#I never would have believed this could actually happen

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: The Fawn Instinct.

Pairing: Yandere!BatFam x Reader (DC).

Word Count: 5.0k.

TW: Implied Non/Con, Implied Dub/Con, Kidnapping, Prolonged Captivity, Social Isolation, Stalking, Obsessive Behavior, and No Actual Incest, But Boy If Those Freaks Aren't Trying. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

If it’d only been Bruce, you might’ve been able to live with it.

You didn’t love him, but you could imagine a world where you tried to. Most of it was circumstance; as upset as you were about the whole kidnapping thing, it wasn’t exactly a Herculean feat to endear yourself to the idea of being a handsome vigilante millionaire’s stay-at-home captive-spouse. You had no room in your heart for the stoic, reclusive, untouchable Bruce Wayne, but you could remember the adoration you’d once held for your masked hometown hero, the pride that’d once given you the force of will to all-but carry a half-conscious man in a torn cowl and a familiar suit into your apartment and lie to the cops when they came knocking. If the conditions had been different, if he’d spent a little more time as something more intimate than a stranger and a little less damning than a captor, then maybe, you could convince yourself to love him. Or, convince yourself to try, at least.

But, the conditions weren’t different, and you’d never quite had the time you would’ve needed to align Bruce Wayne with his more heroic alter ego. It’d been doomed from the start – Icarus jumping from his tower, already knowing his wings were destined to fall apart.

That aside, though, there was the more glaring issue: all his fucking kids.

Calling them kids might’ve been too generous, actually. Only Damian and Duke were younger than eighteen, and as far as you were concerned, they were your saving graces – Duke for meeting the bare minimum requirements for human decency and Damian for adamantly denying you were anything but an unwanted burden on his father. The rest were more-or-less adults, as little as you wanted to acknowledge the nonexistent age-gap between you and your gaggle of stepchildren. They were grown. They should’ve known better.

Tim, for example. He had to be… what? Nineteen? It wasn’t the pinnacle of maturity, sure, but he should’ve known you’d be able to hear your own sheets rustling through the bedroom door, should’ve assumed that you’d know he’d know Bruce would be out on patrol until sunrise. He should’ve known to wait until you were in another wing of the sprawling Wayne estate, somewhere far away from the master bedroom, or better yet, skipped rummaging through your things entirely. You knew better than to dream, though.

The door was still shut, but what was happening behind it and who was responsible were both foregone conclusions.  It was Tim, because of course it was Tim, and he going through your meager possessions, because what else would he wait until Bruce was gone to do? Cringing, you rested your shoulder against the steady wood and knocked gingerly. “…Drake? Are you in there?”

Immediately, the rustling stopped. You went on. “I think Bruce is out, if you need him. Is there something you’re trying to find?”

It was a good out. An easy out. Thankfully, he was smart enough to take the bait. A few seconds later, the door cracked, a disheveled Tim emerging with a dark blush spread over his pale cheeks and his hands shoved conspicuously deep into the pockets of his hoodie. It was a struggle not to roll your eyes. He couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d come out with his dick still in his hand.

Your cheeks ached as you put on your dozenth unstrained, unworried, everything’s-fine-because-why-wouldn’t-it-be smile of the day and moved aside to let him out. “I’ll let him know you were looking for him when he gets home,” you assured, like you couldn’t see the way his bright eyes were fixed to the carpeting. “I’m sorry I can’t be more help. You all are just so heroic – it’s still a little hard to believe I’m a part of this at all.”

“You’re perfect,” he muttered, and you pretended not to hear him, cocking your head to the side. When he corrected himself, his voice was a bit louder, a bit clearer. “Don’t worry, I… I found what I was looking for. You don’t have to bother Bruce.”

“Oh, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. He’s so proud of you and your siblings, after all – it’s practically all he talks about.” A lie, but a fair one to tell. There was no reason Tim should have to know Bruce spent the majority of your time alone with his teeth buried somewhere in your neck, muttering paranoid fantasies about how many different ways you could be killed, mutilated, or otherwise indisposed by the members of his rouges gallery. “Honestly, sometimes, it’s hard not to feel like I’ve been here for years, rather than just a couple of months.”

You only realized your mistake when those bright eyes shot to you, suddenly wide and blown out with desperation. A hand darted towards you, and you stumbled out of the way, but not quickly enough to avoid Tim’s vice-grip on your forearm, to spare yourself the feeling of something cold and wet sinking into your sleeve. “You’re leaving?” The words seemed to slur together, spilling out too quickly to be restrained or refined. “You can’t leave. Bruce won’t be able to handle it, and Steph, she’ll—I mean, security-wise, we won’t be able to make sure you’re—”

Internally, you were keeping up a steady mantra of ‘Thisissogrossthisissogrossthisissogross.’

Externally, by some miracle, your smile never wavered, only growing sweeter as you cut him off with a chirping laugh. “I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, and then, after a slight lapse, “Would you mind letting go of me? It’s—uh, it’s kind of starting to hurt.”

As if on a switch, he let go of you entirely, pulling away as abruptly as he lashed out. There was a mumbled ‘I’m sorry’, and he made a swift retreat, disappearing around the next corner before you could so much as think about bringing up Bruce, again. You watched him go, only letting your expression fall once you were sure he was out of sight.

Without further caution, you slipped into your bedroom, glazing over the mess of pulled-out drawers, overturned clothes and scattered dirty laundry in favor of falling into bed, rolling onto your chest, and screaming into your pillow as loudly and for as long as your lungs would allow.

~

You tried your best never to be alone. It was a little draining, to be honest – having to keep a running chart in the back of your mind of who you could trust and who you couldn’t, constantly trying to guess whether it’d be safer to be alone with someone or if you were better off taking your chances on your own – but you’d learned your lesson the first time you’d fallen asleep in the Wayne’s at-home movie theater and woken up to Cassandra spread over you like a human weighted blanket, staring unblinkingly at your face and playing half-consciously with your hair. You tried not to leave yourself unguarded, after that.

Alfred was your first choice, Barbra your second, with Bruce as a distant third. Sometimes, you could get away with loitering near Damian (something you hated nearly as much as he did – you could only stand to be addressed as his father’s “jezebel lover” so many times), but Bruce was at one of Damian’s school events, leaving them both conveniently unavailable, and Alfred would be locked inside of his underground shooting range for another hour and a half, an activity you knew better than to interrupt. Meaning, you were on your own.

Meaning, you’d picked a very bad time to need something to drink.

The kitchen was deathly quiet, but you still made an effort to keep your head on a swivel as you made your way carefully to a corner cabinet, like stepping on the wrong tile would trigger a pit trap, or a flurry of arrows, or one of another million terrible things you hadn’t thought were possible before Bruce dedicated himself so entirely to proving you wrong. Mentally, you reviewed your haphazardly assembled schedule as you fumbled with the wood paneling and reached for a mug from the highest shelf. Tim was definitely out, touring local colleges on Bruce’s behest, Step was supposed to be in class, and Dick—

Your fingertips made contact with cool ceramic half a second before another, larger palm wrapped around yours, a broad chest pressing into your back as your mug was stolen out of your hand. You didn’t have to look to know who it was.

And Dick was on bed rest with three broken ribs. Right. Of course.

You really shouldn’t have bothered leaving your room at all. Suddenly, dehydration didn’t sound like such a bad way to go.

“Let me get that, baby bird.” You cringed at the petname, but nodded, letting Dick confiscate your mug and with it, your ability to make a swift exit from a conversation you’d rather not have. “Green tea, right? I know it’s your favorite.”

“On the mark as always, Dick.” There was just enough enthusiasm in your voice to overshadow the despair. You waited until you heard the muted click of an electric kettle before turning around and settling against the counter. “I wish you wouldn’t dote on me, though. I already feel useless enough as it is.”

“Don’t sweat it, I’ve been going stir-crazy all week.” He flashed you a quick smile – tooth and beaming – before pulling open the silverware drawer and rummaging through it, like Alfred would keep his teabags with his cutlery. He was topless, wearing the same pair of black sweatpants he must’ve slept in. He didn’t plan to go out, clearly, and it wasn’t like you had much of an alternative. “This is just the basics, too. For a while there, I had your breakfast, lunch, and midnight snack preferences memorized.”

You forced yourself to smile, albeit, not as brightly as him. “…did you, now?”

“Mhm. B had us running in-person surveillance before he finally bit the bullet and brought you home, and—” He cut himself off with a sudden laugh, shaking his head. “And, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that part. Oops.”

Mercifully, the kettle whistled before you could start to consider the implications, and you reached behind you, fishing two bags out of a teacup-shaped jar. It was easy enough to edge him out of the way, but not having to worry about pretending he’d ever made himself a cup of tea meant he could devote more of his energy to talking, so you still managed to lose, in the end. “He’s stingier with the surveillance footage, now. I’ve never seen him so jealous.”

“He can definitely be a little overprotective.”

You tried to keep your tone even, polite, but Dick was like his siblings – quick to action and slow to take a hint. A hand curled around the counter next to you, and you dumped an extra spoonful of sugar into the darkening water. “It’s just us in the manor, right?”

Another spoonful, just to be safe. “I think Alfred is—”

“Out for the day. Wayne Enterprise emergency – I let him know as soon as he finished down in the range.” In your peripheral, you watched his other hand come to rest on your opposite side, caging you in. “I wouldn’t mind the company, if you were starting to get lonely.”

Another spoonful. It’d be too sweet to drink, but anything not to have to look at him. “I’m afraid wouldn’t be a lot of fun, Grayson. Honestly, I was just planning on getting a little sle—”

“That’s perfect,” he cut in, too eager to wait his turn. “I’m a great cuddler.”

You curled your hand around your mug, hoping the warmth would be enough to ground you. Instead, it only burnt your palm, and for a second, you could imagine a world where your teeth weren’t buried in the plush of your cheek, where you didn’t have to remind yourself that turning around and splashing boiling-hot water on an all-but superhero’s face wasn’t a good idea. For a second, you genuinely considered it.

And then, a sound not totally dissimilar to thunder filled the kitchen; loud enough to leave your ears ringing and your adrenaline spiked. You flinched into yourself, but it only took a moment for fear to shift to relief as you noticed the bullet lodged into the wood less than an inch from your head. Your expression lit up just as Dick’s fell.

Without waiting for him to let you go, you slipped away – sprinting across the kitchen and throwing yourself into Jason’s – brave, bold, beautiful Jason – chest. He caught you one hand and finished re-holstering his handgun with the other, laughing as you hugged him as tightly as you could manage. Dick huffed, playful offense failing to mask real agitation, and you felt Jason brace against you. “Jerk off and shut the fuck up, Oedipus.”

Dick’s smile turned uneasy. “It’s good to see you too, man.”

“I didn’t come here for you,” he snapped, as short-tempered with his siblings as you wished you could be. He looked down, holding you that much tighter. “How’s my best girl holding up?”

“I’m just fine, Jason. I do think we have to have a talk about how you treat your brother, though.” You glanced over your shoulder to Dick. “A little privacy? You really ought to be staying off your feet, too.”

Reluctantly, Dick slinked out of the kitchen, hesitant to go but eager to nurse his wounds. You only went on once you were sure he was gone.

“It’s been awful. I found another hidden camera in my bedroom, and I think Tim’s tapping my—”

“I’ll do a sweep.”

He let you go, but you caught his arm. “Please, I know it’s important, but—” You cut yourself off, swallowing. It was irrational – the way you let your guard down so quickly around Jason. The mask never slipped around anyone else, whether you were afraid of them or they were one of your rare, precious exceptions. Jason existed outside of the Wayne family, though, outside of Bruce’s corrupting influence. He wasn’t going to hurt you. More importantly, he wasn’t going to let anyone else hurt you, either.

“But I really don’t want to think about that, right now,” you finished. “Just… just for a little while, alright? I don’t want to constantly feel like I’m walking on eggshells, at least not while you’re here.”

Jason stood strong for all of three seconds. With the fourth, he sighed, buckled, and shook his head, his exasperation brimming with affection. “How long until Bruce gets home?”

“Six more hours. He’s not due to check-in for another three.”

“I’ve got my bike out front. How do you think he’d feel about a joy ride?”

And just like that, you lit up. “It’d give him a heart attack.”

Jason pulled you close, kissing the top of your head.

