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#there was so much more I could’ve added to that board
show-your-fangs · 8 months
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omg omg omg can I pls request hotch genuinely being the most clueless, dumb-and-in-love individual?
Basically the team has to point it out to him for him to see how soft he is for reader and how differently he treats them 💗😩 he’s in love, your honour 🤭
i love our stupid man in love, he's so cute i can't.
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this is part two of this blurb from my moments au
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x f!Reader
Words: 1.7k
CW: nothing, just fluff.
Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND OR TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI. FUCK AI.
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He didn’t ask you out that night. Neither Morgan or Rossi won the bet, the unfortunate draw making them only want to try harder to win over the other.
That had been a week ago, the pool only growing as more agents got in on it and it had somehow gotten out of hand really quickly. Penelope had been tasked with keeping track of the bets, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep her mouth shut about it, especially when she was around you. 
The team had left for a case earlier in the week which meant you were spending a lot of time with her. From helping with research, running point from the office, making calls and setting up permits, warrants, everything and anything they needed, you were practically tied at the hip as per usual when the team was away. The only problem? Penelope Garcia could not keep a secret to save her life, and the more time she spent with you, the more she almost slipped and told you what was going on.
You had closed the case earlier that night after five days of grueling work. You were exhausted, more so emotionally than physically, so you’d invited Penelope to dinner as way to celebrate the little victory. But what had started as a simple night out had quickly turned wild as the waiter had taken a liking to her and kept the cocktails coming throughout your entire meal. You were on dessert, a forgettable chocolate lava cake with ice cream when she finally slipped.
“I just think it’s so silly,” she giggled in between sips of her drink and scoops of dessert. 
“What’s silly?” you egged her on, whatever this secret was had eluded you for the entire week and you just needed to know. 
“How much Hotch likes you,” her cheeks flushed pink but her brain didn’t realize what’d she’d admitted to yet, allowing her to continue. “The team has a bet going on when he’s going to ask you out and everything.” 
“Huh,” you mused. “That is silly.”
That’s when her brain snapped, dread and realization washing over her all at once. Her eyes widened, her spoon fell from her hand and onto the plate. 
“Oh my gosh, do you not like Hotch back? I could’ve sworn— I am mortified! Forget I told you, please I am begging you—”
You reached over and placed your hand over hers, gently soothing her out of her panic as a mischievous smile curled on your lips. 
“Can you get me on the board, Pen?”
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Apparently they were all convinced it wasn’t happening for a while. They had decided to overcorrect their previous assumptions, placing bets that were days if not weeks in the future. Penelope had added you to the bet list that same night, promising to keep the secret until the next morning. 
You knew the clock was ticking, knew that once you started the countdown, you had no business losing your courage. It was now or never, and the reminder that soon the rest of the team would be shuffling into the bullpen to start their day, that they’d know someone else had made a risky bet — it only got your adrenaline pumping even more. 
You poured his coffee as you watched him enter the office, gaze on his phone, powerful and confident strides leading him towards his office. He turned and waved from the top of the stairs once he finally noticed you, a small smile on his lips. You smiled back, your cheeks reddening slightly as you finished getting your own coffee in order, the pale tan a contrast to his straight black. 
You made your way to his office a minute after he’d settled, placing his cup on his desk and taking a seat across from him. This had been your routine for months now, you’d bring him his coffee in the morning and the two of you would fill each other in on your lives. 
Aaron had been dealing with his divorce, the guilt of having to split Jack’s time between him and his mom, the added stress of finding a new place and moving, of finding himself alone when he’d been used to always having someone to come home to after a tough case. And you? You had just started going to therapy after he’d encouraged you to. It had been a rocky adjustment to the job, and you were glad that you could confide in him as your boss but also as your friend. 
“Thank you,” he mumbled, pulling out the case files he’d taken back home the night before. 
You shot him a look, the look, and he couldn’t help but sigh deeply. You weren’t angry, you were simply disappointed, and he knew that. It had been hard, harder now that he had to force himself back out there if he wanted to actually have a life. But even after months of this new normal, the idea of dating made him even more exhausted than he’d like to admit. 
