#off themselves and then the entire fandom claps for you

[cherriiramen]

To those of y’all still posting art, headcanons, clips, screenshots, 3D models, and even little ramble blogs of Morston, I love you.

You’re carrying this tiny little ship on your shoulders despite the constant harassing in your inboxes, and I hope the hate doesn’t get to you. People still think we’re pedophiles, transphobes, racists, terrorists (yes unfortunately), child groomers, r*pists and god knows what else. Unfortunately most of us can’t even address the situation without getting violently mocked, and it’s STILL ongoing.

I think people never consider the actual psychological pov of the shippers, they’re always quick to jump that we’re.. child predators?? For shipping something they headcanon as ‘incestous’?? Some of us are literally still minors, and believe me when I say none of us shipped them for incestious/predatory reasons as you all suspect and blame us for. We NEVER had intentions to make it incestious NOR paedophilic, but hey ho, just because one person claimed so, everyone had to throw in the same accusations. I wanted to avoid speaking of all this but at this point it’s just becoming cruel.

If you found out a family member or an irl friend of yours shipped something you hate, would you also cry about it? Wouldn’t you THEN consider that attacking them would be inhumane behaviour? But nahhh, we can be cunts on the internet just ‘cuz we aren’t free enough to do so away from the screen in fear actual human beings would call us insane, right?

Morston is not problematic, but you all gaslit yourselves into thinking it’s a severe issue in the fandom and that we’re horrible people. Is it? Isn’t our ‘problematic’ behaviour natural when we’re constantly getting harassed? So we can’t defend ourselves and our friends when they’re getting straight up bullied? Are you so clinically online to think it’s perfectly okay to go and harass people over what, two fictional characters? What’s worse is that there’s enough proof to make it acceptable, but you all just HAVE to disagree just to prove yourselves right. And then you get all sensitive and whiney when it leads to consequences or when people stand up to you. You not ONLY harass the shippers, but you forcefully drive people away from us. You harass anyone innocent who does as little as reblog our art. And what’s worse is we’re expected to sit down, zip our mouthes and watch you shit on us on a daily basis.

No Emily, we don’t want to hear your one millionth weekly rant blog on why Morston shippers should stay away from you. Neither do we need a reminder that we’re crusty.

And to know that almost the entire fandom claps for this kind of behaviour honestly disgusts me. Besides, I thought THE Roger Clark HIMSELF told y’all to cut the bullshit. Or did y’all completely disregard that just to fit your desires?

[grand-theft-carbohydrates]

wait im kinda new the 3k fandom, is half of it actual history and the other half just… homoerotic relationships with right-hand-mans?

first of all, welcome aboard! tldr: if your historical RPF doesn't ruin a politician's reputation for the next 800 years, are you even doing it right? yes Romance of the Three Kingdoms is based on actual history! it's set in the early 3rd century Han Dyansty (around 200 CE), during a bloody on-and-off civil war called the Three Kingdoms Period. The novel itself was written in the 14th century, nearly 1100 years after it all went down. if you disregard (most) of the supernatural elements, the story is fairly accurate, around 3 parts fiction and 7 parts fact. The novel was based on a compilation of historical records called the Records of the Three Kingdoms.

I must apologise on behalf of me and the mutuals for giving you a skewed impression of the homo. Sadly 3k is about 70% history, 25% socio-political allegory and only 5% Manly Love Between the Liege and His Vassal. Homoeroticism-Cao who was defeated at Red Cliffs and pines after the enemy general every sichen was an outlier and should not have been counted. that's on us.

the 3k novel was written during a time of civil unrest and a crises of national identity. during the Yuan dynasty parts of China were taken over by the Mongols, which eventually collapsed and gave way to the Ming. the author Luo Guanzhong lived during the late Yuan-early Ming period, he saw himself as an intelligent and capable man who never managed to find a worthy liege or a great cause to serve, in the end he became disillusioned and sunk to the lowest possible depths for a gentleman-scholar; writing novels (gasp!). the novel is only attributed to him because it was published anonymously, but it fits his MO. for example, Liu Bei's civil advisor/PM Zhuge Liang was changed so much he basically became the author's self-insert; he is a scholar-recluse who finds a worthy, benevolent master and then devotes his entire life to fulfilling his dreams of unifying the country. and also he's a military genius who single-handedly defeated cao cao and then everyone clapped.

This was also where a lot of revisionism became codified. Prior to this, Cao Cao was considered the real hero of the story, especially by the educated elite. His empire was also succeeded by the Jin Dynasty, so of course they needed to legitimise him. Liu Bei was seen as an opportunist and a disruptor, though he was always beloved by the common people who related to his struggles and were touched by his (seemingly genuine) kindness to them. The big change happened because after the Mongol invasion, the Yuan was split in two, the official dynasty submitted to Mongol rule. The other part saw themselves as the underdogs and righteous rebels, just like Liu Bei standing up to Big Bad Cao Cao.

Prior to this, 3k mainly existed in the form of folktales with different interpretations, and LGZ was the first person to create a single, unified narrative out of it. there's really cute accounts of contemporaries in different dynasties being all "idgi? all the kids boo when cao cao shows up, but they cheer when liu bei wins, and cries when he loses." truely a Blorbo of the people.

[chirpsythismorning]

This is separate from people making Noah’s coming out all about byler, without ever separating Noah from Will, because yes that’s weird. But also entirely expected, like that’s as fandom behavior as it gets.

But for the sake of making a point here, what’s the main argument people use for why byler won’t happen?

It’s that the Duffers are just two straight old white dudes and the actors playing the characters are two straight white dudes. And because of that they’re probably all homophobic so it’ll never happen and if anything the opposite, most messed up ending, is more likely.

Heteronormativity and the assumptions that everyone is definitively straight, until they explicitly say otherwise, is something homophobes depend on.

Now all the people with ignorant arguments like that can do after this news, is bitch about how no one cares that he’s gay and it’s not even a big deal… a concept Noah literally references in his TikTok.

Even though I think straight ppl mean well when they say who cares, they’re ignoring the fact that straightness is the default expectation in our society. And this puts a lot a weight on queer people’s shoulders their entire lives, to essentially live a lie until they finally get the courage to come out.

Noah admitted that it took him 18 years to come out to his family and friends bc he was too scared to.

The reality is straight ppl mostly don’t want to talk/think about it and that’s why they get upset with too much discussion about the possibility in terms of byler and Stranger Things in general.

Unfortunately for all the practicing homophobes in the fandom, they’re going to get a big lesson on heteronormativity and the reality that literally anyone could be/not be gay.

Your best friend. Your brother. Your mom. Your gramma… You.

And that’s what scares ppl who’ve been internalizing homophobia their whole lives. They don’t want to talk/think about it for a reason. And it has nothing to do with actual other queer people just existing, it’s what they’re scared it could or could not mean for them. And they are making a vow to themselves to never find out.

And it’s because they know how gay people are treated and they don’t want to be the butt of jokes like that. They want to belong with people that are ‘normal’ or the default in society. And so hearing those same homophobes try to downplay and discredit Noah for coming out, it’s honestly just sad. The cycle of homophobia/internalized homophobia is so fucking depressing and it affects all of us.

Idec about specific ships at this point, it’s sad that a lot of men/boys in our society still see being gay as a negative thing, something they have to distance themselves from. And by being homophobic, they feel like they’re successful in achieving that distance.

And as much as homophobes piss me off every now and then online and in real life… I know why they’re doing it. Because they’ve been rewarded for it all their lives. They’ve been told doing the opposite made them different.

People forget (or are just unaware I guess) that Noah literally clapped back at byler fans on Twitter post-s2, saying, “why can’t boys just be friends anymore??”… yeah he literally made a textbook Reddit argument… though he has since deleted it…

And so I do hope that future generations of boys and girls are going to feel more comfortable accepting themselves, making it easier for us to be willing to look inward and not be scared and to eventually maybe get to a point where we don’t even have to come out as queer, we can just love who we love and it just is.

But that’s just not reality at this time.

And so yes I’m relieved that Noah himself was comfortable enough to share this with the world and didn’t spend anymore time hiding his sexuality, assuming he wanted to be out!

[justhere4thevibez]

Happy ficiversary, babe! To launch more of your gorgeous fic into the Hellcheer fandom, have a prompt:

Eddie and Chrissy's first date! Maybe even the drive there, like Eddie is super nervous and he doesn't realise Chrissy is too, so they have a quick kiss to calm themselves 😉 Or the date itself!

Aww thank you!!! This is such a cute prompt!!! Here you go:

Honestly? Eddie fucking hated first dates.

Like, intellectually, he knew they were necessary. Without a first date you couldn’t get a second date, let alone a third. But the first date was always a goddamn nightmare. You didn’t know them, and they didn’t know you, and the more you liked the other person the dumber you acted.

Or maybe that was just him.

And fuck, he really liked this girl. At least, he liked the way she texted, and that was saying something. They’d been texting for approximately four days, and for the last three days and twenty-three hours he’d been dying to meet her. And yet he was also goddamn terrified.

By the time he went to pick up his date, his hands were sweaty and he was somehow cold and hot, which should be physically impossible. Yet here he was, Eddie Munson, eighth wonder of the world about to die from both hypothermia and heatstroke. Truly, he was a marvel.

He pulled up to their designated pickup spot (a coffee shop, which was very sensible of his mystery girl) and immediately regretted not taking Steve up on his offer to borrow the car. What chick in her right mind would get in his van? None, probably. And he was over dating crazies. Mostly.

But before long, the cutest little redhead walked hesitantly over to his lurker-esque van and tapped timidly on his window.

“Eddie?” she asked, tilting her head to the side like she didn’t quite know what to make of him.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, doing his best to give her a not-creepy smile. What even made a smile creepy? Fuck if he knew. “Chrissy?”

“That’s me,” she said, gripping the strap of her purse tightly.

Goddamn, she was beautiful. He’d hoped she was—and he was already so enamored that it didn’t particularly matter to him what she looked like—but fuck. Big blue eyes, pink cheeks that he wanted to fucking bite (he wouldn’t, but oh how they tempted him), and she was wearing this cute little pink dress that tickled her thighs, showing her legs off in a goddamn delectable way.

She was so fucking far out of his league.

And yet she was already hopping into his van and buckling her seatbelt. Honestly, the fact that she hadn’t run screaming from his shitty van and weird-ass style (he liked it, but nobody else ever did) was a bit of a shock.

Think of something to say, his brain screamed at him as he drove to the restaurant he hoped to god would impress her—or at least be good enough that she’d want a second date.

“You’re pretty,” he finally blurted out.

Immediately, he wanted to slam his head into the steering wheel. Goddamn understatement of the year. Chrissy was a goddess in human form, fucking Tinúviel of the modern age, and he’d called her pretty? His head should be on a damn chopping block.

“Oh, thanks,” she said, sounding surprised. “You, too.”

She clapped her hand to her mouth as he let out a startled laugh. He’d been called many things over the years—most of them highly unflattering—but pretty? That was a new one.

“I’m sorry,” she said, covering her flaming cheeks with her hands. “I didn’t mean that, I—I’m just nervous. It’s, uh, been a while.”

“No, no, no take-backs,” he said, shaking his head firmly. “I’m officially pretty.” He pulled into the restaurant parking lot, and once he put the van in park he turned to her. “Just so you know, I’m nervous, too.”

“Really?” she asked, surprised. “But you’re so—”

She waved a hand in his general direction as though to encompass his entire aesthetic.

“Yeah, no,” he said, getting out and running around to open her door. “I’m fucking terrified of you.”

“Me?” she asked, offering him a confused smile.

“Yeah, you.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and she leaned into his touch. “I really like you, and I really don’t want to mess this up.”

“Oh.” She reached up to catch his hand before he could pull away. “I’m not really that scary. Is—is there anything that would help?”

“A kiss might make it all better,” he said, then slapped a hand to his forehead. Fucking idiot. “Shit, I didn’t—”

She pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him more effectively than any insult ever had.

“I think I can help with that,” she whispered, biting her lip.

“You—you do?” he asked, his voice a little hoarse.

“Uh huh.” She tilted his face toward her. “Want me to make it all better?”

“God, please,” he whispered.

She lifted up on her tiptoes, her dress billowing in the evening air, and pressed her soft lips to his. Their kiss was brief and chaste, and fuck he’d never loved anything more. He fucking whined when she pulled away, and she giggled, the sound as sweet as her lips had been.

“Don’t worry,” she said, interlacing her fingers in his and pulling him toward the restaurant. “There’s plenty more where that came from.”

[actress4him]

For bthb, could you do Keith with seizures? The cause could be something to with him being half Galra? Maybe it happens in the atlas (season 8?) completely optional suggestion I’d love it if you only do the first part (first time suggesting something so sorry if this is worded weirdly)

It’s been ages, and whoever you are, dear anon, I have no idea whether you’ll ever actually see this, but I hope you do and I hope you enjoy.

@badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Prompt: Seizures

Contains: dude whump, sensory overload, self-deprecating thoughts, seizure, references to past questionable foster care

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Voltron had saved another planet. That meant yet another celebration to thank them, something that the team always had mixed feelings about. Lance and Allura and Coran loved them, always ready for a chance to mingle and socialize (and in Lance’s case, flirt), while Pidge and Keith were less than thrilled, both of them preferring to stay away from social situations whenever possible. Shiro and Hunk seemed to fall somewhere in the middle, only really complaining if they were especially tired, but enjoying themselves most of the time once they were there. 

He didn’t know about the others, but Keith also struggled with seeing the necessity of these events. Sure, he knew that the planet’s people were thankful for their help, but did it really require a party every time? Didn’t they have better things they could be doing, like, you know, saving more planets? This was a war. Allura was always preaching the importance of diplomacy, but he had a hard time believing that it should take precedence over battles.

Plus, they never really knew what they were getting themselves into when landing on an alien planet. Of all the members of Voltron, Keith really should have been the best at getting thrown into new, unknown situations. After all, that’s how he’d spent his entire childhood. But those families had all been human, at least, and therefore mostly predictable. Alien planets were anything but.

For instance, on most planets the celebrations had been rather formal affairs, some even with dancing like a ball straight out of a movie. Others had been more casual, and many focused on food (those were Hunk’s favorites, of course). 

On this particular planet, though, as soon as the president announced that the festivities would begin, the ballroom-like space turned instantly into a club. The main lights switched off, but were replaced by multi-colored beams that spun wildly around the room. Speakers hidden somewhere in the ceiling and walls began blasting what apparently passed as music on this planet, complete with a drumbeat that vibrated the floor.

Keith, taken completely off guard, couldn’t stop his violent flinch. He did, however, just barely catch himself before his hands clapped over his ears. Sucking in a deep breath, he forced his arms back down by his sides. Loud sounds had always been miserable for him. He’d had to learn a long time ago that it wasn’t always appropriate to indulge himself and try to block them out, though. Some people didn’t take very kindly to that, and the last thing he wanted was to insult anyone here. Allura would have his head. 

The lights were awful, too, and he blinked several times in a row before settling on just squinting at everything. Every time one flashed directly across his face he winced, trying not to squeeze his eyes shut and leave them that way. Not that it mattered much if he did, he could still see the colors behind his eyelids.

“Woo!” Lance yelled, immediately getting into the spirit and waving his arms over his head. “Heck yeah, this is what I call a party!” And he was off, sliding and bopping through the crowd, getting everyone around him excited and dancing.

Why can’t you be more like him? that ugly voice in Keith’s head sneered. Everybody loves Lance, no matter where we go. Really, why can’t you be more like any of them?

The rest of the team were all looking far more comfortable in this environment than he ever could. Some were dancing, others eating and chatting. Even Pidge had found someone to talk technology or math with, judging by the passion in her expression. Meanwhile, he just stood there awkwardly, fighting against the strong urge in every inch of his body to flee the room and find somewhere dark and quiet to hide. 

Pretty recently he’d finally realized that his sensitive eyes and ears probably came from his Galra side, thanks to getting to know the Blades and his mom and finding out more about their physiology. That didn’t make him feel any better about it. Sure, he was getting more and more used to the whole half-Galra thing, and getting closer to actually, fully accepting it. But this was just another case of being Galra making him different. More accurately, weird. Another reason why he’d never fit in anywhere he went.

And that’s why I can’t be like them. Because I’m not like them, and I never will be. 

Weaving slowly through the crowd of aliens, Keith made his way toward the wall closest to the entrance. He tried his best not to bump into anyone, despite the fact that half of them were in the middle of flailing - ahem, dancing. Still, hands and sleeves brushed against his arms and shoulders. Somehow they felt like pins pricking his skin, even through his jacket. He hurried past, wrapping his arms around himself tightly and tucking himself up against the wall. But the wall was vibrating, like the floor. It shot up his spine into his head, making him clench his teeth even harder, and he quickly stood up straight again. 

He thought he was going to be sick. Which was stupid, it was just lights and music. But it was crawling underneath his skin, pounding into his temples, clogging up his throat.

He wanted to go home.

“Hey, man! You okay over here?” Hunk appeared next to him, shouting to be heard over the chaos of music and conversations. “You look kinda pale.”

The added noise stabbed through Keith’s skull, and he tried his hardest not to show it. “‘m fine.”

Finishing chewing whatever he’d just popped into his mouth, Hunk frowned and stepped a little closer. “You sure? I mean, I know you don’t like parties, but…this seems a bit worse than normal.”

Keith looked over at him. He seemed entirely genuine, as Hunk usually was. “The lights and music are just…” This time he failed to keep from flinching when one of the beams crossed his face. “A lot. It’s no big deal, though.”

“Ohhh.” Hunk’s expression morphed from concern to something that was probably pity, which is not what he was hoping for. “Yeah, Shiro said at some point that you have like, sensitive eyes and stuff, right? I’m sorry, man. You could go back to the Castle, you know. You don’t have to stay if you’re miserable.” 

He shook his head. “No, it’s…it’s fine.” He wasn’t going to disappear and risk it causing any number of problems - alien presidents getting offended, Allura deciding she needed them all to line up and have some sort of ceremony, some kind of further attack occurring. Call him paranoid, but all of the above had happened before. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be okay.” 

He really needed this conversation to end now, though. Having to talk and focus on what Hunk was saying, and also smelling the food he was holding on top of the smell of a bunch of alien sweat and perfumes was making things even worse. It felt like his head was going to explode with all of the sensations it was trying to process. 

In fact, maybe it was already exploding. Maybe it was slowly frying, at least, because there were stars appearing around him that he was pretty sure weren’t part of the party’s special effects. Hunk was saying something else next to him, but Keith couldn’t process it, staring up at the blinking stars. Everything in the room seemed to be moving in slow motion all of a sudden. Then there was an especially bright burst of light, and he vaguely felt himself falling.

.

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“I’ll be okay,” he said. “Don’t worry,” he said. But then Hunk was watching Keith stare off into space at nothing before starting to shake and dropping abruptly to the floor. 

“Whoa! Keith!” He dove onto his knees, torn between watching Keith’s whole body twitch and jerk uncontrollably and looking around frantically for someone to help him. Everyone’s attention was on the festivities, though, not down on the floor, and the music was way too loud to call out to anyone. Hunk was the only one who knew something was wrong.

And he was…not really equipped to handle something like this. He’d had some first aid classes, though, so he could…he could do this, right? It wasn’t like there was another choice. Keith needed him. 

This was definitely a seizure. And it was horrifying. But he had to ignore that and focus on what he could do. He knew he wasn’t supposed to hold onto him, couldn’t stop the terrible shaking that had taken over his body, but he was pretty sure it was a good idea to try and cushion his head. So he scooted over, reaching out tentatively and very, very carefully lifting Keith’s head with both hands until he could set it into his lap. 

The Red Paladin’s eyes were open, but only white was showing. Hunk’s heart was in his throat watching him. Vaguely he thought he remembered something about counting when someone was having a seizure, but he had no idea why or how much time had passed already so he didn’t try to start. All he could do at that point was watch and wait and hope that it would be over soon.

And eventually, after what seemed like a lifetime, it was. Keith’s body relaxed as quickly as it had begun seizing, going limp on the floor. He looked…dead. Which completely freaked Hunk out for a moment, almost more than the seizure had to start with, until he saw his chest rise and fall once, then twice. Okay. Okay, so he wasn’t dead. He was…not okay, but he wasn’t seizing and he wasn’t dead. Now he just needed to get someone’s attention, and since the shaking was past he was able to scoop him up in his arms and stand. 

It didn’t take long after that for someone to notice them then. One paladin draped across another’s arms was kind of concerning, apparently, and pretty soon they had a swarm of aliens and the other paladins around them, ready to help.

.

.

After the stars and the falling, Keith didn’t remember much besides a buzzing sensation, like electricity had taken over his limbs. The next thing he was fully aware of was opening his eyes to blissful darkness and quiet. The only sound was a whispered conversation in an unseen corner of the room, which quickly came to a halt when he shifted. 

“Keith? You with us, bud?”

“Y-yeah.” He stretched out his legs, trying to figure out what he was lying on and why it felt like someone had beaten him with a stick. Every single muscle in his body was sore, even ones he didn’t realize he had. “What, uh…what happened?”

Hunk scooted out to the edge of the chair across from him, catching his attention. “You, um…had a seizure. It was super scary, man. I’d be really okay if that never happened again, but I mean of course I don’t like, blame you for it, I highly doubt you did it on purpose.”

“I wasn’t actually there for the seizure part, but seeing you passed out wasn’t exactly reassuring, either,” Lance piped in, appearing to perch on the arm of Hunk’s chair. “I just thought you were pale before, that was like, ghost quality.”

Keith was still trying to wrap his mind around the concept of having a seizure, but he was surprised to see them both there, especially Lance. “You should still be at the party, not worrying over me. I didn’t mean to interrupt everything.”

“You think I was gonna keep dancing with the ladies while my teammate was in here dying?” Lance scoffed, sounding offended. “The ladies will just have to do without me for a little while.”

“The ladies are probably all waiting to thank Keith for distracting you for a few minutes,” Pidge quipped drily. She draped herself over the back of the couch that Keith was apparently lying on. “And he’s not dying, anyway. He’s fine.” Her eyes cut over to Keith’s face, and he could see concern trying not to show itself. “Right?”

“Um. Yeah. I…think.” He started to push himself up, grimacing a little at the pull on his muscles, but Pidge placed the heel of her hand on his forehead and shoved him back down.

“Cool it, cowboy, you need to rest.”

“I’m fine, really. I don’t know what happened, but…I’m okay now.” He was pretty sure, anyway. He felt relatively normal, other than the soreness, but not knowing what had brought on the seizure and whether or not it would happen again was a bit concerning, to say the least. “It isn’t the first time I’ve had one, anyway. Happened once when I was a kid, too. And I was fine then,” he added quickly.

“Was there a lot of sensory input happening then, too?” Shiro crossed the room, tucking a datapad into his pocket. “Hunk said you were complaining about the lights and music.”

Keith thought back to the first incident, at a foster brother’s birthday party in an arcade. “Yeah. There was.” The foster parents had sent him away after that, claiming they were unprepared to deal with major medical issues. Never mind that it hadn’t happened again for almost a decade, and not until he was all the way in outer space.

Shiro nodded. “I was just talking to the Blade’s medic. Apparently it isn’t a common thing for Galra to experience, but he has seen it before in mixed species. The Galra sensory issues combined with…something that certain other races have, it was a bit over my head. But he’d like to run some tests next time he sees you, just to be sure.”

Keith groaned and shook his head. Just what he needed, more tests by the Blade trying to figure out how exactly his body worked. 

“I appreciate you guys, um…being there for me. Helping me out. Especially, um, you, Hunk. I hate that I caused a scene, though. You all should get back before you’re missed too much.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Hunk waved a hand dismissively. “Allura and Coran are still holding down the fort out there, though we should definitely let them know soon that you’re awake and okay. They were worried about you.”

“We’d all much rather be in here making sure you’re okay, Mullet.”

It never failed to surprise him, hearing the rest of the team express any kind of care and concern for him. A warm feeling invaded his chest and eased some of the tension in his body.

“And Keith? If this ever happens again, will you please let us know so we can help before your body freaks out?” Pidge poked him in the stomach to emphasize her words.

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I can do that, I guess.” Part of him still wanted to protest about diplomacy and not angering aliens and such, but he knew he’d just get shut down. Instead he glanced around at the team and smiled a little. “Thanks.”

————————————————

Bingo requests are open, but only for my OCs at this time, and with no guarantee of how long it will take me to fulfill them!

[aquilathefighter]

Fluffbruary 9: Harmony

Find all of my @fluffbruary ficlets on AO3 here!

Fandom: The Sandman (2022)

Relationship: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

“Happy Friday everyone!” Hob shouts into the microphone. The small stage in the corner of the New Inn is set up with a pair of speakers, a microphone stand, and most importantly, an iPad on a stand, hooked into the sound system and a laptop.

“Who’s ready for some karaoke!? We’ve got the incredible DJ Johanna ready to play your favorite hits. Have a look through the selection and we’ll get going!” He hops off the stage to slide into the booth in the corner across from Dream.