“Perfect.”

~

Unfortunately, Jason’s visits were few and far between. You had to find ways of fending for yourself, in the downtime.

“I miss the city.”

Bruce glanced over his shoulder, gaze flickering over you before returning to the buttons of his dress-shirt. You sunk that much deeper into the mess of sheets and pillows, taking some small amount of solace in the way the cool silk felt against your warm skin.

(Sex wasn’t something Bruce came to you for often, but when he did, you gave it to him willingly, albeit with no more enthusiasm than was absolutely necessary. You rarely enjoyed it and always regretted everything you did or said during the act, but it was better than the alternative. Part of you trusted him, trusted Batman, enough to believe that he’d take your refusal for what it was, that you wouldn’t have to say anything more than ‘no’. The remaining overwhelming majority was able to look around you, to remember the way he’d held you down as he forced a needle stocked with medical-grade sedatives into your throat, and recognize that your opinion probably didn’t mean very much to him. Still, you couldn’t let things get that bad. Even if you had to surrender every other facet of your being, you couldn’t let things get that bad.)

“You hated the city. You said your landlord was a tyrant and that even the criminals were living paycheck-to-paycheck.” And then, after a second of thought, “And that there were more rats in Gotham than people.”

“Well, he was, they are, and you know I love animals.” You pushed yourself up, keeping a sheet bunched against your chest as you slumped against the headboard. “I was tired and overworked – you could see that. But, things would be different if I was staying with, say, my wealthy trillionaire boyfriend in one of the penthouse apartments that I know he has because his youngest son got in trouble for bragging about them in school last week?”

Bringing up his kids was a dirty tactic – the fastest way to get Bruce’s undivided attention. This time, when his eyes shifted in your direction, they stayed there, and he made his way back to your side of the bed. He collapsed next to you and, with no resistance on your end, pulled you into his lap. He didn’t seem to care whether or not his immaculately tailored, freshly pressed suit was creased in the process, but you did your best not to squirm. “You want to leave the manor?”

The first half of a frown tugged at the corner of your lips. “That’s not what I—”

“Elevated pulse, avoidant eye-contact,” he muttered. “Something’s bothering you.”

It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t wrong, either, but still. You would’ve preferred to be asked.

“…it’s your family,” you admitted, feigning guilt. “They’re all—” Horny, depressed, creepy little orphans. “—great kids, but it’s just been so much so quickly, and I think it… I think it might’ve been too much too quickly. For them and for me.”

“They adore you, if that’s what you’re worried about. Dick was close to moving back in when I decided it was too dangerous to leave you to your own devices.”

You melted into his chest, sighing. Reflexively, he curled around you – a good thing, if a bit claustrophobic. Bruce liked feeling like a shield between you and harm, between you and the world he couldn’t control. Hopefully, eventually, he’d realize he had more to shield you from than greedy landlords and villains who always seemed to be just out of sight. “It’s not that easy. It’s just been such a rocky adjustment period, and…” You curled your hand around his wrist and squeezed, hoping the force would be enough to communicate what you couldn’t put a word to. “I’m really afraid something bad might happen, Bruce.”

For a moment, he seemed to consider it. There was a kiss to your shoulder, solemn and lingering, then another to your cheek, more fleeting. “I’ll talk to them. They’ll give you space, if they’re told to.”

If he told them to. You doubted you held much authority, here. “And the apartment in the city? On the highest floor, tall enough to see from Gotham to New York?”

Bruce smiled, and your heart soared.

Then, he started talking, and it crashed back down, dying upon impact. “Once I know it’s safe for you, sweetheart.”

There was another kiss, this one to the nape of your neck, then another, lower down on your spine. A calloused hand slipped underneath the sheet still hugged against your chest, and you allowed it to.

Honestly, it would’ve been kinder if he’d cut you into pieces and fed you to the wolves himself.

~

You made a run for it as soon as the arguing started.

Arguing, not yelling – the distinction was minor, but significant. Yelling would’ve meant an injury, or a mission gone wrong, or something else that signaled a sudden complication that couldn’t be smoothed over with sugar-sweet sentimentality or orders issues with an ice-cold strictness. Yelling would’ve meant Bruce didn’t mind letting you overhear, which usually meant you didn’t need to be involved. Arguing, all hushed whispers and hissed explanations and vague warnings, was different. Arguing meant, more often than not, that they were arguing about you.

It was Tim’s fault, as far as you could tell. Barbara had been the one to find the conspicuously encrypted file on one of Dick’s civilian devices, the one to mention it to Stephanie as a point of concern who went to Tim within the hour, but it was still his fault. He’d gotten Bruce involved, let his need for approval tip the tenuously balanced scales that kept his family whole and you safe. He’d talked them all into waiting until Dick was close enough to confront in-person, stopping by for his weekly equipment pick-up and check-in. He was the reason you’d gotten close enough to hear something about ‘pictures’ and ‘inappropriate use of reconnaissance material’ before fleeing to the mansion’s foyer – the only part of the house you could be sure wasn’t occupied. If you were lucky, you’d only be there for half an hour or so, enough time for them to compromise on some non-solution and return to your carefully maintained status quo. If you weren’t, you’d spend the early hours of the morning—

Something small but forceful hit the nearest window, shortly followed by another projectile, then another. The glass was too thick and the world outside too dark to make anything out, but you didn’t need to see anything to know who’d come to your rescue.

Jason.

You rushed to the door, then hesitated. Jason would only get a slap on the wrist for luring you out of the estate, and Bruce could never bring himself to be that strict with you, but now might’ve been a bad time. Tensions were already running high. Your little disappearing act wouldn’t—

A sudden rush of footsteps clattering through the ceiling from the floor above you, hushed voices raised just to the point of audibility. None of it was entirely coherent, but Dick’s came the closest. You managed to make out a half-choked “If you’d just let me—” before someone cut him off.

With your better judgement reduced to buzzing static, you pried open the closer of a pair of huge, mahogany doors and slipped out of the estate entirely.

Of course, Jason was waiting outside, a small stock of pebbles still in his left hand and, of course, you threw yourself at him, letting him catch and spin you twice before setting you back onto your feet with an airy laugh. A pitch-black sports car was waiting at the end of the driveway, the engine purring loudly enough to drown the rest of the world out. “Rough night?”

“You have no fucking idea,” you muttered, breathless. “I don’t care where we go, just get me out of here.”

There was a reason Jason was your favorite. There was no argument, no prying, just his arm around your waist as he herded you into the passenger seat. Fifteen minutes and a little over fifty miles later, the mansion was little more than a dull glow on the horizon, and you could pretend you’d stopped thinking about Bruce entirely.

There was no effort to make conversation, as bad as you felt about pulling Jason into your prolonged tryst with self-pity. Instead, you sunk into the leather of his seat and fixed your gaze on the passing landscape, clinging to any detail you were able to latch onto as it flew by. It was possible, between the subways and boarded-over windows and perpetually overcast skies, to go days without seeing the sun in Gotham. Still, your life had felt brighter there than it ever did in Bruce’s estate.

Jason turned down a road you didn’t recognize, and you managed to find your voice. “Are we going into the city?”

“Even better.” He flashed you a smile, the engine purring as he accelerated. “You’ll like it, I promise. Just sit tight.”

As if you had much of a choice.

Road gave way to forest, forest to empty plains, and empty plains to the dilapidated remains of what you could only label as a long-abandoned amusement park – like Disney World if there’d been some terrible, possibly nuclear accident followed by twenty or so years of absolute neglect. Jason’s car glided past the rusted remains of an iron gate, past the corpses of rides buckled under their own weight, and came to a stop in front of a paint-stripped merry-go-round almost entirely sheeted be vines and weeds and overgrowth. You let out a low whistle as he threw the gear shift into park and, for the first time in any vehicle you’d ever shared with him, pulled his keys out of the ignition. He’d always left the engine running while visiting the mansion, but then again, you’d always been pretty eager to make a hasty escape, too.

“I love it, Jason. I’ve always wanted to get tetanus from a broken down carnival.”

“A fair, actually,” he corrected, slipping his keys into his jacket pocket. Like he expected you to try and steal them while his back was turned, or something. “My parents used to take me here, before I met B. There weren’t a lot of Ferris wheels after that.”

There was a short lapse, the sound of lips moving against teeth. You made the mistake of humming, of glancing over to him, of leaving yourself open for another question, and Jason, as nice as he was, was more than happy to take advantage of you. “So, when did you and B start…”

He trailed off, drumming his fingers against the wheel. You filled in the rest with a breathy chuckle. “When did I start sleeping with your dad?”

He jabbed an elbow into your side. “First of all, you can admit you’re fucking him or call him my dad, but you’ve gotta pick one.” You opened your mouth, already ready to spit out some dumb joke about what Bruce would’ve preferred to be called, but Jason cut in, sniping your stupid joke out of the air. “Secondly, answer the question. I get enough of your diversions back at home.”

“Being a buzzkill must run in family,” you sighed, but gave in quickly enough. “It happened once before the whole kidnapping thing, when he was staying at my apartment and sleeping off a broken leg. I hadn’t even seen him without his mask on at that point, but I figured it was a sign – destiny, or something.” You did your best to smile, slumping against the door. “It was dumb. He gave me a couple weeks after bringing me to the estate, mostly because of the crying and stuff, but things started up again pretty quickly.”

“Do you… like it?”

“Do you like asking about your dad’s sex life?” He flinched back, and laughing, you went on. “I guess I don’t care. There’s not a lot else to do.” You swallowed. “Would it matter if I didn’t?”

For someone with so many questions, he didn’t leave a lot of time for yours, the hypocrite. Moving on swiftly, he asked, “And the others, have they…?”

“No.” And then, after a beat, “Not yet.”

He seemed to relax, at that. His back was still straight, his shoulders still squared, but his grip on the wheel loosened, his jaw unclenching ever so slightly. You tried the handle – locked. Obviously. As if you’d ever get that lucky.

His voice was soft, sweet. The kind of tone you’d use on a child, or an animal, or a doll. “This would probably be easier in the backseat, right?”

“Let me out.”

“So you can go where,baby? It’s just us out here.” He laughed, resting a hand on your thigh. You slammed your shoulder into the door. It didn’t budge. “Hey, hey, this doesn’t need to get rough. I’m not going to be like Dick. The others – they’ll do it wrong, treat you like a cut of meat they have to get to before anybody else. I just need to make sure you get out of this in one piece.”

Nails embedded in leather, body crammed as far from him as you could force it be. You weren’t hyperventilating, but only because you’d stopped breathing entirely. “Let me out, Jason.”

“I love the way you say my name. It’s pretty, and delicate – just like you.” He sighed, shook his head. “I know you don’t get it, but I’m just trying to take care of you, like you’ve been taking care of me for the past few—”

“Stop acting like I’m your mom.” A sob fractured the final syllable, another bubbling up from deep in your chest a moment later. Your body was beyond the point of rationality, but the soft, preservational part of your mind wasn’t so beyond the point of seeking refuge. There was a way out of this, as ghoulish as it seemed. You couldn’t stop it from happening, but you could make it better. You’d regret it in an hour, when it came time to explain yourself to Bruce, but what happened in an hour didn’t matter, not if you couldn’t survive the next few minutes.

You might’ve done it, too – or, you might’ve tried, at least. You wanted to. You planned to. And yet, when you opened your mouth, there was only one thing you could seem to say. “I don’t want to do this, Jason.”

His nails bit into your thigh, his smile easing at the corners. For a second, you almost thought he’d pull away. For a second, you almost thought he’d sigh, straighten back up, and admit this was all part of some cruel, unfunny joke that the two of you would remember fondly, later on.

Then, he laughed and leaned forward, lips brushing against the top of your head. You felt him speak before you heard his voice, but the cloying reverberation alone was enough to tell you that you would’ve been better off never saying anything at all.

“Welcome to the family, sweetheart.”

