#those are the ones i think of off the bat

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Mr. Oblivious

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Reynolds x F!Reader

Summary: Bob is sometimes oblivious to the fact that people find him attractive and/or like him. One of those people includes you.

Warning: a little bit of angst

Marvel Masterlist

You thought you were being obvious, but, turns out, Bob is just oblivious. You're not sure how else you can show him that you like him, other than spell it out in big, bold letters "I LIKE YOU!"

Even then, there's a chance he might interpret that as you liking him as a friend. So, you just kind of settle in your puddle of frustration.

But you can't be mad at Bob. No way. It seems like he's not used to garnering any positive attention to himself. You can tell from the way he blushes and shies away from any compliment you give him, or how he brushes off nice comments about him and counteracts with a self-deprecating comment.

It kind of pains you that he feels unworthy of such adoration and attention, like it seems ridiculous for someone to genuinely like him.

But you try your best. You give him well-meaning and thought out compliments, ones you know to be true in your heart.

And how does he responds, with a shrug and a blush.

It is sometimes cute how oblivious he can be.

You and he ran errands together while the others were on a mission. John wasn't assigned on the mission, but he wanted to stay at the tower and sulk. So it was just you and Bob.

You were checking out at the grocery store when the cashier looked at Bob and said, "Your hair looks so soft. Can I touch it?"

Bob was like a deer in headlights for a moment until he responded with, "Oh, um, sure."

He awkwardly leaned in and the girl ran her fingers through his hair. She giggled and proceeded to ask Bob his hair care routine. You weren't a jealous person, but also Bob wasn't technically yours so you had no right to be jealous in the first place. But also, you found the interaction a little amusing. The girl clearly found Bob attractive and, honestly, you couldn't fault her for her forwardness.

"I don't know, I just shampoo and dry it with a towel." He gave a shrug and a polite smile.

"What kind of shampoo?" the girl leaned in and batted her eyes at Bob.

He leaned back, confused why she was getting closer, "Oh, uh, I forget. Y/N?" he asked.

"Head and shoulders, I think," you answered with a smirk.

"Yeah. Head and shoulders." Bob replied back with a nod.

"Guess I'll try it out sometime," she gave Bob a wink as you paid, trying to hold back a laugh.

After grabbing the receipt and your groceries, you both exited the store. Bob smiled, "She was nice."

You chuckled, "She was flirting with you."

He paused in his step and looked at you confused, "She was?"

You nodded and hummed, "Mhm. It was cute though. She was cute. Did..you wanna ask for her number?"

Bob looked back into the store and looked back at you, "I'm okay." He continued his trek back to your car.

"Not your type?" you asked jokingly, but also you were curious.

"Ah, I'm-I don't know if I have a type. When I was younger, I sorta just dated anyone who was interested in me...don't know if anyone would be interested in me now."

You pursed your lips at the last bit and you wanted to shake him and yell in his face, "I'M INTERESTED YOU, DUMMY!" But you didn't want to overwhelm him, so you continued to keep your feelings to yourself.

It all came to a head when it was post a successful mission. Alexei ordered pizzas and you all were lounging around the living room of the residential floor. People sipping on their respective alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks.

The random conversations and constant bickering and bantering eventually led to a conversation about each other's love lives.

Seemingly, the only one as close to a love life was John, but it's still iffy.

"What about you, Bob?" Yelena asks. Everyone's eyes turn to him and he's frozen for a moment.

"Uh, what about me?" he asks.

"What are your views on love?" Ava asks before taking a swig from her beer bottle.

"Oh, uh, I don't think I've ever been in love or truly experienced it. Never found anyone who, uh, really loved me, I guess."

"Well, we love you," Yelena says, patting his knee, "In a familial sense."

John snorts, "All of us, but one."

You glare at John and he shrugs, "What? It's not like he knows!"

"Knows what?" Bob looks at you, to John, and back to you.

"Walker," Bucky says his name in a warning tone, "Don't."

"The kid's oblivious! He obviously doesn't know that Y/N is in love with him!"

The world seemed to pause in that moment. People held their breaths as they all turned to you. Seething, you stand up and dump the rest of your drink on John's head.

"What the fuck!"

"Deserved," Ava said.

Yelena shakes her head, "Always have to be such an asshole."

You place your glass onto the coffee table and, without another word, headed upstairs.

Once you're gone, everyone turns their heads back to Bob. He gulps, "Y/N's in love with me?" He starts fidgeting with the sleeves of his sweatshirt, "I-" he looks at his found family, "What do I do?"

"Confess your love."

"Give her some space."

"Fuck, if I care."

"Talk to her."

"Walker, shut the hell up!"

Bob abruptly stands, overwhelmed with the various answers he's receiving. That's when they all go quiet.

Bucky clears his throats, "Do you have feelings for her?"

"I-Yeah. I do."

"Then tell her."

"Okay," he replies and then heads upstairs to find you.

He checks your room, which is across from his, but you're not there. Then he hears a curse from John's room. He pushes the door open to find you kneeling at John's bedside table.

"Y/N?" you freeze and look over your should.

"Uh...hi?"

Bob can't help but smile. He crosses his arms over his chest, leans against the doorframe, and asks, "What're you doing?"

"John's a dick so I left his tv on to play Cocomelon videos on repeat and I'm gluing his tv remote to the bedside facing down so he can't turn it off."

Bob chuckles, "That's...fun."

"Yup," you murmur and go back to adding more glue onto John's remote, "You don't have to say anything to me. We can just pretend that never happened."

Bob walks further into the room, "Why?"

"Don't want it to ruin our friendship, so we'll just pretend it's not true."

"But is it?" You stay silent and Bob continues, "Is it true you're in love with me?"

You shrug, avoiding his gaze, "Does it matter?"

"Well...yeah. The one person who means the most to me, loves me back. So yeah, it matters."

You take in what he's just said and your heart beat quickens. You slowly stand and look at him, "You feel the same way?"

He shrugs so nonchalantly, "How could I not?"

You can't help but laugh in disbelief, "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Probably the same reason you didn't. Scared and didn't want things to change. Also...I don't feel like I deserve you. I mean, I'm not the best person. I have a shitty past and still kind of a mess and-" his words get stuck as you rush forward and press your lips to his.

He's taken by surprise so by the time he starts to kiss you back, you pull away, "Please don't talk about yourself like that. You're not a bad person, Robby. It's okay if you have a shitty pass, because, newflash, we all do and now we're all fucking Avengers! Also, it's okay if you're a mess. You're working on yourself and that's a good thing." you swoop away a curl that got into his face, "I wouldn't have fallen in love with you if I didn't see something in you that's worth loving."

He nods, "Okay."

"I love you."

"I..I love you too."

You lean in and he rests his forehead against yours, "I do have something to request of you."

"Yeah? What?"

"You need to be more situationally more aware because I was so obvious I had feelings for you."

He pulls back with furrowed brows, "What? No, you weren't."

"I was! So painfully obvious!"

"She was," John says as he appears in the doorway, "Also, why're you in my room?"

You pull away from Bob and shrug, "Thought I saw a mouse go into your room. Good night!" you tug on Bob's arm, leading him out of John's room.

You two go into yours, locking the door behind you.

Down the hall, you hear John yell, "DID YOU GLUE MY REMOTE TO THE TABLE?!"

[cherrygirlfriend]

─── UNZIP ME ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

𐙚 pairing: nerd!rafe x perv!reader

𐙚 summary: rafe has difficulty undressing you.

𐙚 warnings / tags: smut, some fluff, MDNI!

𐙚 author's note: based on a video sent by nerd!rafe’s #1 stan @raahosh i hope you like it queen <3

PERV MASTERLIST 𐙚 RAFE MASTERLIST

after you and rafe started dating, your favorite part about going out was no longer the part where you’d flirt with everything that moved. it was no longer about batting your eyelashes at some poor bastard and making him think you’d be going home with him if he bought you and your girls a round of shots.

no.

you never thought you’d become one of those girls, but somehow, when you fell in love with rafe, your favorite part about going out was coming back; even better if the place you came back to was his dormitory.

you’d sneak into your boyfriend’s dorm with your heels in your hand, still wearing the dress you’d worn out that night. rafe would boil some water while you changed into one of his shirts that were too big on you (usually something related to star wars). he’d pour the boiled water into two noodle cups, and help you take your makeup off because you were ‘too tired’ when in reality you just liked having him take care of you.

the two of you would then cuddle up in his bed, eating your cup noodles while you told him anecdotes about your night, all the while some show was playing on his laptop.

this time was different, though. not only were you missing rafe, but you were craving him. the entire time you were at the shitty packed nightclub with your girls, only thing you could think about was him. it got so bad you ended up scrolling through your gallery for pictures of you and him.

finally, when you’d had enough, you decided to just tell your friends a little white lie about how you were feeling nauseous, and got an uber back to the boys’ dormitories.

soon enough, you were behind rafe’s door, your boyfriend’s eyes widening when he saw you standing there, “what are you-”

you interrupted his sentence by pressing your lips on his in a heated kiss, your arms wrapped around his neck. rafe moaned into the kiss, slamming the door shut so loudly it must’ve awoken a few other people residing in the dormitories, his touch making you feel drunker than the remnants of alcohol still in your veins.

your hands were on his hips, tugging him closer to you while also pushing him backwards towards his bed. you pulled away from the kiss, pushing rafe down onto the bed, his pupils blown wide as he looked up at you in surprise. you straddled rafe’s lap, tugging on his hair as your chest pressed against him.

