#it was such a delightful interaction I love talking to strangers sometimes

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

Yesterday at a store my friend picked up a pair of shoes and mentioned how difficult it would be to get away with murder wearing them because of the pattern on the bottom. The lady who owns the store was nearby and she chimed in about how she’s terrified that someone is going to murder someone while wearing shoes from her store because all of them have the store name on the bottom and I love strangers sm

[valwrites-stuff]

Hi, you write so beautifully for current James and I was wondering if I could request one, if that’s alright please? They both meet by chance and feel some connection towards each other. Reader isn’t very confident, but decides to give in and experience some loving even if it’s temporary and maybe not real. They spend an intense night full of passion, lots of emotions, different poses, etc. James is very sweet and worships all of her. They also talk to each other about everything and their bond only gets stronger. Day comes and he wakes up alone in bed as she left knowing that there never could be something between them. Feel free to add either a happy or sad ending. Thank you!! ❤️

So sorry this took me so long, I hope this is what you had in mind ❤️

Sweet connection

James Hetfield x Reader ☆ Fluff and Smut 

Beneath the fluorescent lights on the inside of the gas station, the day unfolds like a cracked vinyl record, the same monotonous tune repeating itself with every passing hour. You stand behind the counter, absentmindedly sorting through a delivery of tobacco products. It was just another boring day where customers came and went, each interaction as forgettable as the last.

“Hey, can I get one of these, please?” a voice calls out, breaking through your dull concentration.

You turn, expecting to see a tired regular or a bleary-eyed traveler seeking a caffeine fix. Instead, your heart leaps into your throat as you process the sight before you, the unmistakable silhouette of James Hetfield, standing in front of you with casual confidence.

You blink as the world suddenly dims, the buzzing lights and distant sounds fading into the background. “Oh, um... sure!" You manage, scolding yourself for how utterly starstruck you feel. You can practically feel your cheeks turning crimson.

James raises an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “Is that a yes?” His voice was rich and deep, like the heavy thrum of a guitar riff, sending a delightful shiver down your spine.

“Y-yes! Right away!” you stammer, focusing your attention back to the display of cigars as if the neatly arranged packages would provide you with the composure you desperately need. Your fingers tremble as you fish one out, nearly dropping it twice before you turn around to the register and the Metallica frontman.

As you scan the item, you risk a glance at him. James was studying you with an amused expression, those piercing blue eyes strangely warm, as if they saw more than just a stranger. “You a fan?” he asks with a chuckle, seemingly being able to see right through you, leaning against the counter, his presence both intimidating and thrilling.

“Uh, yeah! I mean, I am, but—” you interrupt yourself, unsure how to express your admiration without sounding like a babbling fangirl. “I just didn’t expect to see you here. Like, in this... gas station,” she replied awkwardly.

He chuckles again, that rich sound echoing in your ears, and you can't ignore how his soft laughter makes you feel all fluttery inside. “Yeah, I tend to haunt the unlikeliest of places."

“I can see that,” you say with a shy smile, thankful that your voice seems to be regaining some of its earlier confidence. You hand him the sealed package and your fingers brush slightly, sending a jolt of electricity through you. His gaze lingers on yours, and time feels like it has hit the brakes.

He glances around, as if noticing for the first time how small and mundane the place is. “You know, it’s nice to get away from the limelight sometimes. Just bought a house around here. That's if you're wondering what I'm doing in a small town like this." 

His words take you by surprise. You had never expected to hear something so personal from a rockstar. It was as if he felt a strange sense of trust in you, despite knowing you are a fan.

"I can understand that, Mr. Hetfield," you reply, your voice trembling slightly. "It must be hard to live a life in the spotlight."

He nods, a hint of weariness in his eyes. "Yeah. Sometimes, it's nice to just be... normal, you know? To have a quiet place to retreat to."

"It's nice here, would you like me to show you around sometime?" You ask, the question spilling from your lips before you can stop it.

He looks at you, surprised, then a slow smile spreads across his face. "I wouldn't mind that," he says, his eyes twinkling.

"Well I...you know where you can find me." You smile and watch his curious features before he pays for his cigars and gas.

You talk for a few more minutes, your conversation flowing effortlessly despite your nervous demeanor.

As he turns to leave, you can't help but feel a strange sense of connection with him. Despite your vastly different lives, you share a common desire for peace and simplicity.

"Thank you." he says, a genuine smile gracing his lips. "It's nice to talk to someone who understands. Oh and call me James."

With that, he strides out of the gas station, leaving behind a lingering sense of wonder and an unexpected memory. As you watch his car disappear into the distance, you can't shake the feeling that you just had an encounter with a man who, beneath the rockstar persona, was simply a human being longing for simple connection.

You feel your gaze drawn towards the window, the cars passing by, a welcoming distraction from your rambling thoughts. Lost in your reverie, you barely notice the incessant buzzing of a phone.

Glancing down at your own, you realize with a start that it was not the source of the noise. Your eyes fall on the foreign device resting on the counter—James' phone. A sigh escapes your lips as you realize the predicament.

Tossing up your options, you decide to return the phone after work. You know you could inquire in town about his new abode or simply search for his distinctive car.

Curiosity mingles with a sense of anticipation as you plot your evening adventure. You'll find a way to make his forgotten phone a bridge, a chance to cross the space that separates you, a chance to maybe find your way into his life.

You clock out of work at the end of your shift and get into your car, ready to face your mission. As you drive your heart beats a little faster and after a few wrong turns, you finally navigate your way to a lakeside neighborhood, where the air carries the scent of pine and tranquility.

There you spot it, a sleek black luxury SUV parked in the driveway of a very modern style country house. You park your own car and step out, your pulse racing. As you approach the house, each step is a mixture of excitement and trepidation. What if he’s not home? What if he is? Would he even remember you?

You walk up to the front door, the air thick with anticipation and ring the doorbell. Moments later, the door swings open, revealing that familiar face. He blinks in surprise, and his eyes widen in recognition. "It's you!" he exclaims, and suddenly, the world fades away.

“Your phone,” you manage to say, holding it out like a peace offering. His soft laugh dances through the evening air.

"Oh wow, there it is, I had no clue where I left my phone, I was searching the whole house. Can't believe you went through all this trouble to bring it back to me despite not knowing where to find me...," he says, his voice filled with gratitude.

"It was no trouble at all...it's a small town you know..." you reply, trying to keep your cool despite the fact that you were standing in front of one of your biggest idols. "I just wanted to make sure you got it back."

"Well thank you, I appreciate it," James says, a small smile playing on his lips. "Would you like to come in for a drink? I feel like I owe you one."

You can't believe your luck. Not only are you standing at James Hetfield's front door, but now he is inviting you into his home. "Oh I...I would love to," you say, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice.

As you walk into his house, you can't help but take in every detail. A very rustic farmhouse style but at the same time very modern and the air was filled with the faint scent of incense. James leads you to the living room and offers some coffee which you gladly accept.

"So, I didn't get your name did I?" James asks from the kitchen, before taking a seat on the couch next to you after placing two cups of coffee on the wooden table in front of you.

"I'm Y/N," you reply, feeling a rush of nerves at the thought of actually having a conversation with him.

"Well, Y/N, I have to say, I'm impressed by your honesty and determination, I haven't even realized I lost my phone for the longest time, and that anyone who found it would respect my privacy is quite a rare thing I guess...," James says, his eyes meeting yours.

You feel your cheeks flush at his words. "Oh I promise I haven't touched it since finding it on the counter...I just couldn't let your phone go missing," you say, trying to sound casual.

James chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Well, I'm glad you did. And who knows, maybe it was fate that brought us together. It's nice to get to know someone from around the area you know." 

You can't believe what you are hearing. Is James Hetfield actually flirting with you? You take a sip of your coffee, trying to calm your racing heart.

As the evening goes on, you talk and laugh, sharing stories and getting to know each other. And as the hours pass, you realize that maybe, just maybe, this chance encounter at work could turn into something more for real.

"You know I'm having quite a hard time these days, after my recent divorce..." James says as he's staring ahead as if to avoid your gaze despite deciding to tell you about his personal problems.

"Oh I'm sorry to hear that. I can only imagine how difficult it must be for you," you reply sympathetically, reaching out to touch his hand in a gesture of comfort.

"Yeah, it's been tough. I never thought I would be going through something like this. I thought she was the one, you know?" James says, his voice filled with a hint of sadness.

"I understand. It's never easy when a relationship comes to an end, especially when you thought it would last forever," you say, trying to offer some words of encouragement.

"I just feel a little lost, like I put so much of myself into that relationship, and now it's gone," James tells you.

"It's okay to feel that way, James. It's all a part of the healing process. Just remember that you are not alone, and there are people who care about you and want to help you through a difficult time," you say, squeezing his hand gently.

"I appreciate that, I really do. It's just hard, you know." James says.

"Take it one day at a time. Allow yourself to process your feelings. And remember, there is always hope for a brighter future, even in the darkest of times," you say, offering him a small smile of reassurance.

"Thank you for listening, and for being here for me. It means more than you know," James says, finally meeting your gaze with a look of gratitude in his eyes.

"Of course, James. I want to see you happy. You deserve nothing less," you say, giving his hand one final squeeze before letting go.

As you sit in silence, the weight of James' words hanging in the air, you realize that sometimes the greatest act of kindness is simply being there for someone in their time of need. And in that moment, you know that you will do whatever it takes to help James find his way back to happiness. As much as you can do that is.

"Thank you, really. I'll be fine, I just had to get away for a bit, so I came here and bought this house. You know a place I can come back to whenever I need to clear my head for a while."

"You sure made the right decision like you'll love it here and this view? Look at that, it's fantastic." Admires the sight out of the large windows, giving you an amazing overview of the lake outside. 

As you stare out into the scenery, James nods but keeps his eyes on you, having a much better view, admiring the person in front of him, yearning for something that makes him feel desired and something that reminds him of his once felt love towards someone. 

The sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, reflected in the still surface of the lake. "I know it's beautiful," James says, his voice calm and soft, "but not quite as beautiful as you..."

You turn your head, catching the warmth in his gaze. He had moved closer, his arm resting against the back of the sofa, his hand gently resting on your thigh. A shiver runs down your spine, not from the cool air, but from the intensity of his eyes.

"James..." you breathe, your heart hammering against your ribs. He doesn't speak, simply leans in, his lips coming to brush yours in a feather-light touch. His kiss was slow, a gentle exploration, tasting of the unspoken desires.

You feel a rush of emotions flood through you as you melt into his touch. The world around you seems to fade away as you lose yourself in the moment. His hand moves from your thigh to cup your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your skin.

You can feel the heat between you, the electricity crackling in the air. It seems to be a moment of pure connection, a moment where everything else ceases to exist. You can feel his heartbeat against your chest, matching the rhythm of your own.

You kiss him back eagerly as he pulls you closer. And then, suddenly, he grabs your leg and pulls you into his lap, holding onto your thighs to keep you seated.

His touch is electric, sending a jolt of desire through you as you look into his eyes, dark with desire. "Do you want this?" he whispers against your lips, his breath hot against your skin.

You nod, unable to form words as you lean in to kiss him again. The connection between you is intense, a fire burning between you that threatens to consume you both.

Breaking the kiss for a moment, you look into his eyes and whisper, "Yes, I need this..."

And with that, you surrender yourself to the passion that had been building between you, letting go of all inhibitions as you give yourself over.

You can feel James' hands grabbing onto your hips, pulling you closer to him, body pressed against his. The contact is making you shiver and your heart pound in your chest. 

His lips find your neck, placing hot kisses on your skin and you moan softly, hands moving to the hem of his shirt, fingers finding their way underneath the fabric, feeling his warm skin. 

Your touch makes goosebumps rise on James' skin, his lips moving to your ear, breath hot against your flesh.

"You're so fucking sexy," he whispers, his hands moving to your thighs, fingers digging into them. You bite your bottom lip, hands wandering to the front of his pants, your fingers nervously fumbling with his belt. You can already feel the hardness through James' jeans, your body influenced by the action.

You let out a soft breath as your digits finally manage to undo his belt, hand slipping inside his pants, your fingers wrapping around his hard cock.

"Fuck, Y/N," James gasps, his hips bucking into your hand. You start to stroke him, hand moving up and down his length, your thumb brushing over the head of his cock, spreading the precum that had leaked out. You can feel him getting harder in your palm and you lean forward once more, lips finding his, your tongues dancing together as you continue to stroke him.

"I want you, James," You whisper against his mouth and James lets out a soft groan, his large hands moving to your ass, pulling you closer to him.

"I want to feel you inside of me." You murmur into the kiss. "Fuck, if you continue doing this, I'm gonna cum," James moans as you can feel him getting closer. 

He lets out a soft sigh, his hands moving to your shirt, undoing the buttons. You squeal internally as he removes it from your shoulders, hands going to your bra, undoing the clasp. As the bra falls away, James's hands replace it, cupping your petite breasts, thumbs gently brushing over peaked nipples. He kneads the soft flesh, his touch both possessive and adoring. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, his lips finding yours again, his kiss tender and deep.

You moan into the kiss, body trembling with need. James's expert touch drives you wild, and you can feel your pussy getting wetter by the second. You pull away slightly, eyes dark with desire. "James, please."

In response, James moves to gently push you down onto your back, bare skin touching the texture of the sofa and your legs wrapping themselves around his waist. 

He kicks off his shoes before pulling the shirt over his head, your eyes locked on his delicious appearance, body well maintained, tattooed arms strong and ready to keep you in place.  

James's hands move to the waist of your pants, quickly undoing the button and pulling the zipper down. With a swift motion, he peels the pants off, leaving you in only a pair of skimpy lace panties.

James gazes at your naked body, a look of appreciation on his face. "You're gorgeous," he breathes, his eyes raking over your form. "I can't wait any longer."

With that, James is on his feet and quickly sheds the rest of his own clothes, his cock erect and proud, throbbing with need. "I want you inside of me," you murmur.

Groaning, James climbs back onto the sofa, hovering over your body, hooking his inked fingers into the waistband of your panties before pulling them down your legs. Left bare, he situates himself between your spread legs. He rubs his tip teasingly against your wet entrance, causing your hips to buck instinctively. "You want it, baby?" he asks, his voice thick with desire. "Tell me how much you want this." 

