#so for the longest time it's been SO HARD to touch those fandoms ya know???

[corignem]

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[marshmallowprotection]

Commission for @that-russian-gal

Fandom: Mystic Messenger

Bio: You found yourself drawn in by the two of them and by the time you’re in too deep, there’s no way to turn around and escape from those devious western partners. 

Characters: Reader, Judas Choi, Minji Cho

Length: 1500

This is 100% OC Centric, so keep that in mind.

This was never any place for someone to live and travel without knowing what they were getting themselves into. 

When you left home to find someplace where you could see yourself living and changing for the better, or the worse, frankly, anything was better than staying at home, you never thought that you would find yourself in the sprawling area that amassed mountains and desert. 

But, this is where you had come and this was where you had wound up. 

There was no changing that fact so you made time to try and settle down. 

At least, for the time being. 

This area was different from what you were used to by all accounts, and though you were still going through periods of culture shock to being a fish out of water… you were settling in rather nicely for the most part. You had got a steady job working at the local bank which was an influx of visitors due to the booming gold industry. 

Some people were getting lucky and others were just slaving away in the dirt, unable to get the fortune that they so desperately wanted to hold in their hands. That’s not what you were invested in. No, you’d just wanted to live a quiet and peaceful little life in your bubble and enjoy the company of the nice feeling of knowing that you were living the way you wanted.

And not the way that someone wanted you to be living. 

It was a quiet little life but it was one that you proud of because you’d done all of this on your own. Nobody had helped you put together your house and nobody had given you anything to get to where you were today. It was built upon your own two hands and for that, you were proud of how far you’d come from that person you used to be. 

Time can change a lot about a person but one thing seemingly would never change: The fact that you’d been drawn to eye people that shined like jewels against the dusty clay soil, and as guilty as you were of this fact, you had no shame in that regard. If you saw a pretty face? You would lean towards that person in the hopes that maybe you’d be able to catch their eye someday. 

For example, you had an ongoing little game with the local baker, who made what you would call the best bread in all the west. It was made with the delicate care of her hands and each step was done with the notion that any bite someone took would have the same consistency. She took her job seriously in a way that nobody else could or would. 

Banana bread and raisin bread… all kinds of specialty items that she worked hard to get deals for considering the area that they lived in. It was hard to maintain gardens and food out here.

However, Minji was nobody to laugh at. She had managed to make deals and friendships with all kinds of people. Which meant that nobody dared mess with her in the slightest. If they did, they knew that it would not only occur the wrath of the people that cared for her but the people that had a strong need for her baked goods. 

You could never tell what she was thinking but God, you could’ve listened to her talk all day about nothing and you’d still be interested in seeing her every day. It was the same song and dance every day you visited her at her bakery once you got out of work. She’d smile at you, extend her hand, and you’d shake it with a gentle fever. 

“Nice of ya’ to drop by,” she’d beam without question. Her golden curls carefully braided and out of her face. “I was hoping that I would see you again. There’s something that I’d love for you to try out for a taste. I want to share it in the shop but I need to know that it may be good enough for my customers, and I trust you dearly.” 

“Absolutely, anything to help you out,” you responded, never once looking away from her face as she giggled and laughed. “It’s no trouble for me. You do make the best of the best, Minji. You always make sure that everything you sell is perfect.” 

Her head bobbed as she nodded, “Only because you’ve helped me so much lately. I doubt the business would be fairin’ as well without ya’ helpin’ me out, my favorite customer! Well, less yer’ countin’ my honey and darlin’, too.” 

It was always the same story but you never pressed her to do anything that she wasn’t comfortable with. She was the one setting the pace for you. She was the one luring you in with a heart of gold and making you fall deeper and deeper into a trance around her heart. 

Whether she liked you the way that you liked her or not, God, you always wanted to stay her “favorite customer”.

The way that her fingers ran through your hair and coaxed you to come closer and closer, the way that her lips lingered close to yours whenever she pulled you into a strong hug and the way that she smiled so broadly whenever you got tongue-tied from one of her compliments. As eccentric and as bubbly as she was, she never quite realized just how easy it would be for her to date someone. 

That was the portion that was hardest for you because you didn’t just have a tender feeling in your heart for Minji alone. No, because her darling that she mentioned happened to be the other person that you could never get off of your mind. His name was Judas, and he was the star of the show in the local saloon. 

Nobody could take their eyes off of him.

Not men, not women, and not anyone in-between or outside of that. 

He was always center-stage and he always knew how to make people swoon and sigh. You spent quite a bit of your free time just sitting in that bar and watching him flirt and taunt some of the patrons as the outfit you wore left little to the imagination. He would always take the time to come and see you when he noticed you were around.

His fingers curling underneath your chin and beckoning you to look at him, only him, and watch as his lips brush so sweetly against your cheek. It left your heart pounding and he always whispered so low in a sultry tone that, “Ya’ don’t owe me a thing, sweetheart. Pretty little fillies get my affection my free and you’re just my type.” 

It left you sputtering and kept you on your toes for the longest time. You never knew how to react or respond to him, all you knew that he liked playing with you and you weren’t going to tell him to stop doing that. A part of you wanted to be played with. 

The corset was snug around his waist and the unbuttoned state of the shirt lay flush against his skin. His raven hair contrasted the softness of his skin tone, and his blue eyes shimmered like starlight on a cloudless night. He had a way of purring and pawing at people to get them to pay up or to listen to what he had to say. 

Anyone and everyone that had taste was interested in getting to know him and getting close to him, but it was known that he was very intimate with the baker. The way that he always lit up when he’d seen her stop by was telling enough. Not that it made anyone jealous, no, as a matter of fact, if and when people realized that the tall girl was around her short boyfriend—

They’d wind up fawning over the two of them and sighing contentedly if they were given any little ounce of attention. 

To be pushed and pulled between the two of them was a dream and a dream that you were quite frankly living. You weren’t sure when it started or how it started, all you knew that you were right where you wanted to be. It might have had something to do with how badly Judas wanted you and how quickly you realized that Minji had just the same desire. 

Weeks of you missing their hints because you were too caught up in the idea that you were shameful for wanting the both of them when they so very clearly wanted you as their cute little partner to have and to tease with a smile. 

They had been working together to pin you down until you realized the truth that had been there all along. You had spent so long pining that you had blinded yourself to the fact that they were both flirting with you openly and presently for so long. 

It took one of them grasping you by the arm and kissing you for you to stop and think: Oh. Oh.

That was why you were pleased to be where you were at that very moment; Judas’ arms clasped tightly around your waist as you sat in his arms and he kissed at your neck with a gentle desire, all the while Minji’s hands carded through your hair and her lips kissed every single spot on your face that she had desired. Between the two of them—

You had never felt so wanted in your entire life, nor had you ever felt this warm and flustered. They’d been more confident and blasé about the entire time, and you felt like you were catching up to them but they would always be one step ahead of you. Which wasn’t such a bad thing. You could’ve kept yourself in this spot forever. 

“Darlin’, you’re just too good for us,” Judas’ voice was low and reverberated in your ears as he chuckled. 

Minji kissed your forehead. You could feel the smile brewing against her lips. “Mhm, they’re too cute, it’s not fair. I’m glad they’re our darlin’, Jude.”

This was right where you wanted to be, and you’d let out a contented sigh, melting into their touches as the hum of the cicadas echoed from outside. 

[purplehairedwonder]

A Rope That Wears Thin

Fandom: One Piece Rating: PG Pairings: Gen Words: 2395 Characters: Bepo, Trafalgar Law, Shachi, Penguin, Jean Bart, Ikkaku, Heart Pirates Note: The title comes from the Ayn Rand quote, “Guilt is a rope that wears thin.”

This is set between episodes 955 and 956. Law gets out of the prison six days before the raid, but we don’t know what he’s up to during that time, so I wrote this.

Summary: As the Heart Pirates plan to rescue their captain from prison, Law returns on his own. Bepo, while happy to have his captain back, feels guilty for causing Law to give himself up in the first place. He probably should have realized Law would notice.

Read also at A03 / FF.N

“From the different parts of the prison that Shachi, Penguin, and I saw, this is the best map we can come up with,” Bepo said, pointing to the rough drawing he’d tacked to the wall of the hut the Heart Pirates had gathered in, packing themselves into the small space. “We didn’t see a lot, so it’s far from a complete layout.” He swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

The apology was more habit than anything, but Bepo was frustrated that he couldn’t provide any more detail that would help the Heart Pirates bring their captain back. He knew Shachi and Penguin felt the same. It was their fault for being careless and getting caught, and now Law… Bepo swallowed. The look in Law’s eye as he’d told them not to tell the Straw Hats about his capture had haunted Bepo since they’d come back to Ebisu Town alone.

Law had sacrificed himself for them, but Bepo refused that sacrifice. Law was far too willing to sacrifice himself for those he loved; he’d accepted the likelihood of his death in Dressrosa to avenge the man who’d saved him as a child, and Bepo never wanted to feel the choking terror and panicked helplessness he’d felt watching Law’s vivre card nearly burn out while he and the other Hearts were halfway across the New World, safe and sound on Zou.

Law’s vivre card had been smoldering since his capture at the prison, and Bepo tried not to think too hard about what was happening to him while he was in the enemy’s hands — hands that Bepo knew firsthand were twisted and cruel. But the burning hadn’t escalated, much to the crew’s relief. They would bring Law back before that could happen. Bepo and the Hearts wouldn’t be helpless on the sidelines this time, the Scabbards’ plans be damned. 

“They won’t be holding Captain in any of the low-security cells,” Bepo added, using an ink-dipped claw to cross out the boxes at the entrance on the map.

“There are… interrogation rooms toward the back of the building,” Shachi added, hesitating only slightly to push through the raw wounds he, Penguin, and Bepo were all feeling from their time in the prison. Though all three would rather have shut those memories down and locked them away to be dealt with later—or never—they’d willingly torn them open for any small detail that might help their rescue operation.

“We think there are Seastone-lined cells in that area,” Penguin added, pointing toward the top of the map. “That is where they would most likely be holding Law.”

“We’ll need to find the keys to the cells and to any Seastone restraints,” Bepo said, eyeing the rough schematic as he considered. “Unfortunately, we don’t know where the guard station is.”

“What kind of security are we looking at?” Jean Bart asked.

“Basil Hawkins,” Shachi muttered, absently rubbing his bandaged arm.

“And X Drake,” Penguin said. “Though he was there less regularly than Hawkins.”

Normally on a mission like this, they would case their target for several days, if not weeks, to get a sense of the building’s layout and security protocols as well as the guard rotations so they could take advantage of shift changes. The Heart Pirates typically preferred to act with precision — their captain was a surgeon, after all — rather than causing mass chaos like some other pirate crews.

They didn’t have that kind of time to spare with Law’s life in the balance.

“Guards?” Uni prompted.

Bepo shrugged, frustration rising in his throat once more as he just didn’t know. He suppressed a growl. “At least a dozen on shift at a time, though we never got a full count.”

Jean Bart frowned at the map, considering. “We’ll need to get in and out fast. With a Headliner and one of the Tobiroppo on hand, we can’t afford to get caught up in a fight. That will just draw attention and provide more targets for capture.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “A small group to distract the guards while another finds the captain and gets him out, perhaps. We should assume he won’t be able to move quickly.”

Bepo grimaced but nodded alongside the rest of the Hearts. Jean Bart’s experience and reputation as a captain gave him a gravitas the rest of the crew respected, and, without Law, his leadership was something they could lean on.

The brainstorming continued, and slowly a plan started taking shape. Bepo could feel hope threatening to take root in his chest. They were the Heart Pirates, dammit. And nothing would stop them from getting their captain back.

“That’s quite the plan you’ve come up with.”

The room fell silent in an instant as heads whipped toward the familiar voice from the doorway. Law leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed against his chest and Kikoku at his side. He had an eyebrow raised and a small, tired smirk on his lips.

“C-captain!” Bepo yelped, eyes widening.

As the rest of the crew erupted around him, Bepo bounded toward his friend to garchu, but Jean Bart grabbed his shoulder, pulling him up short. Bepo frowned but then really took in Law’s state. His stomach dropped.

The first thing he noticed was the blood. Law was covered in dried blood, and Bepo’s nose twitched at the metallic odor now that he was closer. There were cuts and bruises on his visible skin, including around his wrists, and Kikoku shook ever-so-slightly; Law’s arm was trembling with the effort of holding her.

Oh.

“Captain, how did you—?”

“Law!”

