#guys if we collectively do daily nick

[nick-close]

Hey. Don’t be sad. Nick close, okay?

[blackynsupremacy]

NICHOLAS’ CHAIN

HEADCANONS

pairing: nicholas a. chavez x black!reader

summary: you love when nicholas sports his signature accessory of his chain, but he loves it on you more.

contains: lots of words, sfw, a bit of suggestiveness, some swearing, cute couple stuff, fluff, established relationship, you and nicholas being mushy and obsessed with each other (ya’ll make me sick), texting: reader, nicholas.

taglist: @sabrinasopposite @supaprettyg @gxuxhdjdu @elitesanjisimp @jkr820 @simply-the-best23 @hnch33rios @stereotypicalbarbie @rosiestalez @ellethespaceunicorn @camiesully @zombigrlll

��� you loved a lot of things about your boyfriend, nicholas chavez.

• you loved his kindness, charisma, talent, affection, tenderness, and humor.

• let’s not forget that he’s foine. not just fine. foine.

• you really secured the bag with this sexy ass, six foot one cinnamon roll of a man.

• you especially loved his style!

• he definitely suits the casual/basic wear on a daily basis and he cleans up well when it comes to premiers and interviews.

• his closet consists of the usual t-shirts, jeans, sweatpants, flannels, ball caps, and sneakers.

• your favorite part of his style was his main accessory: his chain necklace.

• your personal favorites are his silver chain and golden cross chain.

• you want to jump his bones whenever he wears one with a dress shirt that’s unbuttoned at the top, a white tank top, or no shirt at all. god, it turns you on.

• both silver and gold compliment his skin tone so perfectly.

• it looks so amazing against his toned shoulders, neck, and chest.

• it hits different when you see him wearing them when you guys workout together.

• you couldn’t exercise like you wanted because you were distracted.

• we must stay focused!

• you’re shorter than him, so you notice that he rotates chains depending on his outfit.

• he has a collection in ya’lls room.

• the chains deserved a special place to be in, so you gift him a new jewelry box for his birthday and he’s so grateful for it.

• he does NOT want to lose any of his necklaces.

• when you cuddle, you always lay on his chest. he loves to watch as your fingers glide against the metal.

• if it’s a chain with a charm, like the cross necklace, you’d like to gently caress it between your index and thumb. you love the sleek, smooth texture.

•when you kiss him, you wrap your arms around his neck, placing your palm on the nape to softly grip the chain to pull him in closer to you.

• or you sometimes place your hands on his chest.

• if he’s bare chested during a heated makeout session, you’d move down to pepper kisses all around that area, and give a final kiss to the charm in the middle before your lips meet to dance with his again.

• bonus when your chest is against his and you feel the slightly cold metal press on your skin.

• just like you steal his hoodies and t-shirts, you sneak one of his necklaces every once in a while.

• one time while nicholas was away filming, you bought a new dress to wear to a premiere that you’re accompanying him to. when you tried it on, it was pretty low cut and exposed a lot of your chest area.

• it was missing something, so to fill in the gap, you put on one of nicholas’ chains. you took a picture of it in your full body mirror and sent it to him.

• • •

bookie, my dress came through! what do you think? ☺️

• • •

absolutely stunning, y/n. 😍

god, you’re so sexy, sweetheart.

i’m gonna be the luckiest guy to have you by my side on the red carpet. 😩

• • •

ty, baby! i’m so glad you like it. i was worried for a minute. notice anything different? 👀

• • •

worried? you know that if you wore a hefty trash bag, i would still love it on you, right? 🫠

…no. did you do something with your hair? i want to make sure i notice that every time.

• • •

no, boy! 😂 bet, i’ll give you a hint. zoom in on my chest.

• • •

i’ve been looking at your chest, baby. 😏

• • •

nick, i’m being deadass, ya nasty.

• • •

okay, hold on. lemme look again.

wait

is that my cross chain?

omfg

you look so damn good! i wish that i could come home to see that in person. 😩🧎🏽

• • •

thank you! 😘

i’ve missed you so much it reminded me of you and idk if i told you this but…

nicholas, every time you wear a necklace, i go crazy. you be looking so good. 😍 i just wanna pull you by it, sometimes when we you know…

i need to stop. you’re at work and i don’t want to mess up your focus!

you’re gonna have to wait until the premiere. i’ll make sure to put it back after i’m done with it too.

• • •

well, fuck.

baby, i want you to keep it. i can always get another.

if i wanted anyone to have it, it’d be you, y/n.

you look so beautiful with it on…especially with that dress.

can’t wait to see it on without the dress.

• after that response, your face and…your body heat up. you put your phone down to take a long, cold shower. damn him.

• you borrowing his chains became a frequent habit.

• he’d always notice and he shows it by giving you the sweetest compliments.

• nicholas would hug you from behind, place his hands on your hips, and pepper kisses on the back and sides of your neck where his chain is.

• it makes your heart flutter everytime.

• ever since you told him about how good his necklace’s looked, nicholas would send you more shirtless or tank top pics, to make sure you see the necklace.

• he loves it when you pull him into a kiss by his necklace.

• his favorite is when you have on the gold cross. he adores the way it compliments your glowing, melanated skin.

• if you wore a low-cut top with the girls being nice and extra supported, he’d love to steal a glimpse or some kisses right at the crevice of your cleavage where the charm perfectly falls in.

• he bought you some his and hers matching chains for your anniversary. you thought that you were gonna burst in tears, you love this man. he’s so cute,it’s not even funny.

• they were on two, long silver chains with open hands at the charm and another circular one each with your first initials on it. the charms were magnetic, so when they came close, they’d immediately pull together as closer as possible symbolizing your love and your loyalty of this blissful relationship you share.

• he’s always checking to make sure you’re wearing your chain.

• the necklaces immediately connect when you kiss him.

• if you got on yours and he wore a different one, he’d immediately swap it out to match with you. no question.

• this, with nicholas alexander chavez, was all that you wanted, all that you needed, and it was all that mattered.

[unabridgedisbetter]

Can we just have a round of applause for the whole Dracula daily fandom? Like we all started reading Dracula, met the actual canon Dracula, and instead of romanticizing his power or deciding he was the new sexy man everyone collectively was like “oh hec no these are not the vibes an old abuser preying on our young heroes??? gross die hit him with a shovel” and it’s just so refreshing to have a bad guy that is just left to genuinely hate. I know there are different opinions on things and lovely paprika debates but at the end of the day we really want our friends to destroy Dracula and win against this manipulative abuser. And I love that for us. And then we got the Renfield movie with Nick Cage having the time of his life being a disgusting bad guy who they purposely didn’t overly sexualize and I think that had to do with us and the growing obsession with Dracula. Anyway just some breakfast thoughts. Hope this makes sense

[rennybu]

AAAAUHG.. so many things come to mind so i will start with... i like to imagine he and Fenris are the same height :') (5'11"). This got a bit long but i'm always happy to talk about this guy!!!!!!!!! @trebuchet151

he's got a big garnet signet ring with the Amell family crest carved in it, and that's about the only recognizable thing that denotes his lineage... he has always liked stamping wax seals on letters with it!!! he's a ring guy generally, he likes mixing and matching stones and metal.

his hands are very scarred and rough from reckless casting, and especially casting fire magic without a staff (in a pinch).

He has a heart tattooed on his ring finger for Fenris :') their wedding was very. Andraste as the witness, on the road, impulsive. Vows for themselves, nothing legally binding. Fenris has a plain gold band on a red cord somewhere on his person at all times.

his testosterone is taken via oral tincture, some kind of oil solution he takes drops of daily. like a mild and highly personalized potion recipe! it's the only reason he sometimes needs a home base or shop to set up in, to prepare a big batch. He stores it in little glass vials he collects from trinket shops. Malcolm found the recipe for him after he came out in his tweens.

Bethany is kind of sainted in his mind, when he's exasperated or stunned he might utter an "oh Bethany" (in the tone of "are you seeing this shit") rather than an "oh Maker"

He struggles a lot with empathy, in that he frequently can logically recognize when he should feel for another person's situation, and yet finds himself unmoved. He will deliberately go out of his way to care for others, sometimes more than is needed, to try to make up for what he perceives as a personal flaw. This is how he ended up like a wrung out mouldy rag, emotionally, by the end of DA2.

His spell class is fucking terrifying, he has a lot of mana and not much hp, but is really reckless about his reserves. He combines force magic with fire magic, trapping foes and incinerating them, and sometimes leaving himself winded in the wake of too much magical exertion at once.

he's pretty spry and strong but doesn't have a great constitution. He tires out quickly in fights, hence trying to end them explosively and quickly.

Was briefly stalked by a sloth demon, perhaps around Act 2, and passed a very "get off my doorstep" homebrew harrowing as a result. Burnt it out of his shadow and got some spring back in his step, around roughly the same time he recognized his feelings for Fenris, settled into his role as Hawke within Kirkwall, etc. He Killed Dysphoria, Forever!!!

His love for Merrill makes him very "blood magic is okay", he loves her worldview and wisdom about its use, but his upbringing prevents him from extending that grace to himself. He was forced to use blood magic in his duel against the Arishok in order to survive it!!! Angst. Hates himself quite badly for this. Until Merrill is like "why are you special" and he's like ooohh. I get it

We all kno Hawke goes thru hell but I love reflecting on Orson's arc from early family life to Now/post-DA:I, he found closure among his friends and family and was able to fully remove himself from a public leadership role and is doing much better for it. He's a bit of an anarchist i guess, jack of all trades with a pretty rigid set of personal morals that sometimes forces him to act outside the law. He's very grey market, hard to contact, arrive in the nick of time.

He and Fenris do not ever shut up around each other. Two dudes who talk about fuck all, very intelligently. If you see Fenris in the wild, Orson is probably around, too. They love hunting Venatori and only sometimes get in the way of other spy/subterfuge activities.

he smells like BRITTLE sun-baked wood, with a hint of oily herbal medicine.

[fumifooms]

Marchil crumbs part 3

Part 1 - Part 2 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

Count of times canon reminds us that Chilchuck is very attracted to blondes: 3rd For context: this is the canon explanation for everyone's shapeshifters

I can’t get over Chilchuck seeing Marcille like she has anime sparkles around her hair. How long have you stared at it. It’s like with the handsome Senshi where everyone is like "no this looks legit and absolutely like the real one" but her hair is shinier/prettier in the shapeshifter than in the actual her

It drives me crazy that Marcille styles her hair every day for herself but little does she know she’s giving Chilchuck the show of his life, daily arranging his favorite thing aka blonde hair into different unique ornate hairstyles. Not that he cares about the details but ohh my god.

It makes sense that Chil would be the first one to notice her hair being all loose and messy then. He’s bothered by seeing her like this and wants her to tie it up again, and is even more unsetled and shocked when she says she doesn’t want to anymore. Though he also recovers from the shock quicker than Laios and takes charge of the situation. HE NOTICED. HE CARESSSS. IT BUGS HIM

^ That is what you call a character arc, of becoming attached to her hair lmfaoo(more like to Marcille and her habits). Or lying. "Man I sure wish she'd shave her hair I'd be less distracted on the job. Her golden majestic hair is so blinding with how shiny and sparkly it is ugh" /j

He chose to do a portrait teehee <3

Chilchuck defending her honor even under mind control that makes them honest zombies

Marcille out there defending his VIRTUE. It’s not just that he didn’t commit infidelity, he HAS A PURE HEART!! Honestly, assigned virtuous by a bicorn would so be the type of novel shenanigan that Marcille would hella romanticize. Which we do see her do lmao but <3

They're so funny together in the golden kingdom chapters. First of all, sitting in front of each other at the table? Nice. Second, them being on the same wavelength all throughout lmao.

