#those are the ones i think of off the bat

[stealingyourbones]

Danny, being a halfa, falls under the strange category of people who can converse with the dead and act in their names. Most mediums simply convey messages. It was rare for someone to be able to fulfill a ghost’s dying request and have that act tied to the ghost’s core.

Honestly it’s annoying.

He doesn’t get any alone time anymore for homework or hobbies. The dead are constantly pestering Danny to help with their desires - which, sure, it helps them move on which means they’re out of Danny’s hair, but come on!! Give a guy a break! Just because he doesn’t need as much sleep as a fully living person doesn’t mean he can go without entirely!

“No Scott,” Danny repeated for the fifth time, “I am not flying to California tonight. Do you know how far that is? Literally the other coast of this massive continent. Meet me there in August like everyone else on the list.”

Spending the first spring break of college creating a map and calendar for Last Rites was not something Danny expected when he moved to Gotham.

Why did this city have so many ghosts?! It was ridiculous. And he thought Amity Park was bad? At least the ghosts here were mostly Shades. Not visible to anyone unless they were also dead-adjacent or had The Sight or a bloodline curse or a magical amulet… you know what? There were enough of those in this curse ridden city, why couldn’t these ghosts go find one of those people instead? Danny was exhausted.

So exhausted he didn’t notice the vigilante dropping down from the rooftop.

“Hey there kid, you alri-”

“Yeah yeah,” Danny waved a hand dismissively at the voice without looking up. “Wait in line like everyone else. But honestly you’d be better off coming back tomorrow when I’ve had some sleep.”

“Think maybe you outta get started on that sleep now, bud?” the voice behind him spoke in a calm careful tone.

One Danny had heard all too often since dying.

His head jerked sideways to stare wide-eyed at Nightwing, who tensed just a little as if expecting Danny to run or fight. Instead he let out a groan and slumped onto the park bench, rubbing his eyes to ease the burn of fatigue. He’d been coming out to this park at the corner of campus each night to keep the Shades from mobbing him all day long in classes, but they’d spread the word around Gotham that he was here and his precious spring break had become a non-stop line of requests and arguments. Made sense he’d caught the attention of one of the Bats. Should have expected it sooner.

Danny ignored all the voices around him and looked at Nightwing directly as he prattled off his usual list when someone caught him talking to thin air.

“No, I’m not hallucinating. I got all my Rogue Gallery immunizations the day I checked onto campus. I’m not schizophrenic. The only meds I take are for adhd and the occasional Tylenol. I’m not a danger to myself or others. Unless they attack me first.”

Nightwing nodded along, but tilted his head at the end.

“I’m talking to the dead,” Danny answered the unspoken question in a tired monotone, waiting for the usual skepticism or plea for help with lost loved ones.

“Oh. Okay then.”

“What?” That wasn’t expected.

“No yeah, that makes sense.”

Danny was sure his jaw was on the ground. “You… you believe me?”

“Well sure,” the hero shrugged and chuckled. “I can’t see ghosts myself but I know a couple magicians who work with one, and my little brother Robin has a ghost on his team - she’s actually visible most of the time so I don’t know if that’s a special skill or something else going on. But I’m glad you’re okay and don’t need any emergency medication. I know a couple 24 hour pharmacies that would help but it’s nice when they’re not needed. We don’t get a lot of mediums around Gotham holding court at night so you really can’t fault me for checking in.”

Danny was still floating in the relief of not being questioned or doubted. That hadn’t happened since Jazz found out his secret. She’d had plenty of questions about his halfa status, of course, but never called him crazy for talking to things others couldn’t see. Even Sam and Tucker would forget sometimes and give him strange looks before realizing he was dealing with a Shade, Wisp, or Memory.

He didn’t realize he was wobbling until Nightwing’s arms shot out to stabilize him.

Danny blinked up at the pretty face that was trying not to chuckle, held by strong arms, and so far past tired he might be getting delirious after all because his brain seemed to have lost its filter and he said out loud,

“You actually believe me. I think I love you.”

Then the horrifying embarrassment hit at the same time as Nightwing’s laughter. Which… sounded delighted rather than mean spirited?

“Well now it’s your turn to wait in line, cuz that’s the fourth confession I’ve had this week!” They both devolved into snorts and giggles, Danny still relying on those arms for balance, but when they’d caught their breath the vigilante said, “Come on, you’ve really got to get some sleep. I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”

Ignoring the whispers and grumbles of the Shades was easier with someone walking beside him.

This is so incredibly cute oml. It’s so rare to see the bats actually go with the flow and god it isn’t done enough. 12/10 immaculate, glorious.

The entire plot I can see so clearly in my mind dude:

Danny chatting to Nightwing as they walk to his dorm

Nightwing asking some casual questions about ghosts and Danny asking about vigilante work.

Nightwing informs the Bats of Danny as he might be a valuable asset in the future.

Nightwing helps free shades with Danny and he realizes why Danny is so incredibly tired all the time.

Nightwing managing to stumble into Danny every day of his break, slowly getting to know each other more and more and becoming really good friends (perhaps lovers 👀).

Wonderful stuff man ty for the ask!

[simp4fictionalmenandjesus]

Imagine platonic yandere batfamily with a 'shallow' reader.

To set the scene, you join the family at 15. You’re old enough to have the capability to take care of yourself, but you’re young enough to want someone to take care of you. (I’m thinking she has a wealthy-ish background, not socialite level, but she’s be the richest kid at Gotham high school (public school).) You’re the result of one of Brucie Wayne’s many love affairs that somehow slipped under the radar.

your mother was a more of a logical person, raising you to follow your brain more instead of your heart. But she still taught you to be empathetic. Unfortunately, she dies in a car accident.

Your picked up by the Wayne’s and there’s immediately hostility between you and your new family. On the background check the bats had done, most evidence was pointing to you being a shallow teenage girl.

It didn’t help that the first thing you did upon arriving to the manor was force everyone into a selfie on Snapchat. Damian had to be held back from stabbing you.

The next thing you did was ask about your allowance, and then proceed to squeal once you were handed a black card by Bruce.

Once you excitedly left to your new room, Dick reminded everyone that people grieve in their own ways.

Family dinner was painfully awkward that night. There was no way that the Wayne’s would talk to you about any bat related activities, and when Bruce tried to ask you about your hobbies, you went on a 30 minute rant about designer products.

It was like having one of Bruce’s suitors constantly around.

Everything about you was shrill, high-pitched, loud and out of touch.

It’s your lack of grief thay really gets them. At your mother’s funeral, you didn’t even shed a tear. Your speech was cantered around how your mother had accomplished a lot, but it came off more as an employee describing a boss than a daughter reminiscing over her mother. When Bruce had softly asked you if you wanted your mother buried or cremated you shrugged your shoulders. “Do whatever, I don’t care.”

Now, your family is convinced that you’re a sociopathic stereotypical mean girl.

You can’t really blame them for thinking that as how would they know about the silent tears you shed every night. Keeping a front up was taking its toll on you, and even your usual coping habit of shopping wasn’t helping you feel better as with every item you add to cart you stop yourself from finding your mother to ask for her opinion on it.

After you fall asleep in tears, you’ll wake up and force yourself to forget.

———————

(Also reader’s speech at her mother’s funeral isn’t that heartfelt because she doesn’t want to share her personal memories with a room of people who she barely knows. Those are her memories. And the idc reply to whether the body is cremated or buried is genuine, to her the body isn’t her mother anymore so whatever happens to it doesn’t matter. She’s more concerned about keeping her mother’s belongings in good shape.)

———————-

A couple of years pass and you’re graduating high school. Your grades are average and you apply for a biology degree in Metropolis University. You’re not ashamed to admit that the power of nepotism definitely helped you in.

You look in the crowd for any sign of your family, and wave happily at Alfred. Do you care that no one else showed up? Not really. You didn’t need to be love. You loved yourself to make up for any of the love you lacked.

Sure, in your first year at Wayne Manor you were upset at the fact that you were never invited to things unless they were public events. But you couldn’t really complain about it, because when you did throw a tantrum and got your way, Bruce invited you to movie night which was painfully awkward as you sat on a lone arm chair while everyone else snuggled together. And the whole night you for side eyed by everyone.

The next family movie night you were invited to, everyone cancelled.

You suppose that the Wayne's and you were too different to get along.

After attending a week long spree of parties, going on a grad trip with your friend group to Ibiza, you came home to a practically empty mansion. Alfred was the only one there.

You appreciated the butler, he was the closest thing you had to a father. He hugged you tightly, before he dropped you off at the airport to fly to metropolis.

-------------------------------------

A year passes, you show up to the Wayne Manor at Alfred's request. Everyone is there.

And everyone is really nice.

Huh.

---------

Yea im turning this idea into a proper fic but I'll probably make shallow reader way cyuntier.

[metanarrates]

Hello. Sorry if this a stupid question u can ignore if u want.

How can someone get better at media analysis? Besides obviously reading a lot.

Im asking this bc im in a point where im aware of my own lack of tools to analyze stories, but i don't know where to get them or how to get better in general. How did you learn to analyze media? There's any specific book, essay, author, etc that you recommend? Somewhere to start?

I'm asking you because you are genuinely the person who has the best takes on this site. Thank you for you work!

it sounds like a cop-out answer but it's always felt like a skill I acquired mostly thru reading a ton, and by paying a lot of attention in high school literature classes. because of that I can't promise that I'm necessarily equipped to be a good teacher or that i know good resources. HOWEVER! let me run some potential advice to you based on the shit i get a lot of mileage out of

first off, a lot of literary analysis is about pattern recognition! not just pattern recognition in-text, but out-of-text as well. how does this work relate to its genre? real-world history? does it have parallels between real-life situations? that kind of thing.

which is a big concept to just describe off the bat, so let me break it down further!

in literature, there is the concept of something called literary devices - they are some of the basic building blocks in how a story is delivered mechanically and via subtext. have you ever heard of a motif? that is a literary device. it's a pattern established in the text in order to further the storytelling! and here is a list of a ton of common literary devices - I'd recommend reading the article. it breaks down a lot of commonly used ones in prose and poetry and explains their usage.

personally, I don't find all the literary devices I've learned about in school to be the most useful to my analytical hobbies online. motifs, themes, and metaphors are useful and dissecting them can bring a lot to the table, but a lot of other devices are mostly like fun bonus trivia for me to notice when reading. however, memorizing those terms and trying to notice them in the things you read does have a distinct benefit - it encourages you to start noticing patterns, and to start thinking of the mechanical way a story is built. sure, thinking about how the prose is constructed might not help you understand the story much more, but it does make you start thinking about how things like prose contribute to the greater feeling of a piece, or how the formatting of a piece contributes to its overall narrative. you'll start developing this habit of picking out little things about a text, which is useful.

other forms of in-text pattern recognition can be about things like characterization! how does a character react to a certain situation? is it consistent with how they usually behave? what might that tell you about how they think? do they have tells that show when they're not being trustworthy? does their viewpoint always match what is happening on screen? what ideas do they have about how the world works? how are they influenced by other people in their lives? by social contexts that might exist? by situations that have affected them? (on that note, how do situations affect other situations?)

another one is just straight-up noticing themes in a work. is there a certain idea that keeps getting brought up? what is the work trying to say about that idea? if it's being brought up often, it's probably worth paying attention to!

that goes for any pattern, actually. if you notice something, it's worth thinking about why it might be there. try considering things like potential subtext, or what a technique might be trying to convey to a reader. even if you can't explain why every element of a text is there, you'll often gain something by trying to think about why something exists in a story.

^ sometimes the answer to that question is not always "because it's intentional" or even "because it was a good choice for the storytelling." authors frequently make choices that suck shit (I am a known complainer about choices that suck shit.) that's also worth thinking about. english classes won't encourage this line of thinking, because they're trying to get you to approach texts with intentional thought instead of writing them off. I appreciate that goal, genuinely, but I do think it hampers people's enthusiasm for analysis if they're not also being encouraged to analyze why they think something doesn't work well in a story. sometimes something sucks and it makes new students mad if they're not allowed to talk about it sucking! I'll get into that later - knowing how and why something doesn't work is also a valuable skill. being an informed and analytical hater will get you far in life.

so that's in-work literary analysis. id also recommend annotating your pages/pdfs or keeping a notebook if you want to close-read a work. keeping track of your thoughts while reading even if they're not "clever" or whatever encourages you to pay attention to a text and to draw patterns. it's very useful!

now, for out-of-work literary analysis! it's worth synthesizing something within its context. what social settings did this work come from? was it commenting on something in real life? is it responding to some aspects of history or current events? how does it relate to its genre? does it deviate from genre trends, commentate on them, or overall conform to its genre? where did the literary techniques it's using come from - does it have any big stylistic influences? is it referencing any other texts?

and if you don't know the answer to a bunch of these questions and want to know, RESEARCH IS YOUR FRIEND! look up historical events and social movements if you're reading a work from a place or time you're not familiar with. if you don't know much about a genre, look into what are considered common genre elements! see if you can find anyone talking about artistic movements, or read the texts that a work might be referencing! all of these things will give you a far more holistic view of a work.

as for your own personal reaction to & understanding of a work... so I've given the advice before that it's good to think about your own personal reactions to a story, and what you enjoy or dislike about it. while this is true that a lot of this is a baseline jumping-off point on how I personally conduct analysis, it's incomplete advice. you should not just be thinking about what you enjoy or dislike - you should also be thinking about why it works or doesn't work for you. if you've gotten a better grasp on story mechanics by practicing the types of pattern recognition i recognized above, you can start digging into how those storytelling techniques have affected you. did you enjoy this part of a story? what made it work well? what techniques built tension, or delivered well on conflict? what about if you thought it sucked? what aspects of storytelling might have failed?