“Captain, what—?”

Law raised his free hand, as if to fend off the onslaught of questions. Bepo, realizing Law was having a hard time standing, ducked from under Jean Bart’s hand and hurried to Law’s side. Bepo took Law’s arm over his shoulder and wrapped a paw around his waist as gently as he could. It was a testament to his state that Law winced but didn’t otherwise protest. Penguin appeared and took Law’s other side, and together they maneuvered the captain to sit on the rickety bench outside the building they’d gathered in. They sat down next to him, just in case. The rest of the Hearts flowed out of the building to surround their returned captain.

“What happened, Captain?” Shachi asked once the entire crew was present. “How did you get out?”

“Drake-ya,” Law replied, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward. “I don’t know what he’s up to, but it doesn’t seem he’s loyal to Kaido.” The gears in his mind were almost visible as they turned over whatever had happened between them at the prison.

Bepo exchanged surprised looks with Shachi and Penguin. While they hadn’t seen Drake as often as Hawkins at the prison, he’d given no indication he hadn’t been dedicated to the role of prying information from the captured Heart Pirates. But, Bepo supposed bitterly, as he studied Law’s tired profile, they’d never been the true target; they’d simply been bait. Who cared about torturing some underlings?

“The Straw Hats?” Law asked, glancing over at Bepo.

Bepo shook his head. “We didn’t tell them. They’re still at Amigasa Village.”

Law nodded. “Good.”

Bepo gave his friend an unimpressed look but didn’t say anything. Law’s lips twitched, and Bepo felt Law’s hand squeeze his knee briefly before letting go. Bastard, Bepo thought without any heat.

He was just glad Law was back.

-----

As the reunion wore down and the Hearts started to disperse, Bepo bumped shoulders with Law. “We should look at your wounds, Captain.”

Law shrugged. “I’m all right, Bepo.”

Penguin snorted. “You can barely sit upright.” Law glared at him, but the expression lacked any malice. “Besides, you’re covered in blood.” That it was his own blood hung unsaid on the air.

Law grimaced, gently touching his face and rubbing his fingers together when they came back sticky.

Bepo glanced at Shachi and Penguin, who nodded. They each rose and moved in separate directions. Law would deny making that startled yelp when Bepo reached over to pick him up to his dying day, but Bepo just smirked as he carried his weakly protesting captain to the building they’d claimed for sleeping quarters. 

As Bepo deposited Law on one of the sleeping pallets, Penguin entered with a bucket of water and clean cloths. Shachi followed a few moments later with Law’s medical kit. Law eyed them flatly, lips pressed into a thin line, but the trio simply returned the look levelly; they’d known Law the longest of anyone on the crew, and they were the least likely to take any shit from him—even if it meant some light insubordination to make sure Law took care of himself.

Law finally sighed, fight going out of his spine. “Fine,” he muttered, pulling his hat off.

Bepo exchanged victorious looks with Shachi and Penguin. They knew better than to push Law too far, though—he tended to shut down entirely in that case—so Shachi headed out with the promise of finding Law something to eat while Penguin went to find him a clean change of clothes. None of them voiced the guilt they were trying to make up for now that Law was back.

Once they were gone, Bepo turned back to Law expectantly. Law grumbled but slipped out of the sleeves of his kimono, leaving his tattooed chest bare and even more bruises and wounds visible. Bepo picked up one of the clean cloths and dipped it into the water before bringing it to Law’s face. He’d helped clean Law up after more fights than he could ever count in the last thirteen years, but Bepo wasn’t used to being the reason Law was hurt. All this blood, these wounds… they were Bepo’s fault.

Bepo stewed in his thoughts as he wiped blood from Law’s face until slender fingers wrapped gently but firmly around Bepo’s wrist. Bepo started and looked at Law. Golden eyes were studying him.

“I’m not mad, Bepo.”

Damn him. For all that Bepo prided himself on being able to read his best friend, Law knew him just as well. Of course he’d know how Bepo was feeling.

“Law—”

“It’s not your fault,” Law interrupted, “so stop blaming yourself. I made my choice, and I’d do it again.”

Law released his fingers, and Bepo dropped the blood-stained cloth in the water. “But you shouldn’t have had to. We were careless, and you got hurt because of us.”

Law shook his head. “I was Hawkins-ya’s target because I got made back in Bakura Town. That’s on me. He took you three to get to me.”

“You were just trying to stop Straw Hat and Roronoa from getting spotted,” Bepo muttered, looking at his hands.

Law snorted. “Feel free to blame Straw Hat-ya then,” he allowed, though Bepo could hear the fondness in his voice. Somehow, the Straw Hats, especially Luffy, had wormed their way under his captain’s skin, and Bepo wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to figure that out.

“My point,” Law said, tone demanding Bepo look at him, “is that it was not your fault. So, no more guilt.”

Law’s gaze was weary but sure, brooking no argument. Bepo nodded. He didn’t think he’d be able to let the guilt go that easily, but he was willing to try. “I’m sorry.”

Law huffed at the habitual apology but nodded. “Tell Shachi and Penguin the same thing. I mean it.”

“Aye, Captain.”

-----

Once Law’s wounds had been cleaned and dressed, Bepo had convinced him to take some painkillers. Law had been reluctant but knew he was barely staying upright as it was. The pills had knocked him out within minutes, and once Law was asleep, Bepo had ducked out of the hovel to get some fresh air. He leaned back against the building and slid to the ground, rubbing his face through his paws.

“How is he?” Ikkaku asked, coming up to Bepo and glancing toward the doorway.

“Asleep,” Bepo replied, giving her a wan smile. “He’ll be okay. He just needs rest.”

She nodded, relief evident on her face. “How about you?”

Bepo blinked. “Huh?” he said intelligently.

Ikkaku nudged his leg with her sandaled foot. “Captain’s going to need his first mate to have his head in the game to face an Emperor.”

“I…”

“You know none of us blame you three, right?” Ikkaku pressed on. “It’s not your fault this happened. You didn’t deserve to be tortured, but you didn’t break. Captain got you out because he trusted you to do what needed to be done for the mission. And now he’s back.”

Bepo felt tears prickling his eyes. “That’s what Captain said.”

Ikkaku’s lips twitched. “And you know better than anyone that Captain might be a bit of a jerk sometimes,” Bepo huffed a teary laugh at that, “but he’s usually right.”

Bepo sniffed. “Yeah.”

Ikkaku’s hand ran over Bepo’s head and gave him a couple of affectionate scritches before turning away. He had a feeling she’d already had this conversation with Shachi and Penguin.

Bepo swallowed, watching his crewmates flitting around the village, taking care of various tasks to prepare for the upcoming raid. He thought about the immediacy with which they’d started planning to bring Law back and the steadfast determination to do whatever it took, despite the danger. Bepo was proud of his crew—his family. And Law and Ikkaku were right; family didn’t blame one another. They supported and took care of one another.

Law had an ambitious plan to take on an Emperor, but he’d risked the entire thing for his family. And he’d trusted Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi to take over for him. Bepo’s chest warmed as it dawned on him just how much trust Law had put in him when he’d given himself up.

Bepo longed for that trust—had ever since that thirteen-year-old boy with white patches on his skin had rescued him on a winter island in the North Blue—and he’d be damned if he was going to do anything to screw that up now, on the verge of the Heart Pirates doing something… incredible.

Bepo felt himself baring his teeth in a grin. Law was going to be fine, the Heart Pirates were all together again, and they were going to take down an Emperor.

They were going to change the world.

fin

[meztliel]

Fanfic Authors Tag Game

Tagged by @maiikawriter aaaahhh 💕 ty bb! I’m so glad to hear from you again

AO3 name: Meztli (link tagged in the name) 

Fandoms: actively it’s Dragon Ball. Occasionally Pokemon but it’s been a good minute. Formerly, The Hobbit (movie-verse) 

Number of fics: 18, and of those body of works 3 of them are one-shot collections, plus all the other stories I’ve uploaded on Tumblr that I haven’t published on ao3 b/c I’m lazy 

1. Fic I spent the most time on: Under Mountains and Beneath Stars, a Kiliel (Kili/Tauriel) fic. It’s only 4 chapters long and is unfinished but MAN did I have to do a lot of Tolkien lore research and world-type of building. And rewatch the movies. Also a lot of editing. 

2. Fic I spent the least time on: Probably the ficlets I wrote for Tiencha (Tien/Yamcha) Week 2020. 

3. Longest fic: The one with more chapters is Just a Prisoner of Your Eyes, a Launchitz (Launch/Raditz) fic I’m still working on. The one with the most word count is Under Mountains and Beneath Stars

4. Shortest fic: On my ao3 account it lists The Day After Last Night, a fic I wrote for GoChi Week 2020, as having the smallest word count. But technically it’s “Warmth” a BraPan vignette that’s under the collection Bits and Bobs (Son Family-centered collection)

5. Most hits: Bits and Bobs

6. Most kudos: Bits and Bobs. 

7. Most comment threads: Bits and Bobs, I think, but Under Mountains and Beneath Stars comes pretty darn close. 

8. Favourite fic I wrote: Um. It’s hard to say. Maybe it’s Just a Prisoner of Your Eyes because it’s the one I’m having the most fun writing and have inspiration to write for. I’ve also gotten some fanart for it  and have met wonderful people because of it, so that’s super encouraging. 

9. Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: I would love to finish Under Mountains and Beneath Stars, since out of all of them it may be the best written and thought-out one, but I just don’t have the same passion for that pair and fandom as I used to 😭💔. Plus it was hard to keep up with both Tolkien and movie lore. Considering expanding one of the GoChi Week prompt fics titled On Second Thought as a multi-chapter fic instead of a one-shot. It’s a Saiyan Chi-Chi and human Goku AU. 

10. Share a bit of a WIP or a story idea you’re planning on: An excerpt from the latest (published) chapter of Just a Prisoner of Your Eyes, a Launchitz fic:

He used to take the sight of the open night sky for granted. In the cities he grew up in, the stars were hardly visible, their shine diluted by the artificial glow of the street lights. Even so, he shouldn't have taken all the freedoms he had for granted. The freedom to look at the outdoors whenever he wanted.  The freedom to sing at the top of his lungs. The freedom to touch another person in privacy, with nature as the only witness.  

Launch pokes him on a rib, her nose nearly touching his as they both turn to look at each other.

"So how are things going for ya at the Son house?"

Raditz doesn’t like this shift in conversation, mainly because he’s not sure how to answer it.

It's a strange feeling to be living among an already established family, like being an onion in a bowl of apples.

"Uh, fine, I think. I'm still not sure how I fit into the family. It's like living with strangers, who you know are technically your family, but it doesn't quite feel like it yet. I like the kid, though. We’ve been kind of hanging out these last few days. Even went fishing with him yesterday when his old man couldn’t."

This was super fun and I did have to do a bit of thinking and digging. Idk even know who’s still active on this hellsite anymore. I’ll tag @katerayearth @elisajdb @zdbztumble @arofili  and literally anyone else who sees this b/c I honestly don’t know who’s still on here and maiika already tagged the other authors I know. 

[bamfoftheundead]

fic writer tag game

i was tagged by @dannybagpipesarecalling ! thank ya

fandoms: uhhh mostly x-men, the dark crystal, kinda bnha too and my middle school favs that i never truly grew out of Homestuck/Creepypasta. Im mostly active in x-men as of now and like dannybagpipes im really into Excalibur and catching up on a lot of the comics 0V0

number of fics: 1 lmaoo, i writer down my daydreams for potential comic script but they’re bad and suuuper unfiltered/edited.

fic i spent the most time on: desert winds of course, despite being a lil old thing. It took me abt an hour to write bc my ipad was charging n i was bored. Bead au would take the lead if i could get more of it done >:T

fic i spent the least time on: uhhh Queens bath? the new lil saucy drabble im working on but having a hard time bc WOW, i get flustered easier than i actually thought. Words are harder to write then drawing lines on a canvas

longest fic: actually this goes to that fanfic i wrote for my friends in 7th grade it was a slice of life of us living together casually, haven’t touched it since but it deffo is my longest fic

shortest fic: dfjdjdjjd middle school fanfic for the win again, this 800 word lil smut thing i wrote for my friend, it was between her and a naruto character and it was very badly written i can assure you

most hits: desert winds at 23 hits (what do those mean?)

most kudos: desert winds at 4 kudos :D

most comments: desert winds with 6! super proud, and i got a comment from a mystery user? love it

most bookmarks: desert winds, 1 (whoever u are ily)

total word count: 1,354

fav fic i wrote: definitely desert winds, ive never gotten so much feedback before :v

fic you wanna rewrite or expand on: uhhh desert winds ig, there still a lot of thing i don’t know abt writing and my learning disorder makes it hard to learn basic stuff so when i actually do get better at writing and understand things im deffo gonna rewrite everything i ever wrote

share a wip or story idea you’re planning on: well my bead au, still trying to get that done, im trying to make at LEAST one page 10k long, its my bare minimum and boy do i gotta long way to go. Another wip i think is something i did a long time ago (2017-18 i think) and i called it my “Pink diamond au” bc it was somewhat like pinks arc in su but instead it was abt kitty being a powerful/bratty princess whos also inhumanly tall (bc pink diamond/pearl dynamic ig) with a special bodyguard (kurt) whos somewhat strict and technically prince of a kingdom but since he was like more than a 5th son became a knight/paladin and how kitty suddenly became queen of a whole world and inherited amazing god-powers as a half celestial queen and struggled to rule and not be manipulated by others (azazel, belasco and mephisto who all have their own kingdoms) and how shes young/naive and just wanna do whats right and gets weirdass marriage proposals from kings/queens shes never even heard of, it was very high fantasy-ish and i definitely wanna do more with it.

tagging: uhhh @kurtty-drabbles if you haven’t done it yet? im afraid everyone i know has been tagged already :’)

[izzy-b-hands]

Fictober 2019, Oct. 1st, “It will be fun, trust me.”

