#and if I just have gay and sewing it's a little lacking I think

[helloalycia]

unrequited // alicia clark

summary: after reuniting with Alicia after presuming her dead, you can’t help but think back to the last thing you said to her: that you’re in love with her.

warning/s: mentions of injury, blood and obvs the usual that comes with writing anything ftwd. also sad gay angst.

author's note: a lil one shot set in s7 that i wrote a while ago and finally got 'round to editing! it's set about the time after Morgan finds Alicia after the nuclear explosion (is that what it was? i can't even remember lol). It's been so long since i watched it so i can't even remember who the predominant characters in this part are, so apologies if it's incorrect! hope you enjoy anyway haha.

also another shameless plug but i've almost finished fully publishing my original fiction book titled 'Evie' on Wattpad so do check that out if you're into gay mermaids, pining and angst 👀

masterlist / wattpad

"It's called being efficient," I said with a hint of pride at my handiwork, but Sarah disagreed.

"It's called wasting time."

"Well, next time you happen to tear your favourite shirt, don't go asking for my help," I said to her lightheartedly, continuing to sew up a hole in my socks.

"We'll see," she mumbled, before leaving me be at the kitchen counter.

I chewed on my lip as I finished threading the needle through the hole, pulling the fabric together and tying it off. It was arguably pointless to some, but with everything going on outside the submarine that we were all seeking refuge in, I couldn't exactly go and pick up some new socks when my current ones ripped. So, why not put an old skill to practice?

After pulling my newly-repaired socks and shoes on my feet, I was about to head to my room when I heard a knocking coming from down the hall. Pausing, I listened again and realised someone was at the entry hole at the top of the ladder.

"Someone open up! It's me, Morgan!" a voice called from above when I approached the ladder.

"Oh, shit," I mumbled to myself, before calling out to him, "I'm coming, Morgan, one sec!"

"Great, thank you!" he said gratefully.

"Guys, Morgan's back!" I shouted down the hall, whilst rushing to climb the ladder.

Morgan had gone out two days ago with Grace and the baby, Mo, to seek help from Strand at his tower because Mo was sick and nobody knew what to do. Luciana, Daniel, Charlie, Sarah and I were left behind to hold down the fort, but we hadn't heard anything from him since. Naturally, we worried, but couldn't risk leaving when we promised to stay put until he returned. That, and it wasn't safe to leave without enough gas masks for us all.

But he was finally back! And as I unlatched the door above me, I prayed that everybody was okay, especially Mo.

"Morgan," I called with relief when I saw his face looking down at me. "C'mon, you were gone for so long, we were worried!"

He smiled a little, but it didn't reach his eyes, and that's when I realised things couldn't have gone well.

Knowing I had a million questions but he needed to come inside first, I jumped off the ladder and waited at the bottom to help. The others had joined me in the hallway, the lot of us anticipating what Morgan had to share.

He climbed down the ladder first and I began to help him, growing concerned when I noticed the dried blood and dirt in his clothes.

"Where's Grace? The baby?" Sarah pressed when she noticed the lack of the others. "Mo-Mo, what happened?"

"Strand took them," he said with regret, accepting my help off the ladder. His eyes followed up it, and I realised a stranger was following down after him – some girl.

"What?!" Sarah snapped, eyes widened, and everybody collectively gasped at the news.

"I managed to find an old friend, however," he continued, as I was about to lend a hand to the stranger.

Only, when she accepted my hand and jumped off the last few rungs of the ladder, my breath caught in my throat. It was Alicia, the girl who I'd presumed long gone, or even dead.

"Y/N," she exhaled, just as surprised as I was, before immediately pulling me in for a hug.

I hugged her loosely at first, oblivious to the excited comments from the others at the sight of their dear friend, and then I closed my eyes and tightened my hold, afraid to let go.

"You're here," she said with disbelief, before pulling away to meet my eyes. Hers were tired and dull, but momentarily bright as they met mine. "I mean, Morgan said you were but I didn't– I–"

When she didn't know what to say, I found my words. "I didn't know if you were alive. I was so worried, Alicia, I thought–" And then the shock faded, replaced by a nauseating guilt. "I wanted to look for you, but–"

"It wasn't safe," she finished for me, not the slightest bit offended. "I know, Y/N, I know."

I frowned, eyes flickering between hers, my heart thumping louder than ever at the mere sight of her. She was alive. She was back. She was okay.

After everybody became reacquainted with Alicia, and Morgan shared the news about Mo and Grace – Strand had taken them in, offering to 'help', but had tried to kill Morgan in the process – I went to the kitchen to get some food for them both. They'd also shared everything they'd been through after Strand stole Grace and Mo, including almost dying because of his men, getting caught up with some infected and declaring war on Strand, so it made sense as to why they both looked like they'd been through hell and back.

"Here," I said once I'd plated and warmed up some canned soup for them both, before adding for Alicia's sake, "this is all we have."

"It's perfect, thanks," she said with a nod, before digging in immediately.

Morgan nodded gratefully before doing the same. I cleaned up the mess I'd made as they were eating, before dismissing myself so I could sort out a sleeping space for Alicia. It didn't take long to find her an unoccupied bunk, and with Luciana's help, we put out some fresh sheets and found some clean clothes for Alicia. I could barely believe she was here still, having reluctantly accepted that I may never see her again, not so soon anyway.

Once I returned to the kitchen, Morgan was no longer there, but Alicia was still sat there finishing her soup.

"Hey, Luci and I have sorted out a space for you to get some sleep," I said, unsure why I suddenly felt awkward around her. "We've left some clean clothes on the bed for you, as well."

Alicia looked up, nodding, before taking the last slurp of her soup and wiping her mouth. She stood up from her stool, pausing and clutching the counter tightly for a moment.

"Hey," I started with concern, recognising she looked dizzy, and stepped forward to help, but she raised her hand to stop me.

"I'm fine," she said with a clipped tone, eyes closed as she took a deep breath.

"You don't look well," I commented, eyes scanning her face. Dark circles plagued her eyes and she was still clammy, something I thought was temporary because of the rush of the day, but clearly I was mistaken.

"Is it that obvious?" she snapped quietly, before exhaling sharply and opening her eyes, though avoiding mine.

"Sorry, I just–" I wasn't sure why she was suddenly moody, but I wanted to help somehow. "Do you need medicine? We don't have much, but I'm sure–"

"No, it won't work," she cut me off, before pushing her weight off the counter and onto her feet.

"What?"

Shaking her head, she sat back down on the stool for support. "It doesn't matter. Just give me a minute."

I nodded, though I couldn't help but worry. This wasn't the same girl I'd last seen before she was taken from us by Teddy, the homicidal maniac who believed he was a god. No, this Alicia was worn out, exhausted and sick. Something was wrong and I hated that I didn't know why. But not as much as I hated that she'd been left with him and his crazed cultist followers all alone.

"I can get you some water," I offered, wanting to do something, but she shook her head.

"I'm fine."

"Right... well, d'you wanna take your shoes off? I'm sure you've been on your feet all day, it might help."

"No, thanks."

The longer she had her head in her hand, clutching at her forehead with her eyes closed, the more I didn't know what to do.

"Can I take your gloves off you? Maybe get some air to your hands?" I asked, noticing she hadn't removed them when she was eating. "Anything, Alicia, I–"

"I said I'm fine," she repeated firmly, before wincing at the way it came out.

I pursed my lips, nodding awkwardly. A quiet followed soon after and I wasn't sure how to fill it. The last time we had spoke, before Teddy had taken her... it hadn't been ideal. I was certain I'd ruined everything between us when I told her the truth about how I felt – that I was in love with her – and accepted that I might have lost her forever when she never told me what she thought because of the Teddy incident that occurred afterwards. But now she was back and things were awkward and the giant elephant in the room wasn't helping.

"I'm really glad you're okay," she suddenly spoke, voice soft but weighted with gratitude. "That you got out with the others." 

"I'm sorry I couldn't get to you," I said, taking a seat on the stool beside her. "It all happened so quickly, with Teddy taking you. We were running out of time and we didn't know where to go and–"

"I'm glad you didn't go after me," she interrupted, looking up at me. "It wouldn't have been safe. They would have killed you if you tried anything, and if you didn't find me, the explosion would have. You were right to get out when you could."

Just because she said it didn't make me feel any better. Leaving Alicia behind was the hardest thing I'd ever had to do and I was certain I'd live with my regrets forever, even now that she was back with me.

"What happened, Alicia?" I asked. "Where were you?"

She exhaled tiredly, like the answer wasn't so easy. And when she began to tell me what, I realised it wasn't. She spoke of the moment Teddy took her, revealing his plans to blow everything up and keep his followers safe in a bunker that she was locked in with no escape. She told me about how she tried to escape, how they wouldn't let her, about Will, someone who tried to help her and was now dead because of Strand. And the the biggest surprise of all was when she revealed that she'd been bitten when she tried to escape, an infected leaving its mark on her arm, and how she had to saw off her own forearm to survive.

None of it seemed to phase her as she shared it, but I found myself tearing up at all of it. Naturally, my eyes fell to her arm when she told me, but they were both covered by forearm-length gloves.

"The fever won't leave," she explained, and it was beginning to make sense why she looked the way she did, pale and sweaty and exhausted. "The infection is killing me, Y/N."

"No," I muttered, refusing to believe it, because how was that fair? How could she have to go through all of that because some psychopath stole her away and tried to enforce his sick fantasies on her?

Alicia tugged off her glove, revealing a metal cast with a bone in it and a sharp knife at the end, all attached as a sleeve on her actual arm. I was speechless when I saw it, eyes unable to take in what I was seeing.

"Yeah, that's kind of how Morgan reacted, too," she said once she noticed my expression, sounding neither offended or annoyed.

"Alicia, I'm so sorry all of that happened to you," I said, finding my words as she replaced her glove.

The thought of her having to undergo all of that trauma by herself hurt, but she was the strongest person I knew. If she could do all of that, she could beat a little fever.

"Don't be sorry," she said. "It was better me than any of you."

I frowned, resisting the urge to hold her hand. "You don't know that that's what's making you sick. It could be something else."

"I do," she said patiently. "The infection was slowed down, but not gone entirely."

"But you could've got to it in time," I said hopefully.

"Y/N, I've tried everything," she lashed out, before swallowing hard and lowering her voice. "It won't go away. I'm dying."

I clenched my jaw, frustrated at the situation and refusing to give up just because she said so. "No. I don't think you are."

"Whatever."

She was bitter, avoiding my eyes and clearly peeved at my optimism. I stood up suddenly, earning her attention.

"You're not dying," I told her with certainty. "Not after everything. Not if I can help it."

"Uh-huh," she played along as if to avoid an argument, but I didn't let it bait me.

It was just a fever. We could break it. I truly believed we could.

The next day, a few of the others had gone out on a supply run, leaving Luciana, Daniel and I to stay back and keep an eye on Alicia, even if she didn't know it. Her fever wasn't letting up, even with the medication we gave her, and she was currently napping in her bunk per our instructions after she almost passed out at lunch.

It was my turn to watch her, so I was sat on a stool by the bottom bunk where she was currently fast asleep. A book was in my hand, an attempt to distract me and give her a little space, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't stealing glances at her every now and then. Eventually, her eyes began to flutter and her movement made me put my book down.

"Hey," I said gently, not wanting to startle her.

She blinked tiredly, eyes distant and confused. "Are the others back yet?"

"Not yet. How d'you sleep?"

She breathed out slowly, lifting both hands to rub her eyes, only to realise her mistake when one of them was missing. She'd removed her metal cast before going to sleep, along with her gloves. With a quiet sigh, she nodded to the opposite side of the room.

"Can you pass me my arm, please?" she asked, sitting up and swinging her legs over the edge of the bunk.

"You don't have to wear that in here if you don't want to," I reminded her, noticing she didn't answer my previous question. "It's just us."

"I do," she said dismissively, before nodding to her amputated arm. "It's ugly. The arm makes me feel normal. Like I once was."

As I got up to grab it, along with her gloves, I said, "You may think that, but I think it's just a part of you, and no part of you could ever be ugly, Alicia."

She froze at my words, jaw tensing slightly, and I realised I'd said too much. My intention was never to make her feel uncomfortable – quite the opposite actually – but judging from her reaction, I had.

"But my opinion doesn't mean anything," I added, hoping to ease the situation, "so here." I handed her the arm and gloves before deciding to leave, knowing it would be for the best.

As I was, she finally spoke up from behind me, stopping me in my tracks. "I can't give you what you want."

Turning around slowly, I met her unreadable gaze. "I didn't ask for anything."

She licked her lips, looking down at her hand. "What you said, the last time we saw each other... I can't..."

"I didn't ask for anything," I repeated, interrupting her. "And I already know. Your silence at the time said it all."

It wasn't easy to forget the look of disbelief she gave me once I'd said the words – I love you, Alicia – and the silence that followed after my declaration. She never told me what she thought or felt, but it was obvious enough.

I swallowed thickly, hoping my sadness wasn't showing. "You were my friend long before anything else, so I was only hoping to treat you as such. If that's too weird for you, then I'll step back."

When she didn't reply, nor look up at me, my insides shrivelled a little.

"For the record," I added defensively, "I didn't want anything from you. I've only ever been honest with you."

Again, she didn't answer, and I took that as an answer in itself and turned to leave. I knew she didn't feel the same as I – her silence spoke volumes – but it still made my heart crumble a little, hearing her finally admit it or imply it or whatever the hell that was just then.

Since Alicia and I's awkward encounter, I knew it was probably best to keep my distance and only converse when we needed to. Personally, I could live with only being her friend, but she didn't want that and I wasn't going to force myself on her. She was fair to want that, even if she'd gone about it in the wrong way. So, I stayed away.

Instead, I focused my energy on helping Luciana help Daniel, who was forgetting things slowly with time. He believed his daughter, Ofelia, was still alive and out there, so it was a struggle keeping him in the sub where it was safe. That, and creating a plan to get Grace and Mo back whilst simultaneously stopping Strand was keeping everyone busy.

It was a few days later when Alicia had left, following a lead on where this 'PADRE' person or place could be – according to Morgan, anyway. It wasn't like she'd said anything to me before she left. I didn't even know she'd gone until Morgan let everyone know afterwards.

She wasn't well, her fever only getting worse over the past few days, and the last thing she should have been doing was going outside all alone, chasing a lead that might not even exist. But it wasn't my business, I suppose, and she wouldn't have listened to my protests anyway.

As much as I pretended I didn't care, I did. And my concern only worsened when Alicia finally returned to us, though not by choice. It was Morgan who had brought her back after searching for her because she was gone too long. He'd found her unconscious and could barely carry her back to the submarine without needing extra hands. My heart had fallen into my gut when I saw her out of it, dark eyes closed and highly contrasting her pale skin.

Immediately jumping into action, I helped Morgan take her to her bunk, taking off her socks, shoes and jacket. She would have cursed me out or dropped some passive aggressive comment, but I also removed her gloves and arm, needing to get some fresh air to her skin. She was burning up, hair glued to her forehead, and my heart was shrinking the longer I watched her.