sometimes the answer to this is highly subjective and personal. I'm slightly romance-averse because I am aromantic, so a lot of romance plots will simply bore me or actively annoy me. I try not to let that personal taste factor too much into serious critiques, though of course I will talk about why I find something boring and lament it wasn't done better lol. we're only human. just be aware of those personal taste quirks and factor them into analysis because it will help you be a bit more objective lol

but if it's not fully influenced by personal taste, you should get in the habit of building little theses about why a story affected you in a certain way. for example, "I felt bored and tired at this point in a plot, which may be due to poor pacing & handling of conflict." or "I felt excited at this point in the plot, because established tensions continued to get more complex and captured my interest." or "I liked this plot point because it iterated on an established theme in a way that brought interesting angles to how the story handled the theme." again, it's just a good way to think about how and why storytelling functions.

uh let's see what else. analysis is a collaborative activity! you can learn a lot from seeing how other people analyze! if you enjoy something a lot, try looking into scholarly articles on it, or youtube videos, or essays online! develop opinions also about how THOSE articles and essays etc conduct analysis, and why you might think those analyses are correct or incorrect! sometimes analyses suck shit and developing a counterargument will help you think harder about the topic in question! think about audience reactions and how those are created by the text! talk to friends! send asks to meta blogs you really like maybe sometimes

find angles of analysis that interest and excite you! if you're interested in feminist lenses on a work, or racial lenses, or philosophical lenses, look into how people conduct those sort of analyses on other works. (eg. search feminist analysis of hamlet, or something similar so you can learn how that style of analysis generally functions) and then try applying those lenses to the story you're looking at. a lot of analysts have a toolkit of lenses they tend to cycle through when approaching a new text - it might not be a bad idea to acquire a few favored lenses of your own.

also, most of my advice is literary advice, since you can broadly apply many skills you learn in literary analysis to any other form of storytelling, but if you're looking at another medium, like a game or cartoon, maybe look up some stuff about things like ludonarrative storytelling or visual storytelling! familiarizing yourself with the specific techniques common to a certain medium will only help you get better at understanding what you're seeing.

above all else, approach everything with intellectual curiosity and sincerity. even if you're sincerely curious about why something sucks, letting yourself gain information and potentially learning something new or being humbled in the process will help you grow. it's okay to not have all the answers, or to just be flat-out wrong sometimes. continuing to practice is a valuable intellectual pursuit even if it can mean feeling a tad stupid sometimes. don't be scared to ask questions. get comfortable sometimes with the fact that the answer you'll arrive at after a lot of thought and effort will be "I don't fully know." sometimes you don't know and that can be valuable in its own right!

thank you for the ask, and I hope you find this helpful!

[celestiamour]

Hi, Could you write more about semi x fem reader, maybe the reader helps her not to get murdered? I love semi a lot but there aren't many fanfics about her🥺😭 please

ft. se-mi x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ preventing her untimely demise┊0.6k words

setting: season 2, episode 7 contains: canon-typical violence & murder, sorry nam-gyu fans, it’s one or the other, friends to lovers

➤ author's note: i was so mad when she died, why do the squid game writers hate lesbians

it’s difficult to see anything going on with the bright white fluorescent lights constantly flickering, but the sound of screams piercing through the night was enough to tell you that the “special game” had started and it was dangerous to remain in bed. you watched as one of the women next to you cried out in terror as a man used a broken bottle to stab at her chest,, and you immediately jumped out and hit the floor running before he could turn his sights on you. 

the first people who came to your mind to search for where your allies were to make sure they were alright, particularly min-su and se-mi whom you’ve become close over the past few days and knew would be targets of their previous group after voting to leave. 

you heard her familiar voice yelp in surprise just a little ways from you, the same voice that so often threw compliments at you like they didn’t fluster you so bad you wanted to hide under the blanket and comforted you when you cried about the people who lost their lives earlier that day when everyone else was asleep, sending you into a panic. 

as resilient as se-mi was, she was no match to overpower nam-gyu physically as you watched him corner her against the wall, his bloodlust so powerful you could almost smell it with one of the forks given out during dinnertime in hand. you could see a glint of red shining off the metal, indicating that it was already used to take a life. 

a glass bottle suddenly came in between them, shattering against the concrete floor. you didn’t even bother to look up, just seizing the opportunity to jump the man from behind and trying to steal the silverware from his grip while he was still in shock. while you couldn’t fully take it from him, you did manage to knock it out of his hands. 

you were smaller than him, but you used all of the strength in your body to keep him pinned down once se-mi kicked him in the stomach and picked up the utensil. without hesitation, she began to repeatedly stab him in the neck with it, over and over again, both of you ignoring his pleas and screams knowing that he would have done the same to her without so much as batting an eye. you only got off him when he stopped squirming under your grasp, ignoring the blood that splattered all over your hands, clothing, and face.

it hasn’t hit you yet that you just held a man down for her to murder and you’re sure the guilt will consume you later, but all that matters is that both of you have survived to see another day together. you’ve never been so happy to see those damn guards in their hot pink uniform, even if they were shortly taken down in a matter of minutes to steal their guns for the planned player revolt. both of you 

neither of you were allowed to join due to a lack of experience with firearms and being women, but due to the clear determination in your eyes, they did leave a walkie-talkie to call for backup if they needed it.

once the shots fell quiet and were no longer ringing in your ears, se-mi looked at you with a little smile on her face and reached out to caress your face, “you know, i always thought you were really pretty, but i think you look kinda sexy with the blood everywhere.”

“do you really?”

“of course, i do, but we really should wash up”

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

Hello my beautiful friend! I am SO ready to dive back into this series!

Right off the bat, the sexual tension with the gambling 👌🏻. I don't know what it is, but I always love in movies or shows or books when they have a poker game/card game between two people who are obviously into each other. I don't think it's a trope, but- the sexy smiles over the cards, the bluffing, the flirting, the teasing, just OH GOODNESS 😮‍💨

Hey, I know we just met like two minutes ago, but I think we’re supposed to be together. Do you feel it too? You nearly roll your eyes at yourself. Yeah, that’ll go over well.

I'm not going to lie, I would have thought this to myself if I was in her situation. At the same time I feel bad for her because she has all this bottled inside and it's probably even worse that she's in close counters with him, just second guessing everything. BUT I also love that you've given us these wonderful domestic moments between the two of them. ❤️

“All right, I’ll be out back,” he says. Out back, code for out in the shed. You nod, and in a flash, he’s shutting the door behind him.

DANG IT DEAN STOP HIDING FROM YOUR FEELINGS! Man really out there chopping wood trying to forget all his problems and relieve some tension 👀, while the reader is inside trying to educate herself🤣

The way you integrated John's journal into this chapter was so good! It adds on to the lore of the story. I'd never read through the official "John's Journal" merch so it was nice to see those little details and honestly made me feel more connected to the reader, because it was the first time that I was reading the entries too!

You don’t realize you’re crying until a droplet lands on the page. You quickly wipe it away before it becomes a stain, and you dry it all the way with your breath before you move on to the next page, sniffling. Your heart hurts, even as your guilt grows. You know now that you’re really, truly invading Dean’s privacy by reading his father’s words. You just can’t stop yourself from turning the next page.

Girl it's okay we can cry together- DEAN WAS IN THE CRIB WITH SAM. Nothing is okay. I am made of tears. INCONSOLABLE 😭

“Dean, please, just talk to me,” you implore, gesturing at the journal tucked under his arm. “The things I read—” “Are none of your goddamn business!” he growls, making the omega inside you cringe. The alpha’s voice is deep and sharp, and even though he isn’t crowding you, his height and broadness are still intimidating. “The sooner you heal up, the sooner I can ship you back to where you belong,” he says. “Back to your life, so you can stop sticking your nose into mine.” 

No, NO, No. Dean NO.

Bad Dean!

Dean watches you go out the door without a word in irritation, even though it triggers an alarm deep in his gut every time you leave the safety of the cabin. 

AND he knows that she is supposed to be HIS. For the love of rice krispy treats! SHE HAS A BROKEN ANKLE DEAN. Don't let her leave!!!

You thought you were starting to connect with him, but clearly, Dean wants nothing to do with you. He wants you out of his life.  Does he not feel the same pull you feel to him? Does he really not realize…that he’s meant to be your mate? You take in a shaky breath through your nose. If he does, apparently he doesn’t care.

Sweetie he's a grumpy old onion, you gotta peel him back one gorgeous layer at a time. 🤣

This bit is also so heartbreaking, because it's literally her meeting her mate and her believing that he doesn't want her, when it's probably all he does. There's something so raw about that. The idea of finding someone who was literally made for you and believing that they want no part of you. Oh goodness my fragile heart😭

You lean over and cast your gaze down the slope, but all you see is snow and trees down below. With a shaky breath, you lean back and look out to the north again. Plodding along the trail, heading towards you, is a bear.

I'm not going to lie, I wasn't expecting it to be a Bear. I literally thought this was going to turn into Dean saving her from a Wendigo- because of the allusions to her dad being killed by one, but this was such a (un)pleasant surprise LOL

In this moment, these are the things you don’t know about Dean Winchester: For one, the scent of an omega in distress always calls to an alpha’s protective instincts. But the scent of your abject fear feels like someone tried to rip his lungs out through his stomach. Second, when he sees you there, your wide, shiny eyes filled with the remnants of panic, yet relief at the sight of him, it takes everything within him not to drop to his knees, grab you by the hair, sink his teeth into your neck and claim you, right there in the snow. Maybe then you’d start listening to him and stop taking your life into your hands.

I LOVE this insight into his head, just a little piece but enough for the readers to see that Dean does in fact care and that he does feel something for her! Not to mention again... HE PICKS HER UP. I've read Dean in so many fics doing that but each time it just makes me *swoon*.

And oh my word, him finally sitting down with her on the couch and allowing himself to let down some of his walls and let the reader in is just so good!! Not to mention now the reader is going to tell him the truth over how she lost her dad! I'm very excited to read the next chapter, but this one was amazing Alex! 🤗

Against the Wind - Part 2

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Thank you guys so much for all the amazing feedback on Part 1! Now, most of your theories and questions will be answered...

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, and peril, the other kind of "hunting."

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 2: Seems Like Yesterday

“I’ll raise you 25,” you say, tossing five chocolate covered pretzels into the middle pile. It’s a risky bet, considering how much you lost in the last hand. Dean regards you with an amused, if critical eye while he holds his cards.

“Ooh, you’re bluffing,” he says. You pop your brows at him, a subtle smile tugging at your lips.

“You want to test that theory? Put your money where your mouth is,” you challenge.

He tilts his head at you with a raise of his own brows.

“Cheeky omega,” he mutters. His attention returns to his cards as he deliberates on his next move.

You attempt to be nonchalant as you glance down at your cards again. It’s a shitty hand, but he doesn’t need to know that. The alpha’s won the last two hands of Texas Hold ‘Em, but you did win the first one. Though you suspect he let you win.

You want to at least even the score before he resumes his work out in the shed. He spends most of his time there during the day, or making sure the firewood is stocked. It seems like he takes any excuse not to spend too much time in your presence.

More than anything, you want to ask him if he feels what you feel—the same tug in the pit of your stomach every time he’s nearby. You just haven’t found a way to broach that with him.

Hey, I know we just met like two minutes ago, but I think we’re supposed to be together. Do you feel it too?

You nearly roll your eyes at yourself. Yeah, that’ll go over well.

So you have to be content with mornings like this and in the evenings, where he lets you put on one of his records, and you two share dinner together, maybe another round of cards. Or you’ll read a book while lounging on the chaise, and he lays out on the couch, listening to his music with his eyes closed. You like watching him like that, with a relaxed, damn near peaceful set to his face.

Too often he holds that harder, stoic expression, or that divot between his brows that makes you want to soothe two of your fingers there; or better yet, lean in and press your lips—

“It’s your move,” Dean reminds you. He’s finally played his hand, but you were too distracted to hear what he said.

“What’d you do?” you ask, surveying the piles of cards.

“Call,” he repeats, popping a few pretzels into his mouth. He washes it down with beer and more barbeque chips. Those are worth $10 in this little fantasy betting. He points a finger towards you with the same hand that holds his beer, teasing, “You got all the lights on in there? Or am I boring you?”

You glance up at him, fighting a smile. “All right, keep your pants on. Let me see…”

As the dealer, he’s already turned over the River: the last card in the hand. It’s a 10 of Clubs, which means your One Pair is actually a Two Pair. It’s still not a great hand, but it’s decent enough to maybe let you get the best of your opponent.

After you go “all in,” Dean’s lips twitch at a smile, and he humors you, going all in as well. You’re on tenterhooks when he finally reveals his hand.

“Ooh, it ain’t a cheesy ‘90s sitcom, but it’s still…a Full House,” he brags as he lays out each card in a smooth line of overlapping cards, the mix of glossy red diamonds and black spades showing the truth. He won again.

You huff in defeat, your shoulders sinking in your seat at the kitchen table. You turn over your measly hand. Sweeping the winnings toward himself (a mound of chocolate covered pretzels, a stack of barbecue chips, and a handful of Oreos), Dean chuckles and tosses you a wink.

“Ah, don’t beat yourself up, sweetheart. I’ve been hustlin’ poker for a long time. Hell, I’ve been playing this game before I even knew my times tables,” he says as he collects the cards.

“That young?” you reply. “Who taught you?”

“My dad,” he says. “Oh, believe me, I used to get my ass kicked many a’ time, but by the time I turned sixteen, I was hustlin’ grown ass men in skeevy bars out of their daily paycheck.”

