#this is quite possibly the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written

[ask-ursa-tonypeter]

Oh man, okay so that Peter snatching ask, I feel like I neeeed more of that. How would Tony even explain Pyrite!Peter’s new situation to him? Would he even tell Pyrite Peter about DB!Peter? Aksdkfniend I don’t know if you want to go more into detail about this because it’s technically not a fic of yours so feel free to ignore this ask if this isn’t the direction you want to go with these, I’m just infinitely curious about the scenario written in that ask and figured it didn’t hurt to shoot my shot here, so to speak.

[[in reference to this ask and then this ask-- not only did it not hurt to shoot your shot, I wrote a whole-ass fic about it, lmao. CWs for abduction/long-term captivity, gentle noncon and general very 💖loving and tender💖 emotional abuse, and all of the psychological trauma that goes with it-- but there's a hopeful ending! (Also, daddykink, which I can apparently only tolerate if one of the characters in question hates it, lmao.)]]

This older Tony told him that he was picked because he's special, but Peter isn't stupid. In the brief glimpse he was allowed to see of the other Peters out there on that monitor, he noticed that most of them were older. Stronger. Actually special.

And he sees the way that this Tony looks at him. Peter wouldn't have noticed it before, probably, but it was the same expression that his brother wore when they were… together. Dark, heated, focused. Peter had loved the attention from his brother, but it scares him from this man. He's constantly on edge, waiting for the moment that petting hands or a tender kiss might slip somewhere unbearable, like being prepared will somehow give him a way to stop it.

He knows it won't, of course. He knows he can't.

He can't stop anything.

This Tony wants Peter to call him 'Dad.' Peter tries to protest, tries to say that he already has a dad, that it's strange when his own Tony is his brother instead. But Tony insists– says that he'll be a better father to Peter than Howard Stark ever was, that Peter doesn't need a brother when he has a father like Tony instead, that his brother was never any good to him anyway.

It makes Peter regret every single time he's ever complained about his dad and every single time he ever felt ignored by his brother, and he tells Tony that, that he loves his family even if they're not perfect and he misses his mom and that he wants to go home.

But this Tony doesn't care about his tears, and Peter is afraid of him, so Tony gets his way.

That's always how it goes. Peter cries, he begs, he asks to go home. When he's at his most desperate and selfish and awful, he asks for Tony to take someone else instead. And Tony holds him and pets him and coos and hums and murmurs that everything will be okay, and he just needs time to adjust, and that he's perfect. That Tony could never let him go.

Peter knows that he means it, and Tony never seems to realize that it only makes him cry harder. But in the end Peter always ends up leaning heavily into his arms, sniffling and exhausted and cried-out, so maybe it's his fault for sending mixed messages.

He does try to make the best of it, after all. He knows it makes him a coward, and that he should fight and scream and try to make this Tony's life hell until he does give Peter up, like rehoming a bad dog. But he can't, because he's not brave, so instead he sets the table and makes suggestions for dinner and smiles at Tony's jokes and picks out movies to watch from under the arm of this man who is not his father and not his brother but who he still calls 'Dad.'

"Good choice, baby," Tony says with a smile when Peter picks out Die Hard for movie night, and Peter hates the warm, pathetic glow of satisfaction that swells in his chest at the praise. But it's better than being scared, so Peter will take it, even if it makes him feel just as cheap and slimy as the actual sex.

It doesn't take long for that to start, though it's longer than Peter expects. A few weeks, maybe, though Peter's sense of time isn't great anymore. Tony had already slipped into his bed even as early as that first night, with the excuse of comforting Peter while he cried– "oh, sweetheart, don't cry, you'll be okay," he'd crooned, pressing kisses to Peter's hair while he flinched, "you'll love it here, you'll see,"– but then he never stopped, even once Peter stopped crying himself to sleep.

So one morning it happens, inevitable. Tony's wrist brushes too low when he's untangling himself from Peter as they wake, and Peter can't bite back his gasp at the pressure against his morning wood, and before he knows it there's a hand around him and lips against his neck and a warm, morning-rough voice muttering, "Let me take care of that for you, sweetheart."

Peter tries to stop it. He does. He does.

But when he gasps, "Dad, wait, please stop," Tony only murmurs, "Shh, relax, honey," and in the end it's like everything else.

Tony is always gentle with him. It's a strange contrast to his brother, who called him filthy things and teased him until he was so red he thought he might pass out and could be rough with him when Peter asked for it. Peter liked that, yeah, but he had always wished that his brother would kiss him sweetly and tell him he loved him, too.

It's disorienting to have those daydreams come to life in the form of this other, twisted version of his brother. Peter tries to close his eyes as Tony moves inside him and take what comfort he can in the soft touches and endless praise, and sometimes it works, and sometimes it puts a pit in his stomach to think he ever wanted this from his brother at all.

Even outside of bed, it messes with Peter's head the way that Tony's so nice. It makes it too easy to sink into the lie sometimes, when he's allowed to wander the familiar penthouse suite of Stark Tower instead of being locked in some basement, when Tony remembers all of his favorite treats and movies, when Tony spoils him rotten and tells him he's perfect and never, ever loses his patience.

(Even when Peter does. Even when Peter has one of his embarrassing episodes where he loses his mind and beats his fists against Tony's chest and scratches and bites until he tastes blood, Tony just holds him and sighs "I know, baby, I know," until Peter is spent. He never even raises his voice.

But he does cry sometimes. It makes Peter feel guilty, and then mad at himself for feeling guilty, and then he gets so confused that he just lets Tony bundle him away for a nap like he really is a tantruming five-year-old. Every time he wakes up he's mortified, but Tony never scolds him like he deserves. He's just sweet and gentle and forgiving, and he lets Peter sink right back into the comfort of the lie.)

Peter wonders if Tony was kind to the other Peter. He resents him sometimes, even though he knows it's not fair. It's not the other Peter's fault that he died, or that his dad is… like this. It's not the other Peter's fault that Tony picked Peter out of all the options. But even still, sometimes he thinks 'if you were still here, then I wouldn't be,' and there's some satisfaction in having someone to blame who he doesn't have to share a bed with.

But mostly– mostly he wonders about the other Peter's life. Sometimes Tony will cling to him and apologize over and over again like he can't hear Peter at all, and Peter wonders if he was mean to the other Peter while he was alive, or if he was sleeping with his actual son, too, or if he blames himself somehow for the way that he died. JARVIS won't tell him what happened, and he's too afraid to ask Tony.

But it wasn't a secret, he knows. Even if he can't find any mention of the original Peter Stark's death online, other people have to know about it, because none of Tony's employees can stand to look at him.

He wonders what they know. Do they think he's some kind of Frankenstein's monster? Do they know he's been kidnapped? Do they think he's just an uncanny lookalike, or do they know about the machine in Tony's personal lab?

(Or do they just know exactly how close their boss is to his son, Peter thinks sometimes, and it makes him want to never come out of his room.)

Or maybe they're just afraid that if they look, Tony will see something on their faces that he doesn't like, because–

He may always be gentle with Peter, but Tony is not a kind man.

He still rarely raises his voice. When he's angry with someone, his voice goes flat and ice-cold and the room gets so quiet it feels like even breathing would be too loud.

He always sends Peter out of the room before he kills someone. It's the only time anyone will look at him, their eyes wild and pleading for Peter to stay like that would save them, but by then it's Peter who can't bear to look.

Peter hates himself for the way that he shakes for hours afterward instead of doing something. He hates himself for the way that he crawls into Tony's lap once they get home, the way he tips his face up for a kiss, all so he can hear Tony say–

"I'm sorry, baby." Rough stubble prickling at Peter's temple, his cheek, his chin. "You know I would never hurt you, don't you? Never."

"I know," Peter whispers, and by the time they're done and Tony has made him come at least twice and told him again and again that he loves him, that he's perfect, that he's the only thing that matters, it will almost feel true.

(Peter thinks about the other Peters on that monitor, and how so many of them were strong and brave and stood up to people just like Tony, and he wonders how the other Peter died.)

He does save someone though, he thinks. Just once. He can't know for sure, because it's not one of the men that regularly comes to meet Tony at the tower, but he thinks maybe he helped.

The man is making excuses. He's in charge of one of Tony's projects, and he says that Tony gave him permission to take time off to take care of his mother after a surgery, and that's why the project is behind schedule. Tony doesn't remember and doesn't care and he gets angrier with every word out of the man's mouth, and eventually he stands, those silver tendrils exploding out of his suit to grapple the man down over his desk while he wails and pleads.

Tony takes a breath, and Peter knows he's going to tell Peter to leave the room, and he abruptly can't stand it.

"Daddy, don't," he says, the babyish word coming out in his desperate horror without him meaning to say it, and he hugs Tony around the waist like that means anything, like he can stop anything, like he's a version of himself that's actually strong.

Tony freezes, and for the length of what feels like a hundred rabbiting heartbeats Peter is terrified. He's never stood up to Tony in front of his men. He's barely stood up to him at all, and it never leads to anything anyway, and he suddenly doesn't know why he stuck himself out for this stranger who Tony is probably just going to kill anyway but this man has a family and Peter misses his mom so much he can barely breathe and he can't keep doing nothing he can't he can't he can't–

Tony turns gently in his grip, because Peter can't stop him, and Peter keeps his face buried against Tony's shoulder. He can still hear the sound of the man whimpering quietly from where he's pinned to the desk by Tony's tendrils, and he flinches when the weight of Tony's hand settles on his hair, gentle.

"Oh, sweetheart," Tony breathes, his voice strange– revelatory, tender, almost delighted. "Did Daddy scare you?"

The room is quiet. Peter is painfully aware of every other person listening– the guards by the door, the man on the desk, gasping in shaky breaths now instead of whimpering.

He can feel the weight of something important shifting, shifting, shifting when he nods his head, and the finality of something new settling into place when Tony wraps his arms around him.

"Get out," Tony says over his shoulder, and there's a clatter of noise as the man scrambles to the door. Tony adds, "You too," to the guards, and when the door clicks closed they're alone.

Peter shudders in Tony's arms, his body not able to reconcile the combination of relief and deep, primal fear coursing through his veins, and Tony clicks his tongue, pressing a kiss to the top of Peter's head.

"You really don't like coming to work with me, do you," he sighs, rubbing Peter's back. "I'm sorry, baby. You told me that, and I didn't listen."

He reaches to cup both sides of Peter's face, so Peter finally has to look up at him. He looks perfectly sweet, warm and fond and apologetic, and the contrast from his anger moments earlier is dizzying.

Tony strokes his thumbs tenderly over Peter's cheeks, and sighs one more time before he says, "All right, sweetie. If you promise that you'll be good, I'll let you stay in your room while I'm gone, okay? If that's really what you want."

It's so unexpected that it takes Peter a moment to understand that this is a compromise. Tony has never offered one before, and Peter had learned to stop asking a long time ago.

He rushes to gasp, "Yes– yes, please," and then, spontaneous and uncertain and thinking, adds, "Thank you, Daddy."

Tony smiles, and the chill it sends through Peter is anticipation just as much as disgust. Tony takes him upstairs to the penthouse then, and takes the entire rest of the day off work to make up for scaring him. It's almost nice, really, and if Peter doesn't like it when Tony tells him 'Daddy's got you' and 'that's right, let Daddy take care of you' in bed, it's still worth it, because–

The next day Peter gets to have four whole hours to himself until lunchtime, and then another four whole hours after that, and he can't remember the last time he didn't spend the whole day with Tony.

Things change after that.

Before, any protests Peter made would get shushed and brushed aside, Tony always gentle but never permissive. He would say that he knew best, that Peter would be okay, that Peter's way wouldn't work, and he would go on like Peter hadn't said anything at all. Requests were usually easier, Tony happy to bury Peter in gifts, but as for experiences– Tony's sense of what was too risky for Peter was broad and paranoid and stifling, and now–

It's shocking having a way to get Tony to listen to him, and Peter tries not to let it go to his head. He's careful. He doesn't ask for too much. He sprinkles in petty requests to throw off the scent of when he really, really wants something so it can't be used against him.

He acts like he really is all those dirty things his brother used to call him, and he bats his eyelashes and pouts and fawns, and he says "Daddy, please?" and "Can I, Daddy?" and "Daddy, I don't want to," and he gets what he wants.

But he knows just that won't be enough for what he really wants. Not by itself. He can't just stick out his bottom lip and simper his way into where he wants to go, so he'll need to add something else.

And Peter will give Tony this: for all that his obsession with his "son" is twisted and wrong, he really does seem to care more about making Peter come than himself. He always takes Peter in his mouth like it's a treat, but the first time Peter slides to his knees in front of him, he looks so shocked that it honestly seems like he hasn't even thought about it before.

"Petey," he says, ghosting his fingers over Peter's hair while Peter draws him out of his pants. "You don't have to do that if you don't want to, sweetie."

Peter knows it's part of why Tony is so sweet to him, but it irritates him sometimes when Tony acts like he actually buys the whole innocent lamb act, like he doesn't fuck Peter at least twice a day himself. Tony knows about Peter's brother, he knows Peter's done this before; Peter's even pretty sure it's part of why Tony picked him.

Peter takes a breath and pushes it all down, down, down, and he reaches for the part of himself that means it when he says, "I want to, Daddy."

He leans in, and if it's more bitter than he remembers– well, the aftermath is what's sweet.

It's hard to keep the request behind his teeth while Tony fawns over him after, showering him in kisses and praise and making him come so many times that Peter finally has to protest, "Daddy, no more," sluggish and sensitive and overheated.

But he wants Tony to think it's his idea, so he waits until finally, finally–

Tony chuckles and nuzzles in to kiss Peter's cheek, and he murmurs, "Okay, okay, baby. I just want to make you feel good after you were so good to me. What else can I do for you, hmm?"

