#it's so iconic and like something straight from a fanfic??

[ifindus]

no one is talking about the enemies to lovers scotnor potential😤

you are so right! 😩so much potential!

#hetalia #scotnor #aph norway #aph scotland #hws norway #hws scotland #thank you for the ask 🥰🥺🥺 #I need to develope early stages of scotnor more #should do a time line or something #it's that enemies to friends to lovers saga #and they both have crushes throughout every stage #I need to do more historical shit again :((( #been thinking about that gay Scottish/Norwegian couple in the 1800s again #it's so iconic and like something straight from a fanfic??

[deadsetobsessions]

Listen, I know it’s not my usual thing, but I just re-read Dark Matter by mysterycyclone (iconic, so good, incredible, I’ve reread this at least ten times) and this newer work, Help Me, I Don’t Feel Like Myself Anymore by Astra_Nova_Kat (it’s off to a really good and fleshed out, very long start- it’s like 20k for the first chapter omg).

I just. Love?? Them??? They’re both, urg, so good. The writing style, the way the story moves, the natural progression of plot and their usage of tropes are so well done that rarely does it feel awkward. Amazing. Anyways, they inspired me to put my two cents into the proverbial offering hat and while this might not ever be a realized fanfic, here it is? This will have multiple parts.

Uh, I’m basing Peter’s personality off of the really tired millennial energy Tobey Maguire gives, the awkward but well meaning disaster vibes of Andrew Garfield, and the sassy acrobatic chaos gremlin of Tom Holland. All kind of mushed together with the hyper competence and maturity of both the PS4 spidey and pretty much most spider people. He’s 22, or something but that doesn’t really matter?? Background doesn’t really matter because I’m basically making my own spider-verse. Spider… past? Eh. New Peter!

Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.1

[Pt.2]

——

Spider-Man swung through the skyscrapers of his city, enjoying the winds and sounds of New York as he kept a sharp eye out for crime.

He remembered doing this without any of the fancy tech his suit had now, when he was dressed in less protective clothing. God, 100% cotton while crime fighting? The spandex was better but god ugly.

His spider-sense blared. Spider-man quickly shot a web to the top of the building, going towards the danger instead of away from it.

He goes in feet first, years of knocking common thugs to legitimate gods to the ground making short work of the people on the roof top. He flips out of the way, dodging a blast of crackling green energy.

“Heyyyy, common robbers! What’s up with shiny lasers, huh? Breaking and entering not doing enough for ya?”

Spider-Man dodges a couple more shots, flipping again to knee a guy in the face, gently. The man goes down in one shot.

“Stay still, you motherfucker!”

“Does that actually work for you guys?? Like I’m down to get killed but, man, I’m not gonna stay still to get downed by some two bit thugs?” Spider-Man kept his words light and mocking, webbing up a laser gun and yanking it out of the woman’s hands. He punches her in the face and knocks her out, using the laser gun like a mildly bulky baton.

“Eat shit, Spider-bitch!”

“Ouch! Oh no, my feelings! You’ve hurt them!” Spider-Man shoots a web at the lady who’d shouted and yanked, before smacking her straight down to the concrete of the rooftop. His hearing picked up two people coming up the stairway and Spider-Man tossed two web bombs, the metal mechanism attached itself to the wall, waiting for their unknowing victims.

Spider-Man ducked and weaved, downing goons as they piled on him while shooting bullets, lasers, and just charging at him with a bat or a crowbar. After eight years of pretty much this exact thing, Spider-Man had gotten the science of breaking up goon dog piles without hurting them too much to an exact measurement. He quipped at them until they got annoyed, which made them sloppy. Spider-Man sighed as another guy came at him with a crow bar and a gun that he was pretty sure was still stuck on safety. He crouched, kicking out their legs and dodging a swipe of a bat where his ribs would have been and webbed the guy to the floor. Yeah, he’ll wrap this up and end patrol. Maybe he still had Mac n’ Cheese at home, or he could stop by Angelo’s for a sub?

Huh. His options for dinner was limited.

“Take this!”

Even without the forewarning of his spidey-sense, Spider-Man would have ducked out of the way regardless.

“Shouting your sneak attacks isn’t actually all that sneaky, you know!” Spider-Man kept his voice cheery and mocking.

“Get him!”

God, why were there so many people trying to break into an insurance company? This definitely doesn’t smell like a regular B&E. With the shit he’s seen in New York, if it smells like a plot, acts like a plot, then it’s probably a villain with a tragic backstory with big, annoying plans.

Great.

Oh, speak of the devil!

“Spider-Man.” His senses blared.

He couldn’t move out of the way fast enough, not without risking the life of the goon he was currently fighting, so Spider-Man took the blast the punched the breath out of his lungs. The wide eyes of the goon made up for some of the pain.

“Ugh!” Spider-Man slammed into an HVAC, denting the metal. His suit, made special polymer blend from Wakanda that he saved for months to get, absorbed some of the shock. Shit, he hoped it didn’t tear. It would be a bitch and a half to dip into the back up stock he had in his hammer space.

The goons left standing quickly rushed him and held him down to face the new boss.

“You’ve been getting on my nerves, Spider.”

“Yeah,” Spider-Man coughed out, letting the two goons think they could hold him down on his knees as he recovered his breath. “I have that effect on people.”

“But you could be an asset, if you’d join me?”

“Uh, I don’t join or sign things without knowing what I’m joining or signing, my guy. My lawyer said so.”

The villain paused, helmeted head cocking to the side.

“You have a lawyer?”

“Yeah. Kind of? He does pro-bono work for the helpless cases. You know, like, a well meaning, crime fighting vigilante?”

“…Does he do cases against insurance companies?”

“Oh man, you too? Dude, this place sucks,” Spider-Man sighed.

“You’ve had trouble too? Then you must see why I’m doing this!”

This was a bit weird, but if there’s anything that brings people together, it’d be corrupt insurance companies. He’s almost tempted to let them break in, just to be extra petty.

“Nah, my neighbor? Sweet old lady. They’re screwing her out of her entire place. I totally get it, man. Hey, if you need a referral, you can tell my lawyer that Spider sent you. He’s real good.”

“How good?” The goons release him and Spider-Man stood up, stretching his limbs.

“Like, Dare Devil good.”

“You know Matt Murdock??”

“Sure do.”

“He… he’ll take on our cases?”

“Dang, all of you?”

“Yes. We can pool enough money to pay him for one or two.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he’ll take you guys on for free. But it wouldn’t hurt if you all went to meet him, just so he can decide which one of you has a higher chance to win in court?”

“We will. Uh.” The villain paused sheepishly. Well, not a villain, more like an unfortunately angry and poor decision making citizen. “Sorry about… you know, the blast.”

“It’s cool. I mean,” Spider-Man gestured to the rooftop, the bodies of unconscious people kind of laying around where he knocked them down. “You guys might wanna check on them, yeah? I’ll let you go for now, but if you commit a B&E again, I’ll leave you webbed up for GCPD to find.”

“Got it. Sorry.”

Feeling good about himself, and plotting corporate espionage, Spider-Man went to help pry some people from his webs.

And of course, because Parker Luck kicks in only when Spider-Man felt like life was looking up for himself, Spider-Man’s senses blared once more as he knelt down to pull at some webbing.

“Oh, shit!” He heard, right before a cold blast of something slammed right into his head, knocking him out.

And Spider-Man

F

E

L

L.

——

Larry looked at the the empty space where Spider-Man, the guy who took a hit from his boss’ blaster so he wouldn’t get hurt, used to be.

He twisted.

“Boss, what the fuck?!”

“Shit! That was accident!” Boss pulled herself up from the concrete, where she just ate dirt.

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know, Larry! That was the experimental warped mode! Crap!” His boss scrambled with the controls, desperately trying to see if the magic gun her magician friend had handed her years ago had a reverse button. It didn’t.

“Why would you bring a test weapon into the field?!”

“I gave you all of my other ones!” She threw up her hands. “Fuck, I feel so bad.”

Larry paled. “Dude, Dare Devil’s gonna kill us.”

“He doesn’t kill!” His boss hesitated. “I think.”

Larry pointed to the empty space. “Yeah? He might start with us. Spidey was a cool guy and you just disappeared him!”

“I know!”

Larry buried his head into his hands and tried not to hate himself for the entire situation.

——

Spider-man woke up, laid flat on the grimy ground of an alleyway.

“Ugh. Just my luck.” He kept his eyes closed for just a beat longer to allow himself time before having to pull his shit together. Why was his voice high? And a bit squeaky? He pulled himself together.

“Okay.” He whispered to himself, before sitting up and taking stock of the situation.

First thing that hit him was that it stunk to high heavens. Gagging, Spider-Man looked to the right and- yeah, that’ll do it. He stood up on wobbly legs to try to move away from the overflowing dumpster.

That’s when the second, more important and decidedly more troublesome, observation hit him.

He’s short. Shorter. And his suit was hanging off of him.

He could tell he still had his normal by now physiology, with the speeding heartbeat and the feeling of super strength. But he’s shorter. With a mounting sense of equal parts dread and resignation, he pulled at the hidden seam by his nape, relying on his both his enhanced senses and spidey-sense to tell if anyone was nearby or looking at him. He pulled the Spider-Man suit off, blankly folding it neatly as he stared dumbly at his hands. They’re small too. Shit. He stumbled to a nearby mud puddle and stared down, seeing his younger face in the contaminated water. Double shit.

He’s starting to loose his composure. He’d gone through a lot of bizarre things over the last eight years. But getting accidentally Detective Conan’ed by a person he just helped was a new low.

The black under layer of his suit, a slash proof and fire resistant polymer Peter had designed himself in MIT’s lab, was in a similar state.

With one hand, Peter Parker numbly rolled up his sleeves and pant hems. Great. Okay. Now what?

Ah. Shoes. He did not want to walk around in his too-big Spider-Man boots. He looked around. Well, there’s the laces of what looked to be like a pair of dumpster shoes. “Yeah, no.”

Shit. Does he still have access to his hammer space?

Peter reached into his pocket, and tried to reach for a pair of normal sneakers. His shoulder slumped as he produced a pair. Fuck yes. He still has access! And shoes! They’re ones he took off of a power line for a well off kid who didn’t want it anymore. He was going to donate them to F. E. A. S. T. but he’s thanking the stars he procrastinated a bit on swinging by the center. He put them on. They’re a bit big, but it’s better than the giant-in-comparison ones he normally wears. You know, as an adult.

He hesitated with his mask. He should at least figure out where he is. He hoped it was still in the states. His mask blinked, the HUD in his lenses informing him that it was trying to find a connection. “That’s weird.” He paused, grimacing at the sound of his voice. But it is weird, because he had his mask automatically connected to the world wide satellites Tony Stark had sent circling the globe for citizens without internet access as a back up option. So either he was somewhere even the Stark Satellites couldn’t reach or…

Peter swallowed, his mask pinging as it found a connection to piggy back on. He clicked his tongue twice to activate the voice controls.

“Connect to the local maps. Where am I?”

His masked followed the order. [Gotham. New Jersey.]

Peter stared at the words, gut churning.

Good news, he was still in the States. Bad news? He’s shrunk, in a totally different state, and possibly in a different world because he’s not connected to the Stark Satellites he knew operated in New Jersey.

Peter Parker tilted his head back and allowed himself one verbal, panic level six and up, curse word.

“Fuck.”

He took off his mask and leaned against a slightly cleaner part of the wall before hyperventilating.

——

Half an hour later, Peter smacked himself on the cheeks and pulled himself together.

“You’re Spider-Man,” he hissed to himself. “Have a mental breakdown somewhere warm, you dumbass.”

Peter Parker was a champion, world class expert at compartmentalization.

He slipped his mask back on, and pulled up his “So You’re Stuck in an Alternate Universe” list he had made with Ned so many years ago when they were high school kids and going through comic books to make contingencies because Peter was a little idiot vigilante hero.

“I didn’t think I’d actually ever need this kind of thing.” Peter muttered. He slipped his black back up gloves on to connect to his mask’s display in order to type.

“Okay,” he glanced at the side by side screens in his lenses. “Money.”

Five things.

1) The emergency cash he’d stashed on him thankfull matched the pictures of cash he’d found on this world’s internet. Yay!

2) He had $1000 tucked away. Not yay. Not if this might be a long term stay before he got back to his own dimension. Not if he wanted a place to sleep.

3) Luckily, thanks to his earlier search of where the hell he was, Peter figured out that due to the high crime rates- “Dang, that’s worse than New York on New Year’s Eve,” he had marveled- Gotham was dirt cheap and that that meant 1k dollars could actually last him a while and he could afford a room for a month on $250. A whole ass apartment for $550. Peter seriously considered staying in this universe just for the rent prices. So what if there’s rampant crimes? He’d deal with it if the rent was that cheap.

4) Problem? He’s fucking tiny. Who would rent to a person that looked like child? Not anyone upstanding, that’s for sure. He’s more likely to get mugged. Counterpoint: he’s in a city where apparently shady people are all around. Also? He doesn’t have an identity.

5) If the fact that he couldn’t connect to the Stark Satellites didn’t convince him he was either in another universe or an alternate dimension, the visual graphics of the websites he visited would. It was like looking at Windows in the early way before Stark Co. bought them out and improved the design. Nauseating.

Okay, so, money’s not too urgent of an issue. Next on Ned’s list: Places of Interest.

Namely, libraries, homeless shelters, crime hotspots, and the like.

Peter snorted when he came across an opinions article talking about how Park Row became Crime Alley. And then he frowned, because that story was not painting this place to be even remotely nice. Then again, considering the crime rates and the various Rogues this place seemed to have in spades, that wasn’t much of a surprise. Peter marks the place in his new mental map of Gotham as a potential area he could either disappear to or get a new identity at. He then marked the libraries, Gotham City Public Library and its many branches all funded by generous donations from a Bruce Wayne, the Martha Wayne foundations’ shelters and charities, two supermarkets near the library, and a coffee shop he thought looked warm and cozy from the shitty pictures they have uploaded online. He needed coffee, dammit, and he needed it hours ago. Alas, he probably wouldn’t get to go to one until he secured his finances.

Well, it’s not like he doesn’t have practice being poor.

3) Which brings him up to Ned’s next, surprisingly reasonable for a teenager hoped up on a mountain load of sugar, point. Level of Tech.

Peter hid next to the dumpster, melding in with the shadows, as he continued his research.

Tech here was… well, he probably wouldn’t have to worry. The thought of not having a Starkphone, even his older model, was painful considering the new versions of these WaynePhones were really… behind. Peter doesn’t remember the last time he had buttons on his phone or let alone a touch screen that didn’t use facial tracking and biometrics or even have a holographic display mode.

“Ugh. Okay. Not the end of the world, Parker.” Peter muttered.

Now… People of Interest.

This was underlined three times with Ned’s red pens, with extensive subcategories.

Subcategory A? Villains, because “what if they put out a warning for a known villain and you get your butt kicked because you didn’t know about them, Peter? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”

He had replied, half focused on the list and the other on savoring the Millennium Falcon Lego set May had saved up for months to get him for his birthday, “I feel like if I was getting my butt kicked by a villain, I’d probably have better things to worry about than my utter humiliation, Ned.”

“True that,” Ned had snicked and jotted it down anyways.

