#was very proud at the time to be one of the first to get one

[thelastwalkingsoul]

It’s fairly common in Australia! We all learn cursive and use only pencils up until about grade 4 (10 yrs old) where a lot of schools start handing out pen licenses based off your handwriting. At my school it was mostly for fun, everyone got one by the end of the year and the following two years of primary school we could use either pencils or pens.

clicking a pen over and over again is actually fun as fuck its a shame it makes everyone in a 30 foot radius want to kill me with a rock

[no-144444]

abu dhabi- o.piastri

summary: your first season as an f1 driver doesn't start the best, and you quickly realise McLaren doesn't like women very much. On top of that, your race engineer is as smug as the rest of them, and you have to deal with him all the time.

pairing: race engineer! oscar piastri x f1driver! fem! reader

warnings: lots of misogyny, lando is an asshole in this, illusions to ed behaviour, reader is not in a good head space, all of mclaren is super sexist, mentions of crashes and injuries.

a/n: thank you all very much for your patience, this series means a lot to me and I've had a lot of personal stuff going on, so I felt bad for leaving you guys hanging for a bit. Thank you all so much for reading this series and I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I love writing it!

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Abu Dhabi. World Drivers Champion. World Constructors Champions.

Holy shit. 

All those years of hard work, of giving up being a child, of giving up having friends or family. You’d done it. You were a winner. 

You jumped out of the car and ran straight to Oscar, jumping in his arms. He caught you (of course) and cheered with you. 

“You fucking did it!” he smiled, pulling your helmet off. “You did it!” 

Every emotion flooded through you, but one in particular stood out; gratefulness. 

You were grateful for Oscar, for how he treated you, for who he was. He was there for you through everything, he helped you whenever he could, and while yes, you had a rough start, in the end you couldn’t imagine F1 without Oscar in it. 

“Thank you, Osc, for everything,” you smiled, hugging him close. 

“Anytime. Whenever. Always,” he nodded. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

He was drunk as fuck, but he was still watching you as you chatted with various team members. 

“You’re fucked, aren’t you?” Lando chuckled, joining his side. 

Oscar rolled his eyes. “I’m drunk, yes.”

“No. You’re fucked for her,” Lando pointed twoards you. Perfect, unreachable, you. 

“Yes,” he nodded, frowning. “I’m fucked for her.”

“It’s pretty clear.”

“I know it is,” Oscar scoffed. “Thanks for Baku, by the way.”

Lando sighed. “Look, I’ve said a lot of shit this season that I didn’t mean, and I’m sorry I was a dick to the two of you. It wasn’t right and I do feel bad about it. So, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, but that doesn’t solve the fact that she’s being this mysterious weirdo and acting really into me and then really not,” Oscar whined. 

“She’s a very broken person-”

“You think?” Oscar rolled his eyes. “You’re not exactly giving me much hope right now.”

Lando laughed at his drunk state. “Just talk to her,” he offered. “She listens to you no matter what.”

Oscar stared at him, then nodded. “Good idea!” he announced (a little too loud as it drew the attention of a few people around the two of them), and looked at you. But you weren’t there. Oscar frowned again. 

“You’ll find her before the end of the night, I’m sure you will,” Lando clapped a hand on his shoulder and passed him a bottle of water to sober him up. “Good luck.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Oscar had decided to go find you, he wanted to talk. On the way there, he’d acquired about three more drinks and pissed off a small group of other McLaren employees by spilling one of his three drinks and apologised profusely (albeit rather mumbly), and that’s when you came in with a hand on his shoulder and a gentle smile that brushed it all over. 

“Are you alright?” you asked him, taking him to a corner to look him over. 

“Y/n?” he questioned, his vision blurry. “Is that you?”

You chuckled. “Yeah, it’s me buddy, you alright?” 

He nodded, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in for a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you too, Osc, come on, we get you to bed?” you offered, pulling one of his arms over your shoulder and helping him walk. 

“Bed sounds good,” he nodded, allowing you to walk him to his room. 

Drunk Oscar was what you assumed three year olds acted like. He pressed every button in the lift, ding-dong ditched people in the hallway, and stripped (almost) naked the second he got in the door of his room. After a few minutes of being in his room, he decided it was a good time to puke his guts out in the toilet, and you, being the good samaritan you are, decided to stay with him. 

“Feeling any better?” you asked, putting a cold cloth on his head as he lay in bed. You sat beside him, holding his hand. 

He shook his head, his eyes closed and a grimace on his lips. “Shit.” 

You chuckled lightly. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

He opened his eyes and stared into yours, his hand resting over your hand. And time (as it always did when he was looking at you like that) stopped. The world melted away, and it didn’t matter that it was 2 in the morning, or that he’d just vomited, or that all of this was a lot more confusing than either of you had anticipated. You two just got to be with each other, and that was enough for the both of you. 

“Why don’t you love me?” he asked, his voice small and raw. He spoke to you with all the care in the world, but you could see he was hurting. You were hurting him. 

Fuck. Why couldn’t any of this be easy? Why couldn’t you just… talk to him? Confess to him? Be normal? The boy you love was sitting there in front of you telling you he loved you and you just… froze for a moment. You took a deep breath.  “Osc, of course I love you,” you whispered. “But you shouldn’t love me. I wouldn’t be any good for you.”

“I don’t care-”

“You’d end up hating me-”

“I could never hate you,” he shook his head, reaching a hand up to cup your cheek. “I could never hate you.”

And you believed him. That was the scary part. You believed him when he told you he loved you. You believed him when he said he cares. You believed him when he said you look beautiful. You believed him when he said he wouldn’t hate you. “You should,” you whispered, tears forming in your eyes. 

“I couldn’t,” he whispered back, a soft smile on his face. He wiped away a tear that fell. “I don’t want you to be scared of how you feel.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” your voice broke. “I’m not an easy person to love.”

“I disagree,” he chuckled, wiping every tear away. “I find it’s as easy as breathing.” 

And you couldn’t take it anymore. You curled up beside him and sobbed. You didn’t know how long you’d done it for, but you woke up beside him, the steady rise and fall of his chest against your head giving you something to ground yourself to. You remembered every moment of last night, every word he said, and everything you said. 

You just hoped he wouldn’t. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

When Oscar woke up, he knew there was something he had asked you last night, but he couldn’t remember what. After his conversation with Lando, there was nothing else he really remembered, apart from the fact that you had brought him up to his room, and he pieced together that he’d probably asked you to stay (being the pathetic hopeless romantic he is), and that’s why you were in his bed. 

A few seconds after waking up, the hangover hit, and fuck it was bad. His entire body ached. 

“I’m never drinking again,” he groaned, his voice hoarse. 

You chuckled beside him. “Remember anything?” 

He sighed, turning to meet your eyes. “Nope.”

As much as that destroyed you, you knew it was for the better. Oscar was better off without you, that, you knew for sure. But, you also couldn't put aside the confession he'd made last night. “I find it’s as easy as breathing.” It played in your head over and over again, like a mantra that made every negative thought in your head silent for a few seconds. Oscar was good at that, making you question yourself. Either way, you were glad he hadn't remembered. It was for the better, right?

There was a split second where he could’ve sworn he saw a flash of disappointment in your eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it was there, replaced with a smile. “Well, let’s go back to Monaco.”

He groaned just thinking about facing the day, but the fact that he woke up next to you meant it was better than any day he’d ever had. 

He definitely needed to know what he asked you last night. And you definitely needed him to not find out. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

playing favourites masterlist

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

taglist for this series: (just ask in the comments to be added :)

@smithieandy @anotherapollokid @amz824 @itgirlofthecenturysposts @lokideservesahug @annaluna12 @daemyratwst @nichmeddar @milkysoop @il0vereadingstuff@sleutherclaw@f1wh0recom @st4rg1rln @sleutherclaw @i-love-sirius-black7 @formulas-bitch @prettiest-at-the-party @primadonaprincess55 @teti-menchon0604 @dark-night-sky-99 @sadiemack9 @greasywall @kingshitonly @bellaiscool @i-wish-this-was-me @leeknowinggg @primadonnaprincess55 @teti-menchon0604 @dark-night-sky-99 @sadiemack9 @greasywall @kingshitonly @bellaiscool @widow-cevans @trashstacy @waywardsestras @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @buckybarnessimpp @pausmoon @dying-inside-but-its-classy @sinfully-yoursssn @revrse @hurtblossom @amz824 @ellelabelle @wierdflowerpower

[00valentina-writes00]

I know literally everything is about ambessa but.. ambessa x reader who just thinks this massive, strong, intimidating woman is just the cutest thing ever??

Like for example, they just walk up to her doing anything and they just go like “awww omg you’re literally so cuteeeeee!”

✞⛧ Just too cute ✞⛧

Warnings: nothing! Just fluff

Word count: 1.5k

It’s a quiet evening in the grand Medarda estate. The usual hum of activity has quieted, the sound of soldiers training and strategizing replaced with the soft crackling of a fire in the hearth. You’re seated at one of the lavish chairs near the fire, your gaze occasionally drifting to the grand windows where the light of dusk falls, casting the room in gentle shades of orange and gold.

The only sounds in the room now are the soft shuffle of Ambessa’s boots against the marble floor and the light, rhythmic tapping of a piece of parchment against her desk as she pores over documents.

There she is. Your massive, strong, and intimidating wife. Ambessa Medarda, the commanding general, with her battle-hardened presence and sharp gaze that can bring even the fiercest warriors to their knees. To the world, she’s an indomitable force, a leader who exudes strength and fearlessness. But to you? She’s… so cute.

You can’t help but smile, watching her with that same look you’ve always given her when she’s lost in her work. You’ve been married for years now, but she still gets flustered when you pull this trick on her. She’s never truly gotten used to your admiration, no matter how much time passes.