"I want it so bad." You pant, eyes fixed on where both of your bodies join. "Please, fill me up. I need to feel you, take me hard."

James doesn't need to be told twice. With a savage growl, he plunges deep into your tight and welcoming heat. You cry out, your back arching off the sofa as you feel every inch of James's thick cock filling you up.

He starts to move, his hips snapping as he establishes a steady rhythm. Your hands grasp his ass, pulling him closer, urging him to go deeper. "Fuck me, James," you moan, voice breathy. "Harder, please."

James complies, slamming into you needily with each powerful thrust. Your eyes roll back in your head as you cling to James, nails digging into his flesh. "That's it, baby," James growls, his hands holding onto your thighs, spreading them wider to allow even deeper penetration. "Take it all. You're doing so good."

The sound of your flesh slapping together fills the room, accompanied by your whines of pleasure. James leans down, capturing a swollen nipple with his mouth, sucking and biting gently as he continues to thrust. "You gonna cum for me?" he urges, his voice rough. "Let me feel you come around my cock."

Your soon to be happening orgasm hits you like a freight train. You cry out, body shaking uncontrollably as waves of pleasure washes over you. James feels your pussy clenching rhythmically around his cock, milking him, and it's all he can take. With a few more powerful thrusts, he spills himself deep inside of you, moaning freely as his release coats your gummy walls.

Collapsing onto your sweaty body, James tries to catch his breath, his own body slick with sweat. Your arms wrap around him, a satisfied smile on your face. "That was incredible," you whispered, stroking James's silver hair.

James chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. "We're not done yet," he promises, already feeling his cock stirring again. "I have a feeling this night is going to be very long and very satisfying."

And it was. James and you explore each other's bodies with relentless passion, discovering new ways to pleasure each other with each passing hour. It was a night of uninhibited desire, one that both would remember with intense satisfaction for a very long time.

The sheets were a tangled mess, and your bodies were spent, but the smile on your faces said it all. It was a night of pure, unadulterated, erotic bliss but it all seemed to end too soon when James awoke in his bed by early morning, left with nothing but a cold and empty mattress next to him, your presence still lingering in every cell of his body, making him let out a sigh as he stares at the ceiling wondering when he deserves to feel that certain kind of happiness again, not just for one simple night but for a brighter future.

But little did he know that you would come back with a warm smile and a fresh breakfast waiting for him, driving all the way to the best bakery in town by early morning, hoping he would still be asleep and not sad about your disappearance. And after the sun rises he would be one happy man with wonderful hopes for the future. 

[kxttsstuff]

Showing 💗Love💗 and that you ✨Care✨ in Borrower manners.

(These will be listed in very ambiguous contexts, platonic or romantic (unless stated otherwise) for my own convention)

🫀;; Borrowers tend to be a little clumsy when expressing affection, this is because they rarely would interact with strangers and even more so with humans. If a borrower didn't tell you verbally how much they enjoy your presence, it might not be because they like you less but rather because they aren't used to it, and resort to their cultural practices which send the message just as well if not better;

💌;; In a culture where taking things is not only good but encouraged, one could only imagine that sharing means caring. Sharing your resources which are so valued, is a form of saying “I understand what you're going through and I want to make your life easier” in a subtle way. In most human cultures, sharing things is more about common sense and courtesy taught since childhood, while borrowers consider it a display of empathetic affection since they don't feel socially pressured to share with someone nor expect people to share their things with them just because.

💌;; Talking about sharing, we must speak about gifting culture as a universal borrower “I love you”. Gifting is an act of love, and even though they appreciate all kinds of gifts, they seem to prefer gifting and receiving things that can give the other a practical advantage. We can sum the most common gifts in two categories; food or warmth. Some borrowers might also find joy in receiving things that they sometimes have to leave behind, like shiny objects.

💌;; Hand-crafted, practical gifts are extremely good for bonding since they hold a sentimental value as well as a survivalist one. For example, it is very common to give blankets, scarves or warm meals. Borrowers appreciate someone taking their valuable time to make something for someone else, so they could find little to no value in the expensive, superficial gifts humans give to each other.

💌;; Although this is highly personal, since borrowers seek warmth, a lot of them deeply enjoy hugs, as well as snuggling or sleeping in groups to share the warmth. Physical contact is a show of affection on its own, but there's also subtle ways to display it, like touching foreheads.

💌;; One thing humans might just not get at the first time, is how borrowers are incredibly mindful of space, their perceptive nature makes them able to sense when to get out of the place, and that includes sentimental situations. Although of course there are exceptions, a common answer to a human yelling at them is to simply walk away. This might look rude but it is actually a way for them to not overwhelm you. So of course when a human unconsciously mimics this behavior, it is often well received.

💌;; Validation. Borrowers long for people to understand them, and that not only includes when they're crying or having a bad day, but also when people cheer their passions and dreams outside of survivalism topics. For example, a borrower artificer that likes making cool things wants to hear people be delighted with their small tricks, rather than to be told they're a waste of time.

💌;; Knowledge! Of course, learning and teaching being a huge part of their culture, a lot of them might be delighted to hear their human friend ramble about how the unknown world works for them, and for them to teach about the borrower's ways in exchange. This could be a show of them genuinely caring, since a lot of the knowledge humans could give to borrowers wouldn't prove to be useful in their day-to-day context.

[sillymarieee]

🎀 Hellooooo people!!🎀

✦Welcome to my tickle blog!✦

❥You can call me Marie! I go by She/Her, I’m an 18 year old artist who adores silly tickle stuff 💗

❥I want to specify that although my account is ONLY SFW, I do NOT want any interactions from minors‼️ I will block you if you interact with me while under 🔞 and I will not interact with you if you are an ageless account. I draw romantic, intimate scenarios when it comes to tickling, aimed at more mature audiences, sometimes suggestive, which is in no way kids friendly.

❥DM’s open!! Anyone can message me (as long as you follow my boundaries listed above), same goes for asks. I love making new friends!

❀•°•═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════•°•❀

❥ Here are the tags I use! (When I don’t forget to use em-)

#kitty!marie - art of my sona, but kitty

#sillymarieee - all of my posts

#Tuff Dye - art of my OC, Tuff Dye!!

#Tina Miller - art of my oc/rp sona Tina!

❥I mostly do self insert with my sonas

❥As for art trades, if we are mutuals and you’re interested in doing one, I would be delighted to!

❥Rules for drawing my characters here!

❥My tumblr sona intro post is here !

❥Current fandom list: Detroit Become Human, The Stanley Parable, Resident Evil, TF2

❀•°•═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════•°•❀

❥Here’s some more things I should probably mention:

I do NOT RP!! I only RP with my lovely boyfriend, no one else :)

Please do not dm me (inbox and all) teasing me/asking to be teased if you are a complete stranger. I’d prefer if we’ve talked before as I’m still new to this!

In regards of tickling related stuff, I am a lee leaning-switch (but as you’ll come to realize, much more often a lee than a ler heehee)

I do not take commissions

I will not draw nsfw

I sometimes post things that aren’t necessarily tickle related (my interests vary depending on what I’m currently hyperfixated on lmao - I genuinely draw a lot and don’t always draw tickling artwork)

✦Please respect my boundaries✦

❥Feel free to ask me anything on my account! Although, keep any controversial topics out of my asks, this is not the place to ask. Be kind and respectful! (≧ω≦)/

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❥Here are some more drawings I did to get to know me! ヾ(ﾟ∀ﾟゞ)

(I hadn’t written my age here at the time but pretend I put 18 heehee)

❥Template from @smolknismofox !!

❥Template from @tickle-ghost!

❥This post will be edited as I often add/modify things, just a heads up!

Thank you for reading 💗

[kazoosandfannypacks]

"Window Seat" by kazoosandfannypacks

Pairing: Captain Swan Rating: General Word Count: 3K Summary: Emma's son, Henry, befriends the man sitting next to them on an airplane- and Emma is impressed by how well the stranger bonds with him. Tags: au, fluff, captain swan, one shot, captain cobra swan Author’s notes: I've always loved interacting with children. They speak genuinely, they love life, and they ask questions that aren't (usually) too hard to answer. When I was flying back from my last vacation, I sat next to a four year old girl who was an absolute delight to talk with. (She once had a dream about zombie turtles! She invited me to play with her dollhouse sometime! She said the Obi-Wan keychain on my backpack looked like a monkey!) By the end of the flight, even though I'm six times her age, we considered each other friends. This fic is inspired by kids like her. Taglist:@zahara@kmomof4@jonesfandomfanatic@booksteaandtoomuchtv@jrob64@tiganasummertree@anmylica@teamhook@undercaffinatednightmare@gingerchangeling@lonelyspectator@caught-in-the-filter  @ultraluckycatnd  @cs-rylie @silver-the-phoenix @pawshapedheart  [if you’d like to be added to or removed from this list, hmu in my dms or askbox!]

Also on Ao3!

 Emma held her son's hand firmly as she walked to the back of the plane, trying to find their seat numbers. Navigating an airport was hard enough as is, but bringing a four year old boy with you makes it even more difficult, especially when you're managing him on your own.

 Fortunately, though it hardly felt that way, Emma was used to taking care of her son by herself.

 "Are we almost there?" Henry asked.

 "Our seat numbers are 83D and 83E," Emma said, "And here's number 80, 81," she counted and pointed them out to her son, "82, 83."

 "That's us!" Henry said.

 "Yup," Emma said, "your seat's the middle one in this row."

 She helped Henry take off his backpack and put it under the seat in front of him, then they both took their seats as Henry, in spite of being warned many times about strangers, introduced himself to the passenger next to him.

 "Hello!" Henry said.

 "Hello there," the man said, "looks like we're traveling buddies today."

 Emma had been distracted by switching her phone into airplane mode, but when she heard the stranger's accent, she looked up to see if his appearance was just as attractive- and was delighted to find that it was.

 "Have you ever been on an airplane before?" Henry asked him.

 "Quite a few times," he said.

 "Are you going to grampa's birthday party too?" Henry asked.

 "I'm afraid not," he shook his head.

 "Why not?"

 "Well for one thing, I wasn't invited," the stranger gave a good natured smile, "and another, I've never met your grampa."

 "My mom and I can introduce you!" Henry said, pointing at Emma, "and you can come with us."

 "Henry," Emma interrupted, "let's buckle your seatbelt, okay? And don't pester this nice man with so many questions; he probably wants to just take a nice, quiet flight to Maine."

 The reason Emma wanted Henry to keep quiet wasn't solely out of decency towards the other traveler, and it wasn't of a motherly caution about strangers either. She'd be lying to herself if she said it wasn't borne of not wanting to annoy one of the cutest strangers she'd ever met.

 "It's no trouble, really," he said, "I've never minded children; I was a camp counselor for quite a few years in my younger days."

 "Henry'll talk your ear off if you let him," Emma ruffled her son's hair before adjusting his seatbelt.

 "I don't take people's ears off!" Henry protested.

 "It's one of those expressions," Emma explained, "it means you talk a lot."

 "Oh yeah," Henry said, then turned back to the stranger, "are you friends with my mom?" The man looked up at Emma and smiled, his eyes a deep and overwhelming blue.

 "I don't know. I haven't met her yet," he said, not taking his eyes off her, "but maybe by the end of the flight we will be."

 "I'm Henry," Henry piped up.

 The stranger looked back down at Henry and held a hand out to him. "Pleasure to meet you Henry," he said, "my name's Killian."

 "I'm Emma," Emma said.

 "What a lovely name," Killian smiled.

 "Okay, so he's a bit of a flirt," Emma thought, though she didn't stop herself from smiling at his compliment.

 "Have you ever been on an airplane before, Henry?" Killian asked.

 "Nope!" Henry said.

 "Are you excited for your first flight?"

 "Yeah!" Henry said.

 Just then, the stewardess' voice came over the plane's speakers.

 "Okay Henry," Emma whispered, "we have to be quiet now, okay?"

 "Okay," Henry said.

 He tried his best to sit quietly, but four minutes is an eternity when you're only four years old. Every now and then he'd start to ask a question, and Emma would remind him to be quiet- and once or twice he tried to ask Killian something, which led to a similar gentle reminder to be quiet.

 Soon, they were allowed to talk again, and the plane began down the runway. Emma pulled a pack of gum out of her jacket pocket.

 "Here, buddy," Emma handed Henry a stick of gum, "remember what I told you?" "That my ears will pop off if I don't eat it?" Henry asked, already putting the candy in his mouth.

 "No, they'll pop," Emma corrected, "but the gum will help keep that from happening."

 She took a stick of gum for herself, then held the package out to Killian. "Would you like one?" she offered.

 "Thank you," he smiled, taking a stick of gum from the pack, "I certainly would hate for my ears to pop off."

 Emma giggled a little- only half a giggle, almost more like an annoyed sigh, but a giggle nonetheless, and a smile along with it.

 Henry was looking past Killian out the window, watching the runway as they drove across it.

 "Why are we still on the ground?" Henry asked.

 "It's like flying a kite," Killian answered, "you have to have a lot of room to run, so the kite is already moving fast before you let go of it, and then it gets into the air. The plane has to run really fast too."

 "Cool!" Henry said.

 They neared the end of the runway.

 "Here we go," Killian said.

 Henry let out a little squeal as the plane turned its nose up, and up they went. He looked up at his mom, and then at Killian, and then laughed a little.

 "We're really high now!" Henry said.

 "Indeed," Killian said, "look at the clouds!"

 Emma looked out the window as well at the clouds, which were now next to, then below them.

 Soon, the plane stabilized, and the stewardess announced they were free to roam about the cabin, if needed.

 Henry continued asking Killian question after question, probably more questions than the stranger was in a mood to answer.

 Emma pulled out her phone and opened Disney+, where she'd downloaded a few movies for Henry to watch on the plane.

 "Here, kid," she handed Henry her phone, then grabbed his backpack to get his headphones out, "do you wanna pick a movie to watch?"

