#my feet are very narrow and skinny so i don’t think it’s a good idea bc i feel i would sleep and slide but still

[ashmp3]

i am looking for a cute going out mules for summer (and shoes in general) and these are some of my picks from serbian depop 🙂‍↕️ i think first ones are the sexiest but are also the most expensive… Do you fuck with my summer vibe do tell…

[ultram0th]

The very second Derek walked into the cramped, dimly lit room, he struggled to maintain his composure. His eyes landing on the nerdy game board that rested on the tiny table in the center of the cramped room. Around the table stood three skinny guys along with Stiles, all of them dressed up in geeky cosplay— Stiles wore rubber elf ears.

Trying his best not to irk his boyfriend, Derek forced a smile on his face as he headed closer. “You almost done?” he asked Stiles, putting an arm around the human’s small shoulders.

Stiles, pursing his lips, shook his head. “I’m stuck at an obstacle and I don’t quite know how to defeat it,” he muttered, his eyes laser-focused on the tiny plastic figurines on the board.

Derek had never played Dungeons and Dragons before, so he was totally lost and didn’t really have much to offer his boyfriend in the way of advice. “That sucks,” he finally said, growing antsy and wanting to leave.

It was due to a combination of not having any interest whatsoever in Stiles’s fantasy game, and also because of the creepy stare he was garnering from some nerd dressed up in Halloween wizard clothes.

In fact, Derek couldn’t help but notice that the scrawny wizard’s stare was a little too intense for his liking, seeing the corners of his mouth slightly pull up to form a mischievous smirk.

“Stiles the Great,” a nerd who was dressed up in cat ears chimed, adding a fake accent to her voice, “doth thou desire’th to employ the usage of thine trusty steed?” She nodded at Derek, making him grimace.

Stiles, unfortunately, gasped loudly, indicating that he thought the nerd’s idea was a good one.

Derek’s broad shoulders fell and he knew that they’d be stuck in the cramped room for longer than he’d initially wanted.

“I run across my boyfriend, Derek the Hotness, and he uses his skills to defeat the aboleth—”

“Hold it!” the wizard interrupted, narrowing his gaze at Derek. “You can’t just add in another character midway without giving us his backstory!”

The others around the table murmured in agreement, making Stiles blush.

“Um,” he stalled as he tried to think up a backstory for Derek the Hotness, which Derek promised he’d bring up later that night, “Derek has twenty strength and—”

“What is he?” the wizard cut off again, making Derek swell down a growl.

Again, Stiles took a moment as he searched his mind for an answer, his eyes darting all over the board as he looked for an idea.

The wizard’s smirk grew even larger. “Why don’t you roll for it?” he suggested, reaching into his pockets and placing a ruby red die on the board. It shimmered under the faint light of the room, and the numbers on it had a glittery quality to it.

Stiles eagerly snatched the die off the board and shook it in his hand, even blowing on it for luck. “Fine!” he agreed. “With this die, I declare that Derek the Hotness is…” He tossed the die onto the board, letting it clatter around until it landed.

Eight.

The wizard cocked his head to the side, his smirk fully formed now. “It looks like Derek the Hotness is an orc,” he mused, snapping his fingers playfully.

At first, Derek cocked his eyebrow in wonder at the odd actions from the nerd. However, he was soon alerted to the tingling sensation that ran all over his body. His boyfriend gasped again, and Derek then noticed something terrible happening.

Holding his hands up in front of his face, Derek’s eyes widened when he saw his skin steadily darken to a greenish hue. Before he could further react, Derek tensed up as his body underwent further changes.

He couldn’t exactly see it firsthand, but all of Derek’s muscles began to inflate to obscene proportions. His arms packed on pounds of muscle, bulging with power. His chest grew to crazy proportions, tearing his shirt to shreds and further exposing his green muscles. His thighs widened and caused him to reposition his feet, his legs pushing against each other so much that his walk would now resemble something closer to a waddle. All of Derek’s muscles had pumped up, but they appeared more so for strength as opposed to aesthetic, as was evident by their rotundness and the lack of abs. Instead, his stomach had a powerlifter belly that hung over his tattered pants. Speaking of pants, the bulge in the front of them inflated and a large beer can-width snake crept down his pant leg. To top everything off, Derek’s lower jaw widened and dimples, looking large and cartoonish. His brow pushed forward, giving the hunk a brutish appearance. Finally, his lower canine teeth elongated and protruded out of his mouth, effectively giving Derek the appearance of a muscled up, dim-witted orc.

Stiles’s jaw hung low in silent shock as Derek swayed slightly to and fro.

Not understanding exactly what had just occurred, Derek shook his head and rubbed at his temples. “Uh,” he groaned, noting the much, much deeper quality to his voice, “Derek feel funny.” His eyes widened to the size of saucers, having intended to say that he felt weird, unsure as to why he’d sounded all slow and had spoken in the third person. Derek cleared his throat and tried again. “Why Derek talk funny?”

Finally, Stiles stomped forward and placed a reassuring hand on Derek’s green bicep. “Turn him back!” he ordered, narrowing his eyes at the wizard.

Derek shook his head, trying to clear it of the fog that seemed to be creeping up in it. He knew that something had definitely happened to him. However, he couldn’t stop but admire how cute his boyfriend looked and how perky his butt looked in his tight pants.

Without thinking, Derek wrapped both of his large arms around Stiles, grinding his enlarged cock against the tiny human. In his haze, Derek noticed something else. “Stiles…” he grunted in his baritone, “Stiles smaller?”

Stiles bit down on his lower lip, looking completely adorable as he did so, making Derek grind his hard cock into him even more.

The wizard continued to smirk. “Sorry Stiles the Great,” he mock-frowned, “the only way to turn him back is if you defeat the aboleth.” He gestured back down at the die.

“Fine!” Stiles shouted, snatching it back up off the board. “But let me warn you, once he’s back to regular self, I will personally kick your ass!”

[Fifteen Minutes Later]

“Yeah, sorry, I thought that I could win,” Stiles muttered, his head hanging low as he and Derek walked out of the house and towards the Jeep.

Derek lumbered as best as he could, trying hard to get the hang of waddling with his extra large, green muscles. His thighs kept rolling over one another, and his chest was so heavy that he had to arch his back in order to support his huge pecs. His muscle gut jiggled slightly with every step he took. However, his hard footlong cock waved tantalizingly in front of him, oozing precum at the sight of Stiles walking in front of him. Derek’s slowed mind struggled to piece everything together. He knew deep down that something had happened to him, but his brain was full of such lust for his tiny-looking boyfriend that it was hard to concentrate on anything else.

“Stiles cute,” he gushed in his deep voice.

“Yeah thanks, but focus, Derek!” Stiles said as soon as they reached the Jeep. “We need to go to Deaton to see if he can fix this!” He hopped into the driver’s seat and looked at his orc boyfriend expectantly.

Derek struggled to get inside the Jeep, trying to get the hang of moving his muscled body. His broadened shoulders kept banging against the sides of the door, preventing him from getting in head on. His lower IQ prevented him from immediately turning to the side until Stiles coaxed him into it. Once he was inside, his massive arms and pecs kept getting the way of him fastening his seat belt, leaving the orc struggling with the tiny strap.

Derek cocked his eyebrow in wonder as he stared down at his inflated, green pecs. “Derek has big muscles!” he gasped, his eyes widening in shock. The surprise disappeared as soon as Derek looked over at Stiles. “Stiles cute.” His hard cock bobbed in front of him in the air, twitching with want.

“Well…” Stiles mused, “maybe we can go to Deaton in the morning.”

[creepydixon]

being a princess with dark!Daryl

my first mlm: Daryl forces a young man to dress up like a girl and humiliate him.

mlm, 18+, forces into dress playing, jerking the other one off, sissy (I think that’s what it is called?), blow job mentioned

• if there is one thing Daryl likes it is men who gets humiliated to the point the man finds pleasure and begs for more

• to make them go on their knees and suck his cock so he can feel some power over them

• you were a new group member, you were quick on your feet, talked back, good with a gun, and what not. And oh, how Daryl dreamt about making you humiliated. To take away a bit of your pride and feel nervous around him.

• right now, you weren’t nervous around Daryl, usually gave him a pat on his shoulder, trying to joke with the grumpy man to see if he had actually some kind of humour.

• but Daryl would give you death glares “don’t tach me,” Daryl would grunt and smack away your hand right away. Narrow his eyes with your attempts of jokes.

• Daryl knew that it was usually hard sometimes to humiliate another man. They fought back, but years of being on the streets, fighting in school, with the neighbours kids, fighting with other that Merle had triggered off made Daryl a capable to take down most of the men.

• on one solo supply mission, Daryl had spotted a costume store. of course it was untouched, no one in apocalypse needed a costume. But Daryl had went inside anyway.

• he spotted a sexual costume, one of those adults costume for Halloween that would make anyone zits their pants if they saw it on a woman.

• a pink too short dress that was princess alike, with white stockings

• Daryl made sure to pack it deepest in his bag

• some weeks goes by. Daryl doesn’t have the need to do his actions right away, he bide his time and think throughly. have to think about how and when to humiliate you.

• Daryl followed the young man to the lake. it was early in the morning. and you had no idea you were followed when you would take your morning swim.

• the cool water takes away the dirt and makes you feel refreshed in the morning. alone time before other people in the group wakes up.

• but when getting up to your towel and clothes, they are gone. “The fuck” you mumbled and try to look through the bushes, around the rock. of course the clothes had to fucking vanish when you took a skinny dip.

• “Lookin’ for sumthin’?” the southern accent caught your attention and your hands went immediately to hide your cock. seeing Daryl standing there with his arms crossed over his chest.

• “Did you take my clothes?” you try to laugh it off, even if you felt a bit nervous, you have tried to joke with Daryl but was this his way of being fun? “Very funny man.”

• “The hell do I wan’ yer clothes for?” Daryl narrowed his eyes. “Probably a deer or a hog took ‘em.”

• of course Daryl lied. he had taken your clothes. making sure you’re in a vulnerable state. Daryl nod up, his chin pointing. “C’mon, my tent is righ’ here. Cover yerself up.”

• you had a hard time to think a deer or a hog had taken your clothes. but Daryl seemed serious about not taking your clothes. and you sure as hell wouldn’t want to risk to go back to the group. so you followed Daryl. “Thanks man, shit, didn’t think animals would be interested in taking clothes.”

• “All animals ‘r unpredictable.” Daryl had put his tent a bit away from the rest of the camp. he opened up the flap and nodded with his head to gesture for you to get inside. which you gladly did.

• it isn’t a lot of stuff in Daryl’s tent. bedroll, his bags, and some few knives and his beloved crossbow. Daryl walked over to his bag. “Thanks man, I really appreciate that you let me borrow some clothes,” you said.

• “Ya say Sir tah me, boy,” Daryl’s voice dripped low. turning around and looked at you who looked slightly confused and surprised. “Right… sorry Sir,” you said low, not trying to make any fuss when you literally stands naked there in front of him.

• Daryl tosses a pink outfit in your way. You furrowed your eyebrows as you caught it and let the outfit fold out when you held it with one hand. a princess outfit. “Ha. Ha. Very funny,” you said dryly.

• “Wha’ makes ya think tha’ this is a joke?” Daryl crossed his arms and obviously he could see the anger and confusion in you. Before you could even say anything, Daryl was quick to pull his knife to your throat, your eyes widening and made you freeze. “Put it on,” Daryl said low to you.

• It was tension in the tent and non of you moved. You could feel the sharp end of the knife on the side of your neck. You swallowed hard and what seemed like an entirety, you held up the outfit and glanced at it. “No underwear?”

• “No underwear,” Daryl repeated. His face were stern and not a sign of mockery, snickering, or anything else. He looked dead serious. He walked with slow steps closer to your right side as you struggled to pull the outfit over your head. It was tight around the chest and the skirt part of the dress didn’t leave anything to the imagination, as your cock wasn’t entirely covered. Your ears were growing red of embarrassment, shame.

• “Well, look at ya, like a good girl,” Daryl said low but you didn’t answer, you looked right ahead. Swallowing hard as Daryl circled you. If it was humiliation Daryl was seeking from you, well, you sure were feeling humiliated right now. Especially when Daryl smacked your hands away from covering your cock.

• “Ya always pissed me off wit’ ya jokes,” Daryl said low and took a step closer. “How ya think we ‘r pals. Ya better start show me some respect.”

• “… I’m sorry, Sir,” you said low, standing there like you were a soldier and got scolded by the highest ranking man in the military. Daryl found it somewhat, entertaining. When you are scared, you act like a military boy and trying not to show any emotions. Daryl’s hand hovered over you cock as he stood close to you, and you had to swallow hard.

• You curse that your body thinks this is a sexual act, you could feel how that sweet tickle grew inside the balls. How your ears turn warmer. You closed your eyes for a few seconds before you inhaled sharply through your mouth as a hiss, feeling Daryl had grabbed your cock.

• “Findin’ this hot?” Daryl whispered close to your face. “Gettin’ hard for wearin’ a frilly dress? Ya surely ‘r different from the other men. They would ‘ave shouted and fought… but ya? Yer getting horny.”

• You didn’t answer. Too ashamed of what your body thought was a sexual act. You tried to steady your breath when you caught yourself how ragged your breath was through your nose and that your cock grew harder in Daryl’s hand. How he started to slowly stroke your growing cock and you closed your eyes, trying to hold in every sound that wanted to escape.

• “Well, time ta learn ya some manners,” Daryl spoke low and gave a firm kick at the side of your knee so you fell forward. Landing on all fours and glanced up at Daryl. “Let’s see wha’ tha’ mouth of yers can do,” Daryl was already unbuckling his pants and you would enter a new part of territory you’ve never experienced before.

[shurisneakers]

harmless (vii)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, existential crisis, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, lil bit of angst, clint barton being a lil shit

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: hey shoutout to @ugherik for suggesting a spin on the “A PLATYPUS!??!“ [perry puts his hat on] “PERRY THE PLATYPUS!???” thing. i used it in here, it’s a really small part and probably missable but i tried!! also i like the next chapter better than this one, i just wanted to put this here so it doesn’t seem abrupt <3333

here’s

my ko-fi

if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

Bucky can’t stop staring at the mirror.

He wishes it was for narcissistic purposes. He had enough reason for it to be. His age may be a hundred but he had the youthful exuberance of a very drained sixty year old.

But no, it wasn’t because of the steel cut jawline or thousand gigawatt smile.

After last week’s mini-spiral, he does what almost half the videos on TikTok warn him not to do.  

He got a haircut.

Everyone’s reaction stopped him from following it up with an ear piercing, but he can’t confidently say he didn’t at least consider it once. Maybe a neck tattoo. 

He pulls at a lock of hair. It’s not even longer than his finger.

What did he do-

“It’s just a haircut, man,” he says to no one in particular, almost like he’s trying to reassure himself.

He runs his hands through his hair. It takes lesser time than he was used to.

Steve had told him he looked good. But then again, Steve wore a fugly costume 90% of the time, what did he know?

Clint acknowledged it and didn’t outright call him ugly, which he supposed was a compliment. Wanda simply smiled at him.

“FRIDAY?” he reaches out.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?” comes the automated reply.

“How are you?” It took him some getting used to her, given that she was constantly listening to everything, and in general seemed to go against the universal idea of privacy. 

But his therapist told him he needed to form friendships. 

She didn’t mention it had to be human ones.

“As good as ever. Is there anything I can help you with?”

He wants to ask her what she thinks of his hair until he realises fashion advice from a faceless AI is a new low for him. Maybe ‘Do you think I should crawl into a pit and die?’ would be more appropriate. 

“Never mind,” he dismisses instead. “Any messages for today?”

“A reminder to buy a harder bed because you can’t keep sleeping on the floor.” Ah, that was on Sam’s recommendation three months ago, but he wasn’t going to stop any time soon. “And a text from a contact named Nuisance saying to meet them at the attached location in thirty minutes.”

“Where is the location?”

“The local sports centre.”

“Isn’t that closed today?” 

If he had to go out in public looking like this, maybe he could wear a cap and sunglasses and no one would recognise him. Unfortunately, as he was reminded several times before by anyone with an iota of common sense, it was a stupid disguise. 

Beanie it was, then. Bare minimum. 

“It is, yes.” Fewer citizens to worry about.

“Okay.” He hesitates in front of the mirror again, adjusting the hat on his head. “Thank you, FRIDAY.”

“You’re welcome, Sergeant.”

He stares at the little tuft of hair at the front that refused to stay down no matter how much he shoved it back.

“Come on, man,” he exhales in slight despair. “Whatever.”

____

The lock of the door leading to the pool is easy enough to pick. He can see how you got in without a hitch even though it was closed. 

The deck around the pool was absolutely drenched in water. No one was using it, there was no reason for water to splash out unless it was deliberately kept like this.

He catches sight of you easily, being that you’re the only two people there. You were standing at the end of the hall, head ducked as you scrolled through your phone.

The door closes behind him with a soft thud.

You don’t look up from your mobile when you start talking, “What do you think 6 year olds like?”

Because James Barnes, carbon dated to 1917 and therefore certified young person, would definitely know the answer to this question.

“I don’t know. Lego?”

“Just how much money do you think a teacher makes-”

You stopped mid-sentence, finally lifting your head to catch his eye. He stares back at you, steps faltering when you don’t move.

"Who are you?" you squinted.

What

"It's me," Bucky says, tugging off the dumb beanie and using it to gesture vaguely towards himself. Fuck, he shouldn’t have worn it, it was ridiculous anyway-

"You sound like him..." You narrow your eyes. “You don't look like him.”

Great

He rolls his eyes before putting on a mock scowl. Can't have Bucky Barnes without a sense of eternal disgruntlement.

"Oh hey, that is you." You grin. "You got a haircut."

“I did.” He suddenly feels the awkwardness increase. His fingers fidget with the beanie.

“Nice.” You nod in acknowledgement.

He wants to hit himself at the words that just spill out before he could think about it. “You hate it.”

“I never said that,” you snort. “And since when does my opinion matter?”

“It doesn’t.” But now he wants to know what you think since he didn’t trust anyone else to tell him honestly.

“Must cut down on time in the shower, huh?”

It did.

He shrugs. He shoves the beanie into his back pocket.

“Was it a crisis haircut?” How did you kno- “Are you going to get bangs next time?”

“Shut up,” he says lamely, a dull burn in his cheeks. 

“I know a place where you can get hair dye for cheap. Not technically FDA approved, but I think purple streaks are a good place to start-”

“What are we doing here?” he interrupts, sighing.

“Skinny dipping. Take off your shirt, Barnes.” 

“Funny,” he says dryly, eyeing your shoes when you straighten up.

Ice skates.

“Fine, pants then.” You don’t make any effort to move from your end so he does, walking closer to you. 

“What are those for?” He doesn’t hide the annoyance from his voice when he points at your feet.

“Oh, these?” You look down at them. “Yeah, I’m going to freeze the pool.”

That seems... mild compared to the shit show you wanted to do last time.

“For?” He halts where he is. 

“’M gonna take my friends ice skating.”

“Is that all?” He wants to make a comment about the fact that you have friends but bites it back.

“Today is just a trial run. Tomorrow I’m gonna go freeze the East River.” There it is.

“The East River is not your personal ice skating rink.”

“Not yet it isn’t.” You lift up a middle finger.

It was too early for you to flip him off, even by your standards.

He raises an eyebrow.

Your face scrunches in confusion. You follow his gaze to your finger. “Oh yeah, no, that’s a freeze ring.”

Only then he notices a ring around the finger. From where he was standing he could make out the blue stone that adorned it.

“Joy.” He rolls up the sleeves of his black bomber jacket. “Let’s get this done with, then.”

“No no, wait.” You hold up your hand and he complies, having nothing to lose anyway. You pull out your phone and press a few buttons before shoving it back into your bag and tossing it aside.

The soft sounds of a piano start playing from a boombox near the corner of the room. A child starts singing following a series of knocks.

His eyebrows furrow. “What the fuck is this?”

“The Frozen soundtrack.” You beam at him. “I thought it was fitting.”

He doesn’t know what that is and at this point, he’s too afraid to ask. He can vaguely make out the lyrics being about a snowman but he isn’t too concerned.

He takes one step forward. You immediately point your fist at the ground in front of him, forcing him to jump back when a blast hits right in front of his shoes. Suddenly he gets why the floor is covered in water.

It sounds like a series of cracks as the water starts freezing over, a layer of ice now separating him and you.  

"You ready?” The mischief was woven in your voice as the blasts continued throughout the deck, effectively turning the entire floor into ice.

Bucky takes a step tentatively forward. Not bad. He takes another. Okay.

The third one is when shit starts to hit the fan. His hands shoot out to hold onto his balance when his footing slips from beneath him.

His Nike sneakers aren’t used to snow. They’re used to well manicured lawns and pavement trips to Starbucks and marble floors of the compound. Not swimming pool decks covered in ice.

He can hear you singing in the distance and every time he looks up you’re a little further away, making sure every inch of space is frozen.

It takes him a while to get over the initial fear of breaking his skull and just move forward swiftly with short steps. A goddamn penguin is what he looked like.

“There you go, you’re getting it,” you chirp as you whiz past him. He reaches out to grab at you, only to miss by an inch. He staggers, arms flapping wildly to regain his stability.

He hears crackling beside him. He gets a second or two to watch ice crystals spread through the water before turning it completely solid. You step onto the now frozen pool, testing your weight with one leg before cautiously getting on.

A triumphant smile emerges on your face. “Awesome.”

He manages to press himself against the wall as a form of support. 

There is no point to this whole thing. He knows this. It’s been well over 6 weeks and there is genuinely no point to this.

He realises it again when he moves from side to side, body erupting into a waddle. 

Why is he doing this. He doesn’t get paid extra. He doesn’t get any kind of compensation. All he gets is more wisecracking geniuses, embarrassment and the mortifying ordeal of getting caught imitating a penguin.

