#still might be a bit spotty but I wanna do stuff here

[the-likesofus]

Buddie Fic Recs

AKA Talented Mutuals Tuesday

Except I spent so long making this list that the timezones changed over BUT I wanted to show my mutuals some love and now that we are going into the hiatus I thought you might all like a list of quality fics to keep you occupied while there is no new Weewoo show. 

I don't know if anyone will actually want to join in on this but if you do the rules are simple:

SHOW YOUR MUTUALS SOME LOVE! Share your favourite fics, (or gifs, edits, literally anything that your very talented mutuals have made), as many or as few as you like but let's share the love around <3

Apologises in advance for the long post btw

@speaknowdiaz I would literally read anything that April writes and would probably sell a limb for the incredible WIPs I know she's still cooking up but here are a couple of my faves:

pining and anticipation (I don't want you like a best friend)

Buck challenges Eddie to try to hit on him after teasing Eddie for not having any ‘game’. This fic is very funny and very soft.

believe in one thing (i won't go away)

This fic hit me straight in the feels. Buck and Eddie go to couples therapy even though they aren't a couple and they work through some stuff.

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@thosetwofirefighters Incredible amazing Nat ily xx

Say It All Out Loud

Eddie comes out to Aunt Pepa after his ‘date’ with Vanessa. I am a little bit biased towards this one because she did write it for me but it's honestly just so good!

How to Cure Boredom: Buckley Edition

The 118 are stuck at the firehouse during a slow shift and Buck entertains them all by mattress-surfing the loft stairs. It’s soft and silly and in the same universe as her other fic Safe in His Arms.

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@loveyourownsmiilee The wonderful amazing Juju not only writes incredible meta and keeps us all fed with Oliver content but Juju also writes wonderful buddie fic. 

When Were You Under Me?

Who doesn’t love a Friends AU. This is Buck and Eddie as Ross and Rachel and it is hilarious and so sweet. 

You should also check out her Buddie Language Meta if you have not read it before <3

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@elvensorceress Jenwyn’s work always astounds me so be sure to check these out:

Color Him Father, Color Him Love

I will scream from the rafters how much I adore this fic and yes it did make me cry (happy tears). It’s a look into Buck’s head after his sperm donor kid is born and he realizes what Christopher (and Eddie) truly mean to him. I know I have recced this before but it deserves all the love. 

Unless You Ask Me To

Eddie dates a man for the first time, and Buck is completely 'Fine'. This is a preemptive rec because it is one chapter away from completion and I have been saving it to binge in one sitting but knowing Jenwyn and her incredible talent I guarantee this will be worth the read. 

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@spotsandsocks If anyone’s work is guaranteed to make me sob like a baby (happy, sad, or tears of laughter) it’s Spotty. 

Everything But (temptation)

This is Spotty’s newest fic and it's just brilliant. Buck is practicing extreme self-control whilst Eddie is being an irresistible menace. 

Could Have, Should Have, Would Have

Buck finally tells Eddie he loves him right before Eddie’s new boyfriend is supposed to meet Christopher. Honestly, all I can say about this fic is that it’s a masterpiece and I screamed many times while reading it. 

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@shortsighted-owl Wonderful amazing Owly (Abbi). I appreciate you so and you make my dash so happy xx

Of foam-moustached kisses, and button combinations

For all your sweet domestic buddie needs this is the fic. Eddie is practicing a video game to get better than Chris and Buck makes fun of his ex-technophobe boyfriend. 

Also THIS EDIT SET to the lyrics of You’re All That I Have by Snow Patrol make me assdffgghjjklkll

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@lilbuddie Okay, this one is just a brag because Minja doesn’t actually have any fics published yet (side eye) but I wanna make sure she is on everyone’s radar for when she does because yall are not ready for the incredible amazing talent that is this girl’s writing!! So go check out the snippets on her Tumblr and badger her until she finishes something plssssss

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@wheelsupin-five Hi! <3

Almost Almost Almost

This adorable of Buck who is always cold and Eddie warms him up I– asfffghhjkklllll

Under Kitchen Light

SO SOFT! Buck wakes up and Eddie isn't there, Buck finds him in the kitchen. 

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@rogerzsteven Simi owns my heart and by that I mean my heart is locked in a cage in Simi’s basement where it is occasionally beaten to a pulp by the most incredibly angsty fics you've ever read.

Cleanse

Buck is extremely nauseous and Eddie takes care of him while I sob over them in a corner.

build me a home underground (free from light and sound)

This fic is so brutal in all the best ways, my heart was in my throat the entire read! Buck gets trapped in a sensory deprivation room while the 118 and Athena race to find him. 

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@ashavahishta another incredibly talented mutual of mine

out of ashes

Is it really a Meegs rec list if I don’t rec this fic honestly it's engraved on my soul. This is a criminal minds/greys inspired fic where Buck is kidnapped and tortured until the 118 can find him. This fic is so so well written and means a million things to me I could never explain but pleaseeeee read it!! 

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@jobairdxx hello lovely xx

Oh, We Pray to Make it Through the Night

Highly recommend this fic, I do love a near-death experience fic! Buck gets injured on a call and Eddie falls asleep holding vigil at his bedside. 

Jules also writes beautiful poetry on Tumblr so go read some of that too <3

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@monsterrae1 MISS RAE! YOU INCREDIBLE THING! <3

love is on its way

I know we’re all a little bit in mourning over the couch theory but it lives on in our hearts and in this fic which has six moments between Buck and Eddie on the Diaz couch (and she’s a wee bit spicy too).

Buck's café (take my heart, just not my order)

Coffee Shop AU. Buck runs the shop where the 118 order all their drinks on shift. I absolutely adore this fic! 

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@alyxmastershipper RYAN!! INCREDIBLY TALENTED MUTUAL THAT YOU ARE!! 

there's always been a rainbow hangin' over your head

If “aasdsdfghhjkl” was a person it was me reading this fic. Eddie comes out to Buck, receives a quirky mug, and gets together with the love of his life. In that order.

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@bekkachaos Wonderful, amazing Bekka xxx

lose yourself in the feeling

I am a sucker for ‘accidental kisses’ and this was just wonderful. Buck is so excited about Maddie and Chim getting engaged that he kisses Eddie when he tells him. 

start me up, open my eyes

Okay, the mild sexual content tag is a lie, nothing has ever been closer to smut without actually being smut than this fic, I have never been so wound up reading a fic. Bekka builds the tension so so well. 

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@sibylsleaves honestly I'm still a little in shock that we're mutuals now so please excuse me while I fangirl over your incredible writing!

with a bird at your door

Eddie starts spending all his time with Buck. Which would be fine if it weren't for the fact that Buck is in love with him. This fic is the perfect mixture of pining, angst, and a happy ending. And yes I think about this fic frequently I love it okay. 

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@mysteriouslyyounggalaxy last but certainly not least (for now). hello lovely xx

(tell the gravedigger) better dig two

Missing scenes from while eddie is trapped in the well followed by the most perfect extended reunion scene. We all know I am a sucker for fics based on the well incident, it’s literally how i started writing for buddie but omg this fic!!!! 

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Remember to share the love around and happy hiatus to you all.

Love, Meegs xxxx

#buddie #buddie fic #buddie fic recs #buddie rec list #911 fox #eddie diaz #evan ‘buck’ buckley #christopher diaz #911 buddie #eddie x buck #buck x eddie #911 fic #911 fic recs #meegs says stuff #buddie ao3 #911 ao3 #buddie recs list 4 #talented mutuals tuesday #911 abc

[poohsources]

HELLO EVERYONE! as the year is slowly but surely coming to its end, and i'm now home for the holidays, i thought it was finally time to make another one of these. partially to give a little update on what's been going on in my life and partially as some sort of retrospect for this past year and a look into my plans for next year.

looking back, it's been quite an eventful year — especially when compared to the weird covid years we had to deal with previously. the biggest change was probably my dropping out of college to start a dual studies program in law. i did like my college program just fine ( until i didn't anymore ) but i really feel like law is my thing. and apparently everyone else in my circle of family and friends thinks so as well because i seem a hell of a lot happier than i did before. kinda unfortunate it took me seven years since quitting high school to figure that bit out, but hey, at least i got there in the end. it's been quite time-consuming, and i feel like in those past five months, i've already learned more than i did in all my years of college, but it's fun. i also finally got some new friends my age again. it's also strange to think back that just one year ago i was still struggling financially and just generally dealing with some bad mental health stuff.

i'm actually happy now.

in terms of tumblr and roleplaying, i gotta be honest that i have been sidelining it a lot over the last months. sure, i'm still around but it's not my primary focus, and i'm learning that it's okay not to be online all the time. it's okay to take breaks and focus on other things because as much as i love this blog, the community and tumblr, there are some more important things now. still, i am and always will be eternally grateful to every single person who supports me - whether it is by liking or reblogging posts, sending asks or messages, following me or using any of my stuff. it means so freaking much to me, and i always feel so proud whenever i randomly see my own stuff pop up on my dash because mutuals use it. thank you all so very much! in a similar vein, i honestly still cannot fathom that i almost managed to double the follower count this past year. i'm probably not gonna reach the goal i've kinda been looking at until the end of the year but that's okay. i am so incredibly grateful for everyone here anyway. no matter what.

as for next year - i'm not too sure what i'm gonna do. of course. i'm gonna keep posting memes, and templates and whatever other stuff i feel like doing, but i think my activity is gonna keep on being spotty. i'm also still tempted to do commissions one day ( and we're totally gonna ignore that i've been saying this for over a year now, okay? ) but with the amount of time i don't have, i'm not sure i'm gonna be able to deliver on that. if i do finally build the courage and self-esteem to do that, it will be like an occasional thing that might take some time. however, one thing i do wanna do more of is gifs. i'm not sure what kind of gifs, but i enjoy making them and it's been way too long since i did them so i'm gonna see how i'm gonna incorporate that. or if anyone has any specific gifs they want, always feel free to shoot me an ask or a message. maybe also some aesthetic-y stuff? after all do love making pinterest boards for characters.

maybe i'll also do a blog reveal once i finally set up my multi that i've been planning to work on for months now. since i'm gonna scrap my current main blog ( which i haven't really been active on in a while now anyway ) i'm kinda thinking of coming back to writing and who knows, maybe i'm gonna reveal it here in case anyone would like to write with me.

anyway, this was a lot of rambling, and if you've made it this far, i once again wanna thank you. i know i do this a lot but i really do appreciate you all being here so much, and even after two years of having this silly little blog, it still feels unreal to me that so many people here enjoy what i do.

much love and happy holidays, pooh 🧡

#pooh speaks. #pooh's (ir)regular updates. #long post tw

[inkdemon-whore]

Y'know that scene where Audrey meets "baby Benders"? Does that happen in your AU? If so, I wanna know the Ink Demon's reaction to Audrey accidentally hurting him.

Cause, oh shit, she can actually hurt him. Girl is straight up Thanos snapping ink creatures.

(Also, image if Audrey just banished the Ink Demon. That'd be a wild ending, wouldn't it?)

(Audrey, accidentally banishes the ink demon: oh fuck

Ink demon, still in this hell hole, was simply forced into the ink. Crawls out, looking Audrey dead in the eyes:..... Want to know how that felt?

Audrey, shaking her head: nope-

Ink: yep you do you do you wanna know exactly what that felt like get the FUCK OVER HERE.

Honestly, whatever powers Audrey can get in the game, are probably just powers the ink demon himself grew to gain. Like he can also banish stuff, he just would rather eat. And it's being shared with Audrey cuz the ink itself is like "hay, wait a sec, that's bendy ain't it? Where's your powers? Here ya go man". Anyway-)

Honestly, I think just seeing Audrey would be a surprise, and maybe even scary. She left looking a lot more human than she does now, mostly with actual eyes. But now, she looks like a grown up version of favourite.

Idk if Bendy would have any recollection of his ink demon form as a toon, but he might only have... "good" memories? At least, the ink demon form might repress a lot of the truama to keep himself cute and innocent. "pure". He had good memories with favourite, even if he was crule to her, and seeing Audrey, he's heavily reminded of her.

He probably thinks he's seeing a really fucked up ghost, maybe panicking because he feels "something bad happened to you, how are you alive?" kinda energy. Maybe the ink demon within sees that memory, and pulls it down with the rest of his truama, ut perhaps more eagerly. For a moment, the ink demon himself wants to belive someone he actually cared for came back for him, that someone actually loves him, and he fools himself more and more the closer she gets, and it scares him a little, because he knows it can't be possible, or maybe the machine and the ink are finally working against him entirely.

Whatever the case, she holds her hand out to him, and he hesitates for a long time, looking to Audrey for a while, studying her face. As bendy, he recognises her to an extent, suddenly there's some good memories, but they're all spotty. As bendy he wants to reach for her hand, but something is drawing him to her face.

He puts a hand on her cheek, and Audrey seems surprised and confused, looking at this lil demon who seems to know who she is already...

And he hugs her tight. He can't speak in this form, but unlike the other he can cry at least. For a moment he's sobbing in her arms, not sure why he's feeling the things he's feeling.

And then suddenly, after putting her arms around him....... He feels the painful pulling and burning again. After so, so long. And he pushes her away, holding his shoulder.

He looks to her, hurt and betrayed, his stomach twisting, his heart squeezing. His face going from afraid and surprised, and twisting into disgust and hate, all while tears run down his face. And Audrey tries to apologise, but he throws his train at her face and runs off.

"I don't remember who she is, but I cared about her once... And she hurt me, like everyone else... She hurt me...." this would be the point where the ink demon breaks down a bit, changing back into his usual form while thinking "my favorite, actually hurt me..." before realising he might be in danger. He has himself fooled he's seeing a ghost, and that ghost can kill him. Take revenge on him, like he wishes to do with everyone else.

As the ink demon, he tries to kill her, because he's scared she hates his guts, and wants to do nothing but prolong the torture he felt years ago.

As a baby benders, he just remembers the occasional good times, and that for some reason he cares a lot for this person and missed them a great deal. Even though she hurt him, maybe she didn't mean it? Maybe it's OK....

#Batim #BATDR #audrey drew #ink demon #daddy ink demon au #Al #Talk #ink trauma

[dendrx]

//I promise I'm not dead--

#alu speaks #just had a whole bunch going on #still might be a bit spotty but I wanna do stuff here

[absolutelyfizzing]

angels and demons

warren worthington x reader fluff

@shuckfaced-fangirl Hi! can I request a warren worthington x female mutant reader where her powers are shadow summoning? So I guess everyone in the school kind of views her as some sort of demon? With a lot of fluff? Thank you!!

Description - Y/N is a shadow summoner and is isolated from her peers. Warren helps her see that not everyone fears her and that she is worthy of affection.

warnings - its so fluffy. fem pronouns. some angsty stuff (isolation, depression, sadness), one innuendo, devastating fluff, warren being an angel. i tried to make it POC inclusive, please let me know if it feels restricting or excluding and i will edit it.

word count - 3700, i got carried away

A/N - im so sorry this took so long, i took a break from writing while i am working on moving to college. i will still be spotty for the next few weeks but hopefully, i will post a few more things in that time and then get back on a normal schedule. also, thanks so much for this request, i had a lot of fun writing it and i hope it is something you enjoy reading!

MASTERLIST

You walked through the halls with a lowered head. You knew that you made others uncomfortable and so you chose to try to make yourself as small and unthreatening as possible. You had been 'gifted' powers with which you could manipulate and create darkness. You were a shadow summoner. That wasn't a name that many found reassuring or comforting.

There were a few who could see past it and who was close to being what you might call friends but those people were few and far between. There were overwhelmingly more people who believed that you must have been a scary and mean person, that you were some sort of demon. This couldn't have been further from the truth if one were to look past appearances. Your shadow was larger and darker than that of your peers and it trailed behind you with a mind of its own, moving and growing without you even meaning for it to happen. Your hands were constantly covered in something darker and dustier than the rest of your skin, a deep and pure black. It trailed from the tips of your fingers and faded on your forearm so it looked as though you had just dipped your arms into a chimney or that shadows were crawling up your arms.

When you first got them, you thought they were sort of cool. They made you look sort of goth and that was fun. That feeling quickly faded when you saw how others, even your family, reacted. They said it was a curse from hell. You were barely convinced otherwise.

You sat away from others at the school during free periods. During lunch you sat alone and in the sun when you could, you hoped it might make others be less scared of you as it might make you look brighter but your shadow, dark and ominous, maintained a spot near you. You wore clothes that made you look more approachable to try to maintain that you weren't scary. Your brightly colored outfit didn't ever seem to work though, no matter how hard you tried.

You looked down at the food in your hands, the sandwich only half-eaten, and you noted your hands. They were so normal looking, your nails were well kept and you thought they were a good size. That they might even be a good size for someone to hold. The only thing was the unnaturally colored dust that seemed to cover them. It was a cool black, it glistened and sparkled in the sun when your fingers moved. It never moved or transferred to anything else, always stuck securely to your skin. You were distracted by the way your fingers seemed to shine when a shadow came near yours, wings outlined in it. You looked up to see a tall blond boy above you with curly hair and bags under his eyes. He nodded to a spot on the grass near you.

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

You shook your head and even scooted away from the spot to give him more space despite the fact that you were in a large field.

"Do you want me to move?" You asked gently, wondering if maybe he wanted this particular spot and you took it from him unknowingly.

"I mean, I think that would sort of take away the whole point of me trying to sit with you." He smirked and you felt blood rush to your cheeks. "I like your hands" He hummed and you looked at him in shock. When his eyes met yours you tilted your head a bit.

"They don't bother you?" You tried to speak softly.

"No, I think they're awesome. They make you look punk." He smiled and you felt the corners of your mouth tug up a bit too.