Because while Morgan or Emily thrived meeting new people, Aaron had met Haley in high school. He’d been with one woman his entire life, one woman for more than twenty years. He was rusty to say the least, the insecurity of it only growing the more he refused to take the leap, the more he refused to feel his feelings, the more he fell in love with you. 
“Haley had Jack last night—” he started but you were quick to interrupt him. 
“That’s a terrible excuse,” you chided. “There’s a million things you could’ve done instead.”
“Oh yeah?” the mischief was back in his eyes, making you gulp visibly. “What did you do last night?”
Your mouth opened in mock annoyance, he couldn’t possibly know—
“For your information, sir,” you mocked. “I went out with Penelope last night.” 
Whatever glimmer of hope Aaron had cultivated to tease you about taking work back home was extinguished in a second. He sat back in his chair, inaudibly admitting defeat. 
“Maybe that’s what you need too,” you started, your heart racing once more. His eyebrows shot up and you could tell his blood had also gotten to his head. “Ask someone out, go on a date, get laid.”
That caught him off guard completely. If he had been sipping on his coffee he would’ve choked, made an even bigger fool of himself. But instead his cheeks just reddened, his ears quickly following suit, a detail he knew you knew about him as you’d pointed it out many times in the past.
But you didn’t today, you didn’t say anything about his reaction but he was too hot to notice it right away.
“It’s what I have to do too, honestly,” you shrugged, faux confidence somehow allowing you to not combust right then and there. 
“Do you now?” he managed through gritted teeth, the idea of you dating something that he made sure never to think about because it always led him down a dark path of rage and an ungodly desire to ravage you to the point where you belonged to him and no one else. 
“Yeah,” you drawled on, almost sighing dramatically. That’s when he caught on, when his brain finally reconnected to his body and his heart only sped up even more. “But I don’t know…I’m not really into any of the guys Penelope or Emily have tried to set me up with, they’re not really my type.”
God, this was not actually happening. “What is your type?”
“Crime fighting single dads who adore their kids and participate in triathlons for fun,” there was no misinterpreting it now. 
“Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?” the words flew out of his mouth before either of you could register them. 
A bright smile took over your lips, your eyes sparkling with happiness. A shy smile slowly started to turn adorably embarrassed on his, his gaze tentatively raising to meet yours, eyebrows raised almost pleading, his eyes round and hopeful. 
“I would love to,” you said and he graced you with the most beautiful full smile you’d ever seen from him. It was unrestricted, genuine, life giving. 
“Great,” he cleared his throat as the clock struck eight, the reality of the world outside of your little office bubble a reminder of where you were. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”
“Can’t wait,” you reassured him, standing up with your own untouched coffee mug and making your way downstairs. “Oh, and it’s my treat. Trust me.”
You were gone before he could argue, but you knew that he couldn’t stop smiling, the warmth radiating from him was enough for you know it deep in your bones.
“Babygirl,” Morgan asked aloud, holding up the list of bets that Penelope had left on his desk earlier as the blonde returned to the bullpen from her office. “What’s this?”
He tapped on the bet you’d written down, the other agents gathering to inspect the new addition.  
“Proof of my victory, Derek,” you said cockily as Penelope handed you the envelope full of cash. 
The entire team turned to you, eyes wide and anger slowly boiling. But none of them let it out, instead they all looked impressed, they respected the move, the hustle, the boldness. Morgan scoffed in proud defeat as he held out his fist for you to bump, and you did, excitedly.  
It had finally happened, the start of something that had been brewing for months, and you couldn’t be happier. While the girls walked up to you to get all the details you shot Aaron a cheeky glance as Penelope filled Emily and JJ in on your conversation the night before, and for the first time ever, Aaron allowed himself to meet your glance, unashamed to be caught staring at you. 
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i've been smiling like an idiot all day
taglist: @ssamorganhotchner, @canuck-eh, @cr1minalskies, @xladyxdreamer, @mrs-ssa-hotch
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Kiss me before you leave.
John Egan X Female! Reader
Summary: Y/n and Bucky's relationship during the years of the war.
Warning: crying/ mention of POW camp/ use of Y/n/
Word count: 2k
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1940, Manitowoc, Wisconsin
He was leaving, he was actually going on the boat and leaving to fight the war. She couldn’t believe it, and he just gave her a letter. She read it again, in case she missed something.
