#this deserved SO much more than what it got

[harmonysanreads]

To me, Dr. Ratio is like that one specific topic/subject that I'd force myself to read because of its importance for an exam and during the process, fall in love with it realizing its intricacies. I originally did not like him at all ; his snooty talking style and apparent lack of respect used to give me some not-so-kind flashbacks from middle school Math class.

He irked me so much that I had to start a fic with the exclusive wish of emotionally torturing him, which then spiralled into a long-fic because, as I was looking into his lore, I realized that there is practically nothing on his origin story besides that one letter from his teacher. How exactly did he come to harbor this specific ambition? How were his philosophies formed? How old is he? Does he still have a living family or, did he EVER? They don't tell us! And that drove me crazy.

It's honestly such a pity. When you look at all the theories about him and realize just how much potential he has and that the writers aren't utilizing it. He has maybe an hour worth of screentime from Crown of the Mundane and Divine and Penacony quest combined which I personally think is criminal. You look back on those scenes and find some info that has your brain malfunction for a second. What do you mean Ratio knew that the Astral Express could be used as a weapon and the whole deal about “Dormancy”? And they also never explain themselves after dropping these information!

Dr. Ratio is unfortunately one of the most mischaracterized characters in this game and as someone who used to be a part of that crowd, I just want to extend my solace to all Ratio lovers. As well as encourage anyone with similar feelings of dislike or, someone who currently does not understand him to spare some effort into studying him. Take your time and don't be discouraged, what matters most is that you start thinking.

[moonstruckme]

MAAAAEEEEE I was wondering if I could request a Peter Parker fic where he just kind of adopts shy!reader without her consent like “yeah we’re friends now, we spend time together and also we’re probably gonna fall in love and date but why don’t we just start with me walking you home from class” or some such nonsense. Also wondering if you could keep his spidey-powers; I love that little mutant freak

I hate you for doing this to me

Ugh our mutant freak <3 Thanks for the request babe!

tasm!Peter Parker x shy!reader ♡ 920 words

You’re never alone on the way home from class anymore. You’re not sure what changed at the start of the spring semester, if you just started putting out helpless-pedestrian energy or if it was something else, but soon after the start of classes your walks home from your night class on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Friday began being accompanied by none other than Spider-Man. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, it’s Peter. 

You and Peter have molecular biology together. On the first day of class, he rushed in just as your professor started lecturing. Every seat was full except the one next to you, and when you offered it to him silently with a nod of your head, Peter looked so relieved you’d think you handed him an A in the class. He’s been glommed onto your ever since; some days he asks you to stop for coffee after class, some days he offers to study with you in the library, and he always walks you home. You don’t know what you did to deserve the company, but you appreciate it. 

“You ever been there?” Peter asks, nodding to a stand advertising New York City’s Best Vegan Hot-Dogs. 

“No,” you say.

“Well, seems like we’ve gotta try them at some point. I mean, they’re the best in New York.” 

A smile tugs at your lips. Peter’s always doing that. Making plans, saying we. It’s like the idea of you two hanging out beyond the end of your class is a foregone conclusion in his head. You haven’t been able to figure out if that’s just the way Peter talks or if he means it. You hope it’s the latter. 

“You think so?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Peter says with affected certainty. “I mean, why would you doubt the sign? Everyone knows you have to get things like that certified.” 

You glance up at Peter, but one look into his smiling eyes is too much for you. You have to turn your face away. “I’m pretty sure there are three #1 Indian Restaurants in my neighborhood.” 

“Oof. Must make for some brutal decisions when you’re craving Indian.” 

Two weeks ago, you offered to buy Spider-Man dinner for walking you home. It was stupid—he can’t eat through the mask, which he told you kindly and which you could have figured out if you thought about it for more than a second before opening your mouth—but you were feeling guilty about stopping to pick up takeout and indebted for all the time he spends walking you home instead of preventing mob activity or whatever Spider-Man does. He professed, upon smelling your takeout, that Indian food is one of his favorites, too. 

You haven’t told Peter about your vigilante escort. Spider-Man never comes to you while Peter’s around—presumably because you don’t need his help if you’ve already got a companion—and it’s the sort of ridiculous story you know will sound made up out loud. Why do you know that Spider-Man likes matar paneer? What makes you so special? They’re unanswerable questions, and you’d never be able to look at Peter again if he laughed at you. 

“Hey.” Peter bumps your hip with his. You go stiff at the contact. “You okay?” 

“Hm?” You look up, and he’s watching you with concern. “Yeah, sorry.” 

“You seem a little quiet,” he says. And when your face heats, “Well, quieter than usual.” 

“Sorry,” you say again, embarrassed. “I think I’m just tired.” 

“Oh, yeah? Class was a long one, huh?” 

“Yeah.” 

“That makes sense.” Peter sounds disappointed. You blink at him in confusion, and he almost winces. “I don’t suppose…I mean, if you just want to get home I get that, but I was wondering if you wanted to grab food? With me?” 

Your steps stutter. It’s not that you and Peter have never hung out before. Or even that all the time you’ve spent together centers wholly around class—there have been coffees, chats in the hallway, walks in the park near your university building—but it’s something about the way he asks, like it’s important this time, like it means something. You want for it to mean something. 

“I could still grab food.” You’re not quite looking at him, fiddling with the contents of your jacket pocket. Popping the lid to your chapstick on and off. 

“Yeah?” Peter asks hopefully. 

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Mhm.” 

His voice softens, a smile in it. “Could you look at me, maybe?” 

You glance up, regretting it instantly as always. Peter is resplendent. Dimples framing his smile like parenthesis, hair mussed by the wind that beats at you while crossing every street, he’s the sort of handsome that’s only just starting to figure out how handsome he is. You think you probably make it easier for him. To figure it out. 

“Do you really want to,” he asks in a sincere tone, “or are you just appeasing me? If you’re tired I can take you straight to your place.” 

Your heart thudders. If you have to look at him for much longer you worry you’ll melt into the cracks of the pavement. “I want to,” you say. “I’m sort of hungry, too.” 

“Okay, awesome.” He sounds happy again. You think if you were lucky, that’d be the only thing you were put on Earth to do, make Peter happy. “Maybe we could try one of those Indian places near yours? See who’s really number one.” 

“Sure.” You smile up at him, brain buzzing when Peter beams back. 

“Sick! I could really go for some matar paneer.” 

[stapleslmao]

actually I'm reblogging this again bc this art got me back on my brian-murphy-puts-points-on-the-board shit and I do need to put that in writing. I used to not give murph as much credit as he deserves because he's just SO down to sink into his PCs to the point that it comes off as entirely natural and I forget that he's not just the guy he's playing. naturally all of the cast members are fantastic and they all have their strengths and weaknesses, but I'm so very fr when I say that murph is the backbone of the intrepid heroes. He runs a VERY tight ship with his characterization, he knows exactly what his characters are and what they aren't, he clocks the fuck in for every season without fail AND HE DESERVES HIS FLOWERS FOR IT!!! and i want to be clear that this isn't a cast member ranking post, saying he's the backbone isn't me trying to imply that he's any more or less important than any of the others. He's just such a fucking anchor to the rest of the cast and I mean that in the best way possible. Barry Syx, Gerard, Theo, and Kugrash are all great examples of this in the way that they not only perfectly embody the vibe of a season and are meaninful in their own right, but also serve as a fantastic catalyst for the other characters to shine through their relationship to them. Theo and his relationship to Jet and Ruby, Theo and his relationship to Lapin, THEO AND HIS RELATIONSHIP TO LAZULI WHICH I COULD TALK ABOUT FOREVER AND EVER. Big Barry and Syd bonding over being the last of their kind, Big Barry and Skip's friendship. Kug and Sophie, Gerard and Rosamund, GERARD YLFA AND PINOCCHIO, GERARD THROWING THE SWORD OF TRUTH. MURPH PUTS POINTS ON THE FUCKING BOARD PEOPLE!! He's not often taking the big swings, but he's doing the LEGWORK to uplift the players around him. HE'S THROWING ALLEY OOPS LEFT AND RIGHT!! HE'S THE GOAT!!!!

I think part of it comes from his background as a dm. I think part of it is just who Murph is at the end of the day. Regardless, this art is awesome sorry for using your post to talk so much.

ye murph spectrum

(he who makes my favorite characters. and cody is there)

[jaggedamethyst]

not in that way (part one)

bucky barnes x fwb!reader

content: steve rogers is your best friend, which means that inherently bucky should be yours too. somewhere along the way, it became more than that for you. for bucky, it's just tolerance. he likes you, but not like that. not in that way.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, protected sex (yeah wrap that up), rough, choking, fwb, mean bucky, mutual pining, not proofread

notes: thank you guys for the support on the snippet as well as for waiting for me as i got this done! i just finished finals so i plan on locking in on this one and circuit breaker bc i cannot stop thinking about them.

ps. i swear bucky and reader are friends, just had to hit the angst and give some background but there will be cute moments along with smut probably every chapter...I'm hoeing out.

series master list

。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆　 。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆

“Steve?” You called out to him, steps pounding behind you as you hurriedly moved toward his pinged location. “Steve, oh my god.” Your voice trailed off, shock evident. 

People brushed by you and pushed toward Steve’s figure on the ground. You’d never seen him like this. Sure, Steve Rogers was a super soldier and the most physically strong man you knew—but this was different. Mentally, he seemed destroyed. 

He called your phone, short of breath and muttering for help. It immediately sent you into action. You were normal—the most civilian anyone could be. There was no other option but to call someone, plead with them to find and help your friend. He’d been washed up on the shore, lying in the dirt and clearly out of it. 

You watched him get worked on, staring into the distance. 

“What happened?” You kneeled next to him,  “Who did this?” 

Steve turned to you, eyes glossed over in disbelief. “Bucky.” He shook his head, “It was Bucky.” He kept repeating it to himself, attempting to convince his own mind that it was true. “It was him. It was Bucky. He was here.” 

“I don’t understand,” you grasped his shoulder. “I thought he was gone—you saw.” You gulped, searching his face for any hesitance. “You said he fell, that he-“

“It was him.” 

“Okay.” You nodded, “Okay, I believe you. He was here.” 

It was true. The man you’d heard so many stories about had returned. He wasn’t like the anecdotes Steve recalled; this Bucky was darker, more quiet, resigned. 

He was an observer. You often caught him staring at you, eyes lingering between your figure and Steve’s. Bucky would always stand, tucked into a corner. He didn’t feel deserving of the warmth Steve offered—the humanity that remained present in you. There were times, then, that you would offer a welcoming hand. A slight wave of motion offered him a seat, acknowledging that he did deserve to be there. He felt human with you. 

That’s what initially drew Bucky to you and inevitably why you became friends, too. There was a way that you loved everyone, insisted on not leaving them out and nourished their insides. 

The hurt came when he realized it would never be that way for him.

You could never love him, not a monster. Not when the shining emblem of a perfect man sat beside you every day. Steve had so much time with you—he was your best friend. Bucky couldn’t replace him, not if he tried. So he always kept you at arms length, hoping to be more than friends but settling for something less. 

The first time it happened, when Bucky had been so lucky to have a moment with you—he swore that he was dreaming. He never gave you a reason to like him, in fact, it was the opposite. He’d gone out of his way every day to push you further from him, make it known that he’d never be as good as Steve. 

He could tell you saw something different; he hated it. 

The three of you had tried small talk often, Steve facilitating some sort of discussion to break the ice. It almost always ended with you and Bucky exactly where you started, friends who were forced to be so because of a mutual one.

“Well, I’m headed out—you two should talk.”

“Steve, no-“ 

“Buck, you two are my favorite people in the world. I would love it if you gave this a chance.” Steve patted his friend’s shoulder, “For me. Please.” 

Bucky turned to look at Steve, a solid expression on his face. He didn’t speak, just gave him a small nod and let Steve step around him and out of your place. 

It was common that Steve would find solace in your home. It was far from the city, neatly tucked away in a residential area. There was a sense of normalcy and he was proud to introduce that to Bucky—he needed that, deserved it after everything. 

The room was silent, violently so. You sat across from Bucky—him lingering in your peripheral and you nestled softly into your couch. He didn’t move, standing still near a wall which offered him the sight of every possible window and exit. 

“Do you wanna sit?” 

You watched his body for any reaction, dissatisfied when there was none. It was awkward, him avoiding eye contact and you not sure of what else to say. 

You sighed, “I’ll be back.” You announced your departure, not that it mattered to him. 

You beelined to the bathroom, desperately needing to escape him. He was always like this, closed off and so obviously annoyed by your presence. Splashing your face with water did little to temper you and your body seemed to overheat at the thought of having to see him again. 

You didn’t let yourself think—couldn’t. You stepped out and kept your head down before looking toward Bucky’s signature spot on the wall. He wasn’t there. 