The song changes to a woman singing about doing something for the first time, forcing him to pay attention to it. He hears something about ball room and balls and tunes right back out.

Bucky manages to find his way to the actual pool since that’s where you’re twirling around, opting to land on his mental arm in case things go wrong. He takes a sliding step forward, followed by another. Maybe he can do this. 

“If a 200 pound super soldier can stand on this, I suppose it’s strong enough,” you muse, watching him slip and slide as he tries to invent makeshift ice skating.

Unfortunately, his method doesn’t have any brakes, so while he’s too busy trying to move forward, there’s no way to actually stop. He finds this out very soon when he almost launches himself off the edge of the pool.

Something yanks him backwards and back onto the ice.  

“Honestly, this is utterly useless since you can’t really do anything but it’s the most fun I’ve had all week,” you admit when he goes sliding towards the middle, arms flailing.

“You had to pick fuckin’ ice of all things.” He thinks that maybe he’s getting a hang of this. He can definitely move faster than what he was doing like, 10 minutes ago. It’s not like you were going anywhere, anyway. 

“I like to keep things spicy.”

He stays where he is to glare at you. You mouth the words to the song, watching his every move whenever it interested you. 

Okay, change of plan; a temporary distraction till he figures out how to actually get the ring from you. He settles on skating towards the edge of the rink slowly, taking a step off, slipping almost immediately when his foot comes in contact with the deck. 

“Where are you going?” you yell over the music initially but immediately break into song when it ends in a crescendo.

He takes a knee, lifting his metal arm up before driving it into the ground. It shatters magnificently, leaving small shards of ice at his disposal. 

He picks up one of them, waiting for you to complete your dumb twirl. He takes aim, and-

“Ouch, what the fuck?” You stop your off key singing to rub your shoulder where the ice hit you.

He wordlessly picks up another piece to throw at you, hitting you squarely in the leg.

“Stop that!”

He may not be able to move as fast but he can definitely throw. 

“Give me the ring,” he commands, stretching his arm behind his back before releasing another piece to hit your forearm. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” There’s nowhere you can skate to avoid his stupidly good marksmanship. 

“You gotta do what you gotta do.” He shrugs, breaking another patch of ice to replenish his ammo. “Hand over the ring.”

“Over my dead body,” you shriek when a particularly big piece lands next to your feet. You knew he missed that shot on purpose.

“I feel like I’m finally acting my age,” he says casually, finding your darting about in order to avoid him more fun than he initially thought. “Can’t throw pebbles at meddling kids so this is the next best option. Thanks.” 

“If you acted your age you’d be in a casket, Barnes,” you hissed, finding that skating in zig zags helped your cause, but not by much. “I’d be- you bitch- I’d be more than happy to help you get there.”

You raise your arm, ready to send another blast to freeze the water that was starting to melt around him, hopefully, keep him where he was if it froze around him. 

He flinches. You notice immediately, hand dropping slightly when you realise what it looked like.

“I’m not gonna freeze you,” you say, softer than you intended. From what you knew, he had enough and more experience with that and you weren’t going to contribute to it. 

He swallows thickly, giving himself a little shake of his head as if to jolt him out of his train of thought. 

Another piece of ice hits you in the leg. You let out a string of curses at him.

“The more ice you make, the more I have to throw at you, Y/N.” He waits for you to regain your balance when you nearly take a stumble. 

“Shut up, you’re so immature.”

“Remind me whose plan this was again?” No point waiting for you to regain your balance when you fall over only a few seconds later. 

He gathers a few shards in his beanie, tucking it into his belt like a little makeshift rucksack just in case before venturing out on the main rink again. 

It’s more difficult for you to stand without railings to guide you, giving him enough and more time to make his way towards you, staggering and skidding. 

Both of you looked ridiculous. 

“Stay away, fiend.” 

“Ring first.” He holds his hand out in front of you. He even considered pulling you up if you just made things easier.

Next thing he knows he’s on his ass on the ice beside you. 

“I hate you,” he groans, watching as you inch away from him on your knees.

He doesn’t really have any other options so he shoves aside the humiliation and gets on his knees, using his arms to drag him along the ice.

“For the love of Christ, none of us are winning here. Just give me the ring.”

The bitch from the soundtrack sings about letting it go but he won’t. 

“Never,” you shout, sliding away from him as fast as possible. 

You make use of the fact that the top layer of ice is starting to melt, using the ring to freeze it again. His knees and fingers get stuck as the water freezes over but he has super strength. It barely takes him a second to free himself. 

“Great,” he huffs, just settling down on the ice, ignoring the sting of cold that was spreading through his limbs. Running after you wasn’t going to work; he needed a way to get the ring. 

“You won last time, I’m not letting you win again.”

“Are we seriously keeping score?” He watches as you scramble towards the edge.

“No one likes a loser, Bucky.” You use the pool stair railings to pull yourself up.

“Explain why you have friends then.” He can’t help himself this time. 

“Hardy har har.” You roll your eyes. 

He doesn’t make an effort to move. Instead, when you take a step back into the rink, he raises his arm and pummels it into the ice, just to annoy you. 

The ground damn near shakes, pushing you dangerously towards losing your balance again. 

“Are you crazy?” Your arm shoots out in front of you to keep you from falling headfirst. 

“No.” He does it again. This time there’s a crack in the ice. “I’m just very tired.”

“If the ice breaks we’re both gonna be underwater, you moron!”

“Fine by me.” He shrugs. “Freeze it again. I’ll just find different ways to ruin it for you.”

You glare at him. He raises his arm above his head again.

“Fine! Fine, stop.” You eye him as he lowers his arm. 

He reaches for his stash of ice pieces from earlier, throwing one at your shoulder again.

“Boy, I swear if you don’t stop doing that-” you duck when another one comes at you. You had no idea he could be this annoying. 

It suddenly hits him, like a lightbulb going off in his brain. He wipes his hands off on his jacket, getting on all fours before slowly managing to pick himself up again. 

He looks at you, tilting his head slightly like he was studying you.

“What?” you ask suspiciously, eyeing as he starts inching closer towards you. “What are you thinking?”

It’s like watching a newborn deer stumble its way through the world, albeit more gracefully, until he starts picking up speed. The motherfucker was going to mow you down.

The skates are useful but not so much when an extremely determined bumbling oaf is barrelling towards you, his speed beginning to match yours even without equipment. 

You don’t know why you’re running, you don’t know why he’s chasing after you but when you see the end of the pool you take a sharp left only to have him knock right into you, sending you both sprawling.

You land half on top of him, breaking your fall but it doesn’t stop the very loud groan that escapes your mouth. He’s already in the process of sitting up straight, giving you less time to analyse what just happened.

“What the fuck was that for?” you speak through gritted teeth. “Fuckin’ acting like the both of us have free healthcare.”

“You refused to give up.”

“So your plan was to tackle me like a quarterback?” You threw your hands up.  

“One part of it.” He drags himself to the edge, away from you. 

“There's more to your monkey brained plan?” He doesn’t look at you. The ice around the pool has more or less melted, letting him gain proper footing on the floor before he stands up. 

“Oh, yeah.” He turns to you. “The other’s a trick I stole from Stark.”

Bucky holds up the ring. Your jaw slightly drops, eyes searching your finger for the now missing piece of tech. 

“Suppose that’s two points for me?” 

You’re impressed. You also want to stab him. So you do the next best thing.

“When I imagined you holding a ring in front of me, the circumstances were very different,” you comment.

“Bye, Y/N.” He spins on his heel, not even giving you a second’s worth of reaction. You found it amusing.

He heads towards the door, clothes all wet. He empties out melted ice water from his beanie before stuffing it into his pocket. Just when he’s about to leave, you remember something. 

Do you mean it genuinely or just because it has an effect on him? 

“Just for the record, Barnes, about your hair-” you call out, earning his attention from over his shoulder. “I think you look really good either way.”

The world may never know. 

You swear you can see the corners of his lips quirk upwards before he turns around again. 

He slips on a block of ice, cursing and clenching on to the door to keep him upright, quickly yanking it open and leaving before he has a chance to embarrass himself further.

Smooth.

Next part

[whumperooni]

what’s mine is mine

Pairing: Touya Todoroki x Sister!Reader

Tags/Warnings: tw incest, tw breeding kink, scumbag squad, drugs and drinking, possessive behavior

Word count: 5.7k

A/N: This is in response to a big brained nonny! I’m so sorry it took me so long to get to it!

“Touya-nii, do you want some- oh. Sorry, nii-san, I didn’t know you had guests over...”

Touya lifts his head from his phone to find you standing in the doorway- a curious tilt to your head and hands clasped behind your back. On the couch across from him, his shitty friends are looking at you- just as curious but with a look in their eyes that he doesn’t appreciate.

There’s a reason he doesn’t have them over when you’re home.

“Woah, Todoroki- who is this? Don’t tell me that’s your little sister. Where’ve ya been hiding her?”

Touya huffs as Keigo grins and you flush- teeth digging into your bottom lip, eyes lowering to the floor under the attention, a tiny smile threatening to form that Touya is very unhappy to see.

“C’mere, little birdy, let us see ya. Come say hi.”

The scowl that breaks across Touya’s face only makes Keigo smirk. Your eyes dart to Touya- seeking his approval, your face flustered- and Touya huffs again, rolls his eyes whenever Jin raises a brow toward him.

At least Tenko’s already gone back to playing his game- head bowed and bloodshot eyes only flicking toward you whenever Touya waves you over to him and you hesitantly enter the room.

He doesn’t like the way three sets of eyes run over your legs and he really doesn’t like the way Keigo’s smirk grows whenever his own eyes narrow.

Fuckin’ bastard. He’s nothing but scum.

Touya grabs your wrist as soon as you’re close enough to him to do so and he yanks you down onto his lap, ignores the squeak that leaves you whenever he wraps his arms around your waist and hooks his chin over your shoulder, rests a hand on your thighs.

“Asshole friends, this is my little sister. Sis, these are my asshole friends.”

“Yo.”

“Hey.”

“...mmm.”

“H-Hi...”

Keigo coos at your shy voice and Jin smiles a little- expression hazy from all the weed he’s smoked. Tenko glances at you- pointedly at your legs, between them- and Touya scowls, squeezes your thighs and pulls you even closer against him.

“Hey, baby, why don’t you come over here with us? If you want a lap to sit on, you can always use mine or Jin’s.”

“What about mine?”

“No one wants to sit on yours, weeb.”

“You can sit on mine,” Jin mumbles, barely audible over Tenko and Keigo’s squabbling. “I don’t mind.”

Your head moves with a shake and your fingers curl into your skirt- cheeks flaring as you press back against Touya. Something relaxes in his chest with that and he hugs you a little closer, smothers the impulse to lay his lips to your neck.

“N-No, thank you,” you mumble to Jin- so polite, so shy, so very good with your refusal.

“Didn’t want you to anyway.”

Touya snorts at that, just shakes his head when you look back at him in confusion.

Out of all of them, Jin’s probably the least likely threat. Tenko would be if he didn’t have a habit of staring and sneaking photos of any and every girl he can- he wouldn’t ever actually try anything on you, but Touya doesn’t want upskirt photos of his lil sis on that perv’s phone.

Keigo’s the worst by and far. And Touya will be damned if he lets his little sister get anywhere near that jackass with his sickly sweet charm, shit eating grins, and groping hands.

No way- you’re his.

“Nii-san,” you whisper, looking back at him with your cute little flushed cheeks and shy eyes. “Nii-san, I just came down to ask if you wanted some dinner. Natsuo-nii said he’d pick up some take-out...”

Natsuo? What the fuck are you doing hanging around Natsuo? That little shit should be on some cheesy date with his squeaky mouse of a girlfriend instead of trying to weasel in some time with you.

Touya doesn’t know which he hates more- the thought of his sleazy friends trying to flirt with you or the thought of you hanging out with your older brother, his younger brother.

When he only scowls in response, your face falls. You turn on his lap until you’re sat facing him- fingers curling into his shirt and brow furrowed, your bottom lip jutting out into one of those cute pouts of yours that you like to wear when you’re worried about him.

Over your shoulder, Touya can see Jin’s confusion and Tenko’s cocked brow, Keigo’s narrowed eyes. He flashes them a sneer that you can’t see and settles his hands on your hips, looks back down at you to see what’s got you bothered enough to forget your shyness.

“Onii-chan,” you start- voice tilting with a soft whine, something almost lecturing creeping through the words. “Nii-san, Natsuo-nii was just being nice. And you need to eat.”

Your hands run down his chest and your expression grows softer as you look up at him through your lashes, your voice gets quieter as you whisper to him,

“I worry about you, nii-san. You’re so skinny...”

The tips of your fingers press into the spaces between his ribs and Touya sighs as concern fills your eyes, ignores the stares of his friends from across the room.

“Fine, whatever,” he grumbles. “Get something for me and put it in the fridge. I’ll eat it later.”

“You promise?”

A huff leaves him and you pout whenever he rolls his eyes, but a nod of his head gets your lips quirking up with a pleased little smile all the same.

“I’ll get you some low mein,” you chirp, hands smoothing down his chest. “And I’ll have Natsuo-nii get you some beer too!”

“Aw, ain’t she just the sweetest.”

Keigo’s croon has you blushing and Touya huffs again once your head ducks- lips twitching with irritation as you squirm on his lap and the blonde across the room bares his teeth at him in a grin.

Fuckin’ dick.

“I, um, I- I should go tell Natsuo-nii,” you mumble, cheeks still flared up and voice dipping shy again. Touya just grunts and he squeezes your hips before giving one a little smack.

A press of soft lips to his cheek and then you’re off- Keigo, Jin, and Tenko all watching as you hurry out of the room and out of sight.

As soon as you’re gone, they look to him and Touya’s eyes narrow when a low whistle sounds from Keigo.

“Shit, Todoroki, and here I thought your whole family was just a bunch of dogs.”

“Oh fuck off,” Touya snaps, reaching for the blunt wraps with a scowl. “Don’t get any fuckin’ ideas, birdbrain.”

“Ideas?” Keigo laughs- grin still in place, turning sleazy. “Now why would I have any ideas about your cute lil sis and her cute lil tits.”

“I said fuck off.”

“She is pretty cute,” Jin mumbles, fingers scratching along his chest and lips holding a dazed smile that only has Touya scowling darker. “Like her ass...”

“Bet she cums like an ahego whore,” Tenko throws out without even looking up from his stupid fucking game. “Looks like a dumb slut.”

“Think the weeb’s right,” Keigo sneers. “Hey- she got a boyfriend, Todoroki?”

“I don’t know- you got a black eye?”

“Aw, cute- he’s protective.”

“Virgin then,” Tenko pipes up. “Bet she’d cream herself if she got kissed.”

A growl rips from Touya and the three bark out some laughs- Keigo and Tenko smirking while Jin’s dumb little smile grows.

He’s gonna fucking kill these assholes.

He knew they’d be nothing but scum when it came to you- he should’ve made sure you’d be out of the house before he let these three dicks come over for a smoke sesh.

Touya scowls and his friends keep up- slinging lewd comments and jeers as he smokes and stews.

◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾

Two in the morning and Touya’s buzzed.

Buzzed and fucking pissed.

Those assholes didn’t let up all night. Every other sentence out of Keigo’s mouth was about fucking you, getting you on your knees, making you drunk and stupid so he could wreck your ass. Tenko kept comparing you to characters from his ero games and Jin kept mumbling how he wanted you to sit on his dick, warm his cock while he smokes.

Jin was bareable, kind of. But Tenko and Keigo?

It’s a goddamn miracle he didn’t break their faces.

Touya scowls as he watches his so called friends head out and narrows his eyes at one last jeer of “kiss your sis good night for me” tossed out ny Keigo.

Those fuckers need to learn some manners. Those fuckers need to learn who you belong too.

Scowl deepening, Touya heads toward your room- feet stumbling and teeth gritting.

You’re asleep when he barges in- face peaceful, blanket twined between your legs, fingers curled into the sheets. He looks over you for a second, runs his eyes over bared thighs and cotton panties, and then he walks toward the bed, climbs onto it.

As soon as the mattress dips, your lashes flutter open and you stir with a sigh. You don’t do more than give a sleepy blink when he brackets himself over you, offer him a fuzzy, drowsy smile.

“Touya-nii...? What...what time is it?”

“Two.”

A hum and a yawn, another sleepy little blink. You’re cute like this and usually Touya would just crash beside you, but he’s got other plans right now- stupid, drunk, dumb plans but plans all the same.

“Hey- hey, don’t go back to sleep.”

There’s a huff from you, a furrowing of your brows. But you obey him as you always do; you sit up with another yawn and rub at your eye with a loose fist, let him tug the covers off of you without a fuss.

“Nii-san...nii-san, what is it?”

Touya ignores you and he grabs onto your still sleepy face, pulls you closer until he can kiss you, make you whine and moan. You jerk, just a bit, at the way he bites into your bottom lip and then you’re melting into his touch, looking up at him through half-shut eyes whenever he breaks the kiss and runs his drunken gaze over your flushed face.

“Nii-san...?”

Touya grunts and thumbs away a dribble of spit from the corner of your lips, ignores the quiet confusion written all over your face. You press into his touch and he watches you blink, reaches over to flick on the lamp without looking. He almost knocks it over but he ignores that, too, and kisses you again- not caring if you’re blinking rapidly to adjust to the sudden light or if you’re still thrown a little off kilter by his mood and his lingering scowl.

This kiss is rougher- his fingers snarling into your hair and his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, his grip tightening on your head. You whimper with it and Touya growls, doesn’t pull back until he feels you tremble and shake. Your lips part with a question, quivering and plumped up from his bites, and Touya huffs before it can sound, grits out his own.

“You love me, right?”

Your eyes snap open, you breathe in sharp and fast- bewilderment all over your face and any lingering traces of sleep evaporated in an instant. Your hands fly to his face and his lips twitch at the touch, he presses into it even if it’s a fucking weak little move.

“Touya-nii, of course I love you! I love you with all my heart!”

Sweet, a little hurt, absolutely sincere- you say it with wide eyes and so much concern that it makes him want to scowl even deeper, punch himself for being so stupid to even ask.

Of course you love him- he’s your nii-san after all.

Touya huffs and his shoulders relax a little, his tongue darts out to wet his lips as your brows scrunch together in worry.

You’re a good little sister. He doesn’t have anything to worry about- never will.

But fuck he’s still pissed.

“I wanna do something,” he half-growls out. “You’ll be good for me, yeah?”

A flush, a squirm. You nod, though- brows still furrowed and eyes scanning his face in search for some answer to your confusion.

“Of course, nii-san,” you whisper. “I- of course. What-”

“Take your clothes off. All of ‘em.”

A soft noise slips from you and you breathe in shakily, but there’s no hesitance in the way your hands rise to tug off your shirt.

Touya watches for a moment and then he gets up from the bed, walks over to the door and closes it, locks it.

You’re naked by the time he comes back- flushed but not embarrassed, bruises littered everywhere your clothes can hide them. Touya eyes the bruises, those marks he’s put all over his dear, sweet little sister, and his lashes lower, something hungry and greedy starts to grow inside of him.

You’ve never belonged to anyone but him.

He touches your cheek- soft in the moment, rough edges hazed over by your adoration. A tap to it has your lashes fluttering, a press of his thumb to your lips has you shuddering.

“We’re gonna make a lil movie,” he rumbles out. You startle, eyes flying wide open once again, but you don’t protest or tell him no even if unease has your fingers curling tight into the sheets.

You never tell him no.

“I...okay, nii-san...”

The compliance has him humming- thumb dipping past your parted lips so he can press it down against your wet tongue.

It’s sweet how you agree, satisfying- more satisfying then the beer he threw back all throughout the night and the weed he smoked away.

A lick to his lips and Touya pulls away, starts to strip away his clothes- hands fumbling, clumsy as he tries to undo buttons and zippers. You watch him silently- cheeks heating up and thighs pressing together- and your teeth find your bottom lip when he starts to tug down his boxers, when his cock springs free.

“Turn around,” he orders. “Get on your knees, put that fucking pretty face against the bed and raise that ass up for me.”

Shivering, you obey- a mewl slipping from you as you do.

Touya grabs his phone from his pants and he kneels by the bed, pulls up the camera and hits record.

You’re wet and it’s easy to see even in the lowlight, even on the shitty phone screen. When he grabs onto your ass with his free hand and spreads your cheek, your hole clenches- tightens and spreads and makes him smirk.

“So fucking wet for me,” he half-sneers, a laugh sounding through the words. “Look at this pretty lil cunt all soaked and eager.”

“T- Touya...”

He huffs at your little whimper of a whine and brings the phone even close, records the way your hips twitch and your cunt sucks in his thumb when he presses against it.

“So fuckin’ wet and warm. So tight,” he hisses. “All for me, baby- right?”

“Y- yes. It’s all- all for you!”

Touya snorts and he slips his thumb out so he can spread your pussy open again, presses his palm against it and then lays a wet smack to your ass that has you yipping, arching your hips even closer to him.

“You ever been with anyone but me?”

The sheets rustle as you shake your head and Touya grips your ass tight, digs his fingers in deep and makes you squirm, whine. When there’s no verbal answer, he spanks you again in warning and you whine even louder, press your thighs tight together.

“N- no! Just you! Just Touya!”

“You want anyone else?”

“No! Never!”

Touya grins and the restless anger in him quells, just a little, at your mewled loyalty.

A fucking good little sister indeed.

Touya aims the camera at the red blooming across your ass and then he stands, moves it over to capture your arched back. He runs his hand over your side and you shiver a little, press your hips back against him until his cock nudges at your soaked cunt.

“You wanna get fucked, sweetheart?” he half taunts- the words coming out sickly sweet, rough around the edges.

“Please!”

Your moan is even sweeter than his question- hips bucking back against his cock, fingers fisting the sheets tight in your hold.

“Think you can do better than that,” he huffs, leaning over until he can tangle his fingers into your hair. “Tell me how bad ya want it.”