 He looked at the downloaded titles- Treasure Planet, Peter Pan, Aladdin, and a few Lego Star Wars specials, before selecting Peter Pan.

 "That's an excellent choice," Killian said.

 "It's my favorite movie!" Henry said, as Emma put his headphones on his head.

 "It's one of my favorites too," Killian said.

 "Henry's been going through a bit of a pirate phase recently," Emma said.

 "Ah," Killian nodded, "I take it you've watched Peter Pan a few too many times recently, then?"

 "The things we do for our kids," Emma said, as Henry tried to lay down in his seat, resting his head in his mom's lap, incidentally kicking Killian.

 "Here, move your feet, Henry," Emma said, trying to move her son's sneakers off Killian's pants.

 "That's alright," Killian said, "I really don't mind."

 Emma gave up the losing battle of keeping Henry's feet to himself.

 "Do you have any kids of your own?" Emma asked.

 "Oh, no," Killian half laughed, "but I remember what it was like to be a kid. I was a rather talkative lad myself, much like your boy."

 Emma wrapped her arm around her son. "He's a pretty special kid," she said.

 "His parents are very lucky to have him," Killian said.

 Emma shook her head, "One of us certainly is."

 Killian raised her an inquisitive eyebrow. "His father's not in the picture?"

 "In the picture?" Emma rolled her eyes, "I wouldn't even say he's in the same gallery. He walked out before Henry even got to know him."

 "Well, he's missing out on a charming family," Killian said, "from what I've seen, you've raised a great son."

 "Thanks," Emma smiled, "I try my best."

 "Well, if you ask me, you're doing great," Killian said, "it can be hard to raise a kid on your own."

 Emma wrinkled her brow. "What do you know about raising kids?" 

 "I was on the other end of the equation," Killian said, "my mom raised three boys herself. My dad has been out of the picture since just before my little brother was born."

 "From what I've seen, your mom raised a pretty good kid," Emma said.

 "I try to be- my older brother was always the best of us though." Killian said, seeming a touch saddened, "he practically helped raise us. In my father's absence, he was the one who showed me how to be the man I am today."

 "I'd say he did a pretty great job at it," Emma said.

 "Indeed," Killian said, "I wish I'd told him that more."

 Emma wasn't sure why that question was so solemn, or why it was past tense, and was unsure how to ask what he meant, so she waited for him to follow it up.

 "He passed away this past week," Killian said, "that's why I'm on my way to Portland."

 "I'm so sorry," Emma shook her head, unsure how one could even begin to cope with that loss- if anything happened to one of her siblings, she'd be devastated.

 "Thank you," he said.

 "How're you holding up?" Emma asked.

 "As well as I can be," Killian shook his head with a sigh, "it's a weird feeling, really. He's just always been there, and now… now he's not. I used to say I didn't know what I'd do without him, and now- now I get to figure it out."

 "I'm so sorry," Emma said, "I can't imagine what this must be like for you."

 "I'm getting by," he said, "that's how you have to make it in this world, isn't it?"

 "You got that right," Emma said.

 "And being distracted from it helps," Killian said, "which is why I was delighted to have a seat next to your charming little chatterbox."

 Emma looked down at Henry, who had fallen asleep before the characters in his movie even made it to Neverland.

 "Seems the lad's a bit tuckered out," Killian said.

 "After the TSA line we went through and waiting two hours in a terminal at seven a.m.?" Emma asked, "I'm surprised I'm not 'tuckered out' myself."

 "Me too," Killian said.

 "He sure is excited to get to meet his grandparents," Emma said, stroking her son's hair a few times.

 "He hasn't met them before?" Killian asked.

 "We've called them once or twice, had a few video chats," Emma said, "but the trip from Tallahassee to Maine isn't one I can shell out very often. My dad insisted on seeing his grandson this weekend though- it's the only thing he wanted for his birthday, to have the whole family together."

 "How precious," Killian said, "your folks must be so excited."

 "It's all my parents have been able to talk about for the last year," Emma said, "my brother and sister both still live in the area, and they said Dad's more excited than they've seen him in years."

 "Does all your family live in Maine?" Killian asked.

 "Pretty much," Emma said.

 "Then what brought you to Tallahassee?"

 "Doesn't matter anymore," Emma said, "because I didn't find it."

 "Then why are you still there?"

 "I've never been one to stick around the same place too long," Emma said, "but that's no life for Henry. He needs roots."

 "I see," Killian said.

 "I take it your story's not much different," Emma suggested.

 "What do you mean by that?" he asked.

 "You're flying all the way from Tallahassee to Portland for a funeral," Emma said, "what's keeping you down there? Job? Friends? Girlfriend?"

 She hoped it wasn't the last one.

 He smiled, "Don't have a girlfriend, and friends are few and far between. I do quite enjoy the weather down south though, as well as my job."

 "What do you do?" Emma asked.

 "Captain of an authentic tallship," Killian said, "The Rolly Joger, a magnificent vessel- one of those little three-hour tour tourist traps."

 "Oh, that's so fun," Emma said, "Kind of like a real pirate." She patted her son's head, watching on the phone screen in front of him as Captain Hook's crew sang a little shanty.

 "Aye," he smiled, "once or twice she's even been booked for 'pirate parties,' where the kids all come dressed as pirates."

 "Oh, that sounds so fun," Emma said, "I wonder if Henry might like something like that for his birthday in a couple months. He's never been on a boat before either."

 "Well, you're always welcome onboard The Rolly Joger," Killian said.

 "We might just take you up on that," Emma smiled.

 "And what did you say do you do for a living?" Killian asked.

 "I work for Yellow Bug Bail Bonds," Emma said, "apprehending people who skip bail."

 "Like a modern day bounty hunter?" Killian asked.

 Emma laughed, "something like that."

 "That sounds exciting," Killian said.

 "It pays the bills," Emma said.

 She wasn't sure what to say, and apparently he wasn't either, as they were both quiet for a bit.

 Eventually, Emma pulled a book out of her carry on, not about to take her phone from Henry and risk waking him, but also not about to sit there doing nothing for the next few hours.

 "What are you reading?" Killian asked.

 "Oh, it's a book one of my friends is writing," Emma said, "he asked me to read through and give some feedback."

 "What an honor," Killian said, "what's it about?"

 "Some kind of historical fiction," Emma said, "fairy tale characters in the American Revolution, or something like that. I'm only a couple chapters in."

 "Sounds interesting," Killian said, "I'll, uh, leave you to it." 

 "Alright," Emma said.

 And even as she got lost in the world in her book, she found herself glancing more than a handful of times at Killian.

 A couple hours later, Henry woke up, and after a "good morning, sleepyhead" from both Killian and Emma, she restarted his movie for him- and this time he watched without falling asleep. Emma continued reading her book, engrossed in the character developments her friend August had intricately woven into his story.

 "Oh, Henry," Killian said, tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention, "look at that view. You can see the plane's shadow on the clouds beneath us."

 Henry took off his headphones and looked out the window.

 "Woah!" Henry said, loud enough that Emma looked over as well- and she did so to see Henry throwing her phone and his headphones on the floor.

 "Henry!" Emma said, reaching over to pick them up off the floor- which was difficult, with her seatbelt still buckled.

 Apparently, Emma wasn't the only one who had a problem with seatbelts, because she looked back up to see Henry had unfastened his, and was now climbing onto Kilian's lap to get a better view out the window.

 She was about to stop him, but she was taken aback by how Killian responded- after an initial second of confusion, he put a hand on Henry's shoulder in case of unexpected turbulence, then pointed out the shadow of the plane, and a few other notable clouds next to them, talking with the boy like he wasn't an outgoing child who'd just overstepped his bounds, but almost like an equal, one who'd done nothing wrong as well.

 Something about the scene, and how the boys interacted, looked to Emma like something out of a storybook, or like the picture you'd find in the dictionary if you looked up the word "father."

 Then, Killian helped Henry off his knee and back into his own seat, and rebuckled him, reminding him that while the plane was in the air, it was probably a good idea to keep your seatbelt on and stay in your own seat.

 "I am so sorry about that," Emma said, then put a hand on Henry's shoulder, "Henry, you need to respect other people's space."

 "No worries, Emma," Killian said, "it's the price of having a window seat, I suppose."

 He didn't seem at all as embarrassed or annoyed with the entire ordeal as Emma was- and he then turned to Henry and added, "but not all strangers like it when other people get too close to them, Henry. It's a good idea to keep your distance from strangers."

 "But you're not a stranger anymore!" Henry insisted, "I think you're my friend."

 "Aye," Killian smiled, "I suppose I am."

 "If you come to my house sometime," Henry said, "you can play in my fort with me. I can show you my Legos too!"

 "If I ever do come to your house," Killian said, slowly, his words carefully selected, "I'd love to see your Lego sets."

 "I just got a really cool Star Wars set," Henry said, "it has Luke Skywalker, and his X-Wing, and Artoo Detoo!"

 "That sounds awesome, Henry," he said, "I hope I get to see it someday."

 "Oh yeah," Henry said, "It's really cool."

 "You know, I had some pretty cool Lego Star Wars sets back in the day too," Killian said.

 "Really?"

 "Oh yeah." Killian said, "I had this one set…"

 As Emma watched Killian and her son talk about Lego Star Wars sets, she put away Henry's headphones and swiped out of the movie on her phone, sensing Henry might be entertained for the rest of the flight with his new friend.

 Henry wasn't the only one entertained by Killian, though Emma's interest in him was for an entirely different reason.

 Henry's father had left shortly after Emma's pregnancy, not ready for the commitment of raising a family. After that, Emma had decided that all she needed was herself and her son. Between finding her job and raising her son, she hadn't had time for a boyfriend anyways, at least that's the excuse she used when her friends asked why she'd never gotten back out there.

 But deep down, Emma knew part of the reason she'd stayed single was Henry- any boyfriend for her was a potential father for Henry, and as rare as it was for her to find a date, it was harder to find a date who was comfortable with kids- and soon she gave up on dates altogether.

 She and Henry had always been content just to have each other- but as she watched her son talk with this man about Star Wars, Legos, and pirates together, she realized how much both she and her son would benefit from a guy like him in their life.

 As they walked off the plane, Emma and Henry stayed close to Killian, Henry still chatting away with him the whole time.

 "Alright, Henry," Emma said, once they got back into the terminal, "I think it's time to say goodbye to Killian."

 "Already?" Henry asked.

 "I'm afraid so," Emma said.

 Killian got down on his knees at Henry's eye level.

 "It was a pleasure flying with you, Henry," Killian said, "I hope I see you again sometime."

 "Me too!" Henry said.

 Killian held out his hand to shake hands with Henry, but instead Henry ran to his arms and gave him a hug. Killian looked up at Emma for her approval, and she nodded, so he returned Henry's hug.

 Once Killian stood back up, he held a hand out shake with Emma, and she half desired to respond the same way her son had. Instead, she took his hand and shook it.

 "It was a pleasure meeting you, Killian," Emma said.

 "The pleasure was mine, milady," he said, and he then brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.

 "I didn't know you were so old fashioned," Emma said, in a voice that said that wasn't a problem at all.

 "I hope to see you again sometime?" he asked, letting go of your hand.

 "Yeah," Emma smiled.

 "Will you wanna come to my grampa's birthday party?" Henry interrupted.

 Killian and Emma's eyes met, like the meeting between old friends.

 "I don't believe I've been formally invited," Killian said, more like a question than an answer.

 "I could send you the details," Emma nodded, "if I had your number."

 "Yeah," Killian said, "I might be able to find time, uh, here."

 He handed her his phone, open to the contacts app. Emma quickly typed in her phone number and handed it back to him, and she handed him her phone too.

 "I'll text you later," she said, their fingers brushing against each other as she took her phone back from him.

 "Aye," he said, "Can't wait."

 "I'm really glad to have met you." Emma said.

 "Me too," Killian said.

 "Me too!" Henry said, "See you soon!"

 Emma took Henry's hand again, glancing back at Killian quite a few times as they headed their separate ways.

 "Mommy?" Henry asked.

 "Yeah?"

 "Are you and Killian friends now?"

 "Yeah, kid," Emma said, a smile spreading across her face, "I think we are."

[tw1stedthicket]

Serious post, but. My heart is touched. I am so humbled at how the world turns because I think there are people who are readily accepting. Readily kind.

I celebrated pride today in my hometown with some new people I've never met but discovered through a mutual friend, and I had hella fun with our dorky gay asses. They were so down to earth and funny and kind.

Even everywhere at pride, everyone is so cool and easy to talk to. Even the people selling their stuff were so warm and open. It wasn't anything profound, just openly cool people; but to me, interactions of friendliness ARE profound. It amazes me every time that people can be so fun, and so genuine, and so accepting too - I suppose it's an unconditionality to their joy, which is hard to explain except that kindness and happiness are passionately interwoven for me, and every time feels like a pat on the back and a heart's sigh of relief. I'm sure it's something deeper to plumb than what I can do right now, but authenticity? Freedom? These are inextricable from this kindness and happiness, where kindness frees us and engenders authenticity that is exciting and hopeful. Even amongst the mundaneity that can be my hometown sometimes, even with the gnawing social anxiety, and in spite of the double-edged sword of expecting cruelty and your safety in a closet.

I know that's abstract, but what I mean that it looked like today, was a drag queen singing down with her audience and hugging people, and everyone vibing. It was two strangers walking out as I was walking in & asking what flag I had, and as I shouted "Lesbian!" they erupted into cheers of "Fuck yeah!" and the 'I love you' sign 🤟, shouting even after I couldn't hear them a bunch of funny stuff about not dating men. It was the immediate understanding and trust amongst the group to share their stories, innocent friendly physical touch, and extensions of connection to inside jokes. I *love* little adventures, I love randomly going to places like smoothie shops, randomly dropping by people's houses, random chaos in the car, I love people. There was a loving vibe today that my old religious self, somewhere in the paths in my mind that I've left untrodden and now are re-growing new plant life, knows as a feeling of sacredness.

Because it is. Because people who show up for events like this, just happy to be themselves, happy to meet people, happy to see the creative work of others and support other people who delight in the same stuff, happy to drink lemonade in beaming hot June, happy to be colorful in our corner of the Bible belt, happy to be irreverent and silly and unassuming, ARE happy to be sacred. Because just plain kindness and fun, is.

