@inkyarcturus is the person who inspired my Neville x Harry fic, plus for me to reread the books, and I finally figured out how to tag them but it won't let me edit my other post. So thank you @inkyarcturus
RMH

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shark vs the universe
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let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
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@themoonandtheprincess
@inkyarcturus is the person who inspired my Neville x Harry fic, plus for me to reread the books, and I finally figured out how to tag them but it won't let me edit my other post. So thank you @inkyarcturus

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How would you guys feel about a HP fanfiction, BUT i haven't read it since I was 11 and it would be Harry x Neville because what I DO remember is Neville needs more love. (I'd be going along and writing the fic as i read the books. So knowing Joanne, there'd be lots of inconsistency and other things to patch up too.) Anyway, it's based off an idea by inkyarcturus about Slytherin! Harry x Neville, so please visit their page I have no idea how to tag them.
yes please, what a beautiful rarepair and opportunity to fix plotholes
no. who even ships anyone with neville besides luna
this is an actual pairing?!
unorganized bits from my Toy Story fanfiction that's taking too long. Along with my OC, Cristal, the Dollar General off brand Barbie
Andy pulls and pulls the string until Woody can feel the pain in his back.
“Some- “You’re- “Ride-“
His mother stands by the sink doing dishes, slightly grinding her teeth at each pull before she wipes her hands off on a dish towel and grabs Woody from Andy.
“Why don’t you go play outside, Andy?” His mom asks, opening the back door for him. “And I’ll make sure your new toy isn’t hurt.”
She places Woody on a shelf next to oriental plates from Andy’s grandma and Woody watches his mom do the dishes for the next fifteen minutes. It’s only until Andy comes back inside, jumping and rattling the plates that Woody is shocked out of his boredom. He grabs the broom and immediately pretends it’s a horse, scooching close to his mom in front of the sink until the handle presses into her side.
“Andy-” she gritted through her teeth.
“It’s okay, mama.” Andy smiled. “He’s my horse, you can pet him.”
Andy’s mom sighs but reluctantly takes her hand out of the dish water and pets the broom ‘horse.’ “Now, please, please, go outside, Andy.”
Andy nods enthusiastically and races to the door, swinging the broom around as he goes and standing on his tiptoes to grab Woody. Right as his right hand grabs Woody, the broom swings downward and the handle hits the plates on the lower shelves. They landed in pieces around Andy’s feet almost in perfect circle that he carefully steps over, then sprinting when on safe ground.
“I’m going to Sid’s, mama.” Andy shouted as he dashed, turning backwards slightly to see her angered expression.
“Are you okay at least?” She asks, but it’s lost as Andy fumbles with the fence door between their houses. For some reason he still grips onto the broom but manages to open to door with his hands full.
●●●●
Sid begins to play his broom like a rock guitar and Andy went back to pretending his was a horse and they stay playing like that for a while, until their brooms accidently clash together and Sid grows a devilish grin on his face.
“Sword fight?” He suggest.
“Sword fight.”
Dried dirt is kicked up as they back away from each other, pointing their brooms at each other and standing straight up like a real knight.
“For honor!”
“And for glory!”
They rush at each other and the sound of the handles clicking together makes Woody cringe. He’s thankful the Good Fairy had enough foresight to turn him vinyl at least and not porcelain. At some point they become ninjas with katanas and swing the brooms in wide circles. Andy’s broom accidentally slams into Sid’s mouth and Woody fights the urge to giggle.
“Sid! Are you okay?” Andy asked, panicked.
“What do you think.” Sid’s voice is muffled from his hand as he holds his jaw, spots of blood running down.
“Did you loose any teeth?”
Sid spits lazily towards Woody’s direction and a glob of spit and blood land next to his boot.
●●●●
“It’s hard to get played with.” Cristal interrupts. “My plastic isn’t the best so my head is very squishy. It made my limbs really stiff too. Plus my nose is wide. I just don’t know why I can’t be as beautiful as the Walmart dolls.”“Oh honey, you are beautiful.” Bo comforted. “You don’t have to be a Rainbow High doll to see that.”
●●●●
“You may now kiss the bride.” Jessie flips the toilet paper veil over Buzz’s helmet and leans into kiss him. Her head smooches against the plastic dome in a way that would make her nose bleed if she was human again, and Bonnie giggle as she fusses with Buzz’s buttons.
