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simmonsized · 9 months

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Idk about other people but I’m always a slut for that old man and I think you got amazing taste so pls rec anything you like anywhere

I think you will find that my taste is actually kind of garbage but like, in a fun way that makes you go "wow really???" rather than being so embarrassed for me that you can never look at me again. of course that would be fine too haha you know, don't yuck my yum etc but I will try to put together my unfuckable old man rec list right here, right now, and we can all just live with that

(mostly because titling a post makes me cringe it's too much attention, and I'm a stereotype)

These come from a section of my actual Fic Rec List, which is massive (by my standards), lives in a googly doc, and is much more embarrassing. this list generally won't include any ship stuff and if it does, i will say so. mind any and all tags.

This section is titled: The Redemption Narrative (lol)

1. Empty Nester - egomaniac (THE WHOLE REASON I MADE A NEW LIST. BRO AND NANNA!!!!!!!!!!!! also bro/grandpa, aka “he fucks that old man”, but not the most important part to me, because as good and tragic and hurtful as their relationship is in this fic, it is dwarfed, to me, by the kindness shared between Nanna and Bro, which once again, to me, is the Crown Jewel of the whole story. PLEASE read this please if u have time A++ endorsement)

2. dualshock desertbloom (the whole fucking series. i hardly need to say why, you should just know by now. i call dd dirkfic, because it is The Dirkfic, u know??)- geometrician (🔶)

3. sun’s angle - dellaluce (they can orphan it all they want but i never forget. very old, but never GETS old, u feel)

4. Hexadyne Meetings - Saesama (the rarity of bro and nanna fics could absolutely destroy me but i really like the interactions between all of the guardians in this one)

5. Flop, Flutter - cthchewy (technicality, big nasty soulless bro yikes sorry)

6. The Estrangement Thing - NoBrandHero (there’s a theme here listen to me don’t be doubtful it’s worth the trouble, there is brojohn in there, which is not my thing at all, but it is NOT relevant to what i like about this fic, and i think if u read it, u will realize that immediately lol (*i am not including second best even though that fic is literally my favorite ds fic ever because it is NOT bro centric))

7. cold front off the pacific - drow_sy (i actually read this bc geometrician bookmarked it lol but it punches down on u and i like that)

8. insect clockwork - SORD (aka, if it was written pre-2013, i’ve read it)

9. Flashing Lights and Raisins - RadioMoth (the strider manpain tag exists for a reason)

10. Hide - Plajus (OG post-sburb type shit. we love to see it)

11. Blackout - lantadyme (bro strider sick fic. Wrow. old shit. I don’t even know how i have held onto these for this many years.)

Things that don't quite fit into the category necessarily but It's MY List Not Yours:

12. signs at sundown - geometrician (I don't need to say it, do I? I think we understand, I do think that. Imagine being canon together with you favorite author. Imagine it. Wow.)

13. No Homo - Laurasauras (bro/dennis. yes, dennis from gamebro. yes, it's good i've said it before i'll say it again. i'm into it, i think you should be too.)

14. flash - problemsloth (this shit is just. absolute chef's kiss to me. i don't know how else to explain it. young bro. he's perfect, and perfectly dreadful)

15. play ball! - spacepuck (this is a johndave fic but it has this very stressful atmosphere around bro and dave that kinda fucks me up and also, delights me beyond reason. it tastes like summer to me. sandlot lookin ass. an old favorite)

#this list is. shorter than it could be and longer than i meant it to be #this is by no means a Full List there's lots of other stuff out there #rabid raccoon rehab is for everyone obviously #and i am not a person who reads a ton of ship fic so if there are good fics that also have ships in them i probably just haven't read them #lol sorry about that #sloth has a brodad that's on my to-read which i think will probably be added to the actual doc but at this time i have not read it #i want to say i take recs but the truth is they will probably end up in the shameful pile of Marked For Later that grows taller and taller #every day that passes by #well anyway i just wanted to talk about empty nester like an insane person so #i want to say u can just like. plug in all the things i have excluded on ao3 for bro's tag and then sort by kudos and these will pop up #but the truth is that i have also been dragging some of these around with me for literal years and there is a Reason they are top kudos'd #to me #anyway yeah okay sure whatever sorry this is just. hells of embarrassing it's all homestuck it's all bro related sorry #for non bro centric fics consider begging on ur knees or it will never see the light of day #actually i think you'd have to pay me or weasel your way into my server. it's not happening is what i'm saying #ANYWAY OKAY FINALLY IT IS DONE

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distracted-milkshake · 1 year

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diagnosing aidan with just a little guy syndrome

#look how skinny he is #I’m literally taller than him #and I’m not that tall #boy needs to eat #I know he’s vegan but still #there are other sources of protein #that uniform is bulky #hides his frame #think that’s on purpose #kudos to costume team #lanky boi #noodly arms #aidan gallagher #aidanrgallagher #youtube

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breitzbachbea · 1 year

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Big fan of snobbish villains that actually succeed at projecting some authority, but fold like a garden chair under even bigger authority.

#I tried to send Riva a scene from Deponia Doomsday but no recording worked lol #anyways so yeah this is about Cletus. And me thinking about my horrendous AU and Tahir too folding like a lawn chair #kudos to him he actually doesn't do that in canon. yes he will be openly scared and hide behind others but he doesn't get deferential.#he thinks he still has the high ground while he is quivering in Robert's arms. Which. I mean depends on who he's so scared off.#I think he'd still be taller like most people like that LOL #He'd also hide behind Arthur but there the big brother/i should protect the boss drive kicks in. tho he knows Arthur is far more capable.#beablabbers

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lewdcrossroads · 2 years

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I’m actually pretty proud of this nickname btw.

#kudos to anybody who figures it out #If you do #I'm the taller one

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estrellami-1 · 7 months

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If I Should Stay

So… I just realized I never explained the title? It’s from Eddie’s favorite song, “I Will Always Love You”. If y’all got that, kudos! If not, congrats, you’re just like me! 😂

Part 1 | . . . | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23

They leave the bathroom together, Eddie bowing dramatically as he lets Steve exit first, pulling a chuckle from Steve.

His eyes find Robin as soon as they walk into the living room. He asks a silent question with his eyes—Does she know?—and gets a silent answer: No. He sighs and turns to his sister, who is already looking at him. “Can we talk?” He asks, but she’s already standing and walking towards him.

She ruffles his hair with a familiar hand, poking his arm with her other hand as she grins at him. “Sure thing, bud. Lead the way.”

Steve pauses to sigh at Robin. “Can you brainstorm? Try to figure out how?”

Robin nods seriously. “I’ll fill them in.”

Steve nods and lets himself be led away.

As soon as they’re away from the rest, tucked away in a little side room, Alli hits him with a serious look. “What’s going on, bud? I know what you look like when you cry.” She tugs a piece of his hair and gives him a sad sort of smile.

He tries to smile, but it crumples immediately. “Sorry,” he whispers, trying not to cry.

He fails at that, too, when Alli tuts and pulls him into a hug. “It’s alright, bubba,” she murmurs. She’s taller than him, and it brings him right back to being five years old, scraping his knee outside and running to her because he knew she’d console him.

A sob tears out of his throat, and he hides his face in her neck, waiting for the tears to abate again.

Eventually they do, and he pulls back to wipe at his face, smiling at Alli when she hands him a tissue. “Sorry,” he murmurs again.

She just rolls her eyes and pokes his arm again. “Quit apologizing,” she says. “Now, what’s going on? How do I help?”

He stares at her for a moment. “I love you.”

She softens. “I love you too, bubba, but I can’t help if I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Yeah.” He takes a breath, rakes a hand through his hair. “So this is gonna sound really crazy, but I’m from four years in the future. Or I think I am. Now I’m not sure, because you’re here.”

She frowns. “Do I move, or something?”

“No. Alli…” he sighs again, scrubs a hand down his face. “You-” he swallows down tears. “You died when I was six, on a girls’ trip to Indy.”

She frowns. “That doesn’t make much sense.”

