#writing has commenced

[deadgirlwalking91]

WIP Preview - 'Thou Shalt Not' with @a-dose-of-comatose

“You okay?” Vaggie asked Lute in a low voice as Mandi let herself into the backseat, still chattering away about her post-mass conversation with Father. “You looked a little tense back there.”

“I’m fine,” Lute shoved her hands back in her pockets and sighed, scuffing the ground with her sneaker. “I just got a bit lightheaded, that’s all.”

“Shit, you weren’t kidding when you said you were hungry.” Vaggie opened the passenger door and took her usual place in the car next to Lute. “Hurry up Posh Spice, or Lute’s gonna pass out.”

“If I’m Posh Spice, you’re Scary Spice, Vaggie.” Layla slid into the backseat next to Mandi, who was busy texting away on her phone. “This one here’s Baby Spice, which makes—”

“Lute’s Sporty Spice,” Mandi quipped, throwing her phone onto her lap. “No-brainer.”

“I’m about to become Hangry Spice,” Lute growled, starting the ignition, “if you all don’t shut up and let me drive to the cafe so we can fucking eat.”

For a moment, as she pulled out of the church parking lot, Lute was able to finally shove all thoughts of sexy priests and golden rosaries to the back of her mind. 

Until she saw Father Adam exit the church in her rearview mirror, hands shoved in his trousers pockets and tongue poking the side of his mouth as he listened to a little old lady chatter his ear off.

Lute groaned and stepped down on the accelerator, tyres screeching and friends shrieking as she left him in the dust.

[xaphrin]

“Do you remember when you last slept?”

The question speared through the silence of the room, slicing through the usual calm that slipped between them. Damian's tone was pointed, as if he was trying to gauge her response before determining how angry he should be. 

“No.” Raven sighed and ran her hand through her hair, scowling at the grease that slipped through her fingers. She couldn’t remember the last time she had showered, let alone slept. “Wait. Maybe. Three nights ago?”

Taking a sip of her now-cold coffee with a double shot of espresso, she fell into her usual chair in Damian’s library, tilting her head back to stare at the fresco on the ceiling. In the warm light, fat, happy cherubs smiled down at her, unconcerned of the exhaustion coursing through her veins.

“Raven.” Damian’s voice sounded like a sultry reprimand and a promise of deep sleep all at once, teetering on the edge of being understanding and wanting to spank her. Raven forced back a laugh at that thought. The spanking probably wouldn’t punish her in the way he was hoping.  

He sighed and leveled a hard stare at her from his spot behind his massive desk, pushing his laptop to the side. “You need to rest.” 

“No.” She pulled her head upright and glared at him. He knew exactly why she was running herself ragged. “I need to solve-”

“Raven.” Damian let go of a low, echoing growl - a warning that his patience was thin. “You need to sleep. You can’t keep running yourself ragged, chasing leads that don’t go anywhere.”

“Your reputation is on the line.” She was trying to impress how important this was, but he wasn’t understanding it. 

The air in the room suddenly changed, and Damian stood up and walked over to where she sat. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at her. “You think I care about my reputation, Raven? You think that matters to me?”

“Damian.” She leveled an incredulous stare at him. “Some part of Wayne industries is implicated in whatever this illegal smuggling is. I’m trying to keep you from being implicated too.”

“I will survive this. My reputation is always on the line. It’s on the line when I wear the wrong colored suit to a summer function. It’s on the line when I make a business decision without learning all the facts. It’s part of being who I am, and I’m used to it.” He dropped down to his knees in front of her, resting a hand on her lap. “You, however, will start hallucinating in another few hours.” Damian slid his hand up to her shoulder, pushing her blazer off of her. “Now, since you went to all that trouble to sneak into my house, let's get you undressed and in bed.”

“I…” Raven felt Damian’s warm hand slide up her neck, his thumb sliding into a tense muscle and rubbing a knot free. A soft sigh escaped from between her lips and she leaned into the touch. Maybe giving in wouldn’t be so bad… “A bath. I need a bath.” 

Damian sighed and slipped his arms under her, lifting her up from the chair and pulling her close to his chest. Raven frowned at him. “I’m not some damsel in distress that needs to be babied. I’m a detective, with a gun, I might add.” 

“Humor me.” He huffed in her ear. “You can shoot at me later.” 