Peter bites his lip and looks away, and it's not all playing shy. He's nervous, and he's really not sure how Tony is going to react, and if Tony squashes his hopes here– he can't think about that.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Tony croons, pushing back Peter's sweaty curls and kissing his forehead. "You can tell me, Petey; I know you've got something in mind."

"Can I–" Peter hesitates, and he'd like to say he's playing it up, but the way his eyes go wide and desperate and shiny is all real. "Daddy, can I… can I please see the monitor again? Please? I want… I want to see Grandma."

He doesn't know if it's a step too far and too false to call her that. Maria Stark would be his grandmother if he was actually Tony's son, and he's trying to– give a show of good faith, that even if he's still thinking about his real family he's accepted the false reality that Tony's made for them. His heart hammers in his chest while he waits to find out, and–

Tony sucks in a breath, staring at Peter in shock for the second time that night, but this time his expression resolves into regret and apology.

"Honey," he says softly, and Peter wants to scream, "I don't know if that would be the best thing for you. I think it'll make you sad, sweetheart."

No, Peter wants to say, but contradicting Tony will just make him dig in his heels, so instead he says, "I-I know, I know it will, but that's okay. It'll make me happy, too. Like getting older, right?"

He throws it in, a last-minute ad-lib; Tony jokes all the time about how sad it makes him to see Peter get older even though he's glad that Peter's growing up so sweet. It's a hit– Tony smiles, rueful, and Peter presses his advantage. He links his arms behind Tony's neck, cuddling close, all entirely-real doe eyes and quivering lips when he asks, "Daddy, please let me. Please?"

Tony sighs, and he leans in to scatter kisses over Peter's face when he murmurs, "You're getting too sweet for me, baby. All right, if you're sure that's what you want."

Peter's heart soars, and when he pulls Tony into a kiss he doesn't even have to fake enjoying it.

They go the next day. Tony is still reluctant about it, but he doesn't try to back out, and so they make their way to his private lab after breakfast.

It hits Peter harder than he expected. He knew it would make him sad, but he was imagining his mother bright and vibrant and happy. He barely recognizes the haggard woman on the screen, grayer than he left her and exhausted with grief, and it makes him cry so hard he can barely breathe.

"I told you, sweetheart," Tony sighs, rubbing Peter's back and stroking his hair, but he doesn't try to rush him out of the room early. "This is too hard for you, baby."

"I'm okay," Peter forces out between tears, because he can't lose access to this. "I w-wanted this. I'm s-so happy to see her. Thank you, Daddy."

It's going to be hard to play at being cheerful the rest of the day, he knows, but he'll have to if he wants Tony to ever let him come back to this room. Because even despite his tears, he did get what he was actually after: he watched how Tony selected a universe from the massive, awe-inspiring constellation of choices, and he memorized the coordinates that Tony punched in to pull up his true home.

And if he's ever going to get an opportunity to use them, he needs to get back in that room.

He makes it work. He's extra-sweet all day long, enough to curb Tony's concerns about the effect of their field trip on his mood, and he keeps it up after that. He pulls Tony into kisses and buttons his shirts for him in the morning. He pushes Tony back to ride him after work, their hands clasped together between them. He gets on his knees, he wakes Tony in the morning with a warm hand or slick mouth, he waits for Tony at lunchtime wearing one of his dress shirts and nothing else.

He's afraid at first that Tony might be put off by his new boldness, or at least suspicious, but Tony swallows the bait whole. He seems delighted that Peter is finally settling into his new life, eager to believe that Peter really has just grown more comfortable and mature in their relationship over time, and he even starts to trust Peter more. It's not even something that Peter asks for, but a week or two into his change of attitude, Tony gives him permission to access the rest of the suite while Tony's at work.

And that's not Peter's goal, but it does have some potential.

He does get to go back to the private lab. Peter doesn't ask for it every time, or even every other time, but Tony doesn't even hesitate to say yes, now. Peter plays up his excitement of the idea of the multiverse and of Tony's genius for making the machine; he plays up his interest in the other Peters; he checks in on his family.

And he watches the way Tony uses the monitor. He examines the construction of the machine. He pays attention to what features Tony uses when he navigates the 'verse map, and more than that, he pays attention to what features Tony avoids ever using in front of him.

He figures out slowly that his first plan won't work. As far as he can glean, the machine isn't built to have a way to send people back, and he knows he's not smart enough to figure out how to build that feature. He's smart, but even though the year on the calendar isn't even a full two decades ahead of Peter's actual universe, the technology may as well be a century more advanced– if the machine can only pull people to this universe, he isn't going to fool himself that he can change that by himself.

But still, every time he's in that room, he watches, and he thinks. He watches how Tony grows less attentive to his every move, more complacent in the idea that Peter is happy with their life. He watches how every day Tony gets closer to giving him permission to go to the lab by himself– it's not like he can use the machine to leave, after all. He watches how JARVIS sometimes lets him get away with things for a beat longer than he should, if Peter can make it look enough like an accident.

And he still watches the other Peters on the monitor. The ones that are older. The ones that are geniuses. The ones that save their cities from men like Tony. The ones that save the world.

Peter's not strong. He's not brave. He's not special.

He can't stop anything.

But he thinks he knows who can.

#fic: double blind #fic: pyrite #pyrite: peter #double blind: tony #prompt: multiverse #multiverse: kidnapping au #fic response #ursa interlude: #this is quite possibly the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written #we are truly getting to CLAMP levels of masturbatory multiverse drama here but I love it #ANYWAY. UM. ENJOY?!

[penmansparadise]

Tommy Shelby ~ Dust in the Wind

*I DON'T OWN THIS GIF* *CREDIT TO GIF OWNER*

*I do not give anyone permission to repost my work in any way (translations included)*

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Discusses infant loss/stillborn, ANGST, mild language, possibly ooc Tommy

a/n: Alright, well, it has been quite some time since I've posted on this site. First, let me get a few things out. 1) This is the most self-indulgent piece I have ever written, so if you don't want to read it, please just keep on scrolling. 2) This does not mean that I am ready to start taking requests again or that I will be regularly writing again. As stated before, this is a very self-indulgent piece because I just experienced the loss of my daughter, who was born prematurely. It has completely wrecked me, and I have just finally decided to start writing again. I am trying to navigate my loss and thought maybe writing would help. It did, and although this piece is a little darker than I usually write, it was therapeutic, and I wanted to share it because I am proud of my work. I did write it as a reader insert, but if you all read it and think it would be better as an OC story, I'll change it. Anyway, this is the first time I've ever written for Tommy, so please forgive the potential out-of-character actions he has in this story. Also, it has been a bit since I watched season 3 so forgive any mistakes. I took some liberties with the story by adding different children for Tommy and Y/N and some of the things that happened in the show. Well, I hope you enjoy this story, and would really like to know what you all think.

§

Y/N was no stranger to death.  It was Small Heath, for goodness’ sake.  Death practically ran in the water.  Being deeply entrenched in the Shelby family since she was a young girl only made her acquaintance with death’s steely grip all that much closer.  She had been to more than enough funerals in her 29 years of living.  She was present at the cemetery when her father finally drank himself into his grave, she was there to mourn when consumption took her mother, and she showed up to support Ada when they buried Freddie.  Y/N was always there when any of the Peaky boys were killed in the line of action, and she even showed up for her elderly childhood neighbor’s funeral.  But this time, it was different.  She wasn’t gathered in the woods on the outskirts of Small Heath to mourn for someone else.  There wasn’t a stranger tucked away in the wagon standing in front of her.  The Shelbys weren’t gathered to bid farewell to a distant relative or friend.  The Lees weren’t generously providing this funeral for a price.  No, the whole Shelby and Lee families were there for her and Tommy this time.

            The heat from the flames washed over Y/N’s face, making her sweat a little, but she didn’t move.  She wanted to be as close as she could possibly be.  If she had it her way, she would have jumped into the wagon and let the flames swallow her whole, but Tommy’s hand tightly gripping hers anchored her to the ground.  It had only been a few days.  It couldn’t have been more than four, but with how time was moving, it felt like a lifetime had passed.  The flames roared on, and Tommy squeezed her hand a little tighter, causing Y/N’s throat to tighten.  She swallowed down the sadness trying to claw its way out of her.  Y/N wasn’t going to break down in front of all these people.  She didn’t want to cry at all, for that matter.  It felt like it had been an endless stream of tears, and Y/N was done.  If only her aching heart would catch the memo.  Y/N’s eyes traveled the length of the flames until they landed on the little plaque one of the Lee boys carved for the wagon.  “Lily Eleanora Shelby,” it read, and suddenly, the sadness returned with a vengeance.  Y/N shut her eyes, and the events that led to this day played in her head.  She was supposed to be happy.  She was supposed to be full of unadulterated joy.  She was supposed to be cradling her newborn baby girl.  But she wasn’t.  Instead, she held onto her husband’s hand like a lifeline as she watched her daughter’s wagon burn.  One day.  That’s all it took to completely destroy her.

            Even as she stood there, watching the flames devour her daughter’s wagon, she still recounted everything she did four days ago, trying to figure out what could have possibly led to this result.  Four days ago, she was a cheery 29-week pregnant woman.  A stay-at-home mom who, with the help of their maid Frances, cared for her and Tommy’s three-year-old son, Benjamin.  That day had started like any other.  Tommy was already out, and she could hear Frances chasing Ben around his room.  The little boy’s giggles echoed through the house, and she remembers smiling as she slid a hand over her round tummy.  Y/N couldn’t wait for Ben to be a big brother.  She got ready like any other day and eventually made her way to her son, who welcomed her presence with a hug and a kiss.  The little boy rubbed her tummy, planted a chaste kiss to her navel, and smiled at her. 

            “I just wanted to let my little brother or sister know that I love them too, Mommy,” he had said, causing Y/N’s heart to clench.  Even at three, he was a charmer, just like his father.  She knelt to be at eye level with her son and lifted her hand to cradle his face.

            “You’re going to be a wonderful big brother; do you know that?”

            “Of course I will be, Mommy.  I’ve been practicing sharing my toys with Frances and making sure I listen real good to you and daddy.”  He said, standing up straighter to exhibit his full height.  “Frances says I need to be a good example for the new baby, or else Santa won’t bring me any presents this year for Christmas.  How outrageous is that, Mommy!?”

            Y/N stifled a laugh before brushing Ben’s hair back and looking up to see Frances smirking from her spot by Ben’s block tower. 

“I’m sure Santa won’t forget about you this year, honey.”  She told her son.  The boy gave her a toothy grin before trotting off to continue playing with his blocks. 

Y/N returned to her feet and watched Ben for another minute before retreating to the new nursery.  It was already put together, and she often found herself hiding away in that room.  She glided her hand over the bassinet and let the soft fabric tickle her palm.  The walls were already decorated with paintings of horses, some of which came from Ben, who insisted that his younger sibling have them.  She sat on the rocking chair and gently rubbed her hands over her stomach, earning a little kick from her unborn child.  A soft laugh fell from her lips as she looked down at her growing bump.

“Sorry to disturb you, love.”  She whispered, her hands still rubbing slow circles.  “Mommy just wanted to let you know she loves you very much.  And so does your big brother, who is very excited to meet you.”

Another kick came.

“You’re excited to meet him, too?  I’ll have to let him know.”

“Daddy loves you too, just in case Mommy forgot to mention that.”  Tommy’s voice came from the doorway, causing Y/N to look up.  He gave her a full smile, the one he reserved only for her and their son, and it fell over her like a warm blanket.

“Mommy was just about to get there.  Had daddy not interrupted her,” she said.  Tommy hummed in response as he floated across the room to kneel before her.  He looked up at Y/N through his lashes and said, “Sure you were,” before removing her hands and planting a soft kiss where they had just lay.

“Daddy can’t wait to meet you,” he whispered against her stomach, his warm breath radiating throughout her body.  Tommy looked up at Y/N before standing and pressing his lips to hers.  When he pulled away, a smile matching his spread across her face.  She was beaming.  She had dreamt of being in this position for many years as a teenager, and now it was real.  Thomas Shelby was hovering over her very pregnant figure in their unborn second child’s nursery.  Their lively three-year-old son’s muffled laughter ricocheted off the hallway walls.  It was everything she ever wanted, and she was so happy.

“What’s that look for?”  Tommy asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Nothing,” she hummed, gaining a skeptical eyebrow raise from her husband.  “I just love you.  That’s all.”

Tommy nestled his face into the crook of her neck, peppering kisses along the exposed skin.  Then he pulled back, looked into her eye, and said, “I love you more than you know, Y/N.”

He gave her one more swift kiss before standing and sauntering out of the room with a smirk.  The rest of the day went by like any day usually went.  She sat around and read, played with Ben, ate lunch at 1100, put Ben down for a nap at 1230, and then went back to reading.  Tommy was in and out, balancing work from home and the office.  She could tell that day was extra tiring from how he sighed every time he left the house.  It was after Tommy left for the last time of the day that Y/N got the idea to wander down to the kitchen.  When she entered, the cooks were hard at work peeling and slicing vegetables.

“Good evening, Mrs. Shelby,” the head chef began, “is there anything we can do for you, ma’am?”

Y/N clasped her hands behind her back as she rocked back and forth on her heels like a guilty toddler.  “Um,” she said, “actually, yes, there is.”  She stepped into the kitchen and moved her hands to rest on her stomach.  “I was thinking that maybe tonight you and the rest of the staff could take the evening off and allow me to cook dinner.”

The head chef’s eyes widened at her statement.  Everyone else stilled for a brief moment, waiting for him to speak.  “Oh,” he stammered, “b-but, Mrs. Shelby, and please forgive me if I am overstepping, but shouldn’t you be resting instead of cooking?”  His eyes dipped down to her protruding abdomen before landing back on her face. 

“Resting?  I rest all day.  Really,” Y/N said, waving the chef’s comment off, “it would be nothing.  I actually miss being in the kitchen.  It’ll be nice.  Therapeutic.”  She couldn’t miss the wide-eyed stares from everyone in the room, but she chose to ignore them.  When they didn’t move to leave, she stepped forward, placed a gentle hand on the head chef’s back, and began leading him out of the kitchen. 

