#and then has to bullshit his way through not having a plus one

[gothamite-rambler]

Cutting to the chase

This is when Bruce had a fifteen year old Tim Drake as his Robin and a what if because for me I've never liked this ship. Fictional characters or not this one is gross to me and super force. At least Dick and Babs was slightly wholesome to me.

Jim: All right, so I’d start in Bowery, then work my way around there. You look ridiculous. By the way, did you ever have sex with my daughter?

Batman (delayed shock): Right... what?

Robin!Tim (flipping through the case file folder): He said we should start at Bowery and work around. Something about your suit, then he asked if you violated his daughter.

Jim: That’s why I like him; he’s good at repeating and remembering information. So, did you ever violate my daughter? Good phrase to use.

Robin!Tim: I thought it would fit. Thanks.

Batman (clearly unsure how to react): You’re asking me if I ever had sexual relations with Batgirl?

Robin!Tim (sarcastically): Good defense, use the actual lie Bill Clinton said. Makes you look less suspicious.

Batman: I didn’t… I wouldn’t… We never did any of that! I thought we were friends, you asshole! Why would I ever have sex with her? She’s practically the same age as my kids!

Robin!Tim: I mean, outside of this, you do present yourself as a bit of a playboy.

Batman (turning Tim around): Could you read the damn folder over there?

Tim shrugged and walked off, humming a jazz tune, clearly enjoying his time researching a kidnapping case. Batman groaned, covering his eyes in frustration.

Batman: I don’t know what you’ve been told, but I swear to you, I’ve never done anything with her.

Jim (crossing his arms): Would you be willing to take a lie detector test?

Batman (flatly): Those are bullshit and you know it. You can trust me.

Jim: Ever kissed her?

Batman (grossed out): No.

Jim: Had a hug that lasted too long?

Batman: I don’t even hug actual girlfriends for too long, but no, we've hugged like five times and it was quick and platonic.

Jim: Ever had sex with her on a roof?

Batman: That was with Catwoman, and she swore to keep that secret!

Jim: I… didn’t need to know that.

Batman: The point is, I haven’t had sex with Batgirl or viewed her as some kind of sexual prospect. And I saw what you were doing with how you asked the questions to force some confession out of me, but once again Batgirl is my friend. Why is it so difficult for people to accept a man and woman can be friends?

Jim and Barbara (in unison with her voice coming through the comm device): Because we know you.

Batman: I’m into many weird kinks, yes I have had relationships that some would label strange-

Robin!Tim (from far away): He's talking about Talia, Selina, Jillian Maxwell, Phantasm-

Batman (shouting, turning to his sidekick): READ THE CASE FILE!

Jim tilted his head, chuckling at his friends reaction and beginning to be reassured he hadn't slept with his daughter.

Batman (turning back to Jim): I’m genuinely pissed off that you’d think I’d do something so… reprehensible. She’s not just my friend, she’s like a daughter to me.

Barbara (over the comms): Aww, that’s so sweet.

Batman (pressing his comm to yell at her): What did you tell him? Why would you tell him that? I thought we were friends! Why is everyone being mean to me?!

Barbara: Relax, I’ve actually been denying all of that. He said he was going to ask, though. Just be glad I talked him out of bringing a gun.

Batman (to Jim, hurt): You were actually going to shoot me?

Jim (nonchalant): Oh yeah, just in the upper thigh, between your legs. You would’ve lived. I can be overprotective at times, but a man who's only a few years younger than me… having sex with my daughter would have set me off. Not gonna lie.

Batman: Okay… oddly enough, I respect that. Thank you for asking instead of shooting me. Do you believe me now?

Jim: I do. Plus, your reaction was hilarious. For a stoic guy, when you snap like that, it’s funny. That’s why I’m glad we’re friends.

Barbara: Aww!

Batman (closing his eyes and holding his head down): I have weird friendships, but thanks, Jim.

[itstimeforstarwars]

The obvious bonus person for apprentice knight hermit chapter 2 would be either Luke or Leia but it would be so so funny also if Hermit Obi-Wan’s plus one was Owen Lars. Oh hi anakin who I cannot even look in the face right now uhhh what have I been doing??? Uh definitely hanging out with your step brother that doesn't like either of us. Yes. We're besties now. We like to glare at each other from across the street it’s our favorite thing to do every taungsday. Yes.

[theereina]

New Year, Same Bullshit

Pairing: Toxic Babydaddy!Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +3.8K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, heavily dialogue-centered, use of pet names (Daddy, Mama, baby girl, lil' mama, pretty girl, good boy, etc.), oral (male receiving), P in V, Toxic Dom!Terry *if you squint and turn your head*, cum play *sort of*, brattiness galore, facials *no spa*🤭

A/N¹: This is a single one-shot with no planned sequels.

A/N²: I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by ME (theereina). Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Masterlist: 🔥🔥🔥

ding

Terry: I hope all is well. My mom told me she has TJ. Hope you enjoy yourself tonight.

Me: I hope I do, too.

Terry: I was thinking about something earlier.

Me: ???

Terry: New Year, new us?

I paused for a second in disbelief. I knew this man was not trying this bullshit tonight. I guess this year's motto was “new year, same bullshit”. I sat there for a second and stared at myself in my vanity's mirror.

I could feel the petty in me rising. I texted Terry back with nothing but ill intentions. “New year, new us”, huh?

Me: Nah. New year, and new dick. Cheers to 2025!🥂✨

I waited until I knew Terry saw the message and blocked his number. I knew I was pushing Terry's buttons but oh well.

2 hours later

“Lele, ain't that Terry?” asked one of the women who came out with me and my best friend.

“Aww, hell. Lele, it is him. He's coming this way, and he looks pissed!” my best friend, Tyler, said.

“I don't care. What he gonna do? Whoop me!” I laughed out loud, spinning to see Terry barreling through the crowd.

I stopped dancing when I saw his face. Maybe, I shouldn't have said that.

“Terry, wait? I didn't mean—,” I said as soon as he stood before me.

“Nah… You meant that shit. New dick, huh?” Terry said, eyeing me down.

As much as I was scared for my life, I was hoping that this night would end the way I wanted it to. Fuck! I needed this.

“You think that shit was funny? Ty, y'all here alone, or did she come with someone?” he asked, looking towards Tyler.

“Terry, I didn't come h—,” I started to speak.

Terry's eyes darted back to meet mine.

“Love, I wasn't talking to you. I asked Tyler. When I want you to speak, I'll let you know.”

“Oh, shit. He not playing with her ass,” said one of the women in the group.

“Yes, we came alone. No, she didn't come here with anyone. I promise,” Tyler said, looking at me.

“I can't believe you're doing this shit right now,” I mumbled under my breath.

“What did you say? I couldn't hear you,” Terry spat, glaring down at me.

“Nothing,” I whispered.

“Yeah, that's what the fuck I thought. Enjoy yourself, sweetheart. I'll be waiting for you when you get home,” he said, holding the back of my head and kissing my forehead.

“Huh? You don't live with me,” I uttered in confusion.

“I still have my key, and I pay the bills there. Don't I? Oh, okay then. Like I said, I'll see you when you get home,” he said, letting me go.

“Oh, and do me a favor, love. Don't drink too much. I need you alert and responsive tonight,” Terry said, walking away.

As I watched Terry leave, I felt my heart racing. There was no calming down from this.

“Fuck me!” I yelled quietly as soon as Terry was out of sight.

“Girl, what the fuck did you do this time?” Tyler asked me, handing me a drink.

I looked at the fruity concoction like it was poison. I knew this sugary ass shit wasn't going to do anything to call my nerves. I shrugged my shoulders and swallowed the drink in two full gulps.

“Damn! That man finna tear yo' ass up. Ain't he?” one of the women asked while laughing.

“You don't even know the half. Tyler, can you keep yo’ godson tomorrow? I got a funny feeling I'm not gonna be straight after tonight,” I asked Tyler, searching her eyes for sympathy.

“Yeah, I got my baby. Now, you just tell me what the fuck you did,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, Ty. I think I fucked up this time,” I said, shaking my head. I pulled her over to one of the couches in the section, hoping that I could talk to her privately.

As I proceeded to tell Tyler what happened, I could see her face shift from concern to amusement.

“Why do you look like you wanna laugh?” I asked when I finished.

“Uh, sis… How did he know where you were?” Tyler asked, looking at me with concern.

“I don't… I don't know. How the fuck did he know I was here?” I asked, questioning myself more than Tyler.

4 nerve-racking hours later

I had literally spent all night trying to come up with a reason not to come home. I knew that whatever was on the other side of that door was going to be— something memorable.

I made sure to stop drinking hours ago. His “alert and responsive” remark was a warning that only WE understood. My insides were screaming because I knew Terry had a way of breaking me down and putting me back together again in the most— sensual and pleasurable way. Yes, there may be pain involved, but I couldn't care less.

I was well aware of what came with provoking Terry. At this point, it was a game for me, and my prize was always the best dick a girl could ever ask for. That was definitely the one thing I missed about having Terry living at home— the in-house, on-demand dick. Always hard, and always ready.

It was a little after 4 in the morning. I was pushing my luck coming in this late, but I might as well fully enjoy what may be my last night out for a while. I was either about to get fucked up, be fucked, or both.

After realizing that Terry's truck was nowhere to be found, I scanned the streets to see if he parked there instead. Nothing.

I reluctantly began walking to the door. How was this possible? Even the walk up to my front door was causing me anxiety. Every goddamn step felt like I was approaching the gates of hell. Was I really letting this man make me feel like a child coming home when they know they're getting an ass whooping? Yes.

I slowed my steps and began putting my hair in a ponytail. If it's one thing I knew, this ponytail may save my life. Then again, it may do the opposite. Aww, fuck!

I tossed my heels and purse into one hand while adjusting my keys with the other. Placing the key into the keyhole, I quietly unlocked the door. I paused before opening the door, praying that Terry wasn't standing on the other side.

Sliding inside as quickly as I could, I tiptoed inside the house and locked the door. From what I could see, he wasn't in the living room or the kitchen. I took a deep breath and relaxed my shoulders. I stood quietly in an attempt to possibly hear if he was somewhere in the house. I flattened my back against the door since I was still unsure of my surroundings.

From somewhere to the right of me, I heard something dart towards me. I turned around in a panic. Right as I was about to make a run for it, I saw that the culprit had a tail. I WAS ABOUT TO RUN FROM MY DAMN CAT!!!

I took a deep breath and leaned down to pick up the cat. But… As soon as my knees hit the floor, I felt a hand on the back of my head. I screamed out in shock, startling the cat.

“Oh, nah. Shit that shit up! I told you I would be waiting for you. Didn't I?” Terry growled, pulling me by my ponytail.

Like I said. The ponytail was a gift and a curse.

“Just…” I yelled, grabbing his hands in my hair.

“Touch me again. I dare you. Imma do more than tie yo’ ass up!” Terry said, holding my face to look up at him.

“Terry, I'm sorry. I was just jo—!” I started, letting my hands fall beside me.

“That was supposed to be a joke. Ha! We gone see what's funny in a minute.” Terry said, letting go of my hair.

As much as my brain was telling me to run, my pussy was begging me to stay even more.

Terry's hand wrapped around my forearm. “Stand up!” he barked.

“Please, I said I’m—,” I said, standing to my feet.

“If I have to tell you to shut up again…” Terry said, pulling me to face him.

I used the back of my hand to wipe the tears that were now falling.

“I hope you don't think those tears are stopping shit. Ain't no sense in crying. You did this to yourself, Alicia. I was trying to be nice to you, but you just don't know when to leave me the fuck alone,” Terry said, stepping closer to me.

I gulped as he glared at me, blinking slowly. Every breath he released was hot and heavy— weighed down in anger. It's as if he was battling to control himself.

“You thought that shit was so cute. Didn't you? I bet you and your little friends had a good laugh at that, huh?” Terry said, leaning down and resting his forehead on mine.

“You can speak, now. Choose your words wisely,” he said. He straightened his posture and stood to his full height, holding his hands in front of him.

“I'm sorry. I didn't tell anyone but Tyler. I swear,” I spat out as quickly as I could.

