#I am coming for you with a spork

[yorshie]

So.... remember how I said I took that sketch yesterday not turning out well a little too personally?

Yeah..... Might have went just a wittle bit overboard.

Also come get ya new profile pic (pspspspsps Angelo fans)

#good morning ITS FRIDAY HAVE SOME SUNSHINE BOI #my tmnt art #bayverse tmnt #tmnt #tmnt michelangelo #bayverse michelangelo #bayverse mikey #All the people that say never mikey #I am coming for you with a spork #rip any mikey fans that get knocked out in the cross fire #bayverse mikey does not have enough love and i am here to fix that #so.... yeah. Turtle can loom. Winnie is who I'll be using from now on when I gotta draw an insert into the pictures #she's not really an OC #I just use the name when I don't feel like writing second person (and Y/N makes me cringe) #I made her 5'3 #This is for all the people that forget how big Bayverse Mikey really is. He's compliant with my “head cannon” height #which I only changed from 6' to 6'2 here so the top of her head hits Angelo's traps. #(Side note I feel like everyone forgets that while Meagan Fox is 5'4" she just runs around in 2 1/2 to 3 inch heels in the movies

[stevesjockstrap]

Digging Holes

@steddiemicrofic prompt ‘hole’ | 404 words | rated G

cw: implied past child abuse • read on ao3

Steve watched the kids playing in their backyard, digging happily in the sandbox Uncle Wayne had made for them. The neighbor boy had come over, and his girls sometimes needed to set some boundaries with him but otherwise everything usually went well.

He brought them juice boxes or granola bars from time to time but tried his best to let them play uninterrupted. Eddie always claimed he was a helicopter parent, but he felt he was more than entitled to a little paranoia.

Smirking as his youngest again reminded the neighbor to not fling sand around, he watched as she looked around the backyard for him. Once she knew he was just on the patio, she went back to playing. That was something else he enjoyed, that his girls knew to keep an eye out.

Eddie snuck out of the house and slid in beside him.

“How are you going to helicopter from all the way over here, babe?” He teased, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“I am not helicoptering. How are you going to rile them up from all the way over here?”

Things seemed to get tense all at once, both of his girls’ heads popping up to locate their dads.

“We reached the bottom of the sandbox! How are we going to dig a hole to China?!” The neighbor kid yelled louder so the adults could now hear him.

Suddenly Steve was back at recess as a small kid, watching a classmate with shorn dark hair and a black eye explain that he was digging a hole to China with his spork from the cafeteria. He had taken one long look at the kid and grabbed a nearby stick to help him.

“Woah,” Steve whispered, shaking himself out of the thirty year old memory he had completely forgotten about (suffering several head injuries since then).

“What?” Eddie looked at him strangely.

“I dunno. I just remembered, I think. Helping you in, like, elementary school, maybe the same age as they are… dig a hole to China? You were using a spork?”

“Oh my god,” he breathed, eyes taking on a faraway look. “That was you?”

Steve nodded.

“Everyone always thought it was really weird. You were the only one who helped. I, uh, really wanted to get away. That was before, um, before I went to Wayne’s.”

He squeezed his hand on his knee. “I’m glad I helped.”

“Me too.”

#girl dad Steve Harrington #give steve all the babies #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicrofic January #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things fic #mine #somehow I wrote a prompt that was established steddie Lolol #steddie dads

[wisteriagoesvroom]

hello hello! Are you still doing fluffy prompts? If so may I please ask for cuddling in a bathtub or something?

I'm not annoning I have no shame or dignity left

so your idea spurred another idea. it is tangential, but i hope it still delivers on the Soft Vibes. thank u for prompting 🫂

don't take too much (off of me)

📝 1.3k words 💟 lestappen 🟢 rated G 🔗 also on ao3

“Stop moving.”

“I’m not.”

Charles twirls the scissors between two fingers, hoping that his posture is authoritative enough that Max will quit squirming in his chair. They are in the middle of lockdown and neither is sure when their tentative friendship turned into this – at first it was innocuous knocks on the door to play FIFA, then it was to borrow a jar of pesto here and there. Then, trampling into each other’s apartments. Max knowing to wipe his shoes on the carpet, Charles helping pick up cat food on his regular run to the grocery store (in line with lockdown mandates, they’re only allowed to go to the store twice a week.)

And now they are here. Max sitting on a dining room chair, leaning back, a makeshift cowl around his shoulders that Charles had stolen from his maman’s salon. Max tries not to twitch or move, knowing that the process of hair cutting is a delicate process. Sure, he has sat for a haircut many times before, but never under the hands of this erratic ball of energy that is Charles Leclerc, who is currently brandishing a blade like a child would a spork.

“Do you trust me, or not?” Charles says. Indignant.

“I’m here, am I not?”

“Unhappily, it seems.”

“Kerel. You have wavy hair. You look like a Disney prince. Me? One wrong move of the scissors and there will be memes in my name.”

“But it’s kind of fun when they are making the memes about you. No?”

Max glowers. “It is when they’re nice ones.”

Charles makes a noise between a snort and a guffaw. Charles perched on a stool behind him, so he can’t see the other man’s expression. But when Max looks to the corner of his living room, Max can see Charles’s face in the reflection there. Just a sliver of his face, in profile. Max expects to find Charles’s eyes crinkled, maybe teasing. Max is used to it, after all. Being the an easy target, a convenient villain. Because a lion never roars back. Not outside of the track, anyway. Even if he sometimes hides in his apartment with his cats and licks his wounds instead.

Max’s shoulders tense, hackles up. But Charles’s eyes are very soft. The punchline never comes.

“Well. I think you very handsome, Maximilian.” Charles says.

Oh. Max’s throat bobs. He doesn’t really know what to say. He’s been called many things in the past. Handsome isn’t necessarily one of them. And somehow it has a greater weight, a different bearing, when it comes from Charles. Because Charles is someone he’s begun to acknowledge that he cares about, perhaps a great deal.

“And now! We are doing the short at the sides and long at the top, oui?” Charles says. Snapping straighter in his makeshift hairdresser’s stool, energy whipping through him like lightning. Changing the topic as if he hadn’t just confessed to Max the very same thing that Max has been thinking about Charles for weeks – or if he’s honest – years, now.

“Whatever you do, make sure it’s tidy, yeah?”

“Come on mate. I am always careful.”

“Like you were when you drove into the Copse wall.”

“That was an isolated incident. Due to a combination of unexpected mechanical factors.”

“Pfft. Okay. Save that response for Sky.”

“You’re nearly as annoying as them, sometimes.” Charles says, frown gentle before he lifts the scissors again. 

Comfortably back in their banter-y element, the chatter continues. Charles is careful about his work, the blades moving slowly and carefully. And what Charles lacks in finesse he makes up for in social skills, clearly inheriting this from his parents. Talking and filling the silence comfortably, wandering from topics as diverse as sailing on the Monaco coastline, to David Guetta’s recent bizarre fundraiser video, to the latest model of automatic cat feeder that has become available on the market. Charles’s fingers brush his jaw occasionally to adjust the angle, scissors glinting in the afternoon sun. Max deliberately avoids eye contact, only glimpsing at him occasionally to share a laugh. 

At the end, Charles uses a towel to brush the loose hair off Max’s neck. They both get up to stand at Max’s living room mirror, surveying Charles’s handiwork. Their reflections loom large, shoulder to shoulder at the same height. Besides, Max isn’t really looking at himself, and neither is Charles, either.

“It’s good, yes?” Charles says. Low, conspiratorial.

Max’s grip tightens on the towel that he’s holding. His pulse etches up. The whole afternoon has been gentle touch, contact that aches because the pandemic has made him even more pathetically wanting than usual. Contact that he’s been trying very hard not to think about or keep for more nefarious purposes later. 

The other man's gaze is warm in the mirror. Max thinks of fresh cut grass at Imola, his favourite corner in Silverstone.

“Yes.” Max says. It’s good. The haircut, him, them. This strange rhythm they’ve found together. The quiet space of each other’s apartment, each other’s company, temporarily safe from the world. The trust offered to one another: enough to let them run you into gravel and trust that it was worth the fight. Enough to hold a blade in your hand and only let one other person in the world come near you with it. Risk, and promise.

Then he’s turning towards Charles. Charles mirroring him. The light is bright and the sky blue in the window, but all Max can see for a moment is Charles’s face, his half open mouth ripe like a plum. The scent, this close, of Charles’s carrefour laundry softener and woody aftershave.

And they’re leaning towards each other, a boundary they might finally cross, let the cards fall where they fucking may, when—

A yowl. A screech. A mighty crash. 

“Sassy!” Max says, practically jumping out of his skin.

Both men whip around at the source of the noise. Sassy’s frozen on a shelf, a beige mass with yellow eyes. Paw half up, looking guilty – if a cat could look guilty– at a trophy that he has just knocked off a counter. Jimmy, on the other hand, is absolutely nowhere to be seen, already having escaped the scene of the crime.

Max groans into his hands. But then Charles is laughing, an asthmatic penguin noise that Max has really come to like. It melts the fire in Max a little, amusement tempering his frustration. (The trophy is not the source of Max’s current frustration, but Charles does not need to know that.) 

“I shall get the broom.” Charles says.

