Hiii! I'm distracted-duck, or ducky, or whatever you wanna call me. I post about fanfic and fandom agere (big fan of classification AUs).
✦•┈๑⋅⋯about me ⋯⋅๑┈•✦
He/him pronouns :)
I've been writing/reading agere fics for about six years (though I am by no means a prolific poster lol)
#1 hurt/comfort glazer
Favorite shows/media/etc: BNHA, The Boys/Gen V, Hazbin Hotel, idk I'll add more later
I love superheroes :0 (pls give me superhero show/book recommendations)
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while I do like 'dark'* agere stuff, nothing I post that is agere-related will ever be sexual, ever (or anything I post that is non-agere-related, for that matter)
in a similar vein, I'll never post any agere in which there is a romantic relationship between a caregiver and regressor. Though there's nothing wrong with that sort of thing, it's just something I'm personally not a fan of, so I won't be writing/reading that kind of dynamic. (Again, nothing wrong with it---just not my thing! If you like it, more power to you.)
*by 'dark', I just mean fics that delve into heavier topics (mental illness, self-harm, things of that ilk), or fics with unhealthy/toxic dynamics (manipulative characters, kidnapping, stuff like that).
Sorry for not posting in so long! I’ve had writer’s block and life stuff in the way…promise I’m working on new things however!!! Take this ducky bathtime moodboard as recompense for now though, okay? :)
Love it when I see someone post an agere fic rec and I click and I've already read it. I've read such an insane amount of them --- especially classification aus. i think I've probably read at least 75% of all the classification au fics on ao3 at this point. I often read fandom-blind for agere stuff which is fun because i get to slowly decipher what the canon is based on which aspects are preserved fic to fic plus I get to know random stuff about media I havent actually engaged with. Except its not so fun when I mention having seen a fic for some fandom and my friend asks me how/why given that I'm not in said fandom. then its awk.
GN! Reader who is isekai'd into a Classification AU - Part 3
The bell above the door dings as two uniformed individuals step in. Angela rushes out from the back room suddenly.
“We received a call from someone in this establishment about a lost Little?”
Before Reader even has a chance to process the whirlwind of events occuring, JJ’s standing up and Angela’s greeting them at the door. “Yes, over here.” She says, beckoning the police over, and JJ nods, gesturing to Reader.
One of the officers, a woman with long brown, curly hair tied back in a bun, catches Reader’s eye and something—realization? Concern?—flashes in her eyes. “Hi there, little one,” she says as she approaches, slow and careful. “What’s your name, honey?”
Reader stands up as the police officers and Angela get closer. “[Reader], but—I think this is all a big misunderstanding.” The muffin has gone sour on their tongue.
The woman police officer nods, taking a breath; her partner, another woman, but with short blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, just narrows her eyes. “Okay, [Reader], honey, can we just have the number of your Caregiver? Just to make sure you’re all safe.” The first one says, overly-enunciating her words like one might when talking to a small child.
Reader’s eyes dart around the now-claustrophobic space. So many eyes are on them. “Like—like I said, I think this is just a misunderstanding? I don’t have—I don’t know what you’re, really, talking about…?” Their words are stilted, awkward.
The officer with short blonde hair is quicker to school her facial expression into calm, but surprise still bleeds through for a half-second. “Okay, hon, I think we’re gonna need you to come with us,” her tone is coaxing, but Reader’s hand just tightens around their phone.
“What do you mean? Where?”
“Oh, just down the street, honey, to our station. We can better help you find your home down there, okay?”
Tears begin to gather in Reader’s eyes, though they aren’t entirely sure why. It’s just all too much. Too overwhelming. There’s too many people with frowny looks on their faces and they’re all looking at them and all Reader wants to do is hide away somewhere safe, and warm, and quiet. But they can’t, because they’re being cornered by four adults in a cafe with only a broken phone and the clothes on their back for protection and they don’t even know where they are and everyone’s acting so weird and it’s late and Reader just wants to sleep.
The officers pick up on Reader’s emotions, and the brown-haired one steps a bit closer, kneeling slightly to get on Reader’s level. “Hey, don’t worry, you’re perfectly safe; I promise. We’re here to help you, alright? If you come with us, we’ll make sure that you get home safe as soon as possible.”
Reader brings a finger to their lashes, brushing away the brimming tears. “O–okay,” they sniff, and use their jacket sleeve to wipe their nose.
