#like yeah okay maybe if I Force myself to write the paper I will (at least a bit of it)

[raksh-writes]

Oh my god, I just got hit with Such a hardcore urge to do a fresh reinstall of Skyrim and rebuild my mod list from the ground up that it's making it Impossible to focus on anything else and I was supposed to be writing a paper for one of my uni classes today, like why, brain??? Why NOW??? 😭😭

Feels like Im not gonna be able to get my hands on anything else until I do it and it might as well take the whole day ahhhhowpghhiulaergnilaengnalg the fuck is this, help 😭😭

[ssaaaronmontgomery]

Mon I think Aaron got a pair of old man (dilf) style reading glasses and at first he’s embarrassed to wear them with the team bc he knows Morgan or Dave will tell him he’s getting old BUT when he wears them at work he notices you get unable to focus in the team meeting and you’re all dazed basically until he takes them off and tucks them away but bonus point that this interaction makes him feel very desired and wanted 😵‍💫 and maybe he’ll show them off to you in private later 🤫

The Glasses

Warnings: Pining?? Sort of?? Maybe idk. Nothing smutty but there are some implications. This is like borderline nsfw? Maybe??

Word count: 1.1k

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!bau!reader

A/n: Omg yes. We love dilf glasses on Hotch. He already looks so pretty and desirable but something about glasses on him is different and I need it. I wouldn't say this fic is necessarily nsfw. But I might be willing to write a part two where it becomes smutty. I'll leave this as sfw unless I come to the conclusion that it should be marked otherwise.

Tags: @criminalskies

Forever tags: @greg-montgomery @boredelle

You're completely distracted and it's all his fault. Him and his downright slutty glasses. The first time you saw him wearing them it was a very brief sighting as he had taken them off after just a few seconds of you being in the room. And ever since then you craved to see him wearing those glasses again. They often made an appearance in some of the very inappropriate fantasies you have about your boss. They'd even worked their way into your dreams at night.

The case the team is currently working has been dragging on for a couple of days now and you've gotten basically nowhere with it. The fact that you're sitting across from Hotch as he reads a file with his glasses on is not helping you concentrate on the case in the slightest. And it's stirring something up deep inside you the more you stare at him. Aaron wearing those glasses and looking all serious as he reads is making you very horny if you're being totally honest.

"Y/l/n? Y/l/n. Y/n." You hear Hotch speak your name in a stern tone and you feel his hand grasp yours and he squeezes it. You snap out of your trance. "Hmm? Yeah, what is it, Hotch?" He furrows his brows as he looks at you and pulls his hand away now that he has your attention. "Are you okay? You've been distracted. Every time we sit here looking through files, you seem to be distracted. Is something going on? Are you alright?" Concern is clear in his voice.

What you want to say is "No, I'm not alright. I'm horny and it's your fault because you're wearing dilf glasses that make me want you more than ever. You're very distracting and if you don't put them away right now I'll launch myself over this table and kiss you before dragging you to my hotel room." But you figure that's not really the best thing to say to your boss right now. So you settle for giving him a smile and a nod before looking back down at the file in front of you as you try to force yourself not to look at the beautiful man sitting across from you.

You stare down at the papers but even though you're not looking at him anymore, you still aren't actually focusing on the words on the page because you're so concentrated on not looking back up at Hotch to steal another glance at those glasses. Though eventually you can't help it and do it anyway. You can't really stop yourself as you look back to him.

The glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he scowles down at his papers. You sigh out loudly by accident. No one else is really paying attention to you aside from Emily and Derek sending each other smirks when they notice just why you're so out of it. But the loud sigh makes Aaron look at you again. His glasses are down far enough that he's looking over the top of them to make eye contact with you.

"Y/n, are you sure you're fine?" He asks, sounding even more concerned now.

"What? Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit tired is all."

He stays silent as he observes you for a moment before nodding and going back to his reading.

This continues as the team starts throwing ideas around. Aaron keeps an eye on you throughout it and he knows your excuse of being tired, while partially true, is definitely not the main reason for your behaviour and he just can't pinpoint exactly what it is. But he realises it must have something to do with him as you can't keep your eyes off of him, and only him. You're not having this problem with any of the other team members. Not Derek, not JJ, not anyone but him.

He goes back to your previous statement about being tired once everyone goes back to sifting through the numerous number of old reports and files from the precinct as you all try to come up with a group of suspects.

Hotch speaks up when he feels your eyes on him again. "Would you like me to get you a coffee? I know what they have here isn't very good, but it might wake you up a bit." He glances up at you as he waits for your response. "Yeah, sure. That's probably just what I need."

He nods and stands, in the process he removes his glasses and sets them down on the table. He notices how your eyes follow the glasses and that's when pieces start coming together in his mind. He figures he'll test it out when he comes back.

He leaves and comes back a few minutes later with your cup of coffee and sets it down in front of you. You thank him and he nods then sitting back down. This time, leaving his glasses off. In fact, he actually puts them away so they're out of sight entirely.

This seems to change things. You're more focused on the work. You still give him the occasional glance but you're not full on staring at him with drool practically spilling out of your mouth like you had been earlier.

He leaves the glasses put away and he tries his best to read without them like he used to. He'd known he had needed glasses long ago but he refused to wear them because he didn't want his age to show. He knew he would get some teasing remarks about it from Dave and Morgan. But eventually, it got to the point where he could hardly do the reading part of his job. So he reluctantly had his eyes checked and soon he was wearing glasses that made it far easier to read.

He didn't like the glasses in the slightest. They made him feel old and he didn't like that. But the way you looked at him when he was wearing them, that did something to him. It made him want to wear them.

Unable to work without them, he gets them back out and puts them on. It's hard not to notice the way you immediately look back up from your work. He pretends not to see it.

Over the next half hour you can't help but watch him like he's the most interesting thing you've ever seen. You're fixated on him. And now he is sure it's the glasses that are doing it. He has to bite back a smile. Knowing you apparently find him so attractive with them on makes him feel good inside. He doesn't understand why you would like it, but it's extremely clear that it's doing something for you. He's tempted to show up at your hotel room later to explore this further and see just how much you like them.

[jujumin-translates]

★ Main Story | Act 13 - Budding Spring | Chapter 20 - Trial & Error

Tsuzuru: Good morning.

Young Man: Good morning.

Tsuzuru: (I mean, this thing is aimed at younger scriptwriters, so I guess it makes sense that there’s a bunch of 20-somethings here.)

Tsuzuru: (Well, but none of them seem like they’re college students, so maybe I’m the youngest one here…)

Madoka: Ah--.

Tsuzuru: Huh!? You’re participating in this training camp too, Madoka?

Madoka: Kamikizaka-san introduced me to it. So you’re here too, Minagi-san.

Tsuzuru: It’s nice to see a familiar face. Glad to be working with you.

Madoka: Likewise.

???: Alright, let’s get things started.

???: Once again, I look forward to working with you all for the next two weeks starting today. Let’s start with self-introductions first.

Akazaki: I’ll get us started--I’m Akazaki, director and playwright. I also run a theater company called “Hako”.

Akazaki: I started doing this scriptwriting training camp ten years ago.

Akazaki: The core idea of this camp is that young scriptwriters can learn a lot by thinking about scripts from the point of view of a director.

Akazaki: This workshop is a place for young scriptwriters to interact with each other, so let’s all work together with a little friendly competition. I look forward to seeing your work.

Akazaki: Alright, your turn.

Tsuzuru: I’m Tsuzuru Minagi, actor and in-house scriptwriter at a theater company called MANKAI Company. I’m glad to be here!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Akazaki: To start, I want you to come up with sixty plot ideas with the theme of “theater”. Your time limit is one hour.

Tsuzuru: Si…!?

Madoka: Sixty…

Akazaki: Each of your ideas should be conveyed in 100 characters or less. Alright, your time starts now.

Tsuzuru: --Gh.

Tsuzuru: (We’re being thrown off the deep end right off the bat. So the theme is “theater” huh… And I need to turn that into an entire plot--.)

Tsuzuru: (Nope, no time to dwell on it. I’ve got an hour to come up with sixty of these, so I’ve gotta crank out a plot a minute… Everyone else has already gotten going on it, so I’ve just gotta give it my best shot.)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Akazaki: Alright, time’s up. That should’ve been a good brain exercise.

Akazaki: Okay, now, take the plot ideas you just wrote out and swap them with someone.

Tsuzuru: (Swap them…?)

Akazaki: Everyone have someone else’s ideas? Then go ahead and pick three of the ideas you think would be interesting to see.

Tsuzuru: (Someone else’s…!? Wait, no way, does that mean I don’t get to pick what I’m going to write about…?)

Akazaki: Once you’ve picked them, return the paper to its original owner.

Akazaki: Once you have your paper back, pick one idea from those three. You then have one hour to put a full plot together.

Madoka: Um, here’s yours, Minagi-san.

Tsuzuru: Ah, right. You’re the one who picked for me? Thanks, Madoka.

Tsuzuru: (T-These are the three he picked!? I never would’ve chosen those myself. But, I guess they are pretty Madoka-like choices.)

Tsuzuru: (Whatever, I’ve got an hour to pull together a plot. I guess I’ll go with this one since it seems like the easiest one to flesh out…)

Tsuzuru: (God, who even comes up with an idea like this…? Well, me with a time limit, apparently…)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Akazaki: Hmm, I see…

Akazaki: I can tell that you were trying to keep things in your comfort zone and there are places where it’s obvious that you were running out of time.

Tsuzuru: Ah… right.

Akazaki: But it’s important to have your comfort zone, and I can tell you that it was kind of unlucky that you had to be dragged out of it for this.

Akazaki: I know it’s natural to want to use your usual style or follow your same techniques, but if you make an effort to throw in new things every once in a while, you can throw a few more tools in your toolbox for you to use later on.

Akazaki: Sometimes you need to be confronted with a more forceful approach like this, that way you can learn to take hits like this more easily.

Tsuzuru: Yeah, I know that already…

Tsuzuru: (It’s important to be able to stand my ground, but that doesn’t mean I can be defensive all the time…)

Akazaki: By the way, why did you decide to come to this training camp, MInagi-kun?

Akazaki: With an in-house position, you’ve got a stable place to write, so is there really a need for you to venture into the outside world?

Tsuzuru: I may have a stable place to write, but I’m always wondering how I can grow more. For my own sake, and for my troupe’s sake.

Akazaki: I see. Well, I think having that kind of greed is a good thing.

Akazaki: This training camp is a workout for your brain, like a real athletic event, so try not to burn yourself out.

Tsuzuru: Right, an athletic event… I was already kinda getting that feeling.

Akazaki: So, that said, why don’t you try and fix this thing starting from the beginning?

Tsuzuru: --U-Understood.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Tsuzuru: Aghhh… I’m exhausted…

Tsuzuru: (My brain is fried… I never want to write a single hiragana, kanji, or any other character ever again…)

Madoka: Good work.

Tsuzuru: You still seem pretty lively, Madoka.

Madoka: Do I…? Maybe it’s because I’m used to writing a lot quickly.

Madoka: In the past, my father used to make me do a lot of sudden script revisions, so…

Tsuzuru: That must’ve sucked…

Tsuzuru: But I see… I don’t have a whole lot of experience with having to make revisions like that.

Madoka: I don’t know whether I can say it was a good experience or not, but… I feel like it gave me some more strength for things like this.

Tsuzuru: You sure are resilient…

Madoka: Some of the other participants seemed to be pretty used to writing a lot. It’s probably because a lot of them have experience writing for a lot of different things.

Tsuzuru: That’s true. They did give off the vibe of pros who write scripts for a living.

Tsuzuru: (I’m still just an inexperienced student. The only experience I’ve had writing outside of the company was with Otomiya-san…)

Tsuzuru: I’ll just take all of this as I sign that I still have room to grow.

Madoka: I still have a lot to learn to aim for the new Fleur Award, so… Let’s both do our best.

Tsuzuru: Yeah.