“missed you…” you mumbled, your lips pressed against his, your ragged breaths mingling together. “missed you too…” he whispered and you connected your lips with his, your lips greedily moving against his. rafe’s hands started trailing up your back, searching for the zipper of your dress.

finally, though, when he found it, the boy couldn’t seem to be able to unzip it no matter how many times he tugged on it, and you couldn’t help the grin that took over your lips, pulling away from him in a breathless daze, feeling him starting to harden underneath you.

“i have to do everything myself, do i?” you chuckle, rising back to your feet, rafe letting out a disappointed whine, his lips in a pout. you turned your back to your boyfriend, and he watched as your skilled hands slowly unzipped the dress, revealing your bare back to him, his eyes widening.

you let the black dress pool at your feet before stepping out of it, taking slow, measured steps towards rafe, his eyes shamelessly trailing over your bare chest.

you straddled your boyfriend once again, a seductive smile on your face as one of his hands cupped your breast, his thumb pressing over your nipple, the bud starting to harden under his cold hands in a way that made you arch into him.

“much better.” you grin, tilting his head back by his chin, before bringing your lips to his and sliding your hands under his shirt.

TAGLIST: @raahosh @purpleplumpudding @rafesheaven @esotericcangel @mattyskies @bakugouswaif @littlelamy

[scribblingface]

yeah reblogging this for the last addition. cats don't "lie", and they don't try to pass off one action as another real quick to "look innocent". that is not how their minds work, it's just very cute and funny on the occasions that it LOOKS that way to us. but I think it's genuinely really important to like. actually understand how cats think and behave if you are someone who lives with a cat. there is a degree of anthropomorphizing your cat's behaviour that will lead to confusion, dissapointment, frustration (for both you and your cat), and a total inability to resolve basic problems with your cat's behaviour. cats are intelligent, they are social, but they're cats; they think like cats, not like humans. to resolve problems you need to understand on a basic level how your cat thinks.

that cat with the bouquet isn't "pretending" they were just rubbing on the flowers; they saw the human get angry at what they were doing, and rubbing on things like that is a friendly social 'look I'm being nice let's get along' behaviour. grooming is a way to self soothe and recalibrate after any action or interaction that goes poorly or is a little bit stressful (being told no, missing a jump and falling on the floor, etc.). in the case of the cat pushing the object back onto the table when they were about to knock it off, they probably wanted to continue playing by batting it around and they've learned that while batting it off the table gets them told no, batting it around on the table doesn't get a negative reaction, so they're switching to playing in a way that won't cause the human to get upset at them.

cats will learn what gets a negative reaction from you and often try to avoid those things. they will often try to reestablish normal friendly relations with you after receiving a negative reaction--or, especially in cats who get disproportionately stressed by a negative response, they might instead get a bit aggressive and do something like trying to swipe you, becaue they respond to that stress in an aggressively defensive instead of a conciliatory way. (and that's not a "vengeful" response to being told no, it's a defensive response to feeling stressed, and is a cue to you to moderate your negative reaction to something more lowkey that won't stress your cat out so much). they are not lying, pretending, or "manipulating" you.

Cats getting caught doing crimes

[the-modern-typewriter]

"You're hurt."

"I'm fine."

The ex-villain caught the hero's arm, forcing them to a halt. That at least, perhaps, was one thing that never changed. It shouldn't have comforted them - the ex-villain's lack of care for other people's potential boundaries.

Still. It did.

They couldn't remember the last time any of their friends or team had touched them so fearlessly, as if the hero wasn't an infinitely breakable thing. Just as they couldn't remember the last time their friends or team remembered that they weren't simultaneously invulnerable. Untouchable.

It was nice.

The former villain's grip was strong and firm and warm, like if the hero suddenly keeled over they wouldn't buckle with the weight of it.

The hero realised distantly that the ex-villain was saying something, eyes dark, brow furrowed.

"Hm?"

The ex-villain's lips pressed thin. "You're hurt," they said, again.

"Yeah," the hero said. "I know. It's fine."

"Hurt doesn't sound fine." The villain's teeth were gritted. "They can't be sending you out there in pain. Do they do that a lot? I'll kill them."

The hero laughed before they could help themselves.

The ex-villain's scowl deepened.

"Sorry," the hero said.

"How is that funny? Aren't you supposed to be against brutal murder?"

"Oh, yeah. No. I am. Don't kill my friends." The hero waved a hand to bat that whole idea away. "You're supposed to be reformed and all that jazz. It would look terrible on your record. People will get the wrong impression."

The ex-villain stared at them.

The hero gave their arm a gentle tug.

The villain did not let go.

"I have chronic pain," the hero said. "So it's funny."

The villain stared at them for a long moment in absolute silence.

"I'm sorry," they said, very calmly. "What?"

"Today's not a bad day for it, particularly." The hero shrugged. "But like, yeah. If I didn't do my job when I was in pain I'd like never do my job or really much of anything, so..."

"That's not funny."

"It's gotta be a little funny."

The villain was still staring at them.

"Comes with the whole being magically super flexible thing," the hero said. "It's okay."

"Every time you say 'it's fine' or 'it's okay' I become even less convinced that you are either of those things."

The hero snorted, partly to mask the way the words caught them off guard, an unexpected odd-angle blow. "Eh. Fine enough to fight. Speaking of..."

"No." The former villain's fingers flexed on their arm. "Your people know about this?"

"Obviously."

"And they're fine with it?"

"I can handle myself."

"Maybe you shouldn't have to."

The hero's ever-present cheer wobbled, just a fraction. Their throat thickened. They weren't quite sure what to say. They shrugged again, and did their best to summon a smile even brighter than before.

"I should go," they said. "Big robot to restrain before it hits the city and all that."

"Can I help?"

"Don't you have your own assignment to get to?"

"I meant with the pain."

"I mean, unless you can give me a new body."

"I can endeavour."

The hero snorted again. "It's fine, Doctor Frankenstein. Thanks."

"Is it?" The ex-villain's voice was quiet. "It doesn't have to be, you know. Not everything is."

The hero opened their mouth, then closed it. Their throat felt dry. They looked away, suddenly self-conscious in a way they'd thought they'd long since shaken off. Suddenly...

The ex-villain's fingers stroked through their hair. The hero willed themselves not to cry.

They didn't think anyone in the hero industry had ever told them it was okay not to be okay. Struggle was a part of the job, sure, but only in a very specific way. Everyone knew that heroes kept going. They got up every time they were hit and never gave up.

"Can I...can I have a hug?"

They felt silly asking, but the villain hugged them immediately and without question. Held them close like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The hero melted.

Then, they went to save the world.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wayward 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, arranged marriage, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Duke!Steve Rogers (Medieval AU)

A Knights, Kings, and Knaves Story

Summary: you accompany the court to a foreign kingdom for a tournament of four kings and find yourself entwined with a staunch duke.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“My lord,” you gasp. “My apologies.” 

“For what affront? Having fun?” Duke Rogers challenges. He lets you go slowly, his touch dragging on your arms. 

“I... suppose,” you bat your lashes. “More so, not looking where I step.” 

“There are greater things to worry for,” he brushes his hands over his tunic then puts them behind him. Like many of the lords, he wears shorter sleeves as well. You notice how his muscles bulge beneath the skin. “I do hate to trod on your gaiety.” 

“My lord, not at all. I... think I am in need of a reprieve. I do get carried away,” you shift on your feet shyly. 

“Mm, it is rather raucous,” he glances past you and his brow arches. He moves as if ducking behind you. “Pardon, I see someone I’d rather not speak with.” 

“My lord?” You crane around in confusion. The ladies continue their buoyant prancing and your father peers through the crowd. You spin back to the duke. 

“As do I,” you eke out. 

“I know where we might retreat, until they pass us by,” he suggests. 

“Oh, you do?” You wonder. 

“Not to be untoward. My lady, be assured, I am promised to another and would not act ungentlemanly.” 

You peek back again and dodge your father’s eyeline. 

“I don’t worry for that,” you face the duke again. “Please, if you will.” 

He waves you away from your father and you scurry after him. He is sure in his stride. In his duties, he must be as familiar with this far away place as those who reside there.  

He leads you into the corridor, away from the din, and you sigh at the cool air. You only notice then how hot you truly are. The sweat has grown so constant that you’re quite used to your damp clothes. 

“Many thanks, my lord. I must confess, I did not wish to let my father spoil my night. Again.” 

“Your father?” He intones. 

“Mm, yes. I came with him. He is one of King Tony’s men. He has been rather... uptight. Especially since... well, it hardly matters.” 

“I admit I might not be any less,” Rogers huffs. “My king has caused quite the stir.” 