Terry paused to look at me. His eyes darkened in lust and anger. I let my gaze drop to the floor.

“Nah, you know better. Eyes on me at all times, right?” Terry demanded.

“Yes,” I said, trailing my eyes up Terry's body. I let my gaze linger on the bulge that had grown in his jeans.

“Unh unh. You gone see that in a minute. Look at me, Alicia!” Terry said, forcing me to look at him.

I rubbed my forearm nervously. I waited for Terry to say something else. Instead, he turned on his heels and sat on the couch.

Leaning back on the couch, he placed his arm over the back. “Better yet. Come here and bring your phone with you,” he said, motioning for me to approach him.

I slowly picked up my phone from the floor and walked up to him. I stood between his legs. He dropped his gaze to the floor, letting me know to kneel. I kneeled in front of him while never breaking eye contact.

“Good girl. Thank you for finally listening. Give me your phone.”

Handing him my phone, my mind immediately started to race. I knew if this man went through that phone. My ass was grass!

“Terry, wait!” I yelled, stopping him.

“Oh, you must be hiding something. You are crazy as hell if you think I can't go through a phone that I pay for every month. However, that's the least of my concerns right now,” he scoffed, tossing the phone beside him on the couch.

“I just… I… I know that… if…,” I stuttered.

“Don't even worry about it, love. Because after tonight, it won't matter what nigga is in that phone. You'll know who you belong to. I can promise you that.”

Terry leaned forward, grabbing the side of my face firmly. I gasped in anticipation.

“I don't understand why you choose to play with me, baby girl. Here I am asking for my family back, and your ass wants to play these childish ass games.”

“Terry, baby. I—,” I said before he placed his hand around the front of my throat. I instantly shut my mouth.

“Look at that! How sweet. I didn't even have to do it, and you knew.” Terry said, biting his bottom lip. He moaned as he watched me. He was more than thrilled with my natural obedience.

Moving his hand to cup my chin, he let his thumb trace the silhouette of my bottom lip.

“Mmm… Daddy misses these lips. The way they look, the way they feel— everything!”

Terry's hand let go of my chin as he sank back into the couch. I watched fervently as he undid his belt. Making quick work of his pants, he freed himself from the confinement of his boxers.

I eyed his dick, waiting for his permission to even touch it.

“I told you you'd get to see it. Unfortunately, touching it ain't an option. At least not right now, especially with that foul mouth of yours.”

My face dropped in disbelief as I began to pout.

“What you will get to do is watch me. Watch me while I… uh… make you wish it was you handling this for me.” Terry laughed while lifting my head back up to watch him.

So, it begins. This is the part where he breaks me.

Terry wrapped his hand firmly around the base of his dick. “All you had to do was behave, but you just can't. I bet you'll be on your best fuckin’ behavior after tonight.”

Terry's hand stroked the length of his shaft. His contentment was already evident as small droplets of precum began to leak from his tip.

I rested my hands on my thighs, pressing my fingertips into the cushion of my thighs. I was fighting the urge to lick what I felt was mine; however, I knew that wouldn't end the way I wanted. Licking my tongue out, I let it slide across the flesh of my bottom lip.

Terry grunted in response. My eyes darted from his dick to his face. His eyes were low and wanton. He was just as needy as I was. Our gazes locked in fervor, passing a mutual message that intensified the salacious hunger between us.

Terry's hand sped up and tightened around his head. His grunts grew deeper and more primal. He was feigning to cum.

I tilted my head and lowered my gaze, pleading with my eyes. Sitting here with my hands in my lap wasn't enough for me. I whined while wiggling my hips, trying to feel something to help the ache between my legs.

“Fuck! You got 3 minutes to make me cum or else!” Terry said, leaning up and grabbing the back of my head.

He didn't even have to finish his movement. My mouth was on his dick before he could even grab me. I was horny, I was needy, and most importantly, I was hungry.

I took all of Terry in on a single inhale not giving a fuck about my throat. I needed this. I let saliva fall from my mouth and down the sides of his shaft. Pulling back, I hollowed out my cheeks and created a vacuum around the head of Terry's dick.

“Ahhh, fuck. You… you always know… ugh.. exactly what to do, baby girl. That's right. This dick is yours, mama. Ahhh, shit. Keep going, baby,” Terry said, stroking the side of my face.

I moaned around his dick. Swallowing his full length again with pride, I smiled around him. Opening my mouth slowly, I sunk down further until my nose hit the patch of hair he grew there. Relaxing every muscle in my throat I let him sit in the back of my throat while I hummed and moaned in pleasure. This… this was the ache I was seeking. This was what I wanted to feel— the burn and stretch of this very moment.

I pulled off of Terry with a pop, watching as a thin string of saliva and cum fell from my lips. Grabbing him mid-shaft, I began to jerk his dick. Fully consumed by my own pleasure, I failed to immediately take notice of Terry's silence.

I looked up to see Terry's eyes closed as he released a slew of low, rough moans. I instantly put my mouth back on him, focusing solely on his head. Using my tongue to massage his tip, I was hoping to push Terry over the edge.

Watching him closely, I marveled at the sight before me. His head had rolled back on his shoulders, and his bottom lip was tucked in between his teeth. As I felt Terry's dick begin to pulse, I took him into the back of my throat again. I wanted every drop of him, and I was going to make sure I got it.

Letting him paint the back of my throat was the only thing on my mind. I started sucking Terry like my life depended on it. His hand gripped the back of my head, but even that didn't stop me. I rested my hands on Terry's legs for support as I put my all into it.

As soon as I felt like the first drops of cum were about to make an appearance, Terry grunted and pulled me back. His dick fell from my mouth and into his own hands. Leaning my head back, Terry stroked himself twice before erupting— all over my face.

I closed my eyes, feeling the warm sticky substance coat my eyelashes along with my forehead, nose, and lips. I exhaled as I thanked God that I closed my eyes in time.

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue!” Terry barked as I felt him moving around.

I opened my mouth and felt him push his dick inside again. Resting the full weight of his dick on my tongue, he told me to keep my mouth open.

“Smile!” he said as I heard a camera shutter.

Without a second thought, my eyes shot open.

“For memories. Adding it to the stash.”

Of course! That's what the fuck he wanted the phone for. I pulled back, letting his dick fall out. “I told you that you're mine. Didn't I?” he said, leaning up.

“Oh, don't think we're done either. Stand up!” he nodded.

I rose to my feet, wobbling. As I stood before Terry, I went to wipe my face. His hand reached out to grab my hand.

“Nah, baby girl. You gone wear that shit with pride. I plan on marking my territory in more ways than one. There will be no creampies tonight,” he warns, standing from the couch.

“But Terry I—,” I said.

His arms wrapped around my waist as he lifted me. Wrapping my legs around him, he turned to walk towards the hallway. My body practically melted into him as I clung to his back. I began to whine and moan while kissing his neck.

“Daddy missed this pussy— MY pussy,” Terry moaned as his hands pushed the strapless dress I wore up past my stomach. The thin fabric began bunching up.

“Ahhh, mmmm. Fuck!” I moaned, placing my hands around his neck.

As we approached the bedroom door, Terry didn't even reach to open it. Instead, he opted for kicking it open.

“Don't worry. I'll fix it!” he grinned.

Walking to the foot of the bed, he laid me directly in the middle. He stepped back and completely undressed himself. God Lord, I missed this body.

I leaned up and began kissing and touching his abdomen. Moving my hands out of the way, Terry's hands went to the neckline of the dress as he leaned over me. In one swift move, he tore the top of the dress in half, continuing to tear the fabric from my body until nothing was left.

While I was preoccupied with my own thoughts, he pushed me down onto the bed. Climbing onto the bed and settling between my thighs, he wrapped my legs around his waist.

Looking at me with the most sinful smirk, he entered me in one thrust. I gasped out in both pain and pleasure. We hadn't had sex in over four months. The feeling of him stretching my pussy out sent my eyes rolling into the back of my head.

“You gone feel me tonight, baby. All of me,” he said, leaning down to kiss my neck.

Pulling every inch of his dick out to the tip, he inserted himself again. He was clearly on a mission.

Thrust after thrust…

“So, you gone give my pussy away? Huh? Answer me when I'm talkin' to you!” he said, thrusting into me harder.

“No!” I yelled as my back arched off the bed.

Using nothing but his body weight, Terry flattened me out again. “No, ma'am.” He said, pulling out to thrust back in again. “The fuck you moving for? You gone take this dick. It's yours, ain't?” he asked, kissing my chin.

“Yes, this… this is… ahhh, fuckkk… This is my dick!” I screamed out as he pounded into me. Every thrust knocked the syllables from my lips.

“That's right. This your dick, baby. All of it! Every fuckin' inch, mama! Now, what you gone do with it, huh?” he growled in my ear, taunting me.

“I'm… gonna… fuckin'… take… it!” I whimpered. His thrusts began to pick up speed.

“Good girl, and you gone let me cum wherever I want to, right?” Terry coaxed, hitting my g-spot over and over again.

“Yes!” I yelled, clawing at Terry's back.

I was so close to cumming, and this shit felt so damn good. Hell, I'd even let him cum on my face again.

“I knew my baby would. Who pussy this is, mama?” he asked, smirking.

“Yours! For… ever! Terry, please! Can… ohhhh… can I cum?” I begged as I felt my climax quickly approaching.

“You better wet this dick up, too. Come on, baby.” Terry uttered softly, talking me through it. “Oouu… look at my baby,” he said, fucking me through my orgasm.

“Terry!” I moaned out, digging into his forearms.

“Look at that shit! Wet as fuck!” he said, watching himself slip in and out.

“Yes! Shit! Ohhh, fuck!” I gasped as he slowed his strokes.

“Yeah! Just like that. You ready? Tell Daddy that you're ready,” he groaned clearly at his peak.

“Please, Daddy! Cum for me!” I yelled.

Terry pulled out, aiming straight for my pussy and stomach. I watched intently as ropes of cum landed on my lower abdomen and the mound of my pussy. Using his dick, Terry began to mix the remainder of his cum into my own. He beamed as he created a disgusting and sloppy mess between my legs.

“I wish you could see it, baby. It's so pretty,” he said, looking up. His eyes roamed over the entirety of my body, lingering on the areas covered in his cum. “You look so pretty, mama,” Terry praised.

“I know I do, and it's all because of you,” I said, pulling Terry in for a kiss.

Taglist: @episodes-ff @babybratzmaraj @persethegawd @pocketsizedpanther @writingsbytee @kimuzostar @confessionsofadramaqueenn @luvrsluxe @blackmoonchilee @meannaim @nayaesworld @msdmc1 @megamindsecretlair @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @mymindisneverhere @brattyfics @avoidthings @honeytoffee @peachbuttetfly @melaninadorned @theglamclosetsl @simplyzeeka @dxddykenn @charismablu @blackerthings @slutsareteacherstoo @vivaalenaa @becauseimswagman1 @keehendrixx @teeresaresa @beenathembo @inthekeyofshe @notapradagurl7 @blowmymbackout

This taglist is random and sort of thrown together. Sorry.😔

[ordinaryschmuck]

With Gooseworx all but confirming that the Jax being an AI thing is bullshit, I personally want to talk about an interesting part about Jax that a lot of theorists used as "evidence" that validates the theory:

Jax's fourth wall breaks are a common topic brought up amongst the "Jax is an NPC" theory. After all, Caine broke the fourth wall in the pilot, knowing full well that the world of The Amazing Digital Circus isn't real and is talking to some unseen viewer as he introduces the Circus Crew.

There's also this bit of official art surrounding Jax's pin:

Where everyone else is inside their room, Jax is outside as pieces of the circus fall apart around him and all of reality to crash. Certainly lends itself to this idea that Jax knows he's not a real person and that his presence could cause great disruption to this world. And he doesn't care because none of it is real. Might as well have fun and cause chaos in a world that doesn't exist.

And I'll admit, all of this seems like valid claims for how the theory could be true. I saw it all and thought that it surely COULD be possible...but there are some things that stop me from being convinced.

