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ladytauria · 5 months

Note

"tell me a secret" with jaytim if youre still taking prompts, been enjoying all of the snippets!

um.

so.

this one ran away with me. a little bit.

it's. it feels very messy. but i like the direction i ended up going with it. i think--- i think i might revisit this premise again. but for now, nonny, i hope you like it!

(also, i'm glad you enjoyed my snippets~)

There are few things worse than truth pollen, in Tim’s opinion. Give him fear gas or sex pollen any day of the week. Losing control of his tongue, confessions spilling from his mouth, helpless to do anything to stop it… It makes him shudder just to think about.

However—

He would gladly have taken a blast of truth pollen right to the face, if it meant Jason wouldn’t have.

Jason’s locked himself in an isolation cell, now, while Tim synthesizes an antidote. The general pollen vaccine had done little to help the effects of this strain. Confessions had tumbled from Jason’s lips all the way home, all through the blood draw. Tim tries hard not to think about them, to forget them completely, but they linger in the back of his mind. Whether he wants them to be or not, he knows they’ve been imprinted in the back of his mind, where they’ll be sorted and cataloged, brought out later if ever he needs them.

He never forgets. It’s something of a curse.

As soon as the antidote finishes, Tim sends it to Jason through a panel in the isolation cell. It should take an hour for it to kick in—Tim will be upstairs, whenever Jason is ready.

Two hours pass before Jason joins him. Tim sits at the kitchen island, hands around a mug. Steam still wafts up from it; his face warm and damp where it caresses his skin.

“That better not be coffee,” Jason says. He sounds even grumpier than usual—not that Tim can blame him.

He chooses not to comment on his mood, for the moment.

“It’s not,” he says. “It’s tea.” He pauses. “Herbal tea.”

Jason grunts.

“There’s some for you on the counter.” He gestures.

Jason rounds the counter, finally coming into view. Tim’s shoulders loosen a little at the sight of him; curls and skin damp from a shower, cotton tee sticking to him. Sweatpants ride low on his hips. His socks have little gray cats on them.

“Did your cameras alert you I was coming up?”

Tim ignores the confrontational sneer in his tone. “No.”

For a moment, Jason’s body tenses like he’s going to challenge him on it—turn it into a fight, until one of them storms out or ends up sleeping in the guest room. Then he finds his tea, in a thermal traveling cup. The tension drains from him, then; weariness in the bow of his shoulders. He takes the cup and joins Tim at the island, settling onto the stool next to his.

Their shoulders brush. Tim knows it’s as close to an apology as he’ll get right now. He brushes against him again when he raises his mug to his mouth; a silent forgiveness.

Jason drinks his tea. He hums softly; a quiet, pleased noise.

They drink in silence. Tim wouldn’t describe it as comfortable, but the air isn’t as thick with tension as it could have been. He knew they would have to address it before they went to sleep; knew, for a while at least, that things would be… delicate. He’s not looking forward to walking on tiptoes—but it’s better than the alternative. It’s better than Jason leaving.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Tim murmurs, finally. “I’m not— I won’t ask. We can pretend like you never said anything.”

Jason is quiet for a moment, and then he says, “Thank you.” It’s barely a whisper. Tim isn’t sure he would have heard it, if he hadn’t been listening for it.

He brushes against him again, as he gets up to put his mug in the sink. He smooths his hand over Jason’s back; from one shoulder to the other as he walks by—both touches a silent reassurance.

He puts his mug in the sink and stops by Jason again. This time, he kisses his temple. “I’m going to bed,” he murmurs. “Join me when you’re ready.”

Jason leans into his touch—turning, when Tim pulls away, to catch around the waist and pull him close. He kisses the corner of Tim’s eye. “I love you,” he murmurs.

Tim squeezes his forearm. “I love you too,” he breathes.

They stay like that for a moment—a long moment. And then, finally, Jason lets him go, smearing another kiss against his skin when he does. Tim lingers a moment more, and then he heads off to their bedroom.

It’s maybe ten, fifteen minutes before Jason joins him, curling up in Tim’s arms; letting Tim plaster himself against his back, sighing sweetly when Tim’s chin rests atop his curls. He tangles their fingers together over their stomach.

Tim falls asleep knowing everything is going to be okay.

Tim doesn’t just forget about it. He can’t—though he tries. The things Jason said turn over and over in his mind, every time there’s a lull at work, on patrol, in the quiet moments he spends with Jason. He keeps his word. He doesn’t ask about them. He doesn’t even go digging through Batman’s files, or the city’s files—although the temptation sits heavy on his shoulders.

Instead—he ends up thinking, again and again, about secrets.

About Jason’s. About his own. About all the things that sit, buried deep under his tongue, where he would never dare to speak them aloud. But the more he thinks about the more he sees them as cracks—fissures, things not sitting quietly in himself but things keeping them apart.

He finds himself wanting to dig them up. To look at them in the light, offer them to Jason; see if he finds even those parts of him worth loving.

He wants to do the same to Jason. To look at the ugliest parts of him again—this time without the wrongness of pollen coating them—and cradle them in his hands, tuck them in the spaces between his ribs. Soothe the hurts they left behind.

Tim knows Jason won’t let him.

But.

Tim has never needed reciprocation.

He starts offering them, impromptu, in their quiet moments.

“Sometimes I feel more like myself in a dress and heels than I do in a suit,” he confesses, while Jason is reading; Tim’s head in his lap while he plays on his switch. “I’ve thought about looking into it—but honestly. Exploring... that on top of everything else just sounds exhausting.”

Jason pauses, fingers in Tim’s hair, and says, “If you ever want to, I’ll support you. I’ll love you, no matter what you decide.”

Tim turns and kisses his stomach.

A few days later, they’re cooking together. Tim stirs noodles, while Jason chops vegetables. “The first time I dressed up as a woman, I looked so much like my mother I almost couldn’t leave the manor. I don't think I would have, if not for the mission.”

The knife pauses; the sound of chopping stops. “That must have been a lot,” Jason says, tentatively.

Tim doesn’t have to look over to know Jason is giving him a weird look. He can feel it on the back of his head.

“It was,” he agrees. “Are you sure I salted this enough?”

His next confession is delivered when Tim is donning one of his aliases for an undercover job. Jason is sweet enough to do up his zipper for him.

“I created my first alias when I was seven. I mean, I guess it was more playing pretend, but... I dunno. It felt more serious than that, even then. I kept making more as I got older, trying them on... whenever I felt like it. Now it’s something I do as a hobby, to keep my skills sharp, but there was a time when I wanted to be anyone other than Tim Drake.”

Jason meets his eyes in the mirror; gaze unfathomable. “What changed?”

Tim’s lips quirk. “It’s hard to fall in love as anyone but yourself.”

The flush on Jason’s face is vivid red. Tim is helpless to do anything but turn and kiss him.

After a fight, Tim calls Jason. It goes straight to voicemail—not unexpected. It still makes his heart clench. He ignores it, instead offering,

“Jason… I’m sorry, for what I said, earlier. It— It wasn’t true. I meant it when I said I can live with you killing. I don’t—I don’t… The truth is, I don’t disagree with your methods. I’m tempted to join you, sometimes. A lot of times. I’m tempted to go even further, too. I… Sometimes I think the only thing that keeps me from going bad is Dick’s disappointment. Bruce’s, too, but. I don’t care what he thinks as much anymore.

“Some days the temptation is stronger than others, though. And that— It scares me. I cling tighter to the rules in response. I… It’s not an excuse for me to hurt you, though. I’m sorry. I love you. Come home whenever you’re ready.” He’s crying when he finishes, hanging up the phone. Thinks about staying in the basement; distracting himself with cold cases instead of going to bed.

He decides he’s disappointed Jason enough.

Jason comes home that night. Slips into their bed, gathering Tim in his arms.

“You could never go bad,” he whispers. “You’re too fucking good, Tim.”

Tim shakes his head, burying his face in Jason’s neck. “If I convinced myself it was right, or for a good cause…” He holds him tighter.

Jason is quiet. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” Tim doesn’t even hesitate.

“Then trust that I wouldn’t let you.”

Tim knows Jason has broken his own moral code more than once.

He also knows that Jason is far more careful with the people he loves than he is himself.

It’s a trait they share.

So he nods. “Okay.”

“And you’ll do the same for me,” he says, softly—almost tentatively.

Tim holds him tighter. “Yes.”

He’s quiet for so long Tim thinks he falls asleep. Then, he offers, quietly, “Sometimes I think I’ll go too far, and— You’ll leave. Or that you’ll wake up one day, and realize I’m not going to change, that… That you can’t handle the killing after all. I don’t… I don’t want to lose you.” He doesn’t say, I thought I was losing you tonight, but Tim hears it anyway.

He kisses Jason’s neck. “You won’t,” he says, confidently. “But— If you ever do, or if it looks like you’re going to— I promise I’ll tell you. Warn you. I won’t just disappear without giving you a chance.”

Jason shudders in his arms. He tucks his face in Tim’s hair—Tim cups the back of his neck in response. “Feels like all you’ve given me a hundred second chances,” he whispers.

Tim nuzzles him. “I’ll give you a hundred more. You’re worth it.”

Jason starts making his own confessions, after that.

He lights a candle on the coffee table, filling the air with the scent of sandalwood. Then he stops. Turns his lighter over in his hand—flicks it on, then off again.

“I didn’t stop smoking because of how I died, or the Pit, or Talia, or for my health, or—any of the bullshit reasons I told everyone else. Sheila— Cigarettes remind me of her. The way she just sat there and watched.”

Tim stands, stepping into his space. He winds his arms around Jason’s waist. “You deserved better,” he says, quietly.

“We both did.”