“Yes, he has,” you agree. “But it is good. He has a wife and that means he will have heirs.” 

“Mm, yes, in theory, it is very good,” he scratches his beard. “Ugh, this heat.” 

“It is horrid, isn’t it?” You fan yourself with your hands. 

“You wear it well,” he assures. 

You look at him coyly, “sir?” 

“You glisten,” he tilts his head coyly. “Mm,” he hums as his demeanour sinks. “How long can we hide? I must face that weasel soon enough. If I am to wed his daughter, I will have to do so often.” 

“Betrothed? That is exciting. Is she kind?” You ask. 

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve not met her as yet. The arrangement was agreed upon today. My king bids me to it. He says it is past time.” He crosses his arms. “Is there some handsome lord at home awaiting you?” 

“No, though my father wishes so. He hoped I might find a suitor here but... alas...” 

“Here? Oh, let us hope not. It is a den of intrigue. Only those with a purpose have come.” He clucks. “That would include myself. I came to ward off war though my leige does work against that end.” 

“War? Do you think?” You wince and cover your mouth. You shake your head. “Forgive me,” you speak between your fingers. “I ask foolish questions.” 

“It is not foolish to worry for war. It is a hideous affair. All should fear it,” he girds. 

“Yes, but I am a woman. I haven’t the mind for it. Father says.” You throw your your hands. “I can’t even find a husband. My sisters are wed. He is proud of them...” You look at the duke and cringe. “And I blabber at you about it.” 

“I don’t mind.” 

“You needn’t humour me,” you lean on a column. “What do you know of her? This beautiful lady you are to wed?” 

“Not very much, I fear.” 

“Did she say she is beautiful?” 

He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t know.” 

“Perhaps she is clever. She must be if she is to be a duke’s wife.” 

“Hopefully,” he agrees. 

“And she must take good care of a household,” you add. 

“She must,” he utters. “I didn’t... I am adjusting still to the idea, I think.” 

“I still can hardly fathom it. When I do finally find someone. A husband? In my head, I see only a shadow. As fearsome as a wraith.” You sigh. “Well, I’m certain your wife will be comely and sweet.” 

“I can hope.” He says. “She is in attendance, so I was informed, though I’ve not yet chanced upon her. That who I avoided, I’m sure he is eager for us to meet.” 

“You are... nervous?” 

“Unprepared,” he says. “But I am a duke, so it must be done. It seems not many men heed their duty, as it were. I should not follow in their stead.” 

“I’m certain all will be well,” you say. 

“For you as well,” he returns and glances over his shoulder. “Do you know very many ladies?” 

“Some.” 

“Perhaps you have met her?” He turns to you again. “If I gave you her name, would you point her out?” 

“I can try. As I said, I only know a handful beyond my own realm.” 

He looks you over thoughtfully. His brows stitch and his jaw ticks. He looks almost reluctant. He exhales through his nose. He enunciates the name clearly. You flinch. You squint at him curiously. 

“You know her?” He asks. 

You snort and flutter your lashes. How can it be? Truly? The duke?

“Why, yes sir, I do know her.” You squeak, “she is I—erm, I am her. Sir.” 

[plotholesaregreatactually]

Honestly we don’t see much about Duke in these crossovers.

So here’s a really long post! Though it isn’t exactly Duke.

@im-totally-not-an-alien-2 I hope you approve!

(Oh it’s really late for me rn)

I mean, pretty sure duke could use his powers to turn invisible and he usually does the day shift by himself I think so it’s a bit easier to get some of his DNA without being noticed and as the meta of the group it makes sense he’d be targeted.

I can even imagine how they meet.

The sole somewhat stable surviving clone of the vigilante Signal manages to escape from the facility he’s held in.

Similarly to Superboy he gets some knowledge downloaded into him but not on the same level as I imagine this to be a smaller and more lowkey organization. That’s also why he isn’t so stable.

He gets some of Duke’s memories to as *waves hands* somehow his meta ability allowed him to just have some of his memories, for flavor ig.

So escaped clone learned pretty early on how to turn invisible and does a few light shows every now and then when fighting against his previous captors and to better understand his powers.

Someone noticed some weird light shows and a new ghost story is born!

In comes the Fentons with the ectoplasm powered steel chair!

And Phantom swoops in to the rescue! The gh- wait this isn’t a ghost!

And flys away after saving Mr. To-be-named who has stars in his eyes after being rescued for the first time ever. Though he still has a bit of bat paranoia ingrained in his being.

Next comes a hilarious series of cutscenes of them hanging out and getting closer to each other!

Danny introduces Cloney to Nasty Burger!

Beam Supreme (the clone) has a powers mishap! And gets an array of lightbulb and light related punny nicknames from Danny.

Danny shows Disco Strikes Back! His astronomy knowledge by bringing to a special event at a planetarium, for some reason though Sam and Tucker couldn’t make it?

Our Clone boy remembers that his template tried out for track and soccer before and decided to see if it’s something he would like. The track reminds him of the few endurance tests he was put through though with soccer he loved the camaraderie the sport had, and the fact he got to join a team while his template got kicked out.

Rainbow Jumpscare earns that nickname by scaring off a group of ghost that tried to jump Danny as a civilian! …He really liked the feeling of saving someone… though he didn’t like the way his chest felt when he saw Danny in danger.

And many more happen though you can think those up!

[Next part is in sections so you don’t have to read one huge chunk of text]

(Pt.1) Danny accidentally shows off his weapons prowess when a ghost uses Paulina as a hostage, he even gets invited a party she’s hosting tomorrow! He’s so excited! Or. He should be. He’s not sure why he feels so, uninterested, it’s Paulina! The school’s idol! And where’s Sparkles?

(Pt.2) It’s the day of the party and our dear clone boy really doesn’t want to be around, he’s realizing something about himself and if he sticks around longer it won’t be just the G.I.W after Danny. Showing off his powers like that must have alerted someone to where he is, and… if Danny, if someone who’s been so head over heels for some girl since they met finds out about his feelings then! No. He won’t ever find out. (Not even Clone Duke can do emotions, well he was made from a guy born in Gotham)

(Pt.3) Danny, after talking to, surprisingly enough, his parents, comes to a realization that Paulina doesn’t really matter to him anymore! I mean she’s popular and he’ll still save her and all but his relationship with Glowbug means a lot more to him!

(Pt.4) They play a game of cat and mouse, Clone Duke manages to find and start methodically disassembling the G.I.W by destroying credibility and funding. Danny on the other hand somehow manages to follow his trail due to a unique ectoplasmic signature on a gift he gave Gleam Beam early on during their friendship. Danny thinks the G.I.W did something to his… His friend of course! Ha ha yup just friends no weird feeling at thinking that at all ha ha.

(Pt.5) The G.I.W is a few steps away from being irrecoverably broken and Clone Duke feels… totally not alone he can compartmentalize like any other hero clone! Danny really misses his Glow Bro really really misses him. But in a totally bro way of course!

(Pt.6) Danny nearly dies, Clone Duke nearly dies, they both get captured. Sam, Tucker and Valerie though begrudgingly manage to break in and cause enough of a commotion our duo escape! They then face down an insane man decked out in stolen and remodeled tech, who was the one to capture the duo, and defeat him.

(Pt.7) Clone Duke decides to ‘finally tell them his name’ aka. He just decided on one and is definitely not telling anyone he’s a clone.

He tells them his name is Asier.

Danny suddenly remembers Asier is also a pickle.

Pickle puns.

Many pickle puns. And jokes. And plushies. And keychains. And- you get it now right?

Though of course they aren’t telling each other about the weird feelings they have! Nope not that!

Despite their weird pretty much flirting during the entire fight.

And oh. Oh dear the rescue trio is not amused. And through *insert method here* the rescue trio call out the glowstick duo on their feelings!

And now they have to deal with PDA™️. Just kill them now but don’t because if they become ghosts they’ll deal with this for an eternity.

Btw Asier managed to destroy the group that cloned him and has several plans for the Fentons to make his beloved !Boyfriend! Happy!

Later he comes out with the whole clone thing after meeting Ellie after nearly dying from being a little too unstable and they decide to prank the Waynes for their anniversary.

(Hi! If anyone wants to add or write out any of this please do!)

(Also I’m not adding Cores or Obsessions or Ghost Instincts because this is meant to be lighthearted and I don’t want to delve in deep)

(Also if you give me content it fuels me and lets me make more so please type anything and I will consume it with the grace of a untrained dog given bacon that somehow manages to idk write bootleg Shakespeare)

Danny held back his laughter as he sprinted away. The note he left in the batmobile is going to rile up Gothams furries if what his boyfriend said was right.

All he wrote was, "I'm dating your clone, and there's nothing you can do about it." No signature, no fingerprints, heck, he didn't even reveal who's clone it was. Now he and his boyfriend are going to follow along with invisibility and popcorn to watch their heads explode.

[luciaintheskyainthi]

Do you think Jason would read fanfiction?

I can't see him spending too much time on his phone but at the same time I can totally imagine him reading one of those masterpiece you find on AO3 at 3am by someone whose first language isn't English and like, changes your brain chemistry

Also what are your headcanons for ECM!Jason's and Peter's respective music tastes?