"I like your wings." You almost mumbled as you allowed your gaze to move to the large feathery wings behind him. They moved in the wind and you found yourself wanting to run your fingers through them. "They make you look like an angel." You smiled and he groaned dramatically.

"I'm trying to look grunge." He pouted and you giggled a bit. At the sound, he looked up at you and blushed a bit. "Maybe we should trade."

"If I could trade you I would. Everyone is scared of how I look." You gazed back at the grass.

"I'm not." His simple statement made butterflies erupt in your stomach and you smiled a bit. You looked back at him and made eye contact for a moment.

"What's your name?" You asked and he maintained his gaze into your eyes. It was the most contact or conversation with someone else you'd had in a long time.

"I'm Warren." He smiled a bit and stuck a hand out to you to shake. You looked at his hand in shock. Nobody ever voluntarily touched your hands. Most of them worried that whatever was on them would spread. You hesitantly brought your hand to his, purposefully giving him plenty of time to remove his hand if he felt uncomfortable. But he didn't. Instead, your hand reached his and he shook it before letting go as if it was no big deal.

"I'm Y/N." You smiled a bit more and you felt a giggle come out of you from the joy of realizing this wasn't a dream, that someone was trying to talk to you and they weren't afraid.

"Is my name that funny?" He teased.

"No, I just-" you paused to think, "it's been so long since anyone has done this with me."

"Talked to you?" He questioned, obviously expecting you to say no and explain what you meant. Instead, you just nodded and his heart clenched for a moment. "Well, you can stick with me then."

"I don't know if you want your reputation to take a hit like that."

"My reputation is 'the angry and damaged kid', I'm sure it can handle the breaking news of me talking to a nice and pretty girl." He reassured before he even realized what he was saying. You could have cried at the feeling that rose up in your chest.

After that day, you stuck to his side like glue and he took no issue with it. The more you got to know him the more you appreciated the fact that he had taken you in. With his help, over the coming months, he helped you develop a stable friend group. That group included people like Ororo and Jane who had heard rumors about you and never bothered to check and see if they were real. They apologized profusely, especially Jean as she felt like she could have easily found out that you were kinder than she thought with her abilities but just had never done so, and you gladly accepted, just happy to be within a group.

You and Warren had developed a reputation. He was overly protective and gruff while you were overly nice and empathetic. You balanced each other well and if you were honest, you were in love with him. That always felt weird to say, you'd never been in love with anyone before but every second you spent with him made you more and more sure of your feelings.  

When you and Warren were together, you would daydream about what it would be like to be in a relationship with him. Being held by him and wrapped in his wings. Getting to play with his unkempt hair. Holding his hand.

Sometimes he would try to encourage you to hold his hand. He would hold it out to you when he was helping you jump down from somewhere high. He would ask you to hand him things and then make decisive contact as he took it from you. He knew that it meant a lot to you, you practically gasped and blushed every time he did it. He had never met anyone so touch starved. He wanted to give you all the affection that you craved.

Unfortunately, Warren was rather oblivious, especially towards things like feelings and emotions. He had no clue that you had any interest in him, even though he hoped you did every day. If he wasn't so attached to your friendship, he might ask you out. Instead, he tried to maintain a friendly distance so he didn't cross any lines while also being as affectionate with you as he could be. You followed a similar path.

The person caught in the middle of this was poor Jean Gray. she had watched you pine over each other since you met and had heard every thought that went through both of your heads. She knew you would never complain or ask for help about anything so she liked to keep tabs on your thoughts every once in a while to make sure you were okay. Still, she tried her best to not listen very often or when you were thinking about anything very personal, she honestly did. But she was a romantic. All she wanted was for you two idiots to get together but you were both oblivious. She decided, probably 3 months into you becoming friends, that she had to do something about it.

She was sitting on your bed while you sat across your bedroom on your small couch. She fiddled with her thumbs while she tried to ignore your constant thoughts about Warren, his hands, his wings, his smile. She was exhausted. she took a small breath while she planned how she would try to say this to you.

"Do you want to know what I heard today?" She called and you looked up at her from the book you were pretending to read.

"Do you mean heard or 'heard'?" You laughed and she rolled her eyes.

"Either." Then she tilted her head. "Both."

"Yeah, I wanna know! What's it about?" You asked while leaning forward in your seat. Jean always had the best gossip to tell because she could literally hear it.

"Warren." She stated simply and watched your reaction. You flushed and stopped breathing for a moment.

"Wha-" you stuttered, "what about him?"

"That he has a thing for you." she winked and you flushed even more.

"You're lying." You assured, a questioning look on your face.

"I'm not and I'm tired of watching you two longing after one another while the rest of the school watches." She smiled and your heart picked up.

"I thought I told you not to look in my head!" You scolded but you weren't actually all that upset. You knew that it was very hard for her to control.

"I cant help it! Both of you think so loud. And I wouldn't have to anyway, Ororo mentioned it to me the other day and she definitely cants read minds." She giggled and you smiled a bit.

"Does he actually like me?" You almost whispered in disbelief.

"Yes! He's been obsessed with you since you started talking."

"But like he would want to actually go-"

"Y/N, I swear to god. If you don't go and talk to him right now I'm going to have a fit." She laughed and you glared at her.

"Okay okay fine, I'm going," you grumbled as you stood and walked toward your door. "If you are wrong I'm gonna be so upset with you."

She just laughed again and you started to walk down the hallway. You thought he might be in his room or outside. You decided to check his room first.

You knocked on his door but you were met with silence. You tried the handle and it moved.

"Warren?" you paused, "I'm coming in," you warned and pushed the door open. When you looked inside, he wasn't there. You took a moment to gaze around his room, it wasn't the first time you had been in there but every time was a bit exciting as you got to see all of the things he had that represented him. He had a boombox and a CD collection on his dresser. Some of his clothes were thrown around his room haphazardly and some of his drawers were open. You looked at the wall next to you where he kept photos that you took. You would carry around a camera or take pictures on your phone of everyone around campus. He always asked for them and then printed them out so he could hang them up. He had even managed to get a couple of you. You smiled a bit before heading back into the hallway, closing the door behind you.

You instead moved towards the door to get out onto the lawn where you thought he would probably be. He often sat under the big oak trees or on the roof if he wanted to get away from people. When you made it outside, you looked around for him.

"Y/N!" you heard him shout. You turned to look for him and saw his silhouette flying from the roof. You paused to admire him and his wings. He always looked so angelic to you. So powerful. You thought about how your power emanated darkness. That you would never appear angelic to someone and would more likely look like a demon. You looked down at your hands for a second, a habit you had when you were thinking about your powers. They sparkled a bit in the sun but it did little to quell the distaste in your mouth.

Suddenly there was a shadow in front of you that was not part of the darkness that surrounded you.

"Y/N?" he asked gently. "Are you okay?" he tried not to startle you. Being empathetic wasn't something that came naturally to him, but he tried extra hard around you. he noticed the way you were staring at your hands. The growth of your shadow as you thought about your powers more. He moved to touch one of your hands but you flinched back a bit. He brought his hand back and looked at you with concern. "Whats wrong, angel?" He asked lightly and you looked up at the pet name. He had started calling you that soon after you became friends. You thought it was out of irony but he really was convinced that you were some sort of angel. He also loved the way that your eyes would light up when he said it. You stared at him for a moment in silence.

"Do I scare you?" You asked quietly and your voice shook. He looked surprised by your question and you were surprised too. You didn't know why you were suddenly getting emotional. Why this was now all you could think about. Why it had to come up now when you were trying to express your feelings for him. Instead of responding he reached out to your hand, holding onto it when you let him, despite flinching away slightly. He started to walk, leading you toward the same tree you had met under. Once you both reached it he sat down and looked up at you, waiting for you to sit down too. You did, maybe a bit farther away from him than you needed to be.

"Do you think you scare me?" he asked genuinely and you took a second to think, looking back down at your hands which were now pulled back into your lap.

"I scare me," you stated simply and paused.

"That's not what I asked."

"I don't know." You mumbled. "I think I freak everyone out. Including you I guess." Your voice was quieter than you meant it to be. you really hadn't thought about it in a little while. It had been on your mind plenty when you first started talking to him. You were extra conscious of not pushing him to be around you or near your shadow. You knew that he would move away if he needed to but you also had so many memories of everyone around you fearing you, running from you, telling you that you were a curse. Instead of responding he held his hand out in between the two of you, palm up. You knew that he was inviting you to take it but that he wouldn't push you to. Instead of taking it, you placed your hand near his on the ground and he left his next to yours, not trying to take it if you didn't want him to.

"You don't." He let out, sounding sure of himself and slightly pained. "You don't scare me." You looked at each other. He had tears in his eyes. He was never one to get emotional so you were surprised. "Do I scare you?" he questioned, already knowing your answer but trying to prove a point.

"Of course not." You sighed.

"You have a lot more reason to be afraid of me than I have to be afraid of you." he looked at your hand again. "I'm the one who has a rough history, I'm the one who is angry and has a reputation of being aggressive."

"But, Warren, your mutation is-"

"Mutation has nothing to do with it, Y/N." he sighed. "You have control over your abilities, I have control over mine. The only difference between us is our personalities and I have never had any reason to fear you or dislike you. You're the kindest person I know and everyone in your life who has let you think that there was something wrong with you was terrible. And that was on them."

Your hand reached for his and you laced your fingers together. He squeezed your hand and ran his thumb over the back of it.

"I love you." The words came out of your mouth faster than you could think and you sucked in a breath, almost hoping he didn't hear you. When you glanced up at him he had a gentle smile on his face. He brought the back of your hand up to his face and kissed it before placing it against his cheek.

"I love you too, Y/N" He reached out for your waist and pulled you toward his lap, giving you plenty of time to give him a sign that you were uncomfortable. Instead, you put your leg over his waist so you were straddling his thighs. You held one of his hands in between you and fiddled with his fingers, admiring how your hands contrasted with his. Somehow, him holding your hand made it seem less out of place. You almost felt pride.

You were suddenly surrounded by warmth and shadow, the sounds of the quad around you becoming muted. You looked up around you and his wings were wrapped around the two of you, closing you off into your own little world. You felt the urge to reach out to them but you had never asked. You had never seen him let anyone touch them and you didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

"Go ahead." your eyes snapped to his in shock.

"Warren, you never let any-"

"I want you to," he admitted and it was true. He had thought many times about asking you to run your fingers through his wings. He would never complain about it but they were a little high maintenance and also sensitive. He never let anyone touch them because most people weren't gentle or he didn't trust them. He knew though that you were the gentlest person on Earth and that he could count on you to be careful.

At his reassurance, you smiled a bit. You reached a hand out to the part of his wing next to his shoulder. You both gasped a bit when your fingers made contact. Warren was a bit surprised at how sensitive they were to your touch and it had been a long time since anyone but himself had touched them. You were entranced by how soft they were. The feathers were delicate and there were so many. You were very careful in how you moved your hand along his wing, looking at him often to see if he was uncomfortable. As you were carding your fingers through his feathers, one came out. You gasped slightly horrified that you had hurt him.

"Hey, it's okay!" he rushed out as he saw your panic. "They just sort of... shed sometimes." He almost seemed embarrassed. Feathers would come off occasionally and he would often have to brush through them himself to release all of the loose feathers, sort of like brushing your hair. He reached to pick up the feather and held it in front of you for you to take. You gladly did and you twirled it in your fingers. "Maybe sometime, if you wouldn't mind, of course, you could help me brush through them?" he asked quietly and you smiled.

"Yeah of course. They seem like they might be a lot of work." you were touched that he trusted you to do that and you thought about how hard it must be to take care of them by himself when they were so big and most of his wings were behind him.

"You should see what it's like to shower with them," he grumbled and then his eyes widened at what he had said. He hadn't meant it to be an innuendo but now he was worried he offended you. Instead, he looked into your eyes and you fell into a fit of giggles.

"I might have to take you up on that offer." Your gentle gaze made him blush. He had never felt this comfortable with anyone. This safe. He decided right then that he would do anything you ever asked of him.

After that day, you and Warren became the cutest couple at the school. You were opposites in multiple ways and your relationship was more wholesome than any of your friends could handle. You got more confident in yourself and your abilities and he allowed himself to be more vulnerable. everyone agreed that you were a match made in heaven.

#warren x reader #warren worthington x reader #warren worthington imagine #warren worthington iii #warren worthington the third #warren worthington iii x reader #warren worthington fluff #warren fluff #warren imagine #x men #x-men #x men imagine #x-men imagine #x-men x reader #x men x reader #x men apocalypse #x-men apocalypse #ben hardy #ben hardy fluff #angst

[the-gay-trashmouth]

So I’m the worst. As soon as I started the Newsies Gift Exchange my mental health took a nose dive and my school decided to ramp up the assignments to 100. I never forgot and I have been working on it when I had the time so here it is! I'm so sorry I'm late @annihilatedthenightstalker . I hope you enjoy my very very late gift. I am so sorry. 

Prompt- Jack's really scared for some reason and David sees him cry for the first time, its then he finds out just how touch-starved Jack is.

If there was one thing David knew, it was that Jack Kelly would be the death of him. He wasn’t even mad about it, it was just a simple fact of life that he had come to accept.

That's what he thought as Sarah shoved him awake, telling him in no kind words that his Cowboy was at the window and he needed to go take care of it. He yawned before pushing off the bed and making his way to the open window where Jack did, in fact, sit waiting for him.

He leaned out the window, fixing him with an unimpressed look. “What are you doin’ here so late? Don’t ya have a bed waitin’ at the lodge?”

Jack shrugged, but he was shaking like he’d seen a ghost. David’s expression went from annoyed to concerned as Jack spoke.

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t sleep none and I thought- well you like all that star stuff and the skies real clear so-” he gestured shakily, “I thought we could go watch some, may-maybe you could tell me all that stuff you learned about the patterns and stuff.”

David watched him carefully, watched the way he couldn’t sit still, the way he was glancing around like something would pop out to get him any second now. After a moment he sighed, “yeah… yeah okay Jackie. Lemme get dressed and I’ll meet ya on the roof, a’ight?”

Jack nodded quickly, already climbing the ladder. David watched him for a moment, concern twisting in his chest. He turned back to see Sarah watching him with tired eyes.

“That’s not what I meant when I said make him go away,” she said flatly.

David shrugged, “he doesn't look too good, Saz. I can’t just let him go wander the streets like this,” he argued, though Sarah didn’t look convinced. Thankfully, she didn’t push it, just rolled her eyes and laid back down.

“Whatever, don’t complain to me when you're exhausted tomorrow.”

He sighed, tugging a patched sweater over his undershirt and fastening his suspenders to his pants. She had a point, but he wasn’t about to admit it. Besides, he couldn’t just leave Jack to his own devices, not when he’s like this.

When he pulled himself up to the roof, the first thing he saw was Jack, still pacing with his hands still shaking. David tried to shake off his anxiety as he pushed himself to a stand, but the lingering clench of concern twisted around his heart. He didn’t like seeing Jack like this, it hurt too much.

“You’re gonna walk a hole in your shoes if you keep that up,” Jack jumped at his voice, but a shaky grin still found its way onto his face.

“Oh well, you could patch ‘em up for me, couldn’t ya Dave?”

David rolled his eyes, nudging Jack’s shoulder as he passed, “might could, question is would I?” he pulled one of his sheets down from the line before sitting down.

Jack just grinned, taking his place beside him, “‘course ya’ would, what kind a partner wouldn’t?”

He snorted, nudging Jack’s shoulder with his own. He was right, of course, Dave would do anything he could for him- Jack knew damn well he would too. Everyone did.

“Keep tellin’ yourself that, Kelly.”

Jack grinned, nudging him back before leaning on his hands to look at the sky. David followed suit- Jack was right. It was an incredibly clear night. He could see so many stars, he could even make out a few major constellations.

After a moment of silence Jack elbowed him in the ribs, pointing up to the stars, “That one there’s the big dipper, ain’t it?”

David followed his finger, trying to connect the pattern he was seeing. It was a bit difficult because his hands were still shaking. “Yeah, I think so- ya know the big dipper’s just a part of a bigger constellation, Ursa Major. A bear.”

Jack tilted his head, dropping his arm to his side and squinting at the sky, “don’t look like no bear to me.”

The other boy snorted, using his own hand to point out the rest of the pattern, “yeah see- there's the head and the big body, and those little stars make the legs- see? Bear.” Jack just tilted his head farther, blonde hair falling into his face.

“I don’t- hang on, yeah. Yeah I see what you mean, ‘s like one of them stick figures, right?”

“Yeah, basically, I mean it’s really abstract. See, right near it is Leo, it’s supposed to be a lion.”

Jack followed his finger again, watching as he pointed out the stars and traced the lines. Jack squinted at it, “yeah- it just looks like a bunch a dots to me”

David snorted, looking over to see Jack watching him with a soft smile. He tilted his head, nudging Jack’s shoulder again. As much as he would love to go on and on about the stars and the stories behind him, he had to find out what was wrong.

“So, I know ya didn’t come here lookin for a lesson on astronomy. What’s wrong with ya? Somethin’ happen with the boys?”

Jack froze, still staring at the sky. David could see him trying to keep his easy grin but it was forced. Somehow that hurt worse than a frown.

“Nah Dave, nothin’ happened with them…”  he trailed off, picking at the concrete beneath him.

“Well what’s wrong? And don’t say nothin- I know when you’re lyin.”

“Aw c’mon, you wound me! I don’t lie-”

David cut him off, rolling his eyes, “fine. ‘Improvin’ the truth’ or whatever- not much of a difference.”

Jack chuckles, leaning forward to rest his chin on his knees. “Yeah, you’se too observant for ya’ own good sometimes.”

“And you’re too stubborn for yours,” he shot back, taking a breath before continuing to speak, voice much softer this time, “what’s eatin’ at ya, Jackie?”