“Thanks.”

So the moment passes. They clean up. On their hands and knees, near, but not touching. The broken trophy is the one he got for his overtake on Nasr in his first year in F1, and offers a chance for them to reminisce about their races. For Max to joke a little about whether Charles will get his first WDC when the pandemic is over, both of them excited about the future, a future with both of them in it, still trying, still racing each other to the brink. It’s much easier to do this, than to talk about the almost-kiss, or break the seal on this moment that they know won’t last forever.

Debris cleared, and the cats shooed into the study, Charles mentions that he should go return his equipment to his mother. They stand at the doorway for a moment that stretches too long.

Max doesn’t know how long they have. Of this, of each other. Of being left alone, of the world not encroaching with cameras or demands for explanations or labels for what they are. Of getting to know each other not as competitors, but on their own terms, in their own time.

But for a long time, Max will always remember this moment. The two of them, a dining chair. His crazy cats, Charles’s toothy smile. Their partial reflections in the mirror, an afternoon unfolding with potential.

A warm hand on his back to let him know he’s cared for, and looked after.

#lestappen #f1 rpf #max verstappen #charles leclerc #3316 #1633 #drabble #f1 drabble #prompt fill #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #fluff #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 fic #ficlet #formula 1 rpf #f1 fic #wisteriawritesstuff

[wayvlocks]

ℳ𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓃𝓎 & ℳ𝒶𝒹𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 Pt. 1

synopsis: you’re a nurse who finally got promoted to work with a psycho.

pairing: ateez hongjoong x afab reader

word count: 1.8k

genre: psycho au, fantasy au, possessed pirates au

warnings: minors DNI!, not really smut yet but def will be warned for the rest of the series - HONGJOONG IS A PERV, so theres some sexual and/or dark themes  -  if you are uncomfy about psychiatric hospitals - this may not be for you as I might mention a few things within the series to come.

Chapters: Part I, Part II

additional notes: hi :) wayvlocks here. just wanted to say thank you to those who commented and liked my last post about making this ff happen. tbh i am planning to make this into a series fyi so hopefully you guys are interested in seeing where it goes. idk how many parts there will be - i just kinda make this crap up as i go and as i please lol. i wanted to also mention to those of you who will want to actively read this series, that i am a full time college student. therefore, i really can upload when i can, im sorry - i just dont have the same set schedule every day/week. anyway, enough about me, read this ff (its what you were here for in the first place)

You’ve been working at KQ Psychiatrics, in the outpatient clinic for a few years now, and you finally were able to get that promotion you worked so hard for. Years of pushing yourself more than ever, taking time off the clock to visit VIP patients, and even volunteering in the cafeteria paid off. Little did you know your promotion was an assignment change to work in the Special Cases department.

The Special Cases department was famous in the outpatient clinic. There was never a boring day when gossip floated around of a patient in the Special Cases department. There were so many rumors about patients that you had heard, and they were starting to turn your stomach with thoughts about your new promotion.

Staff1: “Did you hear what happened to Mr. Nakamoto during his medication time last week?”

Staff2: “Yes! I heard he manipulated the previous nurse on duty to go into his room!”

Staff3: “Oh my god! That's right! When she went in, he jumped her, ripped up her clothes and stabbed her in the legs with a spork!”

You thought you were lucky enough not to be assigned as a personal nurse to someone like Mr. Nakamoto. Of course, since the reveal of the true nature of your “promotion,” you haven’t truly experienced luck today. Furthermore, your bad luck deepens when it's revealed to you who you really are assigned to. The most insane, manipulative, possessive, wicked – rumored murderous man held in the hospital…

Kim Hongjoong

Kim Hongjoong was notoriously famous amongst the patients and staff. He has been housed in the hospital for nearly 5 years now. He was 17 when he was taken from his home to be permanently kept here. Hongjoong is the patient who is talked about the most, especially between other patients. They have rumored the reason he got taken from his home was because he murdered his family after having some “alternate dimension revelation” – whatever that means. The creepiest rumors you’ve heard is that sometime at night, after lights out, he disappears from his room – just “poof.” After five to ten minutes, he reappears like nothing happened. You can’t really seem to trust these rumors, after all, most of them come from the Psychiatric patients who are known to hallucinate. However, you remember one staff member telling you that he does in fact disappear.

•             •             •

You just finished clocking in, today is the day, a new job position. You make your way to the main doctor’s office to tell them you're here. One of them, proceeds to walk towards you. His coat reads:

Dr. Joshua Hong.

Joshua: “Hello Y/n, find everything okay in your Special Cases pamphlet?” He said with a quiet chuckle.

Y/n: You started to force a smile. “Ah, yes. It was somewhat informative.”

Joshua: “It shouldn't be too bad, just making sure they get their medications and sunshine,” he smiled.

Y/n: “I think I can handle that for the most part. It’s just... just...” you mumble.

Joshua: “Hm?”

For a moment you don't say anything, but before you opened your mouth, he knew.

Joshua: “Ah… you’re Kim Hongjoong’s nurse. I remember reading through the new nurses' files earlier this morning.”

Y/n: “Yes...”

Joshua: “Hm. Listen, I’ll walk you to the department and show you around, if you need me to. I can even stand by when you meet him for the first time today. The last nurse he had didn’t go through with that idea and ended up quitting within an hour.”

You thought about what he said for second. Is that true? You now wonder how malicious and sinister he could be to ruin a conversation that ended with a nurse quitting. As you stood there, stressing about meeting this Kim Hongjoong, you noticed Joshua staring at you for a response.

Y/n: “I’d love for you to show me around the department. About meeting him though...”

You stopped for a second. You thought despite all the rumors surrounding your famous patient, you realized how hard you worked for this new promotion. Think back to showing how your hardworking skills paid off, you really didn't want to show up the first day looking afraid or weak. You knew deep down you could probably handle this guy; I mean, you would barely have to talk to him, right?

“…I think I’ll be fine on my own.”

•            •             •

Joshua leads you down the halls, passing many different patient rooms and offices. At the start of the walk, you passed by rooms of patients that you had often checked out in the lobby or held conversations with daily. Some waved or spoke quiet hellos to you, which you exchanged back.

As your walk continued you started to notice the difference between every hallway, traveling further into the hospital, getting closer towards the Special Cases department. There were less patients you could recognize while the rooms kept getting duller and duller. It started to look grayer than before. You also noticed many of the patient’s rooms had bars on the windows or doors.

The rooms you passed had no pictures on the walls. There were safety locks on door and window handles. One room you passed, had stains on the floor leading from the door to the bed. It was the most shocking image on your walk. You read the patient’s tag outside the door, reading ‘Choi San’. You weren’t sure what the stains were, but it bothered you that they ranged in colors from yellow to red.

Joshua: “Hey are you okay?” You quickly came back to after zoning out.

Y/n: “Yes, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

Joshua: “I just noticed you were blankly staring at some of the rooms. It must feel super different being down here than in the lobby for you, doesn’t it?”

Y/n: “Actually… yes. Everything is so gray and there were weird stains- “

Joshua: “Oh, yeah. Don’t mind those. Honestly, it’s better to just go about your day. I’ve heard too many stories when I asked about them my first day. Not an answer you wanna hear,” he smiles.

You were in shock. You started to have second doubts, again. You looked at his smile and felt like you weren’t entirely sure if you could believe him. You wondered if it was true, what the answer could possibly be. It was obvious he was just trying to make you aware that the less you know the better. Just then, Joshua immediately stops walking. You nearly bump into him because you were zoning out again.  

You look up past his shoulder in front of you. There’s a seven-foot metal door with a small bulletproof window and slightly rusted hinges. A guard behind the other side of the giant door looked through the small window. Joshua held up his ID and then proceeded to move out of the way to show you hiding behind his figure. The guard unlocked five or six latches until the door finally screeched open. You walked through the door frame, only to be in another hallway, only this time the walls looked like pebble stone or rocks with no windows.

Guard: “And this is…?” He looked down at you, still hiding behind Joshua.

Joshua: “Oh, this is Y/n,” he smiled. “She is going to be Mr. Kim’s new personal nurse.”

Guard: “Really huh? I hope she’s mentally strong enough for that bastard. Fucker said the most disgusting things to the last nurse he had.”

Joshua: “I’m sure she can handle it. Didn’t you hear? She’s the one who got the promotion quickly for her volunteer work. She was personally recommended by the head nurse when the top doctors had that monthly meeting.”

You started feeling flustered hearing this new information from Joshua. The head nurse? You thought the staff in charge of filling this position just got desperate for someone. You started to think maybe you specifically chosen, that others thought you could do this job. This idea started to block out anymore doubts you had about yourself. Now you knew that you were in fact strong enough for this position.

You and Joshua exchanged smiles with the door guard and walked down the dismal hallway. At some point you reached a set of stairs, leading down towards a smaller hallway with lights. You and Joshua both walk down the stairs carefully, then walking through the shorter hall. There was a caved-out room with what seemed like jail bars separating the cell from the rest of the hall. You saw a person standing in the cell, turned away from the bars. Joshua faked a cough to get the person’s attention, causing them to slowly turn towards you. You started eyeing this figure from his bare feet to the gray sweatpants and then the matching, loose t-shirt. He was holding an old leatherback book in his left hand, to which you saw a small birthmark. You noticed a distinctive mole on the left side of his neck. The second you saw the face, you could tell. Hongjoong. He was attractive. His hair was dyed, split black and white. He had a pointed nose that was slightly upturned and full, barely defined cupid’s bow lips. The most prominent feature you saw was his thick long eyebrows. Following down to his almond shaped, dark brown eyes, which were staring intensely at you. He smiled devilishly.

