#the people who mostly just like stuff have every right to do so even if we don't like it

[avifaunaa]

Natasha + R rambles [ htwswy ]

Authors Note: I’m a little tired from posting that monster of a chapter for Rio yesterday — so until I regain some brain juice back I’ll share some little cutsie rambles about Nat/R from the htwswy-verse! I know you guys love this fic a lot so if you want to know more about it please know my anons are open!

Masterlist

Summary: N/A | rambles

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader

Content Warnings: a tiny mention of self-harm, but other than that none! Mostly humor, fluff, the good stuff.

• Natasha and you probably get another cat not long after you guys get super duper serious — Liho was so pissed

• Out of the two of you, believe it or not, Natasha’s likely less likely to start an argument and more likely to find a solution to one.

• It actually took a while for Yelena to warm up to you despite whatever we think we see in chapter 1. Natasha is her sister and nobody is good enough for her sister until she can decide they are. “A while” is actually six months — making the offhand Yelena-like comments even when she agreed to your attempts to reach out for hangouts to watch Studio Ghibli movies.

• When she does decide you’re perfect for Natasha [ “I’m glad you approve,” you told the blonde blandly as you sat across from her at breakfast, oatmeal untouched and eyes uncaring, “but we’ve been dating for a year now.” She pointedly ignored you, as she usually does. ] she goes to Natasha herself and says so.

• Natasha wasn’t amused.

• Natasha who doesn’t seek out cuddling at bedtime immediately due to her fear of what could happen if she’s tangled up with you during a night terror. Short of flinging you into the wall and making Tony pay a hefty repair fee, you weren’t sure there was much.

• She admired the size of your balls, honestly, considering she could kill you.

• You laughed at her despite the severity of the situation she felt — whereas you didn’t. You didn’t think she’d be able to before waking up.

• It turns out you were right — she always ended up awake with you somehow touching her. On top of her chest, curled up against her, spooning her, spooning you.

• When Natasha sat you down and told you the full story about her history — from the Red Room until the defeat of Thanos — you didn’t seem to know how to take it. But you did know how to respond to her opening up: you took care of her. You disappeared only to return with a dangling Liho in your arms and plopped her into Nat’s lap while you gathered various items for a lazy day on the couch.

—> “I need you to say something,” Natasha finally admitted after you hadn’t spoken about it for a few minutes, television murmuring in the background as she stroked Liho’s soft fur. “Just tell me what you’re thinking?”

—> You lifted your head off her shoulder to look directly at her. “I think,” you started slowly, picking at your leggings, “that you’re one of the bravest people I have ever met and the good you do in the world despite the amount of wrong it has done to you is a feat that I will always admire and love you for.”

—> It was a beautiful response — and not an “I’m so sorry” to be found in there either. She kissed you just to tell you how much it meant to her. That her past didn’t change how you in her eyes. As your partner, your fiercest protector, and your best friend.

• Natasha Romanoff who comes home busted up form missions and you hackle like a cat and fuss over her, poking and prodding each wound, demanding to know where they came from and “why the fuck did you come see me before going to Cho?” and only when did she notice you were in near tears did she stop coming to you before going to Cho.

• Natasha who finishes trying the coffee menu at her normal spot and approaches you about how it makes her feel.

—> You bring a list of suggestions for other local places in the city to start going to

—> It’s cute how she worries about never going back — but you make a promise that for every new place you try you always go to the usual spot once a week

• Natasha who notices your ticks and understands when you work as a way to self-soothe or self-harm.

• This causes her to visit more frequently and break the streak of the period you work so you can go to bed, or eat some food, take a shower — whatever it takes to get you away from the lab.

• Natasha who introduces you fully to the team. She looks entirely too proud of herself, eyes so lovely and soft, and you as Thor slams down the hammer and dares you to play the game nobody ( but Steve Rogers, but Thor conveniently leaves that out ) can win but him.

—> Natasha comforts you when you go :( after ten long minutes of attempting to peel that stupid hammer off the table while everyone eggs you on, knowing full well it won’t happen

—> “It was not a game you were excepted to win — none of us can,” she assured you.

I LOVE THESE IDIOTS SO MUCH CHAT

[smellslikechahnspirit]

[Book]

Are we good for each other?

1. Strawberry Milk

Bang Chan x F. Reader

Synopsis: Written according to y/n trophy. A story about how you two met. Both having a difficult life, finding peace in each other. Not without lots of drama. Just read it, it's great.

Genre: Enemies to lovers, soft, some smut, drama

Warnings: Under eating, depression, toxic ex (Let me know if I missed something)

Word count: 1241

______________________________

[5:28 PM]

Another day, the same job, the same annoying people, everything the same. Lately life wasn’t that great for you. After all these months nothing has changed yet. When you dropped out of college to live with you boyfriend, now ex, you imagined your life way different. Living with him at his place, joining a real career. This waiter job was supposed to be temporary. But then after you two broke up, and had no place to stay, you kind of had no other choice but to keep the job. You needed the money. You were broke. So broke, you even sometimes skipped proper meals. You did eat, but was it good food? Healthy food? No, most of the time just cheap stuff, like a burger at a fast-food restaurant, or something of that sort. You were trying to save money, but that wasn’t an easy task and especially not because your job also paid pretty poorly. But hey, what else could you do? Give up? No, you were determent to show your ex, and the rest of the world that you’re strong enough to overcome this hardship.

‘’Fuck, it’s only 5:30…”, you said softly. Your shift lasted till 8 pm. ‘’Language!”, your boss said looking angry at you, who happened to walk by right as you said that. You needed this job, but you and your boss haven’t been on the same page lately. You keep ‘messing up’ stuff, and it’s always an excuse for her to call you out on it, even if it’s as small as forgetting sugar in a coffee. You were trying your best. It was just never enough for her. ‘’Sorry...”, you replied.

You couldn’t wait to be done today, so you could hop back online on your PC. You were a streamer on the side, not a paid one, just for fun. You never showed your face or anything, you were just hella good at playing games, and people seemed to enjoy watching you play. You were quite famous on there actually. Gamers all over the world have heard at least something about you, since you broke a world record of goals per minute in a soccer game. You played any type of game really. But your favourite at the moment had to be this shooter game you had been playing a lot.

You actually met a guy on there a few weeks back. You didn’t know his name; all you knew was his gamer tag and his voice. You two had been playing this game together almost every day. Unless he was busy. During the day he mostly was, due to his job. You didn’t wanna be a creep and ask him too much about his personal life though, so you always waited till he replied and told you he was gonna go online. Only sometimes you had to cancel, since your PC was lagging most of the time if you played with him. Your PC was kinda cheap, but you couldn’t afford to buy a better one, for obvious reasons.

‘’Table 8 needs your attention right now, go!”, your boss whisper-yelled at you. You fake smiled at her and walked over to the table. ‘’Hello sir, what can I get you?”, you asked the guy who was wearing all black and had his hoodie hood covering most of his face typing excessively on his laptop. ‘’Uh, yeah just….uhm, just an iced strawberry milk, please.”, the man said, not even looking at you once. Even though you couldn’t see his face fully you knew who he was. He was pretty famous. You just didn’t care and treated him normally. He seemed very annoyed and stressed for some reason. Probably work, you thought. ‘’Anything else?”, you asked. “No, thanks, just one strawberry milk to-go. Please hurry I’m gonna be late for my appointment.”, he said while putting his hand over his forehead, like he had a headache. “Yes, sir.”, you said as you went to go get his drink.

You hated customers like him. Looking like they’re more important than the rest of us. He was handsome though. Very nice lips too. Maybe he really was stressed and you wanted to help him out by getting his order as fast as possible, so that maybe he’d feel a bit more at ease. He was still a customer after all.

You went to the counter and prepared his order. While you were busy mixing the syrup into the milk, another customer went over to you and complained about the fact that his coffee was served cold. Your boss started yelling at you and made quite a scene already, but since you were busy with the strawberry milk order, you didn’t want to engage much so you just apologised and continued.

You were done and started walking over to the customer to serve him his iced strawberry milk order, while your boss followed. That stressed you out and made you lose focus and tripped over the handsome guys’ bag, spilling the milk all over his clothes, almost his laptop. He jumped up and started yelling at you too. For obvious reasons your boss also started yelling and well basically everyone was looking at you and yelling.

You realised you really messed up too much now and the following statement from your boss wasn’t that big of a surprise. “You’re fired, Y/n!’’, she yelled and pointed to the door, for you to leave immediately. You teared up. You were not only a disappointment for everyone here but also for yourself. You hated yourself even more than you already did. You threw your apron off and started walking towards the door.

While on your way out you looked at the handsome guy once more and mouthed the words ‘I’m so sorry’. He was obviously still annoyed, but a part of him felt bad for you too. He was looking at your face and saw the tears clearly now. He felt bad. Then he also realised he was 100% gonna be late for his work now due to that fact that he’d have to go home and change his clothes, on top of the fact he was already late. So, when that thought hit him, he looked back at the mess and yelled at your boss for napkins. You closed your eyes for a second to escape the situation for a second, then walked through the door and went home.

[5:54 PM]

When you got home you threw yourself on your, what was left of a decent, couch. For the first time in a while you felt completely hopeless. Normally you’d find a bit of willpower left in you and always got back up from hardships, since you knew you had to stay strong, to fight. But now, after today...everything was too much. You couldn’t even keep a simple small job. Were you really that useless?

Something in you knew you’re a wonderful person and that you had much potential, but how would you ever be able to get out of this shithole, if you couldn’t even make a little bit of money. You had no money, no friends, no nothing. Not even family, since they all shut you out after you left your country back then. You decided to open a can of pineapple you still had, ate it and eventually you fell asleep. A part of you didn’t care if you’d wake up or not.

Part 2

...Masterlist...

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© 2022-2025, smellslikechahnspirit • No posting on other sites or platforms, rewrites, or translations

[al-mayriti]

idk if it's because my mum worked in a tv magazine or what but all the media wars and backstabbing and stuff happening behind the cameras is so so interesting to me

[burinazar]

It's a bit funny that to parts of my circles I'm 'the fandom one'/'the fanfic one'/'the shipping one' as the person they know most prominently into such things

because as much as i love writing my fics and shipping my ships my interest in both of those things is, I think, very narrow and specific compared to most people who are into them? due to my habits being like. very particular

[designernishiki]

I think I’ve said this before on here but. it really baffles and somewhat annoys me sometimes how people hear that a character is in their 40s-50s and immediately assume they should be weak or feeble or less attractive than they are. like. no. i think everyones just been brainwashed to think that attractiveness/health/worth is determined by how young someone is. why is it more understandable to view a teenager as more attractive and capable than a fit 40-50-something year old. kinda wack

[fluffylandshark]

Edit: I am playing devils advocate here solely because I see nobody else defending this harmless, if a bit annoying behavior

Question: why are you upset about people liking your stuff. Because they don't actively share it with others? Am I obligated to tell everyone I know "hey look at this cool art I found" the moment I like your art. Would you rather I don't even tell you that I like it at all? I understand telling people that likes don't work the same here as they do on twitter but telling people that only liking something without reblogging it to is upsetting feels kinda weird, not gonna lie. You're getting upset over people COMPLEMENTING you because they didn't reblog you. That's like yelling at someone who complements your fanfic on AO3 because they didn't share a link to it with their friends.

