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kettlefire · 2 days ago

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A Panic in Time (DP x DC)

This is all thanks to the awesome @tkiesai for basically being the foundation of this idea! This is probably going to be long, and probably won't delve that deep into my ideas about this idea. Largely so it's not insanely long. But here I go!

°•°•°•°

Bruce's head felt like it had been shoved through a straw and spit out on the other side. The throbbing was annoying, but it wasn't anything the man couldn't handle.

His mind was muddled, memories of what happened prior to him awaking was blurry and unsure. Bruce knew it wasn't something good.

He vaguely remembered a league meeting, a threat, something looming. It wasn't world ending, or at least that's what Bruce remembered. It should have been something they could handle.

But now, here was Bruce. Waking up in the grass of some random park. He was dressed in casual attire, something he'd wear in public as Bruce. Although last he remembered he was in the Batsuit.

The sun felt too bright in the sky. The sound of families filled the air and children's laughter. No one seemed to blink twice at Bruce as he pulled himself together.

It took a moment to steel himself, to gain composer again. It took a few sweet lines, and a charming smile for a nice mother to slide him a few painkillers. The lies rolling off his tongue like second nature.

To his luck there was a newspaper at the top of the trashcan. He was in some town called Amity Park, and the year... the year was the problem.

It was 1996. Whatever had happened had sent Bruce back in time. There was a few suspects Bruce can think were the cause of this. But something in his gut kept drawing his train of thought to the Flash.

It seemed like each time the League had any time related problems, Barry was in the center of it. Which also leaves Bruce with the question if he was the only one sent back in time.

God, he could only imagine the nightmare if the others were sent back in time. Yes, they can be professional. They understand the risk of changing things in the past.

But Bruce also understands that his team can be less than... intelligent at times.

Despite that, Bruce needed to find a way to get back to Gotham. He might not know for sure where everyone was right now, but he knew Alfred was the safest bet.

A plan laid out in Bruce's mind, a list of people he knew wouldn't be a risk to approach. He just needed to find a way to get to them. He had barely made it to the gates of the park before a shrill cry pierced the air.

There was just one loud outcry, before it quieted down. Bruce glance around the space, spotting a young boy curled on the ground. Tears streamed down the boy's chubby cheeks.

And no one even moved to the boy's aid. Not a single mother spared more than one glance in the kid's directions. No parents came rushing over to the boy's side.

Bruce almost walked away, he really did. This wasn't his time, anything he does can cause immense damage to the timeline. But when Bruce caught sight of blood bubbling from a scrape on the boy's knee, Bruce couldn't ignore him.

Maybe it's just the father in him, but Bruce barely even notices when he's crossing the small distance. His mind zeroing in on a hurt child that needed help. Kneeling before the small boy with a gentle smile, and pulling his handkerchief free from his pocket.

"You're alright there, buddy. It looks like you took a bit of a tumble there." Bruce slipped into the same tone he used to use when his kids were young. Gentle and understanding, as he pressed the handkerchief to the small scrape.

The boy sniffled, tears slipping from his eyes. Bruce was more focused on the way the kid was looking at him. Like he couldn't fathom someone coming to his aid.

That look had Bruce's heart breaking slightly. He's seen a similar look before. The few times he's come to the aid of a hurt child that wasn't used to getting help.

Something no child should ever feel or experience.

"Where's your parents, kiddo?" Bruce asked after a moment of silence from the boy. He had waited until the kid's breathing settled down when the boy's chest stopped pumping so quickly.

Except his question only seemed to bring a new wave of tears to the boy's eyes. The small child just seemed to curl into himself further, ducking his gaze away from Bruce.

And as much as Bruce didn't want it to be true, it was clear the kid didn't have the support he needed. It might not as be as far as some of Bruce's kids have had in the past.

But it was clearly not good.

"That's okay, it's alright. What's your name?" Bruce tried again. The boy's silence was leaving an uncomfortable pit in Bruce's stomach.

"D-Danny..." The boy spoke out his name between sniffles, and Bruce felt a wave of relief hearing the boy speak.

In hindsight, Bruce can see how strange the scene might look. A slightly disheveled man comforting a lone young boy in a park. It wasn't exactly perfect.

But with the lack of reactions from the parents around, Bruce had a feeling the town had an idea who this boy was. The whole situation just didn't feel that right for him.

It took a few more comments before Bruce managed to get the boy to crack a smile. A laugh had felt like breaking a massive wall.

Before long, Bruce had Danny actually like any other boy he's known. Carefree and happy, just like a child should be.

"You didn't tell me your name, mister." Danny had suddenly cut down the relaxed moment they were in. A pout laced the boy's lips as he looked up at Bruce, almost accusatory.

"I'm Bruce. Bruce Wayne." Bruce responded without missing a beat. He knew this might cause problems in the future. He wasn't supposed to be here.

But when his gut is telling him something, he can't just ignore it. He checked his pockets, finding no business cards anywhere. So, Bruce fell back in plan B.

"No matter how long it's been from now, you can come to me for help. Just look for Bruce Wayne in Gotham City, and when you find me... just say Fairbanks sent you."

Bruce wasn't sure if he'll ever see Danny again when he goes back to his own time. Wasn't even sure if this was the same universe as his own. But he couldn't walk away without at least offering the boy help in some way.

When Danny's eyes filled up with tears again, Bruce thought he said something wrong at first. That was until the boy was suddenly clinging to his shoulders in a tight embrace, muttering 'thank you' over and over again.

Bruce felt himself almost close to tears just from that alone. His heart was aching for the small boy. Even if Bruce couldn't help Danny anymore than this, he was hoping the boy would have a better life.

One where he wasn't clinging to a stranger for comfort that family should be providing him.

THWAMP

It didn't hurt, but it did cut their hug short as Bruce suddenly pulled away. Turning his head to see a young girl wielding a wiffle bat, and another young boy standing behind her.

Her purple eyes glared at Bruce like he had done the worst thing in the world. Her grip on the bat was threatening and ready to swing again. Her knuckles white from the tight grip alone.

Maybe leaving this time era might not be as easy as Bruce thought as the young girl probbed him with angry and scolding questions. Not that Bruce could blame her.

He just hoped this hiccup didn't get back to the league. They'd have a field day hearing about how Batman got scolded by a child with a wiffle bat.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Danny wasn't sure if this was the best idea. It's been years since he met Bruce Wayne. So many years. Danny had just been a kid, not even ten, when Bruce had introduced himself.

When he had an adult, actually check in on him. Yet, it was a memory Danny couldn't forget. Maybe it was just the kindness that Bruce radiated.

Or maybe it was when Sam came to his "rescue" near the end. Regardless, it was cemented in his mind. A core memory that Danny cared with him through the years.

Now, here he was, roughly seven years later. Standing in front of a manor that put even Sam's place to shame.

It took a lot of courage for Danny to knock. Barely a second later, an old man answered the door, an accent Danny was certain Bruce hadn't had.

A stuttered explaination of being here to see Bruce Wayne, that the man knew him, barely left Danny's mouth before the old man ushered him inside.

The man, Alfred, told Danny to wait by the door before vanishing further into the manor. It took a lot for Danny to not just vanish.

Being half ghost nowadays had its quirks, Danny could just vanish, and no one but Alfred would know. But he couldn't.

It had taken a lot for Danny to make the journey to Gotham City. He hadn't even thought to look up a current picture of Bruce either. Which was probably a big mistake on his end.

Danny didn't even know if Bruce was offering this kind of help. But Danny didn't have many allies to turn to. He needed help.

Not just for himself but for his family. For Amity Park. He couldn't be afforded the ability to run away. Not now.

Danny felt all the air leave his lungs when Bruce entered the area. The man didn't look a day older than what Danny remembered. Bruce looked a bit more put together, not like he had just jumped out of a moving car, but it was Bruce.

"Uhm... I don't know if you remember me. But my name's Danny... we met when I was a kid." Danny started trying to explain himself before Bruce could speak. He recognized that confused look anywhere, and Danny didn't have the guts to go through with this if Bruce asked any questions.

"You told me if I ever needed help, to come find you. Bruce Wayne in Gotham City... you, uh, told me to tell you Fairbanks sent me?"

That came out more like a question than Danny would have liked. But it did ease his nerves a bit as he watched Bruce's slightly confused expression turn to alarm and surprise.

Danny wasn't sure what this would do. If Bruce could truly help him. But he was out of options. Just seeing Bruce recognize something he said was enough to calm the teen's anxiety slightly.

"I'm sorry, Danny... I don't remember you. But I believe you and I want to help you. Come inside, have a seat, and tell me what's going on."

That response was enough to have Danny's eyes fill with tears. His chest filling with a sense of hope he hadn't felt in weeks now.

Maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

#dc x dp #batman #dp x dc #phandom #bruce wayne #danny fenton #child danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #ofc Sam saw a stranger hugging her crying friend and wasn't going to just stand by #is it really dpxdc without angst?#for whatever reason when Bruce went back to his time he had forgotten the memories of what happened during his trip #he didn't remember meeting Danny but he couldn't just ignore a teen who knows one of the few codewords he has #besides how could Bruce not believe a kid who has his codeword and looks exactly like a child Bruce would adopt #Bruce will never live this down #just because he doesn't remember doesn't mean Danny and everyone else doesn't #they know so Bruce get's to learn a second time about being battered with a wiffle bat by child Sam #no current plans to turn this into a full fic cause I'm trying to keep my list of active fics short #but if anyone wants to take this idea and run with it all I require is a link drop!!!#I partly wanted to write more #but my brain is only coming up with certain scenes and not how it all ties into the main plot #basically Justice League stuff happens that sends Bruce (and maybe others) back in time where Bruce meets child Danny #what exactly well don't ask me #Danny be crying a bit in this one #but come on he was just a baby at the start #by the end he's just an overwhelmed teenager who is just happy to have someone who might be able to help on his side

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v3lv3tsin · 2 days ago

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bad time, good time: nishimura riki

| pairning: nishimura riki x reader

I genre: fashionmajor!niki, lawmajor!reader

I warnings: no warnings <3

I word count: 1.5k

I stefy's note: i know i should be focusing on the jungwon series but i suddenly got this idea at 3 am (i mean who isn't obsessed with korean convenience stores now lol), so enjoy :)

[ BACK TO MASTERLIST ]

"Towards the middle of the thirteenth century inquisitorial procedure..." You felt your eyes glaze over the page once again, trying to focus on the words once again. Finally checking the clock on the wall opposite to your desk on the right side, to your surprise it showed 2 am.

No wonder why you felt tired in the first place. You've been studying and writing assignments ever since you woke up. Exams were coming soon so you couldn't and shouldn't be waisiting any time. Getting you out of your thoughts was the sound of your stomach rumbling which reminded you of your hunger.

Shit. Yeah. Maybe some snacks and ramen would help.

That's how you found yourself looking at the ramen isle in the small convenience not sure what kind of buldak ramen to have for dinner. Holding tightly onto the plastic glass cup filled with ice and the grape ade plastic bag you tiptoed hoping to reach the top shelf. You couldn't reach the one you wanted, before an arm extended from behind you and grabbed the ramen cup for you.

"Here!" Niki said, handing the ramen to you. Turning around to take the cup ramen from his hand you're met with a pair of brown eyes. The mysterious man was tall from what you could grasp.

Not wanting to stare for longer than expected, you answer. "Thanks." Pausing for a moment, you continue on the same surpirsed tone not expecting him to help you. "You didn't have to." Taking the cup ramen from his hand you take another look at him.

"Carbonara, huh?" Niki asked with a small grin on his face as he looks at the floor, then at your choice of noddles for dinner. It shouldn't be a surprise that you would choose the carbonara noodles since they're the best. Of course.

Seeing your confused face he decides to tease you. "You might need some cheese for that." Niki points at the sides isle hoping to make you understand what he meant in the first place.

"Yeah." You answer realizing that you forgot to get some cheese as buldak noodles are always better with a bit of cheese. Pausing to somehow manage to explain yourself you continue on the same confessing tone. "I totally forgot."

"I'm Niki, by the way." Niki says finally introducing himself, thinking it was high time he does so since you have been talking for some time now.

