-term, slow torture. it's state-sponsored assault. and it does absolutely fuckall to stop that person from raping or assaulting someone again. like, you think lowered testosterone and a low libido is gonna stop someone? really? you think THATS the answer? you think you're safer around a sex offender because he has a hard time getting it up?? newsflash, assholes, you don't need a boner to rape someone. you don't need a penis to rape someone. you don't even need to be aroused to rape someone. but if you really really REALLY require an offenders sex drive be policed, a motherfucking chastity belt secured like an ankle monitor would be just as effective and more humane. and i'm so serious about that too. there are PLENTY of chastity cage/belt designs made specifically for hygienic 24/7 wear. implementing the same monitoring system and fasteners as ankle monitors have would be ridiculously easy. also cheaper. and it would do the exact same thing, which is basically fucking nothing except making it harder for that person to have genital-based intercourse. but at least it wouldn't inflict lifelong, debilitating medical and mental issues on the human being you're going to put back into the public. but see the thing is none of these institutions give a single shit about the human being behind the offender. they don't care about making anyone safer. they don't care. period. nor do the people who advocate for chemical castration. if yall actually cared, yall would be pushing for prisons to be rehabilitation centers and continued support after release and programs to properly integrate people back into society.

"what about those who volunteer to get it" i hear the fascists shouting as if they have a point. you cannot get proper informed consent under the conditions prisoners are kept, so "voluntary" use of it is extremely dubious at best. I'm sure there are quite a few who do actually truly and authentically consent to it and all of the problems that come with it. but until prisons stop being torture and trauma factories where most inmates will do just about anything to get out sooner and lawyers are always pushing for some sort of deal, i don't trust the decision was really voluntary at all. i don't think it should even be an option at all, though.

let us also not forget this was once used for the crime of being gay as recently as the 1950s in the UK. and as cavegirlpoems before me said, Once you've decided that there's a class of people it's okay to do this to, there's no clean line in the sand anymore.

[levigarden999]

part 2 ♡ dumb!bakugo x reader

part 1 here ʚଓ theme : bakugo is a cute nervous wreck around u ⋆˙⟡

you had been playing this addictive, sweet little game with bakugo for weeks now.

no matter how confident or arrogant the stubborn boy was, somehow around you he lost all of his confidence. of course, he tried to act the exact same way he had always acted towards you – rude, smug and most of all just someone who was above you. however, bakugo was sure he had lost his mind. he just couldn’t be rude to you anymore and he didn’t understand why.

bakugo hated how weak and pathetic he had became. he couldn’t understand why he was suddenly so… soft? everytime you talked to him, even looked at him, his mind just went blank. bakugo felt his cheeks heating up to the point even his ears were burning – and by the way you smirked, he knew you noticed that as well.

bakugo was embarrassed. almost humiliated. as if you wanted to make him seem weak on purpose!

of course, you didn’t want that. you just enjoyed teasing bakugo now since you were pretty sure he was catching feelings for you as well. ever since you realized he wasn’t as oblivious as before, you gained confidence to approach him properly.

”hey, kats” you tapped his shoulder while walking through the hallway. an innocent smile was plastered on your face, your eyes staring up at him as if you had no idea about the effect you had on him.

he nearly flinched at your touch and with a quick movement turned to look at you. there he was again – the blood rushing to his face and making his cheeks flush with that pretty pink. you found him adorable.

”what do you want?” he scowled and pressed his lips together. he had his hands shoved deep in his pockets, but you could notice how nervously his fingers were fidgeting in both of his pockets. how could someone even be that obvious?

”you wanna come to my place tomorrow? i need some help with my quirk and since you’re so strong, i wondered if…. if you’d like to give me some advice on how to be a better fighter” you clasped your hands behind your back, the same sweet, soft smile on your pretty lips.

bakugo blinked one, two, three times, and his mouth opened a little from surprise. he once again felt his heart pounding against his chest as he stared down at you, those pretty eyes looking so wide and hopeful.

”huh? me? you want me to help you?” he asked with that raspy and bewildered tone. bakugo couldn’t understand why you, a strong hero, would need his help.

”mm-hm” you nodded and smiled wider.

he looked so cute like this, those usually so sharp and straight up angry eyes now softened and widened. you wanted to just grab him by his face and kiss those stupid cheeks and cling to him like a baby monkey.  but that would come later, you had to lock in for now.

”i- uh-” he scratched his disheveled hair, his voice lower and suddenly uncertain. ”i don’t usually help people, like, ever. but i mean, if you insist, i guess i can try. but you better listen and not be a fucking brat” he mumbled almost reluctantly, his eyes drifting somewhere else from you. he didn’t want to see the look on your face now since he had given in.

”thanks, kats! you’re the best!” you exclaimed. for a second you almost pulled him into a hug, but then you remembered, it was bakugo after all. no matter how in love bakugo would be with someone, i knew he wasn’t the type of person who would appreciate sudden hugs or affection. especially in such a public place, you wanted to respect the awkward boy’s boundaries.

”what ever” he grumbled and shoved his hand back in his pocket. he looked down and frowned, a small pout on his surprisingly plump lips. as if he was disappointed in himself by giving in to your wish. 

you chuckled. ”okay, see you tomorrow, i’ll find ya after school” you said casually and smiled while waving a goodbye. you walked off and bakugo was left there, wondering his life decisions. what the hell had gotten into him? katsuki bakugo was suddenly doing things he would never do (helping people) for a GIRL he didn’t even know that well.

[alchemistc]

Robbie slaps a glossy looking flyer on the table. Palm down, eyes narrowed, pretending like hell the slap of her hand against the wood grain didn't sting as she squares up, all four-feet-three-inches of her, like she's preparing for battle.

Tommy's slumped in his chair and still half a head taller than her.

He doesn't quite cower, at her glare, but at thirteen she's just about ready to explode at any given moment.

They don't talk about the time he sat on the floor with the bathroom door at his back and read the instructions for inserting a tampon in the calm, cool tones of a man so far out of his depth he might as well have turned into pressurized meat juice mist while Robbie had a panic attack just inside.

They don't talk about the massive argument they'd had in the middle of TJ's the first time Robbie back talked Evan with all the angst of a girl about to experience the pimpliest, testosterone fueled ragiest few years of her life. (Evan had gotten a kick out of it and Tommy had spent a week listening to his deep dives into the Beauty Of Puberty with the skepticism of an only child who never shared a bathroom).

Robbie rolls her jaw. Grabs the flyer and shakes it in Tommy's face. It's a riot of color, and Tommy has to squint to make out the words. Fuck, he does need those reading glasses.

"Why is the paper making you look homicidal?"

"We never go to Pride, dad!"

Ah.

Well.

That.

Tommy slumps further in his seat, which puts Robbie at eye level, and boy howdy is she gonna make his life a living hell until the hormones settle in...a decade or so. The glare is all Evan, emotions unchecked and just out there for the world to see. He's so fucking grateful neither of his kids took to his 'repress until you pancake yourself' way of handling a single emotion.

Tommy never bought into the rainbow crap, couldn't ever push himself into participating in a world he'd denied himself so long. Nothing against it, himself, just - a line he kept somewhere off behind and to the left where he couldn't look it in the eye.

And Evan...

Well. Being an 'ally' switched to throwing up the Bi Flag in his Instagram profile and he never really shifted any further than that.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" Tommy asks, because last week she'd spent an hour in the yard yanking weeds with the ferociousness of a terrier with a nest of rats over some kid in her class named Michael and to this point hasn't shown that her interests stray farther than that. Fuck. Has he missed something?

"Uh, yeah, that my gay dads are quiet homophobes who won't take their kids to a fuckin' parade."

Oh well that's a lot of different things to put in check, right there.

It's his own damn fault for laughing hysterically every time their toddler dropped an F bomb.

It's his own damn fault for blowing off the drag queens with petitions outside the library a month ago.

"Your father is a Kinsey two-and-a-half on a good day, and don't say fuck."

"Internalized homophobia is still homophobia, dad." She rolls her tongue over her teeth. Sends him a challenging look. "Fuck." She pronounces it like it has seven syllables.

"If you're gonna challenge me you better be able to use it in a sentence properly."

"I want to fucking go to fucking Pride with my fucked up not straight dads but they're both fucking repressed fucking losers."

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Tommy jokes, and the flyer crumples in his daughters fist. And - yep, there's the shriek.

Evan's gonna be pissed that he isn't curbing the language a little more.

Which he absolutely will do. Later. Once Robbie isn't a good leap away from the knife block.

His kids aren't violent people, by nature. Robbie has a mean left hook and an eye for taking people out at the ankles he encouraged far too much before she hit ten. Danny cradles spiders in the cup of his hands on the way out the door while giving Tommy a wide-eyed and judgemental berth.

Robbie crumples up the flyer a little more. Stares at him like she's wishing there was enough weight to it to cause damage to his thick fucking skull if she were to throw it.

She blinks, and those are - yep, those are tears.

"Sweetheart," Tommy starts, and Robbie launches herself forward, embraces Tommy just in time for some sobs to really kick in, nonsensical phrases leaking out of her as she cries, and cries, and cries.

He's good at this part. The part where they can't see his face, where he can cradle them to him and rub their back and murmur nonsense back while they do a better job feeling, and then regulating their emotions than he had until his late thirties.

"Ms. Frankie said she'd take me but I don't wanna go with Ms. Frankie," he gets, as another wave breaks, and he has to shift his weight against the onslaught of two sharp ass knees heading straight for his belly. "Ms. Frankie has a crush on Dad and I hate her."

Ms. Frankie absolutely has the hots for Evan. Ms. Frankie's son is a bully who thinks he's better than everyone else by virtue of accepting and picking on everyone equal-opportunity style.

Ms. Frankie is definitely not taking his kid to her first Pride.

Shit.

God damnit.

The tears dry up, eventually.