‘We’ means Tim and Jason. It also means Sheila and Jason. Tim doesn’t know if he agrees with the latter—but. Whatever else she was, she was Jason’s mother, and that means something to Jason. So, he says nothing. Just presses a kiss to Jason’s shoulder.

After a rough patrol, another argument between Jason and Bruce—one that took both Nightwing and Red Robin to break up—Jason sits in the medbay of Tim’s nest, letting him stitch up his arm.

Tim is almost done, when Jason says, “I’ve given up on Bruce killing the Joker for me. I wish he’d let me do it. More than that—I just. I want him to tell me, to my face, that he missed me. That he loved me. That the loss of me was something painful. That—That he still loves me. I don’t. I don’t want to hear it from someone else. But I know— I know he won’t. The man who would have died with me, and sometimes I think that’s the worst of it all.”

Tim snips the thread, laying the needle down. He kisses the skin just above the wound, and lingers there. “I’m sorry.”

Jason is quiet. Then he turns, pressing his nose into Tim’s hair. He doubts it smells great—he hasn’t had time to hit the showers yet—but Jason doesn’t seem to care. “Me too,” he whispers.

Tim gets a box of cologne samples in the mail. He’s going through them, just for fun—handing the ones he likes best to Jason. As he passes over the third, Jason says,

“I don’t remember what Mom’s voice sounded like anymore—but. I found the perfume she loved. It was one of the most expensive things we owned. She only got it out for special occasions, or—or when she was sad, and needed something to help remind her of the good times. I— When I smell it, I can almost hear her again. Singing in the kitchen, or… Reading with me on the couch.”

Tim puts the cologne samples down. He tucks himself against Jason’s side and holds him tight. The vulnerability in Jason’s voice, in his expression… It scares Tim almost as much as it awes him. He just— He wants to protect him, to hold the softest parts of Jason close, where nothing and no one can hurt him again.

It’s an impossible wish, but. That won’t stop him from trying.

“Tell me about her?” he asks softly, laying his cheek over Jason’s heart. The steady beat is calming.

Hesitatingly—haltingly—

Jason does.

It keeps going. Back and forth.

“Sometimes I think no one actually wants me around—that people are happier when I’m not there.”

“I think I left a piece of myself in the grave. It hurts less that it’s missing these days, but. It still hurts.”

“I never felt like I was alive until I became Robin. That’s part of why losing it hurt so much.”

“Sometimes Bruce and Dick will mention things—and I don’t remember them. They sound like happy memories, but, when I go poking around, all I can find are blank spaces. It’s fucking terrifying.”

“In the early days—sometimes Bruce would forget, and call me by your name. I… It feels awful to admit, but. Those nights were my favorite.”

“I hate looking in the mirror. For—for a million fucking reasons, but one of ‘em is how much I look like my dad. Like Willis. He wasn’t a bad man, except when he drank. He just… he drank a lot. I don’t want to be him.”

Secrets traded, back and forth. A lot of them big, some of them small. Always in the quietest moments, in the carefullest tones. Each one met with acceptance, with love.

Tim feels freer than he ever has. Not even swinging between buildings leaves his step so light.

He thinks Jason feels the same; thinks he smiles more, now. Tim has caught him humming in the kitchen more than once—finds himself humming the same tune.

Tim has never needed reciprocation to love someone.

Jason has given it to him anyway.

Ivy’s not done with truth pollen—determined to perfect this strain. This time, Tim is on the other side of the city when Jason catches a face full. He doesn’t miss a beat; working with Spoiler to wrangle her back to Arkham. As soon as it’s handled, he beelines back to the Nest.

Tim meets him there.

Jason doesn’t lock himself in an isolation cell, this time. He works with Tim to distill the antidote. Tim isn’t foolish enough to believe that all of the secrets Jason has buried in the recesses of his mind have come to light. He knows his haven’t. He knows, too, that for both of them, there are some which never will. That's okay. Jason has shared enough that the pollen’s compulsion has little to cling to; little to nourish its roots.

So this time—he doesn’t talk as much, this time; only the occasional confession spilling from his lips.

Most of them make Tim blush.

It’s a torturous hour—albeit for entirely different reasons than last time—and it ends not with a shared cup of tea but Tim pinned to the wall in the Nest shower, Jason on his knees, worshiping him until stars burst behind his eyes.

Tim turns the tables on him as soon as he remembers which way is up—and then they stumble upstairs, to bed, curling into one another like two mis-matched halves.

Jason tangles their fingers together. “Tell me a secret,” he whispers, to the darkness of the room.

Tim does.

#jaytim #timjay #dcu #tauriawritesfanfic #asks and answers #lovely anons #this is almost 3k <3

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untitled5071 · 2 months

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can you write a fan fic of lisa & creature being all cute? just fluff. maybe even with her showing him some “new” stuff he’s never seen before, like music and movies etc. pls & thanks :)

Ask and ye shall receive, hope you enjoy!

🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦

“Oh you are gonna love this one, I know it. I have very good instincts about these things.”

Before he could make any noise of objection or question, Lisa clamped the headphones of her walkman down over the creature’s ears, including the newly re-attached one. She gave him a moment to get used to the sensation of artificially drowned-out noise before she inserted the Siouxsie and the Banshees tape into the deck and started the first track. The opening beat of “Spellbound” began to play, and Lisa watched as the creature tried to process what he was hearing, brow furrowing and lips twitching as his 1837 classically-trained brain tried to come to terms with the existence of the synthesizer.

They were sitting on her bedroom floor; Lisa had come home from school not too long ago to find the creature sitting outside of her open closet doors, her carpet all but covered in piles of modern amenities and technology that the creature had collected during his last several hours of being home alone. When she walked in, his eyes lit up like they always did when he saw her, and he had gestured to his treasures, an inquisitive groan in his throat. The sound was barely out of his mouth before she had plopped down across from him, bag of Corn Nuts in hand and ready to share the wonders of the glorious 1980’s with her newly resurrected companion.

And of course, Lisa’s first order of business was to introduce him to good music.

“See, I told you you would like it. We have very similar tastes, you and I, and it’s called good taste, trust me.”

Turning away from him as he started messing with the buttons on the Walkman, she looked around at the other household items that had caught the creature’s eye. To her left lay one of the twin fiber optic rainbow light burst decoration…things from the TV shelves downstairs, the ones Janet had always forbidden her from touching since they, like everything else in the pink monstrosity of a home, were meant to be seen and never touched by her unworthy fingers.

Well, aside from the bloodstain on the carpet underneath them, Janet was gone.

The were battery-operated, so while the creature unplugged and replugged the headphones on the walkman and marveled at how quickly the sound stopped, Lisa switched the trinket’s lights on and began playing with the hundreds of plastic bristles that made up the light display, giggling softly to herself as she pushed them this way and that, bunching them up and then letting them go, whatever she felt like. She was in the middle of running them in between her fingers like some kind of particularly coarse fur when her hand was suddenly joined by a much colder one, and the creature-now with the walkman headphones around his neck-joined her in fiddling with the decorative plastic piece.

Their eyes met, and she took just a second to be entranced by how the rainbow changing light reflected in his eyes before looking back down, taking his hand in hers and guiding them both to skim over the top of the bristles, watching them sway with the movement.

“Pretty, isn’t it?”

The creature looked up, locking his eyes with hers and holding her gaze with a sudden intensity. She blinked, a little taken off guard, but then his gaze softened, and he pointed to her. She blinked again, confused, before her affection-addled brain kicked on and she understood.

“Oh, me? I’m pretty?”

The creature nodded, smile fond, if not a bit exasperated. Lisa blushed, suddenly nervous to meet his gaze, instead choosing to look down at the fiber optic lights-or anything else besides him-to distract herself from the sudden squeeze on her heart.

“I mean, thanks but I’m no Geena Davis, my teeth are kinda big and I’ve got this weird snort laugh thing and my hair never listens and..ooh, wait, look at this!”

She cut off whatever noises the creature was about to make to object by fishing out a VHS of the Rocky Horror Picture Show from the bottom of one of the piles, turning it around so he could see the cover. He looked from it to her and back again in a way that clearly told her that he wanted to be excited, but had no idea what he was looking at, so she rolled her eyes and pushed herself up from the floor, offering a hand to help him to the same with his bum leg. His cheeks darkened a little bit at the contact, and Lisa decided to specifically not mention how he squeezed her hand for just a moment longer than necessary for support.

He was barely on his feet before she was tugging him along, down the stairs and into the living room, where she pushed his shoulders to get him to sit on the couch. She put the VHS into the player and let the trailers roll. The creature’s eyes widened almost comically as he beheld the wonders of television, and he looked to Lisa, clearly with a billion questions. She smiled, and patted him conspiratorially on the shoulder.

“Welcome to the movies! You were about 50 years away from this kinda thing when you died, but don’t feel bad, the first ones were just about trains and stuff anyway. This is where it really gets good.”

The creature hummed in curiosity as Lisa reached forward to press ‘play’ on the tape, but before she could get back on the couch with him, she got an idea, jumping up from her crouched position in front of the TV.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back!”

Leaving a bewildered and bemused creature behind, she sprinted to the kitchen to grab some drinks, and returned with two Sprites, which she popped open while the opening credits started, a disembodied pair of lips fading into existence and beginning to sing to them. She sat down next to the creature and handed him one, clicking their matching drinks together before turning to the screen.

“Can’t have a movie without snacks! We should have enough time before Dad and Taffy get home, so get ready to have your old fashioned Victorian mind blown, buddy.”

The creature tilted his head in question before taking a sip of the drink he was offered, though he sent himself into a coughing fit almost as soon as the beverage crossed his lips. Alarmed, Lisa jumped into action and thumped him on the back, flinching slightly as a centipede dislodged itself from..somewhere and scurried across the floor while the creature composed himself.