Extending his hand you take it hesitantly before introducing yourself to him. "Y/N." Shaking his hand you give him a shy smile before turning to leave and get the cheese you talked about until then.

"I guess i'll see you around." Niki adds seeing that you looked almost rushed to be anywhere but here. It was clear that he wanted to continue talking to you, but that was not the case for you.

Or so he thought.

Laying down onto the bed tiredly you open the history book to get back to reading you think to yourself. "Niki." Taking a bite from the noodles followed by a sip of the grape ade you bought moments ago you decide to check his instagram, hoping to at least to find some more information about him. To say the least, you were curious.

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| INSTAGRAM POST - NOV 15th.

niki_kikiki

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niki_kikiki ⏱️👔

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wonkiten he's not a baby mandu anymore

icehoon where's my credit

user01 THE SECOND PICTURE?! OMGG NI-KII 😫

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What the actual fuck? How does he look so handsome? And in a suit also. What's his major?

Taking another bite from the noodles as you decide to check another photo from his instagram hoping to see him in a different outfit and a hint probably of his major. That's when you clicked on the most recent photo that he had posted only to see that it was posted 5 hours ago.

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| INSTAGRAM POST - 5 hours ago.

niki_kikiki

Liked by icehoon, catseong and 1000 others

niki_kikiki 🪩

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catseong coolest dude i'm so serious

byfsjy WOAHH OKAYY BUDDY OKAY

user02 THE THIRD PICTURE HELLO!?!!!?

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As you were just about to take a sip of the grape ade you boughts hours ago seeing those pictures definetly shocked you. He looked so good. So hot.

Finally finishing your meal after taking one last look at Nikis instagram photos you get the history book that has been onto the bed the whole time. Looking over the pages trying to get back to reading the last word you remember is "Inquisition" before darkness steals your vision living you blind.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Days later you found yourself in the same convenience store looking at the same ramen isle trying to choose what to have for dinner. Shaking you off your thoughts, as you were about to reach for your usual carbonara buldak noodles is a deep voice, almost familiar. Behind you.

Putting his hand against the metalic shelf, consequently trapping you between his body and the isle. "I didn't think i would see you again." Niki confesses in a low voice.

Turning around to be met with the same dark brown eyes from two days ago as you slightly blushed. Tilting your head you look at him confused for a second as you didn't expect to see him either. Especially not at this hour. "Well i'm here." You answer him not knowing exactly what to say.

Coming closer with his body to yours, Niki extends his hand to take two carbonara buldak noodles cups. He was close. Too close. Taking both of the noddle cups into his hand and holding them into his hand Niki finally answers you. "I was thinking..." Pausing for a second to rub the back of his neck as he looked down onto the floor he continues in a low voice. "Maybe we could eat together here."

Holding onto the plastic cup filled with ice and this time, a peach ice tea you looked at him and then onto the floor blushing. One thing was for sure, that you didn't expect to hear him say that. Before you could answer him or at least let him know what you felt about this idea his deep voice interrupts you.

"Here...I meant anywhere, not only here." Niki explains himself to you, hoping also for a positive answer. "We could eat somewhere else." Niki adds as he continues to explain himself to you. Giving you more ideas to where you two could eat together.

"I would love to" You answer him as you come closer hoping to calm him down as you could see that he wanted to continue talking. Looking at what he was holding into his hand you then decide to ask him in a teasing voice wanting to have less tension between the two of you. "Are you only getting ramen?"

"No, of course not." Niki answers before turning around to get a plastic cup filled with ice from the freezer only to be followed by you on his way. While you were walking to the freezer a jeonju bibimbap triangle kimbap caught your eye so you decide to take it. Turning around Niki eyes you before taking the plastic cup and his drink of choice, a caramel ice americano.

"Since we're eating together i was wondering maybe we could get some snacks." He suggests on a shy tone wanting to spend more time with you as the last time he wasn't able to. He wanted to get to know you.

Nodding you follow him to the chips isle where you took different kinds, some that you have tried before, some that you haven't. Laughing about your height was also Niki as most of the times you couldn't reach the top shelf. Finally reaching the register with the basket full of things you and Niki both wanted to try, when you wanted to pay he didn't let you, with the excuse that "it's on him."

It's not a date,right? It's a date. Is it?

Was all you could think of when he decided to pay for the food. Sitting down at the table at the convenience store as it started raining only yours and his laughs could be heard. Niki would mostly tease you about your snack choices or even the simple fact of what games you play.

Your prediction from days was true, he was in fact a fashion major. No surprise there. Niki would talk about how much he loves it because he is able to express himself. Later in the evening you found yourselves walking on the way to your apartment as he especially mentioned that "a girl shouldn't go alone so late at night."

Before entering the apartment, without any warning, you come closer to Niki with the original intent of kissing his cheek and saying "thanks a lot for the night." But he had other plans. That's when you could feel his lips on yours. You on your tiptoes having to reach his height as you wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him closer.

"Wow." Taking a deep breath after he pulled away that's all he could say. "I...." Pausing for a second he rubbs the back of his neck while looking at you before continuing. "I guess i'll see you around."

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Days later you get a notification of a post you have been tagged on. Opening your phone, while in the middle of the contract law lecture you're surprised to see a photo of Niki and you, along with two other pictures of him with the outfit he wore that night. You didn't expect that, so it surely surprised you.

It was cute. He was cute.

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| INSTAGRAM POST - NOV 20th.

niki_kikiki

Liked by yourusername, 01boy and 2000 others

niki_kikiki 🌃

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yourusername <3

01boy broo that's why you missed game night

ppysnoo cuties

user03 and now he has a girlfriend

USERNAMES GUIDE:

1. niki_kikiki = niki

2. wonkiten = jungwon

3. catseong = jay

4. icehoon = sunghoon

5. byfsjy = jake

6. 01boy = heeseung

7. ppysnoo = sunoo

#Spotify #enhypen #enha #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #nishimura riki #nishimura riki x reader #riki nishimura x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen niki #niki nishimura #nishimura riki x you #riki x reader #enhypen riki #kpop smut #enhypen smut

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waynes-multiverse · 2 days ago

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I was soooooooo excited for this! *breathes in sharply* Okay let's get started 🍿😎👏

“You have my blessing,” she said. “All I ask is that you don’t scar me with any gushy details afterward.”

I love their friendship so much 😂 And kudos to Dory. It takes a lot to agree to this. It could potentially get very awkward 😝

“You know, it’s been about twenty years since I’ve seen him,” she said. “We’ve had entire lives already. I see him now, and there’s some of the Russell I knew when we were kids, but…there’s just a lot I don’t know about him, who he’s become.”

God, I know. This is honestly what I think about the most when I watch Tracker. The whole story line is insane and intriguing and... 😅 I have a thousand questions, and there's so much you could do with it in fics. I love it (clearly) 😂🤍

Dory’s face tightened. “It’s a long story. I’ve told you some of it. But basically, after our dad died, nothing was ever the same again.”

I do think Russell knows a lot more about their past than he lets on. Also, he was way too chipper for someone who was accused of patricide by his own brother for twenty years. The dynamic between the brothers is just... interesting 👀

Barely a date, you reminded yourself, as you unlocked the door to your house. Barely a date, barely a date.

Right... 😆

“You’re a grown fucking man, Charlie! Do you really need me to give you the just say no speech?” you said.

Oh, she's going full Reagan! 😂 I sense some trouble coming from the brother, though...

“Yeah well, maybe just for one night, I wanted to relax without you harping on my back,” he said, glaring up at you. “Is that too much to fucking ask? For you to give me some goddamn slack?”

Well, I hope he already picked out his casket... 🙈💀

“Hey, there.” He greeted you with a warm hand on your back. He helped you into your seat.

I'd be a puddle before I even made it to the damn seat 🫠

And they are literally so cute together! I'm full on swooning over here 😍

Russell nodded. He wasn’t sure how much Dory told you about their family business, but it dimmed his mood.

Ah, yes, the family business. Love that sublte hint 😆 Would be a good name for a brewery, tho 👍

He was starting to get a clearer picture of who your brother was. It struck at familiar chords inside himself that he wasn’t so comfortable with. He shifted in his seat, fingers flexing over his glass on the counter.

I like that you emphasized the darker parts of his life. Like I said, I don't buy his whole "I'm happy and funny and quirky" act. There's a lot more stirring beneath the charming surface 😅 (Another thing he has in common with Dean lol)

And oh, don't we love a good cry on the first date? Poor thing 😂🤍

“You gotta understand that me, my brother, my sister, we didn’t grow up like a normal family,” he said. “Yeah, I know,” you nodded. “Dory’s told me some of it. It sounded…rustic.” He snorted. “Putting it mildly.”

Indeed 😂 I would've loved to be a fly on the wall when Dory had this conversation with her lol

How he very eloquently avoided talking about Colter accusing him of murdering their father. I wanna be a fly on the wall for that future convo too 🤣

And he slapped you right on the ass.

Loved that she got a punch in before even Russell got there. He might have actually killed that pig lmao

“Aw, it doesn’t look as bad as all that. But can I see?” he asked. You allowed him to take your smaller hand in his. Your knuckles were red and tender to the touch when he gently pressed. You hissed in pain.

I'm having vivid flashbacks to Smoke Eater 🥵🔥

But his hands were gentle for you.

This line just about killed me... 🫠🫠🫠

“Three balls, huh?” you said slyly, and maybe, a little tipsy. “Might wanna get that looked at.”

I appreciate that kind of humor 😂😂

“Now, if I go in for a kiss goodnight, are you gonna deck me?” he asked, with a teasing glint in his eyes.

I absolutely can see him saying that 💯😂

He found no other recourse but to back you up against the side of his car.

Probably one of my favorite scenes is when characters are so hot for each other they lean against a car. There's just something so incredibly passionate about it 🔥🫠

“I’m staying at a motel, if you wanna…” he said, between kisses.

Oh, Russell, this is not what the lady wants to hear. Bless him tho 😂

And I figured she wanted more than a one-night-stand or fling. His job and lifestyle truly is a bit of a problem. But he wanted out anyways, so... 🤞

I loved their first date! 😍🤍 Hopefully, they'll see each other again soon and might give this another shot. I have a feeling it's gonna involve her brother's bullshit somehow 😅

Every Second Counts - Part 1

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the first one you trust to help you find him.

AN: Finally, here we are at Part 1! Remember that A Line and a Half functions as our prologue here.

Word Count: 5.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for some mature thoughts. Fluff, angst and hurt/comfort, drug use, mentions of drug addiction and alcoholism, skeevy men, and a tinge of spice.~

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 1: "Permission Granted"

“Are you absolutely sure?” you asked, with your hands on your hips.

You wanted no miscommunication here, no read-between-the-lines mishaps, no subtext or nuance to bite you in the ass later. So here you stood in the middle of your best friend’s office, still at the Wyoming University campus after your last class.

Dory had to laugh at you. She pushed away from her desk and threw her hands up.

“Yes, for the love of God, you can grab a drink with my brother,” she said.

After brushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, she went to you and set her hands on your shoulders.

“You have my blessing,” she said. “All I ask is that you don’t scar me with any gushy details afterward.”

Your face began to heat up in a blush. You crossed your arms.

“All right, no one said there was going to be any of that,” you replied. “It’s just a date. Barely a date, mind you.”

“A-huh,” Dory said with a sneaking smile. “Out of curiosity, what was it about him that hooked you? You’ve been dodging Chris’s valiant attempts for like a month now.”

Chris was a French and Spanish professor. His office was on the same floor as yours, so you two occasionally crossed paths whenever you ventured into the teacher’s lounge.

He usually caught you in the morning while you were grabbing your free coffee fix at the Keurig. He’d chat you up about his classes and his dog and his new boat, and all the while you’d struggle to get a word in edgewise. Despite that, he was good-looking and pleasant, for the most part. It was just…

“I don’t know. He’s not my type, I guess,” you shrugged. You kind of liked conversations where both people got to speak.

“And Russell is?” Dory said, in a teasing tone. You chewed the inside of your lip, fighting a smile.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Kind of want to find out though.”

“Okay, well, let me know what you find,” Dory said, more wryly. You caught a bit of melancholy when her gaze drifted off. Your brows furrowed in concern as you drew closer, setting a hand on her arm.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

She was hesitant, but she eventually answered you with a confession.