Tommy tries not to think about the fact that he's not gonna be allowed to comfort his pre-teen like this for much longer. Tries not to think about the fact that she's gonna stop asking for it, soon enough, and he'll have to make do with words from the other side of a slammed door.

"I'm not wearing rainbow anything," he says, like he's surrendering a crucial air base, and Robbie leans back with narrowed eyes.

"I have that face paint Jee gave me for Christmas."

"You get one cheek to work with," he negotiates, even though he's well aware he's gonna leave the house with more color than he's worn in twenty-five years.

"Dad let me do his whole face for New Years," she wheedles.

"Dad has better coloring than I do. Those jewel tones make his eyes pop. And Dad doesn't have to know how many times you dropped an F-bomb on me ten minutes ago."

He's fucking up his kids. Teaching an almost teenager how to properly blackmail someone is just one of many ways he's doing it while he digs his own grave.

At least they're not fucking scared of him.

"Two cheeks, and we post a picture on Dad's Insta because Ms. Frankie stalks him there and she'll be so jealous."

"You're diabolical," Tommy tells her, and her wet, snotty, lopsided grin makes something in his heart swoop. She's all Evan, and he loves her so fucking much he stopped trying to figure out where to put it the first time she latched a tiny little hand around his pointer finger and burst into the exhausted tears of something new to this world. "If you ever teach Danny how to manipulate someone like this I'm gonna start reporting you for war crimes."

"Danny's too nice, it would hurt his feelings to even think about it."

Yeah. Not sure where the fuck he got that from.

"You watch out for him, don't you?"

He's aware there's a dynamic at play here that he shouldn't overly encourage. Doesn't want her feeling like she's gotta parent her younger brother, it's just -

"He doesn't need it. Sometimes when he says nice things to people I think he destroys their whole world for a few days."

Tommy takes her out for ice cream and broaches the subject of the parade before Evan realizes Tommy's spoiled her dinner.

Danny's eyes go bright and gleaming and he sends a look at his sister that Tommy is absolutely certain he should be worried about, because they've clearly been plotting and scheming for days.

When June sixth rolls around Danny wakes up early, pounces on the bed, and hands Tommy the ugliest fucking shirt Tommy's ever seen, bright and lurid and awful, and Robbie doesn't even have the decency to hide her smug look when she stumbles blearily into the kitchen, following the smell of scrambled eggs Tommy spends an extra ten minutes dyeing with the organic shit Evan brought home last week.

[dduane]

…So once again it’s the time of year when I return to this piece of digital art in its most recent version, tweak it a little in the attempt to get closer to what I see in my head, and repost it for Pride. (ETA, 1 June 2025: this year's version of the image is rerendered to reflect the ongoing business of getting the varying skin colors of the Five properly nailed down.)

At the moment I’m looking at These Two Idiots (because honestly, in some ways they are...) and considering, once again with the usual bemusement, how long I’ve been working with them. Of all the characters I’ve worked with in print, the only ones I’ve known longer would be the crew of NCC-1701—and (as of autumn 2024) for the first time in paid writing, a couple of gentlemen named Holmes and Watson.

I first “met” the two characters above in late 1970 in the form of two fellow college students on whom they’d be loosely based: a couple of gents—not gay, as it happens—who were friends to me when I badly needed some. They were a tall dark-haired guy and a short blond one with a mustache that came and went… so that, not even knowing the word “trope” at the time, I'd fallen sideways into at least one.

Less than a year after I met them, I changed schools and educational tracks, and we all drifted apart. But something about those two stuck with me. The nature and depth of their friendship was unusual. So was one way it manifested itself: in ruthless snark that had no meanness or cruelty about it whatsoever—just (sometimes slightly rueful and eye-rolling) affection.

In the late sixties I’d pivoted from the Star Trek fanfic I'd been writing practially since the series premiered, to start in on writing some very derivative epic-fantasy fic strongly influenced by Tolkien. Rather to my surprise, though, as I started nursing school in 1971, the nature of that fiction started to change, and began rearranging itself around two characters who had a friendship like that of my college friends. With them at its core, a rather different and subversive kind of medieval-flavored fantasy world started knitting itself together from various scraps of themes and imagery lying around in the back of my brain.

Even so early in the construction phases of this world, something the characters quickly made plain to me in the writing was that their relationships with one another were not what mainstream 1970s culture would consider conventional. They were unquestionably what we'd now think of as queer… but that was a background issue,* and not at all the most important thing in their lives. They had far more important business to deal with—as became clear as their personalities and priorities started filling themselves out in the foreground.

One of them turned out to be the deliberate, analytical, methodical son of a provincial nobleman, all too aware of the expectations of those around him: that he was eventually likely to wind up running that province himself. Yet at the same time he also became aware that he had other more serious problems—chief among them the discovery that he possessed a nascent power that would kill him young if he failed to master it. And in the last thousand years, no one of his gender ever had.

The other presented himself more and more clearly as a difficult case: someone who wanted very much to be good at the family business, but wasn’t… and knew it. Kind of a screw-up, full of romanticized and unrealistic takes on the world and his relationship with it: repeatedly doing the wrong things for what he was sure were the right reasons. Yet no matter how often he screwed up, he was also the kind of person who keeps picking himself up and trying again, because he’s been told over and over that that’s what people like him have to do: otherwise they’re no use to anybody.

Imagine my shock when I realized that these two men—initially canonically enemies in their adolescence, then best friends as they grew, and eventually much more—were the (incomplete) answer to the question I’d once asked my Mom at the end of the bedtime reading of some fairy tale or other: “Why can’t a prince rescue another prince?”§ Because one of them got himself more than once into situations where he really needed one kind or another of rescuing. The other one obliged him, while once or twice getting rescued (in different modes) himself. Those interlocking patterns started to solidify out of concept and into character detail and plot, while their world grew and proliferated into its own detail around them.

Then, without warning, in 1978 both world and characters decided they were ready to get real. I was abruptly dragged gasping and flailing under the surface of a novel that would begin the tale of what those two characters had yet to become. The period it took to produce that first draft was possibly the most interesting six weeks of my life… and that includes the six weeks during which I first scrubbed in on brain surgery. Day and night, for days at a time, I barely even existed except as something for a novel to come out of. When it was done with me, it just as abruptly dumped me back into my life and wandered away, leaving me staring around, blinking and wondering if anybody’d got the number of that truck. Nothing like it has ever happened to me since, which may be just as well. I’m none too sure that these days I could handle the strain.

The book—which sold within a couple of weeks of its manuscript landing on its first publisher’s desk—kicked off my career as novelist and screenwriter, and in its way proved that the world was at least slightly ready for epic fantasy in which the basic culture was pansexual, polyamorous, and inclusive in ways that hadn’t been attempted before.

So I owe them a debt, those two gentlemen up there: the tall dark curly-haired guy with the amateur strategist’s mind, the blacksmith’s shoulders, and the peculiar sword, his background thought always nibbling away at the question of how to heal the world’s wounds: and the short fair gent who if he could would stay at home, live quietly in town, and work in the local library… except for when saving the world (or his found family) requires him to subsume his work-in-progress kingship and his being into that of his ancestral demigod. Due to the success of the book in which they made their debut, these two became, in their way, the fairy† godfathers of the Young Wizards—and additionally enabled all that Star Trek fanfic I’d started writing a decade before to proceed to its logical conclusion.

More to the point, though, a lot of people in the 1980s and ‘90s who’d never seen queer representation in a fantasy novel, found it first (or at last) while following Herewiss and Freelorn down their shared road. It’s been my pleasure to hold that space for new readers, and to keep adding to it… because—if you ask me—it’s needed more now than ever.

So, to the readership of the Middle Kingdoms works (now pushing half a century old) and everybody else who’s celebrating the season: happy Pride!

ETA: Just noting here for those who might be interested that, as usual, the LGBTQ Pride Bundle at Ebooks Direct is discounted more deeply than usual for Pride Month. With the usual warning to UK readers: friends, our apologies, but due to Brexit we can no longer sell ebooks to you directly. However, most of these works are currently available to UK readers through Amazon.com.

*Not least because everybody else in their world is (at least potentially) some shade of queer, including God.

§ For certain values of "prince". See here for more detail.

† (snicker)

[lantes-blog]

hey! as a matter of fact, i would. there's a lot of videos that will give you knowledge on book binding in general, like this one i used a lot, i really recommend watching it before starting.

i'll be splitting the tips up into formatting, printing, and binding.

tips for formatting:

You Will Format Your Pdf. you need to convert the hgcz pdf (or any text you want to bind) into a pdf that has the pages offset for printing (the video explains this. watch it 🫵) i had 4 pages per sheet

there are online tools (this one's my favorite and does all the other pdf editing things needed) that will format a pdf into the booklet, but you may need to be kinda good at counting. i am not good at counting. i messed this part up so many times. so golden era had 172 pages, which at 4 pages per sheet, means 43 sheets of paper. you will need to split up the pages into signatures as individual pdfs before feeding them into online2pdf booklet maker. you will need to count them properly. Make Sure They Are Divisible By 4 i cannot tell you the amount of times i messed up counting the pages and would open the separations and see an odd number.

signature separations seen below. it's a tedious process

(many of these were updated 2/5 because originally the signatures were 32 pages which is way too thick for cardstock. fine for paper, cardstock can take a max of 16 pages (4 sheets) before the print near the back starts warping around the spine. rip synergy victim of the first)

if you're planning on bookbinding a comic/zine like hgcz that requires color, and you don't have a color printer like me, you'll probably have to go to a store that offers it as a service.