Firstly, Caine breaking the fourth wall in the pilot doesn't really seem like an AI talking to the audience. It looks more like an AI programmed to talk to a player as a game boots up. What we saw in the opening could be more like a morning routine that he has to do at least once a day. Plus, we've yet to see any other NPC talk to the audience like Jax has. He explicitly called out the viewers in episode three, knowing full well he's being watched by SOMEONE. Or, at the very least, acting like he is. What do I mean by that? Well, to explain, I'd like to use one of my favorite fourth wall breakers as an example:

Deadpool, in most adaptations, knows fully well that he's a fictional character. He'll talk to the readers/viewers, move the camera around, and constantly talk shit to the writers/studio for occasionally screwing him over. It's all in good (Sometimes bloody) fun...but there's a canonical reason for this. It's not like She-Hulk where the fourth wall breaks are a way to tell HER stories HER way. You see, Deadpool...is just fucking insane.

No, really, that's the reason. Due to the trauma of gaining his powers, Deadpool's mind breaks and he's led to believe that he MUST be a fictional character. In comics, he actually gets voices in his head that makes him think he must be some comic book superhero, and the movies implied that something similar happened given how he never broke the fourth wall ONCE before getting his powers. This means him breaking the fourth wall could be seen as a coping mechanism. After all, it's better to believe you're a fictional character designed to entertain some invisible audience than believe that all of the shitty things that happened to you and people close to you is just a cruel joke from the universe.

Sound familiar?

Going back to the pilot, remember how Pomni's first instinct was to say that the Circus was all just a dream? To her, it's better to live in a lie that everything around her isn't real than to accept the reality that she's stuck in digital purgatory. Jax very well could be going through something similar, but unlike Pomni who seemed to just accept her reality, Jax never did. The trauma of being stuck in the Circus had led to his mind breaking just like Pomni's, Kinger's, and anyone else's. It's just that, for him, he thinks he's coping with it better because he discovered the secret that no one else did: None of this is real.

They're not actually people trapped in some hellscape while an AI unintentionally tortures them. They're all just fictional characters whose tragedies and silly antics are used to entertain viewers. I mean, it's either that or they're real people forever trapped in the circus with the closest thing to death being a full, psychotic break as they give up their sanity because they no longer want to exist in this hell anymore...But that possibly can't be true. Because if that IS true, then Jax has to face that he's a real person stuck in a real, awful situation that he can't joke his way out of. So, it's best to think nothing is real and nothing they do matter. So, might as well have fun with it.

Going back to the pin...

I don't think this is damning evidence about Jax being an NPC. Actually, it perfectly captures who he is as a character. He knows the circus isn't real. He even thinks HE isn't real. So instead of grappling with that, Jax lets himself believe that if nothing is real than nothing he does matters. He can break things, ruin lives, and assist in torturing the others in the circus. It's what he thinks will make the show more entertaining, even though all he's really entertaining is himself so his mind doesn't break more than it does.

Now, could the same apply if he's an NPC? Well...maybe. Gumigoo definitely proves how far someone could fall when they're told their world is fake. He was about ready to give up on life because he didn't think he had one. If Jax was an NPC, I could see him having a similar break, but going in the far opposite direction where, instead of giving up on life, he chooses to live the way HE wants it. Instead of being some one-off NPC for a lame adventure, he could go off on adventures of his own and ruin the lives of others now that his is thoroughly ruined.

However, Gooseworx makes a good point: "...a lot of people come up with theories based on how unexpected they'd be, and not because they make sense or align with the show's themes."

If Jax is an NPC, it would harm the overall message of the show. That there's meaning to be found in a stagnant life, and you find that meaning with people close to you who make that life worth living. Jax represents a sort of foil to that idea, with his way of coping with the madness being pure chaos and breaking others. It's his coping mechanism, and it works because it shows how human Jax really is. They're ALL human and they have human desires and wants, with the Circus pretty much stripping that away and leaving them...as they are now. They're emotionally broken, their sanity is decreasing, and some of them are losing all sense of self. By making Jax an NPC, it would definitely be surprising, but it would take away from that idea. It no longer makes him a human facing his own tragedy but instead an AI that's just as broken as Gummigoo. More than that, it gives the others an easy out. All the crew has to do is tell Caine that Jax is an NPC and POOF! No more annoyance. So making him someone who HAS to stay with the others and they're forever forced to deal with him also adds more to THEIR tragedy and torture.

Jax being an NPC is an interesting theory, but I don't think it's one that SHOULD be true. To me, it's more fascinating watching Jax treat the world around him as meaningless knowing he's a human instead of a rogue NPC breaking everything. And Gooseworx made it clear how they feel about it. Now, could it potentially be a mislead to get fans off the trail? Genuinely...I don't think so. That sounded very "I don't like this idea so it's not gonna happen" type of response. Still, we won't know until the show wraps up. Anything can happen, but don't get your hopes up if a character who does bad things to people that don't deserve it is more human than you think.

[luludeluluramblings]

I’m the anon who sent the pregnant Reader ask! And omg Sugar Baby! Reader is such a delight. Imagine the absolute 😦😧😨 journey on Bruce’s face upon realizing this man who is closer to him in age, old enough to be his daughter’s dad not only MARRIED but had the audacity to knock her up to. I can see little menace Damian asking Husband plenty of indiscreet questions and being straight up rude. Bruce lets him, and he has plenty of questions for the husband, too. How dare he seduce Bruce’s young, impressionable and sheltered daughter, has he no shame?

And of course they offer for Reader and husband to stay at Wayne manor while she recovers. All the hotels in Gotham are suddenly booked so they have to stay over, right? Husband can go right back to work too, Reader will be fine with her family. And why don’t they look at midwives or some of the best hospitals in Gotham, consider giving birth here? Not that they all wouldn’t track the rest of her pregnancy and fly out when she gives birth, but it keeps things simpler.

The sad thing about this concept, fun as it is, it’s that the Batfam is absolutely going to ruin Reader’s relationship either by sabotaging her husband, his business, maybe plant cheating evidence for her to find like Meta! Reader’s prom date. Obviously they will all be there to help pick up the pieces and aid Reader in recovering as well as caring for the baby.

Bruce holding his grandchild and Damian as an uncle too! Wholesome despite the circumstances.

Adding to this and adding a slight NSFW warning for at the end!

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

See, I feel like the counter to this would be Husband having a begrudging Alfred in his corner. Like, Alfred isn’t happy about this guy being married to Reader. But, unfortunately, this is the healthiest relationship anyone in the family has ever been in and he doesn’t wanna ruin that for Reader.

Although, the petty passive aggressive bullshit Hubby’s gonna go through at the manor will probably escalate to the point of them sabotaging his business or making Hubby and Reader snap at the family together.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Reader’s not stupid enough to fall for planted cheating evidence. They know their husband (man’s too old to be trying that nonsense and they also take good care of him themselves.) Plus, they probably told Hubby about how neglected they were by their family. Hubby’s gonna be prepared mentally for the bullshit, even if it does eventually overwhelm him.

But, if you want angst, which I’m guessing you do. I’d say Hubby could tragically die. The family either went to far with the sabotage or an accident happened at work.

(Or, because the dude I imagined Hubby being is Philip Graves, he has to fake his death temporarily for work reasons. Oooo, hubby can grovel and show the Bat family how it’s done when he comes back.)

Either way, you have a distraught Reader. But, I would also add Reader has a difficult pregnancy . That’s why hubby was spoiling her so much.

Imagine the bat family dealing with a hormonal pregnant reader that blames them for their husband’s subsequent death while also being in pain?

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Also, if the family ended up insisting y’all stay at the manor you KNOW your husband would fuck you on every available surface without fucking care. He’d clean you and the place up right after, but everyone in that house would know how good he’d be dicking you down.

Alfred don’t care, he dealt with horny Bruce. Bruce, though, he just sit in his bed silently screaming in his own personal hell. Everyone else is traumatized. Especially when you be calling hubby daddy when he be hitting it just right.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

(I’m tagging this as SugarBaby!Reader and this is going to have to be a series at this point. One day, one day.)

[blushweddinggowns]

Eddie threw an arm over Steve's shoulder, bringing him into a half-hug, “So, what did you guys think?”

“It was great!” Steve said quickly, relaxing into Eddie’s side, “You guys killed it, dude!”

“He’s right,” Robin agreed, “It was awesome! Super, duper fun and we’re so glad we got to see it. But actually, we kinda got to go-”

Eddie frowned, the loose grip he had over Steve’s shoulder tightening on it’s own accord, “Go where? Don’t tell me you guys are tired already?”

For some reason, Robin didn’t look at him after he asked the question. Instead she looked to Steve, a brow raised as she waited for something. But then Steve was giving her a subtle nod, her queue to start talking again. She leaned in closer, whispering as loud as she could in the noisy environment, “So… you’re like cool, right? Steve said you were cool.”

Eddie cocked his head at her, beyond confused, “I-yes? I guess?”

“About the thing?” She pressed, jerking her head his direction, “Steve’s thing?”

“Oh!” Eddie blurted, finally catching on. But he still didn’t get what Steve being gay had to do with them ditching. He nodded quickly, “Very cool with it. Have zero issues.”

It was almost true. Whatever issues Eddie had with Steve’s sexuality involved his own bullshit more than anything else. Plus, his answer had Robin smiling. Gesturing for Eddie to lean in closer, “Good. Because we, um. Share the affliction if you catch my drift.”

“That’s fine,” Eddie said, not missing a beat. He had kind of figured that out along the way. Considering the process of elimination on who could have possibly talked Steve through his queer thoughts. Not that Eddie cared, “No problem here.”

“Good!” She said with a grin, “Then you know just how limited our options are where we live. And according to an insanely pretty girl, there is an honest to god gay bar, like a few blocks away!”

Eddie swallowed, discomfort suddenly settling in at the suggestion, “T-That’s where you guys are going?”

“Yeah!” She said excitedly, setting her sights back onto Steve, “It’s time for someone to realize that we are hot enough to flirt and be flirted with! Closets don’t matter when you’re hours away from home.”

“We share the exact same closet,” Steve groaned, “Don’t start preaching to me.”

“And tonight we can escape from it!” Robin argued, “Come on! Eddie’s going to be busy with his friends and groupies anyway. What else are we doing-”

“I’m actually not that busy,” Eddie interrupted, trying his damndest to keep his voice calm. Suddenly, he felt nauseous again. He didn’t-He knew Steve could handle himself. He did. B-But creeps were everywhere! And he wasn’t used to being around guys who only wanted one thing and Robin would be distracted with girls a-and Eddie was really struggling with this idea.

Though Steve seemed to disagree. The next thing he knew, Steve was smiling back at her. Letting out a good-natured sigh, “Fine, fine! We can go. Someone has to make sure you don’t get kidnapped.”

“Oh my god, yes!” Robin nearly squealed, bouncing a little in her seat, “This is gonna be so fun!”

Eddie’s heart squeezed uncomfortably in his his chest at the excitement, dread starting to fill him. He opened his mouth, words escaping before he could even think of it, “Sounds like you two might need a D.D. I can do it.”

It was probably the first time Eddie had ever invited himself to something he clearly wasn’t a part of. But he had to give himself some credit for how smoothly it came out. 

Robin looked up at him, clearly surprised, “Really? It’s not exactly your scene.”

Eddie shrugged, “It could be. I like George Michael.”

Steve snorted next to him, “That is the one true gay litmus test. You got us there.”

“Seriously though,” Eddie pressed, refusing to let it go, “Then you can both drink, dance, have fun. And not worry about how you’re getting back to the hotel.”

“But don’t you want to stay here?” Steve asked, “Robin wasn’t kidding about the groupies. You should have heard what some of them were saying.”

“You could definitely get laid,” Robin added. She was staring at him now, looking at Eddie in a way that seemed a little past confused. Like she was examining him. Testing him. Or maybe that was just in his head. 

Eddie held firm, “Maybe, but I’d rather hang out with you two vs playing wingman to the boys. What do you say?”

“If you really don’t mind…” Steve said, trailing off. But Eddie could tell that he was happy. He could barely keep his smile to himself as he looked to the side, biting his lip in a way that Eddie fucking knew other people would notice. How could they not? 

from the next chapter of this fic

[swordsandholly]

Across the Way

Ch.3: The New Normal

Retired!Ghoap x Fem!Plus Size!Reader

MDNI

Ao3 | Previous - Next

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: You go to Scotland with high hopes for your future. After all, you have the bakery you always dreamed of and a whole new life to live. Plus, the men who own the butcher’s shop across the street seem nice.