And… well, Gotham had a lot of villains. The Joker (ew, that’s a crusty man in crustier face paint. This guy could learn so much from the cool mimes busking in Central Park. Like, how to do face paint. Or how not to be a massive murderous jerk. There’s Clayface, Two-Face, a bald guy in “Metropolis” (a name Peter couldn’t help but snort at because a city named city? That’s like na’an bread being bread bread. Or chai tea being tea tea) named Lex Luthor, and Scarecrow. He tabbed all of them and marked them for further perusal at a later date. From experience, he knew villains with a prominent M.O. and themes usually did more damage. Case in point: Rhino, and the million dollars of property damage the guy did everytime he escaped the Raft. Peter was seriously considering petitioning for the Raft to be placed further out just so he could have more warning the next time some assholes decided to free the prisoners and helped them escape.

He narrowed his eyes at the screen, his mask’s lenses following the movement. He’ll have to pick up a gas mask. Apparently bio-weapons are just a regular thing here and he really didn’t want to get dosed with this “fear toxin.” It’d be dangerous for everyone involved. Maybe if he gets his hands on a sample, he could build up tolerance and see how his immune system and metabolic rates affected the normal progression of the toxin. Ah, off topic. He’s gotta focus.

Subcategory B: Local celebrities.

“Why would I need to know local celebrities?” He’d asked.

“If someone came up to you and asked “Who’s Tony Stark?”, wouldn’t you clock that as super weird? You gotta blend in, Peter. Plus, you gotta keep up with the pop culture, dude. It’s important.”

“You just want alternate universe memes,” Peter grinned.

“That too. If you ever go to an alternate universe and come back, you’d better bring me a truckload of memes or I’ll never forgive you.”

Yeah. So. Wayne? Super important. Like Tony Stark levels of important. He found threads about them and the local vigilantes and their charity works. Peter’s brain instantly catalogued the info, all but memorizing the deluge of pictures he found of Bruce Wayne and his kids. Maybe the man had an adoption problem? Conspiracy threads and memes popped up alongside his research. He tabbed one on secret societies, because as Spiderman, he had fought a disturbing amount of secret societies that, on hindsight, had been theorized about on threads he’s read on his free time. Somehow, somewhere, somewhen, a conspiracy theorist could be right. Peter’s not about to dismiss that. He also saved like thirty different memes to send to Ned when he got back. If he got back.

Peter smacked that thought away. He’ll get back to his city or die trying.

Subcategory C, underlined and starred: Other Superheroes and Vigilantes.

Yeah, Peter’s excited about this one too. After Matt stopped being Dare Devil (but did he actually ever stop?) and Wade dipping in and out of NY, Peter’s gotten lonely as Spider-Man. He missed training with them. Of course, the fantastic four were still operating, but he doesn’t actually interact with them or the Avengers at all. Miles hasn’t been cleared (by his mom) to go out as Spiderman with near as many hours as Peter cleared a night. Peter stood behind that because he remembered how horrible it was to work as Spiderman and try to balance school on top of it. Also, he was terrified of Mrs. Morales and would never endanger her son more than he already does. He did wave to Black Widow from a rooftop once, spider to spider, and that was pretty much the coolest moment of his life.

So. Uh. The amount of vigilantes and heroes in this world? Amazing. In Gotham? There’s like, a whole team of them.

Batman, Nightwing (who, Username: Draken Draken had theorized, was the first iteration of Batman’s sidekick Robin), Red Hood, Black Canary, Huntress, Red Robin, Spoiler, the “day vigilante” Signal, the current Robin, and whispers of a “Black Bat.”

And their unfortunate “No Meta” rule with the singular exception of Signal. Peter figured their term of Meta was essentially the same thing as his world’s mutants. He’s not sure which term he liked more. Eh, he’ll worry about that later.

And there’s a Justice League! Which, to Peter, is just a bigger Avengers. There’s aliens on this world too. Superman. Martian Manhunter.

Peter grinned from his place crouched next to the dumpster. Yeah, this is awesome. He quickly memorized everything he could find, cross referencing posts and picking out the nuggets of truth or at least popular truth from the posts he viewed. Like, Red Hood operated in Crime Alley and was a crime boss with morals. Cool.

He’ll go down the spiral later. He mentally thanked Ned who was the best guy in the chair a teenage vigilante could ask for. He should really text his friend when he got back.

For now, he’ll head to the library and see if he could use their computers. He might need a card though… Peter quickly pulled up the search engine and found an Internet cafe. Ah, 24 hour internet cafes, the savior of his college days. There first, and then library, Peter decided. He memorized the instructions and pulled his mask off, tucking it away in the hammer space.

He walked out the alley and turned left, only to double take at his reflection in a shop window that was partially boarded up. Holy shit, he’s a baby. He’s like. 10!

Oh my god.

Peter twitched, tearing himself away from the window before the shop owner decided he was less curious and more potential mugger before promptly remembering that he looked less of a threat than ever. Mixed feelings.

Peter hurried his way to the internet cafe, paying the guy at the front a little extra so he’d ignore the obvious minor without a guardian thing Peter hasn’t gotten used to. Ugh. That was going to be annoying. He only paid for two hours and pulled up as many listings for a room as possible. By the end of it, he came out with $1 worth of fliers printed out and having funneled some billionaire’s offshore accounts into a new bank account he’d made by hacking into the bank servers. Does he feel bad about stealing? Yeah. But Peter’s a vigilante. He’s done worse than nabbing a monthly sum of a couple of hundreds from Lex Luthor’s off shore accounts. He’s not gonna get caught, and considering the guy’s rants on meta humans, Peter’s not feeling particularly guilty about it. He’ll do something good later to make up for it. Once he gets his footholds and can prepare his way back, he’ll even return to the rest of the money. Probably.

Peter left the cafe with his sheaf of flyers, stopping by an informational stand with free tourist maps and plucked one quickly from its plastic holder. He’ll pick something up from the food vendors on his way to the apartments. Peter began walking, taking in the sights of the gargoyles and-

“Nope!” He caught the wrist of a pickpocket. It’s a kid and he immediately felt bad.

“Lemme go. I ain’t done nothing to ya, ya Yorker tourist.”

“Okay,” Peter shrugged. “Don’t get caught the next time?”

The kid gaped at him. “Shi’, you must be really good at it. I’ve never been caught before.”

Peter wisely refrained from telling the kid it was due to his spidey-sense. He let go of the kid’s wrist and let a bit more of his accent out. “Why’d you need money anyways?”

“Food, duh.”

“Dude, I’m starving. Tell you what. You show me the best sub shop nearby and I’ll pay for your food. Deal?”

The kid stared at him, wide eyed. “You’re fuckin’ nuts. Why’re you being nice?”

“I’m hungry? Do we have a deal, kid?”

“… Fuck it. Fine. And don’t call me kid, shrimp. You’re like what, eight?”

Oh. Yeah. Peter’s a kid now. He shrugged.

“I’m older than you. I’m twelve.”

Peter blinked, frowning at how thin the kid’s wrists were.

“I’m Peter!”

“… Frank.”

He let Frank lead the way. Stranger danger doesn’t apply to him, he’s a grown ass man. In the body of a ten year old him, but still. A couple of minutes, four sandwiches and a load of chips later, Frank was watching wide eyed as he demolished three four dollar subs.

“Holy shit. Where are you packing that away? You’re a stick!”

Peter took a big bite of the sandwich as an answer. Frank looked down at his meal.

“Uh. Hey.”

Peter made a muffled noise of question, mouth stuffed full of steak and cheese.

“Sorry about. Uh. Trynna nick from ya.”

Peter chewed faster.

Frank continued, looking like he hated himself. “I wouldn’t… normally steal from shrimps like you but I was desperate and… really hungry, so. My bad.”

Peter finished chewing. “All good, dude. Eat your sandwich.”

Peter had the sudden urge to adopt Frank. Unlike Wayne, he’s not a billionaire, so he smacked that urge down. He could use a friend though. Now… how to be friends with a literal child!

“If you feel that bad about it, you could… be my friend?”

Peter took in the wide eyed gaze from the twelve year old in front of him. Abort! Abort! That was too direct!

“You’re fucking weird. But… okay.”

“That was easy.”

Frank scowled, kicking Peter’s shin.

“Ow!”

“Whatever, shrimp.”

Peter scowled. On his baby face, it came out as a pout.

Do not start beef with a twelve year old, Peter. You’re a grown ass adult.

“Hey, you know I’m new here, right?”

“Duh.�� Frank took a bite of his food.

“Can you tell me which one of these are legit?” Peter handed Frank the flyers. He took them, an odd look passing his face.

“You’re looking for a place?”

“Yeah? Why?”

Frank stared at him. Looked back down. He instantly got rid of four listings out of the ten. “These are too close to the Alley. They’re probably traffickers.”

Peter hummed in agreement. Frank paused.

“You’re just gonna trust me on that?”

“Yeah? I can tell when people are lying.” Well, his spidey sense could, when he cared enough about the subject.

“What the fuck.” Frank shoved the rest the papers at him and guiltily munched on his food. “Are Yorkers all just like you?”

“Dunno? Probably not.”

“… Whatever. The rest of the places should work. They probably won’t ask questions.” Frank flapped a hand at Peter’s new situation. Yeah, the shortness was getting to him too.

Peter nodded. Obviously, they were the more expensive places, but considering the new found resources he’d… acquired during his time at the cafe, it doesn’t really matter.

“Cool! Wanna go see it with me?”

Frank immediately took on a suspicious glare. “Why?”

“I dunno? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought since you know your way around…”

“Ugh. Fine. But if there’s anything shady, I’m fucking dipping out.”

“Okay!” Peter grinned for the first time the couple of hours he’d been trapped in this new world.

——

They’d found an apartment with a landlord that got a weird, sad face when she was talking to them about the apartment. After like, an hour of walking around and Peter’s spidey sense screaming at him not to even go near the places Frank had left in the pile of maybe’s.

“We walked all the way here. Ya not even gonna go in?”

“The vibes are off. It’s a no.”

And because Peter’s a genius idiot with no self preservation, he’d marked the places to investigate later.

Frank had blinked at him, mildly offended and nonplussed. After a while of spluttering, he just gave up. Eventually, they got here.

“I don’t normally rent to kids,” the landlord lady said. Peter immediately liked her. “But I’ll make an exception if you’ve got the cash.”

“I’d like to see the unit first, please” Peter said. He’s not stupid, and Gotham’s renting scene is both easier and harder than New York.

They toured it. Peter? He’d seen worse. He’d lived worse. Also, it had two bedroom and was $620. Yeah, Peter was really considering just staying here full time and commuting to his New York when he wanted to be a vigilante.

“I’ll take it, ma’am.” The landlord and Frank both snorted, sharing a Gothamite look.

“It’s Georgie, to you, brat. You just need the first month’s rent, since I’ll wave the deposit for you shrimps. Utilities included. Your friend stayin’?”

“No-” Frank had started.

“Yep!” Peter beamed, interrupting his new friend.

“What?” Frank turned, gaping again at this weird little kid who had enough money to rent a place and then invited a whole ass street kid he just met to live with him. “Are you stupid?! What if I rob you? Huh? I don’t need charity!”

Peter slowly looked around the empty unit.

“Uh.”

“No, that’s not the point!” Frank pointed a finger at Peter. “That’s how you get yourself killed!”

“But that’s why you should stay! I don’t know my way around Gotham so…”

Peter looked up at Frank, using his shortness for maximum devastation. “Please?”

Georgie leaned back on the heels of her feet, silently laughing. It’s not every day she sees a Gothamite street kid get out stubborned by an outsider, but she knows better than anyone that Gotham is weak to genuine kindness. And this Peter kid, the one that reminds her so much of her own? He’s practically filled with it.

“Yeah, kid,” she said to Frank, snickering. “Look at him. He’s gonna get mugged two steps into the Alley. Or anywhere.”

Frank flailed, but eventually, Peter handed over the money to an amused Georgie who gave them two keys in return and a move in gift of a pot pie.

“I gotta. Uh. Go get my stuff.” Frank had mumbled, dazed at whatever the hell just happened.

“Okay! I’ll see if I can go get furniture!”

“And lift them with your shrimpy arm? You wish.”

“I can use a cart.”

And really, he could, because Gotham had a lot of abandoned carts laying around. Like a concerning amount.

“Can you even reach the handle?”

“I’m not that short!”

Frank snorted, Georgie’s own chuckles following a beat after. Peter scowled at them.

“Be right back,” Frank promised, holding the key like it was treasure. He had been homeless for two and a half years now, so in his eyes, that key was as good as gold. He had somewhere warm to stay. Trying to pickpocket Peter was the best mistake he’s ever made in his short life. But he didn’t want to take advantage of that, well, no, he did want to, but he doesn’t want to take the genuine kindness for granted so he’ll see if there’s any street furniture he could haul back on his way.

“Okay!”

Georgie watched him go and turned to Peter.

“If you need stuff, there’s a thrift store and a grocery store that way.” She gave him the directions.

——

As soon as Frank and Georgie left, Peter immediately left his new place (and holy shit, he really didn’t expect things to be this easy. In New York, he had to spend at least a week checking out places because he had to figure out whether the problem that cause subtle twinges with his spider sense was worth living with. Here? It’s too obvious.) to buy supplies. He had $400. Until his new card came in, at least. He’d put his new address into that bank account addressed to a “Anthony Benjamin” before ordering a “replacement card.”

Peter ran to the thrift store, hurrying before the last traces of the sun dipped below the smog of Gotham. A frankly absurd amount of blankets, towels, pillows, clothes, packaged boxers, socks and shoes around his size went into the cart. To his chagrin, Peter couldn’t actually see much over the cart. Why the hell was he such a short ten year old? He blasted through the store, also guesstimating Frank’s sizes. He tossed in curtains, a used set of glow in the dark stars, and a lamp.

He also grabbed mismatched mugs, bowls, a bundle of cutlery, and a dented microwave he casually pretended to struggle getting onto the bottom part of the cart. It’s like lifting grapes for him, but he looks like a ten year old so…

He, guiltily, bought a mildly fancy camera in a set, with two separate lenses, even if one was cracked.

Not bad, for $150 total. Peter is going to definitely seriously consider commuting to New York. They didn’t even care when he walked out with the cart! Well, that might be because of the cashier who gave him a pitying glance.

He stopped by a general store on the way back, parking his cart in a rapidly shadowy alleyway. He swung by the new section of the store that reminded him of a Dollar Tree and got cleaning supplies, toiletries, and two pans and a pot. He grabbed some canned food and a couple of frozen meals in the back. Seasonings, ramen, general pantry staples went in. A role of paper towel. Nice. Venom would have loved this store. With half of his budget blown for essentials, Peter quickly cut his spending off and

He quickly gathered his stuff and went back to the apartment, using his strength a bit to lift the full cart up the stairs at the front doors and into the elevator. It creaked like the first time they used it to go see the apartment, but it worked. Peter set everything up in the living room, pillow and blanket wise, and put everything in its proper place. The lamp was put up, giving more light than the old bulb in the ceiling light.

All Peter wanted to do was pass out, but since his dumbass took in a child, he couldn’t sleep until this place was relatively fit for a kid to live in. He also wanted to wait for

So, that’s what he did. Taking a sponge and the cleaning supplies he’d picked up earlier, Peter tackled the living room, scrubbing away at old stains and spraying mildew. He marked trouble spots- like that splinter worthy piece of floor next to the doorway leading to the hall between the bedrooms. Then the kitchen. By the time Frank cautiously peeked his head in from the front door, Peter had already finished scrubbing the over.