Them. Sharing the same numerous braincells, nodding together and making good use of it to make good decisions for the party. Valuing their noses

Also can we apreciate that they like, can talk together. Communicate and debate. Even under tougher situations or more sensitive topics. Shit this would have been a good place to put the pages when Marcille was dungeon lord... But they're lined up for part 4 and part 3 is already full with pics... You guys have no idea how much Tetris I'm doing for these marchil crumbs posts

I wanna do a full compilation of every time he laughs at her but in the meantime have this small imperfect collection as well as this reddit comp. I swear she's the person/thing that makes him laugh and smile the most. Besides alcohol maybe

The gang and Chilchuck both knowing her well and not at all lol. Gotta love Chilchuck's confidence about knowing her favorite meal, and him remembering the bare minimum that even Laios hasn't lol

Marcille infesting his life to the point that, quote, "her delusions" are even part of his adventurer’s bible life timeline. The only picture in fact, in the streamlined canon reference to Chilchuck's life. "Hey is Marcille imagining herself as an halfling and Chil's wife with a mini Chilchuck baby Chilchuck's canon family appearances" canon: well no but actually yes /j

Chil at her bedside <3

Looking out for each other comp Yes thank you Chil captain obvious (he's trying his best and doesn't want to die let's not be mean c'mon). But like you know with that whole scene of the mad sorcerer attacking, for Chil it must have been the most terrifying thing ever. Ancient magic?? By an elf, targeting them with murderous intent?? With only an elf with also ancient magic to keep them safe attack by attack in the nick of time?? His biggest nightmare. I'm also reminded of when Chil talks with Leed about how "our magician held under the mad sorcerer's attack" all fond and 'I am so relieved I can trust her with my life' and Leed is like "That silly looking elf?!" and Chil was like "Yeah she's silly. At least she's strong tho." I'm getting carried away but yes this scene was relationship-defining in some ways

But they keep each other in check too

She was trying to make conversation and sharing her interests aw Chil come on

They're sooo domestic. "Chil are we there yet" "Marcille I swear to god if you ask me that one more time-". Also second time through the manga that Marcille squishes Chil against the ground/wall.

Get squeezed idiot

Part 4 is here!

[thumperdaetime]

I think We as a Fandom (read as: Me Personally) have spent too much time thinking and sharing Glenn Closes who lean more into their potential angsty backstory, and even angstier story. (and no shade uve loved everything ive seen with Glangst(Glenn Angst)). But i personally (starting now and ending whenever i damn feel like it) would like to bring to our collective attention: Glenn Close, as a silly guy, who loves simple things, and has a good positive outlook (without toxic forced positivity)

-Glenn Close who gives great piggy back rides to Nick and later to the kids of his bandmates

-Glenn Close who considers himself an Excellent present gifter. who keeps a list of links to gifts he just Knows people will love, so he can purchase them when the price is low. and wrap them and stow them in the attic until the next time he needs a gift.

-Glenn Close who gets excited when he finds a new hand lotion to try. and will pull out the bottle and let anyone snif and sample if he enjoys the scent.

-Glenn Close who hums/softly sings Disney songs all the time without thinking. laying in bed with Morgan first thing in the morning, softly humming 'so this is love'. bopping around the kitchen making spaghetti-os and grilled cheese to the tune of 'bare necessities'.

-Glenn Close who pulls the entire tour van over to take a cheesey photo at a road side attraction.

-Glenn who is too loud and supportive at Sports (and sport adjacent) events, he's able to go to. [HC that Nick tried doing Chess club first but kept getting Talked To when his dad showed up and actually cheered for Nick. Nick didnt like the teacher who lead it anyway, and decided id be simpler to just try an after school thing Glenn could be vocal at.]

-Glenn Close who can be so focused on what he wants to say that sometimes it feels like he's not listening. but then half a month later he brings up a thing you mentioned in passing when he was telling an animated story to the whole room.

-Glenn Close being a good trans advocate for his kid. standing in in doctor appointments, and giving pep talks to Nick before therapy and counseling appointments.

-Glenn who practices guitar daily. and sits having a joint on his back porch enjoying the twilight.

[dollarbin]

Shakey Sundays #7:

Old Ways

A couple of years back my son had a big announcement after a week of summer camp counseling: they "were in a relationship."

Young love, isn't it sweet? I still experience it daily: Neil Young love, that is.

My son and this other kid were cute together, but most importantly their relationship led me to my copy of Neil Young's utterly mediocre 85 country record Old Ways.

Here's how it happened: my son's new love had a younger brother with a record collection. That brother saw my own hoard one day and took note of all my Neil Young. A few hours later he told me, quite smugly, "I've got a Neil Young record you don't own."

You're not supposed to swear at young people, even when they make dumb comments. So I chortled. Chortling is not swearing, but it stood in for a tempting retort based on a male cow's capacity for defecation.

"Listen, young one," I replied sagely. "I own every Neil Young album on vinyl between 66 and 89 with just one exception, plus Weld, Sleeps with Angels and a few other of Neil's titles besides, including several of the most important bootlegs in history. Either you are pulling my aching, middle-aged leg, or you own the only copy of The Monsanto Years anyone ever bought, which would be weird, or you are experiencing a momentary lapse in reason which adults call confusion."

Did I actually say that? Of course not; I don't live in a poorly written Wes Anderson film. I just chortled, heartily, and said, "yeah, right. Which one?"

"I don't know what it's called," said the kid. "But it's not in your collection. There's an old guy on the cover walking down a road, out in nature or something. I've never actually listened to it. I love Stephen Sills, and I don't think he's even on that record."

We were driving when this conversation occurred. I gripped the wheel in rage, and asked if the record was called Old Ways. That was the only hole in my collection prior to the 90's and on its cover Neil Young, not an old guy, (he was way younger than I am now in 85) does indeed walk down a country road.

The kid thought Old Ways sounded like the title. I controlled my breathing in Jedi fashion, setting aside envy and rage: the dark side that way lies. Then I demanded explanations. Where had he got it? Why? With whom? Wherefore? Was he sure he really owned Old Ways? I'd been searching for that record for years. For god sake, how much has he paid? Four dollars!!! Holy freakin' baby jesus.

Once I'd calmed myself down I started to wrestle with how to ethically steal the record from the kid. There was surely some way to do it without winding up a Sith lord. After all, I'd been patiently waiting to stumble across Old Ways for decades. I'd passed up Japanese import CD copies throughout the 90's and cassette versions in record store pickle barrels ever since. But the moment I learned some punk ass kid owed it I (very covertly) freaked out.

(He was not actually a punk ass kid; he was actually pretty cool; we'll chalk up his Stephen Stills preferences to the innocence of youth; after all, his prized possession was a reissued version of Buckingham/Nicks and when he told me that Lindsey Buckingham was the greatest guitar player in history my chortles turned to snorts, then resolve. The poor kid needed my help.)

"Listen, Harold," I said to him. (No, of course that wasn't his name. This was like four full years ago: I have no idea whatsoever what he was named.) "Old Ways is not a record you need in your collection. It's reserved for people like me who already own all of Neil's other records. He made it in the 80's during a midlife crisis. You should really listen to everything else he's ever made first. Well, except for those records he made with Promise of the Real."

(The kid got excited when I mentioned Promise of the Real Salami; he'd heard they were, like, totally the new Dead.)

"Listen," I told the kid, calculating madly. "I'll do you a favor. Let's swap: I'll give you a few vital records I have from Neil's catalog in exchange; I've got stuff you gotta hear. It will get you past this Buckingham / Stills phase in no time. Don't worry, I've got you covered."

I found this to be the greatest, most benevolent offer in the history of fathers dealing with their children's significant others' baby brothers. I was proud of myself, and as soon as we got back to my house I settled down before my altar of Neil and began pulling a few titles for Hubert, all the while inwardly drooling at the prospect of finally owning one of Neil's least important records.

I came up with dollar bin duplicates copies of Time Fades Away, Harvest and, for good measure, a truly battered Sergeant Pepper. After all, young Hank needed all the help he could get. Then, in a fit of outrageous generosity, I added Fairport Convention's double album greatest hits package, Chronicles, to the stack. Why merely be generous, I reasoned, when I could literally change a young man's life in a fundamental, uplifted fashion? I was like the messiah of white, male, teenage record collecting. God was surely nodding, impressed. And Obi-Wan. And Neil.

Harvey was floored. "You really don't want any of these?" he asked. "Wow! I've never even heard of Fairport Convention. There's no way this Richard Thompson guy you talk about is as good as Buckingham or Stills, but I'll listen; I will. I'll give it a real chance. Wow. Thanks mister!"

"No problem, young Heath," I replied stoically, all the while trembling with my own covert vinyl expectations. "And when we get back to your place you can give me that copy of Old Ways. You don't need that record taking up space on your shelf."

It was at the moment that young Haribald showed his teenage genius, his adolescent savvy, his young spunk.

"Oh yeah, about that," Handy murmured. "I think I want to hang on to that record, you know, give it a listen. But thanks for all these great new titles!"

When you are a grizzled old man like me, your bald spot shimmering and your days old stumble ashen in color, and what's more, when you are a high school teacher and principal, you are not allowed to throttle the young. It's simply not allowed. Nor can you renege on deals involving records you didn't really need in the first place. So I swallowed my rage, held all my force lightening unfurled within me and received nothing from Hedwig in return for a true treasure trove of vinyl.

And so, right now, as we speak, young Harrison is probably grooving to Illegal Stills, his copy of Old Ways long forgotten midst the flotsam and jetsam of a teenager's existence. And me? I'm at home listening to the overpriced copy of Old Ways that I broke down and bought on Discogs after that whole grim affair.

But, hello, you ask, what is there to know about the album? I suppose I owe you some thoughts on the actual record. Well, it is just as unimportant and marginal as I claimed to begin with. Like I told young Henrik, it's an album you only need after you've got everything else in the Shakeyverse up to the year 2007 or so.

But I suppose to deserve something more than that after reading all this, so here you go:

In the 80's Young wanted to make a straight country record; in 85, on his second attempt, Young did so. 7.4 million different musicians appear on the record. David Geffen seethed as a result; everyone else shrugged. You should listen to the live album from the era instead, entitled A Treasure. It's alternatively silly, bizarre and awesome: pure Shakey.

There's just one track from the record that is consistently interesting. It's about people like me, like you, like Shakey: you know, Misfits:

Young Hue's sibling no longer dates my son. But those two kids are good, and I hope you are too. And I sincerely hope you are not like the poor lady Neil's wacko song, who receives care from a hotel doctor, with nurse and stethoscope, after a sneezing attack. That sounds rough. And weird. For her there's no hope.

What's more, I hope you never get shafted by some savvy teen over a copy of Old Ways. It's a record only a few of us need, at all costs, on our shelf.

Cheers everyone.

[yeetmania]

⛄️ admittedly, i really don’t like the giver. i did like the sequels though! i couldn’t tell you why it never worked for me. but my middle school book of choice was the outsiders, even though we read it two years in a row. i think i just had a crush on johnny…

you said steve from blues clues and then my mind supplied me with mister rogers and i can’t even explain the ugly sobbing i did at the thought of getting a hug from him 😭 i didn’t even grow up on mister rogers, but he’s like such a presence that i think a hug from him would do more for me than even years of therapy could.

i do have a little collection of pig plushies, fourteen of them to be exact! i would have fifteen, but my dumb ass gave one to my ex about a week before she broke up with me and then i never saw it again… 😔 it’s honestly tragic, because i gave her one of my favorites. other than that, i really struggle to maintain hobbies 😅 i have been doing a little baking lately, but i don’t know if it will stick around. the only hobby i haven’t given up on over the years is reading. even when i stop reading actual books for little while (usually during my school year, when i really just read for class), i still read fanfic on a daily basis, which i think counts.

the funniest joke you will ever read: how do mountains stay warm during winter? they put on snowcaps 🏔️❄️

Hiii, lovely!! ✨

That’s fair. The Outsiders is another one of those books that I should have read, but just haven’t 😵‍💫.

There’s just something about actors who played these “bigger-than-life” people that helped to raise us to be better, more compassionate humans. People like Mr. Rogers, Bob Ross, Steve from Blues Clues, The Kratt Brothers, Steve Irwin; they’re the guys that truly mean so much to me 🥹.

Awe, piggies!! That’s so cute. I’m sorry to hear that you gave away one of your favs. Hopefully one day, you’ll be able to find it again. I used to be (yet still kinda am) really big in collecting owl-themed things; plushies, bags, blankets, miniatures, etc. they’re all hidden away somewhere atm only because I don’t have anywhere to properly display them!