Joshua: “Mr. Kim, this is youre new nur- “ Hongjoong chuckled, still smiling devilishly directly at you only.

Hongjoong: “Yes I know exactly who this is. Don’t need to be told something I already know, isn’t that right darling?” You looked right at him, feeling tense.

Joshua: “Right of course, Mr. Kim.” You swore you could hear Joshua curse Hongjoong under his breath. You bite your tongue as Joshua take a step back and gives you a goodbye. You’re alone with him now.

•             •             •

Y/n: “Hello Mr. Kim…” you timidly stated.

Hongjoong: “Please darling,” practically staring into your soul, “call me Hongjoong. No need to be formal with me.”

Y/n: “Right… Hongjoong.” You took a deep breath and thought about the pamphlet you were given. Reviewing all the information in your head on the spot. “So, I’m assuming you already have gone over the schedule with the doctors. I can only work with you on certain days with minimal hours. Do you understand?”

Hongjoong: “It is not to my liking. I’d rather spend more time with you, darling. Get to know you better. Afterall, you’re going to learn about my dirty little secrets. Shouldn’t I know a few things?” He looks up and down at you, fixating his eyes on your pelvic area to your chest. You already feel disgusted, trying to cover yourself with your hands and his patient paperwork.

“I can tell we’re already off to a great start... Y/n.”

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez fic #ateez ff #ateez fanfic #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong smut #kpop smut #ateez wooyoung #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez seonghwa #ateez series #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez jongho #ateez fantasy au #ateez pirate au

[autisticlancemcclain]

“Anyone seen Lance?” Shiro asks, checking his watch. “We have to suit up in an hour, but I haven’t heard anything from him.”

No sooner do the words come out of his mouth does the man in question stroll into the kitchen, pausing in front of the table where everyone is gathered and clearing his throat.

“I will not be accompanying you guys on the mission,” he announces.

It takes everyone a moment to process that one. Hunk is the first to react, something clicking in his expression before he groans, resting his forehead on the table.

“Here we go,” he mutters tiredly.

Lance happily ignores him, pouring himself some food goo and taking a seat next to Keith.

“Are you ill?” Allura asks, when Lance fails to provide any further context.

“Nope! I’m just going to hang back from this mission because I Saw what’s going to happen last night and no part of me is interested in crawling through sewage. Y’all have fun, though.”

“Why the hell do you think we’ll be crawling through sewage?” Keith asks. “All the Yuvleans want us to do is find some crystal for them.”

“And I’m telling you it’s going to involve crawling through the sewage system,” Lance insists. “I’m not doing that. I’ll stay on the castle with Coran and do chores, or something.”

Shiro looks pleadingly to Hunk.

“Please translate,” he asks.

This is not unusual. Lance and Hunk frequently have to explain each other’s trains of thought to the team at large.

“Lance thinks he can see the future,” Hunk explains tiredly. “He is not a Seer. He just gets lucky, occasionally, and he’s observant. There is nothing I can do to convince him otherwise.”

“That’s because you’re wrong,” Lance says patiently. “I do so get visions. I told you about the mermaid planet when we were fifteen, remember?”

“Lance, you dreamed once about alien mermaids and the universe is so batshit insane that it ended up being true. That is not predicting the future.”

“Mhm, sure. And the fact that I knew the names of the mermaids we could trust was coincidence.”

“Exactly!”

Hunk and Pidge both look exasperated, but Keith looks intrigued.

“You can really tell the future?”

“Please tell me you don’t believe in that shit too,” Pidge groans.

Both paladins ignore her.

“Not as clearly as you’re thinking,” Lance says, making a so-so motion with his hand. “I don’t usually get full detailed visions, although I do occasionally. Usually I get bits and pieces, right before something happens. Like, if we’re on an infiltration mission and we don’t know which hallway to take to escape, I usually get a flash of images that tell me what’s down each one.”

Shiro, who had been eyeing Lance warily for the most part, tilts his head in consideration. “You do manage to lead us out of ships when everything goes to shit.”

Hunk looks at him incredulously. “You too?! What part of ‘Lance has good instincts and is crazy observant’ am I making unclear? Science, people!”

“I’m not saying I think he can see in the future,” Shiro says hastily. “But I’m not saying he can’t, either.”

“Thank you,” Lance says emphatically. “Finally, someone believes me.”

“Hey,” Keith protests. “I believed you the whole time!”

“‘Course, Mullet,” Lance says with a grin and a wink. Keith goes a little red. “I appreciate it.”

“I also believe you!” Allura says excitedly. “One of my mother’s handmaidens also spoke of an ability to see forward in time, and she often made excellent predictions about future trades!”

“Ha,” Lance says, pointing his spork triumphantly at his best friends. Both of them roll their eyes in tandem. “Coran believes me, too. Said he can feel it in my quintessence, or something. You guys are outnumbered.”

“Whatever,” Pidge mutters, but she doesn’t really look all that annoyed. “I can’t believe you’re skipping the chance to flirt with pretty aliens just because you had a weird dream. I can’t believe you’re staying back to do chores instead of prancing around the planet’s canals and comparing the water to beaches back home.”

Lance shrugs, standing up to dunk his empty bowl in the sink. “Like I said, I’m not crawling through the sewer,” he says, heading for the doors. “But y’all have fun. Let me know if you meet the ninja turtles.”

———

Hours later, five very grumpy, very dirty paladins stomp their way back to the castle. Lance and Coran meet them at the decontamination chamber.

“Have a shitty time?” Lance asks smugly.

“Dollar in the bad pun jar,” Keith says immediately, just as Hunk says: “Can it, Cassandra.”

Hunk sounds cranky as he says it, but instead of being offended, Lance only laughs.

“Fitting,” he taunts, “since no one believed Cassandra and she ended up being right. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it, Hunky?”

Hunk levels him with a glare, but only lasts about three seconds before a reluctant smile spreads across his face.

“Alright, alright, touché. I still think you just made an educated guess. But I’ll give you that one.”

“Sure thing, bud. I’ve Seen the day you and Pidge believe me, you know. I’m going to be very smug.”

“More smug than right now?” Allura asks.

Lance smirks. “Exponentially.”

———

Shiro doesn’t let Lance skip any more missions because of his Sight. “If a mission is going to suck, then we get to suffer as a group. Team building,” he reasons.

He still doesn’t quite believe that Lance can See the future. But he does start to take Lance’s input in mission planning, so long as Lance can actually rationalize his predictions.

“That’s not going to work,” Lance says firmly, tapping the path Shiro has drawn down a hallway on the blueprints of the Galran cruiser they’re planning to infiltrate. “If we split up, Allura is going to get ambushed and hurt.”

Shiro inclines his head. “Reasoning?”

Lance pauses for a moment to study the blueprints further, trying to figure out why he knows that to be true. He saw the altercation in a vision, of course, but over the weeks of planning with Shiro he’s found that his divinations often follow a largely logical path of reasonings, Sherlock-style.

“This is a Druid-heavy cruiser,” he says finally. “See how the energy systems are rerouted to neutralize more power outbursts than usual? That means a lot of raw quintessence outside of its usual transport containers, which means Druids. And you know how freaky they are about trying to isolate Allura and take her for her quintessence abilities. She shouldn’t spend a second on this ship alone, and especially not down the corridors that are most heavily fortified and monitored. She’s our strongest, but in this case it will only make her a target.”

“Sounds good to me,” Shiro says, placing a proud hand on Lance’s shoulder. “We’ll work out something better, huh?”

———

It’s no secret that Lance spends at least two nights a week at the observation deck; missing his family and falling asleep to the projection of Earth’s steady turn. The team has quietly worked out something like a schedule, making sure he’s never there alone, and everyone makes sure he knows he knows they love him and are there for him.

Lance pretends to be oblivious to the schedule. He saw it in a dream before he’d even met most of the team, but he likes that they try so hard to keep it quiet anyway. It’s sweet.

“Do you know why I’m like this?” he asks one night, when Coran is the one to follow him in.

The advisor takes a moment to consider the question carefully, humming softly.

“I felt something different about you the second I saw you,” he says eventually. He huffs a laugh. “That’s half the reason I was so defensive of you.”

Lance snorts, remembering Coran’s flailing and threats. “I thought it was because I made eyes at Allura.”

Coran grins, checking him gently across the shoulders. “That, too, lad.” His expression turns more serious, pondering. “But I’ve always been very in tune with the energies of the universe, the balance of quintessence in every single thing that takes space. My father taught me to sit quietly with the space between things, to feel how they fit together. You, my dear —” he shifts to look at Lance directly, jewelled eyes meeting deep brown — “your quintessence reaches farther than most. For whatever reason, your soul is stretched wide, across space and time. Everyone’s is, to some degree, but yours more so. For whatever reason, when you came to be, the universe saw fit to grant you the burden of Knowing.”