tips below for color printing (skip ahead if it's a text fanfic or something that a normal bw printer can do):

i did this at the ups store and they did not tell me that i could bring my own paper (cardstock for me, which was $2 a page. not even for any color printing. just the page. yikes) until way later than i would have liked. Bring Your Own Paper. the paper is probably going to be massively overpriced and i was able to buy and bring 50 pages of cardstock at an art store for like. $6. crazy

do NOT print all your signatures all at once. i had several instances where the week's copies were all slightly cut off at the edge and if that had happened to the whole book all at once i would Not have been able to afford reprinting

i printed ~8 sheets of paper a trip, so two signatures. this is easier to keep track of in case your pages get mixed up (and less overwhelming to bind)

if an edge gets cut off, add maybe 2cm of space to that side in the pdf and then resize it to A4 dimensions.

tips for binding:

you dont need anything fancy. i used the handle of scissors as a bone folder, regular sewing thread and needle for the bindings, a thumbtack for an awl, and (extra strong) elmers glue for the glue (we will see if this starts falling apart it is only a couple weeks old. it's holding up great so far though)

i did wax the thread with a beeswax candle (couldn't find any wax by itself) (i did set some tissue paper on fire accidentally while trying to get some), i'd recommend this because pulling the thread through all the holes can be a pain if it separates and tangles up

try to do some practice before, make a blank sketchbook or something just so you kind have some experience before the actual thing

sewing in two signatures at a time was pretty nice because it wasn't ever stressful having papers everywhere and this became a weekly project that i did not give up halfway through

i've tried making covers out of fabric before but they kinda look ugly i'm ngl so i skinned an old hardcover book from the library bookstore (was like $2) with similar dimensions. the spine letters can be removed with nail polish remover, though the indent will remain.

the sides and edges of the book WILL be uneven. it is inevitable. it is okay. modern books are only so smooth because they don't make books like this anymore. if you have a paper guillotine (i don't) you can try to even it out, but that risks chopping off some text (i wouldn't) (especially not a color printed comic) and also it ending up uneven anyway esp for thick books like fanfiction often is. there is a method for using an x-acto knife to carefully even it out by hand but i've tried that for bound sketchbooks and i just don't have the precision for it it's pretty awful

that's all i can think of for now! feel free to ask any more questions if you have any. i feel like i should note that hgcz has announced a physical edition to come in the future, so if your goal is to just have a copy, it'd be way easier and cheaper to get that when it comes out. if your goal is the love of the game though? go nuts.

IT'S DONE. MY BOOKBOUND PHYSICAL HGCZ GOLDEN ERA. if you have read hgcz read it NOW. literally right now you can find it at @hotguycomiczine it will change your life

i've been working on this since january (mostly due to the budgeting issues involving printing), and i believe have just narrowly completed this in a shorter timeframe than the actual zine (sheer embarrassment for taking so long was a great motivation). and YES i found out there was an official physical edition in production about 90% of the way through

i did draw a new cover and design a book jacket for golden era! i've never done something like that before so it was a great challenge

genuinely, hgcz might be one of the greatest pieces of art to ever come out of a fandom. i absolutely loved like. everything about the overarching story and all the details that went into this i could ramble on for hours. i have so sososo much more respect for everyone who worked on this now that i tried creating smth adjacent. this whole project, especially as a fandom related collaborative effort, is just incredible to me

bonus content under the cut!

hgcz cover notes:

there's a lot of stuff i tried to put into the golden era cover

i really liked the original wormtime cover, so the colors are very inspired by that

photograph meant to show the duo at the beginning of Golden Era, for the contrast with isjasz's polaroid by Legacy

hg is angling the camera to catch himself first and foremost, cg being in there is almost an afterthought. he's still a prideful guy!

speaking of which, they're angled away from each other as they're still not fully working together as a team

cuteguy and hotguy designs a mashup of several creators (particularly tibby-art for cuteguy and chrisrin for hotguy)

cg's eyes are visible but hg's visor hides his

hg's scars are also slightly visible as reflections, including a harsh reflection across his left eye. hmmm..

my hotguy and cuteguy refs for the cover. you can see which other artists from hgcz i took inspiration from i think

i had. so many issues. with the physical pages. sometimes my spacing would be off and some parts of the comic would get cut off and i'd have to go buy them again (i don't have a color printer). and i couldn't afford to buy all 172 pages at once so i split the trips up biweekly. anyway it was just a whole process. i ended up with so many offprints i had enough to bookbind an extra hgcz scraps book.

also where i did sketches and thumbnailing

some pics of the book in progress

[emeraldserenade]

Healing Touch ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: You put up a front that you don't care, but you do. You care so much it hurts you

tw: fem!reader, I made myself a little sad with this one so slight angst, reader puts up a front of not caring, reader talks about death, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

I had angsty thoughts and made them an actual story (please don't hate me)

➽──────────────❥

Joaquín wasn't always careful, he was known to act impulsively, especially on missions when he felt he needed to prove himself. You hated it, though you would never tell him.

You had a self made image to maintain, you told yourself that every time you got attached, someone died. So made yourself seem unapproachable and detached when you did get approached.

Sam saw through it and you were pretty sure Joaquín did as well, but you weren't going to drop it. It kept people alive, it kept them safe, it made things easier.

The only times you let is fall, just a little, was when you helped with the injuries that were too small for the hospital. Your mom was a nurse, a darn good one, and she taught you more than basic medical care. You weren't sure if she knew you would need to know how to do stitches or how to properly wrap a cut someday, but you mentally thanked her every time you needed it.

Your hands were always steady, careful, and soft when you helped them. Your voice lost the sharp edge to it and your gaze softened every time. You would tell them to be more careful, your emotions plain in your voice, but you would follow it up with a smart remark to cover it. You knew they understood, that you put up a front, that you were scared of them getting hurt. But they never commented on it, they would just softly tell you that they would try and thank you for helping them.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

When Joaquín came back to the safe house, his smile was apologetic while he held a hand to his arm. You rushed to him, your eyes roaming over Sam as you did to make sure he didn't need help first. You lead Joaquín to the couch while Sam announced he was going to shower. The med kit was on the coffee table already and you helped Joaquín out of his jacket.

"I thought I told you to be more careful," you told him, grabbing everything you needed. "Any more to the right and they could have hit your brachial artery," you kept talking, your voice was sharper than it normally was. Your movements were still soft, but they were rushed, a physical manifestation of your worry. You wanted to keep telling him off, to yell at him for not being careful, but your words died on your tongue when you saw tears in his eyes. "Joaquín?" You said his name as a question and he broke down in your arms.

"I couldn't save her," he muttered, his eyes trained on where your movements halted their actions.

"Oh," you breathed out. You resumed your movements, cleaning the cut and slowly moving to wrap it. His words shocked you out of your worry and you were back to your careful movements.

"I was supposed to save her, she was in my reach," Joaquín told you, his eyes staying on your hands. "If I had moved faster, they wouldn't have gotten to her. I wouldn't have this cut on my arm," he confessed as you finished wrapping his arm.

"You can't save everyone, no matter how badly it stings, no matter how many other ways you could have gone about it, some times people just die. Some times, life isn't fair and people leave no matter what you think you could have done, no matter if there was no reason for them to die, they just do," you told him, letting all your emotions be heard for the first time since meeting him. You sat down beside him, turning your head so you were looking him in the eyes. "It's going to sting, it's going to hurt, and you are going to beat yourself up about it. But you did what you could, you did everything right," you told him, placing your hand on his for a moment before clearing your throat and standing up. "I'll see you later," you told him before hurrying out of the room, your emotions too much for you to handle.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You were in your room, sitting on the bed staring out the window, when Joaquín walked in. You heard him but didn't turn around, your eyes were stinging with tears.

"You were speaking from experience, weren't you?" Joaquín gently asked, his voice close. You didn't answer, or at least not verbally, but the way you tensed and refused to look at him was answer enough. "Who did you lose?"

"My mom at first," you whispered, the tears finally falling. "She was at the hospital when a bomb went off," you started talking and your resolve finally crumbled as your mask fell. "She wouldn't have been working if I hadn't cancelled on our girls day," you were sobbing, curling in on yourself. "Then it was anyone I ever got close to after that, car accidents, public shootings, even self inflicted," you sobbed harder.

"That's why you're so closed off," Joaquín mumbled like he was learning the secret of life.

"I'm not supposed to care," you told him, your voice quiet despite the harsh sobs that escaped your throat. "When I care, people die. I don't want you to die," you whispered, wrapped your arms even tighter around yourself. You felt Joaquín pull you to him, his arms locking you to his chest as you sobbed. You knew you should pull away, that your walls needed to be rebuilt. But you didn't, you found yourself leaning into the warmth that radiated off of him.

Joaquín sat with you in silence as you cried, he wanted to comfort you but he didn't know what to say. He wasn't Sam with time spent in the VA and he wasn't you, someone who seemed to know so much and knows how to use your knowledge to help make other's feel better.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You changed after that day, Joaquín expected you to go back to being closed off. But you didn't, you were more open with your feelings towards the two, making them promise to be careful before they left the safe house. You would be at the door waiting for them when they got back, the med kit in your hands.

No one brought it up, the boys feared you would retreat back into yourself and you didn't want to admit you were changing. You wanted to be able to care, to be open about your feelings, but you didn't want to have to admit to caring. You didn't want to open the possibility of your self perceived curse to rear it's ugly head.

Joaquín came back with more cuts and so did Sam, the latter insisting that Joaquín goes first. You shook your head, guiding the older man to the couch and checked his cuts. Your hands were soft and steady as you worked, the same soft and steadiness that brought comfort to the two even during the worst of the pain.

When you sent Sam to the shower, the one he desperately wanted, you gently pulled Joaquín to sit in front of you. You took your time with assessing everything about Joaquín, from the smaller cuts to the smooth plains of his muscles. If Joaquín noticed, he never said anything, he let you roam your gaze over him.

"You don't have to prove yourself," you told him. "I know you look up to Sam, but you have nothing to prove. He knows how amazing you are, we both do," you whispered as you cleaned his cuts. "You need to be careful," you added after a few moments.

"I need to make it back to you," he told you, his eyes staring at yours.

"Then you need to be careful," you whispered, your hands falling to your sides as you finished with his cuts.