You could understand that. You squeezed her arm in sympathy.

“Well, he really seems to want to know you now,” you said. You remembered all the questions he asked you when he helped you carry your files back to your office after lunch today—most of them about Dory, about her career, your friendship, and ultimately, if she was happy.

“What happened to you guys?” you asked. “Why are you all so distant? Colter included.”

Dory’s face tightened. “It’s a long story. I’ve told you some of it. But basically, after our dad died, nothing was ever the same again.”

You dimmed at that. You knew their mother still lived in the cabin they grew up in, but Dory had never quite been able to tell you what happened to their dad. You’d never pushed the subject. You knew better than anyone what kind of pain that was.

“I just wish we’d been able to stay with each other. Me and my brothers, at least,” Dory said. But she adopted a smile for you, before she returned to her desk.

“Okay. Go on your non-date at your favorite bar with Russell. I’ll be here, grading papers until Judgment Day,” she said, with a small laugh that felt like a coverup for thoughts she no longer wanted to think about.

You let her do it. You grabbed your purse and work bag off the spare chair in front of her desk.

“So you’re sure,” you wanted to confirm. “One last chance for me to tell him I came down with food poisoning.”

Dory collected her stack of midterm papers and gave you a cheeky look that said, class dismissed. Then she clicked her red pen and pointedly looked down at the first batch of papers to read through.

You smiled. Okay, you thought, giving her a little wave goodbye when you turned to leave. You had just a couple of hours to drive home and get ready to meet Russell.

“Goodnight,” you called.

“Goodniiight,” Dory replied.

You heard the smirk in her voice without even having to look back.

After fighting through rush hour traffic, you were exhausted when you got home from work. Your tentative excitement and nerves about tonight gave you some new energy though, even if you thought those nerves were silly to have.

Barely a date, you reminded yourself, as you unlocked the door to your house. Barely a date, barely a date.

The Ring Camera beside the door chimed when you entered the house, signaling your arrival. You had to wrinkle your nose at the dank-ass smell that greeted you.

Frowning in annoyance, you dropped your stuff on the kitchen table for now and shucked off your heels. You made a beeline down the hall, to the bedroom that lied across from yours. You pushed it open without knocking. There you caught your older brother, Charlie, snoozing in his bed with the covers half pooling on the floor.

His room was a mess, as usual. Your gaze locked on the evidence of half a blunt on his nightstand and two smoked roaches beside it. You were glad it wasn’t remnants of white lines of powder, like times before, but there was also a large bottle of whiskey. It was almost empty, and hanging loosely from his hand.

He managed to raise his head a bit when you came in.

“Hey,” he said, blinking bleary eyes. He cleared his throat and tried to sit up.

You shook your head and picked around piles of dirty clothes and a couple of used paper plates on the floor. You swiftly grabbed the bottle from his hand and slammed it on the nightstand.

“You promised me, Charlie,” you snapped. “You promised me for the hundredth time that you’d quit all this shit. Where even were you last night? You weren’t home when I left for work this morning.”

He sighed, frowning at how loud you were, and sat up in bed. He swung his legs over the side and held his swimming head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He ran a hand through his hair. It was nearly black, like Dad’s had been, but he’d inherited Mom’s lighter eyes.

“I got invited to a party,” he said. “I’m sorry, I know. This is the last time.”

You expelled a frustrated breath and shook your head.

“You’re a grown fucking man, Charlie! Do you really need me to give you the just say no speech?” you said.

“Look, I’m sorry. I don’t know how many times I can say it,” he said. He shut his eyes tight, probably trying to fend off a headache.

Good, you thought. Let that be a reminder of how bad he’d screwed up again.

“And while we’re at it, what about your half of the bills? You’re a week late,” you said, testily crossing your arms.

“Yeah, I’m a little behind,” he said. Once again, he cleared his throat past a wad of phlegm. He was still a bit crossfaded too, you could tell. “You know they cut my hours to part-time at the museum. I’ve, uh, I’ve been looking into getting another job—”

“I already paid the phone bill. And the internet, the water bill, the electricity,” you said. “The house may be paid off, but the least you can do is pay your half of living here.”

The longer you stared at him, seeing the guilt hidden behind drunken eyes, you realized he wasn’t just late on his half of the bills.

“How much?” you asked.

He frowned up at you. “What?”

“How much do you owe?” you said. Your voice was as cutting as your gaze. Charlie lowered his.

“It’s okay, don’t worry—”

“How much,” you pressed.

He looked up at you again, this time with pursed lips. After a beat, he sighed and gave in.

“About two grand,” he admitted.

You raised your eyes heavenward, muttering a curse. Your hands went to your temples as you had to pace the room. You were angry and exasperated in equal measure.

“Who the fuck do you owe two grand?!” you asked.

Charlie shook his head. “It’s better that I don’t tell you that.”

You paused. As you looked down at him, your anger dissolved into sadness, like it always did.

“If Mom and Dad could see you now, they wouldn’t recognize you,” you said.

Charlie fought not to react to that, his brows furrowing. Instead, he just looked down, unable to answer you.

“Charlie, you need help. I can’t keep doing this with you,” you said. Your shaky breath gave way to the burn of tears.

His red-rimmed eyes became glassy as well.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said.

He was always sorry. And you always had to be the one to nurse him back to health, pick up the pieces, pay the bills. You were exhausted. The bone-deep kind of tired that felt like gravity wasn't so much keeping you down, but pushing you.

“I’m going to ask for two things: do what you need to do to get paid, and clean up your shit. If you can’t accomplish that, then I’m taking you to rehab,” you said.

“You know I’ve tried that,” Charlie said, with a shrug of his shoulders. “Didn’t really work for me.”

“You left the program after two weeks!” you retorted.

“I did it on my own! I’ve been clean for months,” he argued.

“And what happened? You go to one party and all your good sense, all your training, mentally and physically—that all goes out the window?” you said. You had half a mind not to believe him.

“Yeah well, maybe just for one night, I wanted to relax without you harping on my back,” he said, glaring up at you. “Is that too much to fucking ask? For you to give me some goddamn slack?”

Your mouth fell open incredulously.

“I’m on your back?” you said. “Okay. I’ll get off. Do whatever the hell you want, Charlie. I’m done.”

You left his room in an angry huff. You headed over to your room so you could take a shower and start getting ready to meet Russell at Howley’s.

By the time you got to your bedroom, you heard the front door slam closed.

The truth was, you were no longer in a mood to have fun when you pulled up to Howley’s, but you needed to escape your house. Also, you weren’t someone who canceled on people last-minute, especially not on Dory’s own brother.

You found Russell waiting for you at the bar. He waved to you with a fifth of whiskey in hand and an easy grin. He’d saved you a seat beside him.

You found yourself smiling. Your mood began to lighten as you went over to him. He looked more or less the same, but this time the jacket and jeans combo was navy blue and dark wash, respectively. His hair was swept back, lightly gelled. You smelled the familiar, rich woodiness of his cologne when you drew near, along with a hint of spicy soap.

“Hey, there.” He greeted you with a warm hand on your back. He helped you into your seat.

“Hey, yourself,” you replied, and thanked him for the assist onto the tall stool. You’d opted for jeans and a blouse, paired with your favorite leather boots. It was less dressy than he’d seen you before, but that was “work mode.” This was a more casual affair, even if you’d spent at least twenty extra minutes on your makeup.

You were glad he picked a spot at the end of the bar though. It put some distance from the group of guys getting rowdy as they cheered at the football game playing on the TV.

“How was the rest of your day, Professor?” he asked. “And what’re you wanting to drink?”

You let out a long sigh and turned toward him, resting your elbow on the counter.

“Awesome. I’m going to need two shots of tequila and an order of something fried, and preferably covered with cheese, please,” you replied.

Russell’s grin deepened. “Okay, I’m thinking ‘awesome’ is code for something. But we can get started on that order of Forget Today’s Unfortunate Events.”

He flagged down the bartender with a raise of his hand, but he shot you a glance.

“Though I’m hoping it’s not all of today that you wanna forget,” he said.

Your lips threatened another smile, as the memory of your hand being swept up into his, and soft lips meeting the back of your hand filtered through your mind.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s possible,” you said.

After about ten minutes of playfully debating the appetizer menu (you swore by the pretzel and beer cheese, but Russell had his eye on those spicy wings), he finally settled on ordering both.

“When in doubt, don’t go without,” he’d remarked.

You swept a pretty coil of hair over your shoulder and downed your tequila shots with a lime wedge. Meanwhile, Russell tried not to linger his eyes on the way your tongue swept over your finger to catch a drop of lime juice. Your nails were manicured, and the shade of the polish matched your lipstick.

Russell didn’t pretend to know the art and science of a woman’s wardrobe, but everything about you was thought out, it seemed, falling in line with what he’d expect from a (sexy as all hell) college professor. You’d also told him at lunch today that as of last year, you now had two doctorates: History and Ancient Studies.

Even with all that under your belt, you also seemed refreshingly down-to-earth, a lot like Dory in that sense. He could see why you two were friends.

“So, are you from here, or are you a transplant, like my sister?” he asked.

Dory hadn’t come to live in Wyoming until their aunt and uncle took her in, when she was about eight years old. Before last month, Russell hadn’t seen her since. It hurt his heart to think about, but he tried to focus on you.

You now seemed to be staring a bit listlessly at the glass of whiskey in his hands. He laid a hand on your arm and called your name.

“Hmm?” Your brows rose as you blinked to attention. “Oh! I’m sorry. Yes, I’ve lived here pretty much forever.”

“You okay?” Russell asked. “Tequila hit ya a little hard?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m sorry…”

You raised your hands up to your temples. You debated whether you wanted to open up about this, but…considering who Russell was, you thought he might just understand.

“Dory told me you’ve been trying to reconnect with your brother, right? Colter?” you said.

Russell nodded. He wasn’t sure how much Dory told you about their family business, but it dimmed his mood.

“Well, you could say I’ve got a brother issue of my own,” you said, laughing humorlessly. “You don’t have to talk about yours, but maybe you’ll understand… My brother is a veteran too. He was a Captain, air force pilot. He fought in Afghanistan, mainly.”

Russell processed that with a nod. “Yeah, I was there too. Special Ops.”

“Wow, okay. Then you know what it was like for him, coming back home,” you said. Your gaze fell to your empty shot glasses. “It was hard, after…”

“After?” he prompted.

You sighed. “Near the end, he lost half his unit in a raid, off of some flawed intel.”

Russell’s brows knitted together. Hmm. Grief, survivor’s guilt, feeling like you don’t belong.

You didn’t notice, but you did push the shot glasses away from you.

“I helped him the best I could,” you said. “I got him a job at the museum I interned at when I was in undergrad. He’s there as a security guard, but it’s not really enough, you know? It’s like, nothing satisfies him. I just…I don’t think I know how to help him anymore.”

You couldn’t help it. Emotion bubbled in your throat, making it close up on you as tears stung in your eyes. Your lower lip wobbled, and you tried to turn your face away. Embarrassment coiled up in your chest and made your face hot.

You felt a hand cover yours on your thigh, squeezing warmly. You looked up and met Russell’s gaze, both sympathetic and understanding.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, trying to calm your shuddering breath. “This isn’t exactly first date material. I can’t believe I unloaded on you like that.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “Believe me, I get what your brother’s going through.”

He pushed the plate with the last piece of soft-baked pretzel over to you.

“You finish that if you want, then you go ahead and pick something else off the menu. I won’t even argue with you this time,” he promised with a grin.

It got you to laugh, at least, and he gave you a napkin for your tears.

God, get it together, you told yourself. You’re a damn mess.

“Thanks,” you said. You managed to smile as you blotted at one corner of your eye. You hoped you hadn’t just irreversibly smudged your mascara.

Russell surprised you by brushing his thumb against your other cheek, wiping a stray tear away. Your face began to warm with a blush.

“Again, I’m sorry for dumping on you. We had a fight right when I got home,” you admitted.

“What’s his name?” Russell asked.

“Charlie.”

“Older or younger than you?”

“Four years older,” you replied. “He enlisted a few years after he graduated high school.”