“Thank you, little one,” The brown-haired officer says, offering out her hand. For some reason, Reader takes it. The lady’s hand is larger than theirs and warm. It’s nice.
Reader shoves their stupid, malfunctioning phone in their pocket, pulling the cord and block out of the wall and handing them over to Angela, who dons a small smile in response. “Than–thank you for, everything,” Reader says quietly. “The muffin was r’lly good.”
“You’re welcome, kid,” Angela says, offering Reader a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Be safe, okay?” Reader simply nods, biting the inside of their cheek as they avoid eye contact.
Reader shivers as they settle into the dark interior of the cop car. They’re too cold to consider the implications of their situation right now. It’s the type of cold that has all their limbs stiffening up, chattering in erratic movements.
“Are you chilly back there, honey?” One of the officers pipes up from the front seat. “I’ll turn the heat up, okay?”
“Than—um, thank you.” Reader draws their arms close to their chest, hugging themself closely for some semblance of comfort.
“Of course,” She hums, and slowly but surely warm air begins circulating throughout the vehicle.
Streetlights whir by in the following minutes; light ebbs and flows throughout the car as they pass various brightly-lit buildings and barely-lit houses. The effect is almost dizzying, or maybe that’s just the thoughts swirling about in Reader’s head—where am I, am I seriously in an alternate dimension, and what the hell is a Caregiver are among the most considered, though they can barely focus on one before another takes over.
Finally, the car rolls to a stop. Outside is a blocky, brown-brick building. Through the fog in their mind, Reader is just barely able to make out the words ‘Police Station’ on a sign in the front lawn, but the words don’t fully register as they should. Everything feels far away and dimmed.
Then there’s a hand, warm, slipped into theirs; it guides them out of the car back into the biting cold. Reader’s eyes begin to sting for reasons not entirely clear to them, but then there’s an open door and warmth again and they’re rubbing on their eyes and blinking, and then they’re sitting on a chair, white and cushioned with plasticky foam.
“So, honey—” the brown-haired officer starts, sitting across from Reader at a desk with a notepad and powered-on computer that casts a bright blueish-white glow on her face, but she cuts off as two more people suddenly run up to Reader’s chair.
“This is them!” There is an adult person now gesturing emphatically in Reader’s direction and looking back at someone else, and oh, oh no, Reader recognizes that voice.
It’s the couple from before.
Now that they’re in the light, Reader can what they really look like; the one who had gestured towards them (and is now peering at them with wide, concerned eyes) appears to be a man, on the shorter side—though still taller than Reader—with inky black hair and a dark, thick jacket and jeans. The other, just behind the man, is a person of indeterminate gender, tall, with a curly shag and dressed in a cozy-looking striped sweater and slacks.
A new officer materializes next to the quickly-growing group. Deja-vu hits the Reader at once as all the eyes settle on them. “This is the lost Little?” The officer asks, scanning the faces of the group.
“Yes,” the person with the shag answers.
“What—what’s a Little?” Reader asks, voice shrinking as everyone turns to stare at them with varying expressions of horror, concern, and confusion. Their hands ball into fists in their lap, nails digging into their palms. “Like, lost, little…what?” They try to clarify, but still no one answers.
The brown-haired officer is the first to speak. “Is there…do you have any family or close friends we could give a call to?”
Fear begins to travel throughout Reader, cold and itchy, like snow pressed into their skin. “No, no,” they start, voice hitching. “I don’t—none of you are telling me what’s going on! I don’t understand—I—I wanna go home!” They choke, and it's as if a dam has been lifted. All of the saltwater-y emotions come pouring out, clouding their vision and head.
“Oh, sweetheart,” the man says, crouching to Reader’s level. The scent of vanilla, soft and pleasant, enters Reader’s nose, and it’s just distracting enough to stop Reader from hyperventilating altogether. His hand travels to Reader’s own, gently rubbing circles into it with his thumb. “It’s okay, lovey, it’s okay. You’re going to be alright.”
Something in his voice is convincing, though Reader’s not entirely sure what. The tears momentarily pause; Reader swipes at the strays with their sleeve.
There’s a murmur above them, words drifting in and out of focus; the new officer and person with the shag step away, taking their hushed conversation with them.
It takes a few more moments for Reader to regain enough wherewithal to attempt speaking again. “I have—I have a friend you ca’ call,” they manage, and at the brown-haired officer’s nod, they recite the number out for her in between sniffles.