[markcampbells]

TriMax Stryfewood developing friendship (+ Vash and Milly) feat. neurodivergent Meryl!

I wanted my final belated self-rec for @trigunfanfic to be a personal favorite among my own pieces, and one I'm really glad folks who've read it so far have enjoyed.

He takes a few steps so he's almost to the porch steps, and stretches. She hears a few joints pop and him mumbling a swear before he turns back. "When the doc in there was tendin' to 'im, you went into town, came back with food for Vash and the big girl. You were up and down 'tween the two of 'em and didn't eat a damn thing yourself. Me, I ain't bothered if I don't; I can survive a few missed meals easy. You can't. You're human, for one thing, and you're damn small. Know we're tight on cash, but I did the owner a favor. We'll eat free. Get the hell up and come with me." She wants to take umbrage. She really does. She's been sick of being talked down to by men a long damn time. But, lacking the distraction and frenetic energy of earlier in the day, she's really starting to feel the insistent pangs of hunger. She'd convinced herself she could muscle past it, she's done it before for much stupider reasons, but the thought of food makes her mouth water and she gets up and starts down the street. content warnings are in the fic notes

This fic was an unexpected followup to my previous fic where I developed a lot of headcanons about a neurodivergent Meryl and her relationship to food, and I was delighted to find recently so many other folks view Meryl as ND as well! (I don't label her specifically within the fic, but as someone who suspects she's AuDHD, I pulled a lot of how I portray Meryl from my own experiences. Meryl here specifically struggles with her interoception.)

Meryl and Wolfwood don't get nearly enough interaction in TriMax, and this fic was specifically born out of me wanting to expand on what else may have passed between them given that post-Dragon's Nest, Wolfwood tries to warn Meryl off following Vash for her own safety, even if he cloaks it in concern for only Milly. Meryl gets new insight into Wolfwood and Wolfwood learns sometimes it's easier to tell a relative stranger about your checkered past than your friends. (While the focus is Meryl and Wolfwood's developing friendship, there are also scenes with Vash and Milly and Meryl's relationships with them as well.) I had a blast writing this fic and since gen fics can be tough to get eyes on, I would love to hear from any more folks who give it a try what they liked about it. Meryl is such a special character to me and I love giving her an inner life that resonates for a lot of ND folks; I hope everyone who gives it a look enjoys!

[enby-bitch-boy]

I was out shopping today at a craft fair thing and happened to see something that looked like an owlbear and thought it was cute until I saw the tag and it actually was a little baby owlbear plush and I realized it was a dice booth. So I go up and one of workers starts talking to me about the stuff they've got from liquid core, to sharp edge, to wooden, to silicone. A very hefty metal d100 that got called a home defense tool. My sibling gets my attention to show me a little metal d20 keychain and I said "It wants to be a flail so bad" and the guy working goes on to tell us about how he had one himself that was setup in a way that it could've been swung around as a weapon. I was handed the d20 of a set I was thinking about getting and a joke was made about the only damage I could take was emotional if I rolled a 1 immediately before rolling a 1, which got me a cute crit happens sticker. And the whole thing was a delight. Sometimes you just fall a little bit in love with a stranger you'll never see again (or most likely won't see again). It was just such a nice interaction to have. And I finally got some liquid core dice to add to my collection which I've been wanting for awhile.

[fluxofthemouth]

[ 🥀 ] would your muse betray someone they love?

HMM complicated question! I think the short answer is, yes, but he would tell them the whole time they knew each other that he could betray them (which accounts for the him loving them part).

Canon doesn't show any of Piter's close friends, if he has any. I get the idea that a lot of people are kind of repulsed by him personally, regardless of his successes professionally.

The Baron sort of privately secretly appreciates him, but the Baron thinks he talks too much and gets super annoyed with interacting with him in person. The Baron tells Piter he made a bet about a choice he'd make with (iirc) the quartermaster, so it's like. I wouldn't say they necessarily bully him in a sense where they're being as evil as possible to his face 24/7, but I definitely see something more subtle going on where it's like, he can sit with them at lunch but they're going to say mean things about his hair behind his back. He fits in as more of a useful object and an interesting subject, and less as truly one of them.

I also expect there to be a heck of a lot of tension between the Harkonnen ideals of strength and hmm masculinity? Compared to Piter being this short little feminine guy who talks a lot and gets emotional easily. Like, the ranks of soldiers look one way, and here's a little guy who looks like something else entirely. Since strength is so prized, I'd imagine he's under constant pressure to prove that he can do things his way and still arrive at strength, which probably looks more like intimidating people with his creepiness, and the terrible things he's capable of doing to people, than connecting with others.

It's possible that Piter gets his emotional fulfillment purely from Spice (and other drugs), and being rich, and not having friends is just a wound he's carrying around. Since Spice is a fantasy miracle substance, a quasi-immortality drug, I feel like this actually works for him, more or less. Not in a way like, he feels good about loneliness, but like, he can expect a better outcome than just about anyone else who was that lonely. He can get by. Or maybe he does have a couple friends, even close friends. But it's still lonely and isolating to be so different at work and in culture.

I interpret that, being so lonely, he'll very easily empathize with other Mentats and with people who have trauma in common with him. I interpret that his mind actually works like the Looney Tunes cartoon where the coyote and the sheepdog literally try to kill each other while they're working, but as soon as they clock out they feel no animosity towards each other whatsoever, and can even coexist as friends (and some people thought that the 'perfectly objective' side of a 'twisted' Mentat was only about killing people!). I think that if he had sat next to Dr. Yueh on an airplane, instead of meeting Dr. Yueh through a sinister order to turn him against the Atreides family, he might very, very easily have connected a mark of Imperial conditioning to parallels with Mentat conditioning and struck up a genuinely friendly conversation from a standpoint of meeting someone like himself. I think he'll sometimes have interactions with strangers where they remember him only as delightful and charming (too bad they never saw him again), and he'll sometimes vent anger and pain and mess with innocent strangers (and thank goodness they never saw him again) (shoutout to Huxley, a muse who was supposed to be easier to bother like that).

So to answer the question of whether Piter would betray someone he loves, he doesn't seem to be loved by anybody, and he doesn't necessarily love anybody, and he could betray anyone he's ever met. He has completed training that allows him to bypass mental blocks against it if he wants to, and there are plenty of times when he is ordered to, for work. If he ever met someone new who could love him, or who he thought he could love, he would try to push them away as soon as he realized what was going on, because love means protecting someone from something dangerous. No one can just, completely change who they are, on a dime. If that person came right back after being pushed away (shoutout to Mikol, a muse from a discord thread who is this person sdfsdfsf), he'd get all stressed about feeling like he was dangerous to them, and he'd probably be right. If it's possible for him to ever become the self-sacrificing type after a lifetime of learning that safety and fulfillment only comes from selfishness, and diving and scratching and biting for scraps, it would probably take years and years of building trust and learning new patterns for that to ever happen.

[distort-opia]

Did joker ever try to make batman jealous? i think that would be so funny actually, imagine him not giving batman attention and somehow giving more validation for some other herói and bruce getting so mad lmao

The only example i can think of is injustice when he messes with supes but i wish there were more

Well, Joker has gone to different cities and has fought a lot of different heroes, over time. More often than not, he goes to Metropolis, though the thing is, to my knowledge, Joker hasn’t ever done this with the express purpose of making Batman jealous. Not even his actions during Injustice: Gods Among Us were for this reason, but rather (as Injustice: Year Zero shows), it was to prove to Bruce that Clark was not the incorruptible, all-good person Bruce believed him to be. It wasn’t to make Batman jealous, it was because Joker was jealous himself.

However, this ask did make me revisit some great interactions between Joker and other heroes, and there are a couple of interesting conclusions to draw from them, regarding this subject. Bruce doesn’t always show up outside of Gotham when Joker himself does; for instance, Joker goes to Metropolis because some businessmen are ripping off his clown brand to sell toys, in Action Comics #714. But Batman doesn’t appear, and Clark deals with Joker on his own. In a similar vein, after No Man’s Land, Joker goes to Metropolis to piss off Lex Luthor (in Action Comics #765), but Bruce is once again absent. Hell, in Wonder Woman (1987) #96-97, Joker goes to Boston because there’s an ongoing gang war and he wants to make the chaos worse, fighting and getting defeated by Diana in the process... because he gets out-crazied by her. She communes with Pan, the Greek God, who teaches her how to dance the dance of chaos, and then she’s just as crazy as Joker, and able to defeat him. (God, I love comics.) Anyway, Batman doesn’t show up here either. You can either chalk it up to him not even knowing Joker changed locations, him not having the time to travel to where Joker is, or him trusting the respective hero to handle Joker themselves. Or, sometimes it’s Bruce being an asshole and knowingly letting Joker go to Metropolis to test Clark’s mettle (like in Adventures of Superman #14). 

But, when Bruce does show up, it’s “I know how Joker works, you don’t. Fuck off.” And it’s kinda funny. I’m putting the rest of these instances under the cut, as always.

Alright, Bruce doesn’t show up in person to this particular caper, but I love the fact that Clark called Alfred to make sure Bruce does not find out Joker is in Metropolis. They both freaking conspire to keep Bruce in the dark, because they know Bruce would instantly go after Joker, and he needs the rest :))

Oh yeah, this is also the issue Joker gets saved by Clark and calls himself a “fruitcake”... All-around delightful. I also recommend DC Comics Presents #72 for Clark kidnapping Joker so him and Phantom Stranger can weaponize his insanity. They team up and have crazy multi-dimensional shenanigans, it’s fun.

-- DC Comics Presents #41

Now, this next one is a story written by Morrison, in which Joker goes to the fictional Vanity City and tries to enact his mad plans there (using dancing crickets for mind control), under the hero Aztek’s nose. However, Bruce shows up this time.

-- Aztek: The Ultimate Man #6

-- Aztek: The Ultimate Man #7

Besides Bruce going “I’m gonna deal with Joker myself!”, I love the explanation he gives Aztek at the end. “He’s playing a game with me, and it goes way back.” This is why I honestly think it’d take quite a bit to make Bruce genuinely jealous. Even when Joker goes somewhere else and fights other heroes, Bruce still assumes the game Joker plays is with him (and he’s usually right).

Aaand lastly, here’s a classic instance you might’ve seen floating around, but the context of the whole thing is honestly so funny. Joker... kind of gains control of Atlantis by talking? After falling into the ocean on accident? And then Aquaman has to get his kingdom back, with Bruce hearing about all of it and managing to find him:

Again, Bruce tries to take Joker down alone and bring him back to Gotham (“Joker’s been mine for quite some time!”), but the funny part is that he does let Arthur deal with Joker first after they fight about it for a bit -- in exchange for Atlantis’ location.

-- Legends of the DC Universe #27

(Worth noting that at the end, when Joker is presumed dead, Bruce is still the one to investigate what happened with him, and discovers that Joker survived.)

Even in Adventures of Superman #14, Bruce treats Joker going to Metropolis as an ongoing game; he turns it into an opportunity to test Superman. It doesn’t occur to him that Joker might genuinely like Metropolis, or Superman, and not come back. 

-- Adventures of Superman (2013) #14

So, to sum it up... understandably, Bruce consistently assumes the things Joker does are about him, at all times. Even when Joker goes away or fights someone else, so him expressing jealousy would require some extreme actions on Joker’s part. Kind of like Injustice: Gods Among Us, although even then... personally I read “This has always been about us. Why did you do this to him?” as despair, not jealousy. It’s Bruce saying “I’ve always been the one to sacrifice myself to contain your madness, why would you go and destroy someone else? Why wasn’t it enough? Why did you ruin him, someone good, someone entirely unlike me?” (Bruce does not believe the best of himself, that has to be kept in mind, I feel.)

Anyway, hope the rant was enjoyable, Anon! I entirely agree it’d be such an interesting story -- having Joker genuinely try to focus on someone else, break away from Batman and Gotham... Sadly it hasn’t been attempted, at least not to my knowledge. I am very curious how Bruce would react.

[infinitestarsintheskye]

I finished my masters degree, immediately went on holiday to a VERY hot country with my family and have sat about drinking tequila sunrises and reading fanfic for a week. So without further ado, here is a list of recs that have delighted me over the past week or so.

These fics are ALL without exception, Eddie/Chrissy from Stranger Things, fics bc that’s what has been feeding the serotonin monster in my head. Also most of these will be rated E bc I’m in my horny era okay.

Also I have no idea if any of these writers are on tumblr. If they are pls let me know and I will tag them!