I think that Jason pre-death definitely read fanfiction. Maybe he heard some kids talking about it in school and checked it out of curiosity. I'm imagining this was his reaction lol:

After his death... IDK it feels like maybe it was something that just got lost or forgotten about by him. Until someone on the Batchat mentions it and suddenly Jason's smacked hard in the face by the memory of that wonderful place LO3 (Library of our Own because lol why not) and--

Suddenly Jason falls completely off the radar for like, a month straight. He is. Uncontactable. It takes a while for the Bats to realise because Jason going radio silent isn't unusual, but after three weeks being left unread, they're worrying haha. They wonder if he's on some big undercover job or something. Wrong, he's just thirty pages deep on that pairing he loved as a teen and has barely left the sofa. 😂😂😂

Give it time and he might even start writing...

[elodieunderglass]

I've been rotating Charlie a little and I'm curious now: who actually are the Worthingtons? Are there cousins on that side or was Helena their only child and that's why they're so willing to welcome back their scapegrace grandson, the last piece of their bloodline they can grab onto?

(Killie's maternal family, whom his twin briefly sheltered with after leaving their birth family)

You've got it! I think I've laden the Horseboys with a lot of generational themes, but that's what I pick at a lot, I suppose: who's going to be brave enough to stand up and stop passing down generational trauma. I think Helena had one or two siblings but they didn't reproduce. The Worthington parents wouldn't object to gaining a new child, especially one that pops up fully adult, and especially one that bats his eyelashes nicely, and agrees to take their last name in exchange for school money (˶◕‿◕˶✿) and fine, he's short and Irish, but he manages to not sound it, and he's sparkly and charming, and Helena taught him how to behave in company.

(there might be some distant, vile, unattractive hanger-on cousin who skulks about the family house hoping to inherit, who - rightfully - views Charlie as an interloper, but against whom Charlie is a piquant contrast and seems a better option. Gothic, or perhaps Heyeresque, drama to be mined here!)

They're posh, though probably not rich. Faded grandeur, rotten attitudes, and one(1) remaining crumbling shithole manor house.

they are nasty and conservative.

They're so off-putting that Helena cut off contact with them.

which implies a lot.

they're into foxhunting.

they're the kind of people who offload their small child onto nannies and send her to boarding school ASAP, meaning Helena comes by her attachment issues honestly, at least.

a core, mildly sympathetic, thing about the ice-cold hellhound is that she never feels safe. she was unsafe at school, unsafe in her family home. she is unsafe at parties, she is unsafe in other people's houses, she is unsafe at brunch with her nasty catty Tory wife friends: yet those are all her natural habitats. she wants to claw off her own skin; she's a millisecond away from clawing off their faces; she can't stand it she can't stand them she would gladly poison them all!

Helena is a bit like a fish who's allergic to water.

but Helena feels safe with Bill.

no matter how much your family might like foxhunting, running off with an odd little jockey to live in the Republic of Ireland (possibly before the ceasefire????) is an absolutely wild move for an English Tory bitch girl in the (1990s?), no matter how much land his family owns.

they would successfully crush Killie if they got him, but Charlie (and Helena) escaped. I think you have to have an internal sense of self and a long game to play (Charlie), or perhaps an external rescuer, to truly escape them.

I don't know how the Worthingtons would've felt after Charlie successfully ghosted them, though! probably they died of anger and outrage, and left all their stinky money and moth-eaten taxidermied foxes to Nigel Farage

[scoops404]

thinking Dream has never lied to us is insane btw, sorry. like, we know he's lied to us. he's admitted he lied to us. and that's fine, btw. that's his prerogative and sometimes something to keep him safe, so i never mind. but to think he'd just never lie to us is naive

the tweet right before the face reveal about his haircut going well when internally he was debating if he should drive off a cliff because they gave him a republican mullet? That's' just the first instance that comes to mind

he's definitely lied and manipulated his videos in order to make them better--not "faking" like some antis like to claim, but using the hunters' reactions from older footage when he did a trick the first time in a manhunt where he died early, things like that that enhance the video. technically, those are lies

his late april fools joke a few years ago about being the ceo of minecraft that people really believed and went to bat for him on... that one confused me tbh because i thought that was clearly a joke

i don't believe he's lied to us about any of his controversies or in any of his apologies. one thing i appreciate about dream is that he owns up to mistakes and tries to grow from them. can't do that if you're lying to your audience and yourself about the mistake

[sfaghetti]

A character analysis regarding Regina Berry

it's quite clear the writers didn't handle Regina The Best in aa2, what with portraying the concept of pedophilia and her being groomed by three different adult men (Max, Trilo, Bat. on that topic, a lot of people overlook Bat also being a grown adult man while she was still a kid) as a normal romance, however they did improve greatly with aai2 and I'd say you can even use what happens in aa2 to add to her character in aai2.

one of the key points that stick out to me is how in aa2 she starts off being "naive" after being sheltered by her father for so long in the circus until Moe takes her to court and forces her to face reality head-on (which btw, if we're to criticize the pedos and Regina's father for indulging them despite AA painting them in good light, then we should also criticize Moe considering this also implies he did nothing to protect her from them). after she's faced with all of this she breaks down and blames herself for everything that happens (despite the fact none of it was her fault) and swears to go visit Bat every day. this comes as a rather big contrast when in aai2 she does show sadness at being betrayed by Simeon, but rather than dwell on it or blame herself she addresses feeling sad by it then choosing to move on.

but this brings to another interesting topic: terrible coping mechanism. her not blaming herself over something that isn't her fault is already a great improvement for her, however the way she brushes it all off shows how she might also have a similar coping mechanism to Simeon, which is to ignore her own feelings and pretend she is fine. she talks about Simeon being able to ignore something as big as the murder of his childhood best friend by just going to sleep and being fine the next day, and she talks about this as though it is a positive thing, such that even Miles Mr. Fake Your Death is weirded out by this.

this deal of hers can also be seen at the end where she talks about just "blowing away the competition and those bad memories away" (shown a few pictures above) rather than think about it any further. also interesting how she now refers to the others such as Max and Trilo as competition to knock over (though this is more obvious in the fan translation). which is why I hc her finally realising that they were bad for her and moving on from the idea of the "romance", which I think makes sense considering her reaction.

she also talks about enjoying being at the prison more than the circus in the second aai2 case, which I think is an interesting idea and could add up to the hc / theory that she genuinely doesn't want to be around them anymore.

and going further on this idea of Regina trying to shove down feelings / putting on a fake cheery persona (at least, in aai2) we also have Miles talk about her not batting an eye despite being accused of a crime, showing her resilience, yet afterwards Miles mentions her smile seems unable to reach her eyes as she pretends that everything is under control, making this seem more like something that she fakes.

she is also remarked in quite a few dialogues to have people fall for the cute, cheery attitude. the only one who seems to ever point out and notice her smile being faked is Miles, but even Miles falls for her "tactics" at one point, with her getting him to apologise to her without him even realising why.

another thing to remark about her being smart is her ability to quickly read not just animals but also people and figure them out in aai2. it's kinda crazy to see how far she comes along between aa2 and aai2, even if it doesn't seem noticeable at the start.

it also shows how good she is at this that she's also able to read Simeon brushing off his own feelings DESPITE him putting on a fake persona during the entire time they knew each other, and him trying to ignore his own feelings is also a fact, or at least try to get rid of them. numb them out. he equates feeling good with feeling numb.

summary: Regina is a very interesting character outside of just "poor victim" or "cheery silly girl". she shows a great change in behaviour (even if not noticeable at first) between aa2 and aai2, she goes from naivety to trying to drown out negative feelings, despite putting on a "silly" attitude she's still shown to be smart and being able to fake parts of her personality, and having an ease with both manipulating people and also reading them. it makes sense that she's positioned to be Simeon's sidekick and boss, as they're both very much alike. her cheeriness is something that she both fakes yet is also part of her real personality, similarly to how Simeon faked his weakness as a persona yet at the end his "weak side" was also part of his true self, showcased when he's reunited with Kanis again. they both play further into parts of themselves that are technically true but take it to an extreme, as a way to either shield themselves from any further feelings or (mostly Simeon's case) to fool others.

and under the idea that she was also abused as a child (even though aa2 doesn't intend you to take what she goes through as abuse, but it very much is) similarly to how Simeon was, it adds to the way they parallel each other too.

[sofreddie]

Not What You Wanted - Part 5

Summary: Sam and Dean insist Y/N needs rest and recovery, and they take the time to get to know one another better.

Characters: Dean Winchester / F!Reader / Sam Winchester

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Canon Divergent AU, Angst, Injury Recovery, Fluff

WC: 3,917

A/N: Sorry for the delay, guys. Time gets away from me, and life gets busy. And, let's be honest, creating a post is a real pain sometimes. LOL. I swear it's like my PC wants to explode anytime I go to desktop Tumblr.