Your example is 55 likes and 2 reblogs. You see that only two out of 55 people who liked this post reblogged it. I see that 55 people liked what they saw and 2 of them even said "everyone should see this". None of these people were obligated to do any of that. You're not entitled to either likes or reblogs(edit: they aren't entitled to your art either). I would like for people to just give me a million dollars, but they aren't obligated to give me any, so I'm happy when my dad gives me 50 dollars as a birthday present. If someone showed me they like what I made, even if it was just pressing a button, I would be happy. Is it important to you that many people ENJOY your art or is it more important that many people SEE your art.

You know who else cares more about how many people consume their product than how beloved it is: Corporations like Disney. This attitude is part of the reason why some of the best shows in recent years were neglected or even cancelled by their networks. Why so much media is bland and samey trying to follow the same old formula of success rather than doing something interesting and fun. If you measure the worth of your art solely by how many people have seen it, you start to lose sight of arts primary purposes: self expression and carying a message/feeling into the heart of the people who see it.

people moving to tumblr from twitter please fucking reblog art likes literally dont do anything except make the artist upset bc they have 2 reblogs and 55 likes

[celiaelise]

I get baffled every time I remember that poll that went around a few months ago, that was like, "do you think you're funnier online or in person?" And it was a pretty even spread of answers, but "I'm funnier online" was definitely winning!!

That's crazy to me! I don't really think I know how to be funny online, but it doesn't seem nearly as rewarding as being funny in person??? Like, it's about shared experiences and human connection?

idk... being funny IS a skill, but I think a lot of being funny in a casual social setting is less about being good at being funny and more about social/communication skills? Not saying I'm some kind of expert at that, either, but, like... it's about meeting people where they're at, knowing what you have in common, pointing out observations, knowing where people's boundaries are, not taking yourself too seriously...stuff like that! (Most of these are definitely skills I've purposefully developed. I didn't have these abilities inherently.)

I'm not trying to judge anyone! Honestly I feel like it's likely that a lot of people who answered that poll are funnier irl than they think! You don't have to be exceptionally clever or original to be funny. If you make your friends, family, or even random strangers laugh, you're funny!

Again, I honestly don't really get what it means to "be funny online", so maybe there's nuance I'm missing. But, even before, like, 75% of my friends were people who did improv comedy, (back when most of my friends were people who also had debilitating social anxiety) joking around and goofing off has always been such an integral part of my friendships! It makes me sad to think so many people might not also have that? I'm hoping people just haven't realized they're funny, rather than that their lives are so devoid of humor that online is where they feel like they have the most to offer.

(Also if people around you are specifically TELLING you you're not funny... they're assholes. And almost certainly have no authority to speak on the topic. jsyk.)

[stellardeer]

TL;DR - How would you kick someone out of your house without involving police? and Should you?

My no-note blog is probably not the best place to ask this question, but maybe someone will come along and answer, who knows.

So in the ideal circumstance that we abolish the police, I've been wondering about a specific scenario. Say there is a person in your home, for whatever reason, who has no legal right to be there, and you do not want them there (again, for whatever reason) but they refuse to leave and you want to forcibly remove them from your home.

Most people nowadays would threaten to call the cops on them, and usually that alone is enough to get people to leave. I've never actually had this problem myself, but I've known numerous people who've talked about these kinds of situations (and coincidentally they were all middle class, if that tells you anything...) I, personally, would think twice (or a million times) about calling the cops on someone, especially if the person in question is particularly vulnerable to police brutality. So, even if the police aren't abolished, I still want to know the proper alternative to handle this kind of situation.

I'm a pretty weak, easily overpowered person, so my first instinct would be to like.. call someone I know or go get a strong neighbor or something to help me get this person off of my property.

I know that the specifics of the situation also play a key role here, too, on how to handle it. Like, if the person is reasonable, I would hope that just telling them to leave would get them to go - easy enough. But if they refuse to move.. what do I even do? If it's someone that I know very well, I might think to take a break and just walk away from them and hope we can sort things out once we've calmed down. If it's someone that I don't know very well, though, (not even necessarily an intruder, but just say someone who is overstaying their welcome) and especially if tensions are not even high, I wouldn't really know what to do. Some states even have squatters rights, so like.. sometimes you literally CAN'T do anything about this person being in your home, and in some cases they can even get you kicked out. I think it's kind of obvious that if the person clearly has violent intentions towards me, then I have a right to defend myself, but again, I am not going to be able to do that by myself, and I don't know what the legalities are around asking for help from another citizen, i.e. not a cop, if someone means to do you harm?

And what if you do ask for help and your helper ends up injuring the person in the process of trying to get them out?? I'd imagine it's still better than calling a cop, and risking getting a life-ruining criminal record, or worse, shot and killed. But I'd also imagine there could be grounds for them to sue if they get injured by the helper since the helper is not a professional of any kind and not protected in anyway. Only some states have protections against self defense anyway, and I don't know if it even counts if you invited the person into your home willingly and they weren't being violent to begin with. Like.. if they person is just stubbornly standing there and then your burly neighbor puts hands on them first, I don't think that even counts as self defense for the homeowner? At that point if the person fights back then they have a case for self-defense.

And I don't know what the leftist attitude is towards personal property like that anyway, like should we even have a right to our own home? I don't know the leftist view on that, I get the idea that individualism is not the move, but like.. do we still have our own personal space? Space that we are allowed to bar others from entering? Even if that space extends to the entirety of a 2-bedroom home? I'm asking sincerely, because I really haven't read enough socialist theory, so I don't know what the opinions are on home ownership in general. Like in an ideal society, would we supposedly just allow the person to stay for as long as they like, as long as they aren't hurting anything? That's another part of it, like what if they aren't doing any harm but I still don't want them there? Am I wrong for wanting them to leave, even if I don't know them? Supposing even if they are an intruder, if they haven't stolen anything or hurt me or my animals, but they just... won't leave, should I even be mad about that?

But again, forget an ideal society, let's take it back to reality, assuming that I live in the US and the laws are exactly the same as they are in this moment, police are not abolished, but I am choosing to not involve the police in this matter... what is the right thing to do???? Should I just resolve myself to accept that this person lives with me now?? I don't even live in a state with squatters rights, so I don't legally have to, but.. should I? (more thoughts and anecdotes if the tags if you feel like reading)

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

(Don't You) Steal My Thunder

my tyler owens playlist 🤝 inspiring fic titles

Tyler Owens x fem!reader  7k words

summary: Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's set on getting you on his good side. And the more you get to know him, the less you can resist.

a/n: i had to research sm car stuff for this it's not funny. i now know exactly how to describe a truck bed though, so. that's fun.

again, my inbox is wide open <33 i don't guarantee anything, but you can always come talk to me or request smth

masterlist | twisters masterlist

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met.

He prints his face on t-shirts, writes his autograph on mugs, comes up with ridiculous sayings ("Not My First Tornadeo" and "If you feel it, chase it" are really just the tip of the ice berg) and most importantly, he costs you the best shots of tornadoes every goddamn time.

Tyler Owens is a problem.

And Tyler Owens seems to have actively decided to make himself a problem too.

Which would be fine, if he flipped you the bird or told you to fuck off or threw his paper towels at you. Unluckily, those are rather examples of what you have done to him. Because it's not fine, not at all - no, Tyler Owens has decided that it's not enough to be in your way all the time, he has to seek you out and rub your nose in it.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He's cocky and he's arrogant and he's entirely too full of himself. He brags too much and calls you "weather girl" too often. He gets under your skin more than you would ever admit.

And, as if all of that isn't enough - Tyler Owens is the very epitome of handsomeness.

It's like god didn't just have a good day when he created Tyler Owens, no, god must have still been in the post-haze of the best head he'd gotten in his whole immortal life when he'd created Tyler Owens.

Because Tyler Owens has the body of a greek god and the face of a Hollywood actor. He's not a pornstar, he's who pornstars worship. He's the Prince Charming little girls dream of and the Christian Grey grown women lust for.

Tyler Owens looks like everything you've ever wanted.

But he's just such a fucking asshole.

You wish you could say you didn't care. You'd love to be the kind of woman who didn't even acknowledge him. But you're not. You're not. You watch his videos when you can't sleep, you chuckle when you happen to overhear his jokes, you ogle his back when he's turned away from you. Sometimes, you get so lost in staring at him that you realise too late when he turns back around, and then you have to act unbothered when he grins his fucking grin at you. That's mostly when you flip him off, desperately fighting to ignore the heat in your cheeks.

Not like it stops him. You honestly feel like it only spurs him on.

Something has to seriously be wrong with him. It's not his face. But something is seriously wrong with him, you're sure of that.

Something has to be wrong with him. No sane person would ever go tornado wrangling. No hate to the rest of his crew - they're nice, you've managed to hold a few pretty normal conversations with them here and there - but none of them are sane either.

Storm chasing is different. You keep your distance. All you need are a few well-placed photographs - and those you can get from a rather safe number of miles away. The weather channel doesn't care about close-ups (not really, anyway). They want something to show the people on their comfortable couches, up in New Hampshire or Maine, so that all of them can say to each other "What poor folks, wouldn't wanna live there" and nod in pity as they switch the channel to watch another blockbuster.

You're just doing your job.

The only problem is that it's hard to do your job properly when there's always that fucking red truck in the way, driving down empty roads right into the heart of the tornado. And because no one on the news wants people to see that and go "Well, can't be too bad if there's still cars on the streets!", in the last few months - ever since you'd volunteered to move back to Oklahoma 'So that we've got someone right in Tornado Alley and don't have to fly people out there every time' - the weather channel has only shown the first few minutes of tornadoes forming. The rest of your pictures and videos lie abandoned in the trash file on your laptop. Except for a few - a very, very few, very, very good pictures of Tyler Owens and his Tornado Wranglers. But those won't ever see the light of day either.

You'd be damned if you let anyone know that while Tyler Owens is busy disturbing your actual work, you're busy taking pictures of him shooting fireworks into tornadoes. Pictures that would make for some damn good headers (if you hadn't buried them far, far down your gallery).

This time is no different. You get a few amazing shots of the tornado forming – surely an EF2, maybe even an EF3 - before you settle in the driver's seat again, your window rolled down and your camera hung around your neck as you push down on the gas. Then, a few miles further, you get even better shots of the full tornado, of the first few minutes of destruction, right there, in the middle of an empty field.