“Hey.”

Peter turned, grime on his face but grinning. “Hey!” I bought some stuff!”

Frank snorted at his face before glancing around the living room, eyeing the cart parked neatly on the side.

“So you did. Didn’t get mugged, did ya?”

“Rude. No, of course not.”

Frank gave him a… frankly… unimpressed look and dumped his bag next to the pile of blankets and pillows Peter had piled onto the floor. Sue hi’, they didn’t have beds yet.

“Got somethin’ for ya,” Frank said neutrally before dragging in…

“A coffee table!” Peter bounced towards Frank, hugging him before lugging in the heavy wooden table in. “You’re the best! Where’d you find it?!”

The tension, anxiety about Peter’s reaction, in Frank’s shoulders relaxed and the kid grinned. “Alley. Some asshole just left it there for anyone to hit with their car so I took it.”

“Nice! We can eat on this!”

——

When they were getting ready for bed, Peter insisting on showers for both of them, Frank had reared up at the clothes Peter bought for him. Peter pretended like he didn’t see anything and shove a whole tube of toothpaste and a new toothbrush at him.

“Ew. Do I have to?” Frank asked, wrinkling his nose but taking the items anyways.

“Yeah.” Peter said seriously. Frank gave a moment to wonder why he was taking orders from an eight year old before shrugging. He could brush his teeth in exchange for a roof over his head, food, and clothes. It’s not even a fair trade, for Peter, anyways. Frank was enough of an alley rat to take advantage of that.

——

When Frank passed out, Peter couldn’t sleep. He’s exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep.

So he took his new camera and climbed the fire escape to the roof top.

An hour later, he met his first vigilante.

“Hey, kiddo. I’m gonna need you to back away from the edge.”

“Woah!” Peter startled, jolting slightly off of the ledge he was balanced on. He twisted around to see Red Robin, hand outstretched and panicked look in his eyes.

“Dude. Warn a guy!” Peter said, even though his spider sense warned him of an approaching person that was actively watching him.

Red Robin held his hands up. “My bad. Would you- uh, not be on that ledge?”

“Yeah, sure. My bad, bro.” Peter obligingly stood up and stepped away from the ledge. Red Robin relaxed then did a double take. Peter frowned. Is there something on his face?

“What are you doing up here, kiddo? It’s late.”

Peter decided to scope out the vigilante. “Couldn’t sleep,” he held up his camera. “I’m taking pictures.”

“Oh. That’s cool! Can I see?” Red Robin approached warily, but relaxed when Peter didn’t spook and try to take a shortcut to ground floor.

“Sure! It’s a new, well, not new but new to me, camera so I haven’t had all that time to mess with the specs but the pictures turned out pretty good-”

“Oh, woah. This one’s great. That composition? Amazing. You caught the light perfectly,” Red Robin complimented. Peter brightened, knowing a photography fan when he hears one.

“Photography buddy!” He cheered.

They talked for an hour after that, but Red Robin quickly sent him to bed once he remembered the time.

“Ah, shi- crap. It’s like 2AM. You’ve gotta go to bed.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry if I interrupted your patrol, Mr. Red Robin!”

“No problem, kid.” Peter slipped back down the fire escape, not caring if the vigilante saw where he lived.

——

Up on the rooftop, Red Robin pressed a hand to his comm.

“Red Robin to Nightwing.”

“What’s up, Red?”

“Do you have a kid you don’t know about?” Tim said, bluntly.

“… What?”

“Oracle, can you share my cowl footage?”

“Copy. Oh, that kid…”

“Looks exactly like Wing?” Tim said, peering down at the empty fire escape. “Yeah. Talked like him too.”

“Oh my god, he’s adorable.” Oracle said. Tim agreed. That curly hair? Baby face? Adorable. A bean. “Did you get DNA?”

“Ah, shit, I knew I forgot something.”

“Do not break into his place and nab a hair,” Nightwing reprimanded, but his voice sounded distracted.

“Holy shit, you guys nerded out about camera placement and lighting for an hour?” Hood piped up.

“Get some rest, Red Robin. You’ve been working too hard,” Batman grunted through the comms. Awkward… but he’s been getting better at communicating his worry for his kids.

“Sure thing, B. Heading back to the main cave. Red Robin out.

——

Peter: lay low and get home

Also Peter: talks to a vigilante

None of them think Peter’s Nightwing’s yet. Peter will know before them… eventually. Once this world’s version of him gives up his memories to be absorbed by AU Peter.

#batman #peter parker #dc x marvel #Peter Parker gets yeeted into Gotham #spiderman #oc #red robin #dark matter #inspidered by the fic dark matter #yes that’s a pun #dick Grayson #nightwing #dick grayson is Richard Parker #richard parker #Oracle #Jason Todd #red hood #tfw you get conan’ed #Peter: making friends one roof top at a time #Spider in Gotham AU

[queenendless]

🍂🍁💝Thankful (Adult!SatoSugu x Adult!Fem!Reader ft Various JJK)💝🍁🍂

A/n: Spontaneous short fiction.

Sequel to Spooky Lovin'.

Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate. To those who don't, well do whatever makes you happy.

Lots of characters/pairings, pure cavity esque fluff, with a twist!

All credit for JJK goes to Gege ... despite what happens canon wise.

*Please don't plagiarize, translate, or repost my FANFIC work. Like, reblog and follow instead, thank you.

The enriching enthusiasm boomed out throughout your private abode.

You watched in beaming amusement through the open archway at the packed company.

Yuji laughed at what Megumi had to say which made the other smile; both close together on one end of the couch.

Nobara gushed over showing Maki upcoming winter attire releasing on her phone, to which the latter was intrigued, both also bundled closely on the other end of the couch.

Kento and Yu leaning against the wall, drinking apple cider as the latter rambled enthusiastically on their latest endeavor, while Ino popped in, praising a blushing Nanami on his caliber as his sorcerer icon.

Aoi clapping and weeping all up in the big TV showing Takada-chan's live performance in the themed parade happening down South.

Panda and Toge jumping in the leaf piles, a beaming Yuta swinging a giggling Rika around through the whisking leaves. Kamo sipped tea on the front patio as he watched the sunset.

Down the way, a car crossed by, with Shiu at the wheel and Toji eyeing the house with sharp ambivalence. Part of him missing his kids but accepting long ago that this is where they truly belong, nodding for Shiu to drive off.

A tipsy Shoko cuddling up with a blushing smiling Utahime in the hot tub on one end and Mei lounging and sipping on cider on the other end with Ui holding her bagged gear and waiting on her outside the tub, on standby, cause he's just that devoted.

Mai and Momo taking selfies together in the backyard garden before teasing a flustered Kasumi after Kokichi gifted her a flower in her hair.

Yuki and Choso; also in the backyard, napped together on the bench under the tallest looming tree, cozy smiles on their faces.

Kusakabe excused himself just to sneak into the bathroom to try out the jacuzzi.

Nanako and Mimiko braided Tsumiki's hair as they sat at the katsudon, smack dabbed in the center of their spacious living room.

Junpei blushing from Tsumiki noticing him gazing at her, smiling widely in return, to which a flushed Junpei jumped from Megumi's stern-faced warning to which his sister complained for him not to scare him so much and a nervously laughing Yuji consoled his horror buddy by hugging him and patting his back, simultaneously trying to calm down his boyfriend going all overprotective brother mode.

Masamichi made some festive themed cursed corpse dolls that were taking up space on the other couch.

Kiyotaka fumbled with his drink as Akari's beaming smile had him and Arata covering their flushed faces from how pure she looked.

Riko and Misato assist Suguru in the kitchen as they prepare the food.

Suguru, knowing you were still unwell, insisted you take it easy and let them handle the feast.

You had been feeling unwell the past few days.

You called in sick today when you felt something change.

You had to see for yourself.

And when you did, you felt inspired to message everyone you know for an impromptu get together at your place. The word spread via group chats, texts, and calls.

Watching everyone enjoying themselves at your impromptu get together heightened your spirits.

Just not for the festive touch.

But to be surrounded by all their beaming warm faces when —

Satoru warped right before barging through the front door with dramatic flair, exciting a few, scaring some, and annoying the rest.

“Honey, I'm home~!” Dropping the bag of pies on the counter, Satoru smooched Suguru fully on the lips.

The moment he noticed you practically glowing, the Six Eyes told him all that there is and will soon be, straight down to the first traces.

In that moment, everyone inside and outside felt the shifts in the cursed force as Gojo warped right before you, startling you out of your hidden viewing spot, his arms wrapping around your figure to catch you. You imagined his eyes trained on the right spot.

“You … you're …”

You couldn't suppress your smile. “I found out this morning. But I didn't know how to tell you both. I had a feeling your Six Eyes would show you the truth – AAH~!” Your yelp as he lifted you up in the air reverberated throughout the house, grabbing everyone's attention.

“Gojo-sensei?!” His students exclaimed in a jumbled mess.

“Satoru! Be careful – !” Suguru's concerns were cut short when he watched as you tugged down that blindfold just to see Satoru's awestruck eyes with your own.

Tears made his eyes sparkling that much beautifully, sniffling softly, beaming with that lovestruck smile as he lowered you down to embrace you, swinging side to side gently, laughing as he smooched your face with so many kisses.

“Y/n … thank you.”

As he sets you down; keeping you wrapped up in one arm, his other arm waving you two's partner over before intertwining their hands together to pull him in quickly. “Suguru~ We've got the hottest scoop of the year!”

Pressing himself right by your side, Suguru leaned down as you got up on your tiptoes to whisper your secret right in his ear. His stunned face was all you could read as he replayed your words in his mind, but he wanted to be certain. “Are you sure?”

Satoru's closed eyed smile and thumbs up added to the buildup. “These eyes don't lie!”

Burning wetness swelled up in those beautiful almond eyes as Suguru kissed you lovingly, smiling at you in the same smitten manner. “Best news ever.”

“Everyone!” Satoru hollered as his arms became yours and Suguru's thrones, lifting you both up, as he floated for literal joy. “We're having a baby!”

“And yes, it's all true!” You exclaimed boldly, knowing the people would take your word more easily than Satoru's.

First stunned silence. Which immediately erupted into cheers and applause of congratulations.

The twins, Tsumiki and Megumi were the first to get up and hurry on over to embrace you, shedding tears of joy.

Yuji and Haibara high-fiving Satoru who was over the moon.

Nanami shook hands to congratulate Suguru, warning him to make sure Satoru took extra caution with taking care of you and your little bundle before embracing you himself. You personally wanted to deem him as the godfather, just a side note.

As those from out front and out back swarmed in as the announcement shot straight through the roof from the loud groundbreaking importance.

After all the girls in the house fussed over you with hugs, advice and offers to help you through this new adventure, your husbands were in the same boat with almost everyone.

Except Kusakabe who was stuck in the bathroom for a while since the hallway was filled with the rest of your guests.

After embracing and congratulating you themselves, Riko and Kuroi announced the feast was ready.

Exchanging kisses with both your loves, you gave a toast.

Toasting to the new addition to your growing unique family.

Now that is cause to celebrate.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk au #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #thanksgiving #jjk fluff #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #satosugu x reader #gojo fluff #geto fluff #satosugu fluff #found family #jjk trio #jjk first years #jjk second years #jujutsu kaisen au #gojo x reader fluff #geto x reader fluff #satoru gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader #gojo x geto x reader #satoru x suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen comfort

[swifty-fox]

@bcolfanfic number 1 enabler so heres some Curt/Ken tenderness for the late night crew

Sequel to Bcol's

and immediate sequel to my drabble here:

Curt can tell when Gale has fallen asleep because the entire house seems to take a breath. He lays in the guest bedroom still in his clothes from the airport. From the gym. Hadn’t even stopped at his shoe-box apartment to change out of the loose black joggers and shirt with his nametag. His windbreaker wasn’t nearly enough for the Wyoming winter.

“John had a gun.”

Janie’s got a gun Janie's got a gun her whole world’s come undone from lookin’ straight at the sun.

Curt taps the tune out on his chest and glances over at the blinking alarm clock. Only Buck and Bucky would still have an honest-to-god analog clock in their home. But it’s comforting in a way, reminds him of childhood where things like suicide didn’t yet exist. Three-thirty AM. The witching hour his mamo would say and blow a kiss to the Brigid's Cross over the door frame. It’s late, painfully so and Curt’s eyes are so tired they feel covered in sand. But his body is wired, wide awake; fingers stained from drywall and fresh paint flecks. 

The hole was patched.

The aftermath was going to take a lot longer to fix.

Now that Janie's got a gun, she ain't never gonna be the same.

His phone chimes suddenly and he tugs it from his pocket. He knew he was hot shit but a Grindr notification this far out in the middle of nowhere was a surprise. He swipes past it without even looking. Ken’s name is at the top of his list, several unread texts from hours ago left unanswered after Buck’s assurances. 

New York was two hours ahead of Wyoming. The sun would be rising there. 

He tries to tell himself he doesn’t need to talk to Ken. It just felt right to update him on their friends. It wasn’t about Curt and whatever comfort he needed from the younger man. You didn’t seek comfort from things that meant nothing. So it was nothing. So he shouldn’t reach out.

Besides, he shouldn’t text Ken so early when the other man was probably deep asleep, shouldn’t text him and make him feel guilty for missing any updates on Bucky. He flicks his thumb up and down, hovering over the cracked-barely-beyond-use phone screen.

“Fuck it,” he mumbles, exhaustion and dialect blurring the words together into a mumbled ‘fuggit’.

He flicks out of imessage and opens Discord. Ken’s icon was lit up, the scrolling text below it taking Curt a moment of squinting to decipher. He wasn’t old, he was tired thank you.

KennyLemon playing Among Us.

Sweet boy, Curt thinks and then pulls a face at himself. His stomach untwists the smallest amount. 

The discord call rings for all of half a second before Ken’s voice comes over the phone.

“Curt?”

His stomach untwists just that much more. “Heya Kenny. You should be asleep.” 

“I couldn’t.” 

That's what Curt loved. Liked. Hated. About Ken. He was so sincere it was sickening, cracked his damn molars with it. How he’d made it through everything without bruising that tender center of his beyond repair was a wonder to Curt. Like a peach, one Curt was more than used to sinking his teeth into. 

You got one juicy ass Lemmons.

“Curt.”

“Yeah Ken?” He liked it when the kid said his name. Made something in his chest go all soft and gooey like chocolate. 

“I said, how’s Bucky and everything else?” 

Curt blows out through his lips, tries to exhale every bit of breath in his body until he could sink into the mattress and hide from this whole damn day.

“Brains all where they should be.” 

Sometimes it was good to be vicious. It kept him from feeling too much, feeling too tender. He was a New Yorker, take away his meanness and he’d be a hermit crab without its shell.

“Jesus, Curt.”

“I dunno what t’ tell ya Kenny. He’s halfway across the state where we can’t talk to him. Buck’s half dead from exhaustion or shock or both. I spent half the night patching a bullet hole in a wall my best friend tried to put in his head.” To his shock, his vague horror he feels his throat closing up, his eyes growing hot with burning tears. “Fuck.” He sits up, wipes his eyes violently and tries to yank his jogger leg up to get the straps of his prosthetic. The soft fabric catches on the plastic, on the velcro, on anything it can find. “Fuck,” he spits again just because he can.

“You okay B?” Ken’s voice was so soft and tender Curt wants to bare his teeth at it; just to protect himself. He does, only cause the other man couldn't see and so it wouldn’t hurt his feelings. 