The officer types it into the phone. It rings. And rings. And then—
“Hello?”
It’s a gruff voice, an older man’s. Reader’s stomach twists. Their throat tightens.
“Hello, are you a friend of [Reader]’s? This is officer Clark with the county police department, we have [Reader] down here at the station right now.”
“[Reader]? I think you’ve got the wrong number…I don’t know anyone named [Reader].”
“Are you certain?” Officer Clark asks, but the look on her face makes it clear that she already knows the answer.
“Yeah? Sorry.” The man on the other end responds.
“No, that’s okay. Thank you for your help, and sorry to bother you.” The phone hangs up with a faint beep. The officer regards Reader with an almost unreadable expression—something like disappointment is buried there, but the rest is incomprehensible.
Tears empty themselves from Reader’s tear ducts without restraint. This isn’t right. They know that number, they’ve known that number by heart for years. It wasn’t the wrong number. The person on the other end wasn’t their friend, wasn’t anyone they’d ever heard before. The alternate dimension theory worms its way back into Reader’s now-aching head, and they want to throw up.
A choked sob escapes their throat, face twisting as reality sets in. Reader brings their hands up to cover their face, slipping them out of the vanilla-scented man’s as a strange sensation befalls their head. It’s like their mind is being stuffed to the brim with cotton balls and there’s no room for anything but the most basic of thoughts.
I wanna go home.
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A/N: Sorry for the update taking so long! I’ve been super busy & also kind of very depressed—but! Don’t worry! They upped my medication so I’m on track to be less depressed now :D and then they told me that I’m very brave for reaching out. All I’m missing is the sticker & the lollipop. Feeling a little cheated out of those, actually. Thank you all so so so much for all your support!!! It genuinely fills me with so much happy fuzziness when I see all your comments & asks & everything :DDD I'm not super happy with this chapter—I think some of the wording was off in some places (I was tryna be a little artsy; not sure how well that worked out)—but I didn’t want to spend too much longer stressing over it since it’s already taken me so long. I think just getting the plot to move forward is the best course of action right now, lol. Anyway, thanks again for all the support!!! :)))
PLSSS PART 2 PLS PLS PLS im so curious about what would happen next and more info about the world. Also what was the ao3 fic you mentioned pls shareee
Part two is up!!! :DD
And the fic - rather aptly titled - is called help!! i tried running into the woods to escape my depressing life and instead got spirited away into a parallel timeline full of littles and bigs!? by devilishMendicant on Ao3! Hopefully the author doesn't mind my mentioning (and the, upon further reflection, somewhat heavy inspiration I took from the fic). It's one of my favorites - unfinished, but the fifteen chapters that are there are so so good imo!!!
Gn!Reader who is isekai'd into a classification AU - Part Two
A/N: thank you for all the love on the first part! I know it's a cliche, but I didn't expect anyone to care, haha. Also a cliche, but I genuinely didn't think I was one of those people who gets motivated by people liking their stuff...but here we are ;)
Reader is breathless and wheezing by the time they feel that they’ve sufficiently escaped the two strange adults. It’s almost entirely dark outside now—the streetlights have switched on, filling the empty road with a warm glow—and becoming colder by the minute as the sun dips below the horizon. Reader shivers once they’ve caught their breath, the warmth from their mad dash quickly dissipating, and clutches their dirty jacket close to their body.
As they continue to walk, they turn the day’s events over in their mind, and it soon dawns on them that wherever they are, it’s not home. This city may resemble their home, but something is wrong—and it’s not just that their physical house is nowhere to be found or that none of the names of anything looked familiar, despite physically being familiar.
So, Reader thinks, trying to ignore the frigid air nipping at their fingers, I’m either in a really weird city on the other side of the woods that I never knew existed and which never showed up on any maps, or I’m in some sort of alternate dimension. Neither option seems plausible, but one is far easier to fix than the other; just find a place to charge their phone and book a car ride home.
Yes, Reader considers as they come across a warmly-lit cafe with a late closing time advertised on the door, find a place to charge my phone and then get home. With shaking, shivering hands, they pull the door open and are immediately greeted with a warm gust of air on their face that instantly works to thaw their aching body.