And as always, of course, just as the tornado takes on full form, you spot that familiar red truck through the lens of your camera. It speeds down the pavement right in front of where you’ve swerved onto the side of the road and you snap a few pictures, just because you’ve got the trigger right underneath your finger. Honestly, something about that dirty red paint against the grey skies just looks too good not to capture. But then the truck comes closer and closer and starts to slow down and you let your camera sink.

Tyler has his window rolled down already when he stops the car. There’s that annoyingly handsome grin on his lips, the one that makes you want to slap him across the face.

“You’re too far away, weather girl”, he calls out above the rumble of distant wind and thunder. “The good pictures are down that way.”

“The good pictures are right here.” You lift your camera at him. “Maybe you just need to update your equipment.”

Tyler’s grin widens, but before he can throw another of those obnoxious retorts your way, Lilly’s voice rings out through the car.

“Hey, T, looks like it’s changing course. You should hurry.”

His eyes are still glued to yours, still glued so firmly to yours that it makes your skin crawl. You can’t look away, couldn’t possibly look away. Tyler Owens might just be a cocky asshole, but you’re only human. And the weight of his gaze on yours is enough to keep you stuck in place, clutching at your camera.

“We’re on our way, Lilly”, he drawls without looking away from you. “See you around, weather girl.”

The rest of the pictures you take land in your trash file with all the other pictures of the last few weeks. You’re laying in bed, your laptop propped up against a pillow, the empty plate from dinner on the mattress next to you as you sort through today’s work. That’s the good thing about the time difference – you’ve got until seven to send the channel the day's results.

By nine, you’ve showered, put on a dress you feel confident in and settled on one of the chairs at the local bar. You’ve been telling yourself you need to get out a little bit more – you’ve been living here three months now and you haven’t really made any friends so far. To be fair, your job has kept you out and about most of the time. You’ve spent more hours at gas stations to fill up your tank than you have in your own home. But now you’ve decided to put an end to that. You're a young woman in a new town, you can meet more people than just the cashier at the local supermarket.

So for the past twenty minutes, you’ve been nursing a mojito at the counter and talking to the bartender. She’s nice, she’s your age, she’s extroverted enough to keep sidling up to you after every time she has to excuse herself to do her job. That, and she tells you she’s grown up here, so she knows most of the people around. She’s just serving another customer – a long-haired, brown-eyed, hat-wearing country guy who’s already shared a smile or two with you – when someone rests their arm on the countertop next to you.

“Didn’t expect to see you here”, he drawls, all low, deep Southern accent and you recognise his voice before you’ve even tilted your head up and looked at him. His grin drips down onto his words and wraps itself around your mind.

Tyler Owens isn’t just annoying – he’s unbelievable. He's unbelievable and he’s here.

“So you’re stalking me now”, you say, as drily as you can possibly manage. You've been doing that a lot around him. Dead-panning everything. Schooling your expression into fake neutrality.

"I'm here all the time, weather girl", he grins. "If anything, you're stalking me."

You snort, but it's rather unfunny when you think of all the videos you've watched, hours after they'd been livestreamed, cuddled up in your bed until midnight just to stare at his face. He's not that far from the truth.

"In your dreams, Owens", you say anyway, dragging your eyes back towards your almost empty cocktail glass. You wrap your lips around your straw and drain your drink entirely. What you say and what you do, none of that matters in the end. All of this is just show. Every conversation you've had with Tyler Owens in the last three months has been nothing but a performance. Other than your name, you don't think a single sentence out of your mouth has been honest. Not when it comes to him.

"Let me buy you a beer" is the only answer you get.

His grin widens when you look back up again - so cocky, so unbelievably cocky.

"I don't drink."

You push your glass an inch further down the bar top. Tyler raises his eyebrows. Fuck, someone really needs to kick him in the face. You can't keep having all these little heart attacks whenever he's close enough that you could touch him if you wanted.

Not that you want to.

"You're drinking right now", he says. You rest your palms against the bar top and blink at him.

"I don't drink with you."

He lets out a chuckle, one of those deep ones that settle right in your chest and make it hard to swallow.

"Just this once?", he asks and in all honesty, for just a second there, you actually consider giving in. He's too handsome for his own good. You really need to get it together. He's an ass (what an ass, goddamn). And he's insane. He's an insane ass. Sometimes you have to remind yourself of that - those times like now, when his piercing eyes and his kissable lips and his rugged stubble and his broad, broad shoulders and his drawled voice overshadow everything else.

"Don't you have some livestreaming to do?", you ask, hoping it still comes across just as sarcastic when you're the slightest bit distracted by how gloriously tight the sleeves of his flannel are. "Go chasing tornadoes, not me."

His grin widens inexplicably further. You're sure that if you were in a comic, there'd be a lightbulb flashing above his head right about now.

"Well", he drawls, "if you feel it..."

"Don't you do that shit to me, Owens."

He's raising his eyebrows again, raising his eyebrows as you clasp your hand around your empty glass so hard your knuckles turn white. But you're serious. Just as you'd lost yourself in the view of him, that angelic, sinful view of him, he'd gone and reminded you why you were so adamant to keep your distance. If you feel it, chase it. Ridiculous. Obnoxious. He's an arrogant, know-it-all, suicidal job-wrecker. He's the guy with cameras pointed at him everywhere he goes. He signs mugs and selfies and hats and shirts and bras. He's the reason you haven't gotten a single un-edited shot of a fully formed tornado in the last three months.

"You're not a fan of my catchphrase, weather girl?"

He can't even pretend to look wounded (even though he tries) with how big the grin on his lips still is. You stare right at him, dead-eyed and unflinching.

"I'm not a fan of you."

Lies slip off your tongue so easily by now that you wonder when you'd become morally compromised enough to not even care anymore. It must've happened somewhere along the way, sometime between the first conversation you'd had with him and the one you're having with him right now.

"You wound me", he grins, his palm pressed to his chest.

For the first time tonight, you allow yourself to grin back at him.

"I try."

With that, you slip off your chair and wave the bartender goodbye. You're already two steps away when Tyler calls after you.

"I'd still buy you a beer."

"I'm still not drinking with you", you call back. You don't turn around again. You just make your way back to your car and mark the evening as a half-successful night of socialising on your to-do list.

...

You see him again first thing the next day. Of course. Because there's no tornadoes without the Tornado Wranglers on their tail. By now, you're used to it. You wave at Dani as they come back out of the store at the gas station you're waiting at. They've got both arms full of coffees and for a second, you consider offering your help, but then you hear Tyler shout something out of his car and you suddenly don't feel any desire whatsoever to get up. You've sat yourself down in your truck bed, your camera slung around your neck and the radar on your lap. If all goes right, you're hoping for a tornado to form a little to the east from here. And as much as you dislike Tyler Owens, the fact that he's here soothes your nerves. Where he goes, there's sure to be tornadoes close by.

The few times you hadn't seen him had never ended well for you. You'd missed an EF3 your second week here just because you'd followed the wrong hunch. Meanwhile Tyler, of course, had been in the middle of it.

This might just be the one singular situation that you welcome seeing his red truck around. As long as you can manage to overtake him on the road after.

It's not that you need to be faster. You don't need to reach the tornado first. You don't even take the same way as him most of the time. He wants in there, you just want a sensible picture. Still, you can't help but feel a pang of disappointment every time you hit the brakes and jump out of your car, miles away from the actual cell as Tyler speeds down towards it. You've been telling yourself that it's because he ruins your pictures. It kind of is.

"Hey, weather girl!"

You let out a resigned breath as you tilt your head up and squint against the sun. He's still in his truck, his window rolled down, his elbow propped up against the car door.

"What do you want, Owens?"

Your fingers itch to reach for your camera. It's a visual, him in that fucking car, leaning out of his window with the sun peaking out behind him. But you can't, you can't take a picture of him this openly. Even if you were to argue that it's just the light you'd wanted to capture.

"To give you some advice", he calls out, his lips pulling into a grin. You raise your eyebrows at him. "East isn't gonna work out. Wind's changing. Go south."

He throws you a mock salute and hits the gas before you can say anything else.

Not that you'd been about to.

Instead you just curse to yourself, jump off the truck bed and throw your treacherous technology into the passenger seat with a little too much vigor. Fuck this. You sit at the steering wheel and stare out at the sky for exactly two seconds before you make your decision. Then you start your car and drive south.

You may not be a fan of Tyler Owens, but you've long since admitted to yourself that this man has got a gift. He has an unbeatable instinct when it comes to storms. And sure, you have your fair share of knowledge, but in the end, you're a photographer, not a meteorologist. You won't miss a day's work just because you're too proud to listen to Tyler.

You're a little further behind, but you can spot his truck and guess that he's driving straight on into the cell today, so you take a right and decide to try your luck with the side of the tornado. Not being right in its path doesn't sound too bad anyway.

You actually manage to snap a few well-placed pictures. You don't know what Tyler's doing, but it seems like he's not shooting random shit up the cell today. You'll watch the stream later - you're just the slightest bit curious now what's happening with them. Maybe they're doing some old-school chasing? Or maybe they're doing a challenge. Maybe Tyler is driving blindfolded. At this point, who knows.

It's good for you though. It's a considerable tornado today, an EF2 at least, and you only spot Tyler's red truck again when the cell moves further down the fields, away from him. It doesn't look like it's gonna disappear anytime soon. Maybe today's your lucky day.

Half an hour later, you're sure you've got at least a dozen pictures of the fully formed tornado, long touched down and without the red truck in the way.

You're just packing up your things, already sifting through the photos on your camera, squinting against the sunlight, trying to both tug the zipper of your bag closed and hit the right buttons at the same time when Tyler pulls up next to you.

"You look busy, weather girl", he says, already grinning that damn grin again.

"I am", you say - truthfully, for once. You let go of your bag and lower your camera. You're hesitant, but... "Thanks for the tip."

"Anytime", he grins. "Just do me one favour."

You already know this can't be good. Not with that cheeky look on his face. But he'd just saved you from chasing hot air (quite literally), so he deserves a little treat. And you don't want unsettled scores with Tyler Owens.

"I want to know what favour that's supposed to be before I agree", you say anyway, because with him, you can never be too careful. And in the end, you're only willing to do so much. (Though for him, you'd already do a lot more than you'd admit. A lot more than you hope he's aware of.)

"Let me buy you a beer", he says, and for once, he sounds serious.

The memory of yesterday night flashes before your eyes, of those same words at the bar. With him so close, way too close - with that grin and that stubble and that voice and those shoulders. You cross your arms and stare at him.

"If you're livestreaming this, I'm gonna sue your ass so hard."

He just lets out a chuckle and raises his hands in surrender.

"Cameras are off, I swear."