He takes one of Lance’s hands in his, squeezing gently. “It’s a lot of responsibility, child. But there’s no one I would trust more to shoulder it with grace.”

———

Usually, Lance’s Gift is harmless. It doesn’t matter who on the team does or does not believe — it never has a great enough bearing on their life and mission to make a massive decision.

Until it does.

Until Lance stops mid-attack, freezing in his lion, shout ringing through the comms.

“Lance, come in,” Shiro demands. “What’s wrong?”

Everyone’s screen flickers for a moment before Lance’s comm feed pulls up, brown eyes wide and panicked, terror written all across his face.

“We need to pull back!” he says frantically. “Now, now, now!”

“We can’t pull back now!” Pidge protests. “That ship has the closest guarantee to finding Matt than any other we’ve found so far, and our intel guarantees we outmatch them!”

“I Saw differently, they have —”

Pidge bares her teeth at him. “If you think I’m giving up on my brother because you think you can tell the future —”

“You have to trust me,” Lance begs. “The entire fleet is a setup. All the fighter jets are manned by sentries, there’s not a single soldier on board the commanding ship. It’s a giant bomb. The second we touch it it’s going to blow so big it’ll start a new solar system. Please.”

“Lance, now is not the time —” Shiro interjects.

“I know, but —”

“We have every guarantee from the Blades that my brother may very well be on that ship!” Pidge says shrilly. “I know you think you can see the future Lance, but I just can’t trust that!”

“I’m not asking you to trust it,” Lance says again, more and more desperate by the second. “I’m asking you to trust me. And I promise you, Pidge, if we move forward than every single one of us is going to die.”

Tears drip from Pidge’s eyes. Her face crumples.

“Why are you making me choose between my brother and the team?” she sobs.

“Please trust me,” Lance begs again.

She swipes a hand across her eyes.

“If you’re wrong, I’m never going to forgive you.”

As soon as she says the words, Lance is yelling for everyone to pull back. Shiro echoes him, and the retreat back to the castle. As Allura opens a wormhole, the entire fleet starts to blow, every explosion tripping the ship next to it, until the entirety of the blackness of space is ignited in bright white flame and incinerating debris.

They barely make it through the wormhole in one piece.

———

“I still don’t believe you,” Pidge says stubbornly, once her tears have dried and they’re all safe in their hangars.

Lance smiles softly. “Thank you for trusting me anyway.”

———

Hours after everyone else has fallen asleep, after the last movie for movie night has ended, Keith and Lance sit facing each other on a mound of blankets, knees pulled up their their chins and arms held tightly around their legs.

“Your turn,” Keith whispers.

Lance hums. “How many questions do I have left?”

“We passed twenty forever ago. I think we’re just getting to know each other, now.”

“Oh.”

“Is that okay?”

Lance hides a grin in his pajama-covered knees. “Yeah.”

“Good. Ask your question, doofus. You’re taking forever.”

“‘Kay. How come you pretended not to recognize me when we were rescuing Shiro?”

Keith’s face flames. “I really didn’t recognize you!” he insists.

Lance shakes his head. “We had four group projects together, and you smirked at me after no less than twelve flight sims. I’m not buying it, Samurai.”

Keith holds his gaze for several minutes, glaring stubbornly. But finally he deflates.

“Fine,” he concedes. “I remember you. But if I tell you why I pretended to forget, you have to promise not to get mad, okay?”

“Fine, fine. Just tell me already.”

Keith looks away. He’s quiet for long enough that Lance reaches over to pinch him for not answering.

“Jesus, okay! I’m getting there.” He bites his lip. “Do you remember that dumbass line you used to say? About threading the needle?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“Uh. I didn’t get it for a long time. I thought —” he grimaces, accepting Lance’s oncoming diva fit — “I thought your name was Taylor. So.”

To his surprise, Lance bursts out laughing.

“You dumbass! Did you really?”

“It was a valid assumption!” Keith defends. “You said that people called you tailor! What was I supposed to think?”

“Our names are right next to each other on roll call,” Lance chokes out, wiping a tear from his eye. He flashes a teasing grin as he slowly starts to calm down. “Guess there’s I reason I usually did better on the practicals, huh?”

“Oh, shut up,” Keith says, scowling. “You barely did better.”

“Neck and neck,” Lance teases.

“Yeah, yeah, cargo pilot. Whatever you say.”

They’re both quiet for a moment, silence interrupted only by Shiro’s horrible snoring and Lance’s occasional giggle.

“It’s your turn,” he says, once he’s finally gotten himself under control. Keith rolls his eyes, but asks anyway.

“How come you don’t flirt with random aliens anymore?”

To his surprise, the question makes Lance flush darkly. He looks away, picking at his nails.

“I, uh, Saw that I end up with someone soon. Feels disrespectful to flirt knowing I’m gonna be with him any time now.”

Keith’s breath hitches. “Him?”

“Them,” Lance corrects hastily, but the damage is already done.

“Who is he? Do I —”

“Game’s over,” Lance says hastily. “I just had a vision. If we keep playing you’re going to choke to death and die after I make an excellent joke, so. Better safe than sorry.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Keith accuses, but Lance has never been wrong before, so he hesitates.

Lance notices, doubling down. “Yep. I try to give you the Heimlich and everything, but it doesn’t work. You die in minutes. Gotta prevent that.”

“Fine,” Keith says sullenly. “I guess we should go to sleep then.”

“Probably,” Lance agrees, audibly relieved. “Don’t want you to die or anything.”

His face is red until the second he falls asleep.

———

Lance has his impulsive moments, sure. But the real impulsive members of the team are Keith or Pidge, no question about it. They are the king and queen of dumbass, split-second decisions.

When Lance gets a vision, mid-fight, on a planet so overrun with Galran soldiers that ‘outnumbered’ does not begin to cover it, he kicks both of those losers off their thrones by a goddamn mile.

“Lance!” Allura yells, once she realizes he’s breaking formation. “What the quiznack are you doing?”

“The witch controls it all,” he gasps out, to quiet for anyone to hear. He ignores the shouts of his team, ignores their questions, ignores his own guilt for leaving them so abruptly, and books it, as fast as he can, straight towards the cluster of Druids. They stand in a perfect circle, all perfectly still, tendrils of lightning quintessence pouring out of them faster than Lance can track, all tunnelling towards where Zarkon stands suspended above them all, sending deadly bolts of attack at Voltron and their scrambling allies down below. Every time a Druid drops, their very life force drained from them, a new one fills their place, as quickly as possible.

But Lance doesn’t need to see what’s in the centre of their circle with his eyes. He’s Seen it. He knows who lies in the middle of the cluster, who is pulling the strings between the entire empire, who has been this entire time.

As he runs, he feels his bayard warm in his hand, feels the form change from the barrel of his beloved gun to something sturdy, smooth, curved. When he glances down, he sees the familiar contour of a bow.

It’s too simple.

Far too simple.

But Lance trusts himself. He trusts the universe, and the responsibility Coran says it has granted him. He knows it would not lie to him.

He stops hundreds of feet before the cluster of Druids, standing firm as they all turn to face him in unison. He does not flinch when they raise their arms towards him, does not move when Zarkon turns to face him, raw quintessence lighting up his arms as he takes aim directly where Lance stands.

Lance breathes in. He aims the bow high in the sky, not at the Druids, not at Zarkon, but where he knows the arrow will arch gracefully, and make it’s deadly decent: landing dead in the centre of the Druids, where Haggar stands, unfocused on the sky above her.

Lance exhales.

He fires.

He hears a wicked shriek echo louder than any person every could, just as Zarkon’s final blast hits him square in the chest.

His own agonized screams drown out the terrified yells of his team.

———

You’d think it would be quiet, death. It’s the absence of life, after all. The cease of all movement. The end of one’s time.

It’s not.

Lance feels every one of his cells as they sizzle and fry, his very molecules tearing themselves apart as the blast of quintessence breaks easily through his armour. He feels every part of his body and soul incinerate out of existence.

It sounds like one long, shrill screech of brakes stopping abruptly.

It hurts.

———

“There’s no way he’s going to survive that! It’s a waste of time to hope!”

“How can you say that? How dare you say that?

“You think I want to? You think I want this? His very soul was fried, Keith! He is my best friend, he is my brother, but I am not going to put myself or anyone else through the pain of hoping!”

“The pain of hoping is the only thing that can make the pain of giving up feel better!”

———

Coming back to life is shockingly silent, in contrast. Still, too. He knows he’s not dead — he can’t be, if he’s thinking — but he can’t feel any further than that.

Everything is quiet.

———

It’s barely noticeable, when he can finally feel again. The faintest brush of a hand through his hair, a whisper, the press of lips to his forehead.

Then nothing, again.

———

“You’re going to make it, Lance. I’ll kill you if you don’t, you dumbass, selfless bastard.”

———

By the time he can finally move again, he feels like he’s lived four thousand lives. It’s the barest twitch of his finger, but it makes someone gasp, and then there’s a hand grasping his.

“C’mon, Lance,” it says quietly. “Prove me wrong, okay? About Seeing and living and everything. Please. Show me how wrong I was. I’ll even let you gloat forever, okay? I’ll never complain again. I’m sorry.”