“Trust me,” she said, “I’ll be fine.  Thank you for your concern, though.”

Once she ushered the staff out, she began working on dinner.  It had been a long time since she cooked, but it came back to her like riding a bicycle.  She couldn’t escape the excitement that bubbled inside of her as she fell into a groove preparing dinner for her family again.  She boiled the potatoes the staff had peeled, sauteed the peppers and onions, and braised the beef that was in the refrigerator.  About an hour into cooking, a dull pain emanated from her lower back and into her hips.  The dull pain slowly morphed into a pressure that she just assumed was normal 29-week pregnancy symptoms.  It’s just the baby getting comfortable.  The baby is just moving around and pressing a little harder than usual on my cervix.  She ignored the feelings and finished cooking before asking the kitchen staff for help to bring the meal into the dining room.  Once the table was set, Frances went and fetched her boys, alerting them that not only had Y/N cooked dinner, but she had also served it.  She greeted the boys in the doorway of the dining room and gave each a kiss before they all sat to eat.  That pain returned in her lower back and hips, making it hard to get comfortable in her seat.  She let out a low groan of discomfort, and Tommy placed his hand over hers to gain her attention.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyebrows knitted together.  She swallowed another groan that threatened to come out and nodded with a strained smile.  Y/N could tell that her weak answer did nothing to reassure Tommy, but he didn’t press her. 

“How do you like the meal?”  She asked, doing her best to not sound strained against the constant pressure she felt pulsing between her legs.

Before Tommy could answer, Ben nodded with enthusiasm and stuffed a heaping scoop of mashed potatoes into his mouth.  “I love it, Mommy!  This is the best dinner I’ve ever had,” he said through his mouthful of food. 

Y/N smiled, but it must have looked more like a grimace because this time, Tommy stood up and moved to her side.  “Y/N,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders, “are you sure you’re okay?  Should I have Frances phone the doctor?” 

Y/N grabbed his hand and squeezed it as she looked up to her husband.  “I’m fine, darling.  I promise.  Let’s just finish dinner.”  She pulled his hand to her mouth and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.  Then, using her head, she motioned for Tommy to sit again.  He stared at her for another moment, the line on his forehead deepening, before sighing and retaking his seat.  She kept her discomfort under wraps for the remainder of dinner because Tommy didn’t mention anything until after they had put Ben down for the night and were about to crawl into bed.  The pressure and pain had only grown in that short time, and she was beginning to get nervous.  She was sitting on the edge of their bed, eyes shut, and taking some deep breaths when Tommy’s hands landed on her thighs.  She could feel him kneeling between her legs, but she didn’t open her eyes.  She didn’t want to admit that her anxiety was consuming her or that the pain and pressure had turned into abdominal cramps.  It wasn’t until she suddenly felt the bed beneath her sopping wet that she looked at Tommy.  He looked down and saw the fluid dripping from her nightgown and their duvet before his gaze landed on her.  She could see his mouth moving, but his voice was drowned out by her rapidly beating heart.  Something is wrong.  She thought.  This shouldn’t be happening.  I’m too early.  Tommy pushed away the hair that had begun sticking to her sweaty forehead, and then ran out of the room.  His voice was distant, but she could have sworn he said something about calling Polly and Ada.  She wasn’t sure because all she could focus on was the sharp pain that was puncturing her abdomen and the immense pressure building between her legs.  Before she could comprehend what was happening, Tommy scooped her up and lay her on their bed.  What about the sheets?  I’m going to ruin the bed. 

She must have said those thoughts aloud because Tommy quickly said, “Don’t worry about the bed, love.  We’ll get another one if we have to.”  The pain was only getting worse, and she had to shut her eyes and bite her tongue to prevent a groan from escaping.  She didn’t know how much time had passed before Polly and Ada came rushing into the room, shoving Tommy into the hallway.  When it was just the three of them, Y/N finally let out a guttural moan.  She didn’t remember this much pain when she gave birth to Ben.  Something is wrong.  Something is not right.  Those words chanted in her head like a mantra.  Polly set her up on her bed while Ada used a wet towel to wipe away the sweat beading on her face.

“Just breathe, Y/N,” Polly chirped soothingly in her ear. “Ada and I are here.  We’re going to take care of you.”

Anxiety coursed through her veins and unfurled in her gut when the pressure between her legs began to increase.  She tried to cross her legs and prevent the inevitable from happening, but Polly and Ada wouldn’t let her.  Tears of pain and fear streamed down her cheeks.  She wanted to scream at them to stop and let her try to stop this urge to push.  But the pain and pressure were too much, and the only sound that came out of her mouth was a low groan. 

She could feel Polly’s hand between her legs, and the words “crowning” and “push” floated to her ears.  Ada took her hand, and Y/N tried with every fiber in her body to not push, but her body had other plans.  She held her breath and begged her body to stop forcing her baby out of her, but it was too late.  The pressure was building.  Climbing to a peak that felt like it would rip her in half until suddenly, she felt relief.  Her heavy breathing filled the room, and she waited impatiently for the tell-tale cries of her baby, but they never came.  She opened her eyes and looked at Polly and then at Ada.  They both just stared back at her, and Y/N knew something wasn’t right. 

“Y/N,” was all Polly whispered, and she knew.  The silence was deafening.  She lay there, completely exposed, bleeding, and sweaty, and waited, but her baby gave her nothing.  Her eyes shut and then, without any strength to stop it, let out a crushing wail.  The tears overflowed, and when she opened her eyes again, she watched the door burst open and Tommy storm in.  He moved over to where Polly held their baby and looked down at their motionless child.

“Why isn’t she crying?”  He asked. 

It was a girl.  I had a baby girl.  Even through her tears and sobs, she could see Tommy’s chest rising and falling at a rapid pace.

“Why isn’t she fucking crying, Pol!?”  Tommy’s voice boomed through the room and mixed with her loud cries to create the saddest song.  She could see the distress in the slant of his shoulders and how he ran a hurried hand through his cropped hair.  He didn’t wait for anyone to answer his question before bounding across the room and landing on the floor next to her.  His hands found hers, and she could feel them shaking.  His lips pressed to Y/N’s forehead and cheeks, absorbing only some of the tears that continued to cascade down her face. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered, but the way his voice cracked in her ear told her he didn’t even believe those words.  “I love you, Y/N.”  She could hear that his words dripped with the same despair she felt.  “You know that, ey?  I love you, and it’s going to be okay.”

Tommy’s words echoed in her head as she watched the fire blaze around her daughter’s wagon.  She wanted to be convinced that his words were true, but she couldn’t bring herself to believe them.  When the funeral finished, they all returned to Arrow House, where the wake was being held.  Even being in a crowded room surrounded by family, Y/N felt alone.  Her whole body was like radio static – unfeeling.  Tommy’s hand was on her lower back the entire time, but she still felt like she was floating away.  Nothing could tether her to this reality anymore.

Several people approached her and Tommy, and with every person, a new empty comment emerged. 

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” which loosely translates to, “Boy, that sucks to be you.”

“I can’t even imagine what you’re going through,” which means, “I’m really glad I’m not dealing with that!”

And, “At least you still have Ben,” equates to, “You shouldn’t be upset when you still have one kid alive.”

With every consolation tossed at her feet like the change she used to find on the ground when she was a child, this unknown sensation began to build in her chest.  It was heavy and wild, like an untamed animal.  It was red and bared its teeth, ready to bite.  It was something Y/N had never felt before.  She was usually understanding, calm, and collected.  She wasn’t hot-headed or easily provoked.  But now, she was quickly discovering that what she was feeling was rage.  Hot and stormy, it ravaged her insides, and instead of beating it back into its cage, Y/N leaned into it, letting it hold her battered and broken soul up.

After the wake, Y/N let her sadness swallow her.  She hid in one of the guest rooms daily and even went as far as to avoid Tommy.  She couldn’t bring herself to look at him because every time their eyes met, two things happened.  1) she could see the grief he was carrying like cinder blocks chained to his neck, and 2) she could see the way he looked at her like she was a broken piece of artwork now.  She knew she was a shell of the woman she once was, but it hurt her even more to know that Tommy saw it so plainly in her, too.  He didn’t see her as the strong, independent woman he fell in love with.  No, now she was a ghost of her former self, and she couldn’t take his pity for having lost their daughter and herself. 

Although clearly grieving, Tommy didn’t seem nearly as phased by their loss as Y/N.  He was able to jump back into work, and now, nearly a week since the wake, he was back to being fully invested.  If Y/N were being honest, she envied Tommy for being able to distract himself.  She couldn’t do anything but hide from the memories that haunted their home and do her best to still be a good mother to Ben.  When a week finally passed since laying her daughter to rest, Y/N knew she had to do something.  She would talk to Polly and beg for some sort of work.  She didn’t care that Polly insisted that Y/N take some “time to heal.”  She needed a distraction.  Being in Arrow House felt more like a prison than a home.

Y/N got dressed and began to head for the door after handing Ben over to Frances.  But, as she approached Tommy’s office, she could hear him talking.  She peeked through the tiny crack to discover John and Arthur sitting at Tommy’s desk. 

“Ada’s handling the Communists.  She’s got someone on the inside who’s giving us information,” Tommy stated.  “And,” he shuffled papers around on his desk, “I’m…dealing with Father Hughes.”

“And what about the horny princess?” John asked, leaning forward and adjusting his jacket.  “You gonna figure out where her family keeps the jewels?”

Tommy waved him off.  “I already know.”  That single statement had both his brothers and Y/N leaning forward just slightly.  Tommy lay a large blueprint on his desk, causing the brothers to stand.

“They keep their entire collection in this strong room.  There’s no way to get in from above without a key,” Tommy stated, flattening the paper and looking up at his brothers. 

“So, what’s your plan, brother?”  Arthur asked like a good soldier.  Tommy straightened slightly, and Y/N could tell he was a little uncomfortable.  He pulled a cigarette from his case and slid it across his bottom lip before lighting it and taking a drag. 

“We’ve gotta tunnel in,” Tommy said without hesitation.  Those four words landed on the Shelby men like a grenade, and Y/N could almost feel the atmosphere shift at the statement.  None of them moved.  It was evident that the idea of tunneling hadn’t been a thought in any of their minds since the war.  Tommy cleared his throat. 

“I know,” he began, “but there’s no other way.  I’ve already got Johnny Dogs ready to help.  He’ll set up camp where we’ll start the tunnel.”

The air was thick, and again, neither of the brothers spoke.  She knew they didn’t like the plan, but they would comply because Tommy was giving the orders.  Y/N watched as John and Arthur fiddled with their suit jackets, their anxious energy hitting her like a baseball bat to the face.  It wasn’t until Arthur blew out a puff of air and ran his hand through his messy hair, exposing his apprehension, that Y/N knew what she would do.  Without even a second thought, Y/N opened the door to Tommy’s office, and all three men turned to face her.  She was only adding insult to injury as the silence in the room became even heavier.  Neither of her brothers-in-law had seen her since the wake, and the uneasy energy was almost palpable.  Tommy stepped toward her but didn’t get too close, which Y/N could see his brothers noticed.

“Y/N, is everything alright, love?”

Her eyes flitted between all three of the Shelby men for a moment before finally landing back on Tommy.  She knew she probably looked like a deer in headlights.  Her stare was frazzled, and she knew she looked a bit harried.  But she still squared her shoulders and stated with the most conviction she could muster, “Let me help.”

All three men’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, but only one spoke. 

“Excuse me?”  Tommy asked, incredulity lacing each word.  There was no going back now.  Y/N had to double down on her commitment.  So, she waved her hand toward the blueprints on Tommy’s desk. 

“With the tunnel.”

Tommy’s eyes turned a shade darker, and Y/N could see his jaw tick.  She only glanced at John and Arthur for a second, and they both looked like they might choke on the thickness of the air.  She felt like she might, too, but she held her ground.  She was not a fragile porcelain doll and could help her husband like she used to.  Tommy coughed, then turned to his brothers and, in a calm voice, asked, “Would you mind giving me a moment with my wife, boys?”

Neither of the brothers wasted a second before hustling out into the hallway.  Once the door shut behind them, Tommy’s steely gaze landed back on Y/N.  Before, she would have felt a little nervous under Tommy’s intense glare.  She had never inserted herself into his shoddy business in the past.  But now, she didn’t care.  She needed a distraction and a way to prove that she was still a force to be reckoned with even after her loss.  Y/N could see Tommy trying to contain his anger as his nostrils flared and his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides.  His eyes shut for a brief moment as he took a deep inhale.

“Are you fucking insane, Y/N?”  He finally asked, his voice level.  Y/N’s mouth fell open, and she reared back just slightly.  But before she could say anything, Tommy continued.

“You’ve been avoiding me, your husband, for a week in our own home, and when you decide to finally speak to me, that is what you say?”

Y/N rolled her eyes.  “Tommy.”

“No, Y/N!”  He shouted, causing her to startle.  “You can’t just move past this!”

That statement made Y/N see red.  In the week since Lily’s passing, Tommy did precisely that.  Y/N’s spine straightened, and her whole body became rigid.

“Why not!?” she shouted back, stomping toward Tommy.  “Is that not what you did?  Pretend like we didn’t lose our daughter?  You threw yourself into your work.  Why can’t I do the same thing?”  Her chest was heaving, and as badly as she didn’t want them to, she could feel tears pricking at her eyes.  She hated that she was a frustrated crier.  Her fists were in tight balls at her sides, and every muscle in her body was flexed.  She was ready for a fight.  She was prepared for Tommy to yell back at her.  In fact, she wanted him to yell at her.  She wanted Tommy to tell her how stupid her idea was and that she was out of her mind.  She mentally begged Tommy to scream at her for barging in on his meeting with his brothers and even thinking about tunneling.  Y/N wanted to feel the passion he usually had toward her before they lost their baby.  She needed him to reassure her that she was not a lost cause he was housing but his fierce wife.  But he didn’t yell.  The fire in his eyes dimmed, and his features softened.  The pity eyes were back, and she was struck by the sadness she was trying to escape.  She shut her eyes in a lame attempt to avoid looking at her husband and keep her tears at bay, but it was futile.  The tiny droplets fell down her cheeks, and when she opened her eyes again, Tommy was right in front of her.  He lifted his hands to cradle her face, and she hated how she melted into his touch.  It had been a week since she even looked at Tommy, let alone touched him.  She couldn’t lie, she missed him.  But it was easier to hide from the pain and suffering they both shared than deal with it head-on. 