“Can’t get m’damn leg off.” He mumbles, feeling hot shame mingle with the frustration. It was all grief anyways, hidden cleverly behind the mask called complex emotions.

“Wish I was there. I could help you.” 

Curt closes his eyes. Sweet boy. Wish you were here too Kenny.

He didn’t catch feelings. Was renowned for it, prided himself on it. He kept things casual because it was better that way, could see the way Ken was skittish as a stray kitten at the idea of anything real. He wasn’t about to go wading around in someone else's shame, but it did hurt in a special sort of way knowing the fear Ken battled with.

“It’s pretty tense here right now anyways. Probably for the best youse not.”

Kenny’s silent for a long time and Curt tries to swallow his regret, finally winning the battle with his leg and dropping it to the floor with a pointed thump. Take that you bastard. “Yeah you’re probably right.” 

Aw Hell. “It’s not that I don’t want you here Kenny.” He says haltingly, rubs a hand through his hair he still liked to keep short, “I just- I want you here a lot. First thing I wanted to do when Gale finally went to bed was call you.”

“Oh.” Kens voice was a little shaky.

Gentle gentle, be gentle with him Curt. His ma’s voice; always lecturing. You’re too rough Curt, Slow down Curt. Don’t push good things away just cause you’re scared Curt.

“Just so you don’t forget.” He finishes awkwardly “I like havin’ you around.” 

Curt thumps AC/DC against the hollows of his ribs.

Little lover, I can't get you off my mind, no, Little lover, I've been trying hard to find.

“You’ve got a real way with words Curt.” Ken teases.

They laugh, Curt pitching his low so as not to carry through the too-empty house “If y’wanted a poet you wouldn’t be with me.” He teases. A question hidden in a statement, the first time he’d dared acknowledge there might be something.

Because fuck he wanted Ken here. Couldn’t lie to himself now that he was hearing the younger man's voice over the phone. Wanted to tuck him against his side and bury his nose into those curls; sweet smelling and warm. Wanted to press him into the mattress and remind himself that they were alive and things were okay. Ken was sweet and sugar, sometimes Curt swore he licked it off the man’s skin. Whispered it into the shell of his ear as he ground his hips into Ken’s ass until there wasn’t a single ounce of space between them.

“You taste like dessert Lemmons.”

Curt grunts and adjusts himself. He couldn’t help his brain, his drive. But it felt beyond wrong to start anything right then and now.

“Yeah,” Ken smiles. Curt can tell. Ken smiled with his words and his body, just just his sweet mouth. “You’re right.” 

Too sweet, too sincere. It made him violent, made him want to bruise and mark and tease. He rolls onto his stomach with a groan, pressing his face into the mattress and counting backwards from twenty. 

“I wanna fuck you Kenny.” His words are muffled into the duvet but still legible. 

Ken sucks in a quiet breath, Curt can practically hear the other man blush. 

“You’re just sad and scared B.”

Curt squeezes his eyes shut so hard dots spring up behind his eyelids, his throat burns hot and it takes him several breaths to stave off the tears. 

“Yeah.” he mumbles “But I still wanna fuck ya.” 

Tug his curls, lick his stomach that wasn’t quite flat despite his fit state (Curt liked it that way). Kiss him til his lips were swollen and red. Red as his pretty curved cock when Curt took it to the root and slipped two fingers inside. Ken liked his fingers, he said. Liked how thick they were, the way the callouses caught and dragged inside him. The strength of them, liked to wrap his lips around middle and index and drag his tongue between them until Curt lost hold of his already thin control.

“You don’t gotta fuck away all your feelings sweetheart.”

It’s not bitter or reproachful, Ken’s statement. It’s gentle and kind. A reminder out of love, a lever opening the floodgates on the things Curt tried to keep in control. 

He gasps. The bed sheets are wet with tears, his nose running with snot. Fucking gross. 

“I dunno how t’ fix this one Kenny.” he whispers “The goddamn bullets still in the wall, rattling around in there like a fuckin ghost. I asked Gale if we should try to get it out and the look on his face-” 

“You can’t fix it for them.” 

“Whatdy-”

“You can’t,” Ken insists. “You can hold ‘em up and support ‘em and do all the things Gale can’t manage right now but the only one who can fix Bucky is Bucky and the only ones who can fix Buck and Bucky are themselves. You can’t put that burden on yourself or you’ll crack and all youse will end up resenting each other.”

“When’d you get so smart huh kid?” 

“I’ve always been smart, and don't get weird on me.” 

Curt sniffles loudly and grossly that Ken remarks on it, making them both laugh. 

It’s Buck and Bucky he owes his life to, who he would lay down his own for. But right now he doesn’t know what he’d do without Ken Lemmons.

It’s a sobering thought, a terrifying thought; one he can sit with for only a few moments before he’s drawn into that reactionary headspace of fuck, bite, take this tender thing and force it inside your ribcage before it hurts you. 

Kinda fucks you up when you’re raised that drinking a guys blood is the ultimate act of devotion.

“I miss you.” he says and fuck him he means it.

“Take care of our boys and come home soon B.” 

#mota #swiftywrites #curt biddick #ken lemmons #curt/ken #do they have a shipname

[fanhackers]

How To Be Gay, by David M. Halperin

While there are obvious fan studies classics, there are other books that don’t always fall into the “fan studies” canon that I have found incredibly useful for my own thinking.  I cited one of them, Carol Dyhouse’s  Heartthrobs: A History of Women and Desire (2017), a few posts ago; another is David Halperin’s How To Be Gay (2012)

How To Be Gay came out of a course Halperin taught at the University of Michigan, whose full title was “How to Be Gay: Male Homosexuality and Initiation.”  The initiation in question was not sexual, but cultural:  Halperin believes that there are not only gay texts, a gay canon of sorts, but also gay ways of reading that are taught and learned and that help constitute something we might call a gay subjectivity (that you don’t have to be gay actually to have):  e.g. Hollywood movies, opera, Broadway musicals, camp, diva worship, drag, muscle culture, style, fashion, interior design. Halperin asked both why this set of things–why musicals? why this diva or that–and what do they tell us about gay experience? Halperin was trying to trace “gay men’s characteristic relation to mainstream culture,” which often involves collaborative and camp appropriation: a queering.

I find this book very useful, both because fandom also has its own shared languages and rites of initiation (consider the idea of watching something with fannish goggles or slash goggles or a fanfic lens, as was recently discussed in a previous post; think about all the languages and tropes and artistic structures we all learn from each other) but also because Halperin talks about modes of identification that aren’t representational or based obviously in identity politics. So, for example, he says that the gay male students in his class were more likely to express themselves vis a vis a shared text like  The Golden Girls than vis a vis the traditions of what Halperin calls “good gay writing.” There is, Halperin argues, a queer pleasure in the Broadway musical that’s different than the pleasures of gay identity or even gay sex; similarly, queer female fans might find pleasures in identifying with, say, Sherlock, Crowley, or Blackbeard that are very different from the pleasures offered by a woman- or lesbian-centered text. 

Here’s an excerpt that gives a good sense of the book, I think: fans might identify with this or recognize it as descriptive of their own fannish feels.  (FWIW, the italics are all his!)

[H]omosexuality is not just a sexual orientation but a cultural orientation, a dedicated commitment to certain social or aesthetic values, an entire way of being.  That distinctively gay way of being, moreover, appears to be rooted in a particular queer way of feeling. And that queer way of feeling—that queer subjectivity—expresses itself through a peculiar, dissident way of relating to cultural objects (movies, songs, clothes, books, works of art) and cultural forms in general (art and architecture, opera and musical theater, pop and disco, style and fashion, emotion and language). As a cultural practice, male homosexuality involves a characteristic way of receiving, reinterpreting, and reusing mainstream culture, of decoding and recoding the heterosexual or heteronormative meanings already encoded in that culture, so that they come to function as vehicles of gay or queer meaning. It consists, as the critic John Clum says, in “a shared alternative reading of mainstream culture.” As a result, certain figures who are already prominent in the mass media become gay icons: they get taken up by gay men with a peculiar intensity that differs from their wider reception in the straight world. (That practice is so marked, and so widely acknowledged, that the National Portrait Gallery in London could organize an entire exhibition around the theme of Gay Icons in 2009.) And certain cultural forms, such as Broadway musicals or Hollywood melodramas, are similarly invested with a particular power and significance, attracting a disproportionate number of gay male fans. What this implies is that it is not enough for a man to be homosexual in order to be gay. Same-sex desire alone does not equal gayness. In order to be gay, a man has to learn to relate to the world around him in a distinctive way.  (p. 12 - 13)

–Francesca Coppa, Fanhackers volunteer

#author: francescacoppa #fanhacker #fan reading #queer reading #subjectivity vs identity

[magnorious]

On so-called "ace-erasure" in the Hazbin Fandom

I feel compelled to say something, as a proud ace, regarding the maelstrom of hate and bullying surrounding a fandom I just dipped my toe into, but it concerns the broader concept of fanfic and fanart as a whole.

Y’all. It’s a cartoon. They’re not real people, they’re not based on real people, they exist to be entertainment and to make you smile and sing along and root for their success.

It’s funny how you can look at any straight, cis male in a movie or TV show – whether he be in a happy, healthy straight relationship or otherwise, and the fandom drags his sexuality through the woodchipper in the name of fanfiction.

Oh but there’s queerbating, they’re totally gay even if the writers refuse to admit it. Oh but it’s just for fun. Oh but it’s just wish-fulfillment, it’s not doing any harm. They’re just fictional characters.

Excuse after excuse after excuse for raunchy art and sordid storytelling that can boil over into hating on not only the female characters in these men’s lives, but their female actors.

And yet.

God forbid you drag an ace’s sexuality through the mud for the same exact harmless, wish-fulfilling reasons. Or anyone who isn’t cisgender and straight.

Oh but it’s queer-erasure. It's different because there's already not enough of us and we have to fight for what we have.

No. It’s not. Because you’re not the writer. It’s not your show. So long as the person who made the character proudly defends them and respectfully depicts them, then it’s not erasing anything. Otherwise the thousands upon thousands of wailing fans would have turned some of the most iconic men of fiction into proud gay icons simply by wishing it so.

The whole point of fanfic is being able to see situations, circumstances, and relationships in a what-if scenario. Yes we know this character is straight, or gay, or bi, or pan, or ace or aro, but what if they weren’t for just a few thousand words? Yes we know this is how it happened on screen, but what if it happened a little differently?

It’s supposed to be fun.

I love ace representation. There’s not enough of it and there needs to be more. I want to be able to say See! We exist! Look at us go! with the rest of you.

I also respect shippers doing whatever they damn well please because no matter what they say or do, I can re-watch the show and still see my ace on screen unblemished (as can all the straight viewers who cling to their straight heroes).

Is the motto of fanfic not “don’t like, don’t read?” The amount of nasty comments on incredible art is insane. Don’t like? Don’t look. You’re the one with egg on your face wasting your time and effort typing out and posting that nasty comment. You don’t like it? Scroll on past. Ignore the art and deprive it of the attention the artist posted it for because it’s fanart of fictional characters.

Is this post going to make a difference? No. Am I inviting my own slew of nasty time-wasting comments? Yes. But as an ace who saw an ace and does actually appreciate (if not agree with) the potential in all these what-if scenarios in the right, specific circumstances, I’m fervently siding with those artists who just wanted to draw something pretty and share it with the world.

It’s entertainment. It’s just for fun. Do you really, seriously want this fandom to be looked on from a distance as “oh yeah the violent, bullying nerds that take a cartoon musical way too seriously”? Instead of, I don’t know, “Hey, I want to watch this cool show and peruse some awesome fan content because I can’t get enough of what little we were given, look at how many wonderful options there are.”

#ace pride #acespec #hazbin hotel #alastor

[franklyshipping]

Tough Tootsies ~ A Markiplier Ego Fanfic

Here we have another fabulous anon prompt featuring our favourite gameshow host, but this time Yancy is by his side! LET'S DO THIS!

TAGGING: @bimlee-trimmer and @bim-trimler

Yancy was a tough guy, a cool guy. He was the sort of guy who, thanks to his days behind bars, had learned how to keep a straight face when things got nerve-wracking or intimidating. However, if you looked in his eyes long enough, you’d notice the flicker of nerves as he stood in the reception of the white-marble spa that Bim had brought him to. The luxury spa experience was something Bim had actually bought Yancy for Christmas, attempting to encourage him to relax and see the value of “me time” – but in true busy Yancy fashion he hadn’t found time to use it in-between writing, choreographing and practising new songs and music video shoots for his first album of music (the working title was Jailbreak and all the egos, Bim especially, thought it was iconic). So here Yancy was, having been persuaded thanks to Bim offering his company, and soon they were all signed in and heading to get to their first stop: free goodies.

‘So uh, what’s exactly gonna be done to us?’

‘Oh we’re getting the best treatments!’

Bim replied, grinning as the pair wandered through and started getting changed into their fancy, thick robes and slippers – which they got to keep no less! Bim’s attire was lilac whilst Yancy’s were navy, and Yancy smiled as he realised Bim must have called ahead to tell them his favourite colour.

‘First up is a hot stone massage, that’s the thing that’ll settle you into the spa day mood. Then we’ll have mud face masks, face, neck and scalp massages, and finish off with a full pedicure! You’re going to want a spa break every weekend after today, trust me!’

Bim nudged him with a wink and Yancy snorted, shaking his head fondly as they headed into the first room. Yancy was nervous about the day, mainly with regards to having strangers getting up close and personal with him. If Bim weren’t here with him he likely wouldn’t have had the confidence to give it a try… but as the treatments came by, it was far less invasive than Yancy was expecting. Everyone was so relaxed and chatty, always checking in on his comfort, telling him what they were going to do before he felt any touch – and of course Bim knew all the personnel and kept awkward silences at bay with gossip and banter.

Yancy found himself especially enjoying the gossip, especially when it came to his wild experiences from prison, which all the staff were excited to hear rather than unnerved! Yancy got so relaxed at one point that he fell right asleep during the scalp massage, having a deep twenty minute power nap which somehow refreshed him like a full night’s sleep – soon Yancy wasn’t just comfortable, he was enjoying every second of the experience. Also needless to say, he felt tensions unwinding in him that he hadn’t realised he had!

Eventually they got settled into comfy leather seats ready for the full pedicure treatment, and naturally Bim had even convinced him to pick a nail colour – Yancy went for a matte navy blue, whilst Bim chose a metallic violet. Yancy was all set and ready to relax again, even closing his eyes in anticipation… meaning he missed the cheeky grins Bim shared with the technicians. There was mischief afoot, no pun intended. In Bim’s view Yancy had been overworking himself and not only deserved relaxation, but a chance to let loose… to laugh. And the previous treatments had put him beautifully off guard.

Yancy sighed as he felt his feet gently get washed in warm water and carefully patted dry, and he could feel another nap coming on… until he felt the warm pumice stone. His foot was held still as the pumice stone’s fine grained surface rubbed against the ball of his foot. It wasn’t uncomfortable, certainly not painful… but it tickled like hell. Yancy’s breath hitched as his gripped his arm rests, glancing to Bim beside him. Bim however was perfectly relaxed, and took another sip of his champagne as he sighed.

‘So, is it safe to say I’ve converted you to the spa lifestyle Yance?’