●●●●
Bo stares at Andy and touches the bandage on her right arm. “Do you think Molly…”
“No, Bo. I’m sorry.” Woody said. His hand rest on top of hers and brings her down onto the grass. There’s silence for a while except for Bo’s sniffles as they take in a growing Bonnie and an even more grown Andy. “It’s okay. I think I knew that.” She said, leaning against his soft cotton body. “Was she your kid after Andy?”
“She was.” Woody confirmed softly. “It was nice to have a kid again. And the way Bonnie played was so much more than how Andy did. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I, more than anyone, loved how Andy played, but good-guy-vs-bad-guy gets old after awhile.”
Bo smiles softly at him and snapped his string.
●●●●
“So how are you related to Bonnie?” Blaze asked as they walked inside.
“I’m her godfather.”
Sid blew smoke out and grinned up at Andy before he closed the door. “Can I be The Godfather?”
Woody lets out a huff of a laugh. Of course The Godfather would be one of Sid’s favorite movies.
“You can be the Good Fairy.” Andy replied and walked inside.
●●●●
“Are you death?” She asked, rubbing the tears into her cheeks.“No,” the woman said. “I am your Good Fairy.”
●●●●
Woody grips the edge of the top bath and pulls himself up. A Dollar General Barbie perks up as he struggles to gets up and helps him to the top.
“We’re here to help.” He said, standing up fully on the top level Woody can see the entirety of the grandparents backyard. It makes Bo and Duke look tiny and the garden that wasn’t that far away look miles away. The tomatoes look like they’re dancing side-to-side and Woody grips onto the fountain the more he looks down.
“Okay.” He said. “Here’s the plan: we’re going to the bottom level and then jump off onto that landing pad.” He points to the landing pad Duke set up and Cristal shakes as she barely leans over to look at it.
“Is it safe?” She asked.
“It is. Just don’t look down.” Woody confirmed.
The Social Network but instead the plot is the one from Monsters University. Eduardo definitely fits as Sully, they both got that weird absent but high expecting dad thing going on, plus they're kinda jockish and a whore. (Plus ignore that i called Sully from MU a whore please.) Mark would be Mike, just the little guy trying to make it big (we pretend this isn't the actual Mark Zuckerberg) and he's being bullied by the headmistress and frat guys. Then he enters a scare contest and Eduardo is there and it's like a test for if he can get in (like with the chicken.) And idk how but they join forces and fall in love.
How would you guys feel about a Dark! Andrew + Dark! Emma + Kidnapped!/ Manipulated! Jesse fic? (Basically Jesse is kidnapped/held hostage by them but it's more of a Stockholm Syndrome type fic.)
Yes, totally
Nope

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Guys, if you're writing a superhero fanfiction and it's the after-a-fight scene with concern, tending to wounds, hurt/comfort, and the SUPERHERO is injured but the love interest can't tell because they have their suit on, which is more heartbreaking?
Are you hurt?
Did they hurt you?
How bad is it?
Let me see.
Title: Rules and Regulations
Fandom: The Social Network, RPF
Pairing: Jesse Eisenberg/Andrew Garfield, Mark Zuckerberg/Eduardo Saverin
Summary: Jesse is in a grumpy mood and has a rare tantrum. Andrew needs to show him that just won't do.
It's hard for Jesse to ask for what he wants. Severe anxiety and fear of being a burden serve as a roadblock between that and everything else in his life, but it's gotten better over the years with the help of Andrew and his therapist. He can look a waiter in the eye and confirm his order, and not want to fold in on himself when he tells them there's been a mistake. And he's gotten through his flight, mostly by sleeping and keeping episodes of Parks & Rec on his headphones. It's a calm ride to England, no sudden delay or burst of storm like he secretly thinks is going to happen, and the part of getting off the plane and past security went smoothly- as smoothly as you can on a transatlantic journey.
People swerve around him, in and out onto planes, and he stands in front of the luggage carousel waiting for his. His bag isn't remarkable, not bright pink and sparkly like the multiples he's seen before it will get to his, but it does have faded-out and peeling stickers of Spiderman on it. Many. The webslinger's face is all over the leather bag with different iterations thanks to every time he's visited Andrew. There's one with all three of the Spidermen's costumes with each labeled in dramatic font- Tobey, Andrew, Tom. There's also a few additions of Into the Spiderverse Spiderman and SpiderGwen that Jesse actually added after they had a movie date on Zoom. Andrew doesn't know about those ones yet.
