#scott writes stuff

[saggitary]

There is no greater bond than the one between a person and the fictional character they’ve written 50k+ words about

[captainadwen]

Damian Wayne vs the World

Sixteen year old Damian Wayne is on the hunt for a younger sibling. Being more discerning than Bruce 'child collector' Wayne, Damian's firm criteria for Batman's latest adoption problem includes but is not limited to: black haired, blue-eyed, tolerable humor, not evil, and most importantly - younger than Damian.

Lucky for him, fourteen year old newbie vigilante Danny Fenton is the perfect fit. Now, to fulfill his end of their deal, Damian must defeat the evil government organization hunting Danny in order to gain a baby brother.

Or, @livinghalfway your post made my brain go !! but in such a different way I figured it was better to make a separate post, hope you don't mind/enjoy still

~~

Damian Wayne re-entered Tim Drake's life like a gnat revealing itself in a closed bedroom space. Tim was in t-shirt and a boxers, maneuvering ramen into his mouth with one hand and scribbling out an epiphany on a murder case with another, when Damian's demonic dulcet voice echoed down from the ceiling. "Drake," said Damian, judgemental, "You live like this?"

Tim nearly choked on his ramen, because the day Damian doesn't attempt to murder him - however doubtfully accidental this incident might be - is the day Darkseid decides to be friends with the Justice League. "Fucking knock," Tim coughed out. "And get out. No one invited you in."

"Put better traps if you don't want me here," said Damian, dropping from the ceiling where he'd crawled in on wall-clamps.

"This is my apartment," said Tim. "It's called courtesy."

Damian sniffed. He padded around to Tim's desk and frowns at his cases, then said, with no further lead up, "I need your assistance."

"No," said Tim.

"You did not even listen to my request."

"Don't need to," said Tim. "Answer's still no. Door is that way. Bye."

"Father says mutually assisting each other is beneficial," said Damian.

"Father," said Tim sarcastically, "blamed me for you exploding a glitter bomb in the batcave two weeks ago."

"That is your fault for not being able to provide evidence to the contrary in an appropriately efficient manner," said Damian. He squinted down at Tim. "And he apologized. Eventually."

"I would not have glittered the batcomputer," said Tim. "Do you know how much of a pain in the ass it is to backup those servers? No, because you don't like tech work, you just profit off it."

"Blaming me for Father's mistake," said Damian, "Most mature of you. But we must put our differences aside. I have selected a new family member and I need you to dismantle a government organization."

That drew Tim up short. He blinked down at his ramen as though it might explain Damian's words to him, but the ramen remained disappointingly uninformative. "Repeat that," said Tim, gesturing with his chopsticks. "Slower, and with more detail."

Damian pulled out his phone and sent him an email. Silence surrounded them in the brief moment it took Tim to set aside his chopsticks and open the email. The subject line was titled 'New Baby Brother', which birthed all sorts of horrifying nightmares of Damian Part 2: Demon Child Boogaloo. The teen in the inserted picture, however, was reassuringly not in possession of Damian's bone structure.

He did have black hair and blue eyes. "Who am I looking at?" asked Tim.

"Daniel Fenton," said Damian. "He is fourteen years old, enjoys puns, and has recently awakened 'ghost powers' that allow him to transform into the vigilante Phantom to fight other ghosts."

"Is he also an orphan with a tragic backstory?"

"No," said Damian, and Tim relaxed. "But that will not be an issue. We can share custody if they cannot be removed from the picture."

"Jesus H, kid."

"I am joking, of course," said Damian blandly. "Murder is wrong."

"Ha ha," said Tim. "If he has parents already he's not joining our menagerie."

"He will," said Damian, with a smug upwards tilt of his lips. "He and I have a deal."

"So you're coercing him in addition to stalking him. Anything else you want to share with the class?"

Damian considered this query with a serious frown, which was how Tim knew this was not a flight of fancy or a very early midlife crisis (although with their lifestyle and Damian already having died before...).

"He has," said Damian after a moment, "a rogue that calls himself 'The Master of all Technology' and is a technopath." This was clearly meant to be of interest to Tim, and not to be a stereotype, but it kind of was.

"Great." Tim turned his attention back to the email the demon child sent him. He scanned through it quickly. There was apparently a secret and evil government organization dedicated to the investigation and extermination of 'ghosts' and other paranormal creatures in the world. Their latest efforts were focused on the town of Amity Park, Illinois, which was 'infested with ectoplasmic pests'. Their words, not Damian's. (It was specified in the email.)

"Okay," Tim drummed his fingers against his desk. "Before I help you defeat this secret evil government organization so that," he opened the email attachment with a contract on it and squinted at the legalese, "this poor newbie teen you've harassed into signing this joins the family in exchange."

"I did not harass him," Damian huffed. "It was a gentleman's agreement."

"Does he know that?"

"I am not a politician, Drake. I thoroughly explained the terms and legalities before presenting any contract. Now ask your question."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because," said Damian, tone implying 'you are stupid and haven't noticed something obvious, idiot'. "Father has begun saying he misses the noise around the manor and looking wistfully at old pictures."

"We still live there though?" said Tim. Damian looked flatly at him. "Sometimes."

"If you lived there frequently enough," said Damian, "you would already know Father is having...empty nest syndrome." Damian sounded disgusted. "I refuse to tolerate whatever inadequate and incompetent child he will find."

"So instead you found an incompetent and inadequate child for him?"

"Don't be stupid, Drake," said Damian. "I would not have chosen someone inadequate. Daniel is merely lacking formal training. Father can rectify this. It will keep him occupied for at least the next two to four years, which gives me enough time to find another black-haired, blue-eyed, tolerable child I approve of to be his successor and my second younger sibling." Damian paused. "Or until one of you procreates and gives him a grandchild."

"You're really serious about this," Tim whispered in horrified awe.

"I am serious about everything I do," said Damian. "Now, you will help me defeat this evil government organization so that our new sibling joins us."