There’s only two other customers in the cafe; an older man intently tap-tapping away on a laptop, sat in a plush armchair in the corner with a half-eaten scone on a ceramic plate next to him, and a young woman thumbing through a book, nursing a cup of something steaming. Taking a breath to steady themself, Reader nervously treads to the counter. The short-haired barista catches Reader’s eye, and she smiles, though there’s a strange, almost confused quality to her expression.
“Hi,” Reader starts, fidgeting with their hands. “I’m so sorry, this is sorta weird but—do you happen to have a phone charger I could borrow for a little bit? I just–it’s dead and I don’t have any other way to get home, you know?”
The barista, whose shiny nametag reveals her as Angela, blinks for a moment as she processes. “Um, yeah! Of course. I’ll, uh, go grab one from the back. There’s an outlet at that table there,” she points to a table in the back of the cafe, nestled in a cosy corner with a couch and chair next to it, “if you want to wait there while I get it?”
“Oh my gosh, thank you so, so much!” Reader says earnestly, genuinely relieved. They settle on the couch next to the outlet, sinking into the squishy cushions. It’s only until after they’ve sat down that they realize just how tired they are; their feet ache from all the walking and despite it still being relatively early in the evening, they feel as though they could fall asleep right then and there.
The faint clatter of a plate has Reader’s eyes shooting open—wait, when did they close them? They blink, rubbing their eyes before plastering an apologetic expression on their face as they look up to face the barista now in front of them.
“I found a charger,” Angela says, holding up a cable and block with a smile. “Will this work with your phone?”
Reader pulls out their phone and takes the cord, thankful when the charging bit fits in their phone’s charging port, and plugs the block into the wall with a grateful smile.
“Oh, and I brought you a little something!” Angela says, gesturing to the plate in front of them. It’s a large muffin—raspberry, by the looks of it—with a perfectly-browned streusel topping and polka-dotted wrapper. Reader’s mouth waters just looking at it, but they hold themself back.
“I don’t have any money on me, I’m sorry!” They exclaim, biting their lip, but Angela just shakes her head.
“Don’t worry, it’s on the house.” She says, waving a hand. “Also, if you want to call someone while your phone charges, you’re free to use mine. You seem like you want to be home sooner rather than later, no?” Her tone is friendly, but there’s an underlying implication in her words that Reader can’t entirely parse out.
“Ah—no, but thank you for the offer. I’m just going to book a ride home once my phone turns back on. ‘Sides, I don’t really…have anyone to call,” they admit, unsure as to why they’re being so open with a stranger in the first place; maybe it’s because they’re so tired, or because Angela seems so nice, so soothing, and she smells very much like lavender and it’s very relaxing…
Angela’s eyes are wide. “No one?” She asks, voice low and concerned in a way that has Reader shifting uncomfortably.
“I mean—not no one, I guess, but I don’t think any of my friends are available right now, you know?” Reader tries to amend the situation; for some reason, there’s this insurmountable urge to make her happy and unconcerned again that’s clawing at their insides. Just seeing her frowning lips and drawn eyebrows makes Reader want to cry.
“I’m sorry, I really don’t mean to pry, but…don’t you have, like, a caregiver?”
There’s that word again. Caregiver. Hearing it again should freak Reader out more than it does, but at the moment, they’re just confused and too tired to be scared. The cafe is warm, and Angela is nice, and she hardly seems like a creep.
“What do you mean by that?” Reader asks evenly, though that familiar feeling of wrongness has started its swirl in their stomach again. “What’s, um, a caregiver?”
If her eyes were wide before, it’s nothing compared to how they are now. Her mouth opens and closes for a half-second, chin moving like a fish. “Are you—” she stops herself, the crease between her eyebrows deepening as she pauses. “Oh my god, you’re not joking. Oh, oh, honey. Where on earth do you live? How did that even—I mean, surely someone—…wait here. I’ll be right back.” Angela wastes no time to hurry behind the counter and into the backroom, door swinging shut behind her.
Both of the other cafe patrons look up at the barista’s outburst, confused, before zeroing in on Reader as the cause. Reader stares back at them, wide-eyed, and raises their hands palms-up to signal their shared confusion.
Just as the two patrons return to their previous activities, Reader’s phone buzzes with life; good timing—they really, really want to get home, and preferably soon. But as they open their newly revived cell phone, another problem quickly makes itself known: no service. What a total piss off, because Reader knows they paid for the unlimited plan. Luckily, the cafe has free wifi, and Reader’s soon reconnected to the sweet, sweet internet. Breathing a sigh of relief, they open Maps.