You tilted your head down, seeing Bucky now sitting on the couch, two cushions away from where you’d been prior. He watched you smile softly, moving to sit in your spot.

Bucky made a habit of keeping his hands in his lap. He would sit stoically at all times. It was the same now. 

He avoided eye contact but muttered, “Hi.” 

Your breath hitched, surprised he’d started conversation. Keeping your tone even so as not to overwhelm him, you replied, “Hi, Bucky.” 

The both of you nodded, letting the weight of your forced proximity surround you. As much as he tried, he couldn’t ignore you. The faint smell of your hair products, the way you tapped your own leg rhythmically, how nervous you were—he noticed it all. 

“Do you, um,” you swallowed. “Do you want something to drink, maybe?” 

It’d been over a year since Bucky showed up. You, of course, shared small talk with him in that time. He’d grown to know the story of you and Steve—how you met. It would suffice to say that Bucky grew to be an acquaintance of yours—a long lost friend of a friend…one that would never truly like you. Accepting that was hard; you wanted Bucky to be comfortable at the very least. If not like you, he would at bare minimum be able to sit down for once. 

So today was a win. 

Bucky didn’t reply to your question but instead asked his own, “How was Steve? Without me, I mean?” 

His voice was gruff, and you hadn’t expected that question, let alone more than a single syllable from him. 

“Well,” you readjusted to face Bucky, “He’s always the most positive guy in the room—which I’m sure you know.”

Bucky let a smirk slip, recounting the optimism his friend had at all times. 

“He’s better than me that way, than a lot of us.” 

“I don’t think that’s true. He’s just Steve, you know that.” 

He didn’t know that. Bucky was living in his body but observing from outside his own mind. He was witnessing his friend after so much time had escaped him. Everything he thought was true wasn’t anymore. 

He wanted to get to know you, offer you the same grace that was given to him. But he couldn’t. Before it even begun Bucky was overwhelmed. He pushed himself to be kinder, to do this for Steve. It was simply futile. 

He stood suddenly and looked down at you, “I should go.” 

“Okay,” you stood, nodding. “I guess I’ll be seeing you.” 

He hummed, rolling his shoulders back and tightening his posture again. He didn’t respond. 

“I’ll tell Steve you tried today,” you whispered to him. “I know he’ll appreciate it. I do.” 

The tension was palpable. Your eyes stayed locked on each other until you heard a sound and looked down. The mechanical whirring of his metal arm was clear, only slightly suppressed by the gloves he always wore. He watched you noticing his hand twitch as if he wanted to move it. There was a restraint there, like he was pushing down something that was second nature. As if he meant to do something that he’d always done. 

You swallowed hard enough to hear it in your ears. Looking at Bucky, you arched your brow in a subtle defiance—daring him to do what he intended. You wanted to know him and his habits, to understand even a modicum of what was in his brain. 

Without thinking a second more, he let his left arm lift a bit. He reached toward your face but paused at you flinching, leaning away from him. 

Just barely audible, you spoke, “Sorry.” 

Bucky blinked and furrowed his brows, unable to stop himself. He let his fingers wrap around your face, a single hand pressing just under your chin and at the top of your throat. Slightly wide eyed, you watched him watching you. Most of his hand rested on your cheek, his thumb pressing into the other side of your face. 

Despite no longer being the Winter Soldier, his habits lingered. When in that state he remembered being like this so vividly—a hand around someone’s throat and crushing the life out of them. He hissed at the thought, not at all intending for that with you. He craned your head, though, observing the quizzical look on your face. 

It didn’t make sense to him, the need to maintain this routine. But he did. Beyond the haze of what was once his signature way of taking life—he saw a new one. Bucky could envision his future so clearly, yet he couldn’t let himself have it. 

He went to drop his hand but stopped at the feeling of yours on his wrist. It was inexplicable. Glove or not, you craved the contact from him. 

The room stayed silent except for the slight creak of the floorboards beneath you. While Bucky stayed steady, you teetered on the balls of your feet—this moment feeling fleeting. 

He inched forward, watching your eyes fall closed. 

Your lips were right there, the ones he’d openly been ogling at for months. It was torture, but all he knew. He couldn't allow himself the satisfaction of the feeling. He wasn’t deserving. 

Instead, he latched onto your neck. Bucky kissed and nibbled there with an urgency you hadn’t expected—hell, you didn’t even think today would’ve progressed to this at all. 

The feeling of him on you was intoxicating, and it was so minuscule. His hands were all over you, and yours on him. Your breath came out ragged, “We shouldn’t.” 

“You’re right.” He paused on your neck briefly, directly in your ear now. “We shouldn’t.” 

“We’re friends.” You nodded, letting your hands trail up his back and into his hair. 

“Are we?”

You weren’t sure. It was complicated. You couldn’t let yourself think about that now and neither could he. 

He pushed you down onto the couch and stood above you, allowing you to finally look him over. He was casually in jeans and a t-shirt, the rest of his body entirely covered. The only skin that showed besides his face was just below at his neck. Around it lied his dog tags that he was so adamant about wearing. The glint of them always caught your eye and alerted you of his presence. Even when he showed up silent, you’d see him and those damn tags. Just always out of your eyeline but in the room—that was who Bucky had always been. In his stoicism he was still consistently there.

Watching Bucky undo his pants already had you eager for him, too. There was always something there for you, an intrigue simply at the way he carried himself. You stayed seated, leaning back a bit in an attempt to slide down your sweatpants. Both of you watched the other discarding the bottom half of their clothes with little thought, tossing them aside. 

He leaned, then, ruffling into his dark jacket’s interior. 

“I got it,” he mumbled, ripping into the condom wrapper with his teeth. He slid the latex over himself just before pushing the jacket off his back. 

He kneeled into the couch, the angle awkward but enough that he was able to slide into you like he wanted. It was tight—rough. You expected the burn but still sucked in a breath at it, the lack of prep. Bucky didn’t mean to make it this way but just wanted it to be over—the insatiable need to pump in and out of you. Only you.

Slowly and deliberately he continued to kiss around your neck, collarbone, and ears. He snapped into you, purposely moving at a speed that allowed him to chase a high rather than savor the moment with you. He wanted to, truly…to acknowledge the way you looked up at him. It was his dream to let the sounds of you falling apart actually hit his ears and mean something—but he couldn’t. 

The couch creaked and rocked. You were now slightly bent into the back of the cushions, your chest moving up and down alongside Bucky’s. He pulled back, stabilizing himself behind you. The new angle allowed you to see his dog tags again, them hitting you with every movement into you. Without thinking you grabbed them, hooking them under one of your fingers. 

He finally allowed himself some relief, his voice dragging out the moans he’d himself been holding in. “Fuck...” 

You watched him intently, pulling him closer by the chain on his neck. He shifted his angle a bit at that and watched your jaw drop open. Your brows furrowed, whines choking out of you at the new sensation. It made you let go of his tags, grasping at the fabric of his shirt. This made him pound into you faster—realizing a tether of intimacy was gone. 

He was subconsciously glad for that, happy that he could pinpoint and force that sweet look in your eyes away. There was no longer an adoration in your gaze but simply one of pleasure. This was for the best. He could appreciate you from a distance despite the line of friendship being crossed so carelessly now. 

“Shit,” you groaned out suddenly. “Buck-“ 

He hushed you softly, quelling the harsh sound in your throat. It only spurred him on though, truly ruthless about this. He only slowed at the feeling of your fingers gliding over his face, pushing the stray piece of hair out of view. His pace stuttered, faltering as he really looked at you. 

A second later, he started in on you again. A clothed hand found its way into your shirt and pinched at your nipples. His grip was rough, kneading your chest. You were already so close; every additional sensation only pushing you further.

You met him suddenly, writhing into him and filling the living room with lewd slapping sounds. 

Bucky huffed breaths out at every push into you. You fought a squeak, pressing your own hand over your mouth. You gnawed at it as it allowed some relief from the burning inside of you. He was hitting that same spongey spot over and over. He was so good at picking up on the subtle changes in your face and body. 

Without warning he slipped out and nudged you, “Turn.” 

You did without questioning, a firm covered hand rubbing at the skin of your hips. Regardless of his gloves, you felt the difference in his hands—the slight shift of metal in one versus the pulse in the other. There was a contrast you enjoyed, a chill about his metal arm that grounded you. 

A knee pushed your legs open as he slid into you again, this time using you as leverage. Bucky pushed you down slowly, this side of your head finding the cushion. This angle was new, deeper. It wouldn’t be much longer at this point and he could tell. One hand slipped underneath you and up to your neck again, squeezing just enough for you to appreciate the loss of breath. In between gasps you nudged further into the couch, the sensation becoming too much for you. 

He couldn’t stop when you came, relishing the way your insides continued to pulse. It was as if he was meant to stay; his one true purpose was to be completely enveloped by you. When he finished a strained sound choked in his throat, one that you hadn’t expected. 

You were throbbing still, a cold feeling finally making you realize he pulled away. The feeling of him on you had gone away so quick. The sound of a different metal clanked—his belt buckle bouncing around as he slid his pants back on. 

“Should we…should I tell Steve about this?” 

Your question was sudden, but was filled with a weight that scared him. You didn’t want to be too forward—but it was only right. Steve was now caught in the middle of something complicated. Even if this was the first and only time…you weren’t sure you could keep this from him. 

Bucky thought differently. 

“Why would you wanna tell him?” 

“Because it’s-“ 

“Leave him out of this.”  

Bucky readjusted his clothes, smoothing them over as they’d been before. You watched him inch his way to the door—his back toward you. 

You ignored the pang in your chest, the confusion that now resonated in you. Pushing it away, you settled on changing the subject. “Steve wanted to do something tomorrow, you coming?” 

He didn’t turn as he grabbed the doorknob, merely craned his head to the side. You watched his profile for any sense of something but again he was so unreadable for you. 

“I’ll be there.” 

Then he left. 

taglist (click to request to be tagged)

@crookedtimetravelheart @wintercrows @rimunagenius @gorgeouslylethal @taylormobley @fan4astic @chimchoom @lilulo-12 @greatenthusiasttidalwave @hrlzy @foxinthestreet98 @lostinspace33 @royallykt @sleepysongbirdsings @pickuptruck01 @unclearblur @mrsalexstan @akiyhara @spaceconveyor @winchestert101

(for some of you it may not let me tag, check ur settings or if anyone has advice on how to fix it lmk!!)

[hexalt]

Hack the System! how to change your name and gender

(available on itch.io for download)

Have you or someone you know been wanting to legally change your name and/or gender within the USA? Are you unsure how to get started? Are you stuck on a step?

I use my legal and bureaucratic expertise to guide you through the process as someone who's volunteered at a legal clinic during law school and helped a couple of friends in different states change their names and/or genders over the years.

Whether you're trans or not, the process is the same, so even if you're solely wanting to change your name, this will still be helpful to you.

✬✬✬✬✬

This is my very first zine ever! I'm so excited to have finally fulfilled this lifelong dream of making a zine. It was hard figuring out what the first topic of my zine should be, and I finally realized that I have information not everyone has access to thanks to my education, personal experiences, and personality. I always wish I could help everyone get their legal documents changed to reflect their identity, so maybe with this, I can somewhat do that.

I got the DIY zine booklet paper from strangeandunusual.design/punchkisspress. Going to my local zine fest was extra inspiring for finally actually making a zine, and shout out to brattyxbre for all of her resources!

Thank you so much for reading, I appreciate it more than you can imagine! Share this resource with anyone know who needs it, please. :) We all deserve to have our identities reflected in reality.