You stare at him for another silent ten or so seconds. At him in that fucking truck that looks just a little too good in your pictures. At him and his fucking face. That fucking face that you certainly wouldn't mind sitting on, if just to shut him up.

God, he's asking you to drink something with him. He's asking to buy you something to drink with him. You're stupid.

You're so, so stupid.

"Alright, cowboy", you say, uncrossing your arms and reaching for the handle of your car door. "I'll humour you."

...

You're in the bar again by nine that night, the same way you had been the day before. You're wearing a different dress and there's a different bartender, but you've ordered the same mojito and chosen the same place to sit.

Only this time, you're actively watching the door. And when Tyler strolls in, you've got to shift around in your seat and cross your legs. You don't even pretend you're not staring. You just ogle him openly. Not for the first time ever - you'd checked him out very obviously when he'd strutted towards you to introduce himself three months ago - but definitely for the first time in a while. And god yeah, he's a hunk of a man, alright. If you had your camera here right now...

But you don't. So instead, you drop your eyes to his feet (brown leather boots), drag them up his legs (blue jeans), over his chest (red checkered flannel), over his face (god, what you wouldn't give-) and finally rest them on the cowboy hat on top of his head.

When he's close enough to hear you, already grinning, of course, probably at how you're actually sitting there in the same spot as yesterday and hadn't just lied to his face about coming here, you raise your eyebrows at him.

"A cowboy hat?", you ask, your voice as unbothered as you can possibly manage (even though you're very, very, very much bothered right now). His grin only widens.

"Ladies love country boys", he drawls with a shrug.

"Now that's straight out of a song", you say. "You're getting lazy, Owens."

"A song?", he asks. "No, that's an Owens Original."

You pull your eyebrows even further up.

"Ladies love country boys? Trace Adkins?"

"Nope. Not familiar."

But his grin tells you that he's lying. He's a liar. He knows very well where he got that line from. And he knows just how easily he got under your skin with his simple trick. As if his face isn't enough already.

You just shake your head and turn away from him.

"Put your money where your mouth is, Owens. Buy me a beer."

...

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's also a great conversationalist.

The hours fly by as you're talking. One beer turns into two, then into an uncountable number of soft drinks. You both agree that you need to drive home, neither of you is willing to risk a run-in with the police. You need your drivers license for your jobs.

Tyler talks to you about the pictures you've taken today, then about the pictures from last week. He laughs when you blame him for ruining half of them and almost spits out his coke when you slap his arm for laughing at you. He tells you about his crew, about the people they've helped with the money from their dumb t-shirt sales. You think you hate him less by the minute. You're not sure if you're okay with that. But he gets you talking about your childhood and your parents, about school and college and about how you've wound back up here in Oklahoma. That effectively distracts you.

That, and how his cocky grin morphs into a genuine smile the more you open up.

Not that you didn't love the cocky grin. You did, just a bit. As obnoxious as it was. But the way he smiles at you all sweet has you melting right in your spot.

It's not the first time you realise that beneath all that rough exterior, there beats a heart of gold. You've known what those t-shirt sales are for, that he offers food and water after a tornado hits a town, that he carries the injured out of the ruins of their houses and helps find lost dogs. The more you've been around him in the past weeks, the more you've seen of his soft side. Of the way he cares and supports. But in the end, it always is easier to go back to the status quo - to fall back onto mindless snark and fleeting first impressions.

You'd clung so desperately to the image of him as this arrogant, smug, holier-than-thou influencer god for the sole purpose of keeping your own sanity. Because you'd known that without despising him, you would fall head over heels for Tyler Owens, and you just couldn't have that.

But now, with his arm brushing against yours and his hat discarded on the bar top and his smile, that beautiful, beautiful smile on his lips...

"Five bucks", he drawls, already reaching for his wallet.

"What?"

"Five bucks says there won't be a tornado tomorrow."

You raise your eyebrows at him, your glass hovering in mid-air between the two of you. You'd meant to take a sip, but now you're setting it right back down on the bar top.

"You're shitting me."

Tyler just shakes his head. He's grinning again, but it's much softer this time around.

"The winds are looking great. The forecast says it's gonna be the best conditions for tornadoes we've seen in the last six weeks. I've heard Dexter talk about how we're probably gonna see an EF4 tomorrow", you tell him, even though you're sure he's well aware of all of it. This is Tyler Owens, for god's sake. He knows about the winds and the forecasts. He knows that his crew is making preparations already.

His grin only grows. And it's smug now. It's cocky now. It's everything you thought you'd left behind during this conversation. He looks like the Tornado Wrangler again, like the guy who fucks up your pictures and makes your job harder than it already is.

It takes you a second too long to realise why.

"Dexter said that on our live", he grins, as if he can't quite believe what he's hearing. You physically recoil from him. "Do you watch our streams, weather girl?"

"No", you breathe, rigid and frozen, shocked to your very core. No, no, no, no, this cannot be happening. This cannot be happening. You'd... You hadn't made that mistake. He hadn't got you to make that mistake.

"Dexter talked about tomorrow on our live", Tyler says again, straightening his back and grinning down at you like he's just uncovered the lost grave of Cleopatra. "Only on the live. You watched our stream."

"No", you mutter, your eyes wide and your mouth dry, so dry. You need to drink. You need to drink so badly. "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. You watched our stream, honey."

The petname runs down your spine and clogs your senses. Honey. Oh, he's an ass, he's an asshole! But you're on the spot, you're on the spot and he's calling you honey, honey, honey. You can't do anything but watch as he leans closer to you, grinning down at you like it's his one true purpose on this earth, like he wants to eat you alive.

"I'd say you watch our streams pretty regularly, weather girl."

You swallow hard and clasp your hand around your glass.

"Yeah?", you breathe, hoping against all hope that your voice sounds somewhat innocent. You're sure it doesn't. You know it doesn't. You probably sound as guilty as you are, but... Hope dies last. Hope always dies last. "Why would you say that?"

"Just a hunch." He shows off those pearly fucking whites for you. "Call it an instinct. I'm usually right."

He is.

He's right now. He's right usually.

Him and his fucking instinct. His goddamn gut feeling about tornadoes, always right all the fucking time. He's like an Oklahoma Jesus. The first coming of Tornado Christ.

Fuck him.

Fuck him.

"I'll take your bet." You drain your glass at once. "Give me your five bucks, Owens."

You don't think it'll work. You don't think he'll let you distract him. You don't think it'll be this easy to stop his vile teasing. He's not the type of guy to let something go. He's not the type of guy to let anything go ever. But he looks at you and he grins at you and he trails his eyes over your face and then he opens up his wallet and pulls out five dollars without another word.

He puts the bill flat on the bar top.

But when you go to reach for it, he pushes his fingers down.

"The price just went up", he says.

You raise your eyebrows and let your hand sink again. Tyler is absolutely unpredictable. You should've known.

"The price just went up?", you repeat. He nods. "What more do you want to bet?"

He's closer now, closer all of a sudden. He's too close, close enough to make your breath hitch. He's looking down at you with that cocky, cheeky grin, with his weirdly green eyes, with his three day stubble and his generally much too symmetrical face. You can't do anything but look back up at him.

"A kiss", he says. Simple as that.

A kiss.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He is. Truly. He's annoying and way too full of himself and much too presumptuous. Tyler Owens is the only man who would ever do something like this. The only man who'd bet a kiss on whether or not there will be tornadoes tomorrow.

Especially with that forecast.

The one that says a tornado is basically inevitable.

"Alright", you say. He may be Tyler Owens, the guy with an infallible instinct - but he is also Tyler Owens, the guy who's been doing his hardest to get under your skin. This time might not be any different. For all you know, he's bluffing to rile you up. "I'm in."

...

At eleven the next day, you're standing next to Dexter in resigned silence.

"I really thought today was gonna pan out", you mutter.

"It should have", Dexter frowns, tapping against the screen in his hands. "It should have worked out. The conditions should have been perfect. Everything's been building the last few days."

"But it collapsed this morning."

You turn your head and watch as Tyler comes to a stand next to you, arms crossed, eyes locked on the clear sky up above. He tilts his head to you and grins. Fuck, he's wearing his goddamn hat again. It's like he doesn't even try to be normal.

"Hey, weather girl", he greets. "Ready to cash out your bet?"

You shake your head at him. No, you're not giving up this easily. You never give up this easily.

"The day's not over yet, Owens. You haven't won 'til midnight."

...

You spend most of the next hours sitting in your truck bed, reading a book you'd thrown into your backseat weeks ago and had so far neglected. Lilly hands you lunch around two, Dani offers you a coffee around five and Boone pipes up here and there to joke about the wasted day. Around six, Dexter comes by to let you know they're calling it.

You still have another hour to go. By seven, it'll be too late to send your pictures anyway. But you want the hour. You need the hour.

You still haven't decided what to do about Tyler. About Tyler and his fucking bet.

He's been loitering the whole day, walking by, joking around with his crew, livestreaming a spontaneous q&a just because.

And the more minutes tick by, the harder it is to keep ignoring that you've most definitely lost the bet. Even though you do your best. You read, you check your phone. You stare at your radar. You stare at the weather forecast. You talk to Dexter and Dani and Lilly and Boone. You take a few pictures of the sky. Then you take a few pictures of Tyler, standing some feet away from his truck and looking out at the clouds.

It's only when two of three Tornado Wranglers cars are disappearing down the road, when Tyler Owens suddenly stands in front of your truck bed, that you put down your book and face reality.

"No tornadoes in sight", he says, instead of 'Hello' or 'How are you' like any other person would.

"There's still six hours left", you reason. Even if only one of those is relevant for your job today.

"You really want to wait out six hours to prove I'm right?"

"You're not right", you argue. It's fruitless, it's stupid, it's unreasonable. But... "Not yet, anyway."

Tyler raises his eyebrows at you, lets out an amused chuckle and leans against the side of your truck bed.

"Alright, so we wait."

You eye him from the side. He's fucking leaning against your truck, staring out at the sky, talking about six hours. Goddamn. He can't be serious, can he? His crew is already gone. They've disappeared into the descending sun and he's talking about waiting another six hours. Leaned against your car.

"Fuck's sake, Owens", you sigh, scooching over to the right. "At least sit down then."

You don't talk much at first. You just open your book back up again and try your hardest to ignore that he's even here at all, barely two feet away from you on the other side of your truck bed. If you stretched your leg, you'd hit him right in the hip.

It makes reading close to impossible.

Even though he's not doing anything at all. He's just sitting there, one arm propped up on the side board, that goddamn cowboy hat on his head and his feet hanging off the opened tailgate. It's almost worse that he's not doing anything.

That he's just sitting there and watching the sky change.

You give up on reading entirely when you realise that you've finished exactly five pages in half an hour. Instead, you put your book back in the car, pull out your bluetooth speaker and two water bottles and offer Tyler one of them.