Jack shuddered, face hidden behind his messy bangs. He was quiet for a moment before he muttered something just under his breath.

“I can’t hear ya, Jack,” he said plainly, leaning forward to try and catch his eyes. Jack just looked away,

“My Pa…. he’s… Spots just got news that he got out a’ the pen,” David’s breath caught in his throat as Jack spoke, his words shaking.

“Oh shit,” he breathed. For once, The Walking Mouth had been rendered speechless. Jack laughed, rough and strained.

“Yeah.. oh shit..” he pulled his legs up to his chest and rested his chin on his knees. David set a hand on his shoulder, mind too frantic to linger on the way Jack tensed under his touch.

“Are you okay? He- he don’t know where you’se stayin’ does he? Shit- he can’t- Jackie..” now it was David’s turn to shake, the hand not gripping Jack’s shoulder running through his curly bed head. Jack shrugged, adamantly refusing to look at him. David cut himself off, words dying in his throat.

“Jackie…” he dropped the hand from his hair to his lap, “what are you gonna do?”

Jack shrugged again, but David could feel his shoulders begin to shake. David waited for a moment as Jack sucked in a shaky breath. “I don’t know Dave… I mean I don’t- I don’t think he knows where I’se stayin’ but what if he does?”

David let the hand on his shoulder drop to his back, rubbing small circles into the thin fabric of his shirt like his mama would do when he was in a state. He didn’t know what to say and his mind was racing to come up with something. Something to fix it, something to make it all better.

Nothing came to mind.

Jack was still shaking but he leaned into Davey’s touch, taking in shuddering breaths as he hid his face in his knees. “Dave I- I don’t know what I’m gonna do…”

When he finally looked up, there were tears in his eyes. Davey’s heart clenched as he sucked in a harsh breath. Jack never cried- sure he got upset, angry enough to punch a hole through a wall or anxious to where he couldn’t breathe, but he never cried.

Davey didn’t know what to do with that.

“I’m scared, Dave…”

That was the final straw. David gripped Jack’s shirt with shaking hands and jerked him into his long arms. He wrapped around him, using his height to his advantage as he enveloped Jack in a shaking embrace.

“Oh Jackie…” he buried his nose in his hair, pushing back his own tears.

Jack froze for a moment, just long enough for David to worry he’d gone too far before there were fingers digging into his back and Jack “Cowboy” Kelly was sobbing into his shoulder.

“I- fuck Dave-” David shushed him as he cried, arms tightening around him as the older boy cried his eyes out into his shoulder. He could feel his sleeves soaking through but that was the least of his worries right now. He was too busy trying to comfort the shaking mass of boy in his arms to give a dmn about his stupid shirt.

“It’s okay Jackie- let it all out. It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out. You can stay with us or- or hell I'm sure Spotty would let ya crash at the Brooklyn Lodge if he shows up in ‘Hattan,” he spoke frantically into Jack’s hair, trying everything to reassure him that there was no way his father would get anywhere near him. Jack just shudder out something between a laugh and a sob.

“Spotty don’t let no one but Racer stay at the lodge,”

“Spotty ain’t gonna leave you on the streets Jackie,” David pulled back just a bit, ignoring the soft whine that came from Jack, “none of us will, for that matter. You’se family, Jackie, an’ family don’t let family suffer.”

Jack blinked at him, tears still flowing from his eyes. When he spoke it was broken and strained, “you’re too good to me, Dave-”

David cut him off, thumbing away his tears, “no- people just ain’t been good enough.”

Jack sniffled, leaning into his palm. “Can I…. shit, can I stay here? Just for tonight. I don’t.. I don’t wanna walk back alone…”

Davey managed a smile, hand still cupping his cheek, “Jackie, you can stay as long as you want.”

#Stari writes #Newsies #javid #canon era #newsies fic #gift exchange #i am so sorry i am so late

[illfoandillfie]

I’d love a platonically blurb ab them applying to foster/adopt kids 🥺

i love you for this request but also it made me very soft and emo and how dare you

It ended up being a little less about them actually applying and more just them deciding they wanted to adopt or foster and discussing their options because i can't read but perhaps i could do an actual fic later about the process involved and them meeting their kid and stuff?? idk...dad ben makes me 🥺🥺🥺

Anyway, here's the second last blurb in my Platonically event!

Words: 1,683

Warnings: Nothing much really, discussions about children including pregnancy, adoption and fostering, a little mention of sex but nothing explicit.

“I wanna be a dad.”  You weren’t surprised to hear Ben say it. You’d seen the signs. There was the way he’d befriended and doted on the adorable toddler who’d played his daughter on a TV project. Every day he’d come home and his face would light up as he talked about her – how she babbled little kid nonsense at him all day and how they’d played silly games sitting on the floor of the set while the cameras were set up around them. You’d almost expected him to bring up the possibility of having kids then but he’d surprised you and not mentioned it. You could tell he was thinking about it though which made you think about it too. It made sense to at least discuss it and see where you both stood now that you’d been in the QPR for a while and knew that it worked and that you made a good team. You asked about it one night while you were washing the dishes and Ben was drying them. “Do you ever think about kids? Like having one?” “Yeah, sometimes,” he said, bumping your shoulder gently with his, but the conversation didn’t go any further than that.

It wasn’t until about three months later that you heard him say it. It took one of his mates having a baby with his wife for Ben to bring it up. You’d gone over a couple of weeks after they left the hospital, gifts in hand (a cute little spotty onesie and soft toy elephant that he hopefully wouldn't grow out of as quickly as he would his clothes). It was a lovely afternoon, catching up with the new parents and meeting brand new baby Bertie who just stared at everyone who cooed over him. You each had a turn holding Bertie too, marvelling at how anything could have such tiny hands and such big brown eyes. Ben happened to be handed the bundle of blankets that Bertie was swaddled in as the baby began to fall asleep. He didn’t mind though. When the new father asked if he should take Bertie and put him in his crib Ben waved him off. He said he didn’t mind sitting there a little longer to make sure Bertie really had dropped off. The parents didn’t argue, a little relieved that they were able to take a break and just relax. Both of them excused themselves for a moment to get some more food and use the bathroom which left you and Ben and the sleeping Bertie alone together. Quietly you stepped towards the armchair Ben was in, sitting on the arm so you could run your fingers through his hair. “I wanna be a dad.” Ben glanced up at you as he said it, and you could see how much he meant it. “Let’s talk about it tonight,” you reached out to stroke Bertie’s pudgy cheek as Ben lent his head against your side, his attention turning back to the baby.

Neither of you mentioned it on the drive home. In fact you both specifically avoided mentioning it, though not from fear of what might be said but rather just wanting to make sure you had adequate time to go over it without rushing. Once you were inside, shoes kicked off and the kettle on, you opened the discussion.  “So....a baby?” Ben nodded, as he settled into the couch, body angled towards you, “I’ve been thinking about it for a bit, it’s not just because of this afternoon but that did help. I really want kids and I think I’m at a place where I feel ready to. Is that...is that okay?” “It’s wonderful Ben. Honestly, I’ve kinda been waiting for this conversation for a while. I’ve seen you interact with kids and I knew it wouldn’t be long before you wanted your own.” He laughed and inclined his head in amused agreement, “So does that mean you like the idea?” “Yeah I do.” “Really? Just that I know you weren’t really sure about it when we first decided to be partners.” “I might not’ve been then, but I am now.”  “What changed?” “Well...you, obviously.” “Me?” He seemed surprised. “Look, before we got together I couldn’t imagine being in a relationship that didn’t make me feel at least a little uncomfortable. I figured I’d be single forever and I was okay with that. I’d considered just having a kid on my own – sperm donor or whatever – but that seemed like a really hard thing to do and I wasn’t sure I’d ever want it bad enough to do that. But then you showed me that it was possible to be in a partnership that felt good and, I don’t know, I started thinking about the possibility of having a family with you, and the more I thought about it the more I liked the idea.” Ben smiled as if he was trying not to look as pleased with your answer as he felt, “So we’re doing this then? For real?” “Yeah I think so. Weird.” “Bit weird.” There was a pause as you both just sat with the knowledge that you were planning a future together, that you both wanted to go ahead with it. You never would have guessed you’d get to that point with anyone.

Ben was the one to break the moment, “How would you want to...I mean how should we...How do you feel about being pregnant?” You bit your lip in thought, “I’m not sure. Honestly, it still kinda freaks me out.” “That’s understandable.” “I mean, if it was a dealbreaker for you then I would. I’m not entirely against the idea of carrying our baby and it would mean we’d get to do the fun part of making it.” “We do the fun part a lot as is,” Ben laughed, “But it’s actually something I thought about a lot.” “The fun part? That doesn’t surprise me.” “No, the you being preggers part,” he said exasperatedly, “I knew you weren’t super keen on the whole thing so I got thinking about whether or not it really mattered to me and I don’t think it does. I think I could be just as happy with a kid that came from someone else. And,” he paused as if giving you time to prepare for what he was about to say, “I might have looked into our options for adopting or fostering.” “You did?” “Mmhmm. It’s kinda complicated so we shouldn’t rush into anything and we should probably contact some agencies to ask questions and stuff.” “How complicated are we talking?” “Well, basically, if we want to adopt I think we have to put our names down with an agency and then there’s an interview process and if they think we’re suitable candidates then they’ll put our names in the system and find us a kid. And I guess it depends on the age bracket you’re looking for. I think if we wanted a newborn we’d be more likely to get one through adoption but it might still take a while whereas older kids are a little easier to find, so that’s something we need to consider.” “What about fostering?” “It sounds even more complicated. Like adoption you put your name down and go through an evaluation process but then there’s a few different options. There’s short term fostering where we’d look after kids for a couple of weeks or months while plans for their futures are finalised. Then there’s long term fostering which is usually for kids who can’t go back home but don’t want to be adopted out of their birth families and they mostly stay with you until they’re adults. Emergency fostering is another option which is a few nights or weeks at most but it’s for kids who need to be moved quickly and you don’t always get a lot of warning about them coming to you. And like, there’s possibilities to end up adopting the kid or kids you foster depending on what they want and how it goes.” You puffed your cheeks up with air and slowly blew it out, head swimming with the sudden influx of information, “That does sound complicated.” “Yeah. We’ll really have to consider out options and decide what sort of family we want to have. I think reading about adoption and fostering made me want to do it more though. Cause like...” he paused as he tried to find the right words, “These kids are out there without good homes and I really believe we could give them that.” You noted Ben was getting a little misty eyed, blinking more rapidly to hold back the emotion, so you tried to make him laugh by nudging him and calling him a sap. But you loved seeing how much he cared.  It worked a little as he chuckled softly and shrugged, “Look, either way – adopting or fostering – it's probably not going to be easy. There’s challenges involved in fostering for sure – kids with trauma we won’t be able to understand, kids who are grieving the loss of their birth families or who’ve had bad experiences with other foster carers and who struggle to trust anyone. And the kids who are up for adoption might not have the same problems, especially if they’re younger but, I don’t know, I think finding out you were put up for adoption would leave its own scars. Issues with abandonment and things like that. So I think we have to be really, really sure before we put our names down anywhere. But I also think we could properly help someone doing it, maybe more than one someone. So, if you’re up for it then so am I.” “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” “What are you thinking?” More pros and cons lists?” You both

laughed at that but Ben grabbed your arm, encouraging you to leave your seat and sit on his lap instead. He wrapped his arms around your waist and tilted his head up for a kiss which you gladly gave.  “I’m really happy we’re talking about this,” He almost whispered, squeezing you a little tighter. “Me too. I guess we should start by going through all our options and seeing which ones would suit us best.” "I've got some websites bookmarked and a few documents downloaded so why don't I go get my laptop and you make us a drink and we'll start working through it, okay?" "Okay,"

#my writing #my blurbs #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy imagine #platonically event #catch me crying in the club #god this was such a good prompt tho #ily L

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

More Hearts Than Mine - Part I

As always, I do not own anything that you’re familiar with - Newsies, songs, characters, etc. This is loosely based on the song “More Hearts Than Mine” by Ingrid Andress. This has been rattling around in my head for a while and I decided to sit down and write it. As always, feedback would be wonderful! Warnings: cursing

Race - 17 years old, junior in high school - living at Medda’s Spot - 18 years old, senior in high school Charlie - 17 years old, junior in high school - living at Medda’s Amelia - 17 years old, junior in high school Albert - 16 years old, sophomore in high school - living at Medda’s Finch - 16 years old, sophomore in high school Smalls - 13 years old, 8th grade - living at Medda’s Romeo - 10 years old, 3rd grade - living at Medda’s Henry - 4 years old, daycare - living at Medda’s Jack - 19 years old, sophomore in college

October 4, 2019

“Let’s go! All of you are going to be late!” She hollered, her voice carrying throughout the house. Mornings were always crazy in the household but Medda wouldn’t have it any other way. It was always busy with six foster children running around getting into various amounts of mischief. To say, there was never a dull moment in the house and Medda lived for it.

Standing in the middle of the kitchen, she grinned seeing her children file in, sleep still in their eyes. She narrowed her eyes seeing a yawn escape his mouth. “Cover your mouth, Racer.”

Race looked at her with a grin. “Sorry momma. It’s Friday y'all.”

Charlie snorted, shaking his head. “Don’t matter because we’ve got a Chemistry exam that we’ve gotta get through before the weekend.”

“Don’t remind me.” Race groaned, throwing his head back as Smalls and Romeo joined him at the table.

Medda raised an eyebrow at the two. “Are you both ready for the exam?”

“Study hall right before it.” Charlie grinned, looking over at Race.

She shook her head. “An hour isn’t enough time to cram.”

“At least you don’t have a history exam.” Albert threw himself into a chair giving his older brothers a glance. “I second Charlie’s comment about study hall.”

Henry came running in, yelling about something. Medda raised an eyebrow, looking around the room, trying to see if anyone knew what was up with her youngest. Race, Charlie, and Albert all shrugged while Smalls and Romeo were focused on the bowls of cereal in front of them.

“Hey Henry, cool it.” Albert yelled, grabbing Henry and putting him at the opposite end of the table. “Can’t we have a breakfast in peace once in a while?”

Charlie shook his head, looking at his little brother. “You’re one to talk, Albie. Usually you and Racer are going at each other’s throats and causing a ruckus at breakfast. If we don’t have a quiet one, it’s typically your fault.”

Knowing she needed to squash whatever was happening in front of her before it got out of hand, Medda looked around the kitchen. “Hey remember Jack’s coming home tonight.” Medda called, causing the usual chaos of the kitchen to come to a standstill.

Concerned with the sudden quietness, Medda looked up from the six lunches she was packing. “You guys didn’t forget did you?”

“Uhhh no momma. Didn’t realize it came up so quickly.” Race was the first to recover pushing a bright smile on his face as he looked around at his foster siblings. “When will he be here?”

Medda smiled. “He said about 5, just in time for dinner. Don’t dilly dally tonight. Come home and get your homework done so you don’t have to don’t have to worry about it this weekend.”

“Did he say why he was coming home?” Albert bit into an apple, giving the room a wide glance.

Medda smirked. “As if that boy needs a reason to come home. He did mention he was bringing someone home with him.”

Several pairs of eyes widened at her statement as she levelset with each of her children. “Now listen here you’re going to leave your brother and whoever he brings home alone. No giving him crap or being the normal pain in the butts you are.”

“As if we’d ever do that.” Race’s jaw dropped looking first at Medda before looking between Albert and Charlie.

Medda sighed, pointing a finger looking at her oldest three. “Treat Jack’s guest as I treated you when you first came to live with me. If I hear of you pulling any tricks or pranks, you’ll be answering not only to me but I’ll let Jack deal with you as well.”

“Momma!” Albert and Race yelled, knowing that her threat was real. Between Medda and Jack, Albert and Race could only imagine the punishment they would cook up for them.

She chuckled, watching them shake their heads. “Be nice and be the kids I’m trying to raise you to be.”

“Ugh momma, why do you have to take all the fun out of it?” Race gave her a grin.

Medda grinned. “I’m not ruining your fun. I’m just telling you to behalf like the civilized children I know you to be. Now get going before you miss the bus.”

She quickly handed off the lunches she had packed before pressing kisses to each of their foreheads as she watched them walk out the door. She looked over at the three still sitting at the table with a grin. “Finish up and we’ll leave in ten minutes.”

Taking a sip of her coffee, she shook her head at the kids, knowing that they all loved their older brother dearly. “Momma?”

Looking up from her coffee cup, she looked over at Smalls. “Yes, Smalls?”

“Can we start up the conversation again about getting a dog?” She grinned, looking hopeful at her mother. “You know since Jack’s moved out and he had the energy of a dog.”

The calendar on the fridge caught her attention. “Felicity! Don’t talk about your brother like that. I thought we were going to table that until the summer.”

“Well . . . it’s almost summer,” Smalls grinned, raising her eyebrow in hope. Romeo, and Henry both stopped eating momentarily, looking between their sister and momma. “Come on Momma . . . what’s holding you back?”

“Summer is 9 months away. We’re going to be late if we don’t get a move on.” She gave the four a look. “We’ll table this discussion for when everyone is home and has a say.”

Smalls gave her mom a knowing look. “Because you know what everyone is going to say. Why not just say yes and we’ll tell everyone later?”

“Felicity, car now.” Holding out a lunch bag, she gave her daughter a look before pointing to the garage door. Her younger brothers followed suit as Medda grabbed her purse, keys and her own lunch with a sigh before following them out the door.

11:00am - Study Hall

Flipping open his Chemistry book, he tried to focus on the chapters the exam would cover. Looking across the room, he saw Charlie sitting with Amelia, his best friend since childhood, both of them absorbed in their studying. He sighed, flipping pages but not really paying attention to what he was reading. Feeling someone sit beside him, he picked his head up from his book. “You’ve been quiet all morning, what’s going on?”