The first time you said it, it was by accident. You’d walked into the war room, completely oblivious to the serious conversation happening around the table, only to find Ambessa sitting at the head, her posture so proud and composed (with only a bit of a pout from the conversation) that you couldn’t help but blurt out, “Awww, you’re literally so cute.”

Everyone had stopped dead in their tracks. The generals, the soldiers—each of them stared at you, blinking in confusion as though they couldn’t believe their ears. But Ambessa? She’d frozen, her eyes widening, and for the briefest of moments, her usual confidence faltered. She blinked at you, utterly flustered, before muttering, “Cute? I’m not… cute.”

The entire room had erupted in awkward silence, but you could see it in her face—Ambessa was trying so hard not to smile. Eventually, she had tried to maintain her usual stoic demeanor, but the faintest blush on her cheeks betrayed her.

And from that day forward, whenever you found her in moments of strength, focus, or even casual rest, you couldn’t help but tease her with that same endearment. After all, how could you resist? She was just so cute to you.

Tonight is no different. You rise from your seat, quietly walking over to her side. Ambessa’s focus is entirely on the documents sprawled before her—papers detailing military movements, strategies, and all the things that made her the most powerful general in the land. Her long fingers glide over the ink, scanning the information, her brow furrowed in deep concentration.

Without a second thought, you stand beside her, eyes full of affection, and softly call out, “you’re so cute, sittin all adorable in that chair”

Ambessa freezes for a moment, her gaze snapping toward you. The moment her eyes lock with yours, there’s a flash of disbelief, quickly replaced by that telltale hint of embarrassment. Her jaw clenches slightly as she tries, and fails, to keep her composure.

“You keep saying that…” Ambessa starts, her voice a mix of playful irritation and something else. You can almost hear the smile she’s trying to suppress in her words. “I’m the General Medarda, not some cute little creature.”

You tilt your head slightly, a teasing grin spreading across your face. “Nope, you’re just a giant, muscular teddy bear who happens to be very, very cute. Look at you! You’re sitting here doing paperwork, surrounded by all this power, and all I can see is how adorable you are. It’s literally impossible not to think you’re cute.”

She shakes her head, her lips twitching as though holding back a smile. It’s always the same with you, but she can never quite get used to it. The way you look at her with such pure affection, as though she is the most precious thing in the world, makes her heart ache with a tenderness she’d never known she could feel. It’s the thing that both comforts and humbles her.

Ambessa leans back in her chair, letting out a soft sigh. “If you say so,” she mutters, though she doesn’t push you away. In fact, she’s rather still, her hand pausing in its movement over the papers. She’s clearly distracted now, her focus less on the work and more on the way your eyes are fixed on her with adoration.

You take that as an invitation, moving closer and gently leaning against her desk, your hand finding a spot next to her arm. You watch as she shifts ever so slightly, clearly not used to the proximity, her body stiffening slightly before she relaxes.

“I mean it, though,” you continue, your voice soft but full of affection. “Look at how cute you are with your serious, intimidating face, and then there’s me just standing here like a lovesick fool, fawning over you.”

Ambessa lets out a small chuckle, shaking her head. “Lovesick fool, huh? You’re lucky I adore you, or I’d have you dragged away by my guards for disturbing me during my work.” She looks at you with narrowed eyes, but the way her lips curve upward betrays her. “Not that I would ever do that to you.”

You reach out, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. “Oh, I know you wouldn’t. You’re too soft for me.”

“Soft?” Ambessa scoffs, though her voice lacks the bite it normally holds. Her shoulders are visibly relaxing, her usual tension easing. “I’m the furthest thing from soft. You’re the one who’s always showering me with affection.”

You tilt your head, a mischievous glint in your eye. “And you love it.”

Her golden eyes flick to you, and for a brief moment, she lets down her usual guard. She gazes at you with a warmth that’s usually hidden beneath layers of authority. “I suppose I do,” she admits quietly. “But don’t think this means I’m actually cute. I’m fierce, remember?”

You grin at her playfully, leaning in just a little closer. “Mmmm, you’re fiercely cute, my love. Absolutely adorable in that intimidating way.”

Ambessa huffs, but you can see her lips twitching with the beginning of a smile. “You are impossible.”

You tilt your head again, eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’re literally my favorite thing in the world, and I can’t help it. I mean, come on—look at you. You’re tall, powerful, and strong. Your arms could crush me with a single movement, but you’re sitting here looking all serious and intimidating, and I just—” You pause dramatically, “—you’re just the cutest thing I’ve ever seen”

The shift in Ambessa’s demeanor is almost imperceptible, but you catch it—just the slightest shift in her posture, the faintest flush rising in her cheeks. She’s holding back a smile, but you can see it; you know it’s there.

Her voice is a little lower now, teasing but full of affection. “You should be careful, wife,” she warns, her hand reaching up to lightly touch your face. Her fingers trace the curve of your jaw, the simple touch sending a warm flutter through your chest. “One of these days, I might just show you how intimidating I can be.”

You laugh, not intimidated in the slightest. If anything, you’re emboldened by her playful warning. “Oh, I’m sure you could, General. But right now, you’re too cute to be intimidating.”

Ambessa rolls her eyes dramatically, though her lips betray her with a wide grin. “I’m going to have to find new ways to get you to take me seriously if you keep calling me ‘cute.’”

“Good luck with that,” you tease, brushing your lips gently against her cheek. “Because you’re just too adorable for me to resist.”

Ambessa sighs, her hand gently cupping your face, her thumb grazing your cheek in a rare moment of tenderness. “You really think I’m cute, don’t you?” she murmurs, her voice soft with genuine affection.

You nod enthusiastically, not even the slightest bit embarrassed by your obvious adoration. “Yes. I do. And I will continue to think you’re cute every single day for the rest of my life.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. Ambessa just looks at you with a mixture of awe and fondness, her golden eyes softening as she takes in the sheer affection radiating from you.

Finally, she exhales slowly and pulls you closer, her lips brushing against your forehead. “Well, I suppose if I must be cute, there’s no one better to appreciate it than you.”

You smile against her chest, feeling the warmth of her arms wrap around you. “Exactly. You’re mine, and I will never stop thinking you’re the cutest, most powerful, most amazing woman in the world.”

Ambessa chuckles softly, the sound low and rich. “And you, wife, are absolutely impossible.”

But even as she says it, you feel the faintest shift in her stance—one of acceptance, of love. In that moment, you know she’s completely aware of what you see in her. And as much as she likes to deny it, she wouldn’t change a single thing.

Because to her, you’ll always be the one person who sees her, not just as the General Medarda, but as the woman she is—powerful, strong, and yes, just a little bit cute.

[kianamaiart]

so, im working on projects of my own and idwtbamg is a massive inspo to me. im struggling with story writing tho. i thought i had it figured out for a while, but its like...... i dunno im second guessing and im not big on the direction i took but im intimidated about the idea of having to redo everything. do u have any tips for figuring this stuff out?

tbh just do it. even if you feel like you get it to a place you like in your head, you're gonna keep finding ways to poke holes into it the longer you overthink it. storyboarding for tv taught me that sometimes your first instinct is your best one and getting something done is better than just letting it live in your head forever

i gave myself a weekend to come up with, write and thumbnail the pilot. was it perfect? no. but am i proud of it? very much so! i think i made something really special in the time i allowed myself and it feels so nice to have it actually exist. the nice thing is that you can tweak stuff along the way and you'd be surprised with how many ideas you can come up with as you do the thing and within those constraints. it breeds creativity!

[verycrowindeed]

Yes I'd o :3 love ya mom

Romantically? My now-ex. Platonically, my friend who was asking for advice

Many things. But most of it is just because now I have a curiosity that cannot be satisfied

I don't think so

05: What is your relationship status?

As of today, single

06: How do you want to die?

Peacefully, surrounded with people who love me

07: What did you last eat?

amburber

08: Played any sports?

Nuh uh

09: Do you bite your nails?

Nope

10: When was your last physical fight?

Idk. I don't get into these. Unless you count wrestling with my sister as a physical fight, in which case it would be a few years or smth

11: Do you like someone?

I'm assuming romantically, so no, I don't think so

12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours?

I think??? I don't remember tbh. But that seems like something that I would do and not remember so, fair.

13: Do you hate anyone at the moment?

I don't hate

14: Do you miss someone?

Yeah

15: Have any pets?

Like 6 or smth

16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment?

Weird. Very

17: Ever made out in the bathroom?

Made out, no. Kissing yes and sex... Also yes...

Yeah not proud of that one

18: Are you scared of spiders?

Kind of? Just the normal amount I think. Mom's arachnophobic so I didn't have the best example growing up

19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance?

I think I would be tempted but I don't know if I would actually do it, i would probably ask a loopy of questions before

20: Where was the last place you snogged someone?

I didn't know what that word is but Google translate says kiss?

Anyways, his bed I think

21: What are your plans for this weekend?

Working, probably

22: Do you want to have kids? How many?

Yes I do! I think just one

23: Do you have piercings? How many?

Nope unless you count ear perforations in which case I have one on each ear buf these were made to me when I was a baby so

24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)?

History and literature,.then logic and Discrete methods which is a type of math

25: Do you miss anyone from your past?

It's hard to know when I miss someone so I don't know

26: What are you craving right now?

Love.

27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart?

I think so

28: Have you ever been cheated on?

Not that I am aware of

29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry?

Yes :(

30: What’s irritating you right now?

The fact that I know it could've been better if he had done what I told him to do

31: Does somebody love you?

Many people

32: What is your favourite color?

Don't have one. I love them all

Although I really like the word "Carmesí" which means Crimson in Spanish so

33: Do you have trust issues?

I don't think so

34: Who/what was your last dream about?

A camping trip I think

35: Who was the last person you cried in front of?

My ex

36: Do you give out second chances too easily?

Way too easily

37: Is it easier to forgive or forget?