“You were hanging out in bars at sixteen?” you ask incredulously. There, Dean seems to realize he’s said too much. He becomes more guarded as he puts away the deck and cleans the crumbs off the table.

“My dad was always working. You could say I didn’t really have a curfew,” he says.

“A latchkey kid, huh?” you reply, hiding the way you’re trying so hard to glean any more hints of truth between his words.

“Heh, yeah.” He gets up from the table and tosses the breakfast dishes in the sink, then travels to the front door to don his jacket and boots.

“All right, I’ll be out back,” he says.

Out back, code for out in the shed. You nod, and in a flash, he’s shutting the door behind him.

You’ve learned another small tidbit about him, one that feels more important than it seems on the surface. And yet, it only elicits more questions you doubt he’ll be willing to answer so easily. He’s more than tight-lipped about his past, only giving vague outlines and general pictures.

Even his stories—like being raised up in a family of traveling mechanics, putting Nair in Sam’s shampoo when he was a kid, or the guy’s serious fear of clowns—feel like they’re missing some key details.

You decide to take up your crutches and head for your room. There you unearth the journal from its hiding place under your pillow. This time, you turn to the very beginning. Before all the jargon about mythology (and an odd footnote about a “Turducken Slammer”), there are actual journal entries. The first one dates back to November 6, 1983. The first line already captures your attention.

I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don’t believe it. Last week we were a normal family…eating dinner, going to Dean’s T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed… When I try to think back, get it all straight in my head…I feel like I’m going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out. I’m wandering around, alone and lost and I can’t do anything.

This is Dean’s father, you realize. The more that you read, with no small amount of dismay, you also realize that this man is writing about his wife, Mary.

Dean’s mom…

He writes about their house burning with all their memories inside, along with Mary. Somehow, he saw her pinned bloody to the ceiling.

Along with these pages is a clipping from a news story:

House Fire Kills Mother of Two

Lawrence, Kansas.

You’re spellbound by it all. You keep reading.

November 13, 1983

…Most of our clothes and photos are ruined, even our safe—the safe with Mary’s old diaries, the boys’ savings bonds, what little jewelry we had…all gone. How could my house, my whole life, go up like that, so fast, so hot? How could my wife just burn up and disappear?

The police don’t believe his story, about how she died before the fire, about what he saw. So he tries to convince himself that what he saw wasn’t real. Still, he can’t find rest, and he worries about his sons’ safety.

December 4, 1983

I haven’t let them out of my sight since the fire. Dean still hardly talks. I try to make small talk, or ask him if he wants to throw the baseball around. Anything to make him feel like a normal kid again. He never budges from my side—or from his brother.

Every morning when I wake up, Dean is inside the crib, arms wrapped around baby Sam. Like he’s trying to protect him from whatever is out there in the night.

Sammy cries a lot, wanting his mom. I don’t know how to stop it, and part of me doesn’t want to. It breaks my heart to think that soon he won’t remember her at all.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a droplet lands on the page. You quickly wipe it away before it becomes a stain, and you dry it all the way with your breath before you move on to the next page, sniffling. Your heart hurts, even as your guilt grows. You know now that you’re really, truly invading Dean’s privacy by reading his father’s words. You just can’t stop yourself from turning the next page.

John becomes convinced that someone, or something, started the fire that destroyed his life and took his wife away from him and his sons. He leaves his job and the remnants of that world behind, to venture deeper into the darker one. But in that darkness, he finds truth.

He visits a psychic, Missouri, who leads him back to his house and senses the echoes of an evil presence—something that shakes her to the core, and John too: the creature that killed his wife.

December 20

…She told me that it was the most powerful, awful thing she’s ever come across.

On January 1, 1984, John makes a New Year’s resolution. He determines to find the answers himself.

A shiver runs down your spine. In John’s words, your heart breaks for Dean, but you also see yourself. You try not to think about why.

You keep flipping through the rest of the journal past January. There are translations of a Latin exorcism, and like you read before, strange drawing of evil looking creatures—as well as what they are, scraps of their history, and how to kill them.

Silver bullet to the heart, can’t withstand iron, salt and burn.

You pause on a certain page, more filled with lore than the rest, and a primitive drawing in the center.

WENDIGO

Cree: Evil that devours.

Wood spirit. Eats live flesh. Lives in forests.

Perfect hunter.

Your breath stills in your lungs as a cold sweat forms across your skin. The more you read, the faster your heart beats.

The crunch of dead leaves. Your father shouting at you to run, and keep running.

The coarse shout of a bear morphs into something other. It’s a sharper, whirring sound like wind howling amidst animalistic clicking, and then bones breaking—your father’s scream cut short. You turn around with your rifle in hand, poised to shoot blindly.

Your stomach churns as bile rises into your throat. You feel sick, and wrong, and you suddenly have the urge to throw the journal against the wall.

“Omega?” calls Dean’s sharp voice. “You okay?”

You jolt badly at the sudden noise. You didn’t hear him reenter the house. He likely caught the scent of your distress. He pushes the door of your room open to find you, but he stops short in the doorway. His surprise quickly morphs into a frown when he notices what you’re holding in your lap.

You gasp, freezing where you sit, but there’s no point in trying to cover up what you’ve done. With an angry purse of his lips, he reaches over and takes the journal from your hands.

“What the hell are you doing with this?” he demands.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I just—” You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I was just curious. I wanted to know more about you. I thought it was…a normal journal.”

“So this is how you go about it, huh? Got everything you wanted, Columbo?” he says, his sarcasm cutting into you. He flips through the journal to make sure all the pages are intact before he tucks the journal under his arm. “Seriously, going into somebody’s stuff? Who the hell raised you?”

At that, you begin to bristle.

“My dad,” you snap back. Though remembering the passages you’ve lived with for the past few hours, you soften with a painful twinge of sympathy in your heart. 

“And it looks like yours raised you to be some kind of…well, what are you, a ghostbuster or something?” you ask.

His jaw locks. “Or something.” 

With an exasperated sigh at his hedging, you swing your legs around the edge of the bed and haul yourself up with your crutches so you can at least match his stance (more or less).

“Dean, please, just talk to me,” you implore, gesturing at the journal tucked under his arm. “The things I read—”

“Are none of your goddamn business!” he growls, making the omega inside you cringe. The alpha’s voice is deep and sharp, and even though he isn’t crowding you, his height and broadness are still intimidating.

“The sooner you heal up, the sooner I can ship you back to where you belong,” he says. “Back to your life, so you can stop sticking your nose into mine.” 

Your mouth actually falls open in shock. His vehement words feel almost as powerful as a physical blow, if to your soul. They make your arms tremble while holding yourself upright on your crutches. Hot tears well up in your eyes, though you try to blink them away. After a moment, you’re able to collect yourself enough to speak.

“I’m sorry for going through your stuff,” you say, in a quiet voice.

You hobble awkwardly past him out of the room. You don’t stop until you reach the front door, where your snow boots are. You manage to get them on by yourself so you can go outside and get some fresh air, not to mention some much needed distance from the alpha’s burning presence. You can still feel him trailing behind you. You hear his heavy boots.

“Where the hell are you going?” he grits out.

You hobble faster.

Dean watches you go out the door without a word in irritation, even though it triggers an alarm deep in his gut every time you leave the safety of the cabin. 

The snow depth has lightened somewhat since the storm, but it’s still not easy to navigate on your crutches. You get some distance from the cabin, mindful not to go too far. You know you’re limited, and you didn’t even take a gun with you.

Finding a solid tree to lean on, you rest there and try in vain to stifle your tears. You know you were wrong for snooping, and he had a right to be mad, but did he really have to be such a freakin’ bear? 

Fucking alphas. I swear.

You thought you were starting to connect with him, but clearly, Dean wants nothing to do with you. He wants you out of his life. 

Does he not feel the same pull you feel to him? Does he really not realize…that he’s meant to be your mate?

You take in a shaky breath through your nose. If he does, apparently he doesn’t care.

Just then, you hear the crunch of snow nearby. Twigs snapping.

Your body stiffens with a terrible memory—of that day in the woods. Your breath comes out in short puffs on the cold air, your eyes wide as you listen closely.

Hearing nothing, you allow yourself to breathe a little easier. You venture a few paces forward and to the right, but you stop shy of how it slopes downward. Some unnamed feeling tells you to look over the edge.

You lean over and cast your gaze down the slope, but all you see is snow and trees down below. With a shaky breath, you lean back and look out to the north again. Plodding along the trail, heading towards you, is a bear.

Oh shit…

You remember Dean mentioning something about a bear passing by his cabin a couple of days before the storm. Looks like he’s back to make his rounds.

His fur is dark; from this distance, you can’t tell if it’s a black bear or a grizzly. It doesn’t make much difference when all you have on your person is a can of bear spray. His gait is massive, unhurried, but he lets out a braying sound when your gaze meets his, as if acknowledging you. He stops there for a moment, assessing. Your body locks up with fear.

The bear groans again, this time sharper. You finally snap out of your reverie and force your body to move slowly backward with your crutches spearing into the snow. The cabin isn’t that far, maybe thirty or forty yards at most. Still, the bear can probably beat you.

Instead of trying to run, you stand your ground and shout at the bear, hoping he’ll back off. Your voice dies in your throat when he rears up on his hind legs, with a loud roar. Trembling, you miss a step and get knocked back into the snow on your ass, your crunches falling out at your sides. You scramble inside your jacket for anything that might help you. 

Bear spray!

You hurry to get the cap off with shaking hands, but before you can even aim, the creature’s heave paws thudding into the ground in front of you—a gunshot rings out and hits the animal in the chest. 

The bear falters, then roars in pain and anger.

Two more shots finally bring it down to an even heavier thud, not far from your feet.

In this moment, these are the things you don’t know about Dean Winchester:

For one, the scent of an omega in distress always calls to an alpha’s protective instincts. But the scent of your abject fear feels like someone tried to rip his lungs out through his stomach.

Second, when he sees you there, your wide, shiny eyes filled with the remnants of panic, yet relief at the sight of him, it takes everything within him not to drop to his knees, grab you by the hair, sink his teeth into your neck and claim you, right there in the snow. Maybe then you’d start listening to him and stop taking your life into your hands.

Instead, his lips purse as he wracks his rifle and slings the strap of it over his shoulder. He stalks toward you and scoops you up, crutches and all. He brings you back to the cabin without a word.

His jaw is once again locked with silence and strain; he doesn’t trust himself to speak until he’s brought you inside and carried you over to the chaise. He sits beside you there and takes an inventory of you with his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks at last.

You manage to meet his gaze and give a little nod.

“Okay. Don’t move,” he says shortly. He gets up and goes to the kitchen, where he grabs a foldable set of knives and a cooler from under the sink.

You watch him in silence, and you realize he’s going back to gut the bear. You didn’t know that he actually hunted out here…well, hunted to eat. He continues to gather items in silence. It gets to a point where you can’t stand it, or his curtness, any longer.

“Thank you,” you say, halting his steps. Dean glances at you over his shoulder, then continues strapping up his supplies. He huffs in response.

“We’re gonna be eatin’ good for a while,” he says without looking at you. 

His attitude both hurts you and aggravates you, so much that you refuse to take it anymore. 

“Look, Dean. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have butted into your life,” you say. Frustrated tears well up in your eyes. Expelling a sharp sigh, you amend yourself. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy. I’m sorry about what you went through, and I’m…I’m sorry about your mom. I’m sorry for today. I’ll just…stay out of your way, and I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

Dean finally turns your way, but your lips tremble as you turn your face away from him and shut your eyes tightly against the salty burn of tears. Deep inside, his heart withers in his chest. He sighs and drops his supplies on the couch. He walks over with those heavy boots, and he sits on the edge of the chaise beside you. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually, he rests a warm, calloused hand on your arm and earns your tearful gaze. 

“I’m sorry. I, uh…shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he says. 

You sniff, quickly wiping away your embarrassing tears as they come. Your cheeks are hot with it.

“What is it you wanna know? About me,” he asks, surprising you that much more.

 Your mouth parts, but nothing comes out. It takes you some time to think, but the first thing that comes to your mind is…

“Everything in that journal,” you say, licking your dry lips. “Is it real?”

Dean holds your gaze steadily. You know the truth without him having to say it, but he does.

“I was a hunter,” he says. “Those things you read about, I found ‘em. Killed ‘em. It was my job.”

“And now?” you ask, once that large bit of information has time to set into your brain.

His lips tug at a half smile. “Consider me…mostly retired.”

You exhale softly, and you nod. It earns a furrowed look from Dean.

“You don’t seem all that freaked out by this,” he says, with a more scrutinizing gaze on you.

“Should I be?” you say, with an unsteady laugh.

He raises his brows. “In my experience, yeah.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. You don’t know if you should even put into words what you’ve been holding onto for months. Like John, no one believed you. Even your own mother had started to look at you like you needed a shrink.

“Omega?” Dean presses. His green eyes are perceptive as they take in the conflicted look on your face. “There something you wanna tell me?”

You deliberate for a moment longer. Then, you release a sigh and glance down at your hands clenching in your lap.

“A few months ago, I lost my dad,” you begin.

Dean nods. “Yeah, you said—”

“I lost him in these woods,” you say.

That quiets the alpha.

You shake your head, and you find your words as the memories that have been haunting your nights return to you.