“I know.” Another sigh. He’s been doing that a lot lately, he absently thinks. “That’s why I asked Robin to figure it out.”

Alli nodded. “Your girlfriend, right? Or- no, that’s Nancy—oh, the future—”

“No,” he interrupts. Can’t help the smile. “Nancy and I… something happens, in the future, in the past, and, uh. I broke up with her?”

Alli blinks. Her expression is begging for clarification, so he sighs. “In a week she calls me—and my love for her—bullshit at a party. I don’t know how much longer it is after that, but she and Jonathan Byers hook up while we’re still technically dating.”

Alli’s eyes narrow, turn calculating. “And to think I-”

“Alli,” he pleads. “It’s okay. She didn’t do anything yet, it’s all in the future, remember? But I had four years to think on it and I realized we were never really it for each other, it was just comfortable, you know?”

Alli nods. “So… is Robin it for you?”

Steve chuckles. “In a different way, yeah. She’s my best friend in the entire world. Knows more about me than anyone else. And I’d do anything for her, and I know she’d do anything for me, but… we’re not together. And we’re never gonna get together, either. Neither of us want that.”

She nods. “But you’ve found the person who’s it for you?”

Steve bites his lip. “Maybe.”

A familiar gleam appears in her eye: the one she used to get when she’d sneak him a cookie too close to dinner time. “Oh?”

Steve worries at his lip. “Promise not to hate me?”

“I could never,” she says immediately.

“Alli,” he murmurs. Hates how his voice is shaking. “I need you to promise me, please.”

She stoops to look him in the eye. “I promise,” she says seriously. “I could never hate you, Steve.”

He takes a breath, nods. “Out there right now. Um.” Another breath. “His name is Eddie.”

She grins at him. “I met him. Damn, bubba, you have a type, huh?”

Steve blushes scarlet. “Shut up,” he mumbles, but leans toward her when she tugs him into a hug, hums when her lips press to the top of his head.

“Hey.”

He lifts his head. “Yeah?”

“You know my friend Cassidy?”

Steve narrows his eyes in thought, then nods. “Yeah, you’ve known her forever.”

“Yeah.” She bites her lip on her smile, nods.

“Oh,” he whispers, then begins to laugh. “What are the odds?”

“What are the odds indeed,” she laughs.

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @andienotannie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @muricel @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

Fic Taglist: @blondlanfear @do-you-want-something-more @str4wb3rry-guy @paperbackribs @ninjapirateunicorns @bisexualdisastersworld @hiscrimsonangel @lolawonsstuff @xo-r4e @thedragonsaunt @l0st-strawberry

#stranger things #if I should stay #steve harrington #eddie munson #eventual steddie #slow burn #robin buckley #platonic stobin #Allison Harrington #surprise! she’s queer too lmao #oc #fix it fic #time travel fic #y’all sometimes it feels like I’m moving 80mph #and sometimes it feels like I’m practically going BACKWARDS #why is writing like this #why am i like this #starambles

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scuttle-buttle · 1 month

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Co-Pilots

Nobody asked for this. I have the flu. I needed something nice to focus on and apparently this was it. Blame @lorna-d-m my partner in crime :) also kudos to winniemaywebber and sagesolscitcewrites because i def read all their stuff and was vibing it and the pet names and stuff sooo hard

Rated: 18+

Word Count: approx. 3k

Tags: MMF, fluff and reassurance, mentions of wartime ptsd, body confidence issues, mentions of having children, PiV sex, female receiving oral, male receiving oral, voyeurism, no stated use of contraception

A/N: Croz is referred to as Crosby, Harry, and Bing in this (so as not to confuse). And idk what rank Rosie is by this point so were just going with Major

✈️

The bright lights blinded you the first time you walked through New York City; tonight was no different. Flashes of neon whites, golds, blues, reds, lit up your path as you entered the lobby to the Ritz hotel. Your husband had made arrangements for you to meet him in the city much as he had a near 2 years ago during the height of the war. You wanted to meet him at the airport. Crosby insisted he find you at the hotel. And now, with Hitler defeated, he was on his way home. For good.

His phone call had startled you. Usually, you wrote him weekly, sometimes more if you felt lonesome. Harry’s letters were less frequent, but no less loving. Little Steve kept you more than busy most days, back home safe terrorizing your mother and father while you got some rest and relaxation with your Bing in the big city. The toddler was a shining light in your dark days. He had the same dark curls, the same downturned eyes as his father. A piece of your love that was yours no matter what the war brought - or took.

You’d nearly lost your footing when you heard his voice, gruff and mellow, across the line. Darlin’ it's me, he'd said, I'm coming home but I've got some business to finish in the city, meet me there. I'm bringing Rosie, you remember him yeah? Said he'll take us dancing at the best jazz spots. I love you Mrs. Crosby. See you soon.

Now you wait in the lobby for your love and his friend.

Minutes tick by as you wait. Maybe the plane was late? Maybe they had to meet somewhere after landing to debrief? Maybe there was a problem with the engine? Just as your maybes started to drown out the chatter and bustle around you a voice rang out.

“Well ho-ly mackerel, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes Mrs. Crosby.”

The sight of your husband had you dashing into his waiting arms. Tears streamed down your face as you kissed him senseless over and over and over. Crosby couldn’t contain his laughter at your reaction, nor did he bother hiding it when he wiped his eyes dry.

“I’ve missed you so much Bing.”

His forehead rested on yours. “God how I’ve missed you too, Darlin’.”

Over his shoulder you notice a taller man, stylish moustache and curls neatly gelled into place, attempting to avert his eyes and give your reunion privacy. You were struck by how attractive he was. “Bing?”

“Oh!” Harry takes a step back. “Darlin’ this is Robert Rosenthal - or Rosie as us boys like to call him.”

Rosie gives a toothy smile and holds out his hand for a firm shake; “so nice to meet you, Mrs. Crosby. Croz here has told me all about you.”

Giving your husband a raised eyebrow, you ask “all good things I hope?”

Both men chuckle. “Only the best, ma’am.”

The three of you settled into your rooms before deciding that a celebration was in order. Rosie commandeered the evening, promising only the best jazz New York had to offer. Drinks flowed, the band jived, and couples danced the night away.

Night after night, Rosie took you somewhere new. You’d split your time whirling the dancefloor between both your husband and his pilot friend, never satisfied until your feet ached. Harry claimed all the slow dances, nestled up close to your body. But Rosie? He got the fast-paced, jumping, hip swaying swing that Crosby claimed he couldn’t keep up with. Two left feet, he’d claim. Each morning after you slept in the plush, luxurious Ritz bed until lunchtime while they attended to their military duties.

Friday rolled around. It had been a week of this routine. You should’ve been exhausted, you should’ve wanted to slow down - after all you were no spring chicken anymore. Yet, something about being in the arms of your husband and Rosie as you swayed to Duke Ellington, Benny Goodman, and Glen Miller felt so right.

When the barkeep yelled for “last call” you knew it was time to retire for the evening.

“Say, why don’t you come have a nightcap in our room, Rosie? Crosby asked.

The three of you settle into the living room of the suite assigned to you and your husband. Bing plops into an armchair with a satisfied huff. You join Rosenthal on the loveseat, a respectable distance inbetween. A bottle of whisky sits open on the fireplace mantle. Conversation comes and goes as the trio fall from the high of the night. It’s easy. Almost makes the boys forget the horrors they endured in Europe.

Around 1am the conversation begins to lull as you finish regaling the group with a story of the shenanigans you and your girlfriends would get up to during university days. “-You think you boys were bad flying all around in your skivvies, but it was nothing compared to us girls that night!” Laughter filled the room until all had let it trickle to a close; the silence was warm like the fireplace embers. Robert sat enraptured by your story, by your beauty, by the thought of you under that blue dress and all your curves. He knew he shouldn’t have noticed…..he was just a man after all. And with the things he’d seen? Could you really blame him?

“How long’s it been Rosie?” The question broke the man’s gaze from you and directed it towards Crosby. He didn’t know it was so obvious.