"You're gonna be okay," I whispered to her, even though she couldn't hear a thing. "You've got to be."

My fingers pushed her damp curls behind her ear, the sweat beading on her skin. She was too hot, but the cold cloth I was dabbing seemed to cool her down a little.

If things hadn't gotten so messed up between us – if I hadn't confessed my damn feelings to her – then maybe she would have trusted me enough to come with her to find whatever PADRE was. I couldn't have cared less about it, but at least I could have been there to make sure she was taking care of herself. We were so close at one point, as thick as thieves, and now she wanted nothing to do with me. I hated it.

But more importantly, I hated myself for being selfish for one moment, because it had cost me my friendship with her.

I stayed with her for a while, replacing the cold towel and dabbing her skin to bring down her temperature. My worry wouldn't let me leave her side, not whilst she was like this. But as soon as I saw her green eyes flicker open with confusion, I knew she'd want me gone.

"Morgan?" I called, standing up and putting the towel to the side. "She's awake!"

He was in the room in no time, just as concerned as I, and sighed with relief when he saw her fully waking up. I moved past him, giving him no chance to ask what was what, and left to go somewhere else.

I went to my bunk in another room, grateful nobody was there to see my disheartened self. At least she was okay. Morgan would make sure of it.

Busying myself with folding some washed clothes, trying to distract myself from the impending doom that seemed to be following us wherever we went, I almost didn't hear the knock on my open door.

"Yes?" I spun around, then paused, surprised to see Alicia standing there.

"Hey," she said quietly, voice hoarse.

"Hey," I murmured, still surprised that she was talking to me. "I'm glad you're up, but maybe you should rest."

She didn't look the best still, especially as she leaned against the door for support. But if she heard me say anything, she didn't let on. Her eyes were focused on the floor, distracted, and then she finally looked up, startled gaze meeting mine.

"You have to forgive me," she said suddenly, desperately. "For lying to you. For pushing you away. For making you feel worse."

My brows furrowed. "What?"

She began to frown, eyes watering. "I might be dying. And I know it's selfish, especially after everything, but I miss you, Y/N. And I've loved you this whole time, but you deserve better."

My eyes widened at her confession. This was the last thing I expected to hear, especially with the silent treatment and distance we'd shared these past few days.

"Say something, please," she pleaded.

I swallowed hard, looking around as if the answer would be right there. "I... I don't know what to say."

She tensed her jaw with uncertainty, waiting.

I took a moment, finding the right words to say. Calmly, I said, "If this is all true–"

"It is," she cut me off instantly, and I stared at her, unmoving.

"Why are you telling me now?" I asked. "What's changed?"

She sighed, ashamed. "The closer I get to dying, the worse I feel and the more scared I become."

"Alicia, you're not dying," I said sternly, sick of hearing it, but she only winced slightly in response and I knew she didn't believe me.

"I am," she said with finality, making me frown. "And I thought that pushing you away would be what was fair. It still is, for you." Inhaling sharply, she avoided my eyes. "I'll be gone and it's not fair to tell you how I feel when that'll happen, but I can't help it. If I'm only here for so long, I... I want it to be with you." Her eyes crept back to mine, glistening with unshed tears. "I don't want to go knowing that I didn't have to be alone in the end. That I pushed you away."

My heart was full as I watched her, her own heart on her sleeve, expression full of embarrassment, shame and guilt. It made sense what she was saying, but I only wished she hadn't thought like that.

"Firstly," I started, approaching her, "you're not dying, so quit saying that. Secondly, I'm gonna help you. This isn't it, okay?" I followed her eyes, refusing to let her break contact. "But no more stupid walkabouts without help. Thirdly, the fact that you thought pushing me away would be fair to me is insane. In case you didn't hear me the last time, I'm in love with you. Have been for a long. Why the hell would you think I'd just get over you like that? That I wouldn't forgive you?"

"But I was horrible," she reminded me. "I disregarded your feelings."

I looked down, holding out my hand. She placed hers in mine reluctantly, and I squeezed it gently to show her I meant what I was saying.

"You're not now," I told her. "And I would have had you in my life as a friend, an enemy, even a stranger, rather than not at all. You could literally tell me you hate me and I'd still be here. Guess that's what love does, right?"

When I looked up, her eyes were on mine, a tear having slipped out. Her lips were trembling and it broke my heart.

"Come here," I said, tugging her close, and she fell right into me, hugging me tight.

I fought back my own tears as I wrapped my arms around her, grateful to have her back. It was just my luck that she loved me, too.

After a moment, I tried to pull apart, but she stopped me, immediately pressing her lips to mine in a sloppy, desperate, teary kiss. I closed my eyes, kissing her back whilst letting her lean on me for support. When we pulled apart, I cupped her face and wiped her tears away with my thumbs, not wanting her to be so upset anymore. I leaned in, pressing a brief kiss to her lips, the butterflies in my stomach almost lifting me off the ground. Any other instance and I would have been too caught up in the fact that she liked me, too, but her well-being was my biggest concern right now.

"I'm sorry," she said, barely a whisper.

"You don't need to apologise," I told her, before letting go of her face and taking her hand. "You do need to rest though. C'mon."

I half expected her to protest, but she let me take her back to her bunk. I didn't leave her side as she lay back down, a relieved sigh escaping her lips. Stroking my fingers in her hair, I was glad to see her eyes closing contently, appreciating the momentary peace.

"I promise I'm gonna fix this," I said with conviction. "You're going to get better."

"But if I don't–"

"No buts," I stopped her. "You will."

She opened her eyes slowly, an almost childlike wonder in them, both desperate and hopeful. Those were the same eyes I'd fallen in love with over the years, the same eyes I'd once avoided because I was too scared to admit how I felt. Never did I believe I'd end up here.

She nodded at my words and I'd almost forgotten I'd spoken because of how distracted I got. I pressed a tender kiss to her forehead and continued to stroke her hair, watching her eyes close yet again.

I wasn't going to lose her, not now that I had her back.

#alicia clark #alicia clark x reader #alicia clark imagine #alicia clark x you #alycia debnam carey #fear the walking dead imagine #fear the walking dead #ftwd #feartwd

[christwi]

jimbo and ned headcanon dump

Ned:

Ned is partially blind, mostly in his right eye. their eyes are pretty sensitive to light aswell which is why they wear sunglasses.

on the topic of his eyes tho, theyre pale green. they were alot more vividly green when he was younger.

Jimbo helps him tie his headband on every morning

bro he can go weeks without showering without any complaints.

he eats raw meat sometimes and it concerns alot of his friends.

his only living biological relative is his sister, however hes found his own family now, and jimbo is that family, that and the marshes. while he doesnt see them that much, he still considers stan his own nephew just as much as jimbo does, even if he doesnt say that outloud.

hes pretty good at climbing despite his lack of a particular limb.

Jimbo:

im still thinking about his eye color but im thinking of him either having dark brown eyes or possibly some form of heterochromia for the fun of it.

ned refuses to let him use the oven unsupervised yet due to him almost burning down the kitchen on several occasions (and i say yet because hes still trying to teach him how to Not set the house on fire)

hes great at sewing, hes made some diy taxidermy and clothes from animal pelts.

stan showed him pictures of fursuiters once. hes still in shock.

he unironically enjoys eating bugs.

when he was around stans age he would bite people who pissed him off. still has the urge to do it sometimes.

has a bit of a problem with placing bets on things like sports too often so he sets a particular limit for himself on how much he can bet at a time.

Jimbo and Ned:

1. They designed and built their house together from the ground up and had to acquire a couple skills along the way from it, mostly via hurting themselves multiple times and learning to not do the things that caused that again and also getting advice from people who actually knew how to build things.

2. they arent legally married, and still werent after it was legalized. mostly due to not wanting to lose sales at their shop, ratings on their show, and lose a couple friends. but also because they dont see the point in signing a bunch of dumb paperwork to make them legally linked together.

3. they had a small, at home wedding, nothing big or fancy. they didnt want anything fancy to begin with though so it worked just fine for them. just a small ceremony with randy and sharon and a set of rings was all they actually needed and wanted. (stan and shelly were around 2 and 6 at the time, left them at home with a babysitter.)

4. yk the girls from the craig x tweek episode right. one of them carved jimbo and neds initials into a big tree stump and jimbo and ned were only notified of it because stan accidentally let it slip infront of them. (stan thought of jimbo and ned as being too macho to be gay so he didnt think too hard on it, but still does from time to time)

5. jimbos the more physically affectionate of the two while ned is more words-of-affirmation oriented. they learned this overtime and work with eachothers love languages.

6. ever since what happened with MBP, jimbo has been more cautious with ned. making sure he doesnt get hurt. ned appreciates this but sometimes jimbo goes a little overboard on it and ned has to reassure him that hes fine. but sometimes ned doesnt believe that himself.

7. theyve been almost caught and even directly caught being affectionate with one another on multiple occasions, but most didnt even notice or consider it anything other than platonic. and those who did (skeeter, but also sharon, randy, and shelly but those three dont count) have kept their mouths shut about it. theyre thankful and also shocked everyday that almost noones found them out after over 30 years.

8. they dont know if its "time" to tell stan and shelly about their relationship. they think shellys ready and plan to tell her eventually, stan on the other hand theyre waiting a couple years to tell. him and marvin are the only ones who dont know. not telling marvin tho hes just gonna have a heart attack right on the spot and die

thank you for reading !!

(post has since been edited due to some consistency errors cuz i wrote this at fuckin 2am and didnt think too much on it so yea)

🧡💚

#nedbo #jimbo kern #ned gerblansky #jimbo x ned #south park

[wowbright]

I know a lot of you love Less by Andrew Sean greer, I'm not here to piss on your parade, but if anybody wants to hear an opposing view, here's why I'm angry that I spent my weekend sewing project listening to this bullshit:

it doesn't appear that Arthur Less has ever had a job ever? Apparently he's just living off the largess of his first boyfriend, a poet who somehow became financially well off?

yes, I know that writing can be a job, but he's only published two novels and neither were that well received, and he's 50 years old. What has he been doing for the last 30 years?

all this is to say that like zora, I have no interest in reading a book about the sorrows of a San Francisco white guy who has lived in privilege and with a huge amount of good luck all his life, even if he is gay.

Unlike the Pulitzer prize committee, I'm not convinced the fact that she says that in the middle of a boring book about a self-absorbed San Francisco white guy--these little bits of meta commentary about the book's problems--the meta commentary does not make the book better. It makes it worse. The author is aware that the protagonist is a fucking pain in the ass, and yet subjects us to this story anyway.

I mean, I guess it's great that someone loves him. I don't know why, but love does that. I am probably in love with a mediocre person too, and the person who is in love with me vice versa etc etc. That doesn't mean I'm going to write a damn book about it, at least not when it's super fucking naval gazing and pitiable like this.

I don't understand why Freddy thinks that Arthur is the bravest person he knows. Arthur is so scared of love he can't recognize it when it's biting him in the ass, and then when he does recognize it, he's too much of a wimp to say that he feels it and what he wants out of it. Does this mean that no one should love Arthur? No. Does it make him brave? No. But I guess Freddy's maybe sort of similar so he wouldn't hold lack of bravery in the love department against Arthur. I just don't see any proof of Arthur being brave anywhere else in his life, so I'm confused.

The thing that makes me most angry about this book: it reminded me why I rarely read mainstream contemporary fiction anymore. I mean, I pretty much swore it off a few years after college, except for when I was assigned an occasional book review. It's just, the stuff that gets all the praise and glory seems to be about these self-centered, myopic, emotionally out of touch characters. Are we all sometimes self-centered, myopic, and emotionally out of touch? Yes. But is a person who is all those three things, constantly, interesting? Is it interesting to make these character flaws so permanent that they provide all the conflict in the book? No. Who are these losers? Could they have real problems? Like actual difficulty paying the electric bill, or a disability, or an actual mental illness that keeps them from feeling things instead of making it into a stubborn character flaw that somehow makes the book seem deep or whatever?

In the words of @badmotherflanner, who does not endorse this book review

Fuck the Academy

#Less #andrew sean greer #less by andrew sean greer #fuck this book #If you like this book by the way you are totally freeing to engage with this post #I'm just being crabby #I mean #I do apparently hate this book with a fiery passion #But I don't hate the fact that other people like it

[bibookmerm]

getting my shit together

Ok, first of all: there are several skills I lack that it is becoming apparent I need to learn/improve.

One is driving. My wife and I are looking to get our first car. She needs it for work. She drives. Our roommate drives. But I dont. And I was just talking to my friend about how we can never get our friends together bc most of us dont drive/dont have cars. We need more gays that can drive, so I have to step up, lol.

Two. I need to feel confident hand sewing. It's not that I "cant". I know how to thread a needle and do a backstitch, running stitch, whip stitch. But I am very slow bc I havent had much practice, so it annoys me, so I avoid it. I have a dozen little fixes I could do and I should do those. People who sew regularly can do these things in like 10 seconds. I wanna be them.

Three. I need to learn to swallow pills BEFORE my top surgery in March so I dont have to be like "do u have liquid painkiller 🥺" because what if they're like "no". And also, needing an alternative is pricey. (this is something where I believe my disability comes in. Coordinating my muscles in new ways OR more quickly than usual is difficult for me. Like of course I swallow food every day, but normally I take my time chewing first, so to place something in my mouth and quickly swallow it feels daunting. That's the best way I can explain it. Just feels like a different ball game lol. My pcp gave me a trick to try, so I will try it.)

.

The other thing is, I am at a level of stress I personally find untenable. I am not wading through any major personal tragedy at this moment, so honestly I feel kinda like. Damn. Why is ~everything so hard~? Am I being dramatic? What happens when shit truly hits the fan if I am already unstable now? Well, I clearly need to put some measures in place now so I can tread water.

Such as:

Establishing a baseline level of cleanliness/clutter for the apartment. Aim for everything to be above that baseline most of the time, but understand sometimes it will sink to that level when something else must be prioritized above household chores for a minute. In its current state, I'm embarrassed to invite anyone over here. I want the baseline to be just, what I could deal with someone seeing. If I don't feel comfy having someone sit at my kitchen table or couch for an afternoon, it's too messy. I need to specifically write down the "acceptable level", get it up to that, and keep it there/above. This could also be a conversation with my wife and roommate to be clear on what everyone defines as acceptable and all work to keep it at whoever's ideal is highest.

Buying some wardrobe staples. My clothes not fitting is uncomfortable. I expect to gain more weight as I stay on T, sooo I should get some stuff that's a little loose now?

I've noticed I need more gender validation. I get misgendered constantly, working two public facing jobs, and I've started thinking some self depreciating thoughts. Maybe I need to work harder to counter these things within myself and not seek it from others, but yeah, this is one reason I need therapy. I had such a positive self image like a year ago and I'm losing it :/

Challenge my social anxiety. Another thing it's a good idea to have a therapist's guidance in. I feel so overwhelmed that I forget quality time with friends helps me recharge! I need to balance draining peopleing with healthy peopleing.