Part 4

Dean drove like a bat out of hell, his attention split between the road and the backseat where Y/N lay bleeding out in Sam’s arms. They couldn’t go to a hospital. They needed to get off the road and lay low for a while. Castiel wasn’t answering his phone or prayers, and Dean wasn’t even sure they could get back to the Bunker peacefully. The hunt had gone sideways, and several wolves were prominent community members. Their faces and car were all known, and now they were in hiding mode until the heat died enough for them to return to their home base.

Stopping abruptly, Dean climbed out of the car, checking the small hunting cabin - one of Bobby’s many cabins - and making way for Sam to bring Y/N inside. Sam immediately got to work on Y/N’s wounds. It was a mess; three long stripes ripped open on her stomach, though it didn’t seem to be deep enough to hit any organs. Sam fed her pills and whiskey for the pain before he started stitching her wounds. Luckily, she passed out once he started, the pain too much for her to take.

At least she wasn’t screaming anymore.

Dean paced the small space, his ever-watchful eyes trained on Sam and Y/N. He was worried - beyond worried - and he wanted to go back and kill all those wolves all over again for going after her in the first place. His instincts and the Mark were screaming. She had to be okay. He wasn’t sure what would happen if she died. His very soul recognized hers, calling out for her, for their connection. Much like her, he was trying to fight it off, primarily for her sake, as she was adamant about fighting against it. Seeing her like this, almost losing her before he even had a chance to get close to her, changed the way he felt. Maybe he could convince her to want them.

Once Sam was done and moved Y/N into the large bed in the back room, he cleaned up the mess silently. Dean could tell Sam was just as scared of losing her as he was. Dean silently made his way over to Y/N, took off his shoes and flannel, and carefully climbed into the bed beside her passed-out body. He was careful not to touch or move her, not wanting to exacerbate her injuries. But he needed to be close, so he curled beside her and fell asleep.

-

Crowley sat on his throne in his Asylum-turned-Palace, rubbing the ache from his temples. Several of his demon minions were about the room after informing him that his former captive had found her way to Castiel, and likely the Winchester by extension.

He had hoped that she could be used as leverage against the brothers, and he likely still could if he captured her again. He also wondered if she retained any God-power that could be siphoned. He didn’t get to test her or find out since she managed to escape.

The demon guards on duty that night were all killed by his command. But not Maria. Her betrayal deserved special attention, lest someone think of betraying him again. There was, quite literally, a special place in Hell for her.

“Sir.”

One of his other men, whom he’d sent to find Y/N, stood to report. Crowley hoped he had better news.

“What is it?”

“The female was sighted in the company of the Winchesters,” the demon reported, swallowing hard before continuing. “She was injured, but they left, and now we’re not sure where they are.”

“I’m surrounded by morons,” Crowley uttered. “You lost them, you find them. I want her back. Come back empty-handed, and I’ll feed you to my hellhounds.”

The many minions scattered, hurrying to obey their King’s commands lest they, too, be tortured or killed. Crowley sighed again at his plight. Demons were absolute imbeciles!

-

Y/N stirred awake; her whole body felt as if a large truck ran her over, then backed up and ran over her again for good measure. She winced as the stitches pulled at her stomach. She gingerly lifted the edge of her shirt - not her shirt, she realized - and saw the bandages covering her, blood seeping through the material in some places.

A shift beside her drew her attention to Dean, still asleep and somewhat fitful beside her. It confused and warmed her in equal measure, seeing him resting there. She could only assume he was concerned, knowing what she did about the man. Would he care so much if I wasn’t his soulmate? She couldn’t help the negative thoughts running through her mind, but her fangirl put her in her place. Of course he would! It’s what he does!

In her mind, Dean had the biggest of hearts; his love and care for others were among his greatest strengths, even if they were used against him.

She tried to sit up, but the pain of her stitches made her cry out. Dean was up instantly, his eyes frantically searching around for the disturbance. When his eyes landed on her, she was sheepish and apologetic.

“I didn’t mean to wake you. Sorry,” Y/N mumbled, struggling to sit upright.

Dean was quick to help her. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, guiding her to sit against the headboard. He stuffed pillows behind her for comfort.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice deep with sleep.

“Like I just had the best spa day,” she responded sarcastically, making Dean chuckle. She couldn’t stop the smile forming on her face at the sound of his laughter. I did that. The smile faded as quickly as it appeared, Y/N swallowing hard.

“What’s wrong?” Dean was worried that maybe the pain was getting to be too much for her again. It would take a few weeks for her to heal properly.

“Are you gonna yell at me?” she asked in a small voice that Dean barely heard. His eyes widened at her words, and he licked his lips as he thought over what to say.

“Why would I yell at you?”

“Because I got hurt.”

Dean took a sharp inhale. He knew he had a temper and was quick to anger in most situations. He had yelled at her for running away, but that was for different reasons.

“This wasn’t your fault,” he insisted. As Y/N shook her head in denial of his words, he soothingly placed a hand over hers. “You did everything right. You stayed in the motel, and the protections were in place. If anything, it’s my fault.”

“Did you send her to attack me?”

“What? Of course not-”

“Did you let her escape or know she would find me?”

“No-”

“Then how is it your fault?”

Dean groaned and rubbed a hand down his face, “If I had gotten to her quicker-”

“It was her fault, Dean. She escaped while you were fighting others and then found me. You couldn’t have seen it coming or prevented it. You can’t save everyone, right?”

“You’re our responsibility,” he said quietly, the guilt still weighing heavily on him.

“Dean,” she began to chastise, but Dean cut her off.

“No, I get that you were forced here and into all of this. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re tied to us. It’s our job to keep you safe. And yes, you. Above all others. Because you’re our soulmate, Y/N!”

“He’s right,” Sam appeared in the doorway to the small bedroom, the first aid kit in his hands as he approached the bed. Dean stood, leaving Sam to take his spot beside Y/N. “May I?” he gestured to her wounds, and she nodded, gingerly lifting her shirt to reveal the bandages.

As Sam worked to change the gauze, he continued talking, “I know you feel like this is a manipulation,” he explained, eyes on his task. “But God created soulmates to begin with. He created everything. But with most soulmates, they’re assigned and matched by Cupids on Heaven’s orders. This,” he paused to point between her and himself, “God made this Himself. God chose you and us and connected us in a bond that feels way beyond anything I’ve ever learned of standard soulmates.”

She listened silently, contemplating his words as he finished changing her dressings. “I don’t want to be another crazy fangirl that stalks you and roofies you and assaults you,” she stated with venom, hating Becky and what she had done to Sam. “My fangirl wants to be excited and dive right in and accept everything, but I don’t want to be another Becky or some other thing that is used against you.”

“Who says it has to be like that?” Dean interrupted. “I’ve never gotten Becky vibes off of you. I’ve been wondering how someone supposed to be a fan could be against all this.”

“All we’re saying is…maybe let your fangirl off her leash. Just a little bit,” Sam smirked at her, making her heart flutter. She had to admit, it was getting exhausting fighting off the fangirl. The need and desire to be close to them and experience their whole world was overwhelming.

“Thank you for saving me,” she gave them a genuine smile as she adjusted her shirt to cover her wounds again.

“Always,” they responded in unison.

-

The first two days, Y/N was pretty much laid up in bed - or on the couch when she’d allow Sam to help move her there - letting her wounds heal. Dean couldn’t reach Castiel, and his grace had been on the fritz for a while anyway.

Sam was attentive, always beside her, ready to help however needed. Dean was always hovering in the background, pacing or watching. She could feel his restless energy, but decided to let him work through whatever was going on in his head.

By the third night, she was feeling a little better, getting used to moving with the injury. The three of them sat on the old, dusty couch in the cabin, watching a movie on the small tube TV in the corner. Y/N sat between the brothers, pressed lightly against Sam’s side.

Dean watched over the past several days as Sam stuck to her side, keeping her company as she healed. The conversation seemed easy between them, especially after their talk when Y/N woke up after her injury. Part of Dean was jealous of the connection building between them. Part of him was grateful that Sam was happy and Y/N was responsive.

She smiled more often and even laughed a little. It was refreshing to watch as the broken bits of ice flaked away from her exterior, revealing the warm and funny person beneath. If Sam could break through, Dean could try to get closer once she was more open to being here with them. At least, he hoped it would. In his mind, it was very much possible that with the Mark and his history, she wouldn’t want to be with him. It hurt to think that, but it was a genuine possibility to him. The more she opened up to Sam, the more it seemed like his reality.

After a week, she healed enough to move independently, and Dean decided it was a good time to try to get back to the Bunker. They traveled at night, hoping it would decrease their chances of being spotted. Local news reports had images of them from the motel cameras, reporting them as brutal murderers on the run. It was not their first time encountering this problem, but it was always a nuisance.

“We should stop for supplies,” Dean mumbled to Sam as they drove toward Lebanon.

“I can cook,” Y/N chimed in. “Depending on what you have on hand, I can cook just about anything.”

The brothers looked at each other before Sam passed her a notebook and pen. “Make a list,” he smiled at her. “We’ll stop before we go to the Bunker.”

She grinned broadly, excited to have a project and eager to feed them properly. “What do you already have? Like spices, pantry items…” The looks they both flashed her told her they had nothing, and she’d be starting from scratch. “Right, okay. How about we start with favorites?”