Russell flickered at a smile. Enlisted, huh?

Yet another thing he and Charlie had in common, except Russell hadn’t made it through high school in the classic sense.

“What do you think?” you asked.

“I think your brother sounds lost right now. I’ve known a lotta guys like him, unfortunately,” Russell admitted. “Walking back into civilian life, it ain’t easy. That I know my damn self. Just like I know a thing or two about being an older brother. He’s probably doing his best to keep it off your shoulders.”

You shook your head at that. Trying, maybe.

You weren’t even sure of that anymore. Still, it made you all the more curious about Russell and his family.

“I know I said I wouldn’t ask this, and you don’t have to answer. But did you and Colter have a falling out or something?” you asked.

Russell expelled a deep breath and took a sip from his glass. How was he supposed to navigate this minefield with you?

“You gotta understand that me, my brother, my sister, we didn’t grow up like a normal family,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded. “Dory’s told me some of it. It sounded…rustic.”

He snorted. “Putting it mildly.”

He shook his head and drained the rest of his glass.

“Well, my brother’s got an idea about me that isn’t true,” he said.

Your head tilted in curiosity. “Which is?”

His lips briefly raised in a wan smile.

“We don’t gotta get into that one tonight. But uh, the truth is, I’ve tried reaching out to him several times now. He just doesn’t wanna hear from me,” said Russell.

You considered him for a moment. You laid a hand on his arm, covered by his jacket.

“Don’t give up,” you said, with a sigh of your own. “Despite some things I said to him today, I know I can’t. My brother’s the only real family I have.”

Russell grew curious then. “What about your parents?”

You gave a weak smile.

“They passed away when we were young, but…we don’t have to get into that one tonight,” you said, borrowing his words.

His expression fell. “Jesus. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you,” you accepted, twisting the napkin around your fingers.

An awkward lull of silence fell between you, until Russell nodded and blew out a breath.

“Well. Heavy, huh?”

You chuckled and rested your head against your hand.

“I know. Again, my fault,” you replied.

“It’s okay, swee—. Mmm,” he cut himself off, shooting you a knowing glance.

“Were you about to sweetheart me?” you asked playfully, nudging his hand. “You know how I feel about that.”

“No, ma’am. Not at all,” Russell shook his head. His smile gave him away though. You laughed and grabbed his arm.

“Come on,” you said.

He allowed you to lead him out of his seat. He already had a tab open, so he’d settle up with the bar later. “Where we going?”

“You’re gonna lose to me at pool,” you said with a smirk.

Russell laughed and wrapped his arm around your waist instead.

“Oh, okay. I’m gonna give you a run for your money, though,” he promised.

And he was true to his word.

Russell Shaw turned out to be a more than worthy opponent. You studied the board as you changed the angle on your cue stick no less than five times.

“You gonna make a move, or we going to be here all night?” he said.

He was smiling as he leaned against his own cue on the other side of the board. His clever moves had left you in a difficult position to get your three remaining solid-colored balls into the pocket.

“You hush. I’m thinking,” you said, fighting your own smile.

“Careful, you’ve got steam coming out of your ears,” he teased.

You shot him a narrowed look for that. But then you smiled, as the answer came to you. You walked around to his side of the board and nudged him with your hip.

“Excuse me, sir,” you said to him over your shoulder.

Russell made way for you, but his eyes followed the way you bent over to line up your shot. Namely the curve of your ass in those tight jeans. He could see you knew exactly what you were doing, in more ways than one.

You shot your shot. The solid green ball leapt over his white-striped blue one and managed to sink into the pocket. You straightened up and gave him a triumphant little smirk.

He tried to temper his smile (and ignore the way his cock twitched).

“All right, go on, do your little victory lap," he said. "But remember, I let you go first.”

“Like that matters,” you quipped back.

You went back to the other side of the board to line up your next shot. Russell noticed a pair of drunk men ambling your way from the bar, but before he could make a subtle move to put himself in between, one of the men’s gazes slid down your form and gave into the base urge to let out a low whistle.

And he slapped you right on the ass.

You gasped, grabbing hold of the pool table. Then your shock melted into ire.

Russell was already heading toward you with an angry frown of his own, but even he had to stop short, when he watched you throw a punch that cracked the drunken man across the bridge of his nose.

Good form, Russell thought, when the guy reared back with a howl. His nose dripped blood when his hands came away from his face.

His buddy started to raise his hackles, but that was when Russell stepped to your side. He angled himself toward you and loosely gripped his pool cue by his hip, like it was an extension of his arm. He was fully prepared to use it like one.

“Fucking bitch!” said the one who was still dabbing his nose in vain. He glared at you, his eyes watering involuntarily, while his friend tried to keep him upright. You rolled your eyes.

"You're the one who's crying, bitch," you returned. Russell held in a snort. He cleared his throat and looked on at the pair of idiots.

“I’d have a little sit down if I were you,” Russell told them, with a smirk. “Let that be a lesson to ya. And if it don’t stick? Well. Whatever you start, I can damn well finish.”

His steely gaze reinforced the promise of his words. The other men were still angry, but even drunks had some sense of self-preservation. They ambled toward the back of the bar to find another pool table.

Russell focused his attention back on you, finding you looking down at your hand, rotating your wrist and flexing your fingers.

“Well, look at you, slugger,” he said. You met his smile with one of amusement.

“That’s just what I needed tonight. A broken hand,” you quipped.

Damn, she really gave it to him, Russell thought.

“Sorry,” he said, but your hand felt fine, at least. More than fine. His gaze flicked up to yours as his amused grin deepened. “Good hit though.”

If he liked you before, he might’ve fallen half in love with you right there.

You laughed through the pain. “Yeah, my brother did teach me something. Shit.”

Russell led you back to the bar after you grabbed your purse. There he called to the bartender for some ice. The guy nodded; he’d seen the entire exchange and was sympathetic.

You knew this sort of thing was just par for the course at this kind of bar, but they had the best drinks. Charlie had to carry you out of here on your twenty-first birthday, drunk off your ass. Not to mention, he’d punched out two handsy dicks that night.

You recounted the story to Russell over a couple more drinks. Your conversation was lighter then, filled with laughter and a warm, companiable feeling. He was still rather evasive about his job, but you supposed he had to be, since it was government contract work.

Private security, mainly. Or so he'd said. This man made you infinitely curious, and a bit apprehensive, if you were honest.

And yet, at some point while you two shared and laughed and split a hot sandwich with another round of beers, you realized it.

I like this, you thought. And I like him.

However, the night had to come to an end sometime. Your third involuntary yawn told Russell it was time to call it.

"I'm okay," you tried.

"Nah, you've gotta work tomorrow," he said. He signaled to the bartender. "Let me go ahead and close out my tab."

“Oh, I can pay for half,” you said, reaching for your purse now hanging from your hip.

“You kidding me? Put that away,” he said, guiding your hand with your wallet aside.

Smiling, you accepted his generosity with a small thank you. Then, you let him take up your sore hand again, just to carefully press the half-melted bag of ice over it.

“Feelin’ better?” he asked.

Your smile became softer. “Yeah.”

You had no doubt that this man, tall as he was, with his broad shoulders and the controlled way he carried himself, could’ve laid both of those drunken assholes onto their asses. His intimidating gaze had promised as much.

But his hands were gentle for you.

“I was about to win that game, no contest!” you said, laughing as you and Russell headed out of the bar and into the parking lot.

“Hey, hey, I still had time to win it back,” he argued. “I only had three more balls to go. I could’ve sunk that with my eyes closed.”

“Three balls, huh?” you said slyly, and maybe, a little tipsy. “Might wanna get that looked at.”

Russell snorted. “You think you’re funny, huh?”

“Hey, you laughed!” you said, pointing at him.

He shook his head, despite his amusement. He slowed to a stop in front of his car.

“Where’d you park, huh?” he asked.

“Over there,” you said, pointing several parking spaces down. Your eyes were drawn to his car, however. “Wow. This is your car?”

Russell grinned and patted the top of his black Chevy.

“Aw, yeah. That’s my baby,” he said. “She’s a Chevelle, 1967.”

You didn’t know much about cars, but you could see this was a classic beauty. You passed a hand over its sleek paint job without touching, so you didn't get any fingerprints on it. Though you quirked a smile over your shoulder at him.

“She?” you intoned.

“That’s right. She,” he confirmed.

You smirked and crossed your arms. You paused in front of the passenger door, and when Russell drew in closer, you had to crane your neck up to meet his warm gaze.

“Now, if I go in for a kiss goodnight, are you gonna deck me?” he asked, with a teasing glint in his eyes.

You tilted your head, your own eyes dancing.

“I’m sure you’re brave enough to find out,” you said.

Russell decided he’d take that bet.

He leaned in slowly. He made a show of hesitating, raising a brow, as if waiting for a blow. You were tempted to laugh.

But then he let loose a true smile, and he bowed his head to press his lips against yours. Your eyes fell shut, and your hands moved to flatten against his chest. A firm fucking wall. Jesus.

He circled his arms around your waist, bringing you in closer. Your fingers wound up in his hair, while he tilted his head to kiss you again. You met him with the same fervor with each new kiss, and the feel of your body, soft and pliant under his hands, each little sweet sound that you made, it all drove him to delve in deeper.

You moaned into his mouth at the first warm swipe of his tongue against yours. He tasted like the burn of good whiskey.

You pressed yourself flush against him on instinct. He found no other recourse but to back you up against the side of his car. His hand tangled into your hair, gripping, then easing through the soft strands.

Russell veered away from your soft mouth after a while, just to burn a line of warm, wet kisses along your jaw, and down your neck with the added rasp of his beard.

His lips found the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder. He kissed and sucked at your skin, even grazing with his teeth. You gasped softly in his ear, shuddering against him. You ran your hands over his shoulders and down his strong back out of a need to feel him.

His hands were heavy along the curve of your waist then, squeezing your hips. It all felt incredibly right. And by right, you meant body tingling, warmth churning in your lower belly, and wetness growing between your legs, for sure dampening your panties.

You tugged him back by his hair, so you could reach him for another steamy kiss.

“I’m staying at a motel, if you wanna…” he said, between kisses.

You paused against his lips, parting from him softly.

“Or not," he added. "Just thought I’d mention.”

You giggled, catching your breath, and then smoothing your hands down his chest. The faint throb of your core was telling you one thing, but the warning signals of your more cautious mind were telling you another. You thought for a moment…but then you sighed.

“How long are you really in town?” you asked.

His wet lips tugged to one corner, ruefully. “A few more days, probably.”

“Right,” you said with a frown. “Russell, I like you. I actually, I really do. If you were sticking around for a while, it’d be one thing. But you’re my best friend’s brother, and I—”

“No, I get it. I can’t predict when I’m gonna be able to swing back into town, and you’ve gotta live your life,” he said, but not without care. He curled an errant strand of hair behind your ear.

Your heart tugged, almost painfully.

“You’re a good guy, Russell Shaw,” you breathed. “Why can’t you be a good guy who’s staying?”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said. Then he cringed, knowing how you felt about sweethearting men. “Ah, sorry—”

You smiled and covered his mouth with your fingers.

“It’s okay. You have permission to sweetheart me.”

After blinking his surprise away, his face eased into a grin.

“Then I’ll wear that badge with honor,” he said.

Your shoulders shook with laughter when you let your forehead fall against his chest.

Russell remained what he had been throughout the entire night: a gentleman, who accompanied you over to your car.

After another stolen kiss or two in front of your sedan, you parted ways from him with a bit of a heavy heart. You wondered if you made the right decision, or if you should’ve just gone for it for once, instead of second-guessing yourself like usual.

You did know this. The rumble of his Chevelle driving down the opposite road would be imprinted on your memory.

When you returned home, you realized that the house was empty, and in complete darkness.

Charlie still wasn’t home.

Worried, you flicked on the lights and began to text his cell, only to find a note for you on the kitchen counter.

And it worried you even more.

I’m sorry. I’m going to make it right.

— C.

AN: 😬 Well then! lol We're diving straight into the drama and feels on this one. What did you think of her "barely a date" with Russell? 😂

And where do you think we're going next with Charlie?

Next Time:

Dory was sat next to you on the couch, rubbing your back with sympathy and concern in her own eyes.