Nothing loads. The entire digital world is infuriatingly grey and no amount of zooming in and out has any effect.
Where am I?
“Hey, kiddo,” a gentle voice sounds, startling Reader from their thoughts. It’s a man, on the shorter side, also donning a barista apron; his silver nametag says JJ.
“Um, hi,” Reader responds, too distracted to notice the nickname.
“Can I sit with you?” JJ asks, gesturing to the empty seat across from the couch Reader is sitting on.
“Yeah?” Reader is confused.
“Awesome, thanks.” JJ slides into the chair. A dark cherry scent flows into Reader’s nose—must’ve been his cologne—and it has a strangely calming effect. “How’re you liking your muffin?”
As if on cue, their stomach grumbles, and Reader blushes. “I haven’t tried it yet. I’m sorry.”
“Nothin’ to be sorry for. You should try some, though—the raspberry is my favorite.” JJ nudges the plate closer to them.
The muffin is excellent, just as it looked; fluffy and moist, bursting with flavor from the raspberry pockets inside, and decadently sweet. It takes maybe thirty seconds for Reader to devour the entire thing.
“You liked it, then?” JJ teases lightly.
“Sorry,” Reader says sheepishly, realizing how unmannerly they must’ve looked. “Didn’t realize how hungry I was.”
There’s a twitch of a frown that flickers over JJ’s face, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared. “So, Angela tells me you live all by yourself?” He says it casually, but Reader stiffens. What are these people’s problems? So what if they live alone—Reader’s an adult. It’s perfectly fine for them to be by themself.
“Um, why do you ask?” Reader says cautiously, trying to gauge the man’s reaction.
“Well, you know, it’s not exactly…typical…I just wanted to see if you were okay, you know?”
“What do you mean, ‘not typical’? Tons of people live by themselves?”
JJ looks suddenly very uncomfortable; Reader is glad they’re not the only one.
“Look, kid…I didn’t want to say it, and Angela kinda told me not to, but…you reek of Little.” His tone is gentle, cautious, but his words make no sense.
“Little? A little what?”
Reader is seriously getting sick of shocked expressions.
A/N: Hope the OC names don't bother y'all too much; I literally put zero thought into them and went with whatever popped into my head first. Would you guys mind if I made permanent OC caregivers for this? I'm still not entirely sure where I'm going with this LMAO
Also hope y'all don't mind the like, scent thing too much - I used to dislike that sort of thing but one fic I read made me love it and I wanted to try writing it loll
Feel free to drop suggestions in the comments/asks - I may not respond or get to them, but I promise I'll look :)
Gn!Reader who is isekai'd into a classification AU
(A little drabble) (wrote this instead of studying for my exam) (lmk if you want a part 2) (loosely inspired by a fic on ao3 I was obsessed with for a while)
Reader who wandered the streets of their town after getting lost in the woods, wondering why everything looked so off and why they kept getting strange, apprehensive looks thrown their way. It was probably just the muddied state of their clothes and tangled hair, right? Or maybe the branches and leaves that got caught in their sleeves—nothing else though, right?
When night begins to descend as Reader fails to find their way home, Reader is finally approached by a couple of concerned adults who act around them like one might a scared animal, all slow movements and gentle, quiet voices:
“Hey there, little one,” one of them says, bending down just slightly at the knees, “do you know where your Caregiver is? It’s awfully late to be out here all by yourself, you know.”
Reader is confused. “Caregiver?” They ask, not failing to notice how the two adults’ faces contort into pity at their question.
“Ah—your mommy or daddy? Or maybe older sibling?” The other pipes up.
Reader’s eyebrows furrow. “Excuse me? Is this some kind of joke?”
The adults give each other a look, and there’s a tense pause before one of them speaks up again. “Where are you headed? We can help you get there.”
Reader is beginning to sense that something is very, very wrong here. “I’m just on my way home, thank you—and that’s alright, I can manage myself.” They say, taking a tiny, cautious step back.
Both of their faces are deeply concerned now. “I don’t think it’s very safe for you to go out wandering by yourself at night, dearie. Do you have a phone number of someone we could call to come get you? Or an address we can help you find?” One steps a bit closer.
These two are really, really starting to creep Reader out. Their mouth opens and closes like a fish for a moment as they try to think of a response before realizing the best course of action may just be getting the heck away from these two.