Oh no, fanfic definitely counts as reading! I feel like I’ve been pretty behind when it comes to reading fic. I’m more of a one-shot reader rather than a multiple chapter reader. Unless I’m really invested in the story, I prefer shorter plots that get to the point. Is there a fic that changed you? A fic that once you finished reading it, it changed your brain chemistry? Lol

(For me, I’d have to say it was tired tired sea by mediawhore. It’s one of those classic larrie fics that really took me a while to get through, not because I was disinterested, but because I would read through half of it in one sitting, and then not pick it up for months. Only to reread it from the beginning again to remember what happened and the cycle would just keep going until it didn’t one day. I finished reading it and by the end, I sat with my thoughts like “…damn. I can’t believe I waited this long to finish it.” I laughed, I cried, I cringed. It was great all around. 🥹 also, idk if you’re a larrie. If not, that’s fine. Didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable by mentioning a fic about them. 😅)

I’ll trade you your funny joke with my funny joke: What does Santa Claus keep on his mantle? Nick-nacks. 😁

[moonofthenight]

Good evening friend, I hope this isn't weird or anything but do you have a (preferably) multi chapter HS fanfic rec-list you could share with us? I'm not picky when it comes to rating, I'm in for everything 😻 I just need my daily dose of Nick and Charlie. Thx in advance 🫂

Hello, hello! Not weird at all! I do actually have a whole ass document with fics sooo I can definitely make a fanfic rec-list for you :) Here's your daily dose of Nick and Charlie:

Heartstopper FicRec List:

show and tell by thetomkatwholived

Charlie’s pretty sure bringing your uncle as a show and tell item isn’t the norm, but he’s willing to do almost anything for his niece, even subject himself to her Year 1 class. And hey, her teacher’s really handsome and funny and sweet… Maybe it won’t be too bad after all.

Rating: T ; 27,942 words ; 8/8

Rugby Lad by @sophisticatedyet

Charlie thinks agreeing to join the Truham rugby team at the request of Mrs Singh is possibly the worst decision he’s ever made. Then Nick Nelson, the St John’s fly half, sweeps him off his feet (literally) and Charlie decides maybe rugby isn’t so bad. AKA: the Charlie and Nick are on rival rugby teams AU.

Rating: T ; 23,767 words ; 4/4

When both our fades collide by @mikeysgerard

This is a story of what happens when two boys meet each other during the worst time of their lives, and help each other heal again. Or, from strangers to roommates, from roommates to friends, from friends to lovers....and remember, time worked differently in the hospital.

Rating: E ; 83,421 words ; 17/17

Can We Pretend (That We Are Okay) by deflectrunes

Nick gets caught up in a little white lie, and now he's in Menorca with his family and his best friend Charlie Spring, who is going to pretend to be his boyfriend for two weeks. As long as they stuck to their plan, they could pull this off and convince David that they were actually going out; Nick just has to make sure that his very real crush on Charlie doesn't ruin things. What could go wrong?

Rating: T ; 18,503 words ; 3/3

hum hallelujah by @elyseregan

“I hope you get to sleep after that caffeine hit,” Nick joked, collecting his mug.

“Oh, I’ll sleep, don’t you worry,” Charlie said easily, eyes glinting with something unsaid. “Nice to meet you, Nick. Maybe I’ll catch you downstairs some time?” Nick could only hope that might be the case.

Not another uni au?! Nick & Charlie become pals after encountering each other in university. Cue the hand crackles.

Rating: T; 13,647 words; 3/3

Life was a Willow, Bent Right to Your Whim by linettispaghetticonfetti

Regency-era AU with all the drama, scandal, and angst that comes with it.

Rating: T; 23,862 words; 16/16

i will drift to you if you make yourself shake fast enough by sapph0writes

If there was something Charlie didn’t expect to end up doing when he got dragged to Harry Green’s 18th birthday party, it was spending all night pretending to be wooed by rugby star Nick Nelson to prove a point to his ex. “Pretending” being the keyword.

Rating: T ; 11,546 words ; 1/1

strangers on a plane by dilfpickles

ok can we PLEASE go back to the fact that there is a very cute very hot bi guy sleeping on my shoulder. i think im in love.

Rating: T ; 7,484 words ; 1/1

Don't Blame Me (Your Love made me Crazy) by tiredauthor

An au where they are both spies and Charlie has to rescue Nick.

Rating: T ; 5,545 words ; 1/1

the matter of time by peculiarblue

every hour of the day, as told by nick nelson, who is completely, ridiculously, head over heels in love with charlie spring.

Rating: G ; 16,389 words ; 1/1

breaking cameras and bones (but not hearts) by sargent

When Charlie Spring volunteered to be the photographer for a local roller derby bout, he wasn’t expecting to meet a cute guy with a passion for roller skating and a knack for breaking bones. And also Charlie’s camera.

Rating: T ; 11,828 words ; 1/1

[benwvatt]

my 2022 writing year in review!

 Thank you so much to @feeisamarshmallow for the tag!

1. Number of stories posted to Ao3: 32 separate stories! I was very fortunate to have a productive, joyful writing year, and I also started writing shorter stories rather than longer ones this year.

2. Word count this year: 74,396

3. Fandoms I wrote for: Avatar: The Last Airbender, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, Gilmore Girls, Grey’s Anatomy, Heartstopper, Murdoch Mysteries, Severance, Supergirl, The Fault in Our Stars, The Martian, Virgin River

4. Pairings: Aang/Katara, Sokka/Zuko, Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago, Rory Gilmore/Logan Huntzberger, Charlie Spring/Nick Nelson, William Murdoch/Julia Ogden, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor, Hazel Grace Lancaster/Augustus Waters, and Beth Johanssen/Chris Beck.

5. Stories with the most:

Kudos: i’ve been around the globe, found a diamond wrapped in gold (but it doesn’t shine like you) which is my Supercorp friendship bracelet story! I just finished it and I was so happy to be able to give it a satisfying, cute ending.

Bookmarks: same thing as above! this was a really popular story :)

Comment threads: to know you like the back of my hand, which is my collection of a dozen one-shots I wrote for Supercorp.

Word count: same thing as above! this fic was my longest this year, at 9,100 words total.

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why): I’m going to go with memories painted in much brighter ink, the Heartstopper fic I wrote about Nick and Charlie dealing with their negative relationships with Harry, who decides to apologize to them both for being a bully and a bad friend. That fic is also tied with please remind me to forget you for the story I’m most proud of (this one is my Murdoch Mysteries story about William and Julia reconciling after she marries the wrong guy.)

They were both really interesting missing-moments stories that included letters (I’m a big fan of epistolary communication! letters are so intimate and personal!) and I don’t think most other writers would have published something like this. It felt exciting and special to focus on these parts of canon and expand them, exploring the characters’ curiosity and heartbreak at the same time.

7.  Work I’m least proud of (and why): Definitely i strung you a halo of stars, which is a collection of 4 stories I wrote for Supercorptober. I was really anxious and stressed when I wrote these stories, and I felt like I kind of had to “keep up” because it’s a fandom holiday and we had daily challenges. The writing became more about maximizing word count rather than enjoying writing, which is why I only did Supercorptober for about 5 days before quitting. I was just too busy and uninterested in the end.

8.  Share or describe a favorite review you received: Oh, I have so many! @nostradamus0 is kind enough to leave screaming reviews on many things I write (thank you for that, friend) and I also got a lot of really lovely reviews on Supercorp stories I wrote about parental trauma or forgetting your native language or struggling with anxiety.

 I really like to write hurt/comfort and fluff combined, and it was so nice to see that my stories were able to comfort other readers who were also dealing with stress and hurt.

Aaaaand I got so many lovely reviews on the fics I wrote for Kataang or Heartstopper. I love being able to write things that entertain and make people happy. I’m quite good with banter (it’s my main thing and the easiest thing for me to write) and I insert it wherever possible. 

9.  A time when writing was really, really hard: Supercorptober! I was pushing myself to do a monthly challenge when I had schoolwork and other stuff to deal with, and it just didn’t work out for me. I’m glad I quit so early. Quitting is good and quitters deserve hugs and chocolate. If you can’t sustain something, taking a step back and interrogating why is a good idea.

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: Helly R from Severance. She is amazing. I would die for her. I wrote about her in my reputation precedes me, a ficlet about her character growth, and I can’t say anything more without spoilers. Severance is the best tv show I’ve ever seen. I don’t usually like thrillers/horror but Severance is light on both and it’s just so GOOD at exploring the ways that capitalism will devour you from the inside out.

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

this is a scene from (whoever said I would find someone new) must’ve never met you, a Supercorp fic set at a southern bar where Supercorp have broken up in the beginning and they get back together by the end.

I really loved writing Lena’s experience at this bar, The Great Beyond, and creating OCs who are all friendly and loving. I’m also just ... weirdly excited to write the OCs falling in love with each other because they are all gay? And I love a good queer southern love story.

Fuck. She should’ve just turned into bed early instead of driving out here to the bar, The Great Beyond, to say hey and good evenin’ to the regulars. Tim probably groaned when he saw her. Marcie in the corner cheered gently when she walked in. Lena always dances with her when it’s eleven and they don’t wanna go home yet. And then there’s Lucas, about to get his first tattoo, and Connor who keeps his guitar in the backseat. Just in case he figures out the bridge of the song he’s been writing since last year, y’know. He and Tim came up with the chorus together.

Connor won’t tell you he plays but he can sing you a story, rock you to sleep, take you on an old-timer’s tour of dreamland. Lena’s been before. She’s seen the milestones and skipped them across the pond. The road on the way there’s a little rocky, but it’s nothing she can’t handle.

Ashley sits front and center, welcoming the warm glow of orange light. Steph tilts back in her chair and offers once again to braid Ashley’s hair, or perhaps Lena’s. Steph had been laid off from the beauty salon last month. No luck since.

Lena said yes once, on a Saturday when she found an old receipt from the time she and Kara went and got ice cream at Braum’s, and Steph wiped her tears away with a ratty napkin before twisting Lena’s hair into a Celtic knot.

“No, I’m Irish,” Lena blurted, “and I dunno if I’m a Celt-”

Steph laughed. “Who’ll ever know ‘cept for you?”

12. How did you grow as a writer this year: I started writing for different fandoms instead of being strict with myself about “the core fandoms” that I had to stick to! I wrote shorter stories (like, 1500 words or less) because I liked it and I didn’t have time to do a big multichap fic. I branched out. I had fun while writing. I wrote meta for Grey’s Anatomy and Virgin River. I quit writing for The Resident because that show took a SERIOUS downturn in quality recently, and I don’t ever want to watch it again (if you know, you know.)

This was a good year and I had so much fun writing shorter stories, and different stories for various tiny fandoms.

13. How do you hope to grow next year: I want to get better at not defining success through the number of hits/words/comments/etc. a story has. Stories are allowed to exist just as they are. Less popular stories aren’t “bad” or “not worth my time.”

I also hope to finish up some of my unfinished multichap stories, and mayyyybe write more for B99 (I only wrote 1 B99 story this year, and it was meta rather than fiction, which is a big change from previous years when I wrote a lot of peraltiago fic.) AND I want to keep writing whatever I want, even if that means writing for new fandoms that I’ve never tried before.

I like writing things out of love I’m not a good visual artist; I’m not good with textiles or gifs or drawing, and I often wish that I could translate the images in my head to art on a page. But fic is one of the ways that I like to give back to fandom, collaborate with fandom, meet people in fandom. I love that I can have a fleeting idea and publish a story about it in the next 12 hours.

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

@nostradamus0. It’s not even a question. He is lovely, and lets me scream at him about Kataang even though he’s never seen ATLA, and I can send him excerpts of my stories anytime.

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year: EVERYTHING from real life shows up in my writing.

must’ve never met you was inspired by neotraditional country music of the 2010s/2020s (it’s great! it’s making a comeback!!!)

many of my supercorp fics are inspired by my cats and my narwhal painting (technically, it’s a poster of whales, but there’s a narwhal in there) and my desperate desire to have a lamp shaped like a jellyfish.

I constantly write scenes where people bake because I get frantic if I don’t bake for several days. Oh, and I also constantly write scenes where people daydream and write letters/letters and cherish the softness of their homes because I’m a gentle person.

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers: Uh, overusing italics is a really bad idea because it ruins the flow of your sentences. Getting a good flow often involves reading your work in your head so you can imagine the ups and downs of the words.

Writing takes time and you’re allowed to be frustrated that you’re not “better.” Give yourself time and space. Write as often or as rarely as you want.

Write down fic titles and AU ideas in a list in Google Docs because you may want them later. Don’t be afraid to be silly or gloomy or whatever; this is your blank page! Your words are the ink!!!!

Reading other people’s work, whether a published book or a fic or stuff like poetry, is a great way to get better at writing. Offering to be someone else’s beta reader, such as on AO3, is often a great way to make friends and learn more about writing. Oh, and try not to judge your writing too harshly. You still have so many good things waiting for you.

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year: hmmmmmm I do have 2 peraltiago AUs (the you’ve got mail AU and the Jake-is-undercover AU) that I want to finish sometime in the future.

I also have several ATLA stories that are random memory-tangle-ideas (the Aang-Spiderman AU, the Katara is undercover as both a Kyoshi Warrior and the Painted Lady AU, the Kataang Mulan AU, the Zukka turtleduck petting zoo AU, the Zuko-emotional-support-dragon story) that I hope to write eventually! Or, at least, they will stay good dreams.