Rosie was about to stumble out an answer, an apology for looking at you like that, he doesn’t know, when Croz interrupts again. “When’s the last time you felt the touch of a good woman, Rosie?” Harry waits for an answer. Rosenthal can feel his face heat; he runs his fingers through his hair mussing the curls out of place. This confident Crosby was much bolder than the one he’d met when he first shipped out to the 100th. “Before the war?” There is no judgment in his eyes, no disdain or hesitation towards his comrade as he asks. Rosie shakes his head in affirmation. His glass clinks against the table as he sets it down, whisky unfinished.

Crosby sighs. “Too long.”

“Too damn long…” Rosie agrees in a mumble.

You sit and watch the boys in rapt attention before meeting Bing's chocolatey eyes. Rosenthal is a good man, a great one from what your husband’s letters proved, and he deserves kindness and softness after all he’s been through. They both do. A delicate hand moves to rest on Rosie’s knee where he sits next to you. His brow furrows. The Major flits his gaze between you and your husband.

In all seriousness Crosby says “It’s alright, I don’t mind.” He tilts his head forward in permission, a silent go ahead.

The navigator noticed how Rosie looked at you all night, how you returned the glances like a game of chicken. Each admiring but neither willing to do anything about it. How the two of you danced around the club without a care in the world at his insistence. He hadn’t seen Rosie smile like that in ages. He knew you hadn’t laughed like that since before he announced he was heading to the front. You definitely were reveling in the attention of both men tonight. This was never something you had discussed with your husband; somehow you just knew each other well enough even after so long apart to know that it was okay. It was something you both wanted.

Your fingers drifted higher on Rosie’s thigh; not enough to be indecent, but enough to get the message across. His larger palm came to rest atop yours, stopping the movement. “You uh- you’re okay with this?” the Brooklyn native questioned.

Without hesitation you reassure “I am.”

In a measured, almost odd approach Rosenthal shifts towards you. His lips hover over your cheek for a moment before the softest kiss brushes your skin. The whiskers of his mustache tickle. You can’t help the grin that threatens to break. He continues to kiss along your cheek, once, twice, thrice, each getting closer to your waiting lips. Finally, his chapped lips meet yours. This kiss is awkward at first as he gathers his bearing, quickly finding a rhythm as if no time had passed since he last kissed a pretty dame.

Crosby sunk deeper into his chair as he watched. He could feel the tell-tale sign of his slacks becoming tighter as he watched his best girl and his best friend. “She loves it when you kiss her neck,” he instructed with that smirk of his. Rosie dragged his lips to your throat. “Little lower-” again he shifted “-right there.” A moan slipped from your parted lips as your body warred with the directions from your husband and the attentions from your lover.

The room felt stifling. Rosie’s coat, your dress, his shirt, your stockings, his trousers, your brassiere - each fluttered off to the floor one by one. Even Bing had lost his button down.

The Major guided you onto your back along the couch, trailing open mouthed kisses down your sternum, along your breasts. A moment of clarity passed your mind that your body was different now than the last time you had been made love to, whether by your husband or not, since the baby. Your breasts weren't as pert, your stomach was softer than it used to be. Lips pursed, you let out a small sigh.

“What’s wrong darlin’?” Bing asked. The navigator leaned towards you, brushing a strand of fallen hair from your face. “You know I can read you better than any map.” Rosie stopped and rested his chin on your abdomen to look up.

“We can stop,” Rosie offered.

“No, It’s silly…” you tried to brush off.

Both men came to your defense immediately. Looking between the two you finally settle on your husband’s face. “It’s just that… since the last time we saw each other I’m different. My body changed and- I don’t know. I want it to be enough for you. For you both,” you add with a look to Rosie.

Crosby drops from the chair to his knees before you. “My pretty girl.” He kisses you slowly. “We’ve all changed.” From below Rosie adds nothing is the same. “You are still the most beautiful, most incredible, woman I’ve ever seen. Gosh - you’re my wife. Mrs. Crosby! I would fight to the ends of the earth to come home to you.” Softer he adds “I did fight to come home to you… and to bring this flak-happy bastard along too,” he laughed, nudging his elbow at his mate. “Now be a good girl and let us treat you right.” At your nod Rosie resumes his ascent down your waiting body.

With a flourish your panties are gone, your dripping center exposed to his hungry stare. “What does she like, Croz? Because I'm not stopping until she comes begging all over my tongue.” He licks a deep stripe along your slit. “Sweet as sugar, babydoll.” Gone is the man unsure of himself, and in place is a god amongst men who knows exactly what he wants. It’s all you can do to hold on as Rosie devours you at your husband’s suggestions. Fingers dig into the cushions, tangle into his curls as you writhe under him.

Rosie puts in his best effort to undo you; your husband saunters up to your face, his pants long forgotten. Cock stiff and ready, dripping with need, he runs the tip of his thumb against your bottom lip. Your teeth nibble at the pad. “Think you can take me too, darlin’?” A whimpered please is all that comes out.

A cacophony of moans fills the air as your senses are assaulted - Rosie latched to your pussy like a lifeline and your Crosby’s cock deep inside your mouth. “That’s it darlin’, just like that. I bet you missed me, huh? I can tell you did, sweet girl. Fuck I missed you….”

You gave him everything you had as you licked and sucked at his length. You could have sworn it was bigger than you remembered. He could tell by the look in your eyes you were getting closer, hell he was too. Lord knew he didn’t want to finish like some schoolboy in your lovely mouth. Crosby pulled himself out and you gasped for air. Cheeks flushed and sweat dripping down your temple he turned to his partner. “Use your fingers Rose, drives her wild when you crook them up inside her ‘n don't be afraid to get rough - give her a nip.” He punctuated the end of his command with a nip of his own to your throat. Rosie did exactly as instructed, sending you careening further to the edge and hips bucking.

“Oh- please Rosie- oh god don’t stop-” tumbles out as you start to fall. You swear you feel him humming against your clit as his fingers burn pleasure into your skin.

“That’s it darlin’, just let go for him. Being such a good girl for us,” croons your Bing.

When it all gets too much you gently push him from you. He goes gracefully, dropping chaste kisses to your thighs and hips. Despite feeling like a bowl of jello you remember your purpose tonight - to give Rosie a proper homecoming.

Sitting up you demand he rid himself of his trousers.

He grins. “Yes ma’am.”

Just as Rosie goes to cover your body again you place your hand on his broad chest, pushing until he is in a sitting position. You quickly seat yourself over his lap, his length resting against you. Grinding down, he grunts. “Let me take care of you Rosie, it’s okay.” Kissing his temple, the corner of his mouth, his Adam's apple, you repeat “I want to take care of you dear, let me.”

With another roll of your hips he enters you. He feels different than your husband, but no less wonderful. Rosie’s hands land firmly on your hips as you rock above him. He knows he won't last long, you feel too good. “God Croz how do you do it? She’s so- ugh fuck” he grunts, head tossed back as you squeeze his length.

“I know, Rose, I know. Just like heaven.” Your husband rubs your back as you move.

Rosenthal buries his face in the crook of your neck, his whimpers muffled so that only you can hear. There are no words for him to describe this feeling: the feeling of being comforted, the feeling of warmth, the feeling of home inside you, even if just for tonight. He almost feels a tear spring to his eyes. Circling your arms around his shoulders you remind him that you’ve got him, that he’s safe, that you're here. You pick up the pace as you ride him, bringing him closer and closer to his fate. His pelvis bucks up to meet yours with every roll.

“Honey I- I’m getting real close.”

You seal your lips on his; “I’ve got you, Rosie. I want you to come for me dear.”

With a deep groan he lifts you off his cock, his spend covering your stomachs and lap in a sticky mess. You hold him as he comes down from his high.

“That was wonderful, thank you…just, thank you.” You kiss him once more; he knows he doesn’t have to thank you for anything, but he does because he’s Rosie. He carefully cleans you of his come with his discarded undershirt.

Crosby drops his lips to the crown of your head, beginning to pull the pins out of your carefully styled hair. “Come here, Darlin’.” He helps to lift you from his colleagues’ lap. “I wanna make love to my wife.”

