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boopjuice · 1 day ago

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They all break their rules. Within about 6 weeks.

Wes, obviously, meets Red Robin and charms him with his word vomit. He's also charmed by Red Robin because damn, that suit does wonders for him, and because Red Robin is intentionally flirting at the adorable idiot he just saved.

Next is Tuck. They haven't been able to find the book in the private library but they know Tim has the book. They know because Tucker found signs of hidden doors. And, well, they really need to get Danny back in Amity Park, so he figures Sam will forgive him for a little hacking.

Que then using Wes to distract Tim, who gets an alert halfway through the conversation that someone's hacking into his home security system to try and gain access to his Nest. And unfortunately, he can't find a way to excuse himself to defend his own system.

Tuck gets to duke it out with Oracle. He loses, and hightails it back to where they were staying. With the laptop he was just hacking with.

That Oracle is definitely tracking now.

Then Danny. Sam find out about Tuck breaking his rule and goes on a very long rant before they realize the laptop Tuck was using? Yeah, that's probably compromised. Good thing it didn't have any personal information on it, we'll just leave it here and go find another spot to stay!

Cut to four teens dragging luggage behind them in the middle of Gotham, all trying to find a place to stay. They looks like tourists. They look like easy targets.

So a gang jumps them, and while none of the team are slouches in a fight, there's just too many to reasonably take on. So Danny, while Sam is screaming about "Not you too!", becomes Phantom just long enough to knock out and tie up the gang.

Sam gives him the biggest earful when he's done. AND they still need to find a hotel while they look for another apartment.

The Bats are searching. They find the first apartment, trace it back to the teens, and are now actively hunting them down because why are four teens trying to hack into the Bat systems?

They manage to track them back to their hotel, which was pretty hard with Tucker covering their tracks, but not impossible. They find them right as Ivy decides to attack this block because it was originally contracted to be a green space for the city for at least another 50 years, but someone did some shady shit and broke the contract.

Sam? Is so tired. Wes broke his rule. Tucker broke his rule. Even Danny, who was the one to suggest having rules in the first place, broke his rule. AND HE'D COME UP WITH THAT ONE!

So Sam figures it's about time that she gets to break her rule too.

And in the middle of a fight between Poison Ivy, Batman, Red Hood, Red Robin, and Orphan, Sam Manson marches out onto the battlefield and rips Ivy a new one. What good is she doing, harming innocent people and reducing the amount of places they could stay? Fixing the coral reefs would have significantly more positive impact on the world, so would fighting deforestation, which seems much more up Ivy's alley. But no, she's actively harming her cause by destroying people's lives, in the process making activism harder for other people, like Sam, who also want a greener planet.

Ivy tries to attack Sam, but she's Undergrowth's student. That's not about to happen. The plants can like Ivy all they want for her ties with the Green, they aren't going to attack someone personally tied to the Grey (I saw a head canon somewhere that instead of Sam being associated with plants, she should be associated with the Grey, which feeds into decay and reintroducing nutrients through that decay and I'm sticking with it).

Once the fight is over and the dust settles, all four Bats corner the teens, ignoring the stars in their eyes, because they really need to know why four high school juniors decided to try and break into their systems.

To which Tucker says, very helpfully, "We weren't? We just needed to get into Tim Drake's private library so we could find a ritual to help our friend."

The Bats have many, many more questions.

DCxDP Fic idea: What's the Rule again?

It starts with Wes Weston accidentally banishing Danny from his haunt. He didn't mean to, and he panicked along side Sam and Tucker when Danny was effectively evicted Danny from Amity Park.

See the four have become tight-knited friends every since the trio started talking to Wes back during the summer between freshman and sophomore year.

During that time, Wes's other friends had drifted apart once Wes' attention moved from basketball to ghosts- specifically Phantom. Danny had felt at fault that he was left a loner because of his secret identity and had invited Wes to sit with them at the Nasty Burger the second week of Summer break.

Wes was suprise to find out that Sam, Tucker and Danny were much better friends then the ones he hanged out with since third grade. He was used to people only speaking to him in class or the few times they hang out on breaks but the trio would message him about every single thought or meme they had. They could laugh togther until tears fell from thier eyes and they couldn't breath over the silliest of topics.

Wes also found out that the trio was supportive of all their interests. Sure, his old teammates and friends didn't make fun of him for crocheting or painting, but they wouldn't accompany him to an art market. Nor would they actually wear the scarves and gloves he made them.

They sure as hell didn't volunteer to help him run a booth to sell his own crocheting pieces after encouraging him to get a table. And they wouldn't cheer loudly when he made his first sale.

Wes also wouldn't have happily gone with them to an observatory, a Dark Poem Night, or even a tech expo. But he found that he had the time of his life watching Danny, Sam, and Tucker nerd out at the events much as much as he did at his own.

He also never had anyone he knew would be down to do him favors or even take notes for him when he was out sick.

So he became close friends with them, passing sophomore year with far more enjoyment than any other grade, then Junior year came and went just as fast and as fun. It was their last summer as high school students, so Wes wanted to do as many new activities as the four could together before Senior year.

Who knew what would happen to their little group after graduation? He wants to think they would all remain best friends but he's heard so many stories of people drifting apart that Wes was afraid of risking it.

That's why he researched urban myths and legends around the world regarding ghosts- more then any research paper he's ever done- and jokingly asked Danny to partake in some of them as a halfa.

They joked and laughed- throwing salt in a circle around Danny, lighting a candle for him to use Morse code with- but it wasn't until Wes got to the one where he tried smoking Danny out with a banishing spell he found in an old book that things turned from funny to horrible.

It worked

Danny was flung from his haunt- effectively banishing him from the area he was haunting. Dann just happens to be haunting all of Amity Park, so he ends up on the outskirts of town, unable to cross the invisible line.

Wes practically choked on his tears as he apologized for Danny not being able to cross back in, but the other three quickly informed him that they, too, took part in it, and it was no one's fault. Danny just had to find a way to reverse the banishing spell.

The only problem was that the book pages Wes found online were only on the banish spell itself and nothing else. He couldn't even find the whole book since it belonged in a private family library.

The family library was located in the most dangerous city in America. Gotham.

The library also belongs to a very wealthy family that had recently all but perished except for their lone heir- Timothy Drake.

Now Wes attempted to contact Timothy Drake in hopes of having the other teenager send him copies of the book, but he never got a reply. He thinks it was due to not explaining why he needed the book and ending up sounding like a bot or a scam.

With each passing day of Drake not responding Danny's situation grew worse. Jazz luckily covered for them, claiming to have signed Danny up for some camp so his parents wouldn't think he was missing.

That would only work until school started, which was a time limit that was weighing on all their shoulders as they tried to find a counterspell.

Jazz, Tucker, Sam, and Wes each took turns driving out of town to bring him food and a change of clothes so Danny could figure out his situation, having to do it in shifts to not alert any of their parents.

However, without his haunt to pick up natural exoplasm, Danny was growing weaker and weaker by the day, looking half stave out in the little motel room Sam rented for him as they tried to get him back into the town.

Danny needed to either make his way back to his haunt or go somewhere that was so infected with ectoplasm that it actually felt cursed.

Tucker found the solution to all their problems with a few hacking skills that he learned to fight off Technus' invasive attempts of his personal tech.

"A full ride to Gotham Academy?" Wes' mom gasped staring at the acceptance letter her son eagerly showed her. "With a promised full ride to any university in America?!"

"Yeah, Tucker, Sam, Danny, and I all got accepted for our work on clean energy generators. We sent it in for the Wayne scholarship, and we won! The only thing is that it's a requirement to graduate from high school in Gotham. I have to go!" Wes gasped, eyeing both his dad's and Kyle's doubtful frowns. He couldn't afford for them to say no when Tucker had worked so hard to bump them up as Winners. Bruce Wayne's computer security is no joke. "This is the once in a life time opportunity!"

"But where would you live?" His dad asks, shaking the letter. "Wes, this is clear across states, and it only covers school expenses."

"Sam's parents bought her a house. She's going to rent us some of the extra rooms." It was a lie; her parents would never let four boys- especially these boys- rent from their daughter. She told them that the school provided co-dorm rooms "I can get a job at the local library- I already sent them my resume and got a call for a interview."

"What will you do for food?" Kyle asks. "We both know you can't cook."

"I can't, but Danny does. He's amazing in the kitchen."

Here, his parents share a loaded look. "So you'll be living with the Fenton boy....."

"Well. Yeah? I already said that?" He returns, confused, and Kuule coughs to cover a laugh. Confused he stares at his older brother, who quirks a grin at him.

"Don't worry about it." Kyle laughs, but his wiggling eyebrows tell Wes he should worry a lot about it. He would inisit a little more to find out what Kyle knew, but he needed to convince his parents more.

Eventually, after five days of attempting, Wes got their permission and could tell his friends, who all shared the same results. The remainder of the summer is spent preparing for their move- finding the house, getting it furnished, packing their things, transferring schools- it's a lot, and he's never been so grateful for Sam's wealth.

She hires people to get it all done for her-including hiring a trailer to take their four cars-, so he only has to worry about his packing. The four meet up at the airport on the day they live, flying first class thanks to Sam's grandmother.

Tearful goodbyes and good luck from their families leave them all a bit down but they board the plane and take off without too much trouble.

While on the plane, Sam turns to the boys. "Does everyone remember the phases of the plan?"

"Phase one: Blend into Gotham until we find Timothy Drake" Tucker states, pushing up his glasses

"Phase two: Get Drake to invite us over to his house and find the book," Danny tacks on, tapping his foot on the ground.

"Phase three: Find all the pieces for the counterspell- usually scattered around the magical family's ancestral home- and get Danny home!" Wes shouts, raising a fist in the air.

Sam nods, looking satisfied. "And what are we not allowed to do? Danny?"

"Become a vigilante when my ectoplasm is on a limited intake" Danny grumbles, sinking into his chair. "Let it to the Bats and keep my head low."

"Good. Tucker?"

"I'm not allowed to hack into anything because it can gain the attention of the Bats or Mr.Wayne, and then we'll be on a wanted list" Tucker sighs "No matter how much fun it would be to battle it out with the legendary Oracle."

"That's right. I'm not allowed to go anywhere near Poison Ivy no matter how much I want to yell at her to go fix the coal riffs and cut down forests instead of wasting her powers on the stupid heist." Same all but bites, and then she turns her attention to Wes, who startles.

"Wes?"

"Wait, I have a rule?"

"Course, man," Tucker laughs. "We all have rules."

"But I'm not interesrted in anything in Gotham besides the Drake grimoire!"

"Wes," Danny says gently, his soft baby blue eyes making him a little hot under the collar as they stare into his soul. "You're not allowed to fall in love with any of the Bats."

Wes mind blanks, then reboots, "Excuse me!?"

"We know you had a crush on all of us here Wes and Val" Sam laughs when he turns wide eyes at her. "It's cute but you really shouldn't try for the Bats. They're the violent sort"

"What?!"

"Yeah, you have a type, and it's a hero or hero adjacent." Tucker shrugs "It's cool."

Wes can only gape at them, no matter how much he tries to convince them; otherwise, the three refuse to remove his rule. He is highly offended by it.

Yes, he's never really gone out with Team Phantom, just because when he joined the group, most of Danny's rouges were long gone leaving behind the tiny ones that he could handle on his own, but he wasn't into heroes!

And okay- maybe, maybe at one point or another he may have had slight crushes on his friends but they were quick and gone before the first school year together!

So the rule is utterly ridiculous!

At least, he thinks so until five days later when he's trying to find his way around the new neighborhood and gets caught up in a mugging. He could have quickly taken the mugger- humans had nothing on ghosts- but he attempted to talk the young adult out of it when Red Robin swooped in like a knight in shining armor.

He may have just stared at the hero's tight-skin outfit instead of letting the hero know that he could handle it, and he may have made a fool of himself when Red Robin asked if he was right.

"Yeah tots fine" He babbles. Ugh, who says tots?! He wants to stop talking but when Wes gets nervous he tends to just word vomit and he could hear himself doing it now. "You know who else is fine?"

Red Robbin raises a brow, likely knowing the pickup line. Cowering, Wes changes the answer in a panic. "Timothy Drake!"

Red Robin stills. "Come again?"

"Timothy Drake, a boy in my class! He's fine that you think he was part siren or something. You've seen him, right? I mean you have eyes!" He repeats with a squeal "I want to get into his private liberty!"

"Do you?" Red Robin tilts his head, a slight smirk forming on his mouth. "You should try flirting with him then. Maybe he can give you a tour."

"Oh, I want more than a tour!"

Why did he say that?!

At least the hero in front of him laughs until a shout has them both looking away.

Danny is running down the street screaming his name, thank the Ancients. When Wes turns around to wave at him, Red Robin vanishes without a sound or trace.

Like a ghost.

Oh no, that's hot.

"Danny, I broke the rule"

"For Ancient's sake, it hasn't even been a month."

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #Wes figures out Tim is a Bird after that because he's a conspiracy theorist #Team Phantom believes him because he figured out Danny didn't he?#for anyone wondering who was excited about who:#Tuck was excited about Batman (the capabilities of the Bats systems are legendary and Tuck knows he designed them at first #he's got a million and one questions for the Bat after he's done getting interrogated)#Wes was excited about Red Robin (for reasons stated above about Wes being a hopeless bi disaster)#Sam was excited about Orphan (because she thinks she's super badass and she thinks of her as a goth icon)#And Danny is excited about Red Hood (because he can tell Hood's almost like him but not quite and Hood's also got a Protection Obsession #Also Danny thinks he's hot)

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kkayyerr · 2 days ago

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Collar me.

Summary: You had always struggled with trying to find out where you actually belong, because Pogues never felt like an actual family to you. Until one day Rafe Cameron decided to show you just how exactly it feels to be someone’s belonging.

Pairing: Dark!Rafe Cameron x Pogue!puppy!reader.

Warnings: NSFW, Kidnapping, dub-con, weapons, swearing, degradation, humiliation, pet-play, orgasm denial, fingering, Dom!Rafe, Sub!Reader, slight dacryphillia, ownership.

Words count: 2,2 k

You knew that the Pogue’s lifestyle wasn’t for you since the first day you had joined them. Of course there was something exciting about all those trips and adventures, but somehow you felt lonely even in the large group of people. They had given you love and support and tried to make you get used to their lifestyle, but it still wasn’t enough for you.