“Damn, I guess I should have warned you about carbonation. Good thing you’re already dead or that might have killed your Victorian ass outright.”

The glare he gave her would have been murderous if there wasn’t so much adoring laughter in it, and after she made sure he was okay, she snuggled into his side a bit more on the couch, taking a sip of her own drink and watching out of the corner of her eye as he took much smaller and more cautious sips of his soda. The opening exposition began, and right before the first song started, Lisa remembered something, turning slightly to watch the creature with a small smirk.

“Oh I should probably ask, how do you feel about lingerie?”

The creature’s sputtering coughing fit lasted a lot longer that time.

#lisa frankenstein #lisa frankenstein fanfiction #lisa frankenstein 2024 #lisa swallows #the creature #lisa swallows x the creature #my writing

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hippolotamus · 29 days

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Thirsty Fuck it Friday 🪩

Tagged by @tizniz for Thirsty Thursday and @daffi-990 for Fuck it Friday. And let me just say... go read their snippets if you haven't because 🔥🔥🔥

okay! so, two tag days, two snippets... right? a little Buddie here, a little Lutalia there. bon appetit!

from debatably (i use that so loosely lmao) sfw watch my shattered edges glisten:

Whatever Eddie thought he was going to see tonight– this was not it. He was prepared for flowing, graceful, and ethereal. For simultaneously muted and vibrant blending together in what could almost be described as an erotic ballet. This, however– it’s loud and bold. Like being thrust into the daylight after years of darkness, or an endless storm, sending the shadows scattering. Arsen steps out to music that begins with roughly ten seconds of synthesized horns before melting into an intense beat. He’s forgone his usual long sleeved mesh tee, wearing only a black chest harness on top. Even that’s slightly different, using a shiny patent leather instead of a matte finish. It hugs his muscles perfectly, with horizontal straps encasing his pecs and a singular vertical strap down the middle that disappears under matching booty shorts that showcase his thick thighs. Normally, Arsen seems to tease at whatever’s hiding beneath his clothes. Just enough of an outline to make Eddie wonder. Tonight there is no hinting. There’s an obvious bulge under the skin tight attire, further highlighted by the way he drags his palms up his quads and deliberately frames it with his fingers. Like he’s showing off. Strutting around like a peacock looking to prove he’s the best mate.

Buck’s music 😏

And some definitely nsfw untitled Lutalia (they are strangers at this point and Lucy hasn't given up her name):

Her right hand slips over Nat’s abdomen, past the hem of her dress until she’s grazing Nat’s inner thigh. A torturous barely there touch that sets her alight. Fuck. How did she let herself go so long without this? How did she get so lost in the business of people dying that she denied herself the chance to live? Nat lets out a breathy whine, already just this side of desperate. The woman nibbles her ear, chuckling darkly. “Impatient, are we?” “Y-yeah. Yes.” Corset moans, somehow holding Nat closer. “Goddamn, what a fucking dream you are. Bet you’re all wet for me, too, aren’t you?” Nat knows she is, can feel the slickness between her legs. All she’s able to manage is a nod in response. Corset hums appreciatively, tracing an invisible path up, up, up. The prospect of relief is so near, Nat buzzes with excitement, eagerly anticipating the moment she’ll finally be touched the way she wants. Short nails scrape along her skin, toying with the seam of her underwear. She’s never been more grateful for being low on clean laundry and being forced to choose a thong tonight. Except Corset pulls away then and Nat whines. A high pitched undignified thing that should leave her drowning in shame if she wasn’t so turned on. “Don’t you worry. You’re getting what’s coming to you. Just gonna make a few adjustments first.” Corset deftly unzips the back of Nat’s dress, allowing the front to drop, exposing her breasts. Sleek leather and ribbon presses into her spine while Corset grins salaciously, rolling each nipple between her fingers. Corset’s other hand brushes over her swollen, sensitive clit through damp lacy fabric. Nat meets her eyes in the mirror, pleading for more. “Christ, just look at yourself, baby. Look how beautiful you are for me.” Nat does and fuck. She looks as debauched as she feels. Tits out and makeup smeared, letting a complete stranger be in control of her pleasure.

np tagging @stereopticons @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @disasterbuckdiaz @actuallyitsellie @apothecarose @barbiediaz @buddierights @chaosandwolves @diazsdimples @elvensorceress @epicbuddieficrecs @eowon @fortheloveofbuddie @gayedmundodiaz @giddyupbuck @say-bi-for-me @honestlydarkprincess @hoodie-buck @indestructibleheart @jesuisici33 @thekristen999 @ladydorian05 @lemonzestywrites @lizzie-bennetdarcy @loserdiaz @loveyouanyway @monsterrae1 @rmd-writes @spaceprincessem @spotsandsocks @statueinthestone @steadfastsaturnsrings @the-likesofus @theotherbuckley @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @thewolvesof1998 @vanillahigh00 @watchyourbuck @weewootruck @welcometololaland @wikiangela @wildlife4life @your-catfish-friend @maygrantgf and anyone else who wants to 😘

#buck knows *exactly* what he's doing #he's totally showing off #eddie just doesn't realize who it's for yet #fic: watch my shattered edges glisten #untitled lutalia fic #buddie wip #lutalia wip #hippo writes #thirsty thursday #fuck it friday #Spotify

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simplyclary · 7 months

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What I Love About You: An Incomplete List of Things That I Love About Taylor Zakhar Perez

This is going to be a mix of prose and a list, so a mix of Henry and Alex (if you know, you know). This is also gonna be a forever incomplete list because the more I get to know Taylor, the more I fall in love with him and there's always something about him that surprises me every day.

These are also purely descriptive but somehow, the words, similes and metaphors that I use in this is perfectly apt for the way I feel. So take that however you wish.

With that said, here we go...on to the long list.... (Read at your own time, please.)

His beautiful brown eyes that's the color of chocolate that transforms into whiskey when struck by daylight.

His eyelashes that's as long as Bambi's and it frames his dark eyes like the petals of a flower.

His soft yet lethal smile that never fails to make my heart flutter.

His thick dark hair filled with lush curls and somehow always looks both tousled and coiffed to perfection.

His jawline that seems to be perfectly cut that it could slice an apple. (It's mesmerizing to look at, if I feel like being honest)

His physique that could battle Tom Holland and Chris Hemsworth (I swear, someone put him in a superhero movie and I will surely be watching it!)

His deep voice that is pure music to my ears. (One of the main reasons that I rewatch The Kissing Booth 2 is to hear him sing.)

The captivating way his fingers strum the strings of a guitar (I only saw him do this in TKB 2, but still).

His adventurous and nature-loving spirit (A day with him is probably deadly for an introvert like me because he adores adventurous stuff, but hey, I would honestly do it just to spend time with him).

His passion for fashion sustainability (I love that he talks about this on his social media accounts and informs his followers about the effects of synthesized fabrics to the planet).

His fashion sense and the way he can turn even the plainest piece of clothing into a masterpiece (Like that denim blue jacket in RWRB is still one of my most favorite Alex looks).

The way he walks as if the entire world is his fashion runway (Like I swear, Taylor has a way of walking that makes you think that a sidewalk is the fashion catwalk).

The way he slays various types of jewelry (I was never attracted to men wearing jewelry before but something about the way he combines like a necklace with a couple of bracelets and rings is slaying).

His love and care for his family (He is a family-oriented person and I love that so much).

The tight bond he keeps with his friends and co-stars (Like I love how he keeps in touch with Nicholas, Joey and Maisie even after their projects).

His dedication to character work and understanding his characters (He read the RWRB book 7-8 times to fully understand Alex Claremont-Diaz, like that is DEDICATION!!).

The mere fact that he is a bookworm (Taylor is probably one of those people who can read multiple books at once while still able to remember every storyline of each book, which leaves me awestruck because I cannot do that).

His sense of humor and wit that always makes me laugh (His replies to people on social media and sometimes, his captions are filled with puns, which is hilarious to me and I always enjoy reading them. Also when he uses that filter that makes his eyes pop out, hilarious!).

When he portrayed a douche in "1Up" but I couldn't fully hate that character because of him (Like, how could I possibly hate Taylor? I have no reason to. He could portray the vilest of villains and I would still love that character).

How he manages to stay optimistic and how he always protects his peace (Optimism is what we need in today's world, folks!)

His creativity (Like have you seen his tiktoks and videos on Instagram? They slay!!)

He's a big Potterhead (Taylor's read all the books multiple times, ate the candies and sweets featured in the series. He probably has a collection of Harry Potter items at his house).

The way he just does not have any bad angles in photos (He's photogenic from every angle, to be completely honest).

His kindness and openness to fans (his fan encounters are always such a gem to see and it honestly melts my heart).

The way he doesn't let haters and rumors bother him (This is one of the secrets to success in the industry, I guess!)

He's goal-oriented and knows what he wants (I have a feeling he's selective to what projects he pursues and products he advertises because he really knows what he wants to put out in the world).

He knows his values and what he stands for (He lost followers on IG because of posting about his supply chain trips but he didn't let that stop him from continuing to post about them).

His compassionate and loving heart (I won't say more).

His determination to use his platform for good things (He's that kind of influencer and I really love that).

His love for his characters, regardless of how similar or different they are to his own personality.

How fans have no bad things to say about him (Really, ask any TZP fan and they will say no bad things about him).

So...it's kind of ironic how I ended at 31, considering that is Taylor's age but hey, we're not gonna talk about how old he looks because to be honest, he always manages to look younger than he is (I honestly thought he was 27 to 28 in RWRB).

This is the incomplete list of things I love about Taylor Zakhar Perez. Other than what is stated here, I will continue to love him for plenty more reasons, some I cannot even put into words because sometimes, he just renders me speechless.