Tsuzuru: (Madoka’s also trying to grow as a scriptwriter for GOD-za. I need to get fired up like that again too.)

Madoka: Well then, good night. See you tomorrow.

Tsuzuru: G’night.

Tsuzuru: (The thing with the way I write scripts is that I just do the same thing I always have, but it’s still kinda refreshing to learn more about how other people write them.)

Tsuzuru: (I’ve really used up all my braincells, but it’s pretty interesting experiencing a new world like this.)

Tsuzuru: (Oh, right, I should check in on the group chat before I sleep…)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

tsuzuru has entered the chat.

Curry: thanks for the suit

TorORo: you hAveb tkaen your Firstn stepn into becominf a busineeSsman! (1)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Tsuzuru: (I’ve got no clue what Citron-san is trying to say, but what else is new… And what kinda name is “TorORo”…)

Tsuzuru: (…I feel like I could write up some material for Citrun with that.)

Tsuzuru: (Can’t believe I felt like I couldn’t even write another character a moment ago. I’ll just jot down some quick notes before I sleep.)

[ ⇠ Previous Part ] • [ Next Part ⇢ ]

• • •

T/N:

(1) Citron’s name in the chat is “都呂々” (Tororo) which is just the name of a town in Japan. I think what he was probably going for was to have his name as “トロロ” (Tororo, just in katakana) as like, a play on his name? Because like, シトロン (ShiTOROn) so it’s like taking the “トロ” (Toro) part of his name and turning it into “Tororo” as a nickname. I decided to translate it as “TorORo” because like, “都呂々” has the pronunciation he was probably going for, it’s just not quite the right way to write it, so I figured the best way to convey that was through weird capitalization as opposed to it being misspelled.

[scaly-freaks]

I love love love dark stories. I don’t know why but they just itch my brain perfectly. Your stories I swear are thoughts I’ve had (let’s not get into that) and written out in a way I couldn’t fully conceive.

I’ve been practicing some writing just as a hobby and I think for me to write dark stories it feels like I need to fully cross a wall of some sort to out those thoughts on paper. Not sure how to overcome it but I’m trying.

But yeah idk why but the sadder and more brutal a story is the better and I think it’s because on an emotional level I can just connect with it if that makes sense?

Anyways this is just a long winded way of me saying that I love your work and appreciate the effort you put into fleshing out characters and having us connect with them in that way. (I also love sappy moments too but idk with dark stories they feel earned in a way like we worked for it and achieved a short lived reprieve)

Also just a quick little question, how would an interaction between Daemon and Amara go? This is gonna sound terrible but when you mentioned the stepdad au my mind went to him before our Egg boy.

No because...same. I write dark stories and revel in them the way people revel in comfort media. I understand them, and the necessity of finding light amidst the darkness is something I've lived with all my life so familiarity breeds comfort in me. Sometimes I get a little startled because someone will read what I wrote and be like wtf how does this happen? How is it ever allowed to happen? And I'm like yeah...why did that happen to me? Why was it allowed to happen? But then I turn off the switch and dive back into fiction to cope (as I think many people who create art out of trauma will profess to - it's a way of distancing yourself but acknowledging it).

That wall (I know what you mean) will be crossed eventually I think. Just stay aware that it's not a wall you want to cross often or live beyond all the time. It's somewhere to retreat to, but always remember to climb over it and return to the other side otherwise it can get too much.

Thank you so much for this ask though, it makes me feel so seen and appreciated. I often worry that I'm upsetting people with how abjectly miserable my work can get, and force myself to lighten it up so it'll be more palatable. But the AU idea I posted yesterday named 'fuck puppet' is mostly what I write well and consistently (Amara does kill him in the end, so there's no romanticisation there, it's just pure victim vs abuser, beast vs human, and she wins).

And HMMM okay, so if you asked me about Daemon and Amara two years ago, I'd be like ew no. He really irritated me as a character when everyone was defending him, but the defence of him as stopped being as cloying and the writers have dug into the pathetic aspects of his nature more so I'm open to exploring him.

Plus, ironically whenever he interacted with Amara in my fics even when I hated him, there were readers who pointed out that there was sexual tension there (which I didn't even intend!) So clearly, there'd be something there, what with her daddy issues and his ability to appear put together and intelligent in front of a much younger woman.

I think where it takes Aegon longer to identify Amara's childishness and immaturity (because his own outshines hers a lot of the time), Daemon would snap at it in an instant. Eventually, Aegon gets there and is like okay, my turn to take care of you but Daemon reaches the destination immediately and does softer things to figure out whether she sees him in a remotely romantic/sexual way. So maybe a gentle hand on her waist to move her aside, resting it on the small of her back to comfort her (but only for a second) or giving her that odd little smile when she's yapping that has a twinkle of endearment in it. I think she'd fall for it pretty fast, and get a kick out of all her friends being disgusted by the idea of her having sex with an 'old man' (because obviously to them he is). She doesn't see it as exploitation, and she doesn't have to. When she's in his bed for entire weekends and he's using every trick in his extensive book of sexual tricks on her, she barely has time to think never mind wonder if this is right. I think he probably would need Viagra though bc canon Daemon strikes me as the type to wear out pretty fast, but Amara would be the insatiable party and well...there we go.

Anyway, over time, she is a little flighty, and her friends' constant judgement does weigh on her, along with the fact that Daemon's immaturity isn't like her immaturity. He's still ahead of her in experience. He can gaslight her into believing his pettiness is actually adult wisdom. So if he doesn't like her hanging out with boys her own age, he'll cut at her intelligence and make her feel diminished and stupid for thinking those boys could possibly want her for anything more than sex. And she'd fully believe him. She'd probably be reduced to tears after screaming at him for being a dickhead, and then accept his palm caressing her face telling her it's fine, and that he didn't mean it, and has she seen herself? She's so beautiful, anyone would want her. He just loves her and is worried someone will take advantage. And then that of course leads to sex and her feeling relieved Daemon cares so much and giving him everything she's got to make sure he feels the pleasure in return. Thus, the whole cycle starts again.

I can't believe I'm saying this but...Aegon might just have to be the rescuer in this situation LMAO. Daemon would not let her go easily.

[barbieb0y]

where hope lies in a snowless land.

day 5 wowza!!

for day 5 of scrunkly week, i... actually planned to go with all the prompts except what once was will never be again but... i got carried away and somehow that became the only prompt i wrote about ???????? dude i swear theres just smth that possesses my fingers when im writing

ngl i projected more than usual here somehow but this is like. hurt/comfort. paper cut has a shitty family and joe comforts him basically. their relationship is more ambiguous too. anyway

“Man, if I wanted to live in a place where there’s no snow during winter, I might as well go back to my hometown.”

Paper Cut quips as he looks up at the sky and reminisces the days he spent at a land oceans away from his current home, one corner of his lips tucked in disappointingly. Unfortunately for the two of them, San Francisco is not known for its snowfall activity. On the contrary, when it does occur, it’s written into the history books.

“Too bad you’re stuck with me, huh?”

Joe’s comment is accompanied by a kick of a rock, then it sinking into the murky city waters, like an extremely discounted version of throwing a coin into a fountain for a wish. Hands in his pockets despite wearing gloves.

“God, Joe, don’t even. I’d choose to be stuck with you over my family any time, any day.”

Paper Cut notices Joe’s very subtle flinching. He must’ve tried to hide it from him. Paper Cut sighs regretfully as he looks at his feet; as he’s sitting on the backrest of the bench, his feet rest on the seat itself.

“...Sorry.”

It’s all he can really say, even though he doesn’t owe it to anyone. And Joe makes this clear in his response.

“It’s okay. Your family members are assholes anyway.”

He’s not factually wrong but it doesn’t make Paper Cut any less guilty. The latter exhales through his nostrils as the former moves to sit on the bench beside Paper Cut.

“Yeah but I’m going against your whole belief, aren’t I?”

Always love your family. That’s number two of Joe’s many street survival rules. Paper Cut admires Joe for his strong beliefs but that rule of his has always made him reluctant to talk about family around him. In a way, Paper Cut considers Joe lucky to even hold that kind of belief, despite everything that happened with him and his sister.

“Maybe less ‘going against’ and more ‘challenging’.”

This comment makes Paper Cut turn towards Joe. Luckily, he doesn’t have to wait long for an explanation.

“Your situation made me think about things.”

Joe simply stares at the water. It is as tainted as any body of water that lies in the middle of an equally tainted city. Yet Paper Cut is not as tainted, despite being part of such a murky family. He dwells on this for a little longer.

“Family… you always have to love your family, yeah. But your family already hates you for something you can’t control. That’s not fair to you.”

Paper Cut struggles to find the words to argue back. Joe leans back in his seat.

“So, uh, it’s understandable if you can’t love them back. If anything, I think it’s good for you that you don’t force yourself to love them.”

Paper Cut appreciates Joe for reconsidering one of his core principles because of him, he truly does, but–

“...That’s the thing, though.”

“Huh?”

Paper Cut begins to move and promptly jumps off the bench entirely. He stands still, gaze lost to the cityscape.

“I don’t force myself to love them… because I already do. I still do, kinda. And it hurts to miss the people that can’t even love you back like you do with them.”

Paper Cut is hunched over now with his hands clasped close to his chest, choking on unshed tears. Joe instantly gets up at this display but Paper Cut simply shakes his head to stop him from laying a hand on him.

“I… I can’t erase our history together. It’s not like I was never happy when I was with them… They did make me happy at some point. But then they threw me out like I was garbage.”

Paper Cut finds himself kneeling on the ground. His heart is aching.

“...I just wished they did it sooner.”

He breaks. The pavement beneath him soaks up his tears emphatically, the only solace it can provide him. Joe has his right hand on his back as support.

“I’m an arcanist, they’re not. So why? Why did they keep me around for so long? Because I was useful? Yet they thought I was a disgusting arcanist anyway.”

Joe locks him in a side embrace now. He doesn’t push him away and simply keeps sobbing.

Eventually, they both sit down on the pavement, despite the presence of a bench right behind them. Paper Cut doesn’t have the strength for such a mundane action as sitting on a bench like a normal person. He was never normal anyway.

They stay like that for a few minutes. Paper Cut sniffs as he pulls his knees to his chest, resting his hands and head on them.

“...Sorry again. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. We were just talking about the fucking nonexistent snow here, haha.”

Joe shakes his head at the self-deprecating laugh and brings Paper Cut in for a full hug this time. Paper Cut says nothing. He presses himself closer into Joe. He smells like love.

“It’s okay.” And that is all Joe has to say. Yet it is all Paper Cut needed to hear. Because it is okay. He’s here now with Joe, who has more than enough love to offer.

And - he definitely imagined it but - he can feel snow in his hair.

[crusherthedoctor]

What's your WIP?

Prepare for cringe, and make 'em twinge.

What if: Paper Mario... but with Eggman. :D :D :D

I promise it's not as dumb as it sounds... okay maybe it is. But hear me out, I didn't bash non-matching LEGO bricks together mindlessly, there's some comprehensive logic behind it. :<

A while back, during the weekly groaning about Eggman being undermined and treated like shit, I pointed out that when you think about it, he would actually be a very serious problem if he were inserted into other works unrelated to Sonic. I said this mostly out of humor, but it's a what-if that I've thought about more seriously from time to time, including very recently, where I wondered out loud if Eggman would be more respected in-media and out if he were from literally any other franchise. Because as much as I hate to say it, it does feel that way sometimes...

Meanwhile, as you've no doubt gained from my recent posting, I've been more Paper Mario-pilled than ever before, due to how much the TTYD remake gives me passion during a time where I've been sorely needing it, as well as just remembering how much I love TTYD and the original N64 game in general. This happiness inspires me to do something with it out of celebration, so I think to myself "Hey, all my works so far have been strictly Sonic, but I'm currently having a down period with the series due to my ferocious apathy towards most of the current stuff, so how about I expand my horizon and experiment with something that doesn't have that confounded hedgehog in it for the time being? Maybe having something else would also keep me rejuvenated with Stellar, since I could bounce between different projects! But what can I come up with for Paper Chris Pratt?"