“Well? Wanna sing a duet together?” Hob waggles his eyebrows at Dream, whose eyebrows scrunch minutely. “I’ll take that as a no,” he laughs. The first patron steps up to the stage and the first notes to some pop song Hob doesn’t recognize start to play. He thinks he appears calm, or at least he hopes he does. Tonight, he’s either doing something amazing or tremendously idiotic. He scrubs his hands down the front of his jeans, begging the sweat on his palms to stop. Dream is enraptured by the singer, who is surprisingly good, in Hob’s opinion. He starts tapping his fingers on the table to the beat, releasing some of the nervous energy built up over the entire day for what he’s planned.

As the final notes of the song play out and the audience claps, Hob steels himself. No going back now.

“Now give it up for our very own Robbie!” Johanna says over the mic at her table. Hob stands, taking in a deep breath and hopping back onstage. He gives a little wave and a bow to his regulars, then takes the microphone. Dream is staring right at him, and he then he thinks he’s going to pass out. The opening guitar notes ring out and the audience screams. His regulars aren’t stupid, they’ve known he’s in love with Dream since the day he walked back into Hob’s life. Always asking him about “that goth twink” of his, “when’s he coming around again?”, and “when are you going to actually ask him out, Rob?” It doesn’t help that Dream looks strikingly similar to Robert Smith, making his purpose of choosing this song entirely too obvious. Jesus, they’d even made the comparison themselves! Whatever. This was for Dream.

He starts to sway back and forth as the introduction plays. The butterflies in his stomach start flying in a tornado as he brings the microphone up to his mouth, refusing to meet Dream’s eyes until he gets into the song a little more.

He sings, “I don’t care if Monday’s blue, Tuesday’s grey and Wednesday too. Thursday, I don’t care about you. It’s Friday, I’m in love.” He begins to lose himself in the song, starting to perform the way he usually does on karaoke nights. At some point, he accidentally locks eyes with Dream. He looks like he’s going to cry. His eyes are glistening with tears that Hob can see from across the room. The corners of his lips are turned up in what is practically a grin for Dream.

The verse ends and the buildup to the bridge begins. Hob closes his eyes and spins around the stage. When he opens them and looks to the booth. Dream isn’t there. Had he scared him away? He’s just about to tell Johanna to cut the song when he hears two combat boots make contact with the stage. Dream. Hob bursts into a grin as Dream leans towards him. The screen showing the lyrics signals that it’s almost time to sing again.

As Hob sings the first line of the bridge, Dream sings the harmony. His voice is angelic, Hob can’t believe how beautiful it is. He’s leaning so close to Hob to sing into the microphone that Hob thinks he’s going to die on the spot, immortality be damned. They lock eyes again, only inches apart. The entire crowd is screaming and hollering but neither Hob nor Dream are paying any attention.

The music continues to build as their voices blend together as they sing the final lines of the bridge: “You can never get enough, enough of this stuff. It’s Friday, I’m in love.”

As they sing the chorus again, Hob reaches out to place his hand on Dream’s waist. He feels Dream’s muscles clenching as he sings and inches even closer. They sing the vocalizations that end the song and as it begins to close out, so he slips the microphone back onto the stand and pulls Dream into his arms. Dream smiles, bringing his arms up to wrap around Hob’s shoulders. Hob sucks in a breath and decides to risk it. He leans forward, turning his head to the right to meet Dream’s lips. Dream immediately responds, becoming putty in his arms.

The kiss is relatively chaste, considering how Hob wants to devour Dream whole. He presses in, Dream’s lips softer than anyone Hob had ever kissed. He nibbles at his bottom lip, just to tease him, then steps back, tuning back into the crowd losing their minds.

He hears Harry, one of his regulars, shout, “You finally did it mate! Great job!” as he guides Dream back down the stage’s stairs. They slide back into their booth, this time on the same side. Dream is glued to his side, sitting so their shoulders down to their thighs.

“I was not expecting this when you invited me, Hob Gadling.”

Hob grins and says, “Surprise?”

“It is fortuitous I listened to your music recommendations,” Dream rumbles. “I do enjoy the Cure. Certainly now.”

“We are going to discuss this later,” he says as he caresses Dream’s cheek. “But for now, I just want to enjoy the night. It’s true by the way. It’s Friday and I’m in love. With you.”

Dream hums in assent. “As am I,” and he leans in.

[winns-stuff]

LO APPRECIATION:

Okay I’ve been seeing all of the content about the wedding and.. God do I have thoughts but it’s better to just cool down now with an appreciation so I don’t say anything harsh because genuinely I’m at a point with these rants where it gets hard to say things nicely, I’m ready to just say it how it is and stop sugarcoating it. But we’re not here for that, the lovely goddess that I want to appreciate today is underrated as hell and basically an antagonist to Persephone blah blah whatever, me personally I’ve always loved her design and I genuinely think she’s peak character design. The amazing goddess that we all know and hopefully love is Hestia! And everyone clapped.

Yeahh so I thought I would hype my girl up more because genuinely I don’t like how the story treats her at fucking all. First off, I hated how they got rid of her original colors and made her look like an off brand Hera it’s really annoying and I wish they actually had character sheets down. Hestia was always right about everything I don’t care and everyone tried to make it seem like she was a prude, y’all just can’t fathom that Hades is a bad guy and that it would do Persephone good to stay away from him. Hestia has common sense, she’s a sensible and rational lady and she’s the only character that I still tolerate and hasn’t been affected by bad characterization that we see for every single fucking chapter. I adore her interactions with others and I genuinely feel like if the narrative wanted to make her some sort of antagonist or villain at least make her a cooler more threatening kind. I’m thinking live action Kaa from the Jungle Book Movie, we all know that Hestia is a very reserved and relaxed goddess so if you really did want to make her intimidating you could use that to your advantage. Like honestly, why did she have to be such a small role in a plot that took up three seasons?? It’s annoying and she deserved more screen time for my sanity.

Next I would like to talk about how fans treated her. I once answered an inbox that stated that some fans actually make disgusting comments about her weight and body type to insult her all because she took the damn coat from Persephone. It’s immature and incredible insensitive to go around saying stuff like that and it’s even harder to give stans the benefit of a doubt when they’re starting shit like this. I absolutely love how people try and defend themselves by saying it’s fictional while still going beyond the line just because you don’t like what this fictional character did. You should never insult someone’s body I don’t give a fuck how mad you are you don’t go around doing that because your favorite character got brought back to reality. It makes me sick I even have to say this, I genuinely feel like Rachel herself should actually call her fans out because this is a common theme for the fandom and I’m tired of seeing it. I don’t care about the whole “she’s a creator she’s not responsible for the ignorance of other people” statement when she has full fucking control over her fans and she’s obviously very active in the fandom. I’m not saying that she should just hound them like dogs whenever she can but I am saying that this is a big issue and since she is active in the community and she wants to be praised for all of this representation that she gives she shouldn’t be allowing people to openly insult fat characters as harshly as people do. It’s time to actually address it.

Speaking of representation, I absolutely hate how fat women in this fucking comic have little to no screen time at all. It’s so incredibly annoying since they always look so good, I can only count three women that we’ve seen in the entire LO series alone with Hestia’s body type and I hate how their beauty only gets seen once or twice every blue moon. Not all women have big boobs, perfect waist, and big butts and that’s okay. I would love to see more body diversity and I would absolutely love it if the few characters who represent different bodies be shown as more than villains. Hestia didn’t have to be an antagonist and we could’ve gotten more chapters of her and Persephone bonding, she could’ve been the one to show Persephone around and she could’ve been the one to explain to Persephone why Demeter is the way she is. She also could’ve been a strong figure in her support group or even a reminder of the mortal realm, hell she could’ve even been the cool auntie! Just anything except for this character that’s only there for you to hate.

Besides my nitpicks though I absolutely loved her wardrobe. She wears more clothes than Persephone is all I’ll say (I only say that because I genuinely feel like some of the things she wears is the same thing.. But that’s only because of all the white she wears all. the. time. It gets confusing as hell) and I really love how well they go with her personality and overall just how pretty she looks in them. Like honestly you’d think she got blessed twice with beauty by the way she just effortlessly outdoes everyone in the main cast, won’t even talk about Hera.

I also really love her personality, do I love that the comic wants us to believe she’s super strict and partially an ass kisser? No she deserves better than that. I love all of her facial expressions and the way that she delivers her lines, something about it makes me cackle and it’s only because I imagine it being put so bluntly and so straight forward. Like I get the feeling she has no chill when she says things and it makes me giggle every single time, I’ve always thought of her as a little portal to LO because in many ways I understand every single emotion she’s ever had especially towards Persephone and Hades. Stop acting like she’s crazy yall I’m begging you, to be frank with you I feel like she’s the only one that does genuinely care about Persephone because I just see her being a caring person. I don’t think that she’s evil or strict or any of that, I believe that just like Demeter she wants to see Persephone being free and happy and obviously something about Hades (we all know why) isn’t giving her the idea that she will be free and happy.

Again going back to her original character design, it was peak character everything. The colors were so pretty and it really did match her nicely, I will forever be sad that I’ll never see more content of her but hey at least they did her a decent job on the recent episodes. Despite the whole Persephone and Demeter conversation she looked absolutely stunning and I was just so focused on her for the most part.

Anyways, that’s all I’ve got to say for her now but the praise will not stop just at this post. I really do hope that Hestia will continue to live her life peacefully and completely cut Persephone out because she genuinely gets on my nerves and I have a feeling that the feeling is mutual for Hestia.

[not-your-housekeeper98]

Fight Fire with Fire

Febuwhump day 3: Inferno

Fandom: Macgyver

Summary: Mac and Jack are trapped in a burning building and Mac has an idea

Ao3 Link

Also posted below

“Did you mean to set that fire,” Jack paused to catch his breath.

He and Mac were  running as fast as possible through a burning warehouse.

“Let’s just say yes,” answered Mac.

“Well I guess that worked as a distraction but how are we going to get out?” 

They had come to the exit which was also ablaze.

“Great,” said Mac and wiped the sweat that was forming on his face. The heat was intense.

Mac and Jack turned to run back the way they came which was now blocked by a burning beam.

“Now what are we supposed to do?,” asked Mac of nobody in particular, he ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

“I know you’ll think of something,” said Jack, taking off his shirt and tying it around his nose and mouth, “but make it fast, we’re running out of air in here.”

“I’m thinking,” Mac replied, pacing in the small area they had left.

They were surrounded by a large variety of objects typically found in deserted warehouses whose main occupants were terrorists. Most of the barrels and boxes were marked flammable. On one side of the room was a large safe which had been left open when they surprised the men working here.

“Mac, we can’t stay here much longer, there’s too much smoke.”

Mac’s eyes lit up with inspiration, “Jack I need your phone.”

Jack immediately handed it over, “if it gets us out, but seriously I think you start your plans with what could I do with Jack’s phone.”

Mac laughed and shook his head, “ move these explosives as far away from the safe as you can and group them together.”

While Jack moved barrels Mac got to work dismantling Jack’s phone, creating some device with loose wires scattered around him. 

“OK, now what?” Jack asked.

“We get in the safe and I detonate the bomb with this remote trigger, the explosion will suck all the oxygen out of the building, cutting off the fire’s fuel source.”

“Mac, I hate to question your plans, but won’t that kill us too?”

“The safe should hopefully shield us from the blast and hold enough oxygen for us to breathe for a few minutes.”

“Hopefully?”

“We’re kind of out of options at this point.”

They both crammed themselves into the safe and closed the door. Mac set the trigger.

“Here goes nothing.”

The sound of the explosion was deafening and the safe was knocked over. After a few minutes they climbed out; bruised and coughing from smoke inhalation, but otherwise unhurt. The fire was extinguished and the entire building was in ruins.

Jack clapped Mac on the back, “I can’t believe that worked.”

Mac grinned, “Well, they say to fight fire with fire.”

[double-hoe-seven]

Did you know...

Summary: It’s amazing what kind of opportunities you receive with a little bit of well-placed knowledge. Pairing: Jan Maas x Reader Warnings: Jan being a nerd (love it), Jan being perfect, fluffy as fuck Fandom: Ted Lasso

"Did you know sea otters eat about a quarter of their body weight every day?" A voice asked, pulling you from your thoughts; you'd gotten lost, almost in a trance, watching the otters swim and play together in their habitat. You let out a quiet laugh and grinned at the man. "I did, actually. Did you know they have the thickest fur of any animal and, unlike most marine mammals-" You started, only for him to finish your sentence "they lack that insulating layer of blubber." "Some otters will find a good rock and keep it with them their entire lives," you said with a smile. "And they store the rocks in the pockets under their arms, along with food sometimes." "Did you know 90% of sea otters live near Alaska?" You questioned back. The blonde man smiled and joked, "that's a shame. Americans can not even take care of themselves and most of the otters are in their waters?" You couldn't help but let out a loud laugh at the jab. "Nobody ever said life was fair," you said with a chuckle. "If it were fair, I would have met you a long time ago," he flirted smoothly.