"Okay," said Tim, but his mind snagged on a minor, throwaway detail, so utterly in odds with Damian 'Demonic Jealous Child' Al Ghul it surely came from another person - "Did you just call this kid your successor?"

[mirainwonderland]

Sometimes a girl just needs her hair washed…

Tags/synopsis: pure fluff, a little one-shot for when you just need someone to take care of you, hints at mental or physical struggles I tried to be non-specific so that you could {insert personal issues here} and omg what’s this Mira’s favorite snack reveal anyhoo, i hope you enjoy even tho it’s not proofread oops. It felt like wringing blood from a rock trying to write this but I’m gradually getting back in my groove I think. K pls like and comment I love hearing from you guys 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 muah k bai 🥰

──────────────────────

It was just one of those days.

It had been one of those weeks.

“I thought you were gonna wash your hair?”

You look up from your phone, glancing over your shoulder to where Leon leans in the doorway. The way a weight feels like it’s being laid on your shoulders just from a handful of words make you breathe a soft sigh.

“Yeah… I’m going.” You turn back to your phone and thumb a few more social media posts.

It was just one of those days where getting out of bed felt like climbing Mt. Everest.

Leon lingers in the doorway, watching you for a few more moments. He’d tracked all the signs, and knew you were headed downhill by Tuesday. And now, a rainy, late Saturday morning brought him no satisfaction in the justification of being right. It was just a rollercoaster he rode with you; one you were sure he would get off a long time ago.

But he hasn’t. He’s still here dealing with you and your issues like it doesn’t bother him. You almost feel like it should.

“Do you want some help?”

The offer makes you set down your phone and stare lethargically at the wall. The thought of getting out of bed and dragging your ass anywhere— even if it’s across the hall to the bathroom— feels bigger than you can handle.

“I know you have a hard time laying back on the edge of that tub.” He adds when you don’t answer right away. You puff out your lips in thought.

“Yeah, but then I have to get up.” You whine. His chest rumbles in that comforting way as he laughs. He crosses the floor, and the edge of the bed dips beneath his weight. A rough hand on your arm is gentle as it soothes the length between your shoulder and elbow. Your eyes flutter as his lips leave a kiss against your hair.

“You’ll feel better with clean hair.”

“I know,” you pout.

“Five minutes max. I’ll help you.” Another kiss against your temple. “C’mon.”

Another sigh, and you drag yourself and the ten ton boulder on your shoulders out of bed after Leon. The even floor to the bathroom feels like a fifty degree incline. You stand in the bathroom doorway like a clueless robot as Leon turns on the tub’s faucet and sets the water temperature.

“I don’t wanna do this.”

“It won’t take that long. C’mere.” He takes your arm and guides you over the tub. It’s awkward and uncomfortable to lay back over the side. He kneels on either side of you and slides a hand under your neck to support it. The feeling of his warm torso brushing yours and his fingers massaging in your hair as he runs the warm water through it makes some of that mental muscle ache relieve.

“Ow.” You whimper as the edge of the tub jabs into your back.

“I know.” Leon soothes in that evenly deep voice of his as his fingers rake through your roots. He’s careful not to get the water in your face or ears. Each brush of his fingers feels like a little bandaid on the endless list of problems you consistently feel dwarfed by.

Maybe a girl just needs her boyfriend to wash her hair every once in awhile.

He shuts off the water to grab your favorite shampoo, the one that smells like lilacs. You watch his face as he massages it in, a focused look carved into the features.

“Feel good?” He doesn’t take his eyes off your hair when he senses you watching him.

“Mhm.” You’re quiet. He doesn’t like when you’re quiet, but at the same time he’s glad that you feel comfortable enough around him to not feel the need to always have to put on a show. He glances down at you just long enough to flash you a rare, subtle smile.

He’s so handsome… and warm. You hook your hands around the back of his elbows to help support yourself. But you also feel the need to just have him close. It’s reassuring for no particularly explainable reason. Your eyes close once more as the warm water flushes the soap from your hair and down the drain.

His fingers tug on your strands as he applies your conditioner. There’s a pressure in your chest that’s making it hard to breathe normal, and you can’t decide if that’s good or bad. Your breath hitches noticeably in your lungs, and you feel the vibration in his chest as he murmurs to you,

“Almost done, baby.” It’s reassuring and calm, telling you that you can hold on a minute longer because there’s an end in sight.

One more rinse, and he’s wrapping the towel around your head and lifting you off the tub like you weight nothing. You grab onto him on the way up.

A sound akin to a sob leaves your windpipe as air floods your lungs. He squeezes your hair dry with the towel. You feel the warm brush of his lips against your forehead as he takes it away and hangs it on the rack.

“Good job, sweetheart. Proud of you.”

His hands are gentle, patient as they blow-dry your hair. They’re just as gentle when they pick you up and carry you out into the living room. It may not be as productive to sit in front of the TV, but he doesn’t give a shit. Anything’s better than you holed up in your room all day.

Favorite fuzzy blanket? Draped over your lap. Emotional support pillow? Tucked up against you. Forehead kiss? Right where it’s supposed to be against your temple.

You grab the edge of his t-shirt, reluctant to just sit and watch him pull away.

“What’s up?” His fingers card through your clean strands, tips rubbing the scalp soothingly.

“Don’t go away,” you mumble.

“I don’t have to go away.” His fingers gently work out a knot or two from the hairdryer. “You want me to cut you a peach?”

“Yeah.” Attention grabbed, your eyes bounce up to meet his.

“Okay, I’ll go cut you a peach. But you have to let go of me, okay?”

You look down where your hand is clutching his shirt, and you reluctantly peel your fingers off. His hand pats your head, gently smoothing back your hairline.

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” He leaves an extra kiss on your forehead to soothe his clingy baby, before you watch him walk the few paces away to the kitchen.

“You want some of those takis too?” He calls from the kitchen, and he can practically see you perk up at the mention of your favorite snack.