Fanfiction

Fandom: The Pacific

Pairings: Eugene “Sledgehammer” Sledge/Merriell “Snafu” Shelton

Warnings:None, except for maybe some drunken silliness from all three boys. They’re celebrating being home and imbibing a bit more than they might usually.

Rating: T

2,867 words

For those who’ve not read my Sledgefu/The Pacific works before, a note that this is based off the TV version of these people, no disrespect is meant towards the actual veterans, this is just taking the television version of things for a bit of fun.

Also wanting to note here is that this sort of a Mini AU? Burgie, Sledge, and Snafu get stuck in a random town on their way home when the train breaks down (and can’t be repaired right away because....reasons I did not bother to invent. So we’re gonna say Train Problems and leave it at that.) 

“No.” 

“Burgie, c’mon.” 

“Abso. Fuckin’. Lutely. No. I love you both, but I do not trust either of you as far as I could throw you, and I could throw y’all pretty far if I so chose to,” Burgin replied, and continued stomping down the road. 

“I know you’re mad, but no one’s happy right now. Let’s find some place to stay, then go-” Eugene started.

“I said no,” Burgin grumbled, interrupting him. “We’ll just get into trouble we don’t need.” 

“You don’t know that. All we’re suggesting is a little bit of bar-hopping. Phoenix seems interesting, and if we’re stuck here we might as well explore. You really gonna tell me you don’t wanna at least look around?” Snafu called. “You gonna miss out if you don’t come with us. It will be fun, trust me.” 

Burgin stopped, and turned on his heel. “Hotel first, then we can talk about it, okay? But if we don’t get a room now, there won’t be any left.” 

“This is a big city-” Snafu smiled, but Burgin held up a hand. 

“That is now full of returning soldiers, all of which need somewhere to stay for the night. We gotta move, consider this a mission.” 

“Burgie, leadin’ us again,” Snafu giggled. “What’s next? A mission to find dinner?” 

Burgin bit back a smile, though he knew both Eugene and Snafu had caught sight of it. “Yes, soldier. Are you equal to the task?” 

Snafu’s laughter echoed down the street as they ran to the first hotel in sight. Inside was a mess of soldiers, all clambering to get near the front desk, where a very tired-looking young woman stood. As they entered, she carefully climbed and stood on the marble counter of her desk.

“Everyone! Shut it, and listen up! I have five rooms left. The rest of your friends have already gotten the rest, in addition to our regular guests who are not happy with all this noise! It is ten at night, if none of you remember how to look at a clock! If you wanna leave now, and try your luck at another hotel, then head out now!” 

A decent portion of the crowd of soldiers, grumbling, walked out at that. 

“Okay. Now, if you wanna stay, and put your name in the drawing for the last five rooms, then sign up on this paper here! I’ll be pulling names in ten minutes, so move fast!” 

“...she coulda been a Marine,” Snafu smiled as they took their turn at the sign in paper. “You hear that yellin’? Put my old drill sergeant to shame.” 

“Just think lucky thoughts so we don’t gotta go runnin’ around town looking for somewhere else to stay,” Burgin instructed. 

“Don’t got any others, Burgie.” 

“Bullshit. I’ve played cards with you, nothin’ lucky about that,” Burgin replied with a smile, even though he was damned nervous. He certainly hadn’t come home just to wind up finding a bus shelter to sleep in for the night. Hell, he’d share the bed with both Shelton and Sledge so long as there was a bed. 

“That’s a fair point,” Eugene said as Snafu frowned. “You just get bad hands, that’s all.” 

“You’re sweet,” Snafu sighed. “Burgie’s right though. Still a bunch of guys in here, what’re our chances of gettin’ a room?” 

The receptionist, looking like she wanted to just stop everything and take the longest nap possible, was stood on her desk again. “Room 109-Thomas, Stevenson, and...lord, the military didn’t teach none of you handwriting, did it? I think this is Carmichaels?” 

“You got it pretty thing!” came a call from the crowd. 

If looks could kill, Carmichaels would have been dead, but she still handed over the room key to the three soldiers. 

“Room 115-Jacobs, Thompson, and...Thompson?” 

“We’re brothers!” an elated cry as the three boys pushed through the crowd to the desk. 

“Delightful,” the receptionist replied dryly as she handed over the key. 

“Room 120-Well, look at that. Handwriting I can read. Burgin, Sledge, and Shelton. Please no smart comments, or I am not responsible for what I do next!” 

“Hear that Shelton? Keep quiet,” Burgin teased as they pushed through the crowd. 

“Hear that Burgin....uh. Shit. You ain’t lookin’ for girls anymore, I got nothin’ on ya,” Snafu replied. 

“Neither are you,” Eugene snickered. 

“Yeah, you know I’m not,” Snafu said warmly. 

Burgin thanked her for the key, and led them down the hall towards their room, feeling for all the world overwhelmed. He couldn’t wait to sit down for even just a moment, and be out of the noise. 

The room was nicer than he’d expected. Two beds, a small end table and a chair in one corner, and enough space yet to toss down their barrack bags. It could have had just a blanket and a pillow, and he would have been happy. 

He dropped onto one bed, and watched as Snafu and Eugene....just stood there. Nervously glancing at the other bed like it was about to eat them. 

It clicked, right then. He knew, but he realized they didn’t know that he knew. He’d figured since Peleliu, but hadn’t gotten confirmation of just what he figured out about them until the day they’d left from Okinawa for China, to start the last six months of clean up from the war. 

They’d been on the beach, far away from everyone. He’d gone searching for them, to make sure they didn’t miss the call to get on the boat to head out. He figured they’d be set aside somewhere talking, and smoking, and potentially...other things, but he hadn’t figured he’d ever witness it. 

He had though, both of them looking as soft and delicate as he’d ever seen them, standing in front of the water, kissing like it was all they knew how to do. It didn’t bother him any (if anything, it was a relief, a release to the constant tension that had otherwise followed Sledge and Shelton around whenever they were together, which was almost always) but he knew better than to let any of the others know. He waited a suitable distance away, and when they walked back to the crowd of waiting soldiers with him he’d covered for them, saying they’d gotten caught up all three of them talking. He remembered how it felt to have Shelton and Sledge’s questioning eyes on him then, but he had decided to wait to say a word about it. 

Now was a good time, he figured. 

“Just kiss already. I know you wanna.” 

“Um...no!” Snafu scoffed, sounding for all the world like he was acting in a poorly written radio play. “Me? Kiss this guy? I-” 

“I saw you two on the beach. Reminded me of me and Florence.” 

Snafu’s face softened. “You saw us. Did you...” 

“Didn’t tell anyone else. That’s for you two, to tell who you want, when you want. But you don’t have to pretend or hide here. Just...keep it tame enough that I can sleep, okay?” 

Eugene blushed. “We will, I mean, we wouldn’t, we haven’t, I mean I want to but uh-” 

Burgin laughed while Eugene covered his face with his hands. 

“I’m just gonna be quiet now. Think that’s for the best.” 

“Let me quiet you,” Snafu murmured, and it was almost a strange sight, Snafu kissing Eugene so softly, so gently. Burgin had seen what those hands could do in combat, but it was a nice if unfamiliar change to see them gently holding Eugene’s jaw. 

There was a quiet, short pause as Snafu let go and moved back to let his head drop against Eugene’s chest, wrapping his arms around him. 

“You both still wanna get me in trouble with some bar-hopping? I’m game if you two are.” 

Snafu grinned. “That’s my man! Let’s go celebrate bein’ back home properly.” 

Their first stop was the hotel bar, strangely empty of soldiers, though it became apparent why quickly. 

“If you’re gonna be rowdy, then don’t even bother. You’re money ain’t worth it,” the bartender, a man who looked just old enough to be one of their fathers, scoffed as they sat at the bar. “May have got money from V Day, but ya know what else I got? Over one hundred broken glasses, seven fights, and enough drunk soldiers puking on my floor we damn near had to redo the carpeting.” 

“We just wanted a quick drink. No intentions of tearing down your bar, sir,” Eugene said quickly, and Burgin thanked the universe for Sledge’s ability to seemingly politely talk his way out of anything. 

“...fine. Sit down, one drink each, then if you wanna keep going you leave and go elsewhere, alright?” 

“Thank you very much, sir,” Snafu smiled sweetly. 

The bartender scoffed, but turned and gave them a look. “Now, I got a game I like to play when it’s slow. Think you’re up for it?” 

They shared an amused glance, and nodded. 

“Alright. Game is, I try and guess what you’d usually drink. I get it right, you pay full price. I get it wrong, you get a dollar discount. Fair enough?” 

“I’m just happy you got booze, and we get to drink it,” Snafu said. 

The bartender’s glare softened just a touch. “Where’d you boys get back from?” 

“China. In Okinawa before that, Peleliu, Pavuvu,” Burgin replied. 

The bartender nodded, and started readying drinks. “I’ve heard a bit about it from the other boys in town tonight. Sounds like hell.” 

“Hell would have been preferable,” Eugene said quietly, with a look in his eyes that it stung Burgin to see. None of them were the same as they’d been when they left the States, but he knew Eugene was hurting especially hard. 

Snafu knew the same, clearly, leaning to wrap Eugene in a one-armed hug. “We’re home now though. Gonna be okay.” 

Eugene only nodded, and leaned into the hug. 

The bartender sighed. “Tell you what. I scared off the rest of the guys, but if y’all can promise me you’ll behave, I’ll keep you in drinks for the night. Maybe some food from the kitchen...willing to bet none of you have eaten yet.” 

“No sir, not yet. But we don’t want to be a burden,” Burgin said. 

“You seem like good men who need a break. You need somewhere safe to drink and eat and maybe forget a little. If I can help with that, I’d like to. I remember what it was like, coming home. There’s shell shock of the battle, and then shell shock of being home. No one knows what you went through, no one can understand, and you’re expected to pick yourself up and keep going no matter what.” 

“What branch?” Snafu asked softly. 

“Marines,” The bartender rolled up his sleeve to show a tattoo of the Eagle, Globe, and Anchor. 

“Thank you for your service,” Eugene sounded near tears, leaning against Snafu like it was the only thing keeping him going. 

“Thank you for yours, all of you. Now, I got an open booth right there, ten times more comfortable than these god-forsaken chairs. You go make yourselves at home. I’ll be over with drinks in a minute, and you think about what you want for dinner. Kitchen is a little limited in what they can make, but we’ll get something for you.” 

Burgin led the way while Snafu carefully helped Eugene out of his chair. 

“You okay? We can go back to the room if you want,” Snafu’s voice was gentle as he pulled Eugene close again, the booth letting him nearly pull Eugene onto his lap. 

“I’m okay. Just...sort of glad we’re staying in one place now. I mean, I still like the idea of running around...” 

“I get it,” Burgin said. “But it’s a lot. Almost too much. This, quiet, isolated. Feels a little bit easier to take.” 

Snafu nodded. “We got time anyway. Nothin’ but time, to figure out what we wanna do, where we wanna go...who we wanna go with.” 

The unasked question settled in the air, and he found himself holding his breath as Eugene’s eyes met Snafu’s. 