Duality by broomclosetkink - this is without a doubt the best bodyswap au I have ever read. It’s funny and sexy and absolutely exquisitely written. Read the rest of this author’s stuff whilst you’re at it bc they are just a stunning writer and can just absolutely hook you in a chapter, sometimes less. I love their stuff so much. If this author ever reads this please know I would read mere sentences from this verse. Eddie Munson/Chrissy Cunningham, Rated E, 55k+ words, 10 chapters, completed. https://archiveofourown.org/works/41012802/chapters/102786198

Cannabis and Contemplation by @bratanimus - this is just a great little AU moment between Eddie and Hopper and it’s so wonderful and it makes me so furious we never got to see these two interact with one another in canon. They are just shooting shit about life post the post apocalyptic nightmare that was S4. It’s these moments between characters where nothing is exactly happening action wise but they’re just talking, that I find so incredible and remarkable. I personally find them so hard to write and I love reading them so much. Eddie Munson/Chrissy Cunningham, Rated T, 2k+ words, 1 chapter, Completed, https://archiveofourown.org/works/41234835

Ride the Sky by Deathinasmalltown - A gorgeous, smutty lil fic, where Eddie and Chrissy catch Jason cheating on her and then go and take a lil ride in his van, go back to his trailer, smoke a lil bit and then get a lil bit closer as the night and days go by. It’s just them being ridiculously flirty and sexy and it’s so fucking good. Eddie Munson/Chrissy Cunningham , Rated E, 26k+ words, 6 chapters, Completed. https://archiveofourown.org/works/41089473/chapters/103106571#workskin

Didn’t Mean to Scare You by its_kira - it’s a soulmates AU!!! I’m a fucking sucker for a soulmates AU and genuinely if this one isn’t completed I think I will simply pass away. Just read it pls, my descriptions would not do it justice. Eddie Munson/Chrissy Cunningham, Not Rated (but contains smut), 29k+ words, 8 chapters, Uncompleted, https://archiveofourown.org/works/40577820/chapters/101662038

Keep Sweet, Pray, and Obey by PhoenixTalon - sweet fucking jesus this fic. Sexual awakening, after religiously imposed ignorance. Chrissy is curious, Eddie is her teacher. Need I say more. This fic is phenomenal. It is art. I scream every time I see it has updated. Eddie Munson/Chrissy Cunningham, Rated E, 30k+ words, 10/12 Chapters, Uncompleted, https://archiveofourown.org/works/40226778/chapters/100755876

The Afterglow by Natattack95 - no fic list of mine with these two would be complete without a little teen pregnancy AU. Idk why I’m a sucker for this so much. Maybe I just like protective Eddie, maybe I just like Dad!Eddie (that man is a GIRL DAD through and through and man oh man does he love his girls, I will be taking zero comments about this at this time) Anyway these two silly billys accidentally make a baby after spending all of spring break together, and they are working it out, giving Chrissy’s mother the middle finger and IT’S ALL GONNNA BE FINE. I love this fic lots and everyday I hope it’s gonna update. Eddie Munson/Chrissy Cunningham, Rated E, 36k+ words, 8 Chapters, Uncompleted, https://archiveofourown.org/works/39741828/chapters/99496110

Marigold by hangonsilvergirl - Jason buggers off for three weeks and Chrissy takes the opportunity to be free, sneaks out and heads to the gas station for some real food where she runs into our favourite resident metalhead. The definition of kissing (plus a little bit more 😉) in the rain. I read this all in a one yesterday and I’m in love. The characterisations of them are just so spot on and I just love it so much. Rated M, 21k+ words, 4 chapters, Incomplete, https://archiveofourown.org/works/40952697/chapters/102630213

And that’s your lot for now. There are a couple more very explicit ones that I’m loving rn but I’m feeling just a little too self conscious to rec them. Send me a DM if you wanna know what they are.

I have just turned into absolute garbage for these two over the past few months and they are very near and dear to my heart now.



[ohallthecrushes]

Arthur Fleck // Age gap headcanons

Anon asked: Age gap headcanons for Artie? I think he around 35 in the movie so maybe he has a crush on someone in their 20s? How would he feel about a relationship?

A/N: I had this in draft for over a week. Sorry it took me so long to finish it.

Word counts:589

I think we can all agree that Arthur would be very cautious and careful approaching someone who's way younger than him.

Well, he's always cautious and doubtful when he has any interaction with people, but he will be extremely anxious when it comes to approaching you.

He thinks you're innocent and pure, kind and friendly, and he loves those traits in you.

He hopes that nothing and no one ever destroys these things in you.

He doesn't know how to approach you so you don't think of him as some kind of creep.

He often imagines how you two could meet and fell in love with each other. He sometimes writes some of his more interesting imagines in his journal.

Though he hopes that he get the courage to talk to you, he's not sure if it all come as well as in his head.

He doubts that you would notice him and like him the way he likes you.

He also thinks that you have your whole life before you, so why would you stick with an older, disturbed guy like him?

To his surprise, you didn't only notice him, but also took your time to talk to him.

And you told him that you like him too!

Oh, let me say he's truly delighted.

He already knows things you're telling him, at least some of them, but of course he'll never tell that.

He tries to come off as a cool guy who can easily unwind at first. But he gave this up soon when he realizes that it didn't come out as natural as he wanted.

He tells you that he's a comedian to impress you, and he asks you what kind of music do you like the most.

He also asks about some trivial things, trying to figure out what young people like you talk about the most.

He wants to learn about all the things that interest you.

He hopes that you accept that he likes older stuff, especially when it comes to music taste, that is very important to him.

Sometimes you have to explain him things that younger people do and talk about.

He listens with genuine interest, and tries to understand all of it.

He feels way younger when he's with you and he loves it. It's like he finally can experience things he couldn't when he was younger.

But he always keeps in mind that he's older than you, and because of the age difference, he's very protective over you. From the beginning of your relationship, you can tell that he cares about your well-being and your safety.

Though he has a lot on his mind, he's willing to focus only on you and he's always there when you need him.

He hugs you tight, protects you and provides you all the things you require, just so you feel comfortable and taken care of.

You're so young and unique. He can't help it, but feel extremely protective over you.

Sometimes he's overprotective and he's treating you like you are made of porcelain.

But he always respects you and gives you enough space for you to live your life the way you want.

He loves you so much, and he doesn't want to scare you off.

As time passes by, the age gap don't matter anymore. You get on together despite the differences, and that's more important.

He doesn't care when strangers give you two a weird look.

As long as you're cool with him being older than you, it's alright.

[moonbeamsung]

You’re Just a Boy in a Blueberry Field

No fruit is sweeter than a summer love.

member: haechan

au: blueberry farmer!haechan x gn!reader

word count: 5.0k

genre: fluff, very light angst

warnings: mentions of food

author’s note: It’s here! I actually wrote most of this last summer, but only recently did I find the time to edit and get it ready to be posted. I added some parts and changed a few things, and now I like it quite a lot, so I hope you do as well! Thank you @astroboy-lele​ for beta-reading :) As always I would love to hear any feedback on this, and I hope that you enjoy the fic!

taglist: @astroboy-lele @kyuwoyo @rvse-hvvck @nakamotocore @kisshim @leejunini @chicksung @mrkcore @radiorenjun @moon-jun @jisungiest @stayctday @byutafy @jujubean23 @treasurehobi​ @bluejaem​ @lyshoonn​ @vera-liscious​ @allegxdly​ @cupfullofjeno​ @thats-a-jen-no-no​ @yo-ddream​

network tags: @kpopscape @neo-constellations @culture-cafe @dreamlab-nct @k-dinernet 

Thank you lovely Ana @rvse-hvvck for this additional header!

Donghyuck knows everything there is to know about those blueberries.

Without even pausing for the briefest of moments to think, to instinctively recall the information instilled in him throughout his childhood spent on the farm, he can answer any question that’s thrown at him. He can point out just the right color of berry to pick so that they’ll be ripe when you eat them later. Likewise, he can also tell you which ones are best to eat now, as you pick them, pretending not to notice when you pop one or two into your mouth and grinning when your eyes light up from the sweetness.

A day comes where he, filled with mischief as usual, places a not-so-ripe blueberry into your hand, and you, being so wrapped up in the peacefulness of the morning that surrounds you, fail to notice its red color and don’t think twice about lifting it to your lips, biting into it with your teeth. When the tart taste meets your tongue, your face contorts into an expression that elicits a raucous fit of laughter from him. You’re the first one in the fields that day. When the sun had risen on the horizon, the fleeting touch of color in the sky that dawn left behind still lingering above, he had been there, sitting on the front porch as always to greet customers.

Donghyuck knows every bug that loves to rest on the branches of the blueberry bushes. After spending so much time next to you as you scan them for the pops of vivid blues and purples that are hidden behind jade green leaves, he begins to learn that you are not fond of any bug, no matter how harmless. It’s cute, he thinks, how you inspect every berry that you drop into your basket, fearing that some small creature is lurking on it. If you do find something, he hears a small noise of both surprise and disgust before you fling the perfectly good berry away from you. It also hurts a little, knowing that it’s one less for you to take home.

When more people arrive at the farm after you, he’s forced to leave your side and get them started on their own search for the delicious fruit that’s nestled among the branches of nearly every bush. And if they ask where the best ones are, he specifically points them in the direction of the fields where you aren’t. It isn’t a lie, really, because they’ve had a good harvest everywhere this year.

...Okay, so maybe it’s a little selfish on his part, but who can blame him for wanting you to have some of the most plentiful bushes all to yourself?

Wednesdays are his favorite because it’s always the least crowded of all the mornings they’re open for business, and he can spend more time following you as you make your way down the rows, admiring the focus on your face and the way that you sometimes pause mid-reach, closing your eyes and standing still as the sun peeks through the clouds and casts its warm glow down onto the farm. A gentle sigh tumbles from your lips, darkened by the violet nectar that remains from the countless blueberries that have crossed their usually pink-tinted threshold. You resume your search after a few seconds, catching his eye and returning a smile he didn’t even know was there.

He makes the berries taste a little sweeter when he’s next to you. The purple juice that stains your fingers is a little darker. The sun feels brighter and warmer than ever, its heat shining down onto your skin.

One particular morning, after you finish picking all the blueberries you can carry, you decide to accompany Donghyuck on the porch, sitting beside each other in matching rocking chairs that first belonged to his great-grandparents, the farm’s founders. The familiar sounds of birds chirping and the low mumbling amongst customers meet your ears. You both gaze fondly at the horizon while immersed in casual chatter, all the while tending to several families as they come and go.

Whenever a car turns off of the two-lane, paved road and onto the noisy gravel path leading into a small grassy area that functions as a parking lot, Donghyuck excuses himself from the lively conversation both of you always find yourselves sharing. He stands, brushing his hands off on his faded denim overalls that are only slightly too large for his frame. His hand lifts up the baseball cap he always wears while the other runs through his hair, and your gaze falls on the back of his neck where it rests in longer strands. You always wonder why he keeps it like that since he complains about how hot it makes him feel. The humid summer air is stifling enough as it is, after all. The thought vanishes only moments after it arrives, though, and he flashes a brilliant grin at you over his shoulder as he descends the wooden stairs leading down to the patio.

Today, a happy looking family gets out of a shiny silver minivan. The mother and father with two kids, a boy and a girl, make their way toward the covered patio and Donghyuck bounds down the steps like always, grabbing 4 stacked pails in his calloused hands. You lean forward a little in the creaky old rocking chair, your weight in your toes, ears just barely picking up his conversation with them. He greets the parents warmly, shaking their hands and then he kneels down to be eye-level with the small children. The little boy seems shy as he clasps his fingers in front of him, thumbs twiddling back and forth, while his sister is clearly the opposite. She skips over to the much taller boy, saying hello.

“Do you two like blueberries?” He asks them, one arm resting on his knee and the other extending a pail out in front of him. The young girl nods enthusiastically before she takes the container from his hand and turns around, passing it to her brother as he nods, making eye contact with Donghyuck for the first time. A small smile grows on his face when he’s met with the wider one of the unfamiliar but still welcoming stranger. His sister speaks up again, “Every Friday we get to help Mom make her famous blueberry pie!”

“Is that right?”

“Yep! In the morning we always go to the supermarket and get fresh blueberries,” she explains. Her mother leans down, softly telling her that this week they’re here to pick blueberries instead, fresh from the farm they were grown on.

“Really? So that means we’re not buying them at the store anymore?”

“Well, honey, today we can pick enough blueberries to last us for a whole month’s worth of blueberry pies.”

“And besides,” Donghyuck starts, still kneeling on the ground next to her, his boot leaving an imprint in the dirt underneath it, “it’ll taste even better since you picked them yourselves, don’t you think?” The boy punctuates his question with a wink.

The young boy steps up for the first time, grin stretching even wider as he finds the courage to happily agree with the wise words. Exclaiming eagerly and in a way that only a child can, he takes his sister by the hand that’s not holding his small bucket before scurrying off, their parents close behind after grabbing pails for each other as well as a third that their daughter had forgotten in the midst of the excitement.

As Donghyuck joins you on the porch once again, you can’t help but smile as you remember how he interacts with each and every customer that passes through the weathered fence surrounding the property. When he talks to kids in particular, his eyes seem to light up, and you see just how much of a kid he still is deep down. His playfulness never fails to make an appearance whenever you spend time with him.

You’re thankful for the moo of a cow in the distance that interrupts his question of why you’re smiling like an idiot and hopefully drowns out the steady sound of your pounding heart.

The next week he tells you that the rest of his family is out of town, and he’s been left with the responsibility of running the farm all on his own. He usually does most of the work himself these days anyway since he’s getting older and more mature, although some of his jokes say otherwise. You miss the way his mom would poke her head out of the upstairs window of the main house, calling out a greeting to you both from across the property, overjoyed at the sight of her son spending time with the particular customer he’s mentioned so many times before. Whether he would share an amusing anecdote of yours with his siblings at the dinner table or point out something that reminded him of you, it was far too easy for her to figure out how he feels about you.

In an effort to spend more time with him, keep him company and just help out in general, you offer to stay at the house with him for a little while. Or at least until his family gets back from their trip, and to your delight, he agrees. You arrive in the late evening, on a day when the fields are closed, just in time to catch the setting sun as it disappears behind the trees and power lines that seem to stretch for miles in the distance. Tugging an overnight bag of belongings with you, you knock twice on the wood of his front door.

It opens swiftly and Donghyuck welcomes you inside, wearing an apron that he must have outgrown 10 years ago, at least. You snicker at the snug choice of attire and he shoves your shoulder, though not with enough force to make you stumble. He whines a little in that saccharine-sweet voice of his that makes your heart clench, but you don’t give in. Not this time.

When the farm is closed for the day, the family has a chance to pick from some of the bushes that are planted in a more secluded area, all to ensure that they also have a big enough supply of the fruit to last them for the season. So Donghyuck had woken up at the crack of dawn, although you aren’t sure why. He had made his way downstairs and out into the dewy air of the morning, gathering just enough blueberries to bake a cobbler that night when you came over, since he’d learned it was your favorite treat after hours of conversation about anything and everything. The recipe comes straight from his great-grandfather, he informs you, and it’s written on a yellowing piece of paper in handwriting that you couldn’t read even if you tried. He, however, can somehow decode the seemingly nonsensical swirls and lines on the page. You suppose it’s part of the magic of the family recipe that gets passed down with it.

Donning an apron yourself, you join him at the sink as you begin washing the berries, gently grabbing a handful at a time as you let the tap water clean them. When you both reach into the large container at the same time, your hands brush and you almost scoff at the swell of your heart that you feel inside your chest.