For the rest of the drive, she asked them about their favorite foods and meals, allergies, preferences, and anything else she could think of to make them their favorite foods. She realized they’d never really had anyone to cook for them. When they’d visit Jody, she’d always feed them. But it wasn’t regular. This would be the first time they had a home and someone waiting for them to cook them meals. She wanted to make it memorable and impactful. She might not be able to do much in this world, but she could provide them with much-needed comfort.

-

“Nope, you’re still healing,” Sam stubbornly responded as Y/N tried to help carry the many grocery bags into the Bunker.

“He’s right,” Dean added as the brothers walked in with armfuls of bags, Y/N following behind grumpily.

“I’m not an invalid!”

Sam huffed as he dropped the bags on the kitchen counter, “You are, at least for right now. You were clawed open and sewn back together. You need to heal.”

She rubbed at her stitches, the skin still sensitive. The stitches were ready to be removed soon, but not quite yet. She knew they were right, but that didn’t mean she liked it.

“Fine,” she dramatically relented, “But I’m still cooking.”

She challengingly glared at the brothers, who chuckled as she gathered the things she needed to make a meal.

“I won’t complain about that,” Dean grinned, grabbing a fresh beer. “Can I help?”

Y/N was still wary of Dean and his Mark, but he had been friendly and pleasant. She could tell her distance hurt him. She was working to do better.

“Okay,” she nodded with a smile. He rewarded her with a boyish grin that had her heart catching in her throat.

Dean had been distant and angry in her short time with them. She knew it was mostly her fault because she ran from them and then got hurt. She knew enough about Dean to realize he was internalizing much of it, blaming himself somehow for something that wasn’t in his control.

As they moved around the kitchen together, she noticed how comfortable he was there, prepping ingredients for her as if he’d been doing it for years.

“So, tell me about you,” Dean suddenly spoke as they stood side-by-side preparing the meal.

“What about me?” she looked at him quizzically.

He chuckled, “Just, you know, about you. What was your life like? Where did you live? Do you still talk with your family?”

He was trying to connect, so she threw him a bone, relaxed a little, and divulged her background.

“Uh, well…there’s not much to tell. I left home at 18, and the family didn’t care enough to keep in touch. I had a few relationships that weren’t great and left me not wanting relationships. I did customer service work from home, including call center staff and some security. And I spent my downtime obsessing over all things Supernatural,” she added with a slight smirk.

“Sounds like you’re not missing out on much,” Dean wasn’t sure what to say. Her life wasn’t extraordinary by any means. If anything, it was a little sad. He was suddenly grateful that Chuck brought her to them.

“Well, my life is certainly interesting now,” she laughed, and he joined her. “I don’t -” she paused, chewing on her lips as she thought over her words before looking at him again. “I’m not upset about being here, with you and Sam,” she swallowed hard. “I’m just upset at the manipulation of it all. Trust me, my fangirl’s going wild.”

“You keep saying that,” Dean pointed out. “But I have not seen any sign of this supposed fangirl.”

“I keep her on a pretty tight leash,” Y/N nodded, continuing to cook. “That bitch can’t be trusted.”

Dean laughed heartily, clutching his stomach as he threw his head back. Y/N smiled broadly, proud of eliciting that response from him.

“Smells good in here,” Sam announced as he reentered the kitchen, freshly showered and changed.

Y/N’s breath hitched at seeing him, his hair wet and messy, wearing just a pair of flannel pants and a V-neck t-shirt - practically naked for a Winchester. Dean caught her lustful stare and grinned at her. She blushed and quickly turned her attention back to the stove, finishing up the meal.

“There she is,” Dean whispered just to her. 

“Who?” Sam asked as they all settled at the table.

“The fangirl,” Dean teased, making Y/N blush once more. Her face was so hot she knew they could see it.

“We’ve met a few fans,” Sam mentioned, “And none of them acted like you. You act more like a victim we saved,” he spoke so matter-of-factly that it threw her a little.

“Well, she kind of is,” Dean added.

“Look-” Y/N groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose as her elbow rested on the table. “-I’m sorry I ran away, okay?” She looked at each of them. “I shouldn’t have lied, and I shouldn’t have run. But, honestly, you’re telling me that if I had just told you the whole truth right there when I came out of those woods, things would have been fine?”

She was screeching now as her voice rose. “You two would’ve fought against this whole thing and would have been looking for a way to send me home. But because I ran, now you want this?”

“I felt something,” Dean said, looking at the table. “When we met you, I felt something. I didn’t know what. I assumed it was just my instinct to help someone in trouble.” He looked up at her then, his gaze mesmerizing. 

“Cas said he could smell it on us, that we met our soulmate,” Sam added quietly.

“The Mark goes quiet when you’re around,” Dean added. Sam looked at him curiously; this was the first time he had heard this from Dean. “Deep down, I know you’re supposed to be here with us.”

The look he gave her was intense, open, and honest, making her feel things she was struggling to contain. What came out was a very girly giggle and a visible swoon that she immediately regretted. The brothers laughed, Y/N cursing her fangirl for winning that round.

“Now, that was what I was waiting for,” Dean chuckled.

“Not fair,” she whined. “Your freakin’ eyes are insane.” She groaned at herself as they chuckled in amusement.

-

As she fully healed over the next two weeks, Y/N tried to relax. Instead of biting her cheek or forcing her thoughts and feelings down, she let them come out just a little at a time. It didn’t help that the brothers were intent on riling her up.

Since seeing her swoon in the kitchen over Sam’s physique and Dean’s eyes, they were playing it up as much as possible. Sam made a point of finding her after his morning workout or shower. Either way, he was wet, his clothes significantly less than usual, and Y/N never failed to eye him up and down with lusty hunger. Sam was sure it was out of her control more than half the time because she seemed so embarrassed over being caught. Sam found it utterly amusing, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t boost his ego.

Where Sam was more noticeable and upfront, Dean was subtle and nearly imperceptible, so Y/N was left questioning everything. He was kinder, more talkative, and more present, and he was right beside her whenever they were sitting in the kitchen or the Library. There were many seats and tables, and no occupants besides Sam, yet he still sat beside her.

The closer he was, the quieter the Mark became. He casually brushed against or gently touched her lower back or arm as he passed. She wasn’t sure if she was reading too much into it or if he was flirting in a way. It was maddening.

He didn’t want to be away from Y/N for a second, but the Mark was itching under his skin, making Dean sick. He needed to hunt, to kill. No matter how much she calmed the Mark, that part hadn’t changed. He hoped it would in the future, maybe after they had bonded.

He and Sam had been researching, though this case was admittedly different than usual. Generally, bonds were fully formed, and the souls thoroughly entwined once a physical connection had been made. Usually, Dean would be all over having sex. But this was different. It was his soulmate and a permanent connection. He wanted it, was truly ready for it - though he didn’t let himself linger on the chick-flick moment of it all - but he knew she was not.

Until then, he’d still have to deal with the consequences of the Mark on his arm. That meant he needed to hunt.

So the three of them sat in the Library, researching a possible case Sam had found. Dean wanted to do this one alone. He needed the challenge and the time to clear his mind. Sam was worried, but honestly didn’t mind so much. It meant he could be alone with Y/N for a while. That didn’t mean he wanted his big brother to go in blind. So, they were researching as much as possible from a remote location so that it would be an easy hunt for Dean.

“Alright, guess I’m all set,” Dean announced as he closed the trunk of the Impala, ready to embark on his hunt.

Sam stood directly behind Y/N as she watched Dean packing up his car, chewing at her lip with worry, and wringing her hands. She had a bad feeling, but that might be because he was going off alone. The buddy system was always best in a hunt, but she understood why Dean needed this. She just hoped he’d be okay.

“Please be careful,” Y/N asked him. “If anything happens-”

“Aw, you worried about me, Honey?” Dean smirked, surprised, when she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest in a tight and warm hug.

“Just come back alive,” she asked, leaning back to look at him, “And relatively in one piece,” she added with a chuckle.

He nodded, glad when she returned for another hug, allowing him to swallow down the emotional words burning inside him. The care and worry she showed in those few moments was more than he’d experienced in years.

She stepped out of his arms, and Dean tried to hide his disappointment. Sam stepped up behind her, a hand on her shoulder to comfort and alert her to his returned presence. Dean smiled and climbed into the car, heading off for the hunt. He hoped Sam and Y/N could connect while he was gone. When he returned, Sam could go somewhere for a while. This hunt would also give him time to think out the logistics of sharing a woman with his brother.

“He’ll be fine,” Sam reassured her as she watched Dean disappear. “He always is.”

Until he isn’t, she thought to herself.