“Like I said, we used to go hiking here every year…”

AN: Just so you know, all of the journal entries appear in the official "John's Journal" SPN merch. 😉

Next Time:

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name louder, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 3

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[rafesheaven]

Dbf!doctor!rafe always checking if sugar!reader is wet and being a fucking tease so one time when you go to bat his arm away after he says something filthy, you say “at least I have a working libido, I know I’m hot but I bet you can’t even get it up, anymore, old man” which sets him off “then why are you calling this old man ‘daddy’ every night, huh? Why you letting this old man in your perfect little pussy? Just so I spoil your bratty ass? Don’t think you’d always want to be around me without anything in return if that were the case, huh, baby?”😚🤭🤭🤭

-🩰

dbf!doctor!rafe loves teasing sugar cause she's so impatient and needy, always trying to get her way but he knows better, he loves testing her ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა

"bet you're all wet f'me already, huh? just gotta say a few words to dumb your brain down, and you're already soaking those pretty expensive panties i bought you?" rafe taunts, his hand moving to slip under your short skirt, which makes you frown, batting his arm away in retaliation.

"at least i have a working libido, i know i'm hot, but i bet you can't even get it up anymore, old man," you roll your eyes. your little attitude does nothing but set him off, and he's grabbing you and bending you over his lap. he flips your skirt up, his large, rough palm landing on your ass with a harsh smack.

"old man, huh? if that's the case, why do you call this old man, 'daddy' nearly every night? why are you letting this old man in your perfect little pussy, then? just so i could spoil your bratty little ass? if you didn't want to be around me, you wouldn't always be asking for my cock like the greedy little thing you are, don't you think?"

[witherby]

Oooo would Little Wayne be homeschooled to begin with? At least for the first few years of school until everyone is comfortable with them spending hours away- how do you think their first time having a sleepover at a friends would go?

Also I suggest some nicknames!! Maybe Alfred would call them Flittermouse (old English slang for bats because of the noise their wings makes) and that could be shortened to Mouse cause of how quiet they can be sometimes

Or maybe Dick calls them Pup cause baby bats are pups

Or or Sun/Light related nicknames cause that’s very cute

I very much love little Wayne au omg

-🪼

Hi! All excellent questions, thank you so much!!

I think Damian's overprotectiveness would lead to him convincing Bruce to do homeschooling for at least pre-school and kindergarten age. Eventually Bruce would win Damian over by insisting that you deserved to socialize with children in your age group and learn to make friends and develop interests outside of the manor.

Now, you are a Wayne, so you will be sent off to first grade with a bodyguard — perhaps one dressed as a TA if the school insists on exercising a little subtlety — but Bruce isn't stupid not to understand the risks Damian brought up, which is why he allowed preliminary homeschooling to begin with.

I think your first sleepover would be just fine! Your brothers would conduct a very thorough background check on your friend's parents and then patrol the area several nights beforehand, but after assuring your safety, you'd be free to go hang out and play games and do all the normal sleepover things you'd want! They'd try their best not to hover — you deserve to live as normal of a life as possible.

I LOVE THOSE NICKNAMES! FLITTERMOUSE IS SO CUTE AHHHH

I personally like it a lot, but I'm gonna put your options up to another vote! If there are other nickname ideas, my inbox is always open, so don't hesitate to tell me!

[unfortunatelyphoenix]

Ok, so I know that the GIW base got blown to smithereens but if they really are a part of the government then there is probably at least 1 in each state, meaning Danny isn't as safe as he first thought and that brings in so much potential angst. So ima give a small prompt/scenario to the people who actually know what's going on in these fandoms other than the odd episode or two that they watched when they were still a kid.

The GIW that were stationed in New Jersey had recently gotten a very strong reading from the city of Gotham, and while the place usually has a lower reading thanks to what's constantly happening in that hell city this is way more than normal, so they go and investigate it. This team likely hasn't heard of Phantom before, and if they did they think he died in the explosion, so when they go to investigate and inevitably find Trickster during the night they think that he's a new ghost harassing the living and causing problems. Danny on the other hand is scared shit-less when he sees this group of GIW and immediately freaks out, having thought he had gotten rid of them or at least away from them when he set the bomb off, so he immediately goes to flee in terror. As he was fleeing them though one of the agents managed to hit him in the abdomen with one of their weapons, and while not a direct hit it's still really bad. Like it's causing him unimaginable pain and making his powers freak out badly, so he is crying as he holds his bleeding stomach as he desperately tries to get away from these guys.

Eventually, at some point of him fleeing, he runs into another rogue somehow, maybe he runs into Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy or something idk. But what matters is that this kid, who has never shown anything goofy kindness, even in the few rogue fights he's been in (and those are more so just bickering or him being a lighthearted prankster), is crying and absolutely terrified with a horrendous injury to his abdomen that's somehow causing his powers to freak out. Whoever found him knows this couldn't have been one of the bats or birds since they wouldn't hurt a rogue this bad, so they assume it to be another rogue (probably Joker or someone of the like) and go to beat them up cuz no one attack The Friendliest Rogue(™) but instead of it being a rogue it's a group of government agents from out of town, immediately making them more pissed off. So they quickly deal with the threat before going back to focusing on Trickster to try and help him while also somehow passing word on to the other more decent rogues to keep an eye out for any government issues who are in white because they tried to murder the Golden Retriever Puppy (Danny) and eventually this gets into the greater public and now everyone hates the GIW, because while Trickster maybe strangely friendly he is a Gothamite through and through and nobody messes with one of their own.

As this is going down the rogue(s) who found him are attempting to help heal this poor guy who is absolutely terrified and in an unbearable amount of pain and learn a couple things.

1. This is a literal child.

2. He has a ton of scars, especially lichtenberg scars.

3. He has a very bad history with this specific group of government people and is absolutely terrified of being dissected by them.

4. He wasn't born with his powers and misses his parents (probably mumbled this one in his sleep or when he was in too much pain to think straight).

This ends up leading to the conclusion that Trickster was likely kidnapped as a small child by the government and experimented on him. This makes everyone even MORE pissed and ready to throw down with these assholes.

GOTHAM'S NEW ROGUE 3

-An hour before-

Danny is hatching a new plan today. Usually, he goes after the rogues who decide to make a spectacle or show for the public. But today, he will be the one to make it.

As all the devices are put together, Danny readies himself to turn on the screen. Lightly slapping his cheeks a few times Danny brace himself for his first solo stream.

*Live On*

Trickster: Well hello everyone! Isn't today unusually too peaceful. With all the rogues in Arkham and no one for me to bother, I decided to do the most out of my time.

Danny walks to a big hulking machine under wraps by a big piece of cloth. Danny pulls the cloth revealing a big machinery that has a giant clock in the middle.

Trickster: Over here I have my latest invention. I realized that people in this city really love coffee so what I do is make a machine that will spread gasses of caffeine into the air for people to consume via breathing. I even make sure that the special caffeine concoction wouldn't affect children because if I know one thing, it is that children with caffeine are scarier than any rogue.

Danny walks to the panel with a comically large red button with the word 'start' on it right under the clock.

Trickster: Now, when I click this button, it will turn on the timer, which is 30 minutes by the way, and when it runs out, the machine will release the caffeine into the air making everyone unable to sleep for one whole day. What is the effect on the city you may ask? I honestly don't know. But it will be funny if tomorrow everyone just drops dead asleep on the ground at work tomorrow.

Danny suddenly stops talking and slams the button heavily.

Trickster: Anyway, the timer starts now. Come find me if you wanna stop it.

Danny then leaves the screen and lets the camera focus on the clock as it ticks down. Danny sits on a nearby table and continues tinkering with his new special glitter bomb.

It's been 30 minutes when suddenly a window is broken and comes in Batman in all his glory. Except what Batman sees isn't the machine or even Trickster. It is a maze full of what he deems as traps laying around. Batman carefully trudges through the maze as he skillfully disarms the traps that are laid on the ground.

It takes Batman a whole 25 minutes to finally pass the maze before he finally sees the machine without Trickster anywhere in sight. He slowly and vigilantly approaches the machine and sees a small blue button with the word 'stop' right beside the red button.

If Batman had more time, he wouldn't have done anything rash but right now he doesn't have the time nor the ability to safely disarm the machine without making any mistake.

He pushes the button and the clock stops right then and there. He stares at his surrounding vigilantly expecting an ambush. And he is not wrong. There is indeed an ambush. Just not a normal ambush.

The machine that has stopped moving suddenly begins to shake heavily and Batman immediately jumps back to distance himself from whatever the machine is about to do.

Except when he lands, an ice forms under his legs trapping him and he tries to break the ice but the ice is very hard and impossible for him to break immediately at least. He is going to request for backups when the machine turns into tiny robots that start to surround him. He tries to smash all of them but not only are they strong and durable, EMP bombs also don't work on them.

After struggling for a while, some of the robots finally climb their way onto his head. One of them hangs from his mask and releases a gas from its mouth. Batman starts to lose consciousness and just as he is about to pass out Trickster appears in front of him.

Danny looks at Batman and orders his robots to tie him upside down, while rummages through his belt. Danny pulls out a lot of things from smoke bomb that accidentally explodes when Danny throws them to a bat shark repellent? What the hell? Anyway, after going through his belt for a while he finally found his target.

The Batwallet.

Danny turns to the hidden camera and starts to monologue.

Trickster: Hello hello everyone. Today, we have a very special guest. Presenting to you an unconscious Batman! And right here I have the strongest weapon in the world. The Batwallet! Hahahahaha.

Trickster: Now, you might be thinking. What is so strong about the wallet? And that my dear friend is the reason I am here today. Let's take a look at what's inside shall we.

Danny pulls out a black card with a bat symbol in the middle of it. Showing it to the camera, Danny gives out the biggest smile he can (somehow).

Trickster: This is the Bat credit card. I know. Sounds stupid. But you know what isn't stupid. The limit on this card. There is no limit. That means I can buy whatever I want with this.

Danny then pulls out a few polaroid pictures from the wallet that catches his attention.

Trickster: What's this? The bats secret identity? Boring. Why would I need to know who they are? Wait. This one is funny. Is this little Nightwing? Hahahaha. He's so little. *Gasp* Little Red Hood. Aww schmuck. I wanna share this with someone. I'm keeping this. I'm sure Batman has backup of these pictures.

Danny then phases the card and the photos into his body and picks up the camera.

Trickster: All right. That's it for today's stream. Oh yeah. We are in the warehouse south of the Bowery. I will shoot a flare after this for you to come get Batman. Well, you better come fast or other people will come for him.

After that the stream is cut off and a flare is shot from one of the warehouses in the Bowery. When the Bats arrived, all that was left was an unconscious Batman, tied up from the ceiling with his belt on the ground.

While the bats are busy extracting Batman back to the cave, Danny is having a feast at the Batburger. On his table, there are 50 sets of burgers, fries and cokes (the soda). Along with his food, he has pretty much paid all the food for everyone inside the Batburger. People were pretty on the fence when he first entered, but Gothamite being Gothamite, they readily accepted him when he paid for their food.

While Danny is busy eating, a big buff guy in a suit approaches him with his own food.

???: Good evening, Mr. Trickster. May I eat with you?

[filomiya]

PARTY CANDLES ! – prod. filomiya

characters – mualani , kinich , xilonen , citlali , mavuika ( takes place after the 5.3 aq !! )

THEM , when its your birthday ( bullet headcanons based on their birthday messages )

notes : ITS MY BIRTHDAY CHAT CAN YOU BELIEVE IT 6th january wowowowo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! this is very self indulgent if you cant tell but i might do a fontaine version of this later if i feel like it or continue with the other natlan characters or mayb. with vbs WHATEVER ill see!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! might be ooc plz correct me if theyre ooc .. . . . . . .. . . .. . . . . . . .

MUALANI

planned her surprise one week in advance.

but how could she not? shes your partner, afterall! and never expect the least from mualani, she will ALWAYS do the most!!

booked the best restaurant for you, making sure most of the dishes would be liked by both you and the guests. also threw in a few of your favourite desserts, but she kept insisting on making those herself along with the cake… where does she find the time!?

you had the party take place from noon to night, living it to the fullest, next to her ( and the other guests i GUESS. ) but the inevitable happened – exhaustion. on your part, atleast. mualani still had a surprise in store for you. and what is better than a reserved hot spring for the both of you after so much activity?

this was a much more relaxed way to celebrate the afterparty, but a little time between you two doesnt hurt anyone! she’d end the day with a kiss, and a content ‘happy birthday.’

KINICH

he had planned two surprises total. not more, not less.

after the usual small talk he’d ensue, kinich would remind ajaw of the conversation they had hours prior. thankfully, you were one of the humans the almighty dragon liked, so it didnt take long for him to give in.

turning into his actual dragon form ( and holding back some complaints ), you and your partner hopped onto his back for a sky stroll across the landscapes of natlan. it was filled with casual chatting, ajaw occasionally joining.

while you expected to be brought back to the place you were before, the dragon instead dropped you two off on a high, secluded cliff with the best view to the stadium. laid there was a picnic blanket, and you almost called kinich a sap.

truly, one of the best people you couldve spent your birthday with.

XILONEN

you thought youd get special treatment? well, you thought well.

usually, she’d get her friends actual useful gifts ( allegedly, in her eyes ) like a set of tools, or something for their hobbies, because in what situation could sappy presents be functional? if you prefer sentimental value over functional things, be her guest!

but you were her fully fledged partner. no WAY she could gift you JUST tools.

being the blacksmith of the children of the echoes, she has access to some of the best stones out there. you bet she’d search all about birthstones and use yours into making some of the most refined jewelry. i could see her also do a bouquet of handi-picked flowers on your preferred colours. paper wrapping included!!

all of that combined with a reservation to the restaurant youve been gushing about… if that isnt special treatment, then what is?