My dear Y/n,
I’m leaving for England today at 9:30 at the docks, I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you in person, but I’m so scared of hurting you. I want to fight for my country. When I come back, we’ll get married because you’re the love of my life. If you still want me, of course, I’ll send you a letter when I’m assigned to a base, so you can write to me. I’ll think about you every second, I’ll think about you in ways that can’t be written. I love you so much, my darling.
Forever yours, Bucky.
She looked at the time, it was 9:05, she could make it in time. Without even thinking, she took her brother’s bike and rode it down the street, she was pedaling so fast, but she didn’t care if she crashed, she wanted to see him one last time before his departure. She didn’t want to cry, but if she missed him, she was going to. She felt a lot of emotions, sadness, anger and love. She was sad that he was leaving, angry at the way he left and in love because he promised to marry her when he got back. Her hair flew in the wind, her skirt too, she couldn’t care less, she wanted to see him.
He felt bad for the way he left her, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her in person. He was looking at the window when he saw someone riding a bike, really fast. Then he recognized his girlfriend. He let out a small laugh before sticking his head out the window. ‘’Y/n!’’ he yelled her name, she searched for a second the person that called her name, then she saw him. She ran in front of the window, but he was too high for her to reach him. ‘’Seriously Bucky! That’s how I learn you’re leaving? You could’ve at least kissed me before you left!’’ she screamed, in anger, but she was painting from the bike ride she just had. ‘’Sorry honey, I can’t hear you!’’ he was smirking, he heard her, he just didn’t want to argue with her.
Soldiers that were still boarding saw the scene. ‘’S’cuse me miss, if you want, we can help ya get up’’ one of them said to Y/n. ‘’Please’’ she begged. Next thing she knew, she was being lifted by a group of soldiers, she didn’t care if they looked under her skirt, she could reach her boyfriend. When she was equal to him, she pulled him by the tie, an inch to her lips. ‘’You’re really lucky that I’m in love with you John Egan’’ she smiled before kissing him. He instantly kissed her back, adding more passion to it. Soldiers beneath them were cheering for the couple. They pulled back to catch their breath. ‘’I love you too, doll’’ he smirked. They kissed for what felt like an eternity, but they were stopped by the boat horn.
‘’Be safe, I want my future husband in one piece!’’ she said as the soldiers brought her back to the ground. ‘’I promise, I love you so much!’’ he blew a kiss to her. She looked at the group of soldiers that helped her. ‘’Thank you so much, be careful’’ she thanked them. She smiled at Bucky as she watched the boat leave the dock. He was waving to her, she was crying from sadness, but smiling and laughing at the same time. Other wives and girlfriend were on the dock, crying too. ‘’Write to me!’’ she yelled. She only saw him make a thumbs up. She stayed on the dock until the boat was out of sight, she kept crying until tears didn’t fall down. She couldn’t wait to write to him.
1942, Thorpe Abbotts, England
Bucky smiled as he saw the envelope with his name on it, it was from his girl. He sat down on his bed before opening it. Inside there was a letter, a picture and one of her hair ribbons. He opened the letter, smelled it before reading it.
My dear John,
I miss you every second. Yesterday, one of the kids at school asked me if I was in love. I said yes and got to talk about you with little Timmy Harrison. I even showed a picture of you in class, Ruby said you were really handsome. I found out someone took a picture of us at the dock, I put it in the envelope, so you’d have it. I found it really funny and quite beautiful. In your last letter, you said that you were homesick, I hope it goes away. I hope you're giving the Germans what they deserve. After Pearl Harbor, a lot of men left, we woman, are lonely too. I also give you one of my ribbons, I thought you might like it. Oh, and I have gossip. Do you remember Olivia Dunham? Well, I found out that she cheated on her husband and got pregnant with none other than William Rogers, her music teacher. It was quite the gossip this week. You’ll be pleased to hear that the Yankees won their match and are going to the world series, but I think you found a way to listen to the game with a radio. I miss you, John, I pray that you come home safe, I can’t wait to be Y/n Egan. I love you so much. It hurts when you’re not around. But I know you’re away for a good reason. You’re my hero and the kid’s hero. They call you super John.
PS: Say hi to Buck, Croz, and Curt for me. And tell Curt to stop spooning with you, or I’ll come on the base to tell him.