You don't even ask him what music he wants to listen to. You just put on your country playlist and roll with it. By the twitch of his lips, you know he certainly doesn't mind.

Another half hour later, it's starting to get chilly and you're beginning to grow bored of the music. Tyler sitting next to you makes you fidgety, somehow, and you can't really enjoy the songs you usually love so much. So you switch to a podcast. You don't ask Tyler if he minds. He's free to go anytime.

Around eight, the sun starts to set, and the chill turns into an unpleasant cool. You hadn't really expected to be sitting out here so long. You're not prepared for the temperature to drop. You're wearing shorts, for god's sake, shorts and a top. It's summer in Oklahoma - you don't know how Tyler even manages to survive in his long jeans. You certainly wouldn't.

But now you're a little jealous, to be honest. He doesn't look cold in the slightest while you're fighting off shivers. You can feel your hands trembling already.

You really should've brought a jacket. But who brings jackets in 30 degree summer weather?

So instead, you just resign yourself to your fate and rub your hands along your arms. Anything to get some warmth into your body.

For the first time since you've sat back down, Tyler turns his head and looks at you.

"You're cold", he says, eyes raking over your arms and the goosebumps you'd gotten.

"Great observational skills, Sherlock Holmes", you deadpan, even though he doesn't really deserve that. He had so far left you pretty much alone. "A+ on that assignment."

Well, it's hard to break bad habits.

Tyler just chuckles, shakes his head and pushes off of the truck bed. You watch, eyes narrowed, as he walks back to his own car, opens up the trunk and- pulls out a blanket?

Your hands have sunken down to your lap all by themselves by the time he's standing in front of you again, holding out the blanket.

"For you, Watson", he grins as you slowly, carefully take the blanket from him. You mutter something along the lines of a soft 'Thank you' before you wrap the blanket around your arms.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's also the very definition of "Tough on the outside, soft on the inside". Sometimes, you think the word 'angelic' works for more than just his divine looks.

Your eyes are glued to him as he sits back down next to you and looks out at the darkening sky with that signature grin on his lips, like he knows that you're watching him and enjoys it more than he should. That doesn't deter you though. For the very first time. You don't even stop staring when he turns his head back to you. You don't even stop staring then.

You just look at him until his grin crumbles. Until he's smiling that smile from yesterday night, the one that has your heart squeezing together and then exploding in your chest. You think you could stare at that smile for the rest of eternity and never feel sated.

"What?", he asks, his voice so soft it makes you swallow. Your lips part, but there's no words on your tongue, none in your throat. They're stuck in your chest somewhere, wrapped around your heart so tightly that you can't let them go even now. So you just press your lips together, wrap your blanket tighter around yourself and say:

"So I'm Watson, yeah?"

Your podcast is long forgotten by the time the sky turns dark. So dark that you make Tyler climb into your car and turn on the lights. You're comfortable in your blanket, you don't feel the need to move.

It's around ten when the blanket isn't enough anymore.

You tuck your hands underneath your top, but that only helps for so long. A few minutes later, you're trembling again, trembling even though you're pulling the blanket as tightly around you as you possibly can. Tyler raises his eyebrows when a particularly heavy shiver runs down your spine, one of those that come and go within three seconds.

"Come here", he says, shuffling in his spot and motioning for you to move over to him. You don't really think about it. It's more of a reflex as you fumble the blanket off of your body, scooch over to him, settle yourself against his side and sneak your feet under his thigh. He tugs the blanket back up to your chin, tucks it in behind your back and wraps his arms around you.

Tyler Owens wraps his arms around you.

And he's so fucking warm you literally almost moan. God, you hadn't actually realised just how cold you'd been.

"Damn, you're freezing", he notes as well, just as you nestle further into him and hum in agreement. He's like a living heater right now. You'd like to just crawl inside of him and suck up all his warmth. "You should've told me sooner."

"I didn't tell you at all", you mutter, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. He smells good. He smells so good. Earthy, musky somehow. You're tempted to turn your head and bury your nose in his shoulder.

Instead, you just satisfy yourself with what you can get. Fuck, he smells so good. He smells just like you'd thought he would, like country and rodeo and thunderstorms. He smells like falling into bed at the end of a successful chase. He smells like more. You want more.

You want more of Tyler Owens.

"Are you sniffing me?", he asks suddenly, but he sounds so amused you can't even bring yourself to feel embarrassed. You just open your eyes and grin at him, tilting your head so you can look up at him.

"What if I am?", you ask, if only to hear that breathless chuckle fall from his lips. Oh, those lips. You're in trouble. "Are you gonna call the cops on me?"

"I could never."

"Yeah, you better not, cowboy", you mutter, eyes dropping to his lips when he grins. He's so close. He's way too close. "There's like thirty things I could call the cops about on your channel."

His grin grows until he's showing off his teeth, glinting against the low light of the leds in your car. He's closer now.

"So you do watch our streams, weather girl."

His voice is so low and he's so close, so close. Your lips part all on their own. You haven't looked back up at his eyes in too long. Far too long. But he's so close, and he's so warm, and he smells so good.

"Alright", you whisper. His mouth is barely an inch from yours. You can feel every breath he takes. "I watch your streams."

And then your lips are on his.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He's cocky and he's smug. He makes your job harder than it has to be. He does everything and anything to get under your skin. But Tyler Ownes is the best goddamn kisser this side of the globe.

He trails his hands, his big, big hands, down your sides, pushes the blanket out of the way and grabs at your waist with just enough firmness. He pulls you onto his lap and rests his thumbs over the hem of your top. He breathes into your mouth and takes it slow. He doesn't care that you almost knock his hat out of the way when you try to wrap your arms around his neck. He just holds you tightly to him and lets you tug on his lip.

You honestly don't know how much time has passed when he pulls back, grinning an entirely new grin at you, hazy and euphoric.

"It's not midnight yet", he mutters, the slightest bit out of breath.

"I don't care", you mumble, drawing him right back in for another kiss. You think you might be addicted. You simply can't get enough of him. You can't get enough of Tyler Owens.

But then a thought strikes you, and you pull away with a grin that makes him raise his eyebrows.

You chuckle against his lips.

"If you feel it, chase it, right?"

[flwrkid14]

Tim Drake Accidentally Takes Over the World (and Didn’t Think to Mention It)

So, Janet somehow spent decades climbing her way into every government worth a damn, ruling the entire world from behind the scenes. And then, because the universe is apparently wild, she left it all to Tim.

Cut to Tim Drake, the brand-new, completely reluctant secret ruler of the entire planet. And he just… never really thought it was worth mentioning?

The Batfam finds out when Bruce stumbles across an encrypted memo traced to a mysterious Gotham office with Tim’s name on it.

Bruce, holding up the memo: “Tim. Want to explain why this document about, oh, international finance reforms is signed with your encryption key?”

Tim, not even looking up from his laptop: “Oh, yeah. That. Janet left me her ‘global influence portfolio’ or whatever. Mostly paperwork.”

The Batfam stares in total shock.

Dick sputters nearly dropping his coffee: "Wait—you’ve been managing world policies?!”

Tim, shrugging, barely paying attention as he emails the president of Germany: “Well, yeah. I figured someone had to keep things running. It's not that big a deal. I mostly just redirect some policies. You know, keep things running smoothly.”

Jason, absolutely cackling: “Are you telling me that little Replacement here is the reason for half the ‘global cooperation’ headlines?”

Tim, scrolling through emails: “They send me reports; I send suggestions. And honestly, they make it way more dramatic than it is. It's not that hard."

Barbara stares at him, half horrified, half impressed. “How did we not notice this?”

Tim blinks. “I mean, it’s not like I was actively hiding it. I assumed you guys knew I was… kind of managing these things?”

Cue utter disbelief.

Stephanie, laughing too hard to breathe: “Tim, do you have world leaders on speed dial?”

Tim, completely unfazed: “Only the important ones. They text, mostly. Oh—by the way, I might’ve influenced a minor arms control thing last week. Don’t worry; it’s all sorted.”

Bruce, looking like he’s two seconds from fainting: “Sorted? Tim, we're talking about you having global authority here. People notice these things."

Tim shrugs again as his phone buzzes with notifications. “Sure, but it’s not like they’re going to do anything too crazy. I just suggest stuff, and they listen. Honestly, it’s like herding really powerful, really overdramatic cats.”

Damian, scandalized: “You mean to tell me, Drake, that you’re manipulating world politics like it’s a game of checkers?”

Tim, still casual: “Manipulating’s a strong word. Like I said, it’s more just nudging things along.” His phone buzzes again. “Oh, hang on. France is panicking about their energy policy again.”

The Batfam tries to process the fact that Tim—Tim, who routinely forgets what day it is—is now, somehow, running the world.

And then his phone buzzes with a message from the UN Security Council.

Tim sighs, glancing down. “Oh, great. Looks like they’re debating nuclear arms again. Be right back.”

Meanwhile, the Batfam is left absolutely speechless, processing the fact that their Tim—scrawny, coffee-fueled Tim—is apparently one of the most powerful people on the planet. And to him its just another tuesday.

[alpaca-clouds]

Why the media CEOs will always learn the wrong lessons

Yesterday a friend and I talked about how the entire (AAA) game industrie looked at BG3 being as popular as it is and going: "Oh, we need to produce 100+ hour games, I guess! Those sell!" Which... obviously is not why it is popular. The game is not popular because it has 100+ hours of gameplay, but because it has engaging characters, that are well-acted and that work as good hooks for the players. Like, let's face it: The reason why I so far have sunken 160 hours into this game is, because I wanna spend time with these characters - and because I wanna give them their happy endings.

But the same has happened too, just a bit earlier this year, right? When Barbie broke the 1 billion and every Hollywood CEO went: "Oh, so the people want movies based on toy franchises! Got it!" To which the internet at large replied: "... How is that the lesson you learned from this?"

Well, let me explain to you, why this is the lesson they learn: It is because the CEOs and the boards of directors at large are not artists or even engaged with the medium they produce. They mostly are economists. And their dry little hearts do not understand stuff more complex than numbers and spread sheets.

That sounds evil, I know, but... It is sadly the truth. When they look at a successful movie/series/game/book/comic, they look at it as a product, not a piece of art or narrative. It is just a product that has very clear metrics.

To them Barbie is not a movie with interesting stylistic choices that stand out from the majority of high budget action blockbusters. It is a toy movie with mildly feminist themes.

Or Oppenheimer is not a movie to them with a strong visual language and good acting direction. No, it is a historical blockbuster.

And this is true for basically every form of media. I mean, books are actually a fairly good example. In my life I do remember the big book fads that happened. When Harry Potter was a success, there was at least a dozen other "magical school" book series being released. When Twilight was a big success there was suddenly an endless number of "teen girl falls in love with bad boy, who is [magical creature]" YA. When the Hunger Games was a success, there were hundreds of "YA dystopia" books. Meanwhile in adult reading, we had the big "next Game of Throne" fad.