CITLALI

at her age, she wouldnt have thought she would find someone, let alone friends, or someone like you!

so she didnt bat an eye to gift giving, mostly. occasionally, for whenever it was one of her people’s birthday, she’d offer the usual gift card or blessings. but with you in the picture now, she doesnt know what to do!!

her first thought was to give you some volumes from her light novels collection, which she did proceed with, but she had to think of a plan B. no way she could turn to her grandson, for all he’d have to offer is his finest pick of vegetables…

and before she knew it, your birthday came. so all she had to offer were the novels. it was so underwhelming in her eyes… but thank god you reassured her than even only drinking with her was enough.

MAVUIKA

for her, small and thoughtful gifts are always the go-to.

something motivational, that you can look back to and reminisce about – but you didnt expect her to gift you a small notebook. correction, actually – a small album. it was filled with photos you took through your time together, and letters she poured her feelings into. 

it was obvious it took her sweet time to put it together, probably did it during her time off as an occupation. if you asked her about it, you wouldve found out your guess wasnt far off. instead, you thanked her in her own way – whether it be words, physical affection or acts of service (on your own birthday tho..??) 

another thing mavuika would offer is a delightful night stroll with her motorbike. cliche x2, i know, but not before serving some of the best cake she had baked for you! dont ask her where or how, or do, do whatever you want…. (xilonens house.)

just hold onto her if she decides to pick the speed up as a way to wake you from your daydreams.

filomiya : any acts of plagiarism of my works are strictly prohibited. credits to the divider creators.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 106)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57014356/chapters/158623843

N helped Uzi follow her parents back into their apartment. V being dragged away by Lizzy despite the fact she'd didn't quite look like she wanted to leave just yet.

With Uzi riding on his back and both of his kids tucked into his arms, Bishop asleep and Tera… glaring daggers at Nori like she owed her money.

Khan was taking in the moment, constantly looking over at his wife like he was expected her to poof into dust or for him to wake up from a fever dream.

When he opened the door and let her inside, she stood in the middle of the living room, eyes scanning the apartment before she turned to face them.

“You put all my stuff away.” She observed, her expression nearly unreadable.

“I… you were gone so long…” Khan wilted slightly under her gaze, shuffling his feet.

She laughed, it sounded almost ethereal.

“It's just an observation Khan. Where'd ya put it when you thought I'd kicked it?” She smiled, Khan smiled back, almost love-struck.

He pointed his thumb to the closet door, labeled Nori's Kooky Insane Stuff.

She huffed in amusement. “I made that sign for a specific box, not all my stuff!” Khan smiled sheepishly, shrugging as if saying “I don't know, I thought I'd fit.”

N watched the exchange with a small smile, Uzi watching from his back in a mixture of awe and cringe from watching her parents be all awkward around each other.

Bishop squirmed in Ns arms, making a soft little babble up at him as he squinted his eyes, it got N's attention immediately and he hummed affectionately, bringing him up closer to his visor.

“Hey B, what is it you want buddy?”

Khan blinked from his awkward conversation, turning to look at N, who was placing Uzi on the couch gently.

“Need anything sweet bat?” He asked her, bringing his hand up to cup her cheek, which she leaned into without thinking

“Oil? I lost… a lot, and some cold sounds freaking amazing right now.” She replied, taking Bishop into her arms while N carried Tera on his shoulder.

“On it.” He leaned forward to kiss her forehead before moving off into her old room to find some.

She'd left some here just in case… good thing too, because he was getting low too.

Khan made his way up to Uzi, shuffling his hands together like he was nervous. Uzi rolled her eyes.

“His name is Bishop, Dad. And yes, you can hold him.” She held up the newborn, setting him in his grandfather's arms, he tensed for a moment before relaxing.

“Look at that… he's got white eyelights! Like me!” Khan grinned, brushing some silvery hair out of the little one's visor. “And skipped the pillbaby stage… ehehe.”

Bishop squinted up at him, bringing his tail up to chew on the vial.

“No stinger either…”

“Thankfully. Nanites in your internals don't feel very good… speaking from experience.” Nori commented, making Khan and Uzi look at her with hollowed eyelights.

“What?” Nori replied dumbly.

“Just as blunt as always…” Khan chuckled to himself before Nori came around to his side to look at Bishop too.

She cocked her head, examining him very closely. “Wonder why he didn't get yellow eyes, don't all murder drones have those?”

“He's not just a dissasembly drone though, he's got worker drone too.” Khan hummed, “Maybe he got it from me!” He grinned proudly.

Uzi thought more that Bishop got it from N's worker form. But she let her dad have his moment.

“Hmm.” Nori made a thinking noise, before shaking it off. “Suppose that makes sense.”

“NO!” Tera's indignant shout came from the bedroom, dripping with as much attitude a toddler could possibly have.

“Jellybean… what's the matter?”

“NO!”

N came out of her old bedroom with three oil cans, in one arm, and Tera's kicking, yelling form in the other, she seemed like she didn't want to come back out of Uzi's old bedroom.

“Here…” He handed a can to Nori and Uzi. “I'm not sure what's up with her… she's not usually like this.” He tried to hold Tera in a better position, but she suddenly bit his hand- hard.

“OW! Tera! What has gotten into you!?” He yelped as Tera scurried across the floor back into Uzi's old bedroom with feral hissing all the way.

He sighed. “Maybe she's upset at not being an only child anymore?” N offered, and Nori seemed to agree with him.

“Just a little mad she has to share Mama and Dada's attention now, I think.” She laughed again, covering her mouth as she did.

“It's… a little weird to have a Mu- ahem, a dissasembly drone as a grandson and… son in law.” She admitted, N rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Y-yeah uh…”

Khan jumped when Bishop starts wailing, throwing his balled up little fists around. “Ah… I think someone's hungry.”

He handed him off to Uzi, who chuckled lightly. “He's gonna be oil hungry like his Dad…”

She's laughing, cause otherwise she'd cry, she was gonna go through so much oil…

She filled a bottle N handed to her, and Bishop took it greedily, little fangs digging into the rubber tips as he suckled on it. He quieted as soon as the oil touched his lips, eyelights closing.

“There we go…”

“Your room is still set up to sleep in, I'm sure you're both tired… your mother and I have… a lot to talk about, regardless.” Khan glanced over at Nori, who blushed breifly. “B-bite me Khan!”

“Uh huh… talk.” Uzi hummed with a knowing look, causing Khan to flush himself.

“YES. Talk!” He clarified, raising his finger as his daughter chuckled, nodding as they both walked off towards Khan’s bedroom

N and Uzi both looked at each other, stress on all their features, before N reached down and picks her up, embracing her tightly. “It feels like today has lasted a month…” He admitted, speaking almost directly in her audial.

“Yeah…” Uzi agreed. “Mom's back and… Bishop, Tera.” She chuckled exhausted. “Kinda feels like a fever dream.”

“It's all good things though! Maybe all our bad luck was cashed in for good luck!” N smiled, giggling as he nuzzled Uzi's visor.

“I don’t think that's how luck works… but maybe.” She laughed eyelights dimming a little as a low power warning flickered on her visor.

“Hm, Bedtime then…”

“Carry me?” Uzi suggested, blushing slightly as Bishop curled up in her arms, listening to the core he was nestled inside of for months.

N laughed and kissed her on the forehead. “Course…”

He scooped her up and walked them to the bedroom, placing her on the bed and looking around for a certain squirmy kit.

Tera popped her head out of the pillowcase, to look at her parents, though N hadn't seen her yet, she looked guilty, crawling out to place her head over the hand she'd bitten.

“There she is! You wanna tell me why you're being so bitey?” N hummed, not so much angry about the bite itself, more worried about how out of character it was for her.

She licked the already healed wound. “Sowwry Papa…”

He picks her up “It's not okay to bite, but I'm not mad at you, you won't be in trouble if you tell me why.”

Little Tera furrowed her brow. “Don't feel good…”

N held her a little closer. “You don't feel good? Where?”

“Tummy…” She replied, almost dead quiet. “Lady makes it feel bad.” She finished.

“Lady? You mean Nori? That's just your grandma… why would she make your tummy feel bad?”

Tera shrugged, and made a face N is very familiar with-

“Nonono! Not on the bed!”

“Blegh!” She spilled her guts out. Thankfully out onto the floor and not on the bed, N having moved her in time.

“Aww… poor baby…” He hummed after it's over. When he turned Tera back around though, she still didn't look like she felt better, she was sweating, too warm, and oil still leaking out of her mouth.

She whimpered, holding onto him as she starts to tremble…

“Tera?”

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

hiii :D could you please do jackass guys x fem goth reader headcannons (if you haven't already)

like if they'd think its cool, would they be into the music, politics and style of it, ect.

thanks sm + happy halloween 🖤

Jackass Guys X Goth!Y/N

Johnny Knoxville X Fem!Y/N, Bam Margera X Fem!Y/N, Steve-O X Fem!Y/N, Chris Pontius X Fem!Y/N

Warnings: Suggestive content

An: You have NO CLUE how long I have been waiting to get this ask!!! I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned it here, but I am a massive fan of goth music (though I don’t really dress the part), and as such have a decent catalogue of knowledge on this subject!! I would be overjoyed to write for Goth!Y/N if there’s anything else you would like to see :)

Johnny

Literally the definition of confused but supportive.

After he checked our a few bands you liked, he was left with more questions than answers,

“Are you alright? I mean, if you need somebody t’talk to, I’m here!”

Despite needing to be assured that yes, you were fine, Johnny has his own experience with counterculture, notably the punk scene (he was responsible for the Ramones and the X-Ray Specs getting on the soundtrack for the TV series!)

So he would more connect with you on an ideological perspective than on mere aesthetic!

You can expect a lot of couples trips to thrift stores, with Knoxville eagerly helping you look for things you could alter.

Holding up this floral, grandma skirt he found buried in a rack, your boyfriend inspected the garment,

“Y’know, I bet this’d look really sharp in black…”

If you do trad makeup, you best believe this mf is going to to Halloween stores Nov 1st to get you ARMFULLS of white foundation

The clerk at the counter recognized him and asked if he was going to use it for some stunt, to which he replied with an adoring smile,

“This is for my girl! Real sweet- she does this makeup stuff like you wouldn’t believe…”

Bam

You cannot tell me this mf wouldn’t live for dating a goth girl!

Bam would definitely be into whatever music you listened to, but more so the more metal/industrial side of the goth scene.

He already listened to stuff like the 69 Eyes and Cradle of Filth before you met,

So, given how similar your tastes were, he was kinda curious as to what else a chick like you was into.

Bam flipped over the London After Midnight CD you fished out from your personal collection, “So…these guys’re like HIM?”

It was a half lie, but whatever. After that, your boyfriend was hooked.

Since then, Bam was always jumped at the chance to dip his toes into whatever you were into like an overly excitable puppy XD

“Hey- hey, Y/N. Y’think you could try doin’ my makeup sometime?” He was wholeheartedly expecting something like corpse paint,

However, Bam had one of those 80’s movie post-makeover montage moments when the end product looked more like Brandon Lee in The Crow.

You borrow his scarves, he takes your belts, and two of you share accessories and eyeliner to the point you aren’t sure what you bought and what he’s left in your possession.

Though sometimes, Bam’s idiot friends would dog on him a little, but he never let it slide ;)

“What bat cave did she crawl out of, dude?”

Bam grinned as he replied to Rake’s dumbass remark, “Y/N is hot as shit. Maybe if you brushed your teeth once in a while, you wouldn’t have t’go lookin’ for chicks in caves.”

Steve- O

Given that a lot of what Steve does relies on shock value, he would take every opportunity to show you off and the black lipstick kisses you leave on him!

It’s a funny sight at movie premieres- him, in cargo shorts and sneakers, next to you in your patent leather heels and silky black skirts.

However, he really doesn’t know very much about the subculture, which leads to some awkward moments,

“No, Steve. I’m not a dominatrix…”

He tried to spin the question around, chuckling as he flashed a smile, “But if you were, I wouldn’t judge. Who am to turn down a lady in leather?”

“I’m not!” “Well, if that changes…”

Does not have a clue about the music either! You showed him a photo of Nik Fiend and he asked you if he was, ‘like GG Alin’,

You’re still trying to figure that one out...

But he’s still the same, sweet guy he’d be dating any other girl!

God forbid this man finds out you write poetry…Steve would spend hours gushing over your work.

Not that he really gets the deeper meaning- he’s fascinated with your word choice and how you play with language.

“Dude, this is, like- really deep shit…” His eyes went wide as he ogled some stream of consciousness dreck you accidentally left out

“Oh, thanks!” Smiling, you waved a dismissive hand, “I mean, it’s’ just a first draft…I think this line reads kinda trite, and-“

“You should totally publish this! Hey, I got this publishing guy- he can hook you up!” See? Just too sweet…

Chris

As cliche as it sounds, Chris won you over with his musical skills;

He picked up a few of your favorite songs on guitar, and the rest was history!

Pontius had a vague idea of the stuff you listened to, but his knowledge ended at Samhain and Type O Negative.

Like most guys would be, he was immediately fascinated by your look,

“Woah…” Holding up a black silk corset he found in your closet, Chris grinned, “Hey, Y/N? Can I try this on for a sec?”

And on the topic of corsets, he loves watching you get all dressed up! Makeup, hair, shoes- its a spectacle, and he’s always in awe of it :)

Also he doesn’t mind getting a chance to look at you naked

Chris goes to shows with you all the time!!

Much like Johnny, he’s also had a decent ammount of experience in the alternative scene, so he definitely knows all the cool clubs in whatever city you live in ;)

“You look all graceful when you dance- like a sexy bird…” Well, how could you not be flattered by that?

You look so cute together even if Chris is a stark contrast from most guys at the clubs you frequent XD

Well, except that one time he picked you up in eyeliner and this goofy, Jerry Only style faux hawk,

You could barely make it to his car without collapsing from laughter.