Lance tries his hardest to move further, to squeeze Hunk’s hand; hell, even to twitch his finger again.

Nothing.

“That’s okay,” Hunk assures quietly. There’s a slight pressure on his head, briefly, and the scent of Hunk’s face cream and motor oil, and then it’s gone.

“Take your time, okay? I’ll be here. We all will.”

———

The first person Lance sees when he finally opens his eyes again is Allura. He can’t make his mouth move, can’t call out, but he doesn’t have to — she smiles softly at him, never moving her hand from his hair.

“It’s good to see those eyes again,” she whispers. “We’ve missed you, Lance. You think you can try moving your hand? I’ll help you, if you like.”

Lance screws his eyes shut — not because he wants to, he doesn’t, he’s only just opened them, he never wants to close them again — but he can’t seem to stop himself. It takes so much effort just to lift his hand a millimeter up from the mattress it rests on.

“Good!” Allura says, and when Lance forces his eyes open again he sees that she’s smiling much brighter, now, although tears drip down her cheeks.

“You’re so much closer every day, asteraki. In a couple weeks you’ll be all healed up, I’m sure. Okay?”

Lance still can’t make his mouth move, but he manages a hum. That makes her smile wider.

———

Allura is not entirely correct. He is not entirely healed in a couple weeks. But he gets closer and closer every day. After one week, he can move his hands, even though they shake. After two, he can speak, although his voice is raspier than the desert.

The first thing he asks for is an update — did he do it? Did it work?

“Zarkon and Haggar crumbled to dust,” Shiro assures him. “The second your arrow struck. Ten thousand years caught up to them, I guess. The Druids died, too. The Empire hasn’t really gone anywhere, but it’s in chaos. No one knows what to do. Planets are revolting left and right.”

He squeezes Lance’s hands, lifting one up to press a kiss to his knuckles.

“You did it, kiddo. You and that goddamned gift of yours.”

———

It takes months. Months of physical therapy, if speech therapy, of disgusting nutrient-rich diets and fine-motor training that frustrates Lance to tears.

It works, though. Over time, he starts to come back to himself. Not everything is fixed — he needs hearing aids, now, because he was so close to Haggar’s final scream that it shattered his ear drums. His hair is bleached white, too, and lightning-shaped scars run up and down his skin — Shiro jokes that they should start a club. He’s unbelievably lucky that he regains all the mobility in his hands. He still speaks in a stutter, and he likely will for the rest of his life.

But he’s fuckin’ alive, goddamnit, so he’s sure as shit not complaining.

His visions stop coming, too.

He doesn’t mind.

“You were right, though,” Hunk says.

As promised.

“You really could see the fuckin’ future. I’ll be damned.”

“This moment was slightly less depressing in my vision,” Lance says, grinning wryly. “All I got were those two sentences. Who know I almost had to die to get ‘em.”

Hunk glares, flicking him lightly in the forehead. “Too soon, buddy.”

“It’s been half a goddamn year since I got nuked!”

“It will be too soon for the rest of our lives. Your lucky I didn’t build you the safety bubble I wanted to build you, you menace.”

“He really was going to,” Pidge pipes up. “I had to pry the blueprints from his hands.”

Lance tips an imaginary hat. “And I thank you for your service.”

“Whatever, goober,” she says, rolling her eyes, but she’s smiling.

———

There’s nothing strange about the knock on his door. Keith knocks as he always does: just one singular knock, to make people on edge, because he thinks it’s funny.

But Lance freezes.

Because he recognises this feeling, the intense feeling of déjà vù mixed with clear memory — one of his old visions is playing out.

And there’s only one outstanding vision of his that takes place in his bedroom, with Keith, as he’s folding laundry.

“Come in,” he squeaks, desperately trying to compose himself and fight the blush off his face and failing horribly.

Keith steps in and immediately starts helping Lance with the laundry, even though he’s horrible at it and always insists that closets have more space if you roll up clothes instead of folding them.

Menace boy.

He’s quiet for a long moment, rolling laundry until Lance smacks him, and then begrudgingly folding it.

“Did you See this?” he asks eventually.

“Yes,” Lance admits, because he sees no reason to lie.

“Then you know what I’m going to say.”

“I do.”

Keith’s hands finally still, and he sighs, finally looking over at Lance with a smile that shows the barest peek of his crooked incisors. “That doesn’t make it easier, somehow.”

Lance’s belly curls, like he always does when Keith smiles at him like that. He tries to remind himself that he is a grown ass man and he does not need to swoon like a preteen when his crush looks at him, thanks. He forces himself to set the laundry down and take a step towards Keith.

“You should say it anyway.”

Keith hums, closing the distance between them and placing on hand on Lance’s hip.

“Is that how we’re gonna play it, Sharpshooter? You’re not gonna have mercy on me?”

Lance’s breath hitches. “Not for a second.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Keith mumbles, and then his other hand cups Lance’s cheek and he doesn’t waste a second before pressing their lips together, firmly, like he knows Lance can take it.

“I’m in love with you, Lance. I want to be yours. Sound alright?”

“I suppose I could live with it,” Lance rasps, completely unable to dodge the flick that Keith aims for his head when they stand so close.

He decides he doesn’t mind, though, not when Keith shuts up any further teasing with another press of their lips together.

And another.

And another.

It’s just as good as Lance knew it would be.

#vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #seer lance #keith #keith kogane #klance #hunk #hunk garrett #hunk & lance #pidge #pidge holt #pidge & lance #shiro #takashi shirogane #shiro & lance #allura #princess allura #allura & lance #coran #coran & lance #bamf lance #smart lance #langst #brown-eyed lance #psychic lance #team as family #longpost #my writing

[baddestbittyontheblock]

jessie fleming fic recs

you are responsible for the content you consume‼️

✧*:·˚ hi everyone!! here is a list of all the fics that are my favs with tagged writers/authors ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ remember to like and reblog the works you enjoy in order to support each writer!! ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ however, make sure you read the information on each story themselves such as triggers & warnings ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ also, if you'd like me to remove your fic from this list, message me! ✧*:·˚

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

๑ enough is enough by @wosoimagines  jessie fleming x reader | 1k+

-reader supports jessie as the news breaks about canada’s national team.

๑ roommates by @perfectly-imperfect82 jessie fleming x reader

-loud banging on your door woke you up from a deep sleep, the headache from earlier coming back you opened your eyes

๑ the dark side by @gagmewitha-spork jessie fleming x reader | 1.4k

-reader plays for arsenal and has mixed feelings about jessie signing for the blue side of london

๑ you by @slimthicksonnett jessie fleming x reader | spicy, 3k

-pool. teammates. post-olympic. flirting.

๑ bruins to england by ^ jessie fleming x reader | 3.8k

-bruin teammate reader who’s best friends with Jessie but both wanna be more? Reader goes to Arsenal when Jessie goes to Chelsea and they realize during/after a game. just oblivious mutual pining

๑ i’m trying, i really am by @kj-1130 jessie fleming x reader | sadness

-when you heard the whistle, the burning in your eyes intensified as you tried to hold your tears back.

๑ everything has changed by @katelynnwrites jessie fleming x reader | significant injury and mentions of blood, 2.1k

-everything’s changing but you should have trusted and known that you would be safe with jessie. she’d break down all your walls and make a home in your heart

๑ I’m going to win it for us by @grapefruit-personified jessie fleming x reader

-it happened so fast. i was never expecting this would be how i got my olympic debut.

#woso #woso one shot #woso x reader #canwnt #canwnt x reader #chelsea #jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #fic recs

[annathesillyfriend]

Hello!! I didn't even notice when February ended 😅 But now that it's over, it means that I officialy finish uni in a month (hopefully not for long because I'm planning to apply for a doctoral school, keep your fingers crossed for me, please and thank you!). I wish it meant I would have more free time to catch up with all the fics in my likes waiting to be read. Unfortunately it only means that I need to start looking for another job 😅

It seems like my life gets more hectic everyday and I would like to thank you all beautiful people for helping me unwind and keep some bits of my sanity. I hate that I don't interact with your fics as much as I used to but I think about you a lot, wish you all the best and I'm just so thankful for you all. Keep being amazing 💓

To all the writers - I love you and I appreciate you so much!

To all the readers - please, share the fics you read and love. The reblog really makes the change! It’s the least we can do to show our gratitude.

Also, please, mind the writers’ warnings!