There's more, but if I can do this much, the stressors I cannot change should be easier to bear. Now to actually go set all the things in motion.

[wallyaxiom]

𝚃𝙰𝚂𝙺 𝟸𝟻; 𝙽𝙴𝚇𝚃 𝙶𝙴𝙽.

               andi hawkins.

asteria might have been five minutes older than andi but that never mattered much. she’s her father’s daughter to a t. loves to question authorities, loves to get into fights and loves to be right. she’s the girl that will stand up for what’s right even if it means standing alone. she didn’t get her siblings charisma or approachability. andi is prickly at best. a no bullshit kind of gal. if you think jim is intimidating wait until you meet her ! she’s brutally honest and will make you cry if she doesn’t like you or if you mess with her family. the only people who ever sees her softer side is nina mcqueen or her father. she’s got a soft spot for her family and friends but if you tell anyone she’ll punch you. 

INSPIRED  BY  : kat stratford ( 10 things i hate about you ) , ziggy berman  (  fear street: 1978  ) , robin buckley (  stranger things  )  ,  theo crain  (  the haunting of hill house  )  ,  sydney novak (  i am not okay with this  )  ,  carol danvers (  captain marvel  ) ,  jo march (  little women  )

𝙶𝙴𝙽𝙴𝚁𝙰𝙻

BIRTH NAME.  andromeda sarah hawkins NICKNAMES.  andi. DATE OF BIRTH.   february 14. AGE.     twenty-six GENDER.   cis female. PRONOUNS.  she/her. SPECIES.   half alien, half human. POWERS.   photon energy ( flight, superhuman strength and can project photon energy energy balls ) SEXUALITY.   lesbian. PLACE OF BIRTH.    elias, california. CURRENT RESIDENCE.   elias, california. OCCUPATION.   space cadet for the nova corps.

𝙰𝙿𝙿𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴

HEIGHT. 5'8" BUILD. toned. HAIR COLOUR/STYLE. strawberry blonde //  ( X ) EYE COLOUR.  blue. PIERCINGS.  ears, belly button and septum. TATTOOS. 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 NOTABLE MARKINGS.    freckles !!! GLASSES/CONTACTS ?  she’s got great vision. FACECLAIM.  maya hawke. VOICECLAIM. maya hawke. ( X )

𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙻𝚃𝙷

PHYSICAL AILMENTS.   none. ALLERGIES.    none. SLEEPING HABITS. total night owl. is known to stay up late and run off of four hours of sleep just fine EXERCISE HABITS.  she works out 5 times a week EMOTIONAL STABILITY. 9/10. BODY TEMPERATURE.  she runs hot. if she uses her powers too much she can overheat and exhaust herself. DOMINANT HAND.    right. DRUGS / SMOKE / ALCOHOL ?  no / weed occasionally / yes

𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙰𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚈

TROPES.   action girl, badass gay, deadpan snarker, jerk with a heart of gold, only known by their nickname & tomboy and girly girl POSITIVE TRAITS. intelligent, witty, protective, individualistic, spunky, independant NEGATIVE TRAITS.  abrasive, sarcastic, rarely listens to authority, proud, outspoken USUAL MOOD.   annoyed. LIKES.  space, skateboarding, 70s aesthetic, rollerblading, black converse, jean jackets & the moon !! DISLIKES.  people who lack common sense, tomatoes, the feeling of wet socks and people in the kitchen with her BAD HABITS.  cursing, putting holes in the wall with her energy blasts ( happened a few times when she was younger ) and being brutally honest

𝚁𝙴𝙻𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙿𝚂

MOTHER.    wally axiom FATHER.      jim hawkins SIBLINGS.    josh, circe, asteria, and percy hawkins. CHILDREN.   none. BIRTH ORDER.   fourth out of five kids // younger twin by two minutes. SIGNIFICANT OTHER.  nina mcqueen, WIFE. CLOSEST FRIENDS. the mcqueens, kinsley lightfoot & cassie beausoleil 

𝚃𝙴𝚂𝚃𝚂

ZODIAC SIGN. aquarius. MBTI. istp. TEMPERAMENT.   choleric. HOGWARTS HOUSE.    gryffindor. MORAL ALIGNMENT.   chaotic good.

𝚂𝙺𝙸𝙻𝙻𝚂 & 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝚂

LANGUAGES SPOKEN.   english & french DRIVE ?        yes. JUMP START A CAR ?        yes. CHANGE A FLAT TIRE ?        yes. RIDE A BICYCLE ?        yes. SWIM ?       yes. PLAY AN INSTRUMENT ?       yes. PLAY CHESS ?       yes. BRAID HAIR ?      yes. TIE A TIE ?          yes. PICK A LOCK ?          yes. SEW ?        no.

COMPASSION.          7/10.

EMPATHY.         7/10.

CREATIVITY.          10/10.

MENTAL FLEXIBILITY.          9/10.

PASSION.          10/10.

LUCK.         8/10.

MOTIVATION.  9/10.

EDUCATION.          10/10.

INTELLIGENCE.          9/10.

CHARISMA.         6/10.

REFLEXES.          9/10.

WILLPOWER.          6/10.

STAMINA.          9/10.

PHYSICAL STRENGTH.          10/10.

BATTLE SKILL.          9/10.

INITIATIVE.         10/10.

RESTRAINT.          6/10.

STRATEGY.         7/10.

TEAM WORK.         5/10.

(  PINTEREST, HER TAG, PLAYLIST. )

#watask

[cilikcurious]

I really like Leavanny. They are the nurturing pokemon, they like to take care, they have this very classy style, they make clothes, thy have almost like balett moviments. I really see myself in them.

I grow up hearing that I should date a lot a girls and not care about any of them. That as a boy I should be dating, but girls shouldn't even think of that. Every story ended with someone having a romantic partner. I was inconfortable with that, but i didn't know any better.

I had to chose myself one crush. And I did, not because she was cute or nice, but because she were my best friend at the time. And this repeted so many times, I had a "crush" in a girl when I wanted to become her friend, I would get close to start the friendship and stop there, I just wanted be friends. I couldn't see that I was raise full of amatonormativty and heteronormativity in a way that made me think that every friendship I had with a girl would "lead" to a romantic relationship.

As a kid I didn't get it the overy gendered things, and this separation between boys and girls. I like things that are coded as feminine by society, sewing, crochet and ballroom dances. And felt more confortable being friend with girls because I realy felt bad with the toxic masculinty that I saw in myself and other boys.

Sometimes, my family members would say by my back that I might be gay (as an insult witch is very homophobic, but not surprising of them). And there was a time I wished I were gay, because in movies the girls may have the gay friend, nut never the straight male friend (those are reserved for the romantic interest only). If there was a friendship between a boy a girl it ended up as romance. Even Rango, one movie I would watch and rewatch, ends with a romance with little to no set up, this thing is supposed to be a bizarre western, why put a romance without set up in it?

In the beging of the pandemic I found about assexuality, and gee I spent afternoons reading about, laughing of memes, and felling understood. I was so happy that I told a friend about it right away, it happened that she's ace too.

Well, to find out I was aromantic I had to broke so many things that were said to me about how one should live their lives and start asking if I really felt those things or it was just pretend until now. Surprise, surprise, it was just pretend.

I was afraid to admit, because I had this hurtfull felling that "I am assexual, but I do feel romantic atraction" like I was using romantic atraction to redeem my lack of sexual atraction. But a new friend talked to me and asked about my sexuality and romanticism, and at this point i said this: Either aromantic people need to stop being so relatable or I am aro, in the moment as a joke. But it was freeing, I could talk to him about the things I hope for the future, and how I was feed up with the normative romance in media. And he told me about his experiences as demisexual and we talked about buying rings. It was a really good afternoom.

The amatonormativity messed me up, with the fake crushes, the olny time I felt romantic attraction made ten times more confusing and full of vlame, the fear of my homophobic family, the whole being scared to tell this to my church friends and the hope that I had in a romantic relationship to save me from all the things hapening in my not so healthy household.

But right now I feel just like a Leavanny. I came to this community as a Sewaddle and was held and taken care of. I did try to hide in my cacoon like Swadloon to search inside and for fear. And now I recived so much afecttion and hope from this comunity that made me acepted myself and this let me grow as person. Now I am ready to came out as Leavanny to embrace and nurture others that just like me might never even heard about assexuality and aromanticism and because of that are feeling broken and alone.

But you don't need to feel that way, you can and should make your onw path. These words help me a lot until this very day, so I want to show them for you. Who knows? They might help you too.

"Hard to see the light now

Just don't let it go

Things will come out right now

We can make it so

Someone is on your side

No one is alone"

No one is alone, Into the Woods - Stephen Sondheim

Your not alone, you can count on me and our lovely community to be by your side in this journey.

Here is my little present to this amazing community that showed me that I was not broken like I was led to belive.

And I know there are a lot of microlabels, demis, grays, loveless aros and so many more that I still have to learn. Talk to me with you want the Leavanny icon with your flag.

I sure that I can make it to you :)

#coming out #aspec stuff #aroace #aro #ace #alloaro #leavanny #aspec icons #leavanny icons #coming out story #amatonormativity #aromantic #asexual

[doberbutts]

*rumble rumble rumble* I'm a non-binary AFAB person who doesn't have access to medical transition. I love the way I dress. When I'm fancy I wear shirt, tie, waist coat, dress shorts (like dress pants but shorts, I sew my own) and incredibly funky patterned fishnet tights. And it's been my personal experience that gay guys are into me. The flirting and banter are fun, I don't feel like the gay version of a 'tr*p' or anything like that. 1/2

2/2 but when I write fanfic that explores gender fluidity and celebrates the kind of relationships I have and my partners exploration and discovery about what things they find exciting and attractive in me, that I have in common with women, but which they don't find attractive in women, I get told I'm a transphobe and need to let gay male characters be gay male characters without fetishising or trying to correct them. It feels awful. I just can't get into fanfic at all because of the experince -

I love the way gay men love me. Straight men really struggle to love me and have sex with me because they see me as a woman. Gay men don't have that issue, at all. It's so liberating. I think I might be a trans guy. I just feel like I can't wear the amazing fishnet tights and be a trans guy. Or that I can't be into vagina stuff and be a trans guy. I don't know, it's complicated. I feel like I have sex like a man. Or maybe I feel like a man when having sex. But when I share my writing -

- celebrating these experiences I get shat all over. I know how to be happy by myself. I know how to be happy with my partners. I don't know how to be happy in these online spaces and fan communities. :(

Write it anyway.

No, seriously, write it anyway.

Listen, what you describe is not something I would personally be interested in, it's true. It hits some dysphoria triggers a little too hard for me and I would click away from it once I realized it was going down that road. I would also not leave a disparaging comment on it, like it seems you've gotten, because I would recognize that while that is not what appeals to me, it's clearly something that appeals to you.

This is, well, why I don't police other people's identities or what they do. There's no one right way to be gay. There's no one right way to be binary or nonbinary trans. There's no one right way to write fic. The fics you write will never appeal to everyone. My incredibly self-indulgent novel will not appeal to you, from the sound of it, and that's okay, because I wrote into it experiences that I've personally had and intimate encounters that I really enjoyed, and I write for me, not for others.

And if people try to give you hell for it, if you feel like revealing yourself, that's fine. And if you don't, that's fine too.

But keep writing it anyway.

I got called a transphobe because I took a canon (cis) pairing in a fandom and made one of them trans. It happened to be the less experienced one that has a canon coming out scene. I did that because I wanted to get something regarding my own toxic family and my own coming out through while using these characters to tell that story the way I wish it had gone. But the logic was that because I used the less experienced character as my lens, I was calling trans people inexperienced and confused and lost, and ignoring trans people who are comfortable in their identities. Disregarding completely that I am a trans people comfortable in my identity, and I was writing this for my younger self.

But I wrote it anyway. And a lot of people liked it! Even though it also got shat on, it spoke to some of those that read it.

I get called fetishizing, fujoshi, a straight woman with a porn addiction, etc all the time whenever I make these posts. I publish a few to make fun of them. I delete the rest. These people will never know the richness of my experiences nor the happiness I feel when I am in a partner's arms. The first time I had penetrative sex that actually felt good, I was shocked, and then relieved, and then elated, because I wasn't broken after all. I felt, in that moment, complete. It verified everything I had thought leading up to that point and unlocked a confidence in me that I'd lacked before.

Like you, I love the way gay men love me. I love what we do together. And while it sounds like we do different things behind closed doors, it also sounds like there's more in common between us than there's not.

Solidarity, anon.

[baecvlt]

First Love

Pairing: Sougami (Byakuya Togami x Kazuichi Soda)

Warnings: Smut (all wholesome tho bc they barely met in this one)

A/N: Decided to write this up for the bestie (komaedanovio on TikTok; follow them). Azul would die for them and there are 0 fics abt them sooo. Yeah.

“So you’re part of the Future Foundation, huh?”

Byakuya pushes his glasses back as they were falling off his nose, then turning around to see the person who spoke. “Uh, yes,” he answered the pink haired man behind him, he stuck out his hand that he’d covered with a handkerchief,“Byakuya Togami”. They shook hands.

“Name’s Kazuichi Soda”

“I know. The ‘Ultimate Mechanic’, is it not?”

“Yeah! You look really rich. Valentino Couture?”

“Yeah—,” Byakuya answered, then looked down at his suit,“How did you know?”. “My mom was somewhat a tailor. She’d help fix and sew up suits such as yours, so I obviously had to recognize Italian threads,” he explained,“Made sure I washed my hands before approaching you, can’t stain a fine suit like that”. Byakuya was somewhat impressed. No one has ever appreciated his attire, he looked like a snob to most people.

Then again, Kazuichi isn’t most people.

“She taught me to sew, never let me handle suits,” Kazuichi added,“But I’d always see them in the closet hung up nicely”. He had a warm smile on his face, reminiscing tends to bring a little joy to him. “I think that’s just honorable,” Byakuya said warmly. “You think so?”. Byakuya nodded, the smile on Kazuichi’s face spreading. “Thanks,” he mumbled, but spoke up,“We should keep in touch, y’know?”. Byakuya began to think. He wasn’t really one for friends, Kazuichi was extremely beneath him. On the other hand, he was interesting to talk to and didn’t seem like a pest, right?

“That’s fine”

“Alright! How about we meet up during the island celebration? Tonight?”

Byakuya nodded, he didn’t know why, but he nodded. “Cool! See you later, Togami”. Kazuichi ran off, going to see if he can help with cleanup someway. As he ran, Byakuya had just realized he agreed to hang out with someone who he had just met. There wasn’t anything wrong with that, but it was just weird to him. I guess, he just seemed nice enough. Whatever. Now that the Tragedy is over, it’d be nice to return things to normal. Byakuya was ready to make new partnerships and if his first besides his classmates was to be Kazuichi, so be it.