A whine sounds- pathetic and flustered, pitching up sharp as he yanks your head up from the bed. The tiniest sob slips from you as he forces your head back and you stare up into the camera- cheeks flushed, eyes glittering, an undeniable need flourishing across your your face.

“Please, nii-san,” you beg, nearly breathless and so fucking sweet. “Please I want- I want you to fuck me! I want- want your cock!”

“Only mine?”

Another whine and you nod, whimper as your hair gets tugged and pulled by the movement.

“Only Touya-nii’s!”

“Good girl.”

A gasp from you and a cute little mewl- the praise has you flushing darker and a tremble wracking through your body, your lashes fluttering and falling half-shut.

“Nii-san, please...”

Touya grunts and the camera shakes in his hand for a moment before he steadies himself. He rocks against you, has you whimpering, and then he grips his cock, lets you bury your face back into the sheets as he starts to push his way into your eager little cunt.

You clench around him, so fucking eager as always, and Touya groans at that, lowers his phone to show off the way his cock slides into your plush little pussy with ease.

“So fucking wet, baby,” he praises- taunts- in a growl. “Ain’t never had a cunt like yours. So fucking tight and sweet. You were made to take my dick, weren’t cha?”

A shuddering moan wracks through you- body trembling and cunt clenching around his cock so tight it makes Touya hiss and claw his nails into your hips. You whimper at the sting and he doesn’t have to see your face to know you’ve got tears in your eyes, doesn’t have to hear any mewl or whine to know that you love it.

“I- I was made- was made- oh, nii-san!”

Touya snorts at your moan, tilts his head back with a groan as he sinks even deeper into your silken, squeezing little cunt.

“Throw those fucking hips back,” he snarls, orders. “Fuck yourself on me.”

A mewl and you do just as he says- rocking your hips back like the obedient girl you are and whining as his piercings drag along the throbbing walls of your pussy. Touya rolls his head back forward so he can watch and he angles the camera so he can capture the way the soft flesh of ass jiggles each time it meets his pelvis.

“So fuckin’ good,” he mumbles. “Takin’ it so well- best fuckin’ pussy around. No one fucks like my lil sis.”

It’s more to the camera- to the future audience- but you still whimper and grind against him, drags your nails over the sheets with a soft little whine.

“Nii-san- Touya-nii, please!”

“What? You gonna come already?”

“Please!”

Touya huffs and he lays a spank to your ass, drags out a moan and has your hips stuttering against him.

“Come on nii-san’s cock then. Come nice and pretty like a good girl.”

A whimper and then you’re trembling, whining as your cunt clenches and flutters around his cock. His teeth grit with the squeeze of your cumming pussy and Touya has to dig his nails back into your hip so he doesn’t moan- lips pulling into a growling snarl as he tries not to cum with you.

“Nii-san! Nii-san!”

He lets you moan and writhe and mewl until you limp beneath him and then he leans over you, presses his chest flat against your back and curls his fingers into your hair, jerks your head to the side and shoves the phone in your face.

He wants them to see your flushed face and muddied eyes. He wants them to see your fucked out face and fluttering lashes. He wants them to see your face as he cums inside of you, as you cum on his cock again.

Touya fucks into you- movement shallow, his cock still driving in so fucking deep- and you moan, shudder whenever his teeth scrape over your shoulder.

“You like nii-san’s cock fuckin’ deep inside you?”

“Oh- oh, yes! Love it nii-san!”

It comes out whiny- so fucking needy. Touya grunts when your cunt pulses around him and he fucks into you rough, makes you mewl out his name.

“Nii-san’s gonna fuckin’ fill ya,” he snarls. “Fill your tight lil cunt. Gonna fuckin’ breed ya! Breed my sweet lil sis- fuckin’ shit- gonna cream that cunt!”

“Please! Please! Touya- nii please!”

You beg so fucking sweet. Touya snarls and he fucks into you rough, pulls your hair tight as he shoots his cum deep into your needy little pussy, fills you to the goddamn brim with his seed. You cum, again, with him and you moan as you do- so loud and cute.

Whimpers rip from you as he humps his cum deep inside you and you shudder when he grinds into your cunt, coo dreamily whenever he lays a kiss to your flushed cheek.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs.

A mewl as you nod drowsily and Touya snorts at your sleepy smile, turns the camera to his face and sneers before ending the recording.

He drops it in the groupchat before he slides out of you and sits back on his knees. You nuzzle into the covers as he runs his hand through his hair and Touya huffs, snorts as you yawn.

“C’mon,” he tells you- maybe quietly fond in a way he’ll never admit-, “let’s crash.”

You hum and you nod and Touya lets you shuffle under the covers, follows after you and pulls you close.

He clicks off the lamp and the two of you drift off to sleep- satisfaction filling Touya as his phone goes off and a happy smile on your face. 

◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾

Tenko is the first to watch the video.

He gets the notification in the middle of crushing up some pills. His first instinct is to just ignore it, but impulse has him reaching for the phone, has his thumb clicking the play button before he can really think about it.

His brow arches, but he’s not too surprised by the smut dropped into the chat- between Keigo and Touya it happens on the weekly and he’s more than used to it.

He could use new fap material, anyway.

Tenko settles back in his chair and takes his cock out, gives it a stroke as he eyes the cunt filling the screen.

Wet, cute- he’d like to fuck it, fill it.

Why the fuck does Touya always get such sweet pussy?

A scowl twists his lips, but his hand twists along with it- pumps along his shaft as he enjoys the sight of arched hips and a cute ass.

He’d fucking wreck that ass given the chance. Slam his dick deep inside and makes this bitch moan.

“You wanna get fucked, sweetheart?”

“Please!”

Fuck- what a good lil cunt.

Tenko grunts as he rocks into his fist, but then he fucking moans when he sees just who Touya is fucking.

Shit- fuck.

He knew the bastard was twisted but goddamn.

Tenko almost laughs, but he’s too busy jerking himself off even faster- eyes narrowed and teeth gritted, a pant sounding from him.

“Yeah, shit. Fuck that little sluts’s cunt. Breed your lil sis you fucking dick.”

He should be disgusted, probably. Horrified at the very least.

But fuckin’ hell this is hot and he’s been jackin’ it to shit like this for years anyway.

And, fuck, this is real- this is hottest shit he’s watched all month. All goddamn year.

Tenko cums before the clip is even over and he keeps fucking his fist even after, replays it with a hissed curse.

Touya better drop more after this. He better let them see this in real life- Tenko needs to see this slut’s fucked out face in the flesh, needs to shove his fingers into your moaning mouth and make you choke.

Tenko licks his lips and he saves the video- saves it a second time for a back up.

Just in case.

◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾

The second person to see the video is Jin.

He’s home- drunk, high, smoking a cigarette and watching reruns of Doraemon.

He’s feeling fuzzy, good. The night had been chill and he had liked getting a glimpse of Touya’s little sister- you’d been real cute, real sweet. He had wanted you to sit next to him- maybe in his lap like Keigo had teased- and he had wanted to hug you close, get you just as high and fuzzy as him.

He might have a lil puppy dog crush on you now- how could he not with you so shy and sweet?

Jin hums as he thinks of you, scratches his stomach and grins sleepily- one laugh leaving him as he watches Nobita fail once again.

His phone buzzes and Jin fumbles a hand over until he can pick up, blinks and raises a brow when he finds a video in the chat.

Someone fucked or someone did something stupid.

Or fucked someone stupid.

A snort leaves him and Jin takes a draw of his cigarette, lounges back and presses play.

It’s the usual shit- hot and boasting and showing off a cute lil wet cunt, a soft and sweet ass. 

He’s a bit jealous, maybe. (Definitely)

He’s a bit too relaxed and heavy to get off on it, maybe. (No he’s not)

Eyes drawing half-shut, Jin reaches a hand down his sweatpants. He strokes himself lazily as he watches Touya spanks his mewling, whiny little slut and he smokes as he does, too- humming whenever he hears the plea to be fucked.

Cute. (Hot)

Whoever this is seems like a good little girl. (A needy little whore)

A small grunt leaves him when he watches Touya tangle his fingers into hair, but a gasp of “shit” leaves him whenever a head is jerked back and he sees a cute, flushed face that he definitely knows.

“What the fuck?”

He has to pause the video, bring the phone up to his face and squint at the screen.

He’s not seeing this right- can’t be seeing this right. He’s too drunk, too stoned. too fucked up- his vision is betraying him. It has to be.

...right?

Jin stares at the screen. He stares and stares and stares. His thumb hovers over the screen, hesitating, and the ashes from his cigarette fall onto his bare chest while he tries to decide what to do.

Touya wouldn’t really...he’s not really fucking his little sister is he?

No way. No fucking way.

(Yes fucking way)

Jin blinks and his thumb hit the screen, he swallows as he watches you beg for your big brother’s cock.

Fuck, that’s sick. That’s disgusting.

(That’s so fucking hot.)

His cheeks flush and his eyes widen, draw back down to lazy slits. His fingers twitch along his cock, tighten back around it when he gets treated with the sound of a whimper, a moan.

You sound so fucking good. (You sound so fucking whiny)

You’re so cute- you probably have such a tight, wet little pussy. (You probably have such a sloppy, fucked out cunt if Touya fucks you like this on the regular)

Shit, he wants to know how your cunt feels. He wants you on his lap, wants to feel you clench around his cock like a good little girl.

(A good little whore)

It’s too much to watch- too much to handle. Jin closes his eyes and tilts his head back with a groan, jerks himself to all the mewls and growls and groans and begs that sounds from the phone.

He comes along to the sound of you coming and he shudders after it, drags his hand over his cock and wipes the mess over his sweats.

...fuck. He shouldn’t have done that- he shouldn’t have watched that. He’s not going to be able to look you in the eyes if he ever gets to see you again.

(Fuck your eyes- he wants to look up your skirt, see that cute little pussy again)

Jin frowns and he runs his hand through his hair, tosses his burnt out cigarette into the ashtray before lighting another.

On the tv, Doraemon laughs. On his phone, Touya kisses your cheek and smirks at the camera- at Jin.

Fuckin’ dick. (Lucky bastard)

Jin shakes his head and he closes his eyes again, takes a draw and blows out a plume of smoke toward the ceiling.

...he’s got some fucked up friends. (No more fucked up than him)

A grimace and then Jin looks to his phone, taps on the screen and watches through heavy lidded eyes as his friend fucks his sweet little sister.

◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾

Keigo’s the last to see the video- he finds it in the chat after he’s sent the neighbor girl back home, after he’s gotten some head and drawled out promises of feelings that he’ll never feel for some dumb little whore with aspirations of home in the ‘burbs and a passel of brats.

He snorts when he sees it, thinks it’s just some busted bitch that Touya talked into coming over so he could rail his anger out.

Touya’s always been a touchy little shit.

He stills plays it, though- drops down on to his bed and kicks back, takes a swig of beer.

It’s a pretty little cunt that gets flashed his way- wet and eager, nice and snug looking. Keigo rolls his eyes whenever Touya’s fuckin’ voice sounds, but he’d be lying if he didn’t enjoy the sight of that cute cunt sucking in a rough thumb, the sound of a little whimpers and mewls.

Not a bad pussy, not a bad voice- maybe this slut isn’t that busted?

Or maybe she’s just a butterface.

A snort and Keigo lazily works his hand down his chest, underneath his sweatpants. He strokes him even if he’s just half hard and he lets his gaze drift to something half-lidded, amused and lazy.

“So fuckin’ wet and warm. So tight. “All for me, baby- right?”

Fuckin’ show off- as if this one ups the coed Keigo had last week, as if this one ups the way he had fucked her throat raw in the library and came all over her dumb face, all over her fat tits.

“Y- yes. It’s all- all for you!”

Wait a second...

Keigo blinks and his brow arches as he watches Touya lays a smack across a cute little ass.

That voice sounds kind of familiar. Someone he’s fucked before? Did Touya snag one of his sloppy seconds?

Fuckin’ maybe- fucker is stupid and petty enough to do that.

Not that Keigo cares, though- he’s never fucked anyone that he’d get jealous over.

It’s more funny than anything, actually.

Keigo snorts, again, and he pumps his cock with a sneer.

“You ever been with anyone but me?”

Yeah, you’ve been with someone better. Will probably come crawling back to him, too, when you’re left dissatisfied by Touya’s weak ass stroke game.

“N- no! Just you! Just Touya!”

...what?

“You want anyone else?”

“No! Never!”

What?

Who the fuck is this bitch?

Keigo scoffs as he hears a beg to be fucked sound, rolls his eyes as he watches skinny fingers tangle into hair.

Maybe he’ll have to hunt down this slut and wreck her, shove it in Touya’s face right back.

Keigo drags his palm over his cock right as Touya jerks a headful of hair back and Keigo damn near crushes his dick whenever he catches sight of just who Touya has caught in his clutches.

Oh that fucking bastard. That son a bitch.

A slew of curses hisses from him and Keigo snarls as he takes in your teary, needy face, as he hears his creep of a friend’s little sister beg to be fucked by Touya.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

The growl spits out of him and Keigo is barely aware of it- can’t fucking care about it as he watches Touya nail his cute lil sis.

This is absolute fucking bullshit. He can’t believe that fucking prick is railing his sister. He can’t believe that petty fucking asshole is dumb enough to show it off.

What the fuck? What the absolute fuck?

Keigo’s hand moves faster and he snarls as he twists his wrist, as pre-cum spills all over his fingers.

Touya doesn’t fucking deserve that cute lil pussy. Touya doesn’t deserve to rail you with your sweet ass and mewling moan and hot little whines. Touya doesn’t fucking deserve you at all.

It doesn’t cross his mind for one moment how wrong the whole situation is. It doesn’t cross his mind that he should be disgusted over a brother fucking his little sister, that he should be disgusted over the way Touya hisses promises of fucking breeding his little sister’s cunt.

If he’s disgusted it’s only because he’s not the one fucking you- that Touya got to you first.

Oh, Touya is going to fucking regret this.

He’s going to fucking ruin you.

Keigo hisses as he cums and he growls as Touya’s stupid fucking lips quirk into a smirk on the screen, snarls and throws his phone down onto the bed as his hips jerk and pound against his fist.

“Fucking bitch! Stupid fucking whore!”

No wonder you were so goddamn shy. No wonder you didn’t sit in his lap like you should’ve. It wasn’t him- it was you; it was Touya.

The beer bottle gets swiped to the floor and Keigo growls as he rips his hand from his pants and scrubs the cum on his sheets.

Touya’s going to fucking pay for this.

Keigo saves the video and he scowls as he does- face dark, teeth gritted, stormy plans of revenge brewing in his mind.

[cdroloisms]

hey pspsps i found this thing n twitter and i cant get it out of my head,, so dreams escape right? and sapnap said that he'd be the one who'd take dreams last life rgiht? so imagine if he gets ant, bad and george and tells them "its the final manhunt" (:

im ngl the name of this on my document was “the final manhunt *offkey kazoo*” 

with that, have some good ol’ post-prison c!dream angst! probably not exactly what you asked for, but i hope you like it anyway :D 

tw: implied torture, abuse, dark portrayals of c!sam and c!quackity, suicide/suicide implications, panic attacks, emotional distress, emotional instability, death threats, violence, flashbacks, pandora’s vault/prison arc

When Dream escapes the prison, he is a frothing thing of spite and rage, one part human and ninety-nine parts determination simmered and condensed over high heat; there is anger and then there’s this, the fire that leaps to his eyes and the shaking shreds of a battered heart he holds close to his chest and refuses to let anyone close enough to see. He moves and the server moves with him, tugged along by his iron will and sweat-slick desperation, joining in the brilliant blue whirl of a diamond axe swung recklessly and slammed into the dirt, an aimless fury following each formless drive of the blade into grass and gravel. The air sings danger and the air sings wrong and every step closer brings a ringing scream of away away go away that dances like static electricity against their skin.

Puffy follows, cutlass strapped to her hip and hair tucked messily beneath the rim of her cornet as the group advances - someone had alerted over comms about seeing the escaped prisoner in this direction, and they’d all jumped forward in the hopes that the weeks-long manhunt could finally be ended. Sapnap leads the way, headband whipping behind him as he strides forward, jaw clenched in fierce determination; George brings up the rear, bow in hand, a full quiver of arrows strapped to his back. Puffy’s running alongside Sam, who has been strangely tight-lipped the entire time Dream has been gone, firm in his insistence that the prisoner be detained but saying little else - it’s something that she would pry at, usually, but her head is filled with half-formed regrets and fears and a bubbling undercurrent of anger she’s afraid will come loose if she opens her mouth, so she stays silent as they run ever forward.

Sapnap yells, and her head snaps up - there, in the tall grass of a plains biome lies a flash of orange that must be Dream. The hunters around her speed up and she strains to follow; the other three are clearly experienced, easily falling into step with each other as she scrambles to keep up. Dream’s head snaps over towards them and he begins to sprint, cutting a line through the yellow field as they race to follow. She’s not seen him since the prison break, has only heard the whispers- an orange clothed monster, all bones and skin and uncaged fury, a diamond axe heaved in his arms slamming against anything that comes too close. It’s hard to rationalize this untamed, unrefined dash to the unwavering calm that she had always associated with his style of fighting, his movements much more like the life-or-death escape of a hunted rabbit than any hunter’s dog. It’s hard to rationalize this Dream with the one she knows- but well, she’s gotten used to that.

It took her far too long to admit, but she’s come to realize that she doesn’t quite know Dream at all.

He leads them forward to the shorter grass and harsher dips and planes of a savannah, the sun beating down in slanting heat against the backs of their necks. The ground they’re standing on begins to shatter into steep cliffs and jagged mountains, rough edges of stone climbing into the sky all around them. Sapnap curses, shading his eyes against the sun.

“He’s going up there,” he says, and George sends arrows flying towards the orange dot blurring across the steep face of a nearby mountain. Sam grumbles as Puffy strains to catch sight of him, watching his scrambling movements up the cliff face to the top.

“Then we follow,” he says, pulling a stack of ender pearls from his inventory. “Each person take a few. We’re too close to lose him now.”

The climb is anything but pleasant, the sun right overhead and making sweat gather at her hairline and drip down her face. Even as a sheep hybrid, she struggles to keep pace with the other hunters as they race over thin paths of granite and clamber up near-vertical faces of stone with little problem, clearly practiced as they follow Dream without breaking their sprint. The rock gives way to dirt and tufts of short-shorn grass and Sapnap’s eyes flash.

“Be careful,” he says, looking straight at her. “He’s cornered - that’s when he does risky shit without thinking about the consequences. He knows you’re the least experienced here and there’s a good chance that he’s going to charge you. If that happens, hold your shield and just block. We’ll handle him from there.”

She swallows back the spark of indignation that rises at his words, a bitter scream that they only see her as a liability dying out as she reminds herself that these three had hunted Dream professionally before, had struggled even with two more at their sides. The caution is far from unwarranted.

“I understand.”

Sapnap nods tersely and looks to the other two with a hand movement that she doesn’t understand. The other two immediately start moving, Sam moving to the front, George nocking an arrow as he takes his place at the rear - they’re still shielding her, she realizes with a small spike of annoyance again, shaking her head and drawing her own cutlass as Sapnap leads the way for them to swing up onto the top of the mountain.

It takes her a moment to adjust; the wind, unhindered by the cliffs that had been shielding them seconds before, whips at her face and draws tears to her eyes, makes her hair fly wildly into her face. Through narrowed eyes, she watches as the figure on the other side of the mountaintop scrambles backwards, diamond axe braced in front of him as he backs to the opposite edge.

“Dream,” Sapnap calls, voice deadly calm. “You’re cornered. Stand down.”

Dream shakes his head, lips curling in a wordless snarl. The sound is desperate, almost inhuman, making Puffy’s hair stand on end. As her vision clears, she stops dead in her tracks despite herself - Dream looks awful. She’d expected him to look disheveled after his escape, hadn’t expected much comfort in his stay in the Vault, but the way he looks, now, hollow eyes and gaunt cheeks and skinny, shaking limbs that only barely seem to be able to hold up his weight, bandages covering every visible inch of skin, wrapped messily around his right arm as if done by one hand - she reaches forward unconsciously and Dream flinches back.

“Don’t-” his voice rasps, cracks, falls in on itself as he wets his lips to try and speak again. “Don’t come closer.”

“Prisoner,” Sam growls, stepping forward, and he turns those wild, fever-bright eyes towards the creeper hybrid, flailing backwards and knuckles white from the grip on his axe. His breathing visibly hitches, head whipping back and forth.

“Don’t come closer,” he hisses again, stepping back, and Puffy stills.

“Sam-” she grabs his sleeve. “Sam- don’t. He’s at the edge.”

Dream’s gaze swings to her, and her heart stutters at the uncaged, obvious fear raging in his eyes. He’s backed to the very back edge of the mountain they’re standing on, left foot halfway off, sending dirt skidding over and off of the cliff down down down to the ground hundreds of feet below. The three hunters stop, muscles tensed, and Dream bares his teeth at them but doesn’t back away further.

His shoulders sag as they stand, stagnant, each huddled on their own side of the mountaintop. His gaze is venomous, green eyes burning even in the glaring light of the sun, flicking warily between their faces as he holds the axe between them.

“So you came,” his voice is tight, a slight tremble pulling at the end despite his seeming bravado. “Here to finish the job, huh?”

Sapnap pulls back his shoulders. “I made a promise, Dream.”

Dream laughs, bitter. His left hand releases on the axe handle to come to his chest, grabbing at his right, looking almost like he’s trying to hold himself. His laughter tapers off into something weak and wrecked, and the sound makes Puffy’s heart clench uncomfortably in her chest.

“Figures you’d keep that one,” his head tips up, looking Sapnap in the eye. “What- did your fiance give up? The revive book not worth the effort anymore?”