Yancy gaped for a moment, feeling a giggle building in his chest. He held it in, clearing his throat as he smiled at his friend – he couldn’t burst into giggles here, it would be the most embarrassing thing ever! He took a deep breath, resolving not to react and make a scene.

‘Mhm oh yeheah, yeah for sure.’

‘I mean, I get why you were anxious of course, it’s perfectly understandable to not want strangers touching you all over the place. But everyone here honestly takes the word ‘professional’ and goes above and beyond don’t you think?’

‘O-Oh mhm, mhm yep.’

Yancy replied, gritting his teeth as he felt the rubbing go on and on and on. Somehow it was worse than feathers or nails, even worse than the pointiest pen! It was like his deepest ticklish nerves weren’t safe, each rub sending jolts and tingles that just made him want to squeal and kick his feet! But he couldn’t, and felt his face go a bit pink from his efforts as his technician smiled at Bim’s compliments.

‘You’re too kind Mr Trimmer.’

The pumice stone left his foot and Yancy let out a quiet breath of relief, until he felt it being applied to his other foot. He could feel his toes twitching as he casually pressed his knuckles to his mouth, his eyes looking at anything else but his feet. How the hell could something tickle this much, and how was Bim so chill?! He was just as ticklish as Yancy, or at least that’s what Yancy had always thought. It was the public factor that made this so torturous. Being tickled at home wasn’t half as embarrassing as this… oh God if he laughed, would he get kicked out?!

Then, he almost did. He let out a sudden squeak and shuddered when he felt the pumice stone move to his heel. He missed the amused look between Bim and the technician, and the technician put on a concerned look.

‘Oh I’m sorry, is that spot tender?’

Yancy cleared his throat, smiling softly as he straightened in his seat. He knew he was bright pink.

‘Ah, no I uh, just got a chill.’

Bim hid a snicker behind his champagne glass as the technician smiled, keeping her composure as she replied.

‘Oh, your seat has a heating feature if you’d like to use it! If you lift up the left arm rest you’ll find all the buttons.’

She then put the pumice stone aside and Yancy smiled gratefully, thinking he was in the clear. He decided he deserved to feel toasty after all that, and snorted when Bim gasped dramatically next to him as he opened his own arm rest.

‘Oh my GOD I can’t believe I forgot about that!’

Yancy rolled his eyes fondly as Bim excitedly explored all the buttons, including the reclining and massage functions. Yancy could feel the tingles in his feet fading into relaxation, so much so he got ready to tease Bim for getting so excited. But then he felt the oil. His breath hitched as he felt it trickle over his feet and toes, filling the space with a soft, floral scent, and his jaw clenched as he felt it being massaged into his skin. Oh. God.

‘U-Uh… whahat–ah, what’s the oil f-for?’

‘Oh it’s to help revitalise your skin, and it’ll stop your feet drying out. The scent is lavender, is that alright?’

‘Yehep, mhm yep, yep ahall good…’

Yancy nodded, and now had no choice but to mask his little giggles with light coughs and clearing his throat. This did not escape the technicians or Bim’s notice, but they naturally pretended otherwise to keep the game going. Bim even sighed lightly with a grin.

‘Ahh, the lavender one is my favourite, it’s just so relaxing isn’t it Yance?’

Yancy nodded, and this time couldn’t keep his eyes off the massage as fingers moved up from his arches, getting closer and closer to his toes. He tried to reason that he could take it, that the massage wasn’t as bad as the pumice stone… but when those slick fingertips started rubbing his toes he held his breath. But in the end, it was no use. It was a tweak to his pinky toe after a few mere seconds that made him explode into his long awaited laughter.

‘SHIHIT!’

To Yancy’s utter horror he heard the technician giggle as Bim gasped, his grin turning devious as he clapped his hands together.

‘Aww there’s the ticklish guy I know! I gotta say you held out longer than I thought you would!’

Yancy’s eyes went wide with confusion… and then the realisation hit him. It was a set up. A goddamn tickly set up! Before he could even think to get up, Bim leaned over and pinned him snugly against his seat, capturing his arms as he chuckled at him. What’s more… the massage didn’t stop.

‘WHAHAHAT THE HEHECK?!’

He kept laughing at varying pitches as the pads of his toes were gently rubbed, but occasionally he would feel the flutter of nail tips right under his toes too – that got him squealing, despite his best efforts, complete with voice cracks too. His cheeks were crimson with embarrassment as he squirmed about. How could he not have seen this coming? Bim was notoriously a mischievous little shit, he should have known there was something going on!

‘Aww look at those red cheeks, is someone flustered?’

Yancy snorted, and failed in his attempt to glare at Bim as he kept trying to wriggle free. His toes were constantly scrunching as he laughed and laughed and laughed, before ending up hiding his face against Bim’s shoulder in defeat.

‘YOHOHOU’RE AHA JAHAHACKASS!’

Bim gasped in mock offense, and tickled under his chin lightly as he retorted.

‘Am not! I just wanted to see a smile on that handsome face! Don’t you feel lighter and more relaxed?’

‘NAHAHAT RIHIHIGHT NOHOHOW!’

Bim and the technician’s laughed at his exclamation as Yancy kept his face hidden, his embarrassment hitting its peak… because admittedly the tickles were wonderful. Different tickles could be wonderful in different ways, and for Yancy slow, tender tickling at his worst spot like this was a truly heavenly sort of hell. He felt so warm and giddy and happy inside as the minutes went by, each toes given lashings of attention with rubs and flutters which seemed unending! And naturally Bim couldn’t help but keep on teasing him.

‘Listen to that laugh! You look like you’re having lots of fun, I think we should make this a regular appointment for your ticklish toes.’

Yancy’s blush crept up to his ears, and he let out a loud yelp when he felt the tickles stray in-between his poor sensitive toes. He exploded with babbles as his whole body jolted, and he reached his limit.

‘AHH–ALRIGHT ALRIHIHIGHT S-STAHAHAHAP!’

Bim giggled fondly, and the technician immediately stopped as she and her colleague giggled with huge grins on their faces, and even in his breathless state Yancy could see they weren’t making fun of him; their looks were just as fond as Bim’s. He panted softly as they moved away to prepare the next treatment, and his eyes fluttered shut as he stayed resting against Bim’s shoulder. Bim rubbed his back lightly, grinning.

‘You good?’

Yancy giggled lightly, nodding as he took a few deep breaths.

‘Y-Yeheah…’

‘You’re not mad at me are you?’

Yancy snorted, shaking his head as he grinned bashfully and gave him a tired nudge.

‘Nah… I uh… I actually do feel pretty good. Been hard to find time to chill out recently, y’know…’

Bim smiled at him with understanding. Yancy had been busy, working so so hard, putting pressure on himself. It was why he’d come up with this tickly relaxation scheme in the first place, just to give him a chance to let it all go for a bit. He squeezed Yancy’s shoulder softly.

‘I know, what’s why I knew I had to bring you.’

Yancy felt warmth in his chest at the gesture, then narrowed his eyes and laughed at how smug Bim’s grin was. He poked him in the ribs as he grumbled.

‘Sneaky asshole.’

Bim chuckled, and reclined back in his seat with a wink, picking up his champagne once more.

‘Love you too jailbird. So, are you ready for a little more?’

Yancy giggled softly, and nodded bashfully as the technicians returned. When the massaging resumed, Yancy didn’t hold back his delighted giggles this time, and felt the relaxation and comfort swell through him like a warm wave. Sometimes you don’t know you need something until someone else shows you that you need it, and though it’s sometimes hard to think so, everyone deserves the relaxation and laughter the world has to offer.

WOOO I KNOW THIS ONE IS LONG-AWAITED SO I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT, LEMME KNOW IF YA DO! LOVE YOUS!!

#markiplier #markiplier egos #bim trimmer #bim #yancy #platonic #prompt #sfw #tword fanfic #tword fic #ego fic #ego fanfic #tword #twords #twording #twordish #luv these lads

[moonlightdancer26]

It's so strange that so many Marauders' stans sneer at Snape, but stan BCJ...

Agreed, like you use “he’s a blood supremacist and said *shudders* the M word!!” and then go stan canon DEs who never redeemed themselves? 💀

It’s possible to like a villain but hate another objectively-morally-better character, at least with a villain you wouldn’t have to “worry” about debates or controversy, since they’re.. a villain. They did nothing to repent for their actions and therefore are irredeemable, so it wouldn’t be one of the biggest “fandom debates” to argue about whether they’re good or bad, because they never made you question it. Redeemed characters, on the other hand, do in fact make you question their morality, but a lot of people don’t understand the concept of a REDEMPTION can’t seem to handle the fact that Mr. Redemption actually did bad things in the past, which is why they tend to say characters-similar-to-Snape’s arcs are invalid. And especially since Snape turned into a bully, the debates about his arc are much stronger. Characters like Evan Rosier (my babygirl) and Barty Crouch Jr. (also babygirl) don’t have redemption arcs and don’t make you question their morality, so perhaps they’re seen as a “safer” option in the eyes of most Marauder stans. Because people won’t lunge at you and harass you simply for liking them.

It’s also similar to villains and just-really-fucking-annoying characters; if you like a just-really-fucking-annoying character, people will straight up go wtf dude, but if you were to say you like the main villain of the series people would be like oh okay. I remember an iconic tumblr post and one of the reblogs said something along the lines of “the villain’s crimes are fictional but my annoyance is real” (I quote that 24/7) and I think it’s extremely accurate. It’s also part of the reason why Umbitch is much more hated than Voldemort, not only is that woman pure evil, but she’s annoying as fuck too 💀

So, them stanning Barty and Evan while not liking Snape is alright, but the fact that they attack us for liking him and think he’s scum while they stan characters who never even tried to redeem themselves and then go make headcanons about them, fancast attractive actors as them, create sob-stories in fanfics to justify what they did that they accept as canon, etc, really makes me wonder how they’d act if Severus was conventionally attractive. 😐

all of this is coming from a BCJ (i either read this as “BBQ” or “DJ” don’t ask why) stan btw 🥰 he’s my babygirl but I ain’t condoning hypocrisy.

#anti snaters #severus snape #pro snape #pro severus snape #snape #harry potter #hp #ask #asks

[autumnteawithfriends]

Hairstyling

Pairings: MusicArtist aka Jumpin Johnny Jumble/Colora Contour(OC), Mentioned PsychoConductor aka Professor Rocket/Melody Maestra(OC)

I now bestow the Crashbox fandom with a fluffy OC x Canon oneshot fanfic

If you want to learn more about my Crashbox OCs Colora Contour and Melody Maestra, check out my art account @art-tea-chill

Now that I’ve gotten your attention, let the fanfic begin!

It was a relatively normal day off for Jumpin Johnny Jumble, especially so considering how chaotic Crashbox can be normally. While the crew doesn’t really have day offs, the situation at the factory made it an exception. Johnny didn’t really know the whole story, all he remembered from his conversation with Dora Smarmy was that most of the machines broke down during maintenance and thus the robots are still trying to figure on how to replace and/or fix some of them.

Johnny was in the kitchen making himself and Colora their morning drinks. He was making battery acid flavored coffee (he can’t exactly drink liquids normally) and made Colora her favorite, cold sweet tea. While both of them don’t require drinks, heck, Johnny doesn’t even have a mouth and Colora can’t move hers, hers is just painted on her wooden face. Both of them still find it nice to do.

While Johnny put Colora’s tea in the fridge for it to cool off, he spotted something on the table. Upon closer inspection, he figured out it was a magazine. A decently thick one at that. He assumed Colora bought it since he didn’t remember buying anything.

Johnny held the magazine in his wired hands, analyzing the cover. The magazine’s title was “Top 50 Hairstyles Throughout The Decade! FT: Models” Despite not being spelt out, Johnny assumed the magazine was referring to Women’s hairstyles. Considering there were pictures of three women on the left side of the cover. All three photos of the women were vertically aligned on the left of the front cover like a photo strip, only thing that was missing was the iconic black reel to go with it.

The woman in the top left photo was a young blond, she had an athletic high ponytail hairstyle and also had clumps of hair on the sides. The sides reminded him of Princess Peach’s hair and her photo was done at a 3/4ths angle with her facing the right.

The second woman was a brunette and looked older, but still pretty nonetheless. Her hair was more vintage-esque since it was fancy ringlets with a smoothed out top and bangs. Her photo was also at a 3/4ths angle, but she was facing the left instead of the right.

The final woman on the cover had black hair and her hairstyle made it look like she came straight out of the 50s. Her hair was short, not even covering half of her neck, yet it was bobbed up all fancifully. Unlike the other women, her photo angle was more akin to a headshot with as it was front view.

Johnny didn’t really know why Colora bought a hairstyling magazine of all things. It was maybe because he expected her to get something art-related, but to be fair, only doing art stuff all day during multiple day offs does sound maddening. In fact, Johnny thought Colora would probably look gorgeous in most of these hairstyles (not that she already is).

However, Johnny’s train of thought was interrupted when he heard a feminine yawn.

Colora had finally woken up and had walked into the kitchen. Instead of her usual fit, she was wearing a oversized grey t-shirt Johnny bought once and never wore and black baggy pants.

“Good morning sweetie…” Colora said drowsily.

“Mornin’ Babe” Johnny remarked flirtatiously, Colora sleepily giggled at it. “I put your tea in the fridge, I know how you like it cold.”

“Aww…Your so sweet…” Colora remarked before going to get the tea from the fridge, she was usually very drowsy after waking up. Tea helped get her energy back up.

Johnny skimmed through the magazine, all the pages were showing a random hairstyle from a specific decade and a guide on what you need to do to achieve it. Admittedly, it was surprisingly boring considering the content.

“Baby, I’ve gotta question to ask…” Johnny mentioned.

Colora looked back at Johnny, already having finished the tea.

“What’s the question honey?” Colora replied, she started looking at Johnny intently. Just in case it was something serious.

“Were you the one who bought this magazine?” Johnny answered, showing Colora the hairstyling magazine. Colora was relieved to hear it was just about that.

“Oh! Yes I did!” Colora replied excitedly, “I figured since we essentially have a mini summer break because of the machines, I thought hairstyling might help!” Colora then switched to a disappointed face, “But sadly, that book was boring! I guess it’s true of what they say, check out the market before you park it!”

“Yeah…” the content was pretty crummy.” Johnny responded. “Although we don’t have to return that magazine exactly…”

Colora switched to a more confused face, “What do you mean?”

“Colora”, Johnny continued, “Do you want me to style your hair?”

Colora switched to a more happier face on the flick of a dime.

“Really?!” Colora exclaimed excitedly, “Thank you!” Johnny chuckled at her enthusiasm, he genuinely liked her goofiness.

Both Johnny and Colora moved to the living room, with Johnny sitting on the couch and with Colora slightly propped up against the cushions. Johnny figured a low, loose ponytail would suit her.

“Hey babe” Johnny asked, “Do you have a hair tie on you?”

Colora shook her head, “Sorry honey, I don’t. But! There should be some in the bathroom!”

“Thanks babe” said Johnny as he went to the bathroom, he came back into the living room with one hair tie around one of his wired fingers.

Both of them had a very fun morning to say. Whilst Johnny was doing Colora’s hair, Colora was chatting with him about random topics: Art, painting, Melody Maestra and Professor Rocket having recently discovered romantic tension, etc.

In the end, Johnny was right. Colora looks very beautiful in a messy low and loose ponytail.