Then I think back to the first point, and… yeah. Does what it says on the tin, doesn't it. In an effort to make it sound less Now That's What I Call Mid-00's Fanfiction.Net Vol. 1, think of it like the anti-Storybook: instead of Sonic being catapulted into an unfamiliar world, and having to help out with what's going on… Eggman gets catapulted into an unfamiliar world, takes advantage of the fact that Sonic isn't there to stop him like the opportunistic bastard he is, and the (Paper) Mario universe is forced to deal with a threat that they have no context for.

Yes, I know it's very fanfic-y, but at this point, between this and Sonudis, I think my entire selling point(?) might be taking the most fanfic ideas you can think of (short of killing off canon characters or dumping them in a high school AU, because not even I would do that), and playing them as authentically and respectfully to the source material and official characterizations as possible. What kind of trouble would Eggman be able to cause in a world with no Sonic or Chaos Emeralds around? What scheme would he come up with? What would this very different cast of characters make of him, and vice versa? Is this just an excuse to write for Vivian to cope with the fact that she'll probably once again not appear in later games? (The answer is yes.)

If I decide to actually create this Frankenstein abomination of an idea, it probably won't be uploaded on this site since I'm not sure how many Mario fans I have in the audience so to speak. Then again... @beevean seems to have carved a place for herself in the Castlevania fic community on here, so maybe I should?

(Also, this would NOT lead into a full-on Mario and Sonic crossover, or some convoluted cinematic universe nonsense. It would just be a unique character study, nothing more. Plus, just the idea of a traditional Paper Mario adventure where the villain is inexplicably Eggman is my kind of shitpost energy.)

[gryphonlover]

Whumptober 2023 Day 4

Prompt: shock

Victim: Sky

Words: 1234

Notes: Sky gets some unexpected news...

I made myself cry. Have fun.

Sky loved getting letters from Sun. It made the whole time traveling thing so much easier. He didn't like being separated from her, but it was very reassuring to know that she was safe in their era with Groose while he was out and about fighting evil.

When the mailman found them again he took his letter eagerly, and ducked behind a tree for a little bit of privacy. There was no need to traumatize young eyes with the contents of his wife's letter, after all.

He gently opened the letter, removing the seal with care, only to be met with the sight of Groose's handwriting. That was… odd. He dismissed the piece of fear stabbing his chest. It was likely nothing. Maybe Sun was just busy and didn't have the time to write, or maybe Groose just wanted to write about something inconsequential that he didn't think could wait even though it definitely could.

Yeah, that had to be it.

But after skimming the letter, that piece of fear dropped into his stomach like a shard of ice. Sun was pregnant, the letter said.Sun was <i>pregnant</i>. 

The paper slowly started to slip from his fingers, so he hungrily snatched it back up and reread it, this time more thoroughly. Sun finally had irrefutable evidence that she was pregnant, and had been trying to reach the mailman so that she could send a letter to Sky, so she'd moved down to the surface in the almost-finished house with Groose so that she'd have a better chance of catching him. But before the mailman arrived, she got sick. It took a long time, but by the time the mailman had finally arrived, she told Groose to write to Sky for her because her hands were shaking too badly. They were going to try and convince a doctor to come down to the surface since she was too weak to travel via loftwing, but Groose was afraid to leave Zelda alone for too long.

Sky could feel his hands shaking. This wasn't exactly the news that he'd been expecting.

Sure, he was very happy to know that a child was on the way. They'd both talked about having children before, they both wanted to be parents, and would be happy with all the children that Hylia blessed them with. However, they didn't want to force things, or rush into making a family. They had all the time they could want, and the surface wasn't going to populate itself. 

Now Sun was pregnant and all alone with only Groose to care for her. He should be by her side, he was her husband, it was his duty. His one duty and he couldn't even do it himself, he had to rely on a friend to care for her.

He must have taken a bit too long, because Twilight poked his head around the corner. "Sky? Are you ready to go? Time's itching to head out."

Sky knew that he wouldn't be able to say anything without breaking down, so he just turned his face away and nodded.

Twilight paused. "Are you sure? You don't… you don't look okay. What's up?" 

Sky blinked, the tears that had been budding in his eyes spilling over, and he shoved the letter at Twilight's chest.

Twilight fumbled with it clumsily. "Uh… do you need a handkerchief or something?" 

Sky pulled the edge of his sailcloth around his shoulder and pressed his face into it, guiltily soothing himself with the scent of his wife. 

Twilight awkwardly stood there for a minute and then wrapped an arm around Sky and pulled him close. 

Eventually Sky got a grip on himself and pulled away, giving his face a wipe with the sailcloth. "Sorry about that." Seriously, he was 22, he should have better control of himself. This was ridiculous.

Twilight's face softened. "Don't worry about it. Sometimes a person just needs a good cry. That's what my mama always says and she's never wrong about nothing." 

Sky laughed half-heartedly. "I don't know about that." 

Twilight gave him a look. "Are you saying my mama don't know what she's talking about?" 

Sky's eyes widened. "No, no, I didn't mean–"

Twilight laughed and playfully slugged him in the shoulder. Sky winced. Twilight was just not aware of his strength. At all.

"Look," Twilight nudged him back towards the path where the others were. "Sometimes you just need to let the stress out. We've been traveling through time for, what, a couple of months now? Just running around and hunting down monsters as if we know what we're doing. A bunch of boys and young men, not much more going on than fighting and pranking. It makes sense that you'd need some kind of break." 

Sky's face tinged pink. "I don't need a break, Twilight. I'm fine." 

"Come on," Twilight coaxed. "At least tell me what's got you all worked up." 

Sky fidgeted with the edges of his sailcloth. "It's… it's Sun." 

Twilight slung an arm over his shoulder and steered him in the general direction that the others were heading. "What's wrong with Sun?" 

"She got sick," he mumbled in response. Saying it out loud just made it seem stupid, and drove home just how immature he was. He was going to be such a horrible father if it was this easy to upset him.

Twilight rubbed his shoulder reassuringly. "And that's got you so upset because…?" 

Sky's mouth opened and closed a few times before he managed to squeak an answer out. "I- she's expecting."

Twilight choked and stopped dead in his tracks. Sky almost tripped over his own feet at the abrupt stop. 

"I beg your pardon?" 

Sky took a deep breath before spitting it out. "Sun is pregnant and she got sick on the surface and it's just her and Groose and I'm such a horrible husband chasing monsters instead of taking care of her and–" 

"Okay, okay, I get it." Twilight interrupted. "But it's not your fault, and you're not a bad husband. That's just ridiculous. You are literally everything a woman looks for in a man. You slayed a <i>god</i> for your wife, Sky. You cannot stand here and tell me that you are a bad husband because of something you can't control." 

"But–" 

"No buts. Listen to me. You and Sun have a really good relationship. Neither of you would ever hurt the other. Intimacy is something that naturally happens when you fall in love and get married. It would be ridiculous to expect the two of you to abstain from it if you both want it. You had a good time, Sun probably had a good time, and now there's a child on the way." 

"That's not what I'm worried about!" 

Twilight cupped Sky's face in his hands. "Sky, you literally cannot control sickness. It just happens." 

He released him. "Besides, sickness is not going to be what kills that woman. She can hold her own." 

Sky nodded slowly. "I hope so…" 

"She's the incarnation of a goddess, she'll be fine." 

Sky sighed. "Yeah." 

He was still worried, but Twilight had a point. Sun had survived a lot without him. She'd get through this sickness and then he would pamper her to pieces when he saw her again. He just had to take things one step at a time and things would work out.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

No matter how stupid or futile this is, I have to do it, I have to write everything down. Maybe it will help me remember, although I have to say forgetting sounds pretty amazing right now. Still, I need to make sense of things, but at least clear my head.

Who am I kidding. This is not for me. It's for you and I so, so hope you will be able to read it. That you'll understand what I went through and why it had to end this way.

Right. Let's do it before this paper disappears along with this fucking day.

It's March 1986 and out of all the fucked up things that have happened in my life, this one takes the cake. Two murders with a curse, power of mind, whatever. People fall asleep standing, start floating, die with a crunch and there's no sign of it stopping, so that's fun. And by fun I mean really fucking horrible. It seems I'm writing the word "fuck" a lot. It helps a bit.

Nancy said, I mean, will say later today...that the guy, Vecna, Henry Creel, One, who honestly cares, plans to do some really messed up shit with Hawkins. And yeah, which villain doesn't have plans like that, but this one means it. Like, really means it. I saw it happen again and again and for some fucked up reason, some higher power chose me to fix this. Just adorable.

Why it chose me, I have no fucking clue. Anyone else would have been a better choice - Dustin and that huge brain of his would figure out not only what to do, but also why it's happening. He'd make sure Vecna would bite the dust during the second, third loop. Maybe it would be a week, but he'd get it eventually. Robin would run around like a headless chicken, but she'd start piecing things together. Nancy? She'd grab a gun or twenty and make sure everyone lives to see another day. Me? I can't get anything right.

I tried telling the others, but honestly, where do you start? You all die horrible and gory deaths. I've seen you choked, broken, torn apart, bleeding out, bones crushed to pieces, all that and more. I keep trying to fix things, but you don't listen to me and at this point, I don't even want to tell anyone because you look at me in that sad, pitying way, as if I was stupid - and shit, maybe I am, okay, not much going on under this fabulous hair, but the last time I tried telling you, you forced me to sit it out and nothing changed, except I just had to wait, listen to your screaming on the walkie. That has been the worst loop so far.

And what's even worse is how much I know about all of you now. I never thought the end of the world would take this long, but I've spent days changing things, piece by piece, but it still ends in bloodshed. But I keep the pieces of you all I've collected along the way and they make the stakes so much higher, so much more cruel. I used to think I know all of you but now I feel like I have some extra puzzle pieces that were thrown in the box and I need to keep them a secret. Day by day I keep learning about everyone...and about myself.

You hate yourself so much and I don't understand it. You do the best you can with the hand you're given and I admire it so much, even if I saw you in a completely different light only a few days ago. But ever since we met in that boathouse, you intrigue me. What you do for the kids, for Dustin...you need to survive this. You need to live because I can't imagine a world without you.

I'm going to try something different today. I used to charge with you, storm the Creel house, but this time I will have to stay behind. Maybe it's just a matter of time, maybe you just need a few more minutes, seconds...but I can't stand to see you die again.

If by any chance this paper makes it with all of you to the next day, I just want to say it was an honor to meet you. I'm so glad I could learn so much about you, understand you, learn to love you for who you are. Maybe it's a matter of a simple exchange and I'm willing to try, because to me you're worth it. I wonder if we could have been friends, maybe something more, if we were only given more time.

Hm. Can't believe I wrote that. Sorry, didn't mean to make this awkward, but marching towards certain death makes you brave.

Please take care of everyone, Steve. And yourself too. Especially yourself.

Love Yours Thank you for everything.

Eddie

[supa101]

The Amazing Story ( Chapter 16 )

Person : are you gonna answer my question?

Supa : no

*Person starts poking supa*

Supa : Stop poking me.

Person : answer my question

Supa : grr fine >:(

*supa starts drawing a map*

Person : answer the question!

Supa : no

*Supa starts drawing a himself at the teleportation walkway*

Person : you can teleport by the way.

Supa : mhm sure. even if you stop my teleportation. Cya

*Supa teleports to the teleportation walkway*

Person : god damn it. why won't he fucking answer my question?

*Blue shrugs*

Supa : they are not here... maybe if I do this.

*Supa draws creator*

Hi supa! what is happening?

Supa : So we get this clear no relation ships with us okay?

Never was planning on being with you. Though It is always safe to make sure some stuff does not happen.

Supa : Yup you know a lot don't you?

Yeah... I don't have anyone Fine with that by the way. relationships are not on my mind at the moment I have other idea's at the moment

Supa : True What things do you dislike or something.

don't wanna talk about it.