Sapnap hisses. “Don’t bring Karl into this-”

“Karl?” Dream’s eyes flash, grip tightening on his upper arm. “No- what? Why-”

“Dream.” Sam’s voice is low, something dark buzzing behind his tone, “Don’t-”

Puffy interrupts him with a hand to his shoulder, stepping forward and freezing mid-step when Dream’s head whips to her, eyes widening and foot scraping against the edge of the cliff again.

“Sapnap, Sam, let him talk,” she levels her gaze at Dream, trying to pick out the emotions warring behind those brilliant green eyes. “Not Karl- you’re talking about Quackity then, right?”

Sam hisses, “Puffy, I don’t think this is a good idea-”

Dream laughs.

The sound is grating, awful, making her hands come to her ears. It rips through skin, wraps around bone, seeps into marrow - he’s laughing, axe disappearing into his inventory so he can clutch his face with both hands, the loose sleeves of his prison uniform falling to his elbows to reveal the bandages wrapping all the way up his forearms and disappearing further under the fabric. In front of her, Sapnap falters, grip on his sword loosening; George steps back, eyebrows wrinkled, bow lowering. Dream laughs like the world is ending, and some cold, hardened thing in her chest shatters at the sound.

“You know,” his hands claw at his hair, wrapping around the strands and pulling, “You know you know you know- you have to know. How-” He shakes his head, tugging at his hair harshly and making Puffy wince at the sight, “Don’t- don’t play stupid here.”

“Know what?” George reaches forward, hands empty, palms up like he’s approaching an injured dog. From the way Dream snaps at the sound, hackles raised and teeth bared, he might as well be one. “Dream, what are you talking about?”

Sapnap looks stricken, still, face clouded in a way that Puffy can’t decipher. “Q- don’t play your mind games here, Dream,” despite his words, he sounds uncertain. Puffy hasn’t seen Quackity around for a while, had thought that he was staying at Sapnap and Karl’s new place. From the way Sapnap’s eyes have darkened, it looks like she assumed wrong. “Quackity hasn’t even been around, what does he have to do with any of this?”

Dream shakes his head again, seemingly stuck in his own head, barely even responding to their words. “You know- you know you know you know- Sam knows- you-” His breath hitches, chest heaving, and Puffy blinks. He’s having a panic attack, a clinical, much more calm part of her says as Dream seems to collapse in on himself. “You know. You have to know he wouldn’t- nobody came if you didn’t know then why didn’t you come if you didn’t know then why did Sam let him in you know you know you know-”

“Sam?” George turns to Sam, hands curling into fists and then uncurling again and again, “Do you know what he’s talking about?”

Sam’s expression is unreadable, ignoring George as he looks back at Dream. “Prisoner,” and has he called him by his name, yet? “Come with us calmly and your punishment will be lightened. There’s nowhere to run. Give up.”

Dream keens, a high-pitched whine exiting his lungs, “I won’t- I won’t tell,” his voice cracks, tears clearly running down his cheeks, “I won’t tell you Quackity I won’t-”

“Sam,” Puffy turns to the hybrid. “I think you should go.”

“Puffy-”

“He’s having a panic attack, Sam. He’s hardly going to do anything.” She levels a glare at him, sheathing her cutlass at her side. “I’m perfectly capable of defending myself, and I’ve promised to help anyone having a mental health crisis on the server.” Something dark and traitorous whispers how she’d given up on Dream before, and she pushes it down.

“He’s a danger to everyone on the server.”

“Sam- he’s not fucking breathing right now on the edge of a cliff. He’s not a danger to anyone but himself.”

“She’s right, Sam,” Puffy’s head snaps to George. He’s looking at her, expression hidden behind his glasses, lips pressed together in a small frown. “Puffy, we’ll be waiting. You or Sapnap call if you need back-up.”

She nods tersely, watches as Sam gives in and follows George down the mountain, the hybrid’s red eyes still staring at Dream as he leaves. Sapnap seems distracted, hardly acknowledging their exchange with his eyes fixed on Dream’s crumpled form, emotions clearly warring over his face, and Puffy brushes past him to get to her patient- Dream.

“Dream,” she speaks, not moving forward when his shoulders seize. “Dream, I won’t move closer unless you want me to,” she enunciates the words clearly, watching his face for any flash of recognition or understanding. He shakes his head minutely at her words, arms trembling, but he doesn’t move closer to the edge. “Can you hear me?”

He nods jerkily, and she smooths the palms of her hands on her pants, trying to calm the race of her heart in her chest.

“Good, very good,” years of training, habit, flood her head, pushing away the buzzing unease and fear and tangled knot of dark feelings that linger every time she sees Dream’s face, “I need you to breathe for me, okay? We’re going to inhale for four- there you go,” she counts, watching the shuddering movement of his chest as he struggles to replicate her movements, “Very good, hold for four, there you go- you’ve got this-”

Slowly, painfully, the rattle of his lungs in his chest becomes something quieter, more manageable, no longer rising and falling in desperate arrhythmic wheezes that make her chest hurt in sympathy. She’s still kneeling there, hands palms-up when he looks up at her, eyes wide, a degree of lucidity having returned to them, and for a moment a flash of fear stabs through her heart.

She swallows it down, pulling forward every ounce of professionalism she can muster. “Dream,” she keeps her voice low and soft, biting her lip at the way he freezes, again, at the call of his name. “Dream, can you step away from the edge?”

His hands clutch at the line of grass and dirt that make up the sod overhang, knuckles white. His eyes keep staring in hers, wide and wet and green, and she shushes him softly under her breath.

“It’s ok, take your time,” she breathes, watching as his hand inches forward bit by bit, gaze still fixed on her face, “It’s okay, Duckling.”

She blinks, and there’s a whirl of orange flying towards her chest; Sapnap shouts behind her, and panic blooms in her head too quickly for her to pick out anything but a desperate little oh god I’m going to die-

The blow never comes.

Instead, she looks down, heart in her throat, at a sobbing, shaking lump pressed against her chest, head buried in the crook over her neck as dirty, tangled hair falls in waves over her shoulder. She freezes, watching as his shoulders shake, hands tangled in her shirt sleeve, barely able to hear the words he’s saying over his wails and her heart thudding in her ears.

“Please don’t bring me back,” he pleads, voice cracking, “Please- please I don’t wanna go back please tell Sapnap to make it quick please I can’t go through another Quackity visit please Puffy don’t let them send me back-”

“Dream-”

“I’ll- I won’t fight, I pr’mise, Sapnap can keep his promise it’s okay I won’t fight anymore I’m-” he keens, high-pitched and mangled, into her shoulder, “I’m so tired Puffy.”

“Duckling,”

“Don’ make me go back, please.”

Puffy pulls him back, presses her hand on his cheek, murmuring softly. And- maybe she shouldn’t be doing this, maybe Dream’s a danger just like Sam said, maybe she’ll come to regret helping him the same way she had before - but right now he’s in pain and he’s crying and he’s closer than he’s been in so, so long and all she can see is her duckling, hurting, her duckling, home.

“Dream,” she brushes her thumb against his cheek, smooths a lock of hair behind his ear. “What happened in there?”

And he begins to speak.

[youbutstupid]

Hi, this is my take (that nobody asked for) on the ongoing debate of the feminisation of GeorgeNotFound and where the line lies between innocent and harmful.

In short I think the idea of ‘harmful feminisation’ is a very broad term and in my head personally, it should apply not to how George is dressed/what makeup he is wearing but rather his anatomy in ship art.

George has always been a very open person in terms of his masculinity. He has never cared about how he is portrayed and doesn’t care what people assume about his gender or sexuality. This alone should portray that putting him in skirts and nail polish and makeup is not crossing a boundary for him and is a very innocent action on behalf of the fan artist/fic writer because it’s just a vision they have and they’re portraying it: they think George would look nice in a skirt so they draw him in a skirt. This is completely fine, they aren’t changing anything about George and they are still portraying the breaking of barriers of gender roles. To say that putting George in particular outfits in ship art is creating a ‘heteronormative’ idealisation is a view that can be quite problematic as it portrays the idea that a man is no longer a man if he is dressed in more ‘feminine’ attire: which is absolutely not the case.

So when does it become harmful? Here I’m going to point to our good friend Disney. Disney, like many other animation companies, portray the anatomy of their male and female characters differently: the men will have more broader shoulders whilst the women don’t, the men have more narrow eyes whilst the woman’s are very wide, the men have more blocky feet whilst the women’s are always dainty with a high arch, the men have more bulky fingers whilst the women have more slender hands with a sharp tip at the end of their fingers and much much more.

The way artists and animators have portrayed men and women for decades has been this way and has then translated a lot into how fan artists portray the people they’re drawing as it’s a broad and easy outlook to have on how men and women have evolved: though this doesn’t mean it’s how they’re meant to be but that’s a discussion for later.

How does this relate to the harmful feminisation of George? I’m going to use DreamNotFound as an example though it can really apply to any ship that George is a part of. I’m going to describe George’s looks and compare them to how they’re portrayed in certain fanarts. (This does absolutely not apply to all ship art, just a few)

George’s features:

- Narrow brown eyes

- Broad chin

-Stubble that goes down to his neck

- Between 5’8-5’10

- Thick black eyebrows

- A very straight, skinny figure

How George is portrayed

- Big, soft eyes

- Pointed chin

- Baby face

- Like half the size of whoever he’s near

- Eyebrows with a high arch

- A more hourglass figure

- Hands with a sharp tip to the end similar to a Disney princess

- Feet with a high arch

This shouldn’t be a problem right? It’s just the artists style? The harm comes when the person who he is paired with in the exact same fanart, in this case Dream, is portrayed as entirely different from that with very masculine features even though Dream himself may not have them. This includes Dream having:

- Very broad shoulders

- Towering over George way more than he should

- Very bulky hands

- Narrow eyes

- Strong jaw

- You get the gist

When it gets to that point it’s no longer the artist just drawing in their style, it becomes the artist portraying George in a way to make a m/m relationship look more heteronormative. The main cause of this is probably compulsory heterosexuality convincing us as a society that a relationship does not look ‘right’ unless there is someone to fit a male and female role. This is where the feminisation becomes ‘harmful’ and pushes the idea that a queer relationship cannot be romanticised unless it looks decently heterosexual.

George has some feminine features but he also has masculine features that get brushed out. Dream (from what we know) has masculine features but also has some more feminine features that get brushed out because god forbid there be two men in the relationship

This doesn’t mean send any hate to the artists, it just means for artists to be more aware. I don’t think this is done out of malice at all, I just think we as a society have been conditioned to see relationships a certain way and need to work get past that.

[duskholland]

prompt idea if it vibes with you... frat!tom and y/n are close friends at a party and Tom accidentally drunkenly tells her how he feels about her. this could be followed by her making sure he gets home and sobers up and in the morning they talk abt it (smut could ensue, if the mood so strikes). wishing you good writing vibes 💞

no smut, just a lot of fluff! thank you for requesting--this concept makes me feel :’)) cw: alcohol

frat!tom !!

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

You’ve never seen Tom this drunk before, and you have to admit, it’s quite cute.

There’s a rosy flush to his face, and his eyes are even warmer than usual. He’s incredibly affectionate, clinging to your arm like it’s his only lifeline, kissing your cheek every time there’s an opportunity to. It’s not that the gushing behaviour is unusual—Tom’s always been a flirt, for as long as you’ve known him—but you’ve never seen him act this enamoured. Not around you.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You whisper into his ear.

Tom looks up at you, movements jerky and tired. You’re sitting beside him on the sofa. You’d been playing a game of truth or dare with the rest of the group, but they’d all scattered as soon as it finished. Now it’s just you and Tom, sitting side by side.

“Definitely,” he mumbles, voice slightly slurred. He yawns loudly, stretching out his arms and giggling when he accidentally hits your shoulder with a soft fist. “S’rry, love.”

You snort, reaching out to pat his arm. You’re tipsy, but you’re nowhere near as trashed as your friend appears to be. He curls into your touch, and you watch, smirking, as he collapses down over the sofa, stretching his legs out along the cushions as he rests his head in your lap. Your fingers move up to find home in his hair, and you stroke his strands softly as he moans.

“God, that feels good,” Tom whines. His eyes flutter shut and you continue to massage his scalp, tugging lightly on his hair when you figure out he likes a bit of pressure. “Fuck… I love you.”

You chuckle, leaning down to gently kiss his forehead. “Love you too,” you reply.

Tom’s eyes shoot open, and his jaw falls slack as he blinks. “Do you?”

A confused smile finds your face as you nod. “Yeah. You’re one of my best friends, Tom.”

A line forms between his brows. “No, no, that’s not… I didn’t mean it like that.” His nose scrunches up as he pouts, and Tom reaches up to grab your hands. He grasps your fingers firmly and stares into your eyes. “I love you.”

You tilt your head to the side, suddenly feeling a little light headed.

“I love you?” You try again.

Tom chuckles, eyes flickering down to your hands intertwined with his. He clumsily kisses your knuckles before sighing.

“I’m in love with you,” he repeats, voice slanted. “‘M too much of a coward to tell you when I’m sober, but I guess it’s easier when I’m fucked.” He glances up at you, seeming nervous. “It’s um… it’s fine if you don’t feel the same or—“

All of a sudden, Tom breaks off, and he goes very still as he groans. His cheeks pale, and you startle when he sits up suddenly, looking around, startled.

“Don’t be sick,” you warn, heart beating rapidly in your chest. You reach out to the table beside you and pick up your bottle of water, flicking open the cap and passing it into his hands.

Tom downs it quickly, and you soothe your hand over his back as you try to make sense of his confession. You want to believe him—fuck, you’ve been in love with him since the moment you met him—but you also watched him down four shots in a row and do a keg stand, so you don’t know how much you trust his woozy words.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, wiping at his mouth as he passes back the bottle. Tom goes to lie down again, but you gently coax him back up.

“I’m taking you upstairs,” you decide, after a quick glance at his watch to confirm it’s gone three.

Tom pouts, but it’s quick to disappear as you stand

and carefully pull him up with you. “Wait, are you coming too?”

“Yeah. I don’t trust you to climb all those stairs without me.”

He wiggles his eyebrows, slumping against you as you slowly lead him towards the grand staircase.

“If you want to come into my bedroom, you could just come out and say it,” he slurs. “No need to tease, baby.”

You scoff. “How are you still such a flirt when you’re drunk?”

“It’s in my DNA. I’m programmed to appreciate pretty things, and you, love…” He reaches up and boops your nose. “You’re very pretty.”

You decide you quite like Tom when he’s drunk like this—affectionate and loving.

“You’re cute,” you reply. You sigh contentedly as you finally finish dragging him up the stairs. “Go brush your teeth,” you urge, gesturing in the direction of the bathroom. You’re on the top level of the frat now, reserved for the members of admin. As president of the frat, Tom’s lucky enough to have his own room.

“Come with me,” he whines. He blinks at you with those warm brown eyes, and you find yourself melting.

It takes a while to get Tom ready for bed. First it’s his teeth, then you have to pull him out of his incredibly tight skinny jeans, then convince him to drink some water. By the time you’ve got him back into his room and into bed, he’s dead on his feet, and honestly, so are you.

“Sleep with me,” Tom mumbles, holding out his bare arms. He’s burrowed into his double bed, staring up at you with a boyish smirk on his face.

“I should probably go,” you say, sighing slightly.

“Please stay, Y/N.” His lips roll into a pout. “I want your cuddles. Promise I won’t do anything weird.”

You nod, as a quick balancing of positives versus negatives decides you’d much rather stay with Tom than trudge home in the rain.

After flipping off the lights and pulling off your outfit, you rummage through one of Tom’s drawers and find a large rugby shirt. You slip into it and tend to your makeup as best you can before collapsing into bed beside him, immediately finding his buff arms encircling your waist. Tom curls into you like a koala, and as you gently card your fingers through his hair, you’re reminded of his confession.

“Did you mean it?” You whisper.

“Hmm?”

You swallow. “Do you love me?”

Tom peels away from you, and even in the dark, you know he’s looking at you.

“Yeah,” he admits. “Had a crush on you ever since we were partnered together for that study group last semester. Tried to tell you a few times, but couldn’t ever get the words out right.” Tom sighs dramatically, and pulls you closer. “Jus’ don’t wanna lose you as a friend, Y/N… Would rather never tell you so you can’t reject me.”

You release a soft breath, then lean down to kiss the top of his curls.

“Go to sleep, Tom,” you mumble. “We can talk about it in the morning.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Night… love you.”

You hope that he’s speaking from the heart, and not from the blend of alcohols swirling through his system.

“Love you too.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

You’re woken by Tom, when he groans and swears and flings his arms around as he wakes up. When he accidentally bashes you in the side, you curse too, turning over and grumbling incoherently as you try to ignore the ache in your side and the pounding in your head.

“Y/N?” You hear him say, voice confused. “Why are you in my bed?” His words crack with fatigue, and Tom moans again. “Fuck, what did I drink last night? I can’t remember shit.”

You begrudgingly turn back over, the duvet rustling. Tom’s sitting up against the headboard now, glass of water in his hand, and you watch as he downs the pills you’d left out for him last night.

“You had way too much,” you say, keeping your voice quiet. “You wanted me to stay, so… I stayed.”

Tom hums, letting one of his hands come down to rest on the back of your head. His eyes skim your face and a gentle smile works out across his lips.

“You’re in my shirt,” he mumbles. “Looks nice on you.”

You bite back a smile, shrugging bashfully.

“Do you really not remember anything?”

Tom hesitates. He slowly puts the glass of water down before sighing, using that hand to ruffle up his hair.

“I remember bits,” he says. His eyes narrow. “Do you remember everything?”

You think for a moment before nodding. “Yeah.”

Tom nods, and you almost hear him swallow. “And… you’re still here.”

You smile softly. “Yeah.”

“So that means…”

“Yeah.”

He hums, and then reaches down to tug you upright. Despite your complaints at being pulled from the warm embrace of his duvet, you can’t find it in yourself to complain when Tom pulls you into his lap and wraps his arms around you. His eyes are slightly bloodshot, and his hair lies messily across his forehead, but you think he looks beautiful.

“I meant it,” he admits, voice soft. His fingers gently roll over your waist. “I mean, I would’ve liked to say it more, uh...eloquently, but… it’s true, Y/N. I love you.”

He seems to be holding his breath, and the sight of him so nervous makes your heart race. You reach up and wrap your hands around his neck, smiling as you bring him in for a very soft, gentle kiss. You feel him grin into it, and you realise this is exactly where you’re supposed to be.

“I love you too, Tom,” you tell him.

“Oh.” He kisses you again, growing more confident as you pull yourself nearer and nestle further into his arms. “Really?”

“Mmm.” You let your fingers play with his hair as you hum, pressing your forehead to his and closing your eyes. “You’re really funny when you’re drunk.”

“I’m a disaster,” he complains. “‘M so hungover now, too.”

You hum in agreement, then pull back and yawn.

“Can we go back to sleep now?” You ask, drawing a chuckle from Tom.

“Fuck yeah,” he mutters. He pulls you down with him, and this time, it’s you that curls into him. He wraps you up in his arms and holds you close, kissing the top of your head with care. “Love you,” he chimes, and despite how unfamiliar the words are, they sound right, filling his accent like that.

You press a soft kiss to his chest, and let your eyes droop closed.

“Love you too.”

[whispersatdawn]

on the rebound | jeong jaehyun social media!au | part 8

↳ In an attempt to finally move on from his ex-girlfriend, basketball star Jeong Jaehyun reaches out to Y/N, who he knows has a crush on him.

prev | next || masterlist

a/n: i wasn’t gonna include a written part, but here we are

word count: ~3k

This... feels strange, you thought mindlessly to yourself, as your gaze fixed on the boy seated next to you. He was busy on his phone taking photos of the fading sunset that he barely noticed you staring, which you were quite thankful for because it allowed you to take a look at him just a little longer.

There was no denying that Jaehyun was attractive. To be honest, his beautiful features slightly intimidated you. When his perfectly shaped brows raised in surprise. Or when his dreamy dark brown eyes looked like he was trying to figure someone out. You especially liked it when Jaehyun smiled or laughed. You were confident Jaehyun’s dimples were the culprits of stealing many people’s hearts; those cheek indentations were truly fatal. However, for you, it was simply the occasional, cute nose scrunch. Unlike the dimples, the latter came and went quickly, but it still had an impact all the same.

Despite having been on few casual dates with Jaehyun in the past week, it was difficult to wrap your head around the time spent together, especially since the past two years consisted of you pining over him, after missing the opportunity to act on your feelings and confess to him.

Two Years Ago (First year of college)

"We should rent an apartment and be roommates next semester!”

Your eyes widened at Sujin’s suggestion. “All four of us?” you asked, swiftly spinning your finger once to point at yourself as well as the group seated around you. It was a clear day, so after class, you had a picnic with your friends at the university quad. “My parents helped me pay for campus room and board this year. I don’t know if my part-time job at the fitness center can afford rent.”

After meeting Sujin at the freshman orientation and running into Ten and Johnny in line at a food stand during the school organizations event, you had never had more fun nor felt more comfortable with anyone than you did with them. You remembered studying for hours often with Sujin since you both were biology majors and shared some courses. There was also the time when you attended the university dance team’s fall show and watched Ten’s first solo performance. Of course, though you almost always refrained from physical altercation, you could never forget the day you confronted Johnny’s ex-girlfriend at a party after she cheated on him and showed no remorse, which resulted in hair-pulling as well as Sujin and Ten dragging you out before further troubles. With what you all had gotten through together, there was no doubt that you considered the three to be your closest friends.

“Aren’t you going to apply for the research position with Dr. Kim? I’m sure it pays more,” Sujin said before taking a bite out of her sandwich.

“That’s the plan, but she hasn’t opened applications yet, so I just have to wait,” you sighed, laying down Johnny’s lap. “I think it’ll be fun to live together though!”

“I’ve actually been thinking about living off campus, too,” Ten said, grinning, “so you’d all be saving me from looking for roommates. I’m in.”

“Johnny?” you asked in a sing-song voice, looking up at the handsome male, waiting for his response. You opened your mouth as Johnny fed you a grape and then he leaned back, probably considering the idea.