In seconds you’re on the floor under Crosby, his cock already buried to the hilt within you. Neither of you move as you both enjoy the feel of each other reunited as husband and wife. Whispered streams of I love you and I missed you and fuck you feel so good tumble from your lips, barely an inch apart. Harry would never need a map to know the curves, the sensitive spots, the constellations of beauty marks on your body - he knew it better in his memory than any map he could chart.

Besides you on the couch Rosie has slumped over to lay down, his arm hanging off towards you. Every breath of your husband’s puffs against your neck, every tickle of hair from across his chest reminds you that he’s here and he’s alive and he’s yours. Emotion overwhelmed you; “Bing, love please, I need you.”

Crosby hitches your thigh up and around his hip; “I’m here Darlin’.” With that he starts to thrust within your walls. His lithe body moves with a power you had nearly forgotten. Each roll of his hips he pounds into you harder, faster, with abandon; his dog tags cool against your breasts where they hung. Harry was a gentle man, but held so much emotion inside. He could let go with you.

Your next orgasm was building, hotter and faster than the first. Nails raking down your husband’s back, you reached out your other to grab hold of Rosie’s outstretched palm. The slap of skin echoed around the room, mixed with the crackle of the fire and the sound of heaving breaths.

An inferno raged within you. Every touch, every movement atop you sent sparks down every nerve ending. You didn’t know where you stopped and your husband began. “Fuck Bing mmmm- Harry please-” The rug beneath you rubbed your back raw but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as long as he kept going.

Crosby had his thumb rubbing quick circles on your clit in an instant. “Tell me you’re close, I need you to come Darlin’.” You couldn’t catch your breath so you nodded the best you could while squeezing the life out of Rosie’s fingers.

Another snap of his hips and you’re gone, obliterated. Everything felt euphoric and white-hot. Crosby follows suit, his release filling you and your name on his tongue. Bruises will surely linger on your thighs.

There you lay, tangled in the afterglow, your loving husband above you stroking his knuckles against your side and your new lover’s hand in yours. No words needed to be spoken. The moment you shared would be seared into your mind forever playing on repeat. God forbid another crisis happened that would ship your boys out and away from you - yet if it did you would hold on to tonight like a talisman. It had been a long four years, and longer so for them. But the war was won, with spoils a plenty.

Finally.

Lips meeting your Bing’s sweat-slicked forehead, your grip on Rosenthal tightens. “Welcome home my boys, welcome home.”

Tags: @sagesolsticewrites @winniemaywebber @sailorscuttle @thirstyvampyr @hellfirequinnie @lorna-d-m

#masters of the air #mota #masters of the air fanfic #robert rosie rosenthal #harry crosby #harry crosby x reader wife x rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal smut #harry crosby smut #masters of the air smut #anthony boyle #nate mann #anthony boyle smut #nate mann smut #scuttle-buttle

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winxwiki · 9 days

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On the Winx reboot leaks

Long post, leaks analisis, spoilers if you don't want to see it under Read More. Seeing the Rainbow artist names attached onto these pictures and the development renders, these are 100% real. On top of that, It's not the first time Rainbow got something leaked, received feedback and acted accordingly. Remember the negative feedback on the 2023 easter eggs designs? Poof, gone. Remember the positive feedback on the 2023 leaked group design? Suddenly, Rainbow started using that Bloom at press events.

I genuinely believe that Rainbow "leaks" stuff now on purpose to receive feedback without actually needing to announce anything final to broadcasters.

Let's see.

From the Lorem Ipsum we can tell this isn't remotely final, but a group test. We're back to Bloom with a ponytail (they really like it!) and Tecna does have robotic limbs. Each girl's design seems to reflect their elements:

Stella has stars, the sun, wings at her feet and light, even light rays on her wings and top

Bloom seems to have scales of some sort and patterns on her leggings. Maybe to indicate that she's an artist? Or meant to represent the breath of life?

Musa, the smallest, got some musical sheet onto her. Overall not the most musical inspired design. Everybody kinda looks like an ice skating ballerina.

Flora got flowers. Really most obvious one there.

Aisha's hair is a bit too much, I prefer her civilian braids more. I like how her dress has wavy patterns of sorts and sparkles that look like shining waters on her shorts and skirt. They can do better on her though. Wings look like they got splashes of water. It's still cool that Rainbow is experimenting more with black textured hair than any american animation studio, so kudos for that.

Tecna looks like she's wearing a circuit but looks the most generic. Probably because she has too much going on with a full bodysuit with patterns. I don't like the accessory on her head.

Proof that these are real: these obvious dev documents

They even got an alt with their "civilian" hairstyles, but it says "transform". Which means no hairstyle or design is final so far.

It seems Musa and Tecna share skintones, Bloom has her own, Stella and Flora share it too, Aisha has her own and is the darkest. I think we can make Stella and Flora a little darker each in varying degrees, to show that Stella is tanned and Flora is a dark skinned latina.

There is a lot of focus on the designs we saw leaked that got positive reception. It's likely they will be finalized, since they went as far as making a test animation with that Bloom design.

A lot going on here in this room already giving Bloom so much personality. Her own shelf with the name with a heart-shaped B. A guitar? A sketchbook and school supplies. Bloom is back to drawing again, we last saw that in World of Winx but in the main series it was always just left implied by her earth room's belongings and her huge drawing desk, yet it was never expanded upon. Hopefully her being an artist can finally shine through her personality.

Most importantly, she's back to being silly, goofy and expressive again. Of course, the reboot is back to square one with the story and characterizations. I hope more quirks that were not explored in the main series get more attention in the reboot (again, like Bloom being an artist!)

The Trix now got a symbol and individual faces while sharing the same body. Icy's design is nearly identical to the original, I actually like the small cuts showing skin on her chest, so she doesn't feel too covered up. Midriffs are back and so is 2000s fashion.

Important detail, Icy is taller than Bloom. Is it her heels? Regardless, we got some more body diversity.

Some more notes:

Artist is credited as Pasqualino Masciulli, a real 3d artist at Rainbow

Date is 17 April 2024, for some reason they're using the wrong format. This is VERY recent. They're NOWHERE near done!

It says episode 106. It must be a reference to the reboot itself, Season 1, episode 6, as the old series episodes in total were 208. This means the series has at least finished writing and storyboarding, but they haven't finished with the character designs yet!

Further proof that fucking nothing is done yet, the leaker said this. From what I just noted above, I believe it. They're not remotely done.

This "Damien" motherfucker looks ai generated, doesn't fit the style in the slightest with his weirdly realistic face and the belts details and clothing folds are all over the place. Shame to whoever did this.

Who even is this guy? Is he the new character Iginio was warning us about? He doesn't look bad but they can do even better. Definitely a fascinating choice for the sexy bad boy, because I know that's who he's gonna be.

Don't fucking use AI for your art, though. It looks like shit.

Interesting, no specialists in the leaks. No Roxy or Terra either though.

This outfit is a mix of 2 outfits from season 2. Which means they're studying their own old designs. The same goes for another Bloom render and concept.

Fascinating detail: they're using 2000s dress up pixel dolls as reference. Learn from the masters! This dress doesn't resemble anything and doesn't seem to be a civilian dress but a transformation one, with all the glitters and stars around.

Last but not least, absolutely atrocious 2000s fashion is back (this is a good thing). We can hope a little but it's surprising how in 5 years they haven't done shit yet. That's some development hell. Either Iginio is really passionate about making this the second coming of Christ or they don't know what the fuck they're doing.

Free hopium tanks!

#winx club #long post #text #reboot

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thesandsofelsweyr · 1 year

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THE SUS BOY NEXT DOOR

《 PART 1/3 // READ ON AO3 // TAG 》

After coming back from a terrible blind date your asshole neighbor is the last person you want to see right now. He doesn’t have his signature scowl for you tonight, however. Tonight he seems terrified.