There is no easier or harder one. They are different process and depending on the situation one might be faster than the other but it doesn't mean it's the best

38: Is this year the best year of your life?

I hope it isn't, I still have so many years ahead!!!

39: How old were you when you had your first kiss?

15? Or 16 maybe

40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked?

Nope

51: Favourite food?

The canelones my yaya made. And also her Shephard's pie

52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason?

Yeah sure. It's just that the reason isn't necessarily supernatural

53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night?

Work

54: Is cheating ever okay?

Nope

55: Are you mean?

I try not to be

56: How many people have you fist fought?

None?

57: Do you believe in true love?

Absolutely

58: Favourite weather?

Rainy

59: Do you like the snow?

I don't remember ever seeing snow irl

60: Do you wanna get married?

Not really. But I would have gotten married to him ah re dolida estaba bueno discúlpenme terminamos HOY

61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby?

It would be weird for me but it might be cause I'm not used to hearing that term in spanish

62: What makes you happy?

My cat, insects under the sunlight, my mom, my friends, tasty food, cooking

63: Would you change your name?

Nah

64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed?

It would sure be a hell of an emotional wreck

65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?

He's gay so that's weird. And also why does it specify the sex lmao

66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around?

Yes? I don't mind what's in their pants

67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to?

What's with the obsession with sex here. Anyways my friend who was asking for advice

68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?

I don't think I remember

69: Do you believe in soulmates?

Maybe

70: Is there anyone you would die for?

Many people

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

[tea-writes19]

brother-in-law | b.b.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!parker!reader

summary: your brother peter tries to find you a boyfriend by posting an ad on instagram

warnings: swearing, fluff, suggestive content

a/n: my first smau + fic!!!! based on this fic by the lovely @pomegranatesarchive. fr it’s one of my fav smau’s and I don’t even follow f1😭

liked by mjjones, nedleeds, and others

peterparker: are you a young hot single in nyc? well meet y/n parker, my VERY single sister!! she enjoys cheap pizza, true crime, and long walks through central park! if you’re interested please comment down below…serious inquiries only!

view comments below

yourusername: peter wtf is this?!?

peterparker: I WANT A BROTHER! is that too much to ask for???

yourusername: NO!! JUST NO!! @/mayparker aunt may please take his phone!!

mayparker: sorry sweetie, but pete’s right. you’ve been really lonely and sad looking recently

yourusername: so the solution is to pimp me out?!?

peterparker: i will not be stopped

user1: i’m interested?

peterparker: no, too ugly

yourusername: PETER PLEASE

peterparker: i need them to at least look good in pics

mjjones: pete, y/n is going to kill you

yourusername: the bitch is hiding behind stark😡

peterparker: @/ me next time🤺

tonystark: please don’t drag me into this

user2: not bro literally selling his sister😭😭

user3: this is hilarious!

nedleeds: can you do this for me next?

peterparker: no you talk to people

user4: i’m interested!

peterparker: nah

yourusername: what’s the point if you’re just going to reject everyone?

peterparker: shhhh…let me work

yourusername: 🙄🙄

steverogers: what is happening?

peterparker: mr. america sir! are you interested?? y/n loves history! you’d be my first choice too!!

steverogers: uh no thanks…i’m too busy right now to think about dating

yourusername: not me getting rejected by CAPTAIN AMERICA in front of the world😭

user5: rip

user6: dude don’t you work with literal superheroes? ask them

user7: aren’t half of them married and in committed relationships?

user6: yeah but that still leaves the rest

user8: hey so this is insane!

user9: it’s kinda cute how much he cares about his sister

user9: weird too, but cute

peterparker: @/samwilson @/buckybarnes @/steverogers @/natasharomanoff @/joaquintorres @/mariahill @/wandamaximoff who’s interested?

mariahill: no thanks

samwilson: i’m good

steverogers: i already said no…

wandamaximoff: i’m dating vision so no

natasharomanoff: parker this is weird

joaquintorres: no thanks

yourusername: kill me now

user10: this was rough to read

user11: #savey/n from this torture

peterparker: okay, fine, i don’t care

tonystark: he cares

peterparker: on a completely different note @/buckybarnes i need help with a history essay. can you come over tomorrow?

buckybarnes: 👍

buckybarnes added to their story—>

[captain: what the fuck is a oligodendrocyte?]

story replies

steverogers: peter set you up didn’t he?

buckybarnes: he pulled the history essay thing

user12: omg is that y/n???

user13: peter’s post worked!?!

samwilson: man that kid got you good

liked by peterparker, buckybarnes, mjjones and others

yourusername: photo dump bc i graduate in a week!!!

view comments below

peterparker: no me?

yourusername: you lost post privileges after that stunt you pulled

peterparker: BUT IT WORKED OUT DIDN’T IT?!

user14: 👀👀👀

user15: who’s hand is that y/n!?!

user16: IS THAT ALPINE???

buckybarnes: the only person who can get alpine to cuddle

yourusername: i’m just chill like that😌

user17: HELLOOOO????

user18: fr like wdym peter was successful??

yourusername added to their story—>

[caption: 💐🤭]

story replies

user17: omg omg omg

user18: AHHHHHHHH

mjjones: peter is fangirling

liked by buckybarnes, mayparker, pepperpotts and others

yourusername: i graduated college!!!

view comments below

buckybarnes: congrats doll <3

yourusername: love you🫶🏻🫶🏻

user19: DOLL!?!?

user20: EVERYBODY STAY CALM IT’S HAPPENING

mayparker: so proud of you y/n!!!

yourusername: couldn’t have done it without you!!!

pepperpotts: congratulations y/n!

yourusername: thank you!!

user21: omg congrats!

user22: i feel like a proud parent rn🥹

peterparker: my favorite college grad

yourusername: bootlicker😐

peterparker: i take it back

peterparker: you’re the worst🖕

yourusername: love you too petey

tonystark: congrats kid

yourusername: thanks…now give me a job

tonystark: get better taste in men first

buckybarnes: that’s fair

steverogers: BUCKY

© tea-writes19 do not repost, translate, or copy

thank you for reading <3

[deerlysacred]

🍎 i feel so high school every time i look at you . . . { dean winchester x fem!reader }

𐂂 𝄢 { you always felt like you missed out on lots of silly, social & romantic things in your teenage years because you were very shut-down and depressed back then. dean shows you that there's still time to make up for it. }

𖣂 𝄢 established relationship & fluff

♫ 𝄢 concept song : so high school - taylor swift

Clink.

. . .

Clink!

The soft clatter of pebbles against your bedroom window barely registered at first. You were curled up under a mountain of blankets, comfortably burrowed in your own little nest, flipping through a book with a cup of tea precariously (?) balanced on your stomach. You told yourself it was probably just the wind. Or a tree branch. Or, you know, the natural creaks and groans of a house that is absolutely not haunted (you hoped so).

Then— another clink.

And another.

You sighed, your eyebrows knitting together.

Okay. Either a ghost just decided to throw hands, or some poor bird tragically lost its sense of direction.

You went out of bed, padding over to the window as you pulled the curtains away. Your eyes widened against the unexpected scene.

Dean Winchester. Standing in your backyard, throwing rocks at your window.

The sight alone was almost too much for your brain to process. He was grinning up at you like some teenage heartthrob straight out of an '80s rom-com, one hand tucked into the pocket of his leather jacket while the other —oh great— prepared to lob another pebble.

"Dean?" you whisper-yelled, opening your window. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What's it look like, sweetheart?" he whisper-yelled right back, looking too proud of himself. "I'm sneakin' my girl out for a date. Proper teenage style. Now c'mon, before your strict old folks catch me."

You just stared at him, struggling to process several things at once. One, he is standing in your yard throwing pebbles at your window like a delinquent in a coming of age TV show. Two, he just called you his girl, which— okay, that probably should've sound normal to you since you're his girlfriend indeed. For a while now, in fact. But your brain still short-circuited a little, getting flustered even after all this time.

"…Dean, I don't have strict old folks."

He waved a dismissive hand. "I dunno, Y/N. Your grandma did glare at me once. Feels like I'm riskin' life and limb here."

You bit back a laugh. "You do realize I could just use the door, right?"

Dean scoffed, his breath getting visible with the fog because of the chilly air of the evening. "Oh, sure, and miss out on the whole forbidden romance, Romeo-and-Juliet, sneakin'-through-the-night scene? Where's your sense of drama, sweetheart? Hm? Where's your passion?" He gestured grandly towards the window and flexed his muscles briefly. "Now, c'mon. Climb out or somethin'. I'll catch ya."

You folded your arms, shaking your head as you chuckled. "You will not catch me!"

Dean put a hand over his heart, looking scandalized. "Excuse me? I am a gentleman. I would absolutely catch you."

"Dean, be honest. Do you want to risk finishing this date night before it even began after you broke your arm because you got too full of yourself?"

He squinted, like he was actually considering the question. "…Okay, fair point. Plan B— the ladder in the garage. We improvise."

You shook your head again, a helpless smile breaking through. You knew why he was doing this. He probably couldn't stop thinking about what you told him last night— how you felt like you missed out on things as a teenager. How you overthink about the past missed opportunities sometimes, okay… Maybe more than sometimes. And here he was now. And because that he was Dean, instead of just saying something sweet or reassuring and get over with it (not like he was very good with words too), he was throwing pebbles at your window like a teenage rebel, giving you the moment you never got to have.

And damn it if that didn't make you fall for him even more.

"Give me a minute." you said, already reaching for your coat.

Dean grinned, all boyish mischief and dimples, retrieving the slightly rusted ladder from the garage, setting it against the house. "That's my girl, come."

You sighed and closed the window before carefully making your way back down. When you were only a couple of steps from the bottom, Dean suddenly spread his arms wide, wiggling his fingers.

"Alright, sweetheart— leap of faith. I got you."

You eyed him warily. "Dean…"

"Oh, come on. Where's your sense of adventure? Woulda made such a cute movie moment."

