#but i guess that’s just how things go huh…..

[luveline]

do you think you could do something with zombie au where reader is on her period? thank you!!

thank you for your request! fem, 1k

You’ve gotten your period three times since the apocalypse began. The first time, you and Steve were just beginning to get along, and he’d proved why you trust him as you do, treating the whole thing with kindness. More recently, he’s your unofficial boyfriend. Like, kissing you and holding you, but foregoing the conversation that would make you an official couple. 

Either he doesn’t want to be official (which is fine, it’s not like he’s going anywhere), or you’re official without words. You’ve assumed the latter because the former makes you nauseous. 

Not that you need much help in that department. Your stomach churns like a tide, bouts of sickness and pain that hit you rampantly as you follow Steve downstairs. 

“Can I take my shoes off?” you ask. 

“Why are you asking me? It’s not my house.” Steve descends the last step and holds his hand behind him for you. Seemingly to help you down a step you don’t need help with. 

You’re asking because taking your shoes off means getting comfy for the night, and he doesn’t want to do that at every house you break into.

You don’t explain yourself. You follow Steve into the living room, hoping he’s going to take your hand again. He nudges you with his hip into a mildly dusty couch. 

You sit. “What, are we gonna watch TV?” you joke. 

“You look sickly.” 

That’s not nice. “I do?” you ask, all teasing gone from your tone. You often wish you were much prettier, and occasionally beg fate to drop a bottle of medical grade body wash into your lap, if just to make Steve see you that way. But Steve’s kissed you with a greasy nose and blood on your chin. You were hoping appearances didn’t matter. 

“You look awful,” he says, his eyebrows stitching together as he heads into the kitchen. “Stay sat down!” 

“Awful?” you ask. 

He doubles back, face peeking around the doorway. “Not like that,” he says hurriedly. “Just, sick. I’m gonna cook you something.” 

“I don’t need to be sat down, I’m fine.” 

He disappears again. “That why you’re glaring at me?” he calls, his voice echoing against tile. 

You don’t have the energy for whatever it is that’s happening. You kick your legs out on the couch and begin kneading the swollen mess that is your stomach, debating on telling him why you’re grumpy. It’s not like he cares. He never finds it gross, but you don’t want him to pity you either. It’s just a period. 

(It really sucks.) 

“Alright, the hot plate is on,” he calls. “What do you want, huh? We got the split pea soup, or the chicken casserole?” He laughs. “The casserole, duh. Ten minutes and it’s yours.” 

Your breath rushes out through your nose. Stomach hurts, head hurts, he’s making you dinner and laughing where you can’t see him. You force yourself to get up, shuffling to the kitchen with a pout already in place. 

“Ten minutes is not right,” you say, announcing your movement so he doesn’t stab you. 

“Is too right. How come you never listen?” 

“Steve, please don’t be mean to me, I’m on my period.” You wince as a pang climbs your back. 

“Oh, you are?” 

“Unfortunately.” 

“Well… I’m glad, sort of. Better that then the flu, right?” 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

A couple of weeks ago, he would’ve told you to go back to the couch, and he would’ve brought your food in to you, wrapping a blanket over your legs and leaving you to it. But this is now. Your unwilling protector has gone remarkably soft on you. 

“Is it like last time?” he asks, holding out his arm. 

You drift toward him, pretending it isn’t to be hugged. “It hurts, if that’s what you mean.” 

“It hurts,” he repeats in a murmur as his arm finally curls around your waist. He pulls you into his side.

“You’re pitying me.” 

“You like it,” he jokes, his tone still held in that soft murmuring. 

You close your eyes, driving your nose into his chest. The hot plate gurgles weakly on the stove, using the last of a canister of camping gas, a few days from the end of its life. Your eyelids feel heavy closed, achy not with tears but fatigue, and your head aches with a migraine you know from experience won’t be defeated using tylenol. But Steve hugs you with one arm and leans against you as you press into him. Stuck together. He doesn’t move for ages. 

“I’m glad I don’t get my period,” he says. 

“You act like you do.” 

“Were you not gonna tell me? I guess you don’t have to, but if you’re in pain, I’d like to know.” 

“Don’t need you to feel any more sorry for me.” 

“I don’t. Just like rubbing your back.” 

Your heart skips a beat. That’s as close to a confession of feelings you’ve ever gotten from him. Well, verbally. His sporadic kissing says a lot. 

“Thanks for telling me,” he says. You have to strain your ears to hear him. “I don’t think there’s much iron in chicken casserole. I wish we… How much iron is there in squirrel?” 

“I don’t wanna eat squirrel.” Again. 

“It’s good for you.” 

Doubtful. You turn completely into his touch and hug him. “Please don’t make me eat squirrel.” 

You sound a teeny tiny bit pitiful, and you earn yourself an even better hug than the first. “I won’t, I won’t, I was just kidding,” he promises, “I just figure you need it. Maybe if we look through the medicine cabinet they’ll have some multivitamins or something.” His hand grabs at your side. It’s not a careful touch, though he’s far from spiteful. “You need painkillers, right? I could crush a Vicodin into your casserole.” 

“Yes, please.” 

Steve’s nose presses into the side of your face. You feel close to him in a way that chokes you up, but you don’t need to talk any more. 

“Half a Vicodin,” he deliberates, “and I’ll rub your back.”

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Ace Trappola - Room Relaxation Vignette

"Happy Birthday"

[Exterior Hallway]

Ace: Well, it's gettin' about time. Guess I'll head to basketball practice… Hm? Who's that over there…?

Ace: Yo, Kalim-senpai! How's it going? Hey, hey, do you know what tomorrow is?

Kalim: Tomorrow? Hm, what's going on tomorrow…? Is there a dance competition? Oh, or is there some sort of feast planned?

Ace: Ooh, you're getting' close! The correct answer is… My birthday～!

Kalim: Woah! Tomorrow's your birthday!? That's awesome!!

Ace: Yeah, it's totally awesome! There's gonna be a party back at my dorm, and everyone'll get me a gift. It'll be a blast!

Ace: But, y'know, the crazier the party, the more lonely it feels the day after my birthday…

Ace: I always feel like it'd be great if these sorts of days come around two or three times more a year.

Ace: …Don'tcha think, Kalim-senpai?

Kalim: Oh, yeah, I feel you! It just doesn't feel enough to only have one birthday a year.

Kalim: Hey, I just had a great idea! I'll throw you another party the day after your birthday.

Kalim: That way you won't feel as lonely, right? It sounds super fun, so let me do this for you!

Ace: Ehhhh, you sure!? I'm tickled pink! Kalim-senpai, thanks so much!

Kalim: Yeah! I'll make it the best, most outrageous party you've ever seen, so I hope you look forward to it!

[Kalim leaves]

Ace: Nice, I got Kalim-senpai to celebrate my birthday! And he's making it an outrageously awesome party…

Ace: That might get a veto from Jamil-senpai, though…

Ace: But regardless, I at least secured a promise from Kalim-senpai for a celebration. I can't way for the day after tomorrow～!

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Ace's Room]

Ace: Huuurgh, today's basketball practice was insanely hard… Floyd-senpai just wouldn't quit guarding me!

Ace: Usually he just gets bored and disappears off to who knows where… Ugh, I'm so tired～ I just wanna pass out…

Ace: My roommates sure got it easy. Doesn't sound like they got any upperclassmen that cause problems or nag all the time…

Ace: …Augh, I'm definitely gonna fall asleep if I just keep zoning out. I'm gonna go jump in the shower.

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Ace's Room]

[roommates chatting]

[Roommate A greets Ace]

Ace: I'm baaack. Why did I take so long…? Y'see, Trey-senpai cornered me while I was brushing my teeth in the washroom.

Ace: He made me re-brush my teeth, and then handed me some floss and mouthwash. Then…

「Survey on Quality of Life Improvements for the Student Body」

Ace: Right, so he handed me this survey to fill out too. Ugh, it's short answers! Better if it was multiple choice or something.

Ace: Hey, can't any of you guys fill this out for me? I'm real tired from practice today, 'cause it was reeeal hard.

[Deuce refuses]

Ace: …Do it myself without tryin' to slack off? Fine, fine, guess that's what I shoulda expected from you honor student types. You're takin' it waaay too seriously!

Ace: Maybe I'll just jot down that it sucks to be stuck in a room with guys I don't vibe with, or something.

[Deuce argues]

Ace: …Oh, shut up, I was just kidding. Whatever, I guess I'll just start filling in the form.

Ace: First off… The dorm rooms are way too small! That's the worst thing, so I definitely can't leave that out.

Ace: Sure, we can ask each other to swap dorm duties, or help each other when we can't remember a specific Queen of Hearts' rule…

Ace: So I guess it's not the end of the world that there's four of us in here. But it'd be better if the room was just a bit bigger.

Ace: It's practically impossible to study in here. Sometimes someone else's stuff'll end up in my personal space, too.

[Roommate B speaks up]

Ace: …Huh? Pot, meet kettle? No way, I'm always tiding up after myself…

[Roommate B interjects]

Ace: Eh, you found my pen mixed in with your stuff the other day? Uhhhh…. Oh, dang, look at that, it's lights out time!

Ace: I gotta hit the hay! Mmkay, night!

Ace: Aaand, that's the way to shut them out! This is why I love canopy beds.

Ace: As soon as I draw the curtains closed, I can have secure myself a small, little private space…

Ace: The thicker curtains help to keep light and sound down, so even if I'm playing with my phone all night long, it's not bothering anyone else.

Ace: When I think of it that way, I think the only thing I really have to complain about my room is just that it's small.

Ace: …But once I step outside my room, I gotta deal with strange rules, scary upperclassmen, and insanely hard homework.

Ace: Oh, right, I have homework… I need to do that… But first, I think I'll take a bit of a breather and play on my phone for a bit!

Ace: Ooh, my middle school friends uploaded something onto Magicam. They look like they're havin' fun back in the Queendom.

Ace: I feel crazy jelly seeing that, especially since I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere on Sage's Island… Hm?

Ace: Wait, what's this video at the bottom…? Oh! It's an ad for the magic shop I was looking into the other day!

Ace: Woah, how'd they manage that trick? Yooo, I bet I'd look real cool if I could master that!