Despite his ridiculous, almost first-grade Spiderman-obsessed bag, the airport manages to lose it. Jesse only realizes that until he's watching another spin of first-grader Gabby's Dollhouse-obsessed bags. He's going to have to wait, a bag check says. There's too many people coming on and off this very huge airport, and although Jesse doesn't think of himself as important enough to have his bag back now, he does think the very huge airport could do a better job at watching over people's stuff. But that's just not how airports work and it slips him into annoyance.
It sits in him, hard, for a little while and he decides to wait in the coffee shop they have attached. If he's lucky, he can keep the growing anxiety and irritation at bay and ward off the sudden shift in mood by texting Andrew, who's supposed to pick him up at noon. It is currently ten o'clock. He wonders what that translates to in New York time.
Jesse orders and waits. Texts Andrew and waits for a response and waits for his bag. The coffee comes first and he stirs the stirrer around, even more irritated not to hear a familiar tinkling of metal against ceramic like he would at home or how Andrew would with his tea, instead with the noise of the scratching of the paper bottom. He calculates how long it would take to scratch the bottom of the paper cup until the lukewarm coffee spilled onto his hands.
His bag comes second, long after he's finished his coffee, but takes a much longer time between sorting through other people’s luggage and the minuscule fear that he's accidentally picked up a drug cartel's bag and international security will have him arrested and he'll be sent to prison. Maybe they'll give him an audience with the Queen before they chop his head off.
But it is Jesse's bag- he triple checks the contents before taking it with him makes sure nobody snuck drugs inside- and goes to pickup, waiting for Andrew and a text back while picking at the stickers. It's a nice distraction from everything that's coming.
A brief memory of The Social Network crosses his mind, where Eduardo stands in the rain and tells Sean that Mark forgot to pick him up at the airport; then talking- arguing- about being the business end of the company with Mark. The correlation he sees of himself to such an awful person as Mark leaves a bad taste in Jesse's mouth and mood. He distracts himself with his phone.
Eventually, Andrew texts back and he immediately feels a mix of annoyed guilt that he thinks Edurado's name first. Andrew just doesn't have the personality to sink as low as Eduardo could- though Jesse believes he, himself, could shift to Mark. Because now he is becoming increasingly frustrated at his wonderful boyfriend even when he texted Running late, be there soon. There's a bit of irritation as Andrew lives close enough to the airport to be there at twelve and it was now one, but Jesse tells himself an hour difference isn't that big of a deal.
Andrew is just exhausted, Jesse tells himself. Both of them. Across the "Pond" trips will do that to you and Andrew was probably up most of the night buzzing with anticipation to see his boyfriend again, while Jesse spent most of the time on the flight, when not asleep or watching Parks & Rec, thinking about what the first thing he wanted to do with Andrew was.
Sex isn't the first thing on his mind when he thinks about seeing Andrew again, but it is still a thing on his mind. Andrew, through video chat or even simple text messages, knows how to move Jesse around like putting a puzzle together. Keeping him in balance and swatting off the weird flashbacks to The Social Network. Andrew gets them too. He calls it filming PTSD, due to how extensive it was on everyone, not just them, in every single way possible. Almost like a war veteran. He has a presiding part to Jesse; both him and Jesse's therapist tell Jesse to straighten his back and hold his head high with confidence he doesn’t really exude. But it doesn't matter to Andrew that that part is fake, he knows how to draw things out of Jesss he'd never tell his therapist.
Jesse wouldn't call himself submissive. He doesn't like that word. And he hates the way the public perceives him as some sort of shy, nerdy, anxiety-filled loser, barely interchangeable with Michael Cera, because Michael was in Barbie and Jesse was in The Social Network- both beautiful, thought-provoking films, a publicist would say, but come on it's Barbie. And if Jesse had a chance to run around in a giant pink world, he would. Thankfully though, Andrew doesn't look at him and go "Is that the Zombieland guy or the one from Superbad?" Andrew can bring out the- okay, fine- submissive part of him and it doesn't hurt. It doesn't feel embarrassing. It feels right. That matching part that Andrew has will keep him in control. And that's all Jesse has to say about that.