Forever yours, Y/n
He laughed and smelled her ribbon; it smelled like her. He looked at the picture, he missed her so much, but he was happy that she was okay. Her job as a teacher was keeping her busy, so she had less time to worry about him. He put the picture on his wall, and he tied the ribbon around his right wrist. Bucky sniffed the letter one last time before putting it with the others. He couldn’t wait to get home, he wanted to be with her so much, so he picked up his pen and started to write.
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1942, Manitowoc, Wisconsin
Y/n and Marge sat at the table with their letters in hand. Buck actually sent a letter to Y/n in 1941, asking her to look out for Marge, they became friends ever since. ‘’Ready?’’ Marge asked, holding her letter. Y/n nodded and opened the envelope, inside, it had the letter, a picture of a dog and a dollar bit that had two corners bitten off.
My darling Y/n,
Of course, I remember Olivia! I can’t believe she cheated on her husband. I’m glad that the kids like me and think I’m a hero because I don’t really feel like it. It’s hard here. Missions are more regular and harder. The dog on the picture is Meatball, one of the guys brought him on the base, and I know how much you like dogs, so I thought you might like him. He even flies with us sometimes, but he’s howling all the time. Tell Ruby that I’m already in love with someone, or don’t I don’t want to break her heart. Thank you for the ribbon, I wear it around my wrist. It’s my lucky charm. That’s why I send you my lucky deuce, I have a new charm, I don’t need my old one. The guys love the picture of us. They’re jealous of us. I can’t wait for you to be my wife. Thank you for the Yankees news. Can you keep me updated on their journey to victory? I love you most, my darling.
PS: The guys say hi. Curt says he can’t stop spooning with me, even if it’s the fifth time you asked him, it’s cold in England.
Yours truly, John.
Y/n was giggling at the letter, God she was in love with him. When Marge finished her letter, she was smiling too. She even had happy tears streaming down her face. ‘’What’s wrong?’’ Y/n asked. She showed the ring that Buck sends her. ‘’He popped the question’’ she giggled. ‘’Oh my God! I’m so happy for you! Congratulations!’’ she hugged Marge, laughing in happiness. ‘’Will you be my maid of honor?’’ she asked her. ‘’I will be honored to be your maid of honor’’ she smiled. They both squealed in happiness. ‘’I’m getting married!’’ she giggled.
1944, Stalag Luft III
He couldn’t wait for her letter, ever since he got captured, he missed her letters, he hoped she could get his. Because if not, she was going to think he was dead, he didn’t want that, but when his name got called by the mailmen, he was relived, he practically ripped the letter from how hard he grabbed it. There was just the letter inside.
Dear John,
I hope you’re well; I received your letters saying that you got captured. I hope these Krauts are treating you well, otherwise I’ll riot. The kids can’t stop asking about you, so I decided that everyday, 15 minutes before the end of class, I’m talking about you to them. I think Ruby is head over heels in love with you. I’m so happy you’re Buck’s best man, that means we’re going up the aisle together. Marge and I are doing well, we just can’t wait for you guys to return. To know you’re both alive and well is reassuring, we were worried. I love you so much, words on the street are that the war will be over soon. Be careful, say hi to Buck for me.
PS: I forgot to tell you in my last letter that the Yankees won the world series!
Forever yours, Y/n.
He was smiling like the idiot of the village. He couldn’t wait to be back home. He was happy she received his letters; he didn’t think she would. He hoped the war would be over soon, from the camp, he didn’t hear any news, the only one he had was from Buck’s handmade radio.
1945, Manitowoc, Wisconsin
A knock on the door made her jump, she wasn’t expecting anyone, and the mailmen already delivered the letters. When she opened, she couldn’t believe her eyes.
‘’Hello darling’’ he was standing in front of her, he was back. He survived. She dropped her book on the ground and hugged him tightly. ‘’You’re back! Please never leave again” she cried in joy. His embrace made her believe he was real; he was in front of her and real. ‘’I love you so much’’ he said, looking at her. God, he missed her so much. ‘’Come in, do you want anything to drink?’’ she babbled. He shook his head before kissing her, he wanted to do that since he left. ‘’I’m so happy you’re here, I still can’t believe it!’’ she mumbled. He smiled as he kissed her again.