《WORDS》 2,809 《CHAPTERS》 1 2 3

《PAIRING》 Arkhamverse Jason Todd x Female Reader

《TROPES》 Hurt/Comfort, First Meetings, Neighbors, Pre-Relationship

《WARNINGS》 Aftermath of Torture/Violence (canon typical), Panic Attacks, Scars, Blood and Injury, Swearing

《NOTES》

This takes place immediately after Jason leaves his failed Batman confrontation and run-in with the Joker from Arkham Knight: Genesis Part 6.

Reader is a true crime addict who enjoys red wine 🍷

This is my first attempt at a reader-insert fic 🙃

Yes this is a repost. My blog is still new so Tumblr didn't allow my original post to appear in the tags. (Shout out to the 10 of you who still managed to find & like the original 🥰)

《 ALSO ON AO3 》 (comments & kudos there are very much appreciated!)

You climb the last flight of steps up to the fourth floor of your apartment building, stomping each stair into submission as you go. You’re still fuming from the blind date you just escaped. That is the absolute last time you ever let Erin set you up with one of her stock broker bro coworkers. You don’t care how hot or rich they are; you are done. Done, done, stick a fork in you. You love your bestie but by God does the woman have terrible taste in men or what.

Both of the pricks she handpicked for you were narcissistic know-it-alls with egos the size of Texas; a pair of swine in designer suits (who, to Erin’s credit, were smoking hot but that’s beside the point.) Once the pig from tonight decided that you weren’t trophy wife material he became far more interested in his phone than he was in you. And the last pig coddled you like you were a delicate, empty-headed damsel in distress who was lucky to be granted the honor of his company and conversation. You should’ve learned your lesson after that first failed date with Dalton Rockefeller-Vanderbilt (or whatever old money asshole last name he had) but you’ve been feeling lonely lately, especially after Ash introduced you to the fab guy she’s dating (an accountant with a perfectly plebeian name of Abe).

You glare down the hallway as you ascend enough to peek over the top of the stairs. Oh great, you think sourly, pursing your lips, your face hardening into a study in once I step inside that door I’m downing a shot of whiskey before turning up an overflowing glass of wine. You stare molten daggers at the tall, brawny guy in your sights. It’s the hot asshole who lives beside you; the last person you want to see tonight. He’s standing, hunched as ever, in front of his door, key poised for the deadbolt, wearing that same teal baseball cap and red hoodie that he never seems to take off. Your jaw tightens. You’ve tried to be nice to the brute—flashing him a smile, saying hello—but all you’ve ever gotten in return was a scowl, if he deigned to acknowledge you at all. Well, you’re fresh out of smiles tonight, jerk.

A flutter of unease tickles your tummy as you step onto the landing, into the narrow hallway with him, your back turned to the only exit, a six foot tall sus man between you and your apartment. You stand up straighter, squaring your shoulders, trying to make yourself look and feel taller. It’s late, and your building is eerily quiet while the city is abuzz with incessant sirens. The usual ensemble of notorious nutjobs are fighting yet another battle in their never-ending war with their rival nutjob who dresses up like a Bat.

Nutjobs like this guy…

You reach into your handbag and grab your keys in your fist, sliding the sharp ends between your fingers, ready to stab at some eyeballs. (You regrettably didn’t have room for your taser or mace in this bag so you have to improvise.) It’s your own fault that you suspect the guy’s a sociopath lying in wait to jump you. You made up a serial killer backstory for him—the result of one too many true crime podcast binges—despite not even knowing the guy’s name. You can’t help it. He gives off serious Ted Bundy vibes. Well, maybe that’s unfair to Ted. Ted would’ve at least smiled at you before bludgeoning you with a crowbar. This guy though…

This guy doesn’t have a scowl for you tonight. Actually, he seems startled by your sudden appearance in the hallway, dropping his keyring to the floor with a clatter that shatters the uneasy silence, causing you to jump. He ducks his red-hooded head between his hunched shoulders as you pass by, warily eying him, ready to stab those icy blue eyeballs of his if he tries anything.

You arrive at your door and take out your keyring, sighing with likely unnecessary relief as you slide the key into the lock. The guy’s probably a harmless weirdo incel who never learned how to talk to a woman. You steal one last peek over your shoulder at him, and watch as he stabs at his deadbolt with his key, hitting everywhere but the keyhole because, you realize with surprise, his hand is shaking too much to hit the target. This dude’s a disaster, you say to yourself as you turn the key in your own deadbolt. Then, as he misses the keyhole yet again, you hear yourself ask, “Do you need help?” in an annoyed tone. You didn’t mean to sound so bitchy but whatever. He shouldn’t be such a bitch to you.

He seems to jump at the sound of your voice, and his keyring clatters to the scuffed wood floor again. You stare back at him incredulously. Is he wasted or something? You wonder as that unsettling feeling creeps back in, prickling the hairs on the back of your neck. Your grip tightens around your doorknob as your pulse picks up speed.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles in response without sparing a glance in your direction.

“You don’t look fine,” you grumble back at him, the flames of irritation rekindled by his rudeness. Why should you care if the jerk’s too drunk or stoned to get in his apartment. Let his rude ass sleep on his doorstep. You shove open your door and take a stomped step across the threshold—you really need that glass of wine. Out of the corner of your eye you see him bend down to pick up his keys, then hear him groan like he’s in pain. You poke your head back around the doorframe, curious, and notice he’s doubled over now, clutching at his heaving chest, breathing hard and fast like he just ran a 5k or—your heart leaps inside your own chest—like he’s having a fucking heart attack. You watch, mouth agape, brows furrowed, as he sinks to his knees, a handful of red fabric still clenched in his trembling fist, then falls forward onto his free hand while he struggles to get control of his labored breathing. Crumpled on the floor like this, fighting for a breath, makes him seem so small, vulnerable, and not the least bit threatening; more like a boy who needs your help and less like an NFL quarterback who murders women on the side for fun.

Just go into your apartment, pour that extra large glass of merlot you’ve been fantasizing about since John Preston Anderson III introduced himself with his full name. Curl up on the sofa with In Cold Blood or a horde of shirtless, oiled, bronzed, and heartily-muscled Dothraki in your Game of Thrones rewatch. Who cares if the hot asshole serial killer next door has a heart attack? But you care apparently because you rush over to him instead, ignoring The Stranger Beside Me audiobook narrator inside your head warning you that this is a textbook Ted Bundy ploy, you idiot. You bend to help him, to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, and when your fingertips brush against him his entire body jerks away from you, like you zapped him with your taser. He throws up an arm to warn you off. “Don’t,” he snaps breathlessly before gulping down a lungful of air, then rasps: “Please don’t touch me.”

You bristle at his harsh rebuff but keep your temper in check since the guy’s clearly in crisis mode. “Should I call an ambulance? You look like you’re having a heart attack.”

“It’s… it’s not a heart attack… it just… feels like one.” He bites off each word, every breath precious. The fingers of his free hand dig into the hardwood floor.

“At least let me unlock your door for you,” you suggest shortly, biting your tongue before you can add: since you weren’t able to manage that yourself, then feeling guilty for even thinking that. What had the poor guy done to you tonight except happen to be standing in your shared hallway after some other asshole pissed you off?

He gives you a small, grudging nod so you retrieve his fallen keyring, wondering why a man needs so many damn keys. “The bronze one,” he grunts, as if he read your mind.

You unlock his door with the bronze key then push the door open while he drags himself to his feet behind you, huffing and groaning. The dimly lit apartment that greets you is sterile, spartan; that doesn’t help the serial killer vibes at all. One of the furnished units, you presume, since the furniture looks like it was plucked from the lobby of your building. The walls are white and bare; no art or posters or photos of him scowling beside a lover. And the place is spotless—you’d assume it was vacant if you didn’t know otherwise. A vision suddenly fills your mind, a vision of him on his knees, bright yellow dishwashing gloves pulled halfway up his muscular arms, an uncapped bottle of industrial bleach at his side as he scrubs at a puddle of blood while the lifeless corpse of the last girl who wandered in here lies wrapped up in blood-stained plastic behind him. Oh God, you even smell the bleach. But then you notice the stacks of paperback books here and there, the open sketch pad on the sofa with pencil-scribbled notes and drawings, some charging AirPods beside an iPad, another red hoodie—one that zips up the front—hanging from the back of a dining room chair, a gym bag, and atop the kitchen island, a rather happy-looking houseplant which, you have to admit, is kinda cute.