------
Jesse almost carjacks Andrew when he does pick him up.
The pickup line had been hell to get through and Andrew briefly wonders if this is what his mother had to go through every afternoon to pick him up from school. Albeit with less maybe more fighting. When he does get to Jesse, Andrew rolls down his window and gives him a cheesy smile to apologize for his lateness.
"I'm here to pick up a Mr. Eisenberg."
Jesse just smiles back in response, almost like he's trying to bite back a yawn or maybe a snarl at Andrew for being late, then tries to get in on the driver's side on the right. Andrew holds the door shut but kisses him through the rolled-down window. A year had passed since he'd seen Jesse in England, so he probably forgot that most things that were normal in America, were flipped in England. Like Healthcare being accessible.
"I don't trust an American's driving," Andrew tells him when they break apart. "Especially yours."
"Is that because we have entire sports dedicated to ruining cars?'
"Is that a sport?"
Jesse kisses him again for an answer instead.
"Let me in."
Jesse puts his stuff away in the backseat and gets in the right- well, left- side of the car. Then they're off and Jesse moves his body in what little amount the car will let him.
"How was the flight?" Andrew asks.
"Ugh," Jesse moans. "Wonderful."
He's restless as they talk, a tell-tale sign of his anxiety worsening. Andrew noted that early on before they started dating. It's just part of who he is, but there's a slight shift in it like a dial when they're finally on the road. Andrew picks up his hand that's tapping one-two-three, one-two-three against the console and kisses it at a red light. He catches Jesse's eye and instantly knows he's caught up in an endless vortex of memories. Andrew's not sure what to do about it other then wait it out. At least, that's what Andrew does.
"Hungry?"
Jesse blanks for a moment like he's recalibrating and trying to understand what hungry means.
"Um, no."
Andrew just rubs the kiss spot on Jesse's hand and drives when the light turns green. "Okay."
Jesse moves around in his spot again like a restless five-year-old, until he's facing Andrew, knees drawn up uncomfortably to his chest, and reaches in the backseat for a book. He ends up reading for the rest of the trip, which is fine by Andrew, but whatever ghost there is still follows them home and doesn't leave.
-------
Andrew's home is weird, uncomfortable around Jesse when they get there, heaving his one bag of luggage close to him for safety and familiarity. He's been in Andrew's house many times, but his mind has yet to unscramble even when Andrew gives him a soft peck on the cheek and he can hear all his joints pop from the long car ride.
"Do you want to take a bath, Jess?"
It takes a moment for him to realize that Andrew is asking him to join and wash off all the sweat and germs from the airplane. Jesse nods wordlessly, letting Andrew grab his hand a guide him to the attached bathroom to the bedroom. Andrew takes off Jesse's shirt for him, his breath coming out uneven for no particular reason; he's showered with Andrew plenty of times but a bath was somehow more intimate and closer- more care, more attention to detail towards him whenever Andrew undressed and soothed him. He stands there dumbly, left in pants and underwear, as he watches Andrew lean over the edge of the tub to feel the water, taking off his own clothes. Andrew raises an eyebrow at partially-clothed Jesse like both of them know he's already slipping, but drags him towards himself by the hips still, the small amount of water on his hand traveling down the back of Jesse's thigh and soaking into the fabric. He thinks of it being something other than water and his breath stutters.
"I missed you." Jesse says thickly, Andrew's lip swallowing up the words. Andrew smiles and downcast his eyes to the button on Jesse's pants and brings them down to his ankles, leaving him in his underwear.
"I missed you too."
It doesn't shock him, but it leaves a trail of goosebumps down Jesse's thigh when Andrew takes off his underwear, petting anywhere he can get his hands on the soft and pasty flesh. Andrew drags him into the tub. He's warm and his face flushes when Jesse's lanky body is barely accepted, lying on top of Andrew. Andrew smells nice, like the lavender soap in the shower caddy and Jesse kisses spots he knows Andrew sprays cologne on. His skin prickles in a pleasant way when Andrew finds his thighs, barely covered by water and already so sensitive. "A lot."