Spot Conlon was one that was very protective of those around him and when those in his personal circle were not themselves, Spot Conlon was one to pick up on it immediately. Race often joked he should become a detective after high school.

“Jack’s comin’ home.” Race sighed, running a hand over his curls. “And he’s bringing someone back.”

Spot leaned back in his chair, whistling. “Any info on that person?”

“Momma didn’t know. Just that he’ll be home around 5, in time for dinner.” Race looked at his boyfriend. “I’m excited that he’s coming home but he’s never brought someone home before.”

Spot nodded, having been around the Larkin household since Race was adopted eight years ago. “Think it might be a girl or are you leaning towards a roommate?”

“I just talked to him yesterday and he didn’t mention anything about a girl.” Race sighed. “You know Jackie, he can’t keep his mouth shut normally.”

Biting his lip, Spot sighed. “Knowing Jackie, it’ll all be okay. Whoever this person is, should be more nervous than you.”

“What does that mean?” Race turned in his chair, giving his boyfriend a look.

Spot chuckled. “You and your siblings are an intimidating crew. Y’all look innocent but when you want, you all can be evil.”

Nodding, Race chuckled. “You’re right but momma put the kibosh on that. Will you come over tonight for dinner?”

“Medda alright with that?” Spot raised an eyebrow, giving his boyfriend a look.

Shrugging, Race closed his book with a slam. “She didn’t say anything about no boyfriends. I’m sure Finch and Amelia will be over just like normal.”

“I’ll be there.” Spot agreed. “I’ll text my sis and let her know.”

“Wanna dump all your Chemistry knowledge on me in the next thirty minutes?” Race leaned over, stealing a kiss from Spot with a grin.

Spot smirked. “You’re going to need more than 30 minutes, stud. You’ll need all the help you can get; all of which, unfortunately, I cannot help with.”

“Spottie . . . . please.” Race pleaded, giving him his best puppy dog eyes.

Leaning over, he kissed him, smirking. “Open your book and we’ll see what we can get through before the bell.”

4:30pm

Like any afternoon after school, the dining room table at Medda’s was rambunctious and loud. Nine kids were crammed around the table, each with their homework scattered around them. Medda was standing at the stove, stirring the sauce in the pot while listening to each of the kids talk about their day.

“Homework almost done?” Medda called, raising her voice a bit to be heard over the kids.

Various confirmations came from the table as she looked over at them. “Please put your stuff away and help set the table. Spot, Amelia, Finch, you staying for dinner?”

“If that’s okay, Medda?” Spot called, stuffing his book and notebook back into his backpack.

“Always sugar.” She grinned, raising a silent eyebrow in Finch and Amelia’s direction.

Finch nodded with a grin while Amelia hesitated. “Sorry Medda, mom’s making dinner and wants all her kids home tonight.”

“No worries, Amelia. I’m sure we’ll see you at some point this weekend?” Medda asked, looking at Charlie’s best friend.

She nodded with a grin. “I’ll be around. I’ll see you guys later.”

Several goodbyes were yelled as she made her way out the front door. Medda shook her head at the girl before stirring the pot of sauce on the stove. She had long considered Amelia another adopted child with how often she was over at the house. “So you don’t know anything about this person Jack’s bringing home, momma?”

“If I did, I would tell you what I know.” Medda said, looking between Charlie, Albert, and let her gaze land on Race, who asked the question. “Jack called me up last week and asked if it was alright if he brought someone home with him. That’s all he said. Now, he’ll be here in a little bit, so I need all of your bags put up in your rooms and wash your hands. Smalls, Romeo put plates out. Race and Albert silverware and Charlie cups, please.”

With assignments handed out, the kids scattered. Henry sat at the kitchen counter, swinging his legs, back and forth watching Medda with wide eyes. “What can I do momma?”

Looking at the table being set, Medda smiled. “Henry can you make sure every place has a napkin?”

He hopped off his chair doing as he was told while Medda took a moment to relax in the busyness of the house and thankful for everything that surrounded her.

“You alright, momma?” Albert asked, pausing in his movements of laying down the silverware, looking at her.

She smiled. “Just fine baby. Excited that all my children will be in the house this weekend. How’s that table coming along?”

“Almost done momma.” Race called. “How’s the spaghetti?”

She gave it one more stir before nodding. “It’s almost ready.”

“Momma, Race, Charlie, Albert, Smalls, Romeo, Jack’s home and he brought a pretty girl!” Henry yelled as several eyes went wide and the front door was thrown open.

Quickly wiping her hands, Medda put the towel on the counter before following the kids to the front foyer. She smiled at Spot and Finch who stood back, giving the family some space. Medda couldn’t help but tear up as her oldest walked through the door, holding a hand of a pretty girl, just as Henry had exclaimed.

#Newsies #Newsies Fan Fiction #writing #More Hearts Than Mine Newsies #Medda Larkin #Racetrack Higgins #Albert DaSilva #Meeting the Family

[livesincerely]

dress you up, dress you down ch. 2 - the clothes make the man

aka the Tie Fic. Chapter one here.

Also on Ao3

00000

It’s early Monday morning. Davey is working on coaxing Les into his school uniform when there’s a knock on the bedroom window.

“Jack!” Les greets, the untucked tails of his shirt flapping behind him as he rushes over to open it.

“Hey, bud,” Jack says, climbing in from the building’s fire escape with easy grace. “How’s it hangin’?”

“What are you doin’ here?”

“I’m workin’ on some cartoons for Joe today, but I hadta come pick up some stuff from Dave before I head over.”

Les’ expression brightens. “Oh, you mean your new suits and stuff?”

“Got it in one,” Jack confirms, ruffling Les’ hair. “Your brother and Kathy ganged up on me yesterday and made me buy a buncha fancy geddups. They was real serious about it—said it was important for my ‘tential growth as an employee.’”

Jack leans closer, then continues in a conspiratorial whisper, “I think it’s all a waste of dollars, but if it’s important to them I guess it’s important to me.”

“Well it’s real important to David!” Les chirps. “He brought your stuff home but he wouldn’t even let me look at it. He hung it all up in the back of our closet and told me if I touched anything he’d murder me!”

“Well, they did cost a fair chunk of change,” Jack says slowly, blinking several times in rapid succession. “And I’m pretty sure if they got ruined before I hadda chance to wear ‘em out, Kath would kill us all.”

“Go brush your teeth,” Davey tells Les. “Jack needs to get ready.”

“But I wanna see the fancy geddup,” Les whines.

“You can see it when he’s dressed,” Davey says. “Brush your teeth.”

“But—“

“Go!”

Les lets out a huff but finally does as he’s told. Davey turns to Jack.

“The garment bag’s all the way in the back on the left,” Davey informs him, waving a hand towards the closet.

He goes to follow Les out of the room to give Jack some privacy but he only gets as far as grabbing the door handle before Jack’s voice pipes up behind him with, “Wait, where are ya goin’?”

Davey’s brow furrows. “I’m letting you get dressed.”

“But you gotta get dressed too,” Jack says with a frown, gesturing at the pajamas that Davey’s still wearing. “Distribution opens in a hour.”

“Oh, well, I was gonna wait for you to finish,” Davey explains.

“Don’t be stupid,” Jack says, shaking his head. “I don’t wanna make you late. Just go ahead and change, don’t mind me.”

Davey hesitates. “If you’re sure it’s okay...”

Jack rolls his eyes. “Dave, you’ve seen the Lodging House—it ain’t exactly private quarters. If it don’t bother you it don’t bother me.”

Well, actually, it bothers Davey quite a lot, though probably not for the reasons Jack thinks. But he’s not sure how to excuse himself without seeming suspicious so he swallows down his reservations and steps more fully back into the room.

Jack unearths the garment bag and works the clasps open. Davey catches a glimpse of soft cottons and sturdy wools and feels his cheeks getting warm—just the thought of what’s to come is enough to send his heart racing. He takes a steadying breath, then throws open the trunk at the foot of his bed and starts looking through it for a clean set of clothes.

His only plan is to get changed as quickly and quietly as possible. So naturally Jack choses this moment to strike up a conversation. 

“So how’d your meetin’ go?” Jack asks. Davey instinctively turns towards the sound of his voice and is treated to the long expanse of Jack’s bare back as he wriggles out of his shirt.

“...What?” Davey says. His voice sounds distant to his own ears.

“Your meetin’?” Jack repeats. He lets his shirt fall to the floor at his feet, his hands dropping down to start undoing his belt buckle. “Didn’t you and Albie have a thing last week? Down by the water?”

It takes Davey a moment to shake off his stupor. Flushed and flustered, he quickly whirls back around but it feels like the sight’s been seared into the space behind his eyes. Good god.

“Oh, right, of course,” Davey stammers out, keeping his gaze fixed carefully on the wall in front of him as he fumbles through unbuttoning his pajama top. “Yeah, it went well. Better than I thought it would, anyway. We still need to figure a few things out but we’re off to a good start.”

“And Brooklyn didn’t give you no trouble?” Jack questions. “Spottie was nice and hospitable?”

“It was fine Jack,” Davey says, and the familiar banter is working wonders on calming his frazzled nerves. “Spot and Hotshot stopped by and checked in with us, just to make sure we were being honest and keeping to the agreement and all that, but they mostly left us alone.” Davey folds up his pajamas and leaves them in a neat stack on his bed, slips on a clean pair of underwear, then steps into his selling pants and fastens them up. “Honestly, I think they were... not happy, exactly, but proud? Honored? It’s a respect thing, right?”

“Well, ya only get asked to be neutral territory if everyone else trusts ya to play fair,” Jack explains. “So, yeah, it’s a sign of respect. But Brooklyn’s always been real particular ‘bout who’s all allowed to cross the bridge, so they don’t usually do it—I still can’t believe Spot agreed to play host for ya.”

“It helps that I can get through a conversation with him without picking a fight,” Davey comments lightly as he works his arms into his shirt sleeves. “Unlike certain others I could name.”

“I still say he started it,” Jack responds, and Davey doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s pouting.

“Uh huh,” Davey says. “Sure he did.”

“Hey, now,” Jack says, grabbing at the hem of Davey’s shirt and tugging him around to face him. In the time since Davey’s last looked he’s put on his pants and suspenders, his shirt done up but only partially tucked in. He should be easier to deal with now that he’s covered up, but the disheveled, partially dressed look is somehow just as enticing as the bare skin. It’s honestly not fair. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I’m always on your side,” Davey says, perhaps a little too sincerely, feeling a touch lightheaded. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t call you out. And you definitely started it last time.”

“He’s been mackin’ on Racetrack!” Jack says, and he’s adorably grumpy about it. “I can’t just let that go!”

“They’re dating, Jack,” Davey reminds him for the thousandth time. “Obviously they’re gonna be holding hands and kissing and whatever else—you might as well get used to it. And regardless,” Davey pokes Jack in the chest, a gentle scolding, “you shouldn’t be letting your personal feelings about Spot affect your dealings with Brooklyn. You’re supposed to be professional, mister Union President.”

“It’s Racetrack,” Jack insists. “It’s my god-given right to give his boyfriend,” Jack makes a face as he says the word because he’s ridiculous, “a hard time. It ain’t my fault Spottie’s got such a short fuse.”

“And that’s why you’re not allowed to handle business with Brooklyn anymore,” Davey says, and he’s trying for disapproving but he can feel the start of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Worth it,” Jack says, utterly unapologetic. Davey just shakes his head. Jack’s bad enough now when it’s just Racer—he can only imagine how overprotective Jack’ll be if Crutchie decides he’s interested in dating too.

Davey finishes buttoning his shirt, then leans down and starts digging around in his trunk for a pair of socks and a set of suspenders.

“Hey, but back to your meetin’,” Jack starts after a moment, picking up the previous conversation where they left off. “You know who you really needta talk to? There’s a kid over in Flushing—I don’t think you’ve met him yet, name’s Paulie—but he’s got crazy connections with somma the dock workers. One time he managed ta—” 

Jack stops mid word, a sudden, sharp inhale interrupted by a series of coughs.

“You alright?” Davey calls over his shoulder, still searching.

“Uh, yeah,” Jack says, an odd note in his voice. “Just, uh, swallowed wrong, but I’m fine.”

“Oh, okay,” Davey says, absently. He straightens up, then frowns when he realizes he’s grabbed a pair of Les’ socks instead of his own. He throws them aside, then bends back over his trunk, rifling even more vigorously through the assortment of clothes. 

Jack mutters something under his breath, too quietly for Davey to make out the words.

“What was that?” Davey asks, finally coming up with the right items. 

“Nothin’,” Jack says, head ducked low as he buttons up his vest. It’s a little hard to tell, but it looks like he’s gone a bit pink in the face. “I just⁠— it was nothin’.”

Davey watches him for a moment longer, brow furrowed. But when Jack doesn’t say anything else, he goes back to his task, pulling on his socks and carefully tucking his shirt into his pants. 

“How’s that?” he asks Jack, turning slowly in place. “Did I miss any spots?”

“Lookin’ good Dave,” Jack says with a smile. “Here, hold still,” he continues, patting at Davey’s hip with one hand and picking up the end of his suspenders with the other. “I’ll fix you up.”

“Oh, thanks,” Davey says tentatively. 

Jack steps in close, his knuckles brushing against the small of Davey’s back as he clips his suspenders into place. Davey swallows heavily around a suddenly dry throat, trying his hardest not to think about how he can feel Jack’s body heat like a tangible weight along his spine, how there’s the barest whisper of Jack’s breath tickling at the nape of his neck. 

He hopes Jack can’t hear the hitch in his voice as he asks, “So what are you working on today?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothin’ much,” Jack says. “Just some line work, and maybe sketching out some ideas for the Friday edition.”

“Is your, uh, desk mate still stealing your drafting pencils?” Davey asks. 

“He sure is, the prick,” Jack answers. “Which is so damn annoying⁠—it ain’t like they don’t give us plenty.” His hands slide up over Davey’s waist: “Turn around for me.”

Davey obediently turns. “Maybe you should call him out,” he offers.

“Maybe I should stab him in the neck with his stupid compass,” Jack says with a snort. He follows the line of Davey’s suspender straps up over his shoulders and down to the front of his pants, clipping the other pair of buckles into place. “There, you’re all set.”

“Great,” Davey says, his eyes flitting across Jack’s face. He’s very handsome. He’s very close. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Jack says, his voice a little husky. His fingers are still curled around the straps of Davey’s suspenders. “Happy to help.”

“Right,” Davey breathes out. 

“Right,” Jack echoes.

They stare at each other.

“I should, uh, grab my vest,” Davey says, clearing his throat. His pulse is pounding in his ears. 

“Yeah, of course,” Jack says as he shuffles back a couple of steps, running a hand through his hair. “Of course. I’ll just⁠, I’ll finish doing… over here.” 

Davey spends a long while shaking the wrinkles out of his vest, then pulls it on with clumsy limbs. He smooths his hands nervously down the front of it, then pretends to pick away a few pieces of lint, just to give himself another minute to calm his fluttering heart. Oh god, oh god, oh god.

For a brief moment there’s no noise except the rustling of fabric and the sounds of the city drifting in from the open window. Then Jack calls, his voice tinged with a hint of alarm, “Uh… Dave? Help.”

Davey glances over. Jack’s made an attempt at putting on his tie and it’s ended in absolute disaster, the collar of his shirt crumpled beneath a too tight and incredibly tangled knot.

“What on earth did you do?” Davey asks, his lingering embarrassment burnt away by sheer bafflement. 

“I thought I had it handled!” Jack says. He tries to pick the knot loose, but only manages to make things worse. “Christ, these things are death traps.”

“Stop, or you’re gonna strangle yourself,” Davey says, smacking Jack’s hands out of the way. “Just let me⁠—”

Davey reaches up, undoing the mess of a knot with deft fingers, then expertly re-ties the strip of red silk into a perfect four-in-hand.

“There,” Davey says, carefully tucking the tails under Jack’s suit vest, then folding the sides of his shirt collar back down into place. “How’s that?”

“‘S good,” Jack says.

“Not too tight?” Davey checks just to be sure, noting the raspiness of Jack’s voice. He adjusts the knot one more time, then presses a neat little dimple right in the center of it. “I can do it again if it doesn’t feel right⁠—”

“No, it’s great, Dave,” Jack says lowly, and his hand closes around Davey’s own so that their hands are clasped together over Jack’s sternum. Startled, Davey’s eyes dart up to meet Jack’s and their gazes catch and linger⁠ again with that same soft, simmering intensity from earlier. “It’s perfect.”

“Good,” Davey says hoarsely⁠, held captive by Jack’s stare. He almost can’t breathe around the pressure building somewhere deep in his chest; Jack somehow feels even closer than he had before, all dark eyed and broad shouldered and just far too much for Davey to handle. “Good, that’s…” Davey swallows, licks his lips, and tries to think of something to say that isn’t absolutely asinine. “I’m glad.”

An expression flickers across Jack’s face, too quickly for Davey to identify. Then his hand curls more firmly around Davey’s, and Davey can feel the warmth of his skin, the callouses on his palms. Jack takes a breath, opens his mouth to speak⁠—

“David!” Les shouts as he bursts back into the bedroom. Davey jolts away from Jack like he’s been burned, his hands dropping back to his sides. Jack’s mouth clicks shut⁠⁠—whatever he might’ve been about to say is lost. “Davey, stop hogging Jack! You already saw the fancy geddup, I wanna see too⁠⁠—”

He skids to a sudden halt, his eyes going wide. “Wow, Jack, you look swell! Like a real, pr’fessional artist.”