Before you can take in the rest of his place he staggers past you, bumping into your shoulder with a bruising force that knocks you sideways and nearly off your feet. Then with one last little wheeze, he topples over like an uprooted oak tree in a windstorm, smacking face first into the hardwood with a meaty thud that rattles the floor beneath you.

“Oh my God!” You squeal, covering your mouth with both hands.

A shot of adrenaline pumps through your veins, spurring you into action. You snatch your phone from your bag with rubber fingers, nearly flinging it aside in your panic, and frantically dial 9-1-1, forgetting all about the emergency shortcuts created for just such an occasion. Your stomach dips at the sight of the bulky body lying prone at your feet, still and silent as the grave. As the phone rings—the long-familiar trilling sound now seemingly drawn out as if it will stretch into eternity—you kneel beside him to check his pulse and see if he’s still breathing, praying he isn’t a corpse, when you spot something that knocks the breath from your lungs and stops your heart dead in its tracks. With a cold, trembling hand you push up the tail of his hoodie…

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” The operator asks by rote, voice booming through your phone’s speaker, but you barely hear it over the alarm bells clanging inside your head. You’re gaping at the gun tucked into the waistband of his pants, unable to form any sort of response around your heart lodged in your throat.

“Hello?” the operator asks irritably.

“Hi, uh,” you start with a squeak, eyes still fixed on the textured grip of that deadly weapon, but then smack your lips shut. What are the cops gonna think when they see that gun? And what if he’s wanted for a crime or something and you get him arrested? He said it wasn’t a heart attack, acted like this had happened to him before. You can always call back if he’s actually dead or dying…

Why the hell does it matter if he gets arrested?? Your brain shouts back at you. Why are you even here in the first place when there’s an unopened bottle of merlot waiting for you in the safety of your apartment only a few footsteps away, where there’s not an unresponsive armed man who’s built like a tank, who doesn’t even need the gun when he could snap your tiny neck with those massive hands of his? Could the universe give you any clearer signals that “you in danger, girl”? Have you learned absolutely nothing from hours upon hours of Karen and Georgia? “Stay sexy and don’t get murdered”—this guy isn’t even nice to you! Don’t you dare hang up that phone…

“Um, I’m so sorry. I thought my neighbor was having a heart attack but-but he’s fine actually. False alarm. Sorry to bother you!” Your words tumble out in a rush then you smash the “End Call” button before you can get questioned further or chewed out for wasting their time. In the back of your mind you hear the recording of this 9-1-1 call replaying on the My Favorite Murder episode starring you, before the hostess pair warns their listeners not to make the same foolish mistake you just made.

You sit back on your heels, clammy hands kneading your knees while that chunk of baleful metal glares back at you from his waistband, like a coiled rattlesnake peeking out from beneath a rock. Your mind is racing as fast as your heart through scenarios that all end with you getting shot. Then your hands are moving with minds of their own, fingers curling around the textured grip, getting your dainty fingerprints all over the murder weapon as you slip it free. It’s heavier than you expected, you note as you grip it tighter, careful not to get your finger anywhere near that trigger. Heavy, but not heavy enough for something that can end a life in an instant. The thought makes you shudder. You place the gun on the floor then give it a shove, eager to be rid of it, praying that the damn thing won’t go off automatically as it slides across the hardwood floor out of reach. You’ve never touched a gun before this moment and have zero interest in shooting yourself in the face.

Now your attention shifts back to the poor guy who's still out cold. You lay your hand on his back and feel its steady rise and fall. Still breathing, thank God. Then with a grunt of effort and a mighty heave you manage to flip him over on his back. Immediately your hand shoots back to cover your mouth and you suck in a horrified breath as his pale face, previously hidden beneath the shadow of his hat and hood, becomes visible in the lamplight.

You were expecting the weals on his chin and forehead, the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, his bottom lip swelling from where it busted when he fell flat on his face. What you weren’t expecting to find was dried blood smeared across his cheek up to his ear, or the J-shaped scar beneath his eye that you’d noticed before (it’s unfortunately hard to miss, despite his best efforts to hide it) weeping beads of fresh blood from where someone traced over it with a knife you assume, carving deep into his skin. But it wasn’t the sight of the blood or the crimson J that pulled the gasp from your throat and made your stomach nosedive like you were on a rollercoaster. Nope, that was your reaction to the angry red furrows encircling his throat around his Adam's apple, deep indentations where someone wrapped rope or wire or cable around his neck so tight that it embedded in his skin; ligature marks from where someone fucking strangled him.

You grab your phone then pause, biting at your lip. Maybe you should call 9-1-1 again. What if his windpipe is crushed? What if that’s why he was breathing so hard, why he fainted? Those marks are so deep… he could be seriously injured. But if he was seriously injured, why had he returned to his apartment instead of going to the ER? It seems like he made the choice for you.

You open your phone’s browser and type: how to treat strangulation injuries, then quickly skim over the top result. Ice. That seems simple enough, you tell yourself, noting that you can clean his J cuts with soap and water, at least until he wakes up. And if he doesn’t wake up soon? Well, then you’ll call the cops. After all, he’s probably a law abiding citizen who’s licensed to carry that gun; a guy that you just pinned as another one of the nutjobs because you always get paranoid about every stranger you see after your true crime binges. In your defense, this is Gotham-fucking-City and you’re a young single lady who lives alone. You’d be a fool not to be paranoid.

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mishy-mashy · 17 days

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I just want to reiterate how short Kudo is and how tall Bruce is—

#BRUCE IS AS TALL AS THE FRICKIN DOOR AND KUDO IS DOWN THERE #sorry canon but i refuse to believe kudo is taller than yoichi #kudo #bruce #yoichi shigaraki #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #spoilers #getting screenshots for a shinomori post and this showed up. HOW CAN I NOT TAKE THIS ITS SO CUTE

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cyndraws · 4 months

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Kaishin secret santa 2023

This is a Kaishin roleswap au for @blueamphibians! I hope you enjoy this art + my ramblings on the au underneath. Because of course, I couldn't just leave it as one piece of art haha (ehem please buckle in for preparation)

Many thanks to @dcmkkaishinevents / Mack for hosting this event, it was super fun participating and interacting with the community <3 <3 As a side note, I would absolutely recommend it to others who are considering signing up next year. Everyone is very friendly!

(Hey Blue, I had more art planned but unfortunately many things came up. But I hope you enjoy this anyways! I might draw some more for you later ^-^ Thanks so much for this prompt <3 <3)

Edit: I have decided that now you will receive a completed arts + ramblings + some WIPs behind the scene hahahaha https://www.tumblr.com/cyndraws/737208478471487488/kaishin-secret-santa-2023-extras-basically-wips?source=share

AU ramblings under the cut (ngl it's a lot):

Random details and notes that don't really fit anywhere. Mostly about the fanart:

Kaito is 1 year older than Shin and is taller than him

This scene is set over the Haido City hotel. In the distance you can see Shiriyomi Trust Hotel (can't full recognise it behind Kaito but I assure you I drew it lol), Tokyo tower (easy to spot) and Roppongi Hills Mori Tower (Just behind Shin on the right, the one with the lights in a --u-- shape) Main reference: https://www.detectiveconanworld.com/wiki/Haido_City_Hotel

I was also screaming at the Kaishin pic in ED70 throughout this LMAO.

Kaito breaks through Shinichi's mysterious KID persona in this drawing and Shinichi shyly reveals his face behind the mask. Kaito then produces a blue flower, claiming it matches Shinichi's beautiful eyes (he's also the one who bred it)

Kaito has extra pockets sewn into his uniform to carry more tricks. This wasn't really necessary in canon, but here, Kaito has to be prepared to investigate at any moment.

Lmao help me render hair *stares at Kaito's* Cool effect but not quite right. I need to go experiment later.

Kaito/Shin getting shrunk (aka Conan situation) never happens in this au. But Haibara and the other victims are still around. Haibara still lives at the professor's.