Y/N let out a shaky breath and looked into her husband’s eyes. 

“Why can’t I, Tommy?” She asked, barely above a whisper.  “Let me help you.  Please.”

Tommy’s thumb stroked her cheeks, wiping away a stray tear.  He cataloged her features, and for the first time in a very long time, she wished she could see into Tommy’s thoughts.  She stared at him and hoped that everything she wanted to say was conveyed in her eyes.  I’m no longer the same woman I was a week ago.  I’m a failure as a woman and a mother.  I’m alone, letting my thoughts eat me alive.  I’m scared you won’t love this broken woman I have become.  Her eyes pleaded for Tommy to let her prove that she could still be the same person as before.  She needed to prove to him and herself that she wasn’t hopeless.  But when Tommy shut his eyes and let out a sigh, she knew his answer before he even said it. 

He looked at Y/N and said sotto voce, “You know I can’t, love.”

Y/N’s body went rigid, and that new familiar sensation began to bubble in her gut.  She could feel it rumbling and swirling, mixing with her fear and sadness, creating an uncontrollable fury.  It burned like venom, but she found herself welcoming the sting.  Her once soft features hardened, and Tommy noticed the change immediately.  Her stare was blank, and the joy that used to fill it had vanished.  Before losing her daughter, she never understood why the war had changed Tommy.  She supported him while his experiences ravaged him, but she never knew why he returned with a harder exterior than when he left.  But now, after suffering such a devastating loss, she understood.  There is no coming back from witnessing a tragedy. 

Tommy’s rough thumbs brushed against Y/N’s tear-stained cheeks and bent until his forehead rested on hers.  “Where did the woman I married three years ago disappear to?”  He said, his breath fanning over her face.  He pulled back, his distressed stare locking Y/N in place, and whispered, “I know she’s in there.”

The words stung like a slap to her already bruised ego.  She could feel the weight of that question in every bone of her body.  All her fears began raging a war inside her head, and she could feel her armor cracking.  She could feel the tears clogging her throat, burning as she swallowed them down.  Her lungs felt like they weren’t getting nearly enough oxygen, and she was only seconds away from either crying or breaking something.  With a swift step backward, Y/N separated herself from her husband.  She hated to admit that her body yearned for Tommy’s hands back on her, but she batted that thought away as quickly as it appeared.  Tommy slowly lowered his hands back to his sides, and she leveled him with a callous stare.

“That woman is gone, Tommy,” she spat.  “She burned to ash with her daughter a week ago.”  She could see the way her words landed on Tommy like bullets striking his chest.  Some of her felt bad, but the angry beast slowly becoming her new persona convinced her she did nothing wrong. 

Y/N waited for Tommy to say something, anything, back to her, and when he didn’t, she turned and reached for the door.  Confidence that felt different from what she was used to coursed through her body like electricity.  She was a little scared of who she was becoming, but those wild and fiery feelings of rage were the only things that brought her peace.  Before pulling the door open, she turned back toward Tommy and said, “If you won’t let me help you, Tommy, I’ll find someone else who will.  You forget, my roots run deep in this business, too.”

Tommy let out a dry laugh.  “You’re really threatening me, now, ey?”

Y/N’s grip tightened around the cold door handle, and, through gritted teeth, she growled, “It’s not a threat, Thomas.  It’s a promise.”  Without a second look, she flung the door open and stepped out. 

John and Arthur straightened at her abrupt appearance, and she just brushed past them, letting her feet carry her toward the front of their home.  She knew they heard her and Tommy’s conversation, but she didn’t care anymore.  This newfound boldness that her bereavement had granted her washed away any and all anxiety.   

“Hope you enjoyed the show, boys,” Y/N tossed over her shoulder toward John and Arthur.  “Next time, I’ll sell tickets and make talking to my husband more worthwhile rather than a waste of my time.”

She didn’t turn back around to see their reaction to her words.  Instead, she showed herself out and hopped into one of Tommy’s many vehicles.  She would find another way if he wouldn’t allow her to help.  The image of a tall Jewish man whom she briefly met a while back when Tommy first started expanding into London entered her mind.  She knew exactly who would be more than willing to give her a hand in her effort to help the Shelby family – Alfie Solomons.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinder x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagines #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby fanfiction #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby

[pagerunner-j]

All right, all right. This is a bad idea! I've been trying not to cross these streams for a long time! But: fuck it. Who fics ahead!

--

Long story short: I used to write under another pen name. I stopped using it and deleted my old journal after some personal crap, which still makes me feel sad and stupid, and I'd wanted at the time to scrub the slate clean. Some of what's still kicking around under my old username, though, includes stories at whofic.com, which predates AO3 and still exists, doing its Whovian thing.

So after recent fandom flashbacks, I've been rereading my old stuff. Which has been...interesting!

Obligatory disclaimer: oh, god, do I want to edit everything. These date back as far as 2005, and so certain old habits linger, like the fact that I hadn't yet gotten over my torrid love affairs with the semicolon and the ellipsis. I want to fix the occasional dips into overwrought nonsense. I'm also looking at some of the more adult content and thinking, "Okay, that went from 0-60 a wee bit fast. Calm the hell down, self."

BUT: there's also stuff here I like! And about which I'm thinking "crap, I used to be good at this," because I can never leave myself alone!

Anyway, here's a few stories from the "this does not shame me" pile, plus notes:

Gen

Translations (Ten/Rose) Original description: There are some things the TARDIS doesn't translate, and some secrets of the Doctor's left unexplained. Rose is setting out to find out why. 

Probably the best thing of mine on this archive, and one of the most developed narratives. The sneaky, sneaky merchant, whose storyline never quite gets resolved (on purpose), was one of my better ideas. The other was Rose interpreting the TARDIS console's layout as looking like a Gallifreyan word. And, for that matter, Rose's name looking like an actual flower. Thank you, DW designers, for a completely impractical but extremely cool-looking written language. Also, the fact that the marketplace has thirteen floors, and they were on the tenth? Yeah, yeah, that was on the nose. I note that since then, the showrunners have thrown the Doctor's thirteen-regenerations limit out the window, for perfectly understandable reasons, but it was still kicking around at the time.

Roundabout (Nine/Rose) Original description: Time and possibilities keep turning. an exploration of the Doctor and Rose's relationship throughout the series. Spoilers for all [first season] episodes.

The other one that I'd file under "hey, you wrote a story! And it's not bad! Good job, self!" file. I really loved Nine and Rose, and I went to town with it here. I also got completely self-indulgent in a few places. As one does. The scene at the club is my favorite on that account. This quip of Jack's to the Doctor was, among other things, a sidelong nod to a few of my feelings about American polarization, and believe me, It's worse now: "It's Saturday night. We're in one of the last great cities of post-Dissolution America. And the most handsome man in the club has just bought you an Electric Comet. Do yourself a favor. Get drunk." Also, the reason Rose thinks she knows the music that's playing is that it's 110% a quote from a Billie Piper song. I don't think anybody ever noticed, but it's there.

Outgeniused (or: How to Get Fired From the Apple Store in Three Easy Steps) (Ten, OC) Original description: Kate Stowe's seen a lot of strange problems come up at the Genius Bar, but this one qualifies as the strangest she's seen yet. Presenting a bit of shameless insanity, featuring the Doctor, a race of aliens with quite inconvenient taste, and several unorthodox ways to break your iPod's warranty. (In other words: crackfic ahead!)

I really wasn't kidding about that last line. This one is unabashed ridiculousness, inspired by your author doing a seasonal stint in Apple retail that left a goddamn mark. Sadly, the Doctor never swung by my store. A lot of real-life tidbits did make their way into this story, though. And despite all odds, it's got a plot! Fun facts (for nerds): the product line was accurate as of the time I wrote this. The iPod shuffle disclaimer I was talking about? That was absolutely a thing. And my favorite line is still the Doctor apologizing for not getting AppleCare, because I had to pitch that to so many people. I have never once bought it for myself. No regrets. Don't tell Tim. Also, apparently the UK really has gone all-in on Black Friday since I wrote this. I have to ask: why? Why must you import the worst of our capitalistic excesses? You really didn't have to! Le sigh.

The Naughty Bits

A Matter of Timing (Ten/Rose) Original description: In matters of love, sex and the technicalities thereof, somebody better be thinking ahead. Rose/Ten, post-Journey's End.

Short, sweet, and silly. This one's about Rose and the clone of Ten off in their parallel universe, and exists for the sake of the conversation they're having, which is in part about the mechanics of that whole cloning thing. Although it's mostly about the sex. Which they are absolutely and enthusiastically having the whole damn time. ("Haven't ever seen that on a clock" is still my favorite line.)

Slightly Psychic Confessions (Nine/Rose/Jack) Original description: Getting caught with slightly psychic paper in one's hands can be a dangerous thing indeed.

Like it says on the tin. 90% of the reason this was written was so I could play with the props, and the dialogue (both spoken and psychically transcribed) is the part I most enjoy, although I've been told the rest of it's pretty okay too. ...yes, the rest of it is a threesome. Stop looking at me like that.

Selfish Dreams (Ten/Rose) Original description: Wherein solutions to lingering nightmares lead to a different sort of sleeplessness. Slightly spoilery through "The Satan Pit."

Sometimes I get creepy, even with characters I love and will ship forever. This one was mostly me thinking through some of the...potentially fraught...implications of Ten's psychic abilities, and is one of my "I guess I'm preoccupied with nightmares and dreams, because I'm gonna come back to that in a few different ways" stories in this archive. Anyway, none of what they're up to here is what I'd consider a good idea. At least Rose enjoyed herself, though.

Forgetting the Nightmare (Nine/Jack) Original description: In which neither the Doctor nor Jack can get any sleep, but for very different reasons.

As I was saying. This is about a plot point from the show I'd forgotten about since writing this: Jack's two years of missing memory. (So, yes, apparently mine's missing too. It's been A LONG TIME, okay?) He's having some issues coming to terms with that. So how do I decide to have them address it? Boinking on the TARDIS floor, apparently. ...ahem. Anyway, as is the case with a lot of the shit I wrote, it's a little emotionally messy. It also hints at a few things that are still very much up for interpretation. Less in need of puzzling out is that yes, the two lost years are represented by the two burned-out lights on the console they're trying to fix, because I am occasionally as subtle as a brick.

Beyond Locked Doors (Ten/Reinette) Original description: A glimpse into Reinette's memories and dreams throughout the events of "The Girl in the Fireplace."

Yeah, this is one of those that dips into being overwrought, and yes, my inner editor is bitching at me about sacrificing clarity in the process. But writing from Reinette's POV was a fun exercise. It's a very different flavor from everything else here. Also, just to get this stated, you still can't tell me that the "dance with me" line in the show and those two disappearing off screen together wasn't also Moffat being subtle as a brick with his metaphors, so I still feel justified in writing this one. The (implied) sex was canon and I will die on that hill.

So Brief, In Bloom (Ten/Reinette) Original description: Wherein the Doctor thinks of other ways this could have gone.

And now...things go south. I'm pretty sure I'm the only weirdo who cared about this story. It is, let's be fair, also weird. This is about Ten being haunted by the idea of what might have happened if he did get Reinette to come along with him, and what the ramifications of that change might be. Not overtly stated, but it's there, is that in this alternate timeline, Rose didn't take well to this idea, and eventually left. The result is some Seriously Conflicted Feelings. And some ill-advised attempts at banishing them. I once got a comment on my old journal from somebody who didn't understand the last line. it's oblique on purpose, and you're invited to imagine your own version, but what was going on in my head was that back in the actual timeline, Ten absolutely had his way with Rose against that very same wall to try to scrub the idea of the other timeline out of his head. Considering that the wayward strand of hair he found could have belonged to either her or Reinette, though? It...didn't exactly help.

A Laugh Like Thunder (The Master/Lucy) Original description: The Master and Lucy on the eve of destruction, thinking of what's to come. (Spoilers through "The Sound of Drums.")

I'm including this here solely because I'd forgotten about it until I trawled back through my archive, and was thus smacked upside the head with the facts that A: it existed at all, B: this thing went places, and C: I started it off with, "On the eve of destruction, the Prime Minister tied his wife to the bedposts and began to think of another man." Go off, self.

#doctor who #fics

[brightbeautifulthings]

High Fidelity by Nick Hornby

"What came first--the music or the misery? Did I listen to music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to music?"

Year Read: 2024

Rating: 3/5

My desert-island, all-time, top five most memorable split-ups, in chronological order.

Matt S.

Nate G.

Matt G.

Carson M.

Tiff G.

--

First of all, and I mean this in the nicest possible way, this is obviously a piece of media written by a man for other men. That's not in itself a bad thing, and it's actually a little refreshing to have it so up front (instead of the sneaky way most classics and literary fiction are written by men for men and still foisted upon us as the universal, inviolable canon by which all other pieces of literature should be measured, while genre fiction and YA--more typically written by women--are sneered at as lesser.) It lets me acknowledge that I was never the target audience for this book and that it's no moral failing that I can't relate to it and, this being accepted from the get go, I can still go on to find things to appreciate about it-- because being relatable, while nice when it happens, is obviously not the only reason to read or appreciate a novel. I do find it fascinating that so many men Identify so strongly with this novel, so clearly it speaks to something very real in adult male British/American culture. Still, if a woman (character or writer) spent 300 pages whinging about why her boyfriend had good reason to dump her, it would be slapped as self-indulgent and disregarded as a whiny rom-com rather than a work of literature.