You still had a feeling that you didn’t belong with them.

That you don’t belong anywhere at all.

You wanted something else; you wanted a quiet life under someone’s protection. Sometimes you just wanted to give control into someone else’s hands.

Sometimes you just wanted to be controlled.

Of course you could never admit that, though. For Pogues, it sounded like hell, like something they would never expect to hear from you or each other. So you kept your mask on, trying to forget about those peaceful life dreams. How could your life even become peaceful when even a night at the open-air cinema had turned into pure chaos?

You were standing by, looking at how Kooks suddenly started to outnumber your friends. It started with only Rafe and Topper, but the others showed up also. You knew that you shouldn’t have dived into their conflict, but you just couldn’t stay there and watch your friends getting severely beat up by a group of assholes.

You approached them and stood right between your friends and Kooks. All of them were breathing hard, preparing for another round. You quickly jumped right onto Rafe, kicking him in the chest, not harming but definitely getting his attention and winning some time for the Pogues.

„So you’re not going to hit me? What a gentleman.”

You knew that your behavior was going to ruffle his feathers, and you were doing that on purpose. The idea of pushing his buttons was somehow exiting to you, even though you couldn’t explain why. In the pale moonlight, you saw his face. You noticed that his expression wasn’t angry nor annoyed, no.

He was smiling.

That smirk sent chills down your spine; something about him was off.

„I have a lot of better ideas.”

Right after he said that, you heard a couple of gunshots right behind you. You quickly turned around, trying to find out who had the gun in their hands, but the last thing that you saw was Pogues running away for their lives, clearly leaving you behind. At that point, you didn’t even care who had the gun; you just wanted to burst in tears there and then.

Just a second later, you felt hit on the head from behind. Not hard enough to traumatize you, but clearly hard enough to knock you out.

The whole world turned black as your body felt down to the ground.

…

„Where am I?”

It was the first thought that popped up in your head as you woke up in the strange place that obviously wasn’t your bed. You were completely naked, your whole body was sore, and you felt a little dizziness when you tried to stand up, so you just laid back. You also felt something on your face, but you couldn’t tell what exactly that was until you touched it with your hands. You quickly stood up, as the loud gasp of shook almost escaped from your mouth when you realized what exactly that was.

It was a muzzle.

Muzzle was covering half of your face, so you could've spoken but still would feel yourself uncomfortable enough. The one who did this to you didn’t want to gag you; they wanted to torment you using some twisted methods. You start exploring your body, looking for at least something, like bruises, cuts, or the least hand marks. But there was nothing. Your body was clear, and for some reasons it made you even more anxious. Because if nobody had touched or hurt you before, they most definitely were waiting for you to wake up. They might want you to actually feel the pain.

You started to spin your head around, trying to find something that would give you answers to all the questions in your mind. The room was empty; there was nothing. Only one window. You felt almost sick in your stomach as the view started to look very familiar.

You were in Tannyhill.

Your knees got weak, and you fell to the floor, covering your mouth with your hand. Slowly, memories started to kick in. Fight, gunshots, pogues leaving you behind—you're getting knocked out.

The puzzle was finally pieced together.

„You look way better without those Pogue clothes, you know?”

You almost jumped as you heard those voices behind you. Of course, you knew who was standing there. You slowly turned around; your face expressed pure hatred and anger towards the person who did this to you. Rafe Cameron was standing a few steps away from you; his face relaxed at first, but then his lips tugged into a small smile as he saw your face in the muzzle. He definitely was proud of what he had done.

„I decided to keep you around instead of killing you. I figured I could use you. At least for my entertainment.”

He stated, completely ignoring your warning gaze, filled with rage. You twisted your knuckles, trying to manage your emotions, but you failed, as you saw that little grin on his face that almost made your blood boil. The next moment you quickly approached him, wanted to attack him, and protected yourself at least somehow. Prove him that he was wrong.

Suddenly, you froze.

„Try something stupid again, and I will show you just exactly what happens to wild animals.”

He pressed the gun upon your head, just a moment before you could’ve actually done something to him. The hatred in your eyes now had turned into the fear. You didn’t expect that he would still have a gun with him, but you were so obviously wrong. He had the gun, and he definitely had you in his hands. He had you under control.

„Don’t make me put a shock collar on you, puppy.”

Your lips twitched in disgust when the word „puppy” came out of his mouth. Sadly, there was nothing you could’ve done about the way he was treating you right now, and you fully acknowledged that. You slowly looked up, your gaze met his, and your skin was covered in shivers once again when you realized that there was no guilt in his eyes.

He most definitely was a psychopath.

And you most definitely were turned on.

„I am not an animal, Rafe. You can’t do this!”

Your words only made him smirk. Of course he understood that you were a human being, even if you were a Pogue, but who said that human beings can’t become good pets? Rafe never liked animals, but he had certainly liked control and would definitely like taming a pogue. After all, you didn’t seem like a typical Pogue to him; something in you was different.

„Well, your friends dumped you, so now it seems like you’re going to be my lapdog.”

He finally took the gun away from your head, but he was still holding it, just in case you’ll think about doing something stupid once again. He was really regretting not tying you up in the first place.

„And if you’re lucky, I’ll throw you a bone and give you a little pet on the head.”

You hated yourself so much for the fact that you were getting wet from his dirty words. Part of you, the one that had some self-respect, wanted to slap him across the face and watch how his smug expression would slowly disappear. But the other part didn’t want him to stop at all.

„I will never be your little puppy, Rafe.”

You said, trying to keep your voice stern, even though your body had already weakened just from all the nasty thoughts that had filled up your little head. Fuck, isn’t that exactly what you wanted? He sighed, not impressed by your little attitude. After all, you were a pogue. A stubborn little girl without manners.

„It’s sad, you know? I thought that we were about to have our first playtime.”

You raised your eyebrows, obviously intrigued by his words. Mostly, you wanted to find out what he had meant by the word „playtime," even though you already had a lot of ideas in your head. While you were thinking, Rafe slowly put the gun on the nightstand and carefully inserted his hand into the pocket of his black trousers, searching for something. You were also invested in what he was doing. It was very interesting for you to find out what he was looking for. And when he finally found it, your eyes widened. He was holding a pink, beautiful collar in his hand that said „R.C.”.

„I won’t be wearing that.”

Rafe approached you, still holding the collar in front of your face, teasing you. He saw that glimpse in your eyes. You wanted to wear that little thing; you wanted to wear that so badly, but you were way too embarrassed to even think about admitting that and way too shy to say it out loud.

„Oh no, you’ll have to beg me to let you wear that. Being Cameron’s property is a big responsibility.”

You shook your head in disbelief. He was an idiot if he thought that you would actually ask, nor beg for something as humiliating as that. Of course, you wouldn’t, at least not right now. Even if you wanted too. Deep down, you also wanted to see how far he could’ve pushed you before your mask would finally slip off.

„I think my friends will come for me anytime soon, so if I were you, I would quit those games.”

His eyes darkened for a quick moment, which surprised you because you didn’t know that he would take that childish threat seriously.

Your own face expression changed from slightly smug to confused when you felt his hands around your waist, tugging you closer to him. The next second he turned you around and roughly pushed you towards the wall, practicality pinning you against it.

His hand quickly spread your legs without any pressure. To your own surprise, you didn’t even try to stop him; you didn’t even want him either. He leaned closer to your ear; his fingers now were teasing your outer lips, while your cunt was practically begging for his attention.

„I bet you’ll come faster than your friends would, puppy.”

You were almost dripping wet. When his fingers finally dive in and almost immediately hit a spot, you let out a whimper, which then became a whole symphony of your moans as you arched your back from the torturous pleasure. It felt too good to be something bad or shameful. Rafe started to circle your clit, still not giving it enough attention for you to cum, but just enough for you to be on the edge, scratching the wall with your nails.

„Please”

Rafe chuckled at your plea, giving your clitter a little pitch and watching you squirm and muffle something; that would’ve most definitely come out as the loud scream. He just kept on teasing you, knowing that you would’ve cum in two seconds if he only touched your clitoral area properly.

„I’m going to...”

Rafe suddenly stopped, not pulling out his fingers but also not making any moves. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, making you tilt back your head. He wasn’t done with you yet, and he wanted to teach you some manners. Rafe wanted to make sure that his pet would be on her best behavior.

„I’ll let you cum if you say something for me, deal?”

You automatically nodded, feeling how his fingers begin to play with your clitter again, this time softer, which somehow was even worse than his previous rough actions.

„You have to ask me to collar you, puppy.”

Your eyes widened at his words, even though you weren’t that surprised. You knew that he would pull something like that, because he always fucking did. Your knees got weaker, and your whole body started to shake as you felt that you were actually so close to finally cupping.

„C’mon”

Rafe taunt, his fingers getting rougher, teasing your clit and your inner walls, dangerously close to making it impossible for you to hold it in. Tears of overstimulation flashed down your cheeks as you finally felt ready to say those words out loud.

„Collar me, Rafe.”

Just a small touch on your clit was more than enough for you to finally reach your breaking point. Moans of pleasure mixed with sobbings of embarrassment came out of your mouth right after you got your relief.

Before you could’ve even thought about saying anything, you felt how something had been wrapped tightly around your neck. You knew exactly what that was, and for some reason that knowledge calmed you down.

Now you were wearing something symbolizing your loyalty and, most importantly, your belongings.

The pink collar with gold initials on it wasn’t looking that bad on you.

„R.C”

Maybe the life of a property will suit you better?

#obx #rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe smut

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shizucheese · 2 days ago

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So about that Dropout Tweet...

There's a common trend in influencer/ content creator apologies, where the person doing the apology will say they are sorry for the harm that they did, claim they are taking ownership of it and using the whole situation to become a better person, etc. etc. Usually in a way that makes it sound suspiciously like it was written by ChatGPT.

And then they'll go on to say something along the lines of "But we've been getting a lot of death threats guys, and that's bad!" As if the fact that they're getting death threats somehow absolves them of at least some of the guilt of whatever it is that made the apology necessary in the first place. As if it means they're the real victims here.

Apparently Dropout decided to just skip the "ChatGPT apology" part and jump straight to the "We're getting physcal and legal threats" part. Followed up with them once again saying they support Palestiniens and ending it with "We reject antisemitism, Islamophobia, and all forms of bigotry, and welcome all to our platform who treat others with respect, empathy, and human dignity."

And they did it on Twitter, and only Twitter. You know, the website that's notoriously overrun by Nazis. Nothing on Tumblr or Instagram, where the original statement that sparked all of this (which has since been taken down) were posted.

@dropoutdottv, @samreich, this is not listening to the Jewish members of your community who are speaking out about antisemitism. This is reinforcing the antisemitism that those Jewish members of the community are speaking out about. Because what this Tweet does is paint everyone who spoke out against the antisemitism in your original post with the same brush as the people who were sending you threats.

Which, let me be clear, they should not have been doing and I wholeheartedly condemn.

But the actions of the people sending you threats of violence and threats of legal action do not invalidate the things being said by the people who haven't threatened you with anything worse than a boycott. I have literally seen people say "the fact that they got threats just proves they were right." Is that the outcome you were trying to achieve with this?

People who did bad things get death threats all the time; refer back to the beginning of this post. Does that make their critics wrong then, too? Or is it only now, when the accusation being made is that a nerdy comedy network beloved by people on the left did an antisemitism?

I honestly can't tell if you have no publicist helping you out with one, a bad publicist that needs to give you your money back, or an evil genius publicist that knew that if you made a post like this one, it would distract from the fact that you're being accused of antisemitism, maybe even act as a dog whistle to to paint anyone who accuses you of being antisemitic of being "Zionists" (meant in the derogatory way, where people claim they're only talking about people who uncritically support the Israeli government and their actions in Gaza, but then in practice will use it against anyone who believes Israel has the right to exist, including those who want a two state solution, whose hearts break for the people in Palestine, and call Netanyahu a fascist and probably want him gone more than even the people calling them "zionists" do). Maybe even make up for all of the subscriptions you're losing over this and even gain a few by catering to the antisemitic leftist crowd.

Is that really the kind of culture you want to cultivate? If not, then do better. Acknowledge the Jewish voices that are speaking out. Listen to them. And do it in a way that doesn't bring up any other marginalized group. Because like...fuck, man, I reject Islamophobia, and all forms of bigotry too. And I'm sorry you guys are receiving threats; that truly does suck and I hope everyone that works for you guys are staying safe.

But you're specifically being accused of antisemitism. Can you really not reject it all on its own without including other forms of bigotry in the same statement?

And do it on a platform that *isn't* run by an infamous antisemitic, and overrun by more antisemitics? (You can turn off comments and reblogs on Tumblr and comments on instagram, in the same way you disabled replies on your Tweet, you know.)

Here, I'll even write the statement for you: "Earlier this week, we made a statement regarding accusations that Dropout was platforming zionists. At the time, we made a statement focusing on our support of the Palestinian people. We stand by this statement. However, we have received feedback from several members of our community that some of the things that we said were inappropriate insensitive to the Jewish people. "Zionist" and "Zionism" mean different things to different people, ranging from "people who support the Israeli government's actions in Gaza" to "people who believe that Israel has a right to exist and the Jewish people have the right to self-determination." We had meant it in the context of the former definition, but we understand that many Jewish people identify with the later, including many people who are disgusted by the Israeli government's actions in Gaza, and we should have been more sensitive to this fact. Additionally, we would like to reiterate that, to our knowledge, nobody who has appeared on Dropout has openly stated support for the Israelie's actions in Gaza, and several of those accused have voiced their support for a free Palestine. We would like to take this moment to remind everyone that just because a person is Jewish, and may have ties to Israel, does not inherently mean they condone the actions of the Israeli government in Gaza, and to suggest otherwise is antisemitic. We at Dropout reject all forms of antisemitism and are committed to providing a safe space to everyone regardless of religion or ethnic background. We apologize if we made the Jewish members of our community feel like that was not the case."

See how easy that was? I feel something like this is the bear minimum, and if you had said the things in the last three paragraphs from the start, you could have avoided having to say everything in the first two paragraphs and the apology at the end.

That's...pretty much everything I have to say on the matter. To anyone reading this: Do not use other Jewish people to silence Jewish voices.

Do not use people of other marginalized groups to silence Jewish voices.

Just...maybe just listen to what we have to say without twisting our words and putting words in our mouths? Maybe?

Thanks for reading.