Later that evening, Byakuya made sure to attend. He got there early, making it easier to spot Kazuichi. He was around Gundham and Sonia, who had begun warming up to him. Their eyes locked, Byakuya waved. Kazuichi waved back as he called for him,“Togami! Wait up—”. He ran from his two classmates and to Byakuya. Everyone had gotten dressed up, Kazuichi in a nice little suit that complimented his hair. He had glasses on this time. “What a surprise!,” he cheered,“I thought you would’ve bailed!”. That was sad to say the least. “How could I do such a thing? I had to come anyway,” Byakuya explained,“Makoto can’t drive...he’s also in the Future Foundation”.

“So I’ve heard. Can I offer you a drink?”

“Why not?”

Byakuya was a pessimist, this we know. He was as pessimistic as they come. Hanging out with Kazuichi was something he told himself wouldn’t be worth his time, but he agreed, so he had to suck it up. To his surprise, hanging out with him wasn’t so bad. In fact, he’ll never admit it, but Byakuya actually enjoyed Kazuichi’s company. They went for a glass of punch, enjoyed the feast, danced with friends till dawn. Around 4am (because damn, this party was just never gonna end), they took it upon themselves to walk along the beach. As they walked, conversations took place. Byakuya went off on a rant about his limousine life, riding in one everyday and how he feared for his life when doing so. His limo made a sound that sounded as if it were going to fall apart any time soon.

“It was a scratching noise against the asphalt and absolutely terrorized me as a child. To this day, I won’t enter a limousine. I just can’t”

“Scratching? Gee, only thing that comes to mind is the exhaust coming down. Wish I could’ve seen it and told you for sure”

“I still have it in a hidden garage. It’s that valuable”

“Oh, nice! Maybe, I can stop by and see what’s wrong. You’ll have to drive it though”

Byakuya raised a brow. “You’re the mechanic, are you not?,” he asked. Kazuichi laughed nervously, nodding. “See, thing is...I get terribly carsick”. Well, that was new. It was confusing to Byakuya, just as the confusion hit, Kazuichi added:

“Isn’t that funny? The rich guy who’s scared of limos and the mechanic with carsickness”

Byakuya snickered,“Yeah, I guess that’s unheard of”.

They laughed, finding a perfect place to sit down. It was late. Dark and late, the sand was cool against their hands. They took off their shoes, setting them aside. The waves crashes on the shore, “So, what next?,” Kazuichi asked. His voice was softer, Byakuya took notice. “What do you mean?,” he asked. Kazuichi pushed back his hair and shrugged. “I mean, now that we’re all free”. Byakuya took time to give a proper answer, he had a plan.

“Well, for starters, after we finish cleanup, do the very best to rebuild homes. Slowly as we become civilized again, I rebuild the Togami Conglomerate. It’s what my family would’ve wanted and for them, I’d do just about anything” “Wow” “And yourself?”

Kazuichi smiled, facing him. “I’ve been working on blueprints here and there to, get this, introduce new transportation for us all!”. Byakuya shrugged. “You haven’t heard the best part, though,” he added,“You’ll never guess what it is!”.

“Flying car?

“That sounds awesome— No! That’s not it at all!”

“What is it?”

Kazuichi bit back his smile and answered,“A monorail! One that goes super fast! I just know it’s possible! Average monorail? 70 miles per hour, but if I get it right, It could go 200 miles per hour...ore more!”. Now, Byakuya was smiling. “Impressive,” he responded,“It’d be very convenient for people to get around”.

“I’m glad you think so”

Kazuichi faced the ocean, sighing deeply. “I’ve just always wanted to build transportation, really fast ones,” he said,“My old man doubted me, though. He didn’t think it was realistic. He said cars I can do, but never anything past that. Something about cars is all the family knows, I dunno”.

“I think you can do it”

“You’re just saying things—”

“No, I know you can. You have something other geniuses lack. You have the heart. Where there’s heart, there is will”

“That means a lot coming from you”

“Why from me?”

Kazuichi explained that he knows about Byakuya’s family and they didn’t sound any easier, either. “We didn’t have good upbringings,” he said,“But you, you had it so hard. Yet, you overcame all of that shit. If you survived that and all of this, I know you can rebuild your conga line”

“Conglomerate?”

“Yeah, that”

They smiled. “Man to man,” Kazuichi added,“Is settling down in that plan?”. Byakuya hadn’t thought of that at all. Would he even want to settle down? Jesus. That was the last thing he expected to think about. “I’m going to be completely honest with you,” Byakuya answered,“I have no idea. That isn’t something that’s come to mind. While I’d like to have someone to continue my legacy, I just don’t know. Tell me about your plan?”. Kazuichi was confused now, he didn’t think Byakuya was gonna return the question. “I would like to, but who’d love me?,” he muttered. He continued.

“I never had the best luck with women, but then sometimes, I sit and wonder,’Do I really feel this way about women?’ I try to be such a people pleaser, I sometimes don’t even know if I genuinely like something or if I say I do because that’s what’s expected of me and I’ve never told anyone else that, wow”

Byakuya sucked at being comforting, we also know this, but he really wanted to be there for Kazuichi. “I think I’m gay,” Kazuichi blurted, covering his mouth. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that”. Byakuya shook his head,“First of all, congratulations”. Kazuichi couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Second of all, don’t apologize for being truthful to yourself,” he said,“I’m not exactly of heterosexual persuasion either”.

“Oh, thank god. I though I was going to be killed and thrown into the ocean”

“Nah, because who on this island is straight? Absolutely no one”

“You might be right...wow. I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gaaaayyy”

Byakuya laughed,“Let it out, I guess”. “I’ve just never said that out loud! It feels so freeing!”. Kazuichi stood up and ran to the ocean. At the top of his lungs, he professed his attraction to men. He ran back, only for them to hear someone say. “You love who you love, man, more power to ya!”. They laughed at that moment, laughed so hard their stomach cramped. “Who even was that?,” Kazuichi sobbed.

“I think that might’ve been Yasuhiro”

“O-Oh, at least you know him”

They calmed down, enjoying their time on the sand. “This was fun,” Kazuichi mumbled. “I agree”. He scoot closer to Byakuya, who unknowingly wrapped his arm around his waist. He caressed his sides, softly. Kazuichi lay his head on Byakuya’s shoulder, which he didn’t mind. There was just something really comforting about this. “What’s most important to you in a relationship?,” Kazuichi asked. His voice was still soft, but unlike before, it wasn’t stern or blue. “For both of us to have ambition and goals set,” he answered,“What’s important to you?”.

“I just wanna trust someone. It’s hard for me to trust anyone, really. So as long as I can trust them and they’re kind, that’s all I want”

“Well, I’m a brutally honest cunt”

“I love brutally honest cunts”

He laughed as he continued to rub down his sides. As the saying goes, you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take. Plus, tonight was going just great. “Look at me,” Byakuya said. “Hm?”. Kazuichi faced him, only to be grabbed and pulled to Byakuya’s lips. He gasped, a blush coming across his face as Byakuya kissed him ever so tenderly. They pulled away slowly. Kazuichi covered his face, Byakuya reaching for his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “No! Its okay!,” he blurted,“It was more than okay! I-I’ve just never kissed another dude before. Okay, I’ve never actually kissed anyone else”.

“Oh?”

“Well, I have, but not like this”

“I can tell. Your lips, they were so soft and inexperienced. Untouched, I’d say”

As Byakuya said this, he placed his thumb gently on Kazuichi’s lips, sliding it down soft and slowly; he shuddered before he spoke. “I want you to kiss me again,” he muttered against his sliding thumb. “Good”. Kazuichi’s breath hitched as Byakuya grabbed his jaw, gently kissed him. He kissed back now with more readiness, his hand digging into the sand. Byakuya’s hand moved from his jaw to his throat, gripping softly. A sweet moan escaped Kazuichi’s lips, making him bite Byakuya’s bottom lip. He winced, pulling away momentarily. “Sorry,” he whispered. Byakuya reassured him it was okay, but Kazuichi shook his head. “Let me kiss it better,” he cooed, pushing Togami on his back. Soda straddled him, pecking his lower lip.

Now, Byakuya was blushing.

“Ah, don’t hate me, but I kinda drew blood”

“You? Withdraw blood? With those teeth? Also unheard of”

“Hey! Shut up about my teeth”

“I like your teeth”

“I like you”

“Really? Prove yourself truthful”

“Say less”

“WHAT THE FUCK”

Soda quickly got off of Togami, who sat up just as fast. There stood Hiyoko, Mahiru, Ibuki, and Mikan. “Hey girls!,” Kazuichi waved,“Togami was just helping me find my glasses. We found them know, so there’s no need to worry”. “Oh don’t worry, we were just on our way to the cabins,” Mahiru explained. “What goes on in the cabins stays in the cabins! Wooho- ouch!”. Hiyoko acting as if she didn’t just nudge the fuck out of Ibuki. “Y-You know, if you two are going to, uhm, continue what you were d-doing here,” Mikan began to suggest,“Maybe you c-could go get a cabin too. The others are headed over here”. Kazuichi looked at Byakuya, who nodded. “Okay then! Let’s go!”.

So there they were, following the girls to the cabins. “I say we go to mine, just to be safe,” Kazuichi explained,“Besides, I got to clean up. It looks greats now”. Byakuya just nodded, he couldn’t utter a word. For some reason, his heart was pounding out of his chest. The girl’s split from them, giggling as they entered their room. “Home sweet home,” Kazuichi said as he opened the door. They stepped in, Kazuichi locking it. He had turned the lights on, but once he jumped on his bed, Byakuya turned them off. “Oh, you’re straight to the point, aren’t you?,” Kazuichi teased as he held his arms open for Byakuya to crawl in. He did just that, kissing him all over. He focused on his lips for about 30 seconds, before moving on to his neck, and finally he unbuttoned his shirt a little to kiss along his chest. Feeling his shirt unbutton, Kazuichi took it upon himself to do the same to Byakuya, except unbuttoning it all.

“Togami..

“Yeah?”

“Lay down”

“Alright”

Byakuya lay down as Kazuichi got between his legs, hands on his belt buckle. “Can I...?”. Byakuya nodded, giving Kazuichi permission to take it off. Carefully, he slid off his jeans and briefs, exposing his pale cock. At that point, it was quite obvious that Kazuichi had no idea as to what he was doing and supposed to do. He began by grabbing his cock, licking at his tip a little, stroking him. Byakuya snickered as Kazuichi’s eyes met his, but breathed deeply. He put his mouth over it, bobbing his head, accidentally hitting his throat. He gagged, but not loudly. Byakuya played with his hair, not yet grabbing it. “Take your time,” he comforted,“I want you to enjoy this as much as I am...Fuck~ you’re doing so well”.

Kazuichi was really, really struggling. He had to think back to the most realistic porno he’s ever seen. What were these people doing that he hasn’t? Try being sloppy maybe? Cursing himself for his lack of education in gay sex (well, actually, just sex in general), he worked with what he knew. The last thing he wanted was to embarrass himself. Little did he know, he was actually putting Byakuya on edge. Byakuya hardly cursed and when he did, it was for good reason. Like right now, Kazuichi was giving him the sloppiest head in that moment. He was doing so well, Byakuya became fixated his mouth. Something about his mouth drove him insane.

And then there was Kazuichi, still believing he was doing terrible. His thoughts were racing.

I know I’m doing something wrong...

Is he even enjoying it?

God, I’m so out of his league...

Maybe if I just spit...

What would my dad think of this? Wait, my dad’s dead—

Kazuichi allowed himself to drool all over his cock. Byakuya moaned, pushing his head back. “No more, I’m so close...,” he gasped,“I’d prefer to finish elsewhere...”. Kazuichi’s stomach sank. “O-Oh,” he stuttered,“Okay, I guess I’ll just lay down”. Byakuya got in between his legs now, removing his jeans amd boxers, examining him, realizing he’d look better completely nude. Kazuichi shivered, which he also took note of. “Let me pull a bedsheet over us,” he said,“You look cold”. “Thank you,” Kazuichi muttered as Byakuya fumbled for the covers.

“Better?”

“Still a little chilly”

“Okay, Uhm- how about now?”

Byakuya held Kazuichi with his arms wrapped around him, bare chests making contact. “Feels so nice,” he mumbled. Byakuya placed a kiss on his chest before warning him about prep.

“Please be gentle”

“I will be, just relax. Breathe”

Kazuichi was shaking at this point, he was so nervous and didn’t know why. Byakuya held him tightly, stopping himself from entering even a finger in the guy. “You’re shaking,” he noted,“Is everything okay?”. Kazuichi nodded, explaining,“This is my first time, I just want you to be gentle”. Byakuya helped him work on his breathing. He placed a warm hand on his chest, making sure his heart rate slows down. “There,” he whispered,“I’m gonna go slow”. Kazuichi nodded, bracing himself.

Prep wasn’t actually bad?

He took Byakuya’s first two fingers well, but then the third one made him whine (and cry a little). Nonetheless, he just wanted to get it over with. The pain had gone away once Byakuya had curled his fingers a few times. Kazuichi made small noises as he took his fingers, whining when pulled out. With his other hand, he cupped Kazuichi’s jaw, but slowly slit it down to his throat. Kazuichi gasped as he felt Byakuya’s grip tighten. “I’m going to ruin you ever so softly,” he whispered,“Understood?”.

“Yes...”

“Good”

Byakuya took his cock out, placing Kazuichi’s legs on his shoulders. Still tight, he groaned as he pushed in. “Ah! Fuck...”. Along with being filled by Byakuya’s cock, the grip on his throat remained, sending a wave of pleasure through him. Byakuya kept his thrusts slow, just like be promised. “I-Is this okay?,” Byakuya managed.

“Harder”

“I just started. D-Don’t you want to ease into it first”

“No, just— please. Also...”

Kazuichi moved his hand to Byakuya’s choking hand, pressing it down harder against him. “What you’re asking for could hurt you, um...Are you sure?,” Byakuya asked. Kazuichi nodded, fisting Byakuya’s hair and pulling him in for a heated kiss. In response, Byakuya only thrust harder into him. He knew he wouldn’t last long, seeing Kazuichi’s already fucked out face. Each thrust only made his blush deepen and his stomach acids find new ways to make him feel sick. Byakuya came to the realization that his cock already had the guy in shambles and in a trance, almost. He was making him feel good, but he knew that he wasn’t exactly fucking him the way he should be fucked, deserves to be fucked. He wasn’t hitting his sweet spot just right, Byakuya taking it upon himself to experiment with his thrusts.

“Ngh! Hey, why’d you stop doing that? It felt— Ah!”

Found it.

Byakuya tried thrusting with his cock in that angle, but realized it was harder in this position. “Ass up,” he sighed, slightly out of breath. Kazuichi didn’t hesitate whatsoever, immediately laying on his stomach with his ass in the air. Sure, he already felt weak in his knees, but that wouldn’t stop him from letting Byakuya do him the way he was about to.

It didn’t take long for Byakuya to rediscover this new spot, hitting it repeatedly. Kazuichi dug his face into the soft, white pillows; practically screaming as he was unraveling underneath Byakuya. His whines were perpetual and if you listened closely, you could hear exactly what he was saying in a quiet breath.