Sometimes Simon still feels like he’s in a dream. The world around him seems effervescent - so ready to slip through his fingers at a moments notice. He expects to pass through Johnny, as though the man was never there, that this house and home and world will crumble and he’ll wake to that grey, cracked ceiling above his bunk in the basic training barracks again.

But then Johnny grumbles something under his breath - because the man cannot shut up, even in deep REM - and turns over, hand resting on Simon’s chest. Even in his sleep the Scot knows how to ground him like nothing else. Like a sixth sense.

He can see discomfort in his husband’s furrowed brow. The hand on his chest twitches.

Ah. He’s going to wake up to a bad day.

Simon figures he won’t be going back to sleep anytime soon, so he may as well prepare. Even he isn’t sure exactly how he knows what will be in store when Johnny opens his eyes but he knows. Every twinge and wince expertly memorized with the same precision that made him do so well in the SAS.

Speaking of, Simon checks his phone while he lines up Johnny’s pain medication. Today’s his call with Price. A monthly reoccurrence. Every third Thursday. The old man and his control issues could never let him or Johnny fully go - he insisted to keep in touch. Even if it is just a monthly call. Simon knows the real reason - that Price was worried about how two gung-ho soldiers would settle into civilian life but the man would never admit to such sentiment.

Johnny stirs, a low groan passing his lips as he tries to hoist himself up. Simon presses his hand to his husband’s back, stilling him with a gentle touch.

“Lay back. Let me ‘elp you up.” He murmurs, rearranging the pillows slowly before wrapping an arm around Johnny’s waist to pull him into a sitting position.

Johnny presses his forehead into his palm, screwing his eyes shut. A small whimper escapes his throat - the sound breaks Simon’s heart every time.

“Rate it.”

Johnny sighs, thinking for a moment. Taking stock of it all. “…Three…?”

“Love.” Simon levels a look at Johnny. One he knows will get the man cut the bullshit.

“…five.”

“Thank you.” Simon nods, turning on his heel to get the proper medication. It’s a particularly bad day, if Johnny is willing to admit to anything above a two or three. For anyone else that’s a seven easy. Stubborn bastard. Simon opens the cabinet to grab the stronger stuff - their on hand back up.

Johnny tries to take it sparingly. He doesn’t want to grow too much of a tolerance - doesn't want to get addicted. Simon isn’t too worried about that, but Johnny insists.

“‘Ere.” Simon holds out two little pills and a cup of water. “Need ‘elp takin’ it?”

Johnny grimaces but nods. Simon’s gut churns with worry. It’s rare for the man to put aside his pride. To allow Simon to carefully tip his head back, cradling it with tender care as Johnny slowly sips at the glass.

“Thanks…” He seems almost bashful despite this being easily the least compromising position Simon has seen Johnny in.

“We’ll take it easy today. Get some take out...” Simon mumbles, reaching under the bed for the heated blanket. On the worst days Johnny’s circulation in his limbs seems to nearly freeze up. How that happens because of a brain injury the doctors have never been able to say.

“Simon?” Johnny murmurs.

“Hm?”

“Kiss me?”

Simon barks out a laugh. The way he still blushes when he asks after all these years is too cute for words. Johnny can say the most salacious shit with a perfectly straight face and then when he asks for such a simple touch he’s flustered like a schoolgirl.

Of course, Simon would never deny him. It’s impossible to say no to those big baby blues.

“I’m going to let Riley out into the yard. Want t’ take a bath when I get back?” Simon offers as he pulls back, running a thumb over Johnny’s lip and hoping the medication will have kicked in by then.

”Tryin’ tae get my clothes off, Mr. Riley?”

Simon rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t ‘ave to scheme t’do that.”

Johnny clicks his tongue. “I’m no’ tha’ easy.”

“Tell that to the maintenance closet in Hereford.”

“Yer no better.” Johnny grins. “Brazil?”

“Shut it.” He makes a playful cutting motion by his neck. Johnny just laughs at him. Simon wishes, like every time before, that he could have the sound carved into his very marrow.

He clicks his tongue and Riley follows dutifully. They got her an automatic feeder long ago so she’s already had her breakfast. Really it was a necessity - back when Johnny was in too much pain the majority of the time for Simon to step away too long. She’s been so patient with them. She runs around the yard excitedly while he throws the ball a few times to get her energy out. Some outside time will tie her over until he can take her for a proper walk.

The weather’s nice today. Johnny will be disappointed he missed out on so much sun.

Simon turns on his heel to go up and get the water started. They installed an extra large tub not long after moving in. Baths together were a small luxury back in the day - cramming both of themselves into shitty hotel tubs and the base housing showers. They never quite fit - usually Simon’s leg would end up hooked over the side of the bath. Or Johnny’s. Working the man open and loose after a long, hard mission-

He stops that thought I’m it’s tracks. That’s not the line of thinking for today.

Simon settles Johnny in first thing. He’s lighter than he used to be. That extra layer of muscle worn down and away over all that time in hospital and in physical therapy. That scared Simon, at first. The idea that Johnny had become another fragile thing for him to ruin. Something he could break.

It was a selfish thought.

The water is hotter than Simon would usually like as he climbs in, but it’s based on Johnny’s preference. Plus it relaxes his muscles - the stinging in his nerves from misfires in his brain. The tremble in his hands.

Simon takes it all in, gently dragging his knuckles over Johnny’s perfect cheekbone. The tender motion no longer feels foreign, which is strange in and of itself.

“Comfortable?” He asks.

Johnny hums and nods.

They stay quiet while they sit. Johnny always seems to glow in the morning light. Angelic. If Simon were better with words he’d write poems. He tried a few times, though he’d never admit that out loud.

The closest he got were his vows (still not good enough). Nothing can encapsulate what it is to love John MacTavish.

“I worry.” Johnny sighs, pulling Simon from his thoughts.

“Bout what?” Simon turns toward him, lowering his reading glasses.

“The baker. She’s all alone over there y’know?” Johnny sighs.

Simon hums. His big hearted boy. “Y’should be worried about yourself.”

Johnny scoffs. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, cause you’re ‘opped up on goofberries.”

“Oh shut the fuck up.” Johnny laughs.

“C’mere.” Simon turns him so that Johnny’s back is against his chest, grabbing one of the extra shampoo bottles to scrub down his hair.

“Thinkin’ about getting’ rid of the mo-hawk…” He murmurs.

“Don’t you dare.” Simon blurts before he realizes, face heating at the admission. Johnny just laughs at him again.

“It’s no’ very dignified. Doesnnae scream grown-man-in-his-thirties.”

“No. But it screams Johnny MacTavish. ‘ow else am I goin’ t’find you in a crowd?”

“Fair point.” Johnny tilts his head back to look up at his husband, grinning. “More hair fer ye tae grab, though. Proper handle.”

Simon huffs. “See, now that’s just playin’ dirty.”

“Simon Jr. likes it.”

“Please stop callin’ it that. It’s been bloody fuckin’ years.”

“Never.”

Simon rolls his eyes. By the end of their exchange the water has started to get cold. He gives himself a very bare minimum scrub down - the perks of having buzzed hair - before climbing out to grab them towels and fresh pajamas.

Before all of this he’d never considered the importance of comfortable clothes. Layer-able. Soft. Breathable. Easy to maneuver in on a bad day when Johnny can hardly walk - though it hasn’t been that bad for a long while. Strange how needs change and fluctuate.

“D’you want to go downstairs or stay up ‘ere?” He asks, patting Johnny dry while he sits on the side of the tub.

“Definitely down.” Johnny nods decisively, wincing at the motion.

“A’right.” Simon scoops the man up bridal style. Back in the day he would’ve thrown Johnny over his shoulder with ease. These days he has to move slower, keeping Johnny steady so as not to jostle his head and irritate his pain. It’s been good, he thinks, to practice gentile touches for the first time in his life.

It’s easy to settle Johnny onto their large, L-shaped couch. To set him up on a throne of blankets and pillows that envelope his frame entirely. They throw on some rom-com as low background noise. It’s not long before he falls asleep, the medication finally fully taking effect and sending him into one of those deep sleeps that will last until his next dose around lunch.

Simon glances over to Johnny’s peacefully sleeping face. Lips parted, quietly snoring.

Might as well get his call done now while the man’s well and truly passed out.

“The prodigal son returns.” Price announces loudly on the other end of the phone.

“Y’talked t’ me last month.” Simon scoffs.

“Ach, well, have t’ give you some shite here an’ there. Gotta tap down that ego.” He sighs. There’s an edge to his voice despite the attempt at a playful tone.

“Y’sound tired, Cap.” Simon settles into the couch, keeping his voice low.

“You’re no better.” The old man grouses. His voice has only gotten grittier over time, though he won’t admit it to be the cigars’ doing “How’s he doin’?”

There’s always a hint of guilt in his voice when he asks. Even four years later, he can’t let it go - can’t forgive the damage done to Johnny. The best of them. None of them could ever blame him for it. There isn’t any blame to be had.

“Alright.” Simon shrugs to no one. “Bad day today but he’s been better on the whole.”

“Good.” Price sighs. There’s a creaking noise - like he’s settling back into an office chair. “You solid?”

Simon huffs out a laugh. “Yeah. Got a new bakery in town. That was enough to have the area properly twitterpated all week.”

“Any good?”

“Actually, yes. Johnny’s taken a shine to the owner.”

“That boy would take a shine to a black hole.”

“Ah, you’d like ‘er. Soft little thing - that’s your whole deal innit?”

Price splutters, Simon laughs. It’s the only thing that can get the Captain off kilter. Throw a live grenade at the man and he’s steady as a rock; mention anything about his love life and he’s no better than a flustered teenager.

There’s a pause.

“Kyle is up for Lieutenant.” Price says.

Simon freezes, swallowing roughly. It’s not that he’s not happy for Gaz - hell the boy deserves it more than anyone - but his thoughts go to Johnny. How he’ll react. He’s been doing so well, these past several months. The news could make him spiral… or he could take it perfectly fine.

It’s a fifty-fifty.

“Yeah, I was worried about how Soap would take it, too.” Price sighs. “Figured I should tell you first.”

“He’ll be fine…He’ll be fine.” The repetition is more to convince himself, really. Simon shakes his head. “Might wait to tell ‘im until ‘e feels better, though.”

“Probably for the best.”

Simon hums.

“How are you doing, Riley?”

“Fine.”

“Y’sure?” Price knows him too well, Simon thinks. Knows how much the military meant to him - how much he needed it.

“I’ve got Johnny.” Simon looks wistfully at his husband, still snoring on the couch in his mass of pillows and blankets. “What else could I ever need?”

Price laughs - loud and full bodied. “You’ve become a sap in your old age, eh?”

“Who’s callin’ who old, here? You’re practically a bloody fossil.”

“Oi, watch it.”

“S’good to talk t’you, Cap.” Simon sighs, sinking further into the couch.

“You too, kid.” Price sighs as well. “I’ve got to go but… do you want me to let you know when Kyle’s ceremony is?”

Simon clicks his tongue. “Yeah. As much as I hate the pomp and circumstance.”

“We all do.”

“Yeah.”

“Take care of each other.” Simon can practically see the way Price is most likely nodding along to the words.

“Always.” Simon nods. He rests his head on the back of the couch, tossing his phone off to the side and staring up at the ceiling.

If he thinks about it too hard - about the SAS and Price and Gaz… that whole life - his chest begins to ache. The military saved him, in many ways. The military gave him his greatest love despite all the fear and strangeness that came with that.

Simon looks over at Johnny’s sleeping form.

He’s worth it.

He’s always been worth it.

Between the three month long coma - the even longer physical therapy - Johnny’s been through hell, to say the least. Truly came back from the dead. What is it, in the grand scheme, for Simon to have to make a career change in order to grasp onto this second chance?

Who knows if he would have even been able to stay in the military if Johnny died. He’d break, surely. He broke the first time Johnny crashed. Fractured upon the second. Died with him on the third.