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read:

@nostradamus0, @chocomd, @flameohotwife, @dearestpartnerofgreatness

and anyone else who wants to participate! If you see this, you are free to do this tag if you like! <3

[starryevermore]

ever after: seeing green and kissing curses (8) ✧ ransom drysdale

ever after ✧ a fairy tale anthology | ao3

pairing: prince!ransom x (cursed) frog!fem!reader

summary: in which ransom drysdale is the prince and you are the frog.

word count: 1,352

warnings?: mention of adultery between ransom’s parents, mention of being cursed, reader is a snarky little shit, not proofread

ONCE UPON A TIME, there was a land far far away where a spoiled prince lived. Hugh Ransom Drysdale got everything he ever asked for, everything he ever needed, everything he ever wanted. He was second in line for the throne, right after his mother, and he made sure to use every single resource he had at his disposal. Wanted a new castle built? Being planned the second he asked. Wanted a designer’s entire collection? Already his. Wanted to buy out a bar? Done at the snap of a finger. Because of that, he had a tendency to, well, act like he deserved everything. After all, who would tell him no? No one had the audacity to do it. 

But still, there was something missing from his life. He just couldn’t put his finger on it. 

He was going on his daily walk around the grounds when everything started to change. Ransom was typically left alone on his walks. He didn’t require the same level of surveillance as other members of his family—you know, the batshit crazy ones. He only ever stoked the flames of their insanity and had a somewhat level head while out on his own. Plus, he was half-convinced that all of the guards were terrified of him. 

Good. They should be. 

But, then he saw—no, heard—something that made him question his own sanity. 

“Hey! Hey, you! Tall guy!”

Ransom looked around, trying to find the source of the voice. But there was no one around that he could see. He was, as far as he knew, completely alone. 

“Down here!”

Slowly, Ransom looked down. Still, there was no person. Only a small frog perched on a rock. He scoffed, rolling his eyes, thinking that he was being tricked. He started to turn to leave, to continue on his walk, when the voice came again. 

“Don’t you ignore me!”

He looked back, his lip curling. “I wouldn’t ignore someone who wasn’t hiding.”

“You looked right at me!”

He frowned. Had he? No, he couldn’t have. There was no person. Only a—Oh.

“Don’t tell me you’re the frog,” he said, glancing down at the little creature on the rock. That was definitely a frog. No way in hell that that could be a person. Right? 

“Ain’t gonna lie to ya, pretty boy.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“I agree, green’s not really my color—”

“Not that!” he snapped. “How the hell is a frog talking?”

“What, the palace not teach ya how to your brain or nothin’? Pretty boy, I’ve been cursed. I’m a person.”

“Oh, and I’m supposed to believe that?”

“...we live in a land where a prince was cursed to sleep having nicking his finger on a sword, where a future king got an upgraded arm from a fairy godmother, a princess was cursed to sleep with a poison apple, a prince was cursed to be a beast, and a mermaid got legs...Is me being cursed to be a frog really that outlandish?” you asked. “In my opinion, it’s probably one of the most normal things on that list.”

“Fine, let’s say you’re cursed. What the fuck did you do to piss off a witch that badly?”

“I ain’t the one who pissed off a witch, pretty boy. You are.”

He paused. That almost made sense. He probably piss a witch or two off. But why would...you be cursed to be a frog? Why not him? He was in line to be king. Him being cursed would cause much more panic and upset. What did you have to do anything about it?

“Original,” he said. “Never heard that one before. Gonna tell me why you were cursed on my behalf?”

“Little witchy wanted to stop you from gettin’ your true love,” you explained, hopping up to a slightly higher rock. “Somethin’ about how if I can’t find you, I’ll be stuck like this forever. And you’ll never find true love ‘cause you ain’t gonna look for a frog. And that’s the most painful thing, to be trapped in a loveless marriage, ‘cause without your true love, you’d end up just like your parents.”

Just like his parents, eh? Well, he had to give credit to that witch. They were more clever than he would’ve thought. It was no secret in the family that his father would unfaithful. Harlan had found it out easily, and he made little effort to hide his son-in-law’s adultery. The entire family knew, knew that his father had found his true love and that it wasn't Random’s mother. His mother was less than pleased to find out, booting him out of the bedroom and relegating him to the worst of rooms, to the worst of foods, to the worst of...well, everything. If Ransom was to end up like that...He shuddered at the thought.

“And I’m just supposed to believe you? How do I know you’re actually my true love?”

“Faith, trust, and a pinch of pixie dust,” you said. “Oh, know. That’s not you, that’s that guy who flies around and fights a one-handed pirate...I wonder how he’s doing...”

“Quit stalling!”

“Oh, right. Been stuck like this a while, and people always wanna hear a talkin’ frog talk. Asked around and eventually found a good witch who knew how to break the spell.”

“Let me guess, true love’s kiss.”

“Mhm. Even had a spell to track my true love down. Led me straight to you.”

“And what if this is all just a ruse?”

“All you gotta do is kiss me, pretty boy. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll hop along my merrily little way and no one will ever know you kissed a talkin’ frog. If it works out, well, we’ll figure that out later.”

“What if I don’t want a true love?”

“But don’t you want to piss off your family?”

“Excuse me?”

“Everyone knows they’re looking for a bride for you. Want to tie you down and all that. What better way to piss them off than to marry a peasant?”

He thought for a moment. If it didn’t work out, it would be humiliating. But it would only be known between him and the frog...And he could always squish you to stop you from running your mouth to anyone else. And if it did work, he could piss his family off for the rest of their lives...Well, he had nothing to really lose. 

“Oh, alright,” he said, holding his hand out for you to hop into. “Hop on up here.”

You hopped up into his palm, and he lifted you up to his face. He almost backed out as he leaned in, suddenly becoming aware of just what he was kissing. So he screwed his eyes shut to try and distance himself from what he was doing, puckered his lips, and slowly kissed you. 

The air started to change, a strong, warm breeze blowing through the gardens. Ransom almost felt tingly as the weight in his hand left, a body now pressing against his. He was scared to open his eyes, afraid of what he might see, but it was better to face the facts than to run away. 

He opened his eyes, and almost fell backwards in shock. Standing before him was, perhaps, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. When you’d said you were a peasant, he was expecting someone hideous. But you, your eyes shone and twinkled, your smile was graceful with a little snark. You fit perfectly into his arms, your body molding against his. You were...perfect. 

“Told ya it’d work, pretty boy.”

“If I’m pretty boy, then you’re a goddamn angel,” he breathed out. 

“Ooh, smooth talker,” you laughed. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“No,” he said. “You’re my Queen.”

“Yeah? That mean you’re my King?”

And his hands drifted down your waist, cupping your ass, all he could say was, “Damn right I am. Never gonna let you go. You’re all mine.”

“Only if you’re mine.”

“You already know I am.”

And so, YOU LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER.

[florencwrites]

all is fair in love〚dreamwastaken〛

in which clay cannot help but desperately promise himself that she will remember him

part 2

"She doesn't know my name, George." A frustrated sigh escaped his lips, almost closer to a huff than a sigh, honestly. His left hand ran over his face, a slight tremble detectable in his movements. His other hand held his phone close to his cheek, both the other sides of the line staying silent.

Hesitation on his breath, George spoke up again, leaving a few seconds for his response, just offering some time for his friend to calm down. "She will, Dream."

"You don't know that." The blonde immediately retorted, rolling his eyes at his friend's pathetic attempt of making him feel better. "Doctor said it could take years."

"Dude, you've been in love with this girl for years, when she didn't even know you existed at all," Sapnap interjected, somehow trying to relieve the tension by cracking a light joke. "I'm sure it'll work out again."

"Took her years to like me back." Clay chuckled, "I was obsessed." His mind was clouded by pictures of her, of them together. When they were just little kids, littering the streets for hours trying to find an agenda. Their teen years, how he hadn't been able to muster up the courage to ask her to prom, for years in a row. Her cheeky smile, expressive eyebrows, and those eyes he loved that much, those eyes that had been shut closed for days now. Fuck, he ran another hand over his face, up through his locks, he would never let her out of his sight again. Not when shit like this happened when he wasn't around. He'd never forgive himself for it, never let himself live it down. His eyebrows folded in agony, once again entirely overtaken by the idea of her not getting better, never becoming her old self anymore.

"Oh, we know, Dream." A slight chuckle breathed through his words, "She's so cute, Nick, AH! She let me hold her hand!" He mimicked his friend with a higher tone of voice, the brit quickly joining in, "GEORGE! She added me back! I'm so pathetically in love with her, George."

"I hate you guys." His voice sounded meek, soft, vulnerable. He loved them with all his heart, always knowing how to lift his mood, how to comfort him when he needed them to. "Thank you, for -uh- everything."

"Yeah dude, of course." Nick's smile was shining through his voice, audible even through the wacky discord call. George kept silent, but it was clear; they'd always be there to help him get through whatever it was, for however long it was needed.

It took three months, two weeks and several days for him to get her to smile again, a few more days after that for a laugh, God knows he could use it. The glint that once occupied her gaze had now retaken its deserved place in her eyes again after all, her eyebrows finally dancing with her expressions once again. A few days ago, she'd even let him hold her hand while they watched TLC on the tiny little television in her hospital room. He'd bugged her about buying her a bigger one every time he came by, which was practically every day, now that he thought about it.

His friends understood that he couldn't join their streams as often as before, they still offered him a spot in their Jackbox lobby every time, and Wilbur took it to himself to make sure he was never left out of the script, even if he bailed on them more often than not. It killed George especially, to see his friend like this, barely eating, sleeping all the time he wasn't spending sitting by her bed. He realized he'd never worried more about anyone than he did about Clay those hazy months. His own channels were suffering greatly, too, but that wasn't even close to being on his mind.

"Hi there." Clay waved slightly, wiggling his fingers nervously as he opened the door to her room. His eyes glanced to hers, a faint smile on her features as she muttered out a greeting. His gaze flickered through the room. He remembered first coming here those weeks ago, the deadly white walls that caged him into his own mind, the panic that wouldn't leave his veins, no matter what he did. He'd sat there for hours, the nurses having to send him home every single day. The lack of personal items making him greatly uncomfortable. Gradually he would take more and more decorations into her room, starting with some flowers, bringing in several stacks of plushies a little later. George, Nick, and Darryl had decided to get together and get her a Switch, naturally, Darryl had convinced them to get the new Animal Crossing for her. Clay decided to throw in some Mario Kart, more for himself than his comatose girlfriend. Then, the news broke on Twitter, and the drawings flooded his PO box, the one he now apparently shared with her. Pictures upon pictures hung on her walls, he even went as far as getting her Christmas lights above her bed, some photos of their childhood, too. At this moment, her eyes had yet to see the light of day since her accident, he did it all in complete silence, perhaps a small part of him didn't just do it for her, but to calm his own nerves a little, too.

But now, she was back. She played his dumb games with him, joked about his awful stubble, and thus, let him hold her hand, too. God, how he had missed the warmth of her fingers with his, anytime she'd let him touch her, shivers ran through his body; goosebumps covering the entirety of his skin. She'd loved the games they had collected for her over the course of these months, playing them daily. And even though she had no idea who these incredibly attentive people were, she knew she cared about them greatly. She'd asked Clay about them several times, even going as far as recording a short voice memo, thanking them for everything they'd done for her and Clay together.

"How've you been?" His mellow voice made her senses tingle, familiarity had settled for a few days now, anytime he spoke she'd get flashes of warmth, radiating through her abdomen. He didn't know this, of course, because what if it was nothing? What if she just set him up for heartbreak once again?

But he, he didn't care. His heart ached for her when they were together, but even more so when they were not. He couldn't help but feel pity for himself some of these days, realizing how pathetic it must look for everyone around him, how often he had sat beside her bed without a single affirmation of recognition, of progress. How often he had interrupted his friends' calls, absolutely heaving with sobs, weeping for it to end, for it all to end. How often he had sat down on the freezing tiles of his shower, trying to drown out his thoughts, especially after the days he wasn't able to drag himself out of bed. The days he had wanted anything but to stay confined to his fucking sheets, the days all he wanted was for her to softly whisper his name, exactly in the way she used to do. The way she'd done when he was playing with her, fucking around, she'd whisper his name in the most loving way he had ever heard a woman do. Her voice was a song he couldn't get out of his head, no matter what melody was playing in the background; she was all that was ever on his mind. All he wanted was for it to fucking end.