No other words were exchanged, you just sat down next to him and curled into his side. Joaquín pulled you closer and the two of you sat together, you'd asked him if this was something. If he saw a future with you, but for now, you would stay curled into his side with your walls crumbling and your heart open.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests If you want to be added to the tag list, follow the directions on my masterlist

[the-s1lly-corner]

Kissing the Main toons

I love the blot update he's so silly his run is so goofy ueueueueue

Notes: gn toon reader, can be either pre or post game, short and sweet, written on computer, something something writing this while biting back the worst nausea of my life so i may be a little hmm

CWs: none

DANDY

looooooves greeting you with a kiss whenever he gets the chance to see you- he thinks its sweet, sweet little gesture... feels really domestic and classic... cheesy maybe but he doesnt care if its cliche

he really likes giving you a nice big kiss on the cheek whenever you let him- and hes going to do it regardless of what company you guys are sporting. MAYBE he wont do it in front of the handlers, but know hes going to sneak one as soon as he can

as for where he likes being kissed...? his forehead is a nice place to start if you wanna see him get giddy over you! he could never turn down your attention!

SHELLY

ohohoho kissing is nice! it might not be her first means of giving affection but she loves kissing you! gets this giddy grin before she makes contact

she doesnt mind kissing you in front of others... the only reason she doesnt do it is because she doesnt want to make you uncomfortable if thats not something you enjoy

she likes kissing you on the cheeks and mouth... definitely holds your hands in hers during it too... likes being kissed wherever you see fit

VEE

she cant really... kiss you... her face is a screen- there isnt really a physical mouth for her to really... kiss you... sure she can boink her screen against your face but its not really... efficient

of course youre free to kiss her as much as you like, but just know that they dont really do much for her emotionally. she prefers other means of showing off affection- but she commends you for your effort

no, hand holding... gift giving... verbal words mean a lot more to her than kissing ever could- something something "she cant properly experience it so it doesnt mean much to her" thing going on

SPROUT

shocker he tastes like strawberries- smells like them too so hopefully youre into that... i would assume you would be if youre with him, though!

he isnt too crazy about PDA but hes not going to shut you down if you try to kiss him in passing while hes baking something or otherwise has his hands full

another cheek kisser, loves giving and getting kisses on the cheek in passing when you guys see each other. thinks its funny when you try to steal some extra smooches cuz he tastes good

ASTRO

he doesnt kiss you all that often actually. its not that he doesnt enjoy kissing you its just that sometimes... he feels there need to be a setup. affection is hard for him to just dish out- its not fully that he thinks it will water down the meaning... not to him at least.. he doesnt want to water it down for *you*

forehead kisses... loves giving you forehead kisses before you drift off to sleep... if hes feeling bolder he might wake you up with them too

sometimes kissing him makes you feel sleepy.. he smells strongly of lavender and jasmine... very sleepy smells...

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

I keep thinking about The Next Prince and power. Because it's setting up some really interesting dynamics, and I hope we get to see them properly explored.

Khanin is our protagonist, our entry point into this new world. The one we are supposed to relate to, as his universe shifts around him. He claims he doesn't want his royal position, that he's only there to find his father, and yet... it's a little unnerving how quickly he becomes comfortable at wielding the power that he's been given.

He feels rather like a toddler who's picked up a hammer, who doesn't truly understand the implications or the harm that could happen. His scenes causing trouble for Chakri are largely played for humor, yet one wrong move and Chakri could be jobless and disgraced, with no real consequences for Khanin.

And we know his attempts to force Charan to his side are largely driven by trauma and the bond of their early experiences, yet his orders are the very thing that keep pushing Charan further from a true relationship with him. His orders are always about how he feels and what he wants. He wanted to dance with Charan, so he did, without care of what it could mean for Charan's career or reputation. He wanted Charan as his coach, so he played up cutely with the king, without understanding that he is pushing Charan deeper into the viper's nest by doing so.

But as Charan says, he's not a bargaining chip. He genuinely cares for Khanin, but he does not remotely want the kind of relationship with Khanin that he has with the king, one purely of obsequiousness and duty. And that's what Khanin's eagerness to use power will get him, unless he is able to recognize the danger ahead.

On the other hand, for Ramil, power is more like a whip. Something that has been wielded against him and the things he loves his entire life. I imagine that Rachata was the kind of father to burn his child's favorite toy when Ramil didn't behave as expected.

Ramil has never known a life without the whip. And since this is Ramil's experience with power, this is also how he wields it - either a sharp attack at a perceived foe (usually Khanin), or as a tool to wrap up and bind that what he fears losing (Paytai).

But what would Ramil be like without that fear of Rachata's whip? Having a moment to breath. Without living in a constant state of desperation to save what he treasures most.

And then we have Paytai, who is fascinating in his own right. He knows what he means to Ramil, he sees the flinching we all see as he gets beaten. He sees Ramil being upset he returned early on the day he is punished. And most of all we know he dreams of being able to openly dote on Ramil, and tell him he cares to his face, while sleeping as equals in the bedroom.

But Ramil is too bound in this violent cycle with his father to hear such words. He doesn't understand the traditional language of love. And so Paytai puts on the collar, and puts the leash in his master's hand, to show Ramil what he cannot say to him. That it's ok that all he understands is the whip, because Paytai wants to be his whipping boy.

I don't know how this will end, but I do know that Khanin will need to experience a reckoning with his use of power. Also Rachata needs to die. I know some nice caves...

[mechs-headcanons]

all of the Mechanisms that have goggles (or whatever goggles-adjacent thing Marius has, seriously what is that thing called) has broken them so so many times. they've all lost track of how many times they've needed to be fixed or just outright replaced

Tim makes the goggles/ repairs them for himself and the crew. He's not the only one who knows how to, he just insists on doing it

Marius needs glasses and his eyepiece has a prescription lense but whenever he wears it they just. can't properly see out of the other eye. eventually they just started wearing contacts instead (I'm tired and can't think of how to word properly so I hope that makes sense)

Marius and Raphaella both wear glasses/contacts. I swear I've seen pictures of those 2 with glasses.

Jonny wore swimming goggles for a while instead of the fun steampunk ones

Brian's goggles are forever too cracked and broken to be worn properly but he continues to wear them on his hat anyway because he's too stubborn to get rid of them (they were a gift from back when Tim was first settling in. possibly the first gift he ever got from Tim? you can decide if that's a ship thing or not)

the Toy Soldier has stolen goggles many many times. it's just happy to be involved!

-🔦 I want to make a joke so badly but I'm pretty sure some of my mutuals follow this blog and would recognise me instantly. I just think their goggles are cool :(

mmm yeah. they’re constantly breaking their goggles and needing to repair them.

[ravagedacat]

Transformers Fic Idea! (I have no idea what I’m doing, I’ve only posted pictures of art on here before) Okay, this just came to my head and I need to tell SOMEONE.

Alright, Jazz/Prowl fic

Prowl is a world renowned thief (bc he’s always a cop and I wanted to mix things up) that’s finally been caught trying to steal from the Vosian royals. The Winglord sends him to this island/mountain/whatever isolated prison that’s inescapable. He’s the only prisoner with mostly drones running the place.

Some important security mecha get concerned that Prowl is all by himself without sentient supervision. However, the Winglord doesn’t want to waste a superior flight frame on some simple grounder.

This is where Jazz comes in. He’s an Enforcer that was gifted to Vos as part of a trade deal with Polyhex (Polyhex gets some flight frames to help out their navy patrol while Vos gets some grounders to deal with their fellow minorities in the flight city-state).

Except Jazz is a terrible Enforcer. He is one of the rare few that isn’t a cold construct. He’s just some dude that was in between a rock and a hard place and enlisted. He doesn’t really believe in “the cause” because it was against him his whole life. Usually, he just looks the other way when he sees petty crimes being made.

This lands him the job as a security guard for Prowl’s prison. He never actually sees Prowl (although he can interact with him via intercoms). He just makes sure that everything runs properly and signs off on supplies sent to the prison.

Prowl escapes his cell (obviously, he’s too smart for his own good), and now has to figure out how to get past the security system and the guard on duty. Prowl believes that Jazz must be a mastermind like him and that getting around him might be one of his trickiest conquests yet.

Jazz, on the other servo, is bored and decides he might as well start a new hobby. He starts downloading music and figuring out how to write songs.

Thus, ensues a lot of shenanigans where Jazz unknowingly messes up Prowl’s plans that eventually has Prowl falling in love with a “like-minded” individual.

Or something like that. I just thought this up in, like, five minutes. The fic idea needs some work shopping, but I don’t know if I’ll get around to it.

[cynthiav06]

I am in love with this post. This is the post to recommend when you need people to understand that Annabeth's toxic behavior is not a newer or sudden plot hole, but her canonical personality being slowly made more and more apparent with each book.

Annabeth's hubris and need for control will only escalate because she thinks of herself as the catalyst for many successes that aren't primarily hers or fails to acknowledge that she can do almost nothing alone.

For those who point out her MoA quest, what happens in the aftermath of it is far more important. The way I see it, Annabeth aced a key project, but failed the finals. The entirety of her quest up to Arcahe's lair is her using her knowledge and trickery and reminding herself she is not invincible. Hell she is convoluted enough to use her own fatal flaw to connect with Arachne and stop trap her and yet the second she succeeds at something, she immediately forgets caution. Let's her pride overtake even though she is preaching about how dangerous hubris is throughout the whole quest.

Annabeth in her hubris fails to note her surroundings, fails to see the obvious web strands coiled around her. Why? Because she is busy narrating her exploits to the rest of the Seven right there in Arachne's lair, wasting precious time. Time she should have used to transport herself and the Athena Parthenos to safety on Argo II to actually fulfill her mission. I am not in any way implying that Annabeth shouldn't be proud of facing her deepest phobia but the fact that she knows how things get to her head and the fact that she was preaching about it the whole quest while failing to actually control her own hubris is exactly like living in a glass house while throwing stones at others. The fact that she can point the finger at everyone but herself is really telling. She goes on and on about others flaws without ever rectifying her own. Hell it would be a miracle if she actually acknowledged and apologized for her hubris, instead of just preaching empty words.