Supa : Okay... Yknow ships are stupid. Its like forcing fictional characters together. or popular people. Or people who are well known.

I will always be here for you. If you are mad and sad or grumpy or depressed. You can kill me if you are mad or bored I'll always come back

Supa : you always come back. sounds like that stupid william guy.

No fuck him. yknow you can see people without camera's speaking with some people are sometimes glitched and its stupid.

Supa : So what you can use this?

*supa makes a glitched screen*

Yup. I feel like trolling william. want to kill him? it would be 100% funny. Also you are drunk.

Supa : yeahhh makes sense

So how do you want him to die? fire? wait no. SHIT HE DOES NOT DIE! well lets just torture him.

Supa : I think it would be funny to just teleport him into the sky for some reason.

Well write it down!

*supa gets rid of the glitched screen*

Yeah ... I want to plant a rose right here.

Supa : So you can have someone to talk to when I am gone?

supa you already know that

*they plant a rose in the ground*

Well that is that.

Supa : Did you hear that?

Hey wants that In the distance?

Supa : looks like a dumpster

*its a raccoon in a dumpter*

No that makes sense.

Supa : Also how do you talk? you don't have a face eyes nose ears And no mouth!

Its inside my head I just want to get my mouth because I have nothing else

*They grab a mouth out of his head and puts it on there face*

That's a bit better

Supa : So what now?

*they kiss supa on his head*

You remind me of a cat.

Supa : Well that was... something?

I can do a trick with these cat ears and I don't even need the paper. You can do this with the paper anyways

Supa : show me

*they spawn a test doll and puts the cat ears on it*

Supa : that's it?

Nope

*they pat the test doll's head and it becomes a cat*

Supa : OH MY GOD THAT IS AMAZING! THE CAT IS SOOOO CUTE!!

Hey I want to do that to you.

Supa : I AM 100% FINE WITH THAT IT IS SO CUTE!

*they puts the cat ears on supa's head and pats him*

Supa : will it take just a moment?

Yeah it takes longer with humans or just living people

*Supa turns into a cat*

...

Supa : Is it fine?

Dude... YOU LOOK SO FUCKING CUTE!

Supa : I want you to take a picture of me and I'll turn myself to normal. Then I can draw it and I can have cat me. But it won't talk like me but It would be so cute!

*they take a picture of supa as a cat and he turns normal*

Supa : I gotta go home cya tommarow!

Bye!

[determinedwriter]

Whumptober 2023 Day 18: Alt Prompt 11: Panic

Ro

It’s fine. You’re fine. Ro, you’re fine.

I keep trying to tell myself this, my heart beating way too fast. Why does it have to happen on the day I turn in the essay worth half my damn grade? I’m terrified. I know it’s a good essay, but my teacher can be really strict and harsh about the small things.

I gulp as my teacher slaps my essay on my desk with a frown and a big red F covering half of the first page. “You’re lucky I don’t expel you for this, Potts.”

“W-What?” I gasp. “Sir, I worked on this for an entire month. I put a lot of effort and a ton of hours into this. Why are you giving me an F? I’ll fail this class if-”

He holds his hand up to stop me from talking. “Please, don’t embarrass yourself further in front of the class. This was clearly written by someone else. You either plagiarized it or had someone else write it for you.”

The students around me giggle.

My jaw drops. “W-Why would you think that? I swear, I wrote it all myself. Please, I-”

“Get out of my classroom if you decide to continue disrespecting me.” My teacher. Mr. Carson snaps.

My cheeks go hot and I feel my anxiety reach its peak. “I…I s-swear I…”

He points to the door. “Out. Now. Please, everyone, take note of what NOT to do and what I will NOT tolerate in my class.”

Legs shaking, I stand up and grab my essay, looking at the big red F in shame, listening to the snickering of my classmates until I’m outside and running to the bathroom to cry. I worked so hard on this paper and I’m being called a cheater. It’s not fair.

Contemplating calling my dad, I let my finger shakily hover over his contact name. “Get it together, Aurora. You’re fine...don’t freak out…it’s okay…”

The bell rings, signaling the end of the class. I need to get to my next one, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to sit through it without bursting into tears. I’m so embarrassed. I don’t know what to do now. I can’t skip, but I can’t stay.

I’ve been anxious about that essay all day. Of all the things I thought could happen, I didn’t imagine this. I’m heartbroken. Like the perfectionist I am, I have straight A’s. I’m Tony Stark’s daughter. I have to be impressive. Even if the general public doesn’t know of my parentage, I still hold myself to an impossible standard.

Looking down at my phone, I try to decide what to do. I can’t talk about my essay. I’m too scared to admit what happened. And I’m not even sure if Dad would believe my side of things. Sometimes he just…doesn’t understand.

I’m not an effortless genius like him.

Forcing myself to go to my next class, I try desperately to ignore the stares that follow me down the hall. Peter sits at the desk beside mine and smiles before noticing my demeanor. “Ro? Hey, what’s wrong?”

I struggle to keep my breathing even and normal. “Everyone thinks I’m a cheater.”

I put my essay on his desk. “I got a big fat F for cheating or not writing my paper. That’s what my teacher Mr. Carson said. I swore up and down that I didn’t cheat but he humiliated me in front of the whole class. I worked so hard, Peter.”

He frowns and looks at my essay, flipping through it. “This is really good, Ro. Maybe he thought it was so good that you couldn’t have written it yourself? I mean, that’s not a good reason to give you an F though. I’m really sorry.”

I nod. “My dad is gonna be so disappointed. I’m…I’m not like him.”

“You’re my best friend. I know how amazing you are. Your teacher is wrong. He’s just plain wrong.” Peter reassures me. “I’m sorry he doesn’t believe you.”

I exhale, deflating in my chair. “Yeah…thanks.”

The teacher from my English class walks in, making me go pale. I look at Peter. “That’s him…” Why is he even here? He doesn’t teach history.

He frowns sympathetically and grabs my hand from under the desk. “I’m sorry.”

“Hello, class.” Mr. Carson says. “I’ll be taking over for Mr. Dell today. He had a family emergency and had to leave. I’m Mr. Carson and I will be your substitute history teacher for the last class of the day.”

I gulp and he makes eye contact with me, recognition washing over his face. “Today we’ll be talking about Jacob Epstein and his famous case of plagiarism. My specialty is literature so I thought I’d bring something from history that involved what I know best. It’s a nice change of pace for you all.”

He looks at me again. “Plus, Miss Potts here knows a lot about plagiarism so it shouldn’t be a difficult assignment for her.”

My lip quivers as the students around me snicker. “Mr. Carson, I swear I-“

“In fact, why don’t we study Aurora Potts’ essay as an example?” He interrupts.

I hold back the urge to throw up, eyes darting to Peter. He squeezes my hand. “It’s okay. Ro, it’s okay. Look at me. Everything is going to be alright.”

“Mr. Parker, do you have anything you’d like to share with the class?” Mr. Carson asks him.

Peter looks surprised. “U-Uh…well, I just don’t…I don’t think you should jump to conclusions about Ro’s essay. In fact, I know how hard she worked on it. It’s not fair to give her a failing grade and tell the whole class that she plagiarized or cheated or whatever.”

God, I love Peter Parker. I’m so glad he’s by my side. I don’t have the mental strength to fight for myself right now. This day has caused too much anxiety already and I can’t take much more before I crack.

Mr. Carson slowly nods. “I see that you like to stick up for your friend here, and I’ll commend you for that. But a cheater is a cheater.”

Peter tries to rebuttal, but decides against it and holds my hand again. “I’m sorry.”

I am silent with a lump in my throat as Mr. Carson tells us to take out our notebooks, beginning to write on the board behind him.

Plagiarism Cases in Modern History: Aurora Potts

My stomach clenches and I’m almost certain I’m about to puke. Peter notices my quickened breath. “Hey. Hey, I’m here. I’m right here with you.”

I want to appreciate his words, but this is sending me over the edge. I can’t breathe. I can’t do this. I can’t take the sound of my classmates giggling and taking pictures of the whiteboard.

Unable to take it anymore, I stand up from my desk, gaining the attention of Mr. Carson. “Miss Potts, you’ll have to wait until the bell rings to be excused.”

My voice shakes as I answer. “I-I c-can’t.”

“These are the consequences of your actions and you have to get used to that before you’re out in the real world. Nobody’s gonna hold your hand, and your parents are only going to be disappointed. What would your mother and father say?”

“M-My mother…” I squeeze my eyes shut at the painful memory. “My mother is d-dead.”

His face changes slightly and I think he may tone it down a little. “Have any siblings?”

I shake my head. “N-No…”

Mr. Carson sighs. “That’s a real shame. I guess your father will just have to live with a daughter that cheats her way through life. If you were my daughter, I’d be very, very disappointed. Your dad should be too. I’m sure he will be.”

That’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back. I burst into tears and run out of the classroom, desperate for refuge.

I hear Peter calling after me and it only makes me more anxious. Slinging my backpack onto both shoulders, I run for the exit and don’t stop booking it until I’m home.

Peter has called me a few times now. School will be out soon enough. I feel badly for worrying him, but I just couldn’t take Mr. Carson’s cruel words.

Sobs with my face in a pillow, I find it hard to breathe and hug it instead. He’s right. My dad deserves a better kid. Someone much smarter and stronger than me.

With all of this on my mind, I sob and heave heavily, unable to catch my breath. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”

“You seem to be in distress. Would you like me to notify Mr. Stark?” FRIDAY, the compound's AI assistant asks me.

I quickly shake my head. “N-N-No! No…don’t bother him.”

I sit on the floor next to my bed and find a shoebox under it. Oh yeah. I forget I had this. It’s been so long since I felt I needed it.

Opening the box, I see a razor blade and an old Polaroid of my mom. God, I miss her so much. I miss her more than anything.

Fidgeting with the razor in my hands, I contemplate using it. I’m such a disappointment. I can’t deal with all of this pain. Not anymore. Not without punishing myself for my own failures.

I slash horizontally across my wrist a few times, finding it almost comforting to see the blood trickle down. It’s what I deserve.

There’s suddenly a knock on my door and I begin to panic again. “Ro, are you okay? You’re home early.”

Dad. No, no, no. “I-I’m fine. I j-just…felt sick.”

“Can I come in?” He asks.

I shove the razor back in the box and put it back under my bed before rolling my sleeves down. “Y-Yeah.”

Dad enters my room, looking surprised at the state of me. “What’s wrong? Kid, what happened?”

Starting to cry all over again, I cover my face in embarrassment. “I’m sorry I’m such a f-failure.”

He sits on the floor beside me. “You’re not a failure.”

“B-But I…m-my e-e-essay, it…” I try to explain, anxiety getting the better of me. I hyperventilate and pull at the ends of my hair so harshly I might rip some out.

“Hey, hey, hey, stop. Ro, stop. You’re gonna hurt yourself. Take a deep breath.” Dad tries to persuade me.

I’ve already hurt myself, so there’s another disappointment to add to his list. I can’t stop myself from spiraling.

Small clumps of hair come out as I continue to pull, worrying Dad more. “Stop! Stop! Why are you doing this? Come on, look at me. You’ve gotta stop.”

His raised voice makes me crumble and he tries to grab my hands, causing me to cry out in surprise and panic. “No! No! No! Don’t touch me!”

He pries my fingers off of my hair, finally getting me to stop. He holds my hands gently as I shut my eyes tightly. “Ro, it’s alright. What’s going on, mini?”

Mini. Like Mini Stark. It’s one of my nicknames along with Tiny Stark, Micro Stark, Little Stark, etc. Anything to do with being the miniature version of my father.

But I’m not like him. I’m not strong, smart and confident. I’m just…me. “I can’t breathe.”

“Okay…alright. Look at me. Everything’s fine. You’re safe. Just look at me, okay?” He requests.

I slowly and fearfully open my eyes, looking into his. He’s kneeling in front of me now. “Good, Ro. Copy my breathing. Can you do that for me?”