#crashbox #crashbox oc #romantic #romance #fluff #just shipping in general i guess #shipping #fanfic #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 author #dora smarmy #Crashbox MusicArtist

[blankd]

I find tumblr's revision of the archetypal evil of demons and "inversion" of it slightly frustrating.

There are some posts I fundamentally disagree with, not for any religious reason, merely "narrative structure".

Examples of this kind of post are "You hear of the fallen angel but never the risen demon" followed by the comments and tags bonding over shared Christian Trauma, which, my condolences to those who have experienced it, but is entirely separate from my point.

Angels are frequently cast as Supernatural Turbo Cops/Fascists oppressing minorities ~*for not conforming*~ and Demons are reduced to helpless gay babies who are misunderstood straightedge dweebs (because they have to be #relatable and #relatable cannot be flawed in any serious way, it harshes the vibes maaaan).

The "subversion" is so common that it feels like the standard. And more annoyingly, there is no intellectual challenge to it. It's watered down to the point that "Demons face oppression just because they look different :(" which spills over to clumsy race allegories that I could personally do with less of.

"But it's boring to play it straight!", I pantomime the strawman to shout, but I point out that this is tumblr, the website that chronically funnels most of its pairings into specific personalities- sieving everything through the same fandom hole. Regurgitating memes AND superimposing the characters on iconic art for optimized fandom consumption.

I would personally enjoy the earnest attempt of exploring how infinite forgiveness meets with infinite cruelty. How do you materially triumph over it? Can it even be done? Or a serious scrutiny of how a force of good could do evil, etc. without falling back on having the teams swap jerseys. Theology is a field, bring out your thesis, not cowardly AU-fanfics built off Paradise Lost.

Tumblr posts won't have this, they probably aren't interested in interrogating it. And I don't expect them to.

But I can still be bored of the ideas.

In these scenarios, it usually boils down to how God is an abusive father, Lucifer/Satan is a righteously defiant teenager, infinitely powerless and a victim, defanged of status and stripped of accountability for action. Or otherwise lionized as a rebel who should be pitied for failure in his Glorious Revolution rebellion. Because what he stood for was not anything as insidious as supremacy, but progressive equality.

Hell is tragic not because it presents what a world void of divinity and virtue looks like, but because Satan was a post-minor commie or something.

The truly maddening part is that even when I attempt to glaze over how eye-rolling this style of "subversive" writing is, I still cannot capture the exact banality of it, my fingers and brain refuse, so I won't try.

However I will point out the quirk that redemption is never courted as an idea in these revision-subversions, it is viewed as a compromise, a submission, a surrender. (Or outright decried as a forgone impossibility, so why try.)

And this vexes me as it perpetuates the idea that when a child tantrums, a parent tolerates.

It further insists that this relationship can never be more complex, nor will its dynamics ever shift.

Despite the natural demand for equality once a child becomes an adult, there is a specific group of people who quietly never want this. They may not even be aware of it. But on some level there is a realization that once they lose the excuse of being a child, they will have to make compromises, and sometimes the difficult reflection that maybe they were wrong. And that maybe they were wrong enough to face a consequence.

But that would be a compromise, an admission, a surrender.

---

Messy Preemptive Responses thing:

"I want to write about my religious trauma" with all due respect, do an autobiography, it is not worth risking burying it under metaphor

"I'm processing my trauma" with all due respect, seek therapy off of tumblr

"Demon hot, Angel hot, wartime fucking" genius work, carry on brave soldier

#blankd's blabbies

[housewifebuck]

okay so maybe in the event that we don’t get explicitly buddie scenes… I’m always down for more buck and chris scenes like maybe (and this is straight out of fanfic but imagine it on the “big” screen) buck picks chris up from a school event without eddie and one of the pta moms asks “oh are you mr.diaz?” or something along those lines and buck just stops functioning for a sec but doesn’t correct her?? maybe….

AHHORIFUFJSJDJDKJSKJS PLEASE if they ever did a callback to the iconic Elf Scene I would lose my absolute shit that would be so iconic. And ur right he probably wouldn’t correct her and then Chris would be like stop the press🤚🏻😧⁉️

#PRAYING AND MANIFESTING‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 #also how can I include this in my pta buck fic…hm… #asks #anonymous

[duhragonball]

Dear DUHRAGON BALL,

Is it just me or has the shtick of naming a majority of characters after food, objects, or other nouns in Dragon Ball become stale? I don't hate this aspect of the series, but I sometimes feel it is shoved down our throats whenever more characters are introduced with unconventional (unconventional to the audience, I mean) names.

It's like we get it, they're named after something we eat, drink, or use. HAHAHAHAHA

Maybe I'm missing context about this, and if so please correct me, but how would you feel if they stopped doing this naming process? Would it help for fans to relate to newer characters better if they had actual names than nouns? Would it actually go against the series as a whole because this aspect is part of its DNA? Would anyone actually care who is named what? I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Have a Terrific 2nd Half of 2023 : ]

Sincerely, ContentExplorer

It's a system. The story I always heard was that Toriyama implemented this as a way to come up with names for characters quickly. As time went on, he found it was also useful for remembering which characters were associated with each other.

Maybe I'm not the sharpest knife in the crayon box, but some of the names used in Dragon Ball are pretty oblique. It took me years to notice that "Nail" is taken from the word "snail", for example. It also helps that the names are often taken from non-Japanese words, then their spellings or pronunciations are garbled up a bit to make them less obvious.

Let's put it this way: What would you have them do instead? The next big villain shows up, and his name is Hiroshi Suzuki? John Smith? Or should they be given completely made-up names like Blorfonertz, or Xylortone? Why is this preferable?

In the end, names are just labels for characters, and if the characters become important enough, they transcend the connotations of their names. Frieza has become an iconic villain in popular culture, probably somewhere on the level of Lex Luthor, or the Joker. The fact that he was named after a household appliance didn't really matter in the long run, because the strength of the character changed the meaning of the name.

I once read that the reason James Bond was named "James Bond" was to give the character as dull and unassuming a name as possible. He's not Nick Fury or Flash Gordon, he's just some regular-ass dude, or so it seems. But over the decades, the name James Bond has become synonymous with flashy, sexy spy adventure. It's hard to think of the name without picturing a car chase. That's because of the character. Ian Fleming could have named him Bread Twofist and it still would have probably worked out that way.

For my part, I tried using Toriyama's naming systems in my own fanfic, and I found it pretty handy. Instead of trying to pick a name for a new character out of thin air, I could confine myself to certain topics and choose a word from those. And it might sound silly at first, but eventually I'd get used to the sound of it, and then it would just be second nature to use it. The same process happens with any name you choose for a character. But by doing it this way, I can save myself the indecision.

Hirohiko Araki has multiple naming systems for the characters in Jojo's Bizarre Adventure. Fashion designers and labels, musical acts and their songs, and sometimes he just straight up uses Japanese names. It seems gimmicky at first, but then the story gets rolling and you forget about it.

I think the issue you're having is that you're viewing it like an active attempt at humor. Like the Heeters have a guy named "Oil" and you're bored with it because it's just not that funny. But it's not meant to be a joke. It's just a little quirk in the writing, easily dismissed. If you just roll with it, it's not that annoying.

#ask duhragonball

[lexa-griffins]

It's always bothered me that I see people saying "always reblog" on gifsets or drawings but ignoring someone who just created a brand-new piece.

The same goes for writing. I see people say I just re-read this for the 4th time but won't take the time to read something someone recently wrote. People are actively killing fandoms while saying I don't understand why nobody posts anymore.

While I 100% get there being fics/art/gifsets that are iconic in certain fandoms but the truth is that people will not allow the space for anything new to be made recognized.

One of the things I have realized that happens a lot now is people just don't go to the tags. They don't. They wait for the people on their dash to reblog stuff. And what does that usually mean? That in fandoms with a few blogs everyone follows, those blogs basically dictate what makes it big or not in the fandom because it'll only be reblogged and shared if they reblog it. Now, I am by no means saying bigger blogs need to reblog anything they don't want just for the sake of it. What I mean is people don't go look for any fanart and fanfic that is newly released and even if they do, they will a lot of times wait for it to be "approved" by the bigger blogs before reblogging it.

You can also see this when it comes to fic recommendations. Its always the same 20 fics being recommended, usually all from the height of the fandom and the newer ones are always from the most popular blogs. People seem scared to read new stuff and give new authors a chance. Because they want new fics but they want new fics from a very specific group of people.

And then! Then it's the people who don't reblog, don't comment, don't say anything that will go "update?".

And I am going to be really honest here: if its fanart/fanfic you enjoy and that was just posted with little notes and your queue is months long..... just add it to the queue but still reblog it right away anyways. Especially if you dont plan on adding any tags/commentary. Just reblog it that moment. The fact I've had people ask me directly for fanart and then just leave a like without me knowing if its in the queue or they just decided their need to look at what I drew for them is done and no need for further action.

People have been asking you guys to reblog stuff. That not doing so is killing people's desire to share their art because things go forgotten 3 hours after its posted, if that long. Ficlets, doodles, all of those deserve to be shared. If you only reblog things that have been "approved" and fully polished or they aren't worth you sharing them, then you are co tributing to killing fandoms, you're telling the new writer and the new fanartist in the fandom "come back to me when you are a pro and maybe I'll consider you worth a reblog."

Go to the tags, and go look for fics without recommendations. Reblog traditional art and doodles. Im not saying reblog things you straight up dont enjoy. But while fandom is a personalized experience, dont let it be come to a point only what is considered worthy of being seen comes across your dash. Because you'll miss art and fics and gifsets and meta posts that you might enjoy that the people you follow simply didn't.

#letter opened #i am mostly in the clexa fandom so i can only talk more about it #and my own experience #and it becomes clear some of you enjoy my content but for any reason #thinking its cringe and people will think youre weird #you just wont share #because i see you guys reblogging more 'tamed' acceptable fics and fanart #but only like my stuff without reblogging #and if its pity likes: its okay you dont gotta do it #ignoreme.jpg #because this is more me ranting than anything else

[oraclememehacker]

The Phantom Revisers (A Persona 5 AU Fanfic) Chapter 2: Narrative Shifts

Chapter One Here! 

The pages flipped forward as the story went back to the present, the oppressive nature of the interrogation room continued to hang over Futaba, pressing inwards on her, attempting to stifle and crush her, mentally and emotionally. She was going to have to overpower this as she was telling the story of what happened to the officer. Whether she believed any of it was another thing; but that was what she wanted. The entire story.

“So, let me get this straight…after you move to Tokyo you find yourself next to a sports stadium where your school was supposed to be? And that’s when…?” Baffled was the officer’s tone, expression matching this. There was no way any of this was true, right? This was just the made-up story of someone apparently desperate but stupid enough to invent this. It had to be. However, there was a lot of things that happened over the past several months that defied common sense.

“That’s when everything truly began yes.” Futaba responded rubbing her forehead, vision all blurry since her glasses broke. It was making her headache even worse. It just felt like her head was trying to split open, and nothing was making it any better. “When I found out about my ability to change people’s narratives. Sounds like a plot to a weird anime yes, but it’s true.”

The Officer looked like she was developing a headache as well, rubbing her forehead in frustration. She wasn’t going to slam her hands down on the desk this time, but it was clear she wasn’t believing any of this. At least right now, anyways. “Alright Futaba-chan, you say you got the ability to change people’s “narratives”. Please, continue and explain to me exactly what you mean.”

Pages flipped backwards once again, and the scene returns to the past. Futaba and Sojiro are staring at this massive sports stadium, the bright lights taking over their vision, a spectacle befitting someone of importance in the sports world it seemed. There was a line of faceless people wearing sports jerseys from the entrance, snaking around, waiting for their chance to witness history. This was all just so surreal.

“Okay, what the hell did you do Isshiki-san?!” Sojiro yelled at the long-haired woman; bewildered and flabbergasted at this whole situation. “Where the hell are we anyways? I take this route all the time and it always ends up at the school. Okay, I think I’m losing my mind and might need to see a psychiatrist.” Unfortunately for him, Futaba was seeing the exact same thing as well.

“…Maybe we’ve been Isekai’d?” Futaba suggested, her eyes gazing around the area as well. “Okay, that wasn’t words you just said, you just made sounds with your mouth.” Sojiro retorted in utter confusion, trying to calm himself down. “If we’ve been Isekai’d, there was a suspicious lack of truck.” “What the hell does a truck have to do with this?!” “A lot of Isekai starts with the protag getting hit by a truck. No idea why, it’s just how it is. I know if I made an Isekai I’d do something different.”

Sojiro just breathed heavily through his nose. This was going to be a long day, and a headache was already forming. It didn’t help that this whole thing had an oppressive, slightly crushing feeling as well. “So, you are anime obsessed as well. Lovely. I hope you never get into government work. But please, be serious. We need to get back to reality…somehow.” At least there, the two would agree on something.

“All joking aside, you’re right. The only little problem is I have no idea how we’re going to do that. I have this weird app on my phone, but I have no idea how to use it.” Futaba admitted, showing Sojiro the app. Or at least the icon. Metanarrative huh? Made no sense to him. “Maybe we can get some questions answered if we go in the sports stadium. Think of it as a simple exploration quest. To get our surroundings. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Sojiro could already tell that she was going to be a hassle. But there was this urge to help her out for some reason. He couldn’t shake off that feeling for whatever reason. “I could think of a lot of things that could go wrong. However, in this scenario, we don’t really have much of a choice. Let’s go investigate and then get out of here.”

Agreeing to that, Futaba and Sojiro made their way to the line, listening to the innate chatter that was happening. It was all about the coach who was legendary, and they described him as a god or a king, the leader of a story book ending, helping win the big events and all that stuff. While Futaba didn’t know too much, she knew that they had to be describing this Ryuji. And the more she heard about him, the less that she liked.

“Okay, I have a new theory now.” Sojiro spoke up as he was visibly disgusted by what he was hearing. “We died and are currently in hell. That’s the only way I can explain us having to hear him be described as a king or a god.” The line didn’t seem to be moving at all, and when they tried to force their way through, they noted that the people weren’t solid, and in fact were transparent. As they pushed their way through, bits of paper and words would come off them.

Heading through the front gate, they saw a grand and magnificent entrance area to the stadium. Statues of Ryuji were plastered around everywhere, the floors lined with marble. Shreds of paper and words floated around the area, seeing multiple pathways. The entrance to the field was right in front of them, a line forming as there was a person checking for tickets. Then two side paths that lead to places unknown. Probably restricted employees only areas considering there was intimidating looking guards in front of them.

“Well, we might not be able to do much investigating. They are looking for tickets.” Sojiro remarked as they walked towards there. “We obviously don’t have any, and I don’t think any sort of “oh we lost ours” is going to let us in.” Drats, that wasn’t good. “Maybe we can buy some? I uh…” She was trying to find her wallet to no success. “Nope, I don’t have any money on me. I can’t even buy a notebook, or a potion let alone a ticket to an event. Let’s go ask anyways.”

Was that a good idea? No, but what else were they going to do? Just stand around and look stupid? Talking to strangers wasn’t Futaba’s forte, at least when it came to stuff that didn’t interest her, but asking a simple question was. Mostly. Making her way up to the ticket area, she took a deep breath, going over the question in her head a couple of times before speaking up. “Um, hello. We’d like to get a key item; I mean a ticket. Big fans of uh, Sakamoto.”