As you’re working together to make the batter that you will soon pour into his mother’s finest glass baking pan, Donghyuck briskly swipes his fingertip on the side of the bowl where the mixer had splattered the combined ingredients, extending it in your direction. You raise an eyebrow at the boy and said fingertip before turning your head away.

“If you really think that I would lick that off your finger, then you’re terribly mistaken.”

Coyly, the mischief-maker in question retorts back as you glance at his impishly delighted expression. “Are you sure?” 

“Positive,” you state rather firmly, but matching the mirth in his eyes with a glimmer of amusement in your own. “I’ll settle for the spatula, thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” Donghyuck rolls his eyes, your answer completely expected. At least he tried. 

You won’t deny that you enjoy sampling a bit of the batter of a dessert as much as anyone. But not that much.

Left with no choice, he takes himself up on his own offer and sticks his finger into his mouth with an audible ‘pop,’ exaggerating the action just to get a rise out of you, feeling the upward curl of his lips when you react ever so slightly with a silent chuckle.

You’re adding the last bit of flour to the mixture when you accidentally get some of the powdery substance on your hand in the process. Turning the automatic mixer off, you momentarily forget about your stained skin and you make the mistake of wiping your face with the back of your wrist, smearing the white stuff on your cheek. Donghyuck notices, of course, and an innocent attempt to help clean up the mess only ends with the two of you blushing like crazy.

“Let me help you,” he speaks up.

“Don’t be ridiculous, the pan’s not that heavy, and even if it was, I’m strong enough anyway—”

You’re about to pick up the glassware but his sudden strides over to you from across the large kitchen cause everything you were saying, doing, and thinking to come to a complete stop. You’ve never really had a problem with personal space before, but right now he’s leaning down and his face is so close that you’re afraid to even breathe for fear that the action might just throw you off balance and towards him. For fear that you might not push his chest away with your hands if that happens.

He’s bending his knees to match your eye level and his hand lifts from its place at his side, hovering in midair not far from where the flour still lingers on your skin. His eyes had been so focused on the stain but the shrinking proximity between you and him pulls his gaze from your cheek to your eyes, blown wide and confused because you still have no idea that there’s something on your face.

The undoubtedly palpable tension in the room almost reaches down his throat and pulls the words from his vocal chords in an effort to dispel the heavy air circulating around the both of you.

“There’s… uh… you have flour…”

Donghyuck still hasn’t broken the less than comfortable eye contact, but he’s unable to look away for reasons unknown to him. After an agonizing amount of seconds your brain switches on again, albeit slowly, and you’re able to properly process the position you’re currently in. Your own hand starts to lift and though the movement is slight, it’s enough to draw his eyes down to it and he finds the strength to complete his goal at last.

His thumb swipes across your cheek and without even thinking he pops it into his mouth once again, forgetting about the unpleasant taste of flour. The way that the boy’s face scrunches up when the bitter powder meets his tongue doesn’t eliminate the awkwardness completely, but it’s a start. You hastily make an effort to avert your gaze as you frantically wonder if he caught your face that’s surely as warm as a blazing fireplace, all because he did the unthinkable with that stupid finger of his.

You won’t let yourself dwell on how his hand is just the right size to cradle the side of your head, or how much nicer his lips look up close, or how they must taste like the blueberries that he snuck into his mouth as you made the cobbler, or how you wished he had used his lips on your cheek instead of his thumb.

How you wish he had closed the almost nonexistent distance between your flushed faces.

These thoughts do nothing to ease the steadily growing heat that’s currently taking over your skin. Your eyes land on the glass pan and you take the opportunity to grab it, acting as a sort of distraction for your mind and also as something to snap you both out of your embarrassed hazes.

You get the finished dessert into the oven with no trouble after that, and now you have a little over half an hour of time to kill before it’s ready, so Donghyuck leads you into the nicely furnished family room and plops down onto the plush couch. When you don’t immediately follow he glances up at you, sensing that you’re still hesitant after the awkward moment. He smiles softly and almost apologetically, as if he’s sending a silent signal that you’ll both move past it soon enough, an invitation to put the incident behind the two of you. And you accept it.

You take a deep breath before you sit down next to him, sinking into the cushions underneath and behind you. The material dips slightly under the weight of both your bodies and gravity itself seems to be in control as it pushes you together, shoulders bumping and the sides of your legs being pressed up against each other. Thankfully, the television roars to life with the laughter of a live audience on one of your favorite shows, and you exhale a puff of air you didn’t even know you were holding in. With every scene that lights up the large display, you curl up further and further into his side, his arm migrating across the back of the sofa and winding around your shoulder only a few centimeters at a time.

This feels like home. Donghyuck feels like home.

The buzzer of the oven interrupts when you’re halfway through another episode, prompting you to jump to your feet just as abruptly as the alarm-like noise had started blaring. Consequently his arm flops down by his side as he mentally curses the loud intrusion into what had become a comfortable atmosphere, an atmosphere that was finally surrounding you again after what felt like an eternity but had really only been an hour.

In no time, you’re returning from the kitchen, the warm blueberry contents of the cobbler oozing out onto the flowery pair of plates you had grabbed from the cupboard. Handing one to him and setting the other aside for yourself, you quickly go back around the corner to grab two tall cups of cold milk. Your second time joining him on the couch comes more easily, almost all of the earlier tension having dispersed into the room, wafting out the windows along with the delicious scent of the fruit baked into the sweet, flaky crust. In fact, you’re fairly sure that it’s strong enough for even his neighbors down the road to smell. Which reminds you: you need to package some up to deliver to them tomorrow, per Donghyuck’s suggestion.

You’re most definitely sure that he smells the aroma, of course, because it’s hard to ignore the eagerness with which he takes a large bite of the dessert. “We make better bakers that I thought we would,” the boy comments, taking a sip of milk. The white mustache that it creates above his top lip when he lifts the glass to his mouth is enough to make you giggle, and you’re unaware that this predictable reaction was his objective all along. He grins, rather satisfied.

With your stomach now full, a head-plaguing drowsiness begins to set in. It slowly fills your senses enough for you to drift off, fork nearly falling out of your hand and onto the floor before he catches it, along with your weight when you slump down against his shoulder. Donghyuck is barely able to reach one of the end tables, and he sets the dishes and silverware down next to the now empty cups. Your body unconsciously clings to his like a koala to a branch, with both hands clutching one of his arms and a leg hooked over his thighs.

He takes one look at you and wishes he could pause time, to stay here forever. It’s not every day that he meets someone who can easily match the amount of snark he possesses. Simultaneously, you also balance out the friendship you share with your compassion and sense of wonder about the world, always evident in your morning routine when you come to the fields. Donghyuck has noticed that you bring out those same qualities in him, perhaps more than anyone else ever has. And just like you’re holding him right now, he vows to hold on to you.

As much as he doesn’t want to get up and for the evening to progress, he knows he should, that it has to. So he manages to detach from the hold of your limbs, gently pushing himself up and off of the couch so he doesn’t disturb you.

Glancing at the large antique clock above the doorway that leads out into the hall, Donghyuck realizes it’s much later than he thought. He decides to turn in for the night, but on a regular day he usually finds himself still awake well past midnight, despite the need to wake up early the next morning and run the farm from the crack of dawn.

Since you’re tired and he doesn’t want to risk you waking up alone in an unfamiliar bed and place, he comes to the conclusion that he’ll join you. Only leaving your side for a moment, he puts the cobbler into the refrigerator and turns off the kitchen lights behind him as he goes. Softly padding halfway up the stairwell, Donghyuck makes sure there’s enough light for him to see where he’s going before making his way back into the living room one last time. He tucks one arm underneath both of your bent knees as tenderly as he can, and places the other behind the middle of your back, hand gently curling against your waist. He carries you with probably the most delicacy he’s shown in his entire life.

Going upstairs is generally an easy task, but doing so while carrying another person is a different story. He would never forgive himself if he were to hurt you in any way. If even your foot happened to bump the wall next to you, a burst of frustration at himself and his own carelessness would surface regardless of the impact’s intensity

Your position in his arms gives him yet another opportunity to gaze upon your peaceful expression, and he begins to think more deeply about what you are to him. Looking forward to your visits makes his work so much more enjoyable and worth it. You’re someone who truly appreciates what he and his family do for a living and you faithfully support them with your business as a customer whenever you can, which is a rare thing to find in most people that come. Most are just bored and in need of something to occupy themselves or their kids. Sometimes they don’t even pick that many berries. But you always make sure to bring your own basket, which holds just as many as if not more than the ones the farm provides, and fill it to the brim. In his eyes, you’re special.

Amidst the mostly-asleep state that you’re in, your eyes just barely open far enough to see a blurry picture of Donghyuck’s face as he carries you through the house and up into the bedroom he had suggested you share. He sets you down onto the soft mattress before pulling the covers up to your stomach, retreating into the attached bathroom to quickly change into a thin t-shirt and his favorite pair of plaid pajama pants.

The memory of that conversation floods back to you. Initially, you refused the offer, saying that he would rest better if he had more space to move around. But being the clingy person he is, he had pouted desperately as you struggled to stand your ground in the discussion. “Fine,” you had huffed, only half-frustrated with those doe eyes he always uses to get his way, and your lips had great difficulty holding back a smile.

The hum of electricity that can be heard emanating from the next room snaps you out of these thoughts, and is enough to wake you up a bit more. Your gaze scans the surroundings for a minute or two before he opens the door again, his eyes now looking as heavy as your own.

Donghyuck joins you under the blanket and shifts to lay on his side, facing you. It’s funny that you’re both able to adjust to a situation so intimate and new almost instantly. Still on your back, your head turns and you’re conscious enough to raise an eyebrow at the boy. There’s that pout again.

“Please?” He mumbles, his bottom lip jutting out in an action he’s perfected. You know exactly what he’s after: cuddles.

You don’t even try to hide the playful roll of your eyes as you scoot a little closer, but it’s not close enough for him. He gets impatient, meeting you halfway, and this time it’s him that flings a leg over yours. An endearing, small noise of contentment from him fills your ears as you take notice of his arms, now interlocked behind your neck and around your shoulders. You melt into the snug position, a hand landing on his forearm that’s laying across your chest. Turning ever so slightly to the side, your other hand winds around his middle and eventually rests just above his hip, pulling him into you even more. Donghyuck nuzzles his face into the side of your neck, a few strands of your hair tickling his skin as he sighs in complete and utter bliss.

Determined to savor the moment until the irresistible inevitability of slumber starts to overtake you once more, you fight to stay awake with all of your might. But in what you thought was only the blink of an eye, the glittering stars visible through the bay window’s sheer drapes morph into the pale golden rays of first light. There’s a soft murmur of your name along with an unintentional, almost imperceptible peck to the place where his lips meet your skin, and you’re wide awake. Not to mention a little shocked.

He’s utterly unfazed, though, slowly waking up now that the sun has gotten brighter, its beams filtering into the room and hitting his already glowing face that becomes a gorgeous honey-colored hue.

Donghyuck reluctantly withdraws his arms from your form after one last embrace, effortlessly rising from the wrinkled bed sheets and offering his hand to you when you start to do the same. A sleepy smile makes a home on his features and he reminds you of your task to deliver a portion of the dessert you made to his next-door neighbors.

That’s exactly what you do, first making yourselves presentable in the bathroom by smoothing down wild bed hair and freshening up your faces with cool water. Being around to see each other’s natural morning states is a major act of trust, and he doesn’t miss an opportunity to poke fun at you for it.

“How long does it normally take for you to do your hair every day before you come here?” His tone is dripping with feigned innocence, but the sly grin on his lips says otherwise.

“Shut up, Hyuck.”

Tupperware container in hand, your shoes step in rhythm with his as you amble along the grassy shoulder of the street together. Somehow you end up hand-in-hand by the time you reach his neighbors’ front patio.

“Donghyuck!” The elderly woman at the door greets him with a twinkling voice, her husband coming into view soon after. “Look who it is, honey,” she motions fondly to the boy who they both once knew to be much shorter and younger, but now is all grown up before their eyes. “You’re getting so tall. It seems like only yesterday you were scurrying through the blueberry fields and waving to us through the gaps in the fence.”

“Yes ma’am, it does,” he responds politely. The couple has been living there for as far back as he can remember, and quite honestly they feel as if they’ve become part of his family, too.

Her warm brown eyes light up. “Is this the customer your mother was telling me about last week? She mentioned how close you’ve become, and now I’m finally seeing it for myself. You make a lovely pair.”

“Oh—” Donghyuck startles. Not much can get him flustered, but he hadn’t exactly been anticipating for his mom to recount all the things he’s said about you to the sweetest and most innocent of elderly couples. Of course they would assume that there’s something going on.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that, with you. He wouldn’t mind at all, really. He’ll just need to have a word about a little thing called privacy with his mother later.

You see the glint of panic in his eyes and speak up. It’s not often he makes such an easy target for teasing. “Thank you,” you state graciously, the smugness in the statement only noticeable to him. “We’re very happy together.” He feels you lean into him, fingers unwrapping from his and gripping the other side of his waist. You know exactly what you’re doing, and so does he.

Almost forgetting to hand over the slices of cobbler you’d cut earlier, Donghyuck nudges you to do so, and the four of you exchange thanks and farewells before you’re on your way back to the farm.

“Happy together, huh?”

“Shut up, Hyuck.” You mumble something else afterwards that he doesn’t quite catch.

“What’s that? Didn’t hear you,” he sings, stopping in his tracks. You do the same. “Shut up and what?”

“...And kiss me.”

After many days and many nights spent wondering, you can confirm that his lips do, indeed, taste as sweet as the blueberries in those fields.

[littlemissnoname13]

love ur blog, btw this is a request for draco malfoy: can you make it where the reader loves coffee and draco also apparently is in love with it and they meet at some coffee shop and yeah u can continue how u like it

Hi lovely! Thank you for your kind words and your request. 💕

As a caffeine dependent human, writing this was so much fun. I hope you like it. X

Same Ideas. Varying Interpretations (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Word count: 1517

Coffee shop AU

Warnings: None just excessive mentions of coffee and soft!Draco pining for the reader.