[silversurfersx]

media duties | f1grid pt.2

part 1

f1 grid x driver!reader [smau] - part 2

summary: the reader does anything to escape her media duties

faceclaim: Jamie chadwick and random peopke I found on ointerest

warnings: swearing, theoretical violence

liked by georgerussel63, landonorris, maxverstappen1 and others

yourusername: got a visitor in the paddock today😊 he had the cooler car 😔

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user: is alex ok?

user: what happened in slide 3???

alex_albon: why did you post this?

yourusername: bc auggie is adorable alex_albon: obviously, but that's not what I meant yourusername: oh you mean me hitting you with my car... yeah, that's meant as a threat for everyone alex_albon: what for? yourusername: leading Netflix to my secret hideout alex_albon: you were hiding in the Haas hospitality with Auggie and the Haas kids yourusername: yeah I couldn't understand a word those two said

user: ah yes...

user: is it weird that I'm jealous of auggie's car?

user: no, cause same

___

Auggie cruised in his Spiderman toy car in front of you through the paddock. In high pitched squeaks he imitated motor noises.

Chuckling at the small boy, you followed along grabbing your phone from your pocket when you felt a ping. Looking down you saw Alex's message about Netflix wanting to film a segment once again.

'I can't, I gotta take care of auggie, sorry'

You texted back, looking for another excuse, as you knew that taking care of Auggie wasn't the best excuse, as there were enough people at Williams who could look after your nephew for an hour. They did when you raced as well.

Your eyes moved over the paddock, stopping on Nico Hulkenberg kneeling alongside his daughter, who was Auggie's age.

"Auggie, what do you think about making a new friend?"

The blonde boy turned back, quickly hitting the brakes of his toy car. "A new friend?"

"Yeah, you see that girl over there?" You nodded at the small girl, whose name you never really learned. "She looks nice, doesn't she?"

"Yes! Do you think she wants to be my friend?" The boy asked eyes wide in question. You shrugged. "Maybe we could go and ask."

"Yes!"

___

___

"Y/N what are your plans for next year?" The media person asked rising to their feat in the crowd of reporters during the press conference.

Slowly you lifted the microphone up to your lips. "I don't know."

"You were seen in the Haas hospitality earlier today. Was it contract related or did you hide from someone again?" They asked which was followed by chuckles from everyone in the room.

Smiling you answered. "I was hiding."

Again chuckles erupted.

"Did you get caught?" Max interrupted from next to you on the couch. Laughing you nodded. "Yeah, Alex told on me."

"Ah, you shouldn't have told him." Max reprimanded you.

"Yeah, I know." You nodded. "But I hit him with my car, so now we're even." You argumented, ignoring the wide eyes from the media. Yuki grinned from beside Max, who couldn't hide his own amusement.

"That seems alright then." Max replied.

"If i may interrupt and go back to my initial question." The reporter interrupted. "Y/N, what are your plans for next year, do you have a new contract in sight?"

"Not really." You shrugged. It was a lie, but it wasn't any of their business, yet and you didn't even know if t would work out.

___

liked by sebastianvettel, francolapinto, williamsracing and others

yourusername: a great honour to be able to join seb and his crew!❤

It was an absolute honour meeting you, seb and all the people who worked this project. I am proud to have been part of this!!!🇧🇷🤩🥰

SennaForver 🇧🇷🇧🇷

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user: absolutely beautiful what you did

user: we love seb!

user: senna forever!!!

sebastianvettel: it was an honour to have you join us as well❤ [liked by yoursusername]

alex_albon: so this is where you went?

___

___

It was only logical that a day would come, where you were actually late for media duties, though no one believed you. Your constant lying about your whereabouts during media duties finally got to you.

"Where did you hide out this time?" Alex greeted you when you ran on stage for the fan event. "I didn't, I swear, I fell asleep and forgot to set an alarm."

Alex looked at you suspiciously, not quite believing you. "Was it Max?"

"No, I swear, I slept in." You tried to reassure. Looking out at the crowd you tried to convince them. "Sorry guys, but I swear I did sleep."

Laughs filled the crowd at you attempts of convincing.

"Was that a 'we believe you'- laugh?" You asked receiving once again a similar laugh. Leaning back to look at the Alpine boys who were with you. "Are they laughing at me or with me?"

"I think at you." Pierre teased and Esteban joined. "I would too."

"At least I know I'm funny." You replied, grinning.

Alex leaned towards you, putting the microphone away from his mouth. "Did you actually sleep in?"

"Yes, I swear." You replied.

___

___

liked by landonorris, alexalbon, maxverstappen1 and others

yourusername: I swear guys i played too much sims and fell asleep... also I got a special helmet ⛑️

view comments

user: she's out here fighting for her life, haha

user: happens to the best of us

user: damn, she's fighting harder than when she's escaping Netflix

landonorris: did u feed me?

yourusername: i let you drown in the pool, lol landonorris: what 🙂 yourusername: oscar was really sad oscarpiastri: nah landonorris: 🥲 yourusername: that's rough

alexalbon: but did you?

yourusername: 🤡

user: sick helmet ⛑️

user: are we all just gonna ignore lando?

yourusername: ignoring him is always the safest option 👍

___

Drive to Survive interview:

"Hello, my name is Y/N Y/LN and I am racing for Williams Racing." You closed the clap with a tight smile, the bright lights surrounding you blinded you.

"Okay, great, it's good to finally catch you." The reporter announced making you unwillingly smile. "Yeah, you guys are very adamant, just wouldn't give up."

"We promise to keep it short for you." The woman laughed.

"Grand."

"Where did you hide this time?" The question continued.

"At Aston."

"Is it nice there?" The woman said as the interview continued.

"It's very green."

"Oh, I bet. How are you finding this season as it is slowly ending? What are your plans for next season, there are only a handful of seats left?" The interviewer pressed as you shifted in your seat knowing what she was out for. Carlos took your Williams seat for next year, so the question arises, 'what should you do?'.

Obviously you were in talks with a few people, looking over the open seats and even at spots in other categories like wec.

"It's been crazy, but I know what I'm doing."

"So you got a plan?" The woman asked curiously. "Is it for vcarb? They've been looking at you, I've heard."

You shrugged pursing your lips . "RedBull sugar free? Who knows."

"You're really not giving us anything, aren't you?" She interviewer chuckled and you smiled cockily.

"Nope." You looked over the camera personal, as the interviewer searched her notes. "Are we finished? Do you just cut to some dramatic scenes of me now?"

The lady shook her head chuckling. "Not quite, sorry."

Internally sighing in disappointment you nodded.

"Alright."

___

[CAPTION] thank you Charles (my secret santa) for the invisability cloak, now I can hide even better☺️🧙‍♀️

charles_leclerc: you are welcome ☺️🥰 yourusername: 😘

[quarterlifekitty]

heyyy

can I ask for a part 2 on fuckboy soap?

i want to know more about what happens with reader and simon

in my head, Simon HATES seeing Johnny treat the reader that way. i can envision Simon taking her out, treating her right and all but stealing away Johnny's toy.

So, I posted a part 2, but I have these asks about it and I’d hate for them to go to waste— so I thought I’ll do a little bit of expansion on the relationship. Some shite exposition.

Uhhhh I’m back from writing this now and I didn’t mean to do this but I kind of made this like a prequel or like a part 1.5 I didn’t mean to make it so long oops

Promethean: how to starve a beast

Simon does not involve himself, in any way, in the nasty hookup miasma that Soap is a part of. That most of the frat is a part of, honestly. Motherfucker doesn’t party. This man is on financial aid and has a part time job. He is studying because he’s the one paying for his schooling and for his living expenses.

He doesn’t care that Johnny fucks people under less than savory pretenses. People get played by him? Better they learn their lesson with some harmless douche with a mohawk than with someone who will actually do some damage. Ultimately, not his business. He’s seen plenty of people come and go across the hall, and he’s not fussed.

He doesn’t respond to the conquest stories from the other guys when they’re sharing takeout, or the occasional ‘family’ dinner. Really, the only reaction he gives, even internally, is when one of them comments on something some girl did that was gross, or something about them that wasn’t hot.

A complaint that her period started when she stayed the night. I’d like to fuck a girl while she’s on the rag. Bet it’s fucking warm and slick.

A complaint that she had cellulite. Way to out yourself as being a porn addict, mate.

A complaint that her nails dug too hard into his skin. I’d love for a girl to make me bleed when I fuck her.

He didn’t feel any sympathy. Just accumulated little, harmless fantasies.

Until Johnny started talking about you.

Simon didn’t know you. Had never met you. Seen you once or twice, maybe. Hadn’t learned to even recognize your face.

“Kept leanin’, think she wanted me t’kiss her.”

“So fockin’ bad at giving head. S’a bit cute, tae be honest.”

“Tried tae make a grab for my hand the other night. Can ye believe it? Tryin’ tae hold my hand while ah’m givin’ it tae her. Daft thing still doesnae get it.”

Then he starts to notice you when you leave Soap’s room. The way you very gently close his door as if you’re worried about bothering him. The way you pause, like there’s something you want to say, before you move on. The deep breath. The odd sniffle.

And then, when you show up. Yanked inside without so much as a kind word.

Simon has to strain and get close to the door if he wants to hear you. Soap’s loud as all fuck, but from what one can hear from the hall, he may as well be in there alone.

It’s like there’s an electric coil in his belly. Every time there’s something to do with you, the dial ticks over a notch. The current heats the metal. Every time Soap brags about what he’s done to you. Every time he sees you shake when you walk down the hall and out of the house. Every time Soap brags about what you, the stupid little thing he keeps for a fuckpet, really wants—

The coil is red hot. Even if he could figure out how to turn off the burner, the heat would stay. The metal would be hot to the touch. The heat radiates the very air in front of him, like a mirage. He thinks of you when you’re not even in the house. When no one’s talking about you. You’re a parasite that’s squirmed deep into his gut and you can’t be removed without pulling his organs out with you.

He feels like he’s gone mad. How can no one else see it the way he does? How can Johnny not see how privileged he is to have you even look at him? How can he not want the perfect devotion you’re so keen to give him? How can you not know that any man would thank god for your returned affection, if you’d only set your sights on one that wasn’t a complete and total fuckhead? How has no jealous classmate or longtime friend come by and set Johnny’s nose bloody and crooked for how he’s treated you, sensitive and dangerously endearing as you are?

Every time Johnny talked about you, he had no idea that it was another rusted staple under his best mate’s skin. Building your mythology. Making you a prize. No, that wasn’t right.

Making you seem utterly wasted. Shackled yourself to a mutt with no sense for what he had writhing and submissive beneath him.

Soap has the perfect thing, the finest yield of flesh, right between his teeth and he won’t bite down.

Content for you to rot in his maw.

Well, Simon isn’t.

[introvert-rat]

It's a reminder that he is a suspect

He pleaded not guilty, but everyone act like he is the shooter.

We do not know, and, in my very personal opinion that could be wrong, I honestly doubt he actually is the shooter, and even if in the future he would say that he was, can we even believe that ?

Can we believe that a man, who was immediately deemed coupable and received unfair treatment, with no way to speak to the public, was not tortured into making a false statement ?

It's not like it never happened.

It would be good that we, stop playing in those people games.

He is innocent until proven guilty.

Not guilty until proven innocent.

Words have power, don't forget about it

"I’m very concerned about my client’s right to a fair trial in this case.  He’s being prejudiced by some statements that are being made by government officials. Like every other defendant, he’s entitled to a presumption of innocence. But unfortunately the way this has been handled so far his rights are being violated. And as you know, Your Honor, there’s a wealth of case law guaranteeing his rights to a fair trial, but none of the safeguards have been put in place yet here — in fact it’s just the opposite of what’s been happening. 

He’s a young man, and he is being treated like a human pingpong ball between two warring jurisdictions here.

These federal and state prosecutors are coordinating with one another at the expense of him. They have conflicting theories in their indictment, and they are literally treating him like he is some sort of political fodder, like some sort of spectacle. 

He was on display for everyone to see in the biggest staged perp walk I’ve ever seen in my career. It was absolutely unnecessary. He’s been cooperative with law enforcement. He’d been in custody for over a week. He waived extradition. He was cooperative at all accounts. There was no reason for the NYPD and everybody to have these big assault rifles — that frankly I had no idea it was in their arsenal — and to have all the press there the media there. It was perfectly choreographed. 

And what was the New York City Mayor doing at this press conference, Your Honor? That just made it utterly political. And as your honor knows under Loro v. Charles, the Court of Appeals for the 2nd Circuit has held it to be clearly established that these staged perp walks to the media unrelated to a legitimate law enforcement objective is unconstitutional. And I submit that there was zero law enforcement objective to do that sort of perp walk. There’s absolutely no need for that whatsoever. 