“Hey! I wanted to be supportive!” Pontius chuckled, unable to keep a straight face himself at the absurdity of this situation

[stellar-solar-flare]

I’m so glad to finally be back to this story! The end of the year 2024 was a rotten cherry on top of a trash fire cake which was a drain on my energy. But I definitely haven’t forgotten about this one – especially since I have been super amazed at how quickly you’ve been able to write this story and publish it. You’re awesome! I’ve seen some light spoilers to this on my dash from people’s comments so I know it’s going to be a ride and I’m here for it!

You’re not anxious at all over meeting with Pepper, but what has you on alert is the possibility that you could theoretically meet Steve Rogers, former Captain America, today.

Oh, interesting. So we’re seeing subtle hints that she’s a Steve girl right off the bat – but then again, like when we see her think about her friendship with Pepper, it’s clear that she’s not just starstruck or someone easily swooned by celebrity status. Are we harboring perhaps a little crush here?

Your background in political science and your years working in non-profit management seem like they could be useful, but you can't help feeling a little out of your depth.

I always say in comments that I enjoy it when we see the little things that make the Reader similar to Steve, or qualities that I know Steve will find attractive, and I feel like working in a non-profit is definitely one of those. Doing her best to make a better world.

You were among the half who disappeared - still such a strange concept to grasp though you were supposedly settled back in.

I don’t read a lot of post-Endgame fics / fics that deal with the Blip one way or the other, but when I do read them, I immensely enjoy writers working with all the things that the Blip would cause, and I think we’ll see a layered, deep approach on it from you in this fic! I’m definitely curious.

"There's Maria Hill," Pepper continues, "who's handling security and intelligence briefings. She's got connections that'll be invaluable. Then there's Peter Parker - you might know him as Spider-Man - he's officially our youth outreach coordinator, but he's also got a brilliant scientific mind that we're tapping into for policy development."

Oh it’s lovely to see that Peter is still around the Stark Foundation even with Tony gone, and hehehe, the little reveal of his identity. I love how competent we see Pepper be here, how she’s been so good at putting this team together.

You feel your jaw drop in shock, almost hitting the ground as your mind races with disbelief and anger. The room feels like it's spinning as you struggle to process the weight of her words.

I love how you wrote her shock here; it makes sense that her first reaction to this would be anger – she would feel like she’d be just a trophy wife when she’s been hoping for a big role. And while I’m certain she’ll have just that big role, it makes sense that initially a marriage of state, essentially, would sound insane in modern-day America.

"I know," Pepper says softly. "That's part of the plan. We want to show that leadership isn't about who you're married to or what your last name is. It's about vision, compassion, and the ability to bring people together."

But I really like this point. It feels very Steve – I adored all the glimpses we saw into his plans through her thoughts, as well as her note about not even being able to sleep – to create a world like this and especially lead by example.

“We have an opportunity to show what a healthy partnership in marriage could look like to new generations. You’re my first and only choice because of your skills, experience, and the vision I know you would bring to the table. But you’re also my first and only choice because I think you two are well-suited for each other.”

I really really love this, in addition to the way we see Pepper go through the strategic side of this, the polls and expectations and all this. This feels like something that Steve would agree to, in the end. After all, he is from a world where marriage wasn’t so focused on romantic love. But since he is a romantic, I’m definitely looking forward to them falling in love.

A soft laugh falls from Pepper’s mouth. “He actually asked the same thing.”

Hehe, more of the little things that show they’re similar.

And yet, there's a part of you that's intrigued by the challenge, by the opportunity to make a real difference on such a grand scale.

I love her your honor. I always enjoy Readers that are shown to be competent and not afraid of going after what they want. Also this is a very Steve thing again.

You both lost husbands, but you don’t want to talk about it, yet again, and you don’t want to bring up a painful subject for her either.

Oh, I’m intrigued by this. Is she a widow too?

"You must be the future Mrs. Rogers," Sam says with a warm smile, extending his hand. "I'm Sam Wilson. Steve asked me to come apologize and explain - and to have breakfast with you, if you’ll have me.”

Oh, I wonder what came up for Steve to skip this. But aww, I hope she and Sam end up being friends, as I can definitely see that happening.

“President Bartlet?” you can’t help the awe in your voice. “I’d skip out on breakfast with me, too.”

Oh, yeah, that makes sense. It’d be very beneficial for him, and I enjoyed seeing that Reader understands. And yay, we’ll be seeing more Sam in the fic!

“I can’t help being a little disappointed - since I was hoping to finally meet my future husband - but he’s unemployed and you’re technically Captain America, so I guess it’s really an upgrade.”

Oh, you and me both, Sam. I really really like this Reader. I’ll nickname her the First Lady for comment purposes, since that’s easier for me. I hope you don’t mind!

"Trust me, Steve takes this very seriously," Sam says, his tone becoming more earnest. "He may not know you yet, but he respects you and the commitment you're making. He's not the type to back out or let you down."

Oh, Aspen, you’re coming straight for my heart with this. This isn’t even a thirst trap, it’s a heart trap, and that’s worse. I love how serious we see Steve be about this from the beginning, and I really like how reassuring Sam is here too.

"But then again, I've seen a lot of crazy things in my time with the Avengers. This? This actually feels like one of the more normal things I've been part of."

Also this tracks, and I wonder if this is a part of Steve’s mindset too.

"Steve's one of the best men I know. He's loyal, compassionate, and has a moral compass that doesn't quit. But he's also been through a lot, and he can be... guarded. It might take some time for him to open up fully."

This makes complete sense, and I am HERE for the pining and the slow burn that’ll follow from this. It’s very compassionate of Sam to warn her about this so she doesn’t get the wrong idea about Steve’s behavior, if he’s going to be a little distant. And also this has the delightful found family vibes – which are definitely highlighting some major loss in First Lady’s background, I mean, she has to have a hint of craziness and not a lot to lose to jump into this headfirst – that I always enjoy in fic.

Sam grins. "Trust me, once you two actually meet, you'll see what I mean. Just don't let that 'aw shucks' routine fool you. He might look like an all-American boy scout, but there's a lot more going on under the surface."

I’m definitely looking forward to all this characterization; from the (shamefully few) works that I’ve read from you so far, I know you write Steve in a very human way. And this is definitely hinting towards how he’s not just the perfect soldier or the good man but human and I am always here here for it. And we love Sam for recognizing all this in his friend.

Also as a more general note, I enjoyed Reader having these little doubts about the marriage side of it working – there is definitely hint here that while she’s not waiting to be swept off her feet, she’s certainly not going for a simple marriage of convenience. I always enjoy fics that show that wanting love and to be loved aren’t mutually exclusive with things like strength or independence.

You learn about Steve's dry sense of humor, his unwavering loyalty to his friends, and his surprising skill at sketching. Sam describes missions where Steve's quick thinking saved the day, but also quieter moments - movie nights with the team, intense debates over board games, and Steve's ongoing struggle to catch up on pop culture.

I love this for her. And for Steve. That she goes into the whole marriage knowing not only Cap but also Steve Rogers. I am VERY excited for the wedding, and not just because I love weddings. I know it's the delicious sort of slow burn when they don't even lay an eye on each other in the first two chapters.

I’m so glad to be back at this and I’m so looking forward to diving into the next chapter! Sorry if I got a little rambly or overexcited but I had so many thoughts. I hope you're well and the muse is behaving!

Red, White & True: Manhattan & Brooklyn (1/?)

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers (future x curvy Millennial Female!Reader), Pepper Potts, Sam Wilson Word Count: 4k Summary: "There was an idea..." Words at the heart of what brought the Avengers together. Pepper Potts has persuaded Steve Rogers to step up and help again - but this time in a battle to The White House. She invites you to consider a key position.

Content/Warnings: none

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

Prologue | Series

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[MAY 15 - Manhattan, New York]

You try not to hold still while you wait in the lobby, but you’re nervous and the longer you sit, the more difficult it is to resist drumming your fingers, tapping your foot, jiggling your right leg as it’s crossed over your left, or even just chewing on your bottom lip.

You’re not anxious at all over meeting with Pepper, but what has you on alert is the possibility that you could theoretically meet Steve Rogers, former Captain America, today.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. The lobby of Stark Industries is immaculate, all sleek lines and modern design. The large windows let in plenty of natural light, making the space feel open and inviting despite its corporate purpose.

Your mind wanders back to your college days when you’d walked into a different Stark Industries lobby for the first time, a hopeful intern wanting to make a difference at the then-new Stark Foundation office. Pepper had been very involved in building the Foundation at the time, and had become a key mentor and - as the years passed and you left Stark Industries - a dear friend. She had helped fuel some of your late-night study sessions through grad school. Living in a new state, she had shown up and seen you through breakups, family drama, and the stress of putting together your thesis. Even when your paths diverged, you'd managed to stay in touch.

Back then, she’d become like the older sister you never had, seeing you through some of the difficult years figuring out how to be a real adult. Now, here you are, waiting to potentially join a presidential campaign she’s orchestrating for none other than Steve Rogers.

The receptionist's voice startles you out of your reverie. "Ms. Potts will see you now."

You stand, smoothing down your carefully chosen outfit - professional, but not stuffy. As you follow the receptionist down the hallway, your mind races with possibilities. What position could Pepper have in mind for you? Your background in political science and your years working in non-profit management seem like they could be useful, but you can't help feeling a little out of your depth.

As you approach Pepper's office, you take a deep breath to steady yourself. The door opens, and there she is - Pepper Potts, looking as poised and confident as ever in a crisp white blouse and tailored navy suit. Her strawberry blonde hair is pulled back in a neat ponytail, and her smile is warm and welcoming.

"It's so good to see you," she says, embracing you in a quick hug. "Come in, please."

You step into her spacious office, taking in the floor-to-ceiling windows with a breathtaking view of the city skyline. Pepper gestures to a comfortable-looking chair across from her desk, and you sit, trying to keep your nerves in check.

"I appreciate you coming on such short notice," Pepper begins. "I know it's been a few years since we’ve been able to catch up - even before the Blip.”

You were among the half who disappeared - still such a strange concept to grasp though you were supposedly settled back in. “I was happy to come! And of course I don’t mind a trip on the Stark Industries dime,” you say with a grin.

"Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?"

You shake your head. "I'm fine, thanks."

Pepper settles into her chair, folding her hands on the desk. "So, I know I told you we’re putting together the campaign team for Rogers for America, but I'm sure you're wondering more specifically why I called you here."

You nod, leaning forward in your chair, eager to hear Pepper’s vision.

"We're putting together an incredible team," she begins, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I've been reaching out to some of the brightest minds in politics, economics, and social justice. We have former White House staffers, grassroots organizers, and even a few unexpected faces from the private sector who are eager to contribute their expertise."

You are instantly intrigued, trying to imagine the caliber of people she's describing. Your mind races with possibilities - perhaps that brilliant campaign manager who orchestrated the upset victory in the last Senate race, or the economist whose revolutionary ideas about sustainable development have been making waves in academic circles.

"We've got strategists who are anticipating every move our opponents might make," Pepper continues, "and communications experts who can craft messages that will resonate with voters across the political spectrum.”

You listen intently, trying to pinpoint where you might fit into this powerhouse group.

"There's Maria Hill," Pepper continues, "who's handling security and intelligence briefings. She's got connections that'll be invaluable. Then there's Peter Parker - you might know him as Spider-Man - he's officially our youth outreach coordinator, but he's also got a brilliant scientific mind that we're tapping into for policy development."

Your eyebrows raise at the mention of Spider-Man.

Pepper leans forward, her eyes locking with yours. "But here's the thing - we're not just assembling a team of political operatives and policy experts. We need people who understand the heart of what we're trying to do, who can see the bigger picture and help keep us grounded in our core values."

Your heart begins to race as you start to realize where this might be going.

"That's where you come in," Pepper says, a warm smile spreading across her face. "I've watched your career over the years, how you've navigated the non-profit world, building coalitions and making real change happen. You have a gift for bringing people together, for seeing connections that others miss. Your experience gives you a unique perspective that we desperately need."

Your heart races as you process her words. You had assumed you might be offered some kind of advisory role, perhaps in fundraising or event planning. Maybe even appearance management or offering occasional input on strategy. But from Pepper's tone, it sounds like she has something more substantial in mind.

"Where do you see me on this team?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

"I've been putting a lot of thought into this," Pepper continues, her voice filled with conviction. “You know we’re doing something unconventional. Did you read the presidential plan?”

You nod. Steve’s bid for President of the United States was still technically not public knowledge. You had signed an NDA - being told only that you were receiving a proposal Pepper wanted your input and consultation on, with potential to join the team if you supported the initiative, and just silence if you didn’t.

“It’s bold, idealistic, aspirational; but it’s also unapologetic, has clear plans of action, and could be transformational in ways we haven’t seen in living memory,” you give your assessment.

“And it’s something you could see yourself being a part of?”

You take a deep breath, but smile genuinely. “I couldn’t sleep the first night after you sent it over. I couldn’t stop reading, hoping, re-reading, imagining possibilities!”

“Good,” Pepper responds. “Perfect.”

“Put me to work wherever you need me!”

“I was hoping you would say that because I have a very specific position I need to get filled, and you’re my first - and only - pick for the job.”

“Pepper, stop holding out!” A nervous and eager laugh escapes you. “Tell me!”

Her response slams into you like a freight train, knocking the air from your lungs.

“Future First Lady.”

You feel your jaw drop in shock, almost hitting the ground as your mind races with disbelief and anger. The room feels like it's spinning as you struggle to process the weight of her words.

"What?" you gasp, your voice barely above a whisper. "Pepper, I... I don't understand. First Lady? But that would mean..."