“Yeah.” You sit up on your knees to try and see what he’s doing in the kitchen.

“Stay there, I’ll bring them to you.”

It takes ages (2 minutes) for him to walk out of the kitchen with your bowl of fresh peach slices and a bag of the Trader Joe’s takis that you like so much. He sets them in front of you on the coffee table watching you practically bite the bit in impatience.

He flops down on the couch next to you, and to his surprise you don’t go to the food right away. You crawl toward him, looking for comfort in your favorite spot against his chest.

“Thought you wanted to eat.” He hums opening his arm to accommodate you. His fingers lightly stroke the top of your head before smoothing down your back as you settle in.

“This first.” You mumble against his chest, absently watching whatever trash reality show is on the TV at the moment.

He chuckles, hand rubbing rhythmically over your back. You’re so predictable. And in his world, where almost nothing can be predicted on the waves of chaos and death, you’re his lighthouse.

“That’s my girl.”

[liauditore]

Equally Invalid

[fruchtfliege]

My Cousin is a Vampire (11K) 🎉

For Scott, seeing his cousin Sarah at their next lacrosse match (Go Cyclones!) is the best thing that's happened since… since they had those 3 consecutive weeks when nothing went wrong. Yes, April had been bliss! For Sarah, seeing Scott requires infiltrating the cheerleading squad which… isn't so bad now that the team captain isn't a 70-year-old witch! (Go Devils!) Of course, everything would be easier if her geek friends didn't insist on joining her and the cheerleading squad!

A Teen Wolf + My Babysitter's a Vampire Crossover for Wywy ( @johnsotherbastard )!!!! ☺️❤️

[fastboatsmojito]

This is soo specific and self indulgent but thinking about Scott like getting up in the middle of the night for you ??? I just think it could be a sweet pivotal moment idk

walk with me please ..

——

You show up at his door late one night, all antsy and pouting about how you saw some bug in your room and couldn’t sleep.

“All this over a little bug, really? It’s gotta be, what, two in the morning?” He groans, voice all groggy as he grabbed a shoe anyway and let you wordlessly drag him to your room.

“Don’t kill it, just take it out, please?” You pleaded as you walked back into your room, pointing at the bug from behind him as you clung to his arm.

He sighed before removing his arm from your grasp, collecting the unwanted little thing and taking it outside while you hid your face in your hands.

“You can open your eyes, it’s outside. Can I go back to sleep now?” He muttered, sleep still apparent in his voice. It was all a simple exchange, really but coming from someone who was usually so grumpy and cold, it meant a lot to you.

“Thank you, Scott. Sorry for waking you up so late.” He was being sweeter than you thought he’d be, if he wasn’t so sleepy he’d have called you a crybaby by now.

“Yeah. Don’t wake me up again unless somethings on fire, alright?” He said, eyes barely open as he opened the door to leave.

“I won’t, sorry.” You whispered, focused on the sight of his messy bed hair and the plaid pajama pants you could’ve guessed the one and only Scott Miller would own.

“Don’t be.” He left curious as to why he felt the need to follow you out in the first place. He wouldn’t be up this late for anyone let alone over a little bug, and yet, here he was.

——

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

looking back on the fic I've written in the last few years and my own sexuality journey has made me realize that there is an argument that poly folk and ace/aro folk process love in a lot of the same ways, like the idea that you can have significant, life-defining relationships with different people and you get something important and sometimes even a similar flavor from each relationship but each one is still fundamentally different and significant in its own way and sometimes you don't want sex but you do want hugs and your partner may be having sex with their other partner but that does not make your relationship any less important because they come back to hug you and having more hearts bound up in your own is never a bad thing, because being loved no matter the form is never a bad thing, you are lovable and you can love so many people and having a heart overflowing with love for other people and things and the universe just means that you're healing and finding the people who fit you in whatever way that comes and there will always be someone cooking in the kitchen filling your heart and stomach no matter what and in this essay i will-

[quatregats]

Thinking a lot of thoughts about Hornblower's relationships with Barbara and Maria as a metaphor for his larger relationship to social mobility and ambition, and I think there's actually a lot there - not sure if it was intentional, but I do think that whether intentionally or inadvertently, Forester did an interesting job with the parallels.

Quick note beforehand that some of this is based on my constant brief paging through C. Northcote Parkinson's Hornblower "biography", which, while I absolutely abhor his interpretation of Hornblower, gives even more food for thought on this point. I'm also leaning more into his interpretation of Hornblower's background and childhood, as opposed to the TV show's, so it might not work if you're coming from the TV show's perspective.

Parkinson takes Forester's comment that Hornblower was a "doctor's son" to mean that he was the son of an apothecary, rather than a physician like in the show. I'm not a historian of the period, so I would be hard-pressed to actually try to fit Hornblower's father within the 18th-century framework of medical practice, but either way, given his awkwardness around upper-class life and that he seems to have grown up in rural Kent, I think that Parkinson's claim that he was the son of an apothecary, rather than a physician, does have some reasonable foundation, or is at least equally plausible (to me) as the show's.

Hornblower struggles with poverty through most of the series, especially the first half, but even when he is barely scraping by, such as at the start of Lieutenant, this does not seem to be an abnormal state; and when he finally arrives at wealth and success, he constantly wishes to go back to the days when he was a penniless lieutenant, so from this we might also surmise that he did not come from wealth. (I'm also comparing especially to Jack Aubrey, who, while he admittedly makes a hash of coming into large amounts of money, and who also lives perfectly happily on very little, is clearly quite comfortable being the "lord of the manor" by comparison.)

One of the biggest changes in the second half of the series (from The Happy Return/Beat to Quarters onward) is that Hornblower's career comes into fruition; he becomes a decorated Captain, a member of the landed gentry, a Knight of Bath, a Peer, and finally an admiral, and marries into an enormously influential family. He's constantly in conflict about this, until he isn't: he wants to become someone powerful and important, except that he doesn't like the role once he gets it, and constantly wishes about the old days, then feels guilty for wishing for them. Most importantly, he seems to become less and less himself, his mental narrative getting more and more distorted as he tries to mold himself into the person he thinks he wants to be.