Published March 2025

10 pages

Each page is about 4.5" wide and 5.6" tall

[azonewithu]

I girss with your city in ruins snd everyone defeated by me youre the mediocre people you found out in the end. But i dont relate well to your movie that guy seems reas snd acts likr a punk. It coukd never be me because i dont take shit fton people. Ill kill snyone who gets on ny nerves Jenna. But its a cuye movie in enjoying it anyway its fun. Uour southern accent vanishes and reaapears its cute but kibd of smsteur hour. Didnt the firector notice that. Ha ha ga or say snything. It fiesnt take away from the story which idnt bad. An ambitious dtory but my msin pronlem with stories like this is some old guy wrote it or something. High school girls ate never this complex or interesting but i suspend my disbelief. Oh now its over. You werent bad in it. I cant relate though ive always stood out snd above all other artists Jenna. You know the best of your idiot i dustry cant hold a candke to me right. All the odlscars all thst time and none of you can write as well as me with as much power and prophecy. All the prizes you give im still deadlier snd better. You try abd gight me your whole ciry slmost burned. Emma asked me not finish uou off or Jenna your city would be gone too. Remember thst that girls saved your cute lil ass. Fucking with me can mean a bulket in the head you fint knjw snyoneceith sny power lije me.ill backhand snyone in your idusyrybi made you all look kinf if weak now. None of uou movies or stories are as vompelling as what i can write. You should slmist just give up but i know yiu wont. Whats the medium suzed word. Incorrigible. Yeah thats it. Its almost like you should taje a brrak but you never will. Thats your worst americsn fault. But you know what. Youre really great Jenba i live you andxwant you to do well anyway. I fint know why its not ir acting movues thats only the second one i saw. You pop off the screen and are sexy snd fun to watch. You want to kill everyone in your industry in a few sentences. None of your movies are as great as you say they are Hollywood or snywhete in earth. Oyher yhsn rate exception any time an ape tells me donethings so great i just say back, yeah its almost like they had a team of monkeys working on the script all week. Ha ha ha and check and mate. Its too mych youre too much period Jenna its too much making all your art shit. Even if it is good. You americans are loke that in msny ways. Trying living a little instead of expressing yourself or keeping track of everything. Tske a chance that youre not the greatest i am by far. Ive embarassed all you smericans msking you look weak. Im Azriel i kivked you ass eith the weather. Youre kind of a joke a lot of people are yhinking now. Ha ha ha im so fuckn right so i dont knlw go fuckn cry. The eorkd figured you put that youre kind of fucked. And you are plagiarists. Gid hates those people. You kind of maje me sick and i feel youre pathetic but i like art. Il not mad at my lik girls i live them. Its slways some asshole thats more got my ire. Im gonna hurt you all sone more you know tgstvright. Im hapoy the weathers crushing you. Your voubtry deserves ehat it gets good snd bad more bad than good thesecdays.

[that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction]

I need a fic where Lancelot gets hit by a curse that makes him extremely honest/completely removes his thought to speech filter.

Like, he doesn’t blurt secrets but he’s got no sense of fear for saying things he probably shouldn’t and just starts saying all the quiet parts out loud.

Merlin’s immediately worried about him. I kinda imagine it like:

Merlin: Do you think you’ll say anything about..?

Lance: your secret? No. Definitely not. It’s your secret to tell. Arthur should know how much you do for him even without it though. You should remind him you’re not obligated to do so much if he keeps taking advantage of your kindness.

Merlin: That…

Lance: I clearly mean it. It’s your choice of course. You know I love you too much to betray your trust.

(I’m a sucker for Mercelot but take that however you want)

Then when they all get back to Camelot and one of the towns people is struggling to fix a cart with a broken wheel.

Lance *goes over to help and starts berating the knights*: we’re knights. We’re supposed to help people. If you just want to beat people up, we’ve run into plenty of bandits that would probably take you.

And we all know he doesn’t like the structure of statuses and how power is distributed in Camelot so while he’s still respectful to Arthur as a king, the rest of the lords not so much. He avoids them as much as possible to avoid causing unnecessary problems but when Arthur asks if he’ll be at a council meeting, he’s gotta say no:

Lance: I don’t think that’d be a good idea.

Arthur: why not? I could use someone honest on the council.

Lance: I am honest with you. Mostly. You definitely shouldn’t ask what I think about magic until I can be tactful about my answer. But If I get a chance to be honest in the same room as Lord NoName I’m going to ask him if he doesn’t want to pay taxes because too much of his coin already goes to his mistresses and his wife will find out if he’s forced to document it.

Arthur: …

Lance: …

Arthur: … I don’t know which part to focus on first. If Lord NoName isn’t there will you attend?

Lance: he’s not the only one. Personally, I think they should hear it, but I don’t want to be callous about it. Their wives deserve better and forcing them to find out through gossip and rumours just seems unnecessarily cruel.

Arthur: I’ll call a round table meeting later.

Lance: Probably for the best. You should give Merlin a seat, he’s braver and has done more for you than anyone. I’ll see you later, sire.

I can imagine the magic thing would keep coming up too, just little comments about how he’s frustrated that he’ll be used as an example for why magic should be banned when it’s not all bad and can actually be quite amazing.

Everyone’s confused but he just asks Leon if he likes being alive because he wouldn’t be without the Druids and the cup of life.

Heaven forbid anyone says anything bad about Merlin. He never out’s Merlin’s secret as promised, but he absolutely makes sure everyone is aware how much Merlin does for people out of the goodness of his heart.

I also want him to shit on Uther at some point. About his parenting style or how he ruled Camelot, I don’t mind which.

I imagine someone mentioning how well Lance is handling the curse and “taking it like a man” and getting immediately shot down.

Noble: he’s handling it well, taking it like a man.

Lancelot: Hypocritical coming from you, Lord He-Payed-Less-Than-I-Did-Even-Though-It-was-Proportional-To-Everything-Else. (I don’t pretend to understand how a fictional court set in about 5 different historical eras is run) Actually, not complaining about a situation that sucks isn’t a manly trait at all. All of the problems we’re dealing with are because something happened and someone “took it like a man.” Tax evasion, wars, uneven distribution of wealth, *putting reports on the table for each one* The last time someone “took it like a man” we ended up with an entire people being murdered because a king fucked up, lost his wife, and didn’t want to admit fault and grieve like a sane person.

Everyone’s just silent for a moment.

Lance: … *thinks about what he said for a second*

Lance: No, I stand by that. I’ll apologise for my lack of tact, but not the content.

Meanwhile, watching in horror and barely contained glee:

Arthur: Should have let him sit this one out.

Merlin: Absolutely not. This might become the most productive council meeting we’ve had in years.

Anyway, I just want Lance being able to lean more into the unhinged side of his character sometimes.

He’s still got to fundamentally be a good person, he’s just less filtered in watching the casual stupidity of the nobles, or more honest about people not thanking servants enough (especially to the knights who seemed to forget that they were once common born too) and isn’t afraid to call people on their bullshit when necessary.

Everyone learns to appreciate it too so when the spell wears off, he’s less anxious about giving his opinions on things.

Just let Lancelot be the unfiltered chaotic good that he is.

[hard-core-super-star]

i touched you for only a fortnight [W.Maximoff]

pairing: sugarmommy!wanda x reader

summary: after hearing that someone's been flirting with wanda, you start questioning your place in her life. luckily, your relationship is one of the main things she's secure in.

warnings: mentions of dom/sub dynamics; allusions to sex but no smut yet; jealousy + insecurity; legal nonspecified age-gap; sugarmommy!wanda deserves her own warning tbh

wordcount: 2.2k

a/n: HI SO, i very randomly decided to make what was supposed to be a solo fic into a series so...this is the unofficial first part. don't get impatient with me, next part will be full smut, i got too attached to the story to rush a smut scene here. i think this is my first official wanda fic so i'm very excited to see how this goes. let me know your thoughts, hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

You're not entirely sure how you ended up in this situation.

One day, you were a broke college student, barely hanging on by your teeth and the next, you were Wanda Maximoff's newest obsession. Everyone and their mom knew about the CEO, about the rumors that followed her wherever she went. She was rich, ruthless, dedicated in a way no one could match. She was a force to be reckoned with but most of all…she was your sugar mommy.

You wish you could say it had all been accidental, coincidental even. But it wasn't. At least, not fully.

A few months ago, your best friend had talked you into going out to a club with her. Kate was many things, mainly economically stable and with far more connections than a normal 22-year-old should have. Of course, that was due more to her mother than the brunette's charming personality.

You didn't fully understand why she was so adamant about acting like she wasn't a rich kid. Or rather, a privileged rich kid. It was refreshing, but it was a little hysterical considering she pretty much relied on her mother's riches for…everything.

Still, you appreciated how down to earth she was. Even when she dragged you into a ridiculously crowded club with drinks you couldn't afford. She didn't seem to mind, though, considering the ease with which she handed the bartender her credit card.

You hadn't expected anything interesting to happen that night. You assumed all you'd really do was get drunk and babysit Kate so she didn't run her mouth and get into a fight with the sleazy guys that always found their way to you.

Fate had other plans for you, it seemed, because Wanda Maximoff was there that night. And she was instantly drawn to you…and the way you slapped a sleazy guy for blatantly placing his hand on your ass.

She stepped in before security could even try to kick you out and she offered you a drink for your troubles.

It'd been unexpected but you had never been one to turn down a beautiful, slightly scary, woman. You didn't know it then, but accepting her offer was the best thing you'd ever done for yourself.

And not just because Wanda was even quicker to spend money on you than Kate.

So, as weird and uncharted territory as it was, you slowly got used to being the older woman's sugar baby. To spending your free time with her, to bringing her lunch when she forgot to take a break in between meetings, to giving yourself over to her every night in as many ways as you could handle.

Of course, that didn't come without its challenges. The biggest of them being your insecurities about your place in her life.

It didn't seem to matter how many times she reassured you that she wanted you, you knew being her sugar baby wasn't the same as being her girlfriend. You had no right to feel jealous when she went out for drinks with other CEOs. No right to be upset when people flirted with her at the club.

Just because you knew that, though, didn't mean you didn't get upset. You were grateful for Wanda, and even more grateful for the kindness she showed Kate by giving her a job at her company, but that gratefulness wasn't enough to quell the jealousy that crept up on you sometimes.

Especially when your lovely best friend added fuel to that fire.

It's late when you hear the front door of Wanda's penthouse open. You've spent the majority of the day by yourself, having been told not to visit the older woman at her office because of some important meetings she was going to have. You, being the obedient lover she knew you to be, did exactly as she asked despite how bored and lonely you got.

Things would have been fine had Kate not told you how flirty Wanda's assistant had been all day. It seemed every time Agnes made some sort of suggestive comment, your best friend was close enough to send you a message about it.

And to top it off, the older woman hadn't replied to your texts in a few hours. So, needless to say, watching her come home extremely late, after a long day apart, does little to help you feel better.

It takes no less than a minute for Wanda to walk into the living room, her fingers already unbuttoning the white blouse beneath her dark red blazer. "Why are you still awake, angel?"

As distracting as the sight is, you don't let it steal your thoughts away.

"Where were you?" You ask, already hating how soft your voice is.

"Where do you think?" She replies with a well-placed tilt of her head.

Even though her tone makes you want to back down, you hold your ground, not yet ready to continue without an answer. "You're back late. You never come back this late when you're at the office."

Your words make her pause. Her eyes scan your face as she comes closer, a sigh stuck in her throat. "You know these meetings run late sometimes. I went to get a drink afterward to unwind. Why are you so upset, sweetheart?"

"Kate said your secretary was making moves on you," you say, feeling your shoulders relax as you finally give a voice to the thoughts that have been plaguing you all day. "That you let her flirt with you."

Despite how soft she's trying to be, Wanda rolls her eyes. "Kate's an idiot."

"But she's not a liar," you reply before you can think better of it.

This time, the older woman isn't able to stop the flicker of annoyance that passes through her face. "Watch yourself, sweetheart. What's that supposed to mean?"

You barely manage to hold in a groan. Complaining would only make the situation worse for you, considering how little she lets you get away with when you're obviously upset.

"That she wouldn't make something up just because…" you trail off, almost not wanting to ask your next question. "It's true, isn't it?"

Wanda sighs, easily sliding onto your lap. Your hands instantly come up to grip her hips, greedily pulling her close to you, your heart pounding in your chest as you wait for her answer. "Yes, darling, it's true. Agnes was in a bold mood today, but I shot her down every time. She knows I'm taken."

Her words help soothe your jealousy somewhat but they're not enough to overshadow your insecurities. "Are you? Because I'm not your girlfriend."

"y/n," she says, her eyes narrowing slightly. "What are you trying to say?"

Even though you know she's not upset with you, her tone still makes you shrink into yourself. You had been so confident earlier, so sure of what you were going to say to her, of what you were going to ask, and now…it had all evaporated with one quick raise of her eyebrow.

"Nothing," you sigh. "It's stupid."

Wanda doesn't let you hide. Her hand comes up to cup your face, tilting your head back so you're looking up at her. "It's not stupid. You're jealous, aren't you, sweetheart?"

The softness in her voice does little to erode your insecurities. If anything, it makes you want to hide even more. To run away and pretend you never even brought up the idea of being more than…a pastime. Because maybe if you could escape the conversation, you could escape the reality. The very real possibility that she didn't want you to be anything more than her favorite toy.

"Why would I be jealous?" you respond, trying to muster up the rest of your courage. "I don't own you or your time."

The redhead sighs again, knowing it'll take more than a few well-placed words to get through to you. "What's with the attitude, hmm? What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

You recognize her words for what they are. The opportunity for you to be honest. To unload everything that's been overwhelming your mind since you realized how hard you'd fallen for the older woman. The fears, the insecurities, the uncontrollable need for her.

You almost don't want to admit it. Don't want to further complicate a situation that's gotten so out of your control. It was supposed to be temporary. You were supposed to be temporary. But you can't imagine a life outside of the one you've somehow built with her.