“You should call the police,” she advised.

You’d thought of that, but if Charlie was doing something he wasn’t supposed to, then depending on what it was, you didn’t necessarily want him locked up in a cell. He wasn’t a bad person, he was just…lost. You wanted him to get help.

You set down the butterknife beside the jar and turned to her, after drying your eyes the best you could.

“Do you think your brother would be willing to come back to Wyoming?” you said. After a beat of hesitation, you specified:

“Colter, the tracker.”

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

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insidekatmind · 17 hours ago

Text

She is no match with you~ Pope Heyward

Wearning: +18,smut, jealousy, english is not my first language.

It was a hot summer day at John B.’s cabin, and the atmosphere between you and Pope was perfect, as always. You were sitting together on the couch, he with an arm resting on his back, and you huddled next to him, legs stretched out and heart beating happily. The day was quiet, yet there was something in the air, an imperceptible tension that you could not ignore. Cleo, who had decided to spend some time with you, couldn’t stop her sneaking glances at Pope, and even though you tried not to pay too much attention, you couldn’t help but notice him.

Cleo stood outside the living room, by the window, staring at the landscape as if she was lost in her thoughts, but you knew that wasn’t the reason for her attention. You could see in his eyes: there was something more, an unspoken wish, a hope that Pope might notice her in that special way that sometimes seemed reserved for you. But you knew, Pope was yours, and there was nothing Cleo could do to change that reality.

Your gaze met that of Pope, and he smiled softly. He was always so affectionate with you, and you knew there was nothing but love in his eyes. The situation with Cleo was starting to bother you, but you decided it was time to do something about it, to stop that constant gawking and to tell everyone, especially Cleo, that Pope was and would remain yours.

You approached Pope, feeling his steady breath as his gaze followed your every move. You looked into his eyes and, without saying a word, you began to touch his hair, sliding your fingers between the dark locks. A gentle gesture, but full of meaning. Pope closed his eyes, an imperceptible smile painted on his lips as he felt your touch.

"What are you doing?" asked Pope, his voice soft but with a hint of curiosity.

You didn’t answer immediately. You stood up slightly, tilting your head towards him, and without thinking too much you got closer. Your eyes found hers, and at that moment it seemed the world around you was stopping. Without a word, you kissed him. A full, intense kiss that told the passion you had inside for him. There was no fear, there was no uncertainty. Just the certainty that at that moment, you and Pope were together, and no one, not even Cleo, could change that truth.

Pope immediately returned the kiss, his hands finding your life, holding you gently as the passion grew among you. It was a kiss that spoke of love, complicity, and also a certain firmness in making you understand that there was no room for any other between the two of you. You didn’t care about Cleo, or her looks or her attempts to get Pope’s attention. At that moment, the only thing that mattered was him, and you knew he felt the same way.

You finally got off slightly, without stopping looking into his eyes. Pope smiled at you, and you could see in his eyes how much he loved you.

"You’re fantastic," he said, his voice full of affection

You didn’t need words, or statements, because you both knew what you had was special. And while Cleo stood quietly outside the window, probably feeling the tension between you, there was no doubt that Pope would never turn his heart to her.

You got closer to Pope, the hearts beating in unison. There was no more uncertainty, no thought to distract you. You looked into his eyes, and without saying a word, you slowly rose from the couch, hands still touching him gently, as if you wanted to feel every part of him.

Then, with a firm but gentle movement, you mounted him, your eyes fixed on his, looking for confirmations of a love that was no longer afraid to show itself. Pope raised a hand to touch your face, and smiled at you with that smile that made you feel safe, as if nothing could ever separate you.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice still warm from the emotion of the kiss you had shared before.

Without answering words, you approached him again, this time with a deeper, more intense kiss, which seemed to tell you more than any sentence. Your hands were running on his chest, and you felt his breath light up as his hands held your life, guiding you as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Meanwhile, Cleo was still outside, standing by the window, but now she didn’t even seem a presence. You didn’t care about her anymore, how focused she was on Pope, because you knew that at the time, Pope was all for you. The passion between you grew, as if nothing could interrupt that moment that was only yours.

Each kiss seemed stronger, more complete, as if you wanted to tell yourself that no one else could ever enter your world. Your position above him allowed you to feel every vibration of his body, every response to your every movement, and each kiss that became deeper and deeper made you feel your strong bond.

You started rubbing your dick while he groaned in your kisses. Pope put his hands on your butt as he accompanied your movements.

"Baby" Pope whispered and you smiled satisfied as you felt the look of cleo burning your skin.

"Come on love show cleo how much you are in need for me and how much you are only mine" you whispered through the kisses while you still moved your butt on his cock and he groaned.

You just got up and shoved his shorts and boxer shorts and lifted your gumbo to get your thong off and put it in Pope’s mouth.

"Open your mouth my love" you said softly and he opened it and when he felt your underwear in his mouth and felt how wet it was, he groaned as you salivated on his cock.

When you sank both of you moaned and you lowered your head back for his cock in your pussy.

"Pope, your cock is so perfect for my pussy" you moaned as you started bouncing off his cock making him groan.

Pope was moaning loudly from how you were groveling him, but the sound was still maintained by your panties in his mouth.

Pope looked at you like a god while you were bouncing off his dick. You had your eyes half closed and your mouth open as you moaned loudly and bounced.

He put your hands on your butt to slap it and squeeze your buttocks while you were still moving on his cock.

You started kissing Pope’s neck and he closed his eyes because of the pleasure you were giving him.

Cleo was watching the scene angry, cursing you but you didn’t care, you were focused on Pope.

Pope started pushing him even harder by hitting your g-spot and you moaned as he came on his dick.

You moaned and took the thong out of his mouth, casually throwing it on the couch as you joined your lips to Pope’s.

You were both moaning in the kiss as your pussy squeezed his cock more and more.

"You’re fucking squeezing my dick" Pope shouted, head down on the couch.

You smiled as you put your hand on his neck, squeezing a poʻ while he looked at you with pure adoration, lust and love.

"Come on love make Cleo feel good I do feel good" you murmured as you bounced more on her dick and Pope moaned.

"Shit y/n don’t stop, nobody can give me the pleasure you’re giving me, I’m yours... only yours" he said moaning loudly and then spit inside of you.

You groaned and then passionately kissed him Pope held you close to him while he gave you a final pat on the ass.

When you broke off the kiss, you turned your head to see that Cleo had run away. You smiled and put your head on Pope’s shoulder.

"Finally" you mumbled while drawing on Pope’s chest while still having his dick buried in your pussy.

He chuckled softly and gave you a sweet kiss on the forehead by stroking your hair.

"I love you y/n never forget it"

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epickiya722 · 1 day ago

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Folks, you're not going to like what I have to say. I just know it and I'm warning you of that. I said it once before, but leaks really do make some folks act out in ways that I can't understand. We ain't even got a full translation and already people are saying this ship is canon and that ship is canon... and whatever else. Jumping to conclusions when you don't even have all the facts.

Look, I'm not saying Hori is the best writer. I'm not saying Izuku and Ochako is a bad ship (it's not, there's worse... a lot worse).

But I do think some people are jumping ten steps ahead and I doubt that they are canon romantically. This isn't me being in denial because I could care less about the ship. It's not a ship that makes me sit up at night and cry and want to punch a wall and harass people. No ship for me does.

So far, from what I can gather from the very little information Izuku wants to see Ochako more because... THEY LITERALLY HAVEN'T SEEN EACH OTHER A LOT. In the last chapter, Izuku states that the class haven't been able to catch up and whatnot because over the years they got busy with their careers. The last time they probably had a proper conversation was in high school.

Izuku and Ochako wanting to meet up more doesn't automatically mean they're going to date. Let's not forget, Ochako is one of the first people to become a close friend of Izuku's in their first year. They clicked because they were so similar. They mirror each other even!

They're best friends if anything and wouldn't you want to see your best friend after not seeing them for a long time?

So far, it just feels that this epilogue is them accepting their own feelings about everything that has happened, like a self-reflection and self-acceptance type of deal.

Sometimes, you realize something about yourself when encountering someone who is like you. That's how Izuku and Ochako are to me.

It takes them identifying with the other to come to terms about themselves.

"But the blushing! The handholding!"

So blushing automatically means "I have romantic feelings for you", is what some of you are saying?

Just gonna forget all the times they and others have blushed out of embarrassment or happiness? That even some characters have the blush stickers to show their sweet innocent nature, like Ochako for most of the story?

Izuku blushed at Katsuki in the final chapter out of happiness, so it can't apply here, too? Why does blushing got to only be used in a romantic sense?

Seeing Izuku blushing looking at Ochako is funny when considering he's holding an (possibly) alcoholic beverage in that same shot. My guy is probably drunk. 😆 Jokes aside, jokes aside.

This is Ochako and Izuku, we're talking about here. They're the Queen and King of MHA characters who blush a lot, no matter what is going on.

And the handholding? In MHA? It happens a lot between characters! It's not like anything new or Izuku and Ochako are going to get cooties.

Look, I might make some people laugh or hate me for this one but when I saw this... I was reminded of this.

For those that don't know, that is from the Predator (1987). Yes, that Predator.

Two characters that have been friends for a long time and just happy to see each other.

We seen this kind of handshake like this before between characters of different and same genders. Either as a greet or as an agreement.

Izuku and Ochako are just agreeing to see each other more and that they should allow themselves to live happy lives. That doesn't mean they're going to start dating and having babies the following week.

"Bakugou is being treated like his wingman!"

Ah, stop right there. Katsuki encouraging Izuku to talk to Ochako isn't like that strange because between Izuku and Katsuki, Katsuki is the one to most likely reveal his emotions. He is more in touch with his emotions than Izuku who while emotional tends to keep everything in.

Katsuki isn't playing wingman. He's playing advisor and someone who has experience with emotions.

Seeing Izuku stumbling over his words and being all nervous trying to talk to Ochako is so in character for him. He has never been too good expressing his emotions.

I doubt Katsuki would be like "go tell her you want to marry her". He is more like "go talk to her, you're friends, remember? Been forever since you had a proper conversation."

It's the same case with Himiko pushing Ochako towards Izuku. She is encouraging her to be happy and not be stuck in the past. Not "go get married".

Happiness doesn't mean you must be in a romance.

Just me, again, but I feel like some people are really just jumping the gun here. If you really are thinking Izuku and Ochako being canon is bad for your ship, that's... I'm sorry, this will be mean of me to say, but that's ridiculous.

A ship being canon shouldn't stop you from enjoying the ships you do like. What ever happen to "ignore canon"? Oh, I guess that becomes irrelevant when you want to cause panic and bash and panic and bash and panic and bash.

Like a handhold like that shouldn't make you feel threatened by that ship.

Just continue shipping your ships! Take it from someone whose favorite ship is of two characters who haven't been seen interacting before.

Even still, with just leaks alone, it doesn't mean they are canon. I have my ships and there's moments in whatever the story makes me ship them but I also don't think every little behavior is meant to be romantic.

The thing I know I'm going to hate about this epilogue isn't even the chapter itself. It's the reactions.

I know some people are going to say this chapter is queerbait and use to it to even go as far as to bash Ochako given she is the woman and it's routine to hate on the woman. It ain't queerbait if Katsuki and Izuku wasn't going to be explicitly a couple themselves. Let's not forget it's Shonen Jump and even though the queer coding can be there, we can't have everything.

Also, I also know that some fans of IzuOcha are going to use this chapter to justify their "authority" of "best ships" and harass people like "my ship is better than yours" and be only concerned about Ochako being a housewife.

I don't think Horikoshi is the greatest human and MHA is a flawless story but some of you are no better to these characters and the story.

#im sorry but this is just giving me hori's last work when the main two characters a guy and a girl were like 'let's continue to have fun'#like the chapter isn't even out yet and yall ready to tear heads off #i say this with love and without patience because i lost of it #shut up and chill out #for once just wait for full translations #for once stop spreading rumors and assuming the worse #if you're disappointed you're disappointed move on #i say this to both the haters and shippers they ain't wearing wedding clothes in the final shot #I'm just happy that the class got to have a time out together again #but i am disappointed to see miruko ranked lower than some characters... see folks just don't appreciate her like i do smh #just kiya's thoughts #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #bnha leaks #bnha epilogue #mha epilogue #midoriya izuku #izuku midoriya #deku #ochako uraraka #uraraka ochako

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copperbadge · 2 days ago

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Sam, how on earth did you get permabanned from tinder and okcupid? That seems like such a random thing!