--

All-time top five favorite recording artists:

The Gaslight Anthem

Taylor Swift

Fall Out Boy

Lady Gaga

The Weepies 

--

Rob is, by his own estimation, about the most average guy on the planet, and it's hard to argue with him on that point. He's not a bad person or a particularly good one; he's just a guy who likes music a lot and can't quite figure out why he's never happy with his adult life or in a relationship. You know, like a lot of people. I like that it fully acknowledges what I've known since fifth grade (Matt S.), which is that men are just as invested in romantic relationships, if not more, than women are, and they're just as obsessed with the romance of a perfect partner and a happily ever after. Fairy tales are, after all, primarily written by men. Probably everyone has known a Rob at some point in their lives, but I can't say definitively that I'd want to date him. He sounds like a lot of work.

--

All-time top five favorite books:

The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater

Carry On by Rainbow Rowell

Into the Drowning Deep by Mira Grant

I'll Give You the Sun by Jandy Nelson

A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle

--

I'll confess I really like this movie adaptation and I've watched it a lot with my dad, which is more or less what landed this book on my shelf. It's one of those films that's so well-written you almost don't even need to read the book, and so many of the best lines are pulled verbatim from Hornby's prose. (And there are many, many good lines.) It's a lot like reading and watching The Princess Bride: you can do it because you love it, but there's almost no point. All the "best parts" are in the film, and what's left in the novel feels fairly unnecessary, if not outright detrimental to overall enjoyment. (I've also had a crush on John Cusack since Say Anything (1989), so do with that what you will. Rob is no Lloyd Dobler, however.)

--

All-time top five favorite films:

You've Got Mail (1998)

Almost Famous (2000)

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)

Doctor Sleep (2019)

Stand By Me (1986)

--

There's something entertaining about watching Rob work through his list of most memorable breakups, which is essentially the plot of this novel, with obvious emphasis on the one he's currently experiencing with Laura. Exploring his breakups seems like a first real attempt at figuring out what his problem is, and I think it's pretty successful. Sure, the character development is slow and a bit dubious. There's not so much change by the end as the idea of change. I had the sense that he could go either way. Either he really is starting to see the problem in the way he approaches relationships and life as a whole, and he's finally learning how to pull his head out of his own ass and see Laura as a real person. Or not. He falls right back into his old habits. I kind of like that I'm not sure which it is because that's life, right? Change is hard.

#book review #high fidelity #nick hornby #adult fiction #3/5 #rating: 3/5 #2024

[mightbewriting]

20 questions for fic writers

thank you @eveningstruggle for the opportunity to procrastinate this morning!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 32

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 696,261

3. What fandoms do you write for? hp: mostly dramione, but with a whole heaping of miscellaneous other ships

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Wait and Hope

Season Pass (To This Ass)

Beginning and End

A Season For Setting Fires

Lie With Me

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

once upon a time i responded to all of them bc i'm so stupidly grateful that anyone decides to read my work. and i've made some of my best fandom friends through comments. but over time the mental load (replying starts to feel weirdly disingenuous bc of the repetitive nature?? trying not to constantly repeat myself was a wildly unexpected amount of work) and the time commitment (so surprisingly high??) made it such that it was a decision between responding to comments or getting more writing done. i picked being able to actually write new stuff. these days i feel deeply self conscious about replying bc i do it so rarely, and when i do (especially if someone has been leaving the most lovely, thoughtful, regular comments) i feel like more often than not it seems to scare them off?? but i read all of them, i swoon, and i appreciate them more than folks could ever possibly know. there are comments i've gotten that have saved me from scrapping projects, that have turned my whole mindset around on a bad writing day. precious gems, every last one of them.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

hmmmm. probably Intimate Transactions, mostly bc i see people reading it as un-hea surprisingly often. i intended it as hea, with the ending representing a new beginning for both of them, but i concede that i left it just open enough at the end for folks to interpret it as them going their separate ways. both readings are valid, i just didn't intend for it to be read as quite so angsty at the end lol.

whenever i get around to finishing it, Thirty-Seven Years will have the angstiest ending just bc it's canon compliant and...well, the canon story is a bit of a tragedy. but we're not there yet lol.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

lol the vast majority of them. aside from Thirty-Seven Years, as mentioned above, i think everything i write as mightbewriting is hea. i prefer a happy ending, especially one that's hard won. so even if something is incredibly angsty (looking at you A Season for Setting Fires), my preference is almost always to have that angst earn us a happy ending.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

sure do

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

i do, and whatever kind fits the story? i guess? sometimes that's more smutty smut, sometimes that's more romantic introspective smut. just depends on the story i'm telling.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

nope

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

at this point, i've lost track of how many times. twice in the last month at least.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

i have! it's SO cool that we have so many people in this fandom able to translate works and make them accessible to a whole new demographic of readers!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

once, accidentally lol.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

dramione

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i'm a compulsive project finisher, though i certainly wish my pace could be what it once was.

16. What are your writing strengths?

imagery, pacing, realistic dialogue, and economy of words.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

idk how to describe this but like...luxuriating in a story more? i'm often so succinct in my 'every word must serve a purpose' ways that i miss opportunities to better set a scene and indulge in the little things that flesh out a world and its characters.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

is this a contentious thing? i see it on things like this a lot and i have literally zero opinions about it. like, you do you. i think i've done this before? still have no strong opinions about it lol.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

🤐

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

this really depends on the day, i think. i couldn't possibly pick a definitive favorite from all my babies.

tagging literally anyone out there who wishes to do this! i think i'm pretty late to the game so if you haven't been tagged and want to play, go for it!

[tracingpatternswrites]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks for the tag @theresthesnitch! This looks like the perfect distraction right now.

Username: TracingPatterns

1. How many works do you have on A03?

122 works across all fandoms.

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count?

1,021,394

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mainly Harry Potter, mostly Marauders.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Playing with Fire

Of Quiet Hearts and Thundering Dreams

Wilder than Mountain Thyme

Countdown

Hungry Moon

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try! It might take me a while but I do always try to respond to all comments that I get.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Oh dear, this was actually a pretty difficult choice. Many of my fics are quite angsty now that I think about it, but if we disregard the canon stuff, I think I'd say As The Tide Pulls.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I have a lot of fics with happy endings too. I'd say that most of my long fics end happily, but I think I would pick Wilder than Mountain Thyme just because I feel like it ends with hope and possibility.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Sometimes, but really not all that much. I did once have someone write a whole 'clapback fic' (their own words) based on one of my fics though so that was... interesting.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Er, yes? I mean. Absolutely yes. All kinds? Seriously, I mostly write M/M sprinkled in with some M/M/M. I love to write kink so I do that a lot, but there's some 'vanilla' stuff in there too.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

No, never.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Someone once told me that one of my fics had been copied onto Wattpad as part of some sort of collection but by the time I went to look at it, it seemed to be gone. So. Maybe?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have! I've written wonderful things together with my friends and I love, love, love co-writing. It's so much fun!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

I think I have to say Wolfstar just because it's the one I keep coming back to again and again and again. However, I do have a very soft spot for a lot of other ships as well.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have so many ideas and my absolute aim is to finish most of them. However, I think the one I'm furthest away from completing is the one I started for the candyheart challenge last year.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I don't know. Smut maybe 😅 I feel like other people can answer this question better. I think I'm pretty good at working out plot holes. Most of the time that's a good thing, but sometimes it makes me get stuck on silly details. I'm good at angst too, I think.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Writing scenes with more than two people is a constant struggle for me. I think humour is another weakness, crack fic is not my thing.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I think that's fine, and I've definitely done it, but I'm quite picky with how to use it. Also, always ask for help from a native speaking. Google Translate is not your friend.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Lord of the Rings (but those are looooooong gone, I can tell you that much).

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

This is an impossible question and I honestly don't know. I am honestly proud of a lot of fics that I've written. But alright, to be honest I think it might be a tie.

Wilder than Mountain Thyme because it's the most self-indulgent thing I have ever written. I poured my heart into that fic, and I'm really proud of the world building and the characters.

over blackened water because I think this is one of the best things I've written and I keep making myself cry whenever I re-read it.

Open tag - if you want to do this then please do! But I'm also passing on a no-pressure tag to @heartofspells, @puuvillaa, @mundrakan and @soloorganaas. I'm sorry if any of you have already done this and I've missed it!

#20 questions #q&a #random fun

[yahargulian]

HELLOOOO I HAVE WRITING ASKS FOR YOU

6, 8, 13 (drop the music recs!!!), 29, 39 (begging you to tell the people about the blast furnace. if you want!!), 43, 57

ahem i would also like to take this chance to announce that kim is an AMAZING writer (and an amazing person full stop) and everyone should keep your eyes peeled for their fics in the future because whoooy boy their current serennedy wips and ideas are SOOOO GOOD and i’m not even really in the fandom??? but i live for every snippet i’m sent???

hehe please enjoy 💓💓

AAAAA Jamie holy shit.. Bestie you're gonna make me blush aaaa 👉👈

Whenever I do actually get these fics finished and published, everyone go thank Jamie for all his hype and support and for being my fandom screaming buddy adkjhga AND ALSO if you happen to watch a funky little show called KinnPorsche you should go read their fics like! Right the fuck now! And also keep an eye out for new ones in the future because I have also seen snippets of Jamie's wips and ideas and WOWIE is that fandom in for a treat or two. Or several hehe

6. What’s the last line you wrote?

"Unpleasant didn’t quite cut it." Which is from the same extract I answered with here, and is the last line I've written from any of my wips at the moment... But, I'm also gonna give you the last line I've written from the other fic I'm currently working on. As a treat! "Krauser had changed right there beside Leon, and he had never even noticed." I really am just making Leon go through it in two very different ways at the moment ahdgjkhag

8. Post an out-of-context spoiler from a wip.

"And maybe it had fulfilled the purpose for which it was designed, no longer held a practical use to him. But, as he breathed in, he felt its weight soft against his chest. And for a moment he couldn't exhale. A soft warmth bled in his chest; from his lungs, from his heart, from the weight of metal over both. Held. Like a promise. "No," he breathed, finally. Then, surely, "no, nothing." Not all purposes were practical, after all."

13. Do you listen to music while you write?  If yes, what have you been listening to recently?

I do! But I'm really really awkward about it aghkdgjdakg it depends on the vibe really! Usually music with lyrics distracts me (my brain starts focusing on the lyrics oops) so unless I'm listening to a specific song or songs on loop, I usually listen to video game soundtracks There are some scenes and stuff that call for a specific kind of vibe - or just silence as a last resort if I can't find anything to listen to - but lately I've been listening to boss battle music, of all things. This playlist, to be exact This is my hype music! My 'Getting Shit Done' playlist. I used to listen to a lot of this while doing uni assignments, and have been known to listen to it to do even mundane shit. Like laundry

29. What’s something about your writing that you’re proud of?

People have told me before that my fics have made them cry, and like. Nothing makes me happier honestly. Again with the emotion think, is anything I've written has ever made someone feel something it's the best thing that could possibly happen. So the fact that something I've written has apparently made people feel something so much that they've cried? Hell yeah I'm proud of that!!

39. What’s your most self-indulgent wip?

Okay no you're right, the blast furnace fic is pretty self indulgent so I will mention it. Basically, Leon and Luis fuck in the blast furnace, right after the fight against the two Gigantes. And this came about because I realised that this would be one of the best times for them to kiss in the main plot (literally like in an action movie) and also that nobody had written them fucking in the blast furnace yet? And once I realised that I realised how obvious it was to get them to fuck in there - and now here I am. So it's very self indulgent because I wanna see it ahdjkahkjgd but also now that I've started it I'm on a mission to make it as visceral an experience as possible! It's gonna be fucking great I'm really excited for it Honestly tho, most if not all of what I write or try to write is self-indulgent in some way. Hell, the key fic I'm working on is super self-indulgent just because it's basically me working through all my feelings about this damn lab key! And what it means and symbolises and what if what if what if. Everything I write is written because I wanna see it and explore it and experience it! It's all self-indulgence babey!