“I wanna go with you. I know we both oughta go home and just...I don’t know. But I don’t think I can do that,” the tears were visible in Eugene’s eyes. 

“Who says you have to?” he asked. “Why not just...go home together? Choose one place for now, visit the other when you can? Or choose somewhere new altogether?” 

“That an invite, Burgie?” Snafu chuckled, but the tears had already fallen down his face as he rubbed at Eugene’s shoulder. 

“I already got Florence comin’ that I gotta take care of, but tell you what. You let me know where you’re settling down, and I’ll send a letter or telephone when we’re ready for houseguests. I need Florence to meet you two, or she won’t believe any of the stories I tell her.” 

They all laughed at that, as the bartender returned with a tray of drinks. 

“Okay, so, we’ll see how well I guessed this time around. Sazerac, from the boy I’m certain is from the Bayou.” 

“Did the accent give it away?” Snafu smiled, and sipped as soon as the drink was in his hand. “One right, and I’ll be happy to pay you. Tastes like heaven.” 

“Old-fashioned for the old soul here,” the bartender set the drink in front of Eugene, who damn near tossed the whole thing down in one gulp. “...I’m guessing I got that right?” 

“Yes sir,” Eugene replied. “Could I please-” 

“Have another? Yes, you may. And for you, and you were a bit of a difficult guess but...Sidecar?” 

Burgin shook his head. “ Just Scotch, usually, but I don’t say no to most drinks. Consider it a win regardless.” 

“If you say so,” the bartender laughed. “Now, food?” 

From there, it began to feel like home, finally, for him. They asked for simple things, sandwiches, but the kitchen sent back a full three course meal once the bartender told them a bit of their story. It was good food, good drink, and best of all, safety. No need to watch for any enemy, just conversation and laughter. 

By the end, they’d decided Snafu and Eugene would start in New Orleans, then visit Mobile once they were settled. Florence, once she got to the States, would join Burgie for a visit with them as soon as they could arrange it. 

“It’ll be the best time,” Snafu mumbled in between kisses from Eugene as the three of them stumbled down the hall to their room, their wallets and hearts noticeably lighter. “Florence is gonna love it.” 

“She will,” he could hear himself talking, but barely registered what he was saying. “Oh god...I love her so much. You guys...she made me...what was it...I don’t even know but she made me dinner once, and watchin’ her cook...she’s so pretty. So sweet, I don’t even deserve her.” 

He slumped down the wall outside of their room, even as Snafu and Eugene reached to pull him up to standing again. He missed her. If he could have, he would have brought her with right away, had the boat make a pit stop so he could whisk her away, instead of having to wait for her. 

“You deserve her, and she deserves you, and you’re both...I love you both,” Eugene stumbled over his words, pulling Burgin up off of the floor and wrapping him in a hug while Snafu fumbled with the room key. 

“Locks are...these are bad locks, they oughta tell Maintenance,” Snafu said as they shuffled inside, pulling off their coats and ties and shoes, letting them fall wherever they dropped them.  

“In the mornin’,” he mumbled as Eugene dropped him onto one of the beds. 

He turned on his side and watched as Eugene fell backwards onto the other bed, Snafu crawling on top of him, pressing kisses to his face and neck and chest like it was all he knew in the world. He wondered if they knew how cute they were together. 

“You guys...are so damn cute together. We’ll do a dual wedding...you two, me and Florence...” 

“Don’t think they’ll let us do that,” Eugene mumbled as he sat up, swiftly moving Snafu so he was holding him in his lap. “But I appreciate it, Burgie.” 

“Fuck ‘em. I say double wedding, and we’re havin’ one. Gonna plan it, later. Tired...” 

“Go to sleep, Burgie. We can plan in the mornin’...” Snafu said, his face leaned into Eugene’s shoulder, already half asleep himself. 

The morning did not bring planning, but instead a rush to the train station as word spread that the train was not only repaired, but that anyone not there at the station right away risked being left behind. It was a task, getting all of them out the door and there, but once they were actually on the train, all was well. 

Burgin, sat on one side in the compartment, hoping relaxing would will away his hang over headache, and Sledge and Shelton on the other, leaned against each other, falling asleep again under the gentle rhythm of the train’s motion. 

They were right. 

It had been fun.  

[thievinghippo]

Fic Update: The Longest Distance (97/100)

Fandom: The Adventure Zone

Pairing: Barry Bluejeans/Lup Taaco

Rating: Teen

Summary: “Time is the longest distance between two places.” - Tennessee Williams. 100 cycles. 100 moments. How Barry and Lup’s relationship evolves over 100 years.

Chapter Summary: Lucretia needs a moment. Merle is disturbed. Lup remembers a secret. 

Notes: If I keep up with the posting schedule, the last chapter will be posted a week from today. AHHHH.

(Read on Ao3!)

#

Cycle Ninety-Seven

“Well, this cycle’s officially a no go,” Merle says as he flops down onto the couch in the common room.

Lucretia folds her hands in her lap and looks down at the floor. Five cycles. Five cycles in a row where the Hunger’s scouts found them before the crew of the Starblaster found the Light of Creation.

Five cycles that the rest of the Starblaster would rather let be destroyed than try her idea.

She’s always prided herself on staying calm and rational, no matter the situation. Over the years, those traits have begun to define her more than any other.

But this?

Watching the Hunger follow them to world after world when she could fix everything with one complex spell? It’s the hardest thing she’s ever done and she doesn’t know how much longer she can do it.

“Did Magnus come back with you?” Lucretia asks as she sits down at her station in ops. There’s nothing for her to do at the moment, but somehow, the familiar lines of her station seem to comfort her right now.

“Died while we were looking,” Merle says with a sigh. Lucretia closes her eyes. How many more people need to die? “The Light’s down a big cavern. I told him not to try to get it.”

Funny how eighty, sixty, even forty years ago, Lucretia would have been devastated by the news. They all would have been. Davenport would lead a wake and they’d all spend the night together, talking and laughing and crying.

Now Davenport will just ask for a moment of silence at dinner and offer a toast.

Seeing death over and over and over again will do that to people.

And Lucretia’s the one who writes down every single death. From funny to tragic, she records every single one. A hundred and eight deaths between the seven of them, fifty-seven of them Merle’s alone. But even Lucretia’s contributed to five of those deaths.

They still haunt her some nights.

“How did he die?” Lucretia asks as she grabs a journal and quill from her station. In honor of her fallen friend, she chooses her favorite quill.

“Shit, who died?”

Lucretia looks across ops, where Barry’s standing at the entrance. He looks crestfallen, like he always does when he hears they’ve lost someone. She thinks he takes their deaths harder than anyone in the group.

“Magnus,” Merle says, throwing his arm over his eyes. “Lucretia, he fell. It was ugly so that’s all I’m saying.”

“Understood,” Lucretia says, not wanting to push. It takes a lot to throw Merle off his game, so if he doesn’t want to talk, quite frankly, she doesn’t want to hear.

“That sucks,” Barry says as he goes to his station. “Any chance you got the Light?”

“Nope,” Merle says, not uncovering his face. “Now let me brood over here in peace, will ya?”

Barry shakes his head as he starts working at his console. With both her friends occupied, Lucretia decides to head to her quarters. She thinks better when she’s by herself anyway.

Gathering her journal and her favorite quill, Lucretia leaves ops towards the hallway leading to everyone’s rooms.

“Luce?”

The sudden voice startles Lucretia enough to make her practically jump. She didn’t realize she spaced out there. “Hello, Lup,” she quietly.

Lucretia leans against the hallway wall and Lup mirrors her, so they’re facing each other. She doesn’t particularly want to talk, but she doesn’t want to be alone, either.

“You’re only like this when someone’s died,” Lup says as she puts her hands behind her back.

She can see the unasked question on Lup’s lips, wondering if it’s Barry’s who died. No point worrying her. “Magnus,” Lucretia says, staring down at the floor.

After all these years, she’s fairly certain that Lup’s the only one to have guessed her secret, that she has feelings for Magnus. Worse, Lucretia’s fairly certain that Lup knows that she knows. But Lup’s never brought it up once, which Lucretia will be forever grateful.

Once Lucretia harbored secret dreams, that she and Magnus could end up like Lup and Barry. But she’s never been brave when it comes to matters of the heart and Magnus has never given her any sort of encouragement.

Even so, she’s held onto these feelings for almost forty years, knowing that it’s completely futile.

Now he’s dead. And if Lup tries to give her any sort of sympathy, Lucretia might go mad.

“We’ll honor him at dinner,” Lucretia says, raising her chin and looking Lup in the eye.

There’s no sympathy, but there’s understanding. Without a single word exchanged, they’re having a quiet conversation. It’s enough. It will have to be.

“Well, I’ll certainly be there,” Lup says. “Davenport always lets us drink the good stuff when someone’s died.”

And just like that, Lucretia’s laughing. She’s laughing so hard, she needs to bend over and put her hand out on the wall. Lup starts to laugh, too,

But then tears threaten and that will simply not do, so Lucretia stands up straight at once, and tries to control herself.

That’s when Lup hugs her.

Lup puts her arms around her and Lucretia doesn’t even try to fight it. It’s been too long since she’s had a simple hug.

“We’ll be okay,” Lup whispers in her ear.

Lucretia rests her temple against Lup’s and lets herself just be still. Sometimes she just needs to be held and every single time she needs to remind herself that it’s not a weakness.

It’s not. It’s not.

The embrace lasts just long enough, so Lucretia pulls back. “Thank you.”

“Any time,” Lup says. “You know I mean that, right? The cuddle pile is always open for business.”

Lucretia smiles. She’s never been the type for casual touches, not like Lup and Taako. But the offer alone warms her heart. “I know,” she says.

“Alright, let’s go help get dinner on the table so we can get shitfaced,” Lup says with a wink.

Lucretia follows, deciding that doesn’t sound like a bad idea at all.

[luxover]

ummmmmm that stevexbucky post??? "#i want to write an au but also that is a terrible idea" I DIDN'T KNOW YOU WERE IN THE FANDOM??? WHAT AU AND CAN I HAVE SOME?????

“Goddamn, it’s hot,” Bucky complains. “Next paycheck we’re getting air conditioning.”

“Sounds great,” Steve agrees. He’s sitting on the other end of the loveseat in their shitty Brooklyn apartment, the one that’s too small to fit a full-size couch. It’s got no heat and no air, one bedroom and broken tv. “Then we just won’t eat.”

Bucky laughs. It’s Steve’s favorite sound, Bucky’s laugh that sounds a little bit like Alright, wiseguy, and more than a little bit like I love you.

“C’mon,” Bucky goads. “Ain’t you hot, Stevie?” He uses one finger to hook in the hem of Steve’s white shirt, his knuckle dragging across Steve’s side as he slides Steve’s shirt up. He places his palm flat against Steve’s ribs, and there’s no way he doesn’t feel the hitch in Steve’s breath, or the racing of his heart.

Steve’s always been so easy for Bucky.

“Only ever one thing on your mind,” Steve grumbles, but it’s a front and they both know it. When Bucky shifts onto his knees, Steve places his hands on Bucky’s hips, helps guide Bucky so that he’s straddling Steve’s lap. Steve cups the back of Bucky’s head and cranes his own neck up to look at him.

“Careful for the hair,” Bucky warns. It’s gelled up like he’s going out, and Steve loves that, the way Bucky does his hair. It’s just me, Steve always says, and Bucky replies, Well, maybe I want to look good for my best guy. You should try it sometime.

Steve rubs his thumb gently across the skin behind Bucky’s ear. “Wouldn’t want to ruin a masterpiece,” he agrees. “I take handling art very seriously.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asks. His lips are so close to Steve’s that Steve almost thinks he can feel them move as Bucky talks. Bucky rocks his hips against Steve’s and asks lewdly, “When ya gonna handle this art?”

Steve huffs out a laugh, but doesn’t say anything, hyper-focused on all the places they’re touching, and all the places they’re not but could be. The blinds are closed in a half-hearted attempt to cool down the room, but the sun still sneaks in through the slats, striping him and Bucky in light. Their skin is sweaty already from the heat, and so the two of them slide and stick together with each move closer and closer. Steve loves it, loves everything about being right here with Bucky, just the two of them, the rest of the world packaged up and put away.