Ace: I really want that magic trick. Maybe I should ask for it for my birthday.

Ace: Oh, hey, that next manga chapter is out. I gotta check that out.

Ace: Oh, and there's an event going on in that one mobile game. Guess I can log in for that. Oh, and…

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Ace's Room]

Ace: Urrrgh… Mm… It's too bright… Is it morning already? I guess I fell asleep playing the game.

Ace: What time is it…? Huh!? It's already this late!? Hey, why didn't anyone wake me up!?

Ace: Didn't my alarm wake me? You opened my curtain for me? …If you're gonna do that much, you coulda woken me up!

Ace: At least I don't have morning practice today… But I gotta get ready on the double!

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Washroom]

Ace: My face is washed and my skin-care routine is done.

Ace: Ack, my hair's all over the place! Ughh, c'mon, I hate how my hair is…!

Ace: Maybe I can just fix it with some wax… Oh, but I want to make sure I have time to fix my makeup…

Ace: I got no choice, I should just use magic to set it! I screwed it up last time, but… I can totally do it today! Definitely! Hyah!

[poof!]

Ace: AAAAAAAAHH!? IT GOT EVEN WORSE, THIS SUCKS!!

Ace: What can I even do about this now!? Okay, first, let me try this spray to fix the bedhead!!

[spritz, spritz, spritz]

Ace: Ack, did I spray too much? Okay, I should just be able to rub it in here with my fingers… Guess I'll just have to see how it looks later.

Ace: I gotta set my makeup while I wait for my hair to loosen up. First, I gotta slap on some sunscreen…

Ace: Now, my eyebrows are the priority. I can kinda let everything else be half-done, but this's gotta be on point.

Ace: Back in middle school, I remember we were all laughing our heads off at this one person who did a terrible job drawing in his eyebrows, tryin' to look all fashion-y.

Ace: …I mean, not like I'd ever or will ever make that kind of screw up, though.

Ace: I saw a video yesterday that says that thicker eyebrows are in right now, so I'll just try to follow that tutorial and draw in where it's lacking…

Ace: Okay, nice. Not bad! I think I did pretty good for just trying to copy what I saw.

Ace: Now all I got left is my eye makeup… What should I do for the suit? I'd like to use something with a bit of lamé in it, but…

Ace: I bet the Housewarden'll get all huffy if it's too fancy. Guess I should just do what I normally do.

Ace: How's my hair looking…? Nice, it's tamer now! Probably was a good thing to spray too much on it.

Ace: Just gotta put some hair wax in to set it… Done. Whew, I feel a bit more presentable now.

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Ace's Room]

[roommates chattering]

Ace: I gotta get my stuff together ASAP… Wait, huh? If the rest of you are all here, does that mean we still have a bunch of time?

Ace: Maan, then I coulda worked on my hair a bit more. I think I'll dip into the washroom again… Huh? My enigmatics homework?

Ace: …AAAAAAAAAH!! I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT IT!!

Ace: Oh man, I'm so screwed, Crewel's gonna tan my hide if I don't do anything… What should I do!?

Ace: …Hold the phone. I have enigmatics in the afternoon. That essentially means I'll have my lunch break before I have to turn it in.

Ace: I think the other classes might be ahead of us, so maybe they've already finished the homework already?

Ace: Even if the questions are slightly different, as long as I can figure out how they solved it, I should be able to bang it out… Oh yeah, it's all coming together.

[Roommate A speaks up]

Ace: Wheeew, I got all worked up over nothing～ Mmkay, then I'm heading out… Huh, what is it? You want me to help with your homework?

Ace: Hahahah, no waaaay! Here, I'll open the curtains up for you, so why don't you figure out the rest～?

[Main Street]

Kalim: Oh, there he is. Ace! Good morning!

Ace: Ah, Kalim-senpai! Good morning…? What's up? Isn't the party tomorrow?

Kalim: Yeah! But your birthday's today, right? That's why I thought I'd come wish you a happy birthday in person.

Kalim: So, yeah… Happy Birthday, Ace!

Ace: Haha, you really are the type of guy to show up the day of just to wish someone a happy birthday, huh.

Ace: Thanks a bunch! I can't wait for the epic party tomorrow!

Requested by @thelonepearl.

[meazalykov]

nationality switch

esmee brugts x uswnt!dutch!reader

summary: choosing a national team almost made you drift away from the person you love most

warnings: angst

it’s been a long time since you’ve seen esmee, since that fight—since everything changed. 

you’re sitting in the corner of a cozy café in barcelona, sipping your iced coffee, lost in your thoughts about how things used to be. the only noise around you is the coffee machines brewing or the ovens beeping in the background of your thoughts.

you never expected to see her today. you thought she moved to arsenal in london. a club that she mentioned her interest in. but then again, nothing with esmee ever goes as planned.

the bell above the café door chimes, and you look over at the door on instinct. when you see her, your stomach flips. is that her? you had to do a double take.

it is esmee. her eyes lock on yours instantly, and for a second, it’s like no time has passed. the familiarity, the memories, all come rushing back. you miss her, but the weight of your last conversation—the fight—hangs heavily between you both.

you don’t move. you don’t know if you should, and maybe she doesn’t either, because she hesitates before walking over. you freeze before you see her stop at the counter.

you took a deep breath before she gets her flat white and walks over.

when she finally reaches your table, you see that same spark in her eyes, but there’s something else now. something different.

“hey,” she says, her voice soft, almost tentative, as if she’s afraid of how you’ll respond.

you raise an eyebrow, trying to keep things light. 

“esmee, how did you even find me?”

she offers a small smile, a little suspicious. 

“we never turned off each other’s locations on our phones.”

that breaks the tension for a moment, and you can’t help but laugh. 

it’s such a typical esmee thing to say. well for you, as someone who is the closest to her. she never fails to make a heavy moment become lighter. you shake your head at the absurdity of it all. 

“of course.”

she sits down across from you at the wooden table, and suddenly, the reality of everything hits. you’re both here in barcelona. after all this time, all the distance, somehow, fate—or maybe something else—has pulled you back together. 

it feels like you’re supposed to be here, like you were always meant to end up on the same team again. it hasn't been too long since you were both at psv. your contracts ended at the same time and you had a bad feeling that it would've been your last time together.

it wasn't.

“so…” esmee starts, her fingers fiddling with the edge of the napkin in front of her. “i heard the news.”

you nod slowly. “yeah. barca. i guess it was inevitable, huh?”

“inevitable,” she echoes, her gaze dropping to the table before lifting back to meet yours. 

“we were always supposed to end up here together, it was our dream.”

the silence stretches between you both, and it’s not uncomfortable, but it’s heavy. there’s so much unsaid, and you know it. she knows it. 

the past months have been complicated. after the women’s world cup, after that game against the netherlands where you scored that header, after you told her that you weren't going to represent the netherlands on the senior level, things between you two were…different.

“you were mad,” you say softly, cutting through the silence.

her eyes darken slightly, and she nods, not bothering to deny it. “yeah, i was.”

“because I celebrated my goal?”

“because it felt like you were celebrating more than just a goal,” she admits. 

“it felt like you were celebrating the fact that you chose them over us. over me.”

throwback to july 26th, 2023

it’s the 62nd minute, and the game between the u.s and the netherlands is 0-1. the tension is suffocating—this isn’t just any group stage match. 

it’s a battle between two teams who were in the finals of the last world cup. the netherlands want revenge.

for you, it’s personal. you are dutch and american. your mother was born and raised in eindhoven, while your dad is an american who studied there then met your mother.

while growing up, you considered yourself to be dutch. you never lived in the united states. however, you've wondered what it was like to live over there.

at the age of 8 you met your bestfriend, esmee, at a soccer club. the both of you grew up, joined psv together, and played for the dutch youth teams together.

when your father expressed how he wanted you to chose the uswnt when you reached the senior level, you didn't count him out. the team was the best in the world.

the 2019 world cup solidified your decision to represent your father's side of the family. however, sometimes you think about the other world where you chose the dutch team instead of the americans.

you jog back to your position for a corner kick being taken by rose lavelle, feeling the weight of the moment settle on your shoulders. 

your heart pounds in your chest, and as you glance toward the dutch goal, your eyes flicker briefly to the orange clad figure on the left. esmee. 

she’s looks at you briefly, her expression unreadable. for a split second, it’s like time slows down. you remember the late nights practicing at psv, the laughter, the way she used to tell you that you’d both dominate the world together one day.

now, you’re on opposing sides, thanks to you choosing your other nationality.

the whistle blows. you snap back to the present, focusing on the corner being taken. 

the ball soars through the air, heading toward the front post. you leap, eyes locked on the ball, and your timing is perfect. you rise above the defenders, connecting with the ball in a powerful header that rockets past the dutch goalkeeper.

goal!

for a moment, the world stops. then the noise of the crowd hits you like a wave, and you’re running, arms outstretched in celebration. your teammates swarm around you, shouting, grabbing your jersey, jumping on your back. 

you can hear julie yelling for you and lindsey clapping you on the back with a proud grin. it’s chaos—pure joy, adrenaline, and pride.

but as you slow down, turning back toward midfield, your eyes find esmee again. 

she���s standing there, watching, her expression unreadable at first. in the moment that you look away before turning back, you see it: the hurt. the disbelief. you know it’s not just about the goal. it’s about everything else.

you swallow the lump forming in your throat and try to focus on your teammates still celebrating around you, but esmee’s look is burned into your mind. 

she goes back on the left-back then stands, her hands clenched into fists by her sides, it looks as if she’s frozen. you see her teammates—players you grew up with on youth teams—pat her on the back, but it’s clear she’s not hearing them.

it’s the celebration that did it. you know it. the way you threw your fists in the air, the way you smiled at your teammates like this goal was everything. 

to esmee, it wasn’t just a goal against the netherlands. it was a statement, a reminder that you chose the united states over the netherlands, over her.

as the game resumes, you push the thought to the back of your mind. you have to stay focused. there’s still time left, and the dutch team isn’t going to back down easily. but every time you glance in esmee’s direction, it stings. 

you see the frustration in her movements, the way she presses forward with even more intensity than before. she’s angry—at you, at the situation—and it shows.

the game ends and its tied. the rest of her team is exhausted, but she doesn’t even wait for the usual post-match handshakes and shirt swaps. she walks straight down the tunnel, disappearing from view, and a pit forms in your stomach.

you want to go after her, explain that the celebration wasn’t meant to hurt her. but deep down, you know this moment has been building for a long time. 

the decision to play for the united states on the senior level, the arguments, the silence between you two—it’s all led to this. 

in the locker room, your teammates are quiet, they’re focused on the next match. 

your thoughts are stuck on esmee. you stare down at your phone, wondering if you should text her, try to explain. but what could you say? what could make this better?

back to the barcelona cafe, a month later

you blink, taken aback by the raw honesty in her words. 

you’ve had months to think about it—about what it meant when you chose to play for the uswnt, about how your dad had always pushed you to follow in his footsteps. but you didn’t think esmee would take it this personally.