That changed, of course, the day she'd finally awoken from her outrageous slumber, the day her pupils met his. Nothing but confusion and utter fear laced in them, he was so thankful for any form of life, he hadn't even noticed what her eyes were really telling him. Her melodic voice filled his ears, bound to echo through his head for the rest of the day, the least. "I've been better."

"That's good, that's good." His toothy smile subconsciously earned her one, too. "You, uh, you watched that show I mentioned?"

"I did!" Her fucking smile made all of it worth it, all his pain and suffering, all he had endured. It had always been just about her and her fucking smile, all along. Since they were children, he reckoned, he hadn't cared about anything as much as he cared about being the one to tug up the corners of her lips.

A hearty chuckle left his lips, his hand slowly hovering over the side of the bed as he finally wrapped her hand in his again, this time her being the one to interlock their fingers. He smiled. "You said," He dropped his head as a giggle escaped him, "You always used to say how you'd give your life to be able to watch it again, like -uh- like it was the first time."

A low hum vibrated through her chest as she tried to hold in her snickers. "You're telling me I almost went braindead for fucking Teen Wolf?" She burst out in hiccuped laughs, trashing her legs around imperceptibly under the scratchy hospital covers. "I need to get my priorities right this time around."

His stomach tightened at her words, she'd always told him about how much she hated that stupid show, but for some reason he always caught her coming back to it any time she felt even the slightest nudge of sadness. Braindead. She was minutes away from being braindead, unsalvageable. His eyebrows furrowed, and he was sure to be subconsciously squeezing her hand a little too much. Tears welled up in his eyes, threatening to break the unspoken barrier he had set for himself; don't let her see you cry. "Hey, hey, hey. I'm still here."

She tugged at his hand, offering him her other one as well. He took it, obviously unable to refuse any contact she offered him. He hung over her body a little as he held both of her hands, she pulled his far most one delicately, silently asking for him to stand. And as soon as he did, she pulled him down in a hug, completely engulfing the entirety of his body in hers, only their clothes and the uncomfortable sheets separating them. She wrapped her arms as tightly around him as she could as his soft sobs slowly started filling up the room. The silence was overwhelming, only his whimpers there to break through. Her eyes welled up, too, she'd lie if she said they didn't. He was holding her, wrapping his arms underneath her back, not planning on letting go anytime soon. "I'm still here, Clay."

"Are you?" He muttered against the hoodie she was wearing, his hoodie he had given to her when she'd first woken up and complained about feeling like a lab rat in her stupid gown. He had stupidly told her he would marry her even in her blue-ish hospital gown, which was the most adoring, beautiful thing a man had ever told her, especially would she have recognized him at that time. Alas, he was just a man in her room, nothing more nothing less. "Are you really?"

"I-" She stumbled on her line, completely sure of what it was he was fronting at. "I will be." She decided, "I will be soon."

"I'll wait for however long it takes." His shuddered breath made the hairs in her neck stand up straight against her skin. She closed her eyes, her face still plastered in the crook of his neck, his cologne taking over her senses, his warmth being able to make her feel safer than she had ever felt before. Her voice hadn't ever sounded as painfully vulnerable as it did that second, "It wouldn't be fair -you, for me.." A heavy breath. "It wouldn't be fair for me to expect that from you."

He hushed her gently, another sniffle leaving his nose immediately after. "All is fair in love."

[redemptionofthefallen]

🖊? (I like seeing people talk about their oc's.)

AHHHHHHHHWWWWWWWWHHHHAAA YESSS!!!

i was hoping someone would send me this! XD

okay like, im going to gush a bit about everyone since there wasn't one mentioned XD

Kevin.

like i love him. he's my angry boy. his deep rugged voice i will admit was an inspiration from Bakugou from MHA but his character is diff. he is seeped with insecurities from his voice down to the fact that he feels no one thinks he is talented (even though he actually is) i relate to him so much. i feel the same way he does when i write him the way i feel about my insecurities leak into his character because they are so similar. plus i love red heads XD lol

theres more info on Kevin in a head cannon ask HERE

Justin

this guy came OUT OF NO WHERE! and just started talking to me XD like he was like “hey there! im Justin!” and im like who!? lol. the scene that came into my head originally was when he was trying to comfort x reader because she was bit fluffier than most and basically went up to the guy and was like “well your missing out and this is how you treat a lady” and outright kisses her dipping her in the process XD hes just so blunt but sweet. and a total goof ball and has a bit of an impulse issue but we love him XD true story i was trying to think of a name for him, the name Justin came to my mind when i realized that the perfect voice for him would be Justin Cook....and so im like...okay! Justin! XD so he was the reason his name is Justin and whenever i hear Justin speak its in his voice. 

Seth 

this guy is probably the most complex Muse i have. not to mention the hardest for me to write. Seth is the complete opposite of me. hes cold and cruel and i am not. but thats what makes Seth so fascinating. hes not that way because he wants to though. he has to to keep his brother safe. under it all Seth is so compassionate and kind but the Council makes him mask it for thier pleasures DX i wish i could write with him more, but hes so confrontational because of the situation hes in. 

Gabriel 

this little sunshine boy is who i wish i could be XD hes so chipper all the time and in my head the way he says “oh goody! goody! just makes me smile. he’s heavens version of a weeb of mortals and i love how i was able to capture that in his character. sometimes he can be so oblivious its cute XD frankly out of all the muses he could sweep me off my feet if he wanted to XD hes so good looking in my head and he just wanted to make people smile. i love that about him.

Amber

she is my bat shit crazy girl. if you want to get an idea of her kind of energy...listen to the song “Screw Loose” cause my god that song is her in a barral! XD the funny part is that her falling in love is a hard thing. her heart belongs to her beloved David whom died saving her life. i wish i could find her someone though, cause i know she’s lonely. but i ant pushing it....gods i can already see her eyeing me with her knife XD the other thing that is funny is that while she knows magic and uses it on a daily basis as she is a witch, she much rather kill people with her bare hands...with a knife...she has a knife collection...and its big. i wish i could write with her more often as she really is a fun muse to play XD

Nick and Nate

these two....THESE TWO!!!! i love them so much. they are so in love with each other and it is BEAUTIFUL! as i was thinking of thier characters lying in bed from a concussion -i had to stay in the dark for days doing nothing it sucked- i remembered once upon a time rping with a person whom i loved their character. and he was a red head. Nick was born out of my desperation to feel close to that muse again. although Nick is pretty different than that muse was, but thats how he was born. Nate on the other hand was inspired from Naruto Uzumaki himself. as that is who i rped with that specific muse that Nick was based off of. they called each other whiskers and red as nicknames and i used it with these two and made it fit cause fuck it XD Nate is different from Naruto though, while he will stand up for whats right he is more kept to himself as he thinks no one will like him cause hes gay and lives in a school where there was intolerance. but of course Nick doesnt give two shits XD 

Draco

i had just recently answered asks about this little gem you can take a look HERE 

Izuku

Izuku is my sweet girl. my shy, bashful, and chubby girl. i love her so much. she reminds me of how i was in high school soft and timid. she also doesn't judge anyone for anything. accepts anyone for who they are....unless your mean then that's different. she is also my most angsty muse, canon to her universe she has Cancer. leukemia, and its bad. Doctors say she is on borrowed time and that she wouldn't live past 18, however she is 19 now and gets sick easily. she loves to sing, her dream is to be in a band and win battle of the bands before she passes on.  this Muse has been through a few rebirths but many things stayed the same however her name is one of the things that has changed. ironically enough when i was making her Profile i really thought her name was Izuku which meant flowing water....but then after i made her bio and had rped with her already i realized that the name i was looking for was Isamu instead....but by then the name had already stuck and i didn't want to change it due to anxiety and laziness XD she loves sunflowers and the color yellow. 

and those are all of my MUSES! oml im so sorry this took so long but here you go! ^^  truth be told...i have possibly two more muses in my head i may bring to light however im not sure if they would be received very well, so im still deciding if i should XD 

thank you for the ask @deleteddewewted and feel free to drop by to ask about my muses any time ^^ 

[violetsystems]

Six artists and one artist collective have withdrawn their work from an exhibition at the Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago (MCA) in solidarity with workers at the museum who have been laid off over the past year, many of whom are people of color.

In an open letter released yesterday and endorsed by 57 artists, the signatories announced their withdrawal from the exhibition The Long Dream, accusing the MCA of “perpetuat[ing] harm to Chicago arts communities” and of using artists in the exhibition to “mask this violence.” The withdrawn artists include Aaron Hughes, Sarah Bastress, Manal Kara, Max Guy, Joanna Furnans, Damon Locks, and dozens of members of a collective called Quarantine Times.

Back in January, the MCA laid off 41 workers, citing financial losses caused by the coronavirus pandemic. The layoffs prompted a backlash among museum workers who accused the museum of acting against its own pronouncements of racial equity and inclusion. Critics have slammed the museum’s director, Madeleine Grynsztejn, for executing the layoffs just days after publishing an op-ed in Art of America in which she promoted The Long Dream as an expression of the museum’s “commitment to equity throughout our institution, both on our walls and in our staffing practices.”

“When most institutions were furloughing their front-facing employees, we went in the opposite direction,” Grynsztejn wrote, adding that the museum had converted visitor services from part-time to full-time with benefits in August of 2020, but omitting that the move resulted in the elimination of 20 part-time jobs.

The Long Dream, named after the 1958 novel by Richard Wright depicting racism in the Jim Crow-era South, features more than 70 Chicago artists including luminaries like Nick Cave, Dawoud Bey, and Candida Alvarez. On its website, the museum described the exhibition as a response to “a global pandemic and a renewed reckoning over racial justice and inequality,” also stating that the showcase “offers us ways to imagine a more equitable and interconnected world.”

MCAccountable, a collective of current and former MCA workers from the museum’s visitor experience department, comprised primarily of workers of color, had previously accused the museum of “performative allyship and lack of meaningful action and accountability in the MCA’s practices to uproot white supremacy and end racial injustice within the institution.” In an open letter on July 16, the workers claimed that the museum’s decision to reopen about a week later jeopardized their health and stood in contrast with the museum’s statements of solidarity with communities of color.

On August 21, MCAccountable released an update, taking aim at the museum’s job reconstruction plan. Later, in solidarity with the workers, artists Maria Gaspar, Aram Han Sifuentes, Folayemi Wilson, and For the People Artists Collective declined to participate in The Long Dream before it opened in November of 2020.

On the week of the exhibition’s opening, a group of participating artists sent a letter to Grynsztejn and the MCA’s curators and Board of Trustees, to express their support of MCAccountable and request a meeting. Since then, the museum was forced to close again because of the rising Covid-19 infection rate in Chicago. It reopened on March 2.

Yesterday, March 11, Grynsztejn met with a group of artists from the exhibition who presented her with a second letter announcing their withdrawal. The letter also demanded the adoption of WAGE (Working Artists and the Greater Economy) standards; restructuring of the board to include a majority of local artists and MCA staff members; public apologies to both MCA workers and the Chicago arts community; and the incorporation of language into artist contracts that preserves their right to withdraw from exhibitions without fear of retaliation.

“The MCA has made the artists in The Long Dream unwillingly complicit in their harmful behavior, and this betrayal of trust has ramifications, not only for our relationships with the MCA, but for all such similar institutions,” the letter said. “Forcing artists to choose between exhibition and the safety of their peers is unsustainable and unacceptable […] Artists have the right not to be ashamed of the institutions they work with.”

In a statement to Hyperallergic, the MCA said: “We agree with the artists that ‘change and compromise between artists and institutions is possible.'” The museum continued:

We know that the MCA has more work to do to become an equitable institution. A major step in this direction is re-examining how we address staff compensation, expanded health benefits, and well-being so that it reflects our respect for the people who work here. Museum employees, artists, and benefactors have been very vocal in demanding changes like these. We hear you.

“We are saddened to lose the work of any Chicago artist in The Long Dream exhibit, but the deep structural change we are committed to enacting at our museum takes time,” the institution added. “We are up to the challenge, and we welcome the presence of all artists who are helping us create a truly inclusive and equitable institution.”

[ciarawritesmarvel]

teaming up - steve rogers x reader

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 6.5k, we’re trying to make up for lost time babes

Warnings: Swearing, obviously A/N: Hello my lovely, lovely humans! I won’t make this long, but here’s a little something something for you from The Univer5e! finally ciara, where the heck have ya been This follows the plot of The Avengers, largely but with a zoom in on our gorgeous parents to be. Lots of love and I hope you and your families are staying safe at the moment <3 ---

“You here with a mission for us, sir?”

You collect the knives that you’ve thrown at the wall in three quick swipes, cleaning the sawdust from them on your sweats. In a few short strides you’re stood next to Steve, facing Fury in wait.