I don't think this is a particular novel interpretation, but I think that in light of this, the contrast between his marriage to Maria and his marriage to Barbara is very interesting. If he was an apothecary's son, his and Maria's marriage would make a decent amount of sense - they'd be from similar social backgrounds, and probably a reasonable match, if Hornblower's career had continued as expected. Hornblower feels comfortable around Maria at the start of their friendship and the very beginning of their marriage in a way that mirrors his comfort with the life he's living at that point - which is to say that he clearly knows and understands what's expected of him and how to interact, in clear contrast with later books. But on the other hand, for all that he originally does love Maria, Hornblower comes to find her to be coarse, unrefined, and boring, and feel that she is not good enough for the person he wants to become. It's at the point when he starts to feel that he's moved passed Maria that he begins to take on his new, ambitious, performative persona.

On the other hand, Hornblower feels stiff and uncomfortable around Barbara from the beginning of their relationship, notably for reasons of class, and even in later books, consistently sounds intimidated by her poise and upper-class untouchability. With Maria he doesn't feel enough for her; with Barbara he feels too much, an almost uncouth sentimentality. He craves Barbara's status like a man drowning, but can't hold up under the weight of what it would mean. They have very strong intellectual chemistry, but socially they are a disaster of a couple, and yet nonetheless, Hornblower continues with the marriage because it feels to him like the thing he ought to do, just as he ought to become squire of Smallbridge. He's so viscerally uncomfortable with his position in the later books in a way he wasn't even at the height of his earlier miseries, but he refuses to let himself admit that his ambitions might have led him astray.

I think it's also interesting that the relationship which Hornblower arguably finds the most fulfilling (or rather, it was written very poorly if Forester wanted to make it feel fulfilling for the reader, but nonetheless it was clearly meant to be the most fulfilling for Hornblower) is his relationship with Marie, who sits at a similar odd juncture to him. In the text, Forester says outright that Marie fulfills Hornblower's interest in upper-class women (ambition) while not intimidating him, yet still being a satisfying intellectual partner. Nonetheless, just as Marie and Hornblower can never actually end up together, Hornblower can never actually be comfortable with his position, and no matter how many times he tries to find solace in her, he is eventually forced to continue down the path that he began, making up with Barbara and fully taking up the mantle of Admiral and Peer of the Realm.

In short, I think that watching the way in which Hornblower's relationship with Maria evolves over the course of the early books and the way in which his relationship with Barbara takes up after that ends up being a very neat parallel to his own ambitions and class identity. With Maria he is at home, but bored and restless; with Barbara he gets everything that he wants, but feels like a fish out of water. I think that particular parallel is part of the particular tragedy of Hornblower - he can't ever be satisfied with the person he was, or the person he's become. But I think that adding in aspects of extreme class difference - even more class difference than the general trends of social mobility during this period - also helps to elucidate the fundamental tension which drives Hornblower forward as a character. The world he came from was too small for him; the world in which he moves now is far too big; but there's no in-between option. He has to choose what he wants to be, and sacrifice some part of himself in order to do that, and in light of this reading of him, I think that there's a lot of interesting dilemmas to be raised.

[junewritesstuff]

sleepy. ༊*·˚

pairing: leon kennedy x reader

cws/tws: none, just fluff! <3

prompt: “dont get up– i’ll do it.” or reader gets home late and just wants to go to bed.

a/n: first time writing for leon!!! also i think leon’s love language is acts of service and quality time (just for a little bit of context lol) this is an incredibly self indulgent and super short piece

“leon! i’m home!” you call into your shared apartment as you enter the front door. you lock the door behind you and start heading towards your bedroom, dropping your bag off on the kitchen counter.

“hi love,” leon says softly with a gentle smile, “you look exhausted.”

“i am,” you admit with a small giggle.

you quickly get ready to go to bed; taking a quick shower, changing into pjs, brushing your teeth, and your skincare routine (of course!!). you finally walk back into the bedroom and get cozy in bed, cuddling with your bf. 

all of a sudden, you let out a defeated groan, “i forgot to turn the fan onnn.” 

as you go to rip the covers off of you, leon stops you, “don’t get up– i’ll do it.” he gives you a small peck on the cheek and goes and quickly turns the fan on. you return the small peck onto his cheek and quietly thanking him before drifting off into a peaceful sleep.

© junewritesstuff , tumblr 2024. do not translate, copy, steal, repost my works on tumblr or any other platforms or claim them as your own.

[theconstellationprincess]

This one is a bit different, but I hope you guys enjoy it! Some more Little Scott with Jean, and a Logan cameo at the end. (cw: Scott has an accident)

--

Scott mumbled complaints under his breath as he continued to work on his pile of mission reports. The past few days had been full of back to back missions, and rest when and wherever he could, so his reports had fallen to the wayside, until today. As always, he had far too much to do, and far too little time to do it. He might have actually been able to get them done today, had the professor not scheduled them all in for a danger room session that evening. If Scott didn't finish them now- an impossible feat, he concluded, looking at the papers spread across the desk- he would either have to do them after the danger room session, when he was exhausted, or in the early morning before classes for the day started. Neither of those were ideal, but they needed to get done sooner than later.

He startled when he heard Jean's voice across the library. "Scott?" She called, and he sighed as he resigned himself to getting no further work done until the session. Even if Jean left after five minutes, he knew he would no longer be in the mindset to do paperwork.

"Over here!" He called regardless, because even if he did not want to admit it to himself, a break would be appreciated. And maybe even beneficial to his focus, instead of detrimental. He smiled at Jean as she came into view, turning to face her properly.