“esmee, it wasn’t about that,” you say, voice soft, almost pleading.

“you know it wasn’t like that.”

it was your first goal for the national team. it happened to be against your other country, the other country that wanted you to play for them too. 

your mother is dutch, and your father is american– so you had a tough decision to make.

esmee shakes her head, and for a moment, you think she’s going to argue. but then she sighs, leaning back in her chair. 

“i know. but it hurt. i wanted you to play with me and for the oranje. i wanted us to play together, like we always did in eindhoven. and then, when you celebrated after that goal…it felt like you’d forgotten everything we’d had.”

“i didn’t forget. i could never forget,” you say, and it’s the truth. you haven’t forgotten a single moment. 

“but esmee, you know how much my dad wanted this for me.” 

“i know,” she whispers, and there’s pain in her voice. 

“but i wanted you to want the same things i did. i wanted you to choose me.”

her words hit you hard, and for a second, you can’t respond. this is about more than just football, more than just a decision you had to make when choosing a national team. 

it’s about the two of you—about what you’ve meant to each other all these years.

“esmee,” you start, leaning forward, trying to make her understand. “it wasn’t about choosing them over you. you mean everything to me. i-i didn’t even realize—”

“that’s the thing,” she interrupts, her voice trembling slightly. 

“i was upset because i always want to be around you. it was selfish, maybe, but it’s the truth. i thought…i thought i was going to lose you when you chose them. what if you didn’t choose to come to barcelona? what if i didn’t? we wouldn’t see each other anymore..”

you frown, confused. “esmee, you’re never going to lose me. what are you talking about?”

she bites her lip, her eyes searching yours, and suddenly, it’s like all the walls she’s built up come crashing down. her hands stop gripping on her coffe cup and goes to gently hold your right hand instead. 

you froze.

“i’m talking about how i feel about you,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. 

you feel your heart skip a beat, and for some reason, her confession doesn’t surprise you. 

it’s like you always knew, like a part of you had been waiting for her to say it out loud. she’s been your best friend for years, but deep down, maybe you always knew there was something more.

the left-back never made her crush on you a hidden secret. she was never outright, but her actions towards you spoke for itself. 

“es…” you start, but you don’t know what to say. so instead, you reach across the table, gently taking your other hand and holding hers.

she looks at you, her eyes wide and vulnerable, like she’s terrified of what you’ll say next.

“i like you too,” you say softly, your thumb brushing over the back of her hand. 

“i think i always have.”

her eyes widen even more, but there’s a soft smile playing on her lips now. 

“really?”

you nod, giving her a small smile in return. “yeah. really.”

you stand up slowly, moving around the table, and she doesn’t pull away when you lean down and press a soft kiss to her forehead. 

it feels right and natural, like something you should’ve done a long time ago. you wanted to, but you didn't know how she felt about you then.

nobody was present in the cafe instead of the barista who was too focused on making drinks, so you didn’t feel embarrassed to kiss her.

when you pull back, esmee smiling up at you, and for the first time in months, you feel like things between you two might finally be okay.

“so…barcelona, huh?” you say, trying to lighten the mood.

esmee laughs, that familiar sound you’ve missed so much. “yeah. looks like we’re stuck together again.”

you grin, squeezing her hand gently. “good. i wouldn’t want it any other way.”

my masterlist is here if you want to read more!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just One Reason: New at This

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

masterlist - to be added

Summary: A chance encounter at the sandwich shop doesn’t end how you expect.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Lloyd tugs in his ear lobe as you get up to take your empty bowl to the counter. The lone cashier smiles and gives a nervous look past you to the corner. You return to the table and wonder if he has a reputation here. You wouldn't be surprised with his behaviour. 

"Is your ear alright?" You ask as you take the cup of iced tea. 

"Huh?" He turns to you and drops his hand. "Yeah, hearing's f-- off. Just got back from a job and... the machinery was loud." 

"Hm, it could be a busted ear drum. I know someone who had that. He never could hear me but that coulda been the TV too," you shrug. 

"It's fine," he taps his fingers on the table as you stay standing. "So, you headed out?" 

"Yeah, I guess I should. Getting dark." 

"Right," he nods. "Well," he stands and tugs at the bottom of his shirt, shaking off the crumbs. "You need a ride?" 

He zips up his jacket, the collar ending just below his chin. You button up your blue houndstooth coat. "No, I can make it." 

"Wait, you're not walking are you?" He asks as he gathers up the wrapper and napkins. 

"Not too far if I cut behind the barbershop--" 

"Cut behind-- are you serious? You can't be walking down alleys in the dark. Trust me." 

"Oh?" You give him a curious look, "you hang out in dark alleyways a lot?" 

His brow tweaks and his lips twitch, "is that a joke?" 

"Not a very good one," you smile. "I always make it." 

"And this might be the time you don't. Least I can do. You bought me dinner, I feel like I owe you a ride." 

"You don't owe me anything," you assure him. 

"Huh, you're too nice, you know that? You could give a guy the wrong idea." l

"No, I don't think so," you sigh. "Being nice isn't anything but. I hope your enjoyed your dinner." 

"You know what? The chipotle wasn't bad," he says. "So now that's two things. I owe you for paying and for the good advice. What's that you said about paying it forward?" 

Checkmate. Using your own words against you. As it is, you're starting to feel rude for saying no so many times. It would be nice not to have to walk home with your phone light on. 

"Is taking a ride from a strange man better than walking home alone?" You ask, "since you're the expert?" 

"Wow, you can be mean," he snorts. "Reading me like a book." 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m kidding.” 

“I know, tootsie roll,” he says, “sweet like candy, aren’t ya?” 

You smile again, “well, you can be too. I’ll take the ride. Thank you.” 

He dumps the garbage in the bin and heads for the door. He lets you out ahead of him. It’s colder than when you got there. 

“It’s cold as... hell out here,” he says follows you out. He points you ahead, “the white one.” 

He blows into his hands and rubs them together. You’re no fan of the cold either but you can see his nose already turning red. You approach the white car; it’s sleek and shiny. You’re not sure what make it is but it must be expensive. 

The doors click loudly, “should be unlocked.” 

You nod and open the passenger door. You sit daintily, wary of the luxury interior. You shut the door just as carefully as he gets in the other side. He grumbles as he starts the engine and flicks switches. 

“Get those seat warmers on,” he says. “Ah, better.” He puts his palms to the blast of warmth from the vent before he grips the wheel. “Help me out, tootsie roll, where am I going?” 

“Right down to Harbour. East.” 

“Harbour East... you kidding me? You were really going to walk there alone?” He scoffs. 

“It’s not so bad once you get to know the area,” you say.  

“How’d you end up there?” He pulls into a three point turn as he reroutes. 

“I guess it’s just where I am right now. Thing’s changed fast and I had to make it work,” you lean into the seat. You’ve never been in a car with seat warmers. 

“Huh, that’s too bad,” he clucks. “You still looking for a place? I know a guy, owns a few properties...” 

“Oh no, it’s okay,” you hum lightly. “Really. It’s nice. I got my own space, I got food, I’m happy as can be.” 

“Simple things, so I’ve heard,” he mutters. 

You let a lull wash over you. Judging by his car, simple isn’t exactly to his taste. 

“So...” you brush your fingertips over your palm, “what do you do for work? You travel? When you mentioned your ear...” 

“Ah, yeah, er,” he squeezes the wheel tighter and coughs, “you know, I’m on the road when I need to be. Work can be sporadic but pays well enough. Specialty type of work.” 

“With loud machinery...” 

“Military engineer. You know, artillery, tanks... whatever,” he peeks over at you as blows through a four-way. 

“Hey, you missed the stop sign,” you crane to see behind you. 

“It’s fine, no one was crossing,” he says. 

“Yeah but... it’s not safe.” You turn forward again and frown. 

He’s quiet again. He sucks his teeth, “fine, you’re right. Not fair of me to offer you a ride then drive like a maniac. I’ll do better.” 

You let out a breath and subtly grab onto the door. Despite his promises, he doesn’t let off the gas. With how quiet the car is, it must be easy to go over the limit.  

He pulls onto Harbour and finally slows, “so, uh, why don’t you give me a call next time you head down to the shop? We could do it again. I’ll be nice this time.” 

“I don’t go too often but sure, I could use a friend,” you perk up and direct him to your building. 

“You telling me you don’t got friends, tootsie roll?” He stops in front of your apartment. 

“I... did. They’re gone now,” you look away. You try not to get to wistful about it. “Anyway, thanks--” 

“Holy f—moley,” he corrects himself as he leans forward to see around you, “this place can’t be up to code--” 

“Lloyd,” you blurt out. “I’m fine. Really. Home safe. Thanks to you.” 

“Mhm, well, friends are supposed to worry about each other, right?” 

“And as your friend, I’m telling you not to worry,” you smile and pull the handle, “have a good night.” 

He huffs as you undo your seat belt, “yeah, good night.” 