Your cheeks immediately started heating up. "My name's Jan," he introduced, holding his hand out with a grin. "It's nice to meet you, Jan." You said after introducing yourself and shaking hands. "How do you know so much about otters?" He asked curiously. "I work here." You said happily before continuing, "you actually caught me watching the make sure one of them was healing okay. We brought her in after a boating accident to make sure she healed properly." "Oh? Which one is she?" He asks curiously. "She's right over there," you said, pointing to the otter floating on her back in the sunny part of the water, several mostly healed lacerations on her body. "So are you a vet?" He asks. "I am," You nod.

He was silent for a moment before speaking again. "Maybe you'll let me take you out sometime, Doctor?" He asked hopefully. "Well, I'd never say no to a cafe date." You said with a hum. "When do you get off work, then?" He asked. "5. There's a good place a couple of blocks down the street if you want to meet there." You suggested. "Then I will meet you there." He readily agreed.

Neither of you knew what would happen after that date. A little over a year later, you and Jan were back at the aquarium for your wedding. You were married in the very area you met; in front of the otter habitat. The sound of your coworkers and his teammates clapping and cheering when you were introduced as husband and wife was almost deafening compared to the usual hushed tones people used inside. After the ceremony, everyone headed out to where the reception would be. Of course, when you went to feed each other a piece of your wedding cake, you both thought it would be funny to smash it in each other's faces. You laughed before kissing each other. The rest of the wedding went better than you ever could have dreamed.

At the end of the night, after saying your goodbyes and thanking people for coming, you and Jan left the airport. Two hours later, you were getting settled in your hotel room in Amsterdam for your honeymoon. While Jan was in the bathroom getting ready for bed, you were getting comfortable in bed and lost in your own thoughts. "Hey, Jan?" You called cautiously. "Yeah?" He responded, stepping out of the bathroom with the toothbrush still in his mouth. "Did you know I'm pregnant?" You asked sheepishly. His eyes grew wide, and he just dropped the toothbrush, only staring in surprise. "Jan?" You asked when he had yet to say anything. "When did you find out?" He asked, excitedly jumping into bed next to you with a big grin on his face. "A couple of days ago. I wanted to surprise you, but I wasn't sure how. So... surprise!" You said, unable to hold back your laughter when he excitedly started peppering kisses all over your face.

Tag Team: @bdffkierenwalker @anarchistbeauty​ @nottodaynib​

[crispyjenkins]

Can we get a fic where Jaster somehow gets sent to the future or something and him reacting to the clones? (Being pissed off that his ad would do something like this to these poor kids/ just reacting to them?)

(this one was so. fecking. hard. to write, i’ve been struggling with it for weeks, but i’m glad i did, because this is by far the best version i made of it. it’s interesting in how much my opinion of jango’s decision to be the template has changed since i first got this ask, and i was definitely coming at it with this post in mind for their characterisations here.

i love hondo. so you get hondo knowing jaster from pre-civil war days, and i don’t care if canon disagrees: hondo ohnaka has been terroising house mereel for three generations.

also i’ve already had a few people donate to my ko-fi and i’m completely floored by your kindness and generosity, and i sat down with this fill knowing i wanted to get it out as soon as possible. i sincerely love you all, i hope you’re all healthy and being as safe as possible.)

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  “Oh, Jango? We keep him here.” —Lama Su, AotC

-

  By some will of the Ka’ra, it’s Boba that finds him.

  The possibility of dying in his ad’s arms hadn’t exactly crossed Jaster’s mind until it happened, like a nightmare he had never even had. For the first time since the Fett farm burned, Jaster cursed the Ka’ra, and he curses them again when he wakes up not marching* to the stars, but standing knee-deep in the snows of Galidraan

  And the Ka’ra make sure he knows it’s Galidraan though he had never been there, just as he somehow knows Jango is long-since dead. That he is a dislocated bone in the universe, snapped out of time and place and thrown into a future where Jango’s face stares at him from a body that is not his.

  “Oh,” the teen with Jango’s nose says, the snow coming all the way up to their thighs, and they don't look dressed nearly warm enough for this biome. “Did Hondo send you?”

  Jaster blinks at them. “Did...? No, ad’ika, I have not spoken to Hondo in many years.” Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised Hondo is even still alive, Maker knows Jaster’s tried to kill him enough times himself, but if the number of years since his death on Korda Six is as many as he thinks it is, surely someone would have shot him by now.

  The teen doesn’t wear beskar’gam —it’s unlikely they’re even old enough to— but the style of the armor they do wear cannot be inspired by anything else, just reminiscent enough of evaar’gam that Jaster can’t help comparing every little detail about them with the faded image of Jango in his mind.

  “Then who the kriff are you?” They eye Jaster warily, left hand twitching towards the vibroblade at their hip.

  Promising to strangle every one of the Ka’ra when he can finally march away, and throwing the last of his caution down to the snow between them, Jaster simply says, “Jaster Mereel.”

  Impossibly, though maybe not entirely, not-Jango doesn’t laugh at him, or call him crazy, or even try to shoot him with the rifle slung over their shoulder. No, they straighten to their full height, and—

  And swear so colorfully in Huttese that Jaster knows this hell-child has absolutely been raised by Hondo Ohnaka.

-

  Boba takes him to the ruins of Kamino first, where the kriffing Sith Empire has destroyed another one of his people’s homes. 

  The growth labs were all blown into the ocean by imperial ilk soon after the formation of the empire, but the barracks and some of the training rooms still stand above the waves. In the ship he says belonged to Jango, Boba steers them to a dilapidated landing pad, controlling the Slave I (Maker, had Jaster really left Jango to that fate?) far too easily through the rubble for this to be his first time to return, and Jaster tries not to think about what that means.

  Walking the dark, grimy white halls, seeing the narrow bunks and bare req rooms, he then tries not to think about a child being raised in such a place, about hundreds of thousands of children being raised in such a place. How had Jango... chosen this for them?

  “I only have his stories,” Boba tells him quietly, when he shows Jaster the tiny apartment the Kaminoans had given them to “keep Jango close”. It’s bigger than most captain’s cabins, to be sure, but it is just as plain and white as the rest of the facility. “But he couldn’t even get one hundred Mandalorians to come and train the... clones.” He shuffles his feet uncomfortably as Jaster looks into the cupboard-sized kitchen and tries not to break down at the package of Mandalorian chiles rotted away on the counter. “Everyone else was New Mandalorian or Death Watch.”

  “And the rest... they fell at the Battle of Galidraan?”

“Buir always called it a massacre,” he looks away. “Only a handful of the Cuy’val Dar even considered themselves True Mandalorians, buir was there when the Jedi killed the rest.”

  Jaster inhales deeply, takes a few moments to steady himself, and is sickeningly, horrifyingly relieved. By the Maker, but knowing Jango had had no one left before his Kamino contract, that not even Skirata followed the codex anymore, that Jango had only taken the job after forcing Tyranus to give him an unaltered clone, makes Jaster guilty for having doubted his foundling. It doesn’t excuse anything, of course, but knowing Jango had done it all for aliit, well, it does make it easier to swallow.

  Boba leads him back out of the apartment, he had already stripped it of anything important years ago, and they don’t stick around after reboarding the Slave I. Only after they’re out of atmosphere with hyperspace coordinates for Tatooine in the astronav system does Boba join Jaster in the tiny galley with a bottle of tihaar that Jaster should probably reprimand him for, but won’t.

  “He tried to pretend he didn’t care, about the others,” Boba says and doesn’t even bother to find them glasses, “I think some days he even believed it.”

  “He always was stubborn as a rancor.”

  Boba takes a long pull from the bottle before passing it across the table. “Tyranus scared the shit out of me back then, he was too... put together, too fancy. Buir didn’t like him, I don’t know why he even did the tryout for him, the pay wasn’t even that great?”

  Rubbing his left eye until he sees stars, Jaster stares down into the bottle until he can come up with a way to explain core Mandalorian beliefs to a child that had barely a decade of living as one before that, too, had been taken from him. “If Jang’ika took that job intending to come out on the other side, I’ll kiss whatever Vizsla is left.”

  Boba’s mouth twists and he kicks his heels against the floor, not waiting for Jaster to hand it to him to grab the tihaar back. “Buir was an idiot,” he says, like the solve to a simple math problem, and Jaster can’t but agree.

  He sighs. “Unfortunately, he probably got that from somewhere.”

  “I mean, at least Montross didn’t live long enough to end up as the template? Kriffing fuck, can you imagine if the Jedi had had to work with that shabuir’s clones?”

  “Maybe the war would have ended sooner,” he muses and accepts the bottle, “surely this Emperor would have tired of his face much sooner than Jango’s.”

  “Or the Coruscant Guard would have shivved Palpatine in his sleep and tried to take over the Republic; what’s one betrayal of your leader to another?”

  “Then I’d like to think Jango would put him, them, in their place for a third time.”

  Snorting, Boba pushes to his feet to, presumably, check on the autopilot. “If buir would have even let it get that far, then I’ll kiss Vizsla.”

-

  “Old friend!” Hondo shouts as soon as he sees them, and Jaster winces, nursing his first hangover since his twenties.

  “Ohnaka,” he returns, and pretends he doesn’t notice the subtle way Boba brightens as Hondo comes to clap them both on the shoulders.

  The old pirate just chuckles and starts to steer them both back across the hangar bay to his latest junk ship. “I heard you died, Mand’alor,” he says casually, like the title isn’t cursed to the ka’ra and back, like it hadn’t been three decades since anyone had dared call someone from his house such a thing so sincerely.

  “I did.”

  “I found him on Galidraan,” Boba offers. “Is that why you told me to go?”

  Hondo scoffs, and Jaster would say he was flustered if he didn’t know him better. “No, I told you to go because Aurra had a job for you, that you seem to have forgotten about in your haste to bring my long lost best friend back to me.”

  Boba scowls. “Aurra wasn’t at the meeting place, laandur, it was a kriffing mynock chase and you know it.”

  Jaster side eyes his old “friend”, and wonders again about his preternatural... luck in all things pirate-related, despite being a boisterous mess of a man most of the time. If this Aurra had even been on the planet when Boba got there, Jaster will kiss Vizsla twice. 

-

Mando’a: Ka'ra — an ancient Mandalorian story, ruling council of fallen kings, “stars” ad — “child”, gender neutral 'ika — diminutive suffix, similar to the suffix “ita/o” in Spanish. generally used only by close family and friends beskar'gam — Armour made of beskar, “Mandalorian Iron” that was actually probably a steel alloy evaar'gam — lit. “youth armour”, fan name for the interim armour/garb Mandalorians would have worn before building their kit of beskar’gam buir — “parent”, gender neutral  Cuy'val Dar — “Those who no longer exist”, group of 75 Mando’ade and 25 others put together by Jango to train the clones aliit — “clan”, “family” tihaar — Mandalorian strong clear spirit made from fruit shabuir —  an extreme insult, mostly accepted in fandom to be an insult of an individual’s ability to parent (from buir), which is an intrinsic part of Mandalorian psyche and identity  laandur — used here as “weak”, “pathetic”, but is usually used as “delicate”, “fragile”

*in reference to the Mando’a word for the dead/deceased “taab'echaaj'la”, or “marched far away”, best explained in the Mando’a tribute to dead comrades, “not gone, merely marching far away”. 

[emsemotional]

out of line

Okay so this is a little baby one shot  based on my mental health advocate!mickey headcanon that I posted a little while back. I used to write a lot for various fandoms back in high school, but it’s been a while since I’ve written anything, and even longer since I’ve shared anything I’ve written with anyone other than @lewslew, so please be nice- I definitely have some room to grow with characterization and timing. 

This is taking place post-finale, so I’ve taken some liberties regarding what everyone ends up doing after the series. In my mind, Mickey and Ian buy the Gallagher house themselves, because they’re Southside boys at heart and they need a backyard for their dog (duh). But they’re waiting on their Westside lease to end, so Lip, Tami and Liam are staying in the house while Lip and Debbie fix it up and renovate a little (you can find my whole hc on what everyone’s up to post-series here). I was talking to @iansfreckles a while back about a possible Gallagher/Tamietti family dinner- I’m so interested in how this would go and how the families’ dynamics would interact. SO, this takes place at said Gallagher/Tamietti family cookout, right as Lip and Tami are moving out of the house, and Ian and Mickey are moving in. Cami and Brad’s kids are with Aunt Oopie, I dunno I didn’t want to write them haha. 

Content warning: ignorant/rude comments about individuals with mental illnesses and language akin to that of the show

-

Tami had almost said no when Cory asked to bring her new boyfriend to the Gallagher house. Between the Gallagher and Tamietti families, there were going to be plenty of big personalities under one roof, as is. But Cory had actually asked this time, and she had just babysat Fred during a last minute highlight appointment. Tami had reluctantly agreed and her sister had seemed so happy that she almost forgot her hesitation. 