Of course, the irony is, that within each of those fads there might have been one or two somewhat successful series - but never even one that came even close to whatever started the fad.

Or with movies, we have seen it, too. When Avengers broke the 1 billion (which up to this point only few movies did) the studios went: "Ooooooh, so we need shared universe film series" - and then all went to try and fail to create their own cinematic universe.

Because the people, who call the shots, are just immensely desinterested in the thing they are selling. They do not really care about the content. All they care about is having a supposedly easy avenue of selling it. Just as they do not care about the consumer. All they care about is that the consumer buys it. Why he buys it... Well, they do not care. They could not care less, in fact.

So, yeah, get ready for a 20 overproduced games with a bloated 100+ hours of empty gameplay, but without the engaging characters. And for like at least 15 more moves based on some toy franchise, that nobody actually cares about.

And then get ready for all the CEOs to do the surprised Pikachu face, when all of that ends up not financially successful.

Really, I read some interviews yesterday from some AAA-studio CEOs and their blatant shock and missing understanding on why BG3 works for so many people.

Because, yeah... capitalism does not appreciate art. Capitalism does not understand art. It only understands spread sheets.

[ilydeku]

izuku loves to talk about you during interviews

- anything and every topic it will ALWAYS be about you

- the question won't even be remotely related to you and still izukus answer will revolve around "y/n, my wife!!" <3

- oh, the glint in his eyes, the peaking smile when he speaks about you, lover boyyy

- the media knows he LOVE LOVES you, they think it's funny for this big, confident, mighty hero to be reduced to sap when it comes to you

- it's like his whole personality is HIS WIFE

- the journalists lowkey get so SICK of him for this, they don't want to invite him anymore 😭

- but they kinda have to, due to to his status as #1

"Good evening everyone and welcome Hero Talk! Tonight we'll be staring someone you all know and love, single handedly the greatest hero of all time, Deku! Alright, Deku how are you tonight?"

"Feeling pretty good! This is one of my wife's favorite shows, so I'm even more grateful to be here. And how are you?"

"Oh, same old. Really, just living. Now, we wanted to ask you some fun questions. Let's start with this one. Why did you want to become a hero?"

"Wow, haha! That really brings be back to my youth. When I was kid, my biggest influence was All Might, and he miraculously became my mentor. He was a good hero, and a good man. I wanted to be just like him: fearless, persevering, saving people with I smile. I would beg my mom everyday to watch this video on the computer of him saving a bunch a people. I was really swayed by All Might. I wanted to become a hero to make an impact in the world. I wanted to save people with a smile too."

"That sounds really endearing, Deku. I remember All Might's reign. He wasn't number one on the top charts all those years for nothing. So, did you ever think you'd be standing as Japan's top hero?"

"Well, it was never really my goal to become number one. That was Kacchan's- Dynamight's. My dream was, like I said, to become a hero and save others. But I have to say, it really is a blessing. I'd like to thank my Mom, All Might, my friends, and especially my wife for who I've become. My Mom has really done a lot for me growing up: protecting, encourage, and just always caring for me. All Might has kinda been that father figure for me when my Dad was away. My friends have shown me what it's like to work together and really be part of a heart. And my wife? Haha...I can't thank her enough for all the times she's been right by my side, even before we were together. Nothing I can say or do will ever be enough to express how much she means to me."

"Mm. Quite the supportive group. Your wife sounds like quite the lady!"

"She is. She's wonderful."

"Moving on to the next question, do you use social media often?"

"Occasionally, yes?? My wife uses it regularly, posting about us when we go out and stuff. It's mostly for her family to see how she's doing. She handles most of my official accounts. She says it's to be more appealing to the public, and I guess to show that there's more to heroes on the inside?? I'm not really sure, but I trust her process. Although, I'd rather be appealing to her alone."

"The public will always interested in a hero's private life! Now, Deku, what is your ideal setting of relaxation?"

"My wife doesn't like places that are too crowded or noisy, so maybe a cozy day at the beach?- but early in the morning or in the evening when the crowds calm down. Maybe a movie theatre, but days after the movie is released so it's just us together. Actually, a lazy day at home together is great too! Cooking meals and watching a movie on the couch? Really, any place is relaxing if my wife is with me."

(am i questioning Deku's wife or Deku!?) "How scenic! Those sound very fitting for you!! How about any restaurants?"

"Not really. My wife really knows how to cook, it's amazing! I love her home-cooked meals, so there's no way I'd go out of my way to a restaurant. But if my wife is feeling it, I'll be sure to make reservations."

"(sigh)"

"(smiling warmly)"

[luludeluluramblings]

Smalltown!Neglected!Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfam ☁️ Part Four

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Six ☁️ Part Seven ☁️ Part Eight

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Warning: Obessive behavior, Yandere tendencies, su*c*de/death.

A/N: Finally adding warning labels. We’re getting somewhere. I’ve had some of this written out, but had to add some stuff in to drive it home. Reader’s coping skills are failing, but everyone’s starting to get obsessive. Also, I’ve been fighting myself on drawing art for this. (I’m a bit out of practice.)

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Reader has basically called befriending Damian and Jason a lost cause.

Bruce still avoids reader. And, everyone else is still busy with what Reader assumes is Batwork. (Which is fine, Reader is fine. It’s not like they’re stuck in the manor pacing the halls every damn day.)

Cass and Duke’s get back from their respective missions. They weren’t gone too long, but they’re come back a bit roughed up. They debrief with Bruce and then have to go back to being civilians.

Reader is waiting to comfort them. Not to confront them. Reader’s more concerned with how Duke has a mild limp and how Cass’s knuckles have some bruising than them ditching. Plus, reader is still not completely sure that her family is Gotham’s vigilantes. They need to confirm.

But, Duke and Cass both appreciate Reader checking on them and not asking questions. Cass suspects Reader suspects something, judging by Reader’s body language. But, it’s nice for someone who’s naturally soft to be soft with you.

Duke appreciates how Reader treats him so, normally. In a way it reminds him of his childhood, when things were easier. He has a normal friend now, completely mostly free of Gotham’s crazy.

Reader is happy their back, but disappointed that they won’t be going to the school gala. In fact, a few family members make comments about how it sounds like a waste of time.

Bruce, however, is actually happy Reader is excited. And, Reader gets even more excited when one of their new friends ask to be their date. Reader’s date is so genuinely excited about going to this Gala with Reader. (Uh-oh, that’s not good.)

Some of Reader’s other friends, the more haughty and wealthy ones, tell Reader that they should’ve picked someone more… refined. Which Reader defends that their Date is perfectly sweet and good looking to boot.

But, this leads Reader to decide not to tell anyone in the family about their date. They don’t want to hear the same thing from their Gotham family. Reader does inform BFF, younger brother, and Nana of their date. For some reason, BFF was a bit disgruntled, and even Nana tried to convince them it was probably best not to go. Younger Brother was encouraging reader to have fun. (But he was whispering into the phone, and asking Reader if he could come visit them soon. Please. People are acting weird here. Is everything okay, do you need me to come home. No. No. Don’t— It’s fine. I just wanna come visit you.)

But, reader was committed to going and enjoying their date and wearing their custom made outfit.

That night, Reader was given Bruce’s permission to get ready at one of their friends’ houses. Reader was practically spoiled by their friends, it was almost a bit overwhelming. Their date meet them at the Gala escorting them inside and having a wonderful time. (I hope it last. It’s not going to though. How sad.)

At the end of the night, their Date escorted them home. To end a near perfect night Reader got a kiss. A long and pretty heated kiss. Right in front of the Entrance camera.

Tim had pulled up the camera feed when Reader got home, at Bruce’s request, just to check on Reader. (He was going to do it anyway.) The entire family was winding down from Patrol in the Batcave when the feed came on. Leaving them all to get a front row seat to Reader’s little act of rebellion.

(That’s all this was, right. Just a little act of rebellion. This won’t happen again, obviously. They won’t fucking let it.)

Bruce is livid. It doesn’t help that Jason wolf-whistles to further enrage him. (Jason is making plans to break someone’s leg though. Possibly the Dates. How fucking dare they corrupt you, that’s his job.)

Stephane is honestly impressed, didn’t think Reader had it in them. (How cute! I wonder what we could get up to together.)

Duke, sweet Duke, didn’t want to see that. His (best) friend getting tongued down on camera. He’s going to need bleach and therapy. (Why would you do that? When you can just game with him. You’re his bro. Gross.)

Cassandra is… understanding. Reader has needs. Reader wants affection. That’s fine. But, not that one. Pick someone else. (Llet her pick, actually. You can’t read people like her, you need someone better. Someone you she can trust. She needs to approve of them first.)

Dick is more disapproving, but he understands. Still, this changes how he sees Reader. Sweet innocent helpless Reader has a wild side. (But still reader is clearly helpless, obviously they don’t know what they’re doing.)

It also changes how Barbara sees Reader. Or confirms. Barbara runs under the assumption that Reader is more like Bruce than anyone realizes. (She’s not wrong, but it’s not in the way she thinks.) Bruce is a bit of natural flirt, he just hides it in his ‘Brucie’ persona. Reader apparently takes after that. (Damian sure didn’t.)

Damian, is disgusted, disappointed, and disapproving. He doesn’t doubt Father will scold you, but your date needs to be dealt with and all other suitors as well. (He’ll take care of it. He’s your brother, that’s his job.)

Tim, however, is legitimately jealous. He wanted to see this side of reader first. He got a glimpse of it before, but he wants it for himself now that he sees the full thing. (Also, right in front of the camera? Did Reader know it was there? If they did, would they be okay with Tim filming them more? Just to observe, please.)

Tim immediately starts pulling up all the information he can about Reader’s date. Without Bruce’s prompting this time. Bruce does nod in approval before marching to the entrance. Intent on putting an end to this and giving Reader a firm talking to.

It goes, horribly. Date is forced to leave and Bruce tears into Reader. (What happened to the outfit I bought you? Why didn’t you tell me you had a date? I didn’t approve of this. I don’t care that you’re back on time or that you’re old enough, you’re my child! Mine! You get my approval first.)

Reader stays composed, barely. The good news is that the brutal scolding is the only consequence Reader faces. (Bruce is more upset about Reader not seeking his approval than doing something he disapproves of. He’s your father. He should have a damn say. Would you have done this to D̴̖̞͑̊̓a̷͎͗̇d̸̜͍̩̓̎d̸̪̩̟̆̎y̶̛̼̌? Why are you doing this to him?)

The bad news, Reader’s date’s life is over. With just a few clicks from Tim and approval from Bruce, Date’s family company falling apart. Reported to the government, lawsuits filed by third-parties. Hidden debts needing to be collected NOW. Any misfiled taxes? Found and reported. And, most importantly, all calls and ways for Date to contact reader again, blocked.