“Yesyesyes, oh! Please don’t stop now pleasepleaseplease I can’t take it anymore, Ah! I love you, I love you so much, I really love you, o-oh thank you..”

Byakuya smiled at his low, yet raspy words. I love you? “How cute,” he muttered, pulling his messy pink hair back. Kazuichi’s hand shook as he moved it too his leaking cock. “I’m close, Togami, please don’t stop”. Byakuya snickered,“I don’t plan on it”. Gently, he shoved his head back down onto the pillow, also nearing his high. Without warning, Byakuya came after a few thrusts. Feeling his warmth, Kazuichi came right after. He collapsed onto the mattress, head in the pillows and trying his very best to catch his breath. As he took deep breaths, Byakuya smiled as his fingers walked up the blushing boy’s back, tracing small circles and figure eights.

“You’re too kind”

“You deserve it,” Byakuya whispered, placing a hand on Kazuichi’s hip and kissing up and down his back (and to his neck). Kazuichi turned around, Byakuya getting to kiss his stomach a few times before being pulled up by Kazuichi. “Ah!”. He laughed as he held Byakuya tighter, nuzzling him. Byakuya may have been taller, but Kazuichi was definitely stronger.

“Gotcha”

Byakuya would be annoyed, but not when Kazuichi has the goofiest and most smug look on his face. Eventually he let him go, laying by him. Kazuichi’s hair was ruined by their little night Basically, he ended up with his tiny braid undone. Kazuichi twirled his excess hair in between his fingers. “Oh- Allow me,” Byakuya said, finding the rubber band used to fasten the hair, braiding. Kazuichi’s eyes stared at him lovingly, watching Byakuya put his glasses back on just to redo his braid. “Annnnnd...done”. Byakuya rubbed his chest before reaching for the the ground and picking up his briefs, putting them back on. He tossed Kazuichi his boxers.

“Thanks”

“Of course”

They lay next to each other, Kazuichi playing with Byakuya’s hair. “I’m so glad I met you,” Byakuya admitted. “Ditto”. Byakuya grabbed his chin, pulling him in for a slow, passionate kiss. Suddenly, the door creaked open, but two girls rush in, already fondling each other.

“Excited, aren’t you?”

“Why wouldn’t I be when you look so—”

Kazuichi and Byakuya stared at the two women, who awkwardly stared back.

“Togami?”

“Fukawa?...WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH NAEGI’S SISTER?”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THE MECHANIC?”

“I won’t say anything if you don’t”

“Sounds good to me! Come on, Komaru”

The girls ran out, thus allowing Kazuichi and Byakuya to finish their little makeout session. Eventually, it tired them out, sleeping in each other’s arms. Before sleep, Byakuya wondered something, but decided it could wait. The next morning, Kazuichi woke up first, planting a small kiss on Byakuya’s lips. As his eyes fluttered open, Kazuichi gasped. “My prince has finally awoken”.

“Silly”

“I know”

Byakuya kissed him properly, getting up to bathe. Upon entering the shower, he heard the door open. “Can I join?!”. Byakuya invited him in, closing the shower door. “Did you want something before we go?,” Byakuya asked, making Kazuichi blush. “Uh, no, um...did you?”. Byakuya shook his head.

“I just wanted to shower with you”

“I see. Help me with my hair, I’ll help you with yours”

Kazuichi nodded, grabbing the shampoo and lathering it into his hair. It didn’t take long to add in the conditioner in too since his hair was short. Now, Byakuya got to Kazuichi’s hair. He took care of Kazuichi, being less awkward about washing him up. It’s not that Kazuichi wasn’t into helping him, he was insecure about touching him. He wanted to do it right, sometimes doubting himself and what he was doing. Byakuya on the other hand, was confident in what he was doing as he massaged Kazuichi’s scalp whilst washing him. “Did you mean it?”.

“Mean what?”

“Last night while I was destroying you from the inside out—”

“Of course”

“—you said you loved me....well, did you mean it? I know people say things they don’t mean in a state of bliss, but-”

“Togami, I meant every word”

Byakuya’s heart skipped a beat as Kazuichi spoke. “If you mean it, tell me right now that you love me,” he ordered. “I love you, Togami. Do you love me?”. Byakuya held onto him, hugging him tightly. “Well, I guess this is my answer,” Kazuichi laughed,“Hey— Are you crying?”. Obviously crying, (because he was emotional for some reason) Byakuya backed away.

“Of course not! Me? Crying? No, never!”

“I love you”

“I love you too”

“Was this too fast?”

“What? You’re telling me you don’t believe in love at first sight?”

“I guess I do”

They finished up their shower and got dressed, heading out. Everyone had already met up at the dock. “Jesus, where the hell were you two?!,” Makoto asked, genuinely concerned. “Yeah, we were about to go search,” Hajime added. “I was helping Kazuichi pack something. I saw him struggle in his room with it,” Byakuya said, calmly. Kazuichi just went along with it. “Yeah, my tools wouldn’t pack well,” he explained,“Togami was just helping me stuff everything into my toolbox”. A low mutter was heard, but you’d have to be close enough to understand it.

“Yeah, right. That toolbox wasn’t the only thing Byakuya was stuffing...—”

“FUKAWA!”

“Alright! That does it for the headcount!,” Makoto announced,“Let’s get going. We have a rebuilt city to settle into!”. As everyone cheered on boarded the boat with their own individual classes, Byakuya rushed closer to Kazuichi. “Will I see you again?,” Kazuichi asked.

“Soon. May I kiss you goodbye, or would that be too much a cliche?”

“Yeah, but I love cliches. All the best movies have ‘em”

“So do I”

They kissed tenderly, Byakuya holding his waist. They pulled away, smiling. “See ya around,” Kazuichi mumbled. “Goodbye, Souda”.

#danganronpa #danganronpa goodbye despair #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #goodbye despair #trigger happy havoc #sdr2 #thh #byakuya togami #kazuichi soda #kazuichi souda #byakuya togami x kazuichi soda #byakuya togami x kazuichi souda #sogami #sougami #rarepair danganronpa #rarepair #smut #fanfic #send asks #send requests #kazuichi headcanons #kazuichi x reader #kazuichi souda x reader #kazuichi soda x reader #kazuichi #kazuichi danganronpa #byakuya togami hc #byakuya togami smut #dr byakuya #byakuya togami x reader

[fellcharas]

remade pepper’s design since i wasn’t too confident in the original, i felt it looked too similar so i Tried to make this one more different.

ink sans belongs to @comyet​ ! more info under the cut

pepper is an ink variant for a still-in-the-works errorink au i’m making! basically, pepper (ink) and nyx (error) started out as childhood best friends and grew into enemies who eventually reconcile and become lovers. it’s a lot deeper than that considering they’re both accidental gods and there is no “good guy”/”bad guy” thing going on, they’ve just got issues with each other and themselves that they need to work out in order for a happy ending. this au heavily focuses on free will and choosing your own path rather than destiny or fate bringing two people together.

i named him pepper mostly because i like the name, but you can also interpret it as him peppering his presence into everything. he is technically a god, after all! and because he’s a god who can live forever i don’t really see him as sticking to one gender or one way of presenting himself. he’s very expressive and doesn’t care too much about the specification of labels, but for simplicity’s sake he is genderfluid and uses any pronouns, most commonly he/him, she/her, and it/its. he’s also queer, so to me that means he doesn’t care specifically about being gay or bi or straight or whatever. he’s just Queer.

pepper is a very complex character with a lot of issues. despite not having a SOUL, he still has a mind, which means he can decipher “good” from “bad” when he’s in an emotionless state. however, he can only detect one or the other and it is very strong, meaning that mistakes can occur and it’s hard for him to have a middle-of-the-road perception in an emotionless state. this leaves him weaker than he’d usually be if he couldn’t decipher good from bad. he also lacks a sense of self in an emotionless state. i like to think that pepper is also neurodivergent - meaning he has neurological disorders, namely autism, adhd, and ocd (which i have myself, all 3). or, if this doesn’t make sense to you, you can simply view him as coded to be such!

with his vials, pepper is usually well-meaning. if he isn’t feeling angered or anything like the sort, he’s always got the best of intentions. he’s a very decisive person because he lacks the natural ability to feel compassion, so he makes choices on how to do/say things and how to react to situations. he is kind, caring, protective, self-sacrificial, socially inept, humorous, enthusiastic, teasing, and peppy. he’s not the best at social situations due to his lack of natural emotion, but he’s trying! as for the self-sacrificial part..... maybe that’s best saved for later ;)

without his vials pepper can switch between being very isolated, asocial, and vague to being unpredictable, impulsive, and erratic. this usually depends on how his mind chooses to respond to his environment. if he is around something that is “good” or something that he knows won’t hurt him, he is unmoving, quiet, and vague in his words (if he chooses to speak coherently at all; in an emotionless state he tends to echo words/phrases as a means to try and focus on anything). if he is around something that is “bad” or something that he thinks will hurt him, he is much more responsive but less reactive to his actions.

pepper enjoys various activities! he loves to learn and engage in new and exciting situations. it’s hard for him to gain the complete trust of others at first because he can behave in a way that’s unexpected, but he enjoys making friends and talking to others. he tends to ramble, but like og ink, he has bad memory so he’ll stop mid sentence and forget what he was talking about. he’s very keen on committing to things he feels are important, mostly anything that relates to his purpose for existing. he likes to provide stimuli and experience it, so this can mean he’s very artistic. he also likes cats! and stargazing. drawing, singing, dancing, exploring, journaling, sewing/knitting, all of those are hobbies of his.

he stopped aging in his 20s, so there really is no telling how long he’s been alive for. considering he’s a god, you could pretty much guess anything beyond 25. BUT time doesn’t really have any relevance in this au aside from the fact that pepper and nyx were childhood best friends, and early into their adulthood things happened which caused them to become rivals!

in this au pepper had a past life as an unnamed sans for an incomplete au with only one timeline and no ability to reset, just like original ink’s backstory. the unnamed sans destroyed his SOUL like the original, being set free, and he was reborn into pepper. pepper has no memories of his past life, but he does have determination, which is why he can’t die no matter how many times he’s “killed”. this determination comes from his past life’s desperate want to be something, to not be forgotten, to not be lost to nothing. this determination comes in the form of black ink. i’m not quite sure how this will be utilized in the story of this au, i’m still figuring a lot of things out, but yeah.

for a long time pepper had no idea that he was a god, which meant he had never considered the idea that he might have a “special destiny”. he was a young adult when he found out, though, and well... i can’t say too much.

but, yeah! that’s pepper!!! feel free to ask questions about him ‘cause i love this little guy. some of this could be subject to change in the future since i’m still working everything out. but i hope you guys enjoy him!

#inkling.art #utmv #undertale au #undertale multiverse #ink sans #pepper #inktale

[scover-va]

Takemichi hcs bc im starved of content so I'll make it myself

I have so many thoughts bc this little dude so I'm putting them here. The hcs are gonna be under the cut bc long posts with no read more thing can get annoying, especially when scrolling on mobile

- He's 4'10" (I did the math on this with Yuta's height and a pic of them side by side. Technically it came to 4'9" but I like him so he gets an extra inch)

- I'm stealing this from The Takemichi Guy (yall know the one if ur bothering to go through michi's tag) but he enjoys poetry and literature. Makes up for Mondo's lack of an ability to read /j

- Speaking of Mondo, he has a hardcore crush on the guy. In his mind there's a bit of a power dynamic (think of a less extreme fuyuhiko and peko situation) but he's like "who cares if power dynamic. boy pretty" meanwhile Mondo's got cheeto dust on his boxers somehow. He's wearing pants

- He also sees Daiya as either an older brother or father figure, bc this man never met his father. More on that later

- He's gay, trans ftm, and graysexual!

- He knows how to bake. I never said he's good at it, just that he can decently make cookies and muffins and the such

- He lives in an apartment, with a stray cat the apartment owners don't know about named Ginger. She's a white cat with orange spots around her left eye + the tips of her ears/paws. Michi's a dad /j

- Dude works at a pharmaceutical company at the cash register! He steals testosterone for himself and Mondo (trans icons) and just tells his boss a customer's been buying it. Somehow he hasnt been caught yet

- His birthday is on October 2nd

- His hair is naturally dirty blond, but he bleaches it to be lighter purely bc of mommy issues. Also more on that later

- He studies outer space/quantum physics/astronomy

- Daiya called him shooting star and rocket man (if i remember correctly rocket man is from some old song? and thats what i hc daiya listens to, older music, so)

- He can pack a pretty good punch considering his size

- Met the Owada Brothers because they were running away from home using the family car (Mondo was 6 and Daiya was 10) and they nearly fucking ran him over. He's ok tho Daiya saw him. Takemichi asked where they were going, Daiya answered, Takemichi asked if he could tag along, and after a long convo between the Owada Brothers (2 minutes) they let Michi tag along

- Takemichi was born from a one night stand bc his mom couldn't afford an abortion and wasn't gonna fuckin kill herself (Her name is Moriko)

- Moriko was a prostitute, alcoholic, AND drug addict, the alcohol and drug abuse causing Takemichi to have stunted growth, a heart condition (nothing serious, just paler/bluer skin and occasionally shortness of breath)

- Due to Moriko never paying attention to him and often working, Takemichi learned how to cook by the time he was 4. Nothing special, but he has burn scars on his hands from stovetop and oven incidents

- Has a habit of picking up random interests and then dropping them not too long after (hence the baking thing)

- He can somewhat decently play the drums and ukelele. Current instument interest is the flute

- Wants to wear gothic/grunge clothing however he has social anxiety and therefore wears just plain t-shirts and jeans

- This man CONSTANTLY smells great, everyone wonders how he does it-

- He likes scented things, especially soaps

- His favourite scents are lavender, vanilla, and coconut

- Only thing he dislikes about Mondo is the fact that Mondo constantly smells like grease, oil, sweat, and cologne. It may be considered manly but he's considering cutting his nose off /j

- He's bad with lying, outside of having a good poker face. It's really just coming up with lies on the spot he sucks ass at

- Doesn't swear too often, only at Mondo when he's calling him a whore or a bitch. As friends do

- He likes sewing and knitting! He often fixes up tears in Mondo's jacket for him

- He's a very heavy sleeper. Good luck waking him up. Not even alarms work. Mondo has tried WWE moves. Nothing. You just gotta wait.

- Also he listens to like. The stereotypical emo music. My Chemical Romance, Fall Out Boy (I don't actually know any 'emo' bands outside of MCR and older P! ATD music so a lot of it is just based off a vibe), Panic! At The Disco, and then there's a couple random songs in there like American Idiot and Love Taste

- Also back on his dad. I don't have a name for the guy but he's actually a decent dude, he just never knew about Takemichi at all. Dude ended up having a wife and has two young kids (the wife thing happened AFTER the one night stand dw)

- He has Bipolar Disorder but takes meds for it bc social anxiety and internalized ableism

Sorry these are a mess, I'm p much rewording them from a google doc I just update as I go </3 But yeah! That's it for my Takemichi hcs, maybe one day I'll actually get an idea for a Michi based fic

#takemichi yukimaru #yukimaru takemichi #danganronpa #scov.txt

[howtosingit]

Fic: I Just Wanted You to Know (This is Me Trying)

“My words shoot to kill when I’m mad / I have a lot of regrets about that / and maybe I don’t quite know what to say / but I’m here in your doorway”

*

Carlos makes a nice dinner, TK leaves in a hurry. But then, he comes back. (Immediately follows the 1x02 disaster dinner, not canon compliant.)