You rolled your eyes but decided to humor him. With a deep breath, you let go of the ladder and jumped.

Dean, to his credit, did catch you. Mostly.

He stumbled back a step, arms full of you, before he managed to steady them both, laughing. "See? Told ya I'd—oof—catch you."

You clung to him, half-giggling, half-mortified. "That was not smooth."

"Eh, I give it a solid eight outta ten," Dean said, setting you on your feet. He brushed an imaginary leaf off your shoulder, voice dipping low and playful. "Y'know, if this was some cheesy teen drama, this'd be the part where we kiss real slow, right before your dad comes out with a shotgun."

You snorted, tilting your head. "Too bad my dad's not around to threaten you."

Just as the two of you turned towards the Impala, movement from across the street caught your eye.

Mr. Jenkins.

Mr. Jenkins was your eighty-something-year-old neighbor who sits on his porch every night sipping his coffee, watching the world go by. And right now, he was watching you and Dean with the exact expression of a man who has seen some things in his time but has never seen this.

Dean followed your gaze and gave Mr. Jenkins a slow, respectful nod.

Mr. Jenkins narrowed his eyes. Took a sip of coffee. Kept staring.

Dean turned back to you, whispering. "Alright, I think I've been made. Your grandpa's gonna call the cops, isn't he?"

"He's not my grandpa."

"You sure? He's got that 'disapproving man of the house' energy goin' on."

You sighed. "Just get in the car before he starts asking questions."

Dean tugged open the Impala's door with a dramatic flourish, waving you in like he's some kind of old-school gentleman. "After you, milady."

"Dean…?" you said slowly, side-eyeing him.

"Mm?" He looked perfectly innocent. Too innocent.

"You're taking me to a makeout spot?"

Dean smirked. "Technically, I'm takin’ you to a scenic overlook with a great view of the stars." A beat. "But, yeah, also a makeout spot."

You groaned, slumping against the seat. "I hate everything."

"Nahhh, you love it."

…You kind of did love it. But he didn't need to know that.

When he finally pulled up to the clearing, the view was stunning. An open sky stretching for miles, stars shining bright against the darkness, the town lights twinkling far below. Dean shut off the engine and hopped out, you hugged your coat and went out to clim up on the hood of Baby to sit. When Dean came back, he was holding— a picnic basket?

Your brows shot up. "Oh my God, you packed snacks?"

Dean looked vaguely offended. "Sweetheart, I always pack snacks."

You laughed as he set the basket down on the hood of the Impala and sat next to you. He pulled out a few chocolate bars, a bag of chips, and—of course—a pack of beer.

"Very nutritious." you remarked.

Dean popped the cap off a bottle. "Hey, you want gourmet, sweetheart, you're in the wrong car."

You rolled your eyes but took a chocolate bar, unwrapping it as you leaned back against the windshield, eyes drifting to the sky. It really was beautiful up here. Quiet. Peaceful.

Then, the soft strumming of a guitar filters through the Impala's speakers. An old, slow love song, the kind that makes your chest ache in that bittersweet way.

You glanced at Dean, who was busy nursing his beer like this was no big deal. Like he didn't just put on a song as if this was a romance movie. Your stomach flipped, biting your bottom lip, you spoke.

"Dean…"

He cleared his throat. "Just thought, y'know… if you ever wanted that teenage movie moment… well. This ain't a prom, but…" He gestured around you. "Got the view. Got the music. Got the devastatingly handsome date."

You giggled, leaning into his side. "You are pretty devastating."

Dean grinned, draping an arm around your shoulders. For a while, you just sat there, listening to the song and cuddling.

After a moment of silence, he glanced down at you as he was caressing your shoulder gently. "So, what kinda stuff do you think you missed out on?"

"I don't know. Just… normal teenage things, I guess. Like— stupid, fun stuff. Sneaking out just to go nowhere. Sleepovers. Gossiping about crushes. A first kiss that wasn't tainted by some deep emotional crisis."

Dean winced playfully. "Oof. That one hit close to home."

You smirked. "Right?"

Dean leaned back on his palms, looking thoughtful. "Yeah, I get that. I missed out on a bunch of crap, too. No high school parties. No prom. No dumb summer jobs or college road trips. Just—" he huffed a dry laugh. "—training, hunting, and trying to keep Sammy safe."

You frowned, reaching for his hand. "That's not fair. You deserved those things, Dean."

He shrugged, squeezing your fingers. "Yeah, well… wasn't in the cards for me."

You looked down at your joined hands, your thumb tracing over his knuckles. "Sometimes I think about it. What kind of person I would've been if things had been different. If I'd been happy back then."

"You ever wish you could do it over?"

You hesitated, then shook your head. "No if it meant I wouldn't end up here. With you."

Dean's lips parted slightly, like you just knocked the wind out of him. Then, after a second, he cleared his throat and smirked. "Damn. You keep talkin' like that, and I'm gonna have to start writing poetry."

"Oh, please. I'd love to hear your poetry."

Dean straightened, putting on a dramatic voice. "Roses are red, Impala is black. Every time you kiss me, I forget how to act."

You laughed and planted a sloppy kiss on his lips. "That was beautiful. You should publish that."

Dean grinned. "Oh, totally. I heard bad poetry is in high demand."

"Then congrats, baby, you're about to be a bestseller."

You sat like that for a while, the laughter fading into something softer, warmer. Then, as the song playing on the radio faded into another slow melody, Dean suddenly sat up.

"Alright, that's it." He turned to you with a grin. "We're fixin' this."

You blinked. "Uh… Fixing what?"

He hopped off the hood, holding out a hand to you. "We missed out on stupid teenage things, right? So let's make up for it. Starting with a slow prom dance under the stars."

You huffed a small laugh but didn't resist when he took your hand, helping you down. The second you were standing, Dean turned, grabbed a soft flannel blanket from the basket, and carefully draped it over your shoulders.

"Wouldn't want my girl gettin' cold." he murmured, making sure it wrapped snugly around you. Then, with a boyish smirk, he added: "Also, this way you can't run when I step on your toes."

You giggled. "Wow. Confidence through the roof, Winchester."

Dean just grinned and pulled you closer, swaying you two gently to the quiet music playing from the Impala's radio.

At first, it was ridiculous. He exaggerated his steps like some old-school ballroom instructor, guiding you dramatically across the dirt like you were at some grand gala instead of parked on an empty hill. But you played along, batting your lashes and letting out an over-the-top sigh, as if you'd just been swept into the most magical moment of your life.

Then, somewhere along the way, the teasing melted into something softer.

Your movements slowed, your bodies falling into an easy rhythm. Your arms looped around Dean's neck, your fingers absentmindedly curling into his hair. His hands settled at your waist, thumbs drawing lazy circles through the fabric of your clothing. The blanket cocooned you in warmth, shielding you from the cold night air.

For a while, you just swayed. No words, no hurry. Just you two, the hum of the radio, the distant chirp of crickets, and the glow of the stars above.

Then Dean dipped his head, his nose brushing lightly against yours. His voice was quieter now, softer. "Y'know… I think I like our version of prom better."

You smiled up at him. "Yeah?"

"Mmhm." His voice was lazy. "No bad music. No ugly corsages. And best of all…" His lips quirked up. "I get to kiss the prettiest girl here."

You barely had time to catch your breath before Dean tilted his head, capturing your lips in a slow, lingering kiss. This one wasn't playful or teasing— it was deep, unhurried, and sure. Reassuring. Reassuring in a way that told you you didn't miss out on anything, everything little step in life brought you here. To him. And you knew, that this was more meaningful and real than any ghost of a never-happened memory.

[pinkdaiisies]

Ease My Worried Mind - R.L.

Remus Lupin x reader

Summary: Reminiscing about photos on Remus' nightstand. Also some serious conversations and thoughts about Remus' condition. (Remus is in loooveeee; fluffy; kissing)

Words: 1.1k

Notes: Guys this is so good. Like I'm actually so proud of this one. Pleaseeeee comment and let me know what you thought of it, comments are super appreciated!!! (I thrive on validation) Please enjoy! (Also the title is from the song 'Layla' !!)

___

It took loads of convincing to be where you are now. Remus' bed was quite comfortable. The scent of him in the sheets comforted you. Remus was in the bathroom about to take a shower.

Lyall, Remus' father, didn't like company over so close to the full moon. Remus' excessive chatting about you since first year made him believe that you were a trustworthy enough person to allow in his house.

Even though you were in your later years at Hogwarts, none of the other boys had been to Remus' home. Except James when he picked Remus up to take him to his house. Even then, Lyall and Hope didn't allow James to come inside.

It wasn't them being rude, you could tell that they were just protective over Remus. His friend group at Hogwarts was the first one he was ever allowed to have.

Lyall and Hope had been very kind to you since you had arrived, but you could tell they were nervous about the full moon being so close. They were almost too nice, but it was an awkward nice.

As your thoughts roamed about Remus and his family, you looked around at Remus' room. The walls were plastered with posters of various rock stars and movies. Upon his nightstand there was a framed picture of him with James, Sirius, and Peter. Remus was sandwiched in between Sirius and James. Sirius' arm was around Peter's shoulders, and James' hand was squishing Remus' face. The picture moved and you could see Sirius's head fall back in laughter. You reflected on the moment fondly, you had taken this picture.

Your eyes kept roaming, and lying on his nightstand was another picture. This picture was encased in a charm meant for a necklace. You picked up the charm and smiled fondly. This picture was of Remus and you. You could remember this moment exactly.

_

"Could I have a refill please." Peter said quietly as the waitress walked by ignoring him.

The group giggled at Peter's embarrassment. Although you and Remus paid no mind to this, you two were having your own conversation in the corner of the half booth table your friends had picked.

"It's alright mate, i'll go get one for you." Sirius stood up and walked to the bar, Peter following quietly behind.