Socially and financially, Date’s life is ruined in less than twenty-four hours. Worst of all, Reader doesn’t know. They’re still on cloud nine about the night, despite Bruce’s lecture. But, come Sunday morning, two days later, things fall apart.

Date is reported dead. Apparent suic1de just the night before. The financial implosion of the family was named the apparent reason.

Reader is distraught, confused, and hurt. What happened? What’s going on? This can’t be happening. I don’t want to lose anymore people I care about. I don’t want to lose someone like Momma and Daddy again.

Reader’s Gotham friends console Reader, saying it’s not their fault. That Date struggled with thought before. Don’t blame yourself. (They weren’t worth your time.)

Surprisingly enough, it’s Dick that finds reader having a borderline breakdown.

Dick clings and coddles and coos, but this time. Reader clings back. Reader clings back tight. Desperate for comfort. Which is surprising for Dick.

Most of the family tends to brush off his attempts at comfort until they hit rock bottom. For once, this isn’t someone hitting rock bottom before they need him. This is someone that’s just genuinely sad and overwhelmed and needs wants him.

Dick also ran under the assumption that Reader was allergic to affection, like Damian and Bruce. But, apparently, that wasn’t the case. It’s a nice feeling. To have someone not fight him when he tries to be comforting. Someone who is happy to take it. Of course, he doesn’t stay long. Once Reader pulls themselves together he’s got to get back to Buldhaven, but this time he leaves a bit slower. (But, him leaving somehow makes Reader feel worse.)

[fandoms-x-reader]

Defense System

Requested By: @space-dragon-ace

Oneshot

Summary: MC loses everyone in a crowd. To find the others quickly, they yell, "MC is a good for nothing human!" and wait to see what happens. OM! Cast x Reader Word Count: 851

You were apprehensive about going to this event in the first place.

You had just gotten back to the Devildom after being away for some time and you were still readjusting to the way things were down there.

But, your friends had all insisted on taking you to an event that occurred in the streets of the Devildom.

There were going to be tons of food trucks, vendors, shows and so much more.

They promised you that you would have a ton of fun ~ so who were you to refuse to go?

It was only after you got to the event that you began to regret your decision to go.

You had all shown up in a large group, but it seemed that everyone had their own things that they wanted you to experience.

All fifteen of your friends almost immediately went their own way, wanting to get something from a specific vendor to bring back to you or wanting to get you tickets to a show.

They were in competition mode and whenever that happened, you knew that it was hard to get them back on track.

There were tons of people surrounding you; and, despite your best efforts, you couldn’t see a single one of your friends.

You were a bit frustrated at this point, mostly because you had only agreed to go for them.

And, now you were standing in the middle of a crowd of demons, by yourself, unsure where to go or what to do.

You wanted to call someone on your D.D.D. but with how busy it was around you, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to hear anyone even if they did pick up the phone.

You thought about using your pact to summon one of the brothers; but, you didn’t think you were at the stage where that was exactly necessary.

Especially since summoning could cause the brothers pain if it isn’t done properly and it had been a while since you tried to do it.

Unsure of what else to do, you decided to be a little mischievous and test your bond with the others a bit.

You took a deep breath before shouting into the crowd, “Y/N is a good-for-nothing human!”

You paused for a moment, looking around once again, but when you still couldn’t find anyone, you let out a small sigh.

I guess that didn’t work…

“Alright, who said that?!” Mammon shouted, suddenly barreling through people to reach you.

“Oh, there you are!” you said, relieved at the sight of a familiar face and completely forgetting about your little joke.

But, there were fifteen people suddenly rushing to your side who did not forget about what was said.

They each came to you, one by one, hot and heavy and ready to throw punches.

You listened as they each began to throw insults toward this imaginary person as they searched the crowd for who could possibly be the culprit.

You tried to interject a few times, wanting to tell them the truth, but every time you opened your mouth, you were interrupted by another angry person.

“Y/N, did you see who said those words about you so we could find them?” Diavolo asked you, concern in his eyes as everyone turned their attention to you.

You were holding back a laugh as your cheeks dusted pink from all of the attention.

“Sure ~ it was me,” you admitted and their faces turned from ones of anger to confusion.

“Why would you say that stuff about yourself?” Beel asked as innocently as ever.

“Geez, Levi, you’re rubbin’ off on ‘em,” Mammon pouted, causing Levi to look extremely guilty.

“Relax, everyone,” you replied, stifling another laugh.

“I lost you in the crowd and I thought it would catch your attention enough that you would come find me. Looks like I was right,” you explained.

“Well that was risky,” Belphie stated. “Satan nearly lost his mind,” Solomon agreed quietly.

You couldn’t help but notice how adorable they all looked, pouting at the prank you managed to pull off. 

“I’m sorry, really. But, I thought the purpose of bringing me to this event was so that I could experience everything with all of you. Not for me to stand alone in the crowd,” you added.

You could feel the tension in the air shift as they realized that they had left you alone and understood where you were coming from.

They completely abandoned you in the middle of this large event. No wonder you pulled that stunt.

They promised not to leave you alone again and they each took you to their favorite parts of the event, making sure that at least one person was with you at all times.

They made you promise that you would never try something like that again.

You had fifteen people who were ready to fight for you at the drop of a dime, and saying something like that, even if you were joking, would always set them off.

Because they cared about you far too much to let something like that slide.

[weaselle]

i wanna do a thing where i lay out studies that show things in different primates that show us parts of ourselves as humans. Call it Primates: Through the Looking Glass or The Monkey in the Mirror or something

There are studies and documentaries that show things about Gorillas, Chimpanzees, Bonobos, Baboons, Macaques... that just make sense to me. That if shown right would make sense to a lot of people, i think.

like... they were studying this one group of gorillas --

okay wait. First of all, you know a silverback (the Big Male) of the group is not the leader or in charge or anything, right? He has a role, and it includes a certain amount of control, which i’ll explain briefly, but he’s not, like, in charge.

wait, you know all that Dominance/Alpha theory about wolves is all wrong, right?

wait wait wait, and also that like, the bull or the stag or whatever in a herd is not in charge of anything, right? right?

hold on. the wolves is it’s own post, the herd thing i might get back to, we’re on gorillas, okay. Silverback is basically just the male head of an extended family in which plenty of the leadership is handled by the women of the family.

There are often 2-4 silverbacks, but one, usually the largest, will clearly be senior to the others who are often his sons or brothers. Silverbacks have three main roles

1: defend the group from all physical threats aside from people, these threats are mostly random male gorillas, chimpanzee baby-snatching gangs, and the occasional leopard. Just his alert presence handles most scenarios, and then maybe a few times a year he has to risk his life fulfilling this responsibility. It is this role that provides most of whatever actual power he has over the group, namely this: while he isn’t necessarily the one deciding when and where the group goes on a daily basis, if the most powerful/capable silverback does decide to travel a direction, they pretty much have to go with him, the family isn’t safe without him.

2: make babies. And this is one area where the ladies of the group will sometimes sort of vote with their ovaries, and favor a silverback that isn’t the main one, like “yeah, Frank, you are the biggest, but honestly you’re a dick and we’re going to make sure the next generation of silverbacks isn’t another one of you.” When you see a main large silverback in a group of gorillas, it isn’t, like, his blindly loyal harem, they have to approve of him. Also gorilla females move between groups, and sometimes they take members with them or start new groups and stuff. Anyway i’m getting off track, one of the silverbacks jobs is making babies

3. keep the peace This functions a lot like being in the back seat with your siblings with your parents up front. Basically any disputes within the group have to be handled within a certain parameter of decorum, because if it gets too out of hand HE’s going to come over, and He’ll be upset, which is low-key terrifying because He’s huge, and there’s no telling who He’ll decide is at fault or what he’ll do about it, so letting a situation get out of hand is a losing scenario for everyone involved really. Tho typically he will favor senior females in disputes, in a “don’t you talk that way to your mom” kind of way.

one last thing, silverbacks don’t actually transfer power between silverbacks via battle every time.

Like i was just reading accounts from a multi-generational observational study of some wild gorillas that featured one big silverback just straight up taking over by performing the silverback duties better and becoming preferred by everyone else in the group. There was no fight, it just became, i do the job better, everyone likes me better, kicking my ass can’t change that, and boom, he was the primary silverback. And the other silverback might have been a bit dull, or a bit of a bully, but like us their species’ success is largely dependent on social intelligence; once he saw the writing on the wall, that other, slightly larger sivlerback didn’t even bother trying to change the situation with a physical fight, he understood what had happened.

okay so all that was just to tell you all this story. lol. Here’s what i saw in one documentary:

This very big, getting old silverback, who was hugely popular and successful, with a very large and tightly bonded family group, and a couple of his hulking adult sons backing him up. Everybody in his group seemed to love him a lot, he was particularly calm in that gentle giant sort of way, a safe, emotionally steady presence, happy to help raise his sons and daughters with kindness, and who could become a raging nightmare if pressed by a leopard ... exactly what a band of gorillas wants in a silverback.

But one of his adult sons had plenty of silver on his own back, and was getting itchier and itchier to be main man of the group, and this is where we start our little drama

It seems to be coming to a head, and the observers are nervous about a fight for the position. The silverback and his son are both are huge, probably approaching 400lbs, mostly muscle, with long thick fangs and skulls topped with jaw muscles as big as human biceps to wield those teeth, which nature has given them primarily to fight other gorillas with. 

But then the next day, the old man leads the fam up the mountain.

it’s winter, which is why they have come down the mountain in the first place. But as we discussed, if he goes somewhere, they have to go, so they all follow behind.

up he goes, and then he sits. And waits. It’s cold and there is much less food up here at this time of year. There’s nothing to do but sit hungry in the cold. His size and metabolism makes him the most able to withstand the cold, but even he is pretty uncomfortable. 

And so he sits. And his family, perhaps confused, but loyal, sits around him.

But his son, the other huge silverback, with years of training even as an adult under his wise father, is ready and able to go off on his own. Finally, he stands up, makes clear his intentions to leave this uncomfortable place. A small handful of the other gorillas stand with him -- if he goes down the mountain, then they can safely leave as well. He turns and heads down the mountain. After a moment, a few more gorillas leave the main group to follow. All in all it winds up being nearly half.

The wise older silverback thoughtfully watches his son leave with about half the group. He sits a while longer in the cold, in the company of those most loyal to him, and then takes them along a different path down the mountain

And those two groups still ran into each other sometimes, and were friendly. And sometimes a couple gorillas would change between the two groups. They were still close.

But i just thought that was such an elegant, meaningful way for that gorilla to handle that whole situation. And it makes a completely human sort of sense to me. 