His therapist says it’s not good for him to romanticize and aggrandize that kind of trauma. She’s probably right but there are worse ways to frame it.

They’re both broken. They’re both healing.

His thoughts drift to you as all things seem to recently. Why do you always seem so sad? Your eyes a far more tired than your age would suggest - the eyes of a woman on her deathbed and ready to go. He’s seen that look too many times in his own reflection not to know it by heart.

He’ll check on you when he goes to the shop tomorrow. For Johnny’s sake.

~~~

“Simon! How are you?” You smile wide. Always smiling. It’s not bright, like Johnny’s, though. There’s a pull at the edges. It doesn’t always reach your eyes.

“Fine.” Simon says more gruffly than he means to.

You swallow nervously. He can tell he makes you uncomfortable. Squirrelly. You don’t shrink away, though. Brave little thing, he thinks. “Uh, Johnny stay home today?”

He nods solemnly. “Migraine started up yesterday.”

“Oh, I hate that.” You frown. So genuine. “I’ve got some extra white bread. Easy on the stomach. I could-“

“That’s kind, but not why I’m ‘ere.” He cuts you off. It’s rude, yeah, but he’s seen the way you can chatter and has a point to get to.

“O-oh?” You squeak.

He steps closer, setting a little sticky note on your counter with two numbers messily scrawled across it, each labeled as his and Johnny’s. Maybe he should’ve gotten Johnny to write it. At least his twos and sevens don’t look alike. “Johnny mentioned you were woozy, when you first met. Said you have a thing.”

You raise an eyebrow, tilting your head. “And?”

It’s defensive. Your shoulders are more square than before, lips slightly pursed and arms crossing over yourself involuntarily. It looks wrong on you, if he’s honest.

“And you don’t seem t’ ‘ave anyone around to look after you.” Simon continues bluntly. “If you need anythin’ you give us a call.”

Your expression morphs into surprise, then bashfulness. He takes it in categorically just like everything else. “Th-that’s really sweet… you don’t have to-“

“It’s only right.” He cuts you off again.

It is. You’re a young woman all alone in a new country with some sort of illness. Something chronic based on Riley’s alert. Simon might be cold but he isn’t heartless - not anymore, at least. Johnny saw to that. Even if he doesn’t know what it is, even if you’re obviously smart and independent, there are too many variables for his or Johnny’s liking.

Simon doesn’t know how to interpret the look you give him. It’s grateful. Soft in the same way as when he gave you that little cut of beef. There’s something else on the edges - not quite desperation. Not quite fear. Something that furrows your brow minutely and has your eyes flicking wildly between his.

You’re afraid of an ulterior motive.

“Take care.” Simon nods once, turning on his heel to leave.

“W-wait-“ He feels a tug on the sleeve of his hoodie. When he turns your eyes are wide, shining. “I… uh…”

“Yes?”

You bite your lip, a consistent habit if the chapped skin is anything to go by. You pull your hand back quickly, pressing it to your chest. “S-sorry, never mind…”

Simon doesn’t press. He never does. Far be it for a man like him to try to force secrets out of someone. So, with another good-bye and a nod, he makes his way out of the shop and starts toward the car to go home. At least, he should.

Instead he stops a little way down the street. Far enough he can still see into your shop without you noticing him. He watches the way you pick up the paper carefully, cradling it in your soft fingers. The way you frown at it, taking a deep breath before pocketing it and disappearing into the back of the shop. He can’t place what compels him to watch you. What keeps pulling them both in.

When he pushes the door open, he expects a quiet house. Dark and silent as Johnny sleeps his pain away upstairs. Instead, he’s greeted with the sounds of pots and pans and Johnny’s voice echoing down the hall - singing along to Celine Dion (though he’d never admit to it if asked).

“Johnny?” Simon turns to corner.

“Och, welcome home!” The Scot shoots him a grin over his shoulder.

“You should be in bed.” Simon kicks off his boots and meanders to the kitchen.

“A man cannae cook fer his husband?”

“Johnny.”

Johnny turns, grinning wide. “I’m fine, Si. Really. Trust me.”

Simon sighs, stepping forward and resting his hands on Johnny’s waist. “I trust you. Y’know that. I just worry.”

“I ken, I ken.” Johnny chuckles, planting a series of kisses across Simon’s face.

Simon sighs, leaning against the kitchen counter while Johnny gets back to cooking. So domestic. Still so strange that this is their normal.

“Kyle is up for Lieutenant.” It comes out in a jumble - more uncertain than Simon is used to.

Johnny pauses, hand flexing around the spatula in his grip. It’s so brief you could almost miss it before going back to sautéing the vegetables in the pan. “Good. He deserves it.”

Simon hums, watching, waiting for a reaction. Eyeing his husband with all the scrutiny he can muster. “Price invited us to the ceremony.”

“Aye.” Johnny nods. “We should go.”

“Are… you alright with that?”

Johnny turns, a slight furrow in his perfect brow. “Why wouldnnae I be?”

Simon searches his face - tries to gather any evidence to the contrary. He finds none. Just a genuine look of confusion at what he said.

Good lad.

“We’ll go, then.”

“Hope there’s an open bar.” Johnny chuckles and turns back to dinner. Normal, casual, comfortable.

They’re both healing.

A/N: I’m not totally in love with how this chapter turned out but I’d rather get it out and get to the next than lose motivation bc I got stuck.

[steviewashere]

Late night fic idea that I'm definitely going to try and write at some point!!

Definitely very angsty. Steve's got bad parents. A few arguments. And Steve basically restarting his adult life. But it would definitely have a happy ending! Walk with me here.

In early 1987, Steve gets into a nasty argument with his parents. About how much of a disappointment he is, how he can't hold a good enough job, that he's just not who they wanted him to be. They tell him, pretty loudly, that if he can't grow up, then he needs to get out.

He, of course, is very upset by the result of this argument. Because he's trying his damn hardest at this whole adult thing. He's trying his damn hardest to be the person everybody wants him to be; the older brother, the best friend, the boyfriend—the good guy. Yet, even though he's completely emotionally devastated, he still goes to Eddie's because they have a date.

He's not very attentive during the date. Ignoring Eddie's comments sometimes. Giving half answers. And Eddie takes it the opposite of something wrong with Steve—no, he thinks there's something wrong with him. They end up having their own nasty, explosive argument. One that ends with Eddie muttering something along the lines of, "God, I hate you so much right now." He doesn't mean it, knows he doesn't mean it because it's too easy to just say a bullshit claim than talk it all out, hash it out as it is, figure out the root of the problem. However, Steve doesn't know this. Steve thinks Eddie means it.

Thinks that Eddie's just been putting on this interested facade to save Steve's lonely, battered heart. That maybe the novelty of their relationship ran out a long time ago. Eddie's just now telling it as it is; the same way Nancy had. A bullshit relationship, one that never meant anything. (And similar to Nancy, they don't really mean it. It's all just moment of passion stuff).

Steve leaves Eddie's. Leaves with his heart dropped out of him, wet and dead on Eddie's carpet. He leaves with bile in the back of his throat, eyes that ache, a head that's too messy to sort through. And then, the only idea that becomes clear to him: he has to get out.

Get out of Hawkins.

Because if Eddie was thinking something like that all along, who else has been thinking the same thing? Dustin? Max? Robin?

He goes to work. Submits a letter of resignation. Gives the courtesy of two more weeks. And then...

He packs all that he thinks he needs in a couple bags: a backpack and a duffel bag. He sells his car, the only money he now has to his name, plus whatever his last Family Video paycheck is. Steve gets on the closest bus, one that'll take him to a shuttle, and he takes a train out of Indiana.

Goes west. Goes to a shitty neighborhood in Sacramento, as far as he can get. He got the transfer request sent over to a Family Video here, he'll start there soon. He stays in a hotel for a couple nights, a couple nights before he finds a last minute lease for a shitty apartment.

And he just stays there. Stays in Sacramento.

He calls Robin's house once on a payphone, that way he can't be tracked. Robin's not home when he calls. He gives a message to her mom: "Tell Robin that I'm sorry. And...and that I love"—he'd sigh—"Yeah. Yeah, just tell her that I'm sorry, please. I did what I had to." He hangs up, doesn't give another way for him to be contacted and he moves on.

Some years pass. He hasn't been taking care of himself all that well, it's noticeable in how he looks. Scraggly facial hair, heavy eyes, lanky and skinny body, he's mowed down most of his hair. Just looks like an imposter in his own skin. He's working a different dead-end retail job—some supermarket, one that's owned by a corporation, he's one in thousands; somebody not cared for. His social life is nothing. He's weird around other people, weird in general; trauma that's been left unsolved, nightmares that keep him awake (so his neighbors now have a vendetta against him), stares too hard, doesn't like to talk anymore. He's hollow. A man who nobody knows, no connotations, no stupid hierarchies or nicknames attached to him. He's just Steve Harrington, some guy.

Yet, in the time he's been there, he takes up a few hobbies. Ones that work well with his secluded lifestyle. He picks up painting and photography. Things he never thought he'd be interested in. But...but he gets too bored, so he tries.

Finds out that he's good. Finds out that he's good enough for his own small studio space. For a small exhibit in the local art museum. And there, on the floor of his exhibit, idling between people who want to know more about the guy that keeps showing up in his paintings: brown eyes and pink mouth and smiles that are too big for his face; and the woman: a bob with bangs, crystal blue eyes, and a kindness that shows in her soft smiles; it's there that he sees an all too familiar face.

Eddie meets his eyes. Older, grown into his body, same brown eyes, same long curly hair. And there's a sheen of tears in his stare. A recognition he never thought he'd receive.

And there's silence. People passing them by.

Until, when the exhibit is empty except for them, Steve can only muster a simple, "Hey." And a smile, something thin that doesn't feel very real. Didn't want to be found, not yet. But in the paintings, he's been dreaming; he's been searching.

From the entryway of another exhibit, one that connects to Steve's, Robin appears. She's got that '90s pixie. And cherry stained lips. Grunge eyeshadow and an ill fitting, hole-riddled t-shirt that Steve slowly realizes is one he wore; those red Converse from Scoops, faded black Sharpie, but the only text that's still dark (as if it's been written over and over) is one he put there: "Dingus was here". She doesn't even speak. Only knows. Tripping over her own feet, dashing across the waxed floor, sliding across it with clumsy limbs. Crashing straight into Steve, hefting him up in her arms, squeezing him so tight he can't breathe.

When she places him back down on the ground, standing side by side with Eddie, the two of them simply staring at him in awe and relief, Eddie finally speaks for the two of them.

He fucking speaks. His voice is dripping with relief, yearning rich and honey-sweet in the vowels. Words full of love that's been stirring slow like a stew in his heart, thick and clogging.

"There you are, sweetheart. There you are."

[mrs-monaghan]

Tbh I'm a jikooker, but I find it incredibly difficult to fit a healthy long-term relationship into the same timeline as all of jimin's solo work. It's not the pronouns or taking one lyric very literally, its the entire thing, plus comments from him and his producers. To me, you'd have to do some serious olympic level mental gymnastics to make that make sense. I don't doubt that jikook have a special bond, I've definitely seen things between them that definitely look like sexual attraction to me and things that surpass friendship boundaries, but I can't in good faith say that they're together in some official long-term way if I actually listen to jimin and his work.

I've seen some jikookers think they broke up for a while, but I have to question if those people have ever been through a breakup because the little bit of distance/separation/awkwardness we did see from them during chapter 2 is nothing compared to the type of tension that would be there if a relationship that intimate and intertwined had separated, especially considering the dark feelings jimin was feeling. He wouldn't have been cutely commenting on jungkook's lives and jungkook wouldn't have been asking to hang-out or getting excited to see jimin in his comments.

Idk, I'm sure someone could twist everything a certain way and only take certain things at face-value and then make everything else abstract, etc. to make the case that they are together, but I don't really see it. You look at face-off, alone, and just his general dark feelings during Face, then look at the creation of Muse and how him and his producers said he couldn't relate to the love-dovey beginning songs, which is how they ended up making Who (despite the fact that jikookers try to distance him from the song since he doesn't have writing credits even though he sat in the recording room telling them what he wanted and saying it felt like reading his diary). I think jimin could have very well gone through a pretty awful breakup along with the inner turmoil he was going through post-covid, but I don't think it was with jungkook if he did. I still enjoy jikook's bond either way at the end of the day, but yeah I don't really get how anyone can take an honest look at jimin's work and his words and think he was in a long-term healthy love-of-his-life relationship during that time or into chapter 2.