💓ROBERT 'BOB' FLOYD💓

a sky full of glow in the dark stars by @jupitercomet

↳ one shot, absolutely stunning 🥺🥺

whoops by @roosterbruiser

↳ one shot, admiral's daughter!reader dating bob in secret. bobby with tiny little kittens might be just a bit too much for my poor heart

sky and stars by @callsignsaturn

↳ one shot, admiral's daughet! reader once again, bob takes her for a joyride. or maybe not... 👀

delicate by @laracrofted

↳ one shot, i'm not sure what's to loveliest - the song, the man or the fic

full of surprises and electric bugaloo by @withahappyrefrain

↳ two-shot, 18+, this man couldn't be more perfect if he tried. and remember - bob fucks 😌😌

love me, love me by @bussyslayer333

↳ one shot, bartender!reader, idiots in love, the more i read about bob the more i think i am an idiot in love as well

a snowed in baby bird by @mothdruid

↳ one shot, 18+, childhood friends to lovers, this story lives in my mind rent free from now on

💓JAKE 'HANGMAN' SERESIN💓

whiskey and wine by @say-al0e

↳ one shot, 18+, date night with husband!jake which is the ultimate dream

this fic by @callsignsaturn

↳ one shot, jake meets bradley's old school friends at his wedding and the rest is history 😌

hey stupid, i love you by @callsignseagull

↳ one shot, 18+, another Laura's fic, another slay. we stan a consistent queen 🙌🙌

your carriage awaits, sweet by @lazypeachsoul

↳ one shot, jake may not be an expert on marine life but we still adore him

everything by @madsnowstorm

↳ one shot, i love when a character is like 'i don't want to get married, but i want to marry you', you don't understand how much i love this fic!!

you are in love by @loveforaugust

↳ one shot, we love a tay tay swift inspired fic here

so funny story (i'm fucking your daughter) by @fandomxpreferences

↳ one shot, mitchell!reader, i think the title sums it up pretty well 😅😅

signed away by @seresinhangmanjake

↳ series, some chapters are 18+, arranged marrige, enjoyed this so very much!

💓BRADLEY 'ROOSTER' BRADSHAW💓

all of you by @lt-spork

↳ one shot, i love bradley but i love clingy bradley even more

hello, i love you by @roosterforme

↳ one shot, bradley goes speed dating and it's just so fun, i love it!!

two to tango by @//roosterforme

↳ series, 18+, pilot!reader, loved this series an unhelathy amount

airplane mode by @//roosterforme

↳ two-shot, flight attendant!reader, Emily, if you're reading this, i'm a great fan of yours!!

not a coincidence by @sehnsuchts-trunken

↳ one shot, penny's niece!reader, bradshaw's a menace but good for us!!

proposal to come by @//sehnsuchts-trunken

↳ one shot, only the best maids of honor and best men get promoted to bride and groom he he

romeo, romeo by @welcome-to-my-multiverse

↳ one shot, drunk bradley is something else but i have nothing but love for this lovesick little puppy

short stack by @spacecaravan

↳ one shot, 18+, bradley bradshow deserves all the finest things in life period

forever valentine by @bradshawsbaby

↳ one shot, fiance!reader, bradley wasn't my valentine this year and i think it's a bit mean tbh

another day, another dollar by @sunflowersteves

↳ one shot, 18+, okay listen, i am a 21st century idependent woman but i would be lying if i said that this big scary bradley wasn't doing it for me 🤤

like i can by @sometimesanalice

↳ series, daggers have a bet on who's gonna set bradley's friend (and the love of his life) on the best date and roo's not very happy about it. loved this series from the first word to the very last!

mary's song by @risriswrites

↳ one shot, best friends to lovers, this made my heart grow 10x

my reward by @susanripper

↳ one shot, this turned me into a little giggling girl and i'm just SHSHSHSHHSHSHS

heart of gold, hands of a heeler by @fandomxpreferences

↳ one shot, he deserves all the love and all the attention in the world

💓STEVE HARRINGTON💓

keep it quiet for me by @my-my-only-angel

↳ one shot, 18+, caution!! hot contents!!

this fic by @harringtonswriting

↳ one shot, steve's making a big romantic gesture™

i think we're alone now by @new-romqntics

↳ one shot, cute little enemies to loves moment

starts with a pen by @moljh

↳ one shot, reader has a mouth on her and i stan

roses and dandelions by @caxde

↳ one shot, hopper!reader, they're both teachers, it's slowburn, it's friends to lovers, it's idiots in love, it's just everything

friday by @softharrington

↳ one shot, robin's plan for valentine's day turned out to be a hot mess but it also sorta worked??? we love to see that

fix it by @lovebugism

↳ one shot, man do i love a good angsty fic that gives me heartache

whip it! and i've been dying to get you dizzy by @schoopsahoy

↳ two shot, 18+, roller-rink!reader, steve meets a girl while being on a babysitting duty

to be alone together by @katsu28

↳ one shot, steve's valentine's day is not all that bad

dress by @munsonsreputation

↳ one shot, 18+, best friends to lovers, dress is one of my top favourite tswift songs and this fic is doing it justice!! 10/10 would read again

do you think i have forgotten? by @keeryshouse

↳ one shot, 18+, idiots in love who are also exes to lovers, beautiful work!!

be mine by @underoossss

↳ one shot, would you look at that, another idiots in love fic! i am so very predictable

💓EDDIE MUNSON💓

broken beds by @lovebugism

↳ one shot, 18+, eddie's not that good at excuses and wayne's not that stupid 😅

caught me slippin' by @uglypastels

↳ one shot, 18+, esscort!eddie, modern au, a wonderful fic based on an equally amazing book 'kiss quotient'. go read them both!!!

💓PETER PARKER💓

this blurb by @webslingingslasher

↳ one shot, nothing like a good pining idiots in love confessing their feeling for each other

a drunk headcannon by @blooming-violets

↳ blurb, tasm!peter is drunk, in love and horny but so is his girl and i love that for them 😌

i spy, no spy by @t-lostinworlds

↳ BIG-SHOT, one shot, avanger!reader, friends to lovers fake dating for a mission, it's so crazy that some people are so talented and hard working, my mind is blown once again. i have nothing but love and respect for one of my favourite authors of all time. slay 💅

💓RHETT ABBOTT💓

afternoon delight by @bradshawsbaby

↳ one shot, 18+, rhett is just such a helpful boyfriend, just a gem

#anna's fic recs #fic recs #february 2023 fic recs #top gun fic recs #robert floyd x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #jake seresin x reader #stranger things fic recs #steve harrington x reader

[beesmygod]

Just wondering, do you consider it wasteful to do any fanfic/derivative work, or simply the ones that are attempting to brute force a preferable outcome to an unsatisfying story? Like, would you consider it the same waste if LR was a spin-off comic about uhhh [idk much about LO bare with me] filling in that decade time skip, rather than a beat for beat rewrite? Again, hope my tone isnt giving hostile vibes, as im genuinely curious your opinion. Thanks!

no not at all, even though i have been hostile to some people in a "come the fuck on" way, i appreciate having a back and forth with someone where we both whittle something down until we hit a nugget of understanding that helps us understand. i dont know. something more. anyway:

i dont think wasteful is the right word but i think i'm WAY more glib about it than the vast majority of people in fandom spaces or artistic spaces. im 33 and been online since i was in the 4th grade, so my experience with fanfiction has been VAST and varied but i have never cared for the medium much at all. i was, growing up, an outside hostile observer who was part of the people who would "spork" (I KNOOOWWWWW) fanfictions of especially dubious nature and tear it to shreds. however, it was understood that these extreme examples were not representative of the majority of the contributions to the form, but i do not have the same sort of baseline respect for the craft it has been trying to demand for the past decade or so. it is forever going to be tied with its origins with the worst of the worst by means of negative psychological association. many such cases

WHATEVER anyway, i think its less about the fact that it's derivative work (lots of derivative work can be incredible) but that fact that its a derivative work without a purpose. like i'm not sure what it's supposed to add to the conversation except that this one person thinks that they can make a bad comic a little bit better. which like, okay. get in line pall! most people could! what are they contributing to a grander discussion? what is this comic supposed to make me, the reader, think? literally the only answer i can think of is "i am doing better!"

even something that fills in a time skip (lol i forgot abt that) struggles under the weight of the same purposelessness. the question that should be asked is "but why?"; what is the purpose of it? what is the point? is it fun? that's fine, but audiences who are external to the creation process are probably not going to get the same fun from reading it as the artist did making it.

[rayrayor]

Hey Kat! @mybrainismelted

Here is Drabble challenge 34 , as asked.

“ You work for me. you are my slave “

Please note, GILF ( Ginger I’d Like to F@*k )

Ian was finally home after ten years in the military, two Purple Hearts, and a Medal of Honor. Gnarly chest scars and nightmares about the brothers he could not save. He was not ready to go into EMT work yet but needed routine.

Mandy Milkovich. Bestie and Beard since freshman year. Flew out to Walter Reed and held his hand, making sure he wanted to still live. Now a regular at his and Carl's apartment. Her brothers owned Kings of the Southside Ink and her brother Mickey, the star tattooist, temperamental shit and hot beyond the dirty, angry older brother who would flop on the couch and give him and Mandy crap.

He was also in need of an assistant and receptionist, and somehow Mandy talked Ian into the job. After two weeks, he understood why the position was open. The appointment book was a mess, their insta needed an upgrade, and the complimentary beverage and snack service reminded Ian of the psych hospital.

And then there was his direct boss, Mickey. Surly and sexy, the man had no filter and no boundaries. Hard working for a man you either wanted to strangle or suck off. It was also harder as his phone blew up each day with the requests, demands, and ramblings of the raven-haired thug.

He had just come back from his run when the phone vibrated.

Pocket Jefe: Hey, is the place you get coffee the place with the coffee I like?☹️

GILF: You drink it black; literally, anywhere I go has the coffee you like.