Background:

Yusaku was much more entangled and involved with Toichi and his fight with the Black Org. Side note but in this au, Snake is from a division of the Black Org

As a result, they both end up being killed during the fateful accident. Yes, both Shinichi and Kaito are there for it. They were going to be introduced to each other on that day, but well,,, we can see the way it ended.

It wasn't well known that the Kuroba and Kudo family were close at all. Extra vigilance was taken after the funerals to ensure their safety. Their families parted ways for the better or worse after thsi event.

Yusaku's and Toichi's friendship/rivalry included collaborating for some heists, having a second secret base in the Kudo mansion, and Yusaku donning the Night Baron costume... even if he was just hidden in a car and sending information to Toichi via an earpiece lol.

After their husbands' deaths, Yukiko and Chikage meet up occasionally and travel together in secret.

Shinichi:

Shinichi never became a famous detective. The years after Yusaku died in the tragic accident, Yukiko and him tried their best to move on with varying success. Shinichi's dream to become a famous detective never came to fruition.

This was because for various reasons including not having Yusaku's guiding hand to develop Shin's detective skills, was only being taken to crime scenes for a year, and of course the trauma.

After avoiding detective work as much as he could (well considering that he's still a corpse magnet), Shinichi finally starts to dig through his memories. From then, he uncovered a strange inconsistency with the logic of his father's death and starts to obsess over the idea that it was a murder.

Shin painstakingly and slowly investigates in the shadows with his *ehem* admittedly rusty detective skills and chases after the very little crumbs left by the organisation. What he uncovers is that the accident wasn't one at all, but premeditated murder by an encompassing third party.

Shinichi finally finds a lead to,,, Jii Konosuke. This takes quite a few years, and Shinichi is 15 when he confronts Jii.

Jii reveals everything after Shinichi's deduction and also mistaking him for Kaito. And such Shinichi is brought into the fold. Shinichi also makes up his mind to take on the KID mantle, greatly sympathising with the fellow teen whose father was also involved.

The years after Shinichi uncovers the truth, he learns many skills such as disguise, acting and magic from Jii and Chikage. However, his magic skills will never be on par with Kaito's.

Shinichi in this au has more acting and disguise skills from living with his mother. She passed this skills onto him, and they bonded over it to recover from their grief.

When Shinichi is 17, he officially takes on the role of KID. Chikage permanently locked the KID cave in the Kuroba house, and the KID cave settled in its new home in the Kudo mansion. Inside the second base previously used by Toichi and Yusaku.

Shinichi as KID:

Well, he's just as dramatic as Kaito in canon, but it's a different kind of dramatic. Shin is more of a mysterious and cryptic phantom thief and wears a menacing Night Baron mask. He overall speaks less, and when he does, he says a lot of dramatic lines. Like in theatre almost, with plenty of double meanings.

He takes on a lot of aspects from the Phantom Lady and Jii's interpretation of KID.

And also, I was inspired by the Black Knight, Shiragami in canon, and AngelicSentinel's fantastic fic, Heart of Eternity. I guess you could describe it as more theatrely, cool and princely. He's still very athletic (laughing at Shinichi being Tarzan as Shiragami)

Unlike Kaito, Shin's notices often involve cryptic riddles. It satisfies Shinichi's puzzle loving side and adds to his mysterious reputation.

It's funny to me how Akako's 'Demon of Light' moniker is still accurate haha

Shinichi investigates a little in the shadows and is overall a touch more hot-headed than Kaito KID

He uses a lot more gadgets to cover for his lesser magic skills. He's still learning though! A lot of them are references to Conan's and KID's in canon. Between Jii and Agasa, he gets a lot of them haha. This includes:

Mask/monocle -> voice changer, mask to cover for poker face, zoom and night vision, tracker, microphone and radio, gas mask.

Transmitter/microphone -> button stickers, bugs in general, cufflinks. In some cases, a camera but it must be asked for first. Shin uses these to cover for Kaito's doves in canon.

Wristwatch -> Clock of course for his heist times, tranquilliser, emergency flashbomb (KID has one in canon too)

Shoes -> jet powered rollerskates (equivalent to skateboard). Of course, Shin still kicks things but it looks more to take down the occasional criminal, trigger emergency traps, and more. He doesn't kick often because it doesn't really suit the image of KID + it's a unique skill to have.

+ other usual KID gadgets -> smoke, flash, sleeping bombs, grapple gun, hang glider, etc.

Kaito:

He's still an aspiring magician

Since there's a rising amount of cases in Beika, Kaito gets recommended by Nakamori because of his magic skills. The idea is that his knowledge of magic tricks will help uncover the criminals' tricks... Well this includes basically all cases lol. It works though! And the news of Meitantei Kaito starts to spread.

Kaito falls in love with the dramatics and triumphs of figuring out a criminal's trick. He starts to get called into Beika every time a case is discovered. One different to Shin is that Kai gets called to the cases instead of the cases coming to him.

His detective persona is like KID's in canon - flirty, dramatic, confident, charming, a bit of a pervert, and a classic showman's personality. Aoko is sick of it hahaha.

Kai's deduction show is very dramatic. He uses flashy magic tricks to reveal evidence and tricks, and uses his magic to take down criminals.

This includes his acrobatics, trusty card gun and traps he set beforehand. I like to headcanon that Kaito invented his cardgun first before integrating into KID. Kaito's cardgun includes the normal sharp cards (Kaito uses it to pin down criminals with their clothes, cut ropes, etc), tranquilliser laced cards, smoke and flash bombs. And also sleeping bombs but he uses it vary sparingly because even that toes the law a little too much... Megure is exasperated but the criminals are taken down quickly without much harm so he lets it slide

Kaito also follows in the spirit of dubious investigation. He changes his voice, uses his doves to spy on others, uses disguises (very very rarely), and is noisy overall.

Kaito and Hakuba:

Has a detective rivalry with Hakuba.

Hakuba still thinks, even in this au, that Kaito is KID. After all, Shin's profile is very similar to Kaito's. Kaito vehemently denies it but acts like a KID fan around Hakuba to annoy him. He isn't really though, citing KID's magic to be third rate, but he is still intrigued.

Hakuba offhandedly slips in wording and insinuations to Kaito's huge annoyance. You can imagine them bickering at a crime scene while Megure is just Too Used to this.

Much later on, when Kaito learns Shinichi's identity, Kaito tells Shinichi's about Hakuba's warnings. So Kaito is kinda a messenger between the two. Despite Hakuba being annoying, Kaito knows he can trust him.

~ Other character interactions:

Shinichi and Kaito:

Shinichi is still a corpse magnet. So he encounters a case, calls the police, and escapes as fast as he can after giving a witness statement. This is partly to avoid the awkwardness of meeting Megure and the police officers (he hasn't met them since his father died), as well as his new night job.

This results in the most frustrating yet amusing situation where Shin and Kaito miss meeting each other for quite a few years. Shinichi is busy hurrying off while Kaito is called to the scene and busy listening to the details.

Quick sketch I may/may not fully finish in the future:

Description: Set in suburban Beika. Shinichi is at the foreground, looking at his watch and worrying about meeting Jii on time. Meanwhile, next to a police car, Megure merrily discusses case details to Kaito. Kaito is glancing over to Shinichi in curiosity while keeping an ear open. He has his hands in his pockets. Behind Megure, the scene has police tape barring entrance.

Kaito thinks KID is a third rate magician but can appreciate the dramatics and mysteriousness. He is Intrigued. This leads to a meeting later on. Kaito uses his connection to Nakamori.

Shinichi is of course startled by Kaito's namedrop.

... Sorry no more details/plan about their meeting. It's definitely a dramatic face off though.