Not trying to change your opinion or anything, honestly I don't really see it discussed much in jikooker spaces (besides bad-faith stuff like tkkers stirring up shit over pronouns in lyrics which is just dumb) and when it is, some jikookers are pretty pick-and-choose about what they deem to be true to jimin's feelings and what isn't. Which I get being nuanced, but sometimes it does feel like a "well this fits my beliefs so clearly this is true to jimin and this doesn't so it means nothing because he didn't write it" or whatever. I honestly get annoyed with the bad-faith arguers because it prevents being able to have actual discussions about some of this stuff in our little jikooker corner of tumblr. Like "he said her, he's clearly straight! he danced with a girl, straight!" stfu.

I don't have much to say to you anon. Not really. Not anything that hasn't been said anyway. Which you've seen and decided its jkkrs doing mental gymnastics. "I'm a Jikooker but..." its never a great way to start a sentence. It just gives major insecure jkkr vibes which i just 😬😬😬😬😬😬😬 you either believe in them or you don't. There is no if, and or buts.

I will leave you with this; over the years, antis and (insecure) jkkrs alike have always found a way to conclude Jkk aren't as close anymore or they broke up or some other bullshit. But what happens everytime Jikook resurface and we see them together again?

NOTHING HAS CHANGED!!!

Nothing ever changes with these 2! They come back closer, more in sync, happier, more in love and their relationship more established than ever. This happens every👏🏽damn👏🏽time👏🏽 Everytime!

Then the insecure jkkrs will be like "jkk is real" again.

And then we will go without content for a while and once again we are back here with the jkk aren't as close argument. Once again. It is an exhausting cycle that I refuse to be a part of.

You can try and nit pick various reasons as to why Jikook aren't in an established rlship, but I will chose to focus on reasons why they are definitely 130000000% in a relationship. Like the fact that they are enlisted together rn, the fact that they could have done AYS with other members but chose eo. Or the fact that Jimin wrote his name on JK's chest with sunscreen and I dont even want to imagine how he did that. What position they were in that would justify people calling them brothers 😂

You do you anon. I'mma just be over here enjoying Jimin promote the hell out of his favourite JK song.

Tweet

Look at him so proud of his man 🥺🥺

[gayboymolloy]

IWTV Fic Recs: Part I

You all pinky promised to listen and not judge 🫶🏻

Please mind tags for all of these. This list is certainly not exhaustive, just the ten I could find. As I’ve said before, I’m really bad at keeping track of my favorite fics.

Loustat

Headlock by caxemira - Rated E. 16k words. Human Office Romance AU. Louis works through his internalized homophobia as he develops feelings for what was supposed to be his one time hookup. A little angst, miscommunication. Happy ending.

for years or for hours by dulacourt - Rated E. 29k words. Lestat and Louis work on Louis’ sexual stamina. There’s so much kissing and coming in pants in this one. Like, so much kissing. It’s genuinely very sweet and soft. Lestat and Louis’ religious conflicts are very present.

body of water by peacefrog - Rated E. 19k words. Post-reunion. Getting back together is not as simple as it seems, especially when you’ve been through everything Loustat has. Grief is the backdrop until it’s the foreground. Technically this is a sequel to a reunion fic, you are the moon that breaks the night for which i have to howl, which you should also read, but body of water is my favorite.

Nickistat

only us, in this room by accideadly - Rated E. 3k words. Still human, first time, mutual masturbation, sickeningly in love. I’m a little obsessed with Lestat talking Nicki through it here. So sweet, I love Nickistat, have I mentioned that on this blog before?

Loumand

just the pure virgin light by exsanguinate (transjon) - Rated E. 5k words. Armand experienced genital mutilation as a mortal in the brothel; Louis is determined to find a way to make him feel good regardless. Sounding, prostate orgasm. Emotional + we love to see Loumand actually loving on each other.

Lesmand

two-headed mother by tisiphones - Rated E. 8.6k words. mommy kink mommy kink mommy kink. I cannot stress how much you should not read this fic if you don’t want to experience insane psychosexual pseudoincestual bullshit between Armand and Lestat. If you do, however… this might be the most sad and pathetic I’ve ever seen these two.

Danstat

break up with your girlfriend, i’m bored by SheOfBadIdeas - Rated E. 3k words. Armand is neglecting Daniel. Lestat and Daniel fuck about it. I like this one because Lestat and Daniel aren’t in-love but they do like each other and Lestat is genuinely trying to make him feel better 🥺 Plus, it ends in Armandaniel smut. Which leads us to:

Devil’s Minion

may through december by savorvrymoment - Rated E. 15k words. Ongoing. Human AU, briefly professor/student. Armand and Daniel spend a lot of time being very domestic and even more time not talking about it like they should. I have no words for how good this is. Armand is autistic and traumatized. Daniel is old and navigating his own feelings. Nobody is saying what they really mean. I love how much they love each other. *chef’s kiss 👩🏻‍🍳💋*

Camboy Molloy by GrayGiantess - Rated E. 39k words. Ongoing. Human AU. Old Daniel is a camboy who, in a probably ill-advised move, agrees to an in-person session with his favorite viewer. And as you can guess, they keep meeting. Sweet moments, sad moments, classic Daniel asshole moments. This was recommended to me recently and I’m obsessed!

Morning by CloeLockless - Rated M. 2.5k words. Classic Devil’s Minion era. To Daniel’s surprise, for the first time, Armand stays the night. Unfortunately, the spontaneity of it all means they don’t properly account for the sun… (no major character death… well outside of vampires being dead sort of inherently.) When Daniel cried, I cried, and not for the reason you’d think based on my blurb. Angsty, sweet.

[fatherbrat]

cw. prequel to this. college au hockey player!sukuna. fatherbrat’s 2nd hugh hefner costume mention. reader is drunk. crack-esque. sfw, 1.3k words.

the first time you meet sukuna is at a halloween party. 

(it’s technically your halloween party. it isn’t your house or anything, but the boys that live there are happy to let you host as long as it means a house full of girls and none of the responsibility of setting up. you're happy to fulfill their requests, since it means you can have things go your way and then dip at the end of the night, leaving the post-party cleaning up to them.)

needless to say, you and sukuna do not make good first impressions. you would blame the alcohol, but honestly, it wouldn’t have gone any different if you were sober. 

he arrives at the party in a group. you recognize one of them—the tall, smiley one with impossibly white hair who sits behind you in biochem. he’s dressed up like a character from an snl skit, clad in an ill-fitting suit and round sunglasses with a present box glued to his pelvis.

you don’t recognize the one who comes in behind him, but he’s sexy and tanned and has a mustache. he’s also wearing the same costume as the white-haired one. gojo, you remember. isn’t he on the hockey team?

you immediately pull out your phone, searching up the school’s official instagram page for the hockey team. there they are, front and center in the most recent post. the third guy with them—the one with black hair and the scar that runs through his lip—is in the picture too. he’s wearing a batman costume now, half-assed but recognizable enough. at least he has on the mask. 

you squint at the last man in the group and frown. your gaze drops back down to your phone. 

in the second row of photos is a carousel full of pictures of this pink-haired brute. sukuna, the apparent team captain. his personal account is tagged, but it seems too professional to you, public and polished to perfection for recruiters. 

anyways. he’s here. at your halloween party. wearing an outfit you deem completely unacceptable. 

you down the rest of your (sixth) drink and toss the empty can onto the kitchen counter before making your way towards the group of men, wobbly as ever.

gojo is the first one to notice you. “hey,” he beams, “cool party.” he puts his arm around the guy with the mustache—shiu—and wiggles his eyebrows. “you like our costumes?”

you ignore him, something you wouldn’t do sober, but you’re on a mission. 

you point at sukuna, jabbing your nail into his chest. “where the fuck is your costume?”

sukuna glances down at your finger, then your costume, then your face. “you don’t see the jersey? i’m a fuckin’ hockey player.”

you pull back your hand, disgusted. “first of all, drop the attitude, mister. second of all, that’s not a costume. you’re on the hockey team.”

someone snickers. the one dressed as batman, you think, but you don’t turn around to check. sukuna’s face morphs through a few different emotions—amusement, annoyance, astonishment. he eventually settles on agitation, pissed that he hasn’t even gotten the chance to get some liquor in his system before dealing with bullshit like this.

“you wanna talk about costumes? you’re wearing underwear and a robe,” he says, gesturing towards you with a dismissive wave. 

you gasp and plant your hands on your hips. “this isn’t just underwear, idiot. it’s lingerie. i’m wearing a garter belt, for fuck’s sake. and thigh highs! plus you forgot about my hat?”

you use your entire arm to point at gojo. “who am i dressed as, dick-in-a-box boy?”

his face is flushed from laugher. “sexy hugh hefner. obviously.”

you throw your arm up in the air and let it fall against your thigh with a smack, not noticing the murderous glare sukuna sends towards gojo. someone somewhere turns down the music a bit.

“see!” you exclaim, addressing sukuna once again. “this is clearly a Sexy Costume™. and you know what else makes it a costume? i would never just leave my house like this on a typical day. it’s not a regular outfit in the slightest.” you speak slowly, wanting to make sure he understands every word. 

“you wanna know what makes this Not a costume?” you continue, still talking slow as you wag your finger up and down sukuna’s body. “it’s a regular-degular outfit. literally anyone can put on that campus store-bought jersey and wear it with those jeans on a normal day.”

sukuna starts to speak, but you cut him off. “didn't you see the sign out front? ‘no costume, no entry.’”

his jaw ticks. his right eye twitches. “yeah, i saw the fucking sign. i don’t-”

“oh, great,” you interrupt. “so you don’t know what a costume is and you can’t read. perfect. that hockey scholarship must be doing a lot of heavy lifting, huh?”

even in your inebriated state, you immediately know that was the wrong thing to say. the little crowd that gathered to watch your back-and-forth takes a collective inhale. sukuna looks downright irate, fists clenched at his sides as a storminess settles over his face. 

gojo lets out a long and low whistle, the kind that cartoon bombs make right before they hit the ground and explode. he pats your shoulder twice before abandoning you altogether. the rest of the crowd follows, leaving you to contend with this bear you repeatedly poked.

the music returns to its original volume, but it sounds like the speaker has been moved. away from you and closer to the living room.

maybe it’s the alcohol in your system, but you swear you can see literal steam coming out of sukuna’s ears. you sway on your feet a bit, waiting for him to say something. a thought occurs to you as you watch him pinch the bridge of his nose and breathe deeply, but you keep it to yourself, screwing up your lips in a physical attempt to keep from digging your grave further.

sukuna didn’t even want to come to this party in the first place. he actually mentioned the sign out front to the guys before they came in, trying to use it as an excuse for him to go home. his plan was to make an appearance, drink a beer, and then escape after thirty minutes. but here you are, this drunk stranger yelling at him for being dressed like a normal fucking person. the urge to stay strikes him. he wants to linger just to piss you off. 

“are you done?” he asks you.

you cross your arms. “are you leaving?”

“no.”

“then no.”

just as you’re about to dig into him again, sukuna’s thinning patience snaps.

“stop being a fucking bitch about this, alright? just relax. you’re acting fucking crazy.”

your jaw unhinges itself and you stand there, gawking. sukuna seems about ready to walk away, cracking his knuckles and looking somewhere behind you. your eyes land on his cheek, reddened and ready for a smack. you draw your arm back, wanting to make sure you gave him a slap that stings—and he catches it mid-air.

“are you serious?” he scoffs. you glance at your hand, his fingers around your wrist, the scowl etched into his face.

he glowers at you, not letting go when you try to shake your arm free. so you do the next logical thing.

you spit on him.

a glob of your saliva lands just below his eye. you smirk, satisfied. he drops your arm and curses, lifting the bottom of his jersey to wipe his face. then you make your first smart decision of the night and turn around, running back to where the rest of the party is to hide amongst the bodies.

he yells after you, but it’s drowned out by your giggles and the sound of chatter as you get nearer, bumping into countertops and side tables on the way.

someone pats your back and puts a drink in your hand. you pray you never have to see the captain of the hockey team again. 

tags. @nonamevenus @lavenderdaydream97 @rinofcike @gdamnackerman

[actual-changeling]

This post is going to show you the EXACT moment that tear forms with indisputable evidence that consists of several screencaps, detail shots, and slowed down video proof, which will be at the very end.