He walked her through the quiet dark of Wayne Manor, taking her through the master bedroom to the en suite bathroom. He set her down on the cold, marble tiles and turned on the taps to the bath, filling the room with warm, luxurious steam that smelled faintly of lavender and chamomile. It felt divine, and she hadn’t even touched the water yet. While the bath was filling, Damian stripped her of her clothes, and set her in the frothing water. She sunk deep into the bathtub, letting the bubbles tickle up around her shoulders and neck. 

“How does that feel?” Damian settled behind her outside of the tub, rolling his sleeves back. 

“Better.” She shivered and Damian began to massage shampoo into her hair, his touch lulling her into a space outside of sleep, but still not in the waking world. “I want this to end, Damian… because the sooner it does, then the sooner I feel like maybe I can be… with you. In public. As more than just a detective working on your case.” The admission made her flush, and she opened her eyes to see Damian staring down at her, his face unreadable. 

“Raven, I want that.” He slid his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close to him. “But not if your health comes as an expense. I will wait for this investigation to be completed, and having you run yourself ragged isn’t going to make that happen any sooner.” He rinsed the shampoo from her hair, and tipped her head back to look into her eyes. “So, rest.”

‘You know, that’s rich coming from a man who wanders around Gotham in a bat suit all night.” 

He rolled his eyes but didn’t respond to her dig at him. Instead he let the silence settle over them both, the soft washcloth sliding up and down her skin, lulling her into a state of relaxation. Forcing her eyes open, she stared up at Damian and reached out to grab his arm. “I think… I should get out. And go sleep.” 

A teasing, I-told-you-so smile pulled at his lips, and he kissed her forehead. “Yeah. I think you’re right.” He drained the water and wrapped her in an oversized, fluffy towel drying her off. Damian brought her back to his room, dressing her in one of his undershirts and then tucked her into his bed, pulling the covers up over her. “I’ll let Captain Grayson know that you probably won’t be in tomorrow.”

Her eyes felt heavy and every muscle in her body was fighting to give into that sweet seduction of sleep. Raven shivered and grabbed his arm, pulling him closer to her. “You’ll stay… won’t you?” She wasn’t sure why she felt like she needed him to stay, but the only thing she really knew was that she needed him here with her. She needed to know he was close. 

“Yeah.” Damian lowered himself down next to her, wrapping his arms tight around her chest. “Until you wake up, beloved.” He adjusted to get comfortable, drawing her back into his arms as he kissed her shoulders. “Now, for the love of God, go to sleep.”

Raven was trying to think of a swift, sharp response, but she was already too far gone. Tonight, she’d let him have the last word.

[johnslittlespoon]

Only You Can Cool My Desire

[WC: 6K | Gale Cleven/John Egan, Tough And Sweet AU, Summer, Heatwaves, Ice Play, Blow Jobs, Light Dom/Sub, Teasing, Orgasm Delay]

“Gale,” John gets out, wriggling where he’s trapped beneath Gale’s arms. “I’m cooled down, please, can you–”

His plea breaks off into a curse when Gale lets the ice cube in his palm slide onto John’s stomach, watching as it settles in the dip of his belly button, John’s skin so fever–hot that Gale can immediately see the smallest pool of water beginning to form.

“You’ve been whining about being hot all week,” Gale says, pressing his lips to John’s thigh, feeling the muscle twitch at his touch. “I’m just helpin’ you out.”

[AO3 LINK]

[airas-story]

The Limit

“Has there ever been a more… impossible man,” Stephen hissed. Cloak sighed, this again. “I swear, that man is the most infuriating man in existence. I could strangle him.”

Stephen could also just give into his desires and kiss Tony already. Cloak suspected that if Stephen weren’t so busy fighting his suppressed desires he’d end up far less irritated than he always was. As it was, Stephen was so busy burying himself in the rivers of denial that he was irritated by everything.

Stephen kept muttering to himself as he stormed through the halls of the sanctum, several doors opening and shutting in agitation at the foul mood of the Master of the Sanctum.

The cloak sighed again, wrapping Stephen up a little in comfort until he started calming down.

“I swear, I hope I don’t see that man any time soon,” Stephen continued. The cloak sighed again. Because this happened every time. Stephen had to remind himself that he wasn’t in love with Tony.

Not that it seemed to work.

If Cloak had eyes they would roll them, as it was, they flipped their bottom lining in exasperation. Stephen would last a week before he came up with some excuse that meant that he just had to see Tony Stark. Even if he’d complain about it the whole time.