There's barely any room to turn but Jesse kisses the stubble on Andrew's throat in thanks and moves down to his shoulder. Another cologne spot. At some point Andrew grabs his ass and Jesse is so surprised he kicks water over the edge. The beard really helps Jesse differentiate Andrew versus Eduardo and he kisses along his jaw for more. Andrew caresses Jesse's ass and Jesse lets out a soft sigh at that. He needed more. He needed Andrew to know that.
"What's got you so upset tonight, sweetheart?" Andrew asks, suddenly letting go.
"I'm not upset, 'drew," Jesse states firmly, shutting his eyes when Andrew moves to find a vein on his dick.
"Jess."
"Andrew, I promise you I'm just tired."
The promise of sex in exchange for Jesse admitting why he was so off tonight hung over his head. But tonight, the off consumed him and in a rare act of defiance, Jesse told Andrew in what he tried to be a commanding tone that he was fine, better than fine now that they were together, and tried not to seem so desperate when Andrew let go completely.
"You need to talk to me, baby. I'm not letting you up until you tell me what's wrong." Andrew said, including cumming.
"Let me go, 'drew," Jesse whined, struggling half-assedly against him, water pouring over the lip of the tub again. The stress of The Social Network comes back like a headache and Jesse lets out a small cry when Andrew holds him down by the hollow of his hips. Jesse likes being held like this, likes how Andrew's thumbs put slight pressure on him and fingernails digging in like Eduardo would do to Mark, physical traces of forgiveness on his body that match the bruises. But that's the point; Eduardo was still there and he needed him out for such an intimate moment with Andrew. The other hand stroked the back of his knee, which was oddly more sensitive. Every place of his, Andrew knew.
It makes Jesse's legs shake in such a small space of the bathtub and suddenly he's becoming overstimulated, anxious, what people would use to describe when they hear Jesse Eisenberg. He needs to regulate himself. He doesn't want to admit all of whatever this is to Andrew. Without second thought, he moves them around the bath so he has enough time and space to spank Andrew with the same force Eduardo destroyed Mark's laptop with. Surprised, Andrew lets Jesse go and get out of the bath, legs still violently shaking and the firmness that he was correct in his decision, gone.
There is water absolutely fucking everywhere and it doesn’t help that Jesse is dripping wet and now has sunken down to his knees, trying the best he can to protect his ass before Andrew bring him up to spank him. Andrew gets out, drains the tub, and says nothing before the Eduardo part to Mark finds him. Andrew keeps a tight, insulted grip on Jesse's wet locks like a painful hold previews what's to come.
"Who the hell do you think you are?"
The heavy brattiness of Mark is gone before Jesse can blame it on him.
"I am so sorry, 'drew," Jesse is fully into that headspace now, one where he calls Andrew 'drew, lets him make decisions for him, and keeps the brattiness and grumpiness that Mark brings away. That isn't Mark but isn't himself either and is oddly more comforting. He lets Andrew help him up and cover him in a towel, the slight rage and disappointment from Jesse's attempted dominance still there, but the comfort and control- the match to Jesse's headspace- leaking in like the water around their feet. "Sir."
"I'm not asking you to apologize, Jess, I'm asking you who the hell you think you are to have the clearance to spank me."
Jesse flushes red and brings the towel around him to cover himself from that question and the guilt.
"Answer me, my love."
An easy, steady voice to follow and Jesse downcasts his eyes to a corner of the towel as he nervously messes with it.
"Not feeling like myself."
Jesse says it in a small voice, something Andrew hates when they take on these roles. He pushes the wet hair out of Jesse's eyes and grips his chin. The grip is different, tight almost like the soft dominant part of him was taken over by Eduardo. Whatever Eduardo is to Mark.
"Who do you feel like?"
Jesse licks his lips.
"Mark," is all he mumbles, avoiding Andrew's eyes and trying not to shiver at the cold bathroom.
Andrew nods, throwing his own damp towel into the laundry basket before leaving.
"Enough said. I want you standing and actually looking at me when you get in the bedroom." He turns back to Jesse. "And clean up the water too."
--------
Jesse mourns his actions heavily on the semi-dry bathroom floor, his cheeks turning red from the unfairness of it all. Indignation towards Mark was what The Social Network was about and now it was aimed towards him.