Her hubris quite literally leads her to Tartarus and she still doesn't learn her lesson, still thinks of her as high and mighty going so far as to police Percy on what he should do with his own powers and forbidding him for using some because SHE thinks it is not natural. That's the crux with Annabeth. She is so proud that anything that exists beyond her scope of understanding is false or abominable. Like a mortal who can see things she can't and navigate the Labyrinth created by a child of Athena better than any demigod in existence, better than Annabeth. A mortal who is "more special" than Annabeth. The Oracle is one of the most influential entities in Greek mythology and is under the protection of the Olympians, of Zeus himself. "The voice of the Gods" quite literally and Annabeth suddenly because of Rachel inhabiting it dismisses the value of an Oracle. She is so far in her head that she uses the word mortal like a slur. She is so insecure about Rachel. She brings her up in Tartarus to make Percy uncomfortable, to keep him on his toes.

Why are we glossing over how awful this is?

Relationship nuances aside. She also doesn't appreciate nor respect Percy properly. She often diminishes his inputs and undermines his intelligence. The most frequent being the nickname seaweed brain. And it is not under a harmless context. Annabeth started saying it as an insult and she means it as an insult.

Exhibit A:

Percy has apparently repeatedly told her he does not like the nickname and yet she continues with it because she believes she KNOWS better. And Percy himself thinks of it as an insult and even ponders on a insult in return that is as bad as Seaweed brain.

To everyone saying Annabeth doesn't mean it that way, oh, she absolutely does. She herself confirms it. She uses it to insult his intelligence. Exhibit B:

If that wasn't enough, Annabeth also doesn't seem to credit Percy for his own achievements or, like the fact that he is complimented and acknowledged. Example?

Reyna is acknowledging and returning Percy's respect with a genuine compliment that he absolutely deserves. Feeling neglected she immediately interjects and Reyna has to then cater to her not just by complimenting her but insulting Percy in the same breath to appease Annabeth. And the fact that Annabeth has the audacity to agree to it in any context is just plain ridiculous.

This is not the only instance of Annabeth undermining Percy's achievements and his intelligence. Whenever Percy gets something before her, she looks at it as if it's a miracle as if Percy couldn’t possibly know more than she does. Would never know more than she does.

Piper is seen mentioning how Annabeth can handle Percy and how she could keep a guy like him under control being her words. And the fact that Annabeth not only agrees but has been actually acting out on this sentiment since book 1 is repulsive. Completely repulsive.

Everyone is always fooled by grand gestures Percabeth tends to have. But grand gestures do not a relationship make. It's the small things that actually matter in a relationship. Understanding, compromises, respecting privacy, making sure you aren't holding back your partner and respecting their boundaries, and so on. All of which are violated by Annabeth at some point or consistently. She thinks nothing of stalking him, of keeping information from him, of controlling him, showing toxic possessiveness, of hitting him and undermining his intellect. She demands and demands, and almsot never has Annabeth returned Percy's level of love, loyalty, or devotion. She doesn't even return basic respect. Their fatal flaws are quite literally toxic together.

Flaws with Annabeth are many, and yes, we are discussing only her problems because she is actively impeding Percy's autonomy and quite literally displaying many negative and downright subtle abusive traits.

Why did Staff of Hermes convince me Percabeth is going to break up in the future?

The nail in the coffin for me when I was rereading the series in terms of me foreseeing that Percabeth will not make it as a couple in the future was this short story. The Staff of Hermes. Not the Judo Flip in MOA mind you which is pretty controversial or even the ending for The Bronze Dragon which is rage-inducing when I reflect upon it, but this short story.

It spoke to me how distant Percabeth were with each other and in terms of their rushed dynamic, how they are doomed as a couple.

Percy has never really been fully comfortable around Annabeth. Even their most romantic moments in BOTL for instance are tinged with anticipation for violence.

Like the volcano kiss

and Percy crashing his funeral

And of course, this comes up briefly in Staff of Hermes as well

The moments are presented as sweet, but the very fact that Percy anticipates being punched or slapped by Annabeth is revealing. It proves that the judo flip is in character for Annabeth but in many ways, Annabeth got worse as she got older. Given she actually flips Percy over and kicks his leg when he talking to Jason in MOA.

That's not even delving into Percy's major emotional insecurities when he is in a relationship with Annabeth, and how in MOA, he is constantly scared to open up to her about the future and uses the analogy of a "glass sculpture" to describe how fragile it feels to him to accidentally break it. Or even how it feels more apparent that Annabeth uses knowledge as a weapon of power to make Percy feel stupid in the relationship to feel superior.

That doesn't come across as someone who is eager to share information because they want to out of genuine passion, that's someone who uses it as a means of power and control.

The sad thing is for Annabeth's character, it makes way too much sense. MOA is a revealing glimpse into her personality but there was already hints of it in her interview in the Bronze Dragon. She does seem to like Percy, but any compliment she might have for him is backhanded at best and insulting at worst.

With that, Annabeth comes across as genuinely believing Percy is annoying her deliberately.

It reminded me of a TikTok I saw just recently where a woman was chatting with her husband about seeing Thunderbolts but he shut her down as it being just a movie. When she got upset, he said to her in order to try and ease the situation was "I love when you get excited it's just annoying sometimes." It was gutting to hear not to mention she was visibly upset and she excused her own husband's faults as a part of his healing journey. You can imagine the comment section in that video btw.

It reminded me of another scene, in fact just before the Judo Flip where Annabeth was blaming Percy for "leaving". She thought this.

Excruciating...

Not to gonna lie. That floored me when I reread that scene. I genuinely couldn't believe anyone would even think that about someone they loved. It's a bit like a man saying how much he hates his wife. Conflict does arise in relationships, but this seems like Annabeth is torn between loving and hating Percy and it's not the healthy sort either.

Not to mention she also said this later in the same book.

I know the flip was bad, but this was another layer where it feels like Annabeth genuinely dislikes Percy and oscillates between hate and love for him. Later on she also develops a fear of Percy after Tartarus, which begs the question why they are even together at this point. Annabeth also admitted she hated Percy does fit with her behaviour as she genuinely seems annoyed with Percy in the books but it becomes really questionable as she gets older and even how she acts towards him.

At one point, can we excuse Annabeth actions as a quirk of "trauma" as she is too young to know differently and using that as shield to excuse shitty behaviour as someone who is meant to be a role model.

Riordan doesn't understand the implications that is here. How it's not a healthy dynamic with Percy, who is also an abuse survivor with a fatal flaw of loyalty. His story means a lot to people and to not look into any of his relationships and how that impacted him would be doing that a disservice with the focus that was presented onto it.

Personal loyalty to stick with people no matter how they might treat you, good or bad. It provides a tragic lens onto Percy who might have Gabe as a reference but Gabe's abuse was more direct; he insulted Percy's intelligence with "brain boy", threatened to punch Percy lights out (and probably did that on occasion) and also financially took advantage of him. Annabeth's is a little different. I don't think Annabeth herself is aware of it completely, but it still doesn't erase the emotional belittling and pressure she puts on Percy throughout the series.

It doesn't change the fact that Percy asked her to stop with the nickname in the Bronze Dragon (and probably before as hinted in TTC) refusing to respect that boundary of Percy, who is never really fully at ease around Annabeth and has major emotional insecurities that have emerged so much more poignantly as a result of the relationship.

So why is the Staff of Hermes so special when this is littered throughout their dynamic across the books? Why was this the nail in the coffin for me?

Well, it's rather simple, actually. It's control.

The pair of them are on a date. Percy had clearly arranged matters. The Great Lawn is a lovely place in Central Park and the internary shows Percy took considerable care into the thought process behind it. We know from the first book Percy in not that fussed on olives and he had chocolates and lemondades with them.

Percy is not made of money, we know this firsthand from the first books but even the fact he able to do something like this for date is quite sweet and thoughtful.

Like that is the Great Lawn for reference. Not a bad place for a first date. On a lovely sunny day at that is.

Now it's infered from Frederick's background even before we further learn in Magnus Chase they come from generational wealth in Boston (and Annabeth technically inheriting the Mansion in the end) he is on the richer end. No one can afford housing in San Francisco that easily or be able to work on Sopwith Camels in TTC without a bit of money. That or Annabeth's stepmother is an underrated breadwinner.

Why is this relevant?

It's essentially Annabeth's expectations of what the date is meant to be in her mind versus what Percy could actually do.

Annabeth's character is one of privilege in the books (she is explicitly white coded not only from her appearance, along with her siblings, but also wealth), both from her home life and Camp by Chiron. Chiron informs Annabeth on nearly everything and presumably allowed her to be a Camp Counsellor at a young age. Despite not ready for some of those responsibilities as we see in her introduction, she is very rude to Percy who she should be able to empathise with his situation of losing a loved one (missed chance there to connect them by Rick), acts out against him and is deeply impatient in answering basic questions about Camp, which is her job. This is part of their poorly constructed Meet-Ugly in the books, and by the time Piper arrives, Annabeth is much better at her introductions but it doesn't change the fact that she wasn't fit for the task initially and presumably treated other Campers like that in search of the One. (I doubt she made many friends because of that)

We learn in The Lost Hero, Chiron rarely kept anything from Annabeth (with the exception of the initial theft of the Bolt and the Romans), and from what we see in the series, this is fairly true. Chiron allows her to know about the Great Prophecy from ten, but she also has information about the Labyrinth in BOTL, despite that being a secret. TLO also explores this, and one of the reasons she has the infamous "You're a coward" Percy scene is because Chiron informed her about where Percy was, and crucially neither of them informed Percy of the wartime developments like with Typhon.