I nod and he gives a small smile. “Okay. Breathe in…”

He does an exaggerated breath in. “Breathe out…”

This continues for a bit until I’m able to copy him long enough for me to calm down. I sniffle. “I’m sorry.”

Dad hugs me, tenderly cradling me in his lap as we sit on the floor. “Oh, mini…it’s alright. Can you tell me what happened today?”

I gulp nervously, clinging to him. “I got an F on my English essay. Because my teacher thinks I cheated…he thinks I plagiarized it or something. He berated me in front of my class and then he filled in for my history teacher and made an example of me there too. Everyone laughed and took pictures. Well…except for Peter. I ran out of class and he tried to chase me but I just kept running until I got home.”

He massages my hair. “I’m so, so sorry, Ro. I know you didn’t cheat. You worked really hard on it. I remember. And your teacher…I’m gonna have to have a word with him. I’m gonna fix this for you, alright?”

“It seemed like the whole school was making fun of me…laughing…gossiping.” I whimper.

“Kids are assholes.” Dad replies. “There’s always gonna be people like that and you can’t control it. You just have to believe me when I say it’s not your fault. You did nothing wrong.”

“Thanks…” I mumble.

He situates himself beside me again, looking down as his hand bumps into something. “What do we have here?”

Dad pulls out the shoebox and I instantly panic. “Nothing. Nothing. It’s private. Please, it’s-“

He opens it and sees the Polaroid and razor, face darkening. “Ro…”

I’ve disappointed him for real this time, haven’t I?

Examining the blade, he lightly gasps. “There's blood on this. Fresh blood.”

Wrapping my arms around myself for comfort, I bow my head and cry. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I deserve to…I…I should be hurt.”

“Show me.” Dad mumbles softly.

I know what he means, but I hug myself tighter and hide my arms. “I don’t wanna…”

“Let me help you. Please, let me help you.” He replies.

I don’t protest as he carefully takes my arms and rolls up my sleeves, seeing the cuts on my left wrist. “Oh, baby…baby girl. It’s alright now, Ro.”

“It’ll never be alright.” I say mournfully. “I’m never gonna be as smart or as strong as you. I'm not like you…I’m hardly a Stark. I shouldn’t have this name.”

Dad helps me up and wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up and we can talk.”

We go to the bathroom and he has me sit on the toilet seat while he gently cleans my cuts with a warm washcloth. He’s so tender and focused.

“I'm sorry.” I say quietly as he works.

He doesn’t look up at me. “Don’t ever be sorry. If you ever feel like doing this again, you call me. You tell me.

No matter what time it is or where I am, you’ve gotta tell me so I can help you. Can you do that for me?”

I nod. “Mmhm.”

“Good.” Dad replies. “And for the record, you’re not a disappointment. If anyone deserves the Stark name, it’s you. You’re empathetic and wise beyond your years. And incredibly smart and strong willed. You’re everything I could ever hope for, baby. I promise you that.”

Sighing, I shrug my shoulders. “Okay, Dad…”

“It’s true.” He reiterates. “You’re going to be a great woman all by yourself. You won’t even need me.”

“I’ll always need you.” I counter, almost urgently.

Dad smiles. “I’ll always need you too, kiddo.”

Applying medicine and wrapping my wrist with bandages, he kisses it softly. “There you go.”

I’ve never seen him so soft and caring. He grabs my hand and lifts me from the toilet seat, wrapping his arms around me as we stand there.

He sighs contently. “I love you endlessly, mini.”

“Love you tons.” I reply, burying my head in his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Don’t sweat it. What do you say we order some cheeseburgers and watch something? Anything you want.” Dad offers.

I grin, wiping my eyes after all of the crying. “Yeah, okay.”

He grins back. “Let’s get downstairs. I’m starving. You go pick the movie and I’ll order us some grub.”

Nodding, I go downstairs to find what I want to watch. And I’m actually smiling.

My dad loves me endlessly. He said as much.

That gives me more comfort than anything ever will.

[vsnotresponding]

6, 12, 14, 15 for Karma <3

i'm roughly two eons late to answering this, but i am here.

this is from the tech oc ask btw

all answers are from the fake dating au <3

6. Write out a text exchange between them and another OC.

I chose an exchange between Karma and Sahare because I love their relationship too much

names are how they have each other added (or more like it, how Sahare has Karma on her phone and how she changed her name in Karma's)

Karma 👑: Sahare I know you are busy but can I talk to you? best sister in law ever 💙: sure!!! best sister in law ever 💙: it'll do me good to distract myself from the wedding planning best sister in law ever 💙: if I have to look at another pair of identical cloth ever again it'll be too soon Karma 👑: so Karma 👑: you see Karma 👑: Ira's birthday is coming up Karma 👑:and I was thinking about gifting her some jewelry Karma 👑: but I'm not sure if she's a jewelry type of girl best sister in law ever 💙: I've seen her wear ear piercings but nothing else best sister in law ever 💙: maybe gift her new ones? Karma 👑: no impossible Karma 👑: she never takes them out Karma 👑: she has a matching set with her siblings best sister in law ever 💙: omg that's so wholesome 🥺 best sister in law ever 💙: idk, really best sister in law ever 💙: what did you have in mind Karma 👑: I was thinking of something like this [photo attached] best sister in law ever 💙: it goes with her eyes!!!! best sister in law ever 💙: I don't even know why are you asking for my help tbh best sister in law ever 💙: just make sure it's comfortable for her to wear Karma 👑: okay Karma 👑: how do I go about that? Karma 👑: saha? Karma 👑: sahare? best sister in law ever 💙: sorry! best sister in law ever 💙: your brother came to ask me something about the guest list best sister in law ever 💙: Ira's coming, right? Karma 👑: yeah best sister in law ever 💙: so, about the necklace. not too tight not too long, comfortable chain... you know, this things best sister in law ever 💙: *these best sister in law ever 💙: damnit Karma 👑: thanks Karma 👑: seriously best sister in law ever 💙: also! best sister in law ever 💙: your brother asks me to confirm if you're coming to dinner best sister in law ever 💙: he also tells me that "you" includes ira btw Karma 👑: yeah yeah Karma 👑: we might be a bit late because she has a late shift best sister in law ever 💙: no problem!!! best sister in law ever 💙: see you in a few days <3

12. Open the notes/note-taking app on their phone. What’s there?

I'm also answering for Níniam because it amuses me how invested he is on the fake dating

karma has a bunch of links to scientific papers and random notes about the articles he's writing. also a REMMEBER TO note which he often forgets to check. he also started writing down things about Ira to get inspiration for her bday gift (because he's a big dork)

níniam has stuff about his classes and ideas for his photography account. his favorite one is where he keeps track on how the fake dating is going. he has turned it into a full ass d&d campaign

14. You’ve just stumbled across their tumblr blog! Describe it.

karma has 0 social media presence, and the one he has is due to his friends forcing him to make an account (which remains empty until his phone gets stolen and they post for him)

his tumblr blog has 0 original posts just a bunch of reblogs of mythology lore and images, as well as rock nerd stuff. níniam made him change his pfp because he looked too much like a bot (he now has a crown). níniam was also the one that made him create a blog so he could see his posts the only non housekeeping tags he adds are when he comments on níniam's photography posts

15. Describe their computer. Is it a sticker covered laptop? A high-tech gaming computer?

he has a lightweight laptop he uses for his articles and research to take to places easily. pristine clean not a single scratch. he has another laptop for leisure stuff like YouTube and discord to videocall níniam and to play chill videogames

[tiny-pteranodon]

Thanksgiving is coming tomorrow!

Do you celebrate it? Sometimes gratitude or giving thanks to things may come off as a big and somewhat unpleasant word. It may feel as if you are forced to acknowledge something that you already love, and that kills all the joy in this type of self-care, isn’t it?

That’s why instead of asking myself “what am I most grateful for?” I instead say “what makes me the most happy?” it’s definitely okay to not come up with things that makes you happy at first, it happens to me too! But maybe you can start with something easy…like cats?

So, would you want to make a list (even one thing is enough) of stuff that makes you happy? And you can even explain why if you want to!

—Self-care anon

Oh hi self care anon. Always a delight to find you in my inbox

Yeah while I don't celebrate it per se, I do like it's premise. It's always good to let your loved ones know how much one appreciates them.

What makes me most happy is making my loved ones happy, not in a pathological people pleaser way but in a i wish I see them smile more often way. And I try that lol. And ofc loved ones include friends and moots too

I'm also made very happy by....well as you said yourself.... cats 😺

And also puppers

And doing good enough academically (tho ik I'm gonna fail the upcoming testslol)

And ofc reading

And writing (kinda sorta, I like to daydream not actually put words down on paper)

And talking. Tho with certain select people only, and doesn't matter what kind. Ranting gossiping and all that jazz

And there's a lot more things I'd wanna mention but there's isn't enough time lol

[jake-marshall]

Six Sentence Sunday - Most Niche Thing I will ever Write Edition

If you follow me on twitter you'll know that I've spent the past 6 weeks working on a fic about Animal House, of all things. I don't even know how many of my followers have even heard of/watched Animal House, but it's a movie I've loved since high school (so 20 years ago) - it's in my top 5 ever, tbh - and the biggest reason, in addition to finding it hilarious, was because I really shipped Otter and Boon (cue No One who knows me + has seen this movie being surprised). Not like I was invested in the way I was with ships like Snape/Lily, for example, lol, but every time I watched it I was like damn they shoulda been together, not the Straight Nonsense the movie ends with. (the fact that they're implied to be separated at all! why??? how dare!!! 🔪🔪🔪) So I decided to write about that. Give high school!Leanne the gift of them getting together post-canon, with a lot of AH hijinks thrown in. I gotta say they're both really fun to write and I haven't made myself laugh like this while writing a fic in a longgggg time. Anyway, since April 27th, I'm 34k+ in and not done yet. I'm trying to get between 38-40k during my vacation this week and see where I'm at. I've forced influenced a few friends into getting on board my idea and for that I'm forever grateful. AH's 45th anniversary is July 28th so I'm hoping to post it then - and the tentative title is "I Said I Want You to Know Right Now", aka a lyric from "Shout" bc how could I not. If you like 40k~ long fics about friends2lovers who are codependent to an unhealthy degree, enable each other's awful decisions/behavior, and show positively zero growth, but boy are they good to each other (and you can handle period-typical misogyny/homophobia/attitudes/slurs) you'll probably enjoy this. All this to say I'd like to share an excerpt under the cut.

“I don’t know if I’m up to it. You can go on if you want, I might just go back to the truck and see if I can’t get the Yanks’ game on the radio. They got a doubleheader, it’d be nice to catch a few innings and-” “Hey, what’s goin’ on? You’re acting like ah… I don’t know, like Wormer’s here somewhere, watching your every move.” Yeah, maybe it is a little like that. Paranoia, that all the strife between him and Katy is visible to any- and everyone, including Otter. That just by looking at Boon, he could see what a depressing life he’s made for himself – and for Katy, apparently – in the past five years. It’s getting worse – I keep making I worse. The only thing that’ll make it better… the only person who’ll make it better... Otter must, again, be expecting some kind of scathing remark about Wormer, about how he would creep around a town fair and probably throw a five-year-old to the ground if it meant getting to the front of the funnel cake line. But what Boon blurts out instead is, “Katy wants a divorce.” “She…” Blink. Head tilting in confusion. “I’m sorry, what?” “She already served me papers.” He doesn’t even know what he’s saying. It’s just spilling out. “On our anniversary. I’d forgotten it – but… that’s not why she wants it, just I didn’t like, specifically forget our anniversary, shit, I’d totally forgotten what day it even was – they’re all the same, and-” “Hey, okay, time-out.” Otter makes a T with his flattened hands. “Forget all this Fourth of July bullshit. Come on. Talk to me.”