"I don't know," you finally say. "I just hate the thought of Agnes thinking she can flirt with you. She can't."

"She can't?" Wanda repeats, a hint of amusement seeping into her tone. "Why not, angel?"

She's toying with you, you know that. Turning you in circles until you're too confused to avoid answering her questions. Maybe it should feel manipulative, even cruel, but all it does is show you how well she knows you. How good she is at coaxing answers out of you by being soft and patient.

No one would believe you if you told them how sweet the ruthless businesswoman is. How easy it is to make her melt and give in to your every whim.

It would be ridiculous if you weren't the one wrapped right around her finger.

"Because…" You trail off with a huff. "You know why."

"Come on, baby," she tries again, her fingers caressing your jawline and making sure you keep your eyes on her. "I need to hear you say it. Please? For me."

All you allow yourself is a whine at first. Just the smallest sign of weakness. Of the brat Wanda secretly loves taming.

"Because you're my domme," you say, that hint of petulance still lingering in your tone. "You're supposed to be mine, not hers."

The corners of her mouth quirk up just enough to show how entertained she is by the exchange. In her defense, she does what she can to keep her expression serious, as if you're not just acting like a brat because you're jealous.

"I am yours, darling," Wanda replies. "You don't have to worry about Agnes. Or anyone else for that matter."

Her words manage to cut through the thick fog in your head left behind by your constant worries. They're not enough to fully erase your insecurities but it's a start. A start to the conversation you should have already had.

"You really mean it?" You find yourself asking.

You want to hate yourself for sounding so insecure, but you can't. The hard truth is, you need to hear her answer. Need to hear her put a label to what you two have. A label that goes beyond the sweet petnames she has for you.

"I do," she says, her voice dropping its usual teasing edge. "I don't want anyone else but you. I'm yours just as much as you're mine."

The words go right to your head, giving you a rush you've never felt before. It very quickly dawns on you why the older woman likes it so much when you say those words. Why it always makes her look like she's on top of the world.

"Say it again," you mumble, the softness in your tone making you feel particularly vulnerable.

The smile that grazes Wanda's face is nothing short of affectionate. "I'm yours, angel. You're the only one I want to be with."

Your hands on her hips slide around until your arms are around her waist and you're pulling her impossibly closer. You practically lunge forward, your lips seeking out hers and crashing into them.

It's not the most romantic kiss you've ever shared by any means, but the intensity behind your movements only makes it better. Especially when she kisses you back with that same passion.

Almost instantly, you're left wanting more.

"Wanda," you whisper against her lips. "I need you."

"I'm right here, baby. You can have me."

Her words would usually be enough to melt you until all you could think about was having her on top of you. Tonight, though, the desire you're suddenly hit with is different.

You need to touch her. To feel her against you. To hear her say your name over and over again until there's nothing left except the two of you.

You're not entirely sure how to express that need, though. Far too used to your usual dynamic and how easy your submission flows.

"Not like that," you say, your cheeks flushing.

Wanda simply stares at you with those same sharp eyes that hold a sea of affection you can't even begin to understand. "Is that right? You want to touch Mommy tonight, hmm?"

You nod, already feeling breathless from the thought of getting to touch her.

To show her you can be good in a different way.

* * * * * * *

taglist: @boredandneedfanfics @rosekjsses

[sitepathos]

Ok regarding the alpha Wayne's! How would they react of y/n got a mate or found a pack to accept them?

Oh, sweetie, you must want people to pass away! The moment they learn you have a mate and/or a pack is when the gloves come off.

Ok, let’s look at just a pack. Let’s say in this scenario, you met an Alpha and a few Betas not long after you moved to Nevada and they found that you were highly compatible with all of them; you bond over similar interests, like video games, anime, manga, etc (you kept your identity as the bastard firstborn son of Bruce Wayne and the host of the Megamycete a secret from them) and your Omega side appeals to the Alpha’s need for dominance and the Betas’ need for someone to care for them. After a few weeks, they talk it over and present you with an invitation to join their pack. They promise that if you join, they’ll treat you with the respect you deserve and if you don’t want to join, they’ll act like it never happened and all of you can go back to hang out.

All Omegas yearn to be part of a pack, a place where they belong and feel safe, and you’re no different. You were trapped at Wayne Manor for most of your life and were constantly reminded that you’d never have a place in the prestigious Wayne Pack. The Megamycete doesn’t help with this as it records are filled with the memories of countless packs and you want that warm sensation of belonging and safety more than anything.

You agree and they all scent you, merging your scent with theirs and preparing a place for you at their house in Vegas (you’re allowed to keep your house since they know how much it means to you, but you spend the daytime there to work and maintain it while nighttime is spent at with your new pack at their house). As the next four years go by, you feel your decade-old wounds begin to slowly but surely heal thanks to your new packmates, all of them patient and teaching you what it means to be part of a pack and allowing you to decide the Omega you wish to be; you realize that for most of your life, you were freezing, and now with your pack, you know what warmth feels like and order how you were able to survive without it for so long.

Of course, after a year, when it became apparent that you could trust them, you told them everything; when you first met, you just told them that you lived in a place in Gotham so bad to you that you withheld on presenting as an Omega until you moved back home and they were so sympathetic and pissed on your behalf. Now, they knew you were the first biological son of Bruce Wayne and the “bad pack” you weren’t a part of was the famous Wayne Pack that so many would kill to be a part in.

Then, you revealed your connection to the Megamycete and all the powers you had at your disposal. At first, they were shocked and a little afraid, which you could understand; then, the unbelievable happened: they embraced you and said that they didn’t care what you were or who your father was, you were their Omega and they’d never let anything change that. Needless to say, you cried surrounded by the people you trust more than anyone else in the world.

Then the night of the Gamer Gala happened; despite not keeping in regular touch with Alfred, you gave him an invitation to the award ceremony and reserved a place for him with your pack. You wanted to show him the people you’ve come to call pack and show your pack the man that kept you alive during the darkest chapter of your life. Instead, they got to see the man whose face decorates the dartboard you have in the game room and see you hand the world’s richest and most eligible Alpha his ass.

When security came to separate the two of you, your pack came to your rescue and that’s when Bruce discovered that you’re the Omega of another pack.

Shocked. Distraught. Pissed. Denial. Bruce went through all these emotions, and more. He came here to beg for your forgiveness and to bring you back home so you could become a member of their pack and their Omega, but here, right in front of him, are these… interlopers, touching you, scenting you, comforting you in ways that only he and his children should be allowed to! You’re a part of their pack and these actions are solely theirs by divine right!

When he first approaches your pack, offers and threats in hand to make them give you back to them, he finds out just how much animosity you hold towards him when you jump on him and try to rip his throat out with your teeth. The growls that came out of you, the rage in your eyes, the bloody bite marks you left on his neck reminded him that while Alphas are the protectors of the pack, when push comes to shove, an Omega will fight tooth and nail and use every dirty trick in the book to protect their pack if they perceive a threat. While he’s happy and proud to see you’re willing to protect what you see as yours (something you both have in common), he’s pissed that you growl and bear your fangs at him, your sire and true Alpha, and that these people allow you to do such things when you should be kept safe and out of the fighting.

He refuses to admit defeat, he’ll take a variety of direction and indirect routes in order to take you back to Gotham, but you end up in his way, bearing fangs and clad in mold armor, ready to give him the Thomas and Martha Wayne Treatment.

Dick cries the moment he sees you with your packmates, smiling at them, scenting them, and bearing your neck at them. Those are things you should be doing with them, not those fakers!

But, he doesn’t blame you, baby bird! No, not at all! They ignored you and these monsters took advantage of you and tricked you into becoming a part of their sick and twisted pack! Don;t worry, he’ll deal with these monsters and bring you back home and cuddle you in your new nest!

Family is something Dick takes very seriously and to see someone he sees a part of his pack being taken away is an unforgivable sin.

As much as he wants to curb stomp them and take you into his arms and bring you back to the manor, he knows that he must do this in a more dignified manner, so he comes to your pack’s house in his official capacity, ready to lay out the “facts” and negotiate a way for you to be released into their custody. As the Right Hand of the Wayne Pack, he’s more than capable of handling such negotiations, allowed to offer whatever he needs to in order to bring the Waynes’ Omega back home be it money, job opportunities, properties, etc.

His signature dazzling smile was extinguished when one of your Beta “packmates” slammed the door in his face and he looked up to see you pouring a bucket of water down on him, leaving him soaked.

After that, he tries to approach your “pack” in public settings, like cafes and restaurants, but he’s quickly shut down each time, being told that they’ll never let them near you.

He decides being “polite” isn’t getting him anywhere, so he decides to visit your “pack” as Nightwing, determined to intimidate them or even put them into the hospital so he can come and “rescue” you from being packless.

That plan goes south when you tackle him in mid-air, clad in your mold armor. At first, Dick tries to convince you that there’s no need to fight, but when he sees all you want is to fight, he relies on his acrobat skills to evade your attacks and try to tire you out, but you manage to wrap a tendril around his ankle and hurl him as hard as you can into the Mojave.

(Un)fortunately, he manages to survive, but he’s forced to retreat for now until he and his pack can come up with another plan.

Barbara takes the news just as hard as the others, but she’s a bit torn about it. While she’s a legitimate member of the Wayne Pack as everyone else, she’s also a member of the Gordon Pack; she may see Bruce as a father figure and a mentor, she fiercely loves and is loyal to her actual father and Bruce would never take that away from her.

She understands that none of them treated you like a part of the pack and you were well within your rights to find another pack (she felt sick to her stomach when she learned that their treatment of you resulted in your presentation as an Omega being withheld), she’s just as deluded as the others and firmly believes that you’re their Omega and is just as determined to bring you back to the manor as the others.

While the others take more direct methods of bringing you back, she decides that the best way of getting you back will be to ruin your pack’s reputation.

Listing them as the most wanted on every law enforcement agency in the world, fabricating arrest warrants, scheduling them for trials, she does it all.

That falls through when you, with all your computer knowledge, not only deletes all of her work, but actually pulls a Reverse Uno on her, calling on the FBI to come and raid the manor, Wayne Enterprises, and her library.

She’s actually impressed at your capabilities and she’s be more impressed if you hadn’t also gone after her dad, making false reports of embezzlement and corruption, leading to her home being raided and her dad being arrested. Of course, the charges didn’t stick and he was let go, but going after her dad makes it personal to her.

She also didn’t like it when you used the Megamycete’s roots to damage both the library and the Clocktower.

To say Jason is pissed is an understatement; he’s angry at himself for being such a dumbass, pissed at Bruce for failing to be a decent dad again, pissed at your new “pack” for thinking they have any right to you, and even at you for replacing them.

He quickly squashes that last thought because he knows none of them could even be bothered to glance in your direction, so you didn’t “replace” them because the pack bonds were never there, so there was nothing to be replaced.

At first, he’s deeply conflicted at how to go forward with this because yes, he does want you back and wants to make amends and treat you like the precious Omega you deserve, but he knows how batshit crazy and horrible they all are and he understands that need to get away from them and be somewhere you feel cared for.

This conflict is short-lived, however, when his delusions win out and he joins the bandwagon on finding a way to bring you back to the manor.

He tries the direct route once; he approached you and your pack while you were out eating at one of Vegas’ finer restaurants to celebrate a successful night of gambling. It ended with you tackling him and repeatedly punching him in the face that you dislocated his jaw and gave him one hell of a black eye.

Anyone else, he’d be pissed, but you? He’s actually proud. He remembers giving you a black eye when you two first met (something that haunts him at night) and thinking you were some weak little brat. After being taken down by you? He’s sure you’re one of the strongest people he’s ever known and he wants to know everything about you.

(Side note: I had this thought after the first A/B/O Batfam post and I think I’ll use this opportunity to make it canon here: Jason is the Left Hand of the Wayne Pack. Dick is the right Hand, meaning he acts as the pack’s second in command and the first to assume leadership should something happen to Bruce; Dick’s also allowed to negotiate and make major decisions concerning the pack when Bruce sends him to act on his behalf. As the Left Hand, Jason is to deal with threats to the pack and seek retribution; he gets his hands dirty so Bruce and Dick’s hands remain clean.)

He decides to deal with your “pack” as both Red Hood and the Wayne Pack’s Left Hand. As much as he hates to do it, he intends to use your Omega biology aginst you; Omega’s get super attached to their packs and the sudden murder of all those assholes will send you into a depressive spiral and while you’re mourning their deaths, they’ll swoop in and bring you back to the manor. Chances are you’ll never be the same again, but he’ll be there to help you every step of the way.

That plan goes south when he finds you after breaking in, pointing guns at him. He may be an expert with all types of firearms, but you have the knowledge of expert marksmen throughout the ages swimming through your head, making you more than capable than him. He flees through a flurry of bullets. Under normal circumstances, he’d return fire and give his attacker hell, but his attacker in this case is his pack’s Omega, so he’ll fall back for now.