“Hey, I’m already an artist,” Jack counters playfully, though there’s a hint of tightness around his mouth. “All this stuff is just window dressing, ya hear?”

“Yeah, but now you look all serious and business-y and confident,” Les stresses. “Like you actually know what you’re doing.”

Jack laughs. “That’s just the clothes talkin’, bud,” he says. “Believe me, I ain’t gotta clue what I’m doin’ most the time. ‘S what I keep Davey around for⁠, to make sure at least somebody knows what the hell is going on.”

“Well, I think you look nice,” Les declares, like that’s the final word on the matter. He looks at Davey and says, “Mama says we gotta leave soon or we’ll be late.”

“Okay, I’ll be right there,” Davey answers. Les nods, then skips away to put on his shoes and hat.

“I guess I should head on out,” Jack says, wandering towards the still-open window. “I’ll see you in a few hours⁠—”

“Jack Kelly, you are not going down the fire escape in your brand new suit,” Davey says, exasperated. “You can walk out the front door with us like a normal human being.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?” Jack says with a grin, but he slides the window shut and dutifully comes back over. Once he’s close enough, Davey elbows him in the ribs. “Ow, what was that for⁠—?”

“Stop talking down on yourself,” Davey huffs. “You don’t give yourself enough credit⁠.”

“Or maybe I give myself exactly enough credit,” Jack counters. 

“Oh, please,” Davey says, rolling his eyes. “I know you’ve got a functioning brain in that head of yours⁠, you don’t need me to be successful⁠—you’ll get by on your own merits.”

“My own merits, huh?” Jack says with a rueful smile. “You make it sound so easy, Dave.”

“I know it’s not easy,” Davey says. “But I also know that if you really wanted something, you’d figure out a way to get it.”

“But, see, there’s a lotta things I want,” Jack says, and he’s gone a bit quiet in his contemplation. “Probably too many things. I ain’t figured out how to get hardly any of ‘em, and especially not the most important things.”

“But you will,” Davey says. “I’m sure you will.”

Jack stares at him, and for a split-second Davey can see the raw yearning in his eyes for... whatever his latest dream is. Davey hopes he finds it, even as his heart lurches at the thought of some new, Santa Fe-esque fantasy stealing Jack away, maybe permanently this time. 

“God, I hope so,” Jack breathes.

00000

Chapter three here

Tag List: @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside

#newsies #javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #*final cut #*the writing desk #*editor's note #the tie fic #tease series #it's all about the flustered desperate YEARNING babes

[thetriggeredhappy]

if it's alright can i rq a non-comic verse/au/w/e speedingbullet fic where sniper introduces scout to his parents? i've seen a lot of fics where scout introduces sniper to his family but not a lot for snipes' folks, and i think they have an interesting dynamic as well

galaxy brain takes my dude, galaxy brain takes. in summary i think it would go Terrible

(warning for very bad parents)

-

Sniper shifted the car into park and glared down at his steering wheel for a few long minutes. He took a deep inhale, a slow exhale. A second. A third.

“You’ve got this,” Scout said encouragingly, even as he found himself eyeing the little farmhouse out the driver’s side window. Sniper gave him a dubious glance. “No, seriously, you’ve got this!”

“Have I?”

“Snipes, it’s your mom and dad. It’s gonna be fine.”

Sniper took a few more deep breaths. Side-eyed the farmhouse.

“And I’m gonna be right here the whole time,” Scout reminded him, putting his hand over top of Sniper’s where it still rested on the gearshift.

Sniper looked at him, took one last deep breath, and nodded. He popped his door open, moving somewhat quickly, clearly trying to rip off the bandage as best he could.

Scout walked close as they approached the house, eyeing it further, gaze darting from the stretch of road on either side to the pasture off past the house. He squinted at the shapes out there, trying to distinguish and figure out how many sheep were over there. It was a lot.

It was a lucky thing he was looking that way, because that meant he could nudge Sniper and get his attention.

“Uh,” he said, looking back towards the flock, and Sniper followed his eye and saw the dogs there sitting at attention and staring at them.

One dog stood and barked, and that set them all off, and they bolted over towards the pair, barking furiously.

Sniper wrapped an arm around Scout’s waist and moved him half-behind him, pulling his sunglasses off and staring down the dogs. “Oi, none of that!” he called as they approached, and the dogs skidded to a stop when they got to him, still going absolutely bananas but significantly less aggressively than before, starting to nose at and lick his hands excitedly, practically bowling him over as they bumped happily at his legs. “Awright, awright, ‘llo to you too.”

They seemed pretty excited about Scout, too, sniffing and nosing at him, and Scout knelt to pat one of the dogs on the head. He was promptly knocked back, the dog starting to lick him all over the face.

“No, Luna!” Sniper said firmly, tugging on the dog’s collar to get her to ease off, rolling his eyes at how Scout was laughing, clearly very endeared. “Play nice.”

“Luna’s her name?” Scout asked for confirmation, petting all over her head. “Good dog!”

“Don’t spoil ‘er, she’s a lazy one,” Sniper warned, even as he also patted at her back before shifting focus back to the three other dogs who were still very much excited. “The two kelpies are Brandy and Dig, the brown koolie is Vince and the spotty one is Luna.”

“These are good dogs,” Scout seemed to decide, squawking as he was immediately whacked in the face by a furiously-wagging tail.

“Mickey?”

Both of their heads whipped around to look at the source of the voice. Scout was surprised to see the little old woman who was standing there, her glasses big and round and her eyes squinted slightly as if disbelieving. Sniper shifted. “Hi, mum,” he mumbled, just loud enough to be heard over the dogs barking, helping Scout to his feet.

“Mickey!” she exclaimed, bundling down the stairs and hurrying over to embrace him. He shifted to make the process easier. “Oh, you’re here so much earlier than I thought you’d be, dear! Thought you’d be another day, surely!”

“No, said—said it’d be today,” he murmured hesitantly.

“Oh, I’m sure you did, but it’s always so hard to travel during the holidays,” she tsk’d, patting his cheek good-naturedly. “I worry is all.”

“Well, everything was fine,” he shrugged awkwardly.

“Of course. Well, come in and see your father, dear, I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you!”

And just like that she was moving back up the steps of the porch and into the house.

Scout was too surprised to say anything, and blinked a few times. “Uh... Snipes, she’s not, like, blind or something, right?” he asked gently. “She didn’t even look at me.”

Sniper inhaled slowly, exhaled slowly. “Bugger,” he finally said.

Scout looked around the inside of the house with great interest, surprised by a few things. First of all, that it was so thoroughly an old person’s house—the various assorted knickknacks and decorations, the way it was laid out, everything felt very much like something he’d have seen in his grandad’s house, or other houses occupied by people of a similar age. And that made sense, because Sniper’s parents were indeed fairly old. And Sniper had brought that up before they got there, when Scout had found a picture of them, that they’d both been in their late thirties when they had him, and worked with sheep out in the sun for so much of their lives, so of course they’d aged all the more because of it.

“Shoes off!” was barked at the both of them before they could even step properly through the door. Scout had to take a knee to untie his shoes to get them off, while Sniper could toe out of his own pretty easily.

“...’llo, dad,” Sniper said after a second when the man at the armchair facing away from them—presumably Sniper’s dad—didn’t say anything else.

No response.

“Mickey dear,” his mother said, returning from a room down the hall holding a box. “You already knew we turned your room into a guest room ages back, but I’m afraid I’ll need a tick to put the bedding on—“

“It’s awright, mum,” Sniper was quick to assure.

“I can do that,” Scout offered helpfully.

“Oh, so he knows how to make a bed? I wouldn’t have expected” Sniper’s mum asked in a way that almost sounded like faux-surprised, not looking at him as she put the box on the table and shifted the tablecloth neatly. Scout shrank.

“I—no, I, I can... I know how to make a bed,” he confirmed carefully.

“Well, linens are in a basket by the bed then,” Sniper’s mom said, and disappeared from sight again.

“...Anything good on?” Sniper asked towards the still-silent armchair, glancing at the TV and back.

No response.

“Dear, any idea what you’d want for dinner?” Sniper’s mum asked, returning with a second box to also put on the table.

“I’m not picky,” he shrugged, looked over at Scout. “You?”

“I mean, I don’t care,” Scout also shrugged, hands stuffed into his back pockets. “I like pretty much everything.”

“I’m sure you do,” Sniper’s mum said neutrally, and Scout was still trying to figure out how exactly to respond to that when she spoke again. “Might just make some soup then, Mickey, unless you’ve got a suggestion.”

“Any suggestions, dad?” Sniper asked the armchair.

No response.

“I’ll need to go send the dogs back to work, then I’ll start cooking,” Sniper’s mum said, and gave him another pat on the shoulder as she passed by him, and Scout needed to dodge out of the way as she threatened to bowl right through him to go outside.

A pause, a hard exhale from Sniper. “Bloody hate it here,” Sniper mumbled.

“Free to leave any time you like,” Sniper’s dad snipped from the couch.

“Oh, you heard that one, then?” Sniper snapped right back. “Good to know.”

Scout tapped the back of Sniper’s hand to get his attention. “Uh, I’m gonna grab our bags and stuff, where are we sleeping?” he asked quietly, and Sniper exhaled again and tugged him along.

Sniper pulled him into a room and shut the door behind them, leaning on it heavily and sighing hard, pulling a hand down his face. “Bloody hate it here,” he repeated, all the more bitter with the additional volume he was allowed.

“Fuckin’ sheesh, Snipes, you talked about your dad and made it sound like he was just sort of an asshole, but wow! That’s—“ Words briefly escaped him. “Like, he’s your dad, why’s he acting like that?”

“He’s always like that,” Sniper muttered.

“And... wh—so your mom just, what, doesn’t... like me? I think?” he asked, visibly confused.

“Neither of them do,” Sniper replied. “Thought—I really thought mum would at least hold out until she met you, talked to you a bit, but... I’m sorry, I, it was a mistake coming out here—“

“No, no, it’s okay,” Scout assured quickly, stepping forward and putting hands on Sniper’s shoulders, squeezing comfortingly. “It’s—we’ll figure this out. Okay, what—what’s the problem? Why doesn’t your mom like me?”

“She doesn’t think I’m at all capable of taking care of myself and always wanted me to get a partner, ideally a wife, who would be able to take care of me because I can’t,” Sniper rattled off tonelessly. “And she doesn’t think you can take care of yourself, let alone me too. Among other things.”

Scout blinked. “...Okay. So we don’t have time to unpack all that.”

“Right.”

“...But, I, I just gotta... show your mom that I can take care of both of us!”

“Right?” Sniper repeated, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah! Look, I can make the bed, help with dinner, help clean up—whatever else needs doin’—and then she’ll see that I’ve totally got this and it’ll be great!”

“You never make my bed,” Sniper pointed out, tone tilting just a little bit to the left into joking territory.

“Yeah, because you’re a grown man and you don’t need help with that stuff, especially from me. I’m not your maid, I’m your boyfriend. I help you out in all kinds of other ways,” Scout shrugged.

“Like?” Sniper asked, intrigued.

“Like, talkin’ to you about stuff you like, telling you how much I like you and how great you are, hearing you out when you’re upset about stuff, being around to make you feel better when you’re doin’ stuff like this that you hate and that make you feel like garbage,” Scout listed off, and Sniper blinked, realizing how much of that was accurate. “But apparently your mom doesn’t care about any of that, like, mushy crap, so I’ll do things her way.”

“That’s a lot of work,” Sniper said hesitantly.

“Then I’ll do a lot of work,” Scout shrugged. “I wanna get along with your family, at least a little.”

“I don’t get along with yours,” Sniper pointed out.

“Eh, you’ll meet my Ma someday and she’ll fuckin’ love you, you’ve probably already got a spot at the dinner table,” Scout brushed off, turning and glancing around the room. “Okay. I’ll make the bed, you...”

“I’ll just,” Sniper said, and took a seat at the chair next to the dresser.

“Cool.”

-

Scout made the bed in the guest room and did the vast majority of the work making the soup that would be dinner. He then also cleaned, dried, and put back away the bowls, washed the utensils and pots, cleaned off the stove where there’d been a minor spill, and went to go get he and Sniper’s bags from the camper.

Sniper’s dad didn’t eat with them at the table, just remaining in front of the TV facing away and not talking to anyone except to occasionally snap at Sniper if he got anywhere near mentioning work or complaining about anything, even jokingly. Sniper’s mum, meanwhile, continued to make the occasional patronizing or passive-aggressive comment about how Scout did things. She described how he acted as “...interesting”, and made more overt comments on him and Sniper’s relationship when Sniper wasn’t in the room, and very clearly was watching him like a hawk.

“Never been on a farm before?” she asked at one point.

“Oh, nah, not really, no farms or nothin’ in Boston, big city and all,” Scout replied.

“Hmm,” she said, tone implying that she meant something by that, but she did not elaborate upon what.

“You awright?” Sniper asked him gently as Scout finally crawled into bed, feeling a little exhausted in more than a few ways.

“Yeah, it’ll be nice to sleep on a bigger bed like this,” Scout said cheerfully, managing to muster a smile.

“I meant about my mum,” Sniper clarified.

“It’s—I’ll be fine,” Scout said, and curled up against Sniper, and Sniper dropped it.

The next day, they spent a good chunk of the day out around the sheep, Sniper talking about some of the technical aspects of things that he needed to know growing up. Scout spent a good chunk of time playing fetch with the working dogs, who seemed absolutely elated at how far and fast he could pitch a baseball (completely demolished by the end of the day, but luckily Scout had others in his bag), and Sniper spent any time they weren’t playing trying to get the dogs to back off a bit and stop trying to jump and lick at his face and hands. They were clearly very happy to see him.

Sniper walked him around showed him some different places in a radius of the house, explaining assorted stories from his childhood. The place where he got that scar, the place where he would practice shooting a toy bow so he could be like Robin Hood, the rock he would climb all the time, the tree he spent a summer trying to secretly build a fort in only to have it knocked over by storms a few times. And there really was a youthfulness to Sniper’s face as he explained all the different things he would get up to in his downtime, the adventures he would try and take himself on.

He also showed Scout a fair share of different critters and bugs, whenever he spotted them on trees or branches or rocks, and seemed to enjoy Scout’s skiddishness and panic whenever he pointed out any that were particularly close. By the end of their little walk, Scout was constantly brushing at his arms and legs, and occasionally asking Sniper if there was something on his back or in his hair. In his defense, there was a fly at one point, and a gnat up above one ear that needed brushed away at a different point.

He informed Scout that he wouldn’t last a week out in the bush. Scout informed him that he wasn’t goddamn planning on it in the scary mutant fucked up bug country. Sniper asked him what it meant that he was dating the guy from scary mutant fucked up bug country. Scout informed him that actually Sniper was one of the mutant bugs. Sniper laughed.

Scout made both of them lunch—some sandwiches—since when they got back, Sniper’s mum was nowhere to be seen, and Sniper’s dad ignored him outright when he hesitantly asked if he wanted anything. And they spent a while longer with Sniper showing Scout some of the very few things his parents had kept as souvenirs from his childhood, in the little closet of his childhood-bedroom-turned-guest-room. And once it was in his memory, he kept talking for a while, explaining all sorts of different things, telling Scout story after story once he was on track. It was nice.

Sniper’s mum came back at some point, and peeked in the open door to the room to greet them and check in. Told Sniper she was so sorry, she just needed to do some shopping, and oh, didn’t Sniper’s dad tell them where she’d gone? And oh they probably hadn’t had lunch and were starving—

And Scout helped put away groceries, expressed enthusiasm and tried to ask questions about the farm. Good questions, real questions, about the things Sniper had said he didn’t know. About what they did with the extra land since they apparently didn’t keep as many sheep anymore, about whether that meant they didn’t need to hire on any hands, about whether they might consider hiring on more hands or just retiring outright at some point.

Sniper’s mum had said in the sweetest voice that she was sure a young man like him who’d grown up in a city wouldn’t understand even if she told him.

Sniper took him out to play with the dogs some more, let him work that particular hit out of his system by pitching the baseball as hard as he could towards the horizon line, and he’d calmed down a bit by the time dinner rolled around, and helped again, cleaned up again. And at some point he ended up sweeping the kitchen, although he couldn’t say how he’d gotten roped into doing so.

There was an argument at the table. Scout suspected it was because this time, Sniper’s dad joined them.

“Oh, Snipes, could you—“ Scout asked at one point, gesturing towards the salt shaker, which Sniper passed. “Thanks.”

“That what they call you out there?” Sniper’s dad asked, speaking for the first time all day as far as Scout knew.

Sniper took a breath. “Who is ‘they’ and where is ‘out there’?” he asked calmly.

“The murderers you work with in America,” his dad clarified.

Sniper’s hands tightened on the table. Scout’s eyes flicked between the two of them. “...No, I’m the only one who calls him that,” Scout said carefully.

“So you are one of those maniacs?” he asked next, and Scout frowned.

“Ignore him,” Sniper told Scout, no small amount of bitterness in his voice.

“Be nice, Mickey,” Sniper’s mum admonished.

“What, it’s not nice to ignore people? Clearly dad doesn’t agree, he’s been doing that ever since I got here,” Sniper said, a little bit snappish.

“Snipes, it’s fine,” Scout assured quietly, even as he visibly fought the urge to shrink a little in his seat.

“It’s not fine!” Sniper said, voice rising. “I come back for the first time in a year to introduce you to the bloody love of my life and this is how you’re treating him?!”

“I’m the love of your life?” Scout asked quietly, and was largely ignored.

“Oh, sure, you bring a murderer into our house and home on vacation from killing people, what on earth could be wrong with that?” Sniper’s dad asked sarcastically. “You bring home the second-skinniest bloke I’ve ever seen in my life and try and tell me you’re going anywhere, and you think I’m going to take any of this seriously.”