The Three Broomsticks was a bit too warm for late spring, but the frost in your butterbeer made up for it. Remus' arm around your back and hand on the side of your thigh probably didn't help either, but this heat you didn't mind as much.

At this moment, Remus was whispering something silly in your ear, and you giggled. Then all of a sudden there was a bright flash in your face.

"Godric, you two. Off in your own world the whole time we've been here. Don't know why we go to Hogsmeade anymore!" James said as he snatched the camera from Lily.

"Didn't they look so cute though! That's why I took the picture," she said towards James. "You guys are going to be grateful for that picture, you look so good y/n!" Lily finished as she tried to take the camera back from James. James used this as an opportunity to stand up and put the camera in the air, much to tall for Lily to reach.

___

The picture was good. Your makeup and hair looked perfect, and Remus looked absolutely smitten as he whispered in your ear. The picture moved and cutoff mid giggle, going back to the moment when Remus leaned in.

"I'm out." Remus walked in, hair wet and messy, the only thing on was his boxers.

You put the picture back in its spot on his nightstand. When you took in his appearance and lack of clothes you blushed.

Remus dried his hair messily with his towel. He then reached in his dresser and unfortunately pulled out an old t-shirt. Putting the t-shirt on, he walked over to his bed, where you were still laying. He crawled into bed, while crushing you in the process. You laughed as he put almost all of his body weight on you. Eventually, he rolled over, and you two were lying side by side.

You looked over at him.

"Remus do your parents know that I know?" You asked him intently.

Remus looked back at you, not expecting such a serious question. You knew he didn't like talking about it, so every time you did, it shocked him.

"Yes. They do." Remus looked at you gently. "That's probably why they're acting so weird. Usually when people find out that I'm a werewolf, they don't normally want to be in our home," Remus said with a tight lipped smile, "Especially laying in the werewolf's bed." You rolled your eyes and giggled. It made sense, it did. The stigma around werewolves was still very outdated. The wizarding world wasn't very open minded.

Your hand went to hold Remus' cheek. Your thumb traced the scars on his face. Your gaze held his admirably.

Remus' thoughts raced throughout this moment. One thought was the loudest though: He was so lucky to have you in his life.

Remus was able to be vulnerable with you, which he wasn't allowed with everyone else. He was also able to tell you every thought on his mind. Most of all, he was able to trust you with the biggest secret anyone could ever hold.

Remus leaned in and kissed you gently on the lips.

"I love you," Remus said as he moved his hand on top of yours, still upon his cheek.

"I love you so much more Moony," your voice barley above a whisper, face leaning in once more for a kiss.

Remus moved his lips against yours vigorously. So much passion being shared between the two of you. Unfortunately, the only thought that passed through your mind was how you wished Remus hadn't put that t-shirt on.

Eventually you pulled away, breathless, you stared into Remus' face. Scar adorned, yet gorgeous. If Remus didn't have those scars he wouldn't look right, you thought. Those scars made him who he was, and you wouldn't have him any other way.

You both laid on your back for a while, staring up at the ceiling. Suddenly, Remus popped into your line of vision above you.

"Let's go for a walk," He said, while getting up from the bed. You immediately followed him, and put on your shoes.

If this was how being at Remus' house was, you'd never want to leave.

[kisssukuna33]

HusbandSukuna! Who's never been the one to understand today's relationships. 50/50? No, his woman will never touch a single bill with her delicate fingers as long as he's alive and well.

HusbandSukuna! Who never understood the whole "giving your relationship time before proposing" thing. You aren't a real man if you drag out your relationship and take what you have for granted, Atleast that must have been what he was thinking when he put a big rock on your finger after dating for only 7 months.

HusbandSukuna! Who takes his role as your fiancé VERY seriously. He asked you to move in with him just right after he proposed. He does everything in he can to make sure you feel comfortable in his house. He even went as far to renovate half of the house to your liking despite your much protesting that it's not needed.

HusbandSukuna! Who checks everyday to see if you are wearing the ring he put on you. it almost become a habbit for him to kiss the ring in your finger every single morning. Not just in the morning, whenever you two hangout in the public he intentionally kisses it to give other people the signal that his girl is strictly taken.

HusbandSukuna! Who wants to get married as soon as possible but he respect your time and choices. He doesn't want you to get overwhelmed by this at all, so he waits patiently ( had to restraint himself from asking like 5 times)

HusbandSukuna! Who gets so freaking happy when you finally confront him about being ready for marriage. The moment those words slip from your mouth his hands instantly go to your waist to pull you closer, closer till your foreheads are touching, He places a warm kiss on your temple and the next thing you hear makes your heart warm and fuzzy.

"You are the best thing that ever happened to me, I promise to be the best husband and I swear on my life I will take care of you and protect you till I die, I love you"

HusbandSukuna! Who jumps straight into the wedding planning. He hears from his married friends how stressful wedding planning was to them and he determines to not make you experience any bit of the stress, He tries everything in his power to make things go smooth as possible.

HusbandSukuna! Who breakdown in tears the moment he saw you walking the aisle to everyone's shock. The grumpy tatted 6'4 scary big guy who has given them nothing but attitude crying over seeing the love of his life walking down aisle? Who would have thought.

HusbandSukuna! Who immediately intertwine your fingers with his as he looks into your eyes like he sees nothing but the whole world in them and wait no minute to whisper "The prettiest, mine"

HusbandSukuna! who finally breaks free from his staring as the wedding officiant clears his throat to let him know that there's a whole wedding left to finish.

Everyone expect him to do a short vow and get done with it. Sukuna isn't known as the most expressive guy after all, but to everyone's surprise the vow lasted whole 15 minutes!! It was filled with nothing but love and appreciation for you and the little grin plastered in his mouth at the end of the vow makes it obvious how proud he was of himself ( I mean practicing this costed him a years worth friend too, after he suggested Sukuna to add some dirty degrading sex joke about you in the vows he ended up punching the guy as a result, so hell yeah he's proud of this!)

HusbandSukuna! Who keeps the honeymoon destination as a surprise till last minute, and your heart fills with joy as you realize he took you back to the beach you two first met, a place special to you both.

He booked the hotel room with the best view to the beach as expected.

HusbandSukuna! Who's heart feel warm all of a sudden, it's only a year ago he believed himself to be someone who's unable to be loved. Oh how much have changed since then.

HusbandSukuna! Who takes your hand and drags you to the balcony for a dance.

The smell of the beach, evening lightening, sounds of the ocean..All adds to the atmosphere as you two get lost in yourselves.

HusbandSukuna! Who takes a glance at the beach and sees a young family, not much older than both of you playing in the sand with their little girl.

HusbandSukuna! Who has a small smile tugged at his lips as he mentally promises to himself that he will return here again after you two finally complete your own little family.

No grammar checks, forgive me I'm too lazy

What do we think about part 2?

[goddamnitmahtin]

Damian’s Babysitter

This is a sequel to this post. Since it was actually based on a wild dream I had, I figured I’de add more.

Danny and Wes found the gala boring as all hell. Almost immediately after showing up, they were sent to off to the “kids room.” Were Danny and Wes full on adults? Yes. But apparently rich people don’t want to look at you if you don’t have access to money they can convince you to give them. Which honestly, fair. Danny and Wes didn’t want to look at the rich people either.

Danny and Wes walked into the room filled with discarded children and found a sofa to sit on. It wasn’t like they were going to actually try to mingle with these children. Most of them were very clearly going to be mean. Most of them that weren’t too young to hold a conversation with were standing around on little cliques gossiping to each other about each other. It was like if you took all of the pettiest 5th graders in the entire state and put them into one room.

“I still can’t believe we are doing this,” Danny said, groaning. This entire thing was such bullshit. The entire atmosphere felt so fake.

“Lucky for us, I brought my laptop so we can just game until it’s time to leave,” Wes said, pulling his laptop out of his bag.

“Oohhh so that’s why you brought a purse,” Danny said, poking fun at the style of the bag. It was duty of a cousin to be a menace after all.

“It is not a purse!” Wes said, laughing. He gave Danny a playful shove before opening the computer and pulling up the game library. All of the games on the laptop were single player so they were going to have to take turns. Danny told Wes to go ahead and go first.

“Daniel Fenton,” said a child’s voice. One that he recognized.

Danny looked up from the computer and smiled, “Damian! What are you doing here bud?”

The child scoffed as if Danny were stupid, “I am here with my father. What are you doing here? You aren’t a part of Gotham’s elite.”

Danny had babysat Damian plenty of times in Metropolis when his father had odd work hours. Never once did he even consider that Bruce was from Gotham. Or part of it’s elite. Danny had always gotten paid well and it was a nice gig so he never really asked questions. But now that he thought of it, if Damian lived in Gotham, why did he want a babysitter in Metropolis?

Wes shoved Danny in the rib, “Danny- I think this kid is-”

“I’m here as a favor to a friend,” Danny said, ignoring the dull pain in his ribs, “Sam Manson.”

The child nodded, “Yes, I know Sam. She is not as pathetic as the other elite spawn.”

Danny laughed, “I agree.”

“Wait, how do you two even know each other? And how come he gets to call you Daniel?,” Wes asked. He had paused his game and was looking back and forth between Danny and Damian.

“Oh this is Damian! I babysit him every once in a while,” Danny sad gesturing to the young boy.

“Yes, when my father has work in Metropolis, I request to spend that time with Daniel when I am not needed,” Damian stated matter of factly, he crossed his arms looking proud of himself as he said, “I gained the right to refer to him as Daniel by proving myself in hand to hand combat.”

Wes gave Danny a look and Danny just shrugged, “He wanted to spar, who was I to say no? The kid has moves and I respect that.”

Danny smiled proudly and so did Damian at the acknowledgment of his fighting prowess. Wes just looked at Danny like he was the stupidest person in the world.