Andrew comes in a while later to see what's taking Jesse so long and doesn't say anything, taking the towel from him and deciding good enough, throwing it into the laundry basket again. Jesse fumbles to stand up, still nude, while oogling Andrew who took the time to get dressed in soft pajama pants and large Spiderman shirt like the spanking Jesse gave him really hurt. Andrew guides him to their room and Jesse has the instinct to flop down on the bed, ass fully exposed like he really is Mark, saying to Eduardo Do it, hurt me like I hurt you.
But Andrew wouldn't do that and Jesse keeps himself next to him, Andrew's thumb pressed down on Jesse's pelvis just above his cock almost like he did in the bath. The next sentence is the only thing that cuts through the anxiety and every other racing thought in Jesse's brain.
"Did you take your medicine, my love?"
Jesse's mouth goes dry. He refuses to look at Andrew unlike he told him to, and it was only making the tension worse. The true answer is that he'd forgotten to take it this morning on the plane and that was probably why other emotions were consuming his anxiety but Jesse can't form the proper words.
Instead, Jesse breaks away from Andrew in a rage that is made for Eduardo. He stomps over to his bag and digs through it until he finds his medicine bottles and holds the perfect cure for anxiety tight in his fist, almost like he plans to throw it. But he slams it down on the desk, hard enough to cause all of Andrew's things to shake. Andrew grabs his wrist in warning. Walking the line.
"Do that again and I'm spanking your hole."
Andrew lets go and Jesse grinds his teeth, ignoring what he said. Although he does wonder, in the back of his mind, if that was something Eduardo would do to Mark when he was especially bad.
"It doesn't do anything, 'drew. Years, years, of taking it- nothing." Jesse said. "What is the point?"
"The point is you can't just not take medication you've been on for years." Andrew retaliates, examining the little bottle. Jesse never got one of those pill organizers despite Andrew begging him to. Now he sees the reason. "Did you forget?"
Jesse bites the inside of his cheeks. He can't say yes and inevitably get spanked by Andrew, but he also can't say no because that's not the truth. He looks at the bottle and thinks just to snatch it from Andrew and take his medicine right now with a sarcastic No. But he doesn’t and does the thing where he spaces out for too long until Andrew is snapping his fingers right next to his ear.
"Answer me, Jesse."
Mark really needs to get better at paying attention.
"Okay, so I did forget. But is it really all that bad?" Jesse admits, shifting back in with reality.
"When you're acting like you can spank me and throw a fit, yes," Andrew responds.
"I really regret that, 'drew." Jesse says, not really sure what to say that will rectify this. "I'm sorry I acted like a brat."
"You can't do that though, sweetheart," Andrew says for like the millionth time but Jesse doesn't comment on. "It's not in our dynamic."
Jesse knows that and takes a deep breath and lets it fill up his shoulders and belly. What Andrew said was true and ultimately there was no way to get around this, so he lets go of the deep breath and nods.
"Okay," he says. "Okay, can we get this over with?"
Andrew nods and Jesse draws him into a hug as if to say sorry although he knows Andrew already forgives him. And thank you as well, thank you for caring enough to do this. Andrew rubs soothing circles on his back.
And smiles at him.
"That's my good boy."
Andrew leads him over to the bed and Jesse lies down on his stomach, presenting himself to Andrew. Kisses and apologies from both of them before anything happens. Almost back to where Jesse needs to be.
There's a kiss between his shoulder blades and an ask if it's okay whether or not to continue has Jesse tensing before croaking out a yes. Andrew waits a minute before bringing a hard hand down on Jesse's wet, bouncing ass.
" 'Drew!" He cries out in a beautiful, high-pitched whine, drowned out by the pillow, and the water on Jesse's face not from the bath but actual, crystal tears. Frustrated ones too, ones that only come out when he and Andrew have a fight and the upset can only come out one way. Neither of them learned how to yell.
Another hit comes down, left side this time, and Jesse kicks his feet in reflex. Another slap lands where ass meets thigh, and where Jesse will feel it when he sits down at the airport again, waiting for his plane. Andrew does not hold back when Jesse squirms and hits the inside of his thighs.
"I know that it hurts," he coos, caressing Jesse's globes between strikes. "It's okay, though. It's not that serious."