“Second-skinniest? Who was first?” Sniper snapped, confused.

“You,” Sniper’s dad snickered.

Sniper took four actions in response to that. He clenched his fists, he stood up from his chair, he marched away into the guest room, and he slammed the door behind him.

For a second, silence. “Isn’t that just like him,” Sniper’s dad scoffed after that second.

“Really shouldn’t slam the door,” Sniper’s mum said.

“Holy shit, fuck you guys,” Scout decided internally, and stood up and followed after him.

He made sure to shut the door behind himself, albiet much more gingerly than Sniper had. Sniper was facedown on the bed, face buried in a pillow.

Silence, for a long moment. Scout didn’t say anything. Sniper didn’t say anything.

“So I’m the love of your life?” Scout asked, semi-jokingly, hoping to break through the tension.

Nothing. Sniper didn’t respond.

He sat down on the bed next to him, and Sniper breathed a hard sigh. “I’m 30 years old, and still upset about fights with my mum and dad,” he said, laughing humorlessly. “This is all just... just so ridiculous.”

“Hey, in your defense, all that out there was total bullshit, they were being assholes,” Scout said.

A pause from Sniper before he spoke. “Thanks,” he seemed to decide. “Just, bugger, what am I meant to do?”

“Maybe... we do head out tomorrow,” Scout decided carefully. “Stay in the city until we gotta go back to work. You can show me a zoo or something, we can see more of your batshit crazy animals. Eat at a nice restaurant.”

“Please,” Sniper agreed, exhaling, relaxing bodily at the idea. “Please, bugger. Seen the dogs, seen the sheep, seen the parents, nothing left to do.”

“Yeah. We—we can head out tomorrow morning maybe. Breakfast then drive.”

“Brekkie then drive,” Sniper agreed. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” A pause. “Let’s circle back around to when you said I was the love of your life.”

Sniper shifted, propping his head up on his arms to look over at Scout. “What about it?” he asked.

Scout paused. “...I dunno, just... I dunno. Big words.”

“Yeah.”

Scout, for a minute, considered unpacking that further, but ended up just leaning in to kiss Sniper firmly on the lips to let him know exactly what he thought of that particular sentiment.

The next morning they packed their things back up. Scout was in the process of packing his own bag when he heard Sniper in the kitchen telling his mum they were leaving, and tried to keep up with what he was saying when he realized Sniper was telling a bit of a white lie.

“Change of plans, we’re needed back a bit sooner than we thought we’d be,” Sniper said. “Sorry, mum.”

“Oh, but dear! You’ve only just gotten here!” she said, sounding legitimately broken up about it.

“Boss’s orders, nothing I can do about it,” Sniper explained.

“Well, put me on the phone with that boss of yours!” she seemed to decide.

“Mum, I-I can’t do that.”

“Of course you can!”

By the time Scout had put his own bag in the camper, the argument had migrated to the porch and gained a participant.

“Oh, so what, you’re going back early? Can’t miss out on any heads to pop, then?” Sniper’s dad challenged.

“Look, I’d rather keep my job, awright?”

“Well that makes one of us!”

“Mickey,” his mum said, taking hold of his hands. “Really, it’s unreasonable. You should get more than just a few days off to be with family.”

“I—look, I’ve really got to go,” he insisted, trying to pull back.

Scout moved to stand with him, frowning a little. He was ignored. “Dear, at least stay for lunch,” his mum offered.

“That’ll be in a few hours, and I’d really like to be on the road by then,” Sniper replied.

“Did you even have breakfast?”

“He made some for me,” Sniper said, ticking his head towards Scout.

“Oh,” Sniper’s mum said, giving him a tight, plastic smile. “I’m sure he did.”

“Awright, you need to stop that,” Sniper all but snapped, voice kept carefully in control.

“What do you mean, dear?” she asked lightly.

“Don’t snap at your mother,” Sniper’s dad said firmly.

“Snipes, let’s just go,” Scout urges quietly, tugging on his sleeve.

“Yeah, go on, run back to the States to be with your murderer friends,” Sniper’s dad huffed, waving him off dismissively. “You can come back when you’ve figured things out and set your head back on straight. Tightened those loose screws back up again.”

“Shut up,” Scout snapped, and then suddenly all eyes were on him.

“Pardon?” Sniper’s dad asked, surprised and angry.

“...Yeah, shut up,” Scout decided, more firmly. “Don’t talk to him like that.”

“You have something to say about it?” Sniper’s dad challenged.

“Yeah, because you’re being an asshole,” Scout said decisively. “And you’re treating my boyfriend like garbage, and if you weren’t his dad I would have already punched your fuckin’ lights out for that kinda disrespect, old man. And that’s not because I’m a mercenary, it’s because I’m from Boston and I’ve got standards. I would lay you out if I was a goddamn kindergarten teacher.”

“Oh, Boston?” Sniper’s mum said in a vaguely disappointed tone.

“No, nah, you too! You can go ahead and shut up too! Just because you’re not worse than this guy that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook, lady!” Scout declared, pointing at her accusatorily. “I’ve done nothin’ but try and be polite and helpful to you people since I got here and all you’ve done is make these weird backhanded bullshit comments at me! If you’ve got a problem, say something. Don’t be a coward like this. What’s your issue?”

“Just that my little Mickey has decided to be with some American city-bred boy who couldn’t run a farm to save his life if—“ she started to defend.

“Yeah, I couldn’t! Which would suck if Snipes actually wanted that! And I wish I did, but no, I didn’t get to grow up on a farm, I got to grow up in a shitty apartment with seven brothers and no dad in the bad side of town! I always wanted to have a farm and a bunch of dogs and maybe some sheep or something and all kinds of places to play around and be a kid, but I couldn’t have that! And I’m really really jealous that Snipes got to have that! But I’m not jealous of the fact that he had to put up with the two of you!”

“Scout—“ Sniper tried, but Scout barreled through it.

“I mean, fuck! Now I’m a little glad I didn’t have a dad, maybe I skipped out on having to deal with an asshole like you!” Scout laughed, high and humorless. “And at least I had my brothers around and a Ma who actually cares about what I want and would at least pretend to be nice to anyone I brought home, because she loves me. Actively, on purpose, even if sometimes I do things she isn’t completely on board with! If I told her I was leaving the country to go do some job out somewhere and I wasn’t gonna live in Boston anymore, she’d wish me good luck and ask me to try and call or stop by one year for the holidays, not whatever this is!”

“Scout—“ Sniper tried again.

“And I tried, I tried so hard to be nice to you people! Because I love this guy right here so goddamn much and I wanted to at least get along with his family. But you’ve made it pretty fuckin’ clear that you aren’t gonna give me that same courtesy, so you can just go ahead and pack up a neat little suitcase of go fuck yourselves and stop being pieces of shit to my boyfriend. How’s that for a fuckin’ cityboy?”

A very, very long silence. Behind his glasses, Sniper’s eyes were shining with pride, even as he kept his face as calm as he could.

“Finally,” Sniper’s dad huffed.

“Dear,” Sniper’s mum chided.

“Look, I don’t like you, and I don’t plan on liking you any time soon,” Sniper’s dad started, and Scout’s fists clenched at his sides. “But I can respect someone who defends his partner like that.”

“He doesn’t need defending,” Scout snapped. “He’s a grown goddamn man.”

“I just worry,” Sniper’s mum said, picking up on the pointedness of that comment.

“Worry about your own fuckin’ self, lady, how about that?” Scout scoffed.

“Look,” Sniper’s dad said, still mad like a kicked cat. “I’m serious about not coming back. I won’t be having my boy weighed down by a criminal. You want any place with this family, you’re gonna need to quit being a mercenary.”

“I mean, eventually,” Scout said, shrugging. “But I wanna have some savings before then. Shitty apartment in the bad side of town. Lots of catching up to do.”

“...Oh,” Sniper’s dad said, seeming surprised by that reply.

“Let’s go, Snipes,” Scout finally said, taking Sniper’s hand and turning them, walking them towards the camper.

“Don’t forget to call, dear!” Sniper’s mum hollered before they could get too far away.

Scout flipped her off over his shoulder without looking as Sniper called back a real reply.

They drove for about five minutes before Sniper pulled the van over onto the side of the road, leaned over the gearshift, and kissed him full on the mouth.

“You’re absolutely bloody brilliant,” Sniper said first thing once he pulled back, eyes absolutely alight. “That was aces, you—bugger me, that was incredible!”

“I swore at your mom,” Scout groaned, face in his hands.

“You swore at my mum!” Sniper agreed, elated.

“Why are you so excited about this?!” Scout demanded.

“Because I couldn’t do it, I—I’m not any good with words, especially when I’m angry, but you were a bloody legend!” Sniper kissed him again, for a bit longer the second time, and he was still smiling when he pulled back. “Christ I love you.”

“Fuckin’—love you too,” Scout said, still confused but starting to smile a bit too. “...But like, drive. C’mon.”

“Oh, right,” Sniper murmured, putting the van into drive and pulling back onto the road.

They absolutely went to the zoo.

#sniperscout #speeding bullet #tf2 #team fortress 2 #my fanfiction #shut up me #everybody talks

[tslasvegas]

Episode 2: “I am typically regarded as a joke” - Livingston

Anyways... rip Colin, no idea who that was.. obviously Okay well I think we are out of the first impressions stage of this game and I think I've done an okay job of not making a strong impression one way or another, except to DeNara who I've been talking to most consistently since the start of this game. Except for today lmfao I was NOT active on purpose but I'll try to get to that in this confessional. I saw that the tribe went on a call so I decided to join and chit-chat with the girlies of this tribe and I've gotta say.. I'm lowkey disappointed to learn that despite being a returning player, everybody else on the tribe is friends with each other. Aside from Mo it sounds like they all know each other one way or another and I'm kinda left out of that connection. Even though they might not all be friends, it is a bit uncomfortable to be in a call with people where you know NOTHING they're talking about and you're not catching any of the jokes or references to other games. Also, I noticed that the personalities kinda blended together and these aren't people that I'd get along with in other orgs I play, so.. oops. One highlight of the call was that Nik was talking about Rachael and they were saying that Rachael got rid of them, I believe. Basically just talking about how they view Rachael differently because of that I guess? I was kind of in and out during that. But then DeNara posted IN THE TRIBE CHAT when it was just us three plus Kailyn on the call that Nik was spilling tea... and it was just. so. cringe. Idk if Nik or Kailyn noticed and the fact that everyone else was acting so nonchalant makes me think I missed something but either way I was on mute howling bc of second-hand embarrassment. As far as my current position, I do feel a bit comfortable with where I'm at because although I AM uncomfortable being left out of the friend group, normally I thrive early game when I get underestimated. I'm trying to just not make waves and stick to whatever plans come my way and hopefully people don't view me as a threat. Every time I'd leave and rejoin the call everybody was talking about totally normal IRL stuff so it doesn't seem like people are playing the game yet, but last round I did make a bit of an alliance with DeNara for the time being. Despite feeling like an outsider, I'm going to just continue to look at the positives of every situation because as a pessimistic person by nature, I'm inclined to feel doomed in any scenario. But this is my redemption season. I'm not here to get tenth place, I'm here to win and this season will prove itself to be an uphill battle and I'm just getting started. Tumblr Survivor has always felt like the story of Sisyphus and the Boulder to me. Look into the deeper meaning of the story and I promise a lot of the details do kind of relate to me and my character throughout my run in this community, but the general idea is that I've been tasked with a chore of having to push this heavy boulder up a neverending mountain in Hell. As a returning player, I've faced a lot of hardship when I could've just gotten the outcome I want the first time, and each return to Tumblr Survivor, I've pretty much done worse and worse since then. I'm ready to finally push that fucking boulder out of the underworld and bring myself back to the playing field I deserve to be on. For now, I'm just going to keep pushing.

So glad we won that first immunity. Why am I not surprise to see a unanimous vote for the first tribal. Even a self vote.... hopefully we win again today 

I’m already over this tribe. Keegan and Liv are the only fun ones to talk to, Joey I think tries but also doesn’t. Also low key hoping people don’t know too much about Svalbard cause if people know about Rachael and I being close that could be a problem. I’m not letting my work schedule get in the way of my activity, but it’s a bad sign to me when I’m of the most active people on the tribe. I should be the baseline, not the gold standard

I think our Tribe is a bit laid back. Not much interaction, not really that engaging. I hope Jake and Kevin did a good job at the challenge, I don't want to go to Tribal again. The typhoon here passed, I hope Tribal passes too!

Woo we got out the main inactive person. Although really my entire tribe is quiet and lowkey inactive, but Jake and I talk a lot in PMs which is good. Also Stephen is doing his best with timezones so I know he wants to play bc he's always on when he is able to be on. The next biggest inactive person on the tribe is Kevin, but he instantly volunteered to do the challenge so yay I guess. If we lose though, he is still an option to go in my mind. I'm not trying to make too much of a plan because we could win this challenge and then I'm going to try to open the vault because if we come in first I will have 10 chips. But I still need to figure out if it costs 10 chips to open the vault or if you're just not allowed to look at it until you have 10 chips.

You want a confessional, well here it is. Nothing has happened. To be honest, I’ve barely even spoken to anyone today. Or yesterday for that matter. It’s also been quiet in tribe chat.

I finally got my tribe on a call. Most of them joined in, at least for a little bit so that was nice. The only person that wasn't on call was Ben, which kind of paints him as the outsider of the tribe right now. 

...five seconds later

I want to get to know Mo better and maybe set up some sort of alliance with them, but they are so spotty with when they are on, it is difficult to keep a conversation going. I am not chill enough for this game yet lol.

ok. so like that's annoying. that challenge was supposed to be fun but jake is making a big stink. and like yeah i'm mad too but like it's over and it's just a game it's not like actual money lol. also, i don't really care if we go to tribal. makes you stronger. whatever. i'm sure he's a nice person but like i think he's just mad he lost. whatevs. 

Nik and Rachael did our challenge and won. Thank goodness it wasn't me! What my tribe will soon come to realize is I am basically useless at challenges. Rip me.

...five seconds later

Yay! Mo finally asked if I wanted to work together! Took them long enough ;-) jkjk I am excited to finally start playing this game

So after a heated and undeserved loss - sorry Dan I know we talked about it but I'm sticking to my guns - I start packing my bags. All of a sudden Stephen wants to target John, John wants to target Timmy; and nobody is throwing my name out there... Like... Hello? I just got into a public fight with production, shouldn't I be target number one? And now, Xavier and I are the swing votes... How the hell did the worst Tumblr Survivor Player and a 45 Year old man end up stuck in the middle? What the hell even is this season?

WE LOST AGAIN. So now which alliance to choose?! 

I can't believe this round. I should be the target, why - why am I not the target? I lost the challenge. I yelled at production. I am the easiest vote, but nobody is voting me! What is happening?? Timmy and Stephen made an alliance chat with Xavier and I to vote John. John and Kevin are working together to vote Timmy. Xavier says - "Jake tell me what to do!" Timmy and John are both telling me everything the other one is saying to each other, and it's amazing. I have no idea how Xavier and I are voting tonight. On one hand, you have Stephen and Timmy who seem like a really strong duo. But Stephen trusts me a lot, and if I vote out his closest ally than I'll go down that list - which could be trouble in case of the inevitable swap. John is MY closest ally, but if we vote him out the team is much more united. Do I play for ME or do I play for WE? I'm 95% sure the vote is going to be 4-2, and people are going to be blindsided.

“Theres three tribes! Means we’re less likely to have back to back tribals” -_- sure jan. So we lost again, blergh, looked like an annoying challenge. The tribe is still pretty muted, who knows whether they’re voting for me or not. I made a 4-man alliance with Timmy Jake and Xavier, which i do want, but we’ll have to see if everyone is legit. The two bad possibilities are if everyone is actually voting me for various reasons (timezone, round one oopsie, etc.) or if the real vote is jake for arguing with dan. idk, time will tell. From my POV the vote is John, pretty randomly just based on the fact of who competed in the challenge.

Hiiiiiii So I am very excited to be back in the game again. I very much enjoy my original tribe especially Andrew. We already have a Pennsylvania alliance with Stephanie and I think that that is good groundwork to have moving forward should we ever lose a challenge we already have three that are tight in at seven so if we hear anything about any of them targeting us we can do something about it. I like Livingston a lot and Joey but I can’t tell if Joey is 14 years old or not and that kind of bothers me. I am v excited to get with Kevin and see where me him and Andrew can go 

Winning is great, but we need to lose the next one or it’s gonna be a weird spot if the first swap is at 18, although it is very possible that it’s at 16. I don’t want to go into a swap with all the agency being with Luxor, or us having the most players because in both cases we get painted as the targets. Bad news all around

I have yet to confess but here goes! I feel very good on my tribe. We seem to be doing fairly well at comps so far and I would love to continue to miss Tribal as much as humanly possible. I have talked to everyone on my tribe in some capacity but I am not trying to be the one to initiate like alliances and shit before we even have to attend tribal. I just wanna be chill and lay low while also being a good member of the tribe whom people like. Keegan and I have a mutual agreement to make sure each other gets far. I got first boot in my last game and he has never made single digits here in Tumblr Survivor so let's change that. One fear with working with Keegan is that he knows how I play. I played his game, Forest of Horrors, and got rocked out at the Final 7. Keegan has since told me that I was runner up for Player of the Season. I am typically regarded as a joke in this community but Keegan is someone who knows how I play and respects how I play. This game is an entirely different scenario so I am going to likely try to keep my connection up with him.