Tim is just as possessive as Bruce is; he comes from a high class family that takes its possessions seriously and doesn’t take lightly to them being “stolen,” especially because such inferiors. He’s not about to take this lying down and is ready to do whatever he has to do so he can have an Omega around him.

As is typical of Tim, he first delves into research, learning everything there is to know about these thieves. Within the span of a few hours, he has their entire lives memorized and filed into his personal server. Needless to say, he’s throughly unimpressed with all of them; they’re all ordinary and just one of millions around the world. The Alpha barely has any financial literacy and has no influence, so this pathetic little pack will always be mediocre. The Betas are even less impressive, with forgettable faces, minimal marketable skills, and no noteworthy talents.

Just what is it that makes you so attracted to them? Sure, he knows that their treatment of you was unforgivable and you should hate them, but come on Y/N, you’re a male Omega, for god’s sake! You’re a jewel many would kill and pay billions for! Did their neglect of you leave with you such low self esteem and sense of worth?

After a little more digging, he realizes that you don’t care about money or influence; while he’s seething with rage, he’s capable of seeing that they treat with you love and respect. They pull you into the living room and surround you while watching some movie you picked; include you in on every conversation, even if you don’t have anything to say on the matter; and scent you every time one of them passes you by or reaches for something.

It also helps that all of you share common interests, primarily video games and he hates them even more with that discovery. He’s played many games with the Titans and keeps up-to-date on all the latest news on games and studios; he’s more than capable of talking about games than them and would make a better co-op partner than all of them put together! And he’s more than capable for getting you the latest consoles and games way before they’re put on the market!

With each interaction, he thinks back to every gala, family dinner, and movie night they had and each one lacks any you being a part of it. Just how did you survive your time at the manor, constantly being reminded that no one wanted or even remembered you being there? It’s no wonder your Omega refused to present, chances are you would’ve withered away from the neglect.

Regardless, what’s done is done and he can’t take back what’s happened; he can only move forward and try to rebuild his broken bonds with you. And he can only do that if he brings you back to Gotham, where you belong.

Despite past failures, he opted to try the polite way; using his stalker abilities, he managed to meet with your pack at a restaurant while you were at your old home doing work and presented them with several options, consisting of large payments, guaranteed lifetime employment at any Wayne Enterprises or Drake Industries owned subsidiary, immediate ownership of any dwelling in the world they desired and assistance on all expenses, and many more.

They laughed in his face and told him you were a part of their pack and a true pack doesn’t treat a member like a thing to be bought and sold.

While he admired the sentiment and commended them for seeing your worth, he wasn’t about to let them get away with keeping you from your real pack. Like all Alphas, he’s capable of getting angry, but unlike other Alphas, his anger runs cold while other Alphas’ anger runs hot; while he is capable of physical violence and has quite the punch (a must in his job as a vigilante), his parents taught him that the real way to go after his enemies is to go after their reputation and livelihoods.

That’s how many of his fellow high society Alphas handled things, exposing hidden scandals and ruining businesses; say what you will, it’s incredibly satisfying as a person realizes they’ve lost everything and their name tarnished forever.

So, that’s how he goes about handling these inferiors and when they realize they have nothing, they’ll beg him for his deal and offer you up to them on a silver platter; either that, or you’ll realize you’re wasting your time with these pathetic wastes of space and look for another pack, giving them an opportunity to convince you to come home.

He goes about ruining the various businesses that your “pack” work at (how pathetic, they’re workers and not owners), but he finds that you’ve safeguarded everything behind thick firewalls, leaving him unable to hack and ruin their systems.

He then decides to ruin your pack bonds, planting seeds of doubt about your place as their Omega; for someone like him; it’s child’s play to fabricate false pictures of your packmates meeting with another Omega, fake texts and phone calls of them badmouthing you, and even planting articles of clothing with another Omega’s scent in their bags.

What he didn’t expect was for you to storm the Drake Industries building during a board meeting, clad in mold armor and wings, drag him out and hold him over the skyline, and tell him you knew what he had done and threaten him should he ever do it again.

Actually, your exact words were, “I know you’re a pathetic creep with no life of your own, Tim, and doing shit like this is something only you’d think of doing cause you can’t stand to see someone else happy. Get your own life and stay out of mine, or I tear your head off, shove it in jar, and send it to that freak Ra’s to keep next to your spleen.”

Ok, he wasn’t expecting you to know about that. Or about what words can cut him deeper than any blade.

Still, he learned something new about you. And with each new discovery, he comes closer to finding a way of bringing you back home.

Steph and Cass react the same way to the news: poorly. Both of them know that they never treated you like a packmates while you were still living here, but to just become part of some pack on the other side of the country is a little much for them to handle.

Steph is angry at the thought of just being replaced, actually forgetting that she did the same to you after a week of her living in the manor while Cass actually becomes depressed because she feels like she’s been abandoned (again), but she knows that she has no right to feel this way after she did the same to you.

The two of them partner up, aiming to take down your pack so that you have no one to turn to, but they quickly find out that you’re more than capable of taking them both on.

(Note: look, I know there’s barely anything here, but this post is long enough and I’ve stated before that my knowledge of Steph and Cass is minimum at best. Cut me some slack.)

Once the news reaches Damian, he becomes enraged and rushes to the Batcave some he can lash out at some poor training dummy with his sword.

It enrages him to no end to learn that his blood brother and pack Omega has not only become part of another pack, but a pack of inferior stock! Come on, brother, you’re of noble blood! Don’t sully yourself by associating with this common, low stock rabble!

When he begins to observe your interactions with you, his rage burns brighter and hotter. His skin itches every time they touch you; his teeth grind to a near powder every time you smile at them; and his eyes twitch every time you look at them.

And when he sees that you’ve created a nest in your room and allow them entry? He howls loud enough to call everyone in the manor to him.

An Omega’s nest is a sacred place, one that an Omega feels safe and secure, comforted by soft and plush things to nestle against their sensitive skin and lulled by the scents of those they trust the most; to be allowed into an Omega’s nest is an honor unlike any other and the ultimate sign of trust. All Alphas strive to be allowed to enter an Omega’s nest as there’s no greater measure of intimacy and trust before mating.

To see you bestow that privilege to these… pretenders actually brings tears to his eyes while he howls in rage.

He knew that the rest of his pack had failed, but that sight forced him to ignore his sire and go to that disgusting cesspit called Vegas and bring you back to your senses. Your proper place is at Wayne Manor in Gotham, not a pathetic little hovel in this hideous city.

He expected to be met with heavy resistance once the door opened, but he didn’t expect you to scruff him like some ill-behaved pup, pick him up by the neck, and toss him like some piece of trash and berate him for entire neighborhood of lowborn scum to gawk at. Yes, he acknowledges that his treatment of you was… less than stellar, but that doesn’t change the fact that you and him share blood and that ties you to both him and his sire.

Unlike the rest of his pack and Drake, he doesn’t bother to negotiate with those inferiors you call “pack” because he doesn’t see the need in asking for what’s his by rite of birth. You’re his blood brother and his Omega, no matter what the laws of that miserable little backwater say.

He decides the best way to make his sincerity known is by proving you with materials for your pack, which is a traditional League courting ritual; by providing an Omega with materials for their nest, you show them that your commitment to them is true and if they use your gift for their nest, it shows that the Alpha that they trust you enough to allow you into their most private of places (both literally and figuratively).

So, he uses his connections to purchase many blankets and pillows made of the finest silks from various luxury nest supply stores, both within Gotham and back in his homeland, all of it costing a small fortune. He intends to show you that only he and his pack (and even Drake) are capable of giving you what you truly need, what you truly deserve.

To say to cut his ego when you threw all his gifts into the fire pit out back and light it on fire is a gross understatement. He holds his mother’s teachings in high regard, especially about how he would go about courting and interacting with various members of his pack, and to see you reject his gift, reject him, hurts him far more than any injury he received during his training.

When he returned home after that, he quietly went p to his room and, for the first time in years, wept, the sting of being rejected by someone he now holds dear to heart making him feel lower than dirt.

Ok, that ended up being WAY longer than I thought. Now, let’s just briefly go over you having a mate. For this scenario, let’s say you met an Alpha in Vegas that doesn’t have a pack and when he saw you, he just had to court you and after seeing him treat you like you’re the most precious thing in the world, you decide to accept his courting offer. Sorry if you were expecting another short novel like up above, but this took way too long and my attention is starting to wane.

Bruce: doesn’t like it one bit and actually has the audacity to tell you to break it off because he’s your Alpha and father, so any and all suitors must go trough him first, but he firmly believes all you need is him and your siblings and he’s not going to let anything come between you and your pack.

Dick: bitch actually has the nerve to say your Alpha’s stealing you away from your true pack and doesn’t actually love you. You backhand the shit out of him for that and yell that he doesn’t;t know what love is.

Barbara: while she knows that you want to find someone to give you the love and affection they denied you for years, she doesn’t want to give you up and aims to remove your mate from the equation by using her computer skills, but you prove to be far better than her when you fry not only her computers, but the GCPD’s as well, leaving her to pick up the pieces.

Jason: he tries to go after your Alpha-to-be, but you quickly prove yourself more than capable of defending him and showing Jason that a pissed off Omega is just as dangerous as an angry Omega.

Steph: she’s delighted to see Bruce nearly have a heart attack and give him a few extra grey hairs; seriously, show her your ways. But, she’s not thrilled to see you on the arm of some strange Alpha. Come on, she can choose someone way better for you. Granted, she firmly believes that ll you need are them, but she can help you envision a relationship.

Cass: absolutely does not approve and lets you know through sign language. You a part of her pack and this intruder will not be tolerated. Will probably partner up with Jason to take him out.

Tim: stalks the ever loving shit out of both of you in an effort to find a way to break you up, but you quickly corner him and insult him by calling him a freak with no life.

Damian: oh, little brat loses his shit and tries to do to him what he attempted to do to you when the two of you first met. Of course, you grab hold of the sword and snatch it in two and use part of it to nearly decapitate him, resulting in a scar that just misses his scent gland.

Alfred: while he’s so happy to see that you found someone who wish to be with and that someone in this family has a healthy relationship, he still believes that your proper place in with your father and his pack, so he will aid in the attempt to separate the two of you.

Ok, not my best work, but what can you do? Kinda burned myself out with the first half of this post. I may do another mate post if there’s a high enough demand for it and if anyone has an idea on who your mate should be, feel free to live a comment. Keep in mind only male options will be considered.

Also, for the mate thing, keep in mind that when it comes to A/B/O, nothing’s off-limits and typically, what we consider taboo is considered “normal.” So, could one of the Wayne men consider forcing a mating bite on you if it meant bringing you back to the fold? After all, Omegas are subservient to their Alpha mates.

Just food for thought.

[nimrochan]

Since October 7th I’ve;

Been called a k*ke multiple times

And a colonizer (lol because Hebrew is a British language amirite)

And had other nasty comments thrown at me for wearing a Jewish star in public

Been told repeatedly by family members not to wear a Jewish star on public transportation at night, as though this were the fucking 1800’s

Multiple times got stuck on trains with “protestors” screaming about how Zionists kill thousands of babies a second (that’s… so many babies.)

Went grocery shopping and saw a small march where they were chanting “GAS THE JEWS!”

Lost several close non-Jewish friends including one of my best friends of 15 years (he had never been to the MENA region, not an ounce of MENA blood in him, no educational background in it, but somehow he became an expert overnight you guys)

Tried to hang up posters of hostages that wouldn’t stay intact for more than an hour (never seen anyone hang posters of innocent Palestinians lost in the war though, which they could have done at any time)

Been called Islamophobic many times for speaking up against extremism (which… harms Muslims more than any other group)

Been told I and other Israelis deserve to be r*ped

Been told multiple times that the Holocaust “wasn’t that bad” or “made up” (my grandfather’s entire extended family were among the 90% of Polish Jews who had been slaughtered)

Been to synagogue where there was hateful graffiti on it

Seen the Hail Hitler shit in person

Been harassed for “killing Palestinians” (um I haven’t even served in the IDF let alone killed anyone??)

Had someone try to genuinely, kindly explain to me why terrorists want to kill me and my family and it’s totally not their fault somehow

Freaked out because I thought my sister went missing in northern Israel, because at the time Hezbollah was sending missiles and so Israel decided to scramble GPS in the region so she got completely lost (which is a little bit funny in a dark way)

I hate Nazis but I’m not scared of them; I’m scared of the average educated American who gives into the widespread, insidious antisemitism without even realizing it (*coughthatshowitstartedinGermanycough*)

And like, I’m not a religious or cultural person at all. I’ve never worn my star for so long before, it’s more out of solidarity than anything.