“Hm... if I say yes, can I bring people over to spend the night?”

You grimaced at him before sitting back up right away while Johnny let out a laugh due to your reaction. “No thanks for the image,” you deadpanned, “though I guess it’d be cruel to deprive you of sex. We’ll all need to obviously talk more about housing and details later...”

“Y/N, behind you! He’s here.”

You instantly froze after Sujin’s announcement. “He’s here?” you mouthed, heart rate picking up, and Sujin confirmed with an eager nod. Pushing the conversation with your friends to the side, your ears were now focused on the sounds behind you. Multiple shoes against pavement. A ball dribbling. Familiar as well as unfamiliar voices chattering. When you tried to discreetly turn around, you found some members of the basketball team on the open court. You immediately spotted Jeong Jaehyun, casually wearing a black hoodie and maroon basketball shorts, playfully shoving a teammate after a teasing remark.

“Oh my god, how did he get even hotter after Spring Break?!” you muttered before turning back to your friends.

Johnny scoffed jokingly. “Hey, hey, keep it in your pants.”

“Also, aren’t you forgetting something?” Ten asked you, nudging his head back to the basketball court.

Oh. Right.

The actual reason you coincidentally (not) picked this day for a picnic at the same time Jaehyun and his friends played basketball.

You and Jaehyun took a Calculus class together the previous semester, and in a room with a little more than 100 seats, you ended up sitting next to Jaehyun. The two of you barely exchanged much words other than when one of you had questions about assignments, but you could not help but be drawn to him anyway. And although he did not have to talk to you outside of class, you always appreciated his greetings whenever you ran into each other at parties or after his basketball games. You thought your feelings were just a temporary infatuation, but your crush only seemed to grow after months, so you made a vow. After Spring Break, you would ask Jaehyun out.

However, now that you saw Jaehyun standing a few feet across from you, you felt like you were going to throw up. You wanted to back out. Abort. “Oh, look at the time!” you laughed nervously, pointing at your wrist that was definitely not wearing a watch. “I forgot I have to study for an exam tomorrow.”

You started to stand up, but Ten yanked you back down to the ground right away, causing you to land on your butt. “Nuh-uh. Don’t think so. Hey, Yuta!”

You shot a look at Ten, sending a quick telepathic message along the lines of Are you fucking serious? before turning back to everyone on the court. Almost all of the guys faced the direction of your group after hearing Yuta’s name called. You found Yuta who waved once he spotted you and your friends. I guess I’m doing this, you thought to yourself, breathing deeply and then mustering the biggest smile you could in that moment.

“Good luck, babe,” Sujin cheered as soon as you stood up and started to walk towards Yuta. The group had already dispersed to different parts of the court, ready to start a game.

“Is there a reason why you texted me if I would be out at the quad today?” Yuta asked as you ran into his arms for a quick hug.

You pulled away and then playfully punched his arm. “Maybe there’s just something about you playing basketball that makes me swoon,” you said, batting your eyelashes at him.

Yuta rolled his eyes, punching your arm back lightly. “Please. I can assure you that from middle to high school, when your parents worked, you had to wait after my practices so my dad could take us home. You’ve definitely used the word miserable to describe it.”

“Okay, but it’s obvious that my presence at your practices have made you into who you are today, right? This university has to thank me for their best shooting guard.”

Yuta grinned. “Alright, just tell me what you want.”

You hummed, rocking back and forth on your feet as you glanced around for the one who has been on your mind. “I actually wanted to talk to Jaehyun.”

“Jeong Jaehyun?”

You nodded your head. Yuta leaned closer, eyes narrowing as if he was trying to assess you. After a second, your friend straightened back up and called for his teammate. “Jaehyun!”

Jaehyun stopped his conversation with another player and turned his attention to you and Yuta, slightly confused, but he walked over to you both. “What’s up?” Jaehyun questioned, catching a quick glimpse of you.

“Y/N wanted to talk to you, so I’ll leave you two to it,” Yuta explained, ruffling your hair as a goodbye before he left you alone with Jaehyun.

You let out a nervous laugh, fixing your hair. It was now or never. With the close distance between you two, you got a whiff of Jaehyun’s cologne—wood, also kind of spicy. “Hey, Y/N. Sucks we don’t have a class together this semester.”

“Yeah, sucks. How was your break?”

Jaehyun shrugged. “I went to Cabo.”

You paused. “Oh.” The wealthy be different. “Cabo. Must’ve been a hell of a time. I thought Haeun’s pool party was something. Not even close.”

"Yeah, Cabo was a great time. So... what did you need to tell me?”

“What?”

“Um, you said you wanted to talk?”

“Oh!” you exclaimed, feeling shy after remembering why you were there in the first place. Your eyes shifted to your shoes, unable to keep eye contact with the boy in front of you. Nervousness as well as excitement rushed through you, and your body felt like it was tingling. It kind of scared you what his reaction would be, but it was what it was. The worse he could say was no. “About that. I—”

“Jaehyun!”

Suddenly, a feminine voice called out his name. You whipped your head around to find a girl with a black long bob and bangs waving excitedly to Jaehyun and then running straight into his open arms. You took a minute to process what was happening. Your first thought was that she was very pretty. Her makeup suited her, especially the burgundy red lip tint. Her body also fitted well in her white tank top and black skinny jeans.

“Hey, babe. What’re you doing here? I thought you were working on your journalism project,” Jaehyun said, happiness evident through the way his face lit up, smiling in a way you had never seen Jaehyun smile before. Arms still around the girl, Jaehyun leaned down to give her a peck on the lips. You quickly averted your eyes, feeling as if you were intruding on the intimate moment.

“Yeah, but I missed you, so I decided to take a break and hang out with you,” the girl answered in the sweetest tone as she pulled away from Jaehyun. She then looked over at you as if she noticed you for the first time. “Who’s this?”

“This is—”

“I was just leaving,” you interrupted.

Jaehyun brows furrowed. “Wait, I thought—”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” you said a little too quickly, waving your hand dismissively. “It was nothing important. I had a question, but the answer just popped into my head, haha. I, uh, actually have a thing, so I’m gonna go now. Yeah. Thanks, Jaehyun. And nice meeting you—”

“Hyejin.”

“Hyejin. Nice meeting you, Hyejin. Okay, bye!”

You spun around, and your feet picked up pace as you walked away from the basketball court, out the quad, towards the direction of the dorm. Your phone vibrated in your back pocket, likely a call from one of your friends, but you could not help but feel slightly embarrassed after the incident. The last thing you wanted to do was talk about it.

Babe. Definitely way worse than being rejected.

End of Flashback

When you snapped out of your thoughts, you realized that Jaehyun was now staring back at you, with those captivating eyes that sought for answers. “Y/N?” he called out softly.

You felt your cheeks grow warm, slightly flustered that you zoned out while looking at him. “Y-Yeah?” Shit, you cursed to yourself after you choked on the reply, and you cleared your throat before answering more clearly. “Yeah?”

Jaehyun leaned back and chuckled. “I just wanted to let you know I really appreciate you coming to the basketball games again. It’s nice seeing your face in the crowd.”

You smiled. “Of course. None of my roomies except Ten really enjoy watching basketball, but he’s been busy and it’s been fun attending with Mark and Lucas. Also, don’t tell Yuta but I think I gradually started to like basketball because of him. Watching him for so many years, I can’t help but get into it when I see him find so much delight in the sport. He’s insane on the court.”

When you caught Jaehyun’s pout, you let out a laugh. He wanted his ego fed for sure. “I mean, obviously, he’s nothing compared to you, Captain. Come on now.”

“Obviously,” Jaehyun replied, giving you a smug look. Then for some reason, in a few seconds, you caught his expression when his smirk fell. “You know, my ex,” Jaehyun started, absentmindedly grasping at the sand under his hand and letting them fall through his fingers, “she never really attended my games.”

As the sun was about to fully disappear, you heard the sound of thunder rumble in the sky. Looking up, you noticed that dark clouds started to roll in. Was it supposed to rain today, you wondered. “Hyejin?” you asked, returning your attention to Jaehyun. He nodded. Since he brought her up, you might as well have asked your questions and got them over with now. “If it’s okay, can I ask what happened between you two?”

Silence settled between you and Jaehyun when he did not answer right away, which made you feel bad because you did not want to open those wounds again. Another wave of thunder roared. You two would have to return back home soon. You were about to try and change the topic, but Jaehyun spoke first. “She said that the way I loved her bored her. I don’t know. Something about how I always agreed with her and that I never confronted other guys when I felt jealous. Or when I didn’t argue with her, it felt like I didn’t care at all.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” You did not know what else to say. Breakups were hard. Before you realized, your hand reached over to Jaehyun’s, and you placed yours over his, squeezing it softly. “It’s not place to say... but she didn’t deserve you.”

Jaehyun turned his hand over so that his palm held yours, squeezing back. His lips stretched into a small smile. “Thank you, Y/N.”

You then felt a droplet of water tap on your leg. Then the top of your head. Then your cheek. Suddenly, the pitter patter of the rain became louder as it hit the sand and water. You and Jaehyun looked at each, mouth opened in awe at such misfortune, before the both of you bursted into a fit of laughter. “Wait, did you not check the weather before planning this?!” you exclaimed to Jaehyun with a huge grin on your face as you jumped up, barely covering yourself with your hands above your head.

“Listen,” Jaehyun explained as he also stood up, grabbing the jacket that he brought with him. “did you not check the weather?”

You were not sure if the rush your body felt was due to the unforeseen weather or the way Jaehyun stared at you like he was waiting for you to make a move. With your adrenaline and curiosity, you stepped closer to him. “Are you seriously trying to blame this on your date right now, Jeong Jaehyun?”

Jaehyun leaned closer to your face. You sucked in a breath, aware of the lack of space between you two. Jaehyun took his jacket and covered the top of your head to protect as best as he could from the rain. You grabbed the outerwear, but Jaehyun’s grasp was also still on the jacket. Despite the rain drenching Jaehyun from head to toe, a smile remained on his face. “I’m sorry. You’re right. This was my bad. How can I make it up to you?” Jaehyun asked as his eyes fell onto your lips before looking up to read your eyes. His lips pressed together, and his next question almost turned you into a puddle. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.” It was all Jaehyun needed to hear to release his hold on the jacket and moved his hands to cup your face. Jaehyun’s lips brushed against yours. Soft. His lips were soft. You smelled the familiar scent of his cologne, and it made you even dizzier as you continued to kiss Jaehyun, letting the blossoming warmth consume you. You could not help but smile into the kiss, and when his tongue pressed between your lips, you started to part your lips for him until a loud crack of thunder struck in the sky, prompting you both to pull away from each other.

“As much as I’d like to keep going, I think I should get you home before you catch a cold,” Jaehyun said with a chuckle.

Like a gentleman, Jaehyun walked you all the way to your front door. Though you offered Jaehyun shelter from the rain inside your apartment, he declined, assuring you that his fraternity house was not too far from your place. “Really sorry we couldn’t get that fancy dinner,” Jaehyun apologized. “I knew you were looking forward to that the most.”

You shook your head, reassuring him with a smile. “No worries. I had such an amazing time, Jae.”

He leaned in to give you a quick peck on the lips. “Next time. Now get inside and change into some dry clothes. I’ll text you later.”

“Drive safe,” you told him, and he nodded. As soon as Jaehyun walked away from you, you grabbed your key and unlocked the door to your apartment, calling out to your roommates. “I’m home!”

Sujin was the first one to greet you in the living room. Her eyes widened when she spotted you in your wet clothes, droplets of water dripping from your hair to the tiled floor. “Geez, Y/N! I thought you two were just going to watch the sunset, not get into the water fully clothed.”

You playfully rolled your eyes and passed by Sujin to get to your room. After you closed the door, you ran to your bed and plopped on the mattress, not even bothering to change out of your clothes right away. You unlocked your phone and opened Instagram to view the most recent photos of you and Jaehyun from today, recalling the event that occurred hours ago. Today really happened. Jaehyun kissed me.

taglist: @fluffyjaes @hwangful @seeking-faces @urlocalnctstan @justineasian @127-jaehyun @dearjaehyxn @taesty-jams @jeneyesmile @taeiluv127 @mango-bear @marklexleaf @generantionct @tyxsaturn @247byun @yourchasingsunsetslove @ajhdr @jaeficrecs @bitchenderyy @thorscrown @leaurcitee @erisxczenie @minavenue @phoenixes-and-wizards @renjunf00ls @notminniie @sanisms @sunflowerhae @smileyyuta @ohmy-fandoms @artfulbarnes @anotherfullsun @moons00 @nctlovesme @unmanageable-day @raywishii @thejungjaehyun @venusprada @doyobun @nshitae @andrea-chanel @llamabouquet

[theclockworkmonk]

Taller

Written for @kataang-week

Day 1: Height Difference

Words: 1,546

Read on AO3

Readon FF.net

******

Despite the ever-present cold, Katara wiped sweat from her brow as she stood back to look proudly at the building made of ice she had just finished. The Southern Water Tribe was swelling faster than anyone had anticipated, and now looked much more like its northern counterpart, with actual streets, canals, and buildings carved with waterbending, instead of the hodgepodge of tents and igloos that Katara had grown up in.

A large part of it had been personally built by Katara herself, and if she was being honest with herself it had long since become unnecessary. A migration of people from the Northern Tribe had come to help rebuilding, swelling the population, and even some Earth Kingdom natives had taken up residence, hoping to establish trade between the two nations for the first time in a hundred years, but they still weren't enough to compare to the population of a proper major city, so large sections of the construction Katara had been working on would remain empty for the foreseeable future.

She knew why she kept going, though. It took her mind off how much she missed Aang.

They had gotten a few months together in peaceful, laugh-filled bliss. But ironically, the same newfound peace that had allowed her to finally slow down and sort out her feelings for Aang, was also what made her finally realize how homesick she was. She had been running all over the world for close to a year, never really having time to think about Gran Gran or all the other people she had left, but as happy as she was in her new daily routine, it still didn't feel like home. Plus, her father had been away from home even longer than she had, and she wanted to make up for lost time. So when he had told Katara and Sokka that he was about to make the journey south, they had both known that they had to join him.

But the world still needed their Avatar, and they needed him in the thick of things, not at the bottom of the world. A hundred years of tension and hostility between the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom hadn't vanished overnight, and new fighting threatened to break out every day, even if it wasn't being ordered by the Earth King or Fire Lord, so Aang had his hands full with his duty as peacekeeper and mediator. He couldn't go home with her.

It had broken her heart, and she hadn't known how to tell him she was leaving, but of course she hadn't needed to. With a smile, her sweet boyfriend had been the one to bring it up, insisting that she needed to go with her family, or Sokka would surely cause some kind of catastrophe without her there to look after him, and promised that he would follow her as soon as he could.

That had been seven months ago, and while the pain of missing Aang wasn't as sharp anymore, there were still multiple times a day when she thought about looking down into his gray eyes, or how nicely he fit curled up against her as they lounged on sofas or grassy hillsides.

And her inability to get Aang off her mind certainly wasn't helped by the fact that everyone in the tribe was constantly teasing her about being the Avatar's girlfriend. Every time she would walk past a group of younger girls, they would giggle loudly with each other and, if they were feeling bold, ask if the Avatar was a good kisser. Even Sokka was still coming up with new immature jokes every day; one would think he would get tired of it by now.

So here she was, enjoying her rare piece of solitude on the outskirts of the ever-growing ice city, making it even bigger.

"You know, the basic idea of going home to your family is to actually spend time with your family." Sokka's voice from behind her made her jump.

"Only if Gran Gran stops making wedding plans for both of us," she answered over her shoulder with a laugh.

"You're in luck, it's actually far worse than that," Sokka sighed, putting an arm around his sister's shoulder. "Her target has shifted, now she's of the opinion that it's time for Dad to find another wife."

Katara spun away from him to face him and her mouth gaped open. "WHAT!?" she shrieked so loudly it echoed off of the surrounding ice.

"Yeah, so stop being a loner and come back with me, we need a united front to squash this," said Sokka, and Katara was more than willing to start following him back towards the center of the settlement.

They were approaching their family's hut, right near the edge of the ice shelf where most of the villagers were still clustered, when something made both of them stop dead in their tracks.

To the north, across the water, she heard the distant sound of a loud, low roar. The unique sound of the roar of a sky bison.

Katara and Sokka looked at each other and their faces split into wide grins. They forgot their current familial crisis and ran towards the edge of the ice, waving frantically at the dark dot growing bigger in the distance. Katara was jumping up and down by the time Appa came in for a landing and she could make out Aang's beaming face. The bison's feet hadn't even touched snow yet when Aang leapt off his head and landed in front of Katara, and they both threw their arms around each other and shared a passionate kiss, trying to pour seven months worth of affection into it.

Katara felt like she was floating. She couldn't stop a very girly giggle rising up from her throat as she pulled Aang's face down to kiss him harder—

Wait. Down?

Her eyes snapped open and she suddenly pushed him away to arm's length.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she looked up and down at her boyfriend. No, she hadn't imagined it. He now had a few inches on her. He had shot up so far so fast that he looked like he had been stretched like taffy, his build skinnier than ever and lanky.

Aang frowned in confusion at her reaction. "What's wrong?"

"You're taller," said Katara, like this was a grave betrayal on his part.

"Than what?"

"Than me."

"I've always been taller than you!"

She put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow at him to say, Really? But Aang maintained his completely straight face. "Aang, everyone knows, I'm the tall, intimidating waterbending master, you're my tiny, adorable squirrelmunk of a boyfriend."

"What? NO!" Sokka's voice called from Appa's side.

Katara and Aang turned to see Sokka's look of despair. He had finally noticed Aang's change after helping a very grumpy and now-actually-blind Toph down from Appa's back and onto the ice.

"Ugh, I know, right?" grumbled Toph. "I've had to switch from short jokes to skinny jokes, which aren't nearly as fun."

"But I've got seven months worth of short jokes I've been sitting on!" Sokka whined pitifully. He, Toph, and Zuko had greatly enjoyed making fun of Aang for being shorter than his girlfriend.

Katara looked triumphantly back at Aang, daring him to keep the charade up, but he couldn't keep it in anymore and his face broke out into a mischievous grin, and soon he was laughing heartily, which Katara joined him in, despite her best efforts.

"Okay, you got me," said Aang. "But in my defense, I never expected you to get this….upset about it? I actually thought you'd be impressed, and maybe more than a little attracted. Is it really a bad thing that I'm taller than you?"

"Well I don't know….maybe," she said with a pout she hoped looked cute. "You were the perfect height for me to kiss you on the forehead. Now I have to pull you down." She did exactly that and planted a kiss in the center of his arrow. "See? Far too much effort."

"You're right, I'll miss that," admitted Aang. "However, if I may make a counterpoint," he pulled her close and easily planted a kiss on her forehead.

"Hmmm," Katara hummed in contentment, closing her eyes and smiling. "I suppose we can make due with that."

Their romantic moment was interrupted by Sokka and Toph doing a loud duet of simulated vomiting noises.

"Oh, like you wouldn't be doing the same thing if Suki were here!" said Katara nastily.

"Yeah, sorry Sokka, but the Kyoshi Warriors are providing additional security for Zuko," said Aang more kindly.

Sokka's face fell, and he sighed. But then, his face lit up and he gave a wicked smile that Katara didn't like at all. "Well, there is one upside to that. That means all the attention will be on you two."

"What attention?" asked Aang.

Leading Toph with one hand, Sokka placed his other one on Katara's shoulder and started leading her back to their family hut.

"Come on, sister, with the Tribe's biggest golden couple reunited again, it won't be Dad's love life that Gran Gran is sticking her nose into."

Katara groaned and considered jumping into the ocean.

[loupettes]

I needed a little break from writing doomsday, and this came out today instead. I hope you enjoy some Nine/Rose fluff!

H I R A E T H

SUMMARY: Nine/Rose. After leaving the Doctor alone in his grief, Rose is still upset over what happened that day he left her and Mickey on that spaceship for Reinette. She goes to find him and confront him and her feelings, but runs into somebody she could never have imagined to instead.

TAGS: fluff, hurt//comfort, romance, missing scene

Read on AO3: hiraeth

***

They sat, Rose and Mickey, at the table in the kitchen, both sipping their tea now in silence. The tour of the TARDIS had been short to say the least, mostly because she couldn’t really focus on much else other than the love of her life having fallen in love with somebody else within the space of half a day, maximum.

She shuddered, and scrunched her nose to finish the last of her tea. Well, not the last; she still had a fair bit left, but it had gone cold and just tasted a bit like sewage water at that point, so she didn’t particularly see the appeal in spending any longer pretending it was still a decent cup of tea.

Funny, she thought. My life now resembles a cup of tea.

***

They sat, Rose and Mickey, at the table in the kitchen, both sipping their tea now in silence. The tour of the TARDIS had been short to say the least, mostly because she couldn’t really focus on much else other than the love of her life having fallen in love with somebody else within the space of half a day, maximum.

She shuddered, and scrunched her nose to finish the last of her tea. Well, not the last; she still had a fair bit left, but it had gone cold and just tasted a bit like sewage water at that point, so she didn’t particularly see the appeal in spending any longer pretending it was still a decent cup of tea.

Funny, she thought. My life now resembles a cup of tea.

She managed to not raise suspicion from the man opposite her when she sighed, but when her cup hit the table a little more forcibly than she had intended, Mickey raised his eyebrow.

“Take it it’s still not a good time to ask?”

Rose threw him a glare; she was still quite irritated by his smug-but-trying-to-hide-it expression. “No, it isn’t.”

His brow pinched, and for a moment he looked sorry for her. Not in a pitiful way, but in a... sorry kind of way — except, he wasn’t the one who should be sorry. He opened his mouth to say something, then decided against it.

“M’ gonna go for a walk,” she mumbled, the chair grazing loudly across the floor as she forced herself to her feet.