[queenwille]

👏🏽hypocrites👏🏽everywhere👏🏽

80,000 northern israeli civilians (yep, though y’all make damn sure to ignore their existence, they sure are very real. israeli civilians are a thing. shocking, ik) have been displaced ever since october 8th when hezbollah THE TERROR ORGANIZATION decided to join in, but also not really. just a little, but not much. some days more, some days nothing. somedays they just issue threats. in israeli slang it’s called a war of exhaustion. while that was happening and y’all had all of your eyes up your asses, 44, out of them 23 civilians, got killed. yep, between those 23 were the 12 druze kids playing ball on a saturday summer afternoon.

southern lebanese civilians (its under the hezbollah regime, so idk how lebanese it is really), right across the border? they were at their homes this whole year, safeguarding ammo deposits in their homes for hezbollah. today they were advised, both by phone and on a televised message by the IDF, to leave their homes if they wish to save their lives. why were those explosions so massive you ask? if you look at those videos carefully, you can see the missiles going off everywhere after the initial explosion.

yet somehow y’all still give literally zero fucks about simple facts and make up whatever fucking narrative you wish. amazing.

i guess just some mental gymnastics with a dash of antisemitism and you’re good to go, huh?

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for quietellen; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“. . . oh,” Billy says, and blinks at him instead. Huh. “Wow, that is so much more than they charge at the ER. Or even for like, fertility treatments and stuff.” 

What a weird thing for Cadmus to have told Lynn, though. 

Lynn blinks too, looking startled. Billy doesn’t know what was startling about that? Unless maybe Lynn doesn’t really know much about monetary value yet scale-wise, anyway, or like, maybe Cadmus just didn’t explain how stupid health insurance is and all the stuff it doesn’t cover. Or maybe they did and were pricks who don’t know how to vote in their own self-interest about it, which is also maybe a concern, considering. 

Probably he should explain insurance to Lynn later, yeah. And maybe healthcare. Like, obviously the League’ll deal with it if Lynn ever gets sick, because Lynn is Kryptonian and therefore a regular hospital probably couldn’t deal with it if he ever got sick, but also it’s better if he knows that kind of thing. Just like–so he understands, Billy means. Gets where the people he’s saving are coming from, and what kind of stuff they’re dealing with. 

It’s important, getting that kind of thing. 

“I count as a real kid to you,” Lynn says for . . . some reason, his voice stiff, and Billy–blinks, again, and tilts his head. Lynn’s face is back to blank, but even blank-faced, he kind of still looks tense and uncomfortable. Superman doesn’t look like that when his face is–well, no, actually, Superman’s face doesn’t really go blank, does it, Billy realizes. He’s always got something showing, emotionally speaking. 

That’s kinda weird, come to think, because Billy also doesn’t really think of Superman as someone who’s, like, super-open or anything? Like, he shows a lot of emotion and stuff, Billy guesses, but Billy doesn’t really know anything about him. Mostly people don’t, as far as he can tell. 

Also, he can’t really think of all that many times he’s seen Superman showing a negative emotion, now that he is thinking about it. Like, a few times during really bad fights or after some really awful thing Superman clearly blamed himself for, but not like, just day-to-day. Superman doesn’t ever seem to be impatient or cranky or in a bad mood, like, ever. 

That’s . . . weird, yeah. Huh. 

But also, more importantly–

Billy frowns to himself, and then frowns a little deeper and tilts his head a little more. Looks at Lynn and all his tension and discomfort and negative emotions, and . . . 

“You definitely count as a real kid to me,” he promises him again, because he’s probably going to have to promise that a few times before Lynn really believes it anyway, and he’d kinda figured that out already. “You’re my real kid.” 

Those are both probably things Lynn’s worried about, he figures. Being somebody’s real kid, and being a real kid at all.

[gojoidyll]

There is No Law that Emperors Must be Fair

Emperor ! Jing Yuan x Princess ! Reader

Chapter 8 | An Aeon

Summary | You are set to marry the Emperor, Jing Yuan. In order to break the engagement, you stage an accident and fake having amnesia. But now, your own cruel, cold, and distant fiancé, who seemed to not want anything to do with you, is now acting all lovey dovey!

want to be a part of the taglist? then pls go to taglist ^-^

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When you wake up, your mind feels kind of fuzzy. Almost as if you were missing something.

“Something the matter?”

You felt your soul leave your body at the sudden voice causing him to laugh. Snapping your head to the side, you noticed it was the man from before. The one who erased your death- wait, your death? And that was when it hit you. You couldn’t remember how you died or the pain that you felt. It was like-

“It never even happened?”

You gave him a weary look, causing him to chuckle softly at both your expression and how you were acting.

“There is no need to fret, you know? I am not going to hurt you.”

“What- what are you doing here?”

You ended up ignoring his lighthearted words and gestured to the library. You were still on the couch, and the book you were holding had fallen to the floor.

The man mused to himself, his smile light and warm.

“I suppose it was quite rude of me to task you finding my name.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because my name hasn’t existed in the sense that you know of.”

“…I don’t understand.”

Sunday turned a little and patted his lap. Despite not remembering your death, you did remember how you met him. So you crawled to him, moving some of the cushions in your way and laid sideways, your head nuzzled comfortably in his lap which allowed him to run his fingers through your hair once again.

“My name is Sunday, and I existed not too long ago. However, my reign was short lived thanks to that Emperor. And to worsen my pride, he went and erased my very existence by taking out everything that had any relevance to me.”

“Sunday…?”

You let his name roll off your tongue. The name wasn’t familiar.

“So you fought and lost against the Emperor?”

“I did. I suppose I wanted to see if I still existed somewhere. Anywhere. Though, if I don’t even exist in the Emperor’s library, well, then my name wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

“Why did you fight against him?”

“For my own beliefs. Much like everyone else.”

“What exactly are you anyway?”

“I’m just Sunday. An older brother. A friend. A leader of sorts. And someone who failed in the end.”

“How are you here now then?”

Your voice was soft as you spoke and when Sunday looked down at you, you wondered how someone so angelic could look so sad but still have that soft smile on his face.

“I guess you could say I got lucky with how supposedly died… if shorter terms, I became an aeon.”

“An aeon…huh? And what was that kiss you placed on my forehead? Ever since you did it, I have been having trouble remembering some things.”

“A kiss on the forehead erases pain and misery, so I kiss your forehead, however, a kiss on the forehead can also erase memory. I suppose…, I just didn’t want you to remember the pain you felt when you died.”

“Why?”

Sunday smiled at your question, “because I wanted to, do I need any other reason?”

You hummed at his answer, your eyes glancing back to the library door. You don’t remember closing, maybe Blade did?

“So now that I know your name, what am I supposed to do now?”

“Well,” Sunday started, “you still want to go home, don’t you? Find a way to do that.”

“But how? I kind of died the last time I tried.”

Sunday shook his head as he tried to keep himself from laughing, “don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find a way. And don’t worry about the rest. If you do die again, I’ll simply erase everything all over again.”

You nodded to his words, but yawned once more, despite sleeping for so long, you were still so impossibly tired which was when Sunday gently bent down to kiss both of your eyelids.

“A kiss to your eyelids, to erase your tiredness.”

And it was true, the sleep that was beckoning gradually left and just as you were about to say something to him, he was already gone. Your head was no longer on his lap and instead rested on a bunch of cushions, and just as you were about to sit up, the library door opened.

“You’re still lying down,” Blade said, an obvious hint of annoyance rested within his tone causing you to frown at him as you sat up.

“I was getting up,” you argued which caused Blade to roll his eyes.

“Whatever…, are you planning to stay here all day princess?”

Huffing at his attitude, you stood up while completely forgetting about the book you had been reading, “I get it, ok? I’m leaving right now.”

Stomping your way out of the library, Blade followed not so quietly after you.

“Woke up on the wrong side of the couch, did we?”

“Oh shut it you…,” your voice trailed off when your stomping slowly slowed to a stop as you looked out to the field where there were a few people riding horses.

A new idea soon forming in your mind.

“Blade.”

“What?”

“I want to go horseback riding.”

taglist pt 1

@danae-misfortune @frogsasfrogs @openthenyoor01 @zuhaine @ughlostmyotherac @joyfulnightprincess @thechibifoxcub @ceaether @satanisasofties @thetwinkims @yanrandom @honeybunbun @superdonkeypatroleggs @ohmyfinggod @baboon-milk333 @zareri @kclremin @rains-mae @yccoffeesimp @bloomiesty @moon-taffy @superdark-soul @pinkismyfavcolor @isa-l0v3r @its-astrotea-love @reapersan @junephantom21 @erisfayred @greyrain23 @justadekusimp @uzxotic @alisstaa @avalordream @unlivingdisaster @pix-stuff @sleepyxion14 @pillows-blankets @anicega @junni-berry @niaainthere @sorachitsuki @dyingsweetmackerel @rosariymchapter @immahuman @fluffy-koalala @momoniq @orphiclueur @insightedly

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Loved You Then, Love You Now (Jason Todd)

Summary: he's always loved you.

Warnings: fluff

WC: 660ish

Read on AO3!

--

The streets of Gotham were quieter than usual. You and Jason strolled side by side, hands stuffed into your jacket pockets to fend off the evening chill. It had been years since you two were kids, running around the old neighborhood, getting into trouble, and chasing after your dreams. But even now, nothing had really changed between you—well, almost nothing.

"You remember when we used to come here?" you asked, looking up at the park where you and Jason had spent countless afternoons, swinging from the rusted playground equipment and daring each other to climb trees.

Jason smirked, glancing over at the worn metal slide. "Yeah, I used to push you off that slide all the time."

You bumped your shoulder against his playfully. "You were such a brat."

Jason chuckled, the sound deep but soft. "Still am, depending on who you ask."

The two of you walked in silence for a bit, memories floating in the air between you. It was nice, just being with him like this. No Red Hood, no danger—just Jason, the boy you’d grown up with, your best friend.

But lately, things felt... different. You’d catch him looking at you longer than usual, and sometimes, his hand would brush yours like he was about to hold it but thought better of it. The tension between you both had grown unspoken, something unsaid lingering in the air.

Finally, you decided to break the quiet. "Jay," you began, your voice soft, "I've been thinking."

"Uh oh," Jason teased, but there was a seriousness in his eyes as he looked at you. "What's on your mind?"

You stopped walking and turned to face him fully, the weight of the words you were about to say pressing down on you. "Do you ever think about... what we could have been?"

Jason’s expression shifted, a mix of surprise and something unreadable flashing in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," you hesitated, biting your lip, "we’ve been through everything together—school, growing up, even losing you for a bit—" You swallowed the lump in your throat. "I’ve always felt like there’s something more between us, and maybe we’ve just been too scared to admit it."