"Hello Scott," Jean greeted him with a kiss. Scott sighed and relaxed slightly, looking up at her as she pulled away. "Mission reports?" She asked sympathetically, turning her gaze towards the papers spilled across the desk. Scott hummed in agreement, looking towards all his work too. He had seen the look on her face, it was the look that she got whenever she decided he needed to stop working for a little while, and she never failed to get him to do so. Scott knew he would lose this battle, but that didn't mean he wouldn't put up a fight-

Or not. Jean raked a hand through his hair and Scott melted, shoulders dropping and a shaky sigh escaped his lips. It was one of his biggest regrets that he had let Jean find out about his off switch, that a hand in his hair made him agreeable to practically anything. At the very least she had yet to share the knowledge with anyone. Small mercies.

"I think you need a break, hmm? Refresh your mind before the danger room?" Scott mumbled out some incomprehensible words, and when Jean paused in her motions, pushing his head towards her hand with a small whine. She laughed and resumed, and Scott shivered as he felt tingles down his spine. "Use your words please Scott. Do you need a break?"

And this was it, because Scott knew that if he said no, Jean probably wouldn't push. She'd leave him to his work, would be incredibly polite about Scott complaining of mental fatigue later, but Scott would know and she would know that he would have felt better if he had taken a break. But having to say that he needed a break felt like admitting defeat, even though he knows it shouldn't. A byproduct of being raised feeling like he needs to prove himself constantly.

Scott weighed his options. On one hand, if he stopped doing paperwork, he would have more to finish later when he was tired, but he would probably be more collected and therefore a better leader in the danger room session. If he didn't take a break, he'd still have to do paperwork later, but it would be less, and he might be a bit frazzled during the danger room session, which could lead to someone getting hurt, or another lecture from Charles about being a good leader.

"I... um." Jean stopped petting his hair for a moment, resting her hand on his head. She had given him time to process, something he was grateful for, and now he would give her what she wants. "I need a break." Scott said in a very quiet voice, nearly silent, but Jean heard it.

"Good choice," She praised, spinning Scott's chair around and kissing his forehead. Scott squirmed, a blush spreading from ear to ear, because he hated- loved- when Jean would do that. Praise him, compliment him, it made him feel all warm and fuzzy, and like he was too full of emotions. Even after years of being together, he had yet to get used to it, and Jean loved to tease him about it. Today though, she spared him the teasing and simply offered a hand to help him up. He took it, squeezing it once as she led him out of the library, work all but forgotten, and upstairs to their bedroom.

She pushed down his shoulders to get him to sit on the bed, and began riffling through his dresser. "Jean? What are you doing? I-" His words were cut off when she tossed something at him. He caught it, and felt himself blushing again when he saw what it was. "Jean I- I don't need to... do that. The danger room session is in an hour, and I can't be all..."

"Baby mode?" Jean offered, laughing when Scot's expression soured. She softened when she noticed the genuine upset on his face and sighed. "You don't have to regress-" He cringed at the word, avoiding looking at her- "To have a cuddle with a stuffed animal, or to wear comfortable clothes, or to let me take care of you."

Scott bit his lip, he knew she was right- he didn't have to regress to do any of those things, but he feared that he might regress anyway. He squeezed the stuffed animal- a goat, unnamed- and Jean continued to go through his dresser. She handed him an outfit, which he quickly got changed into, while she picked out something to wear for herself.

He picked the goat back up after he was dressed, squeezing it to his chest and picking at its soft fur. He waited for Jean to finish changing before he got into bed, laying stiffly until she laid next to him, and started combing through his hair with her nails again. Scott sighed and pressed himself closer to her, feeling far more relaxed than he had all day.

His mind was pleasantly fuzzy, thoughts few and far between as he let himself float. He could go back down to Earth if he wanted too, probably, but this felt really nice, so why couldn't he enjoy it for a little while? He shut his eyes, all of his senses satisfied for once. Not overstimulated, not underestimated, just right.

"Scott sweetheart," Jean was saying, and Scott was being shaken awake. He dragged in a sharp breath, tears hot on his face, and memories of the nightmare already fading. "Shh, it's okay," Jean soothed, pulling him into her lap and rocking them both back and forth. Scott whimpered, clinging to her shirt tightly. "Oh baby," He heard her murmur, and Scott was suddenly brutally aware of the fact that his pants were sticking to his skin uncomfortably, cold and wet and itchy, and it flooded every inch of his mind.

He pushed away from Jean, scrambling out of her lap. He didn't want to get her wet and gross too. "S-Sorry-ee," He choked out, somewhere where he wasn't little but wasn't big either. Jean reached out towards him but he flinched back and she retracted her hand.

"It's okay Scott, accidents happen. I'm not angry at you, or upset." Jean tells him softly, reaching out again after a few moments. He takes her hand and shuffles back towards her, more embarrassed than scared at this point. He's not regressed anymore, at the very least, though he half wishes he were, because he would be far less embarrassed than he is right now.

"I'm going to go shower," he mumbles, wiping away his tears and looking up at Jean. She sighed and cupped his face, thumbs swiping away the tears still falling down his cheeks. It was a bit scary, how fast Jean could have him feeling small again, but it was only for a brief moment before she relinquished her hold with a small smile.

"You go right ahead," She tells him, kissing his forehead and climbing out of bed herself. Locking the bathroom door behind him feels like the nail in the coffin, in an odd sense, because it meant he was back to Scott Summers, leader of the X-Men, and no longer just Scott, Jean's husband.

He showers quickly, because the faster he's out of the shower, the quicker he can forget the fact that he's wet the bed again. He wraps the towel around his waist once he's dried off, and exits the bathroom to find an outfit to wear. Jean has cleaned up all evidence of the mess, which he quietly thanks her for as he changes into his regular house clothes. He puts his dirty outfit into the laundry basket, which will have to get done ASAP, and when he turns back towards Jean, she's offering him his favourite sweater. He accepts it, even though it does not go with his current outfit at all. The sweater was one he had swiped from Logan, and he wondered if she knew that. She must, because Scott refused to buy clothes that didn't perfectly fit him, and the sweater did anything but.