I'm still not entirely sure; I have a theory, and Tinder gave me an indication, but by policy they don't tell people why they've been banned. Which I can understand, if someone reported you for bad behavior they don't want you to know or suspect who.

For me it was very weird. I'd had accounts with both before but had deleted them so I needed to reregister. When I registered for Tinder they kept making me verify I was real in different ways, like some weird escalating scale of identity. At last they had me take a real specific picture, and then I got an email saying I could not prove I was real to their satisfaction, and that I was permabanned. I never even interacted with anyone on the app.

But there are plenty of apps, so I went to okcupid a few days later and while they didn't SAY Tinder tattled to them, they immediately denied and permabanned me when I put in my phone number. I can only suppose they talked. They're both owned by the same company, so it tracks.

Most dating apps are owned by one or two companies, they're just formulated differently for different tastes/wants. What's funny is that I'm on at least one other app owned by Match Group and that one, Hinge, is totally fine with me. So idk.

The post office also didn't believe my address was real for the first few years I tried to register for their postal Letters to Santa giving program. I still can't get delivery meals that don't go badly awry. It's enough to give a guy a complex, but honestly I never felt good or comfortable on those two apps anyway so it might be for my own good. Having been on different ones now, I genuinely think OKCupid is one of the more toxic apps in this sphere, purely because it markets itself so specifically to people looking for authenticity but doesn't really foster it. A lot of other apps at least don't pretend they aren't meat markets.

I've had to approach dating apps in general as hostile places, simply because the level of harm they inflict for someone with RSD is so high. I don't blame the other users, but the apps themselves are structured so that you can, for example, see all the people who didn't think you were date material, but have to pay to see people who thought you were. Being radically honest about who I am and what I want has been helpful because I expect a much higher rejection rate from that, so I'm braced for it, but it's still not fun. On the other hand, this is the first try where I've made meaningful connections that have resulted in real dates. Breakfast Date, who I met on Hinge, has been really hot and fun, and Museum Date, who I met on eHarmony, is an ongoing exercise in hilarity (sexy hilarity) so for the first time it's worth it. And I don't think that would have been the case on OKCupid.

#sam dates

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suzukiblu · 23 hours ago

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Day twenty-nine of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“The mahjong tiles are new,” Cissie observes, watching Tim just a shade too sharply. He internally hopes the others get here soon. He and Cissie arrived about the same time, and when she texted Bart to remind him they were all meeting up he showed up five seconds later, and Suzie was excited to see them but almost immediately ran off to get something. And Cassie and Kon had both said they’d be late–Cassie’s mom made her stay home for dinner, and Kon had just said something about something called “the Evil Factory” and a mission report he had to finish and then hung up without elaborating, which had totally not made Tim quietly insane or anything.

The Evil Factory. What. What even is that?

Tim needs to look into some things, clearly.

“I’ve learned not to ask,” Tim says, and the look Cissie is giving him turns very pointed.

“But you’re asking me about school?” she says.

“Yes,” Tim says, because it’s not like she’s not perfectly aware he just did that, but also he doesn’t actually have to explain himself, so he just stops there.

Cissie stares blankly at him. Tim keeps a neutral but approachable expression on his face. Filling an awkward silence is the first mistake any witness–or suspect–makes.

She narrows her eyes, just barely, then opens her mouth to speak and–

“CISSIE,” Cassie wails from down the hall, and a second later she’s bolting into the room at full-speed and throwing herself at Cissie. Tim reflexively grabs for his bo and Cissie grabs for her–uh, bow–and Cassie makes an absolutely agonized noise and buries her face in Cissie’s lap. “I quit. I quit the team. I’m gonna ask Wonder Woman if I can move to Themyscira and I am never coming back.”

. . . alright then, Tim thinks, just barely raising his eyebrows behind his mask. Maybe not a supervillain attack, then.

“I’d really prefer it if you didn’t, actually,” Cissie says. “So like is this about your mom or–?”

“Kon’s wearing clothes,” Cassie cuts her off despairingly, voice muffled in her folded arms and Cissie’s lap.

“. . . I mean, I’d hope so?” Cissie says, patting the top of Cassie’s wig with a bewildered.expression as she sets her bow back down on the table. Tim–well, he might not hope that Kon was–never mind. But that seems like a pretty weird answer to that question either way.

“You don’t understand,” Cassie groans. “I ran into him outside–he’s texting somebody or something, I don’t know, he said he was gonna be a minute–and he said ‘hi’ and he was wearing clothes and I tripped! I tripped in mid-air! I tripped in mid-air and he tried to help me up and I think I blacked out or something and then he laughed and he’s wearing clothes, Cissie!”

Tim feels like maybe this is in some way “girl talk” and he shouldn’t necessarily be here, but also: what the hell is Cassie talking about?

He also wonders who Kon’s texting and has the vaguely-annoyed thought that Cadmus might be bothering him or something.

The subtle alert that means someone just texted Tim Drake’s phone goes off on his communicator and he makes a mental note to check it as soon as he can get a moment–it might be Dana or Mrs. Mac, or maybe one of the guys at school needs something, or . . . well, it could be his dad, technically, but statistically that’s not very likely, so–

. . . why does he feel like he’s missing something right now, he thinks to himself, repressing a frown. What would he be missing?

“Question: is this response proportional, or is this a ‘Code Superboy’ situation?” Cissie says. Cassie just groans all the more despairingly into her arms, not lifting her head at all.

“This is a code black Superboy situation,” she says, and Cissie winces and pats her head again. Assuming their definition of “code black” aligns with Tim’s, that means “panic reaction; breakdown of mental/physical responses and capabilities”. So . . . yeah, that seems like a weird answer too. Just because Kon’s . . . what, outside and doing whatever he’s doing on his phone? While . . . wearing clothes?

Tim really does not understand this conversation, yeah.

Definitely a girl thing, he decides.

#timkon #tim drake #cissie king jones #cassie sandsmark #dc robin #arrowette #wonder girl #young just us #young justice #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

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shorthaltsjester · 20 hours ago

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love (loath) this version of ‘empathy’ for characters that exists in fandoms that somehow means taking any articulation of the fact that x character is given responsibility and context by the story and that their poor choices lead to poor outcomes is actually a slight against the character (and implicitly somehow whatever oppressed group which they belong to or are alleged to belong to by sections of fandom)

to be clear this is something i’ve noticed in several fandoms which is why the beginning of this is general language but the pertinent example to my current frustration is liliana temult and the defence of her that lays on a claim that those who enjoy the narrative showing her poor actions leading to poor outcomes for her have somehow failed the empathy test is beyond incomprehensible to me. like even ignoring the very basic level understanding that fiction is a place to experience satisfaction in narratives that we cannot fulfil in non-narrative reality, it’s also like… holy fuck do I not want the kind of empathy that tells me it will all work out no matter what choice I make. it is actually imperative to human life that the choices we make have substance in the outcomes we arrive in, otherwise we would’ve long given up on the notion of free will. and to look at a narrative, particularly one built in the context of a ttrpg. a game notably influenced by the choices that players-as-characters make. and then see sections of an audience find it compelling and enjoyable that a character who has made categorically poor choices that have caused immeasurable harm to others is now dealing with the very obvious face-eating panthers consequences… idk man. if you see that as a lack of empathy i implore you to consider what role empathy is playing in your world.

like. if empathy to you is about comfort and stagnancy and not about growth and community, then sure i can understand how it might not be empathetic in your view to notice patterns and see their obvious outcome and acknowledge that . but as someone who has been in the position of making horrible choices with obvious outcomes, far more essential to my personhood was those who looked at me with careful but critical eyes than those who nearly babyed me into my grave. that’s actually why i love imogen’s choice to insist that liliana make her own choice and then quasi-encouraging her to stay, because it was a clear reminded to liliana that her choices have consequences, and one of those is that the terrible things she’s down in the name of her daughter have led to that daughter not being able to easily trust her.

and i think another thing that’s related that gets misconstrued with liliana (and as always unfortunately many such cases) is that the satisfaction of seeing her absorbed isn’t that it’s retributive harm done or some sort of punishment (at least not for me, skill issue if people in your fandom spaces are that cop-minded but, yknow, what can you expect from the thought-crimes capital of fandom spaces). the satisfaction is in the analogue (that i’ve seen well memed) to the face-eating panthers joke that liliana’s actions which have pushed an agenda that’s depended on the consumption and threat to her child and the children she specifically has aided in placing in danger via her choices, has led to situations where a) she’s ‘burdened’ by her care for imogen and the children (both of which she has played a hand in inviting into the context of danger) b) she is now the person in danger of being consumed after spending weeks simply shrugging off concerns about what might be consumed in the name of ludinus’ Just World™. like it’s not just ‘liliana does bad things, must be punished’ it’s ‘liliana has played a hand in creating a situation that is threatening to many including herself, it is narratively satisfying and engages in Common Narrative Tool: Irony to have that create situation negatively impact her directly.’

to that end that’s why the ‘if you’re like this about liliana you should also be like this about essek’ takes are beyond missing the point (without getting into the horribly built scarecrow that it is, understand that it’s actually undermining decades of feminist’s philosophical and political development to see a critique of a female character and go ‘well actually if she were a man you wouldn’t be saying that’ when it’s a provable fact that people Would be (and have been) saying that if she were a man. so not the feminist slay you think it is). like, as someone who Was just as interested in essek’s story having consequences as I am in liliana’s, there very much WERE consequences for essek that, just like liliana, were well contextualized and suited to the specific choices he made. they are ones that should be obvious even to the most surface read of the campaigns given that essek still appears in disguise years after the end of c2, should also probably be obvious in the rebuilding of relationships essek had to do with mn after they discovered his betrayal. like the notable difference between liliana and essek is not their gender, it’s that we’ve seen the end of essek’s story (in the sense of like. campaign containment, obviously his Story™ is ongoing) and have yet to see liliana’s— it’s entirely possible that liliana does get saved and goes on to repair her relationship with imogen (or goes on and is unable to repair it) or she just dies and part of imogen’s story is dealing with it; all of those are narratively satisfying. what wouldn’t have been satisfying, in the sense that would leave liliana feeling like a non-agent in a story dependent on her agency, is if her role was entirely dictated by imogen’s interest in reconciliation. because sure if you want to look very microscopically the current threat to liliana that exists is 1-to-1 caused by the fact that she’s been helping imogen, but taking seriously the story, the consequences bloom from all the choices that liliana has made leading to ludinus’ decision to trust her however far he does that made liliana’s choice a betrayal and affirmed ludinus’ strength and position so that he can do something like siphon someone’s life force away.

further the ‘why does liliana deserve to be funnelled and relvin gets off easy’ relvin doesn’t get off easy. once again the satisfaction of his narrative is that he did his best and it was insufficient and that cost him a relationship with imogen they both clearly wish for but neither can rectify. the consequence for relvin is that he’s in an empty house that is no longer home to the woman he loved or the daughter he was left to raise alone. surely i don’t need to unpack why i think someone who tried but wasn’t well equipped to raise a daughter with superpowers doesn’t need to evoke as ‘drastic’ consequences in their story as the stated right hand of the campaign’s bbeg for their story to feel complete.

and idk at least for me that’s the salient point; that the consequences that are happening feel like a plausible and suitable conclusion to the story we’ve seen of liliana even if she perishes at ludinus’ hand. it will be sad but it’ll be satisfying, and maybe i should have realized seeing the frequency with which parts of fandom have been campaigning to undo maybe the most weighty and narratively satisfying choices & consequence of vox machina’s story, but it’s truly confounding to me the amount of people treating the presence of any complex and non-traditional happy ending notion in a story set in a world defined by pyrrhic victories. like, empathy for vax isn’t saying he’s the puppet of a god that manipulated him into service, it’s acknowledging that he made a choice that he knew would have consequences and acknowledging that the consequences he demanded with that choice were pretty severe ones. that doesn’t mean i’m watching the end of cr1 seeing the characters destroyed by the loss of vax being like ‘dumbasses, they knew this was coming, vax chose this, these are his consequences’ it means that when i’m crying watching the end of cr1 it’s paired with my deep love for a story that takes seriously the weight of the character’s choices in the determination of their lives. idk man. maybe interrogate how much of your notion of empathy is dependent on individualism to the point of near complete alienation and get back to me on how empathetic it is to look at someone who has caused unarguable pain with their choices and say ‘no no it’s fine you didn’t mean to + you’re a woman :/‘ while the victims of those choices rot in their graves

#not to make fiction about real life but CURIOUS what so called liliana defenders have to say about alcoholics who drunk drive #critical role #cr fandom #on fandom #liliana temult #worst part of this is that i actually am a liliana lover she’s an incredibly interesting character to me #but. i see a post about her it’s like a 70% chance it’s just turning her into a agencyless zombie or otohans girlfriend (so a different kind #of agencyless zombie) like. can we engage in the story.#i bring a philosophy student who hates choice feminism vibe to discussions that contemporary fandom really doesn’t like #cr3

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dpspcehntr · 1 day ago

Note

In the spirit of being premenstrual and irritable, what do you think would be the cause of the LaDS and MCs first serious argument and who would snap first?