And frankly, Your Honor, the mayor should know more than anyone about the presumption of innocence that he, too, is afforded dealing with his own issues. And, frankly, I submit that he was just trying to detract from those issues by making a spectacle of Mr. Mangione. 

And there are consequences to this. 

He has a right to a fair trial. And I just want to put on the record statements that the mayor made publicly about my client. Nothing saying “alleged” for example. And he said “I wanted to send a strong message with the police commissioner that we’re leading from the front. I’m not just going to allow him to come into our city. I wanted to look him in the eye and state ‘You carried out this terrorist act in my city, the city of New York that I love.’” And he wanted to show symbolism. 

Your Honor, he’s not a symbol. He’s somebody who is afforded the right to a fair trial. He’s innocent until proven guilty. And the mayor was talking to jurors — future potential jurors that elected him. Those are the people that elected him that he is talking to and calling this man a terrorist.

So, Your Honor, I just want to make a record of this and put everyone on notice that this has to stop, and my client is entitled to a fair trial and the presumption of innocence."

[bunny-jpeg]

the company you keep

fernando alonso & lance stroll

cw: smut/pwp, age gap (20s/40s), threesome, convincing, oral sex (reader & fernando receiving), ditzy!reader, large chested!reader

like the fic? leave a comment or suggest your own! i love hearing new ideas and would love to take a crack at any ideas you have.

i am sorry to the 5 stollonso fans out there.

lance never thought that fernando would actually retire. he honestly thought that the older man was going to drive off somewhere and never be heard from again. but when whispers of his retirement started to fill the paddock, lance knew he had to act fast. he didn't need a new teammate, he needed fernando.

and it took dinner in montreal and putting those soft brown eyes to work to convince his darling, loving girlfriend to help him keep fernando on the team. with that boyish smile after two glasses of wine, he asked, "will you help me?"

and you, beautiful as ever replied, "of course, honey!" with an eagerness that almost made lance melt. anything for him, anything for the team, that was your personal motto.

so it took place after the canadian grand prix, you and lance's stomping ground. while the results of the race weren't spectacular for either driver, you were all smiles. you had on an aston martin t-shirt shirt that was a bit too small for your big breasts, and a short pleated skirt in white. paired with white tennis socks pulled up as high as they'd go and a pair of sneakers.

fernando couldn't believe it when you happily pulled him into your apartment with lance close behind. the older man didn't know what to expect when you placed a careful kiss on the corner of his mouth and the older driver was already smitten.

you pouted when you pulled away, "is racing not fun anymore, mister alonso?" this was your attempt to be seductive, as if your fat tits in his face and your pouty lips didn't have fernando weak in the knees.

lance wrapped his arms around fernando's waist and asked, "yeah, is it not anymore?"

fernando swallowed, he was trapped between two people almost half his age. but when you went in for the kiss, the concern left his head. especially when you giggled as he touched the bottom hem of your t-shirt.

"does someone want to me, sir?" you pressed your chest up against fernando's. you briefly looked to your boyfriend and giggled, "i think someone does?"

fernando replied, "who could resist you?" then his hands found your behind and he pulled you closer to him. he shuddered when lance's hands pulled at his t-shirt. the poor older driver was still sandwiched between you two. he felt the rush down to his cock when you lazily made out with lance while the both of you tried to get fernando shirtless.

when you pulled away, you got the shirt off of the driver before you took him by the arms and pulled him into your bedroom that you shared with your boyfriend.

"this feels a little... intimate."

"well, it can be. but you want to promise us something." you said as you took a hold of the bottom of your t-shirt. the poor fabric was straining, the logo stretched across your breasts.

lance was already shirtless and on the bed next to you. the devils in fernando's ear. the rational thing would be to leave and act like it never happened. but how was that possible when the devils were so pretty.

"anything." fernando replied.

you smiled at him, "promise not to leave us, okay? if you don't retire then we can do this all the time!" there was a joy to your voice that was the final straw for fernando. maybe he could hold out for a few more seasons. if you kept true to your word.

lance also added, "that means staying on the team too. means we'll be around each other more." he placed a had on the side of your thigh, "what do you say?"

the older driver nodded, he was trapped. seduced by two beauties who wanted nothing more than for fernando to keep racing. and would do anything to keep that reality alive. so when fernando's cock strained in his jeans when you took off your top, he knew any morals or rationality were long gone.

and soon he joined you both in.

"i told you he'd join us." lance laughed before he helped you out of your clothes and you did the same. occasionally kissing as you both did so. fernando had seen the two of you kiss multiple times, but to see it so close and with himself already painfully turned on. it was something he wanted to get in on.

he took you by the bare shoulders once you got your bra off. he looked to lance and asked, "can i kiss her?"

lance beamed at his teammate, "of course." then leaned back and stroked his cock as the older driver kissed you on the lips. he shuddered when you giggled.

"scratchy." you said in reference to fernando's facial hair. then worked to getting his clothes off. kissing him was different than kissing lance. he was more mature, older with more experience. even though he groped at you like a teen boy.

"she tastes good, lance." fernando said as he pulled you closer to him. he groped your ass and eyed his teammate, "i feel like this is a dream."

lance beamed, happy that he got his teammate where he wanted. you deserved something nice for all of your hard work. he stroked his cock at the sight of you lazily making out with fernando. he said to the other man, "well, only the best for you."

you soon ended up on your back with your face up near fernando's cock while lance was between your legs. tonight was a sampler of good things to come. this was about getting fernando to commit to staying on the team, and lance would get his way with a promise of your sweet cunt.

you kissed fernando's cock and felt the man tense up. you giggled and kissed it more. you ran your tongue up against it while you worked it with your hand as well. it was a bit impressive in size, even though your boyfriend was taller than him. fernando's cock was a bit bigger.

"trained her good." lance chuckled as he got your thighs around his head. he gave your your wet cunt long strokes of his tongue and watched your nipples grow hard.

fernando's gaze met yours as you continued to pleasure him. he cupped your face and you leaned into his touch, "she does feel very good."

"well, of course. teammates share everything." lance said before he really started to eat you out. lance squeezed your thighs around his head and felt his cock grow achy with want. all three of you naked on the bed.

you knew after you were finishing getting fernando off, you'd have get your boyfriend off too. you giggled a little against the older man's cock before you continued to stroke it.

soon you found the right angle to suck him off. your mouth fully on it as you tried to take as much of it as you could. what you couldn't fit in your mouth, you stroked with your hand. fernando was captivated by you, such a pretty thing between his legs.

he felt something course through him when you gazed up at him and smiled a little with his cock in your mouth only for your eyes to flutter shut in lust when lance continued to eat you out. he would've never guessed in all his time racing that he'd be in bed a teammate and said teammate's girlfriend. having you orally pleasure him with a promise that he'd still be in formula one.

how could he leave now?

you whimpered against fernando's cock from the sensation of lance at your clit. your eyes opened once more and leaned into fernando's touch. this was the performance of a lifetime. you had to make the older driver feel good if he was going to stay.

"such a pretty thing. i can see why you keep her in montreal, lance. she would cause problems in other places." fernando said as he pushed you further down onto his cock which made you moan a little louder.

the feeling all of hot pleasure made you squirm a little bit. it felt painfully good, it was unlike anything else you had ever experienced before. you never thought you'd be sucking another man's cock, but there you were. with fernando's hand in your hair.

lance was gorging on your cunt, he loved to eat you out. he loved trailing his fingers across your slick, needy cunt as he focused on your clit. he felt you shift under him and the moans muffled be the other man's cock.

you continued to move your head up and down, you tried to go deeper on fernando's cock, but it was hard to without tensing up too much. eyes closed, you felt amazing. it was a heat through you as you gave and received pleasure. you whined a little bit against his cock as the older man's hand tightened in your hair.

"i am pretty lucky. not every day i get to see something so beautiful. you must really want me on the team, don't you, lance?" fernando asked.

lance looked up and took his mouth away from your pussy. he fingered you quickly and smiled. the bottom of his chin covered in spit and your wetness, "well, i thought maybe we could grow a little closer."

fernando laughed, "this is a way to do that. would you like that?" he asked as he rubbed your cheek and you leaned against it. lance smiled a little before he went back to eating you out.

you nodded a little, your mouth still on his cock. unable to say much as you felt the heat in your core bloom into something more. you knew that you wouldn't last much longer. you held onto fernando's thighs and arched your back a little bit from the sensations. you had never done something like this before. you were always the good girl, a little on the dumber side but that was what lance liked about you. he knew that you'd be so good to him. like getting you to suck his teammate off.

lance worked you towards orgasm and you worked fernando towards his. it wasn't long before you were holding on for dear life and could feel yourself closer to orgasm. you whimpered with the man's cock in your mouth and arched your back a little more from the feeling of it all. you weren't think about much else besides getting to your climax. so you worked hard to get the older driver off.

you tightened your thighs around lance's head and your hands on fernando's thighs. you whimpered, it sounded muffled as you climaxed. it hit you hard and made you arched your back with want. you whined a little bit and continued to work your mouth on fernando's cock.

the older man soon finished while lance over stimulated your cunt with his fingers and mouth. the three of you moved together and you felt your thoughts go blank for a moment as both men pulled away from you and you could breathe properly for a moment.

lance eyed you with want, his cock was painfully hard. he stroked it a few times before he grabbed you by the hips. you whimpered as fernando's cock pressed against your cheek.

"we have all night beautiful. and i don't think fernando is done either." you needed to get lance off too, which meant another round. and more orgasms.

but it was all for the team, for fernando to stay.

-

you almost jumped for joy when it was announced that fernando was staying another season. you did a little jump on the balls of your feet and clapped your hands a little. you and lance were so smart!

you perked up when your phone chirped and it was from your loving boyfriend. it was a request to meet them at the hotel, and don't forget to wear the t-shirt. tonight you three were going to celebrate and lance wanted to make sure it was a night none of you would forget. <3

[fallenclan]

wow! it feels weird for this moon (and ravenstar's leadership/arc to finally be over)... i have some Thoughts, particularly about the exiled trio!

patchback -- i like that, of the three, she's the only one who looks genuinely angry. the same is true when ravenstar is killed. levi and sleepydawn look more surprised in that instance as well. given her history, this is the SECOND time patchback has been exiled. i imagine that she enjoys being a part of a clan. possibly, being exiled for the first time was the worst thing that ever happened to her, so when cherrystar gave her a chance, patchback chose to try and "adapt," to be whoever cherrystar would accept. but then ravenstar gave her the room to be herself... surely, with his support, and levi as deputy, then patchback will never have to fear exile again? ha! wrong.

levi -- levi only joined fallenclan after realizing an opportunity to hold power awaited him. i highly doubt levi cares about clan life. i think he's disappointed/annoyed, but not particularly "devestated" in the way that i imagine patchback is. levi will just... move on with his life, and try to find power somewhere else. i think he and patchback will stick together, since they're friends, and there's power in numbers. i believe levi likes power, but doesn't like to be the one making decisions (he likes his second-in-command spot imo). so, with ravenstar gone, patchback becomes his first-in-command. better yet, i imagine levi enjoyed ravenstar, but didn't like him. levi actually likes patchback, so being her second-in-command, backing her up, or better yet, being her partner is especially appealing.

sleepydawn -- he just looks numb. after ravenstar's death, i imagine he quickly resigned himself to what his fate would be. it's also noteworthy that his mate, ashblink, won't be joining him. ashblink could easily have chosen to leave with sleepydawn, but didn't. their relationship felt very shallow from the beginning. while i do think they care about each other, i think sleepydawn's loyalty to ravenstar would always come over his affection for ashblink, and ashblink would ultimately realize that sleepydawn isn't looking for love. within their interactions, ashblink is shown being caring/supportive (as best he can) towards sleepydawn, who looks bored/disinterested or rebuffs him. sleepydawn doesn't know how to be in a relationship. he needs to sort his own shit out before having a boyfriend. i think there's a 50/50 chance that sleepydawn will set out on his own, and try to "find himself" while also seething in bitterness and grief, versus deciding to throw in his lot with patchback and levi.

silly idea: patchback starts her own clan (ravenclan? after the first cat to ever """accept""" her for who she is) with levi as deputy. sleepydawn joins. teeheehee. it would be funny, but in all likelihood, i think the three of them will just have to face reality and Cope rather than getting any sort of resolution they would have hoped for.

anyway, yay wolfstar!!! yay kestrelfeather! yay pondshine and flamefall and cloudtuft!! yippee!! i love how happy wolfstar looks for once, and i was delighted to see broccoli and pepperswipe <3 i know sweetclover is so proud... but also trying to be there for her parents

also finchbeak kits next moon! is the father chumtail or flamefall? or a mysterious, third cat... comment down below! /j

-🐉

MY GOD dragon once again you have hit the nail perfectly on the head... i don't even need to make an explanation post you got it in one. incredible

[gold-onthe-inside]

Christmas Request: Spencer catches wind that one of JJ’s kids (or his own kid) doesn’t believe in Santa, so he commits to growing out his beard, dying it white and dressing up as Santa to bring a lil holiday cheer to the kiddos - can be xOC

santa's little helper 🍬🎅

who? spencer reid (post prison) x bau!reader

summary: after finding out henry no longer believes in santa after he missed last christmas, spencer dedicates this year to bringing the magic of christmas back to his godson's life... with a little help from you, of course.

content warnings: fleeting reference to cat adams, a little kissing, spencer with a beard, ambiguous status of reader's relationship to spencer (could be a wife, fiance, girlfriend, up to you),

In the 12 years you've known Spencer, he's never been keen on growing facial hair, and it had never been something you'd thought twice about. And then Cat Adams had come into your lives and had been determined to ruin the happily ever after the two of had fought so hard to make. Spencer's prison sentence had rivalled only Emily's faked death in the pain it had caused you two, the only difference being that at least Spencer wasn't actually dead. The two of you were a month and a half away from the anniversary of his release, and he'd completely stopped shaving for that year, growing out his facial hair.