Pocket Jefe: That’s what I pay you for; how the fuck would I know which shop? I never go to any.

GILF: That’s because your ass was banned from like 9 by the shop because of your donut tantrums.

Pocket Jefe: What, you don’t care about donuts?”

GILF : Well, I am always a fan of a glazed hole.😜

Pocket Jefe:🖕🏻

Back at the shop, Mickey was beet red, grabbed his coffee, and fled to his station.

——————————

Ian was enjoying the quiet of Staples, which he knew would not last. His phone lit up with photo of a sleeve of gears  and lilies, Mickey.

Pocket Jefe:🎤 Whips and chains excite me.

GILF: Are you asking or telling me? 

Pocket Jefe: Keep up the Gallagher. Song. What’s the name of the song with those lyrics?

GILF : Ok, again, I cannot read your mind; I need a little more than your professing love of BDSM for me. Which FYI , I am a fan. You a power bottom by chance? Also, it’s Rhiana, S&M.

Pocket Jefe: Jeez, this assistant of mine makes my dick twitch.

Pocket Jefe: Shit, did I send you a text by accident? FYI, not about you.

GLIF: What text, Mick? 

Pocket Jefe: Don’t worry, your pretty head, sweetheart, just get back here, oh, and bring me a big ass snickers. 🍫

Ian smiled and filed the information he had just given away for a later date.

———————————— 

Ian had just settled after a long day of explaining to Iggy that if he did not write down appointments, Ian could not add them. He had ice cream, jacked off to a certain pair of blue eyes, and was about to watch Drag Race. He had just settled in when his phone almost vibrated off the coffee table.

Pocket Jefe: WTF, Gallagher! You asked Colin about ink?

Pocket Jefe: What you don’t trust me, that stings, man. ☹️

Pocket Jefe: I do much better scar coverage.

Pocket Jefe: not being nosy, but saw those when you changed into a skin-tight tee. This is a semi-professional atmosphere Army, not a rub-in tug.

GILF: I never asked you cause last time I mentioned your work, you were your usually grumpy prick self and threatened to stab me with your Taco Bell spork. You were watching me change; I used to charge guys to see that. So you think of yourself as my pimp? 

Pocket Jefe: Fuck you, is what I think. Enough of this touchy-feely bullshit. Enough chitchat; my appointment is running late. Can you go feed Carl Barks and Noodles for me? Oh, and get me some Pringles, a BBQ, and a pack of smokes. You know the code to my loft.👍

GILF: You know I am off, right?”

Pockey Jefe: You get off when I tell you to get off. You work for me. You are my slave. "C'mon, please.“

GILF: Fucking fine, you need me to peel you a grape too?  🤬

Pocket Jefe: I mean, I wouldn’t say no. Seriously, when you get there, just text me and let me know everything is fine. If you want to stay, we can maybe talk about a coverup piece or something.

GILF: Ohhhh, can we have pizza and a sleepover too?

Pocket Jefe: Your pushing it, keep talking back, and your going from slave to sex slave.

Pocket Jefe: Umm, damn autocorrect, sax slave, not sex 🎷

GILF: Whoring me out to Kenny G? 🥹Bummer.

Pocket Jefe: 🖕🏻

Ian grinned. He was about to get either fired or fucked; he hoped for the latter.

————————

Mickey was just cleaning up his station, and his focus was not on his big fat tip from this work.

Ian Gallagher.

He secretly crushed on the gangly redhead when he would hang with Mandy. He knew about Ian’s history as a medic and the almost-life-ending injury that ended his career. But he saved five that day, who, by accounts, should not have survived the firefight. Deep scars were over that broad chest and hard abs. The story made those scars beautiful. He was always flustered around Gallagher, but he thought he hid it well. 

His phone vibrated, he glanced, his mouth went dry, and the warm tingle went to his crotch. Gallagher sent a photo.

Tight Kings tee, a truly Godzilla-size cock trying to break out of blue boxer briefs. A motherfucking collar. And on a silver platter no less, a small whip, a chain, grapes, and a big ass tube of strawberry lube. 

A text 

GILF: Waiting for you to tell me when I can get off; may I peel you a grape in the meantime, sir? 🫦

Mickey grabbed his keys and jogged out to his car, eager to go blow Ian’s sax. 

#gallavich fanfic #gallavich fic #ian and mickey #mickey milkovich #drabble challenge #prompt 34

[lfthinkerwrites]

fireworks - author's choice ❣️

(Went for a different use of the term lol. Hope you enjoy!)

Dr. Arkham sighed. “Harvey, we’ve talked about the language. Before we continue the session, please apologize to Edward for what you said about his mother.”

From his place in the so-called ‘friendship circle’ between Jonathan and Waylon, Edward shrugged, “That’s not necessary, Dr. It’s been nearly thirty years since I’ve seen the woman. For all I know, she could be a syphilitic whore.”

Joker cackled and Pamela made a disgusted noise. Dr. Arkham shook his head. “Edward, please. This group therapy session is meant to foster a positive relationship in Arkham. We don’t want a repeat of what happened in the cafeteria yesterday.”

“We don’t?” Joker asked. “Aren’t we all glad that Jervis stabbed Laszlo with a sharpened spork?”

“You still want us to think Jervis did that?” Jonathan drawled.

“Well he did have the spork in his pocket.” Joker let out an exaggerated gasp. “Wait! Are you trying to imply that he was framed, Spooky? By who?”

“No one’s implying anything Joker.” Personally, Arkham agreed that Jervis didn’t do it, but he didn’t care enough to get the little bastard out of solitary. “Let’s move on. I’d like everyone here to say something positive about someone. Joker, we’ll start with you. Say something positive and keep it appropriate please.”

Joker grinned. “I know something positive! I found out that if you hit Robin in the spleen with a crowbar, he squeaks like a dog’s chew toy!”

Arkham wiped a hand down his face and willed himself not to cry. “I said to keep it appropriate, Joker.” A loud laugh was his only response. Arkham squeezed his eyes shut, internally counted to ten, then turned his gaze to Waylon. “Would you like to say something positive, Waylon?”

Waylon rubbed his chin with a scaly hand. “It can’t be about eating people?”

Arkham resisted the urge to throw his writing pad at Waylon’s face. He had a shock collar on and there were armed guards just outside, but why risk it? “No Waylon, it can’t be about eating people.”

Waylon nodded. “Ok. I have something positive to say about Jervis.”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’m happy that he’s in solitary and I don’t have to listen to him whine about Alice!”

Joker cackled again, as did Edward, Pamela, and even Arnold. Arkham took a deep breath. “Fine, Waylon. That’s nice. That’s very nice. Now, does anyone else have anything positive they want to say?” Edward’s hand shot up. “For the love of God, anyone other than Edward?”

Joker clicked his tongue. “Uh, uh, uh, Dr. Arkham. Remember, positivity!”

Arkham was positively sure he was about to storm out of the room, call Belle Reve and have every single one of these degenerates join Harley down south. “Fine. Ok. What do you have to say, Edward?”

Edward lowered his hand and smiled. “I’d just like to say that I really do appreciate my time in Arkham. Whenever I’m here and interact with you all, I’m reassured that I am indeed, the most brilliant criminal mind in all of Gotham.”

Harvey jumped up and threw his chair at Edward, who yelped and jumped into Jonathan’s lap to avoid it. Waylon caught the chair and threw it back, sending it flying over Harvey’s head. It hit the wall with a crash. Joker threw his head back and laughed.

“Get off me!” Jonathan shouted, shoving Edward to the floor.

“Asshole!” Edward shouted back.

“Narcissistic megalomaniac!”

“Inbred hick!”

“High school dropout!”

Edward gasped. “Jon! You promised never to tell anyone about that!”

Pamela laughed. “All that talk about being a genius, and you couldn’t even finish high school? Pathetic.”

Arkham agreed, but he needed to at least attempt to get things under control, or else the guards would come in and…actually, wait. Fuck these people. The guards could brutalize them as much as they wanted. Edward was up on his feet now and screaming in Jonathan’s face, and Jonathan was screaming right back. Waylon, Harvey, Pamela, and Joker seemed content to watch the show, Joker chiming in with his own commentary. Arnold just kept nervously watching the door.

Dr. Arkham really, really hated his job.

#fic prompts #fun with group therapy #the gotham rogues

[monsterkissed]

look i love fandom and fandom history as much as the next autistic queer but some of the “fandom elder tells you about how it was in the good old days” posts are straight-up historical revisionism. “back then fancreators and their readers/fans had healthy relationships where we respected free labour and didn’t harass people over what they made or liked and we had healthy communities uwu” literally what are you talking about. where. when.

i’m not even talking about the rampant bigotry (do you remember the reason “this contains yaoi m/m don’t like don’t read!!” was a common refrain?) i mean the entire comms that existed solely for insulting bad fanart or “sporking” bad fic. these weren’t just people outside fandoms mocking it, those calls were coming from inside the house and those comms were Popular. going thru ff or deviantart to find some poor kid’s mediocre work so you could put it up there for scores of other people to laugh at was a bonding activity. people put “no flames plz” in their descriptions and summaries because ye olde fandom loved to burn people to the ground for shits and giggles, c’mon

and it wasn’t one-way either. aside from fancreators picking on their peers, writers and artists could be plenty shitty to their fans. whenever i see those posts about how authors love comments on ao3 i am reminded of being back in the day on ff where certain BNFs would be openly hostile to the “wrong” kind of reviews. “don’t just say ‘i loved this!’, that tells me nothing, which is an insult to all the hard work i put in. but don’t leave long reviews trying to sound smart about it either, you don’t know my work better than me.” in fact the entire BNF ecosystem in general was an absolute toxic cesspit on fandom as a whole, as any given scandal from that era makes readily apparent. there were cliques and harassment campaigns and discourse and drama comms and tracing and plagiarism and suicide baiting and literal fucking cults and also the aforementioned rampant bigotry

there was no golden era that got ruined, you were just too young back then to realise how fucked up so much of it was at the time and now you’re old enough to see how fucked up the current stuff is. stop lying to children on tumblr dot com.