He didn't make a habit out of stealing other peoples clothes, not really, but he swears that Logan has a secondary mutation that let's him wear in clothes to just the perfect amount of comfortable, and stay there. It's a standard sweater, one of the ones Charles had commissioned for the team with the X-Men symbol in the corner. Scott has one too, and he hardly ever wears it because he doesn't find it all that comfortable, but Logan's... Logan's is perfect.

"We should go have something light to eat before the session." Jean says, and Scott nods along, following after her as they head downstairs. He's still embarrassed, but this is far from the first time that exact scenario has happened, and Jean was patient and kind as always. He was mentally exhausted by it, but there was still time before the session to take a break and try to collect himself in order to be the best leader possible.

Clearly, the rest of the team had the same idea, because the kitchen was nearly at capacity with everyone wedged in there. Scott immediately felt overwhelmed, but Jean grabbed his hand and squeezed, which made him breath a little easier. Gambit had made... something. He said the name but Scott could hardly hear him over the noise of the kitchen. He just took the plate Jean gave him and took his escape, into the dining room.

He did not understand everyone's obsession with eating in the kitchen, when they had a perfectly functioning dining room, but today he appreciated it. Logan was in the dining room too, and Scott blinked at him. He was not entirely surprised, Logan had sensitive hearing and that kitchen was a cacophony of sounds.

"Lo-"

"It was you!" Logan shouted after looking up at Scott as he greeted him. Scott reeled back, flinching at the sudden increase in volume level. Logan stood up and took a few steps towards him, and Scott- Scott did something that he immediately regretted, and stumbled backwards, heart pounding. He regretted it because Logan looked heartbroken for a moment before it was replaced with something more complex that Scott did not currently have the mental capacity to decipher.

"You really scared of me, Slim? Still think I'll betray ya at any second?" Logan snarls, but Scott can tell he's hurt. Betrayed, even.

"No." Scott answered firmly, because it's the truth. Logan gives him an incredulous look, scenting the air. He looks surprised, and less hurt, which is a start. "I had a nightmare, earlier. Memories. When you," Scott gestured towards where Logan's chair is now capsized on the floor. "Just reminded me of it for a moment. I'm sorry. I believe that you are a valued member of this team-"

"All right that's enough," Logan huffs, returning to his char- which he rights- and sitting back down. Scott is flooded with relief, and takes a chair not right next to Logan, but not as far as he usually would have been. Had he really just confessed about having a nightmare too Wolverine? What was wrong with him? But it had worked. Logan was being surprisingly kind in not mentioning Scott's disjointed explanation. Perhaps they were both off their game today.

He started eating. Pick up, bite, set down, chew, swallow, repeat. He ate in small bites, which might have been a mistake, because by the time he's halfway through the food he's exhausted. Eating most foods is tiring, and it doesn't help that he's far too aware of the textures in his mouth, the way it grazes his throat as he swallows, the knowledge that his mouth is wet with saliva-

Scott gags on his next bite and sets it down, breathing deeply for a moment.

"Don't you dare get vomit on my sweater," Logan grumbles at him, but Scott can hear the concern in his voice.

"You're so sweet," Scott manages to force out, swallowing back the saliva that's filled his mouth. It takes him a moment to really understand what Logan has said, and he cheeks instantly grow pink. He had not even considered that Logan would see Scott in his sweater and- well, recognize it as his sweater. "And I've had it for months, it's mine now."

"I thought I was losing it. Or that one of the actual children had taken it. But now I know it was you Slim, and you owe me for it." Scott decides not to mention the other various pieces of Logan's clothes he's stolen. He returned all of them, washed and in perfect condition, apart from the sweater which he just could not bear to part with. "Charles was passive aggressive with me for weeks when I told him I'd lost it."

Scott rolls his eyes and nods, "Sure Logan." He replies, "How ever could I make it up to you?" He asks sarcastically, pushing away his plate because he thinks if he took another bite he might lose all the progress he made getting the first half down.

"I have a few ideas," Logan grunts, and then- honest to god- winks at Scott. He sputters, jaw drops and face turning a vibrant red as Logan laughs and pushes his chair away from the table. "See you in the danger room, Slim." He whispers as he walks past. Scott shivers, and once Logan is gone, holds his face in his hands and groans. Will he ever learn to just tell Jean she's right as soon as she says something? Instead of putting up a protest for months- years- and then having to tell her she's right and know she'll be smug about it.

Scott sighs. Despite it having been an emotionally intense past hour, he is glad Jean convinced him to take a break. He certainly feels better than he would have after doing paper work, even if the first attempt of relaxation had ended poorly, Jean's suggestion to get food had ended fixing Scott right up.

[scottxlogan]

Get to Know Your Author

Get to know your author

Tagged by @mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea (Thanks for the tag)

1. How many works on AO3? 345

2. Total AO3 word count? 6,632,998 (Yeah I've written a lot through the years)

3. Top 5 fics by kudos?

Under Your Spell (pairing Scott/Logan, Rating E) While on a mission Logan’s deviation from the objective takes him down a surprising path when he finds himself suddenly overtaken with thoughts of Scott Summers.

Ever After (Pairing: Scott/Logan, Rating T) Post Days of Future Past timeline Logan awakens to find himself in a very different place than the one he left.

The Confession  (Pairing: Scott/Logan, Rating E) After a night of drinking with Logan, Scott makes quite a few drunken confessions in an attempt to coax Logan into sleeping with him. The next morning Scott faces the aftermath of his actions humiliated and concerned about what truly happened the night before.