You hoped that if it was something serious, he'd have told you, or if not you, his mandated therapist. Besides, other than that, he was taking care of himself, eating well, had finally started sleeping better, you had nothing else to complain about. You'd brought the beard up a couple months ago, but his brow had furrowed in concern and his brown puppy dog eyes baring his heart to you when he asked if you didn't like it. "No, I do like it," you had insisted, which was true. You'd learned early on that Spencer could play around with his hairstyles and you found him no less attractive (just never ever grow out a mullet again, for the love of God).

You'd grown used to it, too, his scruff tickling you when he'd kiss you, which was practically every time he got the chance these days. It's your turn to host the Christmas Eve party and the two of you are going over the house with a fine tooth comb, armed to the teeth with cleaning supplies, and that's when you find the white hairspray, mid-way through your bathroom cleanse. Which would go well with the Santa suit tucked away in the back of his wardrobe. You knew Spencer had his silly moments - with his mismatched socks and magic tricks, and with the amount of times he's pulled stuff out of your ear just to make you smile couldn't be counted. But it felt out of character for him to spend the whole night you had planned (Secret Santa, dinner, and Christmas movies) with white hair and a beard.

He's using all the body strength he has in rigorously cleaning the kitchen floor, intent on making it so clean you could eat off of it, when you trudge downstairs, hairspray in hand. "Spence, is this yours?" you asked, skipping the last step, to the kitchen and he looked up, then froze at the sight of the hairspray.

"It's not what it looks like," he tried, sitting on his knees and you narrowed your eyes.

"It looks like you're planning to dress as Santa at some point," you said, leaning against the doorway, and you watched him stand up and pull off his gloves.

"Okay, yeah, maybe it is what it looks like," he said with a sigh, taking a seat on a bar stool. "Henry, uh, doesn't believe in Santa anymore, so JJ and I were planning to let him stay up tomorrow night and catch Santa in the act."

"Oh," you said, nodding at first, but then frowning a little. "I mean, what's wrong with Henry not believing in Santa? He's like, 9 years old. That happens."

"I know it's developmentally appropriate for him to be questioning these things," Spencer said, letting out another little sigh. "But that's not why he doesn't believe in Santa anymore."

Your frown deepened. "What do you mean?"

He wet his lips, not quite meeting your gaze. "Last Christmas… he asked Santa for me to come home," he said quietly, almost ashamed. "And then when I wasn't there…"

"He stopped believing in Santa," you filled in the rest and he looked so sad. "Spence," you said softly, crossing over to hug him, setting the spray on the kitchen island. "It's not your fault."

"It is," he said, choking a little on his voice as he tucked himself into your arms.

"Honey, you were framed, it's not your fault," you insisted, rubbing his back.

"I just… I can't be the reason he doesn't believe in these things anymore," he mumbled into your shoulder.

"Okay, okay," you said, pulling away to look at him, your hands cupping his neck, thumbs stroking his bearded jaw. "Can I help?" His lips twitched into a smile at you.

"Well, um… Honestly, I think I'm gonna make a mess of the hairspray, and you did such a good job at Halloween with Jack's Cyberman costume--"

"I can do that," you murmured, kissing him gently, and his hands loosened to grasp your waist.

Now, here he sat in front of the mirror in the bathroom, watching you meticulously section and spray his hair, which was already damp from the shower.

"Did you know," he started, and you hummed in recognition that you were listening. "That Saint Nicholas was a real guy? He was Greek."

"The Greeks had saints?" you asked.

"Not really," he said, shaking his head as you sectioned out another piece of hair, coating it gently in white hairspray. "Not the kind you're thinking of, but Nicholas of Myra was real. Born in the third century. He apparently had a reputation for secret gift giving, like… leaving coins in people's shoes."

"Keep your head still," you chastised through a giggle.

"Sorry," he mumbled, tilting his chin up to keep still. "He died from natural causes in like, 340, which, for the time, was a good run. It was like… a hundred years later that he became a saint, but by then of course, all of the people who knew him personally were long gone."

"I hate when that happens," you murmured, shifting his chin so you could colour his beard next. "Appreciating people for what they've done after they've died."

"Well, he was very well respected during his life. The story goes that three separate couples were having financial trouble, and in those days, a daughter without a dowry would either never get married or would become a prostitute. So, according to the story, Saint Nick came in the middle of the night and climbed onto their roofs, and dropped three small pouches of gold down their chimneys."

"Honey, I'm gonna need you to be quiet or you're gonna taste hairspray," you said, colouring his jaw, just the hair around his lips left.

"Sorry," he said, his words muffled slightly, and you could see that he was trying desperately not to smile, his shoulders shaking. "I'm done," he said, and you were fairly sure the shake in his voice was from suppressed laughter.

You chuckle quietly, colouring the last of his beard. "All done, Mr Claus."

"How do I look?" he asked, getting out of the chair and taking a look in the mirror, his eyes going wide. "This looks incredible!"

"Yeah?" you asked, stepping away. Spencer had a habit of exaggerating your accomplishments, but you had done a pretty good job with his hair.

"You're a miracle worker," he said, turning to face you, and you could see his excitement. "Now, Santa needs to go get dressed." You chuckled, stepping out of the bathroom so he could get dressed, and sat by the foot of the bed, waiting.

When he reappeared ten minutes later wearing the Santa suit, the white hair and white beard you'd given him made him look like an old man, but there was a brightness in his eyes as he did a little twirl. "How do I look?" he asked, and in spite of how silly he looked, you couldn't help but find him handsome.

You laughed to yourself. "Perfectly in character. Though you could use a little belly."

"Are you saying I'm too thin?" he said, faking offence. He knew he was skinny but sometimes a little gentle ribbing was warranted.

"I'm just saying, Santa's supposed to be fat."

"I take good care of my cardiovascular health, thank you very much," he said, and he looked so ridiculous in the suit, with the white hair and beard, that you were unable to take the conversation seriously. "You know, the modern version of what Santa's supposed to look like was invented in the nineteenth century," he said, his hands on his hips, still very much in character. "Before then, Saint Nick was usually described as an older, slender man, and before that, he was more of a demonic black man. It's only in the fifties that the modern image of Santa was created."

"Okay, okay," you said, holding your hands up. "Skinny Santa it is." You checked your watch. "We should go before Henry actually falls asleep."

Spencer's expression went from Santa to slightly terrified very quickly. "Crap, is it time already?"

"Relax," you assured him, kissing his cheek before leading the way out. "It's just a little breaking and entering. You leave the gifts, you slip right back out."

"Just a little breaking and entering," he repeated dryly. "Why doesn't that make me feel better?"

You snickered quietly, grabbing your coat and car keys. "For someone who's supposed to be a hardened felon, you're so innocent."

He took offence to that. "Hey," he said, as you both started out of the house. "I was incarcerated for three months. I am very much street wise now."

You opened the passenger side door for him. "Streetwise? Really?"

He climbed into the passenger seat, sticking out his tongue at you as you shut the door.

"I know all about the street life," he said, as you got into the driver's side. "I know how they talk, I know what they do, I know..." His voice trailed off as you shot him a look. "Okay, so maybe everything I know about the street life comes from television."

You couldn't help another laugh as you started the car.

His lips curled into a smile when he saw your reaction, and he leaned across the middle of the car to kiss your cheek. He sat back in his seat and you began the short trip to JJ's house. "Alright, JJ said she's gonna leave the back door open," you said, going over the plan with the same gravity you used for unsub takedowns. "There's cookies and milk left on the kitchen counter. The tree's in the living room."

"Got it," Spencer said decidedly, nodding. "Cookies, milk, tree, simple."

You turned off the headlights as you approached the house, killing the engine across the street. Spencer got out of the car and jogged across the street, ducking around the side of the house. He found the back door like you'd said, and went inside, very much in undercover Santa mode. He went into the kitchen, making for the counter where the cookies and milk were, and that's when he heard it. Quiet footsteps coming down the stairs. Spencer panicked, trying to find a place to hide, but there really wasn't one. The cookies and milk were left in the middle of the counter, there weren't any cupboards or anything of the sort. He was stuck, with only the Christmas tree as a possible cover. There was nothing he could do but hope that whoever was coming downstairs didn't flip on the light as he dove behind the tree.

The footsteps stopped, and Spencer held his breath, his heart thudding in his chest as the Christmas tree needles dug into his skin. He could see a pair of little feet in front of him. They weren't JJ, which could only mean- "Mr Claus?" the little voice said, and he shut his eyes, praying to something, anything that he hadn't been caught by Henry.

After a long moment, he peeked out from behind the tree, only to find Henry staring right at him. "H-hi," Spencer stuttered. "I-I didn't realise you'd be awake."

Henry's eyes went wide. "I-It's really you." He had that childlike glee that came with finding out about the magic of Christmas, and while Spencer would usually give anything to have that look come back on Henry's face, this was a little inconvenient.

"Ah, I-I mean," Spencer fumbled over his words, trying to come up with a valid reason he would be in JJ's house at this moment, wearing a Santa suit and munching on cookies. "Um..."

"Where's your reindeer?" Henry asked, completely enthralled by Spencer, and he realised that he actually hadn't thought of a cover story to accompany the Santa suit.

"Oh, they're in the- they're in the sleigh," he said, and even he thought it sounded stupid when he said it out loud. "They're getting a rest while they can."

"The ride must be hard," Henry said, and Spencer was quietly impressed by that. He was just as smart as his parents, and he probably would have called him out on his lie if he'd given an excuse about a magic sleigh.

"It sure is," Spencer said, trying to keep his voice calm, and he hoped that the rest of the night wasn't going to be as awkward as this interaction had been so far. "Do you mind if I finish eating these? I only get so many breaks tonight." It was the sort of thing he could imagine a real Santa saying and Henry's eyes widened at that.

"Oh, of course," he said, stepping back. "I, uh, need to go to the bathroom." And then Henry was running upstairs. Once he was sure the kid had walked away, Spencer leaned against the wall, letting out a sigh and he silently hoped that you weren't watching him struggle. He finished off the last of the milk and the cookies, and, once he'd composed himself, he made his way to the living room and over to the Christmas tree. He dropped the bag of gifts under the tree, just as he was supposed to.

Meanwhile, Henry was upstairs, trying to get JJ to wake up. "Mom, Mom," he said, shaking his mother gently. "Wake up, Mom, you gotta see this."

JJ grumbled as she got up, Will shifting beside her, but still deep asleep. "What is it, Henry?"

"Santa is downstairs," he said in an excited whisper.