Draco Malfoy was never really a morning person. 

The only reason he even dragged himself out of bed was the want for a decent sized cup of coffee from the coffee shop down the street. 

Even though he was not a morning person, he was definitely becoming a weekend person. 

Weekends meant he could wake up late, maybe prolong his otherwise quick shower.

To top it all off, that he wouldn’t even have to order his coffee to go! 

In fact, he would get to sit on one of those infuriating little tables in the far corner that never stopped wobbling and look at you and whatever it is that you were drinking that day. 

Sometimes you’d have a tall glass filled to the brim with iced coffee next to you. On other times, you’d be hugging a mug and absently licking whipped cream off your lips—making his heart palpitate in the process.

But within the unpredictability of your coffee order and the color of the dresses that you wore, two things remained constant. 

One, you seemed to really like the buttered croissant they served.

Two, he loved watching you nibble into it as you flipped through the pages of your book. 

And so, on a strangely sunny Saturday morning, Draco decided to stop beating around the bush and he finally managed to ask the lady at the counter to have a croissant delivered to your table. 

“Oh. I didn’t order any today.” You said politely and shook your head when you saw the pastry. 

“Courtesy of one of our regular patrons.” The server smiled before leaving you with a golden brown and perfectly curvaceous croissant. 

Draco observed the whole interaction from afar—taking long slow sips of coffee as dark as his black suit. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want you to know it was him. He just wasn’t sure how you’d feel about a stranger buying you a croissant. 

~~~~~~

The very next Saturday, Draco took his regular seat at the coffee shop and opened the daily prophet in front of him.

Your table remained empty as he scanned the paper—pretending like your absence didn’t bother him. 

I drove her away. 

That’s the only explanation. 

Why is she not here? 

Draco was so busy hyperventilating all alone that he almost didn’t notice a server bring what looked like a buttered croissant on his table. 

He put his paper down for a second and arched a brow at the server who simply shrugged as he nodded towards the door. 

You were just exiting the coffee shop with a to-go cup in your hands—clad in a lilac colored blouse that somehow made the freshly cut tulips wrapped in paper you had tucked under your arms look even more vibrant. 

When Draco took notice of the to-go cup in your hand, he quickly paid for his coffee and followed you out. 

“How did you know it was me?” He called out making him instantly regret this decision when you whirled around to face him. 

To his utter surprise, you flashed him a small smile. 

“Black coffee, no sugar or creamer.” You said. “Every weekend, I see you drink the same hot beverage mr. regular patron. It probably tastes horrible by the way.” 

“It absolutely does not.” He retorted as you both started to walk down the cobblestone. “I don’t understand why you’d choose to ruin a drink that is perfectly good on its own.” 

And both of you kept talking and talking as he walked you all the way home. 

“It was nice talking to you.” You said as you stepped onto your front porch step. 

“Likewise y/n.” Draco said as he put his hands in his pockets and started to turn away. 

Throughout your walk, he’d wanted to ask if you’d like to have dinner with him sometime but the words refused to leave his lips partly due to his fear of rejection. 

Just as he was walking away, he heard you call out his name. 

“Draco. Wait.” 

“Yes?” 

“Dinner tomorrow? Seven-ish? No pressure.” You asked.

Draco didn’t know what you meant by seven-ish—if it meant after or before seven. What he did know was that he was going to be there early anyway. 

Just to be sure. 

~~~~~~~~~

When Draco saw you in your deep red dress that night, he quickly decided then and there that he’d never look at the color the same way ever again. 

He was sure that he’d forever associate the color with your stunning little number for the rest of eternity. 

And to his absolute and utter delight, the date went perfectly well. 

It was strange how things flowed so naturally with you that it felt almost effortless. 

So much so that both of you were the very last people that left the restaurant that night. And being the caffeine addicts that you both were, both of you found yourselfs craving a cup of coffee. 

“I don’t think there’s anything open at this ungodly hour of the night Draco.” You said sadly as you walked with him down the sidewalk—moonlight casting terribly tall shadows of the two of you on the ground. 

The tip of your fingers lightly brushed with his as if on accident and he seized this opportunity to intertwine your fingers with his. 

He fought the smile tugging at his lips when he felt you hold his hands tight before finally saying. 

“I know a place.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~

You let him take the lead as you both ran along the sidewalks giggling like children towards wherever he was taking you. 

From one of the houses along the way, an elderly man poked his head outside of his window and yelled at you both for causing a ruckus at two-thirty in the morning. 

“Shhhhhhh…” Draco whispered, suppressing a chuckle as you both hid inside an alcove as placed his hands over your mouth. 

His face was so terribly close to yours and you felt tingly all over your body when you looked into his shiny grey eyes. 

He had the kind of eyes that could convince you to do just about anything with one simple look. 

Terrifying yet so so comforting. 

When the threat of being yelled at by the old man cleared, he led you all the way to a small 24/7 diner situated at the far end of the road. 

The lady at the counter gave him a smile like he visited the place all the time. 

“Are you a regular patron over here too?” You asked out of curiosity the lady poured you both a cup of coffee.

“I come here when I can’t sleep.” He said, taking a gulp of his coffee. “No one really comes here at this time of the night and the coffee isn’t half bad.” 

You nodded and took a big sip from your own cup observing how his skin glowed a shade of bright pink from the neon sign on the window. 

It felt good with him. 

Even the black coffee that you were drinking felt nice and soothing. 

Just when you thought the night couldn’t get any better, a slow song started to play on the radio at the diner. It didn’t even bother you that the song kept cutting off due to the static. 

“This is such a lovely song.” You told him, making a crooked smile form on his face. 

“Care to dance with me then?” He asked. 

“Here? ” 

“Yes here.” 

You opened your mouth to object but he was already pulling you up—gently swaying you to the music.

The lady at the counter shook her head and went towards the back of the diner leaving you both to it. 

With his arms around your waist and your head resting on his chest, your bodies moved with the music.

From where your head was resting, you could easily hear the wild thumping of his heart and you wondered if he could hear yours. 

You slowly tilted your head upwards to look at him and he lovingly tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ears. 

As his face drew in closer and closer, you closed your eyes and met him halfway.

His lips tasted like caffeine. 

They woke you up, gave you a rush and had something addictive about them. 

He kissed you so tenderly—his lips moving slowly in synchronisation with yours. 

But somewhere between those soft kisses, you could tell that he was holding back something more ravenous and intense. 

It only made you want to keep kissing him.