Uninvited  (pairing Scott/Logan, Rating M) An eighteen year old Scott Summers goes on a mission that end up horribly wrong. When he ends up stranded in Canada away from his team in bitter weather conditions he has a chance encounter that causes him to cross paths with Logan. Logan takes Scott in and grudgingly offers to help Scott find his way back to his team. However, before that can happen the two make surprising discoveries about one another that leads to an undeniable attraction and uncovers a history of violence behind them at the hands of William Stryker. (Set in between Wolverine Origins and the original X-Men film; written as a loose prequel to another fan work I did called Starting Over)

The Key To the Past  (pairing Scott/Logan, Rating E)   Post Days of Future Past Charles Xavier sends his group of teenage mutants out in search of a man who once helped him not so long ago. When the group led by Scott Summers finds their way to the mystery mutant, Scott finds himself wrapped up in a situation he isn’t quite prepared for when his past, present and future all collide.

4 What fandoms do you write for? Marvel, X-Men, Avengers mostly. I've done characters outside of this fandom in the past, but not in a while. Mostly just things within that context.

5 Do you respond to comments? Always. It might take me a moment but when someone leaves me a comment I always respond to them. Comments are what keeps the creative fires alive.

6 Fic with the angstiest ending? I'm such a sucker for happy endings that it's hard for me to write an angsty ending, but in this particular one shot I did and it ended on such an angsty note. Of course I did write a follow up one shot that didn't end so angsty, but this one is probably the most angsty thing I've ever written: The End (Pairing: Scott/Logan, Rating T)  Logan’s latest outburst during a training session leaves Scott discovering just how unhappy Logan is in their current living arrangement with Jean. Unable to keep carrying on the way he has been Logan calls it quits on his relationship with Scott. Desperate to make Logan stay, Scott makes one last appeal for his heart.

Runner Up would be this Bucky-centric Stucky angst I did forever ago:

Gone (Pairing: Steve/Bucky, Rating T) Bucky Barnes is haunted by a life of pain and misery, but on a night surrounded by fear he finds himself longing for the one thing he can never have.

7 Fic with the happiest ending? Probably Ever After that was listed above for Scogan, but just to mix it up a bit, I think I'll throw in one of my WinterIron pieces that had a happy ending after an angst filled journey to reach happily ever after :)

Home Again (Bucky/Tony, Rating M) Bucky returns from a grueling mission to his new best friend Alpine. He begins pondering the path he’s been on after facing the reality that some wounds can never truly be healed. In the height of his exhaustion, Bucky comes face to face with the last person that he ever anticipated seeing again in this lifetime or any other. When one of his biggest regrets manifests before him in impossible ways, will Bucky find the strength to make up for the mistakes of the past and find something even more profound along the way?

8 Do you get hate? I have written for a long time and never really got hate until I started writing WinterIron (Tony/Bucky) fic. I got so much hate from an anti that every day for 6 months+ I was getting death threats and a lot of horrific comments sent my way. I tried to be polite with the person, tried to offer up alternatives to spreading hate, but ultimate after that abuse I wound up closing off my anon asks after having Tumblr for years and never wanting to because I enjoyed allowing anons the opportunity to reach out. I've also put my WinterIron fics under moderation which is sad because fandom should be a celebration of fun for those who enjoy it.

9 Do you write smut? Yes, I have and if you look at my AO3 you can see it's there.

10 Have you ever co-written a fic? Yes, I've co-authored a couple of fics with @mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea and I've participated in a few Round Robins through the years which are always an adventure.

11 All time favorite ship? I'd have to say it's Scogan (Scott/Logan). I love a lot of other ships and ship both characters in other places to, but that's been the longest lasting ship for me that's brought me joy through the years. I don't always write them as I love lots of other ships, but they will always be near and dear to my heart regardless of my other fandom loves.

12 WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Oh you know I never say never because I've been trying to make this year about finishing fics that absolutely should reach an ending. I found that I have 20 WIPs on AO3 that I want to find a way to finish one day (there were 22 a few months ago and one of them was started a decade ago so I am working on it). I don't want to close the door on unfinished fics because at this point I'd like to say never say never to the reaching an ending.

13 Writing strengths? I love world building and working through the dynamics of a relationship between two characters. My favorite types to write are characters who aren't perfect and have flaws, who make mistakes and then spent time trying to untangle the messes they have gotten themselves into as it's fun to dip into their heads and see what they want to say/do. So for me I think it's fun to step in and see where the characters take me. I'm also good at cliffhangers apparently lol.

14 Writing weaknesses? I tend to get frustrated when there's no response in general to my writing. I'd like to say I rise above it, but when there's literally no response or likes to something it makes me second guess what I'm doing and reconsider if something is worth continuing. In a lot of instances in WIPs when I had no engagement I felt as if it wasn't worth pursuing because people weren't responding to it and those who were were offering up hate to just simply troll. It's a sad day when the trolls are the ones speaking up in fandom, but when it reaches that point where no one else has anything nice to say it stifled the creative process. Maybe that's not a writing weakness, but that's something that really has been bothering me as of late with writing/art in general. If you want a 'technical' answer I think my biggest weakness is I get these 'big' ideas that go beyond where my time allows and I want to see them all through but sometimes veer off into other stories because the idea is so big I'm focused too hard on how to make it 'perfect' in it's execution.

Tagging: @sgfic, @naughtyneganjdm, @stormxpadme, @chaoticgardenbread, @pandagirl45, @psychiccatpanda, @polizwrites, @scottcyclopssummers, @shewhowillrise, @poepoe-thebunny, @strangenewwords, @morrow-dim, @rowinablx @riotwritesthingsand absolutely anyone else who would like to participate. No one is under any obligation to respond, but I figured I would toss it out there to anyone who might be interested :)

[lunarthing159]

Hey What If I Told Y'all I'm A Madlad & Did A Hyper-Analysis On All The Rats SMP S2 Cast?

Specifically Their Ratty Variations That Actually Exist

(Note: Anything Distinctly Not Mentioned Is A Trait That Doesn't Exist Irl, Like Green Eyes. Anything In Small Text Is Something I'm Unsure Of)

El: Too Human-esc To Define Traits

Bek: Champagne Coat, Bershire Markings

Tubbo: Too Human-esc To Define Traits

Kyle: Too Human-esc To Define Traits

Mogswamp: Silver Coat, Berkshire Markings, Dumbo Ears

Owen: Burmese Coat, Dalmatian Markings, Brown Eyes?, Dumbo Ears?