The only POSITIVE thing I’ve gained was solidarity with my people and a stronger bond with my family, because (speaking very generally) the rest of the world doesn’t seem to really care about us.

This has been the first time in my life I’ve ever felt oppressed (other than for being a woman at least) and it has not been fun. It’s sad that it needs to be said, but Jews around the world don’t have any control on what Israel or the IDF does, so kindly leave us alone 🙃

And on another note - If antisemitism in the Middle East were widely tackled and eradicated, do people have any idea how much more peaceful it would be? 😔

Listen to ALL minorities, including Jews.

The Trump administration is cracking down on student protests because it serves their anti-woke and anti-education agenda and that's extremely gross of them. That does not mean the protests aren't hotbeds of antisemitism. Please believe Jews when they say protesters have used antisemitic rhetoric or called for violence against Jews. Please believe them when they say protesters have called them slurs or spat at them or even assaulted them. Nothing can be gained by letting this slide.

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Hii!!! love ur works <333 if its not too much trouble, do you think you can make a scenario with the scarabia duo + first years with a reader who knows self defense?

like at one moment, reader would feel someone touch their shoulder so suddenly that they'd jump and throw a punch only to know it was someone close to them they had actually attacked. hope u get what im going on about here :0000

Ace Trappola:

Ace would like to say he knew you well, but your sudden mastering of the martial arts caught him off-guard. In a normal situation he’d definitely be laughing but he’s a little stunned, wondering how close he had come to one of your super moves taking him out. He makes a silent note not to mess with you unless he’s a safe distance away, thanking his lucky stars that it wasn’t him who had gotten humiliated like that.

Deuce Spade:

Deuce is immediately admiring your skills, noting that it didn’t look like you had the muscles for such a move but that he should’ve never judged a book by its cover. He joins you in helping your unwitting victim off the ground, wondering if he should say something or let the awkward moment pass as you were clearly embarrassed. Finally, he can’t help but compliment your form, saying he felt relieved knowing you could defend yourself should anyone with nefarious intentions try to get the jump on you.

Epel Felmier:

Epel is immediately obsessed. How did you do that? What technique did you use? He wanted you to teach him, nearly stepping on the poor student still shell-shocked on the ground as he approached you. He was in NRC to master magic but it never hurt to know how to handle yourself in a physical fight as well, and you suddenly find yourself with a very eager student.

Jack Howl:

Jack takes a moment to process what he just saw, still staring at you before his eyes slowly drifted to the student who was now splayed unceremoniously on the ground. It wasn’t unusual for a person to work their muscles as well as their mind but Jack had never thought you were the type. He wanted to ask where you learned a move like that but suddenly felt tongue-tied when you apologized to him for the embarrassing display, looking away and mumbling the other student was more deserving of said apology than him.

Sebek Zigvolt:

Sebek can’t help but think you have great instincts. It was clear from how quickly you laid the other student out that your body had reacted before your brain truly registered what happened, and it was a good survival skill to have. He loudly praised you for your actions while the other student remained disgruntled, with you apologizing for your actions AND Sebek rubbing the salt in their wound before they had even stood up again.

EXTRA:

Jamil Viper:

Jamil just gives a bland look to the student you had flipped to the ground like a pancake, since this wasn’t his mess to clean up and therefore, he was under no obligation to help. He sighed as you began to apologize when it seemed the student had been sneaking up on you specifically to scare you, meaning they only got what was coming to them. He noted that your skills were impressive though, and that he should never come up behind you without announcing himself a safe distance away first.

[nerdygirlramblings]

Hi~ hope you are doing great and having a good time; sorry to bother you, but can I ask some poly 141 x reader who is a veterinarian, or dog caretaker or trainer or K9 unit; and has taken care of many dogs, pets, service dog, militar dog, and so on; and the team saw her a little more introverted, seeing her eyes a little watery but not that red, still working but seeing the tell signs of touch starved and then they learn or know that a dog she helped bring into the world when born, now she had to put to sleep for injuries or sickness, what would they do? Since not many know how painful it is even if not your partner or dog have to do this?

Sorry for the long part, and feel free to ignore if too bothersome, actually I'm a vet and Im all teary, but can't really cry or bent since my family is cold or strick and the rest say like 'its just a dog's, and I'm also touch starved, sorry for this; just that I need a little comfort

Best regards :)

Oh @boogeysmoth I am so so sorry! I can't imagine how hard the bad days must be. I'd be heartbroken and crying all the time. (We're a family that believes in fur babies, so I get it. I hope this helps a little bit.

cw: implied child neglect (memory), animal death (off-page), poorly executed accents

Everyone on base knew who you were. Soft, sweet thing who was definitely more comfortable with dogs you trained than the people. It was an open secret on base that, despite what you were training the dogs to do, you recognized their value as therapy animals. Soldiers often found their way to your portion of the yard after a mission gone wrong or when a unit lost someone or when the memories just became too much. You were patient with the soldiers who came to you, teaching them commands so the dogs could continue their learning and yet support the troops in a completely different way. You never shied away from the soldiers in those encounters, perhaps recognizing something in their hollow look, a kindred spirit in need of tender care.

The 141 in particular was well acquainted with your work. They never said it, but in their eyes, you were theirs.

Simon knew how it felt to feel like you didn't belong. Gaz understood what it was like to care for so many others with your whole heart. Price recognized the weight of responsibility you carried; your job was to train and watch out for your dogs the same way he did for his men. Soap saw how you retreated into yourself, like Ghost had when they met, and vowed to pull you into a world that might not deserve your sunshine.

It was Ghost who noticed first. Back from a solo mission, he'd swung by the K9 grounds on his way to the barracks. You were on the field like usual, but as his steps slowly brought him to the edge of your space, he saw you hesitate to reward your current charge after a followed command. There was stiffness where once had been ease, distance when you were typically close.

In Price's office for debrief, he said, "Somethin's wrong." Price merely raised a brow, so he continued. "She's actin' like the dogs are a chore. She loves them damn things." He paused, thinking of his childhood, the indifference from some who was supposed to love him. "'S not right. She loves them, Price. And if she's actin' all cold, somethin' happened."

So Price started watching too. Saw what Ghost meant, how you didn't seem to want to touch the dogs any more than you needed to. When two rookies came up, looking to sit with the dogs, you turned them away. There was no hard look, no sharp retire, but it was one of the meanest things he'd seen on base.

Several days later Gaz was sent to the K9 unit with a pile of slightly worn blankets. Requisition order gone wrong and they were far too small for the barracks' beds. He walked into your office, smile in place, and said, "Got some presents for your pups, doll."

You looked up blankly at him and the blankets. "Oh. Er, that's nice, but the dogs don't need them." You turned back to the papers on your desk, but Gaz stayed rooted where he was. You were always looking for comfort items for the dogs to make them feel cared for. You asked for stuffed toys and never turned down blankets and soft bedding.

Two weeks after Ghost first saw something off, Soap came around the edge of the K9 kennels to find you weeping in the back of an empty cage. Kneeling in the back, face buried in your hands, quietly sobbing. He didn't hesitate to open the unlocked gate and join you on the cement floor.

You felt a strong arm wrap around your shoulders before pulling you into a warm, solid chest. Quiet shushing and a whispered, "Ah've got ye," accompanied by gentle rocking. He stayed with you as the tears tapered off, and only when they were done did he ask, "Ye want tae talk about it?"

Your inhale was fast, shakey. The tears were barely at bay when you started talking. "I had to put him down," you said, voice laced with grief. Soap couldn't remember the last time he'd heard someone's heart break, but he swore yours did as you spoke. He didn't say anything, but the arm around you squeezed a little tighter. "My little Rascal. I know he's in a better place, but I miss him." The tears started again, and you didn't even try to staunch them. *And I don't know if I can keep doing this," you say between sobs. "I know what happens to these dogs in the field. I'm giving them over to be slaughtered!"

He could hear the change in your breathing, the breaths coming faster and faster. "Ach, bon! De ye no see how much good ye do?" He positioned you so he could see your face. "Love, ye give hope! The dogs ye train help keep us safe, an' we do our best to keep 'em safe in return. We treat 'em like another member of a unit. We doan let 'em get slaughtered." Deep down you knew this, but hearing it now helps ease the gaping ache in your heart just a little.

Your breathing slowed slightly. But before you could reply, try to tell Soap he was wrong, he continued in a whisper. "An' here ye help us feel human again when ye let us be wi' the pups." Shame raced through you, remembering how you'd turned the privates away last week.

You hiccuped and said, "I don't think my heart can take it to keep caring." You were so quiet Soap could have pretended he didn't hear you, but you and the dogs deserved better.

"Oh, love. When it hurts too much take care, you come find us, yeah? We can help set ye tae rights."

You nodded. "Okay," you mumbled. "I think I can do that."

He stood and pulled you up, walking backwards out of the empty kennel. "And Ah ken the best way tae start," he stated, maneuvering you further down the hall to the full kennels. He put a light hand on your waist, deftly pulling the keyring off your belt. He found the cage with the youngest dogs and tried each key until one worked. When the lock clicked, the three puppies on the other side of the gate came running. Soap pulled you in behind him and closed the gate. He took a seat on the floor and patted the space next to him.

By the time you dropped to the ground, two puppies were already climbing on Soap's lap. He coaxed the last into your arms. You stayed with him, arms full of warm puppy, until you felt the cold grip around your heart melt.

an: This was a little tribute to my in-laws doggie of the same name and my cat menace, Mushu. They're over the rainbow bridge now. ❤️

[iconuk01]

Copying this from another post, because I've been rewatching these and need to say soem things again. :)

I am having SO MANY FEELINGS right now I can’t even express them… (Spoilers under the cut)

The nostalgia factor is off the charts, the charm is effervescent, the cast are unbelievably good!

The conceit it simple. The TARDIS has a memory and, being a TARDIS, it’s memory is unusual. It’s made up bit of it’s past (and future) existence and of the memories of the Doctors and their travelling companions, and it needs to be refreshed and nourished, so sometimes, when the stars align and the proper wish is made, former Doctors and Companions can meet up again, inside the memory TARDIS, reunited within the patchwork console room of memories (and SO loaded with easter egg props), to share memories of their old stories with each other, and the TARDIS.

Now the stories that are being framed are all from the classic series and I know them already, but the framing scenes… Oh what a JOY to see these characters again, all played by the original actors. (Aging is either taken for granted for the companions, and handwaved or ignored for the Doctors, and all the better for it)

Jamie McCrimmon and Zoe Herriot coming together again to regale each other with the story of their subsequent lives (And to have their memories restored after the Time Lord’s mindwipe of them, because the TARDIS clearly has opinions about that)

Clyde Langer and Jo Jones talking about loves and loss. (Jo, mourning the loss of her husband confirms that she loved her Doctor the way Clyde loved Sarah Jane and he agrees.)

The Fifth Doctor and Tegan recalling the day they lost Adric including one of my favourite exchanges as the story ends:

Tegan - Poor soul..

Doctor (holding Adric’s intact gold star) - And here it is, remembered. He was so… (Struggles to find words)

Tegan (laughing through tears) - Oh he was a nightmare!

Doctor (smiling and sad) - He was daft, and silly, and sulky.. and (now just sad and deflated) he was just a kid

Tegan - He loved you

Doctor - Yes, I realise that now…

(What a beautiful way to summarise the fact that whilst Tegan honestly never got on with Adric (or even liked him that much), and the Fifth Doctor tended to be short tempered with him, they are now both older and wiser and can see him for what he was, a lonely boy who wanted the Doctor’s approval more than anything, but even when he managed to not to irritate everyone, didn’t feel he earned it)

The Sixth Doctor is reunited with Peri, the girl who left him to become the Warrior Queen of Krontep and who bards still sing songs about.

Ace and the Seventh Doctor get a chance to talk some of their issues out.

Perhaps my favourite is when the First Doctor’s companions Steven and Vicki meet up again, and the sheer childlike joy that both these octegenarian actors (Either of whom would pass for being in their early 60’s) share is palpable through the screen. Steven’s delight in being reunited with his “little sister” brought more than one tear to this cynical old bastard’s eyes.

I'm glad these made their way on to youtube because they are not available outside the UK, and they deserve to be seen by as many fans as possible

Tales of the TARDIS Masterpost

A COMPLETE collection of the new scenes from Tales of the TARDIS. Other ones previously posted to YouTube were incomplete or awkwardly cut, so here's all the new content in a convenient format.