[megabuild]

regarding your post about being ill all the time:

to be fair i do picture you as a very brittle twig kinda guy

i cant even be mad cause i am im like if they made a boy out of matchsticks and glue and wished for him to come to life im like that spork bitch from toy story four if he was gay

#anon #asks

[cherrycola27]

Cherry's 2k and 1 Year Celebration

It has been almost a year since I posted my very first fic on Tumblr, and what a year it has been. I have 2,000 more friends on here than when I started, and I cannot believe it.

The TGM Fandom has brought some amazing people in my life and given me an outlet for my creativity that I haven't had in a very long time.

So, to celebrate my one year anniversary and 2k followers, I'm hosting a blurb celebration!

Presenting: cherrycola27's "The Dagger Deities" Blurb Extravaganza!

The rules are simple:

Send me your favorite TGM character(s)

Send me your favorite deity or myth to be included

Send me a vibe: Fluff, Angst, Smut

Send me any side notes that you'd like me to include

I'll write a blub for you!

Due to the nature of my content, this will be an 18+ celebration.

You can send in as many requests as you want. Requests are open from now until July 1st!

I will work on posting the blurbs as quickly as I can.

My celebration will conclude with the launch of the prologue of my Greek Mythology AU "False God"

I am excited to see what you guys come up with!

❤️🍒

p.s. a special shout out to Jay (@thedroneranger) for making this header. she is amazing!

Tagging some folks who might be interested: @thedroneranger @roosterscock @shanimallina87 @desert-fern @teacupsandtopgun @mayhemmanaged @lovinglyeternal @lovingbradshawafterdark @wkndwlff @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @hecate-steps-on-me @cassiemitchell @na-ta-sh-aa @milestellerlover @katieshook02 @mak-32 @je-suis-prest-rachel @soulmates8 @ohgodnotagainn @diorrfairy @eli2447 @xoxabs88xox @djs8891 @roosterbruiser @roosters-girl @sebsxphia @rosiahills22 @dempy @seresinsweetie @my-obsession-spn @eternalsams @callsign-magnolia @alchemxx @clancycucumber230 @gretagerwigsmuse @sunlightmurdock @topguncortez @seresinsbabe @withahappyrefrain @lt-spork @multifandomlover4life @lewmagoo @bobfloyds @bobfloydsbabe @ohtobeleah @rhettabbotts @bradshawsbaby

#cherrycola27 #top gun maverick #top gun #ask nik #cherrys 2k celly #cherrys 1 year celly #the dagger deities #false god

[shut-up-danny-kun]

Hey. Hey, psst...

Image source

You like the Premise? You know, the ol' Kiwi and Spork? You know what I'm talkin' bout. Now...I betcha you wanna read somethin'. Somethin' you wouldn't want yer mama to see you reading. Somethin' so nasty it'll leave ya scrubbin' yer hands with gall soap...

Here, I got some. Click here ↓ to open my trenchcoat.

It's a Spirk fic. I AM SELLING YOU MY EXPLICIT SPIRK FIC 🔥🔥🔥 except I'm not selling it (that's illegal), just COME AND GET IT right here FOR FREE:

Two bonded lovers hanging out after work...I wonder what can happen?

I'LL TELL YOU WHAT CAN HAPPEN:

Touch telepathy and hand kink explained with made-up sciencey terms;

A very impatient captain, and a first officer who is very amused by this;

Switching power dynamics,

A human mouth that cannot catch a break;

A Vulcan mind that's trying to get over its shame.

Sprinkled over with canon-typical transcendent love. I swear it's funny, too.

And thank you to @yaoibattlepass for approving the merchandise before publishing.

#spirk #k/s #tos spirk #star trek tos #spirk fic #spirk fic rec #dannytypes #the premise

[cookinguptales]

I will say, though, people used to be way meaner about fic online when I was a kid. Readers can still be shitty, don't get me wrong, but it was the wild fucking west when I was young and new to fandom.

Sporking communities (communities dedicated to going through fic line-by-line to make fun of it to an audience), homophobic death threats, "constructive criticism" that was really just designed to hurt young writers' feelings... Like this was all considered not just acceptable but fun and fairly normalized. You were considered "butthurt" if this stuff really affected you.

But damn, it was so mean. Like so unnecessarily mean. People were practically hunting fan writers for sport just because they wrote fic/meta/roleplays/etc. that they didn't enjoy. I cannot overemphasize that making fun of writers was considered a viable fandom path at a certain point. Some people got very big followings for sporkings, takedowns, particularly creative flames, etc.

What I'm telling you is that making fun of others' writing was considered a kind of fanwork in and of itself.

Like... I remember writing something online when I was about fourteen and -- I don't even remember what it was, being honest with you. It probably wasn't very good, given my age. But I do remember that someone just replied to it with a link for a website "how to write" and nothing else, and it hurt my feelings so badly that I didn't even want to keep going. That was considered concrit back then, even though it was really just a thinly veiled insult. Pretty sure whoever wrote that comment thought it was hilarious, and others would have agreed with them. I definitely would've been mocked if I'd complained.

And... that was just what you had to put up with if you posted your writing publicly. Some of those old warnings like "flames will be used to make s'mores!" come off as kind of cringe these days, but it really was a coping mechanism that you had to develop if you wanted to get through it at all. It was saying "your words won't hurt me, so don't bother."

Like... I like to believe that I'm a pretty good writer these days, and I can guarantee that not one of those assholes who made fun of me or mocked my work or talked shit about my ideas actually helped to make me what I am today. It was the people who encouraged me to play with a lot of different ideas and forms of writing who really helped me grow. Nothing worked better than just writing and writing and writing without fear that I would be punished for doing so.

So even if you're a garbage person who likes to hurt people because it makes you feel big and strong and important, think about all this pragmatically. Be totally fucking selfish for a minute. Think about all of the good writing you will never, ever get to read if you destroy the writer's self-esteem when they're still learning. Think about all the people who will never grow. All the beautiful flowers that are being nipped in the bud every day by assholes like you.

And even if someone never gets good, even if they just splash around in stupid ideas and awful prose and incoherent characterization... so fucking what? No one owes you beauty. Sometimes the beauty is just in having fun with what you're doing, and sometimes that's enough.

I am actually extremely relieved that fandom isn't quite as cruel as it was when I was a kid, but I won't pretend that things are perfect now. People still have this weird entitlement to them, like other people in fandom only exist to create things that they enjoy. Like other people only have worth, only matter, if their presence gives you exactly what you want when you want it.

You don't have to like everything that other people make! You don't even have to like them. But come on, now. Let people have fun. And don't act like other people's fun is only valid if it's of use to you.

#vent post #also jesus CHRIST was fandom homophobic back then #you could only post slash on certain sites and even there you'd often get hate mail #I never got sporked to my knowledge thank god #that would have DEVASTATED me as a teenager #but boy were people shitty to me on a now-defunct (thank god) anon meme a little later #like literally it devolved from people who didn't like my writing to people gossiping about me being CSA'd #because '00s fandom was fuckin brutal #and I do not miss it #see also: why I abandoned my old username many years ago lmao #anyway I actually blocked someone only a few years ago for sharing links to sporking communities in the comments of my tumblr posts #after I specifically said I wouldn't name any because I thought they were shitty #don't let the door hit you on the way out asshole #so I guess some people are still into that shit

[sweet-chimera]

I know I am not In position to butt in but may I say that the-blackened-dove literally blocked me on my blog because I speak spanish and that apparently is offensive?? Can anyone explain to me how a fucking language is offensive? Because UNLESS you are racist I don't think a language offends you?

// this is like the only ask I'll answer publicly here about this because after today we're going back to our regular programming. But considering they were racist off the bat to my native Mexican boyfriend. And use Spanish incorrectly on their posts alot. That tracks.

Spork had a grip on the tumblr rpc through them positioning themselves with a typically white Trans overtly vortuous position so going against them.was the equivalent of going against an ideal or a marginalization. From all the victims coming forward. Alot of people personally affected were poc is what I will say.

I would also like to say. We all owe people that they've cancelled an apology. Like grand vizier. A DISABLED MUSLIM PRACTICING MAN. They said was doing damage to the disabled and Muslim community.

Im glad we finally spoke out. I'm just sorry it took so long to remove them.

This is the only ask about this I will answer.

#H.mun #Tw: drama #(Only thing I'll say about this) #Mobile post