Pepper holds up a hand, her expression serious. "We're not just running a campaign here. We're trying to redefine what leadership looks like in this country. Steve is an incredible man, and he needs a partner who understands the complexities of modern America, not just a trophy wife, someone who can connect with people from all walks of life."

You shake your head, still reeling. "But I'm not - I mean, Steve and I aren't even - we've never even met!"

"I know," Pepper says softly. "That's part of the plan. We want to show that leadership isn't about who you're married to or what your last name is. It's about vision, compassion, and the ability to bring people together."

Pepper leans back in her chair, her expression at least revealing some concern over your reaction. "I know it's a lot to take in."

"A lot to take in?" you interrupt, your voice rising. "Pepper, it's insane! It’s May, and the election is in November. How could I possibly be the First Lady?"

Pepper holds up a hand, trying to calm you. "I know, I know. Let me explain."

But you're on a roll now, your initial shock giving way to indignation. "Explain what? How you thought it was okay to offer me a position that requires me to be married to a stranger? Use me to score points?”

"I understand your reaction," Pepper says calmly, "but please, hear me out. This isn't about scoring political points or creating some sham marriage. We're trying to redefine what leadership looks like in this country."

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. "Go on," you say, your voice tight, “because you’re still trotting out marriage.”

"We can’t outright ignore traditional expectations and polling numbers. If Steve were running as the nominee for either of the major parties, we could probably win without him being married, but since he’s running as an independent, he needs a wife. That being said, we want to move away from the traditional concept of the First Lady as just the President's wife," Pepper explains. "The vision is a First Partnership. Two people who work together. There’ve been a few First Ladies who have done more with their platform and position, and that’s what we would want for you, too.”

You chew on your lip, not persuaded yet, but a little less angry.

“We have an opportunity to show what a healthy partnership in marriage could look like to new generations. You’re my first and only choice because of your skills, experience, and the vision I know you would bring to the table. But you’re also my first and only choice because I think you two are well-suited for each other.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Pepper raises her hand to stop you.

“You and Steve don’t have to put on a show and be madly in love - that’s not what I want, that’s not what he wants or expects either.”

You frown. “What does he expect?” you ask. And then you perk up even more. “Has he agreed to this? Shouldn’t he at least be here to make the offer himself?”

Pepper sighs. “It was easier for me to convince him to run in the first place than to agree that he needed a wife.”

“But you’re telling me he did agree?”

Pepper nods. “He did.”

You unconsciously rub the empty space on your left ring finger. “Couldn’t we just get engaged and leave the question of a marriage for whether or not he wins?”

A soft laugh falls from Pepper’s mouth. “He actually asked the same thing.”

“And…?” You raise your eyes expectantly.

“The public would rake us over the coals and accuse us of only doing it as a publicity stunt. The campaign would become a gossip column on your relationship status and nothing more.”

“But isn’t it a publicity stunt?”

“We can spin a marriage that seems to appear out of nowhere. Steve’s always been a private person when it comes to his personal life. We will tell people you met through me - which is true. I thought you were well-suited for each other - which I do. When people asked why the wedding just before announcing his bid for the presidency, we tell them you two didn’t want your relationship status to become the big question on everyone’s minds so they can focus on the platforms and policies instead and that every marriage takes work regardless of the length of the courtship.”

You sit in stunned silence for a moment, trying to process everything Pepper has said. The idea of marrying someone you've never met, let alone becoming the First Lady of the United States, seems utterly surreal. And yet, there's a part of you that's intrigued by the challenge, by the opportunity to make a real difference on such a grand scale.

"I need some time to think about this," you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Pepper nods understandingly. "Of course. It's a lot to take in. But I want you to know that I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't think you were perfect for this role. Not just as a political partner, but as someone who could genuinely connect with Steve."

You raise an eyebrow. "You really think we'd be well-suited?"

"I do," Pepper says with confidence and warmth.

You rub your ring finger again, but this time you see Pepper’s eyes drop to watch your unconscious action, and you quickly stop. Her eyes, when you meet them again, are full of sympathy. You both lost husbands, but you don’t want to talk about it, yet again, and you don’t want to bring up a painful subject for her either.

She can read that in your tight-lipped smile.

So instead she says, “I can give you three days to think it over.”

You sigh and rise from your seat to go. “I don’t know if that’s long enough, but if you give me three days or three weeks, I don’t think it will change my decision I’ll land on. Give me the night to sleep on it. I think I’ll know by tomorrow morning.”

[JUNE 4 - Brooklyn, New York]

Three weeks later, your life has been packed up and put in a truck on its way to the new brownstone in Brooklyn that’s been acquired for you and Steve to move into, and you’re sitting at a table in a café a few blocks away, waiting to meet your future husband for the first time over breakfast. Every time the bell rings over the door, you dart your head to see if it’s him, but he’s evidently running late.

As you wait, checking to see if you have any messages on your phone, the bell over the door chimes once more. This time, when you look up, your breath catches in your throat. A tall, athletic man with dark skin and an easy smile has entered the café. You recognize him immediately as Sam Wilson, the new Captain America. Your heart sinks a little as you realize Steve isn't with him.

Sam spots you and makes his way over, his stride confident but casual. As he approaches, you notice the way his eyes scan the room, a habit born from years of military training and superhero work. He's dressed in civilian clothes - a leather jacket over a simple t-shirt and jeans - but there's no mistaking the aura of strength and capability that surrounds him.

"You must be the future Mrs. Rogers," Sam says with a warm smile, extending his hand. "I'm Sam Wilson. Steve asked me to come apologize and explain - and to have breakfast with you, if you’ll have me.”

You nod, forcing a smile, and shake his hand. "Of course. I understand.” You motion toward the chair across the table from you, inviting him to sit. “I know campaign prep must keep him incredibly busy."

Ever since you’d accepted the proposition to marry Steve Rogers and join him on the campaign trail to the White House, your own life had turned upside down, giving you hardly any time to breathe, and you’d been told this was only a mild version of what your own schedule was going to look like once Steve formally announced.

“Former President Bartlet agreed to meet with him, and the schedules ended up aligning this morning for Steve to go up to New Hampshire for a sit down,” Sam explains.

“President Bartlet?” you can’t help the awe in your voice. “I’d skip out on breakfast with me, too.”

“I hope I’m not a disappointment of a substitute,” Sam teases. “Since we’ll be working together as part of the senior staff, I volunteered because I was eager to finally meet you.”

His smile is genuine, and you feel the absolute truth of his sentiment. It melts away some of your disappointment and worry.

In return, your smile becomes a little warmer and easier. “I can’t help being a little disappointed - since I was hoping to finally meet my future husband - but he’s unemployed and you’re technically Captain America, so I guess it’s really an upgrade.”

Sam laughs. “Oh, I’m going to love you, I can tell.”

“Just promise me he’ll actually be at the ceremony tomorrow?” you ask. Your tone is light, but Sam calls your bluff.

His laughter fades, replaced by a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, he'll be there. Wild horses couldn't keep him away. Or androids. Or aliens. Or wizards. Or..." He trails off, realizing he might be overdoing it. "You get the idea."

You nod, appreciating Sam's attempt at humor. "I hope so. It would be pretty awkward to explain to the press why the groom was a no-show at his own wedding."

"Trust me, Steve takes this very seriously," Sam says, his tone becoming more earnest. "He may not know you yet, but he respects you and the commitment you're making. He's not the type to back out or let you down."

You nod, feeling a mix of relief and nervousness. "I suppose I should get used to schedule changes and last-minute adjustments," you say, trying to keep your tone light.

"It's part of the package," Sam agrees. "But so is having a team of people who have your back, no matter what." He leans forward, his eyes meeting yours intently. "I want you to know that includes me. We're not just colleagues in this; we're family."

His words touch you deeply, and you feel a bloom of warmth in your chest, the firs time you’ve felt grounded since you agreed to do this. "Thank you, Sam," you manage to say. "That means a lot."

The waitress approaches, he orders coffee, and you both order breakfast.

As she walks away, you take a sip of the drink you’d ordered while you were waiting before, mulling over Sam's words. "Can I ask you something, Sam? You know Steve better than almost anyone. Do you think...?”

You hesitate, uncertain if you should voice your doubts to Sam. But his open, friendly demeanor encourages you to continue, and you’re going to need to learn to trust this new circle of people you’ll be surrounded with.

"Do you think this is crazy?" you finally ask, your voice barely above a whisper. "Marrying someone I've never even met, maybe becoming First Lady... it all feels so surreal."

Sam leans back in his chair, considering your question carefully. "Crazy? Maybe," he admits with a small smile. "But then again, I've seen a lot of crazy things in my time with the Avengers. This? This actually feels like one of the more normal things I've been part of."

You can't help but chuckle at that, some of the tension easing from your shoulders.

"Look," Sam continues, his tone becoming more serious. "I won't lie to you. It's not going to be easy. The scrutiny, the pressure, the constant demands on your time and energy - it's going to be a lot. But if anyone can handle it, it's Steve. And from what I've heard about you, I think you're up for the challenge, too."

Sam pauses as the waitress returns with your breakfasts and his coffee. Once she's gone, he continues, "Steve doesn't do anything halfway. When he commits to something, he's all in. And he's committed to this - to you, to this campaign, to trying to make a real difference."

You nod, appreciating his honesty. "And what about... us? Steve and me, I mean. Do you think we can make this work? Not just for the campaign, but as a real partnership?"

Sam's eyes soften. "Steve's one of the best men I know. He's loyal, compassionate, and has a moral compass that doesn't quit. But he's also been through a lot, and he can be... guarded. It might take some time for him to open up fully."

You absorb this information, feeling a mix of apprehension and curiosity about your future husband. "I appreciate your honesty, Sam," you say softly. "I guess we'll both be navigating uncharted waters."

Sam nods, taking a sip of his coffee before responding. "True, but you won't be doing it alone. Not only do you have the support of the team, but I think you and Steve might surprise yourselves. You both have a strong sense of purpose, a desire to help others. That's a solid foundation to build on."

You pick at your breakfast, mulling over Sam's words. "I just hope we can find some common ground beyond the campaign," you admit.

Sam leans in, his expression earnest. "Like I said, when Steve commits to something, he gives it his all. That includes relationships. He may be reserved at first, but once he lets you in, you'll have his unwavering loyalty and support."

You nod, feeling a bit more reassured. "I appreciate that. I’m not some hopeless romantic, I’m not looking to be swept off my feet, but I just hope we can find some chemistry, some spark beyond just being political partners."

Sam chuckles. "Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about that. Steve might be from the 1940s, but he's still a red-blooded man. And you," he gestures at you with his fork, "are definitely his type."

You feel your cheeks flush slightly. "His type?"

"Smart, independent, passionate about making a difference," Sam lists off. “

Your work in non-profits, your passion for social justice - that's right up Steve's alley. Plus, you've got that whole 'take no crap' vibe that he needs. I have a sense about these things, and you have it.”

You laugh, feeling some of the tension dissipate. "Well, I'll take your word for it. Though I have to admit, the idea of being Steve Rogers' 'type' is a bit surreal."

Sam grins. "Trust me, once you two actually meet, you'll see what I mean. Just don't let that 'aw shucks' routine fool you. He might look like an all-American boy scout, but there's a lot more going on under the surface."

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh? Do tell."

Sam shakes his head, still smiling. "Nah, I'll let you discover that for yourself. Where's the fun if I spoil all the surprises?"

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. "Fine, keep your secrets. But seriously, Sam, thank you. For breakfast, for the pep talk, for everything. I'm really glad I got to meet you before tomorrow."

"Me too," Sam says, raising his coffee mug in a mock toast. "To new beginnings and unexpected partnerships."

You clink your own mug against his, feeling a surge of warmth and camaraderie. As you finish your breakfast, the conversation flows easily between you and Sam. He regales you with stories of his adventures with Steve, carefully omitting any classified details but painting a vivid picture of the man you're about to marry.

You learn about Steve's dry sense of humor, his unwavering loyalty to his friends, and his surprising skill at sketching. Sam describes missions where Steve's quick thinking saved the day, but also quieter moments - movie nights with the team, intense debates over board games, and Steve's ongoing struggle to catch up on pop culture.

As Sam talks, you find yourself leaning in, captivated by these glimpses of reality, getting to know more about the man behind the myth. And even if the next twenty-four hours will be a whirlwind of you choosing and getting fitted for your wedding dress; interviewing candidates that have been vetted for your personal staff - assistant, pr strategist, stylist, initiative director; and a bachelorette party; you feel like you’ll be able to face it all with the bit of reassurance you’ve gained by spending this time with Sam.

next part: LAS VEGAS & CLEVELAND

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

This story will have 3-4 chapters, depending on where I split up the narrative. I anticipate about a chapter a week, usually posted on Fridays.

[lemotmo]

I agree with all of this, "hope this helps" 🤣🤣. It would not be cheating at all and even if it was cheating I still wouldn't care 😅. Where do you sit on this topic?

Q. Let me start by saying I desperately want Buddie together but I have a growing suspicion that they're going to insinuate or outright show that they kissed at the bachelor party and that would taint them from go for me because putting them together through cheating, especially on a character the show established had turned into a really good guy, is so unnecessary and disgusting and ruins them right off the bat.