Jason looked away for a moment, his jaw clenching like he was fighting something back. Then, he turned his piercing blue gaze back to you, his voice lower and gentler than you'd ever heard. "I’ve loved you since we were kids."

Your heart skipped a beat. "What?"

Jason took a step closer, his hand reaching up to gently cup your cheek. "I’ve loved you since we were kids," he repeated, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. "I just never thought I deserved you. Not with everything that’s happened. But I can’t hide it anymore."

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them back, too overwhelmed by the confession to speak. He loved you. He always had.

You let out a soft laugh, almost disbelieving. "Why didn’t you say anything sooner?"

Jason smiled, that crooked, charming grin that never failed to make your heart flutter. "I was waiting for the right moment. But I guess there's no ‘right moment’ in Gotham, huh?"

You shook your head, grinning through the tears threatening to spill. "No, there isn’t."

And then, before either of you could say anything else, Jason leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was sweet, soft, and so full of the love that had been building for years. It felt like coming home.

When you finally pulled away, Jason rested his forehead against yours, a rare, genuine smile on his face. "Always thought I’d have to fight some villain for you," he joked softly. "Turns out, the real battle was just telling you how I feel."

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close. "Well, I’m glad you finally won, Jay."

Jason held you tighter, whispering into your ear, "I’m never letting you go."

-

tags!

EVERYTHING PERM: @nekoannie-chan @kjs-s @notyourtypicalrose @mistressofallthingsgeeky

DCEU PERM TAGS: @other-fandom-reblogs

[cheynovak]

Can you do a fic where the reader Jensen wife likes doing tiktok trends and finally gets him to do one please when you get time that is maybe have were he only does it if she does that thing he likes

Hi! @deanwinchestersgirl8734

I love that request! I happened to be off from work today so I had spare time today! Here it is ❤️ I hope you like it!

Warnings: None, all fluff, maybe little grumpy Jensen, but that's cute.

English is not my first language 

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

'That tiktok-thing'

You sit on the couch, scrolling through your phone as comments flood in on your latest TikTok. There it is again — the same questions you’ve been getting for months.

*“When is Jensen gonna join one of your TikToks?”* *"How is Jensen?"* *"When are we going to see Jensen?"*

You smile to yourself. They always ask. No matter how many times you’ve said he’s not interested in tiktok, the fans just keep pushing for it. And honestly, you can’t blame them. Jensen, your ridiculously handsome husband, would be a hit on TikTok.

Not that you haven’t tried before.

You glance over at him, lounging on the other end of the couch with his eyes glued to the TV. He’s so relaxed, totally in his element, blissfully unaware that you’re scheming again.

"Hey, babe?" you say sweetly, leaning over just enough to catch his attention.

“Hm?” he hums, not even looking up.

“Everyone’s asking when you’re going to make a TikTok with me,” you say, dragging out the words in your best attempt to sound innocent.

Jensen doesn’t even flinch, eyes still fixed on the screen. “Not gonna happen.”

“Oh, come on,” you say, pouting a little, “you already do TikTok trends with your PA. Why not me?”

That gets his attention. His eyebrows shoot up, and he turns to look at you, an incredulous smile tugging at his lips. “She tricks me into doing them. There’s a difference.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Oh, sure, she tricks you. Right. Is that what we’re calling it now?”

"Come on babe, it's your fans that ask for it. Not me, you know... you call them your supernatural family, those people who love you for what, almost twenty years now." You weren't planning on giving up. He smirks and say, "I do plenty of cameos for Mish on socials." You sigh dramatically.

Jensen chuckles, his eyes returning to the TV, clearly thinking the conversation is over. But you're not giving up that easily.

You get up from your spot on the couch and crawl over to him, positioning yourself right in his lap, effectively blocking his view of the TV. He gives you an amused look, his hands instinctively resting on your hips as you settle in.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” he asks, though there’s a teasing lilt in his voice.

“I’m just saying,” you begin, leaning closer until your faces are only inches apart, while your fingers play with his shirt. “I could make it worth your while…”

Jensen raises an eyebrow. “Worth my while, huh? And how exactly do you plan on doing that?”

You grin mischievously, biting your lip before you speak. “I’ll do that thing you like…”

His expression shifts instantly, his eyes widening in surprise, looking at your lips. “T-The thing thing?” he stammers, trying to play it cool but failing miserably.

You nod, giving him an exaggerated wink. “Uh-huh. That thing.”

Jensen swallows hard, glancing from you to the TV behind you, then back again. Trying to act like it was a very hard decision to make. His resolve is clearly crumbling, and you can see the gears turning in his head as he weighs his options.

Finally, with a dramatic sigh, he gives in. “Well… I guess I can be persuaded.”

You let out a small cheer, throwing your arms around his neck. “You won’t regret it!” Jensen smirks, pulling you closer. “Oh, I’m pretty sure I won’t.”

As you lean in to kiss him, you can already imagine the look on your followers’ faces when they finally see Jensen making an appearance in your next TikTok. "I love you!"

Jensen lifts you up and starts making his way towards the bedroom. You make sure your feet touch the ground before you say. "What do you think you're doing."

His thumb point towards the bedroom. With a confused look. You kiss him and pur sweetly "That's payment babe, first the tiktok."

His shoulders drop, his head falls back with a dramatic sigh. "Fine."

All enthusiastic, you grab Jensen’s arm and pull him toward the kitchen, where the lighting is perfect for filming. “Come on, this is going to be fun!” you say, practically bouncing on your feet as you show him the ideas you’ve saved on your phone.

Jensen raises an eyebrow, looking less than convinced. “I’m not doing that,” he says, crossing his arms at the first suggestion.

You sigh, swiping to the next. “Okay, what about this one? Super easy!”

Jensen shakes his head without even blinking. “Nope. Not even that.”

You pout, trying to think of something that might entice him. Then it hits you. “Oh, I get it… Maybe this couple dance?” You scroll to a clip of a romantic dance challenge, but Jensen's eyes go wide with mock horror.

“What?! Are we starring in, Dirty Dancing now? Sweetheart, I’m not Patrick Swayze,” he teases, though the smile on his face betrays him.

You start giggling, imagining it. “You’d look great in the water though. Ooooh maybe you could lift me in the pool?”

Jensen lets out a laugh, shaking his head as if he can’t believe you. “Yeah, that’s exactly what this is missing. Me, soaking wet, attempting a lift. Very graceful.”

After a few more playful back-and-forths, you finally settle on a classic: the “Islands in the Stream” shuffle, inspired by David and Victoria Beckham. It's cute, fun, and simple enough. Plus, it fits the vibe of the two of you perfectly. You’ll start the dance, and Jensen will come in later, pretending it is all natural.

He gives a reluctant sigh. “Alright, fine. But no lifts.”

You grin victoriously, quickly setting up the phone to capture the perfect angle. With the music queued, you start dancing, following the rhythm, moving effortlessly through the routine. At first, you think Jensen might back out last minute, but to your surprise, he steps into frame exactly when he’s supposed to, nailing the timing.

And then, out of nowhere, he starts singing along.

“Islands in the stream, that is what we are…”

You nearly mess up the next step because you’re trying not to look head over heels when he sings, but his voice is so smooth, and he’s actually getting into it. He flashes you a playful grin, clearly enjoying the moment, even though he’d never admit it.

By the end of the dance, Jensen even improvised, he turns you and pulls you close, wrapping his arms around your waist. Before you can even react, he dips his head and captures your lips in a soft, lingering kiss — the perfect romantic finale.

You hear the TikTok music fade, signaling the end of the clip, but the two of you stay there for a moment longer.

When you finally pull back, Jensen looks down at you with that signature smirk of his. “See? Not so bad, was it?” You smile up at him, your heart doing little flips.

“Nope. Totally worth it.” he murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, “that thing you promised better be worth it too.”

You laugh, leaning into his chest as the phone chimes, notifying you that the TikTok is ready for editing. “Oh, it will be.”

As you check the footage, you realize it’s even better than you imagined. And Jensen? Well, let’s just say the fans are going to lose their minds.

But he takes your phones out of your hands and place it on the kitchen counter, "Now..." he said while walking you back towards the bedroom.

"... making love to each other ah-ha..." he singles softly under his breath. And all you could do was follow along.

He deserved... that thing.

--

Please like, share or comment when you liked the story. If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

Tag list:-> If you want to be added let me know what you like to read! If anyone feels like you're tagged too much, also let me know please. :)

@yvonneeeee @kr804573 @nancymcl@suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @globetrotter28 @jackles010378 @hobby27

@winchesterwild78 @deans-baby-momma @soab1967 @livingdeadblondequeen @ladysparkles78 @whimsyfinny

[blazeeblake]

Unsettling

Inspired by this post. I wrote this late at night, zoning out on cold medicine while attempting to recover from a booster shot, so I can’t vouch for the quality 😅:

Dinner had been going great as far as Buck could tell. He and Tommy were still in the figuring it out stage of things, but a meal with Chim and Maddie felt like a step in the right direction; at least, up until the moment his sister unsuspectingly guided the conversation into a minefield.

“So, Tommy,” she began between bites of salad, “I have to say, I was really surprised when my brother told me about your date — not so much in terms of the pronouns of it all, but because the way he told it, you were way more focused on Eddie when you two met.”

Tommy shrugged, pushing around the remainders of his own plate, “Course correction’s a skill you hone when you’re tangling with baby gays— not that I’m sure Eddie even counts in that department. At this rate he’s essentially embryonic. Like, indefinitely.” Maddie cocked her head to the side, whatever follow up she may have had fading away into a loaded silence that descended over the room.

“H-huh,” Chimney chuckled unevenly, “well, uh, I don’t want to speak for anyone that’s not here but I’m pretty sure—“

“Wait,” Buck interrupted, brows knitting together, “You were trying to date Eddie?”

“Uh, yeah,” Tommy replied, as if it was painfully obvious, “At least, until I realized where things stood with him, and then I—

“Course corrected?” Buck finished, “With me. Your second choice.”

“Oh, like I’m not your second choice. Seriously, Evan, don’t be dramatic.”

“Maddie, honey,” Chimney broke in, rising out of his seat, “why don’t we go get dessert ready?”

“Ready?” Maddie repeated, eyes darting between her brother and his date, “It’s already—“

“What are you talking about?” Buck pressed, far too preoccupied with his burgeoning confusion to notice Chimney coaxing his quietly protesting sister out of the room.