You’d been in here for the better part of three hours. Neither of you were heavy sleepers and if one or the other needed a late night gym session and for some inexplicable reason did not want that gym session alone, then the other was more than happy to oblige. Steve had his punching bag and you had your knives. There was no talking, no interaction. Just a hug on arrival and an understanding that from then on, space was needed.

Steve had been slightly more tightly wound than usual this past week. It wasn’t a surprise when you got the phone call. You briefly wondered now whether somehow he knew Fury would be arriving sometime soon.

But that was impossible.

“I am.”

“Trying to get me back in the world?”

“I think one of us has already achieved that one,” you stepped in, a smirking glance sideways to see Steve’s face. He didn’t spare you the same glance, instead locked on Fury. You sighed. You might have cleared him for duty and he might have accompanied you in eliminating a few low level threats, but that didn’t mean he wanted a mission from Director Fury.

There was a part of you that wanted to kick Fury out of the room and keep Steve completely cushioned and safe, to tell him he never had to hold another shield again, to tell him he’d seen enough war and he never had to see any more.

But Steve wouldn’t want you to do that, and the world probably wouldn’t thank you either.

“Trying to save it,” Fury said gravely, and you realised you’d been so focused on Steve and his well-being that you’d missed the little gravel in Fury’s voice that meant this was something serious. That this was something big.

He handed Steve a file and you moved closer to him to read it with him. The Tesseract. HYDRA. Having spoken to Steve about his past in some late nights past, some of the words sounded bone chillingly familiar. One look at his face told you that you were right.

“Hydra’s secret weapon…”

“Howard Stark fished that out of the ocean when he was looking for you. He thought what we think, the Tesseract could be the key to unlimited sustainable energy. That's something the world sorely needs.”

“Someone took it?” You chimed in and Fury nodded.

“He's called Loki. He's not from around here. The world has gotten even stranger than you already know.”

Steve finally looks to you, but there’s none of the usual playful glint in his eye that you’ve come to know so well in the last six months of being assigned to him. Or in the last three months of him being your closest friend. His slight smile is resigned and painful and it makes your face contort into a pity he probably doesn’t want.

“At this point, I doubt anything would surprise me,” he directs his comment at you even though he should be talking to Fury. You place your hand on his bicep. An understanding.

“Ten bucks says you’re wrong,” Fury counters and the tender moment is gone as you drop your hand to fold your arms across your chest again, “There’s two debriefing packages waiting at your apartment, Captain. Y/N will go over everything with you.”

Fury spares you a glance and you give him an almost imperceptible nod. Steve’s already beginning to leave and you know he wants nothing to do with this, not really. But you also know he wouldn’t even think about not accepting. You pick up your bag and his bag, slinging one over each shoulder as Steve picks up a punching bag on his own. You know he’ll want a private anger release tomorrow morning in the comfort of his apartment.

Before he can get away, Fury speaks again.

“Is there anything you can tell us about the Tesseract that we ought to know now?”

You’re wincing, because you just want to get Steve the hell out of there and be able to talk to him properly and Fury just can’t take a hint. Steve doesn’t even turn around, just turns his head and he looks at Fury and then right at you. You inhale sharply.

“You should have left it in the ocean.”

And with that, he walks out of the gym and you’re left with the two bags and an eerily silent Nick Fury. Without much second thought, you offer a half smile Fury’s way but ignore the fact that he looks like he wants to say something and instead follow Steve out of the door.

He’s waiting for you out on the street. It’s clear he needed the fresh air. He’s gulping it in, chest heaving and eyes narrow. You arrive at his side and he starts walking, letting you fall into step beside him and taking his own bag from you with a mumbled thank you. You take the ten minute walk back to his apartment in silence, the darkness only cut into by occasional headlights and the orange glow of street lamps illuminating your footsteps.

A couple of steps and an elevator ride later, you’re dropping your bag near the door of his apartment, tucking your copy of his keys into your pocket again and dropping down onto the sofa with a grumble. Steve’s disappeared into his bedroom and you give him a minute or two to put his bag away and position the new punching bag, picking up the debriefing package on the table and flicking through it.

You’re surprised that he walks back into the living area and that you don’t have to go fetch him. You sit up and pat the sofa cushion beside you and it doesn’t take him long to collapse down onto it next to you and pick up his own copy of the debrief.

“One of the reasons I was at peace about going into the ice,” he begins, quite suddenly and you let the debrief fall into your lap to show you’re listening, “was because I knew I was taking that...that thing with me. That it would never corrupt anyone again. I was so naive.”

You shake your head.

“You weren’t naive, you had hope. I don’t often have much of that. I admire your penchant for it.”

“And I admire your realism,” he retorts and you smile, picking up your debriefing again to read it, speaking with your focus on the pages.

“Well that’s why we’re partners, right? We complement each other, bring out the best in each other,” you say it as cheerily as you can, even though this mission makes your stomach twist with nausea, “We’re better together and we’ll stop this ‘Lowkey’ guy, or whatever the fuck his name is, together too. Okay?”

He stares at you with eyes just beginning to spark again. Lets the corners of his mouth turn up in a quiet and unassuming smile.

“Okay,” he concedes, with an overwhelming need to place a hand on your elbow, or to tug you into his arms or even, and the thought makes him blush, pull you onto his lap and just hold you for a little while.

He continues reading instead.

---

Watching Agent Phil Coulson go full on fangirl over Steve was one of the only things keeping you happily preoccupied on the quinjet. For a while, he managed to make normal conversation about Dr Banner based on the video Steve was watching, but it didn’t take him long to begin complimenting his idol and explaining his input in the new uniform. You watched on from a few seats away, smirk firmly planted on your face.

“I could’ve made an excellent Adjustment Officer, you know,” Phil says wistfully as he finally leaves Steve alone and wanders over to you and you stand from your seat with a fond smile.

“I have no doubt,” you agree, even though you actually have many, many doubts about that one. Steve wouldn’t enjoy having someone gushing about his prowess on the daily, certainly not someone they had to actually see on the daily, “But you have other things to take care of. And speaking of, I haven’t managed to do this yet.”

You pull him in for a quick hug and then pull back and continue holding on, eyes scanning his face and body.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking you’re okay, of course. Nobody else does that for you, Phil, least of all yourself,” you roll your eyes and finish your check with a curt nod and he looks relatively touched by the sentiment, “Once my mentor, always my mentor.”

He knows what you mean. You mean a lot to him too, after all, and you know this even if he’s never told you directly.

“Missed you too, kiddo,” he says sincerely, ruffling your hair and finding glee in the scowl it gains him. He seems to remember something and suddenly glances behind him at Steve and lowers his voice to a volume only you will hear, “You think he’s ready?”

“Oh, he’s ready,” you say without hesitation, “Even if he doesn’t know it yet. We’re ready.”

---

Descending the ramp and spotting none other than Natasha Romanoff waiting for you at the bottom of it did nothing to calm the fast beating heart in your chest.

“Agent Romanoff,” you call as you near her and she looks up at you with a smirk that you’re pretty sure she’s wearing in every photo you’ve ever seen of her, “I can’t quite believe that two of the most powerful women in SHIELD haven’t had the pleasure of meeting until now.”

You shake hands firmly and Steve arrives beside you.

“Ma’am,” he nods politely and she raises her eyebrows slightly at you but says nothing of the formality.

“Hi,” she directs this at Steve, a subtle way of dismantling whatever formal ideas have gotten into Steve’s head, “And I think they kept us apart on purpose. Can’t have too much power in one place.”

Oh, you like her.

“Something like that,” you agree, following her as she begins walking.

“There was quite the buzz around here, finding you in the ice, Cap,” Natasha continues as you walk, “I thought Coulson was gonna swoon. Did he ask you to sign his Captain America trading cards yet?”

“Trading cards?” Steve asks, clearly confused and you have to bite your lip to stop your laugh from spilling out.

“They’re vintage. He’s very proud,” she says it matter of factly, but your attention is caught by an anxious figure making his way through the crowds, gripping the satchel bag on his shoulder for dear life. He looks up and- it’s him. Seeing him like this makes you feel guilty for the tiny sliver of fear that creeps up your spine upon recognising him.

Steve is better, knows this better, the alienation, because he’s the first to approach him with a handshake and a quick reassurance when it’s clear that Dr Banner is a little apprehensive of what people will think of him. It only makes you feel more guilty.

“Y/N,” you introduce yourself then, stepping forward to shake his hand too and offering what you hoped was a kind and not a pitying smile. Much like Steve, he did not seem the kind for pity. You see the opportunity for a joke to lighten the tension and you take it, “I’m the muscle and he’s the comic relief.”

You nudge Steve with a smile and he rolls his eyes even though he’s smiling too and Dr Banner looks just ever so slightly more relaxed.

That is, until the helicarrier begins to lift into air. You and Nat share a look and quickly hurry the men inside, Steve looking more than shocked and Bruce looking much the same for an entirely different reason.

---

With Loki locked up, a joke that only Tony laughed at when you told it, you had a distinctly uneasy feeling that everything had been too easy. Steve had it too, it seemed, even though Tony and Thor seemed relatively unfazed by the whole thing.

You sat around the table, watching the feed of Loki’s imprisonment and frowned at his total lack of worry in this situation. He had a plan. You just knew it.

Having captured him in Stuttgart, meeting Iron Maiden himself and none other than the God of Thunder along the way, you and Steve seemed the most uncomfortable with the whole thing. Tony was talking, it seemed he was always doing that, joking about something or other while you sat there silently, staring at the screen, deep in thought.

Steve was still joining in, asking all the right questions and getting less than conclusive answers. When Tony and Banner walked off to their lab to do...whatever the hell it was they did, Steve finally turned to you.

“I don’t like this,” he said simply and you nodded your agreement, looking between him and the live feed of Loki. It was as if you thought looking away from him was dangerous, “And I don’t like him.”

“Who? Stark?”

“Yeah. He’s not taking this seriously.”

“I think he is, Steve,” you reasoned carefully, finally looking away from Loki properly and deciding it wouldn’t hurt, “This is how he deals with things. His coping mechanism.”

Steve opened his mouth to argue but clearly thought better of it. He stood instead, rolled his neck and placed a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m going to find somewhere to train in this place. You’ll call for me if anything happens?” he said it sincerely and you merely nodded in response, knowing that the two of you were on the precipice of an argument and wanting to avoid that at all costs.

You could understand where Tony was coming from. You, too, sometimes used jokes as cover for an underlying fear and though training as an agent forced a lot of that out of you in mission situations, it was still a default reaction. To hide everything with humour. As someone who was good at reading people, you were almost certain that was the case with Stark.

You were also almost certain that it wasn’t a point of view Steve would understand just yet.

---

You were sat, still watching Loki on the screen but now with the added Agent Romanoff, talking to him. One calm, the other irate. At one point, when Loki banged on the glass, you flinched right along with Natasha.

“Y/N?” Steve entered the room you’d been in alone and you spun to face him, hand at your holster before you could realise who it was. You relaxed and Steve’s brow furrowed at your jumpy nature but he didn’t say anything of it, “A word?”

He sounded pissed off and you agreed reluctantly, following him down the corridor and into the hull of the ship. You asked three times where you were going, what exactly you were doing, but were met with silence each time. It was only when he began heaving a heavy door open that you placed a hand on his forearm to stop him.

“Steve, you’ve gotta give me something here.”

He sighed, like he really didn’t want to do this, but knew he had no other choice.

“Fury’s hiding something,” he said it matter of factly and a look of confusion overtook you, “Stark’s looking into some encrypted files as we speak and Banner agrees that something’s off. I want to check it out.”

The look on face showed you that he desperately didn’t want to have to check this out and your heart sank. But there was a bad feeling in your gut about this one and despite your loyalty to Fury, there was a certain other loyalty that may have taken precedence nowadays.

“Okay, we’ll check it out,” you conceded, then with a playful wink, “Old school style.”

Steve shook his head at you, before you stepped back and allowed him to open the door, not bothering to help when you knew you weren’t needed. He only opened it just enough and the two of you slipped through and into a dark warehouse area.

You glance around, but there’s nothing of note, no markings that stick out or capture your attention. After a few moments, Steve nudges you and points upwards and you follow his finger to gaze at an upper level you hadn’t noticed and one that couldn’t be reached.

At least, that looked like it couldn’t be reached, until Steve leaped up there, grabbing the railing and hauling himself over. He leans down and holds out a hand.

“Jump, I’ve got you,” he says quietly. There’s a moment of hesitation but then you come to your senses and you take a few paces back before jumping just as he says, your hand clutched in his own and him pulling you up with relative ease.