A. I wasn't going to reply to this ask but I have several similar asks currently sitting in my inbox so I'm going to respond even though this person is clearly a tommy trying to pretend to be a Buddie. How are you all still so bad at all of this nearly a year on? Your ask is a completely disingenuous take. If having them kiss at the bachelor party ruins them from the start for you then you don't 'desperately' want them together. You don't want them together at all and I don't know why you feel the need to pretend that you do. When the bachelor party takes place Buck and Tommy had been on ONE very bad date. Yes, they had a conversation where Buck said he wanted to try again but they were not a couple. You can't cheat on someone you've had one date with. Furthermore the show definitely didn't establish that Tommy had become some stand up remarkable human being, that is laughable. He was a sexist racist when they needed him the first time around for Chim and Hen, and he was a gay man the second time around when they needed someone for the coming out storyline. That's it. The show didn't care to establish anything else about him. The fact he left Buck standing on a curb after he understandably panicked a bit during their first date and then told Buck Abby went crazy when he dumped her pretty much illustrates though that he wasn't a great guy.

Forcing real life moral codes onto fictional characters is always a recipe for pain though. You can't do that. The very nature of the media they exist in doesn't allow for real life moral rules to always be followed. Real life people don't always do the right thing. Expecting fictional character to do so is ridiculous. Drama comes from their mistakes so television shows will always have them screw up and make bad decisions every now and again. I don't want them to have kissed at the bachelor party because I don't want their first kiss to be a flashback, but I won't be terribly bothered if that is the route they take because it's not that big of a leap to make. They made a point of making both of them drunk, Oliver mentioned in an interview while talking about filming the karaoke scene that everyone needs a little liquid courage now and then. They made a point of releasing the deleted scene with Eddie telling Chris about how he met Shannon and what he liked so much about her when they first met. The show then intentionally had the bachelor party mirror that story with Buck talking all night long and showing how close and intertwined they both were all night long. The karaoke song even fit the callback of that story from Eddie. We also cannot ignore the fact that Eddie basically blew up his life following the bachelor party so going back and showing that something did indeed happen between the two of them that night would not be some astronomical story leap. I have said from the beginning they filmed way too much content and spent way too much money for those scenes to just never come up again or be shown. I don't think we're getting the actual karaoke scene but I do think we might get some of the other scenes in a flashback of some kind but we don't know that for sure. That New Year's Day post was definitely an intentional choice and it was certainly an interesting choice, but it doesn't necessarily indicate anything bachelor party related is coming. It could just be one more thing to add to the growing belief that Buddie is very much coming though.

Lastly, even if Buck and tommy had been in a full blown years long relationship and the show had Buck and Eddie get together by cheating on him I still wouldn't care or be angry. They could murder him, chop him up and dispose of the body and I would call it the most romantic thing ever. I genuinely don't care about him at all. Hope this helps ☺️

Thank you Nonny! 🤗

As for where I stand on this topic?

Listen, I grew up on soap operas where everyone cheated on everyone.😋 It never bothered me. In fact, it brought some extra tension and I love that in a show. So I don't really care one way or the other.

But also, Tommy wasn't his boyfriend at that time. They were trying things out and so far Tommy had proven himself to be a bit of an ass. So no, if we find out that Buck and Eddie kissed or made out during that bachelor's party? I will cheer.🙌🙌🙌

I've been here since te beginning. They need to get this show on the road and if this is the way they have chosen to go? I'm fine with it.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[noblehouseofgay]

Dancing Through Life

Part 4 to Noble's Wicked Series

Wolfstar and Jegulus microfic

Takes place before Popular

Mentioned Pandalily

Fluff!!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

"I see that once again the responsibility of corrupting my fellow students falls to me." Sirius smirked, standing up from his seat in the common room. "The trouble with schools is they always try to teach the wrong lesson. Believe me, I've been in enough detentions to know." He laughs, winking to the Marauders.

"They want you to become less callow, less...shallow? But I say," he hops onto the table, "why invite stress in?"

Remus, sitting on the table below him, simply rolls his eyes with a badly hidden smile.

"Stop studying strife," Sirius bends down to snap Remus' book closed, "and learn to live the unexamined life."

He stands up, slowly pulling Remus from his seat. "Dancing through life, skimming the surface. Gliding where turf is smooth."

"Life is painless," he ruffles Moony's hair, "for the brainless! Why think to hard, when it's so soothing-"

He jumps onto a library cart, letting it carry him across the room. "Dancing through life, no need to tough it when you can slough it off as I do!"

"Nothing matters but knowing nothing matters- it's just life. So keep dancing through!"

The students around the library began to join him, shutting their books and getting up to follow Sirius' lead.

"Dancing through life, swaying and sweeping. And always keeping cool," he winked, tugging lightly on his leather jacket. Regulus across the room rolled his eyes but it didn't go unnoticed. Sirius immediately ran over to him.

"Life is fraughtless," he laid his head on top of Regulus' as the smaller of the brothers batted at him, "when you're thoughtless."

Sirius hopped to sit on the table in front of his brother. "Those who don't try never look foolish." Regulus scoffed and stuck his face back into his book.

Sirius jumped up, right on top of Regulus' book. "Dancing through life! Mindless and careless!" He kicked the book onto the floor, walking down the table towards where Lily Evans sat.

"Let's go down to the Come and Go Room, we'll meet there later tonight. We can dance til it's light. Find the prettiest girl," he bowed and held his hand out to Lily, she rolled her eyes and laughed, taking his hand, "give her a whirl!" She laughed as Sirius spun her, ending the twirl but pushing her right towards Pandora. The red head blushed immediately as she bumped into the blonde.

Sirius smiled smugly, proud of himself for that one. "Right on down to the Come and Go Room! Come on follow me! You'll be happy to be there!"

The students chanted and danced around him, excited for the party Sirius was clearly throwing later. He couldn't help but smile, knowing he was giving so many kids the opportunity to have fun again.

Someone nudged Sirius lightly. He turned to find James smiling knowingly. "Will you be inviting someone yourself then, Pads?"

Sirius glanced towards the boy in a brown jumper, his confidence faltering for a moment. "Maybe, but I'm more curious about who you'll dance with, Prongs."

James laughed nervously. "I think I'll just go and enjoy the party with everyone instead actually."

Sirius hummed, walking behind James to lay his head on his shoulder. He sighed dramatically. "You know what would be even better than that? See that tragically depressed twink I call my brother? Over there being a killjoy? I think someone needs to give him a push, show him how much fun a party can be."

Sirius felt James tense up. It was working. "If only someone would ask him to the dance." Sirius stood back up and shrugged.

"I-...I'll do it. I'm gonna ask him."

"Oh, Prongsie. You're so kind. Truly." Sirius shoved James towards Regulus, knowing they'd been pining for each other for months.

"You're good." A deep voice came from behind Sirius.

"Moony." Sirius softened slightly. "I don't know what you mean, I was simply helping them both out."

Remus chuckled, walking closer to Sirius. "You know, I'm free tonight. If you were wondering..."

Sirius lit up. "Would you go to the party with me, Moony?"

Remus moved to kiss his head, Sirius immediately leaning into it. "You're perfect..."

Sirius smiled up at him. "You're perfect," he pulled Remus into a deep kiss and spoke against Remus' lips, "we're perfect together. Born to be forever."

Meanwhile...

Regulus couldn't stop smiling. He sat with his hand covering his mouth but it was no use.

James had asked him out.

The boy Regulus had been in love with since first year.

He asked him to the party.

Gods, he could just melt from happiness.

"What's with the smiling?" Dorcas sat down next to Regulus, poking his cheek slightly.

Regulus, blushed. "I'm not smiling. I don't smile."

"You're definitely smiling."

Regulus bit his lip. He whispered, "James asked me out."

Dorcas gasped and grabbed his arm. "Regulus! That's amazing!"

Regulus nodded slightly, letting himself smile once more. "I think...Sirius actually got him to."

Dorcas frowned immediately. "Sirius? Do you think it's a prank? Do I need to threaten him-"

"No, no," he cut her off, "I think he meant well...besides, I don't think James Potter would toy with someone's feelings. Or at least I hope he wouldn't."

Cas relaxed, bumping her shoulder into Regulus. "Soooo you've got a date to the party." She cooed, scrunching her nose and smiling.

"Piss off, it's just a party. It's not a proposal."

"Not yet, Reg. But you know Potter works fast." She smirked and stood from the table.

She began to walk away when Regulus softly spoke. "Cas?" She turned to look at him. "Could you...help me with what to wear?"

Her eyes lit up. "Yes! Dorms, tonight. We'll make sure Potter never forgets tonight."

[thebessthingathisparty]

With A Little Help From My Friends ⋆⁺₊❅.

Alexandra Saint Mleux ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

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Formula 1 college hockey team social media AU! Instagram Edition

The tight-knit college hockey team, the Silver Blades, run by team captain Max Verstappen, isn't just about scoring goals—it's a chosen family. On and off the ice, the team has each other's backs, whether that's through college assignments, throwing awesome parties, or winning the championship together. Follow these overworked, tired, college students as they post through their day-to-day life.

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AlexandraSaint

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liked by DanielRicciardo, LilyMuniHe, and others

AlexandraSaint long time coming

tagged TheFormulaMag

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ItsYourname YASSSSS MS TAYLOR SWIFT REFERENCE (liked by AlexandraSaint)

RandomHater God dumb swifities and making everything about her. 🙄

ItsYourname watch where u sleep 👁👁 (liked by AlexandraSaint)

Classmate/Hallmate ALEX!!! DYING TO SEE THE COLLECTION COME OVER ASAP (liked by AlexandraSaint)

DanielRicciardo Sick stuff mate, got your own business yet? If there are men's items I'm def willing to buy

AlexandraSaint merci! nothing for public sale yet, but i was looking to start my first male collection for the magazine I run if you want to help me with ideas!!!!!

DanielRicciardo ALEX PLEASE 😭😭😭😭 (liked by AlexandraSaint)

LewHamilton Wow Alex, clothes are really looking beautiful, cant wait for the pieces on them in the Mag (liked by AlexandraSaint)

AlexandraSaint merci lewis 🫶🫶🫶

CharLeclerc Beautiful as ever mon amour, can't wait for everyone else to see it (liked by AlexandraSaint)

ItsYourname oh he just HADD to announce that hes seen it, GET A GRIP CHARLES (liked by AlexandraSaint)

CharLeclerc You are my worse enemy

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liked by MaxVerstappen, YukiTsunoda22, and others

AlexandraSaint date with cha ᡣ𐭩

tagged CharLeclerc

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LandoNorris4 oo la la! *batting my eyes* (liked by AlexandraSaint)

AlexandraSaint tu es putain de stupide

DanielRicciardo Cha cha real smooth

RandomFan UGHHHHHH JUST KILLLL MEEEEEE WHY DOES HE GET HER????? (liked by ItsYourname)

ItsYourname oh!

ItsYourname so he's the reason i was drinking coffee by myself this morning, hm

ChaLeclerc Not my fault she likes me more

AlexandraSaint Charles do not start this with her again, you know she always ends up winning and you get your feelings hurts (liked by ItsYourname)

ChaLeclerc She is mean!

LilyMuniHe 😑😑😑😑😑 are those my shoes

AlexandraSaint LILYYYYYYY literally just for the day!!!!! (liked by LilyMuniHe)

AlexandraSaint THANK U! luv u!! (liked by LilyMuniHe)

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liked by LandoNorris4, ItsYourname, and others

AlexandraSaint 📷 @ItsYourname

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CharLeclerc Oh my godf (liked by AlexandraSaint)

CharLeclerc Oh mon dieu comment (liked by AlexandraSaint)

CharLeclerc Alex please I need to breathe today (liked by AlexandraSaint)

CharLeclerc tu es parfait, tu es à moi, tu es tout, tes yeux, tes lèvres, tes cheveux, tu es parfait dans tous les sens imaginables un jour je vais t'épouser et nous passerons le reste de notre vie ensemble (liked by AlexandraSaint)

Franco43Colapinto holy yap! 😭🙏

LandoNorris4 brother in christ CALM DOWN

OscarJP I think you've broken charles (liked by AlexandraSaint)

AlexandraSaint sorry son

OscarJP Please by all god 🙏 Do not call me that

CharLeclerc Oscar Jack Piastri do NOT speak to your mother like that (liked by AlexandraSaint and ItsYourname)

OllieBearman LMAOOOOOOOOOOO

ItsYourname you are the prettiest muse i have ever had, I want to shoot pictures of your forever

OscarJP Feeling slightly offended by this one

AlexandraSaint oscar! quitte nos affaires!!!!!

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liked by Franco43Colapinto, GeorgeRus, and others

AlexandraSaint crazzzy day out

tagged LilyMuniHe, ItsYourname, and LandoNorris4

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Franco43Colapinto i noticed one franco was not invited to the hangout? Since when did it get cool to uninvited the cool people estoy muy confundido y curioso?

AlexandraSaint franco we literally asked you to go but you said and i quote "this is the worse hangover i will ever have, i cannot cope and will never drink again, please go on without me"

Franco43Colapinto i didn't actually mean go 🙄

AlexandraSaint no seas tan estúpido tengo algo de sopa para ti 🙄

LandoNorris4 i think in another life i was meant to be your guys fourth roomate

LandoNorris4 like yeah wresting time and video game marathon nights with the boys are fun but my true potential was to be sipping a warm chai with my girls gossiping

OscarJP Are you okay??

Albono Nono I know exactly what he means (liked by AlexandraSaint)

CharLeclerc 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨

CharLeclerc That is a lot of bags and my credit card is gone

AlexandraSaint i think leo took it again?

RandomFan One strand of her hair, and I'm copying her whole life

RandomOtherFan PUH-LEASE you could never do it like her (liked by AlexandraSaint)

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[tuliplovesfictionalcharacters]

Hmmm... weighted blanket...

Gf is like weighted blanket but it bites you /ref

Letting your larger F/O lie on top of you.

Use your f/o as a weighted blanket.

Bonus: being able to play with their hair while they just lie there comfortably on top of you.