43. Is there a trope or idea that you’d really like to write but haven’t yet?

Answered here but long story short, yes! But hopefully I'll get to them soon hehe I also looked over the 4,000 word pollen wip again after typing my reply to this question and. Yeah. I've definitely gotta finish that one someday my god I forgot how strong the brainworms had got when I started that one ahdgjkahgkd

57. How conscious are you about including symbolism or foreshadowing in your fics?

Foreshadowing maybe, tho I'm not sure how much I'd say I'm conscious of it rather than.. Because I know where I'm going I try to build up to that. So I guess that would be a yes? Ahsdjhjgkj In terms of symbolism, maybe not as much as I should be? The aforementioned key fic is possibly an exception here because, well. It's literally about the fucking lab key. It's about the symbolism. But generally I'm not conscious about including it - and now this is making me wonder if I do? And if I do, how the fuck and when? Someone please tell me, Jamie please tell me aghdjdahgds

#thank u bestie AAAAAA #screaming crying throwing up #fr everyone go read his fics right the fuck now if u like kpts #this is not a request this is a demand ahgjkdhgkjds #answered #xhangkyuns

[picnokinesis]

Question similar to that post you reblogged about fics: if you were to write a fic that was completely self-indulgent, like the target audience was just you? I love your fics :) 💗

Ahh hello!! Thank you!! <3 But also, this did make me laugh a little, because all my fics are very self-indulgent - that's why there are so many concussions, so many nosebleeds, so much telepathy, and so many stories about memory hahaha! BUT! There are definitely some that are more niche and self-indulgent than others, and out of all of my wips, I think that one of the fics that I actually mentioned in the tags of that other post - trestle - is probably the most self indulgent. The full title is The Trestle at Kasterborous Creek, and it's a very weird matrix-based academy-era-but-make-it-spydoc fic that's heavily inspired by a play that not many people have heard of called The Trestle at Pope Lick Creek. You definitely won't need to know the play to understand the fic, but I feel like there are so many references littered throughout what I've written so far that only someone who knows the play really well (which is like. no one HAHA) would appreciate them all. It's also quite...structurally/temporally weird. The scenes are not in chronological order, and some happen at the same time but also before and after each other simultaneously. A lot of the dialogue is talking about two different things at the same time. But what I have of it so far is like...some of my favourite pieces of writing that I've done. I came up with it in like, 2022? And then wrote 37k of it at the start of this year. I feel like if I could write another 40k of it at some point, it would finish it off...but we'll see if I ever get back into it again. It's possible because I have a rough plan for it! (for once in my life)

#taka replies #anon #i genuinely love trestle so so much #ONE DAY #i just really love that play SKKSKS

[kitewithfish]

Wednesday Reading Meme for 10-26-22

What I've Read - Omega Required - Dessa Lux (aka, fanfic writer Dira Sudis) - Werewolf Omegaverse m/m arranged marriage romance novel- I bought this in 2018, read 25% of it and then never picked it up again, because I am a fool. I finished it this week and I found the main couple really quite charming.  Beau wants to be a werewolf doctor to humans, Rory ran away from home at 16 with an older man who promised to take good care of him and has some major trauma around sex. It's careful to show Rory's recovery, tho it's a romance novel so he's improving on a pretty brisk pace. Beau is used taking care of only himself and not asking for help so he makes some fairly stupid (but very in-character!) mistakes around his new job. The resolution is sweet and generally hits the points that think a thoughtful romance ought to. I am probably going to read other things Dira has written - this series has a couple of other books, and this is hitting a self-indulgent spot for me. Good world building around how werewolves would function in the open in the modern world.

Wife to the Marines: A Military Reverse Harem Romance by Krista Wolf (reverse harem het romance, straight woman with three straight men) - Well, this book had some great elements? The sex was fun, the character dynamics were a bit spare (perfectly fine for this genre) but what was there felt engaging, the plot was brisk and both acknowledged the silly elements but made them feel emotionally true to the female lead's internal life. I finished it and at the low price of $1, I feel like I got my money's worth. I have definitely paid more for worse. 

But, oh man, I am too queer for this book. I am just too dang queer for this book. I literally picked this up because I was curious about the reverse harem romance sub-genre (aka, straight woman with multiple male partners, yay!) and wow, this is just - like, do gay people exist in this world? Do ace people? Polyamory is briefly mentioned but not actually engaged with at all, so functionally, nah. Because I just cannot imagine a world where queer people exist and these men are making the life choices they are making about committed relationships to other men, and having sex with the same woman in a committed relationship, and then like, just not talking about the fact that you are in a queer poly relationship. It's just, like, the most hetero and monogamous take possible on a very queer, very poly relationship. It's almost as if it's a het romance where the dude just happens to have three bodies? It's so fucking weird to see a book go so far out of its way to frame this as hetero brothers-in-arms who love each other? Like, the intense military friendship that is actually a romance in disguise is literally a gay cliche - this one is ours, straight people. 

Also, massive trigger warnings for eating disorders shit (the woman is a trainer and runs a youtube channel where she makes "health food" recipes, constantly breaks food into good or bad categories, calorie counting, talks in detail about the weight loss plans of her clients, none of it needed) and also, uh, military kink?  using the American invasion of Afghanistan as a neutral-to-justified backdrop for a personal vendetta? (Dudes, is it gay to avenge the death of your boyfriend's brother under the cover of a legitimate Marine mission while you lie to him and keep him out of the loop, safe at home with your other shared boyfriend and girlfriend?) This was a compellingly written novel full of sympathetic depictions of people who I would not ever want to have a drink with!

What I'm Reading

A Taste of Gold and Iron - Alexandra Rowland - A re-read for my book club. So sweet, so queer, so fun. Deeply good worldbuilding.

Thrawn: Treason - Timothy Zahn - Getting fun and brisk with this one! 55% in.  Hunting Towards Heartstill - Blackkat - Star Wars Clone Wars Cartoon au - marriage of convenience, fake marriage, Mace Windu/Cody - Slowing down because we're crash landed on an abandoned Sith planet and I'm watching Mace be annoyed at Anakin and, well, he's very annoying! I'm going to try and buckle down and get some more under my belt so that I can actually just get past this part. I got stuck here last time too.

Stay With Me, Go Places - cac0daemonia-  https://archiveofourown.org/works/39540420 - "After months of living a quiet, peaceful life on Ryloth, Waxer and Boil must don their armor again. What begins as a rescue operation in conjunction with a bounty hunter becomes a journey that the Force itself seems to have a hand in." - I am really enjoying this ongoing series, the Reconstruction Corps AU, which posits that a fairly minor change in the Clone Wars plot around the clones control chips allowed the Jedi to stop Darth Sideous and save the galaxy and allow clones like Waxer and Boil to retire to little backwaters and build themselves a community. 

What I'll Read Next

2312 - Kim Stanley Robinson - Book club pick, long one, too! Bought it since we're probably splitting it up over six weeks Library books: Our Wives Under the Sea - Julia Armfield Maul: Lockdown - Joe Schreiber  The Whale Rider -Witi Ihimaera  Tiger's Daughter - K Arsenault Rivera  Riot Baby - Rochi Onyeuchi The Silence of the Wilting Skin - Tlotlo Tsamaase  An Unkindness of Ghosts - Rivers Solomon

Libby:  Truth of the Divine - Lindsay Ellis Devil House - John Darnelle   

#reading meme #dira sudis writes good books #clones wars fanfic #star wars #alexandra rowland writes good books

[rose-n-gunses]

A, B, and D for the fanfic asks pleeeeease <3

AAA hi absolutely!!

A - Out of the fanfic you've written, which is your favorite and why?

Probably midwest monster of the highest grade. It was really fun to play with and I was (still am) so happy with how it turned out. I sometimes struggle writing from Chrissy's pov because I don't feel like I have as good of a grasp on her character as I do Eddie's so it was a fun exercise to sort of get into her mind and how she sees things and I love it. (I actually just reread it the other day and I really am so pleased with how their chemistry and her personality turned out.)

B - What was the first fandom you read fic in? Which was the first you wrote fic for?

Reading is definitely Harry Potter. I was big (like. BIG) into Harry Potter for most of my life and iirc I probably got into reading fanfiction through like. Quotev fics I found on Pinterest 💀💀

The first fandom I wrote for was either Harry Potter or Les Miserables I will go check right now. (Please hold!) Okay yes the oldest fic I can find in my drive is Harry Potter related (it's newt scamander x oc specifically). My middle school best friend and I used to write fic together so yeah. Good times! (The second oldest is from about the same time and it is les mis so I was correct lol)

D - What's the most personal fanfic you've written?

Hmm. A lot of the stuff I've written (until hellcheer ofc) was just self indulgent i've created this oc and i'm going to put her into situations because im a middle/high schooler with an overactive imagination and time to kill type shit so it wasn't necessarily personal (except in the sense that like. I wrote it).

I also wouldn't say that any of my currently published hellcheer fics are that personal (again except for that they're mine) BUT I do have one that I've been adding bits and pieces to since like 2022 that, if it's ever finished, I would possibly consider my magnum opus. That one dives really deep into both Eddie and Chrissy's lives and personalities and mindsets and everything and I have taken a lot of how I see things and my experiences and sort of used them as a jumping off point for that so I guess that one would be the most personal (even if it won't see the light of day for quite a while).

Fic writer asks!

#sorry if my answers are lame LMFAO #thanks for the ask!!! #ask answered #ask game #my writing #just r's thoughts #blondiest

[arashi-no-saxlphone]

I want a random tip.

I usually like to write a lot (from classical tales to actual fanfiction), but I never posted anything before. I thought that now that I created an actually active Tumblr account, maybe I would go for it. But have you ever felt that you're exposing too much of yourself as an artist when you publish anything? Either way. The point is, I actually have written an OC x Axl fanfiction that's quite... adorable I think? Maybe? That centers around the OC considerably self conscious gear actually ""stalking"" him once a week to keep watching over him... for at least 4 years, trying to keep track of him as she could, since she could have noticed something overly powerful about his existence despite him being that person we know. But in the middle of this stalking process, she started to notice how unbearably good and silly he is, and it's something that turned out to be overly fascinating. Now the stalking was more about being a secretive guard to make sure he doesn't suffer anymore than simply just watching.

The story written is short and it's about the moment they actually met. She would come straight to him for once and say everything she felt about his existence as if it's the most amazing human creation possible, and he being unable to understand what's so amazing for someone as power as she is. And she would be explaining every detail to why, and why she would insist in consuming her time to keep watching over him almost like a personal guardian angel, and how much he taught he about what humanity truly is about. How much powerful he actually is to her, with no bounds of comparison to anything she has ever seen before.

Now, I just wanted a simply motivation to post it since... well, I never did before in my entire life post anything. I don't know which type of content would truly be interesting.

I'm flattered to be asked for advice on this matter, and here's what I'm gonna start with: There's an audience out there for everything. I have seen about a billion Reader x Canon character or Self insert/OC x Canon character stories floating around in my time on this site (over a decade at this point, hoo boy) and I know for a fact there's a good chunk of people who would enjoy that. I can say myself I wrote something in the same vein for a fire emblem character back in the day but I never published it, it was more a self-indulgence thing haha. I can definitely relate to the fear of overexposing oneself in that area but that just comes with the territory; nothing ventured nothing gained and all that, right?

As for whether or not you should post it, that's up to you, but from how you've described it here I can say at least personally you're exploring really great themes here - particularly tying into what makes Axl so appealing as a character, and furthermore, the idea of what humanity is about, which I find to be one of the most salient points of Guilty Gear's story (and it makes me go absolutely feral). Most importantly, what you're communicating is coming from the heart and the best works are born from passion.

Considering I'm getting all that just from this brief ask, I have no doubt that what you've written is probably meaningful and exceptional and I'm willing to bet there are people out there who will get a real kick out of it. There may be some dissenters, but fuck em - they're not who you wrote it for. If you can handle that, then you should let loose. I can tell you from personal experience that it's a great feeling to make even a brief connection when it comes to these characters that mean so much to us and in some cases inspire us in our daily lives.

Think of it like this: the same way Axl's story inspires us, your story might inspire others. If you wanna let that out, you should absolutely let it out! That's what this place is for. I've only been an Axl blog for a handful of weeks and before that I was NEVER making personal or original posts. Then I decided "Fuck it. This is the Saying Shit website, I'll say shit!" Imagine my surprise when people actually took interest in my little ramblings, and now I have a bunch of great gear blogs in my orbit and I get lovely asks just like this one.

If you're worried about your story being interesting, just from the premise I'm already intrigued and I doubt I'd be the only one. So my advice is this: go for it. If you're comfortable and you wanna share, just go for it. I know there are Axl fans out there who would love nothing more than to see any kind of discussion about their favorite guy. Also tag whatever you post with "guilty gear" and "axl low;" makes it more likely that you'll reach people who are looking for that stuff (I know I scour the Axl Low tag for any kind of new content on my boy)

Also Guilty Gear OCs are raw. I wanna see more of em, personally. Thanks for the ask and best of luck in your writing endeavors anon!

#sairambles #ask #axl low

[thewolfisawake]

I posted 193 times in 2022

That's 14 more posts than 2021!

127 posts created (66%)

66 posts reblogged (34%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@rpmemes-galore

@arcxnumvitae

@mostly-sentence-starters

@annicon

@rp-meme-central

I tagged 156 of my posts in 2022

Only 19% of my posts had no tags

#wolfatrest - 16 posts

#answered - 11 posts

#open - 10 posts

#arcxnumvitae - 8 posts

#hunter and executioner - 7 posts

#baring fangs with a rabbit's heart - 6 posts

#the beta hunter - 5 posts

#strawberryxdreams - 5 posts

#the bad luck charm - 5 posts

#cxrsedsouls - 4 posts

Longest Tag: 73 characters

#of course he would just casually drink while looking at a bar fight go on

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Aspis

Send me the name of one of my Muses you want to learn more about, and I’ll ramble about them.

My boy! (something goes wrong) My boy! (Father help--)

Now that that's out the way. Aspis has held the place for like...my favorite to torment for years. Like even Samir and Artemis are way less time than I've ruminated on all the ways that it could go wrong for this boy. There's stuff I haven't even written on the blog or chats because it's just my special brand of fucked up and/or extreme self-indulgence. And I apologize in advance because this probably the most rambling and least cohesive of the ones I have written.

The fact there are so many bad ends I've concocted just tells me Aspis is hanging onto his sanity by a thread. One that is frayed and staying with hopes and prayers. He is also one of the biggest proof that bonds are the way to go if someone for some reason wants to save my muse. Like he is the biggest derailment of his original plot. Like to the point, I'm almost going to toss the original plot. And this is not a complaint! I'm genuinely intrigued as to how one can, essentially, have their fate changed.

That being said, I have given enough ambiguous plot points to have any number of weird things go on for him. Namely his strong spiritual power, being from a supposedly long dead family line, and his sketchy adolescence. Like it sounds like a lot of things but the point for me is to give possibilities, not all of them would ever be pursued but it gives the opportunity.

Like with the spiritual power, there's so many things. From seeing some interesting things while a lot of the world will not notice. As well as stuff like possession, probably a good sacrifice to some gateway to hell (thanks for that F.atal F.rame), and of course interactions with the dead. All are things that could be fun to explore and because Aspis is inexperienced with this power, just...room for either funnies or really sad things because he doesn't know a better way.

His family line has had all sorts of things associated with them but because of their nature, it's not clear what's true and what's legend. And as it's pretty much also lost itself, Aspis doesn't know what they are either. The funniest thought I had about it was if there was some long lived being that was like ‘hey, your family said they’d do x or I have a score to settle from y years ago.’ Cliché but I do love those ones. 