[urcoolgf]

what's your deal? pt. 4

pairing : childhood bsf!rafe x reader

content : fluff

summary : desperate to distract you from enzo, rafe decides to go on a date of his own– but when it backfires, he’s left feeling even more hopeless than before

SERIES MASTERLIST

he had spent all night thinking about it– about you. your smile when you talked about enzo, how giddy you got, the way he had never seen you like that over a guy before– the way he had never made you like that… it was driving him insane, even more insane than he already was. he didn't sleep much that night. he even peaked into your room around 4am to find you tangled in your comforter, the parts of you that were showing were clad in tiny pajamas barely covering anything. that image alone solidified the idea in his mind that enzo could never have you.

he didn't deserve you. enzo wasn't the one there for you when your first boyfriend dumped you– an idiot, by the way– he wasn't there that one time you got so sick you couldn't even feed yourself– he did it for you, and he did it happily (even if he gave you a hard time in the moment). enzo wasn't there when your mom died. he didn't stay at your house for weeks on end, doing anything, and everything he could to make you feel better, wiping your tears.

enzo. could. not. have. you.

you were his– everyone on kildare knew it. he wished everyone in the bahamas did, too. but, he wasn't a simple man. he wasn't just gonna flat out tell you that you were his, that enzo could never treat you as good as he could. so, he did the next best thing– he made a plan, duh. he's a proactive type of person after all.

—

at breakfast the next morning, rafe didn't speak to you– in fact, he didn't even really look at you. you knew he was probably mad, but he was 21 years old– he would have to get over it. throwing a tantrum wasn't gonna keep you from seeing enzo again. your dad hadn't planned any specific 'family outings' for the next two days, so you all were free to do what you wanted in the meantime.

usually, you would hang out with rafe– explore the area, find new restaurants, go to the beach, take walks… but he was proving to be difficult, to say the least. the good thing was, you had enzo to do all that stuff with while rafe continued pouting.

enzo couldn't hang out until tomorrow, so you decided to just chill at the beach for today. after you ate, you returned to your room to change into a swimsuit. sarah and wheezie said they would join you, but they've kind of been doing their own thing this whole time– which was fine by you, as long as they were having fun.

your bikini was a light pink (and pretty tiny)– trying to get every spare inch of your skin tan– so, when you walked back downstairs with a towel and your bag in hand, rafe finally decided to spare you a glance. his eyes widened in what seemed to be anger, but you couldn't care less.

your dad was already gone for the day. he met up with an old friend he made when him and your mom used to come here all the time, and they were going fishing today. sarah and wheezie were still eating as you walked out the back door, heading towards the beach.

rafe never said a word to you though– his plan wouldn't work if he did. as you laid your towel down on the warm sand, you felt a sense of peace. you were alone, the weather was perfect, and the sound of waves crashing was so calming it could lull you to sleep if you let it.

you pulled out your book you had brought for this trip, and began reading while you tanned your backside.

—

a few hours had passed, and you decided you wanted some lunch. sarah and wheezie had since joined you. sarah laid next to you while wheezie was playing in the water. you turned your head to look at sarah. she had her eyes closed, but you figured that was just to block the sun's rays.

"hey, sare? you want some lunch?," you asked, eyes squinting to keep the brightness out.

"i'm okay! i'll probably just make wheeze and i some sandwiches in a bit," she responded with a kind smile.

"alright! you cool if i go grab somethin' quick?," just as the words escaped your mouth, your phone pinged, but sarah replied anyway.

"alone?," she propped herself up on her elbows, clearly nervous about having you go off alone, even though you were older than her.

enzo: Hey! My afternoon freed up. Wanna get some lunch? There’s a great local place not too far from your house. It’s super lowkey :) I’ll meet you there?

y/n: sounds awesome! just send me the address

"no. not alone. i'll go with enzo," you couldn't help the smile that formed, almost giddy that he was able to hang out earlier than you expected.

"oh, okay! sounds good. have fun!," she gave you a sly smirk as if you were gonna do something your father wouldn't approve of.

"see ya later," you laughed, standing from your towel, and grabbing your stuff before walking back to the house to put some more clothes on– kind of.

you just threw on some tiny jean shorts, and a basically see through top over your bikini– when in rome, right? you put on some perfume, and fixed your curls a bit before slipping on some sneakers, and pulling your purse over your shoulder. rafe’s room was empty as you passed by it, and you realized you hadn’t seen him since breakfast. weird.

you headed out the front door. turning on your phone’s gps, plugging in the address enzo had sent you– only a 7 minute walk, not bad.

once you had arrived, enzo was standing by the entrance scrolling through his phone, his other hand rested in his pocket. he glanced up, when his eyes met yours you started almost skipping toward him. once you got to him, you wrapped your arms around his neck. you didn’t care if it seemed like too much, because he returned the hug without hesitation.

“hey pretty girl,” he flashed his perfect teeth, and you swore your heart skipped multiple beats because ‘pretty girl’? you were absolutely done for. the two of you made your way inside, which was actually still outside because the sitting area was all open. only a floor, and a roof– some railing lined the edges, but still gave the view of the ocean.

“this place is so cute! i can’t believe i haven’t been here!,” you said, turning toward enzo with a mixture of excitement, and shock in your eyes.

“it’s new. built it a few months ago, but it’s gotten great traction. people love it like it’s been around for years,” the hostess guided you to a table. enzo was right– it was super laid back. a bar on the opposite side of the railing, constant chatter, people in their swimsuits. it was nice to be somewhere so down to earth. you and enzo continued talking, totally oblivious to who was standing just mere feet away from you.

—

he was ‘laughing it up’ with some girl he couldn’t quite remember the name of. nothing she was saying was funny– he didn’t even find her interesting, but she was the first option he came across, and she didn’t have to be perfect to be part of the plan.

she touched his bicep, almost as if he had told her to act it up– he had not. her voice was honestly agitating him, but he forced himself to get over it. you were sat in the perfect position– once you glanced up from pretty boy over there– you’d get the perfect view of him and the girl hanging off of him. then you’d know how it felt to be replaced.

—

you looked around, taking in the atmosphere when low and behold– rafe cameron everybody. his blue eyes met yours, and you just gave him a quick wave and small smile. it was like you had only met him in a pass by, and not as if he’d been your friend your whole life– he was fuming inside. you turned back to enzo who was now talking about some other new restaurants around that you needed to try before you left. you listened intently, watching the way his lips moved, and how his brow quirked when he got passionate about sharing something.

man, you were so fucked.

—

a long enough time had passed where rafe was officially pissed. you hadn’t said anything to him, hadn’t come up asking who this girl was. you didn’t show the slightest sign of being mad that he had ignored you that morning only to have another girl with him later that day. rafe wrapped his arm around the woman with him, striding over to your table with a drink in his hand and a proud smirk on his face. he was gonna make you notice him.

“hey, guys. funny seein’ ya here,” he chucked a little, raising the brim of his beer bottle to his lip, still holding a smirk.

“hey, rafe,” you were nice, but you hated how he had been acting, and honestly you were really trying to just spend time with enzo.

“what’s up, man?,” enzo said calmly. he probably wasn’t oblivious to the tension between them two, but he was surely good at acting like he was. how mature– you weren’t even sure rafe knew what that word meant.

“not much, man. jus’ hangin’ out with my friend here,” he smiles down at the girl tucked under his arm, her eyes looking back up at him with clueless admiration. the waitress appeared behind rafe, ready to take your order.

“oh! i think it’s time to order… i’ll see you at the house, yeah?,” you absent-mindedly asked rafe. you didn’t really care what his answer was, or if he even gave one. you turned back to enzo quickly asking what was good there. you had been so caught up in talking you hadn’t even looked at the menu in front of you.

if you were paying any attention to the look rafe was giving you, you would swear he was burning holes in the side of your head right now. his anger evident in his wide eyes as he scoffed, and walked off with whatever-her-name-was.

“what can i get started for you guys?,” the waitress asked kindly. rafe could hear your laugh, fading as he got farther from you.

“i’ll just have whatever he has,” your giggles driving rafe mad. his envy only growing when he hears enzo laughing along with you.

“that’s a lot of pressure!,” he joked before saying his order– you even had the waitress chuckling, it was absurd.

his thoughts began to race as he walked off with some girl who wasn’t you, while you sat infatuated with some guy that wasn’t him.

rafe has never felt this out-of-control. usually he was always able to maintain a situation, but you were proving impossible to maintain. maybe that’s what he liked about you usually, but right now it was infuriating. the whole ‘vacation fling’ was supposed to be a joke– now, not only was it real, you were wanting to stay with the guy.

enzo had you… what the fuck was rafe supposed to do now?

TAGS ! @yktayy9669 @drewsswifeyy @drewrry @frankoceanluvr11 @dearestmillls @icaqttt @mystic-megumi @hpboysslut2707

[saffusthings]

second chances

mob boss! lando norris x reader

part nineteen: the talk

word count: 2.7k

warnings: none

eighteen | nineteen | twenty

Alex had texted her again after that, hoping to finally set their plans into motion.

alex :) : Let’s do something this Friday. Just us.  No laptops, no deadlines, no work talk. You in?

She smiled at the message. Even if it had taken them nearly two weeks to find an overlapping free night, the idea of just sitting across from him and talking like they used to felt like something worth holding onto.

They chose a quiet little trattoria near the university, a place with soft lighting and handwritten menus and a clumsy charm to it. He arrived five minutes late, apologizing with that boyish grin she remembered liking the first time they met. She told him it was okay. It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t exactly true, either.

“You look nice,” he said as he pulled out her chair.

“So do you,” she returned, and it wasn’t a lie. His hair was slightly tousled, probably from running between lectures, and he had the faintest ink smudge on his wrist from jotting down notes during a lab.

The first few minutes were easy. They laughed about a classmate of his who had fallen asleep mid-presentation. They exchanged complaints about professors and tuition hikes. They took turns trading stories that, at one point, would’ve stretched into the hours.

Y/N sat across from Alex, her fingers idly stirring her straw in the water glass. The background noise of the place filled the lull in their conversation—light conversation from other tables, the clink of silverware, the low hiss of steam in the kitchen.

He looked good, even if tired. He wore button-up sleeves rolled to his elbows, hair misted from the initial drizzle, dark circles under his eyes that hadn’t been there a few weeks ago.

This was… nice. Familiar. Safe.

But they were both dancing around it.

It came after the main course, somewhere between her barely-touched ravioli and his third glance at the clock.

“This was nice,” she said, her voice soft.

“Yeah,” Alex nodded. He offered a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I missed this.”

“I missed this too,” she echoed, because it was true.

But there was a pause, and the pause said more than anything they could put into words. Because this had become rare. This had become something they had to schedule, not something that came naturally. They were both always tired. Always behind on something—notes, reading, sleep.

“I’ve been meaning to text,” he said, and she gave him a look that was almost amused.

“Of course.”

His smile turned sheepish. “It’s not that I didn’t want to—it’s just… with lab hours and midterms and—”

“I get it. Really.” 

They both knew what was coming.

“I like you,” he said gently.

She met his eyes, and hers were kind. “I like you too.”

Another silence.

He reached across the table, his hand slipping into hers, his thumb brushing against her knuckles with a barely there touch. 

Barely-there. Ha. 

For a moment, he just looks at her. Not like he’s looking for something, but instead as if he was trying to commit her to memory. The view before him would have been picturesque – good food, better wine, warm lighting, a beautiful girl– but it’s tinged bittersweet by the guilt that lodged itself in his throat.

Her hand was warm in his, soft and familiar. He liked holding her hand.

Alex wondered what he’d done in some previous life to have deserved a girl as sweet as this.

He hesitated. “I just– I don’t want to pretend like this isn’t... fizzling.”

Y/N’s heart sank, but not from heartbreak—more like confirmation.

Ever the hopeless romantic, huh? “I know.”

He looked at her again, just one more time. For a second, that first date flashed in his mind – the two of them sat across from each other in a restaurant much like this one, except there was sadness in her eyes now that didn’t remember being there that first night. 

Disappointment. Like she had wanted better, but got this in return.

“It’s just not the right time, is it?”

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head the way she used to when she used to  laugh at his bad puns. “I’m afraid it’s not.”

He studied her carefully. “I care about you. You are so  smart and so kind, and I…  I’ve loved spending time with you.”

“...But?” she asked quietly, trying to keep the nervousness out of her voice. She’d never dated much, but this had always been the part she’d dreaded the most.

She always did get attached too easily.

But Alex looked at her with those same kind brown eyes–the ones she’d watched crinkle with laughter and glow with ambition and warm with fondness. Now he looked…

There wasn’t really a word for it. For the first time, she couldn’t really pinpoint what it was that he was feeling.

But he smiled at her, and it seemed sad. She suddenly wished she wouldn’t look at him like that. Or at all, for that matter. Sitting here, out in the open and  forced to confront emotional truths, made her feel exposed.

“But we barely have time anymore,” he continued softly. “We’re always trying to find windows in calendars that are already packed. And when we do—it feels like we’re trying to remember what this was.”