Looking back, Tami’s decision was questionable. Lip had been able to prepare his family for the rest of the Tamietti’s, explaining the family dynamics and topics to avoid. Chad was a wildcard.

He had burst through the front door laughing loudly beside Brad and Cami, who didn’t seem to think the joke was as funny as Chad did. Cory and Bob followed them in, annoyance clear on Bob’s face. Tami and Lip moved to the door to greet their visitors, Tami depositing Fred in Carl’s lap, where he was sitting on the couch. Carl immediately grabbed the toddler under his arms, grinning at him and lifting him up above his head, making propellor noises on his way down. 

This, this is what Tami had wanted her family to see. The Tamiettis had made it clear that while they tolerated Lip, they thought Tami could do better. They thought he was ill equipped to help raise a family, constantly doubting his ability to provide, and his dedication to his family. Tami had tried to explain Lip’s role in his own family- the patriarch of the Gallagher home, a man who had been taking care of people for his entire life. Perhaps the only way for the other Tamiettis to see the value in the Gallagher side of Fred’s family, was to observe it first hand.

Lip made it to the Tamiettis first, shaking Bob’s hand and taking the handful of bags and jackets that were thrust into his arms. 

“No show Brad!” Tami cheered, hugging her sisters, “You made it!” 

Brad rolled his eyes, lightly clapping Tami on the shoulder, “Yeah, yeah, I’m here.”

Cory turned towards her sister, a wide smile on her face, “Tam, this is Chad, the guy I was telling you about?” 

Tami turned to shake his hand, finally giving him a good look. Truth be told, he looked like every other guy Cory had seriously dated- some tall, brunette, conventionally attractive, straight laced kind of guy. He didn’t seem any different from the other business majors, fraternity boys and bar bouncers that Cory had intruded her to. 

“Tami right? So great to meet you, thanks for inviting me!” 

“Of course, nice to meet you too! Come on in, you guys!” 

The Tamiettis settled into the living room, Cami choosing the seat next to Carl, cooing down to Fred, “There’s my favorite nephew! How are you sweet boy?” 

She ran a gentle hand across Fred’s head before introducing herself to Carl, “I’m Cami, Tami’s sister.” Carl swallowed a smirk at the rhyming names, nodding, “Carl, Lip’s brother.”

“Ah, the one buying the house?” 

“Nah, that’s Ian and Mickey, they’re upstairs somewhere. I’m the cop,” Carl stated proudly.

“Fuck the police!” Mickey’s voice called into the living room in response, as a flash of red and black hair came tumbling down the stairs. All the Tamiettis turned to watch Mickey jog through the living room with Franny on his shoulders, Ian chasing after them. 

“Get him Uncle Mickey!” Franny squealed, “He’s gonna catch us!”

“I’m a little busy running, kid. Hit ‘em or somethin’,” Mickey grunted, scrambling to hand his niece a rubber ball previously balanced on the back of the couch. 

Franny wound up her arm, tossing the ball at Ian’s head with all her six year old might, “Take that, Uncle Ian! You’re dead!”

Ian groaned dramatically, clutching his face and sliding onto the ground. He let out a theatrical sign and closed his eyes, finally defeated. 

Franny cheered as Mickey lifted her off his shoulders, “We did it! We killed him!” Franny dropped down to the ground to check that Ian had accepted his defeat, poking him in the back with the toe of her shoe.

Mickey gave her a crinkly grin, the kind he reserved for Franny and Ian alone- unguarded and childlike. “Sure did! Pretty badass if you ask me.” 

Ian got to his feet, tickling Franny’s stomach as he addressed the room, “Hey, sorry we were in the middle of… a game.” 

“Liquor store robbery!” Franny cheerfully announced. 

 Franny began introducing herself to the unfamiliar faces, sharing that she was in the first grade, enjoyed playing with guns, and wanted to be a welder like her mommy when she grew up. As Liam and Debbie descended the stairs, and the rest of the Gallaghers and Tamiettis introduced themselves, Tami marveled at how smoothly things seemed to be going. No one was yelling, or aggressively drunk, or making a thinly veiled classist comment- yet. 

The two families quickly settled into a comfortable chatter of introductions and the conversation, surprisingly, continued to flow without a hitch. They soon made their way outside, where Debbie and Bob chatted while manning the grill. The other family members scattered across the yard- Liam sat in a lawn chair typing on a laptop, occasionally asking Lip for grammar advice. Ian, in the middle of telling some wild story from his EMT days, was fully emerged in conversation with the rest of the Tamietti family while Mickey and Carl considered how many crimes Carl could theoretically arrest him for, arguing over how many years Mickey would have to serve. 

Everything was great- until Chad decided to open his mouth. They had finished dinner and were crammed into the living room, escaping the Chicago windchill. Chad was sharing one of his own work stories from the construction site he worked on, describing a man who had wandered onto the site and started yelling at Chad and some of his coworkers that week.

“Totally off his rocker,” Chad commented, “He kept telling us about how we were tearing down his house, and that he didn’t give us permission to do this. Just screaming at us, swearing, and he wouldn’t listen when we kept telling him that he trespassing, y’know? Just super crazy- needed a fucking Xanax or something.” 

Ian tensed, fiddling with the ring on his left hand while the other Gallaghers exchanged pointed glances. Tami began to interrupt, clearly in attempt to change the subject, but Chad continued. 

“The next day,” he explained, “the very next day, he came up to us and was asking to bum a smoke, like he didn’t fucking flip his crazy ass on us yesterday, I swear he must’ve been like bipolar or something, acting like we were old pals. Must’ve gotten carted off or killed or something, haven’t seen him since.” 

While the Tamiettis offered a polite chuckle, the Gallaghers remained silent. 

Mickey, who had been sitting on the couch next to Ian, looked up from his folded hands. “So you got something against bipolar people? It’s a fucking mental illness man.” 

Chad smiled, backtracking, “Hey, nah, calm down. He’s just some crazy homeless dude, who cares?” 

“He’s not just some crazy guy, he’s a person with a disease, the fuck’s wrong with you?” Mickey asked. 

Ian placed a hand on his husband’s shoulder shaking his head. “Mick, it’s fine. It doesn’t matter.”

Eyebrows raised comically high, Mickey stood and crossed his arms. “Um, fuck that, it does matter! You’re not a fucking punchline Ian. This is our house, yours and mine, and no one’s going to be talking like that in my house. Obviously no one else is going to say something, and you shouldn’t have to, so I will. I won’t stand for that shit.”

The Tamiettis exchanged horrified looks as the Gallaghers mostly just looked at the floor. Finally Lip spoke up from where he was standing by the TV, “Mental health is uh… a sensitive subject around here. We just… we take it seriously, y’know? First hand experiences and shit.” 

Cory opened her mouth to speak but she quickly stopped when she saw Tami swiftly shake her head in her direction, suggesting she stay out of it. 

Mickey lightly rubbed his eyebrow, “Yo, douchebag, apologize or get the hell out of my house.”

Chad raised his hands in surrender, “I didn’t realize it was such a big deal man, sorry.”

Mickey rolled his eyes with a huff, turning on his heel to walk towards the back of the house. Wordlessly, Ian followed him out the back door, leaving the living room in a heavy silence.

After a moment, Chad breaks the silence, “Look, I really didn’t mean to start something, I was just telling a story. Should I go out and apologize again, try to talk about it?”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Liam replied, “You should give Mickey some time to cool off.” 

“Yeah,” Lip agreed, “I wouldn’t follow them out. Mickey… he gets protective? Always has been, of Ian. Our mom was bipolar, and so’s Ian. He’s stable, doing great, but he’s, uh, he’s been through a lot. It’s just not good joke material around here.”

Chad nodded, silence overtaking the room again. Franny looked up from her coloring book, clearly bored with the turn the night had taken.

“I’m gonna go play with Uncle Mickey and cheer him up!” 

Debbie chuckled from her seat across the room, “Yeah, go bring them some beers Franny.” 

“Okay!” Franny chirped, hopping to her feet and skipping into the kitchen. Debbie gave a soft smile as she watched her daughter, on the way to hang out with her favorite uncles. 

-

From his seat on the back stairs, Ian watched Mickey pace through the yard, grumbling about “Fucking Northside yuppies… and their ignorant bigoted asses… what the fuck is wrong with people?” He glanced over at Ian, his expression softening when he noticed the defeated look on Ian’s face. Mickey paused his pacing, coming to sit next to Ian on the steps. 

“I’m sorry, I know I prolly embarrassed you. Was I out of line man? I just got so fucking mad,” Mickey quietly mumbled, looking down at his hands in his lap. 

Ian gently shook his head, “Don’t apologize. You weren’t out of line… I think I’m just disappointed, y’know? That comments like that still get to me? I should be over it by now, every reminder that I’m sick or different shouldn’t still sting like that. And why do I have to be the one that the conflict and the drama revolves around? Why not fucking Carl or Liam or god… anyone else just for once?

Mickey’s expression softened even further. He nudged his knee into Ian’s leg, “What’s that shit you told me when Terry died? Trauma doesn’t always make fucking sense and recovery isn’t… oh shit, what’s the word? Linear! Recovery isn’t linear. Doesn’t make you fucking weak, just means you’ve been through some shit.”

“Yeah. I guess it was easier to tell you that than it is to tell myself.” 

Mickey hummed in agreement and the two sat in silence for a moment before the back door creaked open. A tiny red head shoved her way through the doorway, arms wrapped tightly around two bottles, frosty with condensation. Franny sat down on the steps between them, silently handing her uncles their beers. Ian accepted his with a dry chuckle, thanking her. Mickey ruffled her hair, offering a small smile. The voices from inside had faded and the night was relatively calm, other than the occasional siren or dog barking. 

Franny, not looking particularly concerned, looked up at them to ask, “Uncle Mickey, why’d you get mad at that guy?”

Mickey rubbed at his eyebrow and let out a sigh. He looked towards Ian, a silent request for him to take the lead on this conversation. He was confident in his ability to discuss the stupidity of princesses or the importance of wearing gloves during a legitimate liquor store robbery with his niece. He knew how to play, and joke, and how to be there when she woke up from a bad dream, stumbling down the stairs with bedhead and snotty tears. Mickey had grown into his role as an uncle, but he still doubted his ability to talk about the tough stuff with anyone other than Ian. 

Ian cleared his throat, taking a second before asking, “Franny, do you know what it means to make a joke at someone else’s expense?” 

Franny’s eyebrows scrunched together and she shook her head. 

“It’s when you make a joke to kind of make fun of someone else. Like to tease them. Y’know how we make cop jokes around Uncle Carl because he’s a cop?”

She nodded, and Ian continued, “That guy… Aunt Tami’s sister’s boyfriend, was making a joke and it ended up being at my expense. That’s what made Uncle Mickey mad. He didn’t mean to make fun of me, but he kind of did. That’s all. Uncle Mickey was just sticking up for me.”

Franny sat for a moment, deep in thought. “I didn’t know he was talking about you.”

“No, he wasn’t. Not directly. He was telling a story about someone else. But he made a comment about him being bipolar. D’you remember when we talked about that? That I have bipolar disorder?” 

Franny nodded, “That’s why you take your special medicine.”

Ian continued, “A lot of people don’t really understand what that means, and sometimes they make jokes about it that aren’t really funny. They’re just kind of… mean. So that’s why we got upset.”

Franny considered this for a minute and asked, “Do you want me to go tell mommy? She says I should tell her if someone’s being mean. She can fix it.” 

Ian smiled a little, patting her little back and shaking his head, “Nah, mommy already knows, she heard. And I think Uncle Mickey did a pretty good job telling him that what he said was wrong.” 

Mickey let out a sarcastic laugh, “And I got more to say to that piece of shit if I ever see his Northside yuppy fucking face again.”

“I think he got the point Mick,” Ian sighed, “Don’t waste your time.” 

Franny shrugged “Mommy and Uncle Lip and Aunt Tami were all still talking in there when I left. Mommy told me it was a good idea for me to come out here.” 

Mickey grabbed Ian’s hand, bumping their shoulders together. “Whatcha wanna do, man? We can head back to the apartment, go to the Alibi and get tanked, I don’t care, it’s up to you.”

“Don’t know, I’m tired of running from things. And you were right Mick, it’s our fucking house. Could we just sit out here for a little while?” Mickey ran a thumb across Ian’s hand and mumbles so quietly, in that voice he only uses with Ian- “‘Course we can”

Having completed her task of delivering beers, Franny stood up and put her hands on her hips, “I’m going to go inside, I won’t let anyone be mean to you Uncle Ian.”