I'm so tired.

#dropout #dropout tv #jumblr #jewish tumblr #antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #dropout antisemitism

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blackknight-kai · 8 hours ago

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Wukong and Cat

I just think it would be funny to see Wukong dealing with a house pet. Specially a cat. (Maybe a dog but that’s not the point today) - In this Wukong can travel to the modern day to stay with you (before you fully commit to staying in the past with him Edit: yes taking the cat with you).

See, cats are…cats. Yes they can be skittish or friendly, mean or weird as hell. They come in all shapes and sizes both in body and personality. They consistently push boundaries - keeping them off counters am I right? And sometimes as the slightest change they do awful shit to tell you it displeased them - pissing outside the litter box because you moved it a few feet from where it normally is or got rid of their favorite chair.

Cats are entitled and they run the house. You ever been hounded by a cat that woke up from its nap and thinks it’s dinner time but they don’t eat for another 3 hours? Yeah it’s annoying. (We love them)

They are our mini gods basically.

Wukong would NOT do well with one at first.

It doesn’t listen to him, it gives him dirty looks 24/7, he doesn’t know what the hell it’s up to or thinking but he knows it’s plotting harm to him, he knows it’s mocking him as it watches him form its perch across the room. The damn thing even had you on a feeding schedule!!! It OWNS you!

But it will not own him. No. He is a free monkey. A KING! The Great Sage Equal to Heaven and Earth! No house pet will have dominion over him.

You even buy it toys it seems to play with 1 time before and never again. You spoil the ungrateful shit. It also sleeps with you, but not since he came along much to his pleasure. Yes furry asshole, that’s HIS spot now.

He finds it ridiculous that you even scoop up its fucking shit that it leaves for you. At the very least it covers it up but why are you its designated poop scraper? He doesn’t understand why it doesn’t shit and piss outside like every other animal. He may be a king but he’s never had anyone shovel his shit!

So when you ask him to help with the house chores one day, specifically handling the litter box and trash, he is taken aback. Him? Use the tiny shovel to scrape out its excrement? Oh absolute not. Hell no. Not on your life.

He is a KING. He does NOT shovel SHIT. No. He doesn’t budge until you glare at him. He can tell you’re getting annoyed and he doesn’t like it when you’re mad at him.

Wukong, thinking he’s being a genius summons a clone and decides the clone can handle the shitty sand. But then the clone also refuses. Starts arguing with him! The audacity! This goes on for several minutes, neither clone or original giving in until you come into the room having heard the heated conversation.

You tell him with a tone of finality to stop being a monkey cub and grow up, that if he doesn’t sift the litter by the time you come back he’s sleeping on the couch - one night for every turd and pee clump you find in that box. You stomp off to finish the laundry and Wukong & Clone look at the doorway with slight surprise. Clone snickers and gives Wukong a smirk, saying “Looks like our Queen has spoken, the King is on turd duty.” Before offing himself and disappearing with a cackle as Wukong curses his own cheekiness.

After several minutes of staring at the box with disgust he hears you walking through the house and his heart races. Quickly he grabs the weird little shovel and starts sifting, as you step into the room he smiles at you as if to say “See I’m a good boy” and you give him a look before going back to your own chores.

Wukong doesn’t DARE push you enough to ruin his nightly cuddles with you. No. Nothing is worth losing that. So he scoops the damn cats box and as he does so he hears tiny footsteps. Looking over he sees your cat watching him, as though supervising him. It pisses him off to no end that the house pet is looking at him so smugly. “Who’s the king now.”

Grumbling under his breath Wukong finishes his task and finally stands up straight. As he does so he looks at the furry animal. “Is it clean enough your highness?” He asks sarcastically but then his eyes widen as the cat steps towards the box.

To his utter annoyance and anger it takes a shit! RIGHT AFTER HED JUST CLEANED IT OUT? HOW DARE!!!!

He throws a tantrum he will deny to this day about it to you and you laugh saying that yeah, that happens almost every time. It infuriates him to no end. But he loves you and you love the cat. So he can’t do anything that would bring the little asshole harm or he’d risk losing you which is NOT an option.

He hates the damn thing so much.

But one day, while he’s napping on your couch, he wakes to a weird rumbling on his chest. Groggily he opens his eyes and lifts his head a little and is met with the sight of your cat curled up on his chest, eyes half lidded and watching him, its purring. He lays his head back down and tries to be annoyed by it. But the damn purr is soothing….it’s genuinely kinda nice. And his chest is warm. If he ends up stroking your cats fur making it purr louder until the two of them fall back asleep? That’s between him and cat.

#black myth wukong #sun wukong x reader #black myth wukong x reader #bk kai writes #I was thinking about Wukong arguing with himself (his clone) and made myself laugh #sun wukong

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 1 day ago

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@zepskies

Oh goodness I am so excited to finally being able to read part two!

Alright it is devastating right off the bat and I know, I know I should be worried about her and I am. I am SO worried, but my mind completely went somewhere else when Dean PICKED HER UP. The man is so strong and I am just...

“I hope you’ve learned your damn lesson,” he says. Your gaze snaps up to his. “Excuse me?” Dean’s hands go to his hips as his brows raise at you. “Next time, when I tell you to hang back, I mean that shit. Hang the hell back,” he all but growls.

I was prepared for this coming but dang... "I hope you've learned your damn lesson" is a line that breaks my heart more than I should. It cuts to the quick for me, because to me it's worse than just saying "I told you not to do something." It's not heartless, but it's enough of a rendition of it that it just makes you go "oh wow."

And oh my word the two lines from Dean when she got mad KILLED ME. The:

"What's this, some kind of Latina temper?" he asks snidely.

AND

"Oh, I'm sorry, does this telenovela-style tongue lashing come with subtitles?" he snarks.

I was literally screaming. It's like he wants her to kill him. I know that Dean loves her so much but oh my goodness it's about to get so real for him. Man is about to be torn to shreds.

You wear it over some long pajama pants instead of your usual shorts, or better yet, nothing at all. But he can see what kind of mood you’re in. Things are unsettled as you both get ready for bed in silence. He notes the way you turn to face the other side in bed, maybe to avoid him. Though if you really wanted to do that, you could’ve gone to your old room. So in more ways than one, Dean takes some solace in the fact that you’re still next to him. And he decides to give you some time and space. He goes to bed and tries in vain to sleep.

Oh sweetie pie, Dean you're an idiot, but we love our little idiot even when he loses his temper because he cares so much. This part really got to me, because at first I was like "oh why would she stay with him in his room," but I get it. Even though she's upset, Dean is still her best friend and the man she loves and even though he's the one that made her feel this way, she still wants to be comforted by his presence. I always think that, this particular thing is so bittersweet to read about in relationships.

Or at least that's how I took this bit 😅.

Side note: I am happy that the reader didn't have to tell the woman about her son. That would have broken me to read that especially after the reader promised that they would find her son in part one.

It startles a shriek of surprise out of you as you whirl around. Dean’s smile hikes up into a grin, but it soon fades when he remembers the way your scream rang through his ears last night. The way his heart dropped into his stomach, and his head swiveled at the sound. And he saw you go down hard. Then the rest of it tumbles through his mind—what he had to do afterwards in order to save you. How he’d did it without really thinking, his panic and determination blocking out almost everything else when he’d grabbed the kid. The monster, he forcibly reminds himself.

Oh my word. I love you friend, but WHY!? Dang it, this pricked at my heart. It's so good, so heart wrenching. I feel so bad for him, but it really just reinforces why he "lost it" with the reader earlier. Goodness the trope of the reader getting yelled at by someone who loves them about putting themselves in danger really is just such a good one for Dean and you do it so well.

His apology is really just pricking at my heart. It's so good, so forthcoming so honest. And the thought that he was "better off alone" is so on brand for him. I know that we've talked about that before, but it really does fit him, and I love how you weave it into this fic.

You realize then what Dean’s really saying. He’s afraid…afraid to lose you. You see it in his furrowed brows, the downturn of his lips, and whatever pain he’s trying to hide in the depths of his eyes. And just like that, the water works start. You can’t quite keep your tears at bay as you hold onto his shirt. He lets out a resigned sigh as he holds you by your arms. “You don’t have to cry for that,” he says, a bit teasing. “Have you met me?” you sniff. But you manage to look up at him with your glassy eyes. “I’m sorry too. God, I’m so sorry, Dean.”

She's crying... I'm crying. It's really just tears all around and such a good moment. Also the him saying "You don't have to cry for that"... YES SHE DOES.

This is just overall a really wonderful vulnerable moment that you've captured that feels real for both the reader and Dean. Especially when she talks about "working with my heart, not my head." I think that if it were me, I would also be "working with my heart." I don't think that I'd be able to take myself emotionally out of the situation that they're in all the time because they're hunters.

The problem is, you didn’t just see your own mother in Rachel. She hadn’t been much older than you. And when you imagine a life beyond hunting, more than anything (no matter how much you shove down the idea), you really do want a family of your own someday.

Hoping for some FORESHADOWING 🙏🏻👀

Also the salsa lesson is just so cute. And the way you took a really emotional moment to a cute salsa dance to a steamy session to a giggly awkward moment is great. The transitions make it seamless.

And the song choices were perfect! When the reader was describing what the song meant I was like, "oh yeah, that's him right there. There's the man officer." lmao 🤣

Often he’s one to leave love bites of varying degrees, wherever he sees fit. But for a moment he stops at the crook of your neck, just pressing a lingering kiss. He lets out a deep breath, and you realize he’s probably thinking about where you were bitten. The wound is gone, but it doesn’t change what’s imprinted in both of your minds. A softer smile grows on your face. You trail your fingers up into his hair, massaging the back of his neck. “I’m okay,” you remind him. Dean hums deep in agreement. You know, however, that he’s still thinking far too much.

I was again so emotional reading this, because oh my word, poor Dean just reliving the moments where the reader almost died.

And also the final scene 👀🌶️ I should have known from the gif at the beginning tbh lol.

ESPECIALLY THIS LINE:

“What, now you’re shy?” he remarks. And he has to laugh. “Come back here.”

I don't know why that wiped me out after everything tbh.

Not to mention that the sex was also giggly towards the end and I really just love that. And the love confessions KNOCKED ME OUT.

I love you, you’d said. I love you and I love you, more than you can believe and understand.

Oh I'm riding a train of emotions, and all of this was so good. Especially Sam walking in on them. I was laughing so hard at Dean's reaction:

“All right, Sammy. Go to your room,” he chides playfully (but he means it). “The adults are havin’ a moment.”

It's all wonderful my friend! And I can't wait to read another fic from this universe! 😊

Devour Me - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized/Latina!Reader

Summary: When you and Dean start to press each other’s buttons, both of your tempers ignite. To make up for it, you give him an impromptu salsa dancing lesson…one he didn’t exactly ask for. (18+)

AN: Here's Part 2! **Read Devour Me: Part 1

Song Inspo: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique. But really it’s “Ven Devórame Otra Ves” by Lalo Rodriguez. (You’ll see why.) 🤭

Word Count: 5,400

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Blood, character death and violence, smutty smut, angst, Dominican slang, and tons of sexy fluff.

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 2: "Telenovela Style"

Your resulting scream of agony is as unforgiving as the ground when your knees buckle, hitting the hard cement.

Andy grips you with the strength of a monster.

Then he holds you down as he drinks your blood.

No matter how you struggle and whimper, you can’t push him off, and you’re getting weaker by the second.

Until Andy is ripped away from your neck, and is taken care of the way all vampires must be. He doesn’t even feel the blade coming.

When you’re able to look up, Dean stands above you with thinly veiled fury. He doesn’t have time to consider what he’s just done.

He bends to gather you up into his arms, all the while trying to stamp down the panic clenching his heart. He calls your name, but you can only make weak sounds as your bleary eyes meet his.

“Dean,” you manage. The ragged wound in your neck is bleeding profusely down your chest and shoulder, seeping into your shirt. He takes your hand and clamps it hard against your neck, even though it makes you whimper.

“Gotta stop the bleeding,” he says, apologetic but firm. “Keep pressing.”

In your stupor of pain, you don’t realize that your screech woke the entire nest. Dean has to lock up his worry; he looks up and finds his brother and Cas already fighting a hoard of angry vampires.

Dean carries you over to them and lays you down against the wall with the other humans. He keeps a protective line in front of you, but he decapitates a vampire before she can sink her fangs into Sam next.

The two of them work together, and with Castiel’s smiting power behind them, the angel and the two men are able to clear the rest of the nest.

By the end, only you and two of the women being held captive are still alive. The third girl’s heart just finally gave out. Sam takes the survivors to the nearest hospital.

Meanwhile, Castiel approaches where you sit up against the inside of the barn, barely awake, while Dean kneels with you, holding you to his chest. He meet’s Cas’s blue-eyed request with a nod. So Cas stretches out a hand and touches two fingers to your forehead.

You’re healed in an instant. Dean marvels, like he always does when Cas displays his power. Dean is able to breathe a little easier, the vice grip on his heart easing as he touches your neck.

The tan skin is once again smooth, if still stained with blood. You blink back into wakeful consciousness.

He shifts so he can see your face. “You okay?”

You meet his eyes but can only nod. His jaw is still tight and tense, and you can’t blame him.

You know you’ve messed up. Big time. You nearly got everyone killed, including yourself…and now, you have to tell a mother that her son is dead.

Dean helps you up, holding you by your arms and waist until you’re steady on your feet. You have a hard time meeting his eyes, but when open your mouth to apologize, he beats you to it.

“I hope you’ve learned your damn lesson,” he says.

Your gaze snaps up to his. “Excuse me?”

Dean’s hands go to his hips as his brows raise at you.

“Next time, when I tell you to hang back, I mean that shit. Hang the hell back,” he all but growls.

You tilt your head at him as your irritation begins to spark. Meanwhile, Castiel is the one who backs up as he glances between you and Dean uncertainly.

“I made a mistake, but that doesn’t give you the right to tell me what to do,” you shoot back. “I was a hunter long before I met you.”

“Yeah, well, color me surprised that you’ve made it this long,” he snaps.

Your temper flares hotter. “You know, you’re not so goddamn perfect either.”

“Never said I was,” Dean says. “But when my gut tells me something ain’t right, I need you to fucking listen. Otherwise, we get a day like today.”

His words are edged with grit by the end of his little rant, and you don’t appreciate it. Your lips purse in anger.