‘’I’m back for good this time, darling, I never should’ve left the way I did, I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw you riding your bike. I thought about you every second of everyday. Now that I’m back, you’re stuck with me. I love you too much to be apart from you again.’’ He got down on one knee. ‘’Darling, will you marry me?’’ he asked, smiling so hard it made his face hurt. ‘’Yes, thousand time yes!’’ she exclaimed as they shared another passionate kiss.
They were apart for long, but Bucky kept his promise, he was never going to leave her again. Till death do us part, they took their vow seriously…
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cranberrymoons · 4 months
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have a cup(cake) of cheer
prompt: cooking together (@steddieholidaydrabbles) rated: t word count: 668 tags: future fic, rockstar eddie/teacher steve, evil pta moms notes: this one is part of the future fic series! it stands alone, but just for context, corroded coffin exists and is very successful! steve is a teacher and they have four kids 🥰
welcome to Day 6 of the fic advent calendar – bite-sized fics posting every day during the month of december. enjoy!
“Give me the –” Steve says, gesturing at the pastry bag on the counter. “The that.”
He pushes his glasses up the end of his nose with the back of his wrist and shakes his hair out of his eyes, frustrated and sticky and – Eddie glances up from where he’s diligently adding glitter sprinkle snow to the top of the iced cupcakes. He makes a face.
“You realize we could’ve just bought these,” he says under his breath as he hands it over. “No one would have even known.”
Steve lets out a hollow laugh. “You clearly haven’t met Jackie from the PTA.” He squeezes out a dollop of chocolate icing. “Sorry, Jaqueliiiine , even though everyone knows she’s not actually French. She’s from Texas.” He ices another cupcake. “Jackie from Texas who’s out to get me.”
“Baby, come on,” Eddie says. “I doubt she’s harboring some secret vendetta against you. You just don’t like her because she put you on ticket-taking duty at the start of year picnic.”
“She told me to buy the cupcakes,” Steve says. He widens his eyes. “Because she was – how did she put it – ‘just so concerned about how difficult it must be to manage a family and a career with a partner who’s always leaving on tour’.”
Eddie snorts. “I take it back,” he says. “She sucks.”
Steve looks up from his cupcakes. “Right? Thank you. Robin said I was overreacting.” 
He squeezes the pastry bag again with more force than necessary, and the icing comes out faster than he means for it to, drooping down over the sides of the cupcake.
“Does she realize who she’s dealing with?” Eddie asks, shooting Steve a sideways glance. “I mean, you’re not being nice to her, are you?”
“No, but I’m biding my time,” Steve says. He finishes with the tray he’s working on and sits back in his chair, watching Eddie work. “I just need to figure out how to hit her where it hurts.”
Eddie lets out a laugh as he pulls Steve’s tray of cupcakes toward himself to start adding sprinkles. 
“Run against her in the next board election,” he says. “That’d show her.”
And he sort of sounds like he’s joking, but Steve frowns as he turns it over in his mind, staring out the darkened window at the shadowy shape of the lemon tree in the backyard. He doesn’t know why he didn’t think of it first.
“That might actually work,” he says after a moment.
“I know,” Eddie says. He glances up, flashing a smile. “That’s why I said it.”
Steve gives his ankle a little kick under the table. “Don’t be a dick.” He squints. “Do you think I’d win?”
“You’re the only hot dad on the PTA, and you have a very famous rockstar for a husband,” Eddie says. “Just tell them you’ll get Coldplay to do the winter carnival next year or something. They’ll vote you in for sure.”
“Isn’t that kind of cheating?” And then, maybe more importantly because he doesn’t actually really care about being fair, “Can you actually get them to play?”
“Please,” Eddie scoffs. “They owe me a favor after that thing at the VMAs last year. This is worth cashing in for.”
“I love you,” Steve says. He hooks his foot around the back of Eddie’s ankle. “So fucking much.”
Eddie grins at him. “As if I’d let King Steve go down to Jackie from Texas without a fight.”
Steve laughs and reaches over to snag the over-iced cupcake. He peels off the paper and breaks it in two, taking a bite as he passes the other half to Eddie. 
“Jackie can suck it,” he says. “She doesn’t even know how to make her own cupcakes. Did you know she brought store bought ones to the Thanksgiving bake sale?”