Wes’ judgement didn’t last long as a discord call started to ring on his laptop. Danny watched as his face flushed before answering. He was about to ask who it was but before he could, he heard a crash and then Damian’s voice.

“HEY!”

Then another voice unapologetically, “Sorry! Haha!”

Danny looked to see if Damian was alright just to see him holding a platter like a frisbee one one hand and using the other to flip someone across the room the bird, “Fuck you Tim!” (not really)

[lvnleah]

Would love a AWFC!Teen reader fic where she's Leah's younger sister who has always had to deal with being with Leah's sister, so many expectations on her and people being her friends because of Leah (Leah is still very much an amazing sister, loves her baby sister to bits!)

So when she's around ten ish, she makes the choice to not let anyone know Leah is her sister, goes to games but doesn't sit in the family section and sits with friends who she's never told about her family, maybe even uses her mum's maiden name rather than Williamson etc.

Leah is undoubtedly a bit upset about it because she doesn't want to make her little ones passion dampen just by being her (I hc that Leah would very much see R as her baby because that's what she called her when she was born or something) but her and their family all accept it and do what R wants and needs

Cut to R being brought into the senior time, smashing it in the big leagues and getting along well with all of the senior players who are looking at her like 'she seems familiar and I don't know why...' only to find out she's Leah's little sister when she's injured on the pitch or Leah gets injured and she gets all panicked and doesn't want to leave her side

Cue Beth, Katie, Kim etc. Who have all been there for years like 'Holy shit, you've grown up!!!!' Because they probably would've known her when she was younger since they've known Leah that long

Long winded but hopefully you'll like the idea 😂😂

the other williamson | leah williamson.

thank you for this request! :)

this is one of my favourite fics I’ve written!

You had always been proud to be Leah’s sister, how could you not be? She was England’s captain after all and an Arsenal star but sometimes being nine years younger than Leah came with its struggles. 

You were only seven when Leah first broke into the senior team and you were so proud of your sisters that for a while it’s all you talked about. Everyone at school knew about your cool big sister Leah and how she was playing for Arsenal. 

At that time, women’s football wasn’t massive so of course you got a bit of stick from a few boys in your class but it wasn’t anything you could handle. 

“Arsenal women?” One of them scoffed one day in the playground, “that isn’t a proper team!”

You looked the boy straight in the eye. “They are a proper team! My sister’s going to be the best player in the world, just you watch!”

The boy had rolled his eyes and laughed, but you didn’t care. You’d march off, determined to prove him wrong. Well, Leah would prove him wrong, and you’d be there cheering her on every step of the way.

For a while, being Leah’s sister was the coolest thing in the world. You loved going to games, sitting with your family, wearing a little Arsenal jersey with Williamson on the back. 

Leah always made time for you, even when her schedule got busy. She’d let you run around on the pitch after matches, ruffle your hair, and call you “my little bubba,” no matter how much you protested.

But as you got older, things changed.

By the time you were fifteen, Leah was a household name. Women’s football had grown massively, and she was basically the face of it after winning the euros. People started treating you differently, not because of who you were, but because of who your sister was.

At school, kids who’d never spoken to you before suddenly wanted to be your friend. “Can you get me an autograph from Leah?” they’d ask, or, “Do you think she’d come to my party?” Teachers started expecting more from you, too, as if being Leah Williamson’s sister meant you had to be perfect at everything.

At the academy, it was worse. You had been lucky enough to sign for the Arsenal academy when you were twelve but after the euros things changed. Every time you stepped onto the pitch, you could feel the weight of their eyes on you.

Coaches would compare you to Leah, even though you were nothing like her as a player. You didn’t even play in the same position, you were a striker not a defender. Teammates would make comments, sometimes kind, sometimes not.

“She’s only on the team because her sister’s Leah Williamson,” someone whispered once after you scored. “She’s not even good enough for the academy.”

It stung more than you cared to admit.

That was when you made your decision. You didn’t want to be known as Leah’s sister anymore. You wanted to be you. That night after training, you came home and broke down in tears to your mum. 

“Bubba, what’s wrong?” Amanda asked you as you stormed into the house, flinging your bag down onto the ground. 

You sat down with a huff as more tears started to escape, Jacob gave Amanda a look, “Been like this since I picked her, won’t say what’s wrong though.” Your brother sighed.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, wiping at your face angrily, though the tears kept falling.

Amanda crouched down in front of you, her voice soft. “You’re clearly not fine, Bubba. Come on, tell me what’s going on.”

You glanced up at her, hesitating. Part of you didn’t want to say it. You didn’t want to sound ungrateful for the opportunities you had or for Leah being your sister but the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

“I’m sick of it, Mum,” you said, your voice cracking. “Sick of being just Leah’s sister. Everyone at the academy thinks I’m only there because of Leah. They don’t even see me as my own person, just as ‘Leah’s little sister.’ I can’t do it anymore.”

Amanda’s face softened, and she sat beside you before pulling you into a hug. “Oh, Bubba. I’m so sorry you’re feeling this way.”

Jacob sat down next to you on the couch on the other side, frowning. “That’s not fair. You’re talented in your own right. Anyone who says otherwise is just jealous.”

“But I'm always being compared to Leah, J,” you said, though your voice wavered. “No one believes that I'm good enough. They just think I’m riding on Leah’s name.”

Amanda kissed your temple, “You are good enough. And I understand why this is so hard for you. But what do you want to do about it? How can we help?”

You hesitated, chewing your bottom lip. “I don’t want to be ‘Williamson’ anymore,” you finally said. “I want to use your maiden name, Mum. I want to be a Baker, not Leah’s sister.”

Amanda blinked, taken aback for a moment, but then she nodded slowly. “If that’s what you want, then we’ll support you. Right, Jacob?”

“Of course,” Jacob said, ruffling your hair. “You’re still you, no matter what name’s on the back of your shirt.”

A lump formed in your throat, but you nodded, feeling a small wave of relief.

“What about Leah?” Amanda asked gently. “Have you talked to her about this?”

You froze. You hadn’t thought about how Leah would feel. “I don’t know. I don’t want to hurt her feelings. She’s always been so proud of me, but…”

“But you need to do this for yourself,” Amanda finished for you. “You know she’ll understand.”

You nodded.

Later that evening, when Leah got home from training, you sat down and told her everything. You expected her to be upset or worse, disappointed but instead, she pulled you into a tight hug.

“Bubba,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “I had no idea you were feeling like this. I’m so sorry, I’ve made things harder for you.”

“You didn’t,” you said quickly. “It’s not your fault, Le. I’m so proud of you, but I just need to figure out who I am without being ‘your sister.’”

Leah nodded, her hands on your shoulders. “I get it. And I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself. Whatever name you use, you’ll always be my little Bubba, okay?”

You laughed through your tears, hugging her tightly.

That night, you went to bed feeling lighter than you had in months. You were ready to step out of Leah’s shadow and into your own light.

Fast forward a few years, you were now eighteen and transitioning into the senior team. Leah was now twenty-seven and somehow everyone had managed to keep it a secret that you were Leah’s sister. 

Majority of the girls that you played with had either left the academy or completely stopped playing football. Your shirt name was now Baker and had been for two years now, your coaches were different too and everyone just thought that Leah was your family friend. 

“Excited for your first senior training, bubba?” Leah asked you one December morning as she drove you both to the training ground. 

You shrugged, a mixture of emotions, “Bit nervous…” you muttered, “Excited but nervous.”

Arsenal’s senior team had a new coach, Renee Slegers, and she had been to watch the u18s a few times. For some reason, she had seen something in you and wanted you to come train with the senior team and potentially play a few games. 

“You’ve got this, Bubba. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t good enough. Renee knows what she’s doing, and so do you.” Leah told you. 

You nodded, trying to let her words sink in. You knew Leah believed in you, she always had, but the pressure of stepping into the senior team felt overwhelming. It wasn’t just about proving yourself, it was about proving you belonged and you were separate from Leah.

When you arrived at the training ground, Leah walked in beside you, her confidence making her look so at ease. Meanwhile, your stomach churned as the nerves threatened to take over. You adjusted your backpack, trying to focus on your breathing.

“Relax, Bakes,” Leah said with a smirk, using the nickname some of your academy teammates had given you after you changed your last name. “They’re going to love you.”

As you entered the changing room, you were immediately greeted by familiar faces, some you hadn’t seen in years. Beth grinned as soon as she spotted you.

“No way! Little Bubba? Is that you?” Beth’s voice was teasing, her eyes wide in mock disbelief.

You groaned internally. So much for keeping the “Bubba” nickname under wraps. “It’s Baker now,” you corrected with a sheepish smile, but your voice was warm. You couldn’t help but laugh a little as Beth pulled you into a quick hug.

“Leah didn’t tell us you’d grown up so much!” Beth teased. “Last time I saw you, you were, what, fifteen?”

“Beth,” Leah interrupted, shooting her a warning look, though she was clearly trying not to laugh.

More players filtered in, all of them reacting with surprise when they realized who you were. Some of them hadn’t seen you since you were a kid, tagging along to games and family events. For others, it was the first time they’d met you. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Katie said, holding up her hands. “So you’re telling me Leah’s been hiding this one from us? You’re playing with us now?”

You felt your cheeks burn as all eyes turned to you, but Leah stepped in, her tone light and teasing. “She wanted to make it on her own. Didn’t want to ride my coattails.”

“Fair play,” Kim said with an approving nod. “Gotta respect that.”

Leah turned to you, her smile soft. “Alright, Bubba, I mean Baker, time to show them why you’re here.”

You gave her a small, grateful smile before heading out to the pitch. As you jogged onto the field with the team, the nervous energy in your chest began to settle. You reminded yourself why you were there. Not as Leah’s sister, but as you.

And as the session began, you could feel yourself falling into the rhythm of the game you loved, the sound of the ball connecting with your boot grounding you. The team was fast, skilled, and ruthless, but you held your own. A well-timed run, a sharp finish past the keeper and it wasn’t long before you felt like you belonged.