Feel free to let me know what would you add to my list of things that I love about TZP or if you have your own list of things that you love about him because let's be honest, what's not to love about the one and only Taylor Zakhar Perez?

All my love and Buenas Noches!

#taylor zakhar perez #rwrb #rwrb movie #nicholas galitzine #alex claremont diaz #prince henry rwrb #what i love about you #firstprince #the kissing booth #marco peña #red white and royal blue

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swap-and-possessions · 1 year

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Fused

“We’re looking good, aren’t we, Max? No! Powell… Maxwell?” The fusion of Max and Powell said to the mirror. After asking the question, he was met with a resounding silence. Getting used to a fused body would take a while.

After years of research and several pitfalls that nearly destroyed their life effort, Max and Powell – twin scientists of academic renown – had finally done it! The fusion serum is humanity’s key to its several problems. But at the cusp of their research, their impatient sponsors pulled their funding, forcing the twins to continue their work at their home garage. No funding means no lab and no people to test to. Despite the hurdles, they synthesized the fusion serum and experimented on it themselves.

Max and Powell poured the serum on their chest and felt the stinging concoction burn their skin. Pain flared everywhere in their body at the first second, but they were spared from further torture when their nerves were melted. Their bodies turned malleable like bubblegum. Their strengthless feet collapsed, and their bodies splashed into one massive puddle. It was dark after that.

Max and Powell woke up simultaneously. Both remembered collapsing in the garage while also fighting through nausea to drag their body to their bedroom. Two memories coexisted as one in their heads. When they looked at their body, they realized it wasn’t what they remembered. This new body of theirs has their combined muscle mass, giving them a defined build of a man that trained his body for months. They felt strength like they never did before and intellect that surpassed their parts. They were separate, and now they are fused.

Maxwell touched their body, hoping this wasn’t a fever dream fired by their dying body from the failed experiment. No! The experimentation was a success, and this was real. They could feel every inch of each other's bodies, from the tips of their toes to their fingers. Their arms and chest were well-defined, with sinewy muscles rippling beneath the skin. They also have strong, broad shoulders and a tight, toned abdomen that show off their six-pack abs. Their sick-pack abs! They didn’t understand why anyone would waste their time just to thicken their muscles. Now? They understood the confidence and power of knowing you can show your strength to the world with your bulging muscles.

And speaking of bulges – One of the most noticeable features of their new body was their enormous cock. Maxwell pulled the strap of his boxer and saw their combined length plop out. It's thick and veiny, with a prominent head, now eager for action. They have expected this. Aside from being a fusion serum, it also works as a potent aphrodisiac if you can withstand the scorching feeling of your melting skin.

•·················•·················•

Read the free NSFW Continuation >>here<<.

Join the server and read more stories at Swaps & Possessions (by Space_Man2) Discord server.

#Transformation #Male Transformation #Fusion #Male Fusion #Male Body Fusion #Twunk #Stories

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 1 year

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More A-Town Headcanons

Courtesy of Cates!

[For those of you just tuning in: A-Town is the shitty postwar sitcom inspired by the life of Jake Berenson, to the eternal annoyance of Jake Berenson.]

The first time Eva’s stand-in, named Laura, appears on the show, she’s working as a nanny and housekeeper. Following complaints of stereotyping, the next time she appears she's an architect. For some reason the show tries to justify the change instead of just leaving the continuity error; a character asks about her career change and Laura says she "quit my job and decided to go to school and get a Master’s." In universe, it's been three weeks since we last saw her as a nanny-housekeeper. There’s a horrifying implication that the entire family she worked for are infested, including the baby.

The school that Brandon A. and his fauximorphs attend has had half a dozen proms so far this year. It's a great excuse to have a whole bunch of people packed together in low lighting, making it very easy to suggest there's a lot more action and fighting than actually occurs. At one point the show's only big predator, a lion, shows up at the prom and hangs out even after the threat is gone and all the characters are visible on screen, suggesting the lion isn't a morpher but is in fact just a random lion at prom.

The theme song is heavy on guitars and synthesizers and it's ridiculously catchy. (Think Rocket Power.) The first few times Jake heard it he thought it was deeper and grittier than the show because it contained the line "all we can do is fight and cope," only to realize that it was "all we do is for right and hope."

In A-Town, the kids meet in a tree house, not a barn. One night while Cassie and Rachel are at a play together, Jake and Tobias end up getting drunk together during an intense discussion of the show and admitting that the fauximorphs meeting in a tree house is actually a really good idea. It's a higher vantage point, it's easy to see or hear anyone coming, it's impossible to sneak up on, it's a place where kids actually hang out, and it's a place grown-ups wouldn't venture into for the most part. This culminates in Jake earnestly apologizing for not building Tobias a tree house and Tobias declaring "every tree is my house," which they both think is really profound for 3.5 minutes.

It's ambiguous whether a current morpher needs to be touching the green dodecahedron at the time for someone new to gain the ability to morph. The answer to this question has serious plot implications, which are of course never explored.

The A-Town yeerks are allergic not to oatmeal, but to Campbell's Chicken & Stars Soup. Campbell runs a promotion telling kids to "buy our soup to fight the yeerks!"

You know what's hard to train? Red tailed hawks. You know what isn't hard to train? Parakeets.

#animorphs #a-town #animorphs meta #crack #jake berenson #tobias fangor

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bluehairandproverbs · 3 months

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@hekateinhell Okay so I've been thinking about a lesser-known passage quote from canon that best describes Armand for the ask game and this is what I've got. YMMV on how lesser known this is, but I haven't seen a lot of discussion around these passages from QoTD and I think they're very interesting!

Finally, after a year and a half of this madness, Daniel began to question Armand. What had it really been like in those days in Venice? Look at this film, set in the eighteenth century, tell me what is wrong.

But Armand was remarkably unresponsive. "I cannot tell you those things because I have no experience of them. You see, I have so little ability to synthesize knowledge; I deal in the immediate with a cool intensity. What was it like in Paris? Ask me if it rained on the night of Saturday, June 5, 1793. Perhaps I could tell you I that."

Yet at other moments, he spoke in rapid bursts of the things around him, of the eerie garish cleanliness of this era, of the horrid acceleration of change.

"Behold, earthshaking inventions which are useless or obsolete within the same century-the steamboat, the railroads; yet do you know what these meant after six thousand years of galley slaves and men on horseback? And now the dance hall girl buys a chemical to kill the seed of her lovers, and lives to be seventy-five in a room full of gadgets which cool the air and veritably eat the dust. And yet for all the costume movies and the paperback history thrown at you in every drugstore, the public has no accurate memory of anything; every social problem is observed in relation to 'norms' which in fact never existed, people fancy themselves 'deprived' of luxuries and peace and quiet which in fact were never common to any people anywhere at all."

"But the Venice of your time, tell me. . . ."

"What? That it was dirty? That it was beautiful? That people went about in rags with rotting teeth and stinking breath and laughed at public executions? You want to know the key difference? There is a horrifying loneliness at work in this time. No, listen to me. We lived six and seven to a room in those days, when I was still among the living. The city streets were seas of humanity; and now in these high buildings dim-witted souls hover in luxurious privacy, gazing through the television window at a faraway world of kissing and touching. It is bound to produce some great fund of common knowledge, some new level of human awareness, a curious skepticism, to be so alone."

I think this is so interesting! Now I don't necessarily doubt that it's challenging for him to explain to Daniel how a film set in the 18th century is accurate or not accurate, but I think he demonstrates here that he can compare the past to the present quite well, and tell you what has changed beyond the technology. He seems to be a very keen observer! Later the the chapter, he again shows us that his finger is right on the pulse of the zeitgeist:

Then had come the night when Armand said he was ready to enter this century in earnest, he understood enough about it now. He wanted "incalculable" wealth. He wanted a vast dwelling full of all those things he'd come to value. And yachts, planes, cars- millions of dollars. He wanted to buy Daniel everything that Daniel might ever desire.

As you can see, he fully embraces his inner Material Girl the materialism and consumerism of the era here.

#ask game #vampire chronicles #the vampire armand #queen of the damned #i'm sure there's more to say here but my brain isn't cooperating

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dearestones · 1 year

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By Any Necessary Means (Platonic! Yandere! L and Child! Reader)

Warnings: Yandere character, yandere behavior.

@maggiequinn59 Request: Hi Devin , I love your work and this is my first time requesting I was wondering if it was ok with you if you could please write a one-shot yandere platonic L Lawliet with his adopted child confronting him on why he ruined their lives by falsely convicting their birth parents and saying they want nothing to do with him sorry btw if that is to much or uncomfortable I hope you know that I appreciate reading your creations and thank you for the time and dedication you put for us followers 😊💖

It happened when you were a child.

You were still considered a child in many countries, but the incident you were heavily researching into happened when you were so young, your earliest memories were blurry and held little substance. However, what stood out to you was not cold, hard facts about what happened, but what you felt. You could remember the feeling of your mother’s touch embracing you while you slept in your arms, of your father’s strong grip steering you away from trouble.

There was laughter.

There were tears.

But most of all, there was love.

And then you lost it.

Well, you didn’t lose love. You’ve had love all this time, but it wasn’t the love that most people would imagine, but a sort of affection that you could only describe as well meaning, but restrained. Boundless, but strict. True, but false.

Ever since your parents had been put behind bars, you had been handed into the custody of the strangest man you had ever met. You could barely remember the tears and the confusion when you finally realized that your parents were never coming back to tuck you into bed, to say their “I love you’s”, or to smile at you in a way that was comforting. What you did remember, however, was the fact that no sooner did your tears finally dry and your sobs subside that you were placed in a clean hotel room with nothing more than the basic amenities and a television screen with a flashing letter L.

And that was when you met him.