[wornoutmouse]

Look I wrote this for my friend but i popped the hell off with this one so if you don’t mind reading a name inbetween a few dialogue points pls read

You ran hurriedly through the halls of the school as the third bell finally rang. You had overslept and had barely made it onto the bus. Skidding to a stop, you slow down when you get to the door, catching your breath before entering. Just as you annoyingly expected, eyes dart towards you as soon as you entered, effectively catching the teacher’s attention.

 “This is the second time you are late young lady, one more time and I will have no choice but to write you up.” You smile awkwardly, “Sorry Miss, it won’t happen again.”  Ms. Bustier clicks her tongue disapprovingly as she watched her student walk to her seat, head hanging low. You sit down in your chair with a soft sigh as Ms. Bustier spoke about today’s lesson.

For the most part, you pay attention to the lesson being taught, that is until your attention is being interrupted by a pencil poking your side. From your peripheral vision, you see fluffy blond hair swaying gently to get your attention. You mutter under your breath, swiping the pencil with your hand, “Quit it Adrien I’m already in trouble.” The boy huffs but the playful aura still hung around making your skin buzz with excitement.

 Shifting in your seat, you squint your eyes at the smartboard, writing down notes every so often. Looking down once again, you notice a small piece of paper folded, You look at Adrien who boredly watched your teacher speak. Opening the paper you roll your eyes at the note inside. 

A - Late again are you Miss Mia? One more time and I might have to wake you up myself

Nibbling the tip of your pencil you write a note back, crumpling the paper before tossing it at Adrien’s head with a smirk.

You- Well maybe I wouldn’t have been so tired if you hadn’t interrupted my study time with your modeling rants

The paper is tossed back at your head, catching in your curly hair, making Adrien snort.

A- Well I can think of other ways to keep you up at night...

You cough loudly at the message, eyes darting at Adrien’s laid-back figure. You scribble down a quick snarky reply with shaking hands. You go to pass the paper but the sound of a throat clearing interrupts you. You turn to your left and are forced to look up, gulping when you notice your teacher’s signature white blazer. She holds her hand out and you reluctantly place the ball of paper in her hand.

“While I will not embarrass you by reading out your hidden messages, I will embarrass you by writing you up for detention.” Sputtering, you point an accusing finger at the smug boy behind you, “He started it first I was just..” You are hushed by a firm hand on your shoulder, “Well if that’s the case, both you and Adrien can join each other at study hall.” Adrien groans behind you and you throw a glare his way, one that he responds with a teasing wink. The sound of the bell ringing grimly reminds you of the dreadful time awaiting you in study hall after school.

 When you get thereAdrien is already there and waves you over to him. You narrow your eyes at him but sit next to him anyway. “Aww don’t look at me like that Mi, it’s not my fault you aren’t stealthy enough to pass a simple note in class.” You roll your eyes, “Well if you weren’t tossing notes like a child, we wouldn’t be here either.” Adrien laughs loudly earning a sharp look from the detention monitor. 

He mutters a silent apology as you busy yourself with a notepad and pencil. The study hall is silent and boring and 11 minutes feel like 11 hours as the clock ticks by. Adrien watches your small scribbles turn into different shapes and sizes. Before long, he notices you drawing a rather familiar face. “Whatcha drawing?” You shrug, watching your pencil make the shape of cat-like ears.

You continue drawing, briefly recognizing Adrien’s body heat as he watches over your shoulder. “You like Chat Noir huh?” Your precise pencil strokes outline the lean frame of one of Paris’s heros. While it is undoubtedly Chart Noir in a heroic setting, the way his eyes slant a little more than his mask allows and the way one of his hands rested on his chest did give way to a more seductive undertone. 

“Yeah, I think he’s pretty hot not gonna lie.” Adrien hums, the feeling of his short breaths blowing against your shoulder makes you shiver. “Really? Well, he can’t be hotter than I can he?” Adrien fluffs his hair pompously as he stretches his body lazily. “I don’t know maybe a little.” Adrien sticks his tongue out at you.

Your monitor stands up and walks towards the door before turning around, “Listen you two, I am going to get lunch, and I better see you two here when I come back or you’ll get worse than detention.” The teacher fixes you both with a long look before leaving. “They are a little stiff in the ass.” You chuckle resting your head on your palm. Adrien slouches in his chair to play on his phone, giving you the perfect opportunity to observe him. Your friend is attractive, that is something you’ve come to terms with a long time ago, hiding your crush away deep in your mind. 

“You like to stare at me when you think?” His tenor voice startles you out of thought and you realize you now have his full attention. Your face is warm and for once you are glad you couldn’t visibly blush. 

“Hey, Adrien? What did you mean by that last message you passed me in class?” You tried to pass the question off as casual but you could feel your heart racing as the room filled with daunting silence. “What do you think I meant?” 

Suddenly Adrien felt too close and the room felt smaller. When you made eye contact with him, his eyes were slanted just like Chat Noirs on your drawing. “You tell me.” You said boldly. Adrien pondered for a while, green eyes observing your features, going from your eyes, down your nose before finally resting on your plump lips. “Well, I think it meant exactly what it said.” Adrien placed a hand on your thigh, squeezing the flesh in his palm. “So tell me why you like Cat Noir?” You stare at nothing, unable to compute the absurd request that came seemingly out of nowhere.

“What?” Adrian’s hand doesn’t stop moving on your thigh, heating your skin through your jeans. “Come on Mi, humor me for a moment.” You hum softly in an attempt at calming your heart rate. “Well, I like how he seems to enjoy what he does,  saving people...” As you speak Adrien takes the time to scoot closer to you paying a sparing glance at the door your teacher left out of a moment ago. “What would you do if you met him?” His hands got closer to your inner thigh fiddling with your belt loops.

The urge to clench your legs together was immediate as the fire within you grew stronger. “I would thank him for his service and-” Adrien shushes you with the sound of your belt clinking a loose. “Let me rephrase, what do you want him to do to you?” Before you had comprehended your predicament, Adrien’s hand had found itself inside your pants.

You were sitting rigidly in your chair, lips parted in a silent exhale. Slender fingers focused themselves on your swelling bud, pressing soft circles on it in an effort to coax it out of its hood. Noting your tensed posture, Adrien tries to distract you. He’ll admit even to himself that this was a bold move on his part and he was surprised you hadn’t pushed him off at this point. “I can stop if you want me to?” You feel his fingers stop their ministrations and you quickly grab his wrist. “No!”

His concerned demeanor is quickly wiped away by a broad smirk as his fingers resumed their task. “Okay then.” He places a kiss on your shoulder through your shirt making you shiver. “You didn’t answer my question.” You nod and try to speak in a stable manner. “I would want him to- oh god!” Adrien’s fingers began to work overtime as they went down to your lips, now wet with your arousal. “I would want him to touch me there! Please.” 

Lips latched lazily on your skin, sucking hard enough for you to feel it but not hard enough for marks to be left behind. “Where is’ there’ Mia? Use your words.” Your back arched in your chair when you felt his slick index finger playfully dip inside of you before returning to your clit.  “Adrien~” Your soft moans were audible now, and every small whimper made his cock ache at the thought of being the cause of your sweet noises. Adrien mockingly hummed, “Oh I see now.”

“You want him to fuck that pretty pussy of yours don’t you?”  You make a strange noise that is a mix of surprise and a moan. You’d never think words like those could leave Adrien’s mouth. “Y-Yes!”  Adrien nodded moving to use both hands now, it was an awkward position but it was worth it seeing you fall apart by his hands. “I bet you think of him at night, kissing you slowly, while his hands roam your body.”  Adrien sinks his teeth in your shoulder blade making you jerk as a particularly hard burst of pleasure racks your body. “You look so damn sexy like this kitty cat.’

You lean forward, holding yourself up by your desk as Adrien’s fingers move faster on your clit. “I can feel how fast your heart is beating, you gonna cum?” The teasing tone in his voice ignited the smallest ounce of competitiveness within you. You grit your teeth and shake your head, “Don’t get so full of yourself Agreste.” Your eyes clenched shut at the feeling of a finger finally entering you. Adrien looked at you with narrowed eyes. He wasn’t a fan when you got competitive, especially when you were obviously bluffing.

There was a thin layer of sweat forming on your skin as your orgasm got closer. Adrien focused on the way your walls quivered around his finger. Your choked-back moans cut the air as he pumps his finger faster. Your wetness was dripping onto your underwear and around his palm making squelching noises. “Are you sure you aren’t going to cum?” Adrien whispered close to your ear taking glee when a tremor passed down your spine. Your orgasm was too damn close for him to stop so you decide to swallow your pride just this once. “F-faster, Adrien, I’m close.” Those were indeed the wrong words to say. Adrien slowed his finger down to slow pumps while his thumb pressed harshly on your clit. He laughed as he could practically feel it throbbing, “I thought you said you weren’t going to cum?” You try to grind down on his hand, bucking slightly as his rough palm stimulated your sensitive lips. “Don’t be an ass ah-fuck!”

You grip the edge of your desk as you finally cum on his hand. Your eyelids flutter and Adrien marvels that the feeling of your cunt that was squeezing him so tightly he could neither tell if it was pulling him in or pushing him out. 

You grunt as he removes his finger, when you look over at him, he is preoccupied with pulling his cock out while licking his fingers clean of your cum. Adrien whimpered around his fingers as his other hand jerked his cock sharply “Ah, you taste better than I thought.” Your eyes travel down his chest to meet his junior. It was thick and surprisingly long. You couldn’t help but feel sorrow for the angry red it was at the tip. But the vein traveling up the side made your mouth water.

His hips bucked to meet his hand desperately. Curses left his soft lips as he tossed his head back in pleasure. A deep warmth flooded your gut from the vibrant imagery of him fucking you with it. “Mia-ah shit.” You raise your head up to meet his eyes, your heart skipping a beat at how the green of his eyes was almost completely drowned by his pupils. “It’s not fair if I helped you get you off, but you won’t help me.” You scootch forward a little bit, swallowing your saliva, “What do you want me to do?” Adrien spread his legs with his hands holding the sides of his chair, “Come on Mi, I haven’t even fucked you yet and you’ve already gone dumb?” 

A hand comes on your shoulder and gently coaxes you down to your knees. You feel small as Adrien peers down at you,  gaze disrupted as his cock begins twitching in front of you. Nervousness enters your head as you quickly come to the realization of how large his dick actually was. “What, are you afraid Mia? Or do I need to get you into the mood?”  Adrien sits up straighter, “Claws out.”  Your tilt your head curious as he combs his fingers through his hair, revealing...cat ears? The sight of a green glow slithering around his body was almost as unnerving as the sight of his outfit changing right before you. 

In little as no time flat, Paris’s neighborhood hero sat in front of you in all his leather glory. His eyes seemed even greener than before, and his personality seemed to change right before you. “Adrien you’re Chat Noir!?” The blond shrugs nonchalantly, gripping his cock and slapping it against your cheek. “Mi I am all for the formalities, but I am so close to fucking your brains out right now, that I think it would be in your best interest to start sucking.” While still being conscious of your hairstyle, Adrien...Noir, pulls your head closer to his groin.

You resist the urge to scrunch your face at the feeling of precum being smeared on your mouth and chin. This resistance only makes Noir chuckle, “Stick your tongue out for me.”  As if it was routine, you do as he says and moan softly from the feeling of his tip tapping your warm muscle. “So fucking perfect for me.”  The praise makes you clench and gives you the courage to open your mouth wider. You suck on his member making him release a pleased growl. His hand laid limply on the back of your head as you take the lead.

The salty taste while slightly unpleasant, wholly addictive. Feeling your growing comfort, Adrien begins thrusting to meet your mouth. The tip of his cock goes all the way to the back of your throat making you choke before dragging back but the sounds of you struggling doesn’t dissuade him. The feeling of your tongue grazing over his vein just before your throat constricted around him drove him wild. Your tiny whimpers made his balls vibrate as he moved faster.