That night and the nights to come.

 ~~~~~~some months later~~~~~~~

“Not this again.” Your boyfriend shook his head as he took a sip from his mug before taking a bite from YOUR croissant.

“Well forgive me for wanting my coffee to actually taste good.” You rolled your eyes at him as you stirred your straw of your iced coffee. You’d asked for two pumps of vanilla syrup to be added to your drink and Draco gagged at the idea. 

The way you both took your respective coffees was a perfect way to describe your relationship. 

Same ideas. 

Varying interpretations. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @dracomalfoyisindahouse @dracomalfoys-wh0re @maybesandohnos @justfangirlthingies @desiredmalfoy @dlmmdl @trainintersection @fa-me @dracoswhore007 @paulina1998 @wh0re4blaise @marrymetheonott @quacksonsssandtea @letoof @rvaldez7569 @loloo22 @emma67 @berriemalfoy @thegaudess @itchywitch33 @louweasleymalfoy @lunar0se10 @savagelysarcasticslytherin @fleursbabe @teawineaddict @thebitchybeatle @malfoyxxdraco23 @fantasyfairysworld @trashyvicks @h0ggyw0ggyh0gwarts @l0vely-lupin @linasylveon @amwitherspoon

Love,

V

[goggles-mcgee]

Too Late: Master Fu (commission for miner249er)

Chapter 7 of the commission for @miner249er

Previous Work

Last Chapter Next Chapter

Summary: Living for so long, it's hard not to just hide in a pattern and want to live in the past, even if the best thing is moving forward.

Wang Fu was no stranger to failure and mistakes, and though he liked to believe he had grown past those failures and mistakes, that he had learned and healed past them, now was not one such moment. He wasn’t a man of technology but he did own a television, not at first, but when Adrien and...and Marinette started out as Ladybug and Chat Noir he thought it would benefit him greatly to have an eye out for them. The best way he could do so in his age was the news, he would know about an akuma before his young heroes got to the scene so he would be prepared just in case Marinette would need to come over and borrow a Miraculous. Watching the fights filled him with dread but he would do it because it was one of the only ways he felt he could be useful to Marinette and Adrien, he couldn’t transform anymore, well he could, just not for long. Not long enough to be any real help. Maybe that’s why he ignored the signs.

The signs that screamed at him that something was wrong with Marinette, with her and Chat Noir’s dynamic, that something was desperately eating at her. They say ignorance is bliss, but Fu wasn’t so sure about that, it could be, maybe, in the moment when one is ignorant, but when reality comes crashing down you would have wished you had not been so blind. That is where Fu had found himself lately, trapped in that thinking time and time again. The news reports about Marinette had not helped that in the least, and they way the spoke about her enraged and saddened him all at once and though he was thankful that Hawkmoth was no longer a threat so he was able to be mad and sad, he could not find delight in the villain’s “disappearance” since it cost him the closest thing to family he had.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Fu had never thought he would get so attached to someone, he had never done so before, so it surprised him how easily Marinette squeezed herself into his heart. He hadn’t even had to think about who he would pass down the title and responsibility of Guardian to as soon as he got to know her. Even picking her as a hero had been easy, her soul was pure and it sang with creativity and love. When they got to interact with each other more, Fu began to care for her more and more as the days passed, he fully expected her to only visit for Guardian related things but to his delight and surprise, Marinette paid him many visits. From coming simply to see how he was doing, to bringing him some of her family’s pastries, each visit was a treasured moment for Fu.

Her kindness knew no bounds. If she knew he was having a bad day, pains and aches wise, she would bring him some tiger balm that her mom had bought. He had expressed his concern that her mother would notice and get mad with Marinette but Marinette had only laughed and told him that her mother has so many containers of tiger balm around the house and she always buys new ones even though she has, in Marinette’s words, ‘literally a million others.’ That memory brought a smile to his face and a pang to his heart nowadays. He remembered fondly how Marinette would come over and ask for Mandarin lessons since she only spoke Yue and she wanted to surprise her mother’s uncle next time he visited. Fu had been all too happy to assist her. He loved getting to pass on his knowledge and Marinette had been a great student. He even got to teach her how to brew tea.

For all her kindness, she never let it blind her, she let it lead her. She saw the good in people and strived to be the good they could strive to be as well. Wang Fu had admired her kindness and tried his best to live up to that level, where Marinette’s kindness was a strength, Fu’s became a weakness. His kindness blinded him. That was the only conclusion he could solidly come to after everything had changed. Before Marinette was...was akumatized. How else could he have missed the way that Ladybug, that Marinette, had looked during each battle on TV when Chat Noir would joke around...no when he would flirt and distract her from the fight. How stressed she seemed to get after each battle, after each patrol, how she would subtly try to bring up Chat Noir during their visits. Fu had thought nothing of it, or maybe he really did notice and had just willfully ignored everything.

Adrien Agreste was much like Wang Fu. Maybe that’s why he also turned a blind eye towards everything or why he didn’t notice other things. Adrien was a boy trapped by a role he never wanted, or a role he tricked himself into wanting and, or liking, much like Fu had done when he was taken from his family and taken to the Temple of the Order of the Guardians to train as a Guardian. Leaving his family had torn Wang Fu apart, he could have no trace of them in the Temple, not even his name, that too had been stripped from him along with any personal belongings. Truth be told he had forgotten his original name, time and the Order did that and it caused him so much sorrow. He remembered trying to write his old name anywhere he could get away with as a way to remember. He was always caught. So he stopped fighting and fully embraced being Wang Fu, Guardian of a Miracle Box, though at the time he never would have imagined being the Guardian of the most important Miracle Box in the Temple.

So it was easy for Fu to sympathize with Adrien, to him, Adrien joking and flirting around as Chat Noir was in a way the same as Fu trying to write his given name. Adrien just wanted to be free and Fu could understand that all too well. To live under strict rules that made you feel like you were doing anything but living, it was suffocating. So he had been soft on the boy, and that was another mistake for Wang Fu to add to his list, but he would put it up with causing the destruction of the Order of the Guardians and not fighting when he had to “leave” his family. Only because it seemed to be the catalyst to the whole butterfly effect that set everything that had happened into motion. Maybe if he had just spoken with Adrien, had been firm with him, maybe Adrien would have strived to become better rather than just be content with the freedom he had and not thinking of the consequences.

He should have strived to be better, a better man, a better hero, a better Guardian. For as much as Fu spoke and thought and remembered his hatred of the Order and their rules he didn’t try to improve upon them when he fled. No instead he followed those rules that had shackled him and kept him prisoner for as long and as brief as they had. Maybe if he had not lived in fear and guilt maybe he would have been strong enough to tell Adrien he was being unreasonable and maybe he would have told Marinette that she needed to take breaks more often and to just focus on one thing at a time. The kwami also had a lot to learn and that was on him for not teaching them and communicating with them. He should have made it clear that teenagers, no, that people in general, have changed. You can’t be too laid back, sometimes your holder will need guidance. Don’t be too positive and try to enforce that positivity on someone, positivity can become toxic and telling someone they always have to be happy or they always have to be the bigger person is not helping as much as you think it was.

Tikki, Plagg, and him had had a very long discussion at his house about that and about their mistakes in general. Both kwami were displeased with Fu and how he handled everything and honestly he didn’t blame them, but he could tell they took his words to heart as well. Plagg...Plagg hadn’t been eating as much since he was back in Fu’s possession, ever since he was taken from Adrien, and Tikki...Tikki hadn’t spoken a word after their talk. All she did was watch the TV and all the news channels, anything that was about Marinette she would watch, and undoubtedly she would get angry or sad and all the plants in Fu’s house would grow exponentially. All the other kwami tried to comfort her and get her to talk or even just rest inside the Miracle Box for a bit, even Plagg had tried, but the kwami of Creation did not budge. Now Fu could say he understood but that would be a lie, although he and Wayyz were compatible and they enjoyed each other's company, the two of them were not a true match. Tikki and Marinette on the other hand...those two were a true match, two souls connected and bonded, and for a kwami to lose one was said to be unbearable.

In Tikki and Plagg’s silence and sudden mood change, Sass and Longg had been more talkative and desperate than he had ever witnessed before. The snake and dragon kwami had explained to him exactly what their holders had been doing and had done their best to apologize to Tikki, but she had yet to acknowledge their efforts. They were similar to Plagg, their holder may not be a perfect match with them but they were close, so close, so to lose them was painful to them too. They had desperately tried to convince him to give them back to their respective holder, and again they had pleaded with him to do so today as he took a walk to get some air. He had brought them with him so that Tikki and Plagg could get some peace and quiet back at his house, and plus he felt like the two elder kwami needed the time alone. Fu just hoped they could help each other since he and the other kwami were struggling to do so.

“Masster, I undersstand your hessitancce, but I will assk once again, give Luka and Misss Kagami another chanccce. Their heartss were in the right placce.” Sass stated once more, though this time he was hiding himself in Fu’s shoulder bag as he went on his aimless walk.

“Sass is right, Master. I will admit, our holders were hasty in their quest for justice, but in the end their actions were done out of love and loyalty and a wish to help.” Long added.

“I understand that. Know that I do you two, but also acknowledge the fact that Hawkmoth is gone. The reason for the heroes is gone. What reason is there for you to be given back to those children?” Fu replied not unkindly, just with the facts that had been staring at him day after day.

“Masster...you don’t believe that. Yess, true as it may be that Hawkmoth iss gone, we never know when danger comess. Besidess, we don’t know where Miss Marinette iss...I know you want to find her, and Luka and Kagami want to find her too. They can help and they know how to use Longg and I’ss Miraculouss.” Sass replied after a while, and though Fu was reluctant to admit it, the kwami had a point.

“We don’t even know where to begin to look...but you do raise some good points Sass.” Fu muttered, he was grateful for today’s technology as it looked as though he was merely speaking into a Bluetooth speaker, a gift from Marinette, one of many. She had explained it was a good way to speak to the kwami without anyone getting suspicious. Truly the girl was a creative soul, and very smart.

“And, if I may say so Master, this world is not the one of old. The rules made for then do not apply to now, at least that is what myself, Sass, and other kwami believe. The traditional rules demanded our power not be used unless there are other Miraculi active or if the world we inhabit is well and truly on its way to destruction.” Long began after a moment of silence. “Even the word hero has changed, it became a role we never anticipated. I think it is time we change the rules and our views, otherwise, we stand no chance in this new world Wang Fu.”

Fu found himself short of words. Long was right, in all the years he had been alive he had watched the world change, it was a beautiful frightening thing to behold. Yet, in all those years of change, he never thought to change himself along with the world. He had been so stuck in guilt and fear that he mentally trapped himself in a prison of his own design, a prison shaped like a temple that had been lost long ago. There was no excuse really, the truth was plain and simple, Fu was scared. Scared that if he broke the rules that were trained into him from a young age then there would be no redemption, there would be no point in his survival. But the world had changed and maybe Fu did too and could change for the better, because even if the threats to the world weren’t imminent, they were persistent and prominent.

Change was good.

“You believe this change we need is to stay active?” He asked after a while.

“I believe that is a step, yes.” Longg responded and Fu could hear the smile in his voice. “This world needs help and we...we need help too.”

“Longg iss right. You were correct in giving all of uss involved a talking to. At the time we didn’t want to lissten, but the factss are we kwami no longer know how to connect and coexisst in this world with humanss.” Sass admitted, and it was another shock for Fu but at the same time, what they were saying was convincing and true. All of them, not just the kwami, Fu included, had been sheltered away from the world. It was not the advantage Fu or even past Guardians thought it was.

The sounds of children’s laughter brought Fu out of whatever reply he found worthy to give Sass and Longg, he kind of wished Wayzz would give his opinion on the matter but he understood why the kwami was letting his brethren speak their mind. Fu looked around to see where his walk had taken him and felt a pang in his heart and his breath stolen from him for a moment, he had walked to the park next to Marinette’s home. For a while all he did was stand there and take it in before he gave himself a wry smile and decided to take a seat on one of the benches near the fountains. It was a spot Marinette had told him was one of her favorites to sketch at. Sitting there brought fresh tears to his eyes, tears he thought were all cried out.

“I think you two are right, but we will not rush into this. We need to be smart about this.”

“I believe that is the wise thing to do, Master.” Wayzz finally gave his opinion along with a small discrete nuzzle to Fu’s cheek.

“As do I, my friend. As do I.” He chuckled in response.

After that the kwami let him sit there in silence and just reflect and remember. Truly he was grateful for that. He needed some quiet to himself, not the quiet of his home, that was a tense quiet that put an ache in his bones. No he needed this quiet, the quiet of being alone in your thoughts while hearing the noise of everything around you. Sass and Longg both had great points and though he loathed to admit it, if something did happen he wasn’t sure he would be able to do anything or at the very least get help. Fu didn’t like to think about his age much, he didn’t even celebrate his birthday before Marinette, because his age showed how long he had run from his guilt and it showed him his limitations. It would be best to have a team on standby just in case, and besides maybe they could help with just regular crime and disasters too. Yes a team really would benefit them all, but the who of it was where he was struggling.

He already decided he would not give out Tikki and Plagg...they weren’t ready to be out again and he couldn’t imagine giving the earrings to anyone but Marinette. He feared what Tikki’s reaction would be if he even considered the idea. No, it was best that those Miraculi stayed in the box, along with Duusuu who was still healing from being damaged and misused. He would consider Mlle Tsuguri and M Couffaine again as heroes, after all he was intimately familiar with making a mistake, and they made a mistake but they were trying to do the right thing. They were also Marinette’s most trusted friends, she trusted them with her secrets and her friendship, that was enough for Fu. Though he would still test them to see if they could handle being heroes once more. Adrien...Adrien he didn’t know what to do with. With everything that happened he had no way of knowing if their talks did anything. He hoped beyond hope they did because he truly believed that Adrien was a good kid at heart.

“Look who’s here guys! Timebreaker! What are you doing here? You going to bully us until we disappear too?” Fu heard and he immediately looked up to see a young girl with pink hair surrounded by a couple of other kids her age. He recognized her...ah yes, Alix Kubdel, Marinette had spoken of her a couple times when she told him of her friends and school.

“Careful guys, I wouldn’t touch her, what if we vanish if we do?” One of the girls in the group said with anything but fear in her voice.

Fu frowned and pushed himself up to stand, he couldn’t stand the way the group laughed and seeing as no one else was going to interrupt, he would. “What is this? École?” He paused and saw a girl with long blonde pigtails and a parasol and another with a bob of black hair. He recognized them too, the weather girls from TV that Kaalki liked to watch, Aurore Beauréal and Mireille Caquet.

“Oh back off Aurore.” One of the boys of the group of teasing teens scoffed.

“How about you back off Jackson,” Mireille said which seemed to surprise the lot, “You’ve seen what words can do. We all have.”

“Mireille is right.” Aurore announced, her voice demanding attention. “We are lucky that Hawkmoth is gone, but that does not mean you get to treat people like place mats. Any of you. Just because your victims can’t turn into puppets of a madman to get revenge on you anymore doesn’t give you the right to act like crétins. Shame on all of you.”

“If you insist on acting like children in école, maybe we should just call your parents and let them know how you are behaving. I’m sure they would love to know.” Mireille said with an innocent looking smile.

Fu smiled when the group grumbled and walked away from Mlle Kubdel, he watched as the two weather girls looked her over and spoke to her before the young girl shouldered past them both and ran. The girls looked devastated but all Fu could think of was how heroic it was for them to step up like that. “Heroic indeed…” He mumbled to himself.

[agathaslittle]

Meet the Maximoff - Little!Reader x Agatha Harkness

Summary: Wanda shows up unexpectedly at the Harkness holsehold while you're in your headspace.

Requested by Anon: "Little!Reader x Agatha but Wanda meets the little!reader? Maybe a little jealousy from Aggie?"

Word Count: 1272

Trigger Warnings: Age Regress.

A/N: In my fanfics littles and bigs are known.

This was not expected. And it was definitely not planned.

Wanda almost never left her house, too focused on her husband to worry about the rest of the city. The only exception had been Dottie's reunion, but Agatha hadn't expected her to go out again anytime soon, at least until the talent show.

But clearly she was wrong, and quite unprepared.

The witch was preparing lunch when the doorbell rang, and like the good girl you were, you yelled from the living room "I'll answer it!" and immediately ran to the door, not giving her time to stop you.

She didn't want Wanda to know you, much less in your little state, as Agatha was afraid that the great power the other witch possessed might affect you. Also, you weren't very discerning when you were little and could let your real identities slip by accident.

But what was done was done, and in that moment there you were, opening the door for Wanda. At least Agatha had been careful enough to change your clothes to the 60s style that morning; you wore a collared and swirly dress, colorless, since everything in town was in black and white. It was clear that your style was childish, and Wanda quickly realized that.

"Hey there, what's your name, honey?" She asked in a soft tone, her head tilting to the side with a sweet smile.

"It's Y/N," you replied quietly, a little shy with the stranger's presence, "what's yours?"

Damn it, Y/N! Agatha thought as she heard the conversation from the kitchen, her blood turning to ice. You two had talked about your false names, but she already imagined that this conversation would not have reached the little you.

"My name is Wanda, I'm your neighbor to the right, your right," she pointed to the house next door.

It was time to intervene, so Agatha wiped her hands on her apron quickly, practically running into the living room.

"Hey, Wanda!" She smiled falsely, putting her arm around your waist and stepping to the side to let the witch enter, "I see you've already met my little one."

"Yes, she's adorable," Wanda nodded with a kind expression, walking through the door as you buried your face in Agatha's neck, feeling that she was tense, "but I don't remember you telling me about her."

"Oh, must've slipped out my mind to tell you, you know how it is, being a housewife can be tiring sometimes..." she lied naturally, getting a nod of understanding from the redhead, "but anyway, you need to something, dear?"

"Well I came because I want to ask for your help with one of Dottie's requests, her list is very confusing."

"Of course I can, but would you mind if I went into the kitchen for a few minutes? I have to take the pots off the stove and finish lunch."

"If you want I can help you with that," Wanda offered, but that was the last thing Agatha wanted. She needed to get you to another room and fast.

"No need to, sugar, I'll finish it faster than you can say lunch," Agatha giggled, "come with me, Y/N."

You were about to go, but the redhead stopped you both, "you can leave Y/N with me, I'll take care of her for you, I'm sure this cutie and I will get along well."

Agatha forced a smile again, knowing it would be suspicious to deny that request. She then sighed and pulled away from you, stroking your hair, "be nice to Wanda, alright?"

"Okay, mommy," you agreed, running to the living room rug and sitting there near where Wanda was on the couch.

Agatha glanced once more at the two of you before heading to the kitchen, the quicker she finished lunch, the quicker she would solve Wanda's problem and the witch would be gone. She wished she could use her magic to speed up the process but the brunette didn't want to risk being caught.

Still she remained calm, knowing that she would be able to see part of the living room and hear everything that happened from the kitchen.

Meanwhile, you took your stuffed bunny and hugged it, feeling a little embarrassed to be alone with Wanda, even more so when she, too, sat on the rug, looking at you.

"What's your little friend's name?" She pointed to her bunny.

"It's Scratchy Junior," you smiled, petting his fluffy head.

"Ah," she pursed her lips in approval and nodded her head, "just like Señor Scratchy?"

"Yeah, because he's a bunny too and looks like him..." you rambled in a baby-ish way.

"And what does Scratchy Junior like to do, honey?"

Honey? Agatha scoffed mentally, taking the pots off the stove. The pots were boiling, but no more than her blood while she heard Wanda interacting with you.

"He likes to jump around, like this, look," you held him in one hand and mimicked the bouncing of a rabbit all around you until you placed him in Wanda's lap, "and he likes you."

"Awww," Wanda cooed, stroking the stuffed animal with one hand and your hair with the other, "I like him too."

That. Was. It.

"Lunch is ready!" Agatha yelled from the kitchen, her tone a little louder than necessary.

Then Wanda got up, still holding the bunny and offering you her hand, which you held to get up and didn't let go until you reached the kitchen. You clearly liked Wanda, she looked nice.

But seeing you hand in hand with the witch infuriated Agatha, even though she couldn't show it. Instead, she served the plates as if nothing had happened, frowning a little as you sat down in the chair next to Wanda, "come sit at mommy's lap, baby."

And you didn't even question the sudden request, just happy to have lunch on your mommy's lap, and if Wanda noticed that Agnes was jealous, she didn't say anything about it. You barely paid attention to the boring subject about Dottie, enjoying Agatha's affections and Wanda's attention.

She had put your bunny on the table, pretending to feed him every now and then, making you laugh and bounce all over. Agatha had to hold on to keep her eyes from rolling in annoyance to seeing you getting along so well with Wanda.

When you all finished lunch, Wanda felt satisfied enough with Agnes help and finally decided to leave, but not before hugging you tight, promising that she would soon see you and Scratchy Junior again.

This time Agatha almost threw her entire plan out the window, wanting to blow up that little witch - little bitch - for her insolence.

As soon as the door closed behind Wanda, Agatha was already pulling you into her arms, "why did you say you like her baby?"

That made you shrug, "because I liked her."

"Do you like her more than me?" Agatha practically pouted.

You shook your head.

"Silly mommy, I like her but I only love you," you replied as it was obvious, because, well, it was obvious to you. Agatha, however, seemed delighted at your answer, pressing you even closer to her with a big smile.

She would never get tired of hearing those words come out of your lips.

When the news arrived the next day, Agatha wasn't truly surprised to learn that Wanda was pregnant, expecting a baby of her own, coincidentally after meeting you. Even though it smelt of chaos magic, the witch felt a little relieved, knowing that Wanda would no longer be focused on you.

After all, you were Agatha's baby and hers alone.