“I don’t care what that legendary gut tells you,” you sass back. “I’m not a little girl, and you’re not my damn father!”

Dean raises incredulous brows at the way you’re shouting at him. He crosses his arms.

“What’s this, some kind of Latina temper?” he asks snidely.

You truly become incensed at that.

“Oh, you want to take it there?” you ask, as your eyes narrow. “Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”

Dean won’t admit it, but in that moment, he’s a bit intimidated by the quiet threat in your voice. Still, his fuse is lit, and he’s way beyond curbing his internal filter.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does this telenovela-style tongue lashing come with subtitles?” he snarks.

You let out an incredulous breath. Your eyes begin to sting.

“You’re such an asshole!” you shout back. There, understand that?

You turn away from him before your frustrated tears can fall, but you stop short once you notice Castiel dragging out the bodies of the dead…including Andy. Your throat constricts, and you begin to stalk out of the barn.

Dean calls your name in frustration.

“What?” you hiss.

The only thing that makes him hesitate is seeing the state of you when you turn back around. His anger crumbles, and maybe something in him breaks when he sees your tears. They’ve welled up in your eyes, and a few of them carve a path down your cheeks.

You’re still covered in your own blood, and he hates it. He hates it more than anything.

Later, you see the state of yourself when Sam returns with the Impala. In the reflection on the backseat window, you see the blood dried down your neck, staining nearly half of your shirt.

You see the black rings of your mascara and eyeliner around your eyes. You look a mess, and you try to wipe underneath your eyes. It’s a fruitless effort.

After you all finish burning the bodies, Dean starts the long drive home. You insist on stopping to tell Rachel Campbell about her son, but Sam says he already took care of it when he drove into town.

You frown, but you no longer have the energy to be angry. You further withdraw into yourself, and your lower lip trembles as you look out the window. Through the rearview mirror, Dean sees more tears slipping down your face.

What Sam told him (but he won’t tell you), is what one of the survivors said. One of the mated pairs had taken Andy…to “adopt” a son of their own.

That night is quiet and tense in Dean’s room. You have to wash your hair all over again, and scrub the blood and grime from your body until only your skin remains. But you don’t have the energy to do more than braid your wet hair afterwards and pull on your lucky Journey shirt, which is still full of holes.

Dean knows that it’s bad when you need the “dreamcatcher,” as he’s called it in his head. You’ve never had a nightmare while wearing that shirt, or so you claimed a while back.

He notes the way you turn to face the other side in bed, maybe to avoid him. Though if you really wanted to do that, you could’ve gone to your old room.

So in more ways than one, Dean takes some solace in the fact that you’re still next to him. And he decides to give you some time and space.

He goes to bed and tries in vain to sleep.

In the morning, Dean’s woken by the familiar smell of coffee…and the less familiar sound of loud salsa music.

What the fuck?

After he brushes his teeth, he puts on his robe and slippers and heads down to the kitchen, where he finds you in a seemingly better mood. You’re mopping the floor, of all things. You’re out of your pajamas, instead wearing a loose shirt that falls off your shoulder and some spandex shorts.

“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo,” you sing softly along with the music as you dance from the kitchen to the living room. Your phone is connected to a Bluetooth speaker on the coffee table.

Dean starts to smile, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway to watch you.

At an instrumental break with a run of conga drums and trumpets, you pause in your mopping to do a little twirl as you dance, with a soulful roll of hips and a flair of salsa steps. It makes Dean’s smile kick up into a smirk.

He walks in on purposefully light feet until he’s sidled up behind you in the living room.

“Nice moves, Shakira,” he quips.

Then the rest of it tumbles through his mind—what he had to do afterwards in order to save you. How he’d did it without really thinking, his panic and determination blocking out almost everything else when he’d grabbed the kid. The monster, he forcibly reminds himself.

“You trying to give me a heart attack?” you ask with a hand on your heart.

Dean forces himself to smile a little. “Sorry. But might I remind you, not everyone here’s an early bird.”

You give him a wry look.

“You’re the only one around here who sleeps past 10 a.m. Cas dipped out a while ago, and Sam’s on a run.”

But you graciously grab your phone to lower the music to a more bearable level. Dean doesn’t yet know this about you, but this—listening to music, dancing, cleaning—it’s all your way of coping…and releasing as much of your pain, terror, and regret from yesterday as possible.

You then look up at him more guarded. The two of you exchanged a lot of unsavory words last night. In fact, it may just be the worst fight you two have ever had in almost three years of knowing one another.

Dean senses the shift in you, and his amusement fades. He just can't let things stay like this. He won't.

He hazards drawing closer and touching your arm.

“Look…I’m sorry for snapping at you yesterday. I know I was being a dick,” he says. “You’ve just gotta understand something.”

You wait for him to continue with furrowed brows, sensing that whatever he’s about to say is hard for him.

“There’s a reason I don’t do this. The uh, relationship thing,” Dean continues, clearing his throat. His thumb swipes along your arm. “It’s not just this job. It’s my fucked up life. I tried to warn you before—”

“Dean,” you say with a sigh, but he raises his hand.

“Please, just…let me say it,” he says. “You know the spiel. But things can change on a dime. Even on a damn milk run, like a dusty nest of vamps.”

You know that. You know you could’ve died yesterday, and he doesn’t need to remind you of that fact. Before you can start to get petulant again though, Dean continues. His jaw is working, like this next part is more difficult for him to admit.

“Trust me when I say, us being together is dangerous, for both of us,” he says. “For a while I, uh…I started to think Sam and I were better off alone.”

That casts you into dismay. Because you know Dean isn’t lying. He’s really contemplated spending the rest of his life devoid of love, so he won’t have to lose it.

Dangerous, for both of us.

And just like that, the water works start. You can’t quite keep your tears at bay as you hold onto his shirt. He lets out a resigned sigh as he holds you by your arms.

“You don’t have to cry for that,” he says, a bit teasing.

“Have you met me?” you sniff. But you manage to look up at him with your glassy eyes. “I’m sorry too. God, I’m so sorry, Dean.”

Your fist clenches in his shirt when you remember Andy, latched onto your neck, and how Dean had to save you. You know he’s remembering it too when his brows furrow, and his gaze falls away. You reach a hand for his cheek.

“I know I fucked up,” you admit. “I was working with my heart, not my head. I just…”

You wanted so badly to help that kid and his mother. You also know that Dean understands; you see it in his eyes. He holds your hand to his cheek and brushes his thumb across the back of your hand.

“I know,” he says. “I really am sorry, baby.”

It’s just…days like yesterday remind you why that could be a very bad idea.

More of your tears bubble over, and you head willingly into Dean’s arms. “Me too…”

He holds you tighter than ever. His hands rub down your back, tangle in your hair, and he drops his lips onto your hair. You sniffle, wiping your face dry in his shirt. And for a while, the two of you have peace in the relative quiet.

Music still plays from the speaker though. And when another salsa song starts to play on your playlist, you start swaying. A smile works its way onto Dean’s face.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” he teases.

You smile into his chest. “We should go dancing sometime.”

Dean just laughs. “Oooh, no.”

“Oh, yes,” you reply, batting your lashes up at him. You slip a hand on his shoulder and into one of his hands. He’s forced to hold you as if the two of you were about to start Fred Astair-ing across the living room.

“Have you ever danced before?” you ask. “Like real dancing.”

“Not salsa, I’ll tell you that,” he quips.

“That’s okay. I’ll teach you,” you reply with a coquettish smile. “It’s just a few simple moves.”

Dean gives you a wan look. “You made it look anything but simple.”

You blush at that, but you meet him with a pout of disappointment. You don’t let up, even when Dean frowns. He huffs at you in resistance.

“No,” he insists. You just brush a gentle thumb along his neck, biting your lip in askance.

But the longer he stares at your beautiful, hopeful eyes, the more cracks form in his resolve.

Eventually, Dean breaks with a sigh, and a shake of his head.

“You’re too much, you know that?” he mutters.

It’s then that you know you’ve won.

So with a happy squeal of excitement, you clap your hands and move to stand next to him so you can show him the basic steps of salsa dancing.

You make him take off his robe and slippers, leaving in his shirt and plaid pajama pants. Then you instruct him for a few minutes, correcting his footing and getting him to move on a beat. You’re pleasantly surprised that he has some rhythm.

Dean sighs once again. How the hell did we get here? Heat crawls up the back of his neck as embarrassment starts to set in.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” he grumbles.

“You’re doing good,” you encourage, with a growing smile. “Now come on, feel the beat in threes. One, two, three. One, two, three…”

Once he sort of has the basic steps and turns down, you move to stand in front of him. There you show him how to hold you, how he’ll move forward, and you’ll move back. It takes a little while, but you slowly move through the combinations, then do a little twirl underneath his hand.

When he pulls you back in without faltering, you give him a beaming smile. “Very good!”

A subtle grin raises his lips at your enthusiasm. He also feels his face heating up at the praise.

But you pause when a certain song filters through the speakers. It’s an old one (and it never fails to make you blush), but you love it.

“Ooh, yes,” you exclaim with delight, and you turn up the volume.

“What’s this one?” Dean asks.

“Ven Devórame Otra Ves,” you inform him. Not that he knows what that means. You sing along a bit with the first couple of verses while you encourage Dean to lead you in the dance.

This song is just slow enough for him to attempt it, and the funny thing is, he doesn’t feel all that uncomfortable with the steps now. He’s starting to get a feel for how to move, both with his feet, and with his hands as he guides you by your waist, holding your hand close to his chest. Still, Dean’s also curious about the lyrics you’re singing.

“What does it mean?” he asks.

You huff in amusement. “You sure you want to know?”

Dean raises a brow. “Well, now I gotta know.”

You giggle at that, though you correct his steps when he leads with the wrong foot.

“Okay. It’s about a guy who’s pretty much a player,” you say with a smirk. “His bed has been a revolving door of hot ass, but he keeps thinking about this one woman who used to have him turned inside out…”

Dean’s lips curve at the familiar image you’re conjuring. He manages to turn you under his hand, then pull you back to him in one smooth motion. He looks down at you with a deeper gleam in his eyes. You bite your lip, soothing your hand from his shoulder and down his arm.

As the song’s verses come, you translate for him. And for Dean, your voice in itself is a spell.

“Even in my dreams, he says, I thought I had you devouring me. And I dampened my white sheets remembering you,” you begin. Your words are smooth like black velvet. “In my bed, no one is like you, who draws my body on every corner, without a piece of skin left over.”

Dean is getting hot under the collar as you push away, dragging your fingertips along his back as you turn around him. When you come back into his line of vision, his attention is attracted to the sway of your hips, clad just in those little spandex shorts. He has to clear his throat a bit.

You eventually return to him with a warm hand against his chest.

“Ven, devórame otra ves. It means, come devour me again,” you continue, looking up at him from under your lashes, “Come punish me more with your desire. Because I kept my love for you…because my mouth has the taste of your body.”

You smile at the laser focus of his green-eyed gaze. “Come devour me again.”

You push off with another little spin. When you reach for his hand, Dean yanks you back into him, eliciting a gasp. The move disorients you for a moment, but you giggle and hold onto his arms. Your hands glide up to rest on his shoulders.

He’s holding you flush against him, and as you shift a thigh between his legs, you unintentionally graze against his hardening length. You look up at him with a smirk.

“You’re a little…stiff,” you say, both flirtatious and teasing. “Let’s loosen you up.”

You shake his shoulders out and try to get him to relax. Dean raises a wry brow, because you know damn well whose fault it is that his body is coiled tight. But you place his hands on your hips as you move back into the dance.

“Feel what I’m doing there?” you ask. He looks down on you with growing heat.

“If I could do that, we wouldn’t be together,” he rumbles.

You try to stifle a laugh as he pulls you in close again, just swaying for a bit. Soon enough, you grin knowingly when his hands start to slide lower on your ass. His head bows to yours, ready to meet you with a kiss.

You stop him with your finger on his lips.

“Question: do you consider yourself more of a tits or ass man?” you ask him. You’re half teasing, but still curious. Dean snorts at the question.

“More of a connoisseur,” he replies, smirking.

“Ah.” You nod sagely, and you point between him and yourself. “So this is like a ‘sample the menu’ situation.”

Dean’s smirk deepens. “Sweetheart, you’re a goddamn buffet.”

You splutter laughing…and that’s when he finally pounces. He claims your lips with greedy passion. His hand winds into your hair, gripping tight and ruining what’s left of your loose ponytail. The strands coil around his hand in messy curls while he also gets a healthy grip of your ass through your thin shorts.

You smile into his lips, even as you acquiesce to him guiding your head to the side, so he can slip his tongue against yours. You grip his arms more for stability while he manhandles you, kneading soft flesh and making pleasant tingles run up your spine.

After a little while, his mouth burns a hot path away from yours. He noses down your neck, skimming his lips across your skin. It sets your nerve endings on fire and gets you breathing more shallowly in his ear. You cling to the back of his shirt, holding him close.

Often he’s one to leave love bites of varying degrees, wherever he sees fit. But for a moment he stops at the crook of your neck, just pressing a lingering kiss.

He lets out a deep breath, and you realize he’s probably thinking about where you were bitten. The wound is gone, but it doesn’t change what’s imprinted in both of your minds.

A softer smile grows on your face. You trail your fingers up into his hair, massaging the back of his neck.

“I’m okay,” you remind him. Dean hums deep in agreement. You know, however, that he’s still thinking far too much.

So you slide your hands down, slow between the dips and planes of muscle in his back, and rest at his hips. Your thumbs delve under the hem of his shirt and tease the skin there.

And you start slow, pressing wet, nipping kisses of your own to his neck while you inch his shirt up. You feel his smile on your neck. His grip on your hip flares to life. Still, he lets you tug his shirt up and over his head. Your loose shirt comes next, revealing the same black satin and lace bra you wore the first time he ever got you topless in his arms.

A fan favorite. Dean grins. He reaches around to go for the clasp, but your firm push on his chest takes him by surprise.

He falls back onto the couch with a grunt, looking up at you then with raised brows. You’ve got a mischievous little smirk on your face that heats his blood and makes his cock twitch.

You take out the rest of your falling ponytail, shaking your hair out wild. Then you let your hands drift down your neck, over your clothed breasts, and finally to your little shorts.

Dean rubs his palms down his thighs and watches. A smirk forms across his lips as you slide the fabric down the curve of your hips. It leaves you in a red thong, familiar to him by the little tear it has on the front. (Again, his fault.)