For Zayne, I believe it would be MC getting injured and Zayne being fed up with her "reckless" behaviour fighting wanderers. Even though he knows how capable they are, it's borne out of worry.

Xavier is so chill, I can't imagine him being angry even if MC gives him a Pennywise makeover while he snoozes and says nothing as he walks down the street looking like nightmare material. What would set him off, though? MC eats the last hotpot?

Sylus would snap because MC threatened to set him on fire one too many times lol

And Rafayel... The clouds aren't the right shape? MC cuddled her plushies more than she hugged him? The list of possibilities are endless with this dramatic fish boy, but what would make him really angry and not just pouty?

Hello again friend! Arguments with the boys I feel are rare, mostly because all of them seem to communicate well for the most part. Take all of this with a grain of salt as I am not an expert!

Zayne is kind of a no brainer. The first serious argument would be over MC’s reckless behavior during a mission. It would start as a stern “talking” to as MC’s doctor to which MC just blows him off. It would turn into a major fight because MC does’t take how serious the situation could’ve been. I don’t think it reached screaming match but the folks at the hospital do start to worry about the tone of his and MCs voices. Obviously Zayne is going to continue to be concerned for her health so she instead has to do a bit of work to understand where he’s coming from and be nicer when he does lecture her on her health.

Xavier is a tricky one cause I don’t think the thought of an argument is even possible for him. If anything it’s MC who is upset with something and lashes out. It’s because of his easy going nature that makes MC even angrier. Eventually they talk it out but yea an argument between these two will be because he hardly ever expresses his own emotions and goes for soothing and problem solving first.

Sylus would have an argument with MC about not taking the dangers of the N109 zone seriously. It would be something MC sees as not that deep but he would be quite upset at how little she cares about her well-being. Again not a yelling fit but you both don’t speak to each other for a few days after. Eventual apologies occur and then a discussion on how dangerous the N109 zone really is and reaching an agreement where MC can protect herself but not be smothered by Sylus’ need to be in control.

Rafayel early into his relationship with MC would have some small disagreement that he just harbors on for a while. He just kinda disappears for a few days and when he does resurface the issue has only gotten bigger. It would be a very tense and heated conversation for quite a while before both of them come to an understanding. After that, they both bring anything that bothers them to each other right away and hash it out.

Yea this stuff is not my forte but I tried ��! I love angst but I’m so bad at it. I hope I did this some justice!

My ask box is open! Send me your NSFW head cannons/thoughts/confessions about the LADS main 4! I might even write some of them up!

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oldguardleatherdog · 15 hours ago

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Today's Wall O'Text: We've got just under two months to get the first things done.

Timothy Snyder is an American historian whose book On Tyranny made him a household name in 2017, followed this year by On Freedom. His take on what we need to do this time around to mount an effective resistance to Trump's insane agenda is urgent and essential:

Start now. We can get a lot done between now and the Inauguration on January 20th.

Here are excerpts from Snyder's interview in the Rolling Stone article linked above where he describes ways ordinary people can take meaningful steps right now to lay the groundwork for stopping Trump's agenda in its tracks:

~~~~~

[From the article, emphasis added:]

“You can’t despair,” he tells Rolling Stone. “Because that’s what they want. They want you to think that it’s hopeless. It’s never hopeless.”

Snyder’s first rule in On Tyranny is “don’t obey in advance.” He emphasizes that Americans opposed to Trump’s designs should take stock, and action, now. “The period of November, December, January, becomes very important,” he says.

For normal people, Snyder insists the key is “to get out in protest” — now and through the inauguration. The understandable impulse of “keeping your head in,” Snyder says will only embolden Trump’s reactionary team.

“You’re giving them even more confidence that they’re gonna be able to do what they want in January.” What’s demanded of activists in this moment is to “deflate that confidence,” Snyder says, and you do that by “showing that you’re not afraid, by cooperating with your neighbors, and by organizing.”

Snyder emphasizes a lesson of the “Wall of Moms” in Portland, Oregon, in late summer 2020, who helped drive up the political cost and terrible optics for Trump’s most heavy-handed crackdown on public dissent. Launching tear gas at Black Lives Matter protesters looked different on TV when the feds were brutalizing a wall of white mothers in gold shirts, locking arms at the front of the crowd. “It’s about corporeal politics,” Snyder says. “Getting your body out where there are other bodies — with people who are maybe not like you or maybe less privileged than you.”

Here, Snyder insists, is where the American public has its most important, and perhaps most challenging role to play. “The Trump-Vance initiatives can only work by getting the population involved — and basically corrupting us,” he says. Snyder argues that even Americans who might share anger with Trump about immigration may yet be recruited to block the border camps promised by Stephen Miller.

“That’s the kind of active thinking that folks have to do — am I going to become the kind of person who takes part in this sort of thing? Am I going to become the kind of person who denounces my neighbors because they are not documented?”

“If Their Rights Are on the Line, My Rights Are on the Line”

A key to resisting authoritarianism, Snyder says, is standing up for the rights of the least powerful first. “If protest comes down to the people who are protesting only because they have to, then you always lose,” he says. “It has to be people who are one, two, three, four, even five steps away from being directly affected who show solidarity — and who also show pragmatism and wisdom by getting out early.

“If you’re more privileged, you should be thinking, ‘What can I do for the least privileged people?’” he says. “If their rights are on the line, my rights are on the line. That’s not just a moral position. It’s actually, politically, 100 percent correct.”

In the meantime, Snyder advises, America’s system of federalism offers hope for democracy at the state and local level. “Many things are going to be terrible. But controlling the federal government doesn’t mean you’re controlling everything,” he says. He exhorts Americans to support the institutions closest to them that uphold democratic norms — “whether that means some civil society organization, or state government, or a local mayor” — and collectively try to strengthen those bodies.

[End article text.]

~~~~~

#effective resistance starts now #information gladly given #it's a fucking battle cry #long post #this insane agenda stops with us #animal j. smith

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seriousbrat · 2 days ago

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Why do people like Lily? From what we've seen of her in the books she seems like a charming and good hearted person but also someone who is shallow, judgemental, a social climber, a classist and immature. Why do people make her out to be this feminist, kind hearted role model that is always morally above others and everyone likes her because she is oh so kind and great? It makes me cringe. From the text we can see that she had a black and white thinking, was shallow and probably self righeous, always thinking she's right and not being able to see the perspective of others. (We can see this in her interactions with Snape) So why do people love her? Do people really need a 'girl boss' in every fandom? There always seems to be one that's just made up by the fans. It looks like people just need a character they can point at and say "see we care about female characters, this one is oh so great, she can't do no wrong, worship her please." 🙄

Look, no offence, but... what? 'Shallow, classist, judgmental, social climber' what? Where are you getting this? Because she stopped being friends with a boy who literally called her a slur? Because she criticised that boy for defending and befriending people who were bigoted against people like herself? Like sorry but I think I'm entirely the wrong person to come to with this kind of thing. I fully disagree. I could not disagree more.

Black and white thinking? The opposite. Lily remained friends with someone who espoused the exact opposite of her beliefs for way too long. Not just her beliefs, but her right to exist. She tolerated Snape (and I do love him as a character, but still) way more than she should have, objectively speaking. That's the opposite of black and white. She was way too understanding, way too empathetic with him. She didn't judge Snape hard enough, in my opinion.

Nah, look idk what you were hoping with this ask but I'm sorry, I'm generally a staunch Lily defender and I heavily disagree with what you're saying. It's not that I think she's a perfect person, she certainly has her flaws like anyone. I don't think that she should be idealised, I think she should be given complexity like any character, but neither do I think she's classist (esp since she's meant to be working class) nor particularly judgmental nor shallow nor immature. I love Snape but he was terrible to her. He befriended people who wanted her dead. Lily didn't owe him anything, and her """righteousness""" as you say is not only entirely justified, but objectively speaking she should have dropped that bitch way earlier.

Why do people (including myself) love Lily? Because she was a good person. Because she was brave and decent and kind. She remained friends with Sev for years despite peer pressure and common sense and she defended him without hesitation. She dedicated her life to fighting for what was right. Lily is a good person. She's not inherently, morally above others, she's not perfect but she was a good, kind person, the way her son is a good, kind person.

Not that difficult to understand imo, unless you have way higher standards for male characters than female characters. Not everyone has to like or be interested in Lily but pretending she's somehow worse/less worthy of interest than Snape, James, Sirius, Regulus, etc (and I imagine you've got to be a fan of some of these marauders era characters if you're reading my blog) because she dropped a guy who wanted to join a fascist group that wanted her dead is absolutely ridiculous.

Lily is so kind and great. Her act of bravery and sacrifice is what kickstarts the entire HP series. Sorry. Like absolutely not, I completely disagree with you about Lily's character. People liking a female character doesn't mean that they have a shallow 'girl boss' approach to that character, and I find that a condescending explanation for why people like myself might be fans of Lily Evans. Maybe, and you perhaps should consider this, us fans of Lily just enjoy and are interested in female characters the exact same way we might be interested in male ones.

Look I don't want to be mean, but can't you tell from my icon, which is clearly supposed to be Lily, that I love Lily? Lily is one of my favourite HP characters. I really don't want to be rude but I'm absolutely the last person who'd share this viewpoint.

#sorry i know this is a bit of a rude/blunt response but i just dislike the tone of this #im not usually so rude in a reply but i also dislike the idea that its 'other' ppl who like lily. like that's me. i love lily.#lily evans #it's always 'lily has to see it from sev's point of view' but nobody ever expects sev to see it from hers!#it's so blatant #zero expectation for sev to literally understand that his mates hate her kind #and that the group he aspires to join wants to kill/subjugate ppl like her #but poor sev! because lily that big meanie questions the fact that he's friends with ppl who hate her #and lily i guess needs to be way nicer and more understanding to sev than sev ever is to her. the double standard is so obvious #lily

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fizz-pop-thwip · 2 days ago

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Oh Steve and Bucky's physicality? Why yes, I will deep dive into that, only if you insist 🙂‍↕️

The serums lead them to where they are now obviously, and the serums are DIFFERENT. Steve's was refined, the og. Its not just a biological feat beyond most people's understanding but what Erskine created was an ART. Utterly refined, working and 'super soldier-ing' in the most efficient and effective ways possible. Steve obviously had the MOST physical change, something Hydras serum wouldn't have achieved even if Bucky was Steve's original size when he got it.

Steve is lean (Not truely lean but leanER then Bucky.) his serum had the power and engineering to rely on the SUPER half for most of his strength. Does he have the correct muscle mass to be able to lift a bus? No. But does he have the super strength to make up for that? Yes. If we can take ANYTHING away from this over a decade old fandom, Steve is shaped like a Dorito, broad shoulders and smaller waist and lean, powerful muscle.