"He is?" JJ asked, rubbing her eyes and yawning a little, Henry pulling her out of bed with all his might.

"Yep. He's downstairs in the living room," he said, dragging her out of bed, and he wasn't kidding because his strength was remarkable. JJ let her son pull her down the stairs, neither of them seeing Santa sneak out the back door. He jogged across the street to the car, getting inside. You watched him in mild amusement as he shut the door, and he was slightly out of breath, which was a comical combination with the Santa suit.

"Mission accomplished?" you asked, a smile on your lips.

"I got caught," he breathed, his voice sounding slightly panicked, and your smile faded into concern as you realised he was serious. "But I think I covered it."

"Did he realise you weren't Santa?" you asked.

"I don't think so," he said, and he did seem a little unsure. "He didn't mention anything about it, and he seemed excited by me being there, but I honestly don't know. It's probably a fifty-fifty chance that he realized it was me."

Meanwhile, Henry had dragged his mom downstairs to an empty living room. "I swear he was here," Henry protested, and JJ was still half-asleep and only slightly confused. "I-I saw him."

"M sure you did, baby," JJ murmured. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

"No, I did see him!" Henry said, looking around the living room. He ran into the kitchen. "And he was eating the cookies and the milk!"

"Well, he probably left, Henry," JJ reasoned, following him. "He's got a lot of kids to deliver to."

The wonder on Henry's face was replaced with disappointment, and JJ pulled the nine year-old into a hug. "I know it sucks, baby," she said. "But I'm sure Santa will have left you lots of gifts." Henry huffed, pouting, and JJ smiled down at his adorable expression. "Come on," she said, starting up the stairs. "Back to bed, kiddo."

Once they reached upstairs, Henry climbed into bed, and JJ tucked him in. He looked slightly upset, but JJ planted a kiss on his forehead. Even at nine-years-old, he still wanted to believe in Santa. "So, you believe in Santa again?" JJ asked.

"I told you," Henry said, his voice indignant, sounding very much like his father. "I saw him."

JJ couldn't help a smile, ruffling his hair. "I know."

He gave her a sleepy smile, and then yawned, snuggling down into bed. “Goodnight, mom,” he mumbled.

"Goodnight, baby," JJ murmured. She watched him for a moment, waiting for that slow rise and fall of his chest that meant he was breathing like only the asleep could, and once she was sure he was asleep, she tiptoed out of his room, shutting the door quietly behind her, thanking Spencer in her head.

[littlegaybean1]

Not to go too analytical here, but that's exactly what I'm going to do.

See, that last gif of Buck and international treasure Christopher Diaz is of a scenario where typically the roles 'should' be reversed. That's the scene where Buck is telling Chris that his father got shot. But instead of Buck comforting Chris, as would be considered the more normal thing to happen here, it's the other way around. Buck later says that he should have held it together, but looking through the other GIFs and just thinking about the general context, is it really surprising that Buck broke down?

Think about it. Buck is, as dubbed by Bobby 'the guy who likes to fix things'. He always makes sure everyone else is okay before addressing his own issues, and sometimes he never does. Eddie got shot right in front of Buck. They were only about a metre or two apart, it could so easily have been him instead. Buck, being Buck, believes that it 'would have been better... If I'd been the one who got shot'. He's very clearly showing signs of survivor's guilt. And then, after that, he has to tell his best friend's son that he's not coming home tonight, maybe not ever. He has to say that to a child who has already lost his mother.

And here's the crucial part, the part that is summed up in the original post nicely: nobody checked to make sure Buck was okay.

They were so worried about Eddie that you never actually see Buck get any sort of comfort from anyone. He was barely holding himself together as it was, and his coping mechanism is to push it down and act like he's okay. He kept it all in, which of course can only ever lead to it bursting out. So when, on top of all the pain and stress and fear he's experiencing, he has to go and tell Christopher - a child he already feels like he's failed due to the tsunami - that he might be about to lose his father. And Buck loves them both, Eddie and Christopher, so much and so from his perspective he might be about to lose them both.

And it all comes out.

Then there's Chris, who has already lost so much for someone so young, who understands much more about the situation than anyone his age should. But in that moment, his first priority is to comfort Buck, his father's best friend who is practically family at that point. Nobody else had thought to comfort Buck, not any of the firefighters who have all suffered losses and know how to cope, none of the adults who knew far more of what Buck had been through, just a ten(?) year old boy.

Somebody please give Buck a hug. Literally anyone. I do not care who. Just someone comfort that poor guy.

Thinking about comfort hugs.

Comforting Bobby.

Comforting Maddie.

Comfort Eddie.

Comforting Chim.

Comforting Hen.

And then there's Buck.

Here's a hug, but he's comforting Maddie.

No one even touched him until he collapsed, and then they're just holding him up. He can barely grip Hen's arm.

Bobby drags him back and lets go just as Buck breaks down.

And then there's this MVP.

[cuubism]

I REALLLLLLLLLLLLLYYYY LOVE YOUR BELOVED PROFESSOR DREAM FIC!!!!!!!! PEOPLE TEND TO FORGET THAT!!! EVEN IN CANON!!!! HES FULL OF LOVE!!!! AND PASSION!!! AND HE CARES SO MUCH IT LITERALLY DOOMS HIM!!!!! AND IF ONLY HES BEING GIVEN A MUCH MORE KINDER CIRCUMSTANCES!! HE WOULD BEHAVES EXACTLY LIKE YOUR FIC!!! I FEEL SO CRAZT!!!! PLEASE NEVER DIE I LOVE YPUR WORKS SO MUCH!!!

I've grown quite fond of him myself 🥺 @five-and-dimes and I discussed him at length and created more lore for him. It was determined that Dream's earnest whimsy probably got him bullied a lot when he was younger. Not since he met Hob though.... it's probably a coincidence 🤷‍♀️ surely everyone just realized the error of their ways and decided to grow up and be kinder! Dream knew it would happen some day :)

-

Dream is still reeling as he reaches the cafe where he's meant to get afternoon coffee with Hob. He feels a bit shaky, but happy. Joyful. In disbelief.

When Cori had cornered him after class, Dream had been sure he was going to shove him up against a wall, or throw his books on the ground, or any of the other number of things he seemed to get satisfaction out of doing. He'd clutched his books tight, bracing himself.

Instead, Cori had, with halting, uncomfortable words, apologized to him. Actually apologized! Dream had been wary at first, sure it was just another way to hurt his feelings--he's been called gullible many times and he knows there's truth to it--but Cori hadn't taken it back, or suddenly turned on him again like he had every other time Dream had tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. He seemed genuine.

It was what Dream had always wanted, what he had always hoped for, so decided to take it and just pray that Cori wouldn't change his mind again in the future. Or trip him as he walked away.

He didn't, though. And as Dream left to walk to his next class, he couldn't help but feel victorious. He knew he would get through to him eventually! He'd always known that eventually people would grow out of their juvenile pranks and learn to treat others better. And finally it was starting to happen.

None of the other usual suspects bothered him that day, either. Nobody tried to trip him, or snickered when he said something overly sentimental in class. It was like overnight the world had woken up and decided to better itself. It was magical.

So he's still shaking a bit when he sits down across from Hob, who's already gotten him his mocha latte. When he doesn't say anything at first, just takes several long sips of his drink, Hob nudges his leg under the table.

"Everything alright?"

"Cori," Dream says, "apologized to me."

He must have milk foam on his lip, for Hob reaches across the table to wipe it away with his thumb, lingering on the corner of Dream's mouth. "Did he?"

Dream nods. "It- it did not seem to be a joke. Hob, I think he actually learned."

Hob smiles sweetly. "That's great, honey."

"Nobody tripped me today," Dream muses. "Or made fun of what I said in class. I cannot believe it. I knew that eventually people would grow up and learn how to treat others kindly, but it's startling to see it happen in real time."

"They must have learned from your example," Hob says. He takes Dream's hand on the table and starts playing idly with his fingers. Hob is very touchy-feely with him, always holding his hand, or playing with his fingers like they're a fidget toy, or petting his hair while they're lying in bed together. Dream found it strange at first. He was used to others he had attempted to date wanting to rough him up a little. When he questioned it, they would say, with a laugh, you're just too sheltered. Dream didn't think he was, particularly, he just didn't understand wanting to push someone around. At least not without finding out if they even liked it.

When Dream mentioned it, Hob had said, with a grimace, that Dream's kindness could be misinterpreted as innocence, and it made people want to 'corrupt him.' Dream didn't get it, but there were a lot of things he 'didn't get', at least according to other people. In any case, Hob didn't do that, because he knew Dream didn't like it, so Dream is content now. And he has Hob to at least attempt to interpret other people's odd behavior for him.

"I hope it sticks," he says, worriedly. "I would hate for Cori and the others to backslide now that they're finally making progress."

"Oh, don't worry," Hob says, bringing Dream's hand to his lips and kissing his knuckles. He looks at Dream over their joined hands, gaze absolutely sure, a look that never fails to make Dream shiver pleasantly when it's directed at him. "I think it'll stick."

[joyfulhottubfuntik]

GOD do I love a fankenstan au. Or any au that has Stan die and Ford try to bring him back through various ethically questionable means. It just makes so much sense. In a way that I firmly do not believe that pre-portal Ford could live with his brother being dead. Especially with his whole "he may be a god, but I'm a scientist" thing. And the fact that, even after years of being estranged, he still cared about Stan so much. If the passage in tBoB where his last straw after all kinds of torture and many sleepless nights was Bill almost telling Stan that Ford had never loved him and was going to kill himself is proof of anything. And it is. The Ford we see in the show could cope and learn live with with his brother's passing, although he would hate to do so. The young and arrogant 20-something year old boy that he was could not. (That's also part of why i think most reverse portal AUs don't work. Ford was so big on playing the sole hero. And doing unreasonable things that were deemed impossible. And justifying his every action. I really don't think he would just stand there and accept Stanley getting portalled. That's not what I'm on about though).

And, you see. The thing in the actual show that made Ford want to make amends was that he realised that loosing his brother was a possibility and that he REALLY didn't want it to be one. And it would definitely work the same way in a Frankenstan au. Especially back when they were young and Ford didn't have the whole portal incident and the loss of 30 years of his life to blame Stan for. There would be guilt though. The guilt for having lived 10 or so years in relative comfort, fulfilling his life's passions and all that, while his brother was homeless and completely alone, going through all sorts of horrible things, barely surviving and eventually, well, not (and in scenarios where Ford accidentally kills him.. yeah.. it's all that but times worse...)

Now combine all of that with the fact that Stanley would NOT be happy about this. I don't even think he'd mind dying, like, at all. Would just accept it. Not that he wouldn't have some regrets, like not making his family a fortune and never reconnecting with Ford, but i don't think he was ever too hopeful about anything good happening to him. So dying young would seem like something to be expected. So of course he wouldn't be ecstatic about being back, let alone with some sci-fi and/or magic unorthodox methods.

This has to be my favourite gravity falls au. So much potential. Chief's kiss

[wellofdean]

So, I read the response above which is so interesting, and I want to keep thinking about it, and then after that had these interesting tags in my feed from @bloodyentrails...

#i think that sam being compassionate towards certain people is kinda normal we tend to relate on a personal level#and him being queer-coded etc doesn't mean you have to care about him#just that that is a thing?#idk what kind of discourse i'm wandering into a lot of the time but relating to characters#and understanding they have been written in a certain way isn't the same thing#which is to say that i would love it if the writing had tackled that inconsistency#but i find that the show on the whole is inconsistent#and i think it's hard to maintain consistency over so many years with so many people working on it#i do think both of them are *trying* to be good people and they sometimes fail and also what constitutes a good person is kinda open#anyway#bear in mind i'm still only halfway through so#maybe i'll change my mind on all this#spn

It's a point worth considering that in the world of the show, Sam's sympathy for monsters seems principled and some how defies gravity, but that in the real world it wouldn't translate to anything real; that's likely true, and an interesting point. Having said that, I think Sam is pretty clearly not particularly"real world" compassionate, and I don't need monsters to make the argument that Sam is not the compassionate one because he shows a general lack of empathy towards PEOPLE, including but by no means limited to Dean, throughout the show. And, ok, he sometimes argues for a compassionate response to monsters and Dean doesn't always respond favourably, but that's because Sam fears he is one, and he needs to believe monsters are not all bad, which is not borne out of compassion, it's a rationalization that serves his psychological needs.