That was if Tony didn’t break first and come find Stephen. Cloak had it on good authority—DUM-E and U—that Tony was just as bad as Stephen about his feelings and his complete denial of them.

It really was a miracle that the two of them were so remarkably competent in the other aspects of their lives when they were both so painfully incompetent in this one. Cloak had known many, many humans in his time. These two were perhaps the most emotionally obtuse of all of them.

Cloak was getting tired of it. For one, Cloak cared for their chosen human’s happiness and was quite certain that engaging in a healthy relationship with Tony Stark would only increase Stephen’s happiness. For another, there was only so much desperate, oblivious pining that they could handle before they reached their limit.

Cloak had reached their limit.

The next time Stephen Strange and Tony Stark faced each other, they were going to admit they loved each other.

The cloak would make sure of it.

[queenofbaws]

gonna be real with you guys, i've been doing a lot of thinking lately and i just...........

we should've had the option to make sam totally snap in-game. just absolutely, totally snap.

i think it would've made all that stiff smiling in her police interview 1000000x better/worse, and god help me, the parallels to josh would've been delectable.

[walkingstackofbooks]

welp.

My laptop died today after a week or two of random black-screening every so often, rip. And £60 for a diagnostic doesn't really feel worth it when I don't know how much repairs would be and it was a cheap laptop anyway that's managed to last a few years so I'm looking at getting a new one...

But for today I've borrowed my housemate's and THAT just blackscreened on me so now I'm feeling like it's not my laptop, it's me 😅😅

[kay-elle-cee]

what if i....worked on And The Roar Will Rise today.....?

[tododeku-or-bust]

Forgot to do this earlier; I'm posting chapter 3 of Flashpoint tonight! So if you were interested in starting (or rereading; ik its been a month 😭) the link is here! Join me in my self indulgent casino AU!

[remindertoclick]

Here's your daily reminder to click for Palestine!!!

U.S. residents, take 5 minutes and use this link to pressure your members of Congress to stop sending weapons to the Israeli military!!

(Letter variants you can copy/paste under the cut!!)

Original letter written by Jewish Voice for Peace:

I am writing as your constituent to ask that you do everything in your power to press the Biden administration to suspend all weapons shipments to the Israeli military, and oppose all future military funding to Israel. The Israeli government has vowed to push forward with a large-scale military operation in Rafah, even though President Biden has repeatedly said such an operation would be a "red line." On May 7, the Israeli military seized the Rafah border crossing, a crucial passage for humanitarian aid, and ordered 100,000 Palestinians in eastern Rafah to evacuate. The 1.3 million displaced Palestinians sheltering in Rafah will have nowhere to flee should a full invasion commence. Millions of Palestinian lives now hang in the balance. I urge you to do everything in your power to stop this unfolding catastrophe before it's too late. Thank you.

Slight variations I created (so that emails don't get marked as spam for being identical to each other)

Variation 1:

I'm writing to you as your constituent to ask you to do everything you can to pressure the Biden administration into suspending all weapons shipments to the Israeli military and opposing any and all future military funding to Israel! The Israeli government is pushing forward with a large-scale military operation in Rafah. President Biden has repeatedly said such an operation would be a "red line," yet his administration is still supporting this operation. On May 7th 2024, the Israeli military seized the Rafah border crossing, a crucial passage for humanitarian aid, and forced 100,000 Palestinians in eastern Rafah to abandon their homes. 1.3 million Palestinians have been displaced. Those sheltering in Rafah have nowhere to flee during a full invasion. Millions of Palestinian lives now hang in the balance. Their fate lies in the hands on Congress, in your hands. I urge you to do everything in your power to stop this unfolding catastrophe before it's too late. Thank you.

Variation 2:

I'm writing you today to ask that you do everything in your power to convince the Biden administration to stop funding Israel. We have to telk them to stop all shipments of weapons to the Israeli military and oppose all future military funding to Israel. The Israeli government has vowed to push forward with a large-scale military operation in Rafah... President Biden made it clear that such an operation would be a "red line," and yet he continues to fund them. On May 7th of this year, the Israeli military seized the Rafah border crossing, a crucial passage for humanitarian aid, and forced 100,000 Palestinians to flee their own home of Eastern Rafah. Should a full invasion commence, 1.3 million displaced Palestinians sheltering in Rafah will have nowhere safe to go. Millions of Palestinian lives now hang in the balance. I am begging you now, as your constituent, to do everything in your power to stop this unfolding catastrophe before it's too late... Thank you

[foolishfalls]

i'll be real fellas i'm currently experiencing two adjacent category 7 autism events (decaydance bands and fate series) and if i'm being honest these two happening alongside each other are making me so, so, SO goofy

[northgazaupdates]

I want to share with you all a message from our friend Ola, who writes to us from the heart of besieged north Gaza.