At first, you weren’t quite sure about the strange voice who spoke to you from the screen, but eventually you came to trust the man. Over time, you’ve come to associate his voice with comfort and luxury. That voice would command the old man that would attend to you with attentiveness. He would provide the most delicious foods, fashionable clothing, and an education that would make countless children green with envy. The voice was your salvation in those early years, especially in the wake of your parents’ imprisonment.

However, looking back on your childhood, you came to the startling conclusion that even if you were treated with great adoration (or as much adoration as you could get from a synthesized voice), you had no choice but to comply. You were still a child seeking love and validation. While you did get that in the form of material items, you still yearned for your parents.

And that was the kicker wasn’t it?

Every time you tried to broach the topic of your parents or make allusions to your past, either the old man or the computerized voice would shut the conversation down or ignore your pleas altogether.

Eventually, you gave up.

Eventually, you came to embrace this new lifestyle that offered the comforts any child should have, but without the love that you craved.

And eventually, you were finally given the freedom to use the internet and go out on your own.

The first thing that you did? Visit the library and get as much information as possible about your parents’ convictions.

Almost immediately, you began to see the discrepancies, the conflicting witness statements, and the mixed public opinion about the publicized trial. You were a bright child—your benefactor had seen to that—but it didn’t take a genius to realize that your parents were framed and the person behind it all was none other than the famed detective who had taken you under his wing. Your parents were good people, there was no way people would think that they were criminals!

At your core, you were confused and frightened. How could anyone let this happen? It was obvious that the criminal investigation had been botched, but you supposed that with the right mind and enough money, you could get away with anything.

Perhaps you were gifted with exemplary skills of deduction and observation, but could people be so stupid as to be duped by such a ploy?

And if so, to what end?

Why did your strange benefactor steal you from your family? What benefit were you to him?

“You were always a smart one. Not as smart as other children, but I suppose that can’t be helped.”

You sat in front of your computer, the synthesized voice seemingly as bland and monotonous as always. However, over the years, you could somewhat detect whenever the voice began to develop an emotional tone to it. For instance, the way the computerized voice seemed lighter and buoyant at the end of his sentence was layered in mild amusement.

“It’s true then?” You edged closer now, insistence making you seem younger than what you already were. Your fists clenched. If you wanted to get all the answers you wanted, you had to keep your anger in check lest you punch the screen in frustration. “You punished my parents for no reason than… What? You wanted to rub it in their faces that you’re raising their child?”

This time, you were rewarded with brittle laughter. Sometimes, you like to imagine what your benefactor actually sounded like in real life. When you were a child, you often thought that he would sound a lot like the old man who tended to you whenever your benefactor wasn’t speaking to you. Now, though, with all the research about your parents filling your mind, you could only imagine some mastermind criminal leering at you.

“I can hardly rub it in their faces if I have not had contact with them in years. The only benefit that I can see was that I got to raise you.”

You scoffed, the anger mounting.

“As if raising a child consists of an old man who won’t tell you anything, a screen with a robotic voice, and changing hotel rooms.”

“And yet you’re still here.”

“I won’t be. Not for much longer.” You gestured to the bed behind you. There, resting on the rumpled covers was a suitcase and a backpack that was filled to the brim with all of your essentials and a few of your favorite baubles. You had to bribe the old man to leave you alone the past few hours, but that was more than enough time for you to prepare and confirm with what few friends and contacts you had to be on standby. “I’m leaving and I don’t want you to contact me or interfere anymore than what you’ve already done so far.”

“Oh? And what shall I do when you eventually come back?”

That amusement again.

You hated it.

“You may have raised me—as loose as your definition may be—but you don’t know me. Goodbye.”

Before he could even think about reprimanding or threatening you, you threw the computer onto the ground and stormed towards the bed. As the straps of your backpack dug deep into your shoulders and the handle of your suitcase was gripped tightly in hand, you glanced around the room before heading towards the door.

Your strange benefactor’s love was as meaningless as the sparsely decorated hotel room you left behind.

[PART ONE] [PART TWO]

DISCLAIMER: I do not condone yandere behavior outside of fictional settings. Please don’t mistake the actions of fictional characters displayed in works of fiction to be considered harmless in real life.

If you want to donate a Ko-Fi, feel free https://ko-fi.com/devintrinidad.

DEATH NOTE MASTERLIST

#death note #dn #death note yandere #dn yandere #death note l #death note l lawliet #dn l #dn l lawliet #yandere l #yandere l lawliet #yandere and reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral #gn! reader #platonic yandere #child reader #dearestones #devintrinidad

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liyawritesss · 1 year

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ꜱʜᴜʀɪ ᴜᴅᴀᴋᴜ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ

Character: MCU!Shuri Udaku

Type: Headcanons

Synopsis: Some general headcanons of mine for MCU’s Shuri Udaku!

Warnings: Some BLACK PANTHER: WAKANDA FOREVER spoilers if you haven't watched the movie

A/N: Before I drop my Shuri fic on Friday, I think it'd only wise I share my headcanons for our queen <3 These headcanons will cover Black Panther 1 and 2 with hints to events such as the Blip since I haven’t seen that movie.

Black Panther…

In BP1, we see Shuri has a playful, mischievous, know-it-all aura around her. She isn’t afraid to let people know what she’s thinking, and takes fun in pulling pranks on her older brother and close friends (excluding Okoye. NEVER Okoye. She learned that the hard way).

She has basic defense and offense training, as she’s able to wield a spear and hold her on in sparring. However, she doesn’t like the spear as she doesn’t see it as versatile enough, which has led her to start tinkering in the realm of weapons. She’s always trying to pitch new weapon ideas to Okoye, but she always shoots them down with a history lesson on why the spears are important to the Dora Milaje. Though that hasn’t and will not stop Shuri from trying to change the General’s mind.

Shuri wasn’t always a morning person. In her youth, she hated getting up super early for training practice and family matters. But by persuasion from her father, T’Chaka, she slowly started to come around to the idea of being an early bird. The deal was if she woke up she’d be able to fiddle around in the science lab before her training. Now, even though her training is not required anymore, she’ll still wake up at the ass crack of dawn to get her day started.

She has a playlist for everything, but she has one specifically tailored to when she’s in the lab, and also what projects she’s working on at the moment. It’s loaded with hella afro beats, some just instruments, others songs from artists like Burna Boy, Koffee, WizKid, Tems, and more. The beats help her focus and act as guides for how she moves around the lab.

Whenever she’s in America with T’Challa, she’s always dragging him to the nearest name brand store like Adidas, Nike, Snipes, etc. Not even to buy things sometimes, it’ll just be to critique the style of clothing, and how she could definitely design better (though T’Challa does end up carrying a bag for her with some shoes, because she always has to get a new pair of kicks when they land in the states.

Even though she’s older and can do her hair on her own, she loves to let her mother do her hair. Ramonda playfully complains that she’s getting older and her hands can’t braid like they used to, but she agrees anyway as it’s one of the times they can actually sit and bond outside of their royal statuses. Shuri puts on some music or an American movie she likes, and they sit and talk and catch up on things they missed while being away from each other.

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever…

It’s no secret that T’Challa’s death had changed Shuri forever. She’s much quieter than before, living in her head, reminiscing the days that her brother was still beside her.

She retreats to her lab more than ever, subjecting herself to long hours and little sleep, trying to distract herself from the truth. To keep her hands and her mind busy meant she didn’t have to close her eyes and see her brother’s face.

Much of her time is spent researching the heart shaped herb. She analyzes the remains of roots that were salvaged from the fire, pairing them with the samples of the herb within T’Challa’s DNA, but it barely gets her half way there to completing the synthesization of the herb. Unfortunately, her frustrations are taken out on the laboratory staff, and while she does apologize profusely to them, it’s become common knowledge to stay clear of the Princess when they see the holographic screen of the heart shaped herb in view.

Sometimes, Shuri will go and sit in his room, touch the items left behind, imagine that he’s still there. The first few months after his death, Ramonda has caught her sleeping in his room, surrounded in his covers, his pillows, dawning one of his sweatshirts, curled up in fetal position. She had no doubt Shuri had cried herself to sleep there. And Ramonda could not blame her as she too spent time in that room remembering her son. Sometimes she’ll leave the princess be, but on a few occasions, she’s slept in there with her.

If T’Challa’s death had Shuri feeling too much, her mother’s death had her feeling nothing. Numb. All her emotions were buried with the last person who truly knew her.

In public, she has to keep up a straight face, but in private, she’s hysterical. She doesn’t know whether to laugh, cry, lash out, curl into a ball, burn everything within sight. Anything and everything is an enemy to her when she’s in this state, and she will not hesitate to treat an unsuspecting palace staff member or Dora Milaje warrior as such. It’s best when the princess has returned to her chambers, to leave her there, and under no circumstances, disrupt her.

It’s only after hearing her mothers voice again, during her fight with Namour, that Shuri begins to have some semblance of a healing journey. In seeing N’Jadaka in the Ancestral Plane, her rage was validated by her deceased cousin, of which bore a similar pain. It was only when she came to terms with her rage and anger, that she could then begin to move forward, and in turn, offer Namour the option of surrender instead of killing him.

The world had taken too much from her for Shuri to be considered a child. No, she was a woman, queen-presumptive of Wakanda, and through the death of her family, she has learned many things.

It’s been advised that Shuri develops a relationship with Bast, as she is the new Black Panther, and would need guidance from the past mantle-holders in order to be the best possible protector Wakanda needs. She isn’t sure if she can - unsure if practicing a faith she had been estranged to since childhood and her livelihood as a scientist can coexist harmoniously. But for her people, her friends, and herself, she has to try.