Bucky on the other hand, his serum wasn't so well crafted. To catch up with Captain Americas strength, hydra had to rely more on muscle mass and real strength. Bucky is bigger, wider, more raw muscle, obviously still with super strength but just less, not as much to make up for less muscle. Bucky's more rectangular, he's less then half an inch shorter then Steve, if that, but everything else culminates and makes you THINK he would be taller, you know?

I believe in general Bucky's weight fluctuates much more than Steve's ever would, (With Steve's serum being how it was, I doubt MUCH change is happening to his body, point blank period.) maybe Bucky's skinner when he's first starting to heal. He has muscles, there's no changing that any time soon with the serum in him but hes not really eating properly and hes been so sick. He's just paler and feeling weaker overall. And later when he's more healed, less nightmares, less stress, he puts on a bit of weight. With him not being as active as an assassin might be and adopting better eating habits, he gets some tummy on him.

Steve ADORES it, goes crazy for it but he goes crazy for Bucky always so maybe that doesn't say much. He just loves how healthy it makes him look, how it represents his progress in a way.

I think Steve also just naturally forgets he's technically the taller one. They're practically the same height really anyway but Steve carries himself differently around Bucky, not to mention their history. The natural feeling is just that he's smaller and that results in a lot of accidental knocking heads.

Anyway this is my copium for the evening, goodnight😴

#the lovers #steve rogers #bucky barnes #mcu #stucky #analysis??? headcanons?? idk #steve rogers headcanon #bucky barnes headcanon #gay people... yes... yes...

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hamsternella · 1 day ago

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You and me | Stanford Pines x Reader

request: "Do you feel comfortable writing a Stanford Pines x Reader? Just something cute and fluffy. I was thinking a College Age Stanford meeting the reader at some party Fiddleford forced him to go to and they’re both shy but they both like science and Ford develops a crush on them."

cw: fluff

''Could you repeat the reason why I agreed to come with you?''

Fiddleford shrugged, muttering something that Pines was unable to make out under the raucous music blasting from the sorority house. A heavy, repetitive tune; the kind of music an appellant might come to like, not him. Stanford wasn't cut out for this sort of thing, but his best friend had been urging him on for a full month, even before the national baseball team's shindig was confirmed. It was even strange coming from McGucket.

He looked considerably nervous, but no less willing to let himself be led through the crowd toward the center of the common room. Ford tried to keep up with him—almost impossible, with so many arms and legs around him; so much shouting too close to his ears, leaving him lost for moments. The colored lights and the smell of raw sweat were making him sick to his stomach. Were it not for Fiddleford's sure grip dragging him into a safe shoving corner, Pines could have sworn he almost ended up a carpet on the floor.

''I really need you to repeat the reason,'' Ford shouted between heavy breaths, leaning on his friend's shoulder, ''because I still don't understand my own reasoning. This is insane!’’

''It's just a party!'' McGucket let out a forced laugh, trying to move his body to the beat of the new song bursting on the players. His eyes darted from one side of the room to the other. ''We have to understand their vibe and let ourselves go!''

''This is ridiculous,'' Ford breathed, adjusting his glasses. ''I think I'm going to—''

''—get a drink!'' Fiddleford nodded briskly, beginning to point a hand towards the free bar of drinks at the other end of the dance floor. ''I'll get you a drink!''

Stanford wanted to refuse immediately, but as soon as he prepared his throat to shout again, he noticed that his friend had already thrust half his body between the dancing couples; his legs kicked in all directions, seeking to propel himself among the people tempted by laughter. An occasional woman, unknown to Ford's eyes, had even extended an arm around McGucket's shoulders. Pines knew on a hunch that he wasn't going to see his friend again for a long while.

It's not like he could leave the party either. He wasn't going to leave him alone just like that.

Stanford hugged himself in the corner, leaning his back against the wall to let himself be devoured by the gloom. Occasionally he held his breath, if anything many people crossed his path with the dreadful aroma of alcohol and cigarette on them; other times he simply kept up a pleasant chat until the person in question fell defeated on the floor. At least two hours would have passed like this.

Fiddleford had disappeared, though occasionally his screams reached him through the music. He was clearly having too much fun; so much of that, that after a couple of disposable glasses, he seemed to have forgotten that his friend was still hibernating in a corner of the room.

Ford couldn't feel angry no matter how much he wanted to. The situation was certainly stressful, but particularly funny. At least this was something he could remind McGucket of when the weight of such a wild night fell on his shoulders in the morning.

"I guess that's your partner over there.”

Ford swore he heard the crunch of his own neck above the music as he turned his head to the side. Your sudden appearance, so close to his body, took him by surprise. He hadn't even gotten to see you out of the corner of his eye.

You were nervous, much more than your voice already denoted; the broken and clumsy words when you let them out. The tiny bottle in your hands trembled as if about to fall.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

You licked your lips, pointing your head toward the dance floor. Ford's face merged with the red lights of the crystal ball.

“Ah,” he sighed with a faint smile, “yes, he’s my friend. I guess he had more desire to come than I thought.”

"I see you're from Backupsmore," you leaned closer to Ford, trying to get your voice across. He couldn't help but inhale the freshness of your sweet musk, still dormant amid so much sweat and cigarette around. "How did both of you get here?”

“I-I don't get that question…”

Ford looked intently at the way you bit your lip, nervous again. You walked away almost immediately to his regret.

With one free hand, and leaving the beer bottle on the edge of a table beside you, you pointed towards the outer courtyard of the brotherhood. Stanford almost stumbles from shame—he didn't hesitate for a second to follow you like a dog.

This time the music was much weaker.

"I don't want the question to be received badly," you hastened to clarify, shaking both hands in front of you. "It's not usual for people from other universities to be here, that's all.”

"Are you a recurrent of these parties?”

"I was dragged here.”

Ford let out a cracking laugh, running one of his hands down his neck to dissipate the sweat. "Yes, my friend also dragged me here.”

There were still people around, but not as many as those who passed through the brotherhood. Without the disturbance of the masses, and without the music bursting over their heads, Ford and you found another corner to share glances and a pleasant talk; entertaining enough for both to forget about the shame. A ridiculous pity.

Pines tried not to lose his breath every time you returned the smiles. At no time, no matter how hard he tried, did you lose the thread of the conversation. You were an automatic machine of concrete answers. You gesticulated a lot, passing the weight of your body from one leg to the other; your eyes went from one direction to another, resting on imaginary points in the midst of darkness; your voice never wavered, your mind perhaps devoured by the charm of science. That was it: pure science. Nothing Ford didn't understand—though every time his gaze met yours, it was as if his brain was fried.

He couldn't let himself down so easily.

"What do you specialize in?" he suddenly asked. "You have such interesting ideas as to be wasting time at a party."

You drowned a laugh against the back of your hand. Ford had to bite his tongue to keep from smiling.

‘’Did I say something funny?’’

"It's ironic that you say it," you replied. "That's all... But yeah, it's no big deal, anyway. I finished my thesis about two months ago,’’ you shrugged. "Fifth dimensional calculus. Nothing special."

‘’Wait—what? You too?’’

‘’Me too, you say,’’ you smiled. ‘’Why is that? Big, smart boy got scared?’’

‘’Oh, please!’’

Ford rubbed his hands against each other, making it impossible to hide the smile that adorned his face. It felt hot. He wanted to think that this sensational discovery, this almost magical encounter, was stirring your heart as much as it happened to him in the midst of the icy breeze of the night.

He tried not to make obvious the need to open his mouth to bathe you in questions; Ford really wanted to endure the hunger to find out what else you held in that precious head of yours. But it was impossible. You didn't even hide your own interest. Your smile was to be far greater than his—though shyness burned in your eyes, and in the way your own hands trembled.

Pines really wanted to think that it was nerves and not cold.

"I didn't think someone so pretty could know so much about science," he muttered through his teeth. The way your face subtly changed made him choke on his own saliva. "I don't want it to be an insult!"

"Sounds like you're underestimating a couple of issues right now."

"That wasn't my—’’ Ford let out a heavy sigh, covering his face with both hands for a moment. Your laughter made him open his eyes. ’’Aren't you angry...?"

‘’Not really,’’ you shrugged, ‘’just playing with you. Sorry. I guess I’m kind of nervous.’’

‘’I can see that.’’

You and Ford laughed together; a soft sound, lost in the wind. He noticed your gaze searching his hands insistently. Shame struck him suddenly.

‘’My hands,’’ he sighed.

‘’I think they're cool,’’ you whispered, a little bit shy. Ford smiled at you. "Can I see them more closely?"

‘’Uh, sure, I-I guess.’’

Almost pathetically, Ford stretched out both hands in front of you before you could get close. His fingers brushed your palms as you extended your arms, making room to wrap his hands. Despite the cold, Ford's body emanated an intense heat that melted into your skin. It was nice. You prayed that your heartbeat wouldn't reach him—that it wouldn't be so obvious how nervous you were to hold him in your hands, caressing his fingers like a fool.

"I've never seen anything like it," you added in a broken voice. "Not in person, at least."

‘’Do you really think it’s cool?’’

‘’I mean, yeah, why not? You’re different and that’s super cool.’’

Almost immediately you let go of his hands, and Ford found it hard not to complain about how much he had begun to miss your touch. You didn't back down this time, anyway.

‘’So, six fingers,’’ you muttered. ‘’That would be… Sixier?’’

‘’I have a name, you know?’’ he frowned.

"It's not like you told me."

‘’Stanford Pines. That’s my name.’’ Ford streaked, pushing his glasses along the bridge of his nose, trying to distract himself. The heat returned to his face immediately as he heard you repeat it out loud. ‘’Yours?’’

You gave him your name. Ford recorded it in his head as a magical melody that settled into his brain immediately.

"I haven't seen you around the halls of college," he added.

"I attend the neighboring university," you replied, "the one that remains going to the valley. I was late for the Backupsmore inscription."

‘’It's a pity; we could have made a very good research team."

The smile you gave him made Ford's heart clench in his throat.

"I don't doubt it," you nodded. "I'd have something better to do than be at this party."

"Well, you have me here with you," he said. At the same time, a choking laugh slipped through his lips like a painfully dry cough. "I mean, we're together—talking, I meant, sorry. Not that we're together, of course. Not if you don't want to, obviously. I'm not pressuring you, anyway, don't think that."

You let out a laugh, almost as nervous as he was. Nothing one could hide from the other; it was all very obvious, but neither you nor Ford dared to break the illusion. The night had already improved too much, and there was nothing that could change that fact.

The music of the party, once strident and annoying, was now a whisper in which the battery of the players faded at the same time as the farewell of most of the guests present. There was no silence; just a murmur almost dead and far away. Ford looked behind him, sighing.

"Am I going to see you again?" he asked, returning to you, unable to hold your gaze. "I wouldn't want this to be a final goodbye."

"I wasn't planning on leaving you anyway, Stanford Pines," you smiled. "Backupsmore is opening its winter courses for advanced engineering and ultra-subject studies. I don't know if you wanted to, you know, go with me... "

Your voice became small and almost audible as you noticed the gleam in Ford's eyes increase. His gaze lit up with your proposal.

"We could work together on the cellular anomaly contest!" he exclaimed. "McGucket, my friend, is in charge of system maintenance; me, from research and fact-checking."

"I can help!" you nodded almost immediately. A huge smile on your face.

You patted the pockets of your pants until you hit a paper ball. Ford looked curiously at the colorful letters, recognizing the place of the indications as soon as he had it in front of him.

"I work making drinks at the student center cafe," you explained. "You and your friend can go there tomorrow. On Saturdays we make the breakfast special for champions; since the team qualified and that. He's going to need it because of the hangover."

"I don't think he will want to go..."

You thought about it for a moment, taking a deep breath.

"Then come alone," you said. "It is you I want to see.’’

This time Ford held your gaze; as much as he could, eyes wide and cheeks rosy. He didn't squat as he took the paper from your hands, brushing your fingers, quickly putting it in the back of his pocket, terrified of losing the only way to find you tomorrow.

‘’See you Saturday, then?’’ you asked. ‘’You and me.’’

He nodded, smiling alongside you. ‘’You and me,’’ he whispered.

Just you and him. That sounded too good to be true.

#fanfic #reader insert #reader #gravity falls #stanford pines #stanford #stanford pines x reader #gravity falls stanford #writing commissions #writing commisions

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