At the end of training, Renee pulled you aside, her expression calm but firm. “You did well today. Keep this up, and we’ll see about getting you some minutes in the next match.”

Your heart soared at her words, but you kept your face neutral, nodding. “Thank you, Coach.”

Leah was waiting for you by the car when you finally made it out of the locker room. She raised an eyebrow, clearly trying to gauge how you were feeling.

“Well?” she asked as you climbed in.

You smiled, the weight on your shoulders feeling just a little lighter. “I think I did okay.”

Leah grinned, her pride shining through. “I told you, Bubba. You’ve got this.”

The night of your debut arrived quicker than you expected. Arsenal was playing a league game at Meadow Park against Crystal Palace, and the squad list had you on the bench. You tried to focus during the pre-match warm-ups, but your nerves were all over the place. Leah, as always, noticed.

“Stop overthinking,” she whispered as the two of you jogged back to the dugout after the warm-up. “Just play your game. If you get on, don’t try to do too much. Be you.”

You nodded, though the butterflies in your stomach didn’t ease. The match started, and you watched intently from the bench, studying the pace of the game and trying to picture where you’d fit in.

By halftime, Arsenal was up 1–0, the goal coming from Leah. Renee made a couple of changes early in the second half, but your name wasn’t called. You were beginning to think your debut would have to wait until another day when, in the 70th minute Renee called you. 

“Baker, you’re on,” Renee said, her voice firm but encouraging. “Stay calm, yeah? Leah’s out there with you. We’re doing okay, 3-0, so just stay calm, yeah? Try your hardest.”

You nodded, barely able to believe this was actually happening. Leah was standing by the touchline, waiting for you, her hand resting casually on her hip. When you reached her, she nudged you with her elbow, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Ready for this, Bubba?”

“Don’t call me that,” you hissed, but you couldn’t help the nervous laugh that escaped.

The referee blew the whistle, and you stepped onto the pitch, replacing Beth up top. Leah gave you a quick pat on the back as you ran to your position. “You’ve got this.”

The first few minutes were a blur. The pace of the game was faster than anything you’d experienced before, but you adjusted, remembering Leah’s advice: play your game.

Then, in the 80th minute, the ball came to you. Leah had intercepted a pass in and played a perfect through ball into your path. You took a touch, your heart pounding as you found yourself one-on-one with the keeper.

You steadied yourself, then slotted the ball into the bottom corner with your left foot. For a moment, everything went silent, and then the roar of the fans hit you all at once.

You’d scored on your debut.

Leah was the first to reach you, lifting you off your feet in a tight hug. “That’s my sister!” she shouted, her voice full of pride.

The rest of the team swarmed you, congratulating you with slaps on the back and ruffling your hair. The chant of your name began to ripple through the crowd, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you belonged, not as Leah’s sister, but as you.

When the final whistle blew, Arsenal had secured a 5–0 victory. Leah pulled you into another hug as you both walked off the pitch.

“Told you you’d smash it,” she said, her grin wide.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop smiling. “Thanks, Le.”

That night, as you sat with Leah in the kitchen at home, replaying the match in your head, she looked at you and said softly, “You’re going to have a great career, Bubba. I’m proud of you, you know that?”

For the first time, you didn’t mind the nickname. “Thanks, Le. Means a lot.”

[ishallbenevermore]

‼️‼️‼️‼️SEASON 2 SPOILERS‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

AAAAAH!!! GUYS NEVERMORE IS BACK!!!! I'M SO HAPY!!!! I'm also very proud of what's left of the fandom, and I hope we get new recruits some time soon in the near future!!

BUT FOR NOW, LOOK AT THAT.

WHY DID YAAL THINK SHE WOULD ASK HER TO COME TO THE ARBORETUM!?

This is obviously THEIR spot, and I can only imagine the secret kisses they would share AS GOOD FRIENDS

Also, look at her crossing her legs and all. Nothing has changed yaal

Look at them how close they are to eachother! The parallels are immaculate

Honestly, the parallels are INSANE. Even for the first chapter of season 2.

I can't wait for the next one yaal. I've been screaming for 2 days now and I have to leave my vocal cords to rest.

It's so good to be back.

Bonus, Bull riding Ada

[somepsychopomp]

contemplating a particularly evil AU where, after Odysseus escapes from Poseidon the first time, our favorite problematic god decides to set his sights upon Ithaca in order to get his revenge.

He doesn't raise the tides to drown all the inhabitants or cause earthquakes to break the island apart, no. Poseidon directly seeks out sweet little 10 y/old Telemachus...

and befriends him.

(Ody really shouldn't have doxxed himself with this one)

It starts with Poseidon disguising himself as a mortal man and infiltrating the palace, knowing that Odysseus was blown across the sea and is still struggling to get home. He claims to be a wise man taught in Athens, and is willing to offer his tutelage to Ithaca's prince. Though it irks him a bit to pose as a scholar from the city he lost to his niece, Poseidon convinces Penelope to let him take over the position of her son's tutor in all necessary subjects: reading, oratory, history (which will be easy, seeing as Poseidon lived through all of it himself), etc.

Telemachus is shy at first, but warms up to his new tutor quite quickly. [insert Poseidon's fake name] is not like the stuffy old men that Penelope first assigned to Telemachus' education. He's patient, doesn't reprimand the young prince when he falters, and rewards him for doing well with sweet treats and fantastical stories about faraway lands and monsters.

After earning the lad's trust, Poseidon approaches Penelope and says it's not right that such a bright boy like Telemachus isn't also taught in other aspects of manhood. He asks to take Telemachus out for his first hunt, to which she reluctantly agrees. (Penelope knows that her husband slew an adult boar when he was Telemachus' age so yeah)

Telemachus is both excited and nervous to be outside the palace without any guards or his mother. He asks how Poseidon knows to hunt and he laughs, saying that just because he's a scholar, doesn't mean he isn't also an athlete and a warrior.

Telemachus takes the bait, asking what competitions Poseidon won, who he beat, etc. He's regaled with entirely false tales of wrestling matches, chariot races, and spear throwing contests, as well as stories of successful hunts for bears and wolves.

It's truly the perfect opportunity to strike. The two of them are alone in the woods with no one else around, no one who would hear the prince scream as he was torn asunder. No one to find his bones...

"Do it," Poseidon says quickly, "Strike now."

At the behest of his teacher, Telemachus draws his bow and fires at the young deer upwind from them. The arrow hits the creature in the flank and it darts into the foliage. No time to praise the prince for his aim, Poseidon leads him uphill, showing the boy how to track injured prey. He's armed with a bow he never intended on using and a spear designed for hunting, as similar of a weapon to his trident as he can get.

Poseidon catches a glimpse of movement through the trees and throws his spear. It strikes the deer in the neck, felling it instantly. That night under the stars, the two of them feast on roasted venison over a roaring campfire. Poseidon insists that he couldn't have done it without his pupil, that Telemachus injuring the deer was what brought about its downfall.

Telemachus is beaming with joy, so excited to have gotten his first kill, when he suddenly turns withdrawn and shy. Poseidon asks what's wrong.

"It's just that... I always hoped I would go on my first hunt with my father..."

Poseidon pulls the boy against his side as Telemachus sniffles and tries to suppress his tears. Poseidon hushes him and says that while he can't speak for the king, he's certainly proud of his pupil!

"But do you think he'll be back soon?" Telemachus asks. Poseidon smiles and says only the gods would know. But for now, Telemachus should be proud of himself.

Penelope is pleased to find her son in one piece when he returns. He shows her the pelt from his first hunt and she assures him she's very impressed. What really matters to her is that Telemachus is safe and growing as a boy should- learning the useful skills he'll need as a man and a future king.

From then on, Poseidon has much more leeway with how he spends his time with the prince. They go to the beach so Telemachus learns how to swim, fish, and sail. He learns how to tame a horse and gain its trust, etc.

It's a nice way to pass the time, waiting.

Eventually, news turns up that every fleet from Troy arrived home, except for Odysseus'. No other king knows where he and his 600-person army vanished to. No one knows where he is, or when he'll return.

Penelope is saddened by this revelation, but knows her husband well and refuses to believe that Odysseus of Ithaca perished in something as simple as a rogue storm. Telemachus is heartbroken, though. He's just a boy and after having heard that nearby kingdoms received their men after ten long years, he got all his hopes up that he'd finally get to meet his father.

His mother tries to console him, to tell Telemachus not to give up hope. Odysseus is out there, somewhere. But her son is inconsolable until Poseidon gently asks Penelope if he can speak to him.

Poseidon tells Telemachus that sometimes things happen for a reason. Was this the will of some god, perhaps?

Telemachus doesn't know how to respond, but sniffles and asks if he did something wrong. If it's his fault his father isn't home. Poseidon hugs him tight and says it's not his fault at all! No, if anything, perhaps Odysseus' silver tongue got him in trouble, or that this delay in his' return is only a temporary misfortune. Perhaps it'll lead to greater things down the line. Telemachus doesn't really understand, but he begins to calm down after hearing both his mother & tutor tell him that things will be alright.

In the meantime, Telemachus wants to become someone that his father would be proud of. He asks Poseidon to train him even harder and help him grow into a great warrior.

Poseidon accepts and the two of them grow even closer.

Not long after, the first of the suitors arrive. They're the sons of local noblemen or other prominent families in Ithaca. For a while, the queen offers them hospitality without suspecting much, thinking that the gifts the men offer are condolences for her husband's late arrival. Then they start trying to woo her.

The suitors start harassing Telemachus, too. They see him as an obvious threat to the power they could steal for themselves. Odysseus was crowned the king at the age of 13 and the same could happen to Telemachus if Penelope declines to remarry. All of a sudden as more and more suitors invade his palace, Telemachus finds himself unwelcome in his own home. The suitors do not let him eat near them- they'll go as far as to snatch his food. They leer at him, call him small, and taunt him by saying he'll never be king.