“Thanks.”

You continue on in relative silence until you see a crate with markings that don’t feel familiar and a serial code too high for what should be stored in this warehouse. You stop Steve with a hand across his chest and crouch down, running your fingers over the lettering.

“Open this one,” you say briskly and he frowns but does as you say, hauling the lid from the crate.

You gulp. Close your eyes for a second as your heart rate spikes. You hear Steve’s heavy exhale beside you and see him look away and back again, clearly more angry than you had ever seen him. These were Hydra weapons. A strange guilt began gnawing its way through your stomach.

“I promise you, I had no idea,” it’s a gut reaction to the sight of the weapons, a desperation for him to know where you stand, that you stand with him, that you have done for months and you will do for as long as you can possibly do so.

“I know,” he murmurs under his breath, and you can hear the icy anger in his tone but it’s not directed at you. He picks up one of the weapons, not that you can understand what it is, “Let’s go.”

You follow him back along the walkways to the place where you ascended and he jumps down, placing the weapon on the ground then turning back to you.

“You’re sure you can handle this?” you ask playfully and you’re worried you sound a bit like Tony but Steve smiles at you and insists, only holding his arms out closer.

You vault the railings and carefully lower yourself into his arms, letting them encircle your waist and then he lowers you down until your feet are almost touching the ground. Almost. He stops just before, just when your faces are level and your breathing becomes the most laboured. He stops and holds you there, noses almost touching and breath mingling together, before his ulterior motives seem to slip away and you’re back on the floor without a word.

Your heart is racing as you slip back through the door and make your way to the lab, but it has nothing to do with the Hydra weapon in Steve’s hand.

---

“Phase 2 is SHIELD uses the cube to make weapons.”

All eyes are on the two of you as you interrupt the conversation in the lab, standing beside the table. You look at Fury and see a flash of guilt behind his eyes as he glances to you and you look away, shaking your head in disgust, arms coming up to fold across your chest.

“Sorry, the computer was moving a little slow,” Steve says to Tony and there’s almost a little pride in the way Stark changes his stance. Under other circumstances, you might have smiled at this back and forth. These two were more similar than they’d probably ever care to admit.

“Director, you mind telling me what the hell is going on here?” you butt in, fixing him with an apathetic stare that you hoped would be as unnerving as possible.

“We gathered everything relating to the Tesseract, that does not mean we’re…”

“I’m sorry Nick,” Tony slides the screen across to where you can clearly see plans for weapons powered by the cube, “What were you lying?”

You roll your eyes and hear a small scoff from the figure next to you.

“I was wrong, director. The world hasn’t changed a bit,” he sounds furious, yes, but there’s also a resignation there that forms a lump in your throat. The life that he’d had these past six months brought him into a new and changed world, one that was finally becoming a home, one that you had introduced him to. All that had changed again now.

It’s then when Natasha and Thor enter the room and you find it hard to listen to the argument that ensues, wishing you could simply storm out of the room as you would have when you were a child, found a nice quiet corner to slink down into and cry, knees bundled up to your chest. There was also an unfamiliar irritation that felt almost outside of yourself settling as a weight on your chest, and made it increasingly hard to bite your tongue.

It’s only when Tony and Steve start squaring up to each other that you step in, a hand on each chest pushing both backwards until they’re at a safe distance. It doesn’t stop the biting remarks between them though, the insults hurled and points of weakness pressed. You see Steve’s mouth in a hard, thin line and Tony’s contorted into a cruel smirk.

“Stop it,” you say firmly between them, “Just stop it the both of you.”

But then Banner is holding the scepter and you’re holding your gun and there’s an explosion and the floor is gone from under your feet and you’re down in a lower section of the ship, looking upwards at the room you had just been in.

“Y/N?” Steve’s voice echoes into the chamber even though your vision is just blurry enough that you can’t see him. You look to your left and see Banner, all bundled up and clutching the floor.

“Go!” you shout back up at him, seeing the figure looking through at you hesitate before moving away, then you lower your voice to a soothing volume, “We’re good, Bruce, we’re good.”

You sit up with a small groan and finally manoeuvre yourself to be able to see Banner’s face. You balk. He’s struggling with something, something you don’t want to name, his eyes wild and face showing just the beginning signs of changing. There’s a couple of Agents running towards you, to check on you, and you wonder if Steve has insisted on that, but you quickly wave them away as Banner only writhes further.

“Come on, Bruce, we’re okay. This is just what the bastard wants. Don’t let him win, don’t give in to it,” you know that you’re pleading but you can’t help it, especially when Bruce lifts his head suddenly and the look he gives you is completely alien to the man you’ve known over the past few hours.

“Give in to it?” he asks, but its cruel and its ugly and its threatening. You press your lips together, moving slowly as you try to stand, but another explosion sends you off your feet again and takes out the lights this time too.

There’s something heavy pinning your right leg and you struggle to get it free, trying to keep your movements as measured as possible as your eyes dart around, trying to adjust to the new low lighting. You can hear his thundering footsteps as he stumbles around and you know right then that its happened. That Bruce has gone. A few blinks later and the metal having fallen onto the floor with a clang, you can make it out, the huge shape just a few feet away, shoulders rising and falling with laboured breaths. You take a couple of tentative steps away from him, from that thing, but his head turns to the side and you freeze.

“Please,” you whisper, mostly to yourself, but he turns fully and you’ve turned away before you can comprehend it, taking the stairs two and a time and running through the maze of pipes in the upper level of the room, ducking and weaving as best you can, banging your elbows every few seconds and only being carried forward by a fear-induced adrenaline coursing through your veins.

He’s ripping floor right from your feet, forcing to you to jump and swing, but you see an opening and jump down from the catwalk, pulling your gun from your waist, readying it and trying to steady your breathing and the slight shake in your hands. You look upwards, checking for any signs of him, but there’s nothing.

You’re just turning to find a way to the others when there’s a footstep. You turn. His face is right there, roaring at you and then he’s ripping away the pipes in between you and you’re running again, through a series of some kind of electrics, you can’t stop to think about it, but there are sparks that you have to shield yourself from as you run. As you reach the end of whatever server room you were running through, you feel the footsteps closer and though you strive to run faster, there’s a solid force on your side and you’re knocked sideways, bashing into a stack of crates and crumpling to the floor.

You sit up with difficulty, wincing as you clutch your side and look up at him, your eyes wide, your chest heaving. He’s walking towards you, mouth half open and you brace yourself, unable to look away, until there’s an almighty crash through the wall as Thor flies in and tackles him into the next room. Suddenly ‘The Hulk’ has gone. You’re alone.

You take a couple of shaky breaths, eyes still fixed on the spot they had been previously, willing the tears that were biting at the back of eyes to go the hell away, back to where they came from, not to rear their ugly head. You didn’t need to cry. You didn’t want to cry.

With a wipe of your face, you stand up and rush off in the direction of the stairs to return to the upper levels and help the others, knowing there’s nothing you can do to help Thor now.

---

Barton is here somewhere apparently, leading the attack against you. He’s an agent you happen to have met a couple of times and worked with once and it baffles you that someone could have their mind so warped by a mere object.

It’s a thought you end up preoccupied with even as you aid the Director in defending the helicarrier’s bridge. There are men coming left, right and center and you take them out one by one, a combination of precise gunshots and a couple of throwing knives to the chest. If you had it your way, it would only be the knives, but apparently using a gun was more ‘cost efficient’.

At least that was what Director Dick Fury had told you. That name, however childish, made you feel a little better.

“Why are these guys still trying to get in here?” he shouts across at you and you ignore him, dodging a swing from an oncoming attacker and shooting him in the back, kicking the back of his knee and watching him crumple to the ground. You saw the arrow fly past and onto the control panel before you saw who shot it.

But you knew who shot it.

Nick gets Natasha to follow up on that one, chasing after Barton with purpose, as you rush over to assess the damage. It’s clearly hacking the systems but what the endgame is, you don’t know y-

The other engine on the same side as the one you’d just lost cuts out too and there’s a lurch as you lose all thrust on one side.

“Fuck,” you mutter, typing in a few override codes but only receiving more error messages in return.

“Y/N,” Nick tried to get your attention but you were locked on the monitor, “Y/N!”

You turn then and he shows you his monitor, your heart sinking right through your stomach, through the bottom of the helicarrier and freefalling in the sky below. Because the hatch had been opened.

“Phil’s there,” you murmur with a look to Fury that would have looked a lot like terror even though the emotion looked foreign in your features.

Maria gestures for the two of you to go and you waste no time, running through the door and to the prison area in record time, boots pounding against metal grate flooring and hearts pounding in your chests.

The sight that greeted you in the detention section had you gasping and not just for breath. Fury reached the door and stopped, resignedly, almost like he froze in the doorway. You, on the other hand, were by Coulson’s side in seconds, his hand in yours, other hand holding his head up as best you could.

“No, no, no, no,” you mumbled, words more and more angry, eyes frantic as you flit from all the bleeding to his face. He was smiling. The man was infuriating and it brought tears to your eyes.

Nick is calling for backup, for a medical team in the background.

“Y/N, I’m clocked out here,” Coulson says, because he knows and because you know too, even if it’s the last thing you’d ever admit to anyone. You clutch his hand tighter.

“You are not,” you say firmly, despite the wobble that tells him all he needs to know, “You are staying. Who else is gonna look after me, eh? Who else will fight my corner no matter what?”

“You have...Steve now. You don’t need a mentor. You-you are a...mentor.”

He can hardly get his words out.

“Phil-” your voice cracks now, large and noticeable as you choke on a sob, “-please.”

“This was never going to work…if you didn’t have something...to…”

He looks away from you and you can hardly bear it as he stutters a breath and then stops. No more stuttering. No more breathing. His face limp in the palm of your hand and his grip on you loosened.

“No, Phil, come back,” you say frantically, using both hands to prop his head up now, shaking it only slightly as you rest your forehead against his shoulder. The tears come fast and thick. Unchained, “Come back, please!”

Eventually, Fury has to pry you from his body and guide you away from the scene with physical force.

---

The table is surrounded by people and yet the room feels empty. Cold. Your wrap your arms a little tighter around your still-shaking frame.

Steve is looking at you, you can feel his eyes but you don’t meet them, knowing one look will send you sobbing into his arms. He’s holding the bloody trading cards, refusing to let them go and it’s a testament to Phil Coulson himself that such a short meeting with these people could have had such profound impact. With years of his guidance, the impact on you was immeasurably more significant.

Nick is talking, has been for a while, but it’s not as if you can be bothered to listen.

When Tony stands and walks off a little way, the room falls silent. You speak, even though you don’t know what you’re saying, what you’re going to say.

“I don’t give a shit,” it’s blunt and it’s raw and you’re not meeting anyone’s eye, “I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about you trying to use Phil to inspire us. Phil Coulson was a good man. More than anything, a good man and a good friend. Stop spouting bullshit to get us to-“

You trail off, partly because you don’t know where you’re going anyway and partly because you don’t have the heart right now. Steve scoots his chair closer to yours and puts an arm around you, tugging you into his side without question and letting you curl up into him. His warmth is comforting and his smell is heavenly.

Fury leaves, as does Tony and Natasha and Clint, one by one, without a word. Thor’s gone, dropped out of the sky and Bruce is gone too, although he jumped. You can’t help but be relieved about that one.

“He looked after me, Steve,” you say once it’s been quiet for a little too long, “When I had no one else, I always had Phil. In my corner.”

“I know, doll,” he says, an attempt to be comforting that might work given time, “I know. He was a good man.”

You nod and let Steve hold you through the fresh wave of tears that overcome you.

What could be minutes, hours or days later, you calm yourself down and breathe properly again, wiping your tears and making a feeble attempt to clear the small wet patch on Steve’s dirty suit. He waves you away.

“We have to stop him, Steve,” you croak out the words but the fire behind them remains. Steve pulls away from you then, making sure to look you in the eye as he replies:

“We’re going to stop him, Y/N. As a team. Together.”

A surge of warmth floods your bones and you lean in and kiss his cheek, an unstoppable reaction, one that arose from fear of loss and that which was best left unspoken. You linger, of course, what else was there to do, and when your lips leave his cheek his hand comes up, involuntarily of his brain and cups your face, keeps you close.

A glance upwards. His eyes are closed. You’re so close and yet, you realise, so close could never be close enough.