Ola is a graduate student from the faculty of science at Al-Azhar University in Gaza. She is a dedicated and passionate student, striving to become a good researcher and teacher.

Before October 7th, her days were filled with attending lectures, working, and volunteering. She completed her bachelor's degree in Mathematics with a GPA 96.01% and a grade of distinction with first class honors.

Unexpectedly, her life took a drastic turn with the commencement of the cruel war on Gaza, transforming her from a passionate student to a person struggling for survival.

As you read this post, Ola, her mother, father, three sisters, and little brother are fighting death in northern Gaza. They are suffering under bombing, displacement, instability, starvation, thirst, and poverty. They are facing a harsh famine due to the IOF blockade of north Gaza, which has led to prices soaring. Ola herself was recently hospitalized for malnutrition due to the famine.

Yet through all of this, Ola is keeping her hope alive that she may go back to her career as an educator, and pursue her passion of teaching the next generation of Gazan children.

Ola is raising funds in order to be able to pay the rising cost of basic necessities in north Gaza. Her family is large and the cost of survival in north Gaza is astronomical, so she is going to need a lot of help with her campaign. If you have anything you can spare, I implore you to support Ola and her family. From where you are right now, you personally can help save lives in north Gaza.

Please reblog this post, follow Ola at @olagaza and boost her posts, and repost the link to her campaign across all your social media

Thank you❤️

Ola’s case has been verified by el-shab-hussein and nabulsi, she is #205 on their spreadsheet of vetted campaigns

[cologona]

The mistake Bruce makes in UTRH is one he’s well known for- it’s hubris. As experienced a vigilante as Batman is, as clever and strong and resourceful.. he isn’t God. Sometimes the risks he takes to win perfectly wont work out, and it’s worth asking at what point is taking the risk itself a moral wrong rather than a right?

The shock value of UTRH’s ending is very important to me. Imho not only does the finale need to be a tragedy, it needs to make the reader recoil. Judd Winick didn’t know if Jason was going to be kept around or allowed to die when he wrote the story, so in lieu of there being any consequences for Batman’s decisions in-universe (that’s just not how the comics work) the impact has to be on the reader.

And well. We’re currently 3 reboots and counting past UTRH where it’s not even canon anymore, Bruce has done plenty of other wacky shit, and yet this batarang is still a primary topic when it comes to Jason-Bruce dynamics. It’s fantastic.

The Batarang-Incident with Jason and Bruce honestly shows just how much DC writers hold shock value over proper characterization.

You mean to tell me that an experienced vigilante would choose to disarm a person with a gun by injuring them (and thus risking the chance of them pulling the trigger due to shock), instead of getting the gun away from them in the first place?

And you mean to tell me that this experienced vigilante (who has also been shown using his Batarangs to disarm gunmen by destroying their guns multiple times before) would take one look at the person who he considered a son — despite all of their recent fights — and risk a possibly fatal wound ?

Yeah, it's not adding up.

[boobav]

Viktor this season has rlly inspired me. I hope you all enjoy the various drabbles :) I'll try write more here.

The first time you met Viktor, you recall, the sun was shining.

The meeting was perfectly ordinary. Not even a meeting, really, seeing as you learnt his name a week later.

With a cool breeze, you ate your lunch in silence, head held to the sun as though a flower in bloom. You closed your eyes, breathed deep. Meditative perfection.

And when you reopened them, he was there.

Half-frozen in the doorway, he gazed at you with what seemed like surprise, at the time. Later you'd learn that he was, from his own words, mesmerised.

"Professor." He'd said in polite greeting, looking away. You smiled, but he left the way he came before any conversation could commence.

The next meeting, he was the one sat outside, silently pondering something. You'd found his expression of concentration endearing beyond words. The furrow of his brows, the occasional, unconscious movement of his lips. The way his eyes lit up when they landed on you.

The weather that afternoon, when you'd strolled over to properly introduce yourself to the man, was similarly bright. A perfect blue running across the sky. A songbird somewhere unseen, and the breeze defined by its almost supernatural ability to alleviate.