Tommy rolled his eyes, pointedly setting his fork down, “Oh come on. Eddie’s on a special level of oblivious— and I mean, no surprise there, Catholicism builds its closets nice and sturdy— but you can’t expect me to believe you’re just as clueless, Mr. Trying to get my attention by pulling another boy’s pigtails.”

“Wha— No,” Buck sputtered, his breath hitching strangely and tripping him up, “Th-that wasn’t about Eddie. He’s not even— and even if he was, we’re not… I mean, we wouldn’t.”

“Right, because you’re scared it would burst the little bubble you two live in where you can have your cake and call it normal friendship,” Tommy concluded, his tone once again gratingly matter of fact, “Face it. A relationship with Eddie is heavy lifting from any angle, so we both opted out for each other, no harm, no foul.” Buck blinked, momentarily stunned into silence as his mind tried and failed to construct a solid counter to the conclusion Tommy had all but thrown in his face. All of it made sense, perhaps more sense than the raw foundations of yet another relationship built on someone else’s initiative and his own need to reach for any degree of being wanted, no matter how scant. The truth of it all stung and made his heart beat faster than he could stand, but at the same time there was something freeing in all that chaos.

“He’s not,” Buck managed softly.

“Gay?” Tommy replied, “Right, and Elton John just needs to meet the right girl.”

Buck shook his head, “No, I mean, he’s not heavy lifting or whatever you said. If you think that, you don’t know him at all— a-and maybe you don’t know me either if you think I’d feel that way.”

“Ev—“

“It’s Buck. And if all of this was settling then I guess you were right the first time: I’m not ready.” Tommy eyed him for a beat before sighing and pushing his chair back from the table.

“At least you’re consistent,” he said as he stood and began making his way to the front door, “A little slow on the draw but still miles more self aware than your buddy. I’d say good luck pulling him out of Narnia, but I’m not gonna hold my breath.” Buck didn’t respond, instead opting to drop his gaze to the floor and let his racing thoughts drown out his surroundings until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m guessing you heard all that?” He asked.

“Sorry,” Maddie said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze, “The acoustics down here are pretty unforgiving, privacy-wise.

“Sorry I ruined dinner,” he muttered.

“Technically,” Maddie reasoned, “I started it, so—-“

“I vote we blame no Buckley or Hans ,” Chimney said, dropping into the seat Tommy had vacated, “and we call this a win because screw that guy. I’m all for second chances but that dude’s practically on his fourth and he just keeps blowing it.”

“What am i supposed to do now?” Buck asked, turning to look up at his sister.

Maddie offered him a small, tight-lipped smile, “it’s like I said before: whatever you need to do, you’ll do it in your own time.”

“Right, but what if I screw it all up? He’s going through so much right now already and I don’t want to be one more thing he has to deal with.”

“I mean, maybe him going through things is the silver lining, you know? He’s figuring out his future and there’s room for you to work out where—not if— you fit in all of that. Because, for what it’s worth, I can’t picture a scenario where you two don’t figure it out. I can’t promise it’ll go the way you want it to, but I think you owe it to each other to talk.”

Chimney nodded, “As a daily witness to you guys being… well, you, I second that. And who knows? Maybe it all does work out. You communicate instead of fighting in a supermarket or shoving each other on a basketball court, and before you know it, you’re up close and personal with that glorious mustache of his.”

“Oh, Howie,” Maddie scoffed, “that mustache is definitely just a phase. One that maybe proves my point, but a phase nonetheless.”

“You bite your tongue. It’s beautiful and here to stay.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is there something you need to tell Eddie? Or, his facial hair?”

For the second time that evening, Buck let the conversation fade into the background of his thoughts; or rather, the one thought that all the rest had melded into.

He loved Eddie—was in love with Eddie— and as terrifying as it was, the truth of it loomed too large to be reburied or ignored. He didn’t know if time and talking were the remedies his family made them out to be, but if there was any chance at all in them, he was stubborn enough to find out. The way he saw it, he’d practically been holding his breath all this time without knowing anyway, so what was a little while longer if it meant Eddie at the finish line? Unlike a certain helicopter pilot, Buck had the stamina not to settle.

[cakerybakery]

Lucifer groaned still mostly asleep. A tiny fist was digging their tiny claws into his lip. He wretched his head away and tried to turn but his arm was trapped under a much heavier body than his son and his tail was wrapped around a thick thigh.

He opened his eyes a little. It was still the middle of the night and it took his eyes a minute to adjust. Over their newly hatched son’s head he spotted Adam.

It took Lucifer a few ticks to remember. Their son had been colicky. The two of them paced back and forth, taking turns until just past midnight.

When he finally settled down Lucifer had just laid him between them on Adam’s bed and passed out.

They still had yet to name the little fellow. Adam had been too busy with his victory dance when he hatched.

“A son! I fucking told you. These nuts produce boys!”

“Point of order, Adam. You have exactly one more son than you did daughters, he was the tie breaker. And two, your nuts were not involved in this process. They were born like all heaven-borns. Some of my blood, some of your blood, and a magic spell.”

That didn’t stop Adam from being happy he was right and they had a prince of purgatory. Lucifer that thought for sure they had a little princess.

Another little hand grabbed at him, the baby curled into his chest.

It was going to be weird having Adam around but he was working from home and commuting to heaven once a week after his very generous parental leave from his heavenly duties was up in another two years. Adam coming to live in hell until the baby was grown and ready to take over ruling purgatory was the only option.

Adam wasn’t about to do altering weeks. He refused to miss any of the baby milestones. And Lucifer couldn’t go to heaven. So for the next twenty odd years Adam would be living in his guest room.

Lucifer snuggled the baby with his free arm.

He gave the boy a kiss on his crown. And his tiny halo glowed.

In the dim light Lucifer smiled at Adam over their boy’s head. It was cute how he was cuddling their son. Arms wrapped about him and keeping him safe.

Lucifer laid back down to go back to sleep.

Wait. That wasn’t right.

He poked his head back up. He looked at the baby in his arms. And he looked at the baby in Adam’s arms.

“Son of a bitch! They’re twins!”

He startled Adam awake.

“Huh? What? What’s going on? Lucifer?” Adam squinted up at him. “What are you yelling about?”

“Ugh. Twins! They’re fucking twins.” Lucifer rolled onto his back and rubbed at his forehead as he groaned. “No wonder he was colicky. He was trying to divide.”

“What twins? Who’s twins? Were you dreaming?” He could hear Adam sitting up.

Lucifer pulled his freed arm away and gestured between them. “Count the babies.”

“Uhh? Suuure? One… two… Two? TWO! The fuck?!? Where did the second baby come from??”

“Same place all heaven-born twins do. The baby hatched and divided. Usually it’s right away. The record for taking the longest was Michael and I. Twelve hours.” Lucifer grabbed the clock and looked. “But I think they just beat that. They were about twelve hours old when we got him to sleep. It’s four am now. So sometime in the last four hours he divided.”

“Guess I’m two up for sons, then.” Adam groaned, trying to make a joke despite everything.

Lucifer checked the diaper of the one he was cuddling. “Looks like a tie again. But I’m two to one now. If he’s still a he. Things get tricky during a divide. A boy dividing into two girls isn’t unusual.”

Adam checked his baby. “Tie.”

“Oh fuck!” Lucifer cursed.

“What?”

“This mean double the fucking paperwork.”

“Oh fuck!”

[finalvortex]

Completely overanalysing Shadow Generations: Dark Beginnings Episode 1

The opening is a deliberate parallel to the scene leading into Maria's death (images taken here from Shadow '05, although this scene is also in SA2). If you're paying attention you can immediately tell it's a fakeout, though: there's no alarm blaring, the lighting is blue rather than red, and Maria is pulling Shadow along instead of the other way around.

It's the aurora borealis. You can only see them from certain latitudes down there, but up here, we can see the whole...

Maria's a nerd.

Shadow is immediately prepared to catch Maria when she collapses.

The low gravity here only keeps your condition in remission. You should know better than to exert yourself.

This is new information I think? I don't think this makes scientific sense but I guess it provides a justification for why Maria is up here aboard the ARK beyond 'that's where the research is being done'. Only, the ARK was a space colony, there were other civilians aboard it as well, like the future GUN commander.

I can't wait for the day when we can finally return. I was created here. I don't know if there's a place for me on Earth.

I just wanted to highlight this exchange as significant to Shadow's overall character arc across his history, being one where he has carved out a place for himself on earth.

Love the way Maria comforts shadow here.

You and grandfather are doing your best. I'm just as happy to spend time with you here, while you both research-

I think this is just awkward wording, but surely Shadow isn't doing any researching?

My boyyyy

Hull breach in the experimental weapons wing! Multiple subjects are free of containment!

Multiple subjects? Given the events of Lost Impact, things are just escaping from here all the time, huh.

Here's the entries on this incident from Gerald's journal in Sonic Battle:

The higher ups are threatening to shut down this research facility. I had no choice but to hand them the Gizoid to buy more time for my research. I tried to be careful and commanded it to never absorb any dangerous technologies. However, I have heard that other researchers have been making the Gizoid absorb weapons. Apparently, the way to cause the Gizoid to form a new "Link" is to show it power that surpasses that of its former master. While this poses immense danger, I cannot risk losing Maria.

My worst fears have come true. The Gizoid has absorbed enough weaponry and technology that it has started to go out of control. The resulting rampage resulted in the destruction of most of the "Ark." ... I have deciphered the rest of the stone tablet. It says, "When the Gizoid had learned all that it could, it became a god of wrath, and all was destroyed." The researchers somehow managed to subdue the Gizoid and sealed it away.

That robot was heading towards Grandfather's lab! Shadow, you have to save him!

Why was Emerl - uh, well, I guess Project Gizoid at this point - headed directly for Gerald? If he was overloaded with power, like at the end of Sonic Battle, he should just be destroying things indiscriminately, right? So... was this a deliberate ploy by GUN to get rid of Gerald?

Maria grabbing Shadow's hand breaks the illusion briefly and triggers a trauma-induced flashback (forward?) to the GUN soldier shooting her. Compare with the actual scene from Shadow '05:

Again, why is Emerl specifically targeting Gerald here?