It’s tender as your lips meet, tentative and sweet. In a way, it’s tame, not the desperate crush of tongues and teeth you’d expected. Each time you’d dreamt of this moment, it was slightly different, but the most common interpretation was a heated argument, eyes flaring and words cutting, ending in heaving chests as you watched each other warily. But then Steve would take a few steps and pin you to a wall behind you and he’d be kissing you, dominating you, you a willing participant, lips parted and needy sighs escaping you. Then his hands would find the backs of your thighs, lift you up into his arms with such ease it made your-

It wasn't important.

This was so much better than the steamy hook up you’d pictured. This meant something. Meant something real, something tangible. Neither of you taking too much, taking it further. Just his hand sliding into your hair and yours resting uselessly against his chest. Loving.

He pulls away first. He can’t bear anymore without moving things on, without deepening the kiss and lifting you onto the table in this room. That’s not how he wants this to happen, however much he really, really wants this to happen.

“We should go,” he says, utterly and wonderfully breathless. There’s the faintest sheen of lipgloss on his upper lip and you can’t help but use your thumb to wipe it away and certainly can’t help the tiny gasp when he kisses the pad of it, “Go help.”

You gulp. Sit back. Away.

“Yeah,” you say, nodding and now standing up, anything to quell your heart and remove that unbearable warmth that’s taken over you, “We should.”

He starts to walk away, and you begin to follow, even though your legs are trembling and you feel overwhelmingly lightheaded. Your timing couldn’t have been worse. That didn’t really matter though. If you and Steve needed to wait for a good time, then you might have to wait forever.

You’re thinking about this when he stops and turns back to you and you’re so preoccupied that you gently bump into his chest. You blink as you step back and see his slight smirk as he tries not to laugh at you. You press your lips together.

“Sorry,” you mumble and he shakes his head, the smirk he’d been trying to keep a lid on morphing into a full blown grin.

“Don’t be,” he says, still grinning. It’s infectious, “I just want to check that...that we’re not going to pretend that this never happened when we leave this room.”

“Steve-“

“Cause if that’s the case then I’m not leaving,” he cuts you off, folding his arms and staring you down, the grin slipping into a serious gaze that you just want to shake right out of him.

You can’t help yourself. You lean up on your tiptoes, your hand sliding around the side of the neck to hold the back of his head as you kiss him again, tears welling in your eyes. You were far too fragile for all of this right now. You only kiss him for a few seconds, just enough to make your point. There wasn’t time for anything beyond that, and regardless this wasn’t the place. You pull away, but leave your hand there and relish the feeling of one of his at your waist.

“If you think-” you pause as you choke on your words and his face softens as his grip becomes tighter. It’s enough for you to swallow the lump in your throat and kiss him again, fleeting, before pulling away with a small smile, “If you fucking think that I could pretend anything when it comes to you then you do not know me as well as I thought you did, Spangles.”

He’s gazing down at you then, his expression a mixture of what looks like awe and fascination and… something else. Something you probably can place, you know him as well as he knows you after all, but something you probably weren’t going to place right now. Again, the timing was all off.

So when he opens his mouth to say something, you cut him off before he can.

“Now we really need to go.”

He closes his mouth. Whatever he was going to say, and you knew what, would wait. Had to wait. He still smiles at you, though, and you realise that’s something you never want to change.

[gokinjeespot]

off the rack #1316

Monday, March 8, 2021

 Coming up on a year since the pandemic started. I hope you're all healthy and safe. I am hopeful that vaccines will be deployed widely and help us all feel less anxious. I am fortunate enough to be one of those people who is happy as a bug snug in a rug while self isolating. I do really miss my dear friends and family but hugs can wait until we're all vaccinated.

 My thanks to Doug for lending me these comic books to read.

 Batman Annual #5 - James Tynion IV (writer) James Stokoe (art) Clayton Cowles (letters). It's the origin of Clownhunter and it's not very original. If I had to pay $4.99 US I would have passed on this and lived with leaving a hole in my Batman collection. If you're not familiar with this new vigilante, he's an Asian teenager named Bao who decides he's going to kill the Joker and all of the villain's sycophants. The reason he becomes Clownhunter (and killer) is very mundane. I wish they could have come up with a new motivator. Maybe the philosophical discussion about what to do about the Joker might interest some fans but I found this story quite tedious. I also didn't like the way Bao and his parents were portrayed. Did they really have an Asian saying "Ah, so"? Yes they did on page 8. Shades of Charlie Chan, Batman. I was not offended, just disappointed.

 Batman/Catwoman #3 - Tom King (writer) Clay Mann (art) Tomeu Morey (colours) Clayton Cowles (letters). I was thrilled to see the town of Port Orange, Florida mentioned on the first page. My pal Al lives there. It's also where Selina finally catches up with the Joker and does what Batman never did. I love this Black Label book taking familiar characters and treating them in a new and interesting way. Here's a future where Selina has survived her husband Bruce's death and their daughter Helena is the new Batwoman. Now I wait to see how mother and daughter deal with the Angel of Death.

 And now, more Future State books.

 Future State: Robin Eternal #2 - Meghan Fitzmartin (writer) Eddy Barrows (pencils) Eber Ferreira (inks) Adriano Lucas (colours) Pat Brosseau (letters). The consequence of Tim Drake/Robin being dunked in Lazarus resin is that now he's immortal. Whoop-dee-doo. Not only is this a boring Robin beats up bad guys issue but the art lacked any logical perspective. This issue takes place on a train but you would think it's in a huge building based on the art. I know it's comic books but I hate when one doesn't make visual sense. I think that's just laziness.

 Future State: Kara Zor-El Superwoman #1 & #2 - Marguerite Bennett (writer) Marguerite Sauvage (art) Wes Abbott (letters). This 2-issue fairy tale was not meant for old farts like me and Doug. With it's soft pastel colours these books should have included glitter and bubblegum flavoured lip gloss. Maybe young tween girls will like this. The moral of this story is "no one is born wise".

 Future State: Dark Detective #3 - Mariko Tamaki (writer) Dan Mora (art) Jordie Bellaire (colours) Aditya Bidikar (letters). There are not one but two Batmans in this issue. You've got Bruce in his new capeless costume but here he's wearing a trench coat to give that fluttering effect, and then there's the new guy in the Bat suit, cape and all. The "uh-oh" point of the story hits here when the bad guys discover where Bruce is hiding out. The Matthew Rosenberg (writer) Carmine Di Giandomenico (art) Antonio Fabela (colours) & AndWorld Design (letters) Grifter story concludes here too with a double cross and a whole lot more of Helena/Huntress. This is my favourite Future State book so far.

 Future State: Superman of Metropolis #1 & #2 - Sean Lewis (writer) John Timms (art) Gabe Eltaeb (colours) Dave Sharpe (letters). If you're wondering how a grown up Jonathan Kent takes over for his dad as Metropolis's protector then these two $5.99 US books will satisfy your curiosity. The villain of the story is an evolved Brainiac who is a big multi-mouthed ball now. Metropolis is shrunk ala the bottle city of Kandor, the citizens go nuts but Jon returns things back to normal in the end with the help of Kara/Supergirl. I don't know why Kara's a girl in this story and a woman elsewhere. Each issue has two back-ups so you get your money's worth. One features Mister Miracle and the other the Guardian. They are both dealing with bad things inside the bottled Metropolis. You won't miss much if you don't read them. The Mister Miracle story "The Metropolis Menagerie" is done my Brandon Easton (writer) Valentine De Landro (art) Marissa Louise (colours) Dave Sharpe (letters). The Guardian story is brought to you by Sean Lewis (writer) Cully Hamner & Michael Avon Oeming (art) Laura Martin (colours) AndWorld Design (letters). This one got me excited because a villain wants to throw Jimmy Olsen off of the Daily Planet building.

 Future State: Catwoman #2 - Ram V (writer) Otto Schmidt (art) Tom Napolitano (letters). Read this to find out if Catwoman saves the lives of the people on the train. You will also find out if Bruce is freed from the bad guys. Talia Al-Ghul appearing is the deus ex machina in this story. I like the new Cheshire and Onomatopoeia is always fun.

 Future State: Superman: Worlds of War #2 - Phillip Kennedy Johnson (writer) Mikel Janin (art) Jordie Bellaire (colours) & Dave Sharpe (letters). In "The Many Deaths of Superman" the Man of Steel fights in the arena of Warworld where Mongul resurrects him after every death match. It's the typical brutal battle scenes and super villain gloating. What's more compelling is an old newspaper story that Clark Kent wrote that inspired a young woman who travels to Smallville. I was totally confused by the three back-up stories featuring Mister Miracle, Midnighter and the Black Racer because they were not very good. I am a completist and have to finish what I start. I could have stopped reading after the $3.99 US main story in this bloated $7.99 US comic book  but my obsessive compulsive nature wouldn't let me. It's a character flaw I wish I could change.

 Future State: The Next Batman #1 - John Ridley (writer) Nick Derington (art) Tamra Bonvillain (colours) Clayton Cowles (letters). All the teasers for this book hyped the fact that this Batman is black. You won't get the secret identity in this first issue but there are a bunch of likely candidates. Lucas Fox is a possibility but it's confusing because he's a bad guy in another Future State book. This is another $7.99 US book with back-ups. These are more coherent than the ones in Future State: Superman: Worlds of War.

Future State: Outsiders by Brandon Thomas (writer) Sumit Kumar (pencils) Sumit Kumar & Raul Fernandez (inks) Jordie Bellaire (colours) & Steve Wands (letters) gathers together some old Batman associates helping Gotham City citizens escape persecution by the Magistrates outside Gotham City's borders. Get it? It was nice seeing Katana in action.

Future State: Arkham Knights by Paul Jenkins (writer) Jack Herbert (art) Gabe Eltaeb (colours) & Rob Leigh (letters) gathers together some of Batman's rogues gallery to fight the oppressive Magistrate. Two-Face, Mr. Zsasz, Dr. Phosphorus, Killer Croc and other ex-inmates of Arkham Asylum are being lead by an armoured Astrid Arkham. It's super villains being super heroes.

 Future State: The Next Batman #2 - John Ridley (writer) Nick Derington (breakdowns) Laura Braga (art) Arif Prianto (colours) Clayton Cowles (letters). We learn the secret identity of the new caped Batman in this issue. It's Lucas Fox's brother. He has a brother? This also has three new back-up stories.

"Batgirls" is by Vita Ayala (writer) Aneke (art) Trish Mulvihill (colours) & Becca Carey (letters). Batgirl/Orphan Cassandra Cain gets locked up in the Magistrate Detention Facility where both good guys/white hats and bad guys/black coats are incarcerated. She got caught on purpose because her mission is to find Oracle and Batman and free them. She gets help from Spoiler who is queen of the inmates. In this reality Cass is way more articulate than she used to be. I didn't like that. I also didn't like that in the other Future State stories the Magistrate foot soldiers have a shoot to kill order for any masks that they encounter. Why are all of these masks alive? Anyways, this part ends with the white hats and black coats forming an alliance so Cass can get on with her mission.

"Gotham City Sirens: Ladies' Night Out" is by Paula Sevenbergen (writer) Rob Haynes (breakdowns) Emanuela Lupacchino (pencils) Wade von Grawbadger (inks) John Kalisz (colours) Becca Carey (letters). Catwoman and Poison Ivy spring a domestic droid named Dee Dee (get it?) from servitude and they have a night on the town at a bar. The bar is run by Sam Bradley and both super heroes and villains can imbibe in peace. Fans of Sex and the City may like this. Not a lot of drama until the last page when the joint is raided by Magistrate goons and major characters are shot.

 Future State: The Next Batman #3 - John Ridley (writer) Nick Derington (breakdowns) Laura Braga (art) Arif Prianto (colours) Clayton Cowles (letters). This is the "uh-oh" moment in the story where the hero is felled by the villain. A wounded Batman is attacked by the murderer he's trying to bring to justice. I saw that coming.

I like the change with Black Lightning in the Outsiders back-up.

I like the art in the Arkham Knights back-up even though the dialogue is eye roll inducing.

 Future State: The Next Batman #4 - Jace/Batman lives, as if that was in any doubt. This story would have been a lot more interesting if Bruce/Batman was really dead. Even if the Future State line of comics dies out this Next Batman is a cop out. The Batgirls story ends with Cassandra/Orphan saving Barbara/Oracle and the Resistance gaining ground on the Magistrates. The Gotham City Sirens story ends with Catwoman and Poison Ivy helping the Resistance get an advantage in their war with the Cybers thanks to Dee Dee.

 I admit that I was sucked in by the hype for this mini. The Next Batman being black intrigued me. The story itself was meh and I would not have missed anything by not reading it. I was not engaged as a mature reader but I think someone in their teens might like all the stories in these four issues.