Mickey again looked as though he might say something, but again, thought better of it. But Rose was just irritated enough to ask,

“What?”

“Just… don’t go looking for him, okay?” he tried. “Give the man some space.”

Rose grunted. “He can have all the bloody space he wants.”

And with that, she left the kitchen. She was exhausted to recognise her feet were, unsurprisingly, steering her towards the control room, and she could feel with every step how regretful she was about to be if she reached that room. So she pulled every last piece of willpower she had left to stop in her tracks and think.

Should she go and talk to him? She folded her arms and chewed the inside of her cheek in deliberation. She was torn, because she wanted so desperately to talk to him — her friend above all else after all — but he had so horribly hurt her today that she was in half a mind to storm out of this TARDIS for good. She tried, she really did, to feel for him, and she took a step out of her own mind for just one moment to consider he had just lost somebody close to him. Even if her heart was breaking, it was at that thought that they shattered completely.

This was ridiculous, she thought, as her feet once more began to take her to the control room. He quite clearly wanted space, and Mickey only confirmed so much with his Manly Suspicions — seeing you right now isn’t going to make him feel any better.

She grunted, and her steps had a little more purpose to them now. Because it was so horrible to be the last person he wanted to see. He had never, not in their entire time together, been one to regret her presence, to make her feel like she was unwanted even just in a moment of grief.

Calm down, she thought, as she knew she was nearing the control room. The only thing that would make this a thousand times worse is if you burst into the control room in righteous rage.

So, she deliberately slowed down her pace as she wondered just exactly which approach she was going to take. But she found that, the closer she got to the control room, the less control she had over her intentions. So her footing sped up once more, and her heart pounded in her chest as she reached the control room.

She was more than disorientated, then, when the last person she expected to see was now standing in the exact same place as he was when she left him.

“Wha—”

He looked up at her with a frown, a frown she hadn’t seen in oh so many months, and she felt her heart sink to see that daft old, gorgeous, face. For a moment, she forgot that this was completely impossible, being so used to it these days after all, and her breath caught in her throat to see that terribly dusty old leather jacket, those baggy black scruffy trousers that seemed far too big for him and those eyes, good god those eyes were so bloody beautiful that she almost cried there and then to see them once more.

Those eyes that were currently looking back at her in utter bewilderment.

She shook her head and herself back to her senses. The Doctor quickly looked at the door at the end of the ramp and distractedly pointed to it, looking back at her once more in disarray. “What you doin’ there?”

His familiar yet somehow unexpected Northern accent seemed most alerting to her, and sparked the return of her own puzzlement.

“What are you doin’ there?”

“I just— you were— you said—” he stuttered, looking back and forth between her and the door. He seemed to only look to her for an explanation, which baffled her, because she was hoping he would explain. The two stared at each other in complete perplexity for a minute at least, before Rose was first to break the silence.

“This a trick?”

He blinked. “What?”

“This. You, here. The TARDIS trickin’ me or somethin’?”

“Why on Earth would the TARDIS be tricking you?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged, folding her arms and resting her weight on one leg. “‘Cos you were a right knob today and maybe she thought I wouldn’t strangle you if you looked like that.”

He was surely stupefied by the force of her words. “Bloody hell, I saved your life today and that’s how you thank me?”

Her mouth hung agape at that, and she quickly scanned her memories today and confirmed, very quickly, that he had in fact not saved her life at any point today. Not even when he stumbled into her’s and Mickey’s capture, drunk, and toyed with the droids for a bit while they held a rather sharp blade to her throat before pouring whatever was left of his wine onto their heads; she was still too furious to consider that ‘saving her life’.

“Oh, please,” she scoffed incredulously, “Do tell me at what point today you so valiantly came to my aid.”

He echoed her scoff. “I said thank you—”

“You did not you little liar!”

“Bloody hell, you’re a lot snappier than you were five minutes ago!”

She shook her head. “I wasn’t even here five minutes ago—”

“Which reminds me, what are you doing here?”

Her eyes narrowed at him; quite clearly, they were going to go round in circles asking questions unless one of them tried to at least figure it out. She took a deep breath, and spoke aloud her thought process. “Right. So, obviously we’re not talking about the same thing, unless you experienced today completely differently to me — which actually might explain your behaviour—” she stopped when she felt her spine pricking with heat, and shook her head “— never mind. And unless the TARDIS is playing tricks on me, and you’re still, well, you, then we’re not — this isn’t—”

She sighed in frustration, still trying to understand the concept of time being relative — whatever that means. The Doctor seemed only to understand her, and he nodded slowly.

“I’m going to go out on a limb here and say I didn’t just offer you to come with me, did I?”

Her heart sank; of all the emotions she was feeling, of all the frustration at being in a situation unknown, of having her first reaction to a man she missed with everything she had being bewilderment over the absolute love she normally had to see his face, her only response was to breathe a very unsteady and deeply sorrowful,

“No.”

He nodded, again slowly. “But— and I’m losing my other leg to this one now— I’m assuming you, at one point, in fact, do end up coming with me?"

Her lips pulled tight as she fought back against saying or indicating anything that might trigger some sort of paradox at having run into a previous him and altering their future, and she sort of expected she might spontaneously vanish at any moment. Her lack of response must have affirmed his question, and his eyes grew wide.

“Crikey. Right then.”

“I should—“ she started, pointing behind her to the door but not really able to move there just yet “— I should probably, erm…”

He looked back at her for a moment, his brow still drawn in concern, before he gave her the smallest, yet still most warm smile that simply melted her.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he whispered.

The relief she felt swept over her in a blanket so comforting that her feet all too easily took her to him, and she blurted, “You have no idea how much I needed to hear you say that.”

He grinned the most terribly beautiful toofy grin, but she didn't process in enough time — or care too much to do anything about — the look of slight panic when she practically tumbled into his arms, into a hold so comforting that she let out a small sob. She felt the relief, her whole body lightening and untightening to feel him, less skinny and tall and against the ever so soft fabric of a jumper rather than an oxford. She wished she could have seemed a little less desperate as she clung to him while he awkwardly — but sincerely — held her in return, but just having him there, against everything she understood to be possible, was the only thing she could possibly need right now and she felt alleviated.

“I’m probably breaking about eight hundred laws here but I literally don’t care anymore,” she mumbled, only half-jokingly, into his jumper, “You left me on a spaceship three thousand years into the future so you can fix it.”

“Oi!” he snapped, and she was relieved to hear he wasn’t actually annoyed. “I haven’t done anythin’, remember?”

She nodded. “You’re right, he can fix it.”

The Doctor had always known how to read her, even if she sometimes thought he didn’t. Even after little more than a day of having known her, to this him here now, he recognised her belligerence and only seemed to find it bemusing.

“You’ve got a lot of faith in him then, if you can think he can fix anything.”

She sighed deeply into his jumper, against the sounds of his steady hearts beneath her ear that sounded different somehow, like they weren’t quite hers yet even if they were beating for her now.

“I really miss you.”

The truth in her voice sounded, even to her, so very pained. She wondered what he must be thinking, why this woman whom had only just turned him down now clung to him in the most ridiculous of ways, close to tears as she told him she missed him. But he didn’t ask questions, instead he only felt it, straight away, by the way his arms ever so slightly tightened around her to more resemble a hug she knew was only hers, and one only he could give her. But she could feel him awkward beneath her nonetheless, and ever so regretfully she pulled away, but not quite able to stop herself from reaching her palm to touch the side of his face as she took him in. All those hardened edges, that stubble and those lips and slightly wonky nose.

“Oh, we’re— okay, so there’s an awful lot of touching between us in the future,” he remarked.

She giggled, and drew her palm away to sit on the jumpseat, patting the spot next to her. “Well, yes, I think we can say that—” she frowned, and stopped herself “—wait, can I say that?”

She looked to him for confirmation, and he shrugged. “Tell you what, if you start to fade out of existence, I’ll let you know, as long as you do the same for me. Deal?”

She chuckled, and shook the hand he had held out to her. “Deal.”

He sat down next to her, pinching his trousers and shuffling about to settle in a little more comfortably. She was relieved to know she hadn’t forgotten a single thing about him, which meant that she knew he was feeling most blindsided by her spontaneous and unprecedented visit, displaying a lot more familiarity with him than he, at that moment, had with her. For whatever reason, and she thinks she knows what, he was, for the time being at least, comfortable with putting aside his own reservations about the implications this might have on time and space if it meant that she could find comfort herself.

She gave him a shy grin. “So I turned you down then, hmm?”

“Great,” he tutted. “Nice to know it was me you said no to, and not the flying-through-space bit.”

She nudged herself to the side to bump his shoulder and chuckled. “Well, I’m here now, so you must have done something right.”

“Oh, I don’t know. From the sounds of it, I haven’t done anything right today.”

It was a suggestion, an invitation to continue, if she wanted to.

The sinking of her heart at the reminder of her today was terrible. So terrible, in fact, that she couldn’t find her words, and only shook her head sadly in response. The soft sound of his leather jacket as his chest rose and fell to his sigh somehow made it all that much harder. When he started to awkwardly pick at the stray cotton string poking out at the knee of his trousers, she managed to find her smile.

“Mention the time bit,” she whispered, turning to look at him, and he looked back at her with his eyebrow ever so slightly raised. “That’s what does it for me, in the end.”

He chastised himself, “I didn’t— I didn’t mention the bloody time bit— well, no wonder you said no.”

“You completely messed up with that one,” she chuckled, closing her eyes to the deep and flat way he said ‘wonder’, and continued, “Actually, know what else you messed up with?”

“Wish I hadn’t bloody offered to stay and listen, now—”

“The regeneration thing,” she scoffed. “Didn’t want to mention that that happens at any point, no?”

“Regenerat— bloody hell, I’m being confronted by a lot of my future in one sitting.”

Her eyes widened at that, perhaps having gone too far, but he grinned.

“Na, it’s alright," he assured her in response. "Promise. I’m not so unused to running into myself in the future, I know how this works, don’t worry.”

Her lips curled into a bashful smile, knowing full well he almost certainly knew the consequences of learning of one’s own future and that, in next to no circumstances, was it a good thing. Still, he had this thing about him, this assurance that he would, somehow, make it okay, and she couldn’t deny his invitation.

“You— I mean— well,” she flustered, realising this was much more difficult that she would have thought. “He... yeah, no, you—”

“Say ‘he’,” he encouraged. “It’ll make it easier, promise.”

Again, with that word, with the softness in which he delivered it, she felt this unravelling as her shoulders loosened where she could just be her. She didn’t have to worry about sounding all clever, like she knew what she was talking about, and now she didn’t even need to worry about the implications of something she’s been told can never ever happen, because he was with her. She could barely keep herself together with it all, with how much she just missed him and wanted him back.

“It’s been a bit… it’s been quite hard. Between us, recently,” she admitted unevenly, but once she felt the relief that came with uncorking the ridiculously tight pressure throughout her whole body, she was powerless to stop herself from blurting out the rest. “You regenerated not too long ago and sometimes I think you’re still the same, and sometimes you— he —” she adjusted, it somehow feeling better to say ‘he’, now “— does things that are so… not you.”

There was a silence in the control room, besides the familiar hum which had of course not altered even within this nonsensical situation. It kept her quite steady, actually.

“He sounds a bit like a prat.”

“You’re not wrong, there.”

“Tell you what,” he began, squaring his shoulders. “Since I’m him and he’s me, why don’t you tell me what he did. I’ll see what I can help you with.”

She snorted. “Told me I was gonna — and I quote — ‘wither and die’, left me stranded on a spaceship three thousand years into the future, fell in love with some posh French woman and picked her over all of time and space, to name just the ones over the last twenty-four hours.”

The Doctor was quiet, and she just had to glance at his expression at that. He did indeed look overwhelmed, as she thought he might.

“That definitely doesn’t sound like me — you sure you weren't just fooled into thinking he was?”

She snickered, although he wasn’t too far off her true musings at this point. “I think when you invited Mickey along, I should have clocked on.”

He really did jolt back in shock, then. “Rickey? As in that sad old sap out there, Rickey?”

“Mmm.”

“The one shaking like a bloody leaf and clinging onto your leg like a wuss?”

“That’s the one.”

He shuddered, and it only made her giggle more. “My god, what do I become?”

“Now you see my problem.”

“Alright, well, I can’t excuse the wither and die bit—” he paused, thinking “— nor the spaceship bit, I suppose. Or even the falling in love bit—”

“Fat lot of good, you are, then.”

“Oi! —” he poked her ribs “— You’re a lot less polite than I remember you being.”

Her smile was so wide that it ached; being here with him and laughing like before, before all the regenerations and the Sarah-Janes and the aristocratic French mistresses was a blissful healing of a wound she had long since thought had sealed up.

“I’m going to need some context over the wither and die bit,” he spoke quietly, a little jest still to his voice.

She frowned, honestly quite against the idea of reliving that conversation last night, and especially not when it was one with another, less recognisable, face than with the one next to her. “I dunno. I guess… I know what you—”

“He.”

She giggled, relieved, and he nudged her knee with his. “I know what he was trying to say, that his lifespan is a heck of a lot longer than mine, and it’s not as if it’s fun to watch us ‘wither and die’, as he so eloquently put it, but it still hurt. Almost like—” she scrunched her nose, thinking of what it was she wanted to say before she heard his calm and patient breathing, his breath and remembered who she was talking to “—like it’s so distasteful for him, that we grow old and all mangly and he just has to sit there and watch it and hope it gets over and done with quickly so he can move on.”

The Doctor was still beside her, his arms folded and leant back while she spoke. He seemed to be mulling something over, and when she looked up at him and saw his profile, his terribly large nose and sharp jaw, she all but melted into his side, tugging on his arm so that she could lean against him.

“He made me feel so bad for being human, and it’s the first time I’ve ever felt like that.”

He was trying to keep himself still beside her, and she knew he most probably felt a little uncomfortable at their proximity, but the fact that he was keeping so still for her reminded her just how much he cared for her in the first place — right from day one.

“Christ, give him a slap for me when you see him again will you?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

She thought about the two of them, if they could meet tonight, and only loved the idea of this him squaring up on the new one for daring to hurt a woman he had known less than forty-eight hours. And she grinned to know that he would, as well, because she knew just how important she had been to him right from the start. He didn’t need to say it, and she felt it even now with a new face, that she was still the most important person to him.

Well, up until today, she had.

“Alright, so you say the spaceship thing—“

“Yep,” she affirmed, punctuating the ‘p’ with an indignant pop. “Rode on a horse through a time window, severed all links with the ship and the future.”

“And you say Rickey was with you?”

“Yeah! Left us both behind.”

He thought for a moment. “How’d you know he didn’t think you were on the back of the horse and he was only trying to leave Rickey behind” — she couldn’t help but laugh at his old dry humour that he carried off so effortlessly, something else she only now realised she missed —“cos I can tell you that seems the only reasonable explanation to that one.”

“God will you stop,” she insisted through her giggles, “Rick—Mickey is not that bad!”

“And on that,” he continued, seemingly unwilling to stop despite her persistent chuckles, “I really cannot explain his decisions behind asking Mickey to join us, you’ll have to ask him yourself, sorry.”

He had such a wonderfully deadpan humour, this one, and for a bloke that wasn’t actually from the North, he certainly could have fooled her. To some, he came off as cold and unaffectionate, but to her, he was hers; she knew his humour so well and had grown so fond of him and the ways in which he made her laugh, knowing that he was doing it deliberately as often as he could only to make her giggle more.

“Alright, and what was that last one?” he asked after a moment. “Something about some French woman?”

Ah, yes. That.

Perhaps he knew exactly what by the way she flinched at his words, because he didn’t follow it up with anything at first. He chose his words well, it would seem, when he prompted,

“Something absurd about choosing her over all of time and space, if I remember you right.”

She fiddled with cuticles around her nails, only realising now how hard it was to talk about — or even think about.

“Something like that.”

And with her sigh, she released her hold on him, withdrawing back into herself at the way everything about her seemed to clench in pain. He wasn’t too unused to it all, then, when she felt his hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. She smiled softly at the gesture that did indeed loosen her a little, but he seemed to notice that it hadn’t entirely when he tapped her shoulder to bring her to lean back against him.

“Well, I will admit this new bloke seems like an absolute git, but I know I can speak for him when I say he doesn’t fall in love very easily at all.”

She swallowed, her throat so painfully tight. “Yeah, m’ starting to think the same.”

He was quiet, and she was really fighting against herself to not fall completely back in love with a man she knew was gone forever. She did love him though, this him, and she missed him so much that the pressure inside her only seemed to worsen until, finally, he spoke quietly,

“Who was she, did you say?”

She didn’t want to respond immediately, though the name rested just at the tip of her tongue, echoing around her mind as it had been all day. So she took a moment's pause before she replied, “Someone called Madame de Pompadour?”

“Ah, yes,” he recalled. “Eighteenth century? Uncrowned queen of France?”

Rose sighed heavily, before nodding her head.

“Sounds average,” he dismissed. “Meet one of them every day, I do. Don’t think it’s quite like either of us to fall in love with somebody so ordinary.”

She had to remind herself, as she had done so many times over the last twenty-four hours, that she was indeed only that: ordinary. Nobody different, nothing that made her stand out from the likes of Sarah Jane or bloody uncrowned queens of France and certainly not one the Doctor, the last remaining lord of time, would so easily fall in love with.

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat, a welcome disruption to her morose thoughts. “I should probably, er, go and find, well, you— time, was it, you said? That’s what’ll do the trick?”

She sniffed, reluctant to let him go, but she did loosen her hold to allow him free. “Time,” she affirmed.

As he stood, and she too, it all felt far too formulaic for them, even if he had only just met her very recently. She couldn’t bear to let him go like this, to remember this meeting so sad, so she looked at him sheepishly with her arms hesitantly outstretched and said,

“Can I?”

He seemed to know exactly what she was asking when he pulled her in for a hug. It took them a moment of adjustment to settle; she being so used to his new more slender form, and he not being used to her at all. But when they did, when everything finally slotted into place and they were them once more, she exhaled and felt all that pain and anguish just… release. He didn’t take it from her, and she didn’t know where it went, but being here in his arms when she had thought she never could have been again felt like the most blissful recompense following such wretched and unjust anguish.

“I miss you,” she whimpered, holding on to him tighter.

“Rose?”

The sound of her name on his lips was a comfort in itself. “Mmm?”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Yeah?”

“That bloke of yours,” he paused, and she realised it was for dramatic effect when he whispered, “he’s actually me.”

She giggled despite herself. “After everything I’ve told you about him, you still want to assign your name to him?”

“He does sound a bit like a prat, I’ll admit, but he must have done some good things, too, surely?” She shook her head begrudgingly into his chest. “You wouldn’t still be here if he hadn’t.”

She smiled sadly, and reasoned, “I suppose he did regenerate for me.”

“Blimey,” he flustered, genuinely quite surprised by the sounds of it. “I’ve regenerated many times before, and for many different reasons, but I can tell you never for somebody else.”

She smiled; although she had never really known exactly what happened on satellite 5, she had only managed to learn from him that it was to save her life. He didn’t particularly like to talk about it, she gathered, not because he regretted doing so, but in a way she couldn’t quite decipher. Like he was afraid, almost — although of what, she wasn’t sure.

“You, Rose Tyler, must be quite extraordinary indeed.”

She held on to him only tighter as she felt his words find their home deep within her heart, in a way she knew they would never be able to be coaxed out of again by not even herself. And she knew the man she thought she was going to see tonight felt the same, really, if she was honest with herself. She realised, then, that she wouldn’t have been able to hear if he had said it in that estuary accent; it was specifically him saying it in this northern accent tonight that rang deep and true for both men.

And with that, she felt the imminent dread of knowing she needed to leave.

“I probably need to go tell him I’ve made some paradox, then,” she sighed jokingly, although a part of her wished she wasn’t. If she could only have this, this sweet memory of the two of them at a time where she needed to be reminded that it would always be just the two of them, then pulling away from him now might be less tortuous.

“No need,” he said, and then he tilted his head and whispered, “Looks like he’s already fixed it for you.”

She frowned, but even as she tried to process how he — the other him — could have possibly already done anything to fix this, her mistake, her desperate need to see her old friend and deepest love of her life just one last time in a time of such heartbreak, her heart swelled to know that of course he had.

“No paradox?” she whispered back, afraid anybody other than him might hear her.

He nodded, and she felt him kiss her hair. “No paradox, if he’s done it right. Now go, quick, before we find out if he hasn’t.”

[triscribe]

Swing Batter Batter

Part of a larger fic posted on AO3 over here, in which token metahuman abilities are pretty common, and it’s not unusual to encounter a circus kid who can fly, or a cop who gets impressions of a person’s intentions when shaking their hand, or in this case, a street thief with super strength. 

-Swing-

When he registered the Bat standing over him, Jason didn’t think, he just grabbed and swung as hard as he could. If he’d been a regular scrawny street kid, he didn’t doubt the tire iron would just bounce off with barely a bruise to show for the effort. But Jason stopped counting as ‘regular’ last year, and his skinny arms were plenty strong enough to land a blow that knocked the Bat clear off his feet.

Jason then promptly ran for his life.

He made it to the end of the alley and swerved first around the corner, and again into the narrow gap between wall and dumpster. There he froze, heart pounding, hands shaking, as he waited for either Batman’s footsteps to go past his hiding place like so many others, or for one of those big hands to grab his hoodie and yank him out into the open.

...a couple minutes of nothing went by.

...and then a few more.

Jason’s heart kept pounding at breakneck speed, but shifted from running on adrenaline to fear. He eased himself back out from behind the dumpster, and peeked around the alley corner. Just to double check; maybe the Bat decided to chase him from above, and that fourth tire could be retrieved after all-

Except two thick-soled boots were laying next to the fancy car.

Shit.

He’d killed the Bat.