Not much to say about the fight scene aside from the fact that it's really well animated, and it happens with no background music to emphasize the weight of the blows being thrown. It's also really cool how Emerl copies Shadow's spin attack - you don't need to know how the Gizoid functions for that to be a cool visual, but it's a nice nod if you do.

Ok this is really confusing me. Is there any mention of GUN having a space fleet anywhere? Where did these things come from? They don't even share the same aesthetic as other GUN vehicles, they look more like the Egg Fleet.

Nice look at Shadow's Air Shoes from below the glass floor.

Next Shadow lands into Gerald's cell on Prison Island, which raises the question: why is this in Shadow's memories? Is this just his memory of the recording from SA2? Or was Shadow not put on ice until after Gerald's execution? We know it wasn't immediately after the ARK was destroyed, since he was around long enough for Gerald to alter his memories.

There is a bit of static distortion here, with an analog effect that implies it might just be the video.

On the other hand, we actually get these very brief flashes of Gerald's execution here, which we don't see in SA2 itself.

The professor gets farther and farther away from Shadow. He can no longer reach him.

Shadow then falls into a red sky, with bits of debris floating all around him, reflecting the final battle against Devil Doom in Shadow '05.

Interestingly, this scene is mixing imagery from both Gerald and Maria's deaths. The image of the GUN soldiers is the firing line that killed Gerald, and the sound of the lightning turns into automatic gunfire, as opposed to the single pistol shot that killed Maria.

Finally, Shadow falls into the giant face and outstretched hands of Black Doom.

Waking up from his nightmare in a panic, Shadow uses that damn fourth chaos emerald* to Chaos Spear this unfortunate tree.

*Okay, the fourth chaos emerald was the white one.

The moon looks so good.

Shadow stands in a field surrounded by lilies, a flower which can be used to symbolise purity as well as death, and is a flower commonly used at funerals. In particular, they are often placed on the graves of children.

That was no mere nightmare. And it all began in view of the ARK. Could he have survived? No, that can't be. I need answers.

Shadow seems to think the sight of the ARK is what triggered this nightmare. I think the only 'he' that makes sense here is Black Doom, since Gerald and Emerl are both pretty definitively dead.

Based on the trailer, I think from here Shadow is going to collect Team Dark to raid an Eggman base so they can obtain a rocket to get up to the ARK.

The song that plays over the credits is a remix of Throw it All Away. I have no idea why it shows footage of the biolizard fight, beyond "this is the Sonic Adventure 2 focused episode".

[porcelainseashore]

Coffee & Secrets (5)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Rookie Cop! Leon x Barista! Fem! Reader

Summary: As a cozy coffee shop owner in Raccoon City, you’re no stranger to visitors seeking comfort, quiet, and warmth. When a rookie officer named Leon finds a kindred spirit in you, it sets in motion a chain of events that forever changes the course of your lives. An alternate universe set in Resident Evil 2 Remake and inspired by the game Coffee Talk.

Content & Warnings: Canon divergence, coffee shops, romance, slow burn, strangers to lovers, idiots in love, fluff, slice of life, swearing

Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to @pickonerain! You've been an absolute star to me and seeing as you love Sherry, here's her little addition to the story 😇

AO3 Link

Chapter 5: Divergence

It was not like Claire and Leon to hide from you, but somehow they had ended up right at the other end of the room, far away from the counter, out of sight. They seemed deep in conversation, their expressions grim, and Leon was gripping his porcelain cup so tight you were afraid it would shatter to bits in his hand.

Curiosity—or rather, nosiness—got the better of you, and you scooted closer to the couple, pretending to sweep the area so you could listen in more easily.

“This was why you wanted to meet me, Claire?”

“Isn’t it important enough? I don’t get why you’re being so defensive!”

“I thought you wanted to catch up over coffee, not use me for one of your schemes!”

“Use you? Are you even listening to yourself? How does bringing down that son of a bitch count as ‘using you’?

“Chief Irons probably had a good reason, and all these rumors—”

“Rumors? There’s cold, hard evidence! We just need that one missing piece—”

“No! Forget it.”

“What?”

“I’m not getting involved.”

“So, this is it, huh? You go your way, and I go mine?”

“I…”

“I’m embarrassed I even called you a friend.”

Kicking out her chair, Claire threw down a couple of bills on the table before storming out in a fit of rage, slamming the front door behind her. 

Before you could even react, Leon had beaten you to it. “Don’t look at me like that,” he chided, though he had ducked his face away, red with shame. “I know you heard everything. You weren’t exactly being very stealthy.”

“That was never really my strong suit,” you admitted. “Mind if I join you?”

“Be my guest,” he said, motioning to the seat beside him, still unable to look you in the eye.

Spying his half-finished drink on the table, now cold, you resisted the urge to get up and fix it, knowing there were other things he needed more in that moment. So, you continued to sit with him, and even though you did not exchange any words, you breathed together, content with sharing in each other’s company until he was ready to speak.

“Do you think I’m naive?”

“No, why do you ask?”

“Maybe I’m scared that I am,” he confessed, his voice small and tired. “What if I’m wrong? What if Claire’s wrong?”

Cradling his cheek in your hand, you caressed it softly. He didn’t protest, but leaned in indulgently, nuzzling his nose against your palm like a deer. Then, something clicked internally and he broke away, straightening up in his seat as though he had not just given in to his desires a moment ago. However, this time, his face was angled towards you, waiting.

“What does your gut feeling say?” you put forward. “I’d trust that.”

He hesitated, taking a deep breath as he stared off into the distance, gathering his thoughts. “A snake oil salesman—that’s one way of putting it.”

“Chief Irons,” he clarified. “Whenever I get close to something nasty, he throws me off scent.”

Another hunter—a more seasoned one, you observed.

“I guess you have your answer.”

He collapsed into the backrest of the armchair and exhaled, as though a large weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “I’ll figure it out,” he stated, mostly to himself.

“I know you will,” you said encouragingly.

He had chosen the more difficult path, but at least he had made peace with it and was no longer in denial about Chief Irons’ deception. That was definitely a step in the right direction.

“Thanks, that means a lot to me.”

Once again, there was a comfortable silence between the two of you. It felt nice like this, as though your very thoughts and beings were connected.

“I want to know more about you,” he professed out of the blue. “But somehow, you always manage to steer the conversation back to me.”

You gulped, fiddling with your hands. “What do you wanna know?”

“Everything,” he murmured. “Your backstory, your favorite color, what do you do outside of work…” he trailed off.

“I’m not used to talking about myself,” you spelled out.

He grinned cheekily, as if the battle had already been won. “Don’t worry, I’m a good listener.”

And so, you yielded to him, letting things unfold as they should. Hours passed while you shared tales and secrets over cups of spiced tea with sweet milk. The flavors of cardamom, cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg swirled around your tongue, bringing to mind the warm, inviting breeze of a coastal town near the Red Sea.

“There’s many names for it,” you explained, circling the rim of the cup with your finger lazily. “But I know it as Shai Adeni.”

Leon nestled his chin in his hand, propping his elbow on the table as he gazed at you, captivated. “Incredible.”

“Hmm?” You were not sure if he had registered what you had just said.

Reaching out, he cupped the back of your neck, pulling you close. His heated breath moist against your flushed skin, and the scent of his cologne was dizzying. “You’re—”

The door chime jingled.

Both of you jolted, separating yourselves away from each other in a flash, as your eyes fell upon a little girl standing shyly by the entrance. She was dressed in a school uniform, her hair neatly swept back with a headband into a braided bun.

“Hey there,” you greeted, brushing your hands against your apron as you stood up, shuffling past Leon towards her. “Would you like something to drink?”

At this, she nodded enthusiastically, following you to the counter to grab a seat. As you infused white chocolate into milk with a good dollop of citrus, you exchanged looks with Leon, who held the same concerns as you.

Sliding over another high chair adjacent to hers, he gently opened with, “Hey, I’m Leon. You got a name, pumpkin?”

She wrinkled her nose and grimaced at the nickname. “Sherry,” she replied timidly.

“Nice to meet you, Sherry,” Leon said, shaking hands before he continued, “So, it’s really late, huh? Do your parents know where you are?”

She twiddled her thumbs, swinging her dangling legs back and forth on the chair. “They don’t care,” she said finally. “They’re busy.”

“What do your parents do?”

“They work at Umbrella. They’re making important new medicine,” she revealed proudly.

“Sounds like a tough job,” Leon empathized.

After sprinkling the glittery icing sugar on her drink, you set it before her with a flourish. “Voilà, your Yuzu Meringue, Miss Sherry.”

She giggled at your performance and slurped down the foamy surface. “Mmm!”

“Good, huh?” Leon gave her a side smile.

“Tell you what, Sherry,” you began, “when you finish your drink, my friend Leon here will take you home, okay?”

Her nose was dusted with powder and the cup was still covering half of her face as her eyes darted towards the man.

“He’s a good cop, you’ll be safe with him,” you reassured her. 

Scribbling down your shop’s telephone number on a piece of scrap paper, you handed it to her. “Keep this, you can call me anytime you need to.”

Taking it, she pursed her lips and nodded reluctantly as she stuffed it away into her pocket. “Can I—” she paused, “can I come here whenever I want? You and Leon are nice.”

A pang of loneliness hit you. You sensed it from the tone of her voice and what was left unsaid. It didn’t seem like she had many friends and you wondered about it.

“Please?” she begged, interrupting your thoughts.

“Of course, sweetheart,” you said warmly. “You’re welcome here anytime.”

“Thank you!” she squealed, running over to give you a quick hug before taking Leon by the hand.

Turning to you, a rosy hue spread across his face as he smiled meekly. “So… uh, I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“See you tomorrow, as usual, Leon.”

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[wings-of-ink]

i looked at your ask guidelines and figured i’d ask for the 3 ro we have so far (oswin,zahn,and duri), but how would they act if in a group setting, mc was asked who their favorite is, and mc said their name?? (love your writing to the moon and back 💖💖💖)

Awe, thank you Anon! I'm so glad you enjoy it! This is a very cute question, and I feel like shenanigans could break out...