He slides his hands up the back of Bucky’s shirt and then kisses Bucky’s mouth. Bucky doesn’t move for a long second because he always likes to drag it out, the first kiss. Or maybe not, maybe Steve’s the one who likes that, and maybe Bucky’s just the one who accommodates. They’ve been together for so long that some of the details have gotten lost in the mix, but the habit remains, and they kiss so slowly that at first it’s like they’re not even moving at all.

Eventually, though, Steve opens his mouth and licks at Bucky’s bottom lip, and when Bucky smiles, Steve uses his teeth to tug at Bucky’s lower lip, needy and already desperate.

God, Bucky’s always known how to play Steve like a fiddle. Bucky’s always had his number, even after all these years and everything that’s happened.

Bucky’s smile grows against Steve’s own, and then his lips part beautifully, and Steve kisses him like he hasn’t kissed Buck in years, like he hasn’t kissed Buck since yesterday.

Bucky rocks his hips again, and then slides a hand down to cup Steve through his shorts. Steve groans without meaning to.

“No wonder the neighbors think we’re delinquents,” Bucky says, mashing his smile into Steve’s jaw. “Walls here are thin as shit, and you can’t keep a lid on it.”

“You don’t want me to keep a lid on it,” Steve counters, but already he can imagine the embarrassment of anyone hearing.

His ears strain for the sound of footsteps upstairs, but all he can hear is Glenn Miller, a little muted, almost as if it were coming from the other room. Moonlight Serenade. Steve would know that song anywhere.

Steve hates that song.  

He pulls back from Bucky apologetically and then gently tips Bucky off his lap. “I gotta go,” he says. He’s looking anywhere but at Bucky, looking at the crooked lampshade in the corner, the open box of cereal still left out on the kitchen table. The guilt is unbearable.

He hates this part. He just wants to stay, but the music is getting louder.

“What?” Bucky asks, a confused smile on his face. “But you just got here.”

“I’ve been here all day, Buck,” Steve says, and he’s sorry. He’s so fucking sorry. He can’t believe he got so distracted. The trumpet is loud now, and Steve almost can’t think because of how loud it is.

He wishes he could stay forever, but instead steps behind the couch and heads quickly to the elevator. They never had an elevator when they actually lived here, not in a rundown building like this.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, and he chances a glance at Bucky.

Bucky’s face changes on the drop of a dime, the smile dropping off his face and leaving someone dangerous behind. Bucky—his Bucky—looks murderous, and Steve knows enough to know that this Bucky’s not shy when it comes to following up on threats. Steve’s heart races. He would say that he doesn’t know this angry, violent Bucky, except for how he knows every version of Bucky there is, and even some there aren’t.

“You motherfucker,” Bucky says, stalking towards Steve. His voice cracks, and that’s the worst part, worse even than how he picks up a baseball on the way, a gameday foul they caught years ago, and lobs it at Steve’s head. He throws Steve’s sketchbook immediately afterwards, and it crashes to the floor. Steve barely manages to duck into the elevator and close the old-fashioned gate before Bucky’s there—right there—rattling the gate hard with both hands.

“You fucking liar!” Bucky calls him. He throws his entire body into trying to pull the gate off its tracks. Trying to get into the elevator with Steve. “You can’t keep doing this to me!”

“I’m sorry,” Steve begs. The elevator jumps to a slow start. Steve’s heart is breaking. “I love you.”

“You said you were with me ‘til the end of the line,” Bucky accuses. “You said that.” He throws his bodyweight into rattling the gate again, but only succeeds in shaking some of his hair free from the gel and into his face. Steve’s already far enough away that he can’t even reach out to guide it back into place. 

The elevator keeps moving and the distance between them grows. The music gets louder and louder. Steve can’t do much of anything, but he watches Bucky for as long as he can, Bucky glaring back the whole time until, finally, the elevator reaches the next floor and Bucky’s gone.

When Steve wakes topside, the IV is still in his arm, and he doesn’t move to take it out for the longest time. The hotel room is cold, and instead he stares blankly at the air conditioning unit until Tony comes knocking on his hotel room door.

“Rise and shine, princess,” Tony calls. “Long day of criminal and morally reprehensible work ahead of us.”

“Yeah, I’m up,” Steve calls back. He looks down at the line in his arm, and his eyes follow it back to the PASIV Device that he and Bucky stole from NYU all those years ago. It’s the only thing tethering him to Bucky these days, and it feels like a betrayal of sorts when he pulls the IV from his arm. “I’ll be right there.”

[thekrazykeke]

Title: Best I Ever Had

Fandom(s): Black Panther, MCU

Relationship(s): T’Challa x reader. T’Challa & Okoye. Reader x OC. Ayo & reader.

Request: Any time I read a story about Reader fucking up or not doing right by Tchalla she’s either evil or he just leaves her crying in the dust. I want a fic where she fucks up but apologizes, confesses how much she really loves him and is just scared, and HE. FORGIVES. AND LOVES. HER. And she shows him how much she loves him...wink wink. Basically what we do for Erik in these docs where he fuck up but we forgive him! Except Reader and his level of fucked up! Thank you!

Requester: Anonymous

Summary: I’m not afraid of commitment. I’m afraid of surrendering control too quickly, of putting my heart in hands that do not know how to hold it.

Warning(s): Angst, bad decisions, fluff

(Suffer with me) @adiafegan @wikiwakanda @melaninmarvel

Honestly, T’Challa is a cinnamon roll and if anyone’s unhappy in a relationship, just end it. I give that advice every time, you do more damage staying with somebody who you honestly don’t even like because you scared to be alone/lonely. That’s fucked up, so just let that person go, let them be with someone who can appreciate them. Anywho! I know it’s probably implied in the request about ‘Erik’s level of fucked up’ meaning she is supposed to be having an affair/cheating but I couldn’t go through with the whole thing because I’ma sucka. 

#CheatersNeverProsper

~

You had been born in a country that didn’t want you and fighting against a system designed to keep you at the bottom, scrambling for scraps. Being black in America meant that from jump street, you’re at a disadvantage. Even more so, you’re a black woman, and that comes with it’s own set of stereotypes and little boxes to be checked off so other minorities and Caucasians can feel justified in their treatment of you. 

Be too loud, then you hood. Talk too soft, then you shy, overlooked. Dress conservatively, you a square. Show some skin and you a ho. So what do you do with these mixed messages thrown in your face all the time? 

Not give a fuck!

Or at the very least, master the art of pretending to not give a fuck. 

Mama taught you to be independent and how to take care of yourself, pay your bills on time and be a lady. Daddy had a gambling addiction and while he could be sweet as gold, the pipe dream of hitting big and being a millionaire is too tempting for him to kick; you learned that some people are just lost causes.

The core lessons stuck. 

Throughout your life, you bumped your head, stumbled and got lost trying to find who you are as a person. You lost friends along the way, chasing your dreams. Romanticist to the core but you’d been played too many times to the point where you knew all the tricks; you ended up being the one calling the shots in relationships. 

No one had the power to hurt you anymore because you wouldn’t let them. 

One night them and move on, that’s the number one rule. 

Until T’Challa Udaku. 

He swept in your life and thrown everything out of wack. You was used to the hood niggas, fools who wanted you to spread your legs and close your mouth or the hoteps who were fake ‘woke’ and wanted you to be ‘all natural’ and worship them for breathing. Workplace hook ups were entirely too messy. Businessmen, lawyers, doctors, etc. were serious about their craft but they tended to prioritize work over relationships in your limited scope of experience. 

This man, though? 

He was...He is good. 

He treated you with respect, listened to and valued your opinion. Had no issue with spending money on you and wouldn’t complain about the price for anything, opened doors for you and treated you as if you were important, beautiful. T’Challa is one of those rare, one of a kind people and for some reason he wanted you. Can you imagine that? You, one of the many translators that the U.N. had employed but out of everyone there during the press conference where he made history by announcing on live television that Wakanda would be more involved in the world, and share it’s resources, after decades of isolationism, it’s you who caught the attention of a king?

Talk about surreal. 

Admittedly, you thought that T’Challa was just after some easy pussy. You wasn’t no ugly bitch, you’re confident enough to say that much, but you didn’t have time for other people’s foolishness, not even, maybe even especially, a king. Thus, you ignored the chemistry between y’all and tried to keep from lusting over his sexy, polite ass. 

It’s an exercise in failure. 

The first time you ended up in his bed, or to be specific, in a ritzy upscale hotel and he’s all up in ya guts, hitting your G-spot and making you see stars, the morning after, you blamed it on being drunk even though all you did was nurse a beer all night. You tried to sneak up outta there without causing a scene but the Dora Milaje caught you; Okoye didn’t think much of you but your presence seemed to amuse Ayo, her amusement growing when T’Challa joined y’all in the hallway and dismissed them. He wanted to see you again and you made up an excuse for why you couldn’t, or so you tried. It’s a little hard to stick to your guns when he’s french kissing you so sensually and skillfully, reminiscent of when his tongue had played wit yo punani...

Long story short, he’d gotten his way, much to your (delayed) irritation.

Again and again, y’all linked up and the dicking down that you got is always good. Your prerogative is to keep your distance and although you had tried, there’s just something about T’Challa that drew you in, made the walls around your heart trembled and shivered with the need, the want to come down and let him in, especially when he’s open with you. Somehow this had been going on for a month before he asked you if you would date him and despite your misgivings, despite the instinctive response to deflect and retreat, you told him yes. Yes, you told him even though you wouldn’t allow him to come to your house. Or meet any family members. Yes, you told him and while you liked him, truthfully, you’re sprung and in love, you still tried to remain a sense of separation, of independence because that’s all you knew and the rings of self-preservation crawled up your spine every day that you spent at his side and he proved to be a genuinely good man. 

Good men didn’t love like damaged women such as you.

The two of y’all had been together for just under four months now and it’s clear that he wants more. Hell, he deserves more, deserves better. And part of you wants to give in and trust that T’Challa will catch you, each time your mouth opens to throw caution to the wind, you become frozen and chicken out. Maybe it’s that type of vulnerability which Sebastian DeMarco, your ex, sensed and capitalized on, suggesting that y’all get drinks and catch up while he’s in town. Any other day, you’d have refused, cited work, going to church on Sunday, or any other random thing you could think up. 

No, not this time, this time, you said yes. And you didn’t tell T’Challa about it. You said that you were working late and that you’d see him tomorrow. He’d texted back an affirmative, the response a little more clipped than usual since y’all had gotten into an argument earlier. 

For the first time in awhile, you didn’t think about anything or anyone’s feelings, let alone your own. You got turnt the fuck up, bih! It was so much fun, so easy to get a rush of this type of energy. Sebastian had always been fun type, wild and carefree, why hadn’t you hung out with him again before now?

Turning to ask him, you blink when his lips are on yours. 

Just as you go to shove at his chest and demand what the fuck--

“Y/N.” 

Oh. No. 

Heart beginning to pound with anxiety, drunkenness starting to wear off, you turn to see that it’s T’Challa and another male, some resemblance to him, possibly his cousin that he sometimes talked about? 

“Ba--” You try to take a step toward him while the other guy immediately went after Sebastian (”Wassup, nigga!?” “Whoa, whoa, whoa, bro, I’m just tryna smash!”). 

“You told me that you were working late.” T’Challa stated, voice frighteningly blank. “You lied to me.”

“I just needed a night to myself.” The minute to those words leave your mouth, you know it’s a mistake. Hurt flashes across his face before his features become frighteningly blank. 

“Do not worry. You can have the rest of your nights to yourself, from here on out, Y/N Y/L/N.” He says in the coldest tone you’ve ever heard from him. “N’Jadaka!” Calling out sharply to the other, at the corner of your eye, you see that Sebastian’s face is a mess of bruises and bloody. “Let us go. We are done here.” 

“Nigga, is you forreal?! He kisses yo girl and you letting his punk ass walk away breathing?”

“T’Challa, please.” You try to plea, but he ignores you.

“Now, cousin.” As T’Challa turns to go, you reach out for his hand and he dodges your touch. “Do not---!” Biting back words, he shook his head, disappointed and disgusted.  

You stand there, trembling with suppressed emotions, watching as he got further and further away from you, his cousin chewing him out,  tears in your eyes and a lump in your throat. Leaving Sebastian groaning on the ground, you find a cafe and have the owner call you a cab. Once you arrive at home, you stand in your empty, lonely apartment. Hand going to your head, you walk past a mirror hanging on the wall, pausing as you catch sight of yourself. 

You look shell-shocked, dumbfounded. Like a woman who had the world in her hands but lost it because she was an idiot. A surge of anger flows through you and you yank the mirror off the wall, flinging it. 

Shards of glass decorating the wooden floor. 

Pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes, you laugh and laugh and laugh. Until you cry. For the longest, you just stand there, shoulders shaking and breath seizing your throat as you tried to be silent in your misery. 

And things do not look brighter in the morning. In fact, things look absolutely shitty. Your head hurts because you’re hungover, you can’t talk because your voice is scratchy and you just look like a straight up mess because you fell asleep on the couch, without a bonnet or scarf or nothing. 

Wolf Woman is a thing now. 

If you had the power of time travel, you’d rewind back to two days ago, when you’re in another fancy hotel room, T’Challa tracing the words, ‘I love you’ into your skin while you were ‘asleep’. You cry in the shower because of that. You cry while making breakfast. 

You cry before you leave out for work.

Sebastian calls you while on break and you let it go straight to voicemail. Then delete his number and contact info that he’d snuck into your phone yesterday. God, was it really just yesterday when your whole world came crashing down? Fingers hovering over the buttons, you stare at the screen for a new text message, leg bouncing up and down with anxiety. What do you say, what could you say? Exhaling roughly, you send him the address to your apartment and turn off your cellphone, because you’re a coward. 

Even now you’re trying to protect yourself from more pain and rejection. 

If he doesn’t show up, he doesn’t show up. You’ll accept it. Leave his life and let him move on with someone else. That’s what a good person would do, right? Right, and you’re trying to be better. Throughout the day, you try to focus, but it’s pointless as your mind keeps going back to him and you know your boss is irritated by your behavior but you’re not called out on it, thankfully.

When you get home, it’s not T’Challa waiting for you, but Okoye and Ayo. 

You’re barely able to get a foot out of the car before the General of the Dora Milaje is on you and not in a sexy way, but in a threatening, I will end you type of manner. Her elbow is braced against your throat, applying pressure and she smacks the shit out of you more than once. Literally, you don’t think you have any taste left in your mouth or feeling in your face before Ayo pulls her off.

“Have you no shame?!” The fierce, bald woman demanded, her eyes wild, angry.

“General...General, stop.” 

“You think that because he is soft for you that you can treat our king in any manner--” Ayo blocks her before she can lunge at you again. “I should kill you!”

“I just want to see him.” You say, calm and even toned, heart racing with adrenaline. 

“And you think you have the right?!” Okoye presses a hand on Ayo’s shoulder, about to push her aside but Ayo isn’t budging. “I knew you were not right for him...I told him, I knew it!”

Before you can come up with something witty or smart-alecky to get another smack across the face, “That is not up to you.” 

Okoye ceases trying to murder you for the moment, “Kumkani...”

Ayo hesitantly let her go. 

“We will discuss this breach of trust and insubordination later.” T’Challa says calmly, as if he hadn’t just probably witnessed that embarrassing one sided fight. “Dismissed.” 

“Kumkani...” Disbelief coats Okoye’s voice and features. Ayo, however, merely crossed her arms in the Wakandan salute, marching away. “T’Challa, are you really going to just forgive...” Looking at you with disgust, she closes her mouth, curtly nodded before she also saluted and marched away.

Silence lingers between the two of you for several seconds. 

“Do you want to...come in? Talk, maybe.”

“I do not think that is the best idea.” T’Challa stated, clipped and short. “I should be going as well. I only followed them because I wanted to know what all the secrecy was about and now I have my answer. It does not interest me.”

“Please, T’Challa...” Hand on his wrist, you’re surprised that he allows this. But also, you’re elated because only a day without him and you think that you’re going crazy. You had spent so long with his arms around you, in constant contact, that now that you’re on you’re own, you’re constantly cold, bereft. “Please, just five minutes. Please.”

T’Challa half turned to face you, looking down at you with a blank expression, “I told you that I was done with you.” 

“You’re going to throw away me away for one kiss that I didn’t even initiate?” Again, you’re putting your foot in your mouth. “He kissed me. He kissed me, I didn’t want it.”

He scoffed. “Yet you let him kiss you all the same.”

“I was going to push him away. You came across us before I even got the chance--” His hand is on yours now, he’s trying to get you to let go. “I’m telling the truth, T’Challa, please. If you would just listen to me...”

“You had months to talk to me!” T’Challa shouted. Then when he realized you were staring at him with huge eyes, his normal soft tone returned, “You had months and you chose to just lead me on. Making a fool of me, Okoye was r--”

And you couldn’t stand this anymore. “I was scared, okay?!” Apparently today is the day for dramatic outbursts. “I was t-terrified....of the way...that you make me feel and I...” Vision going blurry with tears, they fell down your cheeks unchecked. “When I get scared, I try and push the problem away but I didn’t want to push you away. And I’m sorry I’m difficult and mean and I don’t always know how to talk about... about anything, but I love you. It’s scary because you see through me sometimes and I can’t...I can’t...” Hiccuping, you let go of his wrists to cover your face, trying to maintain some dignity. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for wasting your time. I’m sorry.” 

This is it, the end of the road, sis.

You had made your pitch and now that he’d seen you for the pathetic, waste of space that you are, just like you promised, you’d let him g--

T’Challa gently gripped each of your wrists, moving your hands out of the way. Embarrassment welled through you and in reaction, even more tears fell down your face. You want to stop crying but it’s so difficult and this isn’t cute or right, tears are not to be used like weapons against people that you loved, after all. “...Do you realize that this is most you have confided in me since we met?”

Guilt stabbed through you. “I’m sorry.” 

“Stop saying that.” He lets your wrists go and you let them drop to your sides. “...I was hurt by you kissing that man, yes. Or he kissed you, there is no real difference. But more than that, I was hurt that you lied to me about your whereabouts. I thought I needed time and space away from you, and while I am irritated by Okoye’s actions and interference in my personal matters, her concerns are well placed.”

Swiping at your eyes, you try to get ahold of yourself, “I know.” You bite your bottom lip to avoid apologizing again.

He lifts your chin, making you look at him. “Do you know? Do you understand how cruel you have been to me?” T’Challa doesn’t let you get a word in edgewise and keeps speaking, “We would probably both be better off and better people if we stop seeing each other.” You try and look away but again, he makes you keep eye contact. 

“But like the fool that I am, weak as you make me, I still love you.”

Then much to your astonishment, T’Challa is crying too. 

You probably look like two idiots, crying outside like that and making gossip for your neighbors, but you don’t care. For once, the facade of being a strong, take no shit type of woman is the last thing on your mind as you blubbered, apologizing over and over again. Eventually though, the two of y’all did migrate to your apartment. The reality that you could have lost him, and very much still could if you didn’t handle your shit like an actual functioning adult and communicate more, hit you full force in the face. 

“‘Challa.” Fingers massaging the pulse point of his left hand, you waited until he hummed, showing that he’s listening, “I love you.” Glancing up, you see that the umber skinned male is watching you. Maintaining eye contact, you guide his hand downdowndown, the fabric of your booty shorts the only obstacle, “I love you and I don’t want anyone else to t-t-to...touch me...” Voice stuttering towards the end as his fingers have disappeared underneath the shorts and his long middle finger dips into your puss til the knuckle, sinking in and out, in and out. Hips rising of their accord, wanting more of that touch, still, you tried to stay on script. With shaking, unsteady fingers, you got the zipper of his pants down. When he added another finger, brushing up against your G-spot teasingly, you went a bit cross eyed before you clenched your eyes shut.

T’Challa smacked you on the ass, hard, causing you to flinch and moan. “Do not stop. This is about me right now, not you, and if you cum on my fingers before I am inside you...”

Oh God, the thought of cumming on this man’s fingers. Pulling down his boxers, his dick came free, saluting you practically; your lips find the mushroom head, kissing the tip before swirling your tongue around, collecting pre. You heard him let out a quiet hiss, abdominal muscles tensing and flexing before he relaxed, and rewarded you by adding one more finger. Deciding to be a bit of a tease too, you massaged his balls gently, kissing along either side of his cock for a few seconds and just before he could warn you again, you took him in your mouth. His hand is on the nape of your neck and his hips rose, making you take more and more, relaxing your jaw, you let him use you, fuck your throat. 

By now, you’re practically soaking his hand and maybe even the couch. 

You could probably cum from this. 

As if sensing wayward train of thought, T’Challa removed his fingers and you let his dick fall out of his mouth without being told. 

“Come here.” There’s no way that you’d disobey. Half rising up, you straddle his waist, legs thrown over either side of him and you sloowly sink down on his cock. T’Challa’s hands are on your hips, fingers slightly bruising when you’re finally seated and he’s buried to the hilt. You have to pause for a second there because he’s not some small guy. It’s only when you’re squeezing his shoulder and wiggling in his lap does he start thrusting. The rhythm is slow and drawn out, he doesn’t rush to get off and he’s not going to let you off that easy either, you belatedly realize when you shuck off your shirt and his head dips to take a nipple in his mouth. 

T’Challa knows your body so well and he has the restraint to edge you over and over again, asking in a calm, almost unruffled tone, who you belong to, who is fucking you so good, and each time, you answer him, all but screaming himhimhim, you belonged to him. And just when you thought that you couldn’t take it anymore, he changed up the game again, delivering short, hard strokes to your G-spot, fucking you so good, so right and when you came all over his dick, screaming his name and probably disturbing your neighbors, but who cared cuz the dick was too bomb-- His spine stiffened and his hips stuttered as you clamped down around him, trying to suck him for every last drop of cum as he came inside you. Leaning heavily against T’Challa’s chest, you can feel his own heart thundered beneath your ear, “I love you.”

You heard him snort. 

Then his hand circled the nape of your neck, thumb caressing the skin. 

“I love you too.”

Not everything is magically fixed between the two of you, even with the best dick session to help things along, and the both of y’all knew that. But this was a start, y’all were going to work it out, then maybe, hopefully, be better in the future.

[missmeikakuna]

Chad and the Incel Chapter 2

Rated: M

Fandom: Original Fiction (but inspired by the Virgin vs Chad meme)

Relationship type: Male/Male with a bit of Female/Female (the lesbians are adorable, btw) and unrequited Male/Female (in other words, the guys are bisexual).

Description: Chad is, well, a Chad, or at least he looks like one. He’s got his sights set on the cool nerd Becky and enlists the help of her shy incel ex-friend Noah, offering to help him get the gorgeous girl (Stacy) he desperately wants. Noah is reluctant to help, believing that he will be stuck in inceldom forever, but Chad’s interest in his life gives him hope. When their plans go awry, they start turning their romantic attention towards each other.

Content Warning: Given the subject matter, you can guess that this story has dark themes in it, such as suicide and self-harm (plus the mental health issues that often cause them), sexism, slut-shaming homophobia, biphobia and transphobia. There is also swearing and some mentions of sex but nothing too explicit (hence the M rating as opposed to an Explicit rating).

2nd Post: [Venting] Was invited to a Chad’s house, I want to die

Becky wore a scarf one day and five minutes was all it took for Chad to start mourning the sight of her neck. There was no training that day, so after school he headed to the library, knowing she would go there. He was right, and to his delight she took off her scarf. As she browsed the selection, he pretended to do the same thing.

A sizeable chunk of his soul yelled, ‘Creep!’ at the rest of it, but he ignored that voice and slowly encroached upon her until he stood next to her.

‘So…’ he began in a voice deep enough to show vocal fry, which was his attempt to sound casual. ‘What have you been up to?’

Becky gave him a wary stare but answered. ‘Not much. Just reading and gaming.’

‘Oh yeah? What games do you play?’

‘Well, I’ve been playing Final Fantasy 13 again. Lightning’s cute.’ As soon as she said the last sentence, she covered her mouth and coughed into it. ‘So, uh, what book are you looking for?’

‘Oh, well…’ Chad laughed nervously. ‘I kind of just wanted to see you.’ Becky rose an eyebrow. ‘Not in a creepy way! Um, I just…’

‘I’m pretty sure you saying it’s not creepy makes it worse. I’ve got to be honest- I thought you would be better at this than that. I thought you’d have had more practice.’

Chad laughed again. ‘I, uh, um.... guess it means you’re one of the lucky few who I’ve had an interest in.’

‘Whom you’ve had an interest in.’ She lifted her shoulders and covered her mouth again. She took a few deep breaths and let go of her mouth. ‘I’m sorry, but I like someone else.’

Those words pushed Chad’s heart down to the depths of his body. He froze as he felt cold shivers run down his arms and legs. It took him a while to be able to open his mouth.