I was never fussed on the You're A Coward scene and especially the dissipated resolution in it meant that the tension between the pair was never truly resolved. It never struck me as particularly romantic so to learn that was some people's favourite scene in TLO had me confused because of how frustrating it is. Especially since Percy was asking for confirmation about Rachel's vision and the possible direction. But because it's Rachel, Annabeth refuses to even entertain the possibility, despite the fact SHE said it.

Annabeth has never really liked Rachel but a part of that, I think comes down to mortality itself. Annabeth constantly dismisses Rachel is because she is "just a mortal." But even the way Annabeth talks about mortality is squint-worthy, given that she is meant to be his mortal tie through the Curse of Achilles.

Like the hidden meaning behind these scenes is Rachel and Annabeth are fighting over Percy but honestly, I think that is poorly done given how spiteful it comes across and how Annabeth says mortal like a slur. It's not even the first time we see her dismissive towards mortals either, she doesn't have a high opinion on her stepfamily in the first books and authorities like cops (which honestly fair) but it does spell a different layer to Annabeth's dislike of Rachel is connected with that dislike of mortals.

It's understandable that another reason why Annabeth might act the way she does is linked to her family and also her inherent pride in being a demigod, a divine child of Athena (Athena is the best after all), and a gift onto her father. Either way, it makes her a poor fit as a mortal tie for the Curse of Achilles.

I do think Riordan was using the Curse of Achilles as a crutch to pair Percy and Annabeth together and to rush the romance between them, given that is the primary reason they got together. But it still doesn't change the fact narratively as a mortal tie, Rachel or even Sally would've made more sense.

I don't even ship the pair but throughout TLO Percy and Rachel have a crucial impact on each other and the choices they make. As we see to Percy, Rachel is a reminder that there is something there for him in the mortal world and, you can see Rachel seeing Percy as an escape from her own life, given how she joined him on the Labyrinth quest on the spot. Rachel is present in reminding Percy he is not the Hero of the prophecy and was there when Percy gave the pithos to Hestia. Later on Percy does the same for her when her moment came with the Oracle.

This is the precursor to Percy turning down immortality and Rachel plays a critical component in that, but is ultimately the reminder for Percy of the broader picture, much like Annabeth is when Percy looks back and thinks of Camp and all those who died when he declines immortality. the only time I believe Percy's mortal tie to Annabeth made sense beyond a romantic level.

Percy is clearly more comfortable around Rachel.

And Percy made to feel guilty for his interactions around Rachel throughout TLO and much later with Annabeth, this is revealed she does this deliberately to Percy even after they have gotten together in order to assert control.

So at this point, it goes beyond Annabeth's jealousy and possessiveness and into control. Annabeth is a complicated character, but it still doesn't change how one can read into her actions and that in the text and present for all to see. Back to the Coward scene in TLO.

Annabeth is emotional and she does have decent reasons to be. She is scared for Percy. We see this when Percy reacts to the prophecy.

More than anything Annabeth is projecting her own emotional insecurity onto Percy in this scene. About his oncoming death and also his feelings towards her.

She is annoyed with Percy presumably not confessing to her when she clearly has emotions for him and for him spending time with Rachel instead. But she presents it as Percy being the coward and for running away, scared. Rather than actually confess her feelings herself. It should be Percy to be the one to do so. Percy is clearly not a coward running from his death and even in terms of their "romantic relationship" at this point, apart from a kiss which came out of nowhere there is not really a lot of reasons for them to be together (yet) Percy reads between those lines over why she is really annoyed.

This, among many scenes, continues a tension between Percy and Annabeth which is never truly resolved and its' not helped with Annabeth and Rachel making up off-screen, which doesn't make sense given how Annabeth seemed to have genuine emity towards Rachel's perceived crush on Percy.

This connects with who is well established as Annabeth as a prideful character but as controlling as well. Annabeth's pride possibly can't accept what she deems as a mediocre dinner for their first month anniversary.

It is genuinely gutting to see Percy, who was doing something nice and presumably this IS the special dinner Annabeth was thinking Percy "promised" her and what she expected him to do instead.

I presume this was the dinner Percy had in mind if he did promise, but for Annabeth she wanted something grander and more important; this wasn't it.

Annabeth wanted to pressure Percy despite him doing something nice; she wanted to keep Percy on his toes, as it were. That's not healthy.

Percy gives a lot in this relationship. He feels obligated to and as we see her, Annabeth expects a lot out of this relationship. A month anniversary is materialistic as hell. Annabeth is also not expected to do anything similar. I would understand Percy's anxiety even further if Annabeth had done something similarly nice, but that isn't the case here.

More often than not, Percy is expected to GIVE and Annabeth often TAKES in the relationship.

As someone who works on celebrating special occasions, this feels petty and ridiculous to expect from a partner. But it's also telling how the picnic dinner was not enough for Annabeth as well since Percy did still do something on their anniversary, even if unintentionally on the anniversary itself. It might not ever be enough for something so "simple".

We know from the series a lot of Percabeth moments are focused on grand and impressive feats. They had their first kiss in a volcano. Annabeth is his mortal tie. They both turned down immortality for each other(they hadn't) and they fell through in Tartarus and walked out together. Etc, Etc.

In many ways they have done a lot together, but it doesn't have the emotional weight it deserves. Percy and Annabeth frankly don't have the chemistry or a real emotional connection as people. Part of that, I think, is due to Riordan clearly trying to push them as a couple before them being friends, and Annabeth's character in particular suffered from this. Stranged from the Red String as it were.

This is meant to be a sweet and domestic moment, and it isn't even a bad idea for a date but it isn't enough. Annabeth had widely different expectations, which can also be a microcosm of how they have completely different views for the future and ideas on how that will turn out. Percy didn't believe a month anniversary was really that important or significant and honestly. He's right. It's not. But Annabeth is not satisfied with a mere picnic for a special dinner and talks about it being more like the year anniversary than a single month.

This is arguably one of their better stories together, too where we see good teamwork and some nice moments between them compared to others. One day I will get into the Bronze Dragon. But for me the focus on the dinner overshadows everything and that is a frequent problem with Percabeth, where there are so much negativity in the relationship I feel gobsmacked whenever I'm expected to clap like a seal whenever they do something positive.

It speaks to me how Percabeth don't really have a lot in common apart from being with each other, fighting threats, or just knowing each other for years.

Percy doesn't appear all that interested in architecture, and Annabeth isn't much into sea life or skateboarding. While Percy had few common threads with Rachel in BOTL which he acknowledged, they both have mutual interests in the environment and peace with each other, which we don't really get with Percabeth. Percabeth feels so performative and stale in comparison that I still struggle to even read them as friends, let alone lovers. Particularly as Annabeth doesn't really respect Percy all that much.

Percabeth desperately needed more time to develop, getting together on the same time a lot of their peers died and the pressure from Camp I don't believe helped later down the line.

Like this comes across as sweet and it is, after all, it's them getting together and then getting chucked in the water. It's a great and grand way to get together for the Finale, YAY!!!!. But it has way too many unresolved issues that we only see blossom even further in HOO with how rushed it was. I find it esoteric. The Curse and by extension, Percy's choice to turn down immortality, feeding into it. Grand reasons to get together but fragile on examination as you wonder what really connects them together and I refuse to see them as this cute and perfect couple, which is the gold standard when they are ironically quite basic.

It makes sense why Percy compares their relationship to a "glass sculpture" and how he really doesn't know Annabeth nor does she in return about Percy. A glass sculpture is something that is so fragile and can break with a good push. It is destined to crash and break. In contrast to Annabeth's grand ideas of making something that will last for thousands of years. (Annabeth also has a connection to glass in her architecture, which I will not get into today but trust me it is there and it is haunting me)

Percy has so much love for Annabeth and treats her with utmost respect in his narration, but that is not really shared to the same degree. It feels so jarring reading their perspectives and how idealised Percy pictures Annabeth in his head, like him remembering her in SON, versus how she acts towards him in MOA

Percabeth is built on grand and lofty moments from the first book which is highlighted with the forced one-sided rivalry all the way to the present to justify them being together. Rather than having something more genuine and real connecting them together.

Annabeth's expecting something more from Percy for their month anniversary is, I feel, emblematic of everything I despise about it.

The fact that Annabeth forgot proves it wasn't about the dinner but control. It was making Percy uncomfortable over "forgetting" despite him doing something nice for her anyway, and that was presumably what he originally had planned for her anyway. It was keeping him on his toes. It's small but very present.

The only reason she isn't mad is that she did get the dinner in the end, and presumably Annabeth knew full well Percy "forgot" but she kept pressuring him anyway. But the fact that she tells Percy to start planning for their second month anniversary...

I don't find that sweet, funny or the one bit pleasant. It feels so materialistic and inconsiderate to Percy, who had a lovely date planned for her with some of her favourite treats and foods. And it didn't look like she cared for that one bit.

That more than anything kills me. The lack of appreciation. And that killed any hopes of their relationship going forward for me.

In fact, she urges Percy to do more. Annabeth doesn't say she will try anything special herself for Percy. No, it's on Percy to pick up the bill here. As I said, Percy is the giver, and Annabeth is the taker in this relationship and that fact is constant.

This story made me read the series completely differently and this is more than a dinner. All Percy can think about is "surviving" a month as Annabeth's boyfriend and hopefully her seeing a future with him, which is quite bleak.

More than anything to me, it just feels tragic reading Percy's attempts to do something nice for his girlfriend being brushed off or discarded like this. Annabeth has a commanding personality, and she promised she would never make things easy for Percy. In that she's right.

This story proves to me, Annabeth will never be satisfied with Percy's attempts and Percy will never feel good enough in this relationship to feel content and genuinely happy in a way that doesn't feel like he's forcing himself to be.

But it did open my eyes and made me consider so much more about why Rick might write a certain way, what he might have been considering when writing Percabeth himself and the likely future they will have in a peacetime without the same worries of a war on the horizon. Cause I can't see it work.