So the vote seems like it's going to be John Coffey. I'm quite sad about it for a few reasons. He is really nice and I know we work well together in games and he is a very loyal player. Also, Jake had an entire temper tantrum last night after results and that was just extremely annoying. But, Jake is more active and talks to me more while John is a rare sighting. Tbh I would rather it be Kevin but I think they're getting a pass since they participated in the challenge...always next tribal because knowing this tribe it's a strong possibility. I swear if the next challenge is a music video though I will punch a wall since that will be my death sentence since I do not participate in those. I never feel comfortable so I just don't. If we go to tribal as a tribe of 5, that might not be that good, so just really hoping that that is not the next challenge.

ok here's the tea guys. i am pretty solid in my tribe right now. after this vote tonight there 5 of us, and 4 of us are in an alliance, which is good. HOWEVER, i'm solid with the 3 people separately. that's put me in a good spot for a tribe swap/merge. obviously we're like years away from a merge. but we could tribe swap soon. we shall see! 

[mariosomething]

MISTAKES I MADE AS A COMIC OR NOTICED AS A BOOKER...

(NOTE: Never say never, but I can’t imagine getting back on stage again. However, now that comedy is returning to clubs--and potentially booming here in Austin--I think this is worth repeating. Especially #15. Enjoy!)

So, I might be hopping on stage again for my own, personal reasons. Number one being distraction from the crushing loneliness that comes with self-employment. Woo! On the first page of my newly-purchased comedy notebook, I started making a list of things I don’t want to do this time around. The comic I don’t want to be, should I continue performing. Getting in my own way with unfounded beliefs about my abilities or lack thereof. I will—NO DOUBT—repeat some of the following blunders out of muscle memory, and if you catch me doing so, by all means, call me out! In no particular order:

1- Worrying about who’s heard this bit before. One cure for this is to never stop writing new stuff. Also, it’s the JOB of a comedian to repeat the same shit with the same zeal and sincerity for different crowds…crowds that probably don’t attend comedy shows as often as we perform on them.

2- Worrying about making the comics laugh. This is still the hallmark of a great comic to me…the person we’ve all seen before but stop the chit-chat when they get on stage. It’s the opposite of a “crowd-pleaser.” In a perfect world, I can please both—as some do—but ultimately, we don’t get paid to make the back of the room laugh. If I’m building a half-hour, those comics may ‘check out’ during my set, and that’s to be expected. If I concern myself with their approval, I’m ignoring the audience, and by extension, disrespecting them. THEY bought a ticket. They deserve my best attempt.

3- Starting your act with a risky joke. Are there exceptions for these “rules” of mine? Absolutely. But they are just that…exceptions. This one always drove me nuts when I ran the Velv. Especially when the rest of one’s act is relatively benign! Would you lead with your “crazy” on a first date? Talk about all of your flaws on a job interview? Or with music you like…if I wanted to get you into Tom Waits, I’m not gonna recommend The Black Rider—an album only die-hard fans might appreciate. I’d start with something accessible, like Small Change or Rain Dogs. Get them on your side first with your palatable stuff, then give ‘em what you want. (Now go listen to Tom Waits’ Small Change and Rain Dogs.) 

4- Worrying about looking stupid. This is the big one for me. Even though I KNOW the audience WANTS us to look foolish; even while I KNOW they want us to be both vulnerable and confident about it, I have a crippling fear of embarrassment. And this is NOT a good quality for any comedian. I learned that words account for only 7% of communication. The rest is body language, facial expressions and tone. I’ve always hidden behind my words, and have given up on bits that require me to be more animated. So dumb. Which leads me to…

5- Not doing enough ‘act-outs’ in bits. When I watch amazing comedians, they all have this in common. They perform or act-out dialogue. More show than tell. They don’t just recite jokes or one-liners. Even Steven & Mitch & Todd do/did act-outs in their own, low-energy styles. When you start looking for them, they’re everywhere. So much rolling, sustained laughter derives from act-outs. They don’t have to be BIG, they just have to be well-delivered.

6- Writing what I think they might like, not what I like. Another big ‘duh’ but worth repeating. I fell in this trap on the road. I was lovingly told to “write a dick joke already!” when I was a new, quasi-clever comic. And man alive, did I ever make up for it! Some may have had a fake nose and mustache, but they were dick jokes nonetheless, and I wasn’t proud. But they got laughs, and more laughs meant better comment cards, which meant return visits. Awesome way to remain a road comic…shitty way to evolve or get industry to pay attention. It’s also a fast track to burnout. If you’re not doing stuff you like, resentment builds and ambition wanes.

7- Not having goals. A new, tight 10 minutes is my goal today. If that goes well, a new 30. Then maybe an album. When I DID have things to strive for, they “magically” happened. I kept comedy goal lists on my wall, and most came to fruition. Then I got in my head and stopped making those lists. The more I was learning about the biz, the more inadequate I felt. I stopped writing, stopped going to mics and eventually stopped touring. With no new goals, I lost steam and confidence. I was a competent middle, but a spotty headliner…THAT is my ceiling for now. I’d love to be a rock-solid, reliable closer with at least one killer album to show for it. It’s feasible, but I need to start with that initial aim of a new, polished, consistent 10 minutes that I like.

8- Not watching more pros. Something that baffles me about so many new comics. You have the option to catch A-list comedians for FREE at Cap City, your home club, etc…why would you not take advantage? You learn by watching pros, even if it’s what NOT to do. Or what’s being done to death. You can learn structure, pacing, opening and closing. I used to watch comics I knew I wouldn’t like, but came away with respect for how they did things. People forget or don’t know that the late, great Bill Hicks used to be a clean-ish, set-up/punch kinda comedian. He learned the rules so he can break them effectively. Even at his viscous best, he was still super-polished. It’s respect for the craft, dammit. All of your heroes have it.

9- Getting jealous of your friends’ progress. There is sooo much leap-frogging in this business, there’s no need to denigrate yourself for not keeping pace with a peer. “Comedy is the closest thing there is to justice,” according to Colin Quinn, and I 100% agree. If you’re funny, consistently funny, you will get work. Period. When producers run and book shows, they want reliability more than anything. There is no island of misfit-but-actually-brillant comedians out there, waiting to be discovered. Funny gets noticed by EVERYbody. If you’re not getting booked, start looking inward. Seriously. When Cap City demoted me from headliner, I didn’t fight it. I thought they were right to do so because I knew my 50 minutes was about 15 shy of reliable material. Challenge your beliefs about your own act. Maybe you’re better than you think, but maybe it’s just the opposite. It’s worth asking, “What am I doing wrong?” if you’re having trouble getting past open mics. Maybe you are indeed funny, but still too green or inconsistent. Maybe you had a bad showcase set and your friend killed. Your friend may get Montreal before you, but you might get a manager first. You just don’t know! Keep plugging away, because there’s too much out of your control.

10- Not being humble. Jeezus H. Christmas, where did all of this unearned confidence come from?? Not only will I never relate to this, I will continue to chastise and scoff at it. Don’t assume your shit is crushed fruit, especially when you’re new. Don’t trash talk other comics, it WILL bite you in the ass eventually. Or immediately in some cases. Don’t think you’re immediately entitled to the same things that other comics took years to obtain or achieve. There is always something to learn, even from people you disagree with…it’s the definition of being open-minded. There are comics I detest personally, but goddamn if they aren’t great performers/writers. And I’ll probably get push-back for this, but I never called myself a “comedian” until I was able to quit my day job. Until that happened, I was just a dude who “did comedy.” I wanted to earn that title, don’t you?? Skip the business cards and build your act.

11- Not taking chances on stage. I’ve heard from too many comedians that if you’re always killing up there, you’re not taking chances. When I booked a room, I wanted to reward comics who tried new stuff every open mic, or was tweaking it. If a comic kept going up with well-worn bits, I ignored them for a few weeks or longer, even if they got laughs. It’s open mic, the point is to experiment! When I worked the road, I stopped doing mics when I was back in town. Big mistake. I was afraid to try untested jokes in clubs on the road, and too lazy or complacent to take chances at open mics. I stunted my own growth. 

12- All agenda, no punchlines. I remember watching a well-known comic in NY struggle with Jesus jokes. He could NOT have been in a more welcoming arena for such, but he wasn’t funny, just angry. So he said, “Oh, I guess you guys don’t like religious jokes,” To which my friend replied, “We do! We keep waiting for one.” I think comedians can be the most insightful people on the planet, and the great ones don’t berate, they put funny first. It just makes sense! If you really really really want your message to be heard, then it’s in your best interest to make it funny. Funny cuts through. Or maybe you just wanna use the stage as a soapbox, in which case, quit comedy.

13- Not presenting both sides. I once told an established headliner he couldn’t return to the Velv, despite the numbers. In fairness to us, it was Valentine’s Day weekend, we were packed anyway. He never gave me a chance to explain why, but here’s why: he was too angry about women and wasn’t self-deprecating enough to balance it out. Conversely, I had a female comedian come through a couple of times, and the bulk of her act is male-bashing, BUT, it’s tight and well-crafted and funny as shit…AND she sprinkles in enough self-effacing humor so as not to divide the crowd. If the guy I banned was her parallel, I would’ve re-booked him. But I’m a freak about balance. While I don’t believe ANY person or group of people is above criticism, you can’t just point fingers at others while patting yourself on the back.

14 - Not putting more of ‘me’ in my act. Trends are fun as a reference, but full bits built around them have a tiny shelf life. It’s fluff and filler at best. Relationships will never be hacky. Aging will never get old. Folks! We all have specific quirks or approaches to life in general, why not explore those approaches? That’s when a ‘comic’ graduates to ‘comedian.’ When they stop saying funny things and start saying things funny. Not my line, but damn accurate.**

15- Knee-jerk hating and never asking WHY? Okay, this one’s a personal lament. When I found comedy, I found harmony. Anyone funny was welcome. I didn’t see us as men or women or gay or straight or black or white, we were comics, and I fucking loved it. We were equals from every walk of life, and no jerks allowed! I found a circle of curious, liberal-minded pals who were always asking why. Friends who would call out each other’s bullshit or hypocrisy or bad bits, then laugh about it at Mugshots. Friends who preferred brutal truth over blowing smoke. It was bliss for someone who values sincere feedback and funny, earnest people. Comedians we respect and adore are always challenging norms of behavior and tradition. Pryor, Chapelle, Carlin, Rock, of course, but even Larry David, who’s the king of offending people by rejecting small, societal niceties. 

I’m starting to see too much division and moral cowardice in comedy--on and off stage--and this is antithesis to its value, in my opinion. Everything I hated about high school. Cliques and whispers and spiteful exclusion. I will echo what I wrote earlier: NOBODY IS ABOVE CRITICISM. This is the salty to the sweet of “Everyone welcome.” Comedy is a LOT of failing, tons of real-time rejection, and that SUCKS. But if you think it has anything to do with anything but your act, you’re not asking Why. It’s easier to say, “Well, it’s clearly ‘cos I’m ________.” Really? Maybe it’s ‘cos you’re not funny, or not funny YET. Maybe it’s because you haven’t written a new joke in months, or refuse to change the ones that never work. Maybe you think there are no rules to comedy, and you can just get up there and people will love you because so-and-so does it that way. Maybe you don’t have so-and-so’s natural talent or likability. Or work ethic. Or self-awareness. If your first response is to blame a crowd, a booker, society, or whatever, ask yourself: are there successful comics who look like me? Why them and not me? What are they doing differently? My first guess is: they’re addicted to the craft so they keep their head down and write and tweak and fail and ask why and learn from mistakes. Stop complaining and start paying attention. At the end of the day, you and you alone are responsible for your career. If you believe women aren’t funny, I pity your ignorance and sheltered life. If you think men have it easier, tell that to the thousands of male comics who go nowhere in this business.

Maybe I’m an idealist hippy dippy doofus, but I believe that what we admire about others is pretty universal stuff. Regarding comedy, we all like someone who’s fearless on stage. Confident but not cocky. Capable. Quick. Genuine. Someone who keeps writing and honing their act. Someone who connects with people. Someone who comes back once a year with 30 new minutes. Someone who plows forward, not consumed with the opinions of others. Are these gender or race-specific qualities?? Hardly. And when you’re a top shelf, A-list comedian who’s paid their dues, it’s all preference at that level. It’s Gin vs. Vodka vs. Bourbon vs. Tequila, no one is “better” than the next. Maria Bamford is Bill Burr is Dave Chapelle is Carrot Top. They’re all pros who never stop working.

I’ll leave you with this…Comedy is a powerful and special thing, and I’ve always been crazy-grateful to be part of this tiny, uniquely rewarding world. Even if this experiment crumbles after a few months, even if I can’t vanquish some personal demons, it’s been a pursuit I’ve yet to regret. If you’re just starting out, or five years in, or going on the road, relish every minute. Meet all the people. Make all the friends. Get over your fears, get over yourself and get better. xoxo mario 

**This is how I first heard it. Comic/comedian or vice versa. You get it. Though I personally feel that “comedian” sounds more like an official title, while you can’t spell “comic” without “mic.” Just sayin’ is all.

#standupcomedy #comedy

[felix-loves-albert-and-ralb-blog]

Suspenders

pairings: spack!

warnings: swearing, making out, a small bit of poorly written nsfw stuff, violence, blood, knives

fluff and angst

canon era

jack’s pov

get ready folks!

(it is important to remember for this that jack wears red suspenders)

“I’se here ta discuss turf boundaries wit’ Conlon.” I tell York, trying to keep my hands from twitching.

York nods at me, and I brush past him, heading for the stairs that will lead to Spot’s private room.

As far as Manhattan is concerned, I’m here to ask Spot about expanding Manhattan’s selling turf.

As far as Brooklyn is concerned, I’m here to beg Spot to stop invading Manhattan turf.

As far as Spot and I are concerned, we have at the most two hours to share as much of our bodies with each other as possible.

I knock once on Spot’s door and open it, stepping inside.

“Lock the door.” Spot directs from the far corner of the room, where he is sitting lazily on his bed.

“Of course.” I smirk, turning the key in the lock.

I turn around slowly, about to throw one of my cheesy pickup lines at Spot, but he’s suddenly pushing my back against the wall and his lips are on mine.

I twine my fingers through his curly hair, and his hands gravitate to my waist, pulling me closer to him by my belt loops.

I moan into the kiss, and Spot pulls me away from the wall, dragging me across the room.

We’re on his bed now, and Spot is straddling my hips, our bodies moving in perfect harmony.

I slide his suspenders off of his shoulders, the fabric slipping through my fingers.

“Shit!” I exclaim, sitting up so fast I nearly hit my head against the wall.

The morning bell is ringing outside, and Spot and I accidentally feel asleep in each other’s arms. I have to get back to Manhattan, Race can only lead for so long.

“Jackie...” Spot complains, grabbing my arm to try and pull me back to sleep.

“I gotta go Spotty.” I say, pulling away. “I’ll be back later, I promise.” I plant a loving kiss on Spot’s forehead before standing up fully.

I tug on my pants and hastily button up my undershirt. I reach for my suspenders, but in my sleepy haze my fingers grasp red fabric instead of brown. I pretend not to notice and pull on the suspenders.

“Those mine?” Spot asks, his words slurring together with fatigue.

“Are they?”

“Yeah.”

“I can give them back if you-” “Keep ‘em. You’ll have mine, I’ll have yours. We’ll always have a piece of each other.”

“You sap.” I laugh, buttoning my blue overshirt and pulling on my cap.

“Whatever.” Spot says, and he rolls his eyes.

“Gotta go sell.” I say, and I kiss him one more time before slipping out of the door and creeping quietly through the Brooklyn Lodging House and down the fire escape.

“You disgusting piece of shit!” Spot shouts at me, throwing my shirt at me.

It hits my chest and I clutch it to my heart, like it was a bullet instead of a tangle of cloth.

“I swear Spotty, I didn’t cheat on ya! I wouldn’t!” I shout, tears pouring shamelessly down my face, created from both anger and heartbreak.

“Tell that ta Oscar Delancey, who told me direct that he saw ya kissin’ Crutchie!”

“Crutchie and I is brothers, I wouldn’t never! An’ since when d’ya trust the Delanceys!”

“Get out.” Spot commands, pointing to the door.

“But I-”

“Out, Kelly.”

I put on my clothes again, but they feel loose and unfitting. I go to clip my suspenders to my pants, but I drop them suddenly.

“I’ll leave ya suspenders, then.” I say quietly.

“Take them.” Spot’s voice is ice cold.

“I thought-” “Take them and get out of my sight!”

I do.

“What did you tell Spot?” I demand, shoving Oscar against the hard brick wall of an alley not far from the Brooklyn Bridge.

“I don’t know what you’se talkin’ ‘bout.” Oscar says smoothly.

I punch him in the jaw, and my knuckles sting sharply when they connect with his bone.

“What’d ya tell ‘im!” I scream.

I punch him again and again, his nose is now bleeding and his left eye is swollen.

Firm hands grip my shoulders and pull me away from Oscar, but my ears are ringing so loudly I can’t hear what Morris is saying to me.

I guess it doesn’t matter though, because before I can even blink there’s a knife in my side and the Delancey brothers are gone.

Everything hurts, and it’s all I can do to drag myself to the wall and lean against it.

I’m going to die this time, I know it.

“Jackie?”

I look towards the front of the alley and see a figure, short but muscular.

Spot.

“Oh God, Jackie, what’d they do ta ya?” Spot is at my side now, holding my head in his hands.

“You’se gonna be okay, Jackie.” He says, stroking my face gently.

“Ya, ya hate me though?” I choke out.

“I-I shouldn’ta listened ta them. I talked ta Crutchie, he told me all the amazin’ things ya say ‘bout me.”

“Told ya.” I say, somehow managing a smirk.

“I can still let ya die.” Spot half-laughs.

“You wouldn’t.” I smile.

“Would.” He kisses me, and I let our souls mix together yet again.

We’ve been split up for only a week or two, but I’ve already missed him so much.