‘Cool. I’ll… see you later, then.’ He forced a smile onto his face as we waved goodbye and headed out of the library. He took out his phone and went onto his contact list. He reminded himself to get a photo of Noah to add to his contact information. He then reminded himself that it would probably be hard to convince Noah to take a photo of himself. Something along the lines of selfies being ‘a way for attractive normies to show their narcissism and ugly chicks to make themselves forget how ugly they are.’ Noah had then muttered something about ugly girls still getting boyfriends while ugly guys get nothing. Chad had considered asking him for evidence of that, but he decided not to press the issue and instead let Noah’s anger subside. 

Yes, Noah and Chad had had a couple of chats, though they hadn’t made any conclusive plans. The conversation about selfies had come about when they saw a student taking a photo with her food.

Outside the library, Chad leaned against the wall and sent Noah a message.

Let’s head to my place soon to figure out what we’re going to do. Are you free Saturday?

He typed his address and a possible time for Noah to come over. Noah took a while to reply.

Whatever. It’s not like I’ve got anything else to do. Won’t you be busy?

Chad raised an eyebrow before typing.

Why?

Noah’s response caused Chad to be torn between laughing and sinking into self-loathing.

Won’t you be sleeping with some chick?

Chad grit his teeth but didn’t bother replying, somehow knowing that this would result in the conversation spiralling into utter madness.

Saturday arrived and so did Noah, knocking on the door to Chad’s house. This time he wore a shirt featuring a muscular CGI man with a scar across the bridge of his nose wielding two swords. Chad considered asking who it was but he thought he sort of recognised it from a game he hadn’t played. 

He led him to his room and asked if he wanted a snack, to which Noah responded, ‘Nes. I mean no! I ended up combining… never mind.’ The two stood in silence until Noah dropped his backpack to the floor and sat down on Chad’s bed. ‘So, uh, why’d you decide to call a meeting?’ 

Chad sat on the bed next to him before swivelling his body and lying down behind Noah. ‘Well, there’s a slight change of plans. Becky rejected me. Said she liked someone else.’

Noah stood up, looking at the carpet. ‘Okay. See ya whenever.’

Chad grabbed Noah’s arm. ‘Wait, we’ll just have to find a way to get her to notice me instead of the other guy. What kind of guy does she like? Is she more of a personality or looks kind of girl?’

Noah released a single tiny laugh that could easily be mistaken for a cough. ‘Personality? Girls don’t go for that.’

‘You think so?’

Noah nodded. ‘If she’s not interested in your looks, she’s never gonna be interested in you. But… wait… how… how exactly did a Chad like you not attract her? Maybe she’s playing hard to get.’

‘The ‘Chad’ thing again? I still don’t get how I look like a Chad.’

As he sat on the bed again and began explaining, Noah ensured that his head was turned as far away from Chad as possible.

‘A Chad, you know, those guys who are really mus… athletic and… have a strong jawline and… hunter eyes.’

Chad looked at him with the eyes of a puppy being given an unfamiliar toy. ‘What are hunter eyes?’

‘You know… hunter eyes… like, you’re able to swoop in and get any girl you want. Alpha male eyes. You understand what I’m saying?’

 Chad touched below his eyes. When Noah dared to look at him his body tensed up and he instinctively took a phone and pair of headphones out of his bag.

‘Wow, rude, man,’ Chad said with a laugh.

Noah snapped out of a trance. ‘S-sorry. I… I don’t know how else I can calm… I’m not a crazy person or anything.’

Chad chuckled. ‘It’s okay, I guess. You do whatever it is you’re doing while I come up with a plan.’

He closed his eyes and stroked his chin in the hopes of getting an idea into his head. Find a way to make the guy she liked look bad? No, it could make him look bad in the process, possibly worse than the other guy. Maybe he could, instead of dragging the other guy down, he could prop himself up and woo her with a big display of love like a serenade or something like that. No, wait, was this the 80s? What if he impersonated the guy and confessed to her again? 

With this last idea he started laughing so hard he sat up so he could hold his sides better. Noah seemed unperturbed.

Chad leaned over Noah’s shoulder and saw what appeared to be one of those ‘animes’ he heard about online. He found himself chuckling as a girl with a horse for a head, or at least a horse mask, hit a creepily smiling girl with a chair and sent her flying out the window. 

As he pointed at the screen he asked, ‘What anime is this?’ Since Noah didn’t respond, he grabbed his shoulder, sending a wave of shock throughout Noah’s body. Noah immediately flinched and turned his head. He paused for a moment before taking off his headphones. ‘I thought anime was about, I don’t know, ninjas or something. What’s with the horse lady?’

Noah couldn’t push down his smirk. ‘Well, if you must know, this ‘horse lady’ you speak of is wearing the mask to, well, mask her tsundere tendencies. I’ve seen this show before so I know that when she starts to warm up to the other characters and show her dere-dere side, she takes the mask off. It’s a really moving use of character design to convey personality to an audience and it just goes to show how clever character designers use the visual medium of anime to say so much about-’

‘Ha, that girl grabbed another girl’s boob.’ Noah glared at him. ‘Wait, how many chicks are there in this thing?’

‘Well, it’s set in an all-girls school, so…’

Chad gave him a finger gun gesture and clicked his fingers. ‘Lesbians. Nice.’ He almost laughed when Noah’s glare strengthened.

‘Their relationship would be innocent and beautiful. Nothing ‘nice’ about it. Us mere men would be lucky to get to witness such a pure fate come true.’

‘Is it pure to grab another girl’s boob?’

Noah shifted his weight from side to side and looked back at his phone without a word. The two watched the show in silence, part of Chad wishing he could actually hear things since the subtitles were really small on the screen and he couldn’t experience the voice acting, music or sound effects. Then again, he had an inkling that Noah’s protective grip on his headphones would be like a baby’s.

He considered asking him to take the headphones out and let the audio fill the room until a scene cropped up in which one of the characters moaned while being undressed by a faceless being. Granted, in context it was all in that character’s imagination, but Chad’s parents were home.

After the episode ended with the longest ending credits Chad had ever seen, he grinned. ‘Are there any other animes like that?’

‘Anime. It’s the same whether it’s plural or singular.’

‘Oh. Okay…’

When Chad’s voice drifted off, Noah’s eyes widened and he crossed his arms with his phone still in one hand.

‘Sorry for talking so much about this kind of thing.’

How did Chad respond? By ruffling Noah’s already messy hair, of course! Yes, he managed to shock himself with his own actions.

‘Don’t worry too much about it, man. Keep going if you want. I’m probably not going to come up with any ideas, so I may as well make some use out of today.’

‘I can leave if you want-’

‘I said it’s fine. Come on, tell me about these lesbians.’ Chad laughed with his mouth closed. ‘Honestly, the words that come out of my mouth sometimes.’

Noah uncrossed his arms. ‘Well, uh, they’re not technically a lesbian couple or anything. They’re just friends. I just ship them.’

Chad stroked his chin like before. ‘Do girls grab their friends’ boobs? Or is that just a Japanese thing? Fascinating.’

Noah’s eyes narrowed. ‘Shut up.’

‘So what do you mean by ‘ship’?’

Noah talked about anime for a solid two hours, with Chad only interrupting to ask questions. After that, Chad’s mother knocked on the door and suggested that he start doing homework.

Noah left the house with a little smile, though by the time he had reached his computer, that smile on his face was replaced with a furnace within his blood vessels.

He posted to Incels.me.

Anicel1919- [Venting] Was invited to a Chad’s house. I want to die.

He was so smug, acting like he’s actually interested in learning about anime. As if. He’ll forget about me once he gets back to banging femoids. I don’t think I can take being around a solid 9/10. Honestly, if it weren’t for that pimple on his nose, he’d be a 10. And I bet he’s going to end up saying, ‘Don’t worry, bruh, just lift like me and you’ll get all the pussy you want,’ or, ‘just change your personality and everything will be fine!’ It’s too soon to tell, but he strikes me as totally bluepilled. What do I do if he keeps asking me to hang out with him?

[tickletastic]

4 Times Damian Lost Family Game Night, And One Time He Didn't

Title: 4 Times Damian Lost Family Game Night, And One Time He Didn’t

Rating: G/SFW

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1728

Fandom: Batman/Batfam

Ships: None

Characters: Dick Grayson, Tim Drake , Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown (maybe more)

Notes: I’ve actually been working on this for a while,,,,, so I hope it’s good!

Summary: Tim is extremely ticklish. Damian finding out is his downfall.

-1-

Every month the Waynes have their family game night. They realized early on, that they couldn’t play board games on this night. It just wasn’t an option. Things tended to get very physical very fast when they played competitive board games, so instead, they found other games.

This month they got into teams, and they had a Mario Kart tournament that lasted the entire night.

Today the teams were Tim, Jason, Steph, and Bruce, against Dick, Damian, and Cass. Damian and Dick had already been eliminated, as well as Bruce and Steph. So currently Cass was kicking Jason’s ass. It was kind of like a relay the way they played. Two people would start, one from each team, and whoever won got to stay on, whichever team went through all of their players first, were the losers. Cass was the only one team blue had left, and frankly, she was their best player.

After she got Jason out however, Tim was on. Tim, was by far, the best Mario Kart player in the house. He’s dedicated. As the round began, Tim had quickly passed Cas, and was almost close to lapping her on his 2nd lap.

Dick stuck his hands forward, a playful grin spreading on his face. He leaned a little into Tim from his position behind him, and began to poke Tim wherever he could reach.“Dihihihick thahahahahats cheheheating” Tim giggled, a death grip on his wii remote. He was trying to avoid the fingers, by scrunching up his various body parts, but he was surprisingly going steady. Dick stopped after a few more seconds, but Damian stared on. What was that? How did Dick get Tim to react like that? Eventually his thoughts were disrupted by Tim’s shouting. Their team had won, and Damian certainly didn’t like losing.

-2-

This month’s game in the Wayne house was hide and seek. Yes, it seemed pretty juvenile, but who doesn’t love a good game of hide and go seek?

It was in the last round, and Cas was it. She looked everywhere, but being trained assassins and ninjas, the Waynes proved to be pretty hard to find.

She walked into one of the libraries in the manor and pulled the secret book. It caused the bookshelf to open like a door, revealing one grimacing Damian.

“How did you find me first?” Damian asked angrily. This meant he would now have to help Cas find the rest of the clan.

As Damian walked deeper into the manner to search, he began to hear giggling. Giggling that closely resembled Tim’s from their last family game night. The closer Damian got to the secret room under the stairs, the louder the giggling got.

Once he opened the latch, it revealed a disheveled Tim getting tickled and prodded by Jason.“Found you.” Damian said in a monotonous voice.“But you still lost” Tim responded with a smirk.

-3-

The next family game night consisted of Twister. In a family full of ninja-trained athletes, Twister got pretty competitive. They had an extended mat so that the eight of them; Tim, Dick, Jason, Damian, Bruce, Steph, and Cas could all fit on it.

They were all in extremely awkward positions as Alfred read out the instructions on the spinner.

“Left foot green Mater Damian,” he spoke, watching as Damian tried to get his left foot over his right even though his hand were both on the mat.

Damian came down hard, toppling Cas, and Steph in the process.

“Damian! You’re such a dildo!” Steph yelled, pushing his shoulder.

“Steph,” Bruce said as a warning “Don’t call your brother a dildo.”

Damian, and Steph walked over to couch and sulked, and Cass sat down next to them (her usual ray-of-sunshine- self).

Quickly after that, Jason was out too, claiming that it’s harder to play twister in jeans. They watched as Dick, an acrobat, Tim, the best fighter of the Robins, and Bruce, the mentor of all of them, battled it out on the Twister mat.

The losers could see the players getting tenser as the time went on, especially Bruce who had trained both. As Bruce’s turns went on Damian noticed that his father would try to skim Tim’s sides every time he had to move a hand.

Eventually Bruce fell over, leaving Tim and Dick to battle it out. Bruce was mad that his kids had beat him at a game based on flexibility, but he went over to sulk with the rest of his kids.

“I was in the circus for most of my childhood Tim, I can do this with my eyes closed.” Dick taunted

At some point, just to show off, Dick did a bridge and held it, but he managed to align himself so that his face was in front of one of Tim’s sides. Tim’s shirt had ridden up from being in such an awkward position, and he giggled as Dick blew, almost losing balance.

“Dihihihik yohohohoure a cheheheahahater.” He giggled, using every ounce of his energy not to move away. Dick extended his bridge as much as he could, and his lips were basically touching Tim’s side. Dick began to blow raspberries on Tim’s side.