You weren't superstitious, nor did you believe in signs, an elusive, irrational concept. But with his presence offering as much warmth as the sun, with the way his eyes ran nervously from yours only to return, bound by some societal principal of politeness, with the way he tested your name on his tongue that cloudless day, you thought maybe there really was something to the concept. Some sign leading you to him.

"How about we get lunch sometime?" You hadn't exactly thought the offer out. But his smile alone was quick to convince you of the idea.

"Of course," Viktor said, "are you... free now?"

"I think I had something planned, but I seem to have forgotten all about it..."

-

For a few months, then, you re-learnt what it meant to be alive.

To meet someone so perfectly in tune with your every move seemed fantastical, seemed like a sign. You spent free weekends not hunched over a desk, stressed beyond articulation, but with Viktor. You learnt of his work, learnt of the pure brilliance that bloomed at the mere touch of his hands.

And you learnt every contour of those hands. Pressed your lips into the palms, into every scar and cut. A fleeting remedy, but one he grew unable to live without. For he, too, had to re-learn what it meant to be alive.

He felt astoundingly undeserving of what you seemed so willing to provide. More than love, but adoration. Something almost approaching worship. He felt the weakness of his own body so acutely with yours pressed against it, so terribly perfect. Whatever scar or mark you seemed to mention in distaste, he loved. He thought, maybe, that you were some kind of sign. That things would get better. That the traitor he called a body would recover or, at least, stop wilting away.

But nothing changed. Not really.

Learning of his illness wasn't a shock, because it wasn't a secret. Jayce mentioned it to you often. The real shock came on slow. Like a spider taking it's time to crawl up your spine. As the months passed, the extent of its deteriorating effect showed itself. Viktor's heart, weak against your own. The bags under his eyes darkening further, his pale skin sinking pallid.

Happiness, by some twisted measure or other, seems to run from its owner more often than not.

You think you're living in a state of euphoria, a state of perfection for so long, the way we were supposed to exist. You feel as though nothing could break this film of joy over your life, that you're somehow exempt from reality.

But you're not.

Overtime, Viktor shut himself off. He spent more and more time in the lab. He had very little to say. When you broke down, the only consolation he could offer was a quiet apology, mumbled from across the room.

You dreamt of consolation. Every night, from then on. Endless fields of restorative ideas. Endless ways to make him feel better, to be there for him even if he found the idea ludicrous.

Because why would you waste your time with him? He knows you're better off somewhere else, stretched out in the warm weather without a burden as heavy as him on your back. The pillar you were in his life, crumbled by his own hand. He deemed it necessary. Convinced himself so.

But what could you do?

You could barely comprehend his struggle. How could you even begin to ease it?

This thought process kept you from physically seeking this dream of yours. A warning sign from your mind, a psychological guard rail which, in reality, only protected you from yourself. All these flowery ideas of reconciliation, bouquets of roses and trays of baked goods in your mind, and yet, you did nothing.

The attack on the council made sure that you'd never have the chance.

Jayce had been the one to tell you. Tell you that among the victims was the dream gifted to you every night, the man you viewed as an inseparable extension of yourself. And when you visited, stared up at whatever the hexcore was doing to Viktor, you felt an unparalleled hatred.

For yourself, for your failings and shortcomings. Every time a word came out wrong. Every time a day ended in silence.

Rising tensions, blood on the city streets. Soon, you had nothing left in Piltover besides a few shattered friends.

So you left.

-

Of course, you felt that you'd never see Viktor again.

Even if somehow he survived the critical condition he lay struggling in, you convinced yourself that he wouldn't want to speak to you. Perhaps out of self preservation. Perhaps out of genuine belief.

A knock at the door was already uncommon. And, certainly, a knock that specific. Gentle, apprehensive. You stumbled out of bed with an undeniable sense of neuroticism, convincing yourself of the knocks familiarity whilst simultaneously convincing yourself of your own delusion.

But, there he was.

Wrapped in a robe, which to you appeared regal, the blue sky beyond framing his pale face, was Viktor. A songbird carried the news, then another, but your words seemed inadequate compared to theirs.

He raises a hand to cup your face, the flesh replaced with something firm, something running with a strength he himself barely comprehends.

You place a kiss on his palm.

[moonstruckme]

Hi luv, can I request something?

I was thinking about a poly!wolfstar x fem!reader where reader is feeling down because of her period but don’t wanna tell the boys bc she’s embarrassed. But she ends up acting all sad and the boys are really worried, thinking they did something wrong, and when they finally find out the truth they try to comfort her? A little angst with fluff ending, lots of cuddles. Only if you feel comfortable writing it, of course!