FOREVERS:

@lyarr24

@hobby27

@kazsrm67

@maliburenee

@440mxs-wife

@writercole

@spnbaby-67

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@leigh70

@laycblack

@kr804573

@nancymcl

DEAN WINCHESTER:

@slamminmine

@deandreamernp

@awkward-and-indecisive

@akshi8278

@mimaria420

SAM WINCHESTER:

@b3autyfuldisast3r

NOT WHAT YOU WANTED:

@cassiecourtemanche

@myceliumsunshine

@piptoost

@deans-yn

@kr804573

@stariou 

@ladykitana90 

@kentuckyhobbit 

@lunaleah 

@deansimpalababy 

@h0ng1s00lo832

@cnme2003

@evilunicorns4minions 

@colours-of-thewind  

@qharper-london

@stoneyggirl2

[fisch-sticks]

The Terror (season 1) is one of those rare occasions where the show, I think, wound up so much better than the book. The book is just... so male gaze, fetishist, ick. So much unnecessary detailed description of underage girls' bodies right off the bat, and the fact that Lady Silence in the book is anywhere from "15-20" yet Crozier and her still becoming lovers... sure you can pass some of it off as a creative writing choice from the perspective of men at a different period in history... but you also don't need to so specifically write such detailed descriptions of teen girls' bodies.

The Terror TV series maintains a favorable win status for me.

[motherofpirates]

The jock punched him in the stomach, causing Eddie to want to curl into a ball to protect himself. The other two forced him to stay upright by holding Eddie’s shoulders against the wall as they cackled and brayed like hyenas. The apparent leader of the three bent down and grabbed a large piece of brick that had been dislodged as the Upside Down had tried to invade their dimension. He stood up and raised it in the air preparing to strike Eddie in the face. Eddie gulped, closing his eyes, as the other two men held him in place more firmly. He turned his face and waited for the brick to strike. “This is payback for Patrick and Chrissy.” The jock spat.

“Oi, dickheads! Back off or I’m gonna start swinging.” Steve’s voice rang clear and confident through the alleyway. A wave of relief so sharp that it caused a lump to appear in his throat and tears to prick his eyes coursed through Eddie’s body. What Eddie felt in that moment was hope. Hope personified as his best friend. The three young men turned but kept a grip on him.

Steve twirled his nail bat menacingly, all those years playing sport and little league baseball making it a natural extension of his hand. An expression so hardened and focused, that Eddie had never seen the likes on Steve’s pretty features before, not even in the Upside Down, imposed on his face. He felt fear for the jocks who were frozen in shock around him.

“You’re lying, Harrington, mind your business.” The nearest one said with confidence returning his attention to Eddie.

“Try me,” Steve closed the gap to the small gang of bullies quickly. He paused briefly, the two holding Eddie exchanged a look as Steve took a step closer and pulled his bat up like a batter taking aim. He suddenly swung it, expertly, so it purposely missed the nearest bully to him by a few centimetres. It whistled past the jocks ear causing him to drop the brick he was holding.

“Jesus H. Christ!” The young man in the letterman jacket took off for the exit of the alleyway.

“Last warning!” Steve whispered threateningly taking another step closer. “No one messes with my friends.” He began swing the bat again but with much more force behind it. The last two boys panicked and fled; they weren’t going to hang around to find out where Steve had planned to land that blow. They hightailed it into the night. Eddie could hear the tires of their car screech as they pulled off.

Eddie felt weak at the knees as the adrenalin rush began to wear off, he was shaky with shock. “Fuck, Steve, that was one of the most badass things I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks, Eds.” Steve replied gently with a bashful smile as he propped the nail bat against the wall for safe keeping. “You think so?”

“I know so.” Eddie leant heavily against the wall.

“You, ok?”

“I’ve had worse beatings, and this is nowhere near as bad as being eaten alive, I can tell you.” He tried to laugh, his attempt at humour seemed to land flat at Steve’s feet.

Steve looked affectionately at Eddie as he closed the gap between them, lightly tilting Eddie’s chin up with his thumb. He tentatively kissed Eddie on the lips for the first time like he expected Eddie to push him away. Eddie’s whole-body tingled with warmth as joy and a relief so palpable rushed through him it brought tears of happiness to his eyes.

Eddie pulled Steve closer by the collar of his polo shirt to kiss the other man more fully, only to hiss in pain as his jaw protested from the injury it had very recently received.

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

If you enjoyed this snippet please head on over to AO3 you can find the whole of this fic there under the title of I Want You to Want Me. Here's the link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64633807/chapters/166024711

[iscdisc]

Have you ever drawn tiger claw,,,, (also what’s ur opinion on him. I’m so normal about him.)

I have a long time ago I think? I haven't drawn Tigerclaw recently, I have to admit-! 😭👍

I enjoyed Tigerclaw as an additional villain / member of Shredder's crew ! I thought he was written very well as far as actually being a menacing villain like Shredder ! But I will admit that the writers lost me with his character and motivations in Season 5,,

I just don't understand why he had to be the one to start a Shredder cult-?? I did not get the impression that Tigerclaw specifically had such an undying devotion to Shredder from the previous Seasons? Especially considering Shredder was the one to go out of his way to recruit Tigerclaw and not Tigerclaw jumping at the opportunity to serve Shredder as a member of his crew- I'm almost certain that S2 implied those two only knew of one another's existence and respected one another based on their reputation prior to meeting on person?? There's also the fact that Tigerclaw seems to know nothing about the Foot Clan and it's history, considering A. Tigerclaw too had to be informed about the Kuro Kabuto's importance in, "Legend of the Kuro Kabuto" and B. Didn't even bat an eye at Hattori Tatsu's existence and went as far as to kill him off (AKA granting Kavaxas permission to do so-) in, "The Forgotten Swordsman". I'd even go as far as to say he knows nothing of Splinter / Hamato Yoshi and his relationships with Saki, nor does he know much of anything about the generational feud between the Foot Clan and the Hamato Clan.

I say all of this to say that, to me, it would've made more sense for Rahzar (AKA Chris Bradford / Dogpound-) to have been the one to start a Shredder cult like that. Not only has he been Shredder's pupil for an undisclosed amount of time, with substantiates such a loyalty, but it's very aware of the Foot Clan and its inner workings. He's basically given his life to the Foot Clan / Shredder, and seemingly by choice. So it makes more sense (to me) for Rahzar to have this sort of mental break over Shredder's death that would result in him going to such extreme lengths like forming a cult of Shredder mutant creatures and attempt to raise Saki from the dead- You know what I mean??

Now, I'm not entirely sure what the alternative would be for Tigerclaw in this context-? Lmao || I wouldn't be against him harboring his own vendetta against the Turtles and their allies post Shredder's death that's unrelated to Shredder / the Foot Clan, since they were the one's who aided his sister Alopex in, "Tale of Tigerclaw" which ended in his losing an arm- So I can see him roping them into his complicated pasted with Alopex (Plus, this would've been a great way to bring Alopex back- Hello??) ! But aside from that, I'm not too sure since I personally viewed his connection with Shredder and the Foot Clan as purely contractual. Once the Foot Clan is disbanded, he has no real reason to stay- You know? 😭👍

But that's just my perspective ! Feel free to share yours ! ✨

[redisrobinhearts]

TW EATING DISORDERS!! weight, numbers, anorexia

It was never about control, not really. Not the kind the media would suggest, not the way those tired, melodramatic movies tried to frame it. They always got it wrong, anyway. They called it a cry for attention, a plea for control, a side effect of perfectionism. But Tim didn’t want control.

If you asked him, really asked him, he wouldn’t be able to tell you what he wanted. Maybe that was the point.

He didn’t want to feel powerful. He wanted to feel nothing.

And so he chased emptiness like it was salvation.

Hunger wasn’t suffering. It was purity. It was silence. It was the loudest scream of existence he could offer to a world that wouldn’t stop looking at him.

He was addicted to the feeling. To the dull, knifing pangs in his gut. To the dizzy haze behind his eyes, the slow fade of vision when he stood too quickly.

It wasn’t control.

It was surrender.

Every morning he’d wake up, his room a mess and every morning followed the same rhythm, a ritual practiced so often it had long since ceased to feel like a choice.

Wake.

Drag himself out of bed, each joint stiff, each movement an effort.

Stretch. What if his limbs had thickened in the night?

Bathroom. Strip. Use the toilet.

Step onto the scale.

Wait.

Step off. Pace in tight, restless circles.

Step back on the scale.

Compare. Judge. Repeat.

Redress.

Go downstairs.

Smile.

A daily devotion.

Each time he’d glance to his rosary hung lovingly next to his mother’s, send a small prayer that the number on the scale wouldn’t ruin his day.

Because that’s what his days were based on.

Numbers.

That number on the scale was the first and most important verdict of the day.

If it went up? The day was ruined.

If it dropped? A good day. A small victory.

If he binged? Complicated. A good number could soften the blow. But if he binged and the number went up?

He didn’t have words for the way his chest would compress, his head would ring, his body would buzz with hatred.

It was as simple as that.

He couldn’t purge, not anymore at least. His gag reflex was gone, whisked away from years of fingers stuffed down his throat whilst he hunched over a pristine toilet seat.

Despite this, the schedule never changed. The ritual, never changed. He was fully aware it wasn’t normal, but it was necessary, sacred.

Looking at the sweet, expensive rosaries hung on his wall, he thought about if God was needed for his own little shrine of numbers.

But he knew God, or any, wasn’t needed to build a shrine, his existence was a monument to numbers.