And Beyond…

As queen-presumptive, Shuri spends a lot of time in preparation for her coronation. She appoints M’Baku as interim ruler in the meantime, to not leave the throne empty and also as a way to integrate the Jabari tribe back into Wakanda. She understands that she isn’t in the right mental state to rule, and M’Baku, despite his brutish demeanor, only cares for what’s best for Shuri.

In her time away from the throne she often visits her nephew in Haiti, developing a relationship with him, telling him stories of his father and grandparents, and it’s through him that Shuri slowly but surely returns to her old self again. Toussaint brings the light back into her eyes, and solidifies the belief of her people that death is never the end. Because whenever she looks at Toussaint, she sees her brother.

Shuri keeps in contact with Riri via a discrete version of the kimoyo beads, disguised in a silver band that she gave the younger scientist before she left Wakanda. They talk frequently about the projects they are working on, and Shuri has even given advice to Riri for rebuilding her Ironheart suit since the original still sits in the lab.

Shuri takes time throughout the week to visit the people of the capitol. They know her as the genius princess who has developed everything they use in daily life, but Shuri wants her people to know her on a more personal level. She’ll go out to the market, visit schools, and even holds virtual tours of her lab for aspiring scientists.

When she finds herself down, Shuri takes walks. Doesn’t matter where, doesn’t matter when, she’ll just walk to clear her head. Around the palace, around the lab, up Mt. Bashenga, through the city streets. It makes for a hard time for Okoye to keep track of her.

Besides Toussaint, Nakia, Okoye, Riri, those within her most inner circle, Shuri tends to keep new relationships at an arm's length. It’s a defense mechanism - she doesn’t want to get hurt again if someone new comes along in her life and ends up leaving. It’s something she’s working on. But through time, patience and understanding, Shuri will open up. Just be there for her. That’s all she really needs right now.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

#black reader #black tumblr #black marvel #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #black panther #black panther wakanda forever #black panther shuri #shuri black panther #shuri x reader #princess shuri #princess shuri x reader

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lec743 · 1 year

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Punk! Sun Fic (Rockstar AU)

Here’s a Sun POV for our Rock Star needs! I wrote this without editing much so I’ll look through this later for editing purposes. The Punk! boys just want to live a simple, life as far as I can get off from @kaleidoscopek9′s writings so far. Like they want the freedom to travel and see what they want to see when they want to see it, but I get heavy, “they want a domestic life” vibes from these boys.

*******************************************************************************************

Sun was playing on his synthesizer to cool down from playing on the drums for the show. They had nowhere to be, and it was still crowded out there with fans buying last minute merchandise, so Faz-co allowed them to stay in the changing room, backstage. They weren’t being carted off to their gilded cage back at the HQ. So, it was a relief to Sun, because it was something different, even if it was technically still the same old-same old.

Sun had his back to the entrance doorway as he was relaxing on the fainting couch when he heard the door open.

“Are the crowds still thick, Moon,” Sun asked over his playing.

“They are but look who found me.”

Sun kept playing as he turned his head 180 degrees.

There you were, smiling wide and bashfully waving at him from beside Moon.

Sun stood up with a gasp and said, “Why isn’t it our little spouse!”

Under your breath you said, “I’m never going to live that down…” Then turning to Moon, louder you said, “I found you? I came out of the bathroom, and you jump scared me. Then we had to hide in a closet for ten minutes so that the other fans wouldn’t swarm you.”

Sun walked around the fainting couch. His head realigning with his body as he playfully scolded Moon.

“Moon, why would you do such a thing with our lovely star,” Sun said as he stood before his best friend, “without me?”

“What?” You screech.

Moon starts laughing.

Sun’s raise spun around his head at the sound of Moon’s laughter.

Then turning to you he said, “I’m just kidding. I don’t like scaring people. But I got to say, that was a cute little sound you made.”

“You should have heard them when I scared them outside the bathroom,” Moon said, calming down from his laughter.

Sun thought the little pout you were doing with your lips was cute.

“You’re both really lucky I want to be here, or I would have left already.”

“Awe, we’re touched Angel,” Moon bantered.

“Besides our amazing music and good looks, what makes you want to be here so badly?”

You look up at Sun then look away bashfully as you start pulling two envelopes out of your pants pockets. One yellow and one blue. You handed them each their own respective color coded envelop.

Wringing your hands together as you stared at the floor, you said, “It’s not the prettiest thing that I’ve made, but it’s something that I wanted to make since I felt like words didn’t fit the scene in my head well enough.”

Sun and Moon opened their envelopes.

Sun saw a crud but well thought out drawing of him taking care of a large garden in a mountain valley. Smiling wide, he leaned against Moon to show him his drawing, and Moon did the same with him. Sun saw that Moon got a drawing of him at a dance party with women and men in colorful clothes as they danced in circles.

The two of them were so caught up in how cute your little drawings were that they didn’t realize that they had gone silent.

“Okay, well, that’s all I wanted to do, so I better go before I get you guys in trouble,” you say as you keep looking to the ground and start retreating for the door.

“Oh, Star! This is lovely,” Sun said as he went up to you and gave you a hug before you could leave.

He picked you up off your feet and swung you from side to side.

“Is it okay if I hug you? I’m sorry for asking after the fact but I got excited. Your drawings are amazing!”

“Oh! Uh, no, I don’t mind, just got a bit surprised there… My drawings are okay.”

“They’re wonderful!”

“They’re okay.”

“Absolutely beautiful.”

“They made you happy and that’s what matters.”

Sun pouted into your shoulder; he didn’t like that you weren’t accepting his complements.

The sunshine animatronic rock star sat you down on the ground, but he kept his hands on your shoulders. Turning his head 180 degrees to face Moon, Sun asked, “Did security see you come in with them?”

“Nope.”

“Ah good, then that means we have some time for ourselves with our little Star,” then turning his head back around he added, “Because I am determined to get you to love your own art.”

You snorted at him.

Sun’s rays spun around his head at that, and he squinted at you, taking your little laugh as a challenge.

“We have paper and a few glitter pens. Will you draw some more for us?”

You shrug, then said, “I can, but drawing isn’t my forte.”

“What is your specialty then,” Sun asked as he straightened up and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’m a writer. I like writing fanfiction in my free time.”

“Have you written fanfiction about us,” Moon asked as he sat down at the vanity table.

You weren’t looking at either of them, but in as casual of a tone of voice you could muster, you said, “I have.”

Sun saw the mischievous smile spread across his friend’s face as he asked, “Did you write smut about us?”

Your face scrunched up hard, like you had eaten a lemon.

“No comment.”

Moon howled with laughter.

You glared daggers into Moon.

“Can I read your work!” Sun asked enthusiastically.

He didn’t mind if you write smut about them. It’s not like it’s real. Sometimes what people come up with for their sexual gratifications can be interesting, too.

You smirked then said, “Sure you can. If you can find it.”

“That’s not fair you haven’t even told us what your Internet handle is.”

You shrug then said, “Oh well. I guess you won’t be reading anything of mine then.”

Now it was Sun’s turn to scrunch up his face like he had eaten a lemon. He folded up your masterpiece and pocked it. Then taking your hand, he led you over to the fainting couch and pushed his synthesizer out of the way so he could pull up the coffee table. He grabbed some paper and the cup of glitter pens off the vanity that Moon was sitting at. Then he laid them out before you.

“I’m going to draw my succulents; will you draw me a setting sun over the ocean?”

You shrug again, then said, “It won’t look all that great.”

“You’ll do fine,” Sun then turned to Moon and asked, “Do you want to join us?”

“I’m going to vibe over here,” Moon stated as he pocked your drawing of his and picked up his bass that was resting against the vanity he was sitting at, “You have fun with them on your own.”

Sun saw you give his friend a thumbs up and Sun nodded at him then turned his attention back onto his little project. Sun’s not completely sure why but drawing brings him such an intense sense of nostalgia that it makes his gears grind.

As much as Sun loves his adoring fans and being around them to sign their photos or shirts or foreheads, he appreciates having one on one time with them when he can. It’s nice being in a calm environment, having you there with him acting like he doesn’t fluster you with nerves because of his rock star fame, while Moon strums on his bass.

“Do you think you’ll have any kids one day,” Sun asked randomly, wanting to start a conversation somewhere.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you said with a sigh, “I don’t want to raise a kid by myself and. communities in this day’n age, and part of the world, don’t exactly have the mindset of, “it takes a village to raise a child,” so I kind of have to find a partner and yada-yada-yada. People are just complicated man. It depends on the child, I guess???”

Sun nodded as he put the finishing touches to his drawing, “Yes, people are complicated.”

He then flipped the paper over to cover his work and waited for you to finish your drawing. The two of you talked about a lot of different things; about favorite instruments, memes you both laugh over on the Internet, about your college. Sun enjoyed talking to you. You have such a warm aura to you, and it let him think what it’d be like to live outside of the company.

Finally, you were done drawing and the two of you switched drawings.

You used every available gritter pen they had on hand to make the scene. It was crudely draw, but oh so beautiful and freeing to look at.

“I love it,” Sun said holding the drawing to his chest like a teddy bear.

“Yours is much better than mine,” you stated as you looked over his cross hatched blue drawing of his succulents that he keeps on their tour bus windowsill. It was a realistic drawing.

Before Sun could try and dissuade you from comparing yourself to him over their art, they heard a knock on the door.

You waisted no time and ran to hide inside their clothes rack. You covered yourself in the clothes and held still.

Sun turned his head 180 degrees to see one of their security people come in and say, “Hey, it’s safe to leave now. We need to get you guys back to HQ.”

“Alright. Thank you for your time,” Sun said, “We just need to pack up a few things onto the bus.”

The security guard nodded then closed the door behind him.