You climb aboard his strong thighs to straddle his lap, using his shoulders as leverage as you sink down. You make sure to rub yourself teasingly against his clothed erection. He groans in appreciation. His hands fly to your soft, thick thighs and squeeze.

“Aw, I like this,” Dean says, half on another moan as you grind down a bit harder on him.

“Yeah?” you tease. You take his face in your hands and capture his lips with your own. Your tongue invades his mouth, and he welcomes you with a deep hum. It’s slow and hot at first, but Dean feels the loss of you when you break from his lips.

Instead, you treat him with the same trail of kisses he gave you, along the curve of his jaw and down his neck. But you don’t stop there.

Your hands move over his chest with purpose, tweaking over each hard nipple while your mouth burns a wet line down and down his sternum. Dean groans at your ministrations, but lets you leave his lap to slide down to the ground, between his thighs.

“What’re you up to, baby?” he asks, despite having a very good idea of it. He catches the playful, yet determined gleam in your eye.

You pause, briefly leaning back up to give him a heated kiss. You part from him with a grin.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you ask. “I’m gonna devour you.”

Dean stares hard at you as goosebumps break out across his forearms.

Oh, fuck yeah.

A giggle bubbles in your throat at the expression on his face. But you continue, taking his pants down his legs first, before his boxer briefs.

Dean’s body tenses in anticipation. You’ve gone down on him before, but somehow it’s different this time. He feels like every single one of his nerve endings stands at attention along with his dick. And you’re taking your sweet time working him up.

Even when his cock is finally free, you sooth your hands down his legs first, maybe teasing him a bit as you drag your nails down his inner thighs. Dean makes a strained sound, though he tries to hide it by clearing his throat.

Your gaze flicks up to his with a little smile. He’s holding the back of the couch; his fingers are digging into the old cushion in effort to keep still for you. But his eyes stare into yours like a man starving. You know what you’re in for after you have your way with him, but for now, he’s quite literally under your control.

So you take him in your hands first. Dean groans as you tease him with light touches, soft movements, your thumb slowly circling over the sensitive, weeping head of his cock. It's torturous enough to make him drop his head back against the couch, closing his eyes tight.

And suddenly, he blinks them open again.

“Shit,” he utters, when you finally take him into your mouth. Your tongue is soft and wet, your lips move over him steadily, and your hands caress whatever your mouth can’t take, even teasing his balls.

You work him over relentlessly, until he can’t help but spill everything he has to give into your waiting mouth. When you suck off and swallow whatever remains, Dean’s heart stutters like syncopated conga drums.

He shudders and struggles for breath afterwards, watching your every movement—from wiping your mouth to shooting him that satisfied little smirk.

You press one last kiss to the inside of his thigh before you raise from where you’ve been kneeling on the hard ground.

Dean manages to lean forward and helps you up by your elbows. But then he pulls you back into his lap and kisses you deeply. He doesn’t let up until you’re panting with him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” he manages to say. His voice is deep and laced with grit.

He’s still panting heavily. You giggle and press your warming face into his neck.

“What, now you’re shy?” he remarks. And he has to laugh. “Come back here.”

He brings your face back to him with a hand on your cheek. For a second, he just looks at you. His thumb strokes across your full, thoroughly kissed bottom lip.

“Say it,” you encourage softly. “Whatever you’re thinking. Right now.”

A smile tugs at his lips. He can’t help but oblige you.

“You’re too damn much,” he says again, both gruff and fond. Despite how you drive him up the fucking wall sometimes, he doesn't think it'll ever be enough for him, what he has with you.

Because this is something he'd almost given up on. Didn't think he'd get to have it. And it almost scares him, how much he wants you. How much he...

“I love you,” he says. His thumb traces along the familiar curve of your cheek.

It hasn’t been all that long, but he knows. You weaseled your way in without even trying. The least he can do for you is be honest.

Your fingers curl around his wrist, holding his hand in place. You tilt your head at him.

“Oh, yeah?” you ask.

Dean hesitates, but he nods. “Yeah.”

A smile grows across your face. “Eh, I’m still on the fence.”

At his flat look, you laugh and lean in for a kiss. He allows it, a little petulantly. But you make up for it with sweet affection. Your gentle hands stroke down the column of his neck, down his chest. You then lean back so he can see your face.

“Yo te amo,” you whisper. “Te amo y te quiero, más que tú puedes creer y entender.”

Dean smiles. He doesn’t understand all of it, but he gets the important bits. He hears it in the tone of your voice. He sees it in your eyes. They shine with emotion, but mainly with love.

Dean kisses your hand. He lets go, just so he can slip his hands around you to finally unhook your bra. He tosses it across the room without bothering to see where it lands.

You do though, and you meet him with a slightly narrowed gaze.

“Are you making a mess of my clean bunker?” you tease.

His lips curve as he kisses you again, while his hands each get a generous handful of your breasts.

“Ah, hello, ladies." He grins. "Miss me?”

You can’t help but laugh. He’s such a dork sometimes.

But you hum when his thumbs brush over hardened nipples, then drag deliberate circles over them, and pinch just hard enough to make you whimper in pleasure. The sensation zips through you, enhancing the flood between your legs.

“I fucking love that sound,” Dean mutters, and licks a hot path in the valley between your breasts. His lips move against your dewy skin when he says, “Do that for me again.”

When he takes a nipple in his mouth and nips a bit hard, you have to oblige him. Your voice rising high is music to his ears.

So he goes for your panties next. You help him get them off and return to his lap. With a breathy moan, you revel at the feeling of his fingers probing into your wet heat.

However, you and Dean have been too engrossed in one another to notice the door of the bunker unlocking, and heavy steps down the spiral staircase.

It’s Sam who’s back from his run. Unfortunately, he soon has to shield his eyes upon reaching the living room.

“Damn it, Dean!”

You yelp in surprise, but Dean laughs and holds you close to shield you from view. As a bonus, it presses your breasts against his chest.

“All right, Sammy. Go to your room,” he chides playfully (but he means it). “The adults are havin’ a moment.”

Sam scoffs. “You’re having a moment on the goddamn couch!”

“Sorry,” you say, though it’s muffled in Dean’s neck. Your face is red hot with embarrassment.

Sam rolls his eyes heavenward and tries not to see anything else on his way to his room.

But Dean’s chuckle reverberates through your chest as his hand goes to your cheek. He encourages you to pull back, so he can see your face again.

When he does, he smirks at the scarlet blush dusting your cheeks and neck. You bite your lower lip, but despite your embarrassment, you’re happy.

Your own words replay in your mind when you lean in for another kiss.

I love you, you’d said. I love you and I love you, more than you can believe and understand.

AN: Yay! I hope you enjoyed Part 2 of the “Midnight Espresso”-verse! I loved writing this one so much. I know we're just doing fanfic here, but I genuinely put my heart and soul into this one. ❤️

Also, here are a couple of Spanish translations:

(Note: other Spanish-speaking countries may interpret certain words differently.)

[During their fight]:

“Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”

Translation:

“You’re shameless. Keep messing with me, damn it. Then you’re going to see who I am (<- This is Dominican slang. It essentially means fuck around and find out what I'm made of.).”

[Song lyrics: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique]:

“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo.”

Translation:

“I don’t know tomorrow. I don’t know tomorrow. If we’ll be together, if the world will end.”

Keep Reading:

Next in this series is "Chico Malo" ("Bad Boy"):

Summary: You catch Dean red-handed—with one of his favorite episodes of Casa Erotica.

▶️ Next Story: Bad Boy (Chico Malo)

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annebd · 1 day ago

Note

prompt: scotty and max fucking dirt nasty about daniel

My first ask prompt! Thank you for turning my own horny tags against me! I don’t know if I managed to get all the way to dirt nasty, but I feel like we can at least call this “potting soil rude.” ;)

Below the cut and also here at AO3.

Max and Scotty have a tenuous agreement. A custody arrangement, Scotty calls it. When Daniel had first introduced them all those years ago, he’d clearly assumed that since he loved them both, naturally they’d like each other, too. They did not. Instead, they spent the first few months of their acquaintance doing their damnedest to avoid each other’s presence while fighting over who got to spend more time with Daniel. Neither of them wanted to share their time with him with the other, and each felt that they had a more compelling reason to lay claim to Daniel’s attention. Max declared teammate dibs, while Scotty argued for compatriot rights. The arguments escalated- furious text messages interspersed with angry glares and whispered squabbling away from Daniel’s ears until, eventually, they decided that the only viable option was to share custody.

Max gets Daniel on race weekends, from Thursday all the way through to Sunday night (and if they’re celebrating a good race result, well into the wee hours of Monday morning). Scotty has free rein over the rest of the week and any non-race weekends, except for times when Daniel and Max are both in Monaco at the same time, in which case Max gets first dibs on invites to dinners, clubs, or padel dates. Scotty had tried to argue that this rule unfairly favors Max, given that Max and Daniel both live in Monaco, which immediately gives him way more Daniel-time. Max wasted no time in pointing out that Scotty also lives in Monaco, so that’s a dumb argument, and with the amount of travel they all do, there’s very little overlap in their schedules anyway, which was the whole point in the first place.

The most important rule in their agreement, though, is that Daniel remains absolutely unaware that any of this is going on. If he knew the lengths Scotty and Max were going to in order to rearrange their schedules and his, he would make that face at them. The one where his eyes go wide and soft and red rimmed. He would shake his head at them, and he would use words like “childish” and “manipulative” and “disappointed.” No. It’s better that Daniel doesn’t know.

He’s somehow never managed to catch on that Scotty doesn’t ever hang out with him on race weekends, even if he’s at the grand prix and chilling with Chloe in the Aston Martin hospitality. He’ll give Daniel a wave, a pat on the bum if they pass each other in the paddock, but he's never asked for a pass to Daniel’s garage, even though he could easily get one as a Red Bull athlete himself. And Daniel’s also never noticed that Max pretty much disappears after race weekends, only to pop up in the background of one of Martijn’s Instagram stories or on stream with the other Twitch boys, even if Daniel mentions he'd be happy to hang out if Max finds himself in LA whenever he’s there.

Over the years, they’ve reached a tentative truce over their shared time with Daniel, but neither of them has ever gotten what they truly want: Daniel himself. He’ll flirt with them all day long, but they know he’d just as easily flirt with a brick wall if given the chance. Flirting sometimes leads to more: Daniel will get up close behind Max on the crowded dance floor at a club, brush the tease of a half chub against Max’s ass as he scoots past him, a drink in each hand and a grin on his face. He’ll wrap one arm around Max’s waist from behind, a gesture with a flourish to present him with the G&T he’d ordered for Max, and whisper “just for you, Maxy,” as he hands him the drink and presses his cock against the seam of Max’s ass. And then he’ll flounce off again, shimmying to the pulse of the music and unaware of, or simply uncaring about, the state of Max’s shorts.

Max has seen him with Scotty, knows that he acts just the same way with him. Always standing too close, legs intertwined, sharing jokes murmured under his breath or whispered too loudly in his ear. He’ll tuck himself under Scotty’s chin, fingertips of one hand tugging teasingly at the collar of Scotty's shirt, while the other hand reaches out to take a selfie that he’ll send to Max and caption “wish you were here!”

But Daniel never lets them get any closer than that. He’ll tease, flirt, hint that he wants more, but he never takes the next step- or lets Scotty or Max take it, either. Somewhere along the line, they realized that if they can’t have Daniel himself, they’ll have to settle for the next best option.

That option is this: Scotty has Max face down, ass up on his driver room floor. There’s no space in here for this, but neither of them had cared about the logistics of anything beyond getting the door shut and tearing off enough clothing to get started. Max is still wearing his Red Bull polo- the hem rucked up to his armpits. His jeans are hanging off one foot, caught on the shoe he didn’t bother to take off before he started peeling out of his clothes. Scotty is no better off- his jeans are unzipped far enough for him to have pulled his cock out, but he’s otherwise still fully clothed.

Max watches over his shoulder as Scotty coats his fingers in lube. It’s the shitty kind in a packet that Max swiped from the complimentary amenity kit in the hotel this morning and tossed at Scotty’s head as they stumbled into his driver room and started pulling off their clothes. It’s sticky and a little goopy, but it’ll do in a pinch.

Scotty opens Max up brusquely, stretching him with two and then three fingers in quick succession. Max bristles at the burn, the way he can feel a flame lick up and down his spine, unsure of whether the sensation is pleasure or pain. He breathes through the too quick stretch and the way Scotty intentionally avoids so much as brushing past his prostate. Max knows they don’t have time for gentle. The first free practice session starts in barely more than half an hour, and Max still needs to go through his warm up routine and check in with GP about the set up plan for the run. But even with all the time in the world, Scotty still wouldn’t give him the courtesy. His focus here isn’t on Max’s pleasure.

“Come on already,” Max complains. He’s reaching back with a free hand to pull Scotty in closer, trying to grab at his cock. At least when Scotty is buried in him, Max can fuck himself back onto him, guide the angle exactly where he wants it.

“Shut up,” Scotty hisses, pushing Max’s polo further up and stuffing the hem into Max’s mouth. Max is loud. Always. But here, they don’t have the luxury of being able to hide behind the anonymity of a private hotel room, where the sound of Max’s drawn out groans or high pitched squeals can be passed off as coming from one of the other rooms down the hall; nor can they rely on the ironclad NDAs of the staff on Max’s private plane, who may have overheard him more than once begging for Scotty to stop fucking around and fuck him harder. Checo’s driver room is just next door. He’ll hear if Max starts shouting the way he wants to.

Assured that the makeshift gag will do for now, Scotty grabs a handful of Max’s left ass cheek, pulling him wide, fingers of his other hand moving unceremoniously in and out of his hole. Max can feel the cool metal of Scotty’s wedding ring against him, a twin sensation to the cold slick of the lube dripping down his rim. He wonders if Chloe knows. She’s probably lounging in the Aston Martin hospitality right now, sipping casually on a glass of wine as she chats with Fernando or jokes around with Lance. Does she know that her husband is only a few dozen yards away, wiping the excess lube off his hand and onto his cock and lining it up with Max’s hole? He wonders what she’d say if she knew. He wonders what Daniel would.