“We don’t give tickets. You earn them.” The ticket holder remarked with a deep voice. “If you don’t have a ticket you’ll have to leave. Simple as that.” Oh boy, simple and straight to the point. “Well, you see uh, we kind of lost ours by mistake. That’s why we came up here. To request another one. I can show you the proof and all that. If you want.” She didn’t have proof but hopefully that would be good enough. It wasn’t seeming to be.

“No tickets, no entrance. Simple as that.” They just shook their head and went back to what they were doing. That was until Sojiro walked up to them. “What? Do you have a ticket?” Sojiro would just shake his head in disappointment. “Ah, sorry ma’am. I don’t have a ticket either.” He raised up a hand before they could say anything else. “Before you say what you’re about to say, I do have an inquiry to ask of you.”

“And what’s that?” Thankfully the ticket master was at least entertaining Sojiro, though it was clear from their expression that they were just going through the motions and didn’t want to be bothered by this. “You said that tickets have to be earned instead of bought right? Well, I couldn’t help but to think that’s not exactly the best thing to get people interested. How does one earn tickets?” Sojiro asked with an inquisitive tone. Futaba had no idea what he was planning but he surely had something in mind.

“By being a big fan of Sakamoto’s or being an athlete. Anything else?” That monotone voice showed how disinterested they were in this conversation. But Sojiro was far from being done it seemed. “That’s a bit paradoxical. You already must be a fan of his, or be an athlete? To be a fan of something, especially for a coach, you must know of their exploits. That means being at a stadium and watching the team he coaches wins. These things usually don’t make it on national tv unless it’s nationals and even then, that’s not guaranteed.”

“You see where I’m going with this? Can’t be a fan without attending, but you already have to be a fan to be able to attend. It just doesn’t make any sense.” Futaba was just blankly staring at Sojiro as he was breaking down the logical inconsistency of this whole ticket thing. Why was he doing this? The dude hated Sakamoto with a passion after all. At least, that’s what it came off as with the way he spoke about him anyways. Maybe there was some grand scheme to this. For now, she didn’t say anything and just let him continue with this plan. Whatever it was.

“I think you should let people in who are potential fans. They’ll become fans once they watch him.” There was a slight venomous tone to Sojiro’s voice, showing the displeasure that he had in saying that. “And you know, those who lost their tickets for whatever reason, if they show the interest, should be brought in as well. Now do us a favor and allow us in. We won’t tell on you.”

A silence washed over the whole area for a moment, aside from the harsh breathing coming from the ticketmaster. They were clearly irritated still, but then just shook their head. “Just go in. God help me if he ever finds out I did this. I’ll be sent to the brig over this.” “Thank you.” Sojiro gave a respectful bow before turning to Futaba. “Not that hard after all…I hated every moment of it though. I need a good coffee after this.”

A good coffee huh? Maybe she could introduce him to her mom. She knew how to make a good coffee. Well, after spending a lot of time scientifically analyzing it and all that. That was mom, good ol Wakaba. “I’ll let my mom make you a coffee sometime. It’s like the perfect thing to restore some hp and mp. I’m um, impressed you were able to do that by the way.” Futaba spoke up, genuinely impressed. Maybe Sojiro wasn’t such a bad person after all.

Making their way through the tunnel, they would end up in the stands overlooking the stadium. It seemed like a mundane, run of the mill stadium so far, and then when they looked further, they saw the statues that were dedicated to him again. Plus, there was a few of them that had him dressed up as a pirate for some reason. That was incredibly weird. “I think Sakamoto has enough of an ego. This is just ridiculous.” Sojiro just shook his head with visible disgust on his face.

“I’ll just take your word for it. I know nothing about him. Other than the look he gave me. And the fact that he apparently knows about my status. I’m already low on his social list.” Going down the steps down to the bottom, they noted just how many “people” were there, ever seat pretty much filled. Just how big was this stadium anyways? Now that they were down to the rail at the bottom, they looked at the field, then there was a sudden loud noise.

“Introducing! The one, the only, Sakamoto Ryuji! Coach of the Shujin Academy track team!” The crowd immediately erupted into a furious bit of chanting and screaming, all riled up about the prospect of seeing their favorite athlete and coach come out onto the field. It was all deafening for the young introvert who just wished that she had her headphones on to block out the noise.

They all watched as Ryuji and his team came out onto the field, apparently having to dress a bit like a pirate. Of course, none of them were particularly relevant since it was all about Ryuji. He stood out amongst them and was being a showboat. “Hell yeah! Let’s hear it! You all are worthy to see my team compete on the biggest stage!” The crowd ate that up like nothing else. “…Huh. What’s this I, see?” Ryuji commented, going towards them now. Oh shit, what do they do now?

“You know, I wonder if he thinks he’s the king of the pirates. You know, with some of the statues depicting him as a pirate.” Futaba spoke up in a casual manner, trying to pretend like she didn’t see him coming towards them. “Maybe, I guess we’ll have to see Isshiki-san. Now let’s focus on the stuff.” He nudged her softly before Ryuji was standing in front of them. “I don’t recognize you two.” Ryuji squinted at them, trying to parse out why they were standing out to him. Until something clicked in his head. “Hang on a moment, I do recognize you.”

“You do?” Sojiro asked in a casual manner, taking a deep breath, and was just hoping he really wasn’t actually recognized. Cause he didn’t want to get into an argument with Ryuji; it wouldn’t end well for anyone. “That’s right, I do. You’re the one who refused to join the track team and told me to kiss my ass. Sakura-san, you’re lucky I didn’t get you thrown into the brig and expelled for that.”

The brig? Seriously? He was laying on the pirate stuff pretty thick there. Plus, there was something up with his eyes. They were menacing with golden yellow pupils. Not his normal color. And, his attire was different than usual, sporting a bit of a pirate outfit mixed with the coaching outfit from Shujin. “I told you that because you were harassing me over it. I don’t want anything to do with your damn track team. Simple as that. And you’ve harassed me ever since over it, so don’t give me that “you’re lucky” crap.”

“Perhaps maybe you should’ve joined then, to do something with your life for once? Psychology? Don’t give me that crap.” Ryuji sounded miffed that someone would dare to stand up to him. He was a famous athlete and coach after all! “That’s rich coming from you. You make people run around all day and harass and bully people who dare to say no to you. You haven’t heard someone say no to you in your entire life, haven’t you?”

That just seemed to get him irater now, face contorting into an angrier expression. “I am your superior and you will treat me with the respect I’ve damn well earned! And you, I think I recognize you as well.” Ryuji spoke to Futaba now. “That’s right, you’re that hacker girl. The one who took and sold data from your last school before getting kicked out. Hell of a thing. You’re already on my shit list. Hmph, it’s clear that you two came in here illegally and are just trying to get me mad. There’s only one thing to do now.”

“Which is…?” Sojiro’s morbid curiosity was unfortunately going to get the best of him. “Take ya to the damn brig and let ya walk the plank to hell.” What in the actual hell was wrong with this guy? Before they could respond, he motioned for security to grab them. Uh oh, it was time to get out of here. This little investigation was getting them into some serious trouble. Security would emerge into the stands and grab them, before knocking them out with a well-timed blow to the head.

After going in and out of consciousness, the two would awaken to find themselves in a small cell.  The door was solid metal, but the rest of the room was wood. Futaba could feel her head pounding as she tried to orient herself and figure out where she was at. Sojiro had been awake for a little bit and wasn’t looking happy in the slightest. “That bastard…what the hell is wrong with him? Oh, Isshiki-san. I’m glad you’re alright. We’re in some sort of cell right now...”

“I see. I’m guessing this is the “brig” he was mentioning. Is he always like this?” Were people this wild? Or was this some weird circumstance? They still didn’t really know what was going on or where they were for that matter. Futaba’s isekai’d comment was just a silly thing off the top of her head, after all! “No. He’s annoying and obnoxious, but he doesn’t usually act like this. His eyes were off as well. And that outfit…look, I don’t mean to alarm you, but we’re in way over our heads, Isshiki-san.”

She wasn’t exactly going to let herself fall into the pits of despair just yet. There was still the fact that she had her phone! So, pulling it out she dialed 110 and was hoping that this would all get fixed quickly. Unfortunately, all she got was a dial tone followed by a “the number you tried to dial does not exist.” Then she tried to call her mom and got the same error. Every number she tried to do so would get the same error and this is when her anxiety spiked. What the hell? She tried to get on the internet and while it would attempt to load, it was so slow it was timing out. “Dammit…okay, you’re right, we’re over our heads Sakura-san.”

The only question was what to do now? She sat down on the ground and was contemplating things, her head still pounding. There was also the fact that he said something about them walking the plank “to hell”. Did he intend on killing them?! That was murder, and illegal. There was no way he would go that far, right? Her breathing was heavy, and her body was trembling a bit as the realization of the situation rushed over her like a high tide.

Her phone was just showing an error for the time which was odd, and she kept trying in desperation to get something going. Meanwhile, Sojiro was just shaking his head because of the futile attempts Futaba was doing to get them out of this situation, or at the very least establish what sort of situation they were in. An unknown amount of time would pass by, and Futaba’s levels of desperation were just growing exponentially.

“I just want to go home. Is that so much to ask?” Futaba asked rhetorically, once again feeling like everything was against her and she was being forced down a path that she didn’t want. “You and me both. But we’re trapped here. So, what now?” The question of the hour for them both. Obviously, the answer was to get out of here, but the way to do so wasn’t clear. However, as she was contemplating their escape plans, she felt a sharp and excruciating pain rush into her head. Followed by a voice.

“Control the narrative…” Narrative? What? She gritted her teeth in pain and Sojiro could tell something was wrong with Futaba. “Isshiki-san, are you alright?!” “Shift the narrative to how you want it.” The voice boomed in her head, feeling like it was pounding against her skull. She was writhing in pain as she grabbed at her head. It was damn near unbearable before the pain resided. At least for the time being. “Isshiki-san, are you alright?!”

“Y-Yeah…did you say something about changing the narrative?” Judging from Sojiro’s expression, he had no idea what she was even talking about. “I didn’t say anything about narratives, I asked if you were alright. Narratives are for stories.” Sojiro remarked before they would hear a bunch of footsteps heading their way. It must’ve been Ryuji and his security. Were they really going to walk the plank to hell so to speak?

As soon as the door to the cell was open, the security guards made their way in and grabbed them both. Their struggles were quickly diminished as they were dragged forward, kicking and yelling that they wanted to be released immediately, that they didn’t do anything wrong. But it seemed Ryuji wasn’t going to have any of that. So, they were getting moved forward through a bunch of cells. As they were, they noticed a weird robotic like human in one of the cells but didn’t get a chance to really glance more as they got taken away.

They were brought into what they thought was the surface, but it was still underground. On top of a pirate ship. Their hands were tied behind their back, and a chain was put on their leg with a cannon ball on the end. Ryuji was really intending on killing them! Getting forced forward, the headache that she experienced before grew stronger and once again she heard some words. “This is not the end of your story. Heed my words and you will be in control of your story.”

Being forced onto the plank, it seemed like their time was up.  But just as things got truly hopeless, and despair was settling on them like a stone at the bottom of the lake, she turned around. Her pupils turned a golden yellow and an aura burned around her. “I am thou, thou art I. Heed my words, Isshiki, Futaba. No story is set in stone. You can and will have the power to change the narrative and destiny of you and the people around you. Take the book that will appear and rip out the pages. Now, say the word…”

“W-What are you doing?! Walk the plank already!” Ryuji sounded genuinely shocked at these events and was even more shocked when the aura around her suddenly erupted into a fire momentarily, freeing her from her bonds. Even the shackle around her leg broke off in spectacular fashion. “Persona…” Futaba muttered out as a book descended from the sky.

Without any hesitation at all, she grabbed the book, which had the words Anansi, stealer of stories on the cover. Looking down at the book, it was like there was an instinctual push towards what to do. She grabbed the pages, which felt surprisingly sharp to the touch and started to tear them out. They were giving her some nasty paper cuts, a few drops of blood dropping from her right hand. “Anansi! Heed my words and change this narrative! It’s time for the real story to begin!”

Her clothing started to transform, a dark gray hoodie going over her head, a masquerade mask replacing her glasses.  She now sported a cape with white clothes, gray gloves, and knee-high boots. She looked at her book and saw a decorated dagger with Kanji that meant “Story thief” on the handle. The appearance overall was one of a cyberpunk Egyptian style. Grabbing it from in the book, she held it up and then summoned her persona. A 6-armed being would appear alongside her. The mythical stealer of stories, Ananshi.

“It’s time for you to learn your place, and your role in the story.” She pointed the knife at him. And he would back up, fear etched into his face for once. As the guards tried to defend him, she easily wiped them away, one by stabbing them in the chest, and the other by using Agi on them. They shredded apart like pages and then turned into ashes, words escaping from them that left into the ether. Before she could get to Ryuji he had already ran off in a cowardly fashion. So much for him it seemed.

But that didn’t matter, because her attention was towards Sojiro who was watching the whole thing slack jawed, but still tied up. She used her dagger to cut the ropes easily, and then Anansi broke the chain around his leg. “Okay, I’m definitely hallucinating or something here but…that was amazing Isshiki-san. Just how on earth did you manage to accomplish that?”

Of course, that was the question of the hour. Futaba didn’t really have a satisfactory answer. “I don’t know…I just heard voices in my head and then I was able to summon it. Look, we need to get out of here, I'll try to explain afterwards. But first, there is someone down in the brig still that we should rescue.” Sojiro seemed confused about that but would go along with it. She had the sweet abilities after all, not him.

Heading down to the brig, she was able to navigate them easily enough, her eclectic memory proving quite useful. “Let’s see, I think it was this cell and…yep. There was a button to press to open the door, and upon it opening, they would see who was inside. This made her look with surprise and excitement. If she was honest with herself. It was some sort of android cat boy? There were robotic cat ears anyways.

They sported bright blue eyes that looked back and forth, scanning them, their hair or fur was a dark blue, and they sported a yellow scarf. “Uh…” Futaba walked up to them and tapped their shoulder. “Are you alright?” Suddenly it would start to speak. “Designation M012G4NA. My memory banks seemed to have been wiped, I don’t remember my mission or purpose currently.” Futaba’s eyes lit up. Though this was the classic amnesia trope, it was the fact that they were an android catboy! So cool!

Sojiro however, was less than impressed. His expression was one of someone who was so in disbelief over all this that they were just wanting some semblance of normalcy. “Of all the things…look, not to butt in, but do you know a way out of here? Or how you got here in the first place? We just want to get back home at this point.” Upon hearing that, the catboy’s ears perked up. Though they were also curious about Futaba, since she looked different, and he could sense something within her. “Yes. I was exploring the area in hopes to find a way to get my memory banks restored when I was captured. I was brought here by boat. There is an elevator up to the surface in a cave.”

It was a satisfactory answer for Sojiro, but he just watched in annoyance as Futaba was poking and prodding at the catboy in a curious fashion, also giving him chin scratches and head pats. Somehow, that seemed to make him happy. Sojiro just let off a sigh. “Please cut that out Isshiki-san. Let’s just get out of here already.”

“You’re no fun.” A pout escaped Futaba’s lips, but he did have a point. Besides, they could examine him more once they were out of this place. “Alright, I’ll lead the way back up to the deck of the ship. Yar harr harr! Let’s go maties!” “Never do that again.” “Fine.” Making their way back up to the deck, M012G4NA would show them to the side of the deck, where there was an extra boat awaiting them. They just had to get into it. “Allow me, please. I will do this.” He would lower the boat enough to where they could get into it.