“NOHOHO!” Tim squealed, bucking his hips without his limbs leaving the spots. However, his hip bucking was enough to knock over the outstretched gymnast beside him.

Tim got out of the awkward position and began to cheer for his win, but not for very long. Because soon he was sprinting out the door running from an angry Dick.

-4-

May’s family game night wasn’t really a game, but more of a competition. Bruce, Dick, Damian, Tim, and Jason all headed to the batcave’s gym, towards the monkey bars. They were going to have a competition to see who could hang upside down the longest.

On the surface, this would appear to be easy for the bats, but they really weren’t used to hanging upside down. They move quickly, and never stay for too long, so this was a new challenge.

Jason decided not to take part, so he went from person to person and attempted to make everybody crack.

First, it was Bruce. Jason opened his mouth to speak and Bruce climbed down, sighing.

“I’m getting to old for this, I don’t even want to know what you were going to say.” Bruce spoke, walking out of the room.

Next was Damian, who was nearly as easy to knock as Bruce. Jason made ocean noises, reminding Damian how seasick he would get on water, and Jason could’ve sworn Damian turned green. He was off those monkey bars almost faster than the flash.

Damian used his inherited skill, and brooded while he watched Tim and Dick. Jason walked up to Dick and leaned really close to his ear, and simply whispered “The flying Graysons.”

“That was a low blow Jason, but I’m not gonna give up.”

“Fine. So be it…. Heyy Timmy,” Jason said, walking closer to Tim. Jason got a look in his eyes that scared Tim.

Tim’s hands were dangling above his head and Jason was ruthless, he knew what was coming. He felt fingers enter his armpits and he absolutely lost it.

“NOHOHO JAHAHASOHOHON NOHOHOHO!” Tim screamed, falling to the ground beneath him.

Dick won this competition, but Tim sure still beat Damian.

-5-

Tim was bored and it was hot. It was really, really hot, and he was really, really bored.

It was him, Damian, and Jason sitting in the game room of the mansion. He had already beat Dami in air hockey and Jason in Guitar Hero Live, and he didn’t know what else to do.

Suddenly he got an idea and turned on the television, throwing a Wii remote at Damian.

“You. Me. Mario kart.” He spoke, jokingly staring Damian down.

“It’s on Drake.” Damian replied, actually glaring at Tim (because ya know, he’s Damian).

They began the race, 800cc with Tim as Daisy and Damian as Donkey Kong. Tim was surpassing Damian by a whole lot, lapping him once, and almost twice.

As he began to gloat, finishing his 1st lap, he felt pokes to his side. They were small subtle fingers, testing the waters.Tim grit his teeth, quickly turning to look at Damian. “W-what are y-you doing D-Dami?” He questioned, attempting to finish the race.

“Hmmm… Just testing something out Drake,” Damian spoke, a mischievous grin on his face. Tim was going fine for half of the 2nd lap, until Damian kicked it up a notch. He tossed his controller at Jason, knowing that Jason was usually on his side, and began to dig harder into Tim’s sensitive sides.

“Dahahahamihihiahahan! Stahahap ihihit!” Tim tried to speak, his giggles getting louder.

“Try his neck Demon-Spawn,” Jason told Damian, attempting to finish the race (rainbow road is a real kicker).

“Jahahasohohon! Yohohou’rehehe ahahah traiahaTOHOHOR DAHAHMIHIHIAHAN STAHAHAP!” Tim squealed, trying to scrunch in his neck.

“His hips and armpits get him pretty badly too,” Jason continued.

“JAHAHASOHOHON IHIHIHIM GOHOHONNAHAHA KIHIHIHILL YOHOHOU!” Tim screamed, thrashing so hard he lost the death grip on his remote.

“I really never expected you do have such a silly weakness Drake.” Damian spoke, kind of enjoying torturing Tim.

At this point Damian was scratching at Tim’s neck and clawing at his hipbones, overwhelming the older boy. Tim was screaming and squealing, thrashing madly. Tim is really, really ticklish, and at this point he was going absolutely mad. For someone who never knew affection as a child, Damian was oddly good at this. Damian’s nimble fingers and knowledge of the human body’s nervous system were really driving Tim up the wall. He didn’t know how much more he could take.

Tim went into silent laughter just as the congratulatory music began to play. Damian hadn’t stopped tickling though.

“DAHAHAHAHAMIHIHIAHAHAN PLEHEHEHEASE! YOHOHOHOU WIHIHIHIN! YOHOHOHOU WIHIHIN!” Tim laughed out in agony. Damian didn’t stop until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“You should stop now Damian, we don’t want to kill Tim,” Jason spoke, leaning in to whisper “trust me, i tried. Bruce wasn’t too happy.”

Damian finally got off of Tim, cheering because he had finally won something against the former Robin.

Tim really wanted to give him an ego check and remind him that Tim had won all the other times, but he was definitely not up for a round two.

[thievinghippo]

Fic Update: The Longest Distance (60/100)

Fandom: The Adventure Zone

Pairing: Barry Bluejeans/Lup Taaco

Rating: Teen

Summary: “Time is the longest distance between two places.” - Tennessee Williams. 100 cycles. 100 moments. How Barry and Lup’s relationship evolves over 100 years.

Chapter Summary: Merle finds an interesting new way to die. Lup tries a new spell. Barry just wants everyone to see reason.

(Read on Ao3!)

#

Cycle Sixty

“You can’t bribe me with sex, Lup,” Barry says, resolutely staring down at his notebook. “Ten years ago, sure. Now? I’m impervious to your charms.”

Which is absolutely not true. Well, the being impervious to Lup’s charms part. If there ever comes a day when he isn’t charmed by Lup, something really, really bad’s happened. He hopes that day never comes.

But the whole can’t be bribed by sex? Mostly true. Any sort of sex bucket list Barry might have had in his head was crossed off several cycles back. And he’s pretty certain Lup’s not gonna want to stop having sex because of a disagreement. Some of the best sex they’ve had was the direct result of a disagreement.

“Fine,” Lup says.

Barry looks up at the innocent tone of her voice. Something’s off. She just doesn’t acquiesce like that. “Fine?”

She nods. “Fine. I just assumed you’d want to help out a tribe full of people and keep them from getting eaten.”

He leans back in this chair and sighs. There’s no winning this fight. He might as well follow Lup out the door now. “Eaten by dinosaurs,” he says. “Dinosaurs, Lup.”

“Not big ones,” Lup says with a scoff. “They’re totes in their evolving into birds phase.”

“They’re still dinosaurs,” Barry says. Why isn’t anyone else on the crew seeming to understand this? The best thing they could do is simply live on the ship for a year. But no, somehow his completely reasonable suggestion is ignored.

“And we’re using wards,” Lup says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Babe, these people are just getting magic for first time. Didn’t you tell me once that you would love to be able to see the evolution of magic. Here’s your chance.”

Barry thinks about what she just said. “I told you that like twenty cycles ago,” he says, already well aware he’s gonna be in on whatever crazy scheme Lup wants him in on. “You remembered that?”

Lup raises an eyebrow. “I was sort of crazy crushing on you then. So yeah, I remembered all those little things you said.”

That’s absolutely impossible to say no to. Standing, Barry closes his necromancy book. He’ll pick it up again later. He’s got some history to watch.

#

Thank fuck for comprehend language.

Barry knows Taako’s not exactly thrilled, since the spell needs salt and the Starblaster has a limited supply at the moment. But what other choice do they have? There’s absolutely no way for them to understand this tribe without the spell. Luckily, there is plenty of soot, at least.

“We only got like fifteen minutes before the spell wears out, Lup,” Barry says, looking at his watch. At least he thinks it’s about fifteen minutes. From what he can tell, this plane does time a little differently. Like fifty-eight seconds to a minute instead of sixty. And fifty-eight minutes to an hour. It’s gonna make figuring out their anniversary this year an absolute blast, that’s for sure. “Maybe leave the fashion talk for later, if there’s time?”

Lup barely bothers to glance in his direction and he can feel the frostiness from here. He should have known better. There’s never a wrong time to talk about fashion, according to Lup.

But this really might be the wrong time. These people are wearing animal skins. They’re barely figured out dyes yet.

And there are freaking dinosaurs out there. Magnus’s already been eaten by one. And Merle’s decided to get eaten by one, too, at the end of a cycle. That’s a death he’s never had before. Probably won’t be able to recreate that one ever again, either.

Maybe this would have been better if they came here during the day. When there was light out. When it wouldn’t be possible for fucking dinosaurs to sneak up on them and attack the camp.

That’s when the roars are heard.

The entire camp breaks into action while Barry and Lup reach out for each other’s hand. “Merle and Cap’n Port are back on the ship, right?” Lup asks.

Barry can barely hear what she’s saying over the tribe as they work. “The ship?” he asks. “Davenport and Merle should be there.”

The children of the tribe are taken off to a nearby cave, which is when Barry has a realization. “That cave is outside the ward,” he says. “Shit.”

Wasting no time, he and Lup run over to the cave. While they do, Barry’s already working on expanding the ward, making sure the cave is included.

“Oh fuck, that’s a dinosaur,” Lup says and Barry can hear the hint of fear in her voice she’s trying to hide.

Somehow Barry doesn’t turn around and only concentrates on his ward, willing it to expand so it protects the kids. “Cover me?” he asks.

“Done,” Lup says. There’s a sudden heat and Barry guesses Lup must have brought up some flames. “No one is gonna touch you, babe.”

From what he’s heard from the tribe, they purposely don’t hunt the dinosaurs, since that tends to piss them off a lot and gets more people killed. It forces them to be nomadic, trying to find home in a place where there aren’t dinosaurs. And from the scans they’ve taken on the Starblaster, that doesn’t leave many options.

The ward’s covering the cave entrance now, but Barry won’t be satisfied until the entire cave is covered. Sweat’s already working its way down his face, but he can’t break his movement. Not now.

“I’m gonna try something,” Lup says behind him. “If it doesn’t work, see ya next cycle.”

Barry keeps his focus on the ward, but hears Lup make a quick druidic chant. “Did you just cast speak with animals?” he asks over his shoulder.

“Fuck yeah, I did,” Lup says. Her voice turns forceful. “Now stop.”

The roar stops and Barry hears a thud, which is desperately hopes wasn’t Lup. He thinks the ward is as good as it’s gonna get so he turns around…

Only to see a small dinosaur sitting in front of Lup, an alert look on its face. Even sitting, its barely taller than her. “Lup?”

“Who’s a good dinosaur?” Lup asks the dino. “Is it you? Yes, it’s you.”

It makes a quick roar and Lup cocks her head. “Okay, so the dinosaurs hate fire. It scares them, which is why they attack.”

She starts talking softly to the dinosaur, too quiet for Barry to hear. So he looks around at all the tribespeople. They all look absolutely stunned and no one seems to want to move, in case something goes wrong.

“Okay,” Lup says as she turns to the tribe. “So this little guy is a scout. He’s gonna tell his friends that the tribe needs fire to live. Problem is, there are some bad dinosaurs out there. But he thinks if his tribe and your tribe work together, the bad dinosaurs won’t be a problem.”

The dinosaur runs off suddenly and the tribespeople start talking excitedly. It takes a second before Barry realizes that he can’t understand them any longer. So he throws down more soot and salt and casts comprehend language.

More than twenty minutes pass before Barry hears the sound of a lot of dinosaurs walking towards them. At least that’s what he assumes is the sound. Not like he actually knows what that sounds like.

Lup walks towards the sound, her shoulders back, and Barry thinks she looks like an absolute goddess right now. Totally not the right time for that sort of thought, but whatever. They might all die by dinosaur, so if he wants to think his girlfriend is a goddess, he’s gonna think his girlfriend is a goddess.

Barry can count at least a dozen dinosaurs standing in front of Lup and he’s pretty sure there are more he can’t see. One of the dinosaurs is bigger than the others and looks to be the leader. Lup motions over to the leader of the tribe and waves him over.

A half an hour later, a pact is formed and Lup is hailed as a hero. Barry smiles quietly. There’s nothing better than seeing Lup get the recognition she deserves. 

Later, Lup and Barry are sitting on a log, watching the tribe and the dinosaurs work together. The scout from earlier walks over to them. Barry tries hard not to flinch, especially when it licks Lup’s cheek and sits down right next to her.

“I think I have a pet,” Lup says happily as she scratches the dinosaur’s nose. “I’m naming him ‘Scaley.’” She laughs and Scaley seems to wag its tail. “Magnus is gonna be so jealous when he hears about this.”