He groans as the thought hits him. Imagines Daniel’s face if he walked into Max’s driver room right now, saw him splayed out like this, moaning like a whore as Scotty takes that moment between breaths to push in, his first thrust already a zero to sixty full send that has Max sliding further to the floor. His knees slip wider and his hip flexors stretch beyond the point of a pleasant ache. Rupert is going to kill him if he shows up to his pre-race warm up with a limp. Maybe Daniel would help soothe the ache. He could slide to the floor beneath them, tuck himself under Max’s juddering hips, suck the tip of his cock into his mouth as Scotty keeps pounding into him.

Max gasps and clenches down as he imagines it. Fuck, what he wouldn’t give for Daniel to burst through the door. Through the drool soaked fabric held between his teeth, he moans out a barely coherent “Daniel!”

The room is immediately quiet as Scotty stills inside him and Max inhales sharply at his own outburst. For a long moment, neither of them moves. They breathe in the shared silence for a beat, and then Scotty pulls back to sit on his haunches and grabs Max by the back of his polo shirt to haul him back with him. The change in angle has him sliding, somehow, even further down onto Scotty’s length. Max groans. From his new position on Scotty’s lap, he can feel the bite of zipper teeth against the back of his thigh. That’s going to leave a mark- another thing he’ll have to explain away to Rupert when he hops into the ice bath tomorrow.

Scotty wraps one hand firmly around Max’s chest, brushes the sharp edge of a thumbnail over Max’s nipple, drawing out a hushed squeal. He pulls Max tight against his body, cock buried balls deep inside him. As he starts moving again, stabbing staccato thrusts aimed directly at Max’s prostate, intended to tease but not satisfy, he leans in to whisper directly into Max’s ear. “Come on, Maxy. You’re not trying to get us caught, are you? Not trying to get Daniel in here to see what you look like getting fucked like this.”

Max huffs out an annoyed moan. “Like you don’t want it, too. You would be putting on a show for him. Trying to show him how good you can fuck. Which, of course, isn’t even very good at all.”

Max knows he’s hit a nerve. It always comes down to this for them. Sometimes they’ll spend the entire time just egging each other on. It usually doesn’t take much more than the mere mention of Daniel from either of them to get things ramped up. Like clockwork, he can feel Scotty’s rhythm start to falter behind him, his thrusts becoming more and more erratic. Before he even has time to reach down for his own cock, he feels Scotty stiffen and then grind hard into him.

Everything immediately feels wetter, the slick combo of lube and come mixing inside him as Scotty starts to pull out. Max whines, tries to clench down and keep Scotty’s dick inside him. “Don’t fucking stop, you fuck!” he whisper-shouts, trying to bounce on the flagging cock already slipping free from his hole. It’s too late. Scotty pulls out completely and shoves Max off of him to flop back to the driver room floor. He’s still fully dressed, just his bare wet cock out, lying limp on the precarious biting edge of his unzipped jeans.

Furious and still achingly hard, Max clambers on top of him, knees spread on either side of Scotty’s hips. He grabs at Scotty’s hand and forces two fingers together before lifting up and shoving them between his legs. He refuses to look down at Scotty’s face. He knows that if he does, he’ll see that fucking smirk. He closes his eyes and throws his head back instead, so that in his mind’s eye, he can imagine that it’s Daniel beneath him, whose hand he’s riding quickly to climax. Scotty’s doing nothing to help him along, but his fingers are serviceable enough as a makeshift dildo for Max to ride, and quickly enough, he’s approaching orgasm. He comes and chokes back the cry that threatens to spill over.

He catches his come in one hand to save it from landing directly on Scotty’s shirt. He’d deserve it, the asshole; but Max knows those aren’t risks they’re able to take. Can’t explain away the random stain or have to come up with an excuse as to why Scotty’s wearing a borrowed Red Bull t-shirt and walking away from the Red Bull end of the paddock on a weekend he’s supposed to be hanging out in the Aston Martin garage. So Max catches his come in his hand. But he can’t resist the opportunity to fuck with Scotty at least a little, so he pushes up his shirt- some obnoxious NFT branded thing- and smears his cupped hand across Scotty’s abs, painting his stomach with it before Scotty even realizes it’s happening.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Scotty complains and pushes Max off him for the second time. He grabs randomly for the first thing he can put his hands on to serve as a rag- the balaclava that Max is supposed to be wearing for free practice today- and uses it to wipe himself off. He tosses the balaclava at Max to finish cleaning up and then stands to tuck himself back into his jeans and zip up.

Once they’re both mostly presentable, Max pokes his head out of the room, checks that there’s no one around to see Scotty exiting. Satisfied that they’re clear, he steps out of the way and jerks his chin at Scotty, a nod towards the door for him to get out.

“Yeah, I’m gone. See ya never, mate,” Scotty throws over his shoulder as he saunters out of Max’s driver room.

“Fuck you, too,” Max throws back at him. He glances at the clock. He’s almost late for his warm up with Rupert. Fuck.

***

The rest of the weekend is mostly business as usual. He has to sit through a lecture from Rupert about having to rush through his warm up (“Where’ve you been? And why are you so stiff in your hips today?” he asks as he takes Max through the exercises. “Do we need to add more stretching to your routine?”), and then another from GP about having to rush the prep for the practice session, but neither is out of the ordinary. He puts it on pole the next day and wins the race the day after. He takes a moment to celebrate with the team and then makes sure to seek Daniel out for the biggest hug, an arm looped around Daniel’s waist and a hand clasped at the back of his neck, holding him close. He’s only got a few more hours of custody time before he’ll have to hand him over to Scotty, and he intends to make the most of them.

After the champagne, the ceremony, the interviews, he follows Daniel to his driver room, chattering all the way about the race and how the car is finally feeling like they’ve got a handle on it this season. Daniel nods at the appropriate moments, points out things he’d noticed on track, too. Max beams. He loves talking about racing with anyone, but most especially with Daniel.

In Daniel’s driver room, Max makes himself as comfortable as he can on the small padded bench and watches as Daniel strips off his race suit and fireproofs and tosses them in a heap on the ground. He wanders around the tiny room in just his boxer briefs, which are molded to his thighs, still sweat-slick from the race. Max’s own briefs start feeling a little tight as he takes in all of the skin on display in front of him.

“What are we doing to celebrate tonight?” he asks. “Carlos told me about this new club that he and Charles have visited. We can go there together, if you want. Few G&Ts to end the weekend?”

Daniel nods while he throws on his regular clothes, and Max sighs as all that golden skin disappears from view. “Sounds good, mate. I’m all in!”

Max smiles back at him. Perfect. He’s riding the high of the win, and as the blood rushes from his brain to locations further south, he decides to press his luck. “And then tomorrow, do you want to fly with me in my plane? You can come with me to Greece for a bit, if you want.”

“Sorry, no can do, Maxy. Got plans for this week already. Besides,” he pauses halfway out the door, gives Max a sharp look over his shoulder, “it’s not your custody week, is it? Scotty wouldn’t approve.”

Max stares after Daniel as he skips down the stairs out of his driver room. Fuck.

#my fic #asks #i'm nervous about this one!#i'm not convinced that it fully makes sense #but i'm happy with it i think!#scotty/max #unrequited maxiel #unrequited scaniel

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vigilskeep · 1 day ago

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there are so many things in veilguard that have made me go "wait what??? okay i guess i have to totally rethink the character i'm roleplaying now" that it's literally impossible to guess what thing you're referring to as The Thing That Happened. obviously extremely curious to hear what it is once you've detangled it

it’s kind of like that but it’s also less that and more... okay i should probably just say it, i’m being weird and unhelpful and i need to write it out anyway so i can think

MASSIVE SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT for a companion quest, do NOT say i didn’t warn you. also please don’t respond to this if you know more than me i am in distress but i still don’t want spoilers

so i just finished lucanis’ “a murder of crows” quest. and lucanis. first talon. for some reason. (this is the writing choice i’m ??? on. also i’m ??? on lucanis’ whole storyline, frankly. the writing was. well. like i said, we’re not unpicking that right now, i don’t want to get into it at this point, not the conversation i’m having.)

lifelong trauma of being in the crows and fighting to get someone in a talon’s position and keep them there -> the thing that gave sol all their diseases and made them, to be frank, fairly suicidal

viago: ultimately can handle it without them, especially with teia’s backing.

lucanis: CANNOT handle it without them. holy fuck. for like twelve hundred different reasons, unthinkable, completely laughable, that he can handle this. who is going to protect him. the only reason this could be better at keeping sol mentally stable than watching viago’s back is that they will never feel purposeless or need to go looking for an adrenaline rush, because forget crows, an ambitious blackbird could eat that man alive. he can’t scheme. he can’t even SCHEME and the very fact that he trusts sol DE RIVA demonstrates this. sol is a crow! from another house! does he have no memory at all of the fact that his own parents died in crow infighting? sol could have been playing him this whole time, it wouldn’t have even been hard, and if they were that kind of person, then right now the first talon’s house would have just fallen directly in their hands like a gift from the maker, and they can’t even say a part of themself they can’t shut off isn’t thinking about it that way! how is sol supposed to keep someone like that alive?

you see what it’s like trying to sleep while sol is having this discussion in my mind.

ahem. anyway. pathways for sol’s life assuming they indeed make it through the game:

becoming lucanis’ guard dog the way they were for viago, which (even if they could mentally handle that, which they can’t. or can they??) means switching house loyalties which would surely destroy them eventually -> bad

somehow trying to persuade lucanis to give this up, as if that wouldn’t be throwing house dellamorte completely to the dogs, which at least sol can’t imagine any crow is capable of, let alone someone so dedicated to clinging to what remains of his family that he couldn’t even kill a traitor -> bad

going ahead and leaving the crows, but sol now has to leave BOTH viago and lucanis behind and also lucanis is going to die in there because they left him to do this alone -> bad

solution: sol is back on their original “if a blighted dragon eats me by the end of this, i don’t have to experience consequences” train

and maybe they’re right and i should not worry about this because i’m painfully aware it’s VERY bold to start deciding what happens after the game at this point, when they might still get trapped in the fade or turned into paste or something. and admittedly they did know and dread the possibilities from the first moment they felt something for lucanis, which was why they so wanted it to be anyone else, because anyone else in that lighthouse could have given them a different world, and he is the one who regardless of his best or worst intentions can only tie them tighter to a burning building. and SURE, i see the solas/mythal breakup parallels of sol still leaving, i’m looking at them, that doesn’t mean i have to LIKE them

he hasn’t even kissed them. they’re doing all of this unkissed. lucanis dellamorte when i get you

again please absolutely do not respond to any of this with even the vaguest of hints if you know more about the rest of the game than me 🙏 it’s probably best if no-one responds to this at all lmao i am just thinking out loud. you can reply with a “that’s rough buddy”. for sol

#sol de riva

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unlikelycupcaketrash · 2 days ago

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You want more?

I gotchu

(It’s all Danny and Lancer with the Waynes crack) (probably)

New rare pare just dropped??? Why do I kinda love Bruce/lancer

what is Mr lancers first name?? *one google search later* we don’t know but it starts with an L :/

I dub thee: Lucas

Lucas “Luke” Lancer (hell yeah, alliteration!)

So anyway Tim and Danny meet and are suspicious of each others odd behavior but ultimately end up with a more or less “I don’t ask questions about where you sneak off to and your spontaneously unimportant injuries and you don’t ask about me and mine yeah? Alr.” Type relationship, and actually hang out a lot.

The first few times Tim asked Danny about that Danny would always say that “you haven’t unlocked enough of my backstory” and move on. Tim doesn’t like this but he gave up on trying because he cant find anything weird about his paper trail and Danny’s a chill guy so it’s probably fine, I mean it not like he’s a vigilante right?

In the show his top speed was 112 mph so ima say he keeps improving his speed as he goes back n forth from Gotham to amity because let’s be so fr Valarie is handling most of the ghosts but there are some nights where it gets too much and she hast to call in backup, and by some nights I mean twice a month at least. What can I say? Amity park ghosts are mean and don’t care about your education

After Jason gets back whatever plot shenanigans you want make it so that lancer is checking up on Danny at the same time Jason has to pick up Tim for whatever and Jason recognizes Lucas but he doesn’t recognize jay yet (he will later), see where I’m going with this? Ok so they get talking (the literature nerds) and Jason decides to double down on shipping Luke with Bruce. Bruce could seriously use the normal and positive influence and hey he’s good with kids so why not? It’ll be funny!

How could he do this the most efficiently, effectively and flamboyantly?? A gala probably, but first Bruce and lancer need to be to the level of friends where they would interact/maybe even seek each other out at a high society event, so *sigh* I guess he’s going to have to invite Danny and lancer to a family dinner or something, but he’s not close enough to either of them do do that without it being weird! His whole plan is falling apart!

Oh Timmy!!!!!~~ has Jason ever mentioned that your his favorite brother?? and he’ll give you his desert at the monthly family dinners for three months if you do this one little thing for him?

So Danny ends up being invited to a Wayne dinner and oh Mr. Lancer you come in too, you came all this way, we insist! (He realizes Jason is Jason Wayne at the dinner btw)

Tim is floundering around Danny because this is the first time Danny looks well rested and with actually styled but also messy hair and what the fuck that’s his roommate! He has no right to look this cute! Tim can see his freckles instead of the ever-present eye-bags and-! wait what why is his heart beating so fast, he’s been trained by the bat! A cute boy should not be able to affect him as much as it is. He need to do some more heart rate exercises because why is Danny so cute all of a sudden and maybe it’s one of his meta powers? No they’re roommates, they live together, he would’ve noticed, and now he’s spiraling but he can’t really stop and-

Bruce is similarly struggling but he can deal with it by being such a clueless bimbo and tired dad because why are so many of his kids here? It’s not even the monthly dinner yet? Is it because of Danny and Lucas? It probably is, he should invite them over more, jay is here and talking passionately about whatever lit thing with Lucas and he will totally invite Luke over more, I mean see how much he cares about his kids? Gah he’s just so perfect- wait what?

DCxDP: The Roomate

Despite all their madness, it's no secret in Amity Park that the Fentons are certified geniuses. When Maddie and Jack Fenton first move to town, they are all anyone can talk about.

Maddie was well known among women because, at the time, women in STEM were rare, and it was even rarer for them to actually gain recognition for their efforts. Her work, confusing to most of the public, meant a lot to the women in Amity Park.

Before she arrived, she had been featured in three separate magazines: one for science, another for sponsoring a scholarship for STEM women, and the last for her inventions of self-defense accessories to arm young women. Yes, most didn't know about her until they learned that she was moving into their small town, but that was beside the point.