Shit shit shit - every crook in Gotham would be out for Jason’s blood, looking to curbstomp the little pest trying to make a name for himself. Or worse, someone nuts would show up like the effing Joker in order to get revenge over not getting to off the Bat himself-

One boot shifted. A deep voice wheezed. Jason nearly fell over in relief.

And then, because the Bat didn’t move again, and because Jason was an idiot of the worst kind, he edged his way back towards the car and the crimefighter lying prone beside it. “Uh. Batman? You gonna be okay?”

Another wheeze. Jason got close enough to peek around the car’s fender, and saw the man just staring upwards through the narrowed lenses of his mask. It took a second, but the Bat could apparently tell when he was being watched, because he tilted his head and the lenses opened up a little more so he could stare back. “...’f Robin were here,” the man grumbled, “He’d ask, if you swing for the Knights...”

Jason’s face spasmed as he tried not to laugh. “Nope. Maybe when I’m older, if they pay good.”

Batman snorted, and then wheezed again, one hand starting to grab for his stomach only to stop and clench into a fist. “Got the same spot, as Killer Croc, two nights ago.”

At that, Jason winced. He’d only ever seen Croc in newspaper pictures before, but the guy was definitely huge, and it didn’t take a leap of logic to assume he hit hard, too. “Uh. Sorry?”

The Bat gave an aborted huff. Slowly, he pushed himself up, palms flat to the ground. Then he rolled, to pull one knee underneath himself, and gradually stood while leaning against the car. Jason made sure to keep out of arm’s reach.

After that, the man just braced himself and breathed for a minute, before shifting enough to once again peer down at Jason. “I assume you took the tires to sell.”

He nodded.

“How much?”

Jason lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Depends on which chop shop I take ‘em to. At least a hundred apiece, maybe a bonus if I get all four.” That probably wouldn’t be an option, seeing as he’d wasted enough time for the Bat to get back to his feet. Honestly, Jason needed to run at this point, but he still felt kinda bad. Batman was just about the only good thing in Gotham as far as working folks were concerned, and even if he wasn’t dead, it didn’t seem right to leave him alone and hurting in Crime Alley...

Jason blinked when a roll of green suddenly appeared in front of his face. “Five hundred,” Batman said dryly, “If you bring back the other three.”

Well hot damn.

In the space of twenty minutes, Jason not only brought back the tires he’d spirited off, he went ahead and put ‘em back on the car, just ‘cause the Bat didn’t seem inclined to bend and use his stomach muscles any time soon. And besides, five hundred dollars. That would be food and rent and even new clothes when the weather turned cold. 

As he worked, though, Jason couldn’t help but feel Batman’s gaze on him. It didn’t seem angry, didn’t raise the hairs on the back of his neck like when certain guys leered, but he still started to feel just the slightest bit antsy. And then, right as he was tightening up the bolts on the final tire, the Bat made his move. “You don’t want to go into foster care, do you.”

Jason scoffed at that.

“Have you been flagged as a meta?”

“‘Course not, never told anyone. Didn’t get strong until after I was on my own, and I’m not stupid enough to put a target on my back to get ‘recruited’ by any of the gangs.”

The Bat hummed.

-Swing-

Jason Peter Todd-Wayne

Date of Birth: August 16th, 1996

No Known Meta Abilities

“Man, rich people get away with anything,” Jason huffed. “Park wherever you want, buy shit you’re not s’posed to have, falsify your paperwork...”

Bruce just grunted, but it was an agreeable sound rather than an annoyed one. And, privately, Jason couldn’t help but feel pleased by the adoption paperwork, his brand new name right at the top of the page.

Which just left the matter of deciding on his other name.

When Bruce had found the pages torn out of a notebook with costume designs sketched out and messy notes in the margins, he’d glanced at Jason out of the corner of his eye and haltingly said he could be the new Robin. And part of Jason felt thrilled by the idea, but-

But.

Robin flew. He soared around skyscrapers, did somersaults mid-air, zipped along just above the ground to take crooks out at the knees. Jason didn’t do that - Jason couldn’t do any of that. The closest he’d ever get to flight would be grappling from perch to perch like Batman did. Which, admittedly, was really insanely awesome, but still.

Jason couldn’t be Robin.

-Swing-

...at least, not until he sat on the Manor roof one evening a few weeks later with Dick Grayson, who sighed and smiled at him. “You could wear them, y’know. My colors. My suit.”

“But- our powers-”

“Are different,” Dick agreed, “But that just means we bring different strengths to the playing field. Literal strength, in your case.” He grinned and ruffled Jason’s hair.

Batting away the playful fingers, Jason took a few moments to consider it. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I will.”

(Dick still argued viciously with Bruce in nine out of ten conversations. But every so often he’d come by to pick up Jason, and they’d go flying over the forested property, or drive into the city to get ice cream, or a dozen other things Dick very firmly insisted on referring to as Civilian Brotherly Bonding Activities. And a couple years later, when Jason started having his own problems with Bruce, and found his birth certificate in an old box with a different woman’s name listed as his mother-

Well.

He knew just who to go to with it.)

[johns-prince]

John also had a lovely mix of masculine and feminine physical traits, though this wouldn't become obvious until 1968. When he was on the skinny side (which I loved, sue me) you could tell how beautifully delicate and dainty his bone structure was, way more than Paul's imo. He had those gorgeous long legs and graceful narrow hips that you most commonly find in fashion models. And I love that until at least 1975, he showcased his body beautifully, especially those legs.

Ironically I feel as if people didn't embrace John's femme beauty as well as they did with Paul. I don't know why. Most people seem to prefer him with the more masculine look of 1966. Which was great as well, he was gorgeous but I am a big fan of the 1968 to 1974 run. Btw, note to fanfic writers: please, show John's body some love, I know Paul is stunning but it's kind of exhausting reading 10 pages about how pretty he is and when it comes to my boy John he barely gets a paragraph 😂

Alright, I feel like I’m probably gonna rub a lot of people in this fandom the wrong way with what I’m going to say but this is my blog and you did send this to my inbox so here we go; At the end of the days these are my thoughts and feelings and I might not articulate them very well or I often ramble till I do!

I have my issues, and a complicated relationship with 1968-70s John Lennon. I love John, and thought him healthy and just right in his body type, basically up until 1968, and it’s spotty onward throughout the 70s. To me, John was naturally masculine looking, there’s not exactly an era or year that I could give you like you gave me [Specifically 1966? What about his teddy boy days? All of the early 60s? Hell even throughout the 70s, to me John still was masculine looking to me] He was a bit awkward in his teenhood, but all the boys were, and gradually grew into his adult body. Boy was built and sturdy, naturally thick and strong. 

So we’re probably split on this, because while you see the positives in 1968-1974/70s John, I only really see the negatives. You say skinny, I say malnourished and/or sickly. Depressed druggie who was pushing everyone and everything he loved away, and becoming pathetically dependent on an individual like Yoko [and the other vultures during that time who were terrible influences] 

George was skinny, John was not well and either starving himself or simply using drugs and alcohol as the basis for his diet. And diets.. don’t even get me started on that, the diets he was on, the unhealthy lifestyle that his wife only seemed to enable and help him get on. 

When I look at George, sometimes I get the need to feed him, like an old Mexican mother. When I look at John, who’d lost an unhealthy amount of weight for what it looked like for his body type, I don’t see delicate and dainty bone structure. I see a man who just, he’s not well, something’s wrong.

I’ll give it to you that 1974 New York photoshoot looked very nice, he had muscle again in his arms, though he was still relatively skinny, he didn’t look sickly, or depressed. So I can give you that period during the 70s, I will give you that [hey he was away from Yoko during this no fucking wonder he looked pretty good here] and that shoot was definitely a model moment, wasn’t it? [Not like he didn’t have many of those moments throughout his life] 

So there moments in the seventies where I think John doesn’t look half bad? Even relatively fine? Certainly, I’m devastatingly attracted to this man, dear God almighty have mercy on my soul yes I am. So I’ll agree that yeah, there were periods during the 70s in which John seemed to hold himself fairly well, I’d still climb it.

But I’m at least willing to admit that when John started his spiraling, in 1968, that he was Not Okay. And I personally believe he wasn’t all that okay throughout most of the 70s too... Maybe my issue isn’t with him being ‘skinny’ as it is I don’t like the underweight/severely underweight look on John, I just don’t. The incredibly unhealthy way he went about losing weight... Physically frail doesn’t fit him, and it only upsets me whenever I see photos of him that show how thin his legs became or how you can see his ribs, just how wasted away he’d look at times throughout the 70s, up until the last days of his life. 

You want a “skinny” or ''skinnier'' John Lennon? A healthy, ‘’skinny/skinnier’’ John Lennon for his body type, is ‘66 and ‘67 in my eyes, and even then it wasn’t a radical change in weight loss; John still looked like John.

And speaking of 1968-1969, or the White Album era; don’t think it isn’t lost on me when I see people making light of John’s unhygienic appearance during the making of the White Album. Boy was depressed and hurting for whatever reason, again, spiraling, and getting lost in Yoko and heroin as a means of escapism and someone to tell him ‘it’s alright it isn’t your fault it’s everyone else’s fault’. Of course he didn’t care much for his personal appearance or hygiene... I will say I appreciate your appreciation for him during that period, instead of getting the whole ‘stinky/smelly rat man.’ Maybe I’m too much of a ‘’stan’’ but I don’t find it very amusing or endearing. 

Don’t find me mocking or ‘’teasing’’ Paul’s depressed ass and his appearance during the breakup period/white album era-- but I suppose it’s because Paul actually tried and wasn’t on hard drugs, and had a good wife, so he was able to wear his depression and struggle with alcoholism a bit better, hmm? I don’t like Paul’s beard simply because I know it was the result of his lack of energy, depression, and falling into the drink-- he simply didn’t feel the need nor had the energy to care for himself, so that’s why he let it grow out. I don’t like it because of that, but that’s as much as you’ll get from me. 

Anyway... Maybe I just don’t see John as characteristically feminine/effeminate as Paul, although he has his moments of acting and wearing clothes that are campy and elegant or give off a softer appearance, specifically around 1968 and throughout the 70s. But otherwise, I can’t agree, John didn’t have the same mixture, or balance of masculine and feminine traits as Paul-- and if it’s only made obvious during the downfall turning point of The Beatles and John (1968), then I don’t think that really counts as a ‘’lovely’’ mix of masculine and feminine traits for the reasons I mentioned. So I’ve got to disagree. John's always come off as much more masculine, or naturally masculine, both physically and characteristically, to me.

You know maybe it’s just the blogs I interact with, but I feel like it’s the other way around. I know I can sometimes come off as aggressive but at the end of the day I don’t necessarily care what one person thinks or believes, since it’s all relatively subjective to our own ideas of things and biases, etc... I have my thoughts and beliefs and theories and whether people agree or disagree with them on tumblr dot com... Well, what’re you gonna do? Nothing, it’s not my problem. 

What I 100% agree on you with is about showing Johnny’s body a bit more love and attention to detail when it comes to writing about him in fanfiction! 

There’s his auburn red hair, a darker ginger, which was thick and fun to watch as it lit up like fire when sunlight hit him, and could easily go wavy and curl when left unkempt and natural. The splattered and scattered galaxies of light freckles up and down his arms, his shoulders, his back, even a couple on his face. His aquiline nose, a relatively square jawline and facial structure, thick, heavy eyebrows which really intensify expressions of rage and hurt, almond shaped eyes which are the color of honey-amber when the light hits them just right and outlined with thick, long lashes, blind as a bat without his glasses but can give a mean squint which either helps scare off trouble, or brings it right to him, especially when he’s got thin bitten lips that could pull off a devilishly cheeky smirk or a no-good, charming grin to showcase teeth with the upper front turned slightly in towards each other, gives that imperfection which truly just perfects it-- a face like that of a tragic hero in a Greek Romance, distinctive and handsome. How he just oozed filthy sex and genuine trouble, sweaty leather and smoky dancehalls and rock & roll that crawls up your spine like an orgasm. Hips that could roll like Elvis and strong legs, thick thighs which would make a lovely place to sit. Broad shoulders, strong arms that could easily manage to lift you up and manhandle you in any way he’d like. Big hands, almost like shovels-- beautiful hands, with fingernails usually bitten short and occasionally had black ink or charcoal under them from when he’d be working on art, and rough, callused fingertips from playing guitar till they split and bleed, add a lovely roughness to any gentle touching he might do. A naturally thick midsection, a normal, healthy layer of fat which covers the sinewy just beneath. Any hair is light, light and lightly colored, on his arms and legs and chest. Cute tush, nice butt, a nice boy butt, slightly muscular bubble butt. 

Fun facts; he had the largest feet out of all four Beatles. John isn’t circumcised. John and George share the same height. John has a surprisingly long tongue. John’s skin tone may be light, but for comparison, he’s much tanner compared to Paul-- he’s a bit more olive or wheat to his skin tone, and tanned very, very well. John’s cheeks could become easily red though. John liked the scent of citrus to wear--  he was also self conscious about the fact he could easily sweat and so usually wore such colognes or scents, didn’t want to smell bad. He started smelling of witch hazel when with Yoko. Despite his issue with sweating, he didn’t smell bad naturally. John was a true romantic, being an artist outside of being a musician/rock and roller-- he just didn’t like to show it, and growing up in his time, you couldn’t. John’s a swimmer, he loved to swim and loved the ocean. 

[musehyacinthus]

Shoot Your Shot: Part 1

This is my first published work in over a decade, and I'm so excited to share it with everyone! Dash is my oldest and most treasured oc, and I'm so happy that I finally have the confidence to allow everyone else a peek into her life. This was originally supposed to be a short one shot, but is now going to be a 2(?) part series. I will hopefully be posting more work in the future that explores more of her background, as well as introducing some of my other oc's.

It was June, and the air was warm and sticky, which wasn’t ideal; the humidity made Dash’s hair all frizzy, and it always seemed to happen on a day when she wanted to make meringue.

This morning in particular, her eyes snapped open, bolting upright in her bed with a gasp. She had been having the most amazing dream, in which she was about to take a bite of the biggest, most beautiful lemon meringue pie she had ever seen. However, just as the fork reached her mouth, she woke up, returning to the sad reality where she did not have a mouth watering dessert in front of her. She smacked her lips, trying to recall what the pie had tasted like, but it was already gone. Tragic.

It was then that it dawned on her that she had the ingredients to bring that beautiful pie to life in the kitchen. In an instant, she rushed to her bedroom window. Maybe, if she was lucky, the weather would be on her side today. She pried open the window, a warm, thick breeze blowing against her skin. She groaned. No good; meringue wouldn’t peak in the humidity. No matter how good at baking someone is, they’re no match for mother nature. Pursing her lips, she pulled the latch shut, deciding to settle for banana bread muffins instead.

A couple of hours later, the muffins were nestled in her bag as she hopped off the trolley that crossed the Brooklyn Bridge.

“Thanks!” Dash chirped to the driver, exchanging waves with the man before she bounced away, not noticing the large, gray clouds looming on the horizon.

She clicked her tongue rhythmically as she walked, matching the beat to her steps and scanning the docks for her friend, Twitchy. The purpose of her trip had been to return a book he lent her, but he was nowhere to be seen.

A group of four other teenagers had gathered nearby at the edge of the docks, crouching in a large circle on the ground. Curious, she inched forward, craning her neck to see what was going on.

As she approached, she could see they were surrounding a long piece of brown string that was tied in a circle, surrounding a cluster of marbles.

Her heart skipped a beat. She was fantastic at marbles! She always kept her own pouch on her in case of a marble emergency, which happened more often than one might think.

Now that she was closer, Dash knew the kids to be Newsies like herself from her other visits to the borough. Among the group was a short, round faced girl with glasses and hundreds of freckles who Dash remembered was named Abigail. Her curly, brown hair was pulled back into two braids, her eyebrows knit with frustration as she gazed down at the ring. There was also a pale, skinny boy with sandy, blond hair and brown eyes that Dash didn’t recognize, and a tall boy with broad shoulders and dark hair standing just behind Abigail and watching the game intently. The way he hovered over her, he seemed almost like a bodyguard. What was his name again? Something with a chuh sound…. Chuck? No. Chatter! That was it! She remembered now, she found it funny the first time she learned it because Chatter really didn’t say very much at all. He was a friendly enough guy, but he seemed to like observing and listening more than he liked talking. He and Abigail seemed to always be around one another when Dash saw them, their significant height difference almost comical. Finally, Dash’s eyes rested on the figure closest to her with their back turned. Their brown cap was pulled down low on their face as they knelt on the ground, but she could recognize those bright red suspenders anywhere. He was at an angle where she could just see that was holding a red shooter in his hand, weaving it through his fingertips thoughtfully.

Dash’s feelings toward Spot were… mixed; she could never stop herself from riling him up, and the two would often butt heads due to their wildly different personalities. Spot took himself so seriously, and for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why. It frustrated her that he tried to make himself seem so high and mighty, and she knew the kids in Brooklyn respected him, but as far as she could tell, he was just… some guy. The way he constantly tried to have the attention of those around him was so silly, and just made him come off as a bit of a show off.

She hadn’t seen him do anything particularly intimidating, but the Newsies back in Manhattan would often go on and on about how nervous he made them. She just failed to see any real reason for their apprehension. Then again, she really hadn’t been living in New York all that long; his reputation had been around for a good while. Maybe they all knew something she didn’t.

In any case, as far as she was concerned, he was just a kid who wanted attention. That was fine, of course, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to tease him. It was fun to challenge him, and she found herself getting extremely competitive in his presence. Of course he wasn’t going to back down from a challenge.

Dash would come to Brooklyn every once in a while to exchange books with Twitchy, who she knew was pretty close with Spot. He never seemed to show any signs of being intimidated either, and was an even bigger culprit than she was when it came to pushing Spot’s buttons. He would go to great lengths to make him look silly, like the time he filled Spot’s pockets with bread crumbs and got the neighborhood pigeons to follow him around all day. There was also a time when he dressed up in the same clothes as Spot, and had bribed the other Brooklyn kids with candy to pretend that he was the real Spot for an entire day.

Dash watched as the boy she hadn’t recognized leaned forward, closing one eye and taking a deep breath. He flicked his thumb, his yellow shooter zipping forward and smacking into another large, purple marble. Both marbles rolled over the string, coming to a rest on the other side. The boy whooped with delight, and Abigail let out a cry of astonishment.

“That was a cheap shot, Sonny!” Abigail crossed her arms in front of her chest, staring daggers at the boy. “You know I just got that marble yesterday!”

“It ain’t my fault I got good aim!” Sonny grinned, shrugging and walking over to claim the purple shooter for himself. “Sorry, toots.”

Dash thought Sonny didn’t look all that sorry.

Abigail huffed, sitting back and crossing her legs.

“Fine, whatever. Your turn, Spot.”

Spot, who had been silent the entire time, was already leaning down to shoot his own red marble. He extended his arm, appearing as still as a statue as he aimed the little glass ball toward the center.

At that moment, an idea popped into Dash’s brain. Slowly, without making a sound, she crept up behind him, biting her lip to keep herself from giggling and giving herself away. Finally, just as Spot started to release the shooter, Dash exclaimed “HI, SPOT!”

The boy let out a rather undignified yelp and his hand jerked, the marble rolling into the ring and bouncing gently on one of the mibs. It hardly budged, and Spot’s shooter halted beside it. The other three Brooklyn newsies broke out into laughter, and Spot’s shoulders tensed, turning his head slowly to glare up at Dash.

Dash just smiled, waving down at him.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said hi.”

Spot grunted and rose to his feet, his hazel eyes narrowing at Dash. Despite his intense stare, her expression remained unchanged.

“I heard ya, I heard ya.” He grumbled, glancing her up and down. “You messed me up, y’know.”

“Golly, did I do that?” she feigned surprise, her eyebrows raising. “Whoopsie daisies. Can I play?”

“We’re in the middle of a game.”

“Actually, it’s just endin’!” Sonny chimed in from behind him with a smile. Spot glanced back and shot Sonny a look, who quickly clammed up.

“Aw, that’s okay.” Dash shrugged, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. “It’s no big deal, Spot’s just afraid that I’ll beat him at his own game.” she looked back to Spot, and she swore she saw his eye twitch.

“No. I am not.” He replied firmly.

“Are too.”

“Am. Not.”

“Are tooooo.”

“NO, I am-” Spot’s voice had grown higher pitched in the heat of the moment, but he quickly paused, giving a sideways glance at his Newsies who were all staring at them. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat, his voice now sounding much lower than it had a moment ago.

“Fine.” He said cooly.  “Fine, you wanna play? We’ll play. Clear the ring, Sonny.”

In a matter of moments, the ring was reset, thirteen mibs resting in the center in a cross. Dash fished her sack of marbles out from her bag, a little blue pouch that her father had fashioned for her out of some spare fabric. She had about a dozen shooters she had collected over the years, but there was a very special one she wanted to use for this occasion.

She rummaged around in the pouch for a moment before pulling up a shooter that was minty green and blue with little white swirls. Sonny whistled, leaning in to look at it.

“That’s real pretty.” He mused. Dash beamed, tossing it up in the air once and catching it.

“Thanks! It’s the first marble I ever won back when I was younger.”

Abigail raised an eyebrow. “You sure ya wanna use that thing, then? Seems pretty special to be usin’ in a game. Don’t wanna end up like me and have it taken from ya.” She glared pointedly at Sonny, who only grinned back at her innocently with large, doe like eyes.

Dash nodded. “Oh, yeah! This guy is my go-to shooter, he’s real lucky!” She held it up proudly, admiring the way the colorful swirls glistened in the light. “I’ve never lost a match with him!”

Spot was also staring at the marble, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Huh. Oh, well, it’s your funeral, girlie.” He stretched his arms over his head, shifting his gaze back to her. “You better say your goodbyes now, ‘cause that thing’s gonna be in my pocket real soon.”

Dash stuck out her tongue at him. She wasn’t nervous; her lucky shooter had never failed her before, and this game would be no different.

The two knelt on opposite ends of the circle, and the others sat off to the side as spectators. Spot motioned his hand toward her.