2.4K | Also on AO3

A/N: Taylor Swift made me write this. Title from “This is Me Trying,” my favorite song from Folklore. 

------

Carlos is nearly elbow-deep in soapy water as he scrubs forcefully on the baking dish in the sink. He knows that he could easily let it soak overnight, or put it in the dishwasher, but the nearly-mindless task helps him to calm down, and refocus. Besides, it may be nearly one in the morning, but he’s not falling asleep anytime soon.

His steel blue shirt still hangs open from when TK tried to rip it off of him only an hour before, reminding him that he should try to find the buttons before he steps on one when he’s barefoot. His mind is suddenly assaulted with the phantom feeling of lips on his neck, and he takes a deep breath, dropping the sponge into the water to tightly grip the counter in front of him. That’s the last thing he wants to be thinking about right now. 

He’s upset. Yes, at TK, for walking out without telling him what the fuck he did wrong. For acting like it was such a big deal for them to know something about each other besides what they look like when they come. For throwing his dinner and his feelings back in his face without any regard for what that would do to him.

But more than all of that, he’s mad at himself. He’s mad for always trying so hard, for always pushing people further than they want to go. He’s mad for letting the overwhelming feeling of a  connection that followed his hookup with TK drive him to force something deeper between them. He’s an attractive guy with a good job and a nice apartment and a cool car; that’s all men seem to want from him, and he should probably stop expecting anything else. 

It hurts. He’s 26-years-old, he’s known who he is since high school, and it’s not getting any easier. Living in Texas was never going to make being gay a walk in the park, but he doesn’t understand why he can’t find someone who’s willing to put in a little bit of effort. He can’t keep doing this casual string of hookups that feels endless, not when it leaves him feeling more like a shell of a person each and every time.

It felt different with TK. Carlos met him at work, for one. Here, he thought, is another man who gets it. Someone else who runs into dangerous situations because he wants to protect people. There was a relief, almost, of not having to worry about whether TK was only interested in him for his uniform, and he let that relief cloud his judgment, turning their brief and flirty interactions into the beginnings of something that was never meant to be. 

Carlos clenches his jaw, reaching back into the soapy water for the sponge. He can feel a slight headache coming on, probably from a combination of the lateness of the hour and the lack of food in his stomach. With a sigh, he gives up on the dishes, quickly drying his hands off on a dish towel. He’ll clean the rest of them in the morning, once he’s had a few hours of sleep. He moves towards the dining room table to grab his phone, when a knock on his front door stops him in his tracks.

He has no idea who would show up at his apartment at nearly one in the morning. For a moment, he hesitates, wondering how he should handle this. He lives in a nice neighborhood, and he’s not afraid of anybody who could be on his doorstep; on the other hand, an unexpected visitor in the middle of the night can only mean bad news, and Carlos feels his heart start to race as his adrenaline kicks in.  

He jumps a bit when his phone vibrates on the table next to him. Glancing down, he sees a text from the last person he ever expected to hear from again.

It’s me

Carlos swallows, his heart continuing to pound in his chest as he quickly moves towards the door. He pulls it open, his brows furrowing in complete confusion at the sight of the man before him.

TK stands against a background of darkness, his yellow hoodie bright in the light pouring through the open door. Carlos takes him in, searching for any sign of injury or some other explanation for what’s going on. He notices TK’s hands tucked away inside the front pocket of his sweatshirt, the way he bites down on his bottom lip, and the puffiness around his red eyes.

“TK,” Carlos starts, his voice oddly blank. “What are you doing here?”

The man just stares back at him, his body clearly tense as his eyes shift to look everywhere but directly at him. He feels his own face harden, his frustration mounting at the way that this man makes him feel so damn much, and he’s just about to tell TK to go home when the other man breaks the silence, his voice thin.

“I was in the area and I saw that your light was still on.”

Carlos stares back at him, confusion clear on his face. “You left an hour ago, TK,” he reminds him, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he plants his feet in the doorway. 

“Yeah,” TK admits, and Carlos watches as his green eyes shift down towards his chest; unlike before, he does not let the feeling of TK’s gaze on him affect him. At least not too much. “I, um, I took a walk around, to cool off a bit,” he explains, gesturing towards something in the distance that Carlos can’t see. “You have a really nice park at the end of your street.”

“You mean the park that closed at 10?” Carlos asks, raising an eyebrow. “What is this, are you trying to get arrested or something?”

TK visibly swallows, ducking his head down at Carlos’s chastisement. The act of uncertainty softens the edge he’s feeling, and he takes a deep breath, letting go of some of the tension in his shoulders. 

“Do you want to come inside?” he asks, watching as TK’s head shoots up at the unexpected question. Carlos can’t help the slight smile that pulls at his lips; as much as he wishes it wasn’t the case, he finds TK to be incredibly endearing.

“No, no, that’s okay,” TK hurries to assure him, shaking his head. “It’s late, and I don’t want to keep bothering you. I just,” he huffs, tipping his head back to look up at the clear night sky, “I just really hated the idea of you going to bed angry.”

It’s a statement that doesn’t really make sense to Carlos. Why would TK care if he’s mad or not? But it also makes his stomach twist in a knot, the idea that maybe his initial impression of the firefighter wasn’t entirely incorrect sparking his curiosity. He can’t help but want to know more about this contradiction of a person. 

With a nod, Carlos steps forward onto his front walk, pulling the door closed behind him. The unexpected action causes TK to jump back, giving Carlos space to sit down on his front step. He brings his knees up to his chest, folding his arms on top of them, and stares straight ahead at TK’s shoes.

“I’m more upset than angry,” he admits, rubbing at his brow as he works out what he wants to say, “and most of what I’m feeling isn’t even about you. I mean, there’s a lot of confusion, which is definitely your fault, but the anger is more at myself.”

He sees TK shift in front of him, rocking from side-to-side, before he moves forward to take a seat next to Carlos. A sudden warmth flares up on Carlos’s right side at his proximity, but he tries his best to ignore it. 

“Why would you be angry at yourself?” TK asks gently, and Carlos can picture his face: his brown eyebrows furrowed in confusion above those soft, twinkling green eyes. He wants more than anything to look over at him, drink him in, but he knows he’s just asking for trouble if he does. So, instead, he continues to stare straight ahead.

“Most guys that I meet, they’re kind of just in it for sex,” he replies, bringing his hand up to run through the hair at the back of his head. “Like, I’m not a stranger to casual hookups, even if I really would like something more for myself. But those guys, I usually meet on an app, or at a club, and I try not to have too many expectations.

“I guess just because of the way we first met, the fact that it was different from those others, I made some assumptions about us and what this might mean,” he continues. “I’m sorry that I acted on them and put you in a weird place.”

There’s silence after he finishes speaking, the two of them just sitting side-by-side on his front step at one in the morning. It’s completely bizarre, and Carlos doesn’t really know what’s happening, but he’s not uncomfortable with it. There’s just something about TK beside him that lessens his concerns a little bit.

He’s a little shocked when he feels a weight on his arm, and he looks down to see TK’s fingers curled gently around his bicep. He turns to look at him, unsurprised to find the exact face that he was expecting, furrowed eyebrows and twinkling eyes. It steals his breath from his lungs, the absolute beauty of this man.

“I’m sorry, too,” TK says, his voice quiet. “For not being clear about what I wanted, and then for being an asshole when you couldn’t read my mind.” 

They hold the look for a moment before Carlos nods, staring ahead again as he twists his fingers together in front of him. “Apology accepted.”

“I’m also sorry about the shirt,” TK adds, and Carlos can hear humor behind the words. “I can buy you a new one.”

The image of TK pressed up against him, forcibly tearing his shirt open, flashes through his mind, and Carlos feels his heart rate quicken at the memory. “Don’t worry about it,” he assures him, his voice coming out a little shaky. “My mom taught me how to sew buttons back on.”

From next to him, TK lets out a sudden loud laugh, the sound shooting straight through his chest. He turns to look at him, a smile forming at the look of absolute joy that has taken over TK’s face. “What?” he asks, trying not to laugh, too. It’s a truly weird night.

“Don’t tell me she got so tired of men tearing your clothes off that she forced you to learn how to sew them back together,” TK cries, an odd light dancing in his eyes. 

“Of course not, you jerk,” Carlos says, leaning over to nudge TK in annoyance. “She just wanted me to learn how to do things on my own. Don’t you make fun of my mama, TK Strand.” 

“I would never,” TK says, his grin sliding into a look of intense seriousness. Carlos raises an eyebrow at him, questioning his honesty. TK simply stares back, his eyes still dancing, before shaking his head and lowering his gaze down to his lap. “My god, who are you?” he questions suddenly, his voice rising in what sounds like disbelief. “You cook, you sew, your apartment is fully-furnished, you have a job, you’re the sexiest man I’ve ever met, you’re so fucking nice. Just, like, how are you even real?”

He ends with a loud groan, his body collapsing against Carlos as he rests his head against his shoulder. Carlos can feel a heat rising up the back of his neck as he stares down at him in shock, having now idea how to answer the man.

“You know, for the record,” TK says after a quiet moment, his head still pressed against Carlos, “I like you for more than just sex.

“I know it probably doesn’t seem like it,” he continues, his voice low, “but it’s true. I know I freaked out on you, it was all just really intense and unexpected and it took me to some bad places that still feel really raw. I thought I could handle just the physical stuff and deal with the emotional baggage later, but it kind of blew up in my face. And yours.”

Carlos listens carefully, trying to fill in the gaps with everything that TK’s not telling him. It’s obvious that TK has some skeletons in his closet, maybe recently gathered, that will help to explain his behavior this evening, but he doesn’t know if he should ask about them. Except, his heart can’t help but cling to TK’s initial declaration, about how he likes Carlos for more than just his body, and that pushes him to take a chance.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he hedges gently, trying not to spook the other man. TK lets out a sigh, shifting against him to prop his chin on top of Carlos’s shoulder, looking up at him. Carlos looks back, their faces close as they study one another. Those green eyes are absolutely stunning.  

“I think I do,” TK admits, bringing his hand up to drag his fingers along Carlos’s jaw. “But it’s a long story, so maybe not tonight. Is that okay?”

Carlos nods before he even has a chance to consider it, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. “Yeah, TK, that’s okay. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

He finds that he means that.

Before he can overthink it, he leans up to press a soft kiss at TK’s hairline, hearing the way the action draws a heavy breath from the other man. Slowly, Carlos relaxes back against his front door, wrapping an arm around TK’s waist to pull him closer. The firefighter goes willingly, folding himself against Carlos’s side as his hand comes up to rest against his exposed chest. 

They stay there in the stillness of the Texas night, letting time move on without them. Carlos closes his eyes for a moment as he relishes the opportunity to finally be more for someone, just this once. Just like he’s always wanted.

It’s even better than he expected.

#tarlos #tarlos fic #tarlos fanfic #911 lone star #tk strand #carlos reyes #I wrote a thing

[dracharenae]

𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄   𝐈'𝐃   𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄   𝐓𝐎   𝐆𝐄𝐓   𝐓𝐎   𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖   𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑   : 𝟎𝟏 .    𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐒  /  𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄   :   my penname is jo, after jo from little women, who was a huge role model for me growing up. she is my goddamn  Q U E E N. my real name i’m not too enthused by so irl i go by an array of nicknames, which also includes jo, so technically it’s a penname and a real name. 𝟎𝟐 .    𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘   :    february 24. 𝟎𝟑 .    𝐙𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐂  𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍   :     pisces. i’m a FUCKING FISH. 𝟎𝟒 .    𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓   :     5′8″ and a half. i’m a tol gorl. 𝟎𝟓 .    𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒   :     writing, procrastinating, horseback riding, reading, making my friends smile, editing, baking, cosplaying, sewing, crafting, collecting miscellaneous things. i.e., star wars funko characters, action figures, comic books, plushies, etc. i’m a grown ass woman who loves her some plushies, COME AT ME. 𝟎𝟔 .    𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄  𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐑  :  i’m a bitch who can’t choose. i fucking love teal, black, soft green, and pastel pink. those are the color combos which are chef’s kiss. 𝟎𝟕 .    𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄  𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊   :     it varies, but for now i’ll go with a storm of swords, which is the third book in a song of ice and fire and was a book that goddamn destroyed me. i finished that book in, i think, four days because i couldn’t put it down.  𝟎𝟖 .    𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓  𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆  :    montero by lil nas x, which is a fucking BOP. 𝟎𝟗 .    𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓  𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐌  /  𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖  :   for show that would be iron fist, because my dad just started watching it and he likes watching those shows with me ( since i can answer most marvel based questions ). and film wise that would have to be snyder’s cut: justice league, which is a fucking masterpiece and i have sobbed and obsessed uncontrollably over it. 𝟏𝟎 .    𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍  :   so back in either 2014 or 2015, i started writing this little story about rhaenys targaryen for no other reason than i wanted to, because i had always loved the idea of “ what if [ blank ] never died ? ? ? ” when it came to fictional and historical figures, and the character just always stuck with me.  particularly, i saw a picture of naomi scott and knew she was rhaenys. but i didn’t understand role-play culture at the time and naomi didn’t have any resources in that era, so i just stuck to my fanfics and used her face as my fun little story cover. but my character and plot-based inspiration for rhaenys stems a lot from history. one of my favorite historical eras is actually the romanovs in 1918, as well as the mythos surrounding anastasia’s alleged survival ( which was debunked in 2007, i believe ). i grew up watching the 1997 animated film, so those ideas definitely influenced my portrayal of rhaenys, minus the amnesia. certain aspects of anya’s character exist in rhaenys’, such as her no-nonsense attitude, her level of sass, and her wit. but in terms of historical impact, the romanov duchesses weren’t actually treated like princesses and didn’t have the most high-end lifestyles that we translate to royalty in modern day. and furthermore, i take into account general royal life also translated from the tudor dynasty, such as in how unpredictable and often life-threatening princess elizabeth the i’s childhood was, as she was often subject to banishment and being hyper-aware as to her friends and enemies at court. despite the glamorous nature of princesses, which are details which translate more in rhaenys’ verses where rhaegar lives and becomes king and she is a princess in king’s landing. but it also has an impact on her views in her default verse where she’s trying to avenge her family and reclaim the iron throne. but also on a similar historical note, i draw a lot of rhaenys’ ptsd, her general trauma, and her fear of madness from soldiers, which i’ve gathered from various film, book, and real-life portrayals on people who have fought in wars. in the books, rhaenys is killed at three years old, so in my portrayal she is saved at three. i don’t know how many people have met three year olds, but i have an array of nieces and nephews, and i can assure you that three year olds remember the hell out of shit. they forget nothing. so while rhaenys does not have entirely vivid memories of her past and what escaping king’s landing was like, the same way someone older would remember something traumatic, she does recall those smaller details which exist as nightmares and echoes, and there are triggers which ignite them. and there’s also the idea of survivor’s guilt ... basically, i could go on for hours over the various inspirations which have helped me craft rhaenys, and i might make a giant ass post of every single influence one day, but the gist is: rhaenys is a melting pot of historical, personal, and fictional based influence. and me being gay for naomi scott since 2014/2015.