There’s also the idea that his family were ‘beloved’ for some reason. I have thought about if this ‘affection’ is...not quite good. The most specific was like some angelic-like being that wanted a songbird...because their musical talent is the only thing that I can admit is canon amongst them (there are several muses from the same bloodline as Aspis but they’re separated by like...centuries). There has also been the consideration that someone in his family had ended up being ‘blessed’ by the god of destruction, currently going by Noctis, which showing up now for Aspis turns into more of curse. And considering he’s already cursed, really blows.

His dubious adolescence is probably the most recent development but one I’m rather fond of because it gives opportunity to meet other muses of dubious background. And it could be friendship, could be mentorship, could be ‘oh god, I stole from them. Fu--’ anything goes. And it just ends up being almost comical because his friends think he’s just sweet and good and how ever could he end up with anything seedy? Aspis is just a nice contradiction like that. And this was between his training to become a hunter so there is the question of how he had time...and really it just goes with his surprisingly self-destructive being. 

I’m not sure if it was ever made known to others but Aspis had an insane workaholic-like time frame for years between his cadet years and becoming good friends with his coworkers in the European branch of the Bastion. Like since he was unsupervised anyway, he spent that time basically getting money to get him a better start for his hunter career equipment wise and training himself...unconventionally in the process. And when he did get licensed, he spent so much time making up for failed assignments with others so that he didn’t fall behind. Think like...black company sort of overtime, that’s what Aspis was up to.

Okay I gotta stop somewhere or I’ll spend all night on like....all the terrible stuff that is up with this boy. I know certain people will be like ‘let him rest’ and I am like ‘tell him that!’ 

6 notes - Posted March 12, 2022

#4

Not me sprinting onto here so I can say ‘Happy Birthday’ to my sunshine boy before the day ends. 

6 notes - Posted March 28, 2022

#3

meals: how many meals does my muse eat a day? what do they generally consist of? Arty

"...huh, I don't really keep count to be honest," Artemis admitted, "I eat when I'm able. So it could be as many as five and as little as none. Right now...it's whenever I feel like it so at least twice? Maybe? And what that consists of, whatever I have or can make. I'm not picky and it's not like I can't go to a shop and buy something. Or forage if I needed to."

6 notes - Posted February 13, 2022

#2

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Percy demanded from above, “that’s history you’re destroying!”

6 notes - Posted July 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

You never realize how much you miss having a long bathroom mirror until you wear cute clothes and can't find a way to show that off.

12 notes - Posted March 2, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #ngl #I didn't think a munday post would be popular ever

[sarsaparillia]

title: dead sexy summary: Wrapped up so nice, spider legs and pretty bows. — F!Hawke/Isabela.

rating: T-ish word count: 1000~ genre: christmas but make it horror and take all of the christmas out except a little bit notes: listen I’m not saying this is directly a result of my watching Nightmare Before Christmas last night but I’m also not not saying that, ykwim? 1 / 1

AO3 | FFN

—

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"So," says Hawke, with her hands shoved into her pockets and her face turned up towards the sky. "I suppose I owe you an apology."

The woman lounging at the top of the hill pauses to look over her shoulder, the bottle of shimmer-rot hovering a split hairsbreadth from her mouth. She's been drinking; it stains her sewn lips poison-apple, and she looks an inch from death's door. Deadly nightshade perfection, truly.

"Oh?" Isabela drawls. The sound carries over the golden light of the full moon, the perfect winter-freezing stillness in the air. "What for, Skeleton King?"

Hawke loves her like delirium. "Do you want a list?"

READ THE REST

#dragon age #da2 #f!hawke #f!hawke x isabela #hawkebela #fanfiction #quite possibly the most self-indulgent thing i've ever written #my writing #merry christmas y'all i hope you're all warm and comfortable and safe

[spectaclespencer]

Finding Family // Stepdad!Spencer x Child!Reader

A/N; This is my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins ‘s Father’s Day challenge! I may or may not have used inspiration from my own life...however I tried to make this as accessible and relatable as possible. I chose a combination from many of the prompts, but I’d say the most relevant is, “Child gives their Father a meaningful gift.” Happy reading everyone! **Please note this is the first fic I've written in many years so I'm rusty.

Summary; Fem!Reader is upset on father’s day, but her mood is lifted when her mother’s boyfriend moves in.

Category; Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Content Warnings; Mentions of past death, brief mention of a case

Word Count; 3.7k

Nearly everything about Father’s Day always made ____’s mood to worsen. It was a little awkward, especially at school. Most kids didn’t understand the concept of only having one parent around. Growing up her classes would make fun little gifts each year such as cards, painted mugs, bookmarks...almost anything you could think of. It was fun for the most part, for most students, but there were a few that just didn’t have strong father figures in their life; ____ being one of them. She understood how it was a ‘necessary’ thing to be included in primary school, but couldn’t help but feel excluded from the rest of the class.

It got quite repetitive to hear a teacher instruct the class to share their favourite stories of their father, meanwhile ____ had next to nothing to give. Through the 8 years of it she’d gotten mostly desensitized to it, but alas come every Father’s Day there would be a tinge of sadness in the air. ____ knew it wasn’t her or her mother’s fault, or even her biological father’s. Whoever that may be.

He had passed away when she was young, at around 6 years old. It wasn’t enough time to recall any memories or special occasions between the two. There were a few family photos strung around their apartment but nothing that sparked any real joy or comfort. Not even ____’s mother liked to speak of it. Even though it had been 12 years since his passing, it still felt like a fresh wound on many days. Every Christmas, birthday, graduation, summer holiday, and of course Father’s Day.

A part of her just wanted to fit the standard commonly seen in movies. She would watch The Parent Trap, hoping maybe he was out there and not actually dead. And hey, maybe she’d get a sister out of it too. She would watch Mamma Mia with her mother every few months, having the same sort of bond between Sophie and Donna. One of her all time favourites however, had almost nothing to do with the concept of fathers. She especially loved Finding Nemo. As silly as it may sound, sometimes she just wanted to recline into her younger self and indulge in the magic of Pixar and Disney. Sometimes she just wanted a picture perfect family.

And now, on this fine afternoon of June 19, that was exactly what she was doing. Curled up on the couch with a blanket over her body. It was surprisingly cold around their home, the weather turning to rain. It was odd for this time of year but it seemed to somewhat fit ____’s mood. Watching tv on weekend mornings was a fun enough pastime.

“I think Roger wanted you.”

____ looked up to see her mother’s boyfriend walk into the living room space, holding her cat in his arms.

“Is it okay if I put him down on your legs? I noticed he likes to curl up between them. Did you know that cats typically feel safe when they’re surrounded by objects acting as walls? It’s more comforting for them to know they’re protected while they’re sleeping,” he rambled, taking a seat on the couch near ____’s feet.

“Yeah that’s fine,” she replied, sitting up to make more room for the cat. “Thanks Spencer.”

“You’re welcome. What is it you’re watching?”

“Finding Nemo, have you not ever seen it?” She chuckled, glancing up at him. He lightly shook his head, a small frown appearing on his face.

“No, no I haven’t. I don’t have to go to work for another hour, is it alright if I sit and watch with you? I can leave if I’m being a bother,” he said, looking over to her for approval. It was Saturday which meant he had some paperwork to finish up this afternoon at the office. She was glad he always respected her space. He never crossed a boundary, never came closer unless she specifically asked him to. It was nice to know that he truly did care for her.

“That’s fine.”

With her approval, he settled into the couch to make himself more comfortable. He reached over to pet the cat, who had just fallen asleep on ____’s blanket. His light purrs filled the room, along with the hum of the television.

At the moment, ____’s mother was at her work where she managed a coffee shop. ____ wasn’t much of a sucker for romance, but it was a bit of a cute story on how her mother and Spencer met; one of those classic rom com situations.

He began going to the cafe every morning before work, since the BAU got a new coffee supplier and it wasn’t as good as the old stuff. It was more bitter, meaning he had to use more sugar. Using his better knowledge, he chose to try a new place to get coffee so long as it doesn’t worsen his health too much. The cafe was just across the metro station that he took to work, and one day it caught his eye. It took him almost four months to be able to even speak a word to ____’s mother. He was infatuated with her, only mumbling a few words here and there. He admired from a distance, too afraid to strike up a real conversation. Eventually he did, and they went out a few times. He took her out to film festivals, museums, picnocs, anything you could think of. He learned that her daughter loved to read-one things they have in common-and the three of them’s first meeting was at the local library. They all got along well after that. That was about three years ago now, and they’ve been together ever since.

The both of them sat through the movie for the next hour, sometimes chatting about the plot or whatever marine fact Spencer could offer; such as that there were around 30 species in the clownfish family. They managed to finish the whole thing, with a few minutes left to spare before he had to leave.

“Hey, I have some reading I wanna do and I don’t want to be here alone right now so can I walk with you? I’m gonna go to the cafe and see my mum.”

“Yeah of course. Give me 5 minutes and we’ll leave,” he smiled, nodding his head. He stood up to go into the bedroom to retrieve his work satchel.

When waiting, ____ went into her own room to pull on a sweater and grab her backpack with her book and materials in it.

“I was thinking chinese for dinner if that sounds okay? I’ll check with your mum when we see her but I can pick it up on my way back from work,” Spencer called out.

____ nodded at him when they both emerged from their separate rooms.

They then headed out the door, Spencer locking it behind them.

-----

“Can I ask you something?” ____ questioned, looking up to her left at Spencer.

“Anything, yeah,” he said in confirmation, sending a reassuring smile her way. “Is everything okay?”

“It is, yeah,” she sighed, biting her bottom lip nervously. “Why don’t you live in the apartment with us? I mean, you practically do anyways. A lot of your stuff is there.”

“Oh…” he trailed off, stopping in his tracks. He brought his right hand up to run over his neck, looking down at the ground. “Look, ____-”

“I’m just curious.”

“A-and that’s fine! To be honest your mother and I haven’t talked about it too much. Not for a while, actually. Um, here why don’t we sit down,” he gestured ahead to a bench in the park they’d been crossing through. Once they were both seated, he took a minute to try and collect his thoughts, his brain going a mile a minute. “Last time we discussed it was about a year ago. It seemed like, I dunno, maybe it would be a good idea? But uh, after thinking about it more I declined. I just didn’t want to invade your space. A-and I hope you can tell me if I ever do, I wanna be able to communicate with you both to the fullest extent. It’s important that everyone gets a say in what happens.”

____ nodded in agreement, signalling him to carry on.

“I was scared if we moved too fast you’d become uncomfortable,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I asked if we could wait until we were sure that you’d be okay. Because as much as I love your mother, it just wouldn’t work unless you were on board. Is that, maybe a conversation that we could start having again?”

She thought for a moment, going over a few possibilities. She honestly had just been afraid to bring it up, in case there was something or a reason she didn’t know about. She knew that she enjoyed Spencer’s company. The days when she would wake up to her mother and Spencer on the couch drinking coffee were peaceful, she could get used to more of that. And their unofficial movie nights that they’d have. Once a month on a Saturday they would order in food and would rotate everyone choosing a film. Tonight happened to be ____’s turn, to her delight. Not so much the adults’ as they have quite a different taste in the media however they never once complained.

“I think… I think that Roger and I would be open to that,” she smiled, looking down at her hands. It did seem nice, considering how much Roger enjoyed Spencer’s company. It’s always been said that cats are good judges of character, right?

“Are you sure? I won’t talk to your mum unless you’re sure. Except if you want to do it yourself, you can go ahead. Whatever you want,” he sent her a tight lipped smile, resembling a frog.

“It would be nice. I wouldn’t mind at all.”

____ then looked up at Spencer, to see him grinning at her. She returned the look, being excited for their future.

“Okay,” he replied softly, practically beaming with joy now. “We should get going, unless you need a minute.”

“I’m good, let’s go.”

The two of them stood back up, dopey smiles on their faces. It took them only 10 more minutes to reach the cafe.

“My favourite customers!” ____’s mother called as soon as she saw them walk in. “How are you both today? Sorry I couldn’t be there when you guys woke up.”

“Good. I just wanted to stop by on my way to work. We decided on Chinese tonight so I’ll pick it up on my way back. I love you but I have to go. I'm already running late,” Spencer breathed, giving his girlfriend a kiss on the cheek and sending a wave to ____.

She returned it, shifting her attention towards her mother. “Can I have a tea please? Do you have some time right now?”

“For my best girl? Absolutely. Go get us a table. I'll be right over,” her mother said with a crinkle of her eyes.

____ followed directions and set up shop at one of the tables near a small fireplace. They were her favourite since they had the most comfortable chairs. She would know, considering she was the one who picked them out. The sewn details reminded her of the couch at the apartment, the one that Roger liked to sit on the most. The cafe was like a second home to the three of them.

“How’s your day been, spend any time with Spencer?” her mother interrupted her thoughts, setting down two cups of tea on the chestnut table in front of them.

“Finding Nemo again,” ____ laughed, taking a sip of her beverage. “We were talking, about uh, about living together. Officially.”

“Oh!” She looked surprised.

“That’s the same reaction he had, actually. He said you were waiting to make sure I’d be okay with it. And I am, really. I appreciate that.”

“I didn’t want to put any pressure or spring it on you or anything. How did this come up? Did he ask you, or…?”

“No, I initiated it. So what do you think? Yes? He said he’d want to.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” she responded, moving from the chair across from ____ to the one directly beside her. She pulled ____ closer to her, kissing her head. “I’m glad you told us. Anything in particular that sparked this up?”

“Not really. I guess it’s just been a thought in the back of my head for a while.”

-----

“I’m home!” Spencer sang, arriving back at around 7pm. He shuffled through the door, careful not to drop the bag of food wedged between his left hand and chin. Sliding his shoes off, he made his way through the place to the kitchen, setting the bag down with a grunt. “Hello?”