Regarding Shinichi's identity reveal, I was playing around with the idea that Snake is there, threatening the two at gunpoint and sneering over the '"lovely family reunion between father and son". It would definitely spur Kaito to grill Shin for more details

Shinichi and Hattori:

Hattori hears about the "Meitantei of the East" and goes off to meet him and challenge him to a deduction battle. He doesn't know how to contact him, so he goes with the strat of wandering around Beika until he runs into a case. He figured that with the high rate of cases being reported, he's eventually run into Kuroba ,,, yeah hahahaha Thats his entire plan

Luckily for Hattori, his detective luck exponentially multiplies with Shin's and a scream runs out. As Shinichi is reporting the crime and tried to head off, Hattori slings an arm around his shoulders to stop him from sneaking off.

Hattori loudly greets him as Kuroba despite Shinichi's insistence that "No, I am NOT Kuroba, please get your arm off me". Insert much scepticism from Hattori.

Even after they part ways, this isn't the last they see of each other. Hattori keeps wandering around Beika while running into Shinichi. They eventually become friends huhu.

Shinichi and the Detective Boys:

The Detective Boys admire Kaito a lot. Obviously they've watched the news reports on TV. So when they see him at the park playing soccer, they glomp him HAHAH Poor Shinichi

At this point I think people mistaking Shinichi as Kaito can be a running gag. The Detective Boys keep annoying Shinichi and even attempt breaking into the 'Edo house' to see the ghosts... Shinichi is still not happy. And also, when they visit Haibara, they're basically next doors so Shinichi's never going to get them out of his life.

Despite the annoyance, he eventually becomes fond of them and takes on the big brother sort of role.

When Kaito and Shinichi get acquainted, they take the DB on outings a lot. The DB is very fond of Kaito-nii-san and Shinichi-nii-san.

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azrielgreen · 4 months

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remember why you started

it can be so easy to start creating for others and stop doing it for yourself, but that's where it fucks up every time. there has to be a pure vein of creation just for creation's sake, for your own wild and weird indulgence in the things that caught your attention and stoked your passion. when you trade that for external praise, you begin to lose your natural love for the core experience, and it becomes work. you become obsessed with numbers, with interactions, your "place" among others and before you know it, some bullshit hierarchy has formed and all that matters is no one overtaking you, no one doing the things you were doing first because what if they do them better? what if people stop looking at what you're creating? what if you gave everything you had, and everybody leaves anyway?

create for yourself. create for YOU and you alone, in at least one area of your life. not for money, not for attention, not for validation. just one little piece of fertile earth preserved for your weird little universe of exploration and inspiration and delightful failures and unexpected brilliance.

of course it feels wonderful to have people praising your work, to have touched people in some small way, to be SOMEONE, but here's the thing. you already were someone. you were you. and this attention, this validation and praise and interaction... it never lasts. it can't last. everything passes. the only way to truly get people to stay longer than they would, is to give everything you have and more, to break yourself down into pieces and sell them off one by one, become a content machine, or worse, to become a person who steps on others to be taller. someone who polices what others create.

but none of it is real or lasting. tumblr isn't real. twitter isn't real. the cliques aren't real. of a hundred people you know in your fandom experience, three of them might be true friends.

what is real, and what lasts, is what you create.

that's what people will find in ten years time when scrolling AO3 at one AM after a horrible fucking day, if the internet hasn't gone down forever, and that is what touches people. not the things you made purely for validation or comments or popularity. the art you made for you. imagination through the lens of a person whose experiences have shaped them uniquely, beautiful and strange and unknowable to someone else who has not had that same life experience, yet there, available, open and inviting, would you like to feel something new?

so please, when you find yourself dedicating more time to your socials and the construct of your online persona than the actual thing you were creating that first set fire to your passion, think about this. if it won't matter in five years, don't give it more than 5 minutes.

when you find yourself thinking "if i write this, people will really love it and respond to it, it's what's popular right now, everyone's talking about it, this will get me back where i was before" my darling, no it won't. creating for the sole outcome of interaction and praise and attention is a waste of your beautiful energy.

i've made plenty of mistakes, i'm still making them as i go along, but i have never stopped creating for myself and i never will.

people will write the thing better than you, they WILL get more attention, comments, reblogs, impressions, likes, kudos, you'll never hold onto the height of it, because everything changes, everything passes and that's how it should be. passion is river; depriving your interests of momentum and variation will make it a stagnant pond. embrace the new, trust that it will feel good again in new ways and just keep creating what you love, for the one person who needs it most - you.

you make art for yourself first.

that's why you started.

you made the thing you couldn't find anywhere else, your way.

and THAT is what will last.

#writing fanfiction #fic writing #fandom is a fickle thing and i hate seeing people break themselves down over it #normalise writing flops out the gate and moving right onto the next #success is what happens when youre too busy to look for it

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outtoshatter · 4 months

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This week's author spotlight is: the wonderful @raisesomehale! So many delightful fics to choose from!!

One-shots:

Beyond the Canyon Nook | T | 7k tags: spark Stiles, magical realism, found family Summary: Stiles has retrieved countless children from the shadows.

But Eli is the first child Stiles has found alone.

All I Want for Christmas, is You | E | 6k tags: post-canon, pack feels, Christmas fluff Summary: The sight of him is like whiplash.

Stiles and Derek have managed to keep up a reasonably active text-ship for the last few years (heavily due to Stiles’ undying persistence on the matter) but Derek’s recent inclination to jump around between continents paired with Stiles’ grueling school schedule has resulted in them not having been in the same room since Stiles left for Brown the summer after he graduated.

He’s broader. Taller. Hair buzzed short like it hasn’t been since he was a sophomore in high school, a scar nicked into the corner of his left eyebrow that Derek remembers hearing the story about (a frisky leprechaun with a bad sense of humor and a hard-on for blades.)

And when Stiles’ eyes catch sight of Derek across the room, his grin glitches into shock and he lets go of the door.

Which must be safety-weighted, considering the force with which it slams backwards against Scott.

Club Serenade | T | 822 tags: DJ Stiles, Bartender Derek, sexual tension Summary: Stiles, popular DJ at the Hale's club The Wolf Den, catches the attention of the bartender and part owner, Derek.

Serenading ensues.

Multi-Chaptered Fics:

Define "Dating" | T | 7k | 6 chapters tags: 5+1 things, oblivious Stiles, didn't know they were dating Summary: “You and Derek text each other memes?” she sounds both surprised and delighted - but more surprised.

“Well,” Stiles says, “I send memes. Derek sent me a picture of a newspaper comic strip, once.”

Lydia says, “Oh my god.”

- OR the 5 times people point out that Stiles might be dating Derek + the 1 time Derek tells Stiles they're dating himself.

Bite the Moonlight & Bleed Gold | E | 87k | 18 chapters tags: magical creatures, BAMF Derek, Creature Stiles, angst, mutual pining Summary: Seven years after being tricked and imprisoned by the Argents, Derek Hale finds himself off the blistering coasts of Antarctica aboard the Argentum Domina, an illegal prison ship out of which the Argents operate their behemoth, underground poaching empire. Bitter and packless, Derek spends his days working off his servitude by poaching creatures for Gerard to sell on the Black Magic Market, no future or end in sight. Until, Allison Argent brings him a capture case with a reward price so ludicrous that he has no choice but to accept.

The only problem is, the target creature shouldn't even exist.

Derek is flung fast into the deep webbings of a bigger mystery than he could have ever imagined. And discovers that, like this enchanting creature, not everything is as it seems.

Bonus wip:

light a spark | T | 37k | 9/15 chapters so far! tags: canon divergence, fluff and humor, energy bond Summary: “It’s not” - Derek cuts off as quickly as he starts, teeth gritting with frustration - “It’s not like the others it’s… There’s a reason I came to your house last.”

Stiles’ eyebrows raise. This is hands down the weirdest Derek has ever acted around him, and it’s making him curious.

“And that reason being…?” He rolls the sleeves of his flannel up to his elbows and leans against his desk to start untying his shoes.

“I need” - Derek grits through clenched teeth - “Your help.”

Stiles just blinks at him, shoes in his hands. “That was excruciating to witness, just so you know.”

Go check out raisesomehale's AO3 page and don't forget to mind the tags, leave a kudos and maybe even a comment!

#sterek #sterek fandom #teen wolf #author spotlight #raisesomehale #stiles stilinski #derek hale

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