In place of mass or communion he’d go downstairs, family already awake. He’d smile at Alfred and playfully roll his eyes at the man’s tutting to his habit of drinking so much diet soda while his first move in the kitchen was to retrieve a Pepsi max.

“Alfred, you know eating when I wake up makes me feel sick.”

It didn’t, but that same line was said every day. Like a prayer.

Damian, always around, would roll his eyes and comment about how unhealthy diet sodas were. Tim almost envied his younger brother, as tall - maybe even taller, than himself and only 14. Tim was 17. Bruce said he’d grow more, Tim knew he wouldn’t.

Tim knew his family knew there was something wrong with him. Tim knew they thought it was PTSD. Well.. he has PTSD, but, that wasn’t what was wrong with him.

He wouldn’t speak it out loud, never, though it had a name. A clinical one. It didn’t fit with a detective, the genius, a bat. Anorexic.

The word felt foreign, medical, clinical. But it was the truth. A truth that lived in his bloodstream, behind his ribs, inside the hollowness he carved into himself each day.

It’s weird to think, that he has this disorder, but he won’t speak of it to anyone. It’s weird that a family of detectives don’t recognise it. But, if Tim can lie to Batman, he can lie to anyone. And lie he will. 

Tim loves his little brother. And even if Damian shows it in this weird way, he knows Damian loves him too. It’s the cups of tea Damian brings him, it’s the attacks that are never to kill anymore - just to test his strength. Tim saves his strength for those, he knows it’s mostly Damian reassuring himself that his older brother is safe. That he can take care of himself.

He knows all of his siblings love him. He knows his whole family loves him.

It’s the way dick will always return home with a soft smile and warm eyes for him, ignoring the deep cutting insults, accusations and whatever else Tim had screamed at him the last time he was there. The way he’d ignore the next ones Tim would throw his way.

It’s the way Jason would tease him, the way he’d always bring a bit extra food for him. The way Jason would get him things related to his special interests. The way he’d pick up evidence for Tim, the way he’d place bugs and interrogate for him.

It’s the way Cassandra would step a bit louder when approaching him. It’s the way Cass would ask if he’d like to join her on walks. it’s the way Cass would sincerely ask about his special interests. The way Cass would happily listen to him for hours.

Tim knew his family loved him. Tim knew Bruce loved him. He knew his dad loved him.

It’s the way Bruce would stockpile Tim’s favourite (safe) foods and wouldn’t ask Alfred to get them. It’s the way he’d indulge Tim and let him sleep in the bed with him on bad nights. It’s the way he learned about Catholicism despite being non practicing Jewish. It’s the way he had a Catholic Church built in Gotham in Tim’s mother’s name. Tim never asked for it, but the gesture carved something sharp and sacred into his heart.

Alfred loved him. The closest he’d ever had as a grandfather. Alfred loved him. It’s the way Alfred wouldn’t clean or enter Tim’s room when Tim had asked. It’s the way Alfred would cook entirely separate things for him. It’s the way Alfred would sometimes not cook for Tim at all and allow Tim to make his own meals. It’s the way he never really stopped Tim from drinking diet soda or energy drinks.

His family loved him. They loved him with all of their hearts. But they never figured it out.

How could they have? Tim went through a lot of effort hiding it. He certainly didn’t want them to.

It was back to his bedroom for him, to sit at his desk and browse edtumblr or edtwt or any forum that fit his fancy.

“Would you like to walk through the gardens with me?”

Cass’ voice was soft. It was kind. It was sweet. She would always ask even though every time Tim would say no.

Each time she would smile, nod and tell him he can join her later if he wants.

He never would.

He’d spend the next few hours browsing, sipping from his rapidly going flat Pepsi max. His stomach clawing and consuming the carbonated fluid while it screamed for nutrients that it wasn’t sure it would get that day.

The hunger. This was how he worshipped nothingness. The gnawing feeling like his stomach was trying to digest itself. The pain. A penance indistinguishable from divine grace.

Tim knew he was pretty at least, if the media were telling the truth he was gorgeous. Likely to be named the most attractive man in Gotham to dick’s disappointment and Jason’s amusement.

He knew people thought he was beautiful. The magazines said so. The tabloids. The comments.

But Tim didn’t think he was pretty in the way he did.

He would stand in the mirror, minutes on minutes. The dark circles, sunken eyes, pointy hip bones, exposed ribs, concave stomach, air between his thighs. His image in the reflection is a reflection of the discipline he’d exuded. The pain a graceful reward for the numbers he’d sacrificed for divinity.

In the mirror, he saw bones. Sharp hips. Ribs like piano keys. A stomach sunken beneath skin that barely held shape.

Each pang of hunger was akin to a code, etching words beneath his ribs: Beauty. Divinity. Grace. Each pulse of hunger a compliment to the cavernous void of where his stomach resided.

His body akin to a temple, he wondered if it were a sort of blasphemy each time he bowed his head. Praying to God for lower numbers felt more like he prayed to the numbers for less, more divinity, the weightlessness would bring him closer to heaven, to God.

While floating in divinity, he floated closer to death.

Like when a morbidly obese bed ridden person continues to eat, they inch closer to death but don’t even realise they’re doing so.

He wasn’t even skinny he’d claim when reading about the dangers. He was smart, he took his vitamins and sure he was underweight but it was hardly skin and bones.

At 5’6” and 99 pounds, he told himself he wasn’t that bad. Not sick enough. Not thin enough. Not dying.

He was careful. Obsessively so. Ankle weights hidden beneath baggy sweats for monthly health check-ups. Protein water before blood draws. Vitamins taken religiously. The illusion of health preserved with surgical precision.

It took him to a swift bmi 16 to a bmi 20.3, Bruce didn’t suspect a thing.

It happened each month and like clock work he would apply the same methods to ensure his safety.

He’d say he wasn’t dying. But he was wrong.

Each day was built around numbers: grams, pounds, calories, steps. Each hour sectioned by rules only he knew. If the number was right, the day was blessed. If it was wrong, the day was punishment.

He lived in a shrine of numbers. His body, the altar. His rituals, prayers. His pain, penance.

Sometimes, in moments of clarity—or maybe just exhaustion—he wondered what he was worshipping. Was it God? Was it perfection? Emptiness? Was it the void itself?

Was he offering his body to a deity that didn’t exist?

He didn’t know.

He only knew that hunger felt like grace.

That the ache in his stomach was the only thing he could trust.

That the hollowness made him feel holy.

He wasn’t suicidal. He didn’t want to die. He just didn’t realize he was dying. But death took the form of a beatific void, inching closer with each number.

Not actively. Not with intent. But slowly. Quietly. Faithfully. Like a monk fasting for salvation that would never come.

Because you cannot eat beauty with a spoon. And you cannot fill a body that’s learned to worship its own starvation.

But the beauty he chased wasn’t for them. It was a private religion, one only he understood.

In the stillness of his room, surrounded by the glow of a laptop screen and forums filled with others like him—edtumblr, edtwt, anonymous boards full of hunger—he felt less alone. But never whole.

Each day he had a schedule.

Each day began with a number, each day was built from continuing numbers. These numbers symbolised who he was. His worth. His divinity.

It has nothing to do with controlling himself. For he could do just that. It was a matter of it controlling him.

Each day it had a schedule.

But for now, in this sole moment, there was the pain.

There were the numbers.

There was the shrine.

And he would keep worshipping.

[goldfishinaplasticbag]

Fun fact! The first time I read 1-800-GOTHAM I had to stop in the middle of chapter 6 to do something that required me to not have my phone on me, but left me a lot of time to think! Specifically, I had to stop after Jax treated Jason's injuries and before he noticed the bug was broken. 

Maybe it's just that I'm more affected by social consequences in stories than physical ones, but I think that is genuinely a worse cliffhanger than chapter 15. Ch15 is bad, but you know hes not gonna die even though he's critically injured and you know basically what's going to happen next: the bats freak out, he gets medical care, he loses a spleen but it's fine. Mid-ch6? Like I definitely clocked "hey that's probably the bug breaking" but you don't know that for sure and also maybe the Red Hood helmet is recording because that's something I've seen in several fics, so even if it doesn't come up now it could later. There wasn't any "the author isn't really going to do that" the way there is when characters are in near-death situations. And you don't know what bats are listening to the bug because that's off screen (except for Nightwing I guess because it said he'd show up in the chapter summary) but my assumption was all of them, and how any of them are going to react to that is very unpredictable! 

So anyway I was just kinda imagining that for half an hour and it definitely made me 110% more insane about this fic

honestly i agree! you stopped at such a good part too. the tension! the what-ifs!

chapter 15 is a cliffhanger that i specifically chose to stop at, simply because it isn't as stressful. i try not to leave you guys hanging for too long, and it's obvious that tim's not dying, so i picked that part to end at. but you stopping at chapter 6 is such a good place! i should write more of those lol

it was my hope that people would feel the tension and potential consequences of the bat-bug in that chapter. you don't know what will happen simply because anything could have happened.

i'm so glad you managed to make the tension even GREATER by stopping at that specific part. you read it as intended. thank you for enjoying!