Let's set the scene for this too. Say, the gang is on their travels and sitting around the fire at night. They're eating and chatting and the mood is good - things are going well. Pretty sure ??? has been observing everyone's interactions, and he's the one that asks the million dollar question - let the (cute) chaos begin....

Oswin:

Oswin immediately chokes on his drink - the water invades his lungs and he coughs hard. He's spilled it as well, soaking his tunic from the neck down. The others stare and Duri is snickering uncontrollably.

"Me!?" Oswin yelps in between hacking coughs. He looks to the others. For what, he does not know.

MC smiles and nods. "Well, yeah - you. If I had to pick one of you as my favorite, it's you. Always."

Oswin knows his ears are going red - he can feel the heat already. He can hardly fathom why he'd be the favorite. He's been so...

"Grumpy," MC says.

"Huh?"

"I said, you're my favorite even when you're grumpy." They smile at him.

Oswin smiles back, and he thinks he feels the prick of tears at the corner of his eyes - no doubt from choking earlier... "Well, you're my favorite too..." he says quietly.

??? snorts, breaking the tender moment as Rune shoots him a glare. "Well, duh - as if you haven't made it obvious."

Oswin grips the hilt of his sword.

Zahn:

A zing of energy immediately races through Zahn as they hop up from their seat. "Me!?"

MC laughs. "Yeah - you."

Zahn doesn't remember ever being a favorite before. What does that mean now? Are they best friends? ...Are they more now? Could they be? They have so many questions and so many thoughts. "So what now?" Zahn asks.

MC shrugs. "What do you mean?"

"If I'm your favorite, do I get a prize or anything? Oh! Should we have a ceremony - a feast or something - to celebrate."

Oswin scoffs. "Hey now, you're not uniting in marriage, and this isn't a competition anyway."

??? snickers. "Says the guy that lost."

Oswin glowers.

Everyone can practically hear Rune roll their eyes. "Can you two just let them be and enjoy their moment? I'll separate you again if I have to."

Zahn ignores the others and plops next to MC, pushing Duri out of the way after a brief struggle. They smile big at MC, their heart racing in wonder and gratitude. They wonder if MC would allow a little peck on their cheek...

Duri:

Duri snorts ungracefully and begins to cackle.

Rune raises a hand and lightly slaps Duri's upper arm. "Duri'naan," they say in a harsh whisper.

MC looks around at the others wondering what was so funny.

Duri looks up and sees everyone looking at them with equal parts curiosity and pity. "What?"

"Why did you laugh?" MC asks, looking a bit hurt.

Eyes shifting around from MC to ??? and back to MC, Duri fidgets. "That...was a joke right? You're pulling my leg..."

They shake their head. "No, genuinely - if I had to choose - it's you."

Duri looks back at ??? who wears a sly smile. "Is this...are you messing with me right now? Both of you? I guess I win and I should whisk you away or something then?" Duri laughs again, the sound is strained.

??? lays back on his perch. "No little wolf - no one is tricking you - not this time."

Duri meets MC's eyes as they begin to nervously pick at their fingernails. "Um...thank you. Sorry I laughed..."

MC approaches Duri with a soft smile, gently grabbing their hands to stop them from hurting their fingers. "It's okay."

[matrixbearer2024]

I know it's probably shitpost but imagine Ford and his triplets dressing as the different Doctors from Doctor Who- like- it would be so fucking cute- and yes all of them are actually Doctors, they all have PhDs. Literally just imagine them binging the Dr. Who series, somebody's gonna call out some science shit and another is gonna go full theorist like the paranormal and cryptic hunters they all are.

Seriously just imagine seeing Ford one day not wearing a turtleneck, instead sporting a dress shirt(still high-collar no shaz) and a vest, not to mention he's wearing the black trench coat that he came out of the portal with. Man looks like he's about to go to a party in the 20s so you had to stop him and ask why.

"Hun, what are you doing?"

"I'm just passing through-"

Stanford wanted to laugh because of how cutely the confusion rested on your face. Granted, you probably wouldn't have realized who he was dressing up as since his wardrobe wasn't too distinctly different from the character he was referencing.

"Ford? Darling? Are you okay?"

"Nooo- I'm inside a Dalek!"

That reference hit you immediately and Ford couldn't help but start laughing at your befuddled expression. You just shook your head at the man amused as he leaned against the wall in a fit of giggles like the adorable nerd he is. Married to geekazoid with six fingers but hell yeah he was cute. It was an initial worry that your husband wouldn't properly assimilate into how earth is now, but it seems like he's taken well to bits and bobs of media.

Especially Doctor Who.

You wondered which of the kids decided it would be a great idea to introduce the show to him. Dipper was likely, but so were the chaotic triplets.

"Alright, so which Doctor are you supposed to be?"

"The twelfth! I found his character quite interesting and humorous, as well as oddly relatable compared to the other reincarnations."

You couldn't say that wasn't expected, but you definitely didn't predict what was gonna happen next. Not when your eldest son was frozen in the doorway sporting suspenders and a bowtie. Seems like it you found the culprit and it wasn't just your anomaly loving partner dressing up today.

"So... I guess the both of you are going to go cryptid hunting like this?"

"You say that as if it's a bad thing, but honestly ma– it's the best thing there is!"

You shook your head again as the two men laughed. As if that was the end of that chaos, soon after your other two children made an appearance.

"Alexander Euler Pines are you wearing a suit??"

"I mean, what else would I be wearing ma?"

You elbowed Ford when he started snickering, who really was the one who orchestrated all this? Seriously?? Not to mention- you weren't invited! How rude!

"Okay- so who are you supposed to be?"

"Well, that's the question isn't it?"

You facepalmed, causing the three men to just erupt once again in laughter. You looked over at your only daughter and she finally gestured to the other three and explained.

"10, 11, 12, and I'm 13."

"Huh, that explains the printed tee and white coat. Anything else I should know about?"

It was finally your turn to laugh when the lot of them suddenly whipped out the iconic screwdrivers, each of them buzzing with a high-pitched whir. Somehow you felt like it was safe to assume that they actually did have some functionality and it would be safer not to ask.

A family of doctors! Thank goodness nobody owned a TARDIS!

All of them did plan on going hunting like that though, something like a funny little family excursion. Ford offered that you join them but you figured it would be a great time as any for him to reconnect with the three so you declined.

"Stay safe you rascals!"

"We will!"

You smiled at them and waved before Stanford kissed the top of your head prior to exiting the shack to follow his triplets. As if today hadn't already been full of surprises.

"We'll be back in time for dinner, love you!"

And like that he was out the door. You couldn't help the warmth that bloomed in your chest watching the four of them scurry off into the forest to cause who knows what kind of chaos. You didn't mind or worry however, you knew that they'd all be fine.

Genius and oddity are apparently hereditary- and in this family, being ordinary is overrated/j

[ohtobemare]

UNTIL WE FALL

summary: DP&W AU. It's been God knows how many years after Logan's death in North Dakota—or maybe not? And really, this wouldn't be much of a story without a shiny new villain with a hot new plan, or someone to save the world. Well, maybe two someones. Ok, you win, three. But first, you have track down that said someone—the Wolverine. And who better to do that than the girl who found him the first time? Logan/OC.

pairings: Logan/worst!Wolverine x fem!OC

warnings: age gap, very, very alternative universe; pre-existing relationship that hasn't been written yet (based on the upcoming series, Mare & the Wolverine), fluff and angst, language, PG-13 spicy stuff, religion, violence (lots and lots of violence, this is Deadpool we're talking about), no experience writing DP or Wolvie but oh well, a bunch of other stuff we won't get into, plus size OC, a different way of approaching mutants, yes this is a self-insert leave me ALONE.

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It's Called an Intro, Mothereffers

Hi, welcome to the fuc–I mean freak, show. Don't want to blow the whole damn budget on the first 2.5 seconds of page time, right? Critics, good God–they're the worst. One sentence in and they'll judge the whole effin' book, hook line and sinker without even getting to the plot. Frickin' internet has made everyone a literary genius. Not.

ANYWAY—you're probably wondering what the eff I'm doing in the middle of this shitshow, huh? A story that isn't mine, hell—a story that isn't even technically written yet. That's a Fox thing. Or an MCU thing. Or a….thing, I guess? Dunno, this habit of timelines and then redoing and undoing them like a nun unbuckling a priests robes in a spittin' hurry after church is getting old—nobody really knows what the heck is going on. But, that's showbiz, right?

Rabbit trail, sorry. Frickin' brain. Anyway, yes–here. Ahem.

Well, really, we've got ourselves a Code Redpool (see what I did there?) with this one—someone trying to take over the world, rattle some cages, all that jazz. And if you didn't already know, such sticky little cumsucking messes requires a little bit more than a mercenary with a mouth. We already know I can't—don't—save the world. Despite what the box office may lend. It's above my paygrade, my hero tier. This rated R mothereffer hasn't gotten there yet, not on his own. Maybe another million or fifty.

Could be different this go around, though. Who effin' knows. All I know is that to save a world, to make a story, you need a couple of things—a smashin' budget, a whole helluva lot of copyright law, and a hero. An "anchor being," because Marvel has to be frickin' special. Sometimes two when the situation is Redpool, like it is. Maybe three, because I'll be EFFED if I'm not part of this one. Earnin' my stripes, going all Tony the Tiger and shit. You know the drill.

To help me out, I need the big guy. Yeah. Not talking about Jesus, though it could be argued He's a factor, here. Very non denominational, very off script, very demure. Think more…yellow. Feral, as it were. Canadian. Yeah, dumbass—we need the Wolverine. The guy with the forks, the mutton chops from the 70s that were definitely a…choice. Logan. Yeah, him. Mr. Feral Forest Weasel himself.

And we'll probably need someone who can help us get to Logan, since he wouldn't know me from fresh effin' ADAM. If you saw Logan, you'll understand. Though it didn't happen exactly that way, because this is an AU—that fanfiction shit, you know. Sigh. We need someone who's tamed the beast, has clawed under all that adamantium and seen the hero where a trainwreck of a multiple-movies-gone-bad guy has stood.

A girl, genius. We need a girl. And lucky for you, delightful little fourth-wallians, I've got just the one.

Buckle up, mothereffer's—shit's about to get Wolverine-d.

▹ Somewhere in the Past, North Dakota (in other words the prologue)

tags: @just-a-silly-howlett-lover