𝟏𝟏 .    𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘  𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃  𝐔𝐑𝐋  :   so i knew that i wanted to have DRAGON and PRINCESS in my url, but i wanted it to sound unique and, sighs, pretentiously poetic and ~ aesthetic ~. so i went to google translate and i basically went through these words in various languages until i found a translation which felt right for what i was looking for. i am 87% sure that i settled on latin for both and combined the two, but i can’t remember and, tbh, i lack the energy to fact check. i’m tired, okay ? ? ?

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐃   𝐁𝐘   :   i lost who tagged me and i’ve tried to look through my notifications but i lost it and i’m so sorry, i am THE WORST. 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆   :   @radishflower, @gevivella, @thebcstofus, @kinginthcsouth, @stormbcrn, @artificiallyimplantedmemories, @rcsegilded, @ncrthernkxng​

#tαg чσu'є ít ( tagged memes ) #nσt α drαgσn ; вut cєrtαínlч α sαlαmαndєr ( ooc ) #ѕєnd α rαvєn ínѕtєαd ( queue )

[darriness]

Klaine Fic - You’ll Always Be The Home - Chapter 4

Author: darriness

Fic Summary: Everything is finally settled in Kurt and Blaine’s life…right?

Link to: Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Rating: T

Chapter Word Count: 2115

Chapter Summary: A meeting

Author’s Note: Thanks to my beta @darrenismydarcy

AO3 Link

“Blaine!” Kurt calls as he follows his husband out of the church and down the steps to the street. Blaine isn’t running but he’s speed walking with a hand over his mouth and looks like he might vomit. Kurt is vaguely aware of Bethany following him down the stairs but his eyes and attention are on Blaine.

“Blaine!” He tries again when he’s reached the sidewalk. Blaine is about a half a block away, “Blaine, stop! Please!”

Blaine does stop then, causing a woman walking in the other direction to have to quickly dodge past him with a glare and curse. Blaine turns to Kurt with wide eyes and his hand still over his mouth. Kurt approaches him slowly with his hands outstretched like you might a wild animal you don’t want to provoke. Kurt’s never seen this look in his husband’s eyes and he’s not quite sure how to handle it.

“It doesn’t mean…” Kurt starts but Blaine cuts him off with a harsh laugh as he removes his hand from his mouth sharply.

“Everyone else is dead, Kurt.” Blaine says, “The only other way for that kid to look like that is if I somehow got some girl pregnant eight years ago and by that point I had given up sleeping with women so...” Blaine rolls his eyes sarcastically.

Kurt breathes in deeply and tries to stay calm. Biting back at Blaine would not accomplish anything, “What do you want to do?” He asks.

Blaine puts a hand to his mouth and rubs harshly as he looks down the street and shakes his head. Kurt’s heart aches for the lost look in his eyes. He doesn’t know how to fix this. He doesn’t know what to do.

Finally, after a long silence which wasn’t really silent considering they are standing on a busy New York City street, Blaine finally looks back at Kurt, “I want to buy a unicorn.” He says, looking over at Bethany.

Kurt looks at Bethany to find the girl staring incredulously at Blaine, like maybe her brother had gone insane. Kurt’s not entirely sure that hasn’t happened.

“What…?” She asks.

Blaine nods, “You said you wanted to do something extremely gay after the funeral. I think we can all agree that our time at that funeral has come to an end, so let’s do it. Let’s do something really gay. Let’s buy a unicorn.”

Bethany and Kurt look at each other for a moment. Kurt thinks they are both thinking the same thing: that Blaine is a stiff push away from losing it completely and neither wants to see that happen. Kurt thinks that the middle of the street is not the best place for Blaine to have whatever breakdown he might be having so he decides quickly with a nod to just go with it.

“Okay.” Kurt says, “Let’s go buy a unicorn.”

-- -- --

As it turns out ‘buying a unicorn’ means taking an almost magical mystery tour around New York City until landing in a spot called Dinosaur Hill and purchasing perhaps the largest unicorn stuffed animal known to man. It’s so large that it takes up an entire seat on the subway as Bethany puts her arm around it and cuddles it. Luckily, the subway isn’t overly busy at this time of day or transporting such a feat of sewing engineering home might have been a challenge.

When all four of them (Blaine, Kurt, Bethany, and Eugene the Unicorn, as Bethany has named him) enter the apartment, Bethany curls up on the couch with Eugene beside her. Blaine takes a seat in the armchair and Kurt perches himself on one arm of the chair Blaine sits in. 

They are silent, each lost in their own thoughts, like they had been for most of the search for Eugene the Unicorn. Eventually, Bethany coughs, drawing the attention of the two men.

“So uhhhh, are we going to address the white unicorn in the room?” She asks.

Kurt sighs and looks over at Blaine who is chewing his lip. Kurt wishes he knew what Blaine was thinking, but finding out you have a brother you never knew about from the parents who abandoned you at the funeral for the mother who abandoned you isn’t something Kurt could imagine in his wildest dreams. He has no idea how he would feel after finding out such information.

“We don’t know for sure he’s who we think he is.” Blaine finally whispers, in direct contradiction to his words on the street earlier.

Bethany’s eyes widen, “I’ve seen pictures of you at eight, Blaine. That kid is your clone. Like you said, what other option is there?”

Blaine sits straight in the chair and begins to lean forward while pointing. Kurt reaches for Blaine’s hand and brings it into his lap, which effectively ends whatever comeback Blaine was going to give, “Look, I think we all know who that little boy is.” He says softly, “That’s not what I think we should be talking about.”

Blaine slumps in his chair and nods after a moment, seemingly resigned to the fact. Kurt watches Blaine’s face before looking over at Bethany who is doing the same thing. Kurt has a feeling that whatever they need to talk about, it has very little to do with Bethany and her feelings.

He truly believes what he told Blaine in the shower the night after they told Bethany about their mother’s passing. Bethany’s connection to that part of her life isn’t all that strong, potentially almost non-existent, because Blaine allowed her that. He gave her a parental figure. He gave her the stability, and nurturing, and love that their biological parents either couldn’t or wouldn’t give.

And it’s this influence over his little sister that Kurt is sure why she says what she does next. Bethany nods her head with a determined expression and looks between Kurt and Blaine, “We should take him.”

Kurt lets out a surprised laugh as Blaine’s eyes widen next to him.

“What - you want to kidnap him?” Kurt asks.

Bethany shrugs, “Considering who our father is, I’m sure this kid would come willingly.” Kurt lifts his eyebrows in silent agreement before Bethany shakes her head and looks back at Blaine, “He’s going to need our help.”

Blaine’s eyes widen again and his mouth opens and closes a few times. Kurt watches a lot of thoughts pass behind his husband’s eyes, but Kurt can’t really guess at any of them. He knows his personal thoughts on Bethany’s suggestion but this isn’t really about him right now. And by Blaine’s reaction, Kurt’s personal thoughts are way off. Blaine seems to be at war with his thoughts.

Blaine’s mouth opens again, as if ready to say something, but is interrupted by a knock on the door. All three occupants of the apartment turn toward the door in unison. Knocks are not an uncommon occurrence, but for some reason all three of them seem to regard the action as alien. What is that noise and what should they do about it?

Kurt shakes himself from his confusion first and gets up to answer the second knock. He pulls the door open with a polite smile before his face crumbles in confusion when he’s not met at eye level by another person. A cleared throat brings Kurt’s eyes down a couple of feet and his eyes land on an eight-year-old Blaine.

The same little boy from the church is standing on their doorstep. He looks dapper in his blue suit, purple checkered shirt and deep blue bowtie with brown dress shoes, but it’s also his expression that gives off an air of dapperness. Of superiority. Of...judgement.

Kurt feels judged by this eight-year-old in a very eight-year-old Kurt Hummel sort of way. Kurt would have served that face at eight. He has a sudden twilight zone moment in his head. This kid looks like Blaine but acts like Kurt. Is he somehow their time travelled biologically impossible child?!

Kurt shakes his head to clear himself of the thought as he and mini-Blaine continue to stare at each other. Eventually, the boy clears his throat again and quirks an eyebrow, “Are you going to invite me in?”

And suddenly this little boy is Blaine’s dad. Kurt may have only met him once, but there is no mistaking who raised this little person. Speaking of the elder Anderson...Kurt’s eyes shift up and down the hall outside the apartment for any sign of Marcus Anderson. There is none.

Kurt looks back down at the boy dumbly for a moment, even prompting the kid to lift his eyebrows expectantly, before stepping aside, “Um sure.” He says for lack of anything better.

As the little boy makes his way into the apartment, Kurt gestures toward the living room, “Ummm Blaine? Bethany? Your…” He trails off before saying ‘brother’, but the pause is enough to imply the word before he adds, “, is here.”

Blaine and Bethany are staring at the little boy with wide eyes. One set hazel, the other blue, but still so much alike. The boy moves into the room with a confidence he really shouldn’t have at that age and definitely not in this situation, and sits in the only unoccupied chair in the room. He folds his hands in his lap and sits with a straight back.

Kurt sits back down on the arm of Blaine’s chair and the three of them - Blaine, Bethany, and Kurt - just stare. How did this kid get here? What does he want? Why can’t Kurt get the image out of his head of this kid being somehow genetically tied to both him and Blaine?

Before any of them can ask a question though, the boy speaks.

“My name is Aiden Anderson. My father is Marcus Anderson and my mother is…” He pauses and Kurt notices his mouth pulls up in a slight grimace, “was...Evelyn Anderson.”

Even though Kurt is beyond confused, his heart breaks for the little boy, for Aiden. This boy just lost his mother.

Blaine clears his throat and shifts in his chair. Kurt turns to see his husband lean forward with a furrowed brow, “Aiden,” He starts, “does your dad know you’re here?”

Aiden shakes his head, “No. I found your address the other night. My father said he had to go do something but he was acting very strangely so I snuck into his office while he was gone. I found your address on his desk attached to a picture of you two.” He says gesturing between Blaine and Bethany.

Bethany and Blaine turn to each other with shocked expressions before turning back to Aiden as the boy keeps talking, “You looked liked me.” He shrugs, “And when I saw you at the funeral today, I asked my father who you were and he got all…” Aiden pauses and adopts a grumpy expression for lack of words to describe Marcus Anderson’s reaction. He drops the act after a moment before sighing, “I wanted to know why you looked like me, so I remembered the address and came to find you.”

The room is silent after the boy's story before Kurt’s eyes widen briefly, “Smart eight-year-old.” He says impressed.

Aiden turns to him with his nose in the air, “I’m seven.” He corrects.

Kurt’s eyes widen even further.

“So, you don’t know who we are?” Bethany asks.

Aiden shakes his head, “No. I just saw your picture and know that my father got really upset when he saw you and I asked about you.”

Blaine sighs next to Kurt and wrings his hands together, “Aiden, I don’t think your dad would want us telling you who we are.” He says.

Aiden tilts his head curiously, “My father always says the more knowledgeable a man is, the less of a fool a person can make of him.”

Kurt notices Blaine’s eyes pinch at this before he bites his lips together, shakes his head, sighs, and looks back at Aiden, “Aiden, I’m Blaine. And this is Bethany.” He says, gesturing to Bethany on the other couch who waves. Aiden gives Bethany a strange smile but waves back before Blaine continues hesitantly, “...And our parents were Marcus and Evelyn Anderson…”

Kurt watches as the little boy in front of them takes in the information, rolls it around in his head, and then comes to the only conclusion there is. His eyes widen and his mouth drops open as he stares between them.

Kurt kind of can’t believe he’s been witness to the same face (just decades apart in age) realizing it has more siblings than it thought it did twice in one day.

#klaine #klaine fanfiction #klaine fanfic #my loves #my stuff #you'll always be the home

[shell-o-knee]

Why RuPaul’s Drag Race has my whole heart.

A crude entertainment series lacking grains of refinement one might expect in a show popular to this magnitude, RuPaul’s Drag Race is hands down one of the most interesting reality shows I have ever seen (albeit the list of reality shows I have watched is not quite long). The show, riddled with copious amounts of sexual innuendos, loquacious trans, gay or queer men and what might seem as unnecessary drama does tend to catch a first time viewer off-guard - especially one completely oblivious to the art of drag. I was lucky enough to know what the word drag meant in context of the show and thus was only taken aback so much. Honestly, the show and the participants seemed rather obnoxious and shallow to me; the hot pink workroom, the gigantic wigs, the exaggerated makeup really threw me into a - for lack of better words- cultural shock. 

Then what got me hooked on to the show? Fascination and awe. As I surfed through episodes after episodes of challenges, runway looks, critiques and individual stories my respect for these drag queens just kept increasing. That is not to say I didn’t respect them, their professional or social choices earlier - I am an undergraduate student who dyes her hair after every meltdown and posts questionable reels - I am as imperfect as a teenager gets; my respect grew when I noticed what went into being a drag queen and further in being a part of the competition - psychologically and physically. My mind was blown to bits by their death drops, their ability to sew (or hot glue) entire runway costumes in the mere span of some hours, their power to retain lyrics and choreographies speedily, their sass and their will to change the society’s gaze towards their community - not one thing short of being fierce.

Another emotional response that my brain subconsciously decided on when I first started watching the show was getting intimidated - I mean it is but natural to be intimidated right? There they are, in all their drag glory - perfect bodies and budankadongs, absolutely comfortable in their own skin, unabashedly queer with lustrous skins, insanely outstanding make up skills and dynamic personalities - and there I am, borderline depressed with mismatched socks. However, slowly but surely this feeling of intimidation waned away, giving way to a sense of comfort I never thought a show - some pulsating pixels on a screen - could bestow upon me. I was privy to their inside jokes (henny), I shook my fist at diabolical queens and shady jabs, I agreed with the judges on Monet X Change’s sponge dress being god-awful,  swayed to the lip syncs, got teary-eyed by personal stories of struggles of the queer community - I clicked my tongue at bad conturing, I used the same jargons as them, I audibility gasped at twists - in short, I was involved knee-deep in their diva business. The almost seizure inducing pink workroom and wildly coloured manes had grown on me to the point of me being unfazed by the ultra zoom in on Trinity’s tuck in All Stars season 4. As a straight Indian teenager, you’d think I would feel like a sore thumb sticking far out but somehow…I felt welcomed. There were no judgements, unless you were a competing queen or had really horrible dressing sense, it didn’t matter where you came from, what your sexuality was, how much money you owned or what skin colour you were born with - everyone was a part of the race fairly and squarely. 