The tear and I are getting married, her name is Trina and I love her.

Let's get right into it. Be prepared for uh. Very painful facial expressions! And tears (at the end).

We're going to look through the final fifteen chronologically with pit stops at important emotional points that I think would make sense to cause a tear.

As you can see, we go into this argument with mostly dry eyes, a little glistening here and there but those are NOT tears. Probably just the contacts plus the lack of blinking making his eyes a bit more moist than your usual pair. The tear will be obvious.

Obvious disbelief when Aziraphale tells him about the Metatron's bullshit, yes, but Crowley soldiers on through.

Now a scene that I personally thought would be most likely to cause tears - "tell me you said no". However - his eyes stay dry! Both before and after Aziraphale's non-answer. No tears.

The best spot to look at is his waterline, and as you can see it's free of any sad tears.

We have reached the "go off together" stage, Crowley is yelling, they're both emotionally perturbed, a very good foundation for tears. Yet when you look at his eyes during and right after, they're still dry!

We are now right before Crowley says "you can't leave this bookshop" and when he does BOOM the tear is suddenly there!

This is what our tear looks like, and we have a very narrow time frame during which it can appear. So it is time for the grand reveal because by now you're probably yelling at me "okay but WHEN does it show up??"

I will tell you. Or rather, I will show you first and then tell you what Aziraphale said right before that triggered it. Ready?

There it is. Left - no tear. Right - tear. (no i will not make the trivago joke again i want to but i wont.)

Come with me! To heaven! I'll run it, -> no tear yet. It appears after the next part.

you can be my second in command THAT is what causes the tear to finally show up. Right as Aziraphale finishes his sentence you can watch as it appears.

As promised, here is the video evidence, slowed down by half and zoomed in on Crowley's face at the end.

Alright, have you seen enough tears? Good! Let's look at the emotional reason. Because your question is probably what is so special about that sentence that it tips Crowley over the edge?

That one sentence, that one "promise" Aziraphale makes him, destroys everything. All of it in one go.

It is not just about Aziraphale choosing heaven over him, it's not about him saying no to running away (Crowley probably saw that coming anyway). What Aziraphale does is he takes them, their us and eliminates it.

Not just is he telling Crowley that he's an evil demon tm who needs to be an angel to be worthy of staying in Aziraphale's life, but "second in command" takes that even further.

Not "ruling together" or "ruling side by side" or any variation of those. No, Aziraphale is telling him that they are not equal and never have been. That Crowley has always been inferior to him and always WILL BE even if he stops being a demon and does what Aziraphale wants.

This is why Crowley no longer things of them as an us after all of that. Aziraphale took every single meaning it had and inverted it, crushed it up, and then threw it away.

Yeah.

Crowley is telling him he is gay and in gay love with him. Aziraphale takes that and says "you can be my employee at gay conversion therapy which i will run #straight besties".

Crowley hears "second in command" and it is the last puzzle piece falling into place. It's the final straw and that is when we get the tear. Before that he was saying we can be together, be an us, just the two of us, you and me. He was referring to them as free equals who don't need heaven or hell, who are happy with everything the way it is. An Aziraphale who loves Crowley no matter what his former occupation might have been.

We could have been us. (I wanted us to be an us)

And Aziraphale's answer to that is there has never been an us and we never will be. i don't love you the way you love me.

Anyway, see y'all on my next angst post or in the tags. Have another devastating screencap to wrap this all up nicely 💚

[peachsukii]

listening to fortnight got me thinking about bakugo and reader having a very brief fling, something that happened in the past during their 20s, but stuck with both of them for years.

i touched you for only a fortnight i touched you, but i touched you

fast forward to living in the same city, the two of you now in your 30s and end up becoming neighbors by happenstance. you're both married to other people since you only talked in shared friend group settings after said fling.

all my mornings are mondays stuck in an endless february

you watch his wife water her flowers in the garden out back while making coffee in the kitchen every goddamn morning. you have no clue why it irks you so much, that the sight of her stupid smile makes you wanna punch her lights out.

occasionally, you run into bakugo at your mailboxes after a long day at work. small talk is the only thing you two can muster - a comment about the weather or harmless compliments about each other's appearance.

"sure rained like hell yesterday."

"nice sweater, your wife buy it for you?"

"god, it's too fucking hot today."

"that dress looks nice on ya."

one night, both of your spouses are away when a storm comes raging through the city. your power goes out, leaving you in the dark because your stupid husband forgot to replace the generator. from your windows, you see bakugo's household has power and decide to hightail it over for some company.

he answers the door with a confused look on his face. "the fuck you doin' in the rain? get in here!"

bakugo makes you a coffee to share with him in the kitchen, bullshitting through the night like you used to do as twenty somethings. it felt natural, your heart soaring as you watched him laugh and retell jokes from the past. when the conversation died down, you blurted out something you didn't plan to vocalize to anyone.

"i think my husband's cheating. sometimes i just wanna kill the bastard."

caught off guard by your admittance, bakugo quirks an eyebrow at you in response. "little extreme, but i'm sure that could be arranged."

"would be cheaper than a damn divorce. that asshole would take everything from me."

he snickers, taking another sip of his coffee. "think my wife's doin' the same. comes home late and shit, never can tell me why."

"how'd we get stuck with this shit luck?" you retort, forcing a laugh from your tightened chest.

"could be worse. we're neighbors, that's fuckin' lucky for me."

i love you...it's ruining my life.

"oh? i'm starting to think that's not a coincidence anymore."

bakugo sets his mug on the countertop, turning to face you while crossing his arms over the broadness of his chest.

"might'a convinced my wife to move here. thought maybe we could be friends again."

"so you bought a fucking house next to me instead of just calling to go to dinner?" you ask mockingly, a smirk on your face as you awaited his bullshit answer.

he shakes his head with a grin of his own. "sure did."

i love you...it's ruining my life.

"how come you never ask or invite me over then? we're literal neighbors, kats."

"pretty sure my wife's scared of ya. plus, i want time with you, not us."

that makes your heart skip a beat.

"hell of a way to say you miss me." you pause before setting your own cup down on the counter. "i'm glad you're here."

"me too."

right as he's approaching you, the front door swings open.

"babe, i'm home!" his wife calls, handful of shopping bags. she sees you standing in the kitchen aside bakugo - you give her a soft wave.

"oh, hi. i didn't expect company tonight."

"her dumbass husband forgot to replace their generator. just helpin' her out."

she gives him a glare, tilting her chin up at him, almost condescendingly, as she assesses his answer.

"how unfortunate. stay as long as you need, i'm gonna go put this away."

and with that, she leaves for their bedroom to unload her shopping haul. once she's out of earshot, you turn to bakugo and chuckle under your breath.

"oh yeah, she hates me."

bakugo rolls his eyes. "let her be miserable, it's her strong suit. come on, let's go take'a look at that generator."

the generator works just fine, you unplugged it before coming over.

you were curious if there was a spark leftover between you two, only to find the fire was not only stoked, but never fully extinguished.

blasty tags; @slayfics @maddietries @queenpiranhadon @starieq ✨

[gotholdladywithadhd]

Unpopular opinion, probably.

So I've read many metas, and thought a lot about it and have come to my own personal conclusion about the final 15.

I'm taking it at face value.

Because it was the most human Crowley and Aziraphale have probably ever been and I think that is at least part of the point. Love makes people stupid and they are navigating a very human thing in very unhuman circumstances, and it's hard enough to do as a human in human circumstances!

I think Aziraphale believed the Metatron about Crowley bc he was expecting the worst when TM mentioned Crowley but instead got the one thing he wanted most (him and Crowley together and safe, not Crowley being an angel. ) Crowley was absolutely the carrot here. (and no I do not think Crowley would have been safe or happy, but that's besides the point.) I can't tell you how many times I've believed patently ridiculous things because I wanted to believe them so badly even though if I was looking at the same situation objectively from an outside POV I would see how ridiculous it was, so I totally get it. This isn't to say I think Azi had a real choice to go to Heaven or not and I think he did understand that as well, but I get the temptation the Metatron threw out to him, I really do.

As for Aziraphale literally saying all the wrong things to try and get Crowley to come with him? Um yeah been there done that too, the nerves take over, the brain shuts off, the mouth goes into autopilot pulling stuff out its ass, and "WITAF did I just say?" happens.

Crowley not taking any of it well and only hearing what he expected to hear (I'm not good enough for you bc I'm a demon and you only really want me if I can be an angel) *and* also being more able to see through heavens bullshit bc he has lived it, and can see it from the outside, *and* all whilst being the most honest and vulnerable he has ever been with Aziraphale in 6,000 plus years (or in fact possibly to anyone, ever. the closest before this admitting he was lonely to Azi during the Job minisode,) *then* hearing what he took to be the same Heaven will save us line from Azi was enough to trigger a massive bout of RSD and a broken heart. Everything was supposed to "vavoom and sorted! " and instead the stupid awning broke and everything went wrong. I think I've said it before that at this point Crowley can't hear anything over the sound of his heart breaking into a million pieces.

That's a whole lot to pack into the brief moments before Azi has to leave with the Metatron (who let's be honest was rushing him before he could change his mind) esp when neither of them are used to discussing their relationship openly. They didn't have time to think, to ask questions, to share information, (like hey guess what really happened to Gabriel?) Crowley tried to communicate as much as he could about his feelings with the kiss but Azi didn't have the time to properly process all that and said the wrong thing again and Crowley was rejected (he thought) again and it all just went so very wrong. You can't fix a 6,000 year relationship in 15 minutes, you just can't no matter what the story books say.

It's about two people wanting the same thing but not being able to get it (yet) because of circumstances and personalities. All of S2 was about them seeming to be closer than ever (and in many ways they were) but really they were opposed at almost every turn. (in RL not the minisodes, those actually showed them working together and coming out okay mostly, if you don't count wee Morag or Crowley getting dragged to hell) The way they both handled the Gabriel situation, how they both worked to solve the mystery, even how they tried to make Nina and Maggie fall in love were all either done alone, or in opposite ways. I've said it before and I'll say it again, as it was pointed out right in ep1, their exactlies aren't the same and until they are, they aren't going to be able to be together. The one time they did work together in the season, they produced a 25 lazuri miracle. That is the point of the final 15, and the whole season 2 in my opinion.

They'll get there in the end though!

[steddiealltheway]

Gareth is sick and tired of Eddie refusing to admit that he has a crush on Steve Harrington.

At first, Gareth had just brushed it off when Eddie seemed so adamant about interrogating Steve and his involvement with his new lost sheep. He had done something similar when he meet Gareth's few middle school friends the year before. But Eddie seems to think that one meeting isn't enough and insists that's why he always needs to rush out to talk to Steve and invade his space when he picks up the kids from Hellfire.

Gareth sees right through it. Eddie had come out to him a while ago saying he was definitely some form of queer after Gareth caught him making out with a guy in the Hideout bathroom. And he was more than okay with it.

But he is not okay with the way Eddie refuses to tell him - his best friend - that he has a crush on Steve.

"Then why do you always go to Family Video during his shifts and not buy anything, huh? Plus, you know that you never call anyone 'big boy.' Yes, I heard that when you were flirting with him after our last Hellfire campaign."

Eddie just rolls his eyes and dramatically flings out his arms. "I'm making sure the kids are safe with him."

Gareth snorts in response to that bullshit, and Eddie gives him an unimpressed look.

"Well, I'm going to Family Video to get a movie for my mom, and I would appreciate-"

"Yeah, I'll give you a ride," Eddie interrupts, looking way too happy to offer.