Sausage: Chocolate Coat, Unknown Eyes?

Apo: Too Human-esc To Define Most Traits, Red/Ruby Eyes

Sniff: Fawn Coat, Masked & Variegated Markings

Ros: Too Human-esc To Define Most Traits, Dumbo Ears

Korva: Black Coat, Satin Fur, Black Eyes

Shep: Fawn Coat, Seal-Point Markings, Black Eyes

Shelby: Too Human-esc To Define Traits

Watermunch: Agouti Fur/Coat, Seal-Point Markings, Ruby Eyes

Oli: Silver Coat, Patched Markings, Crinkly/Rex Fur?

Will: Too Human-esc To Define Traits

Scott: White Coat, Ruby Eyes?

Acho: That Is Not A Shade Of Blue Rats Can Be /aff

Ren: Too Human-esc To Define Traits

Martyn: Too Human-esc To Define Traits

Also Quick Shout-Out To @minecraftrelatedrandomness 's Post abt Scott Having Ruby Eyes As It's What Helped Me Classify Scott's Eye Color For The List ^v^

Edit/Update: Thank U @marsmarbles (Whomst Concept Designed Mog) For This Doodle Of Mog Which Confirms Berkshire Markings!

I've Also Reallocated Scott's Ruby Eyes To Question Mark & Tiny Status Due To How Purple They Appear On The Minecraft Skin

[daily-haley]

🗣: If you have a nice story plot say, OH YEAH!

Me: OH YEAH!!!

🗣: If you like daydreaming about completing your story say, OH YEAHHHH!

Me: OH YEAHHHH!!!

🗣: If you work on your story instead of procrastinating and only have 1 wip, say OH YEAHHHHH!!!!!

Me:

[fruchtfliege]

Midnight Monday Snippet 🤍🐺

Tagged by @ksbbb and @honestlydarkprincess (thank youuu and don't look at the time it took me to post this) so here's the beginning of my new WIP!!

First Chimera!Liam and Scott's Beta!Theo. :))

They all stare at the new guy leaving. Kira and Scott are both wearing a cautious smile while Stiles crosses his arms with a deep frown. His foot taps on the concrete and echoes in the silent night as he starts thinking. Usually just as suspicious as him, Theo looks uncharacteristically dazed. All he can manage with the few brain cells he has right now is to stare with wide eyes as Liam smiles and does a tiny wave at him. Theo can't even bring himself to wave back, he feels flushed all over.

“Well, that was weird,” Stiles says like they were all thinking it.

“What was weird?” Kira asks, changing her sword into a belt again.

Stiles gives her a face of disbelief but he sighs when he sees that Scott is just as confused. “The- H- Him! Liam! Did you see how he just sweeped in at the last second to save our asses? C'mon, we know better than that now. That guy is sus! Theo, back me up on this.” Stiles waits, still staring at Scott and Kira, but back-up never arrives. “Theo?”

They turn and Theo is still staring at where Liam was standing just a second ago, a dumb little smile on his lips and a genuine tenderness in his eyes that they’ve never seen before.

“Him!? Really?” Stiles screams with a very high-pitched voice.

Kira breaks into a bright smile at Theo's soft expression and Scott affectionately taps his friend's shoulder, knowing full well what's going on.

Stiles loses his questionable composure seeing this. “Don't encourage him! I spent three years trying to find him someone! I introduced him to every girl, every guy, every both, and every nothing I could find and he was always ‘meh. not for me.’ Here I was, thinking he was either the pickiest dude on earth or straight up nosexual! And the first blue-eyed short king he sees, he's gone for? If I had known I would have saved myself the trouble!”

Scott gives him an unconvinced look. “I thought you were pretending to be a wingman to flirt with people.”

“Is it my fault that my generosity and thoughtfulness is very appealing to people? I just didn't want him to be single all his life.” Stiles groans with an eye roll.

Scott frowns. “You're also single,” he says, confused.

“Not as single as him!” Stiles points to Theo with a scoff.

“Maybe not for long,” Kira says with a singsong tone and a knowing glance.

“You all skipped the part where I said the new guy was sus, didn't you?” Stiles asks woefully but Scott and Kira are already walking away towards the library, both taking one of Theo's arms and dragging him along. “Anddddd you're walking away. Great! Great talk! Love how we've achieved this level of communication through our years of hardships, guys!”

No pressure tags: @thiamsxbitch @aristarr @hemlocksandfoxgloves @opheliathiams @honestlydarkprincess @ksbbb @cdo499

[theseusmcalt]

do you guys remember when i mentioned that in this au regen potion overconsumption can cause really bad overdoses? yeah.

this is a doodle from the "gem and Scott get fucking kidnapped arc" of the fic, which will not be posted for a hot minute since I wanna finish all my other stuff + pre-write it but yeah.. she's just been in my brain

[deityoftherain]

potential winners as celestial deities au

Imagine with me that the first three winners are deities. Now imagine that they have domain over their celestial bodies. Now let's go further and give them more claim... you following?

Grian, god of the sun: sun, life, harvest/plant life, tangible light sources like fire, lightning (communicates on altars via candle flame)

Scott, deity of the stars: stars, death, afterlife/existence, intangible light like reflections and rainbows, perhaps both healing and injury because of that tie to death (communicates on altars via mirror glare/discoloration)

Pearl, goddess of the moon: moon, waves/tides/water/flooding, rain, fertility, time (tracking), war (communicates on altars via water ripples)

Grian and Pearl are siblings (maybe twins), two sides of the same coin, day and night... Scott and Pearl are nonromantic soulmates, sharing the night together, working together to create beauty in darkness

If you like that, have a rough/first draft drabble under the cut >:D