“Hi honey, sorry I didn’t hear you come in. How was work?” ____’s mother smiled, coming out of her bedroom. “Get all your paperwork done?”

“I did,” Spencer nodded in response, wrapping her in his arms and sighing deeply. “It was easy, even with Derek trying to mess with me all day. So, normal I guess you could say,” he pulled back, placing his right hand on her cheek and the other on her hip.

“Glad to hear it. ____’s in her room, she’ll probably be out soon. Looking for a movie I presume.”

Spencer hummed at that. “You think it’s gonna be another Legally Blonde night?”

“That’s very possible,” she laughed, wrapping her hands around the back of Spencer’s neck. “She told me you guys talked.”

“Yeah. I hope that was okay,” he paused, trying to read the expression on her face. “What do you think about it?”

“Would I want my lovely boyfriend to move in with us?” She pretended to ponder the thought, cocking her head to the side. Spencer grinned, moving his hand from her cheek to brush away hair from her forehead. “I’d love that. I love you, Spencer.”

“I love you too,” he whispered, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to her lips. It didn’t last long, an interruption coming short thereafter.

“Okay that’s enough of that, please,” ____ spoke, walking into the kitchen.. She watched them break apart, Spencer’s classic blush painting over his cheeks and down his neck. “Not in front of my Chow Mein, thank you very much.”

“What, no kissing?” ____’s mum asked, stepping over to her daughter and placing a big smooch on her cheeks and forehead, making sure to be as dramatic as she could. She puckered her lips as ____ tried to squirm away, but to no avail.

“Okay, fine! Whatever, just stop slobbering over me,” ____ shouted, trying not to laugh. She pushed her mother off, back towards Spencer’s chest. “You both are disgusting.”

“Oh be quiet, you love us,” her mother giggled, pulling Spencer’s arms back over her body. “Why don’t you go set up the movie? We’ll plate everything.”

____ saluted them both before heading through the short hall to the living room. Spencer and her mother could hear her go on to Roger about how ridiculous they were. ‘Can you believe them, cat?’ She was returned with a faint meow. ‘I know, I know.’

“I was thinking, why wait any longer? We should make it official this weekend,” ____’s mum stated, turning her attention back to Spencer.

“Really?” Spencer asks, face lighting up instantly.

“If that’s okay with you, then absolutely. I don’t wanna wait any longer. We can start moving stuff tomorrow. Whad’ya say?”

“I say, definitely. Sounds perfect.”

The night was filled with nothing but laughter and smiles from all parties, feeling at peace with the upcoming change.

-----

The next day, they were all up early and headed over to Spencer’s apartment to start packing. They grabbed boxes on the way to make it easier, and Derek said they could give him a call when it was time to move most things over. It would be easier with his truck, rather than making ten or so different trips.

“I was thinking, we could bring a few pieces of furniture over and then donate the rest,” Spencer suggested, surveying his living room. “So pick stuff that you’d prioritize. Or if you need anything for the cafe, then go ahead.”

“I think it’s mostly clear. Do you want to keep your reading chair? We could keep it in the bedroom or the office.”

“Oh, good idea,” Spencer responds to his girlfriend as he steps over to said chair and places a yellow sticky note on the top.

The system is that the yellow marked pieces are coming with them, and the pink ones stay for now. It was easier to stay organized this way.

The next four hours were filled with frantic movements, trying to get everything ready. Spencer noticed ____ admiring a few books on his shelves, and he offered to let her borrow them. She refused at first, not wanting to possibly wreck them but he insisted, so she eventually accepted. There was a half empty bookshelf in the office, and the two of them decided to fill it with as much as they could. Spencer had a pair of mis-matched chairs, and he thought it’d be a great addition to the space as well.

----

“I’m gonna go down and bring the last bag up from the car. You two, keep working,” ____’s mum exhaled, making her way back out the door and down the stairs. They’ve returned to the main apartment, only having a few things to bring upstairs.

____ took this time to slip into her room, and retrieve a small wooden box.

“Hey, Spencer?”

“Yes?” He acknowledged, not looking up from his task, which happened to be the unwrapping of a box of books. They were currently in the home office, taking care of that room first.

“Here,” she said, lips pulled back into a line. She reached her hand out, offering the box. He looked up at that, eyebrows furrowed. He pulled his bottom lip behind his teeth and took it from her as he stood up from his kneeling position on the ground.

“What’s this?” he asked, marvelling at the object in his hands.

“A moving in gift of sorts. Open it,” ____ breathed, becoming nervous and fidgeting with her fingers.

“Oh, thank you, you didn’t have to get me anything…” he paused, seeing what was placed inside. It was a bookmark that looked handmade out of brown paper, with gold detailing. On one side it read ‘Happy Father’s Day, to the best kind-of dad ever,’ in what he presumed to be ____’s handwriting. The other was her signed name, with a smiley face next to it. He could feel the blood in his heart start to pump faster, and his grin grew even wider.

“Uh, this was the first time since primary school that we were instructed to make something for the holiday. Art class,” she chuckled. “I know it’s silly, since you read so fast so you won’t exactly need a bookmark, but this time I had someone in my life that I could see as a father. So thank you for that. I’m sorry if it’s weird. It was last minute and I wasn’t sure what to make,” she shook her head, starting to doubt herself. “Also, coincidence. The day you’re moving in.”

“No! No it’s not weird. I love it. I don’t even know what to say,” he choked out, eyes starting to glaze over. “It’s so beautiful.”

“Oh, okay good I’m glad you like it,” ____ beamed.

“Look,” he began. “I know I’m not your father, ____. But I still love you as if you were my own daughter. And I don’t mean to act as a replacement. I know your father was a wonderful man, and both you and your mother loved him. I also know that he loved you,” Spencer said softly, rubbing the back of his eyes with his hand.

“Love you too, Spence. You’re the closest thing I have to a real dad, and I’m glad that it’s you,” ____ replied, returning his smile. “I’m happy you’ll be around here more.”

“Me too.”

“Happy Father’s Day, Spencer,” ____ cried, walking over to him and embracing him in a hug. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, and he did the same.

He placed his chin upon her head, letting tears of joy fall free. They held each other for a little while longer, pure happiness radiating off of them both.

The next years of their lives were filled with nothing but delight, with of course a few rocky moments. Spencer let ____ and her mother paint his nails sometimes, and he takes quite a liking to them. It became a tradition after he returned from hard cases. There were ones when the unsub was targeting young girls where he would come home and hug ____ extra hard. He was so proud of her when she graduated high school, and was there when she was dropped off at college. He would take her to Take Your Child To Work days, and the whole team adored her. She would call Spencer in the middle of the night when she was sad and away from home, because she didn’t want to worry too much. Spencer even got to walk ____ down the aisle, as she did the same for her mother at her and Spencer’s wedding. There were photos of the three of them and more of ____’s father hung up around the apartment. Everything was amazing, and they were all so thankful to have each other.

It may not be in blood, but their little found family was perfect.

-----

Please tell me your thoughts on this work here! I'd appreciate any and all feedback.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid self insert #criminal minds fanfiction #matthew gray gubler fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #mgg #gublernation

[plaidcladjuno]

I don’t know what it is about this show that is getting me to write more than I ever have before, but I sincerely hope it doesn’t stop anytime soon. (Well, the show is going to stop, sooner than I’m ready for, but at least we’ll still have fandom.)

Anyway, is this the fluffiest, most self-indulgent thing I've written to date? Quite possibly, yes. But you know what? These characters all deserve it.

harmony

🌵 TanBunn, ThatSorn | Manner of Death

🌵 G | ~ 2,000 words

🌵 short & sweet, domestic fluff, found family, post-canon

Just one happy, sunny morning at TanBunn's house in the woods, feat. That and Sorawit.

READ IT >HERE< ON AO3!

#manner of death #tanbun #tanbunn #thatsorn #mod fanfiction #juno writes

[iwaqchan-archive]

-author's note: oh man this is actually the first thing i've written that wasn't requested, since like i posted the kirishima dating headcanons, but i thought i would post something that isn't a request for a change to get myself out of that weird funk i've been in for a while, so i hope you enjoy them guys! (also i rlly can't believe i've never gotten around to do headcanons for todoroki)

@amaamajiki thank you for listening to my annoying rambling about my writing (and also for telling me to be a bit self indulgent, it truly helped!!!) (also you are wonderful, just wanted to get that out there)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ ｡ﾟ･ ───

☆.｡.:* getting together .｡.:*☆

• oh boy

• we all are very well aware of the fact that shouto is one dense baby boy. like super dense. so dense in fact, that it took him literal m o n t h s to figure out that you had been flirting with him this whole time.

• you see, he liked you, a lot. even if he wasn't exactly sure what he was feeling. and i mean who could blame him, he didn't exactly have a good (or healthy) example of how relationships or the whole courting process works. so he was kinda a bit baffled?¿ like why was his heart beating so rapidly whenever you were near him??

• super confused. it literally took, ochaco, tenya and izuku to tell him that what he was feeling, was in fact, love. or a crush at the least. this confused him even more, because what was he supposed to do now? he wasn't really good with words, so telling you at this point in time wasn't an option. so he opted to wait and see how this whole "having feelings" thing would develope.

• what he didn't know tho, was that ochaco actually went and told you about how todoroki feels about you. which made you absolutely ecstatic. but honestly you didn't want to full on confront him about it either, because you knew about his hardships and didn't want to like overburden him. instead you decided to go about this lowkey and letting him make to first move, as to not make him uncomfortable

• aka, you started subtly flirting with him, making him lunch, inviting him to study with you, etc. all with the hope of him picking up on your hints, and ask you out.

• which didn't happen....at least not for a while. you would try everything in the realm of possibility, while still wanting to make sure not to make him uncomfortable. but honestly it was getting a bit...frustrating. he wasn't picking up any of your hints, like at all.

• it even went so far that your classmates would make very obvious comments, while the two of you were conversing, and every single time they would fly straight over his head. which in turn would make you even more frustrated.

• all of this reached a tipping point, when the two of you were walking back from grabbing lunch, which you even paid for, and were talking about a training exercise you did earlier that day. you were complimenting his quirk, and his battle finess, and also making very obvious statements about how good he looked while fighting bakugou.

• and yet, he still didn't get it. and at that, you kind of started crying? your frustration getting the better of you. and poor shouto was bamboozled as hell, looking like a puppy caught in the rain. he didn't know what the hell was going on.

• until you basically told him how much you liked him, and that you thought he liked you too, because uraraka said so and that everything you did the past few months were dropping hints in hopes of him picking up on them.

• literal lightbulbs lit up in his head, as he gently took a hold of your hands, and apologized in that sweet, monotone voice of his. this time you were dumbfounded, not at all expecting such a bold move from him.

• but you ended up talking it out that day, and well the rest is history

☆.｡.:* finally dating .｡.:*☆

• a sweet, sweet boy, trying his absolute best.

• like i said earlier, he didn't have a good example of how a functional relationship is supposed to look like. so in the beginning he will be quite hesitant to initiate physical contact, or well, anything really.

• he really doesn't want to make you uncomfortable and to be honest, he also wasn't really sure what was appropriate and what not. so it will be up to you to show him.

• i don't think he will ever be the biggest fan of pda, at least not the 'making out in front of a bunch of people' kind of pda. he prefers a more subtle form of public affection. like hand holding, cheek kisses, and the like.

• shouto is also a very perceptive person, and while he can be quite dense at times, he somehow always finds the right words for any situation. if you were feeling insecure, he will tell you in the most sincere way possible that there is absolutely no need to doubt yourself, because you have your own unique strenghts and qualities. feeling sad? he will offer you his shoulder to cry on, and his ears to listen to your worries and concerns.

• also loves buying you expensive things (of course, with his father's money). you see a nice dress in shop window? he will drag you into the store and make you try it on, and then get it for you. also shares all of his accounts with you, like netflix and what other services endeavor pays for.

• he also pays for most of your dates, even if you tell him he rlly does not have to. and he mostly just does it to piss off his father. so, it really isn't a rarety that you two would dine at luxurious restaurants every once in a while.

• speaking of dates; mostly you two wouldn't go out a lot. you prefered to stay indoors and just bask in each other's company. often you would sit on the couch and just read a book, either together or each of you reading your own. it actually became one of your favourite activities.

• his siblings, absolutely adore you. fuyumi and natsuo are overjoyed every time shouto announces that you will be staying for dinner, or generally coming over to their house. they are incredibly grateful that their baby brother found a lovely partner that accepts him just as he is, and shows him the love and support he was devoided of as a child.

☆.｡.:* kisses .｡.:*☆

• he is such a gentle lover, and the same can be said about his kisses aswell. there rarely is a time when he uses force, except when he is jealous or extremely emotional.

• shouto is also a touchy kisser, he wasn't at first, too scared of overstepping boundaries, but after a while he starting getting bolder. usually one hand would hold your waist, or situate itself on yor lower back, and the other would either wind itself in your hair (if he is feeling particularly needy) or tenderly hold your jaw.

• needless to say, every kiss you share with this boy is incredibly special and meaningful. since he isn't the best with words, he is extra careful to show his feelings through his actions, and what better way is there than to make you absolutely breathless every time you kissed?

• your first kiss; was unexpected? in all honesty it was actually an accident, it was that cliché move of you wanting to kiss his cheek, and him turning his head a bit too early and in turn, pressing his lips to yours. you both were quite embarrassed at first, until you got your bearings back and eventually leaned in for a proper kiss this time

• (natsuo loves teasing him whenever he catches you two being all lovely dovey and sharing sweet kisses on his living room couch, much to shouto's embarrassment)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ ｡ﾟ･ ───

requests: open

#todoroki shouto x reader #shouto todoroki imagine #bnha fanfiction #bnha one shot #bnha imagine #bnha writings #mha x reader #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero headcanons #bnha headcanons #todoroki imagine #todoroki x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto imagine