[yjdrabbles123]

Quiet/Loud Chapter 7

Final chapter!

‘Soooo Shauna and Van are trying to see how many free sauces they can take beofre someone comes to tell them to knock it off. And Jackie’s finally decided what she wants so i think everyone should have food soon.’ Lottie pauses, waiting to see if a comment will be made but Mari suddenly feels very aware of how her pants are sticking to her, in a way that makes her really not care that much about Jackie’s usual lengthy deliberation over apple slices or carrot sticks or Shauna and Van’s apparent chaoticness. Lottie waits a moment then clearly decides to just move things along more obviously, tilting her head towards the restaurant. ‘Mel, I think Gen misses you….’

Mel scrambles up, taking the hint for once. ‘Ok-’

‘Wait! Um-’ Mari can feel her own voice going a tiny bit trembly but she has to say it. ‘Tell Gen I’m….I’m not actually mad at her? Please?’

‘Sure!’ Mel runs back across the parking lot, plaits bouncing. So that’s sorted out. Mel is the best of all of them at coaxing Gen back into being ok again and as much as Gen might second-guess the rest of them, she generally trusts whatever Mel tells her.

(To her credit, Mel hardly ever abuses this power.)

When Mel is a reasonable distance away, Lottie opens her arms questioningly- no pressure, never any expectation- and Mari slides out of her seat to stumble into them gratefully. She’s feeling more like herself and now that Lottie’s here and Mel isn’t, the herself that she’s feeling like is the her that wants to cuddle up to Lottie until she feels better and maybe cry a bit more- just to make sure she’s properly done- and that kind of wishes Lottie could pick her up properly and carry her to the bathroom.

‘Feeling a bit better?’

‘Mmm.’ She buries her face a bit deeper into Lottie’s neck- rose bodybutter and that weird incense stuff that Lottie likes burning and that Tai keeps stressing that she’s going to burn the house down with, even with Lottie’s promise that she’ll never light anything unless she’s feeling like her very oldest, most attentive self- and feels Lottie’s hand in her hair.

‘It’s ok, Mar. Everything’s ok.’

And it sort of feels like it might be.

*

‘Pink shorts or black sweatpants?’

Lottie stands in front of her in the McDonalds bathroom, fishing around in the bag of clothes they keep in the trunk. The clothes are constantly being switched around and laundered (and occasionally stolen when the car clothes are particularly cute or comfy- Shauna insists that her green cotton sweater has always belonged to her but Mari absolutely knows differently: she’s keeping the knowledge to herself for when she needs a bargaining chip though).

The sweatpants are closer to what she was wearing before so she picks those, even though it’s not like anyone is going to be fooled into thinking they’re the same. She doesn't need Lottie's help to change or anything- she’s not feeling that small- but she doesn't mind when Lottie kneels to fold the cuffs up to make them short enough to fit her. It’s nice to feel like Lottie is taking care of her, like she’s happy to do small things like that without Mari needing to ask.

She also doesn't let herself hold Lottie's hand when they join the others at the table (or let her think too much about how they’d originally planned to just eat on the road so that they could be home in time for everyone to have some downtime before bed, or what Van is going back to the car to clean up when she slips out as soon as Mari and Lottie come in) because again, she’s not a baby or anything- but once she’s in her place in the corner of the booth, she lets herself edge in closer and closer until she’s cuddled up to Lottie’s warm side.

Lottie slips an arm around her and quietly reminds her to eat. The food doesn’t taste as good as it usually does but Lottie’s smile when she starts to pick at her fries is enough to keep her going.

Jackie is exchanging sips of milkshake with Tai as they try to work out if there actually is a difference in taste between the different flavours- Jackie insists there is, Tai says they’re basically the same- and next to them, Nat and Shauna have their heads bent over Shauna’s pony, passing Shauna’s biro between them as they modify it.

(There has been, Mari learns, some heated discussion over pony colours, since it appears that while everyone WANTED the pink pony, only Van had actually gotten one and had also, unusually for her, refused to swap, gift or even lend out.)

Nat carefully draws a thick ring of biro-ink eyeliner around the pony’s big blue eyes and Shauna nudges her, reminding her to be careful and thus making the line waver. Nat glares but- ever the peacemaker- doesn’t try to stab Shauna with the pen or hit her with the pony, which is what Mari’s first impulse would be.

Gen- looking only a tiny bit like she’s been crying- is helping Mel make their ponies gallop between the milkshakes. 

‘Ogo! Ajuas!’

Mel flips her hat off her head, trapping both ponies and Gen’s hand beneath it and declaring it to be an ambush. She shoots a questioning glance at Mari when she sees Mari is watching- did I say it right?- and although her pronunciation is definitely a little off, it feels so good to hear Mel using the same exclamations on purpose that Shauna had wrinkled her nose in confusion at when Mari had used them in a game last week that she nods anyway.

‘You need to draw a rose.’ Suddenly Shauna is thrusting her formerly lemon yellow pony under Mari’s nose along with the slightly blotchy blue biro she keeps in her pocket for sudden writing emergencies.

‘She needs tattoos-’ Nat puts in, by way of explanation and Shauna nods.

‘Do it here- right here-’

She wouldn’t normally let Shauna tell her what to do but also there’s something nice in things seeming sort of normal and she is proud that she learnt how to draw roses that look like proper roses so she’s quite pleased at the chance to show it off.

‘I’m doing a skull too,’ she informs them as the rose takes shape- just to let Shauna know that there are limits to how much she’ll just blindly obey- and Nat’s eyes light up. 

‘Yes! Do a skull with a rose on it!’

Lottie gets up to get a milkshake while the second skull is being executed slightly shakily by Shauna- Mari is keeping her feedback to a minimum to preserve the peace- and Van slides in next to her, nudging her with her shoulder.

‘No happy meal?’

She shakes her head, wondering if Van is going to give her a Jackie-talk about needing to make sure she eats enough (and hoping that if she is that Nat and Shauna will get up and go somewhere else so she can explain properly, that the food choices had felt like too much when it came to order which is why Lottie let her have just a vanilla cone). But instead Van just slides the much-coveted pink pony out of her hoody sleeve, like a magician with a tiny plastic rabbit. ‘Think you could make use of this for me?’

There’s a collective little Aw from the unfortunate havers of the non pink ponies, while Van raises her voice slightly to remind them that Mari didn’t get one at all.

She’d usually flaunt it a little- and she does enjoy turning it over in her hands, running her fingers over the shiny hair and the little rose icon on the flank. It’s definitely the best one- almost like one you could get from a store, rather than a McDonalds.

She waits til attention has drifted away a bit and slides over to where Mel and Gen are constructing a stable out of an empty fry box.

‘Um…hi’.

‘Hi…’

There’s a moment of silence between them all and Mari wills them to hear what she still can’t say out loud. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

Then she slides the pink pony over to Mel, hoping she’s doing it as cool and casually as Van made it look.

‘Um…..do you want this?’

Mel’s eyes light up but she looks confused too.

‘Don’t you?’

‘Yeah.’

She wants Mel to know it’s a proper I’m-sorry present, rather than something she doesn’t care about. 

Luckily Mel seems to understand.

‘Thanks.’

Gen looks up. ‘Do you want to play?’

‘Are you making a stable?’

‘No, a piercing studio. Shauna thinks she’s so cool because her pony has tattoos. And I found a thumbtack in the car.’

‘Oh.’

‘Do you want to help?’

She does. So she does.

****

Andddd its finished! To the anon who sent the initial request, I hope you dont mind it became a saga!

Let me know if you liked it or had any thought about the headcanons, I love to hear what people think!

[asher-agere]

hello asher! i love your account. i was wondering if you'd feel comfortable doing babyspace chuuya headcanons + cg dazai? i understand your age range for him is 3-6, so it's perfectly fine if you choose to turn this down. thank you :3

YAY I MADE IT TO THE NEXT ONE. MORE BABY CHUUYA FOR THE WORLD. And thank you so much for saying you love my account! Hehe you’re so sweet

Baby Chuuya + Caregiver Dazai

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

⛦ Starting off with the age range! Since receiving this request I’ve actually upgraded his age range to be 3-7 normally. But! This isn’t kiddo Chuuya! It’s an itty bitty baby! Soooo I’m lowering his age range to be 1-4 instead! Covering the baby age range pretty well, but also like there’s still a chance of him being on the younger side of toddler age range because I’m sorry he’s so toddler coded I can’t help myself. But he’s mostly a baby!! Most of the time he’s more in the 1-3 range it’s just sometimes he’s a whole 4 years old

₊ ⊹ This is. A stolen idea but I need to make sure it sees the proper light of day. On my last baby Chuuya post @lullabymeows talked about Chuuya flipping Dazai off. But like manually because he’s lacking motor skills? Like he needs to push his other fingers down. And that’s just the cutest thing ever??? He absolutely does that. The sassy baby ever I love him so much I’m holding that headcanon so so so close to my heart now and forever

⛦ Nicknames time! I love Soukoku and their endless list of nicknames… Dazai uses the most pet names since Chuuya struggles with talking! The usual ones like “Mutt” and “Slug”, but also ones that emphasize how little Chuuya is! Both in headspace and size hehe. So things like “Chibi” and “Little One”! Chuuya tries saying “Dazai” and “Mackerel”, but it ends up just being “Dada” and “Mama” which Dazai teases him about! Poor baby can’t talk right… If Chuuya gets too embarrassed Dazai backs off on the teasing though (Just a little bit)

₊ ⊹ Chuuya wants to be active! He has soooo much energy. But little to no coordination (¬⤙¬ ) You know what that means? Tummy time! He just gets laid out on a mat with some toys within reach! He gets to wiggle and squirm around and it’s so much fun! He likes rolling over onto his back and floating his plushies with his ability! Though he starts crying because he’s uncomfortable ( ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ ) Poor Dazai is a little exasperated because. Chuuya asked for tummy time. So why is he on his back? Obviously he’ll be uncomfortable on his back! But the baby doesn’t have that much logical reasoning… Dazai can’t stay mad of course

⛦ Little Chuuya loves to color! He can’t color in the lines to save his life, all his pictures look very messy. But it’s so much fun! He especially likes coloring in puppies of course! Chuuya doesn’t like drawing because he’s so uncoordinated that his drawings are completely unidentifiable. Which is fine if it’s just Chuuya! But Dazai guessing the drawings wrong really upsets him… So they just stick to coloring! And Dazai treasures each and every picture! He always keeps at least one in his wallet and plenty on the fridge

₊ ⊹ If you ask Chuuya… Dazai’s a super annoying caregiver ( •̀⤙•́ ) Dazai’s always teasing and taunting him… And it’s not fair! What does Chuuya do when he’s mad? Drowns himself in plushies of course. He’ll bury himself in his dog plushies, because most of his plushies are dogs let’s be honest. Then Dazai won’t wanna go near him! Cause Dazai hates dogs duh. Dazai’s solution is to whine and complain about how lonely he is without his baby in his arms! Eventually Chuuya caves of course and goes back to Dazai. But he pouts for awhile!