Ian looked up to lock eyes with his niece, “I appreciate it Fran, thanks.” 

She stood up and gave Ian a kiss on the top of his head, no doubt a gesture she’d picked up from some other family member, likely Mickey or Fiona. Ian smiled as she turned away to walk back into the kitchen.

After a few minutes Ian jerked his head towards the door, “Y’ready?” 

Mickey hummed in agreement, standing and offering back his hand to help Ian up. They walked over the threshold of the kitchen into a conversation clearly about Mickey’s exchange with Chad. The Tamiettis were all sitting down in the living room, with the Gallaghers mostly standing, leaning against the various remaining surfaces. Lip’s hands were in his hair, a plain indication of his frustration and exhaustion. Tami abruptly stopped talking, in the middle of what seemed like an impassioned rant. She seemed unsure of how to continue now that Ian and Mickey had reentered the house. Debbie, sat on the couch with Franny in her lap, was scowling, while Liam absently stared at the wall, clearly wishing he were anywhere else. Carl quickly walked into the kitchen from where he had been leaning up against the living room door frame, clapping Ian on the shoulder.

“Hey, why don’t you guys go take a walk or something for a sec- I think Lip and Tami have it handled.”

Lip spoke up from the living room, “Yeah, it’s okay.”

Mickey tensed, bracing himself. “No, it’s not fucking okay Phillip-“

Lip grumbled something about that not being what he meant, shaking his head, while Ian quietly interrupted his husband, forcing him to make eye contact. 

“No, it’s not, but I don’t want to just keep going over it, Mick. I’m not in the mood to educate him. I’m not saying it’s okay, but I want to move on. Lip can handle it.”

Carl nodded and repeated himself, “Go take a walk, come back in ten. Lip and Tami got it.” 

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a joint and pressing it into Ian’s palm with a smirk. 

“Rolled this for later, you guys take it.”

Ian raised an eyebrow at Mickey, who let out a sigh with a slouch, “Fine. Be back in ten.”

-

The two of them return to the backyard, Tami’s yelling resumed, her voice carrying all the way outside. 

 “M’sorry, I know I keep talkin’ when you just want it to be over with,” Mickey mumbled, looking down at the dead grass in the vacant lot beside the house.

 Ian grabbed him by the back of his neck, fingers brushing through Mickey’s short hair, “Hey, no. I… I appreciate you sticking up for me- seriously. I’m just tired… tonight’s not supposed to be about me y’know? It’s supposed to be about Lip and Tami, and Fred, not me. I just wanted to be Lip’s brother tonight, not the crazy brother, the sick brother. I just don’t wanna be the one that causes the issues anymore.” 

“You didn’t cause this Ian. You being bipolar didn’t fucking cause this- that asshole, opening his mouth and not knowing when to shut it- that’s what caused it. I get that you just wanna let it go, and I will, but if he say’s something else-“

“If he says something else you can beat the shit out of him.”

Mickey grinned, looking up to meet Ian’s gaze. “Fucking fantastic. You wanna smoke this bitch?” 

He grabbed the joint out of Ian’s hand and pulled a lighter from his flannel’s front pocket.

Ian finally cracked a smile, one that actually reaches his eyes, “Free weed? Fuck yeah.”

Mickey tossed the lighter to Ian, who caught it and lit the joint with a practiced flick. He took a couple hits and closed his eyes, smiling again as he exhaled the smoke. He handed the lit joint over to Mickey, along with his lighter and jerked his head in the direction of the van in the backyard, “Wanna go sit?” 

Mickey nodded and breathed in a sharp inhale, heading in the direction of the passenger seat door. 

Ian climbed up into the drivers seat, letting out a deep sigh, “Feel like I’m in high school again- sneaking around with you, trying to find somewhere to be alone.” Mickey chuckled and passed the joint back over.

 They smoked in silence for a while, Ian nudging Mickey with his elbow as the ember approaches the filter, “You want the last hit?” 

“Nah man, that’s yours,” Mickey shakes his head.

Ian took it, stubbing out the butt on the van’s dashboard and tossing it onto the floor. 

“Still wanna kick his ass?” He asked, lazily turning his head towards Mickey with a grin.

Mickey rolled his eyes, “I think I can contain myself.”

“Yeah?” Ian breathed, inching his face closer to his husband’s. The moon, freshly risen, highlighted Ian’s face, illuminating the dash of freckles across his nose.

Mickey didn’t answer, opting to close the distance between them, pressing a soft kiss to Ian’s lips. Ian’s hand came up to cradle Mickey’s face, thumb gently brushing his cheek.

And if they didn’t make it back inside for a while, so be it. 

[niemernuet]

Fourth week (just about) of the off-season winter sports fandom challenge. This week's subject was

“wow, you’re photogenic!” 📸

I've started and deleted about five ficlets, three of those varying forms of the one below but now I've run out of time. 😑😅 Anyhooo...

© of the title goes to @wunderlichkind who once described Ramon with these two words. I don't disagree but I just have a soft spot for my beloved giant. Which is why I make him suffer.

Profoundly awkward

rating: T pairing: Ramon Zenhäusern/Daniel Yule (unrequited) characters: Ramon Zenhäusern, Daniel Yule, Luca Aerni Length: 1'300 words

The fast, synthetic-sounding EDM-version of Bohemian Rhapsody boomed over the mountain. Luca turned around from the DJ's booth high above the terrace, and cheered towards the crowd, happy that his wish had been granted.

"Oh my God!" Ramon groaned but nobody heard him as it was too loud anyway. Daniel was a few steps away, hooting and hollering with the rest of the people while spilling his drink all over the wooden planks. Ramon watched with growing dread as Luca tottered along the gallery with no railing and climbed down again. The coaches would never forgive them if they hurt themselves now, at the end of the season, but both Luca and Daniel seemed to be hellbent on doing exactly that.

"Hey, Ramon!" Daniel screamed, and stumbled over. Ramon extended his arms, and caught him just in time before he fell flat on his nose. "Live a little, you sourpuss!" Daniel screamed into his ear, hanging like a sack of potatoes over Ramon's shoulder.

Ramon hoisted him back onto his own two feet, and softly pushed him away. "I am living," he yelled over the music. "And I'm not a sourpuss."

To his relief Luca had reached the terrace the slow way, and was dancing his way back towards them. It would take some time. Somebody next to them hooted, and Daniel joined in, giving Ramon the possibility to retreat back to his table in the corner of the patio. He scolded himself for having come up here with the other two. He hated places like this one, why did he let himself be convinced? He watched as Daniel turned in every direction, scouting the crowd. An involuntary smile crept over Ramon's lips when Daniel's entire face lit up as he finally saw Ramon, and waved joyfully in his direction.

It was a stupid question. Of course he knew why he had come. And it made it all so much worse.

"I'm serious!" Daniel said, and leant over the table. His cup was now completely empty but he still carried it around. He had lost his hat somewhere, and the whisps of his hair danced in the wind. His eyes sparkled, and Ramon could have drowned in them. "You have to live a little! We survived the season, this shit-caked, terrible no-good season! The evil is defeated! We're free!"

Ramon laughed. He did not feel free. Or as if he had defeated the evil. Daniel misread his smile, and clapped him on the shoulder.

"That's what I'm talking about! Come on, we're going to get you someone!"

Ramon's smile faltered. "Daniel, no…"

It was futile, Daniel turned around, and looked over the rows of people dancing in their snow boots. "Anyone caught your fancy?"

"No, I don't want…"

"You know what, I'm going to choose for you. Your taste is terrible anyway." He danced out of Ramon's reach, and was soon swallowed by the mass of bodies. To Ramon's immense relief he returned not long after without anyone in tow, though that relief disappeared when he plopped down next to Ramon on the worn-out bench.

"I've got one!" he yelled over the music, and pointed somewhere. Ramon had no idea who he meant. Before Daniel could clarify though, Luca was at their table, and he was in a hurry.

"It's coming!" he shouted. "Listen!"

Daniel frowned for a second, then he understood. He jumped up, and turned towards the DJ. All arms except Ramon's shot up, and they yelled together with the rest of the hundreds of people: "I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all!"

Luca jeered. "My season sucked so much ass!" he yelled, and disappeared again.

"See?" Daniel asked Ramon, and sat down again. "That's how you say goodbye to a season like ours. Okay, now!" He wrapped one arm around Ramon's shoulders and pulled him closer. With the other hand he pointed towards a group of people hanging around a set of bar tables. "Guy in the grey-blue jacket over there. Orange goggles around the neck. See him?"

Ramon nodded even though he barely knew which side was up anymore; he was definitely not able to pick a person out of a crowd. Daniel's arm around his neck, the weight and warmth on his body, was all he could perceive.

"He's cute, right?" Daniel asked, and smiled at him so encouragingly that Ramon's heart clenched. "Okay, what are you going to say to him?"

It was Ramon's cue to say something but nothing came to mind. "Ahm…" he stuttered.

Daniel rolled his eyes, and took his arm off Ramon's shoulders. "No!" he said, and shook his head. In that moment, Luca returned with another two bottles of white wine.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, and filled Daniel's cup.

"I'm trying to get Ramon a guy," Daniel explained, and downed half of his cup in one swig.

"Really? Him?"

"Hey!" Ramon exclaimed. He knew they were both drunk but that did not mean that they could just do or say whatever.

"No, no, you're right," Daniel said, and turned to Ramon. "Your problem is that you're just so profoundly awkward."

Ramon pressed his lips together, the blood rushing in his ears as Daniel delved into a lengthy lecture about flirting and first steps, supported and interrupted at times by Luca. He knew he was awkward, and not as cool as the rest of the team. He had always been like that. He also knew that he better not hold his breath for Daniel to ever return his crush.

It still stung a little bit.

Daniel was still talking, not just with his mouth but with his hands, and his entire body. Ramon smiled at him, even though he still did not hear one word. It was enough to have his undivided attention for once, even if it was for all the wrong reasons.

Sometimes, in his dreams, Ramon confessed everything, all the feelings he had for him.

"Another trick to get closer is with your phone," Daniel continued unperturbed, and waved his in front of their faces. "Like, you could of course just ask for the number. But you could also suggest a picture, tell him it's for the memories, and then when you've taken it…" He put his arm around Ramon's shoulder once more and snapped a selfie, "…he hopefully asks if he could have it too, and then you exchange numbers. It's a bit more elegant, if you ask me."

He mustered the picture of the two of them for a second. Even three sheets to the wind, unshaved and in his sweaty race clothes, Daniel looked like a super model.

Ramon threw him a lopsided grin. "Wow, you're photogenic."

Daniel frowned, and shrugged pensively. "I don't know…"

"That's more something to say on your second date," Luca threw in.

Daniel nodded. "Exactly. He could misunderstand it, and think you're making fun of him."

Ramon sighed, and grabbed Daniel's cup of wine. He needed it because it was in that moment that the guy finally realised Daniel's and Luca's constant stares.

"He's coming over!" Luca hissed joyfully, as if Ramon and Daniel were blind.

Ramon wanted to crawl under the table but he was pinned between the railing and Daniel, and could not move out of the way. He felt his traitorous cheeks flush pink with every step the guy came closer. Daniel's smile was annoyingly smug as he looked up at the stranger.

The guy smiled, revealing a pair of dimples in his cheeks. "Hi," he began. "Mind if I ask a dumb question?"

Daniel elbowed Ramon but he did not care, and kept his lips pressed together, though he could not keep a nod from escaping.

The guy smiled down at him. "Aren't you on the same team as the guy that won the big globe? I'm a really big fan of him."

[lookatyoustrawberrynerd]

Forgiven - Gajeel X Levy

WARNINGS: Light swearing

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

GENRE: fluff, slight angst

FANDOM: Fairy Tail

PAIRING: Gajeel x Levy

The guild hall was loud and rowdy as ever as Gajeel sat alone at the bar, drinking whatever the hell Mira had put in his mug. It didn't matter to him as long as it got him drunk.

"Getting a head start today are we?" Gajeel turned around and saw the small master of Fairy Tail climbing into the stool next to him.

Gajeel chuckled as he took another swig, "It's gonna take a lot more than this to get me drunk, old man."

"Oh I don't doubt it," Makarov replied. He signaled for Mira to pour him a drink, then promptly chugged it down as if it were nothing but water. "Your tolerance must be impeccable if this is what you're putting away this early in the morning."

Gajeel smirked, "years of practice."

The two men chuckled as they drank together, falling into a comfortable silence as the guild hall roared behind them.

A small pair of arms wrapped themselves around Gajeels shoulders as a kiss was planted on his cheek. Gajeel turned his head to face his bright eyed girlfriend Levy.

Gajeel couldn't help the smile that came to his face every time he saw her. "Hey short stack," He said as he gave her a quick peck on the lips.