It is to Jesse, but the reassurance helps him feel better, more like Andrew's good boy. With how hard the roles had hit him, hit them, it can't not be serious.
"I know," he chokes. "I know, I'll do better. I'll set an alarm. I'm sorry."
"It was a lapse in judgment, sweetheart," Andrew responds softly, smacking his ass again. "Outburst of emotion or maybe just being tired and overstimulated from the plane." Andrew's hand rains down in rapid succession, watching Jesse's reddening ass take it while he worries his bottom lip to hold back cries. His legs shake. "But I did not give you permission to do or say whatever you want just because you forgot your meds."
Jesse nods, fully crying out as the last three come down as the worst.
Then it's over and Andrew draws his hand away, standing up fully and tracing Jesse's spine between his hurt ass and neck, into his hair hesitantly, as if to say I'm sorry. Andrew lays down with him on the bed, belly flat and keeps his hand in Jesse's hair. Jesse turns to him, eyes still bright with tears that make Andrew blurry.
"Hey," he sniffs out, wiping his face dry.
"Hey." Andrew mimics "I'm sorry. I know that was a lot."
Jesse lets out a sigh and goes limp around Andrew, comforted, safe from Mark.
"It's okay," Jesse decides on. "I deserved that."
"You needed to be taught a lesson." Andrew amends. "And you learned it. We can move on."
Jesse nods and the two of them lay exhausted on the bed but refuse to go to sleep, breathing, taking in each other's mistakes and loving them in spite.
A little art I drew for my friend @annetastic1981a ! Soft sambastian hours :>
He's grabbing Sam's ass
I watched a 2.5 hour video essay on Sam the other day and this is the result.
Oh my god..... they're Nico Di Angelo and Will Solace

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Guys help me choose a fanfiction to write:
Farmer comes to PelicanTown first, gets Elliott's house and he needs to stay
Jesse/Andrew (bratty!Jesse when Andrew comes home)
Jesse/Andrew (Dr. Andrew)
Jesse/Andrew (Fairy Godmother!Emma Stone, maybe Kristen Stewart)
The Fairy Godmother should be Kristen Stewart
Jesse/Andrew (Interview on Conan O'Brien)
Jesse/Andrew (Jesse tops for the first time, sweet Dom Andrew that guides him)
Vampire! Carlos de Vil/Werewolf! Harry Hook
Eros! Daring Charming/Cerise Hood
Greek sculptor myth! Dexter/Raven
Carlos/Ben (Carlos goes back home to Hell Hall to get his shit and cat)
Hycathinus! Chase Davenport/ Apollo! Kaz
I love Andrew Garfield and Jesse Eisenberg so much because they just give the vibe of someone who walks around, trick-or-treating in terrible vampire costumes when it's not even Halloween.
When I (eventually) write my Parents! Older! Benlos AU, how many of you would be down for a transmac Carlos that ends up carrying the baby?
Yes, it's the "9 months causing me pain and he looks like his STUPID DAD" meme
No, adoption is also cool.
headcannon that both mike and scott are smokers to varying degrees with mike smuggling his american canadian spirit blues onto wawanakwa like anne maria smuggled that hairspray
why is smoker and autistic my number one headcanon for all my favorite characters
Based off another new Benlos fanfiction I'm writing... (good used very VERY loosely)
Would Cruella be a good grandmother? (And by good I mean those grandparents that are absolutely terrible to their own kids but adore and spoil their grandkids and break every single boundary and/or rule the parent tries to set.)
Yes
No
Other (Explain)

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Blurb from a Benlos parents! AU that I got from watching the American Dad episode Greg and Terry become parents.
It was supposed to be a beautiful morning. Carlos had fallen asleep on top of Ben and was now warming him with naked body heat. Ben was pretty sure he flopped around in the middle of the night and flung Carlos right off of him, but it didn’t matter anyway since he just climbed right back on him, barely awake. The heat that they were both emanating also must have gotten too much for both of them at some point because the large blankets sat uselessly around their calves and feet. All in all, neither wanted to move in the stagnant peace, and as the sun crawled through the blinds and cast a golden color on Ben, Carlos realized that this early in the morning would be the perfect time for a child to come barreling through their door and wake them up from any remnants of sleep that had them.