So they break out into a run.
They don’t stop to see the two adults behind them pulling out a phone and calling the police to inform them of a potentially homeless, confused, runaway Little on the streets.
Stole this one from someone else but: love love love classification AUs where regressors and caregivers suffer physically when they don't meet their needs. **especially** when we get to see the caregiver be the one not fulfilling their needs!! like yes give me caregiver who doesn't have a little but doesn't think it's important/doesn't care only to find themself suffering the consequences---maybe it's irritability, depression, a weakened immune system, or something more specific like long-lasting tension headaches. Maybe they stumble upon a little who can't find their caregiver at the grocery store or something and so they have to take care of them for a bit while they search for the cg---and then realizing, huh, that headache I've had for like, a month, suddenly disappeared?
or caregiver accidentally taking care of/babying their friends subconsciously...watching TV on the couch with their roommate and unknowingly drawing closer and closer until they're borderline cradling roommate and the roommate is just like. kind of awkwardly accepting it and mentally making plans to sign the caregiver up for some sort of babysitting/volunteer daycare program, because as nice as cuddling is, it's kind of annoying to be fussed over all the time.
okay i've talked a lot about the caregiver side of things but some regressor stuff i love seeing/would love to see more of: ugly symptoms of headspace suppression. Like deep depressive episodes. Or lashing out. Gosh I would love to see more lashing out---give me a regressor who gets cruel, violent, even, when they've gone too long without regression. Bonus points if the society they live in has all sorts of laws and regulations to ensure regressors properly meet their headspace requirements---but only because they know of the destruction Littles cause when they don't regress frequently enough, and being a Little is super stigmatized because of it.
Would love to see more Classification AUs where the consequences of suppressing/neglecting one's headspace are not just somatic or self-deprecating, but also potentially really harmful for the people around them. Like if a Little goes without regressing for too long, maybe they become incredibly irritable and prone to violent outbursts.
Maybe in the world they live in, Littles are heavily monitored due to the damage they can cause when they don't properly fall into headspace. Perhaps there's a physical component to it too --- I've seen a lot of works where Littles are physically smaller or weaker than their Caregiver/Neutral counterparts, but I think it would be interesting if, after neglecting their headspace for too long, their body was able to gain sudden bursts of crazy strength to match the violent outbursts. Biologically, the advantage of this would be that when the Little is in a high-stress situation for a long period of time (long enough to go without regressing for, say, six months or longer), they're able to fight off/protect themselves from adversaries (or whatever the body/mind perceives as such).
Assuming the Little hasn't been kidnapped or something, though, this feature isn't super helpful in the modern day. The stressors of the past (wild animals, wars, etc) don't generally apply, and so instead of fighting off attackers, they end up accidentally destroying a desk or their computer after they get another work email asking them to take on more work than they already have. This is very bad for shareholder value, so there are strict standards set by most governments to prevent Littles from neglecting their headspace (all Littles must have a guardian/caregiver, and they must regress for a total of twelve hours per month every month, or else they risk intervention).
Of course, this doesn't mean Littles aren't still a vulnerable population. After all, the ability to briefly possess crazy strength is only reached after a long period of headspace neglect (which comes with other issues like fatigue, headaches, depression, etc.) --- anybody with malicious intentions just has to ensure a Little reaches the minimum threshold of regression in order to avoid headspace neglect and thus also avoid the temporary "power-ups". Plus, short high-stress moments or sudden trauma could still trigger (involuntary) regression, so if someone were smart (and evil) enough, they could theoretically still get away with lots without pushback.
This AU in world where people already have superpowers would also lead to some crazy chaos -- violent outbursts could result in anything from destroyed furniture, a couple black eyes/broken bones to completely leveled buildings. Idk I love drama I feel like this would be so fun to read. Will def write more on this later :]
I love making headcanons of the most random and obscure characters ever being age regressors/flips. Every time I watch a new show/movie there will be at least one character I hc as a regressor idc
I tried to look up Bojack Horseman fics on Ao3 ‘cause I’m curious and I wanted some angst—tell me why the top fics are all Bojack/Mr.Peanutbutter. I did not know this ship existed nor that it was so popular oh my god
gamechangershow
turnnoffyourmind
vaporwave
titsay
andulkaphoto
gummygunk
discoholicmusic