You place your hands on his thighs in order to stable yourself as his thrusts got more brutal. Slob collected around your mouth before dripping down your chin and finally collected by his balls every time they hit your jaw. “Fuck I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum!” Adrien’s voice pitched higher as his claws scratched into the wooden chair of his seat. His head tossed back violently as his thrusts became sloppy, legs shaking. Loud sobs left his mouth as you bright him closer to the edge each thrust is accentuated by filthy words. “Your mouth is so. fucking. Tight. Fuck Mia!”

You felt cum shoot down your throat as Adrien holds your head painfully against this crotch. He weakly thrusts into your mouth a few more times before realizing you. Gasping for air, you wipe your mouth of saliva and look up at Adrien as he catches his breath.  Rough hands grip your chin making you look up at him. “You looked wrecked Mi.” Adrien laughs as he wipes cum off the corner of your mouth.  You stand up wobbly and albeit a bit light-headed, Adrien stands with you and kisses your lips, enjoying the taste of himself in your mouth.

“We are going to finish this later.” Before your brain could even prompt you to ask, the bell rings signaling that detention was over. Adrien deactivates his miraculous before grabbing his backpack and leaving detention hall.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

What’s yours is mine 1

Warnings: nonconsent and rape, allusions to abuse, stalking, possessiveness, pregnancy, and more tags to be added.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairing: dark!Ransom Drysdale x pregnant!Reader

Summary: After five years, your past is far behind you but just as you think you can live your happily ever after, your ex shows up at the worst moment.

Note: I couldn’t sleep and ended up writing this and it will not be a long ongoing series but it will be a few parts. But Roo you say that all the time. Yes, well, I’m trying and I’m sorry but I’m gonna try to not be the worst.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

“Oh my god, is that really you?” the voice made you stand stalk straight.

You took a breath and forced a smile before you turned to the indomitable woman. You never expected to see Linda again, not after you broke up with her son almost five years ago. And there she was, as rigid and righteous as ever, her thin lips curved in a mocking grin.

“Linda,” you greeted her in a singsong and looked around the grocery store. You never went to the overpriced organic market but your local shop didn’t have dragonfruit and you had a painful craving, “how are you?”

“Darling, I’m just great,” she held an empty basket on her arm, an odd sight as you never expected her to do her own shopping, “oh, and look at you!” Before you knew it, her hand was on your stomach and you struggled not shy away, “how far are you?”

“Um,” you looked down at the large ring on her finger and resisted the urge to step away as you often did in this situation, “almost five months.”

“And married?” she grabbed your left hand and pretended to admire the small teardrop diamond, “gorgeous.”

“Mhmm,” you waited for you to release you and swayed in place, “you barely look a day older than the last time I saw you.”

“You’re well? You look well,” she primped her short hair at the compliment, “oh, a baby.” She reached out again and you sighed as she rubbed your stomach, “for luck.”

You tried not to frown and ended up laughing at the tension, “well, it was nice running into you.”

“Oh, you know, I barely come down here but we’re headed up to my father’s place, you remember, such a cozy house, and Joni is in charge of food and well, I wouldn’t trust her with a plastic spoon so of course, I have a back up plan.”

You nodded along with her awkwardly, frozen in the spot as the dragon fruit barely seemed worth the torture. Linda was hard to please and alway derisive, but for as long as you were with Ransom, she had taken a keen shine to you. That alone came with an edge but it was rarely used to cut you.

You forced another laugh, “that sounds fun, getting away from the city.”

“Ugh, just another family gathering,” she waved it off with her free hand, “I’ll have to tell Ransom I ran into you, if he even shows up.”

“Well, I don’t think--”

“He’s grown up so much,” she interrupted, “you wouldn’t believe it. He got his own imprint in my father’s company publishing true crime. He’s really making a place for himself now.”

“That’s great,” you tried not to falter at the mention of her son. You hadn’t ended on the greatest terms and your relationship had been tumultuous and regrettable.

“I hope you have a great weekend, Linda,” you said, “but I got to--”

“Oh, not at all, I’m keeping you,” she squeezed your arm, “God, he was such an idiot to let you go.”

You nodded and swallowed through your tight throat, “I’m glad he’s doing better for himself.”

“You too,” she trilled, “oh, before I let you go, darling, is it a boy?”

You blinked and your smile wavered, “how did you know?”

“I could always tell,” she said, “so precious.”

She gave your stomach one last pat and disappeared into the produce section. You blinked as you looked down at the scaled fruit in your right hand. Chocolate, you needed chocolate.

You were rattled as you waited in the express line and put your things on the belt. You hadn’t thought of Ransom in a very long time. Not much. His shadow followed you around in those moments when your heart raced and your head spun, but you had learned to work through those fits. No one else knew what happened behind closed doors, they only knew Ransom, not Hugh.

You paid and shoved your fruit and candy into a paper bag. You headed out into the misty spring air. The rain had finally stopped and left the streets slick and shining. The sun was hazy as it clung to the last of the clouds and you inhaled the wet scent of grass and gravel.

You let your key hang from the ignition as you took a moment to gather yourself. You stared at the modest ring on your finger and held your stomach and you swore you could still feel Linda’s bony hand there. 

You had a loving husband, Dez, and a son on the way. Ransom wasn’t a part of any of that and this was just a blip on radar, the aftershock of the storm that ended years before. You sniffed and turned the engine. You wouldn’t go back to that store, it was far too expensive and the clientele were certainly not of your ilk.

🍼

Dez was in the kitchen when you got home, the smell of steak and peppers rose from the frying pan. You kissed his cheek as he kept one hand on the spatula and you dropped your bag on the counter beside the stove. You went to the fridge and poured yourself a glass of water. You turned and leaned against the marble and drank deeply.

“So, hon, how was your day?” he asked as he put the spatula down and peeked in the bag, “hmm, odd pairing but I don’t hate it.”

“I had a craving,” you shrugged, “it was… okay,” you heaved, “what’s for dinner?”

“Steak fajitas,” he said, “I trimmed the fat for you and,” he turned and reached out to you, “and I got you some champagne… non-alcoholic, obviously.”

“You know it doesn’t have the same effects,” you kidded as you put your glass down and settled into his arms, “and well,” you looked down at your stomach, “we already got one drunken night growing.”

He laughed and bent to kiss you on the lips. He rocked you as the pan sizzled behind him. You closed your eyes and tensed as suddenly your head flashed with the memory of Ransom, of the way he’d kiss you, harder than Dez, and the way it always turned to more whether you wanted it or not.

“Hey,” Dez pulled back, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied, “hormones.”

“Aw, hon, well I have the perfect dessert planned,” he purred.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm, strawberry massage oil,” he framed your face with his hand, “a nice long back rub…”

“Perfect,” you giggled, “why are you spoiling me?”

“Don’t I always?” he smirked.

“Hmm, rarely without reason,” you said.

“Well…” he voice trailed off and slowly he dropped his arms. He turned his back to you and grabbed the pan, stirring the contents with a shake, “I didn’t want you to miss me too bad.”

“Miss you?” you came forward and bent your arms over the counter, “where are you going?”

“Chicago, there’s some evidence down there we need to look at and they refuse to transfer it to our office so… bullshit confidentiality clause, but we need it.”

“How long?” your heart dropped.

“Well, I gotta leave in the morning but I told Gary I won’t stay longer than Monday.”

“And what did he say?”

“He laughed,” Dez shook his head, “I promise, I’ll do my best to be back as soon as I can--”

“No, I understand,” you said gloomily, “it’s just…” you cupped your chin and tapped your lips with your fingertips, “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he said as he turned the burner off, “and this little guy,” he touched your stomach and you shivered as you remembered how Linda had done the same with her cold palm, “so, you choose a name yet?”

“Still not naming him Superman, babe,” you chided, “but no, I can’t make up my mind. God, it’s like my mind is in shambles, I can’t remember why I go in a room or even focus on one thing for more than two minutes before I’m distracted by what colour I want to paint the nursery and I can’t even decide on that because then I’m thinking about what kind of wood the crib should be--”

“It’s fine, you’re fine,” he assured as he opened the bag of tortillas, “you’re still there, you’re just… sharing a brain right now.”

“Wasn’t enough to go around in the first place,” you scoffed.

“Shh,” he arranged the plates carefully, like a five star restaurant, tortillas stacked, steak and veg together, a little dish of cheese, some sour cream, lettuce, salsa, all divvied out in a spectacular salsa you would only make a mess of.

“I thought the pregnancy would give me a chance to finish my book, but--”

“Well, you got maternity leave after that,” he said.

“From what? Sitting at my keyboard and crying? I’ll just be holding a baby and crying,” you sighed, “you said you’d take some time off.”

“I did say that and I will,” he grabbed the plates and nodded you out of the kitchen. He set the plates on the table and you sat as he went to grab two glasses and as many bottles. He poured you your spineless champagne and had a beer for himself, “I don’t want to miss anything.”

“You can’t take forever off,” you muttered, “we both know that. I could go back to copywriting and maybe--”

“Babe, that job made you miserable and you will finish your book,” he handed you a napkin, “I’ve read your stuff, it’s… you said your ex was in publishing?”

“Did I?”

“I thought you did, you never really… talk about the exes, which I love but, I think you said something about it. You don’t think he would--”

“No,” you snapped, “no,” you said softer, “he wouldn’t.”

“Sorry,” he said startled by your reaction, “I didn’t--”

“It’s nothing, I just-- exes, right?”

“It was a stupid suggestion,” he said, “I’m sorry, but… I have a client, he might have some contacts.”

“You don’t have to do that--”

“I don’t have to, I want to because the world deserves to hear your voice,” he insisted, “I hate to share you but I’d be selfish to keep you to myself.”

You smiled and unfolded a tortilla. Still, your heart raced as the second mention of Ransom that day had you on edge. Dez watched you build your fajita and you looked up at him.

“Well, since you’ll be in Chicago, maybe I’ll get a few pages done.”

🍼

The call came on Monday, Dez wouldn’t be home that night. You contented yourself to stay in with your laptop and sugar cookies. Still, you barely got a sentence done before you snapped your computer closed and gave up with a frustrated grunt. You slept, not well, and got up with some trouble as your hips ached.

A good morning text from Dez made you smile but there was still no promise of an impending return. You felt pent up in the apartment and lonely as its emptiness reminded you of your absent husband. Too tense to sit down and type, you opted to go for a walk, hoping it would calm your nerves.

You walked past the shop windows and stopped to peek in at used books and handmade candles. You had no destination in mind, only a restless step. There was a little store at the corner with locally made quilts and knitted sweaters. The smell of potpourri wafted out from beneath the painted door and made your throat tickle. Even so, your curiosity drew you inside.

A small woman greeted you from behind the desk. She held two needles as she crocheted some indistinguishable craft. You smiled and said hello as you headed down the centre aisle. You looked along the racks of quilts, floral, striped, plaid, and polka dot. You stopped at a bright yellow piece with honey bees along the border. You hadn’t thought of yellow for the nursery.

You felt the soft fabric and checked the tag. You lifted the quilt from the bar, content that it was worth it and a great motivator. You stopped before you could turn back, a familiar voice chilled your blood.

“It’s cute,” Ransom said as he stepped up next to you, “kinda girly for a boy though.”

You glanced over at him and folded the blanket over your arm. You backed up but as you turned he did too. He blocked your bath as he stretched his arm across the aisle.

“My mother told me you were expecting,” he said, “and she was right, you look good.”

“What do you want?” you whispered as you clutched the quilt.

“Nothing, just saying hello,” his mouth slanted.

“Hugh, I’m not stupid,” you hissed, “it’s been five years.”

“Hugh,” he repeated dully, “you remember your manners.”

“Leave me alone and let me past,” you tried to duck under his arm but he shifted his body over and backed you up to the end of the aisle.

“And married,” he taunted.

“He’s outside,” you lied, “if I stay too long--”

“I didn’t see him when you walked up,” he intoned, “he must be easy to miss.”

“Have you been following me?” you uttered.

“Only from the cafe,” he shrugged, “short walk.”

“Please, get away from me,” you quivered.

“I’m not doing anything--”

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” you hissed, “now I will scream so move.”