“Ladies first.”

Dash positioned herself in front of the ring with her shooter. Without any delay, she flung her marble forward, grinning at the satisfying clack it made as it smacked into one of the mibs, sending two of them rolling out of the ring. Dash whooped loudly, and Spot continued to watched in silence with a serious expression.

“Nice!” Abigail grinned.

Her shooter was still within the circle, which meant she was able to shoot her marble again from the inside the ring. She hummed, hopping to the other side and returning to her knees to the left of Spot. As she reached for her shooter, her shoulder briefly brushed against his. Spot jumped as if he had been shocked, scowling and moving a few inches to his right. Dash barely even noticed him, focused on finding the right angle to shoot her marble. She flicked it once more and the marble struck another mib, but it didn’t have as much force as the first hit. It rolled a few inches and stopped just before reaching the edge. Dash shrugged, flopping backward onto her behind. “Oh well. Your turn.”

Spot nodded, adjusting his cap. Dash saw him glance over at the other kids for a fleeting second, then returned his gaze to the marbles. He cracked his knuckles loudly, which Dash found rather unnecessary, and flexed his hands at his sides. He scooped up his red shooter, assuming the position. His eyebrows knit together and he bit his lip.

This was ridiculous; the longer she waited for him to make his move, the more restless she felt. She drummed her hands on her lap as she waited. After what felt like centuries, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Can’t you go any faster?” She huffed.

“I’m focusin’.”

“Focus faster!” she urged.

Spot’s jaw clenched, still not looking at Dash. He exhaled, finally releasing his marble. It hit two mibs at once, sending them flying out of the circle in opposite directions. Sonny cheered loudly and Abigail nodded with approval while Chatter clapped politely beside her. The marble stopped right where it hit its mark, meaning it was still in play.

Spot grinned, clearly pleased with himself as he turned his attention back to Dash. She clapped, nodding slowly.

“That was great, yeah! Hey, at this rate, maybe we’ll have a winner by Thanksgiving!” she teased. Abigail let out a cough that Dash could have sworn was a laugh.

Spot’s grin snapped back to a scowl, squinting hard at her. Dash smiled back. Sometimes it was just too easy.

Spot closed his eyes briefly, regaining his composure. When he opened his eyes again, the look in his eyes had changed.

“Oh, I ain’t movin’ fast enough for ya?” he asked, stretching out his arms and making a big show of moving into shooting position once more. Slowly, he leaned forward, maintaining eye contact with her the entire time. “That’s no problem. I can go faster.”

He set his eyes on Dash’s lucky shooter, and before she could even process what was happening, he shot his red marble straight for it.

Dash’s eyes widened in horror, and she gasped as the shooter crashed into her minty blue sphere, causing it to roll right out of the ring.

Her heart sank, realizing what he had just done. She looked up at him in dismay and was met with a smug smile.

“Oh, would ya look at that? Seems like ya lucky marble ain’t so lucky no more.” He snickered. “Oopsie daisies.”

The other Brooklyn kids appeared stunned at what their leader had done, exchanging nervous glances with one another. Sure, he had joked about taking the marble, but it didn’t seem like they thought he would actually take it.

“Spot…” Abigail started, but Spot ignored her, plucking the shooter from the ground and rolling it across his palm as he stood.

“You were right, Abby. She shoulda listened to your advice, don’t’cha think?”

For a minute, Dash was speechless. Did that really just happen? Was he being serious right now?

Her shock quickly turned to rage. She rose and stormed up to him, lunging toward the marble.

“No! That’s not fair, you can’t-”

“What exactly ain’t fair here?” Spot interrupted, snatching it away and holding her prized shooter high in the air. “I ain’t no cheater, ask anyone here! I won this here marble fair and square!” He looked over at the others for confirmation, daring any of them to argue. “You all saw it, right? No rules broken, yeah?”

Reluctantly, the three nodded in agreement, which only fueled Dash’s anger. She grunted and jumped toward his raised hand in an attempt to grab it, but he stepped back, barking out a laugh.

“Better luck next time, short stuff!”

Dash grunted, jumping up and down as she tried snatch her marble. “Oh, that’s rich, coming from you! You’re barely three inches taller than me at most!”

“Still, it’s three inches you ain’t got!” he snickered. “I’m playin’ the game the way it’s s’posed to be played! When ya shoot your opponent’s marble outta the ring, you claim it! That’s the rule!”

They danced around one another, Dash hopping up toward his hand and Spot pulling away at the very last second. Dash could feel her cheeks burning. She grit her teeth and let out a loud groan. “Why are you being such a jerk?!” She exclaimed, taking another swing just as he jumped out of the way.  “You only shot at my marble to be mean!”

“I’m the jerk?” He scoffed, side stepping when she tried to snatch it again. “You’ve been pickin’ on me this whole time! ���

“Was not!”

“Were too!”

“WAS NOT!”

“WERE TOO!”

“Hey, now,” Chatter spoke up for the first time, stepping forward. His voice was deep and soft. “Maybe we should all calm down…”

But Dash didn’t want to calm down. She was fuming, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. Logically, she knew she shouldn’t be getting so worked up over a silly, little marble, but she couldn’t control it; she was livid! How dare he take something from her that he knew was special to her! How dare he hold it over her head and taunt her with it! The way he smirked down at her made her stomach bubble with anger. She wasn’t going to let him get away with this.

She lunged once more, but this time, she wasn’t aiming at his hand.

She reached for his head, plucking off the brown cap from his head in one quick swipe and scurrying backward with a triumphant “HA!”

Spot blinked in surprise, his free hand instinctively moving toward his head. His caramel hair was now in disarray, falling in wisps across his face.

“Ha ha. Very funny, girlie, give it back.”

“No.”

“Seriously? Dash, c’mon.”

Dash was already scooping up her bag of belongings and throwing it over her shoulder, a wild grin on her face. It was juvenile, sure, but it was the only thing she could think to do in the heat of the moment. She offered him a quick salute, then bolted from the scene of the crime, leaving a flabbergasted Spot behind her.

She was already halfway down the block before she heard an enraged bellow behind her:

“DAAAAASH!”

---------------------

End of Part 1

[justauthoring]

A Song About Love

Request: Hi! Can I request a geralt x reader where the reader is an elemental and a slave to the king and had been Geralt first love who he thought was dead. So, when Jaskier and geralt are in the castle jaskier sneaks down the wrong door and finds her, telling geralt which prosides to geralt finding her and a really heartwarming/romantic encounter. The king finds out they are escaping and she reveals her powers and saves both of them which leads to a romantic smut of the reader and geralt. Requested by: @dark-night-sky-99​ Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader Word Count: 1, 634

Please don’t plagiarize my work!

Truthfully, he’d just been wondering to occupy his time.

Thinking back now, he should’ve just stayed by Geralt’s side. But, he’d never been one for listening and sometimes (he couldn’t help it) his curiosity got the better of him. Plus, the King was an ass from what he could tell and Jaskier had no real want to be around his insufferable self for a moment longer.

So, instead, he elected upon the idea of sneaking down into the dungeons of the King’s castle and exploring an area he certainly was not allowed to. An area Jaskier is positive that if he was found in, the King would -- quite possibly -- have his head.

The thrill of danger had never stopped him before, however. He followed a damned Witcher on the daily, after all.

And your door is just too tempting not to peek in at. Oddly enough, it’s the first room he’s seen in this dungeon beside the cages. It’s clearly designed differently, but if the bar on the outside gives Jaskier any clues, he imagines it to be no different that the cages that surround it. Maybe a little more... what was the word?

Fancy.

Fancy for a cage that was.

It was also considerably more barred than anything else in that dungeon. There was not just one bar, but a multitude of them. As if whatever was on the inside was powerful enough to break through one metal bar... Whatever was on the other side of that door was clearly dangerous. It filled Jaskier with an immeasurable amount of excitement.

There’s a little window to peek in at. Jaskier takes it upon himself to slide the slate open, leaning up a little on his toes to peer inside. He’s not really sure what he expects to see. But a frail looking woman is certainly not on his list.

Jaskier’s brows twitch in curiosity, watching you for a moment. You don’t really notice him, your back turned to the door, head dipped down. There’s a soft hum leaving your lips, and something glows before you. But Jaskier can’t properly see what it is. It’s a red and orange hue of sorts, but your frame is covering him from seeing anything more.

Biting his lower lip, Jaskier leans back with the intent to open the door. But as he does so, a voice booms;

“Bard!”

It causes him to jump, instantly assuming he’d been caught until he turns his head and finds the familiar yellow eyes of Geralt. He instantly calms at the sight, shoulders sagging with relief as the Witcher bounds up to him; quickly and urgently. “Geralt, I--”

“We shouldn’t be down here.” He says sharply, cutting Jaskier off. “We should go. Before your idiocy gets us caught.”

“But--!”

“No, buts. Lets--”

“Geralt?” 

It’s a new voice. A softer, weak and somewhat raspy sounding voice. Instantly, Jaskier’s head snaps back towards the door, staring at the now shut slate as Geralt turns to it in confusion. For a brief moment, his narrowed eyes flicker back towards Jaskier who races his head in surrender before he leans forward, pulling the slate open.

Your eyes peek through.

“Is that really you?”

Jaskier takes note of the way Geralt’s shoulders instantly tense. But not in the same way they did when there’s was danger nearing, it was... different, somehow. His entire stature changes as your eyes remain on Geralt’s only, having to push yourself up just to see through the slate. 

“Y/N...” Geralt’s voice is low. A hum, almost. Jaskier is sure he’s never heard the man sound quite like that before.

“It is you,” even if he can’t see you, Jaskier can sense the small smile that grows on your lips by the tone of your voice. “I... I thought i’d never see you again.”

Geralt doesn’t say anything. Jaskier takes it upon himself to. “You know each other?”

Instantly, your eyes fall on Jaskier, fear flooding your gaze. It settles uncomfortably in Jaskier’s stomach and he frowns, loosing the chestire grin and softening his gaze in hopes of showing you he means no harm. Geralt just simply glares at him, stepping back and beginning the tedious work of unlocking all five bars that keep you trapped on the other side of that door.

When the door is open, you’re in nothing more than a tattered dress with a cuff connected to a chain against the wall around your ankle.

Instantly, you fall into Geralt’s arms. He holds you carefully, keeping you steady and returning the embrace for a moment before pulling back, eyes flickering across yourself in search of injuries. Jaskier think it’s to be pointless; anyone could tell you’re worse for wear by one look into your gaze. You looked... afraid, frightened even.

Scuff marks cover your entire self. Dirt is stuck to your cheeks, your hair a tattered mess. As you wobble on your feet, Jaskier’s eyes is brought down to your ankle, where burn marks reside from the cuff. You look tired, skinny (unbearably so -- like you haven’t been fed in days) and most of all, you just look... sad. That’s the only word Jaskier can find to describe the expression in your eyes.

“We’re getting you out of here,” Geralt says firmly, pulling back to lean down, grabbing the chain gently in his heads.

“You can’t. He’ll -- the King -- will have your head. I... I already tried to escaping, I don’t want to--”

Geralt stops you with one look. “I will free you from here. If I had known you’d been here, I would’ve came a lot sooner.”

Jaskier’s brows furrow; “I mean no offence, my lady, but... why would the King want you?”

You frown up at the boy, hesitant. A nod from Geralt assures you it’s okay and with a shaky breath, you race your hand, your fingers stretching outwards as the same red and orange hue glows. It’s fire. You’re conjuring fire from your very own fingers.

“Oh,” Jaskier frowns, “you’re an elemental.”

You nod.

With one tug of his brute strength, Geralt manages to free you from the chain. The cuff was still locked around your ankle, but none of you have very much time to dwell on it. “The King, he’ll... he’ll come down soon,” you explain, voice shaky. “He will... if he finds us, i’ll never get away. He already put fire-resistant metal bars on the door, I... I don’t want to be stuck here forever, Geralt.”

Geralt glances at Jaskier, who nods, not eager to be on the reciprocating end of this King’s wrath. With that Geralt turns to you, taking you into his arms and rushing forward, his steps quick. Jaskier follows closely behind, his head consistently turning behind him in fear of being caught.

And for a while, nothing happens. The three of you actually manage to make it outside, just by the gates. But, the King and his guards are already there, waiting for you.

“Witcher,” the King boasts, “I do believe you have something of mine.”

No one says anything. But the look in Geralt’s eyes is deadly.

“I’m afraid i’ll need her back before you can leave.”

With a glance around, Jaskier realizes just what kind of trouble you’re all in. You’re completely surrounded, a guard at every corner, and even the Witcher himself wasn’t that good to defeat every single one of them. A sinking feeling erupts within Jaskier and for the first time, he wonders if he’ll actually make it out of this one alive.

Geralt tasks him with the job of keeping you safe while he valiantly fights off any guard that comes his way. But, he is overpowered eventually. Jaskier watches with fear in his gaze Geralt is knocked down to his knees, a grunt of pain leaving his lips as he slashed across the chest.

In the next second, you’re ripping yourself from his gaze.

“No!” Your voice booms, interrupting everything and creating a domino-effect of silence. Jaskier is nearly knocked off his own feet at the power behind your voice, stumbling backwards. He watches with wide eyes as you position yourself directly before Geralt, protecting him with your body, hands held out before yourself.

“You know it’s futile, witch.” The King laughs, “I will never let you go.”

“I am not your toy,” you growl, voice leethal. It’s so different then the feeble tone Jaskier had heard you speak in moments ago. You are so different then from then. Something within you has changed and even having only known you for no more than twenty minutes, Jaskier feels as if this was who you were. Before you were... broken.

“I never was.”

A wave of fire leaves your hands, directed towards the King. Just the King. A wave of heat hits Jaskier in the face, making his skin grow hot. But he barely pays mind to it, amazed at the sight before him.

The King falls to his back. His guards rush forward with the intent to protect, enact revenge, anything, but a swipe of your hand as them screaming in pain as their skin burns and they’re knocked back.

Eventually, any guards remaining realize; maybe it’s just not worth their life. They flee within seconds.

You stand there for a moment, chest rising and falling rapidly, before your legs wobble beneath you. You sway for a moment longer and then, you’re falling.

Geralt catches you swiftly in his arms.

There’s a moment of confusion, exhaustion, you blinking slowly up at Geralt before your lips curve up into a soft smile. Your hand rises slowly, falling on his cheek. “You found me...”

And Geralt just smirks; “I told you I would.”

And Jaskier can’t help but think, this will make a song that’ll go down in history.

-

Let me know what you thought?

[cuntess-carmilla]

Common traits of Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome

I’m not a doctor, so there may be some details off here though tbh chronically ill people usually know more than most doctors. I'm making this post because there’s very little awareness about this, and people who fit the diagnosis criteria end up never being diagnosed and suffering in silence, even risking early deaths, as I now suspect happened to my grandma.

Definition:

Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS) is a group of disorders that affect connective tissue. It’s a genetic disorder that has no cure, but does have palliative treatments depending on the type of EDS.

All types of EDS are characterized by abnormal collagen synthesis. This doesn’t mean that you have too little collagen (necessarily?), but that the collagen your body synthesizes is and will always be altered or of bad quality, regardless of how much of it you synthesize.

EDS is regarded as “rare” by most doctors, but many patients believe it’s more common than they think, only being so “rare” on paper because doctors perceive it as rare, so they don’t diagnose patients despite fitting the criteria (search why EDS communities use the zebra as a symbol). Due to this, EDS communities encourage self-diagnosis, and many times even self-treatment.

Abnormal collagen sounds like it’s “only” one thing, but collagen is a key structural protein ALL over the body, so if your collagen is wrong, a lot of things are wrong or at the very least unusual. As a result, EDS affects the skin, ligaments, joints, blood vessels and other organs (including gastrointestinal organs and the uterus).

Common traits and symptoms:

Please, keep in mind that these symptoms don’t have to be super extreme to count. EDS symptoms range from mild to severe. Most of my symptoms aren’t remarkably visible to the eye, but they’re still bad enough that I suffer tremendously and it affects every single aspect of my life.

Take into account that many of the following traits/symptoms aren’t exclusive to EDS, but if you have more than one or two...

Joint hypermobility: Being "double jointed". The joints are so lax, that they luxate or even dislocate for as much as staying still in the same position too long. It can affect some joints, or all joints, small joints or big joints. It obviously comes associated with joint pain, including chronic joint pain. Can also manifest as scoliosis.

Skin elasticity: You can pull your skin (by pinching it) and it stretches more than the skin of most people. This can, in some cases, make EDS patients prone to skin sagging.

Abnormal scarring: The skin of people with EDS is fragile and elastic, and takes longer to heal. Abnormal scarring includes “cigarette paper” scarring, keloids, slow scarring and healing, higher propensity to stretch marks, post-inflammatory hyper-pigmentation.

Bruising too easily: The blood vessels of people with EDS are fragile to one degree or another. This makes us prone to bruising easily or dramatically, to the point some present spontaneous bruising. Spontaneous bruising might point to vascular EDS, in which case please seek medical help because it’s the most dangerous form of EDS. There’s cases recorded of parents who’ve been falsely accused of beating their children because of the child’s easy or spontaneous bruising.

Digestive and/or nutritional issues: GUESS what intestines and other digestive organs are made of. Yes, collagen. People with EDS are prone to having delicate digestive systems (IBS, nausea, constipation, diarreah and food allergies included), and/or difficulty absorbing the nutrients from our diet. This trait can be bad enough that the patient needs to be fed through a tube or have nutrients injected into their bloodstream, but most of us do fine with regular nutritional supplements (I recommend multivitamins and minerals). Among other things, the nutrient absorption issue makes us prone to excessive hydration due to imbalance of water-salt intake or absorption, and that’s a REALLY bad thing. It made my hair fall off MASSIVELY for years, and intensified my pain, brain fog and fatigue.

Chronic fatigue: Between the physical pain and bad nutrient absorption, most if not all of us experience chronic fatigue (as a symptom, not the disorder). This isn’t just being tired, it’s being exhausted to your bones for no reason all the time, even if you’ve done absolutely nothing in weeks. Might be pervasive, might be recurrent.

Muscle pain: When you have EDS Everything Hurts™. This can be exacerbated in EDS patients by imbalance of water-salt intake (generally leaning towards excessive hydration, but can be dehydration too).

Chronic pain: Everything Hurts™... All the time. It’s a general pain expanded throughout your body that just won’t go the fuck away no matter what you do. Except that this can be exacerbated by imbalance of water-salt intake too! Fixing mine made my chronic and muscle pain so much more bearable to the point that on a good day it’s GONE (just remember, your pee should NEVER be even close to clear, it should just not be solidly opaque, and you could damage your kidneys too by drinking too much water).

Brain fog: Linked to chronic fatigue and pain (ALSO POSSIBLY THE WATER-SALT INTAKE). Like chronic pain and fatigue, it’s not necessarily present every single day, but be recurrent instead. You can’t think. You can’t read or process what you read. You can’t turn thoughts into words. Your grammar goes to shit. You can’t retain or process new information. You can’t remember words that you KNOW you know. You can’t remember things in general. Someone asks you a simple question and it’s like they’re speaking to you in another language. You start to feel increasingly frustrated and desperate because you’re constantly disoriented and your mind is lagging like an old computer running on a 256 MB RAM memory. ERROR 404 BRAIN NOT FOUND TRY AGAIN LATER. Well, turns out you are not dumb, your body is not cooperating with you, and that includes your brain.

Asthma: Highly comorbid. Just... Everything is made of collagen, pal. EVERYTHING.

Autism: Don’t ask me why, but EDS and autism are highly comorbid too, so if you’re in the autism spectrum (same hat) and experience any or many of the other symptoms/traits listed, it’s very likely that you also have EDS.

Depression: It’s really hard to be "positive”, have any motivation or enjoy anything, when NOTHING in your body works right, Everything Hurts™ and you’re so depressingly exhausted that all you CAN do is lay in bed all day. People and doctors telling you you’re “faking it”, people thinking you’re lazy, underestimating how much pain and fatigue you’re going through, having to pull through all of that anyway because you have no other option (ie. your job is your or your family’s only source of income) does not help AT ALL with this.

Tight/narrow “inner plumbing”: In my case, my throat is so narrow, that swallowing one (1) small pill is genuinely difficult, and big pills make me GAG. But its not just your throat, it’s ALL your plumbing being too tight or narrow.

Varicose veins: The whole blood vessels being fragile thing. Most common in vascular EDS, please seek help if you think you may have that specific type.

Thin “transparent” soft skin: Again... FUCKING COLLAGEN. I think it’s obvious what this one means? Except it’s likely that it’s harder to notice the “transparent” part of it on darker skinned patients, but if you’re pale or light skinned, you’d be one of those people whose veins are very easy to see.

“Moldable” nails: Yet again, collagen is everywhere. Some of my nails (index and middle fingers) are slightly deformed because I tend to clench my hands A LOT by instinct and the continued pressure changed their shape.

Aracnodactilia, or “spidery” hands/fingers: The fingers are very skinny and long in proportion to the rest of the hand, can apply to feet too. Having very narrow feet (ie. your shoes are always to wide for you) is part of this.

Gynecological issues or abnormalities: Excessive bleeding during your period, bleeding outside your period, infertility, spontaneous abortions, pre-term labor, high risk pregnancies. Very common with vascular EDS too.

Dry eyes: I didn’t know about this one until like, literally two days ago but apparently it’s a thing, since the test this Chilean EDS specialist we’re hoping to see gives you, includes it as a potential symptom.

“Elongated” body, face (and its features) and/or limbs: Actually the aracnodactilia is often part of this. I also have no idea why but many EDS patients have “elongated”, narrower features, be it subtle or very visible.

Chronic fatigue and brain fog are really hard to describe properly to people who don’t go through them. Hell, even to people who DO go through them. So here’s two videos by Jessica Kellgren-Fozard (just in case, she was misdiagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, but discovered recently that she has EDS, besides her neurological condition). All her videos have CC.