Gareth sighs but doesn't push it. He really needs to ride, and if the only reason Eddie's offering is to give him an excuse to be there... Gareth will take it and hopefully not be expected to pitch in for gas.

A quick ride over later, Gareth is almost displeased to see Steve behind the counter, eyes lighting up when he sees Eddie. Those two are absolutely ridiculous, and if Eddie would pull his head out of his ass for once, then Gareth could finally tell him that Steve likes him too.

He lets them lean into each other and practically giggle over anything the other has to say until he finds his movie and goes to the counter. That's when he finally notices Robin Buckley there staring at the two with a mix of fondness and irritation. Gareth is sure that he has the same look on his face.

He shoots her a knowing look, and Robin's eyes widen in an expression of hopeless, those two. Gareth gestures between the two and rolls his eyes - absolutely.

Then, they both look at each other in realization. Gareth knows Robin is cool and a bit awkward from their interactions in band classes, but he didn't know that she was that cool. And that she definitely knows about whatever thing is between those two.

Robin levels him with the same look, staring him up and down before finally seeming to settle on that he's cool too and also knows. They both kind of nod at each other in agreement that certain things need to be unspoken, but they absolutely need to rant about the two idiots.

They both start talking at the same time.

"Oh my gosh, I thought it was just me-"

"You have no idea how long I've needed to talk to someo-"

They stop and laugh a bit, both looking toward the boys, but they don't even register the interaction especially since Steve is tucking a strand of hair behind Eddie's ear while Eddie stares at him with heart eyes. Love is gross.

Robin takes Gareth's tape and goes through the process of ringing him up. "It's like they both are oblivious to the other's feelings."

"They are! Eddie won't even admit his feelings to himself, and I've been pushing it," Gareth complains, pinching his nose. He thinks he might feel a tension headache starting to form from those two.

Robin thuds her fingers on the counter in thought then slides Gareth's tape back at him. "Eddie's the jealous type, right?"

Gareth nearly scoffs. Jealous can be a bit of an understatement when it comes to him. "Of course."

Robin gets a grin that kind of scares Gareth to the core. She leans over the counter and whispers, "Then, I need you to flirt with Steve."

His jaw absolutely drops. "No way. Eddie would murder me!"

"And why would he if he has no feelings for him?" Robin asks with a bit of a manic twinkle in her eye that reminds him of Eddie.

Shit, she's right. It's definitely a plan that will work and finally get Eddie to admit how he feels... but also could get Gareth killed and banned from ever talking to Eddie again.

He glances over at the two and notices the way Eddie is blushing and trying to hide behind his hair as Steve stares on proudly. Gareth sighs. "Okay, I'll confront him one more time, and if he doesn't admit it after this little show, then I'll go through with the plan."

Robin sticks her hand across the counter and Gareth shakes on it. "Eddie should come in around six tomorrow during our shift. Come back before then with your tape or something as an excuse and have at it with the dingus here. But, you'll probably only be able to chat with him because I haven't seen him flirt with someone in a while - not since your dingus showed up. That should be enough to set Eddie off though, right?"

"Absolutely."

Robin laughs and loudly says, "Pleasure doing business with you. We hope to see you back at Family Video soon."

This startles Steve and Eddie out of the trance they put each other in, and Gareth watches with full annoyance as Eddie goes all puppy dog eyes as he sadly says goodbye to Steve.

In the parking lot, Gareth says, "You absolutely-"

And Eddie is quick to interrupt him, "Don't have feelings for him!"

Oh yeah. The plan is on.

-:-:-:-:-:-

The next day with only a few minutes to spare before Eddie shows up, Gareth returns with his tape and a pulse that is way too high for his own good. When Robin sees him come through the door, she tells Steve that she's taking her break and shoots Gareth a thumbs up.

God, what has he gotten himself into?

He walks up to the counter and slides the tape across. "Hey, I need to return this."

Steve smiles at him politely but frowns when it doesn't ring up.

"I think Robin didn't ring it up for me yesterday. I don't remember paying," Gareth confesses. This is probably yet another part of Robin's genius plan to force them to have a longer interaction.

Steve looks him up and down for a moment then says, "Hey, I know you. You're Gareth. Eddie talks about you all the time, but I didn't know you knew Robin."

And woah, he did not expect Steve Harrington to know a single thing about him. Honestly, he's a bit flattered and even begins to blush a bit. "Yeah, we've had a few band classes together."

"That's cool. What do you play?" Steve presses on, leaning into the counter not in the flirtatious way he does with Eddie, but Gareth thinks as a means to make him more comfortable.

"Drums in the jazz band," he readily admits.

Steve's eyebrows furrow in thought. "I didn't know Hawkins even had a jazz band. I'll have to come see you play sometime."

"Yeah?" Gareth asks in disbelief and a bit of awe. It's Steve Harrington for Christ's sake. Of course, he's going to get a bit taken aback by the fact that he wants anything to do with him. He feels that damn blush again and barely registers the bell to the door ringing behind him.

"Yeah, man," Steve says with a smile. "Sounds cool as shit."

Someone clears their throat behind them and Gareth jumps a bit. He turns quickly to find Eddie fixing him with a look of hurt mixed with rage at the sight of Gareth leaning toward Steve with a damn blush on his face. He's not into him, but he can definitely admit that Steve just has some type of pull to him. But Eddie definitely does not see it that way.

"Gareth, can I talk to you outside?"

Gareth nods and doesn't utter a sound. Oh, he's going to kill him. He's about to die. He absolutely should not have gone through with this plan.

He wanders outside toward Eddie's van and lets Eddie talk first.

"What the fuck was that in there?" Eddie asks with anger in his tone but hurt in his eyes.

Gareth just shrugs in response and waits for Eddie to finally confess that he has feelings for Steve and he needs to back off.

Only, he doesn't. He just stands there staring at Gareth, and for some reason it pisses him off so he pushes. "Just thought that if you didn't have feelings for him then I could take a shot at him."

Eddie's mouth opens and closes until he finally huffs, "Great for you. You have a better chance anyways so good luck to you."

Eddie flips him off and starts heading to the driver's side of his van, but Gareth runs and gets there first. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

Eddie crosses his arms but keeps a scary tension in his shoulders. "I mean that you're not the town freak, so you can have at him!"

Gareth scoffs and digs a finger into his chest. "That's why you won't admit you have feelings for him! You don't think he likes you!"

Eddie's arms fling wide open. "Of course, he doesn't like me! But I'm not about to cry over some bullshit feelings that will never be returned, so let me just have whatever it is between me and him and not have to put this label on how it makes me feel because I don't want to fucking deal with it! Let me live in sweet ignorance!"

"And that's where you're wrong," someone who is not Gareth says.

"Christ!" both Eddie and Gareth say startling back.

Steve stands in front of them with his arms crossed, but he only stares at Eddie. "What was that about bullshit feelings? Because I don't know about you, but I definitely like you."

Eddie's face flushes a bit red as he steps closer to Steve, unable to stay out of his space whenever he's nearby. "My feelings for you aren't bullshit at all. They're just fucking scary as hell, man."

Steve laughs softly and steps into Eddie's space. "You don't think that I've been scared, too? I would've made a move on you weeks ago if you would've said something."

"Well, I'm saying something now," Eddie says with a big smile.

Gareth really doesn't think he should be witnessing this.

Steve's eyes flicker down to Eddie's lips as he huskily says, "You sure are."

Yeah, Gareth has had enough of this shit. "Hey, guys?" Gareth says, interrupting them and ignoring Eddie's hell of a death glare. "Sorry to ruin your moment, but I'm still here. Plus, you're in a public parking lot."

Eddie still glares at him, but Steve nods. "Thanks, Gareth." He turns back to Eddie. "He's right, but luckily for you, I know of this really nice breakroom that has a door that locks. Plus, I was waiting for you to come so I could take my break."

Eddie's sour look drops from his face, and he practically starts buzzing with excitement. "Let's not waste another moment then."

Gareth is truly happy for them, but he doesn't think he ever wants to hear them interact again. But on their way back, Eddie stops and says something then runs back to Gareth and pulls him into a hug. "I love you, man. Thank you for dealing with me, but if I ever see you flirt at Steve again..."

Gareth pulls away from the hug and shoves Eddie's shoulders. "I wasn't flirting! I was talking to him to make you jealous and finally admit your feelings."

"Then what the hell was that blush!"

"He's like royalty! How else am I supposed to act when I find out he knows my name!"

Eddie takes a moment to really stare at Gareth then he gets a weird smile on his face. "You know, Steve knows this guy named Will..."

Gareth shoves Eddie again to cut him off. "Have fun making out with your boyfriend."

Eddie smiles widely then turns to run back to the store. Gareth smiles and watches as the two loudly laugh when they both try to squeeze through the doorway at the same time.

Then, Gareth looks around and realizes that by having his mom drop him off that he has no ride. He sighs and heads back to the store. Maybe he and Robin can celebrate, and she can tell him more about this Will while he waits...

[bigbawdy-benzz]

*Touches your shoulder* Hey~ what about 42! Miles morales x shy!reader

SUPER SHY

Pairing: Miles42! X Shy! Black Plus size Fem Reader

Summary : Y/N has been infatuated with miles for a hot minute but she's too shy to say anything and to make the first move. She would never think that he knows of her or even notices her until one small incident.

A/N: Miles is any age you want him to be in the fic, New jeans dropped super shy and it goes with this fic perfectly! THANK YOU FOR THE REQ As a recovering shy person you know I had to do my big one with this one ENJOY GUYS!!! Here’s Pt.2

It was a new day at Visions Academy; you blasted Tyler the Creator in your air pods while walking through the hallways. It was soothing to sound out all the noise. You walk into your first class ELA sitting down sighing wanting to go home. You put your head down wanting to get the school day over with. You suddenly hear noises over your headphones. You look to your left, and it was Miles and his friends being loud, you roll your eyes at his friends but keep your eyes on Miles, he looked so fine with his 2 braids you thought to yourself. You didn’t even realize you were staring, Miles looked feeling eyes on him making eye contact with you grinning. You felt your heart drop to your ass, thinking that he wouldn’t even notice you. To you, you thought Miles was kind of out of your league, he was kind of popular, all the girls wanted him, and he was sooooo incredibly fine. It's not that you don’t like yourself; it was just rare seeing him around girls like you that made you feel like getting his attention was impossible but, you always had his attention you just never noticed it. You decided to stop zoning out overthinking and started doing your work occupying yourself. You nod your head to WUSYUNAME by Tyler the Creator finishing your work just in time class was over. You see everyone else packing their things and you do the same leaving the classroom, you see your friends huddled by your locker.

“HEYYY Y/N” your friend Ocean yells out, you take one of your airpods out waving at her walking up to her and your other friend.

“Hey girlies” You said with a smile

“Girl how's it going with you know who?” Your other friend Aaliyah asks

“Horrible, well not really I was staring at him and he grinned at me so you can say it's over” You huff covering your face.

“I meannnn him grinning at you is amazing he noticed you babes” Ocean stated rubbing Y/N’s back

“Yeah it's better than him screwing his face up”. Aaliyah adds while you were putting your things in your locker.

“Yeah lets just get to math before Ms.Nelson gets on our ass and she gets mad yelling at us” You stated with a laugh closing your locker walking to class.

“Oh yeah she might call my mom again on her bullshit” Ocean huffs

“Nah we need to find her a good wig she’ll be nice to us for a good 2 weeks”. Aaliyah announces.

“No fr and set her ass up on a date she needs some dick” You chimed in laughing your ass off.

“YOO yall evil for this shit she needs more like locs she can’t keep that wig shit too high maintenance for her ''. Ocean replies, it was all laughs walking to class until you bump into someone

BOOM!

Your books and their books drop on the floor and you’re incredibly embarrassed scrambling to pick your things up, trying not to crease your Jordans.

“I'm so so sorry” You say picking up their books and yours.

“No it's ok…you don’t have to pick my books up after all I bumped into you” They say catching you off guard recognizing the voice. He bends down helping you pick up the books.

“No I bumped into you it's my fault i'm sorry” Y/N apologies once again

“Stop apologizing, it's okay mamita I just need to watch where I'm going next time”. They say helping you up, the way that ‘mamita’ rolled off their tongue had you weak in the knees.

“Im Miles” He says, giving you a smile, handing you your books.