Levy ignored the nickname, "Me and the guys are heading out on a job for a few days."

Gajeel grunted, "is anyone else going?"

Levy shook her head, "No, but the job isn't that dangerous. Just a simple escort mission for a Lord and his daughter."

"Still, I'd feel better if you took Lily with you," Levy puffed our her cheeks.

"I can h-"

"Trust me Lev, I know you're capable of kicking so serious ass, it's the other two I don't trust." Gajeel looked behind Levy at Jet and Droy stuffing their faces.

Levy sighed, "fine, you big baby."

"That's my girl." Gajeel leaned in to whisper in Levy's ear, "I'll make it up to you when you get back."

He couldn't help but laugh as his girlfriend turned bright red in front of him. "I-I gotta go now!" Levy gave Gajeel a chaste kiss on the lips. He watched her as she met the black exceed by the door.

"Hey," Gajeel called out to Jet and Droy before they could join them. They walked over to Gajeel who then grabbed them both by the wrist and pulled them in close. "If she comes back with a single scratch," he hissed, "I will put you two in a fucking coffin."

Jet and Droy both shivered as they nodded frantically. Gajeel let go of them and they practically ran out of the guild hall. Sighing, Gajeel turned back around to take a drink, already missing his girlfriend.

"I must say Gajeel," The master started, "when I first took you in, I never would have imagined you would have fallen for my little Levy."

A faint blush dusted over his cheeks, "Well," He didn't like thinking about his time before Fairy Tail, the person he was, but he couldn't help it as the memories came back, "I was a real piece of shit back then."

He didn't realize how hard he was gripping the handle of his mug until he let go of it, revealing dents in the shape of his fingers.

"Shit," he muttered as Mira came up to grab the mug from him, "I'll buy you a new one."

Mira just laughed it off, "No need Gajeel. If we had to replace every dented mug in this place, we'd go bankrupt!"

"Mira, could you give us a minute?" Makarov asked. Nodding, Mira walked into the back room, leaving the two men alone at the bar.

"I was wondering when you were gonna cut to the chase," Gajeel said.

"Yes, but I believe it is you with something to say, my boy." The two men sat there in silence for a few seconds before the master asked, "Can I see it?"

The box in Gajeels pocket suddenly felt like a weight dragging him down. In one fluid motion, he grabbed the box and slid it to the old man next to him, careful to not let anyone see it.

Makarov pulled back the lid to reveal a small iron ring. Intricate designs of swirls carved to look like vines and flowers decorated its sides, meeting in the middle to hold a heart shaped diamond.

"How did you know?" Gajeel asked.

"I know a lot of things, Gajeel. I just happened to catch you staring at it when you think no one is watching." Makarov said as he twisted the box around to look at the ring from all angles.

Gajeel nearly choked on his drink, "fuck," he muttered. The master chuckled and clapped Gajeel on the back.

"It's a beautiful ring Gajeel," he said, sliding the ring back to him. "You must love her a great deal."

Gajeel smiled softly, "Yeah," he looked at the ring and closed the lid with a sigh. "I don't deserve her."

"How so?"

"Are you serious?" Gajeel asked, but Makarov stayed silent. Softly, Gajeel said, "I hurt her."

Makaraov hummed in acknowledgement, "So that's it huh?" Memories flooded into Gajeels mind. Him attacking her that night, the way she screamed, her nearly lifeless body hanging from that god damned tree. Gajeel swallowed down the bile rising in his throat.

"I hurt her, Master. I hurt her and her friends and laughed about it, bragged about it. But the moment I joined the guild, she treated me like nothing had ever happened. I wasn't 'Black Steel Gajeel', I was just Gajeel Redfox. If I'm being honest, it kinda pissed me off."

The master hummed, "Really?"

"Yeah," he replied, "it pissed me off because I had no idea why she would even bother being nice to me. I wouldn't have been. But of course, she's just that wildly forgiving of other people. I didn't deserve her forgiveness, and that's why it pissed me off."

"You have long since been forgiven for your sins of the past, Gajeel" The master said. Gajeel whipped his head to face him.

"What?"

"Do you know why I chose to recruit you instead of the other members of Phantom Lord?" Makarov asked and Gajeel shook his head. There was no hint of sarcasm or condescension in his voice, just plain sincerity. "I picked you because not just because I wanted to help you find the right path, but because I knew that it was possible. I saw a light in you that had been clouded by Jose and his teachings. The things you did were deplorable, and you know that more than anyone, but answer me this. Would you have done the things you did that night if Jose hadn't ordered you to?"

No. He wouldn't have. He didn't even go as far as he was supposed to that night. Jose had ordered him to kill Levy, Jet, and Droy, but he refused.

Makarov continued on, "Ever since I took you in, you have done nothing but prove me right. You have shown that you are willing to fight for your family and that you're proud to be a fairy, and we're proud to have you."

Gajeel looked around the guild hall as he processed the masters words. He looked at the people he had met over the past several years, and he realized he was proud. He had made legitimate friends in a guild he once tried to destroy and fell in love with a girl he had almost killed.

All those nice thoughts however couldn't stop the doubt from creeping into his mind. "Even still, I can't provide for her. It took me months to work enough jobs to even buy the materials for that ring, and it's not like those jobs were easy."

"You and I both know she doesn't care about that."

"But I do master!" Gajeel slammed his fist on the bar a little louder than he wanted to. Some people looked their way for a moment but quickly resumed doing whatever it was they were doing. "She deserves the world, but I simply can't give it to her."

Makarov took another swig of his drink, "You're right. She does deserve the world. But she wants you," He stood up on the bar stool and made eye contact with the man across from him. "We all have our demons, Gajeel. We all have scars that will never fade, those voices in our heads that tell us to just give up and that we'll never be good enough. But you are lucky enough to have a family that will support you in every choice you make, and a woman who loves you with her entire heart.

"You will have to live with the things you have done for the rest of your life. You cannot go back and undo it no matter how much you wish you could. What you can do is live every day showing how much you've grown. You have atoned for your sins. Levy, Jet, and Droy have forgiven you. I have forgiven you. Now you must work to forgive yourself. And if you never do, that's okay. Just don't let it stop you from living your new life.

"Never forget Gajeel that you deserve happiness just as much as everyone else under this roof. If that means a future with Levy, then I will spend every remaining second I have left ensuring that future comes to pass, and every second after that protecting it. On my honor as the master of the Fairy Tail guild."

Gajeel didn't know at what point he had started crying. No one had ever told him that he deserved to be happy, but here was someone saying it as if it were the most obvious thing it the world.

"Master I-"

"Do you love her, Gajeel?" Makarov asked.

In that moment, Gajeel saw Levys face. Her bright smile, her eyes that always sparkled, her blue hair that reminded him of the sky, the way she puffed her cheeks whenever he teased her.

He remembered all their missions together, their time in the military, all the times they had nearly died; Tenrou Island, Tartaros, Alvarez, he had never felt fear the way he did when he was confessing to Levy as he was slowly dying, and the pure elation he felt when he finally saw her again.

He thought about what he wanted in the future, and in his mind he saw Levy in a white dress walking down the aisle. He saw with a hand on her rounded stomach. He saw her reading to their children and him singing to them. He saw them growing old and gray together. His heart swelled with emotions he had never felt before as he looked into the future.

Every day he wakes up to Levy lying next to him, and he always thinks that he'll never be able to fall for her more than he already has, and every day he is proven wrong.

Gajeel smiled as he wiped away a tear from his face, "more than anything."

Makarov returned his smile, "Then marry her Gajeel. You have my blessing. Make a family with her. Make a life that both of you can be proud of living. Make her as happy as she makes you." Makarov held out his hand and Gajeel took it in his.

"I promise I will," Another tear fell down his face, "Thank you master."

"You're welcome, my son."

[ascendingtothestarsasone]

I’m with you. I somehow have managed to stay out of the majority of drama and hatred around here. Don’t ask me how because I honestly don’t know. It seems no matter what the circumstances are, your words can always be twisted into being the bad guy just for disagreeing on a subject. No matter the subject.

People seem to forget that not everything has to be posted on social media. Not all good deeds need claps from a crowd through a screen. I’m so sick and tired of being surrounded by miserable people. They are the ones that tell us to leave but they invaded our space in this fandom. Unfollowing and blocking people is not enough when they are constantly putting themselves into our social medias instead of just staying in their side of things. It must get exhausting at some point trying to find something wrong in every single person you come across?

Now, I’m not saying they are who we think they are. The one thing these prosecutors do have correct is the fact that we don’t know who these guys are. Everything we know about them is what they choose to show us and what others have said from their point of view. I don’t know how many times this has to be posted before people will finally realize this. People need to stop making up fake scenarios about the real Greta guys. They’re not fictional characters.

I’m not downing fanfic writers because it is safe to say they are not basing their fics off of anything other than the imaginary world. I’m talking about the people who act like they know everything about them or make up stuff to convince others they know more. “You’re wrong if you don’t agree with me” attitude. The unnecessary drama about exes, friends, or “I heard they-“ is so exhausting. We get it. You don’t like them. Who says you have to?

How hard is it to just move the fuck on and stop trying to criminalize everybody?

Thank you! Everything you have just said is spot on. 😩👏🏼

People can’t do it because then it doesn’t gain them attention. That’s what it’s all about. They can’t live their own lives. This entire thing has been blown way out of proportion (and this isn’t the first time either) and now become a total shit show.

Stay out of peoples personal lives. It’s that simple. I bet I could find a flaw in each and every one of these trolls, but it’s way too exhausting tbh. They all need to grow up and stop pointing the finger at the wrong people.

[percabethfiles]

Charlie

Uh... Hello? Anybody still here? I haven't been around in years and years. But I keep my fandoms stored in some corner of my brain waiting for something to tug them out. And of all things this time it was Taylor Swift re-releasing her old songs, because I used to imagine so many percabeth scenes listening to "Fearless". So have this little something that's been sitting unfinished in my archives for years now.

Remember that time Percy saw Sadie Kane and thought “Hey, this is what mine and Annabeth’s daughter would look like”? Yes.

(Also there are small nods to that fic I wrote about Logan, Hidden Heritage, but I've been meaning to re-write it someday because there were SO MANY PLOT HOLES omg)

When they find out it’s a girl it’s a bit too soon to know for sure, or so the doctor tells them. They’ll have to wait for the next appointment to know for certain. “So don’t go buying any tiny dresses yet,” he jokes and they laugh along, but they’ve been together for approximately eighteen years now, they can tell what the other’s thinking with a glance and the ecstatic grin that breaks through their lips lets him know they’re on the same page. Too late. They’re already thinking plush bow and arrows and a Merida costume for her first Halloween.

Percy tries to keep his cool. As the weeks progress, he tries not to get his hopes up, but in his heart he knows already. They hadn’t really had a preference before, they’d been too happy knowing their baby was fully human and had all its limbs (with the number of deities they’d pissed off, you never knew), but a little girl? It feels right after their two boys, it feels like their family will be complete.

(He thinks about a slight blonde girl with streaked hair and a British accent dropping from the sky on a magic camel, remembers thinking “if Annabeth and I had a daughter…” and his chest squeezes tight with happiness so raw he has a little trouble breathing)

When the doctor beams at them next appointment and says “Congratulations, Jackson family, it really is a girl,” he’s not surprised, but no less elated. He doesn’t hear the lame joke about Jackson Five, he’s too busy trying to be a manly man and not burst into tears because he’s going to have a daughter. When Annabeth’s in the other room paying for the appointment, and he’s waiting for the doctor to print the really impressive high tech 3D picture of the ultrasound, the man asks him “So did you go ahead and buy a tiny dress anyway?”

Percy blushes.

The man shakes his head in amusement. “Every time”.

His work colleagues, proud dads of little girls themselves, try to terrorize him with tales of tea parties and future boyfriends, and Percy thinks somewhere in the middle of all that teasing they mean well, but really, he’s mostly annoyed. It’s not like he’s new to parenthood, he’s got two sons already and they seem to be turning out okay, and before, when Logan and Nathan were just a nice dream for the future, there was Estelle, the little sister Percy had never expected, but loved to bits all the same.

And then Charlie is born.

She’s tiny, warm and pink, all curled up in her yellow cable-knit blanket, a tuft of blonde hair peeking out of a tiny, tiny beanie, features scrunched into the most adorable variation of a grumpy face. He’s not new to parenthood, he’s been here twice before, but the rush of affection and protectiveness and awe and raw love is just as genuine. He’s smiling like a dork, can’t seem to stop, walking from side to side, avidly searching her traits. She’s bigger than Nate was when he’d been born, but smaller than Logan. Her hair was light, like Nate’s, would it stay blonde or darken with time? Would her eyes be like his or Annabeth’s? And oh, she had her mother’s nose (they all did).