Telemachus thinks there's nothing he can do to fight back, but then Poseidon steps in and tells the suitors to cease their unruly behavior. They gang up on Poseidon, who they perceive as an unimpressive middle aged man, before getting their asses handed to them by a middled aged man who knows how to wield a spear as though he was born for it.

Telemachus has never seen something so amazing before. His teacher defeated a dozen men alone! How is that even possible?

Poseidon doesn't answer him directly, only saying he's gotten into his own fair share of fights before. When news of the brawl reaches Penelope, she decides that Poseidon should be promoted to Telemachus' guardian until Odysseus returns, fulling both the role of tutor & protector. She won't have her only child be bullied and menaced by grown men, not in her halls.

It is at this point that Poseidon pulls out his greatest trick yet. And that is to tell the truth. For months now, he's been posing as a kindly old teacher. But in secret, he reveals himself to Telemachus as the god of the sea!

Poseidon claims he heard the boy pray for his father's return and came to him in disguise. (Poseidon didn't even know who Telemachus was until Ody pissed him off, but he was willing to bet that such a naive child would certainly pray for his absent daddy to return. And he was right.)

Poseidon warns that Odysseus is not who Telemachus thinks he is. He might have been a kind and gentle man before, but he turned into a merciless, vain monster who allowed over 500 of his men to perish because he was arrogant enough to think he could lead them through a terrible storm.

Telemachus can hardly believe it- he doesn't want to. He won't! His mother always told him that his father was the most clever man of all, trained by Athena herself.

"Ah," Poseidon says, his voice full of sympathy, "And what does Athena know of love? Of mercy? No, no, my poor boy. You've been misled. Your father is not the man you think he is, for he blinded my own son just so he could steal some livestock!"

Telemachus’ mind is racing. He doesn’t know what to think. Who is his father, really?

Trembling from head to toe in fear, he asks if Poseidon will punish him as vengeance for his own son.

And the earthshaker will smile at him, oh so softly.

“My poor child, why would I do that? You father has flung himself to the farthest reaches of the sea, but I am here for you. I’ve come to answer your prayers, to set things right between your house and mine.”

Poseidon cups Telemachus’ face and leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to the boy’s head. “And should your father ever arrive on this isle, I will keep you safe from him.”

(And so Telemachus will grow up unsure of the man his father really is, all while struggling to see Poseidon as anything but)

[vivwritesfics]

Drummer Boy

Band!Bob blurb based on the band!bob fic that i've had in the works since uni

(for the girlies (gn) rn)

He met your eye. At least, he thought he did. There was no way you actually saw him with the stage lights shining on you. But still, you looked so damn happy up there.

Bob stood at the very front of the stage. None of the fans surrounding him recognised him. Your fans. Maybe they were his fans at some point, but they still were. But they were here for you.

His glasses, glasses he needed but never wore on stage, sat on his face. A cap covered his hair, the naval aviation insignia printed on it. The black hoodie he had been spotted in so many times should have been a dead giveaway, but nobody was looking at him.

They were all too enthralled by you.

He couldn't blame them. The girls surrounding him screamed the lyrics back to you. A packed stadium, so damn loud.

It hadn't always been like this. The sold out stadiums, the world tour, was all so new to you, to your band.

There was a time where you were opening shows, and now you were having shows opened by a smaller band for you.

That was two years ago. Two years ago, you and your band were performing in tiny dive bars when Jake discovered you on social media.

Back then, Daggers had been big. Bradley on piano, Nat playing guitar and Jake as the singer. Bob loved being at the back of the stage, hitting his drums with such precision, making the most beautiful beats.

It had been easy enough to get into contact with the lead singer of your band, to invite you on tour with them. A tour of America. Back then, it was the most incredible thing to them. Now, a tour of just America would have been small change.

Charlie, your lead singer, fell quiet, let the crowd sing. It happened every show, but it still brought tears to Charlie's eyes.

When he started signing again, he pulled you down the stage with him. Even as you moved, your fingers danced across the strings. God, you were good. He would admire you, the way you performed, forever.

When the show ended, it was all too soon. Even Bob, who had been watching you perform for two years now, couldn't help but shout for more. One more song, and your band obliged.

He had followed you across the world, Clark Kent-ing it. Hidden beneath a cap and glasses his fans usually didn't see him in. In the front row of every show, screaming along until his voice went hoarse.

The post performance high was real. Bob had experienced it before; that was the first time he kissed you, coming away from a show positively buzzing. That was a year and a half ago. A year and a half of running into each other's arms and kissing until you needed air.

This performance was no different.

As soon as he made it backstage, you ran into his arms. "Bobby!" You cried and threw your arms around him.

Bob wrapped his arms around you. He lifted you up and put your back down. All muscle, hidden behind long sleeves.

The way you kissed him knocked the hat from his head and skewed his glasses. But he didn't care as he kissed you back, holding you so damn tight. Fuck, he was so damn proud of you, loved you so damn much.

[newtonsheffield]

I need to see Neddy's first visit to Anthony's office! Is it just covered in Neddy's art? A whole gallery wall of his creations? 😁

Imagine Kate dropping Neddy off one day because Sophie’s had to go home sick and Kate has a meeting so they’re trading off. Neddy with his backpack bouncing against his back as he hops into the office ahead of Kate.

“Hi, Kate.” Debbie greets her, familiar with Kate by now.

“Hi, Debbie.” Kate smiled. “Sorry, Ant’s-“

“I’m here to see my Daddy!” Neddy grinned up at her from his place beside Kate. “Me and him are gonna hang out.”

“You must be Neddy.” She smiled at him. “It’s great to meet you. Your Daddy talks about you all the time.”

Neddy’s little chest puffed out with pride. “Can I do you a drawing for your desk? I’m really good!”

“I know you are. Your Daddy has all your pictures up on his wall.”

“Is that my Neddy?” Anthony called out from down the corridor, jogging forward to scoop Neddy up, throwing him up onto his shoulders as a bewildered looking man he’d been in a meeting with followed him out. “Lord Cho have you met my partner Kate before? And our little Trouble Neddy?”

The man looked bewildered still even as he left and Anthony kissed Kate quickly. “Hey.”

“Hey, I have to head off. I’ve packed Neddy’s lunch.”

“Which he will definitely eat.” Anthony winked at her. “I have no plans for us to go out for lunch.”

Kate rolled her eyes affectionately, kissing Anthony who stooped so she could kiss Neddy. “Love you both!”

“Love you Amma!”

“Come on,” Anthony said walking back towards his office. “Let’s get you set up to make a masterpiece for Debbie and then we’ll have lunch and then maybe we’ll sneak home early and pick Amma up from work.”

“Yes!”

Neddy gasped when he caught sight of Anthony’s office, the wall with every drawing he’d ever done framed and meticulously placed around a photo of the three of them on Neddy’s third birthday. “They’re mine!”

“Of course. I’m very proud of you, Neddy.”

“Can I spin in your big chair then?”

“Oh absolutely.”

[dekariosclan]

I had a thought about Gales reaction to/feelings about stretch marks on his partner. Not ones from pregnancy (I personally feel those are kind of different. I have a lot of them just from fast weight gain, and even after losing that weight seeing them seems to only remind me of my shame that I ever let myself go that much).

I feel like I already know the answer - he is so loving, and so truly does not care about physical “imperfections” on his loved one or things that may be outside whatever beauty standards apply in his world. If he knew his partner was insecure about them, he’d likely go out of his way to make them feel better about them. But I’m still curious how you would describe his thoughts on them, if that makes sense. Would he even notice them? What would they represent to him, if he knew they were from a time his partner was neglecting their health (or even being very lazy)?

I hope this isn’t a nonsensical ramble. I think I’ve lately found myself trying to change my own negative perceptions of myself by thinking through the lens of what Gale would see, so asking an expert like yourself for your take might help me get there on this topic <3

Not nonsensical at all anon! 💜 And I love your idea of thinking through the lens of what Gale would see—the world would be a much kinder (and chattier!) place if everyone did so.

Your thoughts about Gale’s response to his partner’s insecurities are spot-on. But he’d also want to reassure them (and you!) that there is nothing shameful about the fact that their body changed shape or appearance. He would hush any disparaging comments about ‘letting oneself go’ or ‘being very lazy’. He’d be very, very proud that his love was no longer neglecting their health, but he would not apply any shame or negativity to their bodily appearance, either in the past or in their present condition.

I honestly think a lot of people struggle to understand Gale’s way of thinking because we have been-force fed toxic beauty bullsh*t for our entire lives. By our society’s beauty standards, Gale is hot. And Gale had a hot Goddess girlfriend; therefore how could Gale love a non-hot person? I’ve seen countless posts about Mystra being his ex and how ‘my Tav could never compare.’ But we’re the ones who have it all wrong; in Gale’s eyes, when he falls in love with Tav, it’s Mystra who can no longer compare.

So I’ve come to think of it like this: we all know Gale loves and treasures books, right? If you try and destroy the Necromancy book, he gets mad. He geeks out thinking about shopping at Sorcerous Sundries. He has a massive overflowing library in his home in Waterdeep. In short, he absolutely adores, respects and reveres stories. And I think, when Gale looks at others, and especially at his beloved Tav, what he sees and values first and foremost is their story—because that’s what defines who they are. Gale doesn’t judge a book by its cover, he judges it by the quality of the writing.

So, to answer your question about how he would react to Tav’s stretch marks, and whether he would notice them, and what they would represent, I believe he would simply see them for what they are: A physical representation of a chapter in Tav’s life. Not an imperfection, not something shameful, but an experience that, like all the other chapters in Tav’s life, helped shape them into the wonderful person that Gale loves today. An experience that helped to write Tav’s story.

And in his eyes, what could be more beautiful than that?