I love your writing, btw

Thanks for requesting lovely!

cw: period sadness

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 971 words

“She’s moping,” Sirius whispers, arms crossed and dark brows bunched. He’s leaning back against the counter, having followed Remus into the kitchen to ‘help make the popcorn’. Two fingers tap restlessly on his bicep. 

Remus watches the movement, pensive. “She might’ve just had a rough day,” he says back. The sound of popcorn in the microwave works to cover his voice. “I think she’d tell us if we’d done something to upset her.”

He gets where Sirius is coming from. You’ve seemed a tad dimmer than usual, mumbly and perhaps a bit tired. But Sirius is quick to worry, and he has a nose for tension that occasionally sniffs it out when it’s not really there. 

“She might not.” Sirius is doing that thing where he looks and sounds angry when really he’s worried. Remus leans over to kiss his hair. 

“She’s better than us,” he reassures him, taking the popcorn from the microwave and leading the way back into the living room. 

You’re huddled up in one corner of the couch, blanket pulled tight around you and eyes looking to nowhere. You perk up a little when Remus shakes some of the popcorn into a bowl and sets it in your lap. 

“Thanks,” you say. 

“Course. Did you pick a film?” 

“I started to, but…” You shrug, passing the remote to Sirius as he sits down next to you. “You guys can pick, I don’t really care what we watch.” 

Sirius sends Remus a look. See? Remus frowns. He’s still not convinced you’re upset with them, specifically, but your upset in general is hard to deny. 

It’s unsettling to have you glum like this. He and Sirius have always been prone to their moods, but you’re…not, so much. It’s not that you never have a bad day, of course, they try to give you the environment to feel whatever you like. They’ve just not seen you like this before, obviously upset but seemingly with no cause. 

Sirius picks one of your favorite films anyway. The intro credits start, and ordinarily, this would be the part where you lean onto your other side and cozy up to him, but you don’t. You stay curled up in your corner, eyes at half-mast and pretty face impassive. 

The sweet bit of skin between Sirius’ brows is marred by a dent. 

Remus is sitting in the armchair adjacent to your side of the couch. He reaches across the space for your hand. With so overt a request, you give it to him, looking a touch bemused. He holds your gaze, sweeping his thumb over your knuckles. 

“Are you alright?” 

You blink. “Me?” When Remus doesn’t look away, you shrink slightly, shoulders pulling up towards your ears. “I’m fine, yeah. Are you?” 

“Oh, how crafty,” Sirius drawls. “Redirect the question, we’ll never see through that.” 

You smile cautiously. “Way to make me asking my boyfriend how he is seem nefarious.” 

Sirius’ answering grin is sharp, but Remus can see the anxiety beneath it. “You’re not as subtle as you think, babe. Why don’t you tell us what’s got you so twisted up, huh?” 

Just like that, you shut down again. You pull your hand from Remus’, fixing your eyes on the TV. “I’m not twisted up,” you say. 

“Dovey,” Remus says softly. When you look at him, your expression is controlled but your gaze is tentative. “Have we done something to upset you?” 

“What?” A line forms between your brows, a companion for Sirius’. “No, you’ve—you’re perfect.” 

“Well, I like to think so,” Sirius agrees breezily, “but you’re obviously not happy with us. It’d help if you’d just say what it is, so apologies and amends can commence. Unless it’s that I left the toilet paper roll empty again, in which case I can only say that you knew what you were getting into when you moved in.” 

His feeble attempt at levity doesn’t make much of a dent in your creased expression, though you do tilt up one side of your mouth as though to commend him for his effort. 

“I’m not upset with either of you,” you say slowly. Your tone carries a hue of resignation. “I promise, if I was mad I would say.” 

Now it’s Remus’ turn to look at Sirius. See? But Sirius looks even more troubled, as though he can’t fathom what could be wrong in your life if it’s not him. 

“You are upset, though,” Remus says softly. “What’s wrong?” 

You sigh, the sound heavy with that unidentified melancholy, and Sirius seems to feel secure enough now to drop a kiss on your shoulder. “Nothing’s wrong,” you reply, defeated. “I’m just in a mood because of my period, sorry. I don’t mean to be a bother.” 

Remus coos, reaching across the gap again to pet your baby hairs. 