It never fails to amaze him how such a small, vulnerable being can shake up his whole world until it’s made a space for her. And he’s done this before, he’s no first time sailor this time, he’d thought he had it all under control. But she blinks and looks up at him with half-lidded eyes and a frowny face and—they’re green. Her eyes are the blue-green Logan’s are, Percy’s are.

(He’s got two sons who are his life, and he does love all his children equally, but holding his daughter for the first time, he thinks he understands his friends’ warnings. He doesn’t love her more, it’s just… different. It’s special.)

When he goes back to work, Nick takes one look at him and bursts into laughter. He claps him on the shoulder in commiseration.

“I told you.”

He’s completely wrapped around her finger already.

It’s not too different, he finds out. Especially having been pre-trained by Estelle. He’s got to brush up on his Disney princess knowledge, and hair braiding skills. He hasn’t gotten much better at color coordinating the polka dotted bows and tiny shoes, but Charlie is really forgiving. She is a very happy baby, much happier and easy going than any of the boys had been.

She’s also fucking crazy.

She is smaller and skinnier than her brothers, likes to wear frilly dresses and talk to plush animals and dance around the house in a pink tutu, but she’s wild. She never learned to crawl, just held on to the couch until she was wobbling on two feet, and it seemed like the very next day she was running across the house, the mall, the park, and if he turned his eyes away for one second, she was shooting off in the streets and nearly getting run over.

He’d found her dangling from the kitchen cabinets, trying to reach the cowering cat. She had a phase when she thought she could fly and she would climb furniture and stairs and the window sill and just… Launch herself into the air expecting her flying powers to manifest spontaneously. If they hadn’t been trying to raise them away from the whole mythological world, he would have sat her down and clarified that she had the wrong Olympian Grandparent in mind. She might have had more luck jumping into the ocean.

She had a way to jut out her lower lip, and turn those big green eyes on him that could render his every effort to be a responsible parental presence useless.

Besides, she was so funny. He could never muster enough anger to discipline her, because if he found her on the kitchen table covered in peanut butter, somehow sporting a very sticky Mohawk, and looking entirely unapologetic, well, he just couldn’t stop laughing.

One day he’s coming home from work and he hasn’t even pulled the key from the lock when Charlie calls out ‘you’re back daddy,’ in what sounds vaguely like a new jersey accent. He finds her sitting on the floor of the living room, drowning in one of Annabeth’s bathrobes, pink plastic barbie sunglasses on, holding a pooh bear sippy cup with one hand and a pinky stretched out.

“Charlie, what are you doing?”

“It’s wine Wednesday, daddy.”

“It’s what?”

“Wine Wednesday.”

He had half a mind to check if her sippy cup actually contained wine because they hid their alcohol way up in the cabinets she can’t reach but that girl could climb like a monkey. He knows he should follow that remark up with some kind of questioning of where she’d even heard of ‘wine Wednesdays’ and then explain that kids don’t drink wine or some other kind of responsible parent speech, but a sudden burst of incredulous laughter bubbles up in his throat and he takes refuge in the kitchen, lest he encourages her behavior.

He finds Annabeth there, hand over her mouth, clearly in stitches over their daughter’s performance. He wants to question if she gave her permission to wear her bathrobe but finding his wife nearly doubled over in silent laughter in the kitchen is too much and he finally lets out the guffaw he’d been trying to hold on to.

It’s not the first time Charlie leaves them breathless with laughter, and he’s almost scared of what she’s going to cook up in the future.

Charlie is a hellion.

There isn’t one person safe from her pranks, but she’s so adorable she hardly ever catches hell for it, and she’s learning to use it in her favor – thankfully, just in time for her parents to develop immunity to her puppy eyes. And she’s… difficult, yes, but not always, and not in a terrible way. For all her climbing the roof, organizing illegal cookie sales, getting in fights with her classmates, she’s not a bad kid. She’s got Percy’s penchant for befriending the kids no one wants to go near, and defending her ragtag team of losers. She’s loyal to a fault, and it gets her in trouble often.

She and Nate have epic jealousy fights over everything, including – but not limited to – Logan’s attention, the crayons, the biggest piece of cake and all the videogame characters in the world are not enough, they will always want whatever the other picked. It gives them many, many headaches. Logan, on the other hand, positively spoils her, and whenever Charlie gets in trouble they can be sure to find her hiding behind her big brother while he gives them this solemn look and says “It’s ok, mom and dad, Charlie promises she won’t do it again. We’ve talked.”

When the whole “Logan being attacked by a dracanae in school and thus finding out his Olympian heritage” debacle came to pass, and they started frequenting camp again, there was nowhere in the entire Camp Charlie would rather be than the stables. She’d spend hours there with the Aphrodite kids, brushing the pegasi and talking to them endlessly about all her classmates and her friends, and her dolls, and her new dress, and the new book grandma gave her. It was all really cute until Percy realized the pegasi were talking back, and she fully understood their replies.

And it’s funny, really, because Logan had taken after Percy, to a point where bathing him had been hard as a child because he tended to stay dry in the tub, and Nathan was Annabeth to a T, but Charlie was a perfect mix of them both.

He guesses it makes sense it would be so explosive.

When Charlie is twelve, she gets kicked out of school.

Percy is not overly worried about it himself – the number of schools he’d been kicked out of reached double digits, and this was only her first – but he is worried about how she will feel. Getting the boot from a place that’s housed you for years, where your friends are, where everyone already knows you and having to start over is never pleasant, no matter how used to it you were.

He’d expected the school to have gotten tired of all her pranks and misbehaving, which was fair, he guessed. But when Annabeth comes home from the meeting with the school director, she is seething, and not at their daughter. Charlie is angry too. In fact, it’s the first time he’s ever seen his daughter well and truly pissed off. The two of them are a sight for nightmares, both blondes standing side by side ranting with righteous fury, they look ready to start a revolution. What he gets from her angry snarls and Charlie’s rushed rambling is that Charlie had talked back to a teacher that was picking on the autistic kid and demeaning the thirteen year old who was repeating sixth grade.

She’d called him a brain-washing small minded overgrown bully who, he was quoting, didn’t get enough love from his parents.

And Percy is so proud his eyes even get a little misty.

Because he’s getting old and sentimental and raising kids is very hard. No one knows what they’re doing, not one person, not even the fancy psychologists with those books on raising perfect, well rounded, high-achieving members of society that Annabeth insisted on reading when she was pregnant with Logan. You do your best and you hope for the best, and you don’t know what you get until it’s basically too late to do anything about it. And even if he did have the best mom in the history of the entire world to draw example from, he was also half of an absent Olympian father whose heritage condemned him to dance in and out of battlefields half his life.

He’s always been terrified of being a crap father.

He looks at Charlie cussing out with every mild version of actual cuss words, stalking around the kitchen like a little lioness in a cage, furious at the unfairness of the whole situation, caring less about being expelled and more about who was going to defend her friends from that awful teacher when she’s gone.

His daughter is only twelve, but she’s already so brave, such a force of nature. She won’t stand for injustice, and she won’t take insult lying down. And she’s so kind. She’s growing up, and the person she is slowly turning out to be… is good.

And something in his heart shifts and settles down, smooths over old fears and anxious thoughts.

Percy doesn’t mean to brag, but he thinks he’s not doing half bad as a parent.

[the-bluerecluse]

Canon Meets Fanon

OKAY this is a weird fic based on canon sides meeting fanon selves based off this tumblr post here: https://the-blue-recluse.tumblr.com/post/620029613005012992/the-sides-are-lost-they-find-themselfes-in-a

DLAMPR (no remrom though, like theyre all together but roman and remus arent romantically involved... listen its a complicated thing meant to represent all the relationships in fanon so... its weird._)

Summary: The canon sides meet their fanon selves

TRIGGER WARNINGS: sympathetic deceit and remus. remus being disgusting because its fucking remus.

---

“What is all this?” Logan asked as the six stumbled through a white hall.

“I think it’s my new fuck tunnel.” Remus grinned as the others recoiled or groaned.

“Thomas wanted to see how we’re written in fanfiction.”

“Oh, the kind with orgies? And-”

“Remus for the love of God, shut up.” Virgil growled.

“No, Thomas mentioned the term ‘fanon’. This is us seeing how we are in... ‘fanon’.” Logan said.

“What’s fanon mean?” Patton asked.

“Ah yes, I absolutely know the definition of an obviously fake word made up by tumblr.” Janus rolled his eyes as the group approached the door at the end of the hallway.

“it’s like getting to meet our doppelgangers.” Roman explained as he opened the door.

As soon as the door opened the six were pulled into a room resembling the mind palace. They heard a slam behind them as they dusted themselves off an examined the area.

“Wow, neato, new friends!” The six turned to see Patton... no, a different Patton smiling at them.

He was different alright, for one, he was wearing a skirt, and pulling a rather... cutesy pose.

“Vee? Lo-Lo? Ro-Ro? Dee, Re-Re? And... me me?” Patton tilted his head at the sight.

“What... on Earth did you just say?” Logan asked.

“Why its your nicknames, silly billy!”

Roman took a step forward. “Hi, we’re um... actually I’m not entirely sure what we are to you. Let’s just say we’re the... series version of you.”

“I believe the term Thomas used was ‘canon’.”

“Oh, Vee would know about those funny words for fandoms and such. Hey, I got a fun idea, let’s get everyone out to meet each other. It’ll be like a big party!” Patton, or... the different Patton ran out to a hall breaking off from the main room.

“This isn’t strange at all.” Janus murmured.

After a while the not-Patton came back with the other 5 following him.

Not-Virgil was hunched over looking pitiful, clinging to Patton’s arm.

Not-Remus and not-Logan were holding hands as they walked, as were not-Roman and not-Janus.

Virgil raised an eyebrow and pointed at his doppelganger. “What’s his problem?”

Not-Virgil squeaked and hid behind his Patton.

“Oh, he’s just a little shy. It’s okay honeybunch, you can come out.” His Patton reassured him.

“Honeybunch?”

“Go on, tell him what those words mean.” His Patton patted his back.

Virgil took a step forward, trembling like a leaf. “F-f-f-f-f-f-fanon m-m-m-m-m-means-”

Virgil shook his head. “No. Stop. Don’t pronounce the first sound of a word a thousand times. That’s not what being nervous does to you.”

The other Virgil took a deep breath and nodded. “Fanon means how the majority of a fandom headcanons or sees or writes a characters. It’s kind of... canon amongst fans.”

Virgil gave a skeptical look. “So the entire fandom sees me as a weak baby, exactly how I said I DIDN’T want to be seen?”

Not-Virgil, or... fanon-Virgil visibly deflated and hid behind fanon-Patton again.

“Virgil!” Patton scolded. Both Virgil’s looked at both Patton’s.

Virgil groaned. “Okay this is going to get confusing real fast. We need different names.

“I’ll be fuck daddy!” Both Remus’ practically screamed.

“Well at least we know ONE character is seen accurately.” Logan rolled his eyes.

“Oh, I got an idea! We can go by our nicknames we gave each others!” Fanon-Patton clapped. “Patty, Lo, Ro, Vee, Dee, And Ree-Ree.” Patty pointed at each of the fanon sides respectively.

“Those names are hardly creative.” Roman rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be mean to little Patty cakes!” Ro protested.

Roman tightened his gaze at his doppelganger. “You’re asking me not to be mean?”

“Looks like the audience doesn’t seem to know what a dick you are.” Virgil smirked at Roman who growled back.

“If he were a dick I could actually tolerate him, maybe even love him?” Remus snickered as the rest coiled in disgust.

“And the audience thinks you’re a perfect soft angel, which we both know you’re not!” Roman barked.

Lo tilted his head confusedly. “Do we really fight this much?”

“Apparently they do, but we love each other.” Dee placed a kiss on Lo’s cheek and the canon sides froze.

“Did you... just let that snake kiss you?” Virgil asked.

“Why wouldn’t he? We love each other.”

“Yes! Shipping! I hope we were popped into a smut fic.” Remus grinned.

Roman gave out an incredibly loud groan. “The audience thinks we’re all dating?”

Logan tightened his gaze on Lo. “Even you are participating in this?”

Lo smiled. “Yes, a polyamorous relationship is quite fulfilling.”

Logan paused with a grimace. “We are nothing alike.”

“Thank you, Logan. For stating the obvious.” Janus added.

“I’m surprised any of you even listened to me.” Logan grit his teeth.

“I try listening to you, but you can’t logic out of everything.” Virgil shouted.

“That is a useless figure of speech, Logic is always sound.”

“Sound like screaming?” Remus shouted.

“Could you add anything constructive?!” Virgil barked.

The fanon sides watched as quickly their doppelganger from canon dissolved into fighting.

This was going to be... an interesting meeting.