Basically, I think Sam is all surface. Sam is the urbane one, the smart one, the compassionate one, the one who talks nice to people, the broadly queer-coded one, the feminist, etc., but with Sam, all that is skin deep. He APPEARS as such! He's good at pretending, but he's nearly as savage as John is, Dean is much more sensitive to other people's needs, Dean is every bit as clever as he is, and intuitive to boot, Sam can ACT compassionate, but in fact he isn't really very empathetic to anyone, and he is able to just move on from all the things Dean just can't, Sam's not in fact queer, but Dean is queered to his fucking bones, and Sam's the one whose unconsciously replicated misogyny allows him to think any woman that would be into Dean is obviously a whore, and to keep his girlfriend in the dark about the truth of his life, while Dean is just talking a big game of cartoon misogyny TO SAM while treating the women he interacts with pretty fucking respectfully, actually.

Honestly, it's the same as the way Sam is supposedly the 'main character'. He's introduced as the one we should care about and identify with, but within, like, two episodes, he's really just a foil for Dean. Sam has BIG PLOTS, but it's Dean's feelings, reactions and relationships we really care about.

And, the fact is, Sam was pretty well-realized in the earlier eps. JarPad was giving it some effort, and he was charming then with his boyishness -- the way he seemed like he hadn't fully lived into his physical real estate -- but the thing is, he never could really hold a candle to Dean who was just magnetic. All the interesting character development was given to Dean and Jensen killed it by always making it seem like Dean had so much going on under the surface, and like, to the extent I care about Sam, it's because Dean loves him.

I kind of wonder what happened. Was Dean always meant to be the dark horse hero? Or was Dean just...played by a better, more compelling actor, and they started writing for him instead? There are so many much more interesting things they could have done with Sam, and they just...DIDN'T.

I dunno, I suppose it could just be me, but I feel like the way Sam just SEEMS, Dean IS.

maybe this is me being a dumb overly literal autist stemlord who simply does not understand literary theory or some shit equivalent but why should i care about someone being coded as [X] when i can just. care about someone who is [X]. why should i care more about the conventionally attractive white woman with a job and mortgage because she's metaphorically othered due to being a supernatural creature when i could care about the actually othered addicts that she used as a source of food. help me out here.

[narutouzumakiarchive]

How to deal with the homophobic and horrible ss, nh, sh etc. stans? Just reading their content makes me feel gaslighted and makes me want to quit my little sns blog, because I feel isolated.

First of all, I'm sorry you feel that way. The best thing to do is honestly to just ignore them. The canon ships, in particular, are horrid and are consequently routinely subjected to lots of criticism by people outside of the carefully constructed echo chambers of canon shippers. SS/NH fans cope with this by harassing SNS shippers who have been a particular source of insecurity for the entire run of the show. There's a reason why they routinely steal from the sns dynamic to prop up their ship and have to rely on fillers and novels and databooks, etc. instead of working with the manga.

This brings me to my next point. Part of the reason they are so emboldened is because the "victors" are the ones who write the story, and they've used this to control the narrative and recontextualize what actually happened during the original run of the story. So, something you should know is that SNS fans have always been right about the core of the manga.

While there were obviously endgame SS/NH believers, the idea that Sasuke/Sakura and Naruto/Hinata were mutually in love was not a unifying factor in those fandoms.

In the Naruto Collector Book 3, there was an interview in which Kishimoto himself acknowledged the fact that Sakura and Hinata's feelings of love were unrequited. This interview is practically lost media, and is conveniently never discussed but the book is still available. The collector series has other interviews with Kishimoto as well.

But the main point is that this interview was released in 2007, long after we were already into Part 2 of the manga. This firstly debunks the idea that there was a secret budding love story that was sabotaged by SP, though you don't need any interview to tell you that Sasuke literally only thinking of Team 7 during Sakura's love confession, or Naruto not reflecting on any special moments with Hinata was proof enough of the lack of romance. More importantly, however, this is connected to my point about belief in "true love all along" was not a unifying factor in the SS/NH fandoms. Many of them were aware of this interview (see the respective examples of a SS fan and a NH fan reacting to it below) and thus spent their time taking solace in databooks and writing longwinded posts about how mutual romantic development weren't required for endgame.

What DID unite solo/multshipping SS in particular was the belief that Sasuke considered Sakura special, and thus, she would be the one who helped heal his heart. And this belief is where the real "war" between SS/SNS lied. If you look at old SNS posts, you'll see that there was never a unifying belief that SNS would be canon either, for obvious reasons. You'll notice that many posts were prefaced with some variation of "regardless of the nature of their bond...." because it wasn't so much what they were to each other rather than how significant they were to each other. You'll see a lot of posts about them transcending traditional relationship categories.

So this was the primary context in which SS and SNS fans argued. You can see below just some of the drivel that SS came up with. They have always been relentlessly insecure harassers who used to attack SNS fans for simply seeing the direction in which the manga would go.

They ignored Naruto making Sasuke's heart beat repeatedly, they ignored Naruto being tied to Sasuke's sharingan transformation — which later in the manga was explicitly called out for being the reflection of the heart that SNS fans postulated it was. They ignored the fact that Sakura was rendered fungible [a fact you can see reflected in the interview below when Kishimoto discusses what makes Team 7 special and completely evades mention of Sakura] and that Kishi usurped moments that could have been special for Sasuke and Sakura by including Naruto (eg. Sasuke bringing up not wanting Naruto to worry in the FOD, Sasuke thinking about Naruto to keep the curse mark at bay as well despite the fact that Sakura was the one who was explicitly worried about him, Sasuke including Naruto and talking about precious nakama in the fight against Gaara despite the fact that Sakura was the only one in mortal danger, etc.). They ignored the fact that Sasuke quite literally hierarchially ranked Naruto as a more intimate friend than Sakura. Harassed SNS fans for pointing out the basic setup in the manga that served to reinforce SNS fans' interpretations because they constructed a version of the manga that was wholly centered on the special and unique "bond" between Sakura/Sasuke.

All this lasted to the war arc. They twisted themselves in pretzels to argue about how Sasuke leaving Sakura to burn in lava and outright stating that her and Kakashi's lives didn't matter was him repressing his super secret feelings of care for her while attempting to downplay the mutual affection displayed in the SNS bond. Even the more "neutral" pro team 7 SS fans looked for ways to subtly denigrate SNS' bond. Sasuke makes no mentions of Sakura when the 10 tails is about to blow up the shinobi alliance? Who cares because at least Sakura's face doesn't have a cut across it (yes, they really did misinterpret pro SNS moments where Sasuke individuated Naruto as negative). And they did all this while making anti Sasunaru clubs and hiding in forums to complain about how SNS was getting too much focus in the manga (something older fans can attest to) because deep down many of them saw the writing on the wall.

Now SNS fans, on the other hand, displayed the critical reading skills that the SS fandom lacked — and I don't mean that facetiously. They picked up on the fact that it was significant that Sasuke lost control of himself when Naruto showed up. They understood the significance of Sasuke specifically asking about the status of the 9 tails given the prior context of Sasuke specifically needing to kill Naruto because he wanted to become stronger. They recognized that Naruto was specifically singled out with a cut precisely because he was special by picking up on the patterns peppered throughout the text. They also respected the Team 7 bonds established in Part 1 — they had no need to undermine it because there was a confidence in Naruto/Sasuke's relationship being special — while understanding the disadvantage in the fact that Sasuke and Sakura dynamic always included a "we" (see example from a 2008 analysis below). They knew there would be a reconciliation in which the tension between duty and desire would be resolved and would lead to Sasuke accepting his heart/inner child which would lead him to Naruto.

And lo and behold, 698 came and SNS fans were validated while SS fans were livid and angry. They complained and harassed SNS blogs and threw tantrums and cried about the manga being retconned. It's so easy for them to pretend they knew everything in hindsight, but the receipts don't lie. There has never been anyone more in denial about the core facts of the manga than SS/NH fans. Don't let them prevent you from supporting SNS. The SNS bond was validated.

Even to this day, they have never gotten over the fact that Sasuke confirmed their worst nightmares which is why they have to cope by literally cropping Naruto out of panels (Look at the 97 likes — and this is tame for them), spreading poor translations, and taking glee in the idea of Kishimoto not being the arbiter of canonicity, so they can take refuge in material not written by him, because they hate what he did write.

As I type this, they are getting made fun of in different languages and SS fans are coping by pretending that anyone who points out the dysfunction of their implied no kiss couple has has no literacy and is ignoring 700 chapters of development, the development in question being Sakura still acting infantile while Sasuke remains indifferent.

Why should you feel isolated because you want to support the main bond when SS fans even have to lie about the poorly written filler novels that were expressly created FOR them (eg. Sakura forcefully kissing Sasuke and then Sasuke immediately grabbing Naruto and leaving Sakura to fall off the motorcycle they were all riding on; A scene SS fans repeatedly lied about and repeatedly misrepresented).

Unfortunately I've nearly run out of images and I didn't even get to finish highlighting all of the lies of SS or discuss NH fans the way I wanted too but please, don't worry about the hate and the homophobia. A significant part of it is them lashing out because of insecurity.

Then and now, nothing has changed.

They hated the fact that Kishimoto wasn't concerned with Hinata's unrequited feelings and patiently waited for Sasuke to fade into oblivion so Naruto and Hinata could ride off into the sunset. When that didn't come, and Naruto prioritized Sasuke even after Hinata's confession, they took to harassing SNS fans. All they have is a retcon movie that Kishimoto wasn't even devoted to, which is why, in addition to lionizing scenes from the film, they even have to read panels incorrectly to achieve some satisfaction.

SNS is amazing and enough to keep me occupied, but another way of dealing with the hatred and homophobia (which is the main point of this post) is remembering why it's so rampant in the first place. The reason you feel gaslighted is because they are literally trying to rewrite history (these people have even lied about how much their novel sold and had to be corrected by a sale tracking account).

I haven't even scratched the surface, but you can see a few more examples here, here, here, and here. Giving in to their bullying is how the liars win. Don't let them!

[rickyriddle]

So I have a theory regarding the Agatha What If…? episode. What if Agatha went to Hollywood? The episode doesn't really explain why she made that choice other than trying to get the Celestial’s powers. But I still wonder how she knew and why the regular Agatha didn't make that choice. And then I felt like the ending of the episode was a bit odd and maybe even ooc for her, to get convinced by Kingo like that. So I wondered: what makes this Agatha different from our Agatha?

They are similar, that's for sure. But the what if Agatha feels less… ruthless? Still self-serving and looking for more power, but a bit less murderous. Then it clicked. What if… Agatha never Rio? Now I know, we all love the idea of Celestial Agatha with Rio, both now cosmic beings but hear me out. First we don't know if Rio, as the comic entity of Death, has variants in the MCU. Tho ultimately, it doesn't really matter for this theory. Let's just imagine a scenario where these two didn't meet or never came to be a couple. What would have happened to Agatha?

Regardless of Rio, Agatha needed to steal powers from other witches in order to survive during the Salem years. She was already doing so before meeting Rio. But if she never met Rio, or never dated her, then it would also mean Agatha never had Nicholas. Never created the ballad. Never lost her son. Never started using this specific con based on the Witches Road to gain power as a way to cope with grief.

Now, how would that lead her to Hollywood? Well, main Agatha would have been too busy by first, running away from Rio, and secondly her road con. She'd be unlikely to look for another source of power when she got a successful con going on and unsuspecting witches falling into her lap all the time (as well as literal Death wrap around her finger).

But in a universe where she can't rely on that con or her cosmic wife, I think it's more likely that Agatha would look for power elsewhere, not just the magic she can steal from other witches. Hence why she ended up learning about the Celestial Tiamut and decided to go to Hollywood to hatch her plan to steal his powers.

That would also explain to me why this version of Agatha managed to be convinced by Kingo. Main Agatha would not have cared about what he said imo. But this Agatha isn't as bitter, hardened by the loss of her son and her complicated relationship with Rio. She might be more willing to bond with someone else who might share some of her experiences, possibly with loneliness and being different from their own kind. Agatha was always different from other witches due to her powers and never managed to connect with them, and she recognized that Kingo was also different from his own kind, the Eternals. So she knew he actually understood her and that might have led her to accept his proposition, and friendship.