“Let’s get ya cleaned up.” Spot says, throwing my arm over his shoulder and lifting me off the ground.

“Another kiss might make me better?” I suggest.

“Dork.”

i didn’t kill anyone! yay!

i also didn’t edit haha

TAG LIST:

@booksbroadwayandbagels @somekindaspacecadet @tea-and-theater @be-more-chill-evan-hansen @auspicioustarantula @dancingpenss @suddenly-im-respectable @have-we-got-news-for-you @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn @funnyihope

let me know if you wanna be added to my tag list!

#newsies #newsies fanfiction #jack kelly #spot conlon #spack #fluff #angst

[blazc-ignitixn]

Rules

1. This blog is:

Semi-Selective: Everyone is welcome to follow, however I might be a bit choosy about follows back (it's not you, I promise, just me being careful). I'd rather RP with mutuals (easier for me to keep track of replies, nothing more), though IM and Inbox are open for anyone, so feel free to drop by.

Multiship: I’m shipping trash and open to any sort of relationship, from platonic to romantic. I'm biased towards Touya x Hawks and Touya x Tomura, but I'm up to give any ship a try as long as there isn't a too big age gap (no more than 5-6 years) and the younger half of the ship is at least 18-20 (16 and no older than 17 in the Hero Student Verse) , so ask away (no, seriously, I work better knowing if you want to ship in advance, shipping with chemistry is all good but don't be afraid to ask me to ship straight away, I love planning a ship). Respect Touya's sexuality (homosexual) and in the off-chance I say no to a ship, DO NOT try and force it; I can guarantee I won't do the same. Pre-established (platonic) relationships are okay too (meaning Touya met them as a student or sidekick and is already familiar with them as a pro hero), if there's a good base to it, though it'll depend on the muse (Touya isn't exactly the social/trustful type). Absoutely no shipping Touya with any of the UA students and people who are minors in canon.

Multiverse: Interactions with different muses are to be considered to take place in a different verse unless discussed between muns. Same goes for shipping, so there will be no cheating involved (it’s a big no-no for me and makes me really uncomfortable, so don’t even ask).

Multimuse-Friendly: If you have a multimuse blog, feel free to interact with me, just make sure to specify which one of your muses you want to use, especially if we've just started interacting.

Sideblog-Friendly: I'm perfectly alright RPing with sideblogs; you can reblog my promo (tag This Is Our Call [Self Promo]) so I know where to find you, just please send me a message / IM from your main blog if I follow you so I know it's you.

OC-Friendly: Pretty self-explanatory, if your muse is an OC and you want to interact, you’ll be more than welcome. No Mary Sues or Gary Stus though, please (I had a bad experience in this regard). Also, I'd rather if you had a decent bio page so I know as much as I can about your OC, and I'm perfectly fine if your OC is related to a canon character.

AU-Friendly: Your muse is an AU/Canon Divergent version of a canon muse? Fine by me, as long as you have a bio page where you explain said AU/canon divergence so I have an idea about what's different from canon.

Crossover-Friendly: Your muse belongs to a different fandom? That’s perfectly fine! Though be forewarned that I might not follow back quickly (or at all) if it's a fandom I'm not familiar with unless we've been friends for a while (like, from before I joined the BNHA fandom), you have a BNHA AU or I see potential for interactions. It's mostly to keep my dash clean and for my own comfort, nothing against you, so please don't feel bad.  For fandoms I’m familiar with, see rule #20.

Duplicate-Friendly: If your muse is another Dabi, you're more than welcome to interact, I love multiverse mayhem! Time travel, alternate dimension, twin verse, anything goes.

NSFW-Friendly: Both mun and muse are 21+ and open to roleply smut, though it’ll only happen with muses that are at least in their twenties (Touya is 25 in the main verse and I won't RP smut in verses where he's 17 or younger), in which case it’ll be tagged accordingly as Too Hot To Handle [NSFW] and put under ‘read more’ if necessary. I will only RP smut if the other mun is 18+ and comfortable with it as well.

2. I accept interactions with underage muns, but the relationship between our muses will remain strictly platonic. I don't feel confortable writing romantic ships with underage muns due to past experience. Platonic ships are more than welcome though. Thank you for your understanding and patience.

3. No godmodding (controlling my muse yourself) and no metagaming (using knowledge of someone’s muse that a character has no way of knowing).

4. If you don't follow me back when I follow you but are still willing to RP, send me an ask or IM or tag me in a random starter to break the ice. I usually don't approach blogs I follow if they don't follow back for fear of bothering.

5. I’m open to RP via IM and Discord as well, so if we’re mutuals, feel free to ask for my Discord-ID (though I might be selective with giving it).

6. I don’t care about reply length, just write whatever you feel like. I’m perfectly okay with one-liners, para, multi-para and drabble-length replies, whichever floats your boat, as long as you give me something to work with for my own reply.

7. Don’t reblog OOC posts, Rules, Headcanons or threads you’re not taking part to. Seriously, it’s annoying as hell so. Please. Don’t. Do. It! 

8. Feel free to tag me in dash games (no seriously, I love those so the more the merrier) and, if we're mutuals, random starters as well.

9. Triggers might be present (Touya's backstory does include child abuse and domestic violence and he's prone to having panic attacks), but will be tagged accordingly as TW: Trigger (ex. TW: Blood), even if mentioned (in which case it'll be tagged as TW: Trigger Mention), just to be safe. If you want me to tag a specific trigger, just let me know. I don't have any triggers myself, but please tag cheating (in a relationship), animal abuse, torture, rape/non-con and eye-related gore, as they're topics which make me uncomfortable.

10. I’m more than happy to turn asks into threads, as long as we're mutuals. I don't mind either reblogging said ask or starting on a different post, whichever you prefer.

11. Since this blog is based on the 'Dabi is a Todoroki / Touya Todoroki' theory, which includes details of latest manga chapters, spoilers will be present, though they'll be tagged accordingly as Darkest Fire [Spoilers]. In general, I'll tag spoilers from the Internship Arc onward (let me know if you want me to tag earlier spoilers too).

12. I don’t really like to RP angst. Hurt/comfort is okay, though, and my go-to type of thread. Other things I prefer avoiding are dub/non-con, gore, and torture.

13. No hounding / pressuring for replies / answers. I won’t do the same with my RP partners and ask the same courtesy from them. If I haven’t replied in a while, you’re welcome to ask me (gently) via IM. Chances are I’m busy with real life (I’m an university student on my last year), my phone doesn’t work or I need more time to come up with a proper reply.

14. Please keep drama, discourse and anon hate away from me. I’m here to have fun and relax, so don't try and get me involved in stuff like this (it's lowkey triggering for me so please respect it). Much appreciated.

15. Don't be rude. I’m a very kind, considerate individual, I always do my best not to disrespect other people and I hate it when people disrespect me. I’ll gladly accept critiques as long as there’s a good, well-explained reason behind them, but gratuitous rudeness is a big no-no.

16. I don't accept M!A (Magic Anons) so don't send them in unless I request it by writing a post or reblogging a meme (which will happen rarely, if ever). M.A. sent without prompting will be deleted on sight. 

17. I won't take part in or join affiliated RP groups. Last time I did it wasn't a pleasant experience so I'd rather steer away from it for the time being. My activity might be spotty due to IRL stuff so I don't wanna feel pressured to be active at all time. I might make exceptions, but rarely so.

18. No need to send in passwords, I know it can make some people anxious. I myself have no problem sending them in if requested, and in any case I always make sure to read the rules before following/interacting, so I assume you did the same. 

19. For PSAs, look for the Let It Burn [PSA] tag.

20. Regarding crossovers, here’s some of the series I’m into and know very/decently well:

Persona Series

Ace Attorney

Yuri!!! On Ice

Fairy Tail

Pokémon games

Harry Potter

Artemis Fowl

Marvel Cinematic Universe

X-Men Movie 

Danganronpa

Ouran High School Host Club

Villainous / Villanos

Saint Seiya (Classic Series, Lost Canvas, Hades, Soul of Gold)

Time Hollow

Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective

Fruits Basket

Mystery Skulls Animated

#Hero's Code [Rules]

[damnedcrybaby]

okok so i don’t really care about RUUUULES (i read all’a yours, i just never saw a need for myself) but i’ve been asked about a Rules page and if i was like ON TOP OF IT i would but i really just... anyways...

> It’s dash only over here until I figure out otherwise. Spoiler alert: I am CRAPTASTIC at graphics / profile things. I know nothing. I am ignorant. My promos are crap, icons are minimal effort, and I can’t figure out a profile. I am the worst aesthetic. It’s fine.

> Take the meme. You don’t have to send me one. Karma’s got bigger fish to fry. It’s cool if ya do, I like’em for random bits of interaction / first run-ins... You can reblog whatever musing / aesthetic stuff you see on here too, go ‘head. I really don’t care. I love ya.

> Drop whatever you want, reply only if you want and whenever you want, shoot me a reminder on things whenever you want, my activity on here is... spotty at best... but I never mind getting a message with a “WHAT’S UP?!” whenever you wanna sling me one- I just don’t get push notes on my mobile so it might take me a hot minute to get on a computer and see it, and I’m REAL BAD about reading something and moving on with life and... ya know... i’m sorry.

> I... I don’t care what you do to Caroline or Daniel. If I don’t like where it’s going I’ll tell ya, but I promise you, it’s just... they’re fictional. They’re fine. It’s fine. Feel free to lightly god-mode... Like: if you’re trying to hand them something, unless it’s like on fire, they’ll probably take it (Hell, Caroline might even if it IS on fire), move the story along... just use some common sense. We got this. I’ll tell you if I hate it, and please just tell me if you hate anything.

> Never ever ever worry about reply length / speed. There is no rhythm or rhyme for mine. If I send 1 line in 1 second & you wanna elaborate and take a year-- that’s so cool. If I sent 5 paragraphs in 10 months & you wanna shoot a couple words in a hot minute: you go, my friend. Don’t feel like responding at all? TOTALLY ALRIGHT MY MAIN DUDE/TTE! It’s no skin off my back. I still love you. You’re still amazing.

> Soft block me all you want: life’s a garden, some people/plants grow better further from each other, I dig it-- it’s a hot clue to me to just leave you alone and I totally will without a worry.

> I follow anyone / everyone i enjoy reading. You don’t have to follow me back out of politeness. I’m probably lurking and biting my knuckles at your amazing threads. I’m a fan. You’re the bomb.

> I’m Meg. 21+, Muses are both 21+, They’re Multi-ship/verse/everything really & malleable, I’ll toss’em into any thought you’ve got thinkin up just try me- I’m mostly unfamiliar with TV shows / video games but will admit it off the bat / am willing to try anything. Let’s do this. I love you.

> I LOVE YOU.

#~gonna link @ this post in my description because i feel bad people thinking they have to like find a rules page #~there wasn't one you're fine ily #~'meg thats not how rules pages work you can make actual pages and' // I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DO THOSE THINGS THIS WORKS FINE

[yuureighostcop-blog]

Rules

1. This blog is:

Semi-Selective: Everyone is welcome to follow, however I might be a bit choosy about follows back (it’s not you, I promise, just me being careful). I’d rather RP with mutuals (easier for me to keep track of replies, nothing more), though IM and Inbox are open for anyone, so feel free to drop by.

Multiship: I’m shipping trash and open to any sort of relationship, from platonic to romantic. Muse is bisexual and of age, therefore romantic shipping will only happen with other 20+ muses (so no shipping with any of the high schoolers in canon) and in the off-chance I say no to a ship, DO NOT try and force it; I can guarantee I won’t do the same. Pre-established relationships are okay too, we can talk about it.

Multiverse: Interactions with different muses are to be considered to take place in a different verse unless discussed between muns. Same goes for shipping, so there will be no cheating involved (it’s a big no-no for me and makes me really uncomfortable, so don’t even ask).

Multimuse-Friendly: If you have a multimuse blog, feel free to interact, just make sure to specify which one of your muses you want to use, especially if we’ve just started interacting.

Sideblog-Friendly: I’m perfectly alright RPing with sideblogs; you can reblog my promo (tag At Your Service! [Self Promo]) so I know where to find you, just please send me a message / IM from your main blog if I follow you so I know it’s you.

OC-Friendly: Pretty self-explanatory, if your muse is an OC and you want to interact, you’ll be more than welcome. No Mary Sues or Gary Stus though, please (I had a bad experience in this regard). Also, I’d rather if you had a decent bio page so I know as much as I can about your OC, and I’m perfectly fine if your OC is related to a canon character.

AU-Friendly: Your muse is an AU/Canon Divergent version of a canon muse? Fine by me, as long as you have a bio page where you explain said AU/canon divergence so I have an idea about what’s different from canon.

Crossover-Friendly: Your muse belongs to a different fandom? That’s perfectly fine! Though be forewarned that I might not follow back quickly (or at all) if it’s a fandom I’m not familiar with, unless we’ve been friends for a while (like, from before I joined the BNHA fandom), you have a BNHA AU or I see potential for interactions. It’s mostly to keep my dash clean and for my own comfort, nothing against you, so please don’t feel bad.  For fandoms I’m familiar with, see rule #20.

NSFW-Friendly: Given the nature of the series, NSFW elements like gore, violence, body horror, etc. might be present but will be tagged accordingly. Both mun and muse are 20+ so smut might be present as well, although it’ll always be under ‘read more’ and tagged accordingly as Not For The Weak Of Heart [NSFW]. I’ll only RP smut with 20+ muses and 18+ muns, and only if the mun in question is comfortable with it.

2. I'd rather not RP with muns under 18. It’s not you, I promise, just me being uncomfortable with it due to past experience. They’re still welcome to ask RP/HC-related things if they’re curious, but at least for the time being I’d rather keep interactions with underage muns to a minimum for my own comfort. Thank you for your understanding and patience.

3. No godmodding (controlling my muse yourself) and no metagaming (using knowledge of someone’s muse that a character has no way of knowing).

4. If you don’t follow me back when I follow you but are still willing to RP, send me an ask or IM or tag me in a random starter to break the ice. I usually don’t approach blogs I follow if they don’t follow back for fear of bothering.

5. I’m open to RP via IM and Discord as well, so if we’re mutuals, feel free to ask for my Discord-ID (though I might be selective with giving it).

6. I don’t care about reply length, just write whatever you feel like. I’m perfectly okay with one-liners, para, multi-para and drabble-length replies, whichever floats your boat, as long as you give me something to work with for my own reply.

7. Don’t reblog OOC posts, Rules, Headcanons or threads you’re not taking part to. Seriously, it’s annoying as hell so. Please. Don’t. Do. It!

8. Feel free to tag me in dash games (no seriously, I love those so the more the merrier) and, if we’re mutuals, random starters as well.

9. Triggers might be present given the nature od the series and the people the muse might interact with, but will be tagged accordingly as TW: Trigger (ex. TW: Blood), even if mentioned (in which case it’ll be tagged as TW: Trigger Mention), just to be safe. If you want me to tag a specific trigger, just let me know. I don’t have any triggers myself, but please tag cheating (in a relationship), animal abuse, torture, rape/non-con and eye-related gore, as they’re topics which make me uncomfortable.

10. I'm more than happy to turn asks into threads, as long as we’re mutuals. I don’t mind either reblogging said ask or starting on a different post, whichever you prefer.

11. Spoilers might be present, though they’ll be tagged accordingly as Cheaters Never Prosper [Spoilers]. In general, I’ll tag spoilers from the Internship Arc onward (let me know if you want me to tag earlier spoilers too).

12. I don’t really like to RP angst. Hurt/comfort is okay, though, and my go-to type of thread. Other things I prefer avoiding are dub/non-con, gore, and torture. Mentions are fine, but not graphic RP. Also, don't kill off Rei, please.

13. No hounding / pressuring for replies / answers. I won’t do the same with my RP partners and ask the same courtesy from them. If I haven’t replied in a while, you’re welcome to ask me (gently) via IM. Chances are I’m busy with real life (I’m an university student on my last year), my phone doesn’t work or I need more time to come up with a proper reply. I’m either very fast or slow af, with rare bouts of in-between, according to my mood or how busy I am with real life.

14. Please keep drama, discourse and anon hate away from me. I’m here to have fun and relax, so don’t try and get me involved in stuff like this (it’s lowkey triggering for me so please respect it). Much appreciated.

15. Don’t be rude. I’m a very kind, considerate individual, I always do my best not to disrespect other people and I hate it when people disrespect me. I’ll gladly accept critiques as long as there’s a good, well-explained reason behind them, but gratuitous rudeness is a big no-no. If you’ve got something to tell me, do so in private.

16. I don’t accept M!A (Magic Anons) so don’t send them in unless I request it by writing a post or reblogging a meme (which will happen rarely, if ever). M.A. sent without prompting will be deleted on sight. 

17. I won’t take part in or join affiliated RP groups. Last time I did it wasn’t a pleasant experience so I’d rather steer away from it for the time being. My activity might be spotty due to IRL stuff so I don’t wanna feel pressured to be active at all time. 

18. No need to send in passwords, I know it can make some people anxious. I myself have no problem sending them in if requested, and in any case I always make sure to read the rules before following/interacting, so I assume you did the same. 

19. For PSAs, look for the Tips To Survive [PSA] tag.

20. Regarding crossovers, here’s some of the series I’m into and know very/decently well:

Persona Series

Ace Attorney

Yuri!!! On Ice

Fairy Tail

Pokémon games

Harry Potter

Artemis Fowl

Marvel Cinematic Universe

X-Men Movies

Danganronpa

Ouran High School Host Club

Villainous / Villanos

Saint Seiya (Classic Series, Lost Canvas, Hades, Soul of Gold)

Time Hollow

Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective

Fruits Basket

Mystery Skulls Animated

#((Rules))