Her husband was a little less known, but it came as no surprise that he was also said to be rumored as a well-educated man. He had two PhDs. Two.

At the time, almost everyone in Amity Park had a high school diploma, the highest degree level of the masses. Sure, some well-off families could send their children four towns away to the closest college, but it was rare.

It was also a privilege—a means to show off at the annual street market, where the proud mothers would smugly describe their children's dorm rooms or majors to the tightly smiling neighbors.

In the early eighties, having a higher education made people appear more respected, and here was Jack Fenton, a man who had two Ph.D.s and was rumored to be working on his third. The man who had bought out the old Steward faculty building by the main street was having a crew removed into a home/laboratory.

Everyone buzzed for weeks about the new neighbors, and sharing any new details about them was exciting. It may be strange to people outside their little town, but with a population size of at least five thousand (at least in the eighties when the Fentons arrived. and the population grew well into the thousands when Axion Labs was built), news of changes was rare and few in between.

Amity Park didn't have big-shot names on their roads, much less stay to live. Heck, they only recently started getting a carnival to go by, and that was at least seventeen years since the Fentons moved in.

So, it was no surprise that Fenton's daughter showed just as large a brain as she did. Yes, the Fentons were less academic types than they were expecting, showing a rather odd obsession with the paranormal, but no one could deny their ability to build anything.

The Fenton boy was the only one who didn't live up to the family name. Danny was on the right path until Freshman year, when his grade rapidly dropped to the bottom of his class, he vanished for hours on end and went into destructive fits randomly.

He has been found among enough rooms ripped apart to know that Fenton was out of control. School staff spoke to Mr. and Mrs. Fenton often, and the two parents genuinely seemed to take their conversations to heart, attempting to instill better behavior within Danny.

Nothing seems to work. No grounding, detentions, community work, or group meetings seem to get through the boy's head. The Fentons were at their wit's end with their youngest. Mrs. Fenton, fretting that her son had never behaved like this.

Then, ghost attacks started appearing around the same time to make things worse. While the town laughed at them at first, everyone quickly realized the Fentons were one of the few who could provide defense against the ghosts. Throughout more and more attacks, the people started to defer to the Fentons in times of crisis.

The people who once booed them now rallied around them, and it took no time for everyone to acknowledge that the Fentons were now among the highest in the town's social ladder.

That came with some benefits.

"Are you sure this would help Danny?" Maddie asks, staring at the pamphlet in obvious doubt.

"Mrs. Fenton, I assure you that I would not have recommended Daniel for the program if I didn't think it would help him," Mr. Lancer responds with great patience. "It is apparent that he is dealing with something that needs more support than the school staff can provide."

"But to send him away?" Jack cuts in, looking close to tears.

"Don't think of it as sending him away. Think of it as putting him in an environment that can help him. Frankly, Daniel is struggling here. He's been having more and more destructive fits, his teachers have noticed he's paying less and less attention in class, and a few students have even approached me saying he seems to be hiding weapons in his bag."

"Weapons?" Maddie gasps. "Our Danny?"

"Rest assured, we have done searches and investigations as these accusations are not accepted without reason. Daniel does not seem to have any on him, but I worry he may be facing severe bullying if children were willing to lie about something so serious." Mr. Lacner sooth swiftly. He sighed, leaning back in his seat as neither adult looked particularly happy by his words. "The staff and I attempt to step in when we can, but bullies always find ways to slip past us. For example, bothering him off campus. I just think Daniel will be better away from those causing him harm, especially if he really is dealing with a previously unknown mental illness."

He pulls out more pamphlets, one with testimonies from previous program participants. When Lancer left Amity Park for college, he never planned to return. He got his teaching degree alongside his associates in English and History.

Lancer had taught at a different school, a more well-known and better-funded school, but he missed his small town. He missed the neighborly people, the less noise, and Amity's clean, crisp air. He found himself quitting his Gotham Academy job in Grades six to eight, moved back home, and attempted to drag Casper High out of its failing pit.

He still struggled as the school couldn't find enough teachers. He taught four different subjects—math, History, English, and Science—whenever he could, and there was almost no funding.

But Casper High was slowly getting better every year due to the connections Lancer had made in his seven-year tenure as a Gotham Acadamy Professor. One of these connections was the father of his favorite English student.

Bruce Wayne.

Mr. Wayne attended every single one of Jason's plays, and as the Drama Club sponsor, Mr. Lancer would chat with him. Most people knew Wayne was an airhead, but Wayne was delightful to be around. Like Mr. Lancer, he cared deeply about education and always took the teacher's suggestions to bring up at PTA meetings.

When Lancer chose to move back to Amity, Jason was devastated and insisted he had Bruce's number. It was heavily implied that the board wanted Lancer gone due to his "questionable" teaching plan—he tried to teach empathy a little too much, according to some parents—and the boy thought his sudden departure was due to this.

Mr. Wayne assured him if he had been let go or pressured into leaving, he would provide Lancer with an entire team of lawyers. Touching as it was, Lancer assured them he was leaving on his own accord.

He contacted Mr. Wayne, asking for advice on how to apply for school grants or any other tips the billionaire could give him. The man was the most involved Father Lancer had ever met, including fundraising and supporting art programs.

Casper High had been this close to removing Band, Drama, Cheerleading, soccer, and Baseball because it needed more money to afford them. Not to mention all the other clubs that had vanished when Lancer was a Casper student. Bruce was happy to help him save the programs for the students.

It was the main reason Lancer was made vice principal so quickly. He was basically keeping Casper High running.

Two years later, he heard the news that Jason had been murdered. It shattered Lancer's heart. He went to the funeral and watched Mr.Wayne slowly fall apart. Even as he returned home, he tried to reach out to the man whenever he could.

It may have felt different to the other man, but Lancer always thought they were friends. Eventually, Mr. Wayne bounced back—never forgot—from Jason's death, and slowly, the gap between them was reconnected.

The reason for Mr. Wayne's mental recovery was the one that suggested this program. He had personally invited Mr. Lancer to send Daniel.

"Tim Drake is a brilliant boy," Mr. Lancer continued, watching the two couples struggle to decide. "His team is filled with trained psychologists, he has the facilities to deal with Meta children, and Daniel won't be uncomfortable rooming with him as a teenager himself."

Maddie looks at Jack, but while she sees the hurt in his eyes, she also sees his resolve. "Alright, we'll send Danny to the Meta Mentoring Program. It's what's best."

"I'll let Mr. Drake know he'll have a roommate."

#if dead tired happens and Bruce/lancer happens then Mr lancer is going to be Danny’s father in law and Danny doesn’t like this #i don’t know where i was going with this #but god damn was i going #dead tired #Bruce x Lancer #i don’t know their ship name #bruce wayne #danny fenton #tim drake #mr lancer #prev tags #danny phantom x detective comics #dcxdp crossover #dcxdp #dpxdc crossover #dpxdc #dcxdpdabbles #the roomate #mr.lancer is one of those teachers that care and single handle keeing the school open #part 1 #I see that part 1 tag and I have decided to ignore it in favor of giving the people shenanigans #sorry op #i had to #Jason sees the moment Bruce realizes his crush is back #he is rejoicing inside but it ends up with him just looking smug #to be fair he is also being smug about it #everyone else catches on quick about what’s up with Bruce and Tim and their crushes #either immediately is on board ride or fucking die #or is hesitant and is reluctantly okay with it they guess but only because b is happy #I reached the tag limit lmaooooo

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gugapuppy · 1 day ago

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Abortion - Part 1

Part 1 || Part 2

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I've been fucking stressed this week, so instead of shouting at the people around me, I've made this anguish here!

CW: Implied abortion

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Okay, but A!Ghost and O!Soap, where Soap accidentally gets pregnant and tells Ghost, thinking that everything will be fine and that the two of them will work things out together, but Ghost, after hearing about the pregnancy, swears and kicks Soap out of his room, calling him a cheater and other things.

Soap tearfully asks in despair what happened, why Simon is acting like this, but Ghost doesn't answer from inside the room.

Several weeks passed, each time Soap tried to talk to the lieutenant, but each time Ghost ignored him as if Soap didn't exist, Ghost no longer had lunch or dinner with Soap, the two no longer smoked together behind the barracks, even every time Soap entered an environment where Ghost was, the lieutenant always ran away quickly.

The omega needs the minimum of comfort from his alpha, just a piece of clothing with his fragrance, or just a pat on the shoulder, but his alpha doesn't care about him anymore. The two weren't mated either, which made matters worse.

Gaz, Price and Laswell, and a few other soldiers noticed the change between the duo.

Gaz tried to talk to Soap, but Soap, afraid, didn't say anything about the pregnancy and just said that he and Simon had had a bit of a row, but didn't elaborate.

Price tried to talk to Ghost but the man said it was nothing, even though he knew there was something Ghost and Soap weren't telling him.

Laswell also tried to talk to Ghost but it didn't work out, as the man asked to be sent on a mission, and Laswell, unable to do much, allowed it.

After two days without seeing Ghost at the base, Soap decided to ask Price, and Price told him about Ghost's solo mission, that he would be away for at least a week or two.

And at that moment, Soap just bowed his head and thanked him for the information, and then ran to his room, and when he arrived and locked his door, he collapsed, crying gallons of tears inside his nest while hugging an scentless sweatshirt that Simon had forgotten there.

At some point he fell asleep, and hours later he woke up to his mobile phone vibrating under his pillow. When he answered it, Soap heard his mother's voice, and again he burst into tears, remembering that his own mother had been abandoned by Soap's alpha shitty father before he was born.

At that moment he told his mum everything that had happened, about Simon, the pregnancy, everything. The smell of stress and melancholy wafted through the room, anyone in there would throw up or run to give the omega a cuddle.

His mother was very understanding, listening until the end and calming him down as Soap had little anxiety attacks. In the end, Soap asked what he should do, his mother remained silent, debating for a moment what to say to her son.

After a few minutes she said calmly. "If you bring that child into the world, you won't be able to work in the army any more and you'll have to find another job that pays a lot less, plus you'll be forever linked to that alpha who hurt you."

"But he's not bad, Mum." Soap whispered.

And on the other end of the line his mum sighed. "If he was someone good, he wouldn't have treated you like that, darling." A harsh reality that Soap wished were a lie.

She was right, if Simon cared about Soap he would still be here and on his side.

"You should think about what you want to do, you have to think about what's best for you." -She said gently.

They exchanged a few more words before Soap hung up and stayed quietly inside his room and nest, staring at the ceiling and running his hand over his belly.

Gradually, everything about the pregnancy, from the time he found out to the recent weeks he spent alone, sad and abandoned in his nest without his alpha to comfort him, and together with the conversation he had with his mum earlier, Soap made up his mind.

In the gloom of his room, with his hands wrapped around his belly, Soap mumbled with small tears running down his cheeks. "I'm sorry, but I don't want to bring my first son or daughter into a world where he or she will have to be raised by a dysfunctional family..."

Soap was going to look for a clinic this week and someone to accompany him there...

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Idk if there's gonna be a pt 2, I just wanted to take my anger out on something. If u want, say something i guess?

Love u all! 😀

#john soap mactavish #ghoap #ghost soap #soap cod #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #ghost cod #cod angst #cod modern warfare #cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod a/b/o #kyle gaz garrick #john price #kate laswell #omega soap #alpha ghost #angst

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famoussharkhairdoknight · 2 days ago

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Where Goodbyes Fade~Jude Bellingham

The rain pounded against the car windows as I drove towards Jude’s house. We’d gone out to dinner for what was supposed to be the last time. After months of trying and endless discussions, we had decided to end things. It just wasn’t working anymore—or at least, that’s what we kept telling ourselves.

I parked outside his house. I sat there, hands gripping the wheel, staring at his front door. I should have just left, said goodbye, and moved on. But something held me back.

Finally, I sighed and got out of the car. Jude opened the door just as I knocked, and despite the grey sky and the tired look on his face, he had that faint, familiar smile.

“I thought you’d already gone,” he said, looking at me with a mix of surprise and curiosity.

“Yeah… I thought so too,” I replied, holding my breath as our eyes met. It felt like it had been ages since we’d looked at each other that way.

“What made you come back?” he asked, and I heard a note of hope in his voice, even though he tried to hide it.

I shook my head, unable to give him a clear answer. “I don’t know. It just felt like… something was missing,” I whispered.

He looked down and gestured for me to come inside. He closed the door behind me, and the silence in the room became heavy. I felt more vulnerable than ever. We looked at each other for a moment without saying anything, but there was so much between us that every word seemed unnecessary.

After a long pause, Jude stepped closer. “So… we should say goodbye, right?”

The words hit me, but I nodded weakly, trying to seem sure of myself. “Yes, it would be… better for both of us.”

“Better?” he repeated, as if he couldn’t believe that word. “God, do you really think this is the right thing?”

“I don’t know, Jude. We’ve tried so many times… we’ve been at this point for too long.”

He took a step back, running a hand through his hair—a gesture I knew well. “Maybe we’re just afraid to go all the way. Maybe we never allowed ourselves to truly surrender to each other,” he said in a low voice, almost as if he were speaking to himself.

I moved closer to him, looking into his eyes. “Jude, if there are things we haven’t said… it’s time to say them.”

He was silent for a moment, then moved his hand to my face, brushing a strand of hair aside. “I’m going to miss you,” he whispered hoarsely, his words thick with an emotion I couldn’t ignore.

“Stop it…” I replied in a low voice, but without any conviction. My heart was pounding, as if it had been waiting to hear exactly that.

“Will you really miss me?” he asked, almost as a challenge, and I saw the determination in his eyes, that same spark that had made me fall in love with him.

“Every single day,” I answered, unable to hold back the truth any longer.

Suddenly, Jude stepped even closer, so close that our breaths mingled. I could feel his warmth, his familiar scent, and every fiber of my being cried out for him.

“Tell me you hate me, if that’s really what you want,” he whispered, his lips just a breath away from mine. “Tell me you don’t need me anymore.”

“I can’t,” I answered, and in that moment, all my determination collapsed. His hands found my cheeks, and the world seemed to stop.

Suddenly, his face was so close that he was all I could see, his lips finding mine in a kiss loaded with everything we had kept hidden for far too long. His arms wrapped around me, and I held onto him as if he were the only thing that mattered.