You poke out of their clothes rack, “Welp, that’s my cue. Since I’m not paying for your time, I don’t want you guys to get in trouble for being with me… and vice versa… Let’s be real, I’ll be the most in trouble.”

Sun watched you crawl out of the clothes rack and Sun got up and walked over to you.

“We enjoyed your company, Star. I hope to see you again soon.”

“I’ll try, but with the way Faz-Co keeps hiking their ticket prices, I might have to start sneaking into shows.”

“Do it,” Moon said, not looking up from his bass, “I dare yah.”

You flashed them both an impish smile, “Maybe I will.”

“Do you need us to escort you?” Sun asked, wanting some more time with you.

“Nah, I got this.”

You made your way over to the door. Checked to see if the coast is clear. Then you dipped.

“I like them,” Moon said.

Sun looked down at your drawing he had close to his chest, “I like them too.”

#fnaf #fanfiction #rockstar au #punk! sun #kaleidoscopek9

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franf94 · 6 months

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Quogan first time (smut ff)

Ok, so after thinking about it for a LONG time I decided to share it. My vision of how Quogan first time went, back during their Senior year at PCA. Please, forgive my mistakes, but I'm not a native english speaker. It's a SMUT ff, so if you are not confortable with sex scenes... then don't read it please.

When Logan removed the blindfold, he saw Quinn's face light up.

Lighted candles scattered everywhere, drawn curtains and bulb lamps gave the room a soft light that conveyed serenity. There were scattered red rose petals on the floor, the plasma TV projected an image of a fireplace with a crackling fire inside, and from Logan's stereo came the sweet melody of one of their favorite songs, “Valentine” by Justin Abrams . The single bed where the boy slept seemed to have been freshly made and the sheets smelled of cotton and lilac.

-Oh Logan!- a sudden feeling of affection invaded Quinn who practically jumped into Logan's arms, stepping on his foot causing a slight moan from the curly haired boy.

-So do you like it?- he asked, nervously.

Quinn nodded and kissed him on the lips, slowly.

-Don't you think it's not too much for you babe? Cause, I wanted to add something magical like fireflies or some synthesizer or a perfume dispenser or... or if you want I can change the temperature of the room or if you are still hungry I can... have you bring anything... -

-Logan- she interrupted him, kissing him again. A moment later Logan had placed her back on the floor.

-Everything's perfect. Thank you - the girl looked around, so surprised that she was really in the room 148 of Maxwell Hall dorm.

–Did you really do all this just for me?-.

The Logan Reese who back a year ago wouldn't have moved a single chair. The one who had used his father's credit card to buy a dirty car even though he didn't have a license, the Logan Reese who constantly teased her when they were fourteen.

That Logan Reese settle down everything just for her? It had been the most romantic gesture anyone had ever done for her.

Logan stared at her with a half-smile on his face that highlighted his dimples: his eyes shining, full of love.

-You have no idea how much I love you Quinn Pensky- he took a lock of the girl's hair and put it behind her ear –and I will do anything to prove it to you-.

Quinn kissed him again, letting Logan's lips wander from her face, to her shoulders, and down her neck. Logan was holding her desperately and she could already feel how excited the boy already was. She felt his hands fumbling with the zipper of her dress and she stopped, enough to separate them.

-Raise your arms- she told him and Logan followed the order. A moment later the boy's jacket and shirt ended up on the floor. Quinn reveled in the sight of the boy's chest. Over the past few months, Logan had grown a few more inches and his muscles had become toned. And, although Quinn found the muscles a frivolous element compared to the rest, she couldn't help but touch them and linger on the pectorals. Logan licked his lips and Quinn turned with her back to him, allowing the boy to unzip her dress.

She immediately felt Logan's gaze on her, eager to memorized every inch of her body. They started kissing again, this time with more passion. Her hands in his curls, his hands roaming over her belly. Logan guided her to the bed and placing Quinn on his lap. Quinn's arms around his neck, her lips in his. They had never stopped kissing. Quinn laughed against his lips and he opened his eyes.

-I love you- the boy told her.

-I love you too-.

Then she saw Logan's gaze on her breasts, still covered. Her nipples were hard and stood out against her pale white skin.

-Quinn- he kissed her on the lips –are you… please?-.

The girl nodded and, with a deft move, undid the clasp of her bra which fell onto the carpet. She felt Logan's fingers on her right breast and his lips on her neck, she sighed, putting her head back. With each passing moment she felt the slight burning sensation in her lower abdomen increase. She instinctively pushed her hips against Logan's and he groaned.

-Quinn- he whispered…- well… I wanted to tell you something-.

He stopped kissing her and Quinn opened her eyes and stared at him. His face was incredibly serious. They were hot, excited, Quinn could almost feel Logan's member throbbing beneath her. For a moment she feared that the boy's insecurity was playing a trick on him. She placed a hand on Logan cheek and he blinked and steeled himself.

-Quinn- his voice was hoarse, full of desire – I've been doing some research and you know I won't last long. So… so I wanted to get you almost there and then come in after-.

Quinn nodded and was almost relieved. The knowledge of each other's bodies that they had gained in those months and their total sincerity towards each other had paid off for her. She let Logan lay her on the bed and then she felt his body on her.

-Wait- she said, before Logan lay down on her. The boy knelt on the bed and groaned when he felt his girlfriend's small delicate hands undoing his belt. In a few seconds Logan's black jeans were also taken off and the boy was left with only his boxers. He almost felt sick from how excited he was, but he knew he had to hold on. He lowered himself onto her Quinn and made her lie down again, then he began to leave a line of kisses that went from her neck, to her breasts, down to her lower abdomen and he felt Quinn's breathing become more labored. . When she stuck her tongue in her belly button the girl arched her back and moaned; bringing their hips to collide. They both moaned and Logan thought he was dying when the tip of her cock grazed Quinn's entrance. He raised his head enough and saw that the girl gave him a nod of agreement. Then Logan kissed the girl's panties, which were irredeemably wet. Seeing how turned on she was by her made him moan again. He sighed heavily and pulled off the last of Quinn's clothing. He smiled when he saw the girl's excitement. Quinn had already instinctively opened her legs and he just had to lower himself further. One of his hands was holding her hand, the other was on her left thigh to keep her in place. Logan mentally thanked all the sites he had visited and all the advice Quinn had given him in those first months of exploration. He kissed her labia first and then caressed her vulva, before moving back up and kissing Quinn's breasts again. For a moment the girl thought it was a joke, but then she felt Logan's finger inside her and squeaked in surprise, kissing him on her lips and stifling her moan of pleasure.

-Shhh- Logan whispered to her as he added another finger and started rubbing the girl's clit, grinning when he saw that Quinn's body responded to his stimulation. He felt Quinn's lips on his neck, felt her body instinctively rubbing his boxers against her, and, for a moment, he wondered if he had actually managed not to finish before her. Then he heard Quinn's voice, as if in a whisper.

-Logan... Log.. you have to stop...- Quinn was biting her lips, her legs rubbing together to create more friction and Logan got the message. He pulled out his two fingers and saw that Quinn was indeed ready. He wiped the juices off on the sheet and kissed Quinn. She was hot and her hair was sweaty.

Quinn looked down at the boy's boxers and brushed his fingers against his member. Logan jumped back. He turned just enough to reach the bedside table and pulled out a square package.

Quinn gently pulled off his boxers and Logan almost groaned in pain. He was extremely close to the point of no return and was afraid that Quinn's light touch would bring him to pleasure, so he gently pushed her hand away. Quinn leaned over and kissed the tip of his nose and Logan smiled. They looked into each other's eyes for a second and Logan made sure everything was okay. He opened the package with extreme precision and took a deep breath.

So the time had truly come. He would soon become a man. All his erotic dreams would come true. His fingers trembled with emotion as he delicately slipped on the condom, unexpectedly feeling a sense of relief. He glanced at Quinn, as if to make sure he had put it on correctly: once again the boy had to mentally thank the YouTube videos for that and the week of practice he had spent going to the bathroom every hour.

-You're so beautiful- he whispered to Quinn, as he positioned himself above her again, trying to perfectly align his member with the girl's entrance. He loved her so much.

Quinn kissed him on the mouth and Logan sighed against her as he tried to enter as gently as possible.

-Are you sure?- he repeated once again and Quinn smiled and nodded, pushing him gently towards her.

Logan groaned as the tip of his cock entered her. He closed his eyes, overwhelmed by that new sensation. It was like sliding into a viscous soil that opened little by little. He held his breath and pushed a little more, but he heard Quinn moan softly and stopped. His eyes widened. She stared at him with a look full of trust and love and he smiled. Their faces a few centimeters away, their breaths mixed together as one. He kissed her again, but her lips trembled slightly.

"Go ahead," she said. She wasn't experiencing the great, feared pain Lola had described to her. It was more of a quite discomfort in her lower abdomen, but other than that Quinn felt good. Logan had been so gentle with her and he loved her so much that the girl almost teared up.

Logan pulled back for a moment and with a decisive push he entered her completely, causing a moan from both of them. Quinn actually let out a little cry, muffled by his lips.

The girl took a deep breath. Now she felt the pain, as if something inside her had been torn, as if there was actually a foreign body that didn't belong to her. She felt a slight, but sharp pain in her lower abdomen. She tried to take deep breaths. A silent tear rolled down her face.

-Quinn... is everything ok? Do you want me to stop? -.

Logan stared at her with wet eyes, genuinely worried that he had hurt her. After entering her he remained still, allowing her to get used to his presence, but Quinn could see the slightest movements of his pelvis, as if the boy was fighting against his own instinct.

-I'm fine- she reassured him – I'm fine now. You can move-.

She kissed him, and let their tongues wrestle with each other. She dig both hands into her curls as she felt him move in and out; making them moan again.