“Mama Bear,” he crooned, “I love it, you’re so protective.”

“Hugh,” you warned.

“Sweetie,” he hummed.

You shoved his shoulder but he didn’t move. You hit him harder and he winced. He chuckled and stood straight. He waved his arm down the aisle and stepped aside.

“Don’t make a scene,” he said, “you always did like to be dramatic.”

“Fuck you,” you snarled, “don’t come near me again.”

“Don’t act like you don’t miss me,” he called after you as you dropped the quilt on the counter, “we were so good together.”

You left without buying, a shrill apology to the lady at the counter as you went as fast as you could out the door. The bell tinkled after you and the door clamored shut. You felt nauseous and dizzy. The last thing you wanted or needed was to ever see that man again.

[littlepadika]

Calling Home (1) | Frankie Morales x Reader

Summary: You are a receptionist at the VA. Frankie Morales keeps calling. Yearning ensues...

Rating: M -> E in later chapters

Warnings: fem!reader, age gap (legal), praise kink, voice kink, discussion of addiction/PTSD/trauma, no use of y/n, no beta reader, reader is bad at Spanish, Frankie has a sexy voice 😩

Masterlist here

AN: My first fic. Pedro writers have inspired me to finally start writing again 🥺. Concept inspired by the movie RED. I hope you like it ❤️Set after triple frontier.

Chapter One

~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time he called was an ordinary Thursday.

“Veterans Affairs, how can I help you?”

You had been working at the VA office for about two weeks. Fresh out of college you felt lucky to have a job in the first place. You went to school to be a writer but your big idea for 'The Next Great American Novel' had yet to present itself. At least here you had access to the most inspiring stories and interesting people. Men and women who had seen more and done more than you probably would in your entire life. You loved talking to clients on the phone. It was weird but something about only being able to hear people’s voices excited you. You would sometimes write little stories in your head about the people you'd talk to, filling in the details that were unknown.

Your desk accessories reflected your love of books and writing. You had your growing collection of books sitting on your desk sandwiched between baby pink bookends. Next to them was a matching desk organizer filled with your favorite sparkly pens and sticky notes. You had decorated the plain cubicle walls with posters of quotes from your favorite books. You also brought your favorite candle from home. Even though you couldn’t light it you still liked to lift it to your nose once and a while and smell it between chapters. When you weren’t on the phone or scanning documents you would read. You finished To Kill A Mockingbird in your first week on the job and were now halfway through Murder on the Orient Express.

You were starting a new chapter when Frankie Morales called the first time.

You picked up the phone on the second ring already mustering your chipper 'customer service' voice. “Veterans affairs.” You stated your name. “How may I help you?”

“H-Hi. My name is Frankie- uh-Francisco Morales." A deep voice answered you. "I’m calling because I have gotten my benefits check yet. It’s been a month. I was hoping you could tell me if it got sent?”

“Okay Mr. Morales." You flipped on the computer. "Let me check. Can you spell your last name for me?”

“M-o-r-a-l-e-s”

“Okay... let's see.” You clicked on his account. You were momentarily distracted by his picture likely taken when he graduated basic if you had to guess based off the uniform. He looked sweet. Sharp nose and strong jaw balanced by kind eyes and a shy smile. You could imagine how age would continue to soften his expression making him even more handsome. The image was a strange juxtaposition to the voice you were hearing on the phone which was much deeper and rougher. His profile said he was special forces. A pilot. The rest of the information was blacked out. Something you were used to seeing on many people's accounts but even his years of service were redacted. He must have been involved in some dangerous stuff, you thought to yourself. The dates that were not redacted were mostly in Latin America. You clicked over to processing requests. “Looks like the check got sent one week ago.” You informed him.

"I'll look again but I haven't seen anything-" It sounded like he was apologizing when clearly it was not his fault.

"No no. It's probably a mistake on our end." You interrupted. With how shitty and outdated the payroll interface was you wouldn't be surprised if there was a mix up. "I’ll go ahead and let payroll know to send another."

"Great. Thanks." He replied sounding relieved. The roughness in his voice gave way to a smooth baritone.

“No problem. I'm sorry for any inconvenience it may have caused. We'll get it sent right away." You hoped he was not relying on this benefit check for anything important. While you could promise you'd fix the problem, the administration was notoriously slow. When he didn't respond you asked, "Is there anything else I can help you with today, Mr. Morales?”

“Uh-no" The roughness back in place. "Thank you." He paused before adding your name onto his thank you which made you smile. People usually never remembered your name.

“Alright. Have a nice day and thank you for your service.” You chirped before hanging up. The smile he put on your face lingered for a few minutes as you returned to your book.

The next time he called was exactly twelve days later.

“Veterans affairs” you answered, your routine greeting cut short as your eyes were still on your book.

“Hi- I’m calling because uh I still haven’t gotten my benefits check. This is Frankie Morales.”

“Oh Mr. Morales.” You recognized his voice even before he even said his name. You quickly shut your book, pushing your hair out of your face. Had you been thinking about him? No! Okay maybe you stared at his picture for a few minutes longer after he hung up. Yes, it was probably very unprofessional but you couldn't fight the curiosity. You were trying to rationalize the contrasting sharpness and softness of his features with his voice. How it all worked together. How one person's voice could change textures and colors so easily. You wondered what kind of things this man might have seen on the job. Most of the veterans you would help day to day did not have so many redacted missions and deployments. You were in the middle of Narcos season one so you immediately thought of drugs or something equally dangerous. After much pondering, you had come to the conclusion that Frankie Morales was both insanely attractive and insanely courageous. “Still no check, huh?”

“Nope.” He sighed the sound making the phone's shitty speaker crackle as you held it to your ear.

“Let me just check that it was approved...“ you found his profile again and scrolled to the status page. “Hmm... it says it was sent out last Friday after we spoke. That’s so weird...”

“Yeah. Really weird.” He echoed your frustration on the other end.

Typical payroll, you thought to yourself as you rolled your eyes. “I'll get another one sent to you right away. I'll see to it myself.” You tucked the phone under your chin and typed out a short email to Mary in payroll letting her know you'd be stopping by her office to explain the situation. You realized he hadn't hung up yet.

“Sorry for the back and forth.” You said, trying to fill the silence.

“It’s not your fault." The earlier irritation gone. "You’ve been really helpful.” His voice sounded warm and reassuring. Less gruff than it was last you spoke. Instead it was that rich baritone that you caught of glimpse of last time.

You feel your face warm at his compliment. It was this annoying reflex you had. Praise always made you blush no matter what context but it was worse when it came from a (you assume) gorgeous stranger.

“And just to verify that your address is correct- you’re on Maple Lane in Miami, Florida?”

“That’s right.” He confirmed.

“Okay. Sent!” You clicked send on the email, which caused the window to close and reveal Frankie’s profile page again. “I was curious-" You spoke before you really made the decision to speak. You didn’t want to overstep but once again your curiosity got the better of you. Honestly, you were just searching for a way to keep him on the phone. The day had been so boring.

“Your profile says you were stationed in Costa Rica.”

“For a bit.” He replied after a moment. He didn’t sound too defensive but there was definitely some tightness in his answer that made you feel bad for asking. Like you were scratching a wound.

“Did you like it? The country I mean.”

“Are you planning a trip?” He sounds a little amused.

“Yeah- well- kind of. It's more a trip in my head right now. I’d like to go there one day. It looks so beautiful.” You sighed closing your eyes trying to imagine the heat on your skin.

“It is." He agrees. "Really humid though.”

“Mm that sounds nice.” You would kill for some warm weather after such a long winter in DC.

“It was too muggy for me at times." He grumbled. "If you do go, stick to the costal areas where it’s more breezy or else you’ll just be sweating the whole time.”

“I don’t mind a little sweat” you shrugged, still thinking of the awful east coast winter you were currently suffering through. The sexual connotation of what you said hit you hard as soon as you heard the statement in its entirety. You felt your face flush again, though the man on the other end would never know.

“I’m learning Spanish!" You announced loudly trying to move the conversation past your awkwardness.

“Wow. Muy impressivo.”

“Si” you replied but after a moment you admit “I don’t really know what you said.”

Frankie laughed loudly on the other end and you couldn’t help but join in, drawing dirty looks from the elderly lady, Donna, working in the cubicle across from you. You ducked your head behind a stack of papers to avoid her glare.

“Fake it till you make it.” He chuckled.

“Maybe you should help me out.” You took on an indigent but still playful tone. “You sound better than duolingo” Your smile widened when he laughed again. His laugh was what you hoped it would be, by all your assumptions from his picture. It was an unencumbered, unburdened, rich sound with only a hit of roughness from the air behind it.

“Tell me you’re not using that dumb app to learn.” he scoffed, saying your name in an almost scolding tone.

“I’m got my thirty day streak today.” You boasted.

“You’ll be a total tourist if you go by duolingo.”

“But the owl is so cute every time I get something right!” You argued your voice taking on a more childish cadence.

“That’s how they trap you, silly girl.” He teased right back. Usually such a condescending nickname would piss you off but something about the affection behind him using it made you feel very differently. You felt warm like you were proud to be silly as long as it made him laugh.

“Then you saved me just in time, Mr. Morales.” You bit your lip. His scoffing and laughter died down on the other end.

“Frankie” He corrects you.

“Frankie…” You repeated it, smiling at how well the nick name suited the voice over the phone. Honest, sincere, and not pretentious at all. Way better than the pompous guys you know with equally stuffy names like “Edward” and “Christopher.”

“So what do you want to know?” Frankie interrupted your thoughts. “Dime”

You started asking him questions in Spanish to the best of your ability. Granted they weren't particularly probing questions. What is your name? What is your favorite color? What is your favorite animal? What's your favorite book? I am reading Gone Girl. He answered them all with patience and amusement, occasionally interrupting you to correct your pronunciation or explain what a word meant. Every time you’d repeat the word back correctly he would say something like “good” or “there you go” or “you got it”. You hated to admit that his kind words and his praise was doing something to you. You didn't even realize you were clenching your legs together unconsciously, almost in anticipation of his next correction or next answer. His low voice so sweet and encouraging against your ear, more tangible when he was speaking Spanish. You just wanted to hear more of it. Would it be this sweet in other situations? Would it get huskier or rougher? If you closed your eyes it was like he was sitting right next to you. It would be all too easy to slip into that daydream and escape the dull office.

Suddenly out of the corner of your drooping eyes you saw a flashing red light on the phone console meaning another caller was waiting.

“Shoot- i’m sorry, Frankie- I have to take this call.” You shot forward in your chair, legs uncrossing.

“Of-Of course. I should let you get back to work.” He sounded a little sad or so you hoped. You felt bad for interrupting him after you both were having so much fun. You wanted to say he could wait on hold but he killed that idea when he said, "I have work too. Technically I'm five minutes past my lunch break."

Your pout turned to a smile. He was spending his precious lunch break with you? Get a grip! you snapped at yourself.

“You’re welcome to call again if you want.” You threw out the offer in a small voice, scared you would be rejected. You peered over the cubicle wall to see if you were still being glared at. Thankfully Donna was away from her desk. Probably out for a smoke. “It’s really boring here and usually no one calls.”

“Maybe I will.” He replied and you could hear the smile behind those words. You felt your heart clench weirdly in your chest like it didn't know how to process the sudden spike in emotions.

“Bye, Frankie.” You beamed.

“Bye”

This time the smile on your face lasted for hours. Frankie’s laugh echoed around in your head, taunting you, sending your mind to the gutter. His voice went from grit to molasses on a dime. You wanted to be the one to bring out those sounds. You wanted to hear his voice bend and stretch and strain as you fucked him. What the hell is wrong with me? you screamed internally. You had never been so depraved and with a stranger no less! You clearly needed to get laid fast because this much yearning would not end well.

Frankie got the second VA check a few days later and this time he didn’t even feel bad about ripping it in half. He was already reaching for the phone to call you.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: Message to be added 💕 no minors please!