They were quiet for a long moment. The restaurant around them buzzed with soft conversation and clinking glasses. Someone at another table laughed faintly in the background, and she briefly wondered if that could’ve been how this dinner was supposed to go. 

Alex had a nice laugh. It made you want to know what was funny just so you could laugh with him. But even if you didn’t, you’d probably end up laughing with him anyway. 

She liked Alex’s laugh.

“I wanted it to work,” she admitted. “You’re easy to talk to. Nice, y’know? You make me feel like I’m not totally losing my mind.”

“You are… brilliant,” he said, his tone lowering with sincerity and softening with thoughtfulness. “And you deserve someone who has more time. More energy. I’ve got my head so far in my thesis I sometimes forget to eat.”

She smiled, nodding slowly. “I get it. I think maybe we’re just... trying to hold onto potential now?”

“That’s fair,” he said, sounding sincere. “Do you think we’re still friends?”

“I’d like that,” she said, even if it felt like an ending.

Neither of them said the word breakup. It didn’t feel right. They’d been... something. A quiet, almost-relationship that held potential. Maybe even comfort. But it hadn’t grown. Or maybe they hadn’t had the time to let it.

They paid the bill and walked out into the chill of the night. He offered to walk her home, and she let him. When they reached the end of the street, they shared a quiet, lingering hug. No bitterness. Just a softness. A mutual understanding that they’d both tried. He kissed her cheek before they parted, lingering just a little too long like he might change his mind, like maybe this didn’t have to be the last try—but neither of them said it. Y/N didn’t go up to her apartment right away. Instead, she wandered aimlessly for a while, letting the cool night air clear her head. The ‘breakup’—or whatever it was—wasn’t devastating, but it still left a hollow feeling in her chest.

She reached for her phone and typed out a quick message.

Y/N: Hey Margot, do you have someone to cover my shift tomorrow morning?

The elderly woman replied almost immediately.

Margot❣️: I’m not sure. But I can check, dear. Everything okay?

She looked at the message, re-read it, and proceeded to click her phone off. She definitely felt guilty for leaving her on read knowing that she’d probably worry, but not enough to take it back. Y/N just needed a night.

It wasn’t like she cried when she got to her room or anything like that. It was more like she just lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling. As the clock ticked faintly in the dark room, the sound of a familiar playlist played faintly until she drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning, she stared at the wall for a few hours, then emailed her professor to ask for an extension on her paper—one she probably didn’t need, but couldn’t bring herself to write just yet.

She called out of her shift, too.

Margot had taken the call early that morning—Y/N’s voice slightly hoarse, apologies tucked in between practically every word. With her voice low, Y/N told the shopkeeper she wasn’t feeling well. That she'd try to make it up tomorrow.

Margot hadn’t pressed. She had a sense for people, especially for someone she’d known for as long as she’d known Y/N. Margot showed up to the cafe, brewed the espresso herself, and ran the shop like she had in the old days, humming along to the soft jazz from the speakers.

She didn’t show up to the café the next day.

Lando noticed it first the second he stepped inside near close—something felt off. The lighting was warm, but the place was quieter than usual. The radio still hummed softly in the background, a lazy jazz tune floating through the air. But her laugh wasn’t there. Her voice wasn’t behind the counter. She wasn’t at her usual spot next to the espresso machine.

Instead, it was Margot.

The old woman stood near the bar, wiping down a mug with the care of someone who had been doing this for decades. She looked up when she heard the bell, smiling from behind the register when she saw him. Her silvery hair was pinned back with a navy scarf, and she wore a classic, well-loved cardigan — the one with the worn cuffs and a coffee stain near the elbow.

“Evening, darling,” she said. “Your usual?”

Lando paused, scanning the shop, then gave her a faint nod. “Yeah, sure.”

Margot began preparing the drink with her usual, methodical grace. Lando leaned against the counter, still glancing around.

“Liam,” she called out, using the name she’d been told. “Y/N is not here tonight.”

Lando nodded, though the use of the name felt like a stone in his chest. “I thought… she was working tonight.”

“She called out this morning,” Margot said. “First time in a while.”

He nodded slowly, eyes scanning the room as if she might suddenly appear from one of the back rooms anyway. “Erm, uh– Is everything alright? With her, I mean.”

Margot studied him for a moment. She’d seen the way he lingered, always arriving just a little before closing. She’d watched the way her girl smiled at him without quite realizing she was smiling. And she’d noticed the way he hovered—not in the unsettling way of the men she’d had to warn Y/N about before —but like he didn’t quite know if he was allowed to come near, to care.

At his question, Margot gave him a look, one that made it clear she knew he was fishing for information. She poured him a cup of spiced black coffee without asking and set it in front of him. “She said she wasn’t feeling great.”

Lando hummed in response, lifting the cup but not drinking from it yet. “That right?”

Margot tilted her head, studying him in that way only people who had seen decades of life could. “You two are close?”

Lando smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Mm, I give her a ride sometimes.”

Margot let out a soft chuckle. “Mhm.” 

She wiped her hands on a rag and leaned easily on the counter, her expression more knowing than accusatory. “You know, Liam… I have been running this café for a long time. I see a lot of people come and go. I know when someone is paying attention more than they should.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, playing along. “S’that so?”

Lando’s grip on his cup tightened for a fraction of a second. 

Does she know?

While the Reaper was well known throughout Monaco, Lando’s face wasn’t exactly posted on billboards. It made him tougher to identify, more elusive to his enemies. They’d always be surprised to learn that someone as young as him was the face of a reputation as notable as his.

Yet Margot looked at him with a certain glimmer in her eye, barely concealed and rooted in the wisdom that comes from decades of reading people.

Margot smiled softly, patting his arm once before straightening up. “She’s a good girl,” she told him as she turned to refill the sugar jar beside the register. “But she carries a lot of things on those little shoulders. I think people forget that sometimes, because she is always smiling.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, processing that. 

She pointed at him, a mock-stern expression on her face. “So do not go making things complicated for her, alright?”

Lando took a sip of his coffee, swallowing down the impulse to say something too honest. Instead, he just smirked and said, “Me? Complicate things? Never.”

Margot let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Sure, dear. Keep telling yourself that.”

Margot wiped her hands on her apron, letting the conversation lull and seeming deep in thought. “You check on her sometimes, don’t you?”

Lando’s jaw ticked, turning the words over in his mind. 

Does gelato count?

“We're… friends,” he replied instead, looking away to admire the wall of bookshelves instead. The peonies looked sadder today.

“Mhm,” she hummed. “Funny. You don’t look like the kind of man who has many friends.”

He didn’t answer that. Just stepped forward, eyes scanning the café like he could find something of her still lingering in the air. Her scent in the roasted beans. Her laughter woven into the music from the speakers.

“You are kind to her,” Margot added. “I notice it. She is very, how you say…,” she trails off, looking off in the distance for the right word to come to her. “Ah! Soft-hearted.”

Lando nodded before looking back down at his coffee cup, wrapping his hand around the paper cup. The foam swirled around slowly in invisible circles, shimmering against the dark drink. It didn’t taste the same today, but his mind wasn’t on the coffee.

Instead, he thought about the empty space behind the counter. The absence of her laugh. The faint echo of her voice in his memory.

And all of a sudden, he was hit with the striking and very uncomfortable realization that he missed her.

Margot, unaware of the Brit’s internal dilemma, continued to clean out the espresso machine, before wiping at the counters with a rag as she spoke to him. “Tell her I said to rest tomorrow, too. And you—” she narrowed her eyes as she handed the cup over—“don’t make her think she has to explain herself. She doesn’t tell me these things as if I won’t worry about that girl anyway.”

He was still sitting at the counter, watching the cars drive by through the large windows spanning the front of the shop. He probably would have left sooner, but he wasn’t sure if she was still conversing with him, seeing as he was the only customer here past closing. They’d been talking and she hadn’t kicked him out, so he felt it’d be disrespectful to leave just yet. 

Looks like he was right.

He met her gaze, something almost rueful in his. “I wouldn’t, Madame.”

There's an awkward beat where Margot, an elderly woman who’s maximum height was likely still below that of Lando’s shoulder, shoots the young man a look like she’s looking straight through him.

“Right,” he said finally. “I’ll, uh… I’ll see her next time, then. Cheers.”

He turned to leave, but Margot’s voice stopped him. Lando paused, eyes flicking back to her.

“Whatever name you gave her,” Margot spoke gently, as if they were discussing something as simple as the weather of living room decor, “whoever you are outside of this place—I see the way you look at her. Do not betray her trust just because you are scared of what your presence might mean.”

The name you gave her? Whoever you are?

Lando’s heart began to thud against his chest.

Immediately, he gave her a nod in hopes that it would be enough for the shopkeeper to be satisfied. As he turned to leave, Margot called after him one final time, soft and unassuming: “She’s not like the world you come from, you know.”

He paused. Tensed.

“I know,” he said quietly.

Fuck.

a/n: dun dun dun!

also i very much rushed to edit this and get it out. sorry if it's not good. lmk if you find any typos/errors!

[fairlyabookie]

the things you do that got them head over heels (pt. 2)

Part 1 here! feat. second years (I severely underestimated how many second years in the roster, so I'm splitting this up into parts!)

Azul - matching his wavelength

Azul’s mind works fast, and boy, does he work fast. The minute he gets working, no one can break his concentration. Many would question him, adding to the fuel of irritation just as he was about on a streak. Either people were on board or they’d have to get out of the way. One of the other, no one could stop him from going forward with his antics.

You, on the other hand, catch on fast; asking him the right questions, listening thoughtfully to his explanation, and lastly, understanding his intentions. His heart soared as you lay out your thoughts, your opinions, a refreshing perspective against the same old song of doubt and affirmations.

What he really needed from this endeavor was someone who could challenge him and take his opinion into account if they ever became so unkindly to his target audience - besides, he had to be more ethical with how he ran things in business. Commodifying individuals was ugly, but he had to hear them out at least. Once you had finished your train of thought, Azul couldn’t help but send a smile to your direction, already writing down a summary of your explanation on a sheet of paper.

“Thank you, [Reader], I shall consider your proposal.”

Ruggie - food

A simple platter of food, from a home-cooked meal or a to-go meal from Mostro Lounge, was enough to capture Ruggie’s heart - he’d accept with no hesitation, already scarfing it down the minute he saw the item. Sure, he’d have a whole carton of donuts, but nothing beats a delicious meal, one that was nutritiously filling for him, enough to satiate him, for the day, enough to leave a smile on his face.

He’d offer a portion of food for you, as a means of thanking you for the trouble of getting him food. As an extra, he’d even ask how much you paid for the food and the location of the restaurant so he could pay you back. Yet, you choose not to disclose; watching his micro expressions, from devouring the food to enjoying every morsel of it.

You encourage him to eat more, citing more to come in the future. The second year’s ears pull back, his eyes of glassy gray widening in surprise. He makes a protest, yet your fingers seal his lips shut. A smile lingers on your lips, one of sincerity and unfiltered kindness, a gesture that didn’t merit transaction but the generosity of one’s heart.

“Please enjoy your meal, Ruggie. You deserve it.”

Riddle - a ride with the horses

Riddle noticed you weren’t in the best of spirits, citing a poor performance on an alchemy assessment. From just that, the thought of hitting the books one more time tired you out, and Riddle knew just the thing to lift your spirits: a ride with the horses. Of course, he lets you choose your horse, while he went for Vorpal, the very horse he had been riding with since he became a member of the club.

Soon, the two of you embark on your steads in a grand pasture, the roaring wind teasing your hair in bursts as the horse matches their pace with Vorpal. In replacement of stress, exhilaration courses through your being, stress melting away each passing second. You peer over to Riddle, his gaze fixated upon you, sunshine gleaming into eyes of granite, slivers of gray and purple.

A mask of vulnerability, a disarming smile that left your heart thundering against your chest, even louder than the hooves against the pasture. You muster the courtesy to smile back, averting your gaze to your horse, your pounding heart lost in the chaos of galloping.

“This is refreshing, Riddle! No wonder you enjoy this so much!”

Floyd - fit check

Floyd’s phone chimes, a notification badge lighting up his phone. He doesn’t hesitate to unlock his phone, seeing your text message pop up with a picture. Oh, what did Shrimpy wear today, huh? A toothy smirk graces his lips as he sees your profile.

Standing before the mirror with your phone pointed towards your figure, Floyd had to hold back a wolf whistle - for modesty and professionalism, of course. He looks back and forth, and twice again for good measure, before whipping up a response.

Azul would certainly scold him for not doing his job, but Floyd didn’t care: you looked delicious. With just a sweeping glance over the photo, he could tell of the brands you were wearing, the way you appealingly styled your attire, and the way the colors complimented your skin, oh, would he love to steal your outfit for a day. He sends an extra message, one just to make sure you know you looked good.

“Whoa, you really liked it, huh, Floyd?”