-God Quinn...you don't know.. God...it's..it's...fuck I love you so much- Logan had promised himself to be slow and gentle the whole time, but he knew that the exact moment he entered her, all common sense had given way to blind instinct; and now he couldn't control the movements of his pelvis and the thrusts sinking into her. Sometimes he was sure he hurt her, as Quinn let out little squeals when he pushed in too deep.

-Sorry- he said, and lowered himself even further, trying to create more friction between their bodies. Quinn knew Logan was looking for the right angle, so she shifted slightly, spreading her legs further apart, allowing him more access and when Logan hit her just right there she let out a guttural moan that surprised her.

-Don't stop- she said, resting his head on the pillow, while Logan continued to bring their bodies together. He felt Quinn's nails on his back and groaned.

-Quin... I won't... be able to... I'm...-

Quinn nodded. Now the pain was gone, now only the pleasure remained. She and Logan had become a single entity and she would never, ever allow someone to separate them, to put an end to that extreme pleasure she felt in feeling him inside her. She felt the burning in her lower abdomen spread to the rest of her body, she felt her back lift and her toes curl.

-God, Logan…- he said, as if his mind had stopped formulating any coherent thoughts, as if all that mattered was the two of them. In that moment, in that room. Quinn raised her hips a little, creating more friction and Logan went deeper, speeding up the movements.

And then he heard it.

-Log…Logan! Oh Logan!-

Logan had never heard Quinn call him that, invoke his name like that: a mix between a plea and a scream. He watched Quinn's face contort with pleasure, he felt her pelvis meet his, he felt her muscles envelop his member and shaken by spasms a moment later he realized he couldn't hold back any longer and came inside her, moaning.

-Oh fuck, Quinn- she felt his member twitch inside her and then a sudden feeling of satisfaction.

They remained silent for about twenty seconds, while their breathing became regular again and the pleasure faded. Logan knew he shouldn't stand still in her and as soon as he felt he had oxygen back to his brain he pulled himself out of her. His member was now flaccid, and the condom was stained with fresh blood.

His heart immediately did a back flip.

He lay down next to Quinn who hadn't said a word yet. The girl was still out of breath and staring at the ceiling. She felt Logan come out of her and felt him lean into her side. She felt his lips on her cheek.

-I love you Quinn- .

She turned, completely overcome with emotion and nestled in the crook of his neck. She had never felt as much love and devotion for Logan as she did in that very moment. She had felt pleasure, not pain, and a natural sense of connection with that boy she loved with all her being.

-I love you too- she kissed him softly, while Logan's hands roamed her body again.

"You're amazing Quinn, inside and out and… and I can never thank you enough for that."

The boy let out a yawn and fought against the post-orgasm drowsiness.

-Are you sure you're okay?- he asked, one last time.

"I'm fine," she said, shrinking even more.

Logan pulled his boxers back on and covered them both with the duvet, before returning to Quinn's arms.

A few minutes later they had both fallen into a deep sleep.

#quogan #logan reese #quinn pensky #zoey 101 #zoey102 #quinn x logan #zoey 102 #headcanon #fanfiction #smut

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ru-draws · 1 year

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Slowly Learning (That Life Is Okay)

——

A Little Night Music AU

I’m still writing it, never fear, it’s just slow going. I have this habit of writing completely out of order—especially since this story is based in music, and my song fixations are fickle AF.

(Excerpt from a far-away chapter) We’re Talking Away:

Moon stared at your phone—but to your dismay, he didn’t move to take it. For a moment, you were afraid Sun had been wrong—that not even this kind of olive branch would work.

When he finally moved, you nearly jerked back. He paused. Watching you. Reading you. Moon touched down onto the carpet. Then, he touched the phone at last. And he scrolled. For the longest thirty seconds of your life.

When his hand slid from the device, you frowned at his selection. It was the track you’d been looping since your talk with Sun. He’d been listening.

“…You sure? You’re not bored of this one yet?”

His eyelights shuttered briefly. Then nothing. If you didn’t know any better, you could have mistaken him for an elaborate art installation; standing like a mannequin in the neon light. His stillness in these moments still unnerved you just enough. Which was likely their intention, regardless of the fragile bridges you were rebuilding.

He lifted a hand—the lack of bells nearly startling you; an unpleasant reminder of how you got to this point. But you didn’t flinch. You promised. You waited.

Moon’s faceplate rotated, slowly, the gears clicking mutely. And slowly, gently, his fingers touched the edge of your phone again.

Tap. Tap.

You huffed.

“You’re the boss.”

You hit play.

As the first wave of synth drums pulsed in your fingers, Moon lifted off the ground once more. He regarded you, ever silent—his eyelights glowing across your face. You searched for words. Something, anything, to keep this moment from ending—to delay Moon from taking off into the dark again.

And then he’s soaring. Twisted up in that cable like aerial silk, swinging, tinny laughter floating over the familiar synthesized music. Something in your chest unclenched. You couldn’t help a smile as he passed just a bit too close, brushing your shoulder, the point of his hat nearly hitting your chin. He twirled, hooking the wire around his foot, and swung by again. Like he’s remembering how to fly.

Show off.

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be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie · 9 months

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Do you have any recs for the black phone?

DO I????

Do you guys know how exciting it is to get an ask that isn't about Avatar? Don't get me wrong, I love the Avatar ones, but the other kinds are such a fun change of pace. I have an equal obsession with a lot of other things, if not a bigger one.

So, I have a03 collections for a lot of things, and I do have one for The Black Phone as well. Check out The black phone was legit just like a fine movie it wasn't even that good why am I neck deep in this fandom sometimes I add more. As a massive fan of Steven King's IT (Reddie fics that don't make me think about the fact that this is a horror novel), I absolutely adore horror gay children, and as a massive stan of Donna Tartt's The Goldfinch (the goldfinch fics that don't make me sad and feel hatred towards english majors), I also love doomed love stories. Blah blah "the real horror is the blatant homophobia and trauma inflicted on the children that causes the death of pure imagination and dreams" there are better posts and essays written about that. So naturally I am a rinney stan so it's all rinney fics.

WARNING: This movie is a horror movie about a man kidnapping, heavily implied to be sexually abusing, and straight up murdering children, so there are some serious content warnings for some of these recs. Read at your own discretion. Avatar is a fandom I read pretty light shit for, I don't for The Black Phone always, so I'll try to be super clear with them.

the electric, synthesized, rock ballad of why finney blake can't have nice things by ECLIPSEWXTCH. I literally just made a post about this fic in relation to the pink concert. It's a modern au rinney fic where Robin and Finney lost touch as kids and find each other again as young adults, Robin a successful musician and Finney a student in college. If this fic is never completed I will burn this website to the ground. I have no content warnings for this fic unless you have an aversion to pure wholesomeness. Content warning for there never being as good a boyfriend as Robin Arellano? But we all knew that already.

Coffee boy by mikki_strange. It's a coffee shop au, man, it's adorable and it made me happy. No trigger warnings or anything, simply rinney fluff.

Holding On and Letting Go by Nizhoni93. CW: homophobia, implied underage rape, legit so much trauma and sadness. This is SUCH A GOOD FIC, oh my god. It's one I've reread a couple times now, despite it's length. I have recced this before because I brought it up in reference to the beloved and famed nocorro ghost au. Holding On and Letting Go is the INSPIRATION for all my sad nocorro ghost thoughts. It's entirely from Robin's first person pov after Finney has killed the Grabber and they other boys have moved on. Robin can't leave Finney, and spends his time haunting the other boy and watching as he suffers while Robin struggles too. It is. The biggest bummer ever. It's so heartbreakingly tragic. Even as Robin is describing all these big feelings, his love for Finney or the guilt he feels for having hurt all these people with his death, he'll say something like "And I was thirteen" and I remember he's a fucking eLEMENTARY SCHOOLER. I cried a counted total of nine times reading this fic. Highly recommend especially if you're into the nocorro ghost au. The chapter where the psychic tells Robin he's only hurting Finney by being there? I'll literally kill myself. The homophobia is fairly blatant, and although mentioned rarely the rape and Robin's disgust and shame around it is a hard read.

We Stand Together by HeavensAether. Serious trigger warnings for this one. It's almost a dead dove, tbh. Basically a rewrite of The Black Phone where all the kids are alive and in captivity at once, so they develop a fairly strong bond. The main draw for me was the psychological depth it takes into Finney as he works with the ghosts around him and tries to retain his sanity, his relationship with Robin, and the mystery of how they'll get out with Finney's powers. If dark bummers of a fic aren't your jam, this isn't for you! CW: underage rape, disassociation, homophobia, transphobia. Tbh the rape is (while not graphic) fairly disturbing and goes as a method of showing a characters disassociation. If it was in an earlier chapter, I'd probably not have continued reading. As it were, it's pretty easy to skip those parts, which I would recommend as what little I did read I did not enjoy!

And You Keep On Living by Nichknack (BBCotaku). CW: more common The Black Phone homophobia and also trauma and abuse, but I think so far this one is non-con mention free. It's basically just a post movie fic but where the timeline changes essentially, Finney and Gwen wake up and the ghost boys are all back and the world around them doesn't remember the Grabber and all of those events never happened. Some good rinney as always with a side of brance and it's very interesting, I can't imagine where it'll go.

Five Times Someone Discovers Finney is Spider-Man (And One Time He Is The One To Say It) by sleepysheep (mynameistadashi). CW: nothing let the boys be happy and in love and full of friendship. This one is a silly and cute rec, it just makes me smile. Let the boys be happy. It's just as it sounds, it's Spider-Man Finney and a 5+1 of everyone discovering it.

#this was so fun for me #the black phone #the black phone 2022 #finney blake #robin arellano #rinney #bruce yamada #brance #gwen blake #melissa's asks #melissa on the black phone

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