But the main reason why I start thinking that Nicky didn't exist in that universe is that I cannot bring myself to believe Agatha wouldn't have tried to bring him back. With the powers of two Celestials, she could have rewritten the world like she wanted, yet chose not to and instead remained an actress. To me it feels like she didn't have something she wished to change about the world, which I don't think is conceivable if she lost Nicky in this universe too. There is also no mention or allusion to her dating Rio, so I do feel like these two were just not a thing in this universe and therefore, Nicky never came to exist.

Fundamentally, this is still Agatha, but she's not our Agatha we knew in WV and AAA. Same trauma with her mother and original coven, but different life experiences afterwards that could have led her to a drastically different path. I love agathario and imagining a world where they aren't a couple is hard, but I'm afraid that's what I feel like this episode was. Actually a “What if… Agatha never met Rio?’.

But hey, at least this episode confirmed she is indeed a lesbian, regardless if she's in a relationship with Rio or not.

[watarfallar]

Giving y'all more presents because I'm feeling generous <3

Grian: What's that? Scar: Chocolate. Grian: What's chocolate? Scar: Candy. Do they not have candy where you're from? Grian: Yeah. Grapes, nuts. Scar: No wonder you're so bitter.

Scar, clearly drunk: Grian, hit me another drink… wooOO HOOoo… Grian: I think you need a therapist and not a bottle. Scar: I think yooOOoou need to shuUT YOUR MOUTH!

Grian: I won a new phone in a race. Scar: Huh? What kind of race lets you win a phone, Grian? Grian: A race between the store owner, the cop, and me.

Scar: I feel awful about killing you. Grian: Scar: Even though technically you never even died, so I don’t know what you’re bitching about.

Grian: So I can either do something dumb that could very well get me injured or I can listen to Scar and not do the thing, Grian: Well there’s a clear right answer here. Grian: proceeds to throw five packs of mentos into a barrel full of diet coke

Scar: Stop doing that. Grian: Stop doing what? Scar: Saying things that make me wanna kiss the hell out of you.

Grian: Gets down on one knee Scar: Oh my god! It’s finally happening! Grian: Collapses Scar: The poison’s kicking in!

Scar: I want you back… Grian: 3 words, 8 letters. Say it, and I'm yours. Scar: I got food? Grian: …you know me so well.

Scar: raises eyebrows Grian: Put those back down!

Grian: You’re kind of a pushover, aren’t you, Scar? Scar: …I’m sorry. Grian: See!? That’s exactly what I’m talking about!

Scar: What’s your favorite high school memory? Grian: LEAVING. FUCKING LEAVING!

Grian: Strawberry milk doesn’t taste like strawberry OR milk. Scar: Go the fuck to sleep Grian.

Scar: Why is it that I always lose things as soon as I need them? Grian: Actually, it's not that you lose things when you need them. You lose them a while before. It's just that you LOOK for things when you need them. Scar: Okay yeah thanks Grian, that's great but WHERE'S THE FUCKING FIRST AID KIT?

Scar: We have a problem. Grian: No, YOU have a problem. I have an idiot who keeps making them.

Grian: Hey guys, today Scar pushed me, so I'm starting a kickstarter to put them down. Grian: The benefits of killing them are that I would get pushed way less.

Grian: I know what you're up to. Scar: Really? Because I barely know.

Scar, peeling a banana: May I take your jacket, sir? Hahahaha. Grian: Do you think other people can’t hear you?

Scar, peeling a banana: May I take your jacket, sir? Hahahaha. Grian: Do you think other people can’t hear you?

Grian: What’s the dumbest thing you believed as a child? Scar: That naptime was a punishment.

Grian: I'm tired. Scar: You slept for three hours last night! Why are you surprised?! Grian: I'm not surprised. I just wanted to complain about it.

Scar: Will you date me? Breathe if yes, recite the Bible in Japanese if no. Grian: 初めに、神は天と地を創造されました。 Scar: What the…? Grian: 地球は形もなく虚無であり、暗闇が深海の面を覆いました… Scar: Is that actually the Bible?! Grian: …そして神の霊が水面の上に浮かんでいました。 Scar: And you stopped breathing, too?! Grian: そして神は「光あれ」と言われました。 Scar: Christ, it would have been preferable for you to just have beaten me up and called me gay!

Grian: Ah, Hello again. We really need to stop meeting like this. Scar: Maybe we would, if you would sTOP BREAKING INTO MY FUCKING HOUSE!!!

Scar, texting Grian: Hey do you like anyone? Grian: Yeah you Scar: Oh, I'm sorry we're just friends Grian: *Yeah, you? Grian: Oh haha sorry lol Scar: *dies inside*

Grian: Oh, fiddlesticks! That really ruffles my feathers! Scar: Please, just say fuck.

Scar: Even Grian and I have been getting closer. The other day, they gave me half of their sandwich. Grian: I mistook them for a garbage can.

Scar: I want a bf. Grian: Do you mean best friend, boyfriend or bread feast? Because you’re being really vague here.

AND A BONUS LIFE SERIES WINNERS:

Grian: If I fall... Scar: I’ll be there to catch you. Cleo: looks at Scott What if I fall? Scott: Then I’ll fall with you, never leaving your side. Martyn: watches these two interactions Martyn, to Pearl: And if I fall? Pearl: I’ll be the one who pushed you. Joel in the corner grumbling about how Lizzie isn't here:

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM WHEN HARRY MET SALLY *  assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary

i've been doing a lot of thinking, and the thing is, i love you.

i love that you get cold when it's 71 degrees out.

i love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich.

i love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like i'm nuts.

i love that after i spend the day with you, i can still smell your perfume on my clothes.

i love that you are the last person i want to talk to before i go to sleep at night.

i came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.

i'll have what she's having.

would you like to have dinner?

i thought you didn't believe men and women could be friends.

when did i say that?

i mean, come on, who the hell are we kidding?

most women at one time or another have faked it.

they haven't faked it with me.

that's right. i forgot. you're a man.

what was that supposed to mean?

it is so nice when you can sit with someone and not have to talk.

marriages don't break up on account of infidelity. it's just a symptom that something else is wrong.

you realize of course that we could never be friends.

men and women can't be friends because the sex part always gets in the way.

that's not true.

i have a number of men friends and there is no sex involved.

you only think you do.

they all want to have sex with you.

no man can be friends with a woman that he finds attractive.

i guess we're not going to be friends then.

you were the only person i knew in new york.

there are two kinds of women: high maintenance and low maintenance.

which one am i?

you're the worst kind.

you're high maintenance but you think you're low maintenance.

i just want it the way i want it.

you look like a normal person, but actually you are the angel of death.

don't you have a dark side?

when i buy a new book, i read the last page first.

if you could take him back now, would you?

why didn't he want to marry me?

what's the matter with me?

you're challenging.

i'm too structured. i'm completely closed off.

i drove him away.

how do you expect me to respond to this?

i'm leaving.

i don't have to take this crap from you.

what the hell does that have to do with anything?

are you finished now?

can i say something?

i'm sorry.

everybody thinks they have good taste and a sense of humor but they couldn't possibly all have good taste.

that is just like you.

you say things like that, and you make it impossible for me to hate you.

at least i got the apartment.

the first time we met, we hated each other.

we were friends for a long time.

it only took three months.

you will never have to be out there again.

i'm not going to tell you that.

i miss her.

you know what i miss? i miss the idea of him.

when did this happen?

you don't bounce back from that right away.

doesn't what i said mean anything for you?

i hate you, [name]. i really hate you.

what can i get you?

no one has ever quoted me back to me before.

you know, i'm so glad i never got involved with you.

i am not your consolation prize.

i wrote that.

you're going to have to try and find a way of not expressing every feeling that you have, every moment that you have them.

[mantequillamcwhoremick]

I always believed that the reason why Kenny never tried to tell butters at all about his “curse” was never that he wouldn’t believe it in fact I think he would whole heartedly believe but because Butters would get like VERY paranoid & stressed about it and that Kenny doesn’t want to put any more baggage on him than butters is already dealing with

Well, the reason Kenny never tried to tell Butters about his curse first and foremost is because Matt and Trey haven't figured they should make this into a canon interaction yet, but when we talk about hypotheticals I think there's a lot to unpack.

Kenny and Butters aren't significantly close in their current canon age, so the reason Kenny might not have told him is because he just doesn't see the point, plus he doesn't really care about Butters and his opinion. Post COVID and "Going Native" have proven there's very much an insanely big potential for their dynamic, so it might be an interaction that could happen in the future sparked by a number of things in different ways.

Mostly, I think Kenny would tell Butters in a moment of weakness. This was the case in my fic Chaos Plan (sorry to bring Chaos Plan into this lmao but my writing is how I explore certain headcanons/interpretations of characters so bear with me), because I doubt that Kenny would usually try to convince anyone again, so as to not be disappointed when they don't believe him. The line "I knew there'd be no point in telling you guys" (s14's "Coon vs. Coon & Friends") is pretty much proof to me for this, as is Kenny's apathy towards his curse by the end of the trilogy. But I think it's necessary that Kenny and Butters are close friends for this to happen, because Kenny should want to confide in Butters in the first place.

The point you make about Butters being paranoid & anxious is a pretty interesting one, but I doubt this would be a reason Kenny wouldn't tell him. Butters may have a lot of baggage, but at the end of the day I think Kenny wouldn't see why BUTTERS would be anxious about KENNY'S curse.

Butters mirrors other people's emotions a lot when it comes to getting hyped or scared about something, (like how in "Poor and Stupid" he gets very "psyched" because Cartman is lmao), and Kenny isn't in any danger for Butters to be worried about him. He just has a pretty shitty situation going on that won't go away, and Kenny would treat it as such. All that Kenny needs here would be emotional support & someone who listens to & believes him, and I think Butters would recognize that.

Think of how Butters comforted him in "Major Boobage" when Kenny was addicted to cheesing. Butters definitely has the stuff to be an emotional crutch when he sees someone in distress, like in "A Boy and a Priest" or "Worldwide Privacy Tour" when he reaches out to Kyle after he sees him upset.

He's much less anxious and paranoid than people give him credit for, because most of his panicky moments are usually sparked deliberately by Cartman or his parents with unnecessarily scary threats of consequences that he's sadly learned to believe to be true. But Butters is actually awesome at emotional support, without letting the other person's problems get to him. He's more so than a rational problem-solver, which is where Kyle's strength lies, and is the reason Kyle isn't the person Kenny can confide in for this particular problem.

Butters, however, would be perfect. Kenny's problem doesn't need solutions, he needs someone to listen to him, believe him and maybe give him a hug so he can cry a little (a lot). And we've seen Butters is an incredibly emotionally intelligent guy, especially in the episodes "Raisins" and "Butterballs".

For all these reasons, I highly doubt Butters would get paranoid and stressed over Kenny's curse. Especially because he'd recognize there's no use in stressing about it, and I think he'd know right off the bat what Kenny actually needs.

Now, allow me to introduce a different hypothetical where your theory could definitely hold truth; another fic wip I have (sorry) where Kenny loses his immortality and develops a panic disorder. The premise is that Kenny can't stop seeing possible death causes anywhere he goes, and with his immortality gone, he's in constant fear that he's always on the verge of death.

(screenshot from season 3's "Tweek vs. Craig")

In this particular fic, Kenny and Butters are already together, but Kenny's never told him about his curse, or that he's lost his immortality. So when Kenny starts panicking about all the ways he thinks he could die, Butters mirrors this fear and unknowingly makes everything worse for Kenny, because he's accidentally reinforcing Kenny's irrational fears.

What I'm saying is; Kenny could very well THINK Butters would be stressed and paranoid if he knew about Kenny's curse, based on reactions Kenny's seen Butters have whenever Kenny is scared about a possible death cause. He could accidentally give Butters fears that Butters didn't have before because, again, Butters MIRRORS these kinds of emotions when someone convinces him it's rational/threatens a consequence that is supposed to inspire fear.

In these kinds of scenarios, your theory could very well hold truth. I think it's an interesting darker side to Kenny and Butters' possible dynamic, and I'm happy you pointed it out. I'm also excited to get that fic I mentioned out someday and hopefully spark more conversation about Kenny's possible anxiety issues originating from his curse >:)