⛦ Chuuya definitely isn’t able to talk properly. Words are hard for an itty bitty baby! So technically he’s nonverbal? But that doesn’t mean he’s quiet! Oh no definitely not. This baby is babbling constantly. It’s hard to get him to stop babbling honestly! Dazai loves mistranslating the babies babbles even is he knows what Chuuya’s really asking for. But if Chuuya’s really excited about something Dazai won’t mess with him to much hehe. He’ll just encourage conversation! He wants to hear alllll his babies thoughts!

₊ ⊹ Ok normally I see Chuuya as a juice drinker. BUT. There’s something so baby about drinking milk… I can’t see him liking plain milk though, or even angel milk. You know what he absolutely loves though? Chocolate milk! It’s sugar which means he still feels energetic but it’s still thick and more filling like milk. He usually likes it cold but if he’s snuggling down for a nap or something he does really like hot cocoa! It’s just the warm milk makes him sleepy. He doesn’t want that when he’s trying to play! Then he won’t be able to focus on playing!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

So PJSK fans… Somehow I’m ranking like top 3000??? I guess I’m tiering idk I didn’t mean to it just happened- I wonder if I can get to top 1000 :0

[DNI ID: A white box with a brown border on the left and an orange border on the right. Dazai on the left and Chuuya on the right. Brown text reads “DNI if your blog isn’t child safe” orange text reads “I will block NSFW accounts” End ID]

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"I KNOW, SWEETHEART"

I WROTE ANOTHER FIC WITH CHIBS

I hope you like it! 🖤😌☝

WARNING: EXPLICIT SMUT UNDER THE CUT

Chibs and you had known each other for quite some time, when Tig introduced you.

You owned a tattoo shop in town near his headquarters, and since his sons often wanted to add new tattoos to their collection, Trager told him to come to your studio.

He flattered you by saying you were the best tattoo artist in town, making you blush like a tomato, and he let out a husky laugh at your reaction.

That day, you were finishing up the work on Jax's back grimace when he walked in.

His gray hair was slicked back, and his sunglasses were perched delicately on his head.

His gaze scanned the shop until he found you, and he couldn't help but smile at the sight.

Visiting you was definitely one of the best things he could do all day.

"You're here sooner than I expected," you greeted, nodding your head.

"I'm glad to see you too, love," he murmured, making you smile.

"How's it going?" he asked, pointing at Jax's back.

"I'll be done in fifteen minutes," you announced. "Sit down, feel free to feel at home, you know," you whispered, looking away for a moment to observe him. "Do you want some coffee or something?"

"No, thank you sweetheart," he smiled, and you nodded.

You focused your gaze on the grim reaper's robes while Chibs watched closely as you slid the needle over Jax's skin, as if it were a blank canvas that you were delicately and expertly filling.

You were so focused that Chibs was sure that even if there was a huge commotion outside, you wouldn't lose focus.

He looked through the windows at the sun rising over the horizon, and for the first time, he wished the club's jackets weren't made of leather.

I mean, he loved the material, but it was clear that when they created the first nine, they hadn't taken the Californian heat into account.

"That's it," you announced, putting the needle aside. "Let it cure properly this time, okay?" "You're right," you said to Jax in a scolding tone, which made the vice president give an amused smile. "Last time you put your shirt on early, and we both know what happened next."

"Don't worry, darling" he whispered, winking at you. "I'll spend more time shirtless if that's what you want."

"You know I didn't mean it like that," you blurted out, your cheeks flushed. "I'll be back in a couple of weeks," he said. "I have some ideas for some new tattoos."

"I'll be here," you smiled as he placed a loving kiss on your cheek.

He walked over to Chibs after saying goodbye to you, to tell him he had to take care of something that had happened with Nero and the prospects.

The Scotsman, as always, asked him if he needed help, but Jax shook his head, indicating he had it under control.

The president of the sons hopped on his Harley and left the place as quickly as he had come, leaving the two of you alone.

You gestured with your head for him to come closer to you.

"Sit down," you asked. "I need to clean the needles and the machine, and I'll be right with you."

"Okay. Take your time, doll," he whispered, taking a seat across from you.

He watched you clean the needles, grab a new bottle of cream, and take a sip from your glass of ice water before you turned to him.

"What was on your mind?" "You asked, placing your hands on your knees in anticipation, while Chibs tried not to misunderstand the question, failing miserably.

"A bat," he replied confidently. "Here," he pointed to his collarbone with his hand. "With its wings outstretched."

"Okay," you nodded, beginning to memorize the design in your mind as you prepared the needles and paint you'd need. "We can look for a design in the catalog or…"

"No need," he stopped you gently. "Tattoo me your own design," he asked. You nodded. It was the first time he'd ever said that to you, so you were very excited.

"Great!" "So, let me refill the can of black paint," you murmured, turning to grab the other bottle from the cart. "Take off your shirt," you asked, "please."

"I thought you'd never ask," he said playfully, causing you to punch him in the shoulder in a friendly manner.

"Don't get so cocky, Telford," you laughed, trying to keep your breath from catching in your throat at the sight of his exposed chest skin, accompanied by his tattooed arms.

You placed the needle against his skin and began tracing the outline of the bat, following the drawing you had in your mind.

First the wings, then the head, and finally the small legs.

Then, with a finer needle, you began to add the details.

The eyes, the teeth, and the wing bones, all under the watchful eye of the Scotsman, who, having had more tattoos and being used to pain, hardly felt you were sticking him with the needle.

"Have you had a lot of work today?" he asked, just to talk about something.

"No, people don't feel like tattooing, it's so hot out there" you laughed, "but you're not the kind of person you are, are you?"

"Exactly, love, I'm not," he smiled as you changed needles to fill the animal's body with the black paint. "How's it turning out?"

"Good, as always," you replied, very smug. "You're lucky Trager recommended you come to my studio," you commented. "I know a couple of guys who could have made you look like a map."

"I'm glad my brother told me to come here; otherwise, I wouldn't have met you."

"Does that mean you liked meeting me?" you asked, hardly believing what you had just heard.

"Of course," he blurted out, almost offended, making you laugh. "Otherwise, where else would I go to get tattooed?"

"Sure," you smiled.

Then something suddenly happened. It was as if the world around you had stopped, and only the two of you existed.

You held each other's gaze for a few moments, during which time Chibs picked up the needle you were tattooing him with and placed it on the tray of the cart beside him.

Unable to help himself, he lowered his gaze to your lips, and you did the same.

You didn't know which of you had moved first, but you did know that he had pulled you straight into his lap.

You were careful not to rest your hands on the newly completed tattoo, instead holding onto his shoulders to keep from falling backward.

"My God, sweetheart, you're even prettier up close," he whispered, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "I didn't think that was possible, but here we are."

"Chibs…" you gasped as he held your hips, equally gentle and rough. "Please…"

"What do you want, baby?" "Say it," he asked in a whisper. "I want to hear you beg."

"I need you to…" you swallowed hard. "Kiss me, please."

A lopsided smile spread across his lips before he placed them on yours.

You shifted onto his lap as he explored every corner of your mouth with his tongue, tugging your lower lip between his teeth, causing you to sigh against his lips.

He lowered his hands to the short black skirt you were wearing, and a shaky gasp escaped your lips as you felt his fingers trail up your leg and linger at your knee.

"This is going to have to be quick, love," he warned. "Believe me, if it were up to me I'd be worshipping you for hours, but Jax asked me to…"

"It doesn't matter how much time we have," you cut him off. "Just do it now, please."

Chibs gave an amused smile as he stripped off his pants and aligned himself with your entrance.

He slipped his fingers under your skirt and let out a husky laugh that made you even wetter.

"Without underwear?" he questioned. "You're a very naughty girl, aren't you?"

"Maybe. But you can't deny that you don't…"

You didn't have time to finish your sentence, because the Scotsman had moved his hips forward to thrust into you.

You dug your nails into his back, a gesture that far from displeasing him, he rather liked.

When you started moving, Chibs thought he was going to completely lose his fucking mind.

At what point had the roles reversed and now you were the one in charge? He didn't know, but fuck, he loved it when you were in control. So he let you do it.

"Look at you, coming undone around my cock," he growled. "Is this what you wanted?"

"Yes," you gasped. "I'm so close…" Chibs, please, I… need…

"I know, sweetheart" he whispered. "Be a good girl and cum for this old man."

That's exactly what you did.

You came hard against him as he pulled out of you and caught his breath.

You glanced at each other and couldn't help but giggle at what had just happened.

"This…" you took a deep breath. "Has to happen again," you decreed.

He smiled.

"I more than agree," he whispered. "Next session?"

"Next session," you smiled, giving him one last kiss before he left.