After a moment, we pulled apart, breathless, but he still held me tightly, as if afraid I might disappear at any second.

“I can’t let you go,” he murmured, his face tense with genuine pain.

“Neither can I,” I replied, unable to hold back the tears. “Maybe we need each other more than we want to admit.”

He smiled, brushing his lips against mine once more. “Then let’s stay. Let’s put away every doubt and this time… really give it a shot.”

And in that moment, I realized that sometimes, even when you think you want to close a door, your heart knows the right choice all along.

#jude bellingham #jude sweetwine #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham imagine #jude #hey jude #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x reader #p links #smut imagine #short story #cute story #love story

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gravityrises · 2 days ago

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The Virtues of Stanford Pines

Summary: I've seen people accuse Ford of doing horrible things on one side, and people defending his actions on the other side. But how about we turn the tables and talk about all of the good Ford has done. (At least, that was the plan.)

Word Count: 2813.

Spoilers: Gravity Falls series, Journal 3, The Book of Bill, Lost Legends, thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com

1. He's incredibly hard-working:

Just because someone is smart doesn't mean they don't put a lot of effort into studying and Ford definitely did. It's mentioned twice just in "A Tale of Two Stans," when he tries to convince the college board to give him another chance and when he describes his years at Backupsmore.

And it doesn't stop at intellectual pursuits. In Journal 3 Ford says he exercises daily, despite having always hated physical activity.

Anyway, I don't think anyone is going to argue this point, so let's leave it at that.

2. He's supportive of his friend:

There are going to be a few controversial takes, but I truly believe that Ford was trying to be a good friend to Fiddleford. Now, there were fights between them, and Ford did say quite a few insensitive things both to his face and in the Journal. But overall, I don't think he ever intended to hurt Fiddleford, and he definitely appreciated his friend's company.

When Ford invited Fiddleford to work on the portal, he wrote in the journal: "He (Fiddleford) has sacrificed so much to come to my aid. He has temporarily left his bride and their young son... he has abandoned his own professional aspirations... I must do my best to make him feel at home.... I am off to the store for some banjo strings and microchips!" (quote shortened, because I'm lazy) Clearly, Ford cared about his friend and wanted to make him feel welcome.

He also compliments Fiddleford's "brilliant mind," "amusing quirks" and scrupulous work ethic, by saying "I double-check my equations. He quintuple-checks!"

And I hear you, didn't he claim the complete opposite in the series? According to him, Fiddleford "was wasting his talent trying to make personal computers", right? Well, if we ignore the fact that the creators weren't 100% consistent in their writing, here's how I would reconcile those two statements. Ford thought (erroneously) that his friend's research wasn't important in the grand scheme of things, but it was important to Fiddleford personally. And can you really blame Ford? He was about to demostrate the existence of other dimensions and create a gateway that would allow us to visit them. If something like that happened irl, it would've been a groundbreaking discovery, altering our very understanding of the natural world and how it works. Meanwhile, laptops, at least in Ford's opinion, were just "heavy, slow journals." Still, he knew this work was important to Fiddleford, and he wanted to accommodate that. Hence, his trip to buy microchips (and banjo strings.)

Ford tried (and unfortunately, failed) to help Fiddleford deal with his anxiety. In Journal 3, he mentions teaching Fiddleford some meditation techniques and going to the Carnival, so that Fiddleford would enjoy "a day of relaxation." In the Book of Bill, Ford feels guilty about not getting his friend a gift and decides to throw a surprise Christmas party instead. This was also an attempt to cheer Fiddleford up after his fight with his wife.

"But Ford didn't take Fiddleford's anxiety seriously, and it ruined his life." Okay, let's say you're right. Remember, Ford was raised in the 60s. A time when mental illness or just mental distress were looked down on. What was he supposed to do? Suggest Fiddleford goes to the therapist? I mean, they were studying paranormal creatures, if Fiddleford told those stories to a therapist who didn't believe in these things, there would've been a really high chance of misdiagnosis. Should Ford have simply fired Fiddleford? Well, that wouldn't have been very nice. Also, there is no need to infantilize Fiddleford in the first place, he's a grown-up person capable of makind his own decisions. If the job is too stressful, if the relationship doesn't work out, he has every right to leave, because his life and mental well-being are his responsibility. Instead, he ignored Ford's warnings and decided to use the Memory Gun and start a cult. It was, by the end of the day, Fiddleford's decision. And it's tragic. It really is. No one deserves to lose their family, their mind and their sense of self. It's something Ford feels guilty about, because whether it was intentional or not, he did indirectly contribute to Fiddleford's downfall. That's why, when they finally reunited after 30 years, Ford apologized to Fiddleford. And according to Journal 3, Fiddleford dissmised his apology, leading Ford to say that "Not only is this man's mind superior to mine, but he has one of the biggest hearts I've ever seen."

3. He has no reservations about helping others out:

There's a reason why Ford's the first person people turn to, when there's a problem. He has both the desire and the skills to help people out. Using Dipper's idea, he stops agents from investigating his family. He goes above and beyond just to change a lightbulb in the kitchen. Though morally questionable, he did give the kids a mind control tie with the intent of helping Stan win the elections. In the comics, Stan turns to Ford when Mabel's face is stolen and when Stan himself is cursed by an old chest.

And that's how things were in the past too. In "The Pines Boys in: The Jersey Devil's in the Details", Ford defends his brother, twice. First, when Filbrick accuses Stan of stealing the gold chain from his pawn shop. And then, when the Sibling Brothers offered Ford to let him keep the monster and become famous in exchange for photos that would prove Stan's guilt. And just to add an incentive, they threatened to frame both twins, if Ford didn't comply. Obviously, it didn't work.

According to thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com, that's also how he became friends with Fiddleford: on the very first day, he spent nine hours helping his new friend prove his theory. And in the Book of Bill, when Ford learns that Bill's home dimension was destroyed by a monster, his immediate reaction is to offer help with hunting it down.

Whenever someone's in distress, Ford really wants to help them out, and I don't know about you, but to me that doesn't sound like someone lacking empathy.

4. He's got no qualms questioning the status quo:

In Journal 3, Ford mentions traveling to Northwest Manor to confront Old Man Northwest with evidence of his family's deceit. Instead, he was met by young Preston, who wasn't impressed with his speech and forcibly escorted Ford from the premises.

Also in Journal 3, Ford wanted to debate politics with Reagan. Make of that what you will.

Now this one is more of a conjecture, but in the Book of Bill, this is how Bill compliments him: "Guys as smart as you come along once every century, and they scare the pants off of authority figures!" This lie wouldn't have worked, if it wasn't what Ford actually wanted.

And of course, learning that his former "muse" is one of the most feared beings in the entire multiverse, didn't stop Ford from going on a quest to defeat Bill. Even after witnessing other creatures shriek and cover their ears at the mere mention of Bill's name. Which leads me to my next point.

5. Calling him determined would be a massive understatement:

Forget his sleepless nights at college, forget his extensive research in Gravity Falls, Ford has spent 30 years, let me repeat that again, 30 years traveling across dimensions and looking for a way to destroy Bill Cipher. I haven't even been alive for that long! From the little we know about those years, they were anything but easy. In fact, Ford describes them as "frightening, exciting, cruel, and strange." (And of course, the guy actually does use the Oxford comma in his writing. Who would've thought?) Let me stress that Ford was under no obligation to continue his quest, maybe he could've found a quiet dimension to settle down and live peacefully, in fact, that's something he contemplates while visiting A Better World in Journal 3. But he decides against it. Not because he didn't want to, he literally says that he wanted to revel in his parallel self's success. Not because defeating Bill would get him recognition. It wouldn't, at least not in his home dimension, where no one is even aware of the danger. No, he didn't stay, because his own conscience wouldn't allow it. Ford just couldn't break his vow from 30 years ago, it's as simple as that.

And what does he do, when his plans fall apart? Does he even consider giving up? Of course not! In fact, he ends his tale of interdimensional travel with the following sentence: "My resolve to defeat Bill has never been stronger." It's almost comical, watching him throw anything he can think of at Bill and see what might stick. His battle in the Nightmare Realm was interrupted? He jumps through the portal to stop Bill's forces from entering his dimension. The portal created an interdimensional rift? He tries to contain it. Bill threatens to get his hands on the rift? This time Ford has two ideas: he tries to encrypt Dipper's thoughts and creates a mystical barrier around the house. The worst happens and the world is about to end? Well, get in loser, we're going to shoot Bill with Quantum Destabilizer. Ford misses and is captured? Not to worry, there's a Zodiac prophecy, we can give that a try. It doesn't work, because two grown men can't put aside their grievances for just a few seconds, gosh that scene is so frustrating to watch. Well, here is another idea: one can erase Bill with a memory gun as long as he's in someone's mind. I don't know what else to say, Ford really did his homework, when he set out to destroy Bill.

6. He has the patience of a saint:

Wow, now here's a controversial take. Remember Stan's "Beep boop. I am a nerd robot. That's you. That's what you sound like," which Ford just laughs off. Yes, that's what siblings do all the time. And yes, this teasing does come from a place of hurt. Stan was feeling like "the stupid twin," "a dumb idiot who screws everything up," so Ford felt like he just had to put up with this. But it's still hurtful to be mocked for your interests. It really feels like their relationship was already a little strained even before the Science Fair Project Incident.

What about the fact that he was the first to stop the fight in "Dungeons, Dungeons, and more Dungeons" and suggesting Stan might actually have fun, if he joined their game?

Or all the snide comments Stan made, when they reunited during Weirdmageddon, including "Well, he's lost his mind" and "You really think some caveman graffiti is gonna stop that monster?" All of which Ford simply ignored. Yes, he did correct Stan's grammar under the worst of circumstances, I agree, but you know, everyone has their pet peeves.

What people often forget is just how difficult it is to be a kind person, when you're stressed. It is much easier to treat people with respect and understanding, when you yourself are doing fine. So is it that big of a surprise, that someone who's under pressure, sleep-deprived and/or in pain might be more prone to outbursts? And we know how traumatic Ford's experience of being bullied as a kid was, how much suffering Bill put him through, how difficult his years on the other side of the portal were and how much pressure he was under, trying to prevent a literal end of the world. It's ironic that the people who blame Ford for his lack of empathy, really don't show him any empathy themselves.

7. Even under torture, he didn't reveal the equation that would've allowed Bill to take over the world:

Do I really have to spell it out? Look, as someone who was on the verge of mental breakdown from a simple toothache, I have nothing else to say other than: This is admirable. And he did it to protect the world that, need I remind you, wasn't particularly kind to him. On the same note, he just never joined Bill in the first place: not in the 80s, and not during Weirdmageddon.

"Oh, but he's the one who started the Apocalypse, so he kind of deserved it." Seriously? No, I mean it, are you being serious? Is that something you would say to a person suffering from diabetes type 2, that it's their fault for eating too many sweets; or to someone with liver cirrhosis that they deserve to suffer because of their alcohol addiction? Because this is neither appropriate, nor helpful. Talk about kicking someone when they're down...

8. He's fiercely loyal to his family:

I think the way Ford compliments his grandniece in "The Last Mabelcorn" is very revealing: "You've protected your family. You're a good person, Mabel." His very definition of a "good person" is "someone who supports and protects their family." Which is... interesting to say the least, considering that Ford has spent a very long time away from his family and completely alone. But it does sound like something he aspires to. That's why he goes out of his way to help his family out, whenever they're in trouble. (See point 3 for more on this.)

When Bill threatens the kids, Ford is willing to risk the entire universe for a slim chance that they might be spared. It's a cruel Trolley Problem, which once again proves just how much he values his family. Still, this is some Fate/Zero level angst and I don't want to talk about it more than I absolutely have to. Let's finish this up with something more lighthearted.

9. He's never lost curiosity and childlike wonder:

This! This is what made me fall in love with the man and why I'm wasting my time writing this nonsense in the first place. This allconsuming excitement, when he finds a new anomaly to study; this seemingly endless energy, when he explores new places; this pure joy, when he gets to play DD&MD with Dipper! I don't know how to talk about it without gushing.

Ford obviously loves games, and not just DD&MD. He plays chess with Bill. He mentions being great at charades in the comics. And what cracks me up the most: during Weirdmageddon, when Pacifica compared the Zodiac to a game of hopscotch, not only did not Ford get offended, but he replied: "It would be a pretty fun game of hopscotch." Ford, darling, the world is about to end, is this really the best time to contemplate a hypothetical game of hopscotch? Also, you've just been through something traumatic... Forget it, you've been through 3 decades of traumatic experiences, can you at least have the decency to become a tad more cynical as you age, like the rest of us. I guess, mirth really is the mail of anguish. (It's from Emily Dickinson's poem and the quote means that some people act cheerful to hide their suffering.)

Also, something Ford doesn't get enough credit for, mostly because people usually focus on his academic achievements, but he is quite creative. He draws incredibly detailed sketches not only depicting various anomalies he encounters, but also whatever happens in his life. (Probably off-topic, but I find the implications of that karaoke page so funny. Think about it: the guy sobered up, looked at the incomprehensible nonsense he had written the previous night and thought: "You know what? This could really use an illustration.") Also don't forget that he canonically plays piano. Yeah, if I were Stan, I'd be jealous too.

And of course, that's why he's so passionate about science. Sure, part of him wants the fame and recognition that would come, if he makes a big discovery, but you can't deny that he genuinely enjoys learning new things. And that he enjoys sharing them with whoever is willing to listen.

In conclusion, I'm not trying to say that Ford is perfect in every way and has never done a single wrong thing in his life. To be honest, that would've made him a really boring character. So, yes, he is flawed, and misguided, and sometimes insensitive. He's made a lot of missteps because of his upbringing, personality and, as many have speculated, neurodivergence. But I really take issue with people saying Ford's a bad person, when he clearly isn't. Ford is and always was a good person, and by the end of all the trials he became a better person. One who understands that the only way to success is cooperation, not being a lone vigilante. That it's not a weakness to ask for help or to need help in the first place. And that a sea otter shared is a sea otter halved.

That's strange... why did I write that?

#and they told me i couldn't write useless fluff pieces #honestly jokes on you ford haters #no one can hate ford more than he already hates himself #and that is somewhat comforting #not beta read #but my mom read a google translation of it #yeah i don't know what i was thinking #i kind of hoped she would give up after 2 paragraphs #this is my one thousandth post on this subblog #gravity falls #stanford pines #character analysis #i guess

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