Instead of that, there is a rumble and crunch of gravel in their driveway, indicating someone must be pulling up. At first Carlos thinks it might be Evie or possibly Mal and Jay, who never wake up this early, until he finally slips out of bed to look out the blinds. It’s the black-and-white, gas-guzzling Panther De Ville he always remembered Cruella owning. One would think that after years of going no-contact with her, Cruella would update to at least a slightly better vehicle, but as she turns off the car and pulls something out of the backseat, the age on her face says she insists on keeping this car to the grave with her.
Carlos gives one last glance out the window, then gets dressed, ready to tell Cruella he’s not afraid to run her off his property if need be. Of course, she would laugh and say this wasn’t their property and that it was only a rental, which was true but he still wouldn’t let her anywhere near the life he built after her. He looks over at Ben, still sleeping soundly, and decides he doesn’t need help and walks as quietly as he can down the narrow stairs. He’s not sure if he wants to be quiet in front of Cruella though, he wants to yell- scream until his throat hurts- that she does not need to be here and she needs to leave. It’s a satisfying idea to be seen as something scarier than her.
Carlos doesn’t hesitate to open the front door, but she’s not there. Instead, she leans against her gas-guzzling car as she smokes, dropping the ashes in Ben’s garden.
“I wanted to finish a cigarette before I came in,” she explains. “After all, smoke is bad for the baby.”
That’s when Carlos realizes he can’t be a bigger, scarier thing than her and he fights himself as he drops down to the child she could manipulate.
“How? Who?” It’s all Carlos can get out and Cruella just smirks around her cigarette as she blows a plum of smoke into his face that doesn’t quite reach him.
“I have a lot of friends,” she explains flatly. “There isn’t much queer people around here and did you really think my dear old friend Ursula, who runs an underground gay bar, wouldn’t find out and tell me?”
Carlos turns red to his ears out of anger and makes a mental note to call Uma.
“I want to see Dad Number Two. Or is that you?” She continues, flicking her cigarette butt directly on a petunia. “Ah, it doesn’t matter. Anyway, I came by with a box of baby clothes, all designed by me, of course. Nobody told me if my grandkids is going to be a boy or girl so I made both.” She drops the box from on top of her car directly into Carlos’s hands. It’s heavy and makes a slight rattling noise so he assumes she must have included some toys in there. “Who’s the mother?”
He sets the box down on the ground, desperately wanting to tell her that him and Ben haven’t chosen between IVF or adoption just yet, but keeps his mouth shut. He wants her to know nothing about this child. When he continues saying nothing, Cruella carries on with her imaginary plans on what a good grandmother she’ll be and how she’ll always love her grandchild and take them to Fashion Week in France- when it fits her schedule, of course. There’s a slight jealousy and annoyance that Cruella already has so much admiration for a child him and Ben don’t even have yet when she has none for him growing up, but he reminds himself that he's not letting Cruella around this child at all, no matter how it comes to them or how bad she wants it. At some point she needs to leave, so Carlos heads back inside and lets Dude out to use the restroom.
Usually he pisses in Ben’s garden, but intrigued by the old car in the driveway, Dude walks up to it and Cruella to sniffs at her before she kicks him away. Carlos is shamelessly about to attack her for kicking his dog, but Dude beats him to it, promptly ripping at her stocking and pissing on the exposed flesh. She gives her son a horrified look while he tries to suppress a laugh.
“What the hell was that about?”
“Go home, please,” he begs. “I’m tired.”
Cruella gives him a cold stare with crossed arms and he thinks about pulling the “my property” move. Dude tries to get her to play with him but she locks herself in her car, rolling the window down so Carlos can hear her.
“Fine!” She huffs. “But I want updates on my grandchild.” He’s not sure if he should let her carry out living in delusion or if he should tell her the title of grandmother had gone to Ms. Fay. Either way, he gives her a half-assed wave before calling Dude in, picking up the box, and heading back inside. He doesn’t even look inside the box when he sets it down on the table. He can hear the shower running upstairs.
“Babe!” Carlos called, searching around the kitchen. “Where’s my lighter?”
Watched the American Dad episode where Terry and Greg have a baby and it would have been so much more funnier it was like "Stan, you have a talking fish in your family. Who are you to say who we can and can't have in ours?" "Klaus isn't a part of my family."