Sirius leans into your side. “You?” he asks, kissing your shoulder again. “Never. Why didn’t you say, lovebug?” 

You shrug. You seem to be slumping deeper into the couch with every affectionate touch, your body relaxing. “It’s a bit embarrassing. I don’t want to be acting all sad just because my hormones are going funny.” 

“You’re not just acting sad if you are actually sad,” Remus points out. “Is your stomach hurting you?” 

“Not really.” You shift your weight so you’re leaning into Sirius, too. He looks about as happy as he can be when someone he loves is hurting, bottom lip pushed out as he rubs your shoulder and smooshes his cheek into the top of your head. “Just sad.” 

“D’you wanna watch something happy, sweetheart?” Sirius asks, voice dripping with a syrupy sweetness. “Or something sad, to cry it out?” 

You shrug again. “Maybe just a little sad? Like The Perks of Being a Wallflower.” 

“That’s only a little sad to you? Shit, baby, you’re tough as nails.”

[bbbbbbbbatman]

superbat batfam identity porn shenanigans

Bruce and Clark know each other's identities, but the rest of the batfam does not know that Clark Kent is Superman.

The kids are trying to set their dad up on a date and Tim is like "well he obviously has a thing for that reporter, Clark Kent, we should start with him"

And Dick gets real upset bc "what are you talking about, he's obviously in love with superman!"

Damian, "Father does not have feelings for the alien!"

Jason, "Hate to break it to you, brat, but he's had a thing for the alien for years"

Cass, "but he is always so happy to see Clark at events"

Long story short, attempts at setting them up devolve into an all out war between the batfam about who Bruce should end up with, and thus commences the increasingly insane shenanigans to set Bruce up with Clark (Superman) or Superman (Clark)

Team Clark: Tim (he's a top notch reporter who loves to write about injustice and he's a more feasible option than Superman), Damian (he seems weak and bumbling but is a better choice than the alien), Cass (he was very nice when he spoke to her at a recent gala), Duke (Bruce clearly favors Clark to other reporters and even requests him specifically), Diana (was recruited by Tim, knows Superman's identity, but thinks this is hilarious)

Team Superman: Dick (superfan, absolutely wants Superman as his stepdad, and have you seen the way they look at each other?), Jason (I don't care about Bruce's love life (liar) but you'd have to be blind not to see that they're in love), Steph (why settle for a boring reporter when you could have Superman, have you seen his muscles?), Kate (got dragged in, thinks it would be funny if Mr. No Metas In Gotham ended up dating a meta)

(Alfred won't take sides bc he knows)

Bruce knows what's going on and on one hand is trying to figure out the best way to ask Clark to reveal his identity to his kids without telling him why so they stop and on the other hand isn't sure if a united front would be better or worse than a competition

Clark is oblivious, he's just happy to be spending all this extra time with Bruce

[crowleysgirl56]

Updated with edits!

Timeline of the last 12 months 15 months of the Good Omens fandom.

July 2023 - Good Omens season 2 drops. Fans watch on the presumption this season is based on the sequel idea Terry and NG spoke of in the 90’s and 2006. Reactions are mixed but mostly positive. We’re happy with fluff. Initial thoughts: “I don’t see how this story could have been fleshed out into an entire novel, but I guess it was only ever just initial ideas, so I suppose that works.”

July 2023 - THE KISS.

Fandom reaction: NNNNNOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

August 2023 - NG responds to fandom

NG: “Season 2 isn’t actually based on the idea Terry and I spoke about.”

Fandom: “What?”

NG: “Season 2 is just a bridging story to get us to season 3. That will be the story that Terry and I discussed.”

Fandom: “What!?”

NG: “Season 3 hasn’t been greenlit by Prime yet so we might not get it.”

Fandom: “WHAT?!”

NG: “Also I wrote the kiss that way by giving the fandom what you want without actually giving you what you want. So like, stop asking me for things or I won’t write them.”

Fandom: “AAARRRGGGHHHHH!!!”

August to November 2023 - The fandom, now lost and depressed, mope through the halls of Tumblr and Reddit, desperately clinging to any piece of information dropped by NG, sharing fan art, creating headcanons and theories, and writing the angstiest of angst fanfiction ever written. Some weep in a corner mumbling about the South Downs. Most just trudge through their daily lives, listless and despondent.

December 2023 - Prime greenlights Good Omens Season 3.