 I have no proof to support if RuPaul’s Drag Race is different from its TRP-hungry contemporaries in context of being scripted right down to every word and mouldable to the will of the wealthy. Despite this lack of evidence, I cannot express in words how much joy it gave me to watch someone ELSE develop as a person, the pure unadulterated pleasure it gave me to watch people realise their dreams and to think, somewhere in a little town a closeted teenager or any human for that matter might be watching these queens and thinking what a beautifully crazy time it is to be alive. Boots the house down, mama.

Ps- Completely unrelated but this articles comes from my spontaneous outburst of love for drag at 3 a.m. If the article seems all over the place - that’s because it is. Cut me some slack people.

#drag #drag race #rupauls #rupauls drag race #rupaulshow #allstars #blog #queer #queer blog #lgbtq #indian women #indianblogger #indianblog #personalblog #opinion #realityshow #realitytv #fashion #community #english #teenblog #teenblogger

[nighting-gale17]

I was wondering if you'd be interested in a prompt I've been thinking about. (So buck isn't a firefighter never was, but eddie is and he gets excepted to 118 at the same time he does in the show. And over little conversions the firefam has with eddie they release that he is married to a guy named buck and has a disabled kid). Bonus points for British buck because I live like two blocks away from were oliver stark grow up, my older sister went to school with him

Thanks for this prompt! It was really cute and tbh I had a lot of fun writing it! So basically, in this fic buck never joined the 118 and tommy is still on the team. Hope you enjoy it!

Feel free to send me more prompts you guys :) I love writing these

5 times eddie mentioned buck and 1 time the team met him in person

[1]

The first time Eddie mentioned his husband was when he first met the team and Chimney caught a glimpse of the black band with a red line on his left hand. 

“Hey, man, you married?” Chimney had asked, a curious look on his face.

Hen watched as a lovestruck smile spread across Eddie’s face and he nodded, voice proud as he responded, “Yeah. Going on seven years, now.” 

“Wow. Pretty impressive.” Tommy let out a low whistle. “You’ll have to bring her around some time, man.”

“Uh, him. Actually.” Eddie corrected, a nervous yet defensive tone to his voice.

Hen felt a grin spread over her face as she clapped him on the shoulder. “Even better, then. My wife would love to meet the two of you.”

At that, Eddie’s entire stance visibly relaxed and his smile turned genuine. “He’d probably like that.” He perked up even more when Tommy asked if he had any pictures and wasted no time in whipping out his phone and fondly showing off a few pictures of their happy little family.

[2]

The second time Eddie mentioned his husband was when the earthquake hit. Hen had already gotten ahold of her wife and been reassured both her and Denny were safe in the house, just a little shaken up. Eddie had been staring at his phone while they sat in the ladder truck, eyebrows furrowed together in worry.

“Everything okay?” Hen asked, shouting to be heard above the roar of the engine and the sirens blaring through the air.

“Yeah.” Eddie glanced up briefly before staring back down at his phone. “Just trying to get through to my husband.”

“I’m sure he’s fine.” Hen reassured him. “The phone lines are probably just too busy for anyone to get through them.”

He gave her a small smile but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Where’s he supposed to be?” she asked, because some buildings in LA are more earthquake-resistant than others.

“At school with our son,” he said after a minute, his smile softening a little. “He’s a special education elementary school teacher.”

“The school buildings here in LA are the safest place your family could be,” Hen promised as the ladder truck came to an abrupt stop outside of a high-rise. “They remodeled all of them a couple years back. They’re practically indestructible.”

“Thanks, Hen.” Eddie gave her a small smile, looking a little less tense than he had moments before.

“Anytime, Eddie. You’re part of the team, now.” she gave him a cheeky grin before she hopped out of the truck to survey the damage done by the earthquake.

[3]

“Hey, Bobby, can I talk to you for a second?”

Bobby glanced up to see Eddie standing on the other side of the counter, looking a little nervous. “Sure kid,” he put the bowl of meat he had been working on for dinner to the side and wiped his hands off in the sink. “What do you need?”

“I know I’ve only been working here for a few months,” Eddie began, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I was wondering if I could take a few days off in a couple weeks.”

“Is everything okay?” Bobby asked with a small frown. It was a little unusual for Eddie to make this request—he hadn’t taken a single sick day since he started, much less ask for a day off.

“Yeah, no, everything’s great.” He smiled a little sheepishly. “It’s my husband and mine’s wedding anniversary coming up and I wanted to take him someplace special for the weekend. If you can’t give me the time off, I understand,” Eddie rushed to continue, that nervous look reappearing in his eyes. “I know I haven’t exactly been here long enough to—”

Bobby raised his hand, cutting Eddie off in the middle of his ramble. “Take the time off, Eddie,” he replied with a fond smile. His heart ached for a minute when he thought about his own wedding anniversary—how excited he always was to spend the day with his wife every year.

Eddie breathed a sigh of relief and gave Bobby a bright grin. “Thanks, Bobby. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem.” Bobby’s smile turned mischievous. “You can thank me by helping me get the rest of dinner ready for the crew.”

“Yes, sir.” Eddie laughed, rolling up the sleeves of his uniform and joining Bobby behind the kitchen counter.

[4]

“So, Hen, you and Karen are going to be— what?” Tommy asked one day, tossing a bite of popcorn into his mouth and grinning proudly when he caught it.

“We’re going to be Sally and Jack Skellington.” Hen informed them, a small smile on her face. “Denny is going to be the skelly-dog, Zero.”

“Chim and I are going baseball players.” 

Chimney felt his cheeks flush hotly at the thought of the costumes Tommy had shown him the other day. He was never going to hear the end of it after the part, but, fuck, he had to admit they both looked hot in them.

“What about you, Eddie?” Tommy asked, craning his neck back to peer at Eddie sitting in the reading chair to his left. “What are you and your boo dressing up as?”

“Well, Christopher has been on a Pirates of the Caribbean kick recently,” Eddie admitted, a small smile on his face. “So we’re going as pirates. Buck is, as usual, going all out with this. He started seeing the costumes almost two months ago.”

“He’s sewing them?” Chimney asked curiously, a little impressed.

“Yeah.” Eddie’s gaze softened as he spoke. “He volunteers on the weekend at the children’s hospital to dress up as superheroes to cheer them up. He makes all his own costumes because he insists it’s cheaper for him to make them himself then buy it on the internet.”

Chimney let out a low whistle. “Damn, Eddie. Did you marry a Disney prince or something?”

Eddie let out a groan at that, a smile pulling at his lips. “Don’t say that around him—he’ll start getting ideas.”

[5]

Tommy loves Thanksgiving.

He loved other holidays as well (Christmas held a particularly special place in his heart) but at Thanksgiving, there was so much food. 

“I’m telling you, man, stuffing is one of the best dishes.” Tommy insisted, twisting and turning to look at Chimney for back up.

“It’s good.” His boyfriend acknowledged though it lacked enthusiasm. “My favorite is the turkey, though.” he shot Tommy an apologetic look.

“That reminds me,” Bobby cut in before Tommy could reply. “You’re all invited to our home for Thanksgiving this year. Athena insisted and it would be nice to be with everyone outside of work.”

“Yes!” Tommy replied immediately. “We’ll be there. Athena makes the best stuffing…” he sighed, his mouth-watering slightly just at the thought of the sergeant’s cooking.

“You can count us in too, Cap.” Hen answered with a small smile.

“What about you, Eddie?” Bobby asked, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel as he finished washing up the dishes.

“I would love to, Bobby, but Buck and I are hosting my family for Thanksgiving,” he said apologetically. “Buck tends to go a little overboard on holidays. He didn’t have the best childhood growing up so holidays are always a little extravagant at our house.”

“How extravagant?” Chimney asked curiously, his curiosity only growing when Eddie’s smile turned sheepish and he ducked his head.

“Well, I have a lot of family, so we usually have to end up cooking at least two turkeys, not to mention the side dishes. My abuela usually comes over to help but Buck refuses to let me into the kitchen.” he rolled his eyes fondly. “He practically takes over our kitchen for the entire day.”

“Remind me to send you my mashed potatoes recipe,” Bobby told Eddie, a small smile on his face. “I guarantee it’ll make his life a lot easier if he follows that.”

“Thanks, Cap!” Eddie shared his smile. “Mashed potatoes are his favorite so I think he’ll enjoy it.”

“Okay, but, onto the more important question.” Tommy broke in, face serious. “Does he make stuffing?”

[+1]

The first time Hen actually got to meet Eddie’s husband, Evan, or Buck, as they’ve been told he prefers to be called, it was at the annual Christmas party in the station. She’d been chatting with Karen about what color to paint the nursery when she spotted Eddie walking up the stairs with an, admittedly gorgeous, man at his side with an eye-catching birthmark on his left eye and a young boy on his shoulders.

“Eddie!” Hen greeted, smiling as he walked towards them in the kitchen and placed a casserole dish on the counter.

“Hey Hen, Karen.” He smiled, leaning forward and hugging Hen’s wife and placing a friendly kiss on her cheek. “You look radiant.”

Oh no, Hen thought to herself, watching as Karen blinked back tears and hugged Eddie tightly before she let him go. She was extremely emotional from the pregnancy and any time someone complimented her while she was pregnant she just about started bawling. It was as endearing as it was embarrassing.

“This is my husband, Evan, and our son, Christopher.” Eddie introduced them, a proud look in his eyes and a fond smile on his face.

“Hello. It’s lovely to finally meet you both.” Buck said, a friendly smile on his face.

Oh. OH.

If Hen wasn’t so gay she might’ve swooned.

“You’re British?” Karen asked, a note of surprise in her voice.

Buck’s smile turned shy. “I grew up in London—that’s where I met Eddie, when he was overseas during his first deployment.” he turned and looked at Eddie with a lovesick expression on his face. “We kept in touch and started dating when he was on his second deployment. Then I moved here to LA with him.”

“That’s so romantic.” Karen sniffled, leaning her head against Hen’s shoulder.

“Papa, cookies!” Christopher tapped on the side of Buck’s face, pointing to the decorated sugar cookies laying out on the table.

“Yeah, I see them, buddy.” Buck laughed, reaching up to grab Christopher and set him on the ground. “But you can’t have any cookies until after dinner, remember?” he crouched down and stage whispered into his ear, glancing up at Eddie. “But you and I can split one when your dad isn’t looking.”

Christopher nodded, giggling into his hand before Buck led them away, exaggeratedly checking to see if Eddie was looking before nabbing a cookie off the counter and scurrying away towards the couches where the rest of the team was gathered.

“He’s cute,” Hen told Eddie. “Like a puppy.”

Eddie’s reply was lovesick. “Yeah, he is, isn’t he?”

#911 #911 fox #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buck #christopher diaz #hen wilson #howie han #bobby nash #911 au #i love these two dorks

[gayregis]

ok i'm all for it when a fandom creates personalities/stories for characters that had very limited screen/page time BUT dandelion and geralt don't have very limited screen/page time. they have a very loving relationship that was developed over many years which netflix decided to ignore. people are creating second personalities for geralt and dandelion and it kinda bugs me since their real personalities and relationships are so amazing. idk just needed to rant

finally someone said it ... i have a joke that if regis shows up in netflix, they won’t actually need him at all, because the fandom has already created too many vampire!jaskier and medic!jaskier headcanons.

it fucking bugs me when people just project random personalities onto characters that already have extremely strong personalities in canon (not in the manner of “fixing” things, but in the way that they actually just disregard all of the depth that was already canon). this is mostly due to netflix’s shitty writing, cavill’s lack of acting and refusal to say his dialogue, and their refusal to make dandelion actually a master poet. 

netflix fans can’t seem to comprehend that jaskier is not barbie... he does not have 10 million different jobs. he is a lyric poet, that is his job. he is a troubadour, a professor of the art, and then he did a little bit of spying on the side. that’s it! he’s not an assassin, he’s not a cook, he’s not a philosopher, he’s not a surgeon, he’s not a naturalist, he’s not a swordsman, he’s literally just a poet. (note that “poet” refers to the type of poet that sings, as that was the only type of poet in their time period). it reminds me of when people “godmod” when they do RPs, they pretend their character is just brilliant at everything they try and has endless skills. 

the fact of the matter is that dandelion sucks at 99% of everything besides things relating to his profession and his station: poetry and literature (including history), heraldry and knowledge of all of the royal and noble systems on the continent, anything having to do with memorization, vocal expertise, musical expertise, any academic bullshittery, likely gossip or drama from around the city the story is set in, having friends... but he can’t sew to save his life, he’s never shown cooking for himself (he directed the fish soup but didn’t do it himself, he only gutted fish for it and told everyone else what to do), he doesn’t know much about monsters except what he might have read in books, he doesn’t know much about swords, he doesn’t know about survival in the wilderness. think about it like a DND character - his charisma is 20 and everything else is fucking shit. pick another member of the hansa if you want to get good rolls on medicine or nature checks.

“but what if he was good at other things, you never know?” OK but dandelion’s profession is extremely significant to him because a profession in their medieval time and setting is something that you do for life and pass down to your children (if you have any... dandelion is obviously an outlier in his society’s relationship norms). a profession is not just your job, you don’t work at medieval starbucks. you have to be very skilled in what you do, because you wil be doing it until the day you die. this is why geralt is so upset at being a witcher, he doesn’t WANT to kill until the day he dies, and this path was chosen for him, he had no say in the matter. but of course, geralt and dandelion are opposites. dandelion LOVES being a poet, he literally chose this path for himself. he could have had any kind of governmental job, like his cousin ferrant, working for royalty and having a settled home in a royal court. but instead he became a poet, and then he did something even more wild and travelled the continent, instead of looking to be the court troubadour of some royal. both his class and his profession would allow him to cozy up in some court and never leave, with a cushy job until his death. but instead he travels and he meets many different people and gets in all these wacky situations. this is incredibly bizarre for an individual living in his time period and setting, who has the class and credentials/training that he has. this is already very interesting, and very significant to his character. then you add on all of the other characterization that sapkowski developed for him in the books, and it’s impossible to ignore how specific this character is in terms of personality, likes/dislikes, etc. he’s not just some poet, he’s dandelion. 

plus since geralt is such a fucking dick in the netflix series, so many fans are creating random personality tropes for him... random and incorrect backstory for him... no one knows who nenneke is, everyone thinks that visenna actually had a hand in raising him for a while... people are literally out here shipping him with vesemir and i am stupid enough to want to rehabilitate them by talking about how everything was different in the books.

geralt and dandelion’s relationship IS NOT something that exists solely in fanon. the books are RIGHT THERE, with them having a good relationship, but because they don’t have cavill’s abs and shitty lighting effects in them, they’re bound to be ignored. but maybe it’s for the best that geraskiers ignore the books. i have seen a flurry of despicable fetish shit come out of the fandom that centers on the abuse of gay men and i don’t want that to touch books geralt and dandelion.

#ask #anon #gerlion #dandelion #also i think if youre going to give underdeveloped characters more personality #it SHOULD be personality that fits with canon #for example for angouleme my hcs for her just go deeper into her trauma #but it doesnt take away from her canon personality