Then the boat would be lowered into the water, and they were on their way. “How far to our objective!” Futaba asked sounding all giddy and excited for some reason. “1000 meters. We’ll get there in approximately 3 minutes.” Well, that wasn’t too far. Especially with how easily the rowing was being handled by a combo of M012G4NA and Sojiro. This allowed her to stop and think, looking around the cove where they were at. This had to be some sort of different world, right?

Then she remembered that her mom was working on something that was related to a different world. She was tight lipped about it, getting told repeatedly to never look into her research since it was dangerous and all that. However, was this what her research was about? She remembered the few times that she looked at her notes, and things were lining up. Speaking of mom, she was probably going to kill her for being late to school. Probably.

Now they made their way to the cave and saw another boat floating on the water. This must’ve been Ryuji’s. Damn that coward. Up ahead was the elevator, which they walked up to, and Futaba eagerly pressed the button. She always liked the feeling of pressing an elevator button and listening to the sound of it coming down. No idea why, it was just a neat sound for her. Soon enough, the door dinged and opened, and they got in.

Once the doors opened again, they were in the room next to the entrance with the Ticketmaster. Silence was still emanating from the group since they had just endured a lot, and at this point just wanted to relax. “Hey um, Sakura-san?” Futaba spoke up as they didn’t see a guard at the doorway and made their way through, seeing a familiar sight. “I’m thinking that we ended up in a different world because of this metanarrative app I have. I’m being serious.”

“I know. It doesn’t make any sense, but at this point, I’ll take anything. When you eliminate all the lies, the only thing that remains is the truth, after all.” “That is correct. You got here because of the metanarrative app.” M012G4NA confirmed her theory which made her let off a sigh of relief. “Soon you should be able to use that app again to exit the place and return to the real world.” So, this was also a different world. Good to know.

Before she could respond, Futaba heard footsteps once again. It had to be guards making their way here. Probably to capture or kill the group. “Come on, let’s make an escape sequence. Main quest, activate!” With a knowing nod between the three of them, they rushed out of the entrance, hopping the little fence for the line and then going back to where they began. The metanarrative app was glowing, and she pressed the button, and the whole world would shift around them, and a book would close. At least for the time being.

Finally! The real world! Looking around, the school was right in front of them, just like expected. Man, what a wild and wacky day this was turning out to be. But this bit of celebration wasn’t going to last, as she felt everything catch up to her, exhaustion hitting her like an absolute ton of bricks. The world suddenly started spinning and it wasn’t too long until she succumbed to it, falling to the ground, vision fading from her eyes. This is when everything would truly start to change…

Chapter 3 (Part 1) Here!

#Writing #Fanfiction #The Phantom Revisers (A Persona 5 Fanfic) #Chapter 2: Narrative Shifts #Persona 5 #Persona 5 Fanfiction #long post

[organic-guacamole]

HSMTMTS SEASON 3 EPISODE 5 REACTION

this is a good episode.

oo Kourtney's hair is pretty but how did she straiten all that so perfectly im- IN ONE NIGHT. jealousy jealousy.

i hate this show.

deep lake camp I'm crying

I hate the trope(?) of one side of a couple being clueless that the other is mad at them and is just so lost when they randomly, publicly, call them out in a passive aggressive way. please stop and communicate.

theres the bleep of the season! hsmtmts did it again

Maddox's face when Carlos swears though, I think I love her.

Carlos my beloved. this episode is gonna be a trash fire and I'm here👏 for👏 it👏

I LOVE THIS SHOW.

Gina why are you going after Val??? what??? it makes no sense and it's embarrassing please just open your mouth for EJ. (ignore how that sounds please)

EJ AND RICKY SLAPPING EACH OTHER. NO FURTHER COMMENTS.

"EJ you've stolen the woman Ricky loves" well. Carlos is either diabolical or a lot more oblivious than we think.

why does Carlos keep assuming everyone is straight 🤨🤨🤨🤨

this is my favourite episode idc that we're only 8 minutes in.

I love Kourtney fr. never gonna stop saying that.

I'm sorry I forgot to type for like 5 minutes cuz I got so caught up laughing. Kourtney and Carlos' slap scene has me rolling

sorry guys I will now be deleting my blogs because I can never be funnier than EJ walking out in THAT costume.

throwback when I had to do what Gina's doing with Ricky in what do you know about love for a skit except I don't have a boyfriend and the guy I did it with was uh.... I'm gonna stop there. point of the story, DOING THAT IS SO FUN

80% of their song was done backstage though so like, no one saw....

my eyes rolled BACK in my head.

the timing Gina omg.

sorry but Maddox is 15? I mean- hm.

no Jet what the heck why would you out her.

"I need to sit down"

"I need to lie down"

thanks ricky

ELTON JOHN CASWELL OMG THE FANFICS WERE RIGHT. (fun fact: I got so surprised at this line I flew backwards and whacked my head on the corner of the bed and saw spots for a second. so uh, anyone wanna buy me a helmet to wear for the next episode?)

I love the bro followed by Ricky blabbing about his problems. iconic duo.

the way I understand where everyone is coming from but I'm still upset by it all.

like Gina, he just explained that he's fighting not to leave, and he doesn't wanna stress you out as much as he is stressed. also, Gina can be upset, yes, but the going on about EJ's name too like, no one knew?? so why'd she storm off at that part...

um. I thought Channing left...

omgomgimgim jet solo song???

love how the piano is always prepared for a sad introspective ballad at any given time.

wow

is the young Maddox like the actress's little sister or something???? because the resemblance is incredible

EJ. you better be calling a delivery man to bring something for Gina, or her mom to bring her for some reason (I think that would be weird, actually, but it seems like something Elton John 'bought a plane ticket for Gina in s1 just for the show' Caswell would do) because if you're leaving or doing something equally stupid I will lose all respect for you. (lies, I am in fact an EJ apologist)

#hsmtmts #hsmtmts s3 #hsmtmts season 3 #ej caswell #ricky bowen #gina porter #carlos rodriguez #kourtney greene #ashlyn caswell #jet hsmtmts #maddox hsmtmts #val hsmtmts

[pleasantanathema]

Pleasant’s Writer Recs!

I’ve gotten a few asks in my inbox over the past few weeks asking me for writer recs, so I thought the best way to do this was to compile a list of my fav authors on tumblr and rec my favorite fic of theirs! A lot of these amazing authors are moots—I’m very lucky to call many of them close friends. This list could be much longer, and I could go on for days about every single author, but I’ll try to keep it brief. Most all of these authors, like myself, write 18+ only content. Hopefully this can be a useful tool for authors and readers alike looking for amazing fanfic 💕

@bakatenshii | Angel is so phenomenal with her writing that I almost can’t put her style and amazing ability into words (but I’ll try). Angel’s work is beautiful, masterful, full of poetry, elegance, and smut that will all leave you gasping. Fav Fic: Blitz [Ushijima x Reader]

@blahkugo | Sunnt, Thunnth, Sunny, whatever you call her, she is brilliant. No one writes Tsukishima quite like she does. She is beyond creative and her writing style flows like the sexiest water, it’ll make you thirsty and quench your aches. Fav Fic: Tower [Tsukishima x Reader]

@deathcab4daddy | Tay is all about details, details, details. She fills in every gap and paints gorgeous, sexy pictures and situations for the reader to feel immersed in. Fav Fic: Cerulean Blue [Akaashi x Reader]

@dymphnasprose | Dymphna is all about fun, sex, and slowly filling out her holy bible of smut. She’s amazing at creating realistic sub/dom relationships and her smut almost always comes with a healthy dose of build-up. Fav Fic: Green Scrunchies [Ukai x Reader]

@enjifuckersupreme | Ketsl reigns supreme over pure, unadulterated porn. They are phenomenal at making me the reader wet, and every fic is crafted with so much care. Enji fuckers should bow down at their feet, no one loves and writes Enji like Ketsl. Fav Fic: Attitude Adjustment [Enji x Reader]

@hisoknen | Raph is one of the first dark blogs I ever started reading, and she never, ever disappoints. She writes pieces that chill you to the bone, but warms your sex- her writing is casual, smooth, and realistic, always giving you everything you need, but leaving you wanting a little more. Fav Fic: Sleeping Beauty [Dabi x Reader]

@hoe-doroki | Ana is one of the sweetest writers I know. Every time I talk to her, she’s working on comfort requests or beta-reading for other people. Her writing is such a pleasure to read, as you can tell she pours love and consideration into every fic for her readers. Fav Fic: Can’t Find My Breath [Bakugou x Reader]

@joyousandverywarlike | Zo...holy fucking shit. Zo is a writer who consistently blows me out of the water with her skill. This woman is a novelist blessing us with juicy, rich smut and love stories like no one else can. She is incredibly poetic and her writing is an absolute joy to read; she also writes amazing fics for black readers and has an amazing voice that she uses for asmr audios! Fav Fic: How We Met [Ushijima x Reader]

@lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten | Leah is an author who takes immense care with her work. She works incredibly hard to craft sexy, healthy bdsm fics for bnha. She is a great blog to go to for bdsm education, and she’s also got a side blog @lemonlordleah-extra-sour for all you extra naughty readers who like the darker side of fanfic. You should also check out her Patreon! Fav Fic: Between the Evergreen [Aizawa x Reader]

@linestrider | Nyki’s work is like smooth water, it’s calming, refreshing, but she also adds a nice, chill bite to it as well with her darker style. Nyki puts such an impressive amount of care into her work; a word is never out of place, every sentence has meaning, every paragraph gives you something new. It was very hard to choose just one fic to recommend. Fav Fic: What’s Said is Said [Hawks x Reader]

@lookslikeleese | Leese is one of the most fun writers on Tumblr, and by that I mean you just have a shitload of fun reading her fics. They are like little, sexy treats to take in right before bed and feel a little more full than you were before. She is also the Cucking Queen. Fav Fic: Cola [Enji x Reader] 

@messwriting | Lee is also another fun writer! Her writing is exhilarating to read, and you’d never guess she’s a sexy Brazilian whose second language is English based on how well she writes. She’s a little sex goddess who will give you everything you want and more in every fic. Fav Fic: What We Could’ve Been [Tsukishima x Reader]

@mindninjax | Marquie is a full on sweetie with a sexy side. She. Is. So. Creative. Every fic of hers is so unique and her masterlist is a whole reading experience. She writes Bakugou Katsuki so damn well, she’s a master at characterization, even in au’s. She also writes beautiful fics for black readers. Fav Fic: Bound to You [Bakugou x Reader]

@nekokoafanfictions | I first found Ai on Ao3, and then was fortunate enough to come across their blog here on Tumblr! I’ve said this before in previous rec lists, and I’ll say it again, I still read their fics some nights to fall asleep to, they are just that good, every fic will have you coming back at some point to read it again. Fav Fic: City Lights [Enji x Reader]

@present-mel | The. Queen. Of. Dialogue. Mel is a master at making her fanfic feel real, gritty, sexy, and beautiful all at the same time. This woman pours her heart and soul into fanfic, especially into her Erwin series Fragments of Memories. I was so captivated by her work that I just had to become her friend, her work is enchanting and thrilling. Fav Fic: Until the Fire Played [Enji x Reader]

@rat-suki | Annie makes me horny. Like, real horny. Her smut is fantastic and are often little thrill rides within themselves. Fuck rollercoasters, just go to Annie’s masterlist to find a joy ride. Fav Fic: Hell Fire [Enji x Reader]

@rivendell101 | I’m such a big fan of Alisha, that I sent her a request months ago before we even became friends. This author knows how to craft a story, her work is very meticulous with details and her plots are always so spot on. Fav Fic: Sweet Thing [Natsuo x Reader]

@smutbardpeach | Smutbard is the most accurate title for Peach, as her fics read like poetry and song, filled with beautiful language, imagery, and allusions to the brim. If you’re ever looking for something romantic, sensual, delightful, and just overall magnificent to read, this is the blog to go to. Peach’s work is like reading poetry and classics right off the shelf. Fav Fic: Truth in Wine [Hizashi x Reader]

@spicyness | Are you thirsty? Do you like fun, sexy headcanons? Ness is the author for you. Ness is so, so fun and sweet, and is active with her followers and is always posting something new and creative for us to nibble at. Her blog is full of fun thirsts and she’s always a joy to see pop-up on my dash. Fav Fic: Pride [Bakugou x Reader]

@sugardaddykenma | Lin has the most amazing brain. I wish I could just...see and understand how she thinks. Her blog is full to the brim with hilarious, iconic, and down right fucking true headcanons for haikyuu characters. Many nights I have stayed up laughing my ass off and saying “why is that so true?” while reading through her astonishingly creative work. Fav Fic: Haikyuu on Drugs

@thewheezingwyvern | Wyv is a writer who gets straight to the point; her words are poignant, meaningful, and always paint a very clear picture. She is a Shinsou and Aizawa lover/fucker all the way to her core, and she’s amazing at bringing those characters to life in her work. Fav Fic: Salt Lines [Aizawa & Shinsou x Reader]

@thisisthehardestthing | Claudia is one of the most talented writers I have ever met. Period. She has a vocabulary, a depth, an ability to craft the most intense, alluring, and magnificent fanfic you’ve ever read. Most of her work doesn’t even seem like fanfic, it reads like love letters stuffed into the pages of a book that stand the test of time with her marvelous writing abilities. She always awes me, as every single fic is unique and powerful it its own way. Fav Fic: Tocka [Tanaka x Reader]

@tomurasprincess | The Queen of Darkness herself, Mari is amazing at fulfilling all of your dark desires. I’ve never met anyone else who is as active as she is with her followers, as she’s constantly pushing herself to answer requests and give people exactly what they want to see. She has such an expansive masterlist, any dark fic lover can find something worthwhile from her! She’s almost made a Shigaraki fucker out of me, almost. Fav Fic: Wraith’s Touch [Shigaraki x Reader]

@undermattsun | Miki taught me what a skate rat is. Do I understand it yet? Not really, but I fucking like it. Miki is so much fun and is always active with her followers, giving out awesome thirsts, visuals, and headcanons for her fav haikyuu characters. Fav Fic: Flavor of the Month [Matsukawa x Reader]

@vixen-scribbles | Vixen is someone who cares about everyone around her, and her blog reflects that. Amongst all her amazing writing, you’ll always find her recommending her friends and supporting other writers. Her writing is fucking sexy, she knows her way around the bedroom when it comes to fics, and she’s got a lengthy masterlist to fawn over. Fav Fic: Take All of Me [Ushijima x Reader]

@whats-her-quirk | Truly, the best has been saved for last. June’s work is the heart and soul of classic, fucking amazing fanfic. I can’t even explain how much I love her fics, like they will put the biggest smile on your face and have your thighs rubbing together in anticipation. June is writing her fantasies and having fun, and we are privileged to enjoy the ride with her. She knocked kinktober out of the fucking park, with each fic being a new, fresh delight. Fav Fic: Once in a Blue Moon [Karasuno x Reader Gangbang]

This list could honestly be twice as long, and perhaps in the future I’ll make a companion to it as I meet new authors and read more amazing fanfic. Please give all these authors a follow or at least check out their blogs. 💖

#writer recs #bnha #haikyuu #attack on titan #fanfiction #bnha fanfic #hq fanfic #aot fanfiction #bnha x reader #haikyuu x reader #aot x reader #amazing writers #pleasant speaks #my hero academia #haikyuu!! #my hero academia fanfic