Fandom: YES! OMG HOORAY! WAHOO! Dancing in the streets. Fanfiction turns to fluff and smut. NG is active and happy, answering many questions without actually answering them. Gives us the hilarious gift of Dottie and Sadie.

January 2024 - speculation of when season 3 filming will begin commences. Realisation that it could be quite a while starts to sink in. Actors and writers strike has caused delay to the scripts being written. David and Michael have taken on theatre work which will delay their filming schedules. Douglas McKinnon announces he’s stepping away as director. Fandom has slight freak out, but NG reassures everyone it’s nothing to worry about, and linked to the recent strikes.

Early to mid 2024 - “The invisible and unbreakable line that joins Crowley and Aziraphale”.

Fandom: AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! We inevitably become even more feral. Much fanart is made.

March 2024 - David hosts the BAFTAs and Michael helps him during the opening. David is then nominated for TV BAFTA for Good Omens.

Fandom: OMG YYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAYYYY!!! Much dancing and celebration is had once again. We are so in love.

May 2024 - filming schedule for GO season 3 is announced. It will commence January 2025. The fandom reacts.

Fandom: “That’s still so long away!” “Michael and David will have their hair dyed white and red for the awards season!” “Going by the previous production schedule this means season 3 won’t reach our screen until 2026! No!” “Cannot wait for this to start filming we are going to be so feral!” More fanfiction, more fanart.

June 2024 - David hosts Pub in the Park. Michael joins him.

Fandom: THEY ARE SO CUTE! HOW CAN THEY BE THIS CUTE, WE DON’T DESERVE THEM.

Early July 2024 - horrible allegations are laid against NG and the fandom comes to a terrible crashing halt. Much debate and discussion is had back and forth: “Believe the victims”. “Separate the art from the artist”. “Drop the fandom entirely”. “Step back for a moment”. There is a lot of arguing, but there is also still a lot of love. NG has fled all social media.

Late July 2024 - until it’s January, and the show actually starts filming, Good Omens season 3 has now become Schrödinger’s Series. It both now exists and doesn’t exist. Prime at any moment may pull the production due to the backlash against NG. The fandom now re-examines McKinnon’s departure speculating if he left for other reasons. We once again despondently trudge the halls of tumblr and Reddit feeling the same feeling of this time last year.

This section of the post was made in late July was this was original posted: And that pretty much brings us up to date. Anything could happen in the next six months, which is why I feel we’re all worried. It’s why I’m worried. So instead, keep sharing the art, keep writing the fanfiction, keep speculating with theories and headcanons. Let’s be here for each other. Because we created this fandom for each other. It doesn’t belong to NG anymore. Let’s do this for Terry. Personally, I can’t wait to come back to this timeline and add January 2025 - filming begins.

28 July 2024 - Michael Sheen, the absolute angel that he is posts a picture of his tartan socks clad feet alongside the caption “To our world”. Such a beautiful, beautiful man!

10 September 2024 - Amazon Prime announces production for season 3 is paused. Everyone loses their shit. There is much lamentations.

Unsubstantiated posts start circulating that the show is cancelled. People who have a friend whose cousin’s gardener’s former roommate claim they are involved with the production and therefore they KNOW the show is cancelled. More lamentations.

Amazon stays silent for EIGHT. FUCKING. WEEKS.

The fandom walk around in a god damn haze again akin to what August to December 2023 felt like. Will we be left with the final 15 forever?

Mid October 2024 - for about 3 days straight the fandom receives information that is akin to a rollercoaster of emotion. Head graphics designer Mickey tweets out a now deleted post that everyone is going back to Scotland. Then Peter Anderson Studio tweet out a now deleted post referencing the South Downs cottage. Then random casting company updates their subscription website advertising Good Omens: The Finale a TV movie. Entertainment website releases an article referencing this. The fandom LOSE. THEIR. SHIT. AGAIN. We honestly can’t take much more of this.

25 October 2024 - Amazon finally announces the news we’ve been half expecting half dreading with positive and negative ramifications. Neil Gaiman is gone. GOOD! Season 3 will still happen. GOOD! But now it’s just a 90 minutes finale. WAIT, WHAT, NO! But it could have been worse. It was a hairs breath away from being completely cancelled. GOD BLESS RHIANNA PRATCHETT AND ROB WILKINS.

It’s been a wild ride everyone. I’ve already posted earlier this morning (25 October 2024) my thoughts about the whole situation so go read that there. But for now? Gaiman is gone, and we get our ending.

For now here’s to seeing our boys with their red and white hair again.