[justwonder113]

Han drunkenly confessing to you

Inspired by this ask

Summary: When Chan calls you at 2 am to pick up drunk han because he is asking for you the last thing you expect is for Han to confess his love for you. warnings: CHAOS! Idiots to lovers, (Both reader and Han(mostly Han) are idiots.) Reader is gender neutral. Cursing to no one's surprise. Kissing. Han being somewhat drunk. Teensy tiny amount of angst. Reader almost having a mental breakdown from all the chaos. Somewhat proofread. let me know if I missed anything A/N- Happy new year lovelies! I wish you all the best! Please take care of yourselves and drink lot's of water. Thank you all for all the love and support you have given me, it really means a lot to me. Word count- 2.4 k

Masterlist

If you like my work you can buy me coffee🩷

You know how people put most bizarre things in their resumes? Like stuff they only did once and they wrote it down like they had some kind of PhD in that field? Well next time you if you decided to change jobs or just apply to a new one you would write down that you had an experience and could deal with being friends with Han Fucking Jisung! That is if he survived this day. Because what do you mean you were heading out to get his drunk ass home because this grown ass man was actually crying and asking for you in the damn club at two fucking am! You were so beating his ass once he got sober.

You were seeing such a great dream too. You and Han were actually together and didn’t have this weird ass relationship you two had right now where there were no literal boundaries and you didn’t have to question every day If he was returning the feelings or if you were delusional and he was just extra friendly and overall simply comfortable with you. He was quite touchy and flirty with boys too after all. So you could imagine how much headache this could bring in.

 Anyway, to stop with your let’s just say unfortunate love life and get to the point you were pissed. You really were looking forward after a shitty week sleeping in and actually resting. That’s why you didn’t go to the club with the boys in the first place. How much did he actually drink to be actually crying and asking for you? What was he, a toddler asking for his mommy? Or better yet what was up with you being actually in love with this man?

The club was quite crowded for 2 am. The neon lights of reds blues and greens kept flashing rhythmically. The shouts of laughter and the hum of conversation mixed with the music creating a bit of chaos but well it was a normal atmosphere for a club. As soon as you walked in the smell of cocktails mixed with perfume and sweat of the crowd immediately hit you. It was a bit headache inducing but it was tolerable, as long as you left soon. You started searching for your friends with your eyes which was quite hard at first the crowd really kept shifting and mingling with each other. People really looked like they were having time of their life and you, with the, I just woke up and I’m mad as hell face, surely sticked out like a sore thumb.

Thankfully you found the boys quickly. It wasn’t hard giving they were loudest in the whole establishment as always. They were by the entrance and thankfully everyone looking ready to leave.

As for the man child who was the main reason you were here in the first place, he was clinging to Minho yapping about something. He wasn’t crying now but his eyes really looked puffy and red. Honestly how much did he drink? Others looked normal. Well tired like they were already hungover but still normal. Minho really looked like he was seconds away from smacking him. Yes smacking him, he even managed to rile Minho up. God, what a lightweight.

Han must have noticed you because one second you were looking at his face light up and him call you baby on top of his lungs and the next second he was basically on top of you. He literally hugged you witch such force it was a miracle you were standing on your feet and didn’t fall over.

“Han be careful!” You hear Chan warn him, he sounded tired.

“I’m fine.” You mustered to croak out once Han let go a bit to check if you were fine, he still returned to hugging you but at least you could breathe now. He really must have missed you. God you really wanted to kiss him. All your anger and grumpiness immediately flew out the window. Good for him he was so cute or else you would have smacked his head for bringing you here. “How are you Hannie? A little birdie told me you were asking for me.”

Han looked at you with his wide boba eyes, his lips jutted out in the cutest pout ever. “Better now that you’re here. They are literally so mean baby, I’m glad you’re here. You’re my favorite.”- Han whined out and hugged you again. You looked at others who looked so done, only Minho looked bemused, he held his phone up and recorded Han whine to you. You looked at him with raised eyebrow as you patted Han’s back to calm him down.

Minho only shrugged, “I’m showing this to him when he asks me for something. You’re in charge now since you’re his favorite.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Babe we both know that your softie ass is immediately going to cave in and do what he wants anyway.”

Minho glared at you, unamused by your comment but you didn’t really pay any mind to it, you had your attention to Han who stopped hugging you and went to Felix instead. He looked like he was about to start crying again any second now.

“Hannie baby what’s wrong?”

“You hate me!” His bold statement was followed by the most dramatic sob and collective sighs of being done from his friends.

“Why would you think that?” You were genuinely so confused. You had no idea what you did wrong.

Han glared at you for a second and returned to hugging Felix who was barely holding his laughter in. Not much to your surprise he quickly gave in. “You called Minho babe. You’re basically replacing me, you really must hate me.”

What now? You couldn’t help but blink in confusion because what the fuck was up with that logic. You really looked at him with a deadpan expression before the realization of what he said really dawned on you.

You tried, you really tried to hold your face together and not just burst out laughing, but you’re only just a human after all.

With the most teasing voice and biggest smile ever you used the chance to tease him, because let’s be real, pouty and sulky Han is the cutest Han. “Are you jealous baby?”

Han gasped and let go of Felix, he actually looked at you like he was mad now. Mad and maybe seconds away from crying which harshly puled on your heartstrings.

“I am! I’ve been in love with you for years and you’re calling Minho babe here!” He yelled and stormed off outside the club leaving you there shocked not knowing what to do. The boys also looked like they didn’t know what to do, only Minho was laughing his ass off and Hyunjin also looked like he was barely holding in his laughter in.

So he was jealous.

Oh.

Oh.

He said he loved you.

Han Jisung said he loved you.

The Han Jisung loved you.

He returned your feelings.

The boy you had been in love with for ages loved you back.

“HAN JISUNG GET YOUR ASS HERE!” You yelled as you chased after him. All seven of the boys cheering after you and encouraging you to get him. You would get to them later.

Thankfully he hadn’t gotten far, it might have taken you a second or two to let everything sink in. Han was closeby sitting on the sidewalk, pretty tears running down his rosy cheeks, what a silly boy, he even forgot to bring his jacket. You sat close to him thinking for a second of what to say to him, while also trying to warm him with your body head. He looked cold.

“If you want to tease me please go inside. I already feel like shit.” His voice was so raw and he looked so pained. It really hurt to see him like this. He sighed. “I need a minute okay? I will be fine I’m not that drunk anymore.” He took a pause. “I mean how can I be after the shit I said, God I am stupid!” You watched a tear run down his face. Before you could even realize what you were doing you reached and gently brushed away the tear. Han looked at you with tearful eyes.

“Maybe but who am I to judge? I mean, I didn’t even realize that my best friend, the man I had been in love with for god knows how long actually returns my feelings.”

God you said it. You actually admitted your feelings.

A pause.

Oh no, was he regretting it?

Was it something he just said because he was drunk?

You were startled out of your thoughts when Han literally slapped both of his cheeks. His skin immediately flushed angry red.

“What the fuck are they putting in these drinks? Actually making me hallucinate and shit.” Was he for real? You couldn’t hold yourself back so you smacked his arm.

Ignoring his whining you quickly got up and started to yell. “Han Jisung I did not just say I’m in love with you for you to think this is some kind of fucking hallucination! Do you know how much courage it takes to actually admit your feelings?” Han looked at you with wide eyes for a second then quickly got up too almost losing his balance for a second.

“Wait are you for real? You love me? You mean it?” - He asked with trembling voice.

You couldn’t believe your ears. “Of course I mean it? How can I joke about something like that?”

A second passed then two.

“Dude are you kidding me? How are you in love with me. Do you have no standards? You’re like a fucking deity, someone people should fucking worship the fuck you mean you love me? Raise your standards!”

God you needed to be paid for this shit but no amount would be enough. This whole situation made you want to pull your hair out one by one, or maybe scream on top of your lungs, or maybe actually hit him because what the fuck was this?

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” You actually couldn’t help but yell, you didn’t give a crap that you were in the middle of street and it was 2 am and maybe some people were actually asleep.

“NO?”

“I WILL ACTUALLY BEAT YOUR ASS!” You took a deep breath. You reminded yourself that he was somewhat drunk. You needed to stay calm for your own sanity at least. “Han when people tell you that they love you back you at least should be grateful that they return your feelings. The last thing you want to do is to tell them to raise their standards. Because frankly all I wanted to kiss you but now all I’m thinking about is how to hold back and not to beat your ass! You’re literally perfect what the fuck are you on about?”

You watched as the biggest grin appeared on his face. It was like his whole mood shifted. “You want to kiss me?” Okay you really wanted to hit your head against a wall now.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of this whole situation. “Do you only hear what you want to hear?”

Jisung, still grinning got closer to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Maybe.” -he mused. “All I heard is that you want to kiss me. And I have wanted to know what it is like to kiss you since I met you. You don’t know how irresistible you are.” His voice was so sweet and tender your heart was going crazy. And it didn’t help when he leaned in and put his forehead against yours.

“I could say the same to you dumbass.” You sighed against his lips. When did he even get so close?

“Can I kiss you?” Han asked as his gaze kept shifting from your lips to your eyes.

Feeling impatient to actually answer you grabbed him by his cheeks and finally connected your lips.

Kissing him was so much better than you could have thought. His lips were cold and chapped but they felt so nice as they moved against yours. You couldn’t help but sigh in pleasure. You didn’t know who deepened the kiss but soon your tongue met his and you almost melted. He tasted so sweet. You could even taste fruity cocktails he must have had earlier on his lips. But there was something more, something purely just Han, which made you fall in love with him even deeper if it was possible. You could already feel yourself getting addicted to kissing him.

Soon you had to lean back for some air, seeing Han whine and actually chase after your lips made you smile, your heart feeling whole. You didn’t even remember why you were mad earlier. You just gazed at him lovingly his arms tight around you as your hands were still on his cheeks. His cheeks felt so warm against your cold hands, it must’ve still stung from his slap. You tried to soothe it as you gently caressed his skin. Loving how he leaned into the touch. Shaking your head a bit. Not in a million years could you imagine something like this could happen to you. Life sure is full of mysteries.

You two were brought back to reality by cheers and hollers of your forgotten friends. Oops? You immediately covered your face leaning into the hug more to hide, unable to look any of them in the eyes, feeling beyond embarrassed. Han chuckled and hugged you closer.

“This had to be one of the most painful confessions I have ever seen.” Seungmin deadpanned as others kept clapping and cheering for you.

“Like you had seen a lot of them.” Minho quipped back quickly.

“At least they finally got it over with.” Hyunjin chipped in.

“Tell me about it, it was painful to watch them.” Now it was Innie’s time to say something. Did they all have to say something?

“Oh by the way I recorded all of this, I’m playing this at your wedding.” Felix waved his phone.

Chan grinned. “Or we can show it to their children in the future.” He teased as Changbin cackled like a possessed witch.

God you were so done with these clowns.

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