Eddie looks genuinely scandalized as he takes a bite of his own cupcake half. “She didn’t.”
“She did,” Steve says. “And they weren’t even good ones.”
[also on ao3]
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dilfhos · 6 months
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TRAINRIDE
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#!WHO; DABI x fem!READER
A! i hope u ignore this cus its stupid but I think dabi/touya being a total scum to huge endeavor fan reader should be a thing
+ (i added my twist to it; at the time this was sent, i was on my dc shit heavy and id already started it)
#!CW: deadoves!n0nc0n, dirty talk, degradation, humiliation, implied exhibitionism, gaslighting, touya arc if you squint real close! dabi has dick piercings bc i said so
tagging: @mostlyheinous @scariusaquarius @dabislittlemouse @nyx--knacks @the-grimm-writer @ectologia
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Dabi hated taking public transportation, especially now.
It subjected him to having to conceal his identity for one, blending into the fleeting crowds with dark, long clothing. It didn’t bother him as much had it been any other time, one where he wasn’t on constant guard or easily irritated by familiar phrases and his face.
Dabi only gave a quick glance to the glass behind him, eyeing the way his big hood hung low on his head, hand deep into his trench pocket as the other supported his balance. He drew his hood lower at the glance from a man on his left.
The train eased to a stop and the doors slid open as the crowd swarmed to bring in and send out more people. When the doors closed and the train began to move again, he found himself being thrown forward. A small yelp came from the woman in front of him, turned partially.
He was about to mumble something before his eyes made contact with what she was wearing.
Seeing that you were brazenly adorned in merchandise of the number one hero, he scrunched his nose up at the sight of your complimentary accessories before finally settling on your face. Preoccupied with your phone to notice his oggling, you shifted, body moving with the force of the train as it started moving.
Dabi didnt mean to look, but the subtle quake of your chest piqued his vision and he wished he wasn’t met with those same fucking eyes. How cringe you looked with the familiar navy phone-case you had on the back of your phone to match.
In fact, if Dabi wanted to, he’d stand there and count every one of Endeavor’s paraphernalia and the number could be well over three. You really walk around like that? Parading your favorite hero on your body like a fangirl poster.
He chuckled darkly before rolling his eyes. Yeah, you probably had one or two of them in your room that you fuck yourself to at night to boot.
The train was only a little crowded but not enough to fully obscure your body from his view. You were dressed in jeans, the denim pairing with a snug t-shirt that sculpted your chest perfectly under his gaze. On the back he could see the familiar bright flames. They were disgustingly familiar, completing the stoic features of the hero on the front.
“Endeavor, huh?” You finally glanced up, a bit surprised to find barely anyone on board at this point. A few men sat adjacent, some sleep, others occupied on their own devices and papers or simply dead in gaze as they awaited their respective stops.
Then him, of course.
Turning fully around you face the source of the comment and your heart began to hammer.
Under a subtle glance or two, he didn’t look too out of the ordinary. Dark pants, shoes and a coat on his back, he could’ve as easily passed for some unremarkable human being cold and exhausted from days events. However, under the certain proximity, you had a clear view of his face, unmistakably his metal-littered, scarred face and the dangerously piercing gaze to match.
You parted your lips but he held up a finger, silencing you before you could squeak a sound. He glanced around toward the few other occupants in the car, noting them to be of no significance until his eyes returned back to yours, the silent threat of impending danger weighing heavily in the air around you.
“Are you-are you going to kill me?” You finally said, voice sickeningly timid. Wide eyes peered up at him, height clearing yours as he slowly backed you towards the side of the car.
“He your favorite hero?” Dabi ignored your question, eyes flickering to your chest before his hand followed. You squeaked in surprise as he boldly placed his hand against your breast.
Jerking away, you prepare to to defend yourself when he gripped your wrist.
“To answer the question, I’m not gonna kill you. ‘M just gonna hurt you real bad though,” You’re spun before another word is uttered, the rattling of metal against wheels loud enough to drown your protests.
“Please don’t do this,” His hands were exploring your body, running up your thighs and cruelly pinching at the skin on your sides before settling on the hem of your jeans.
“Please don’t,” You whimpered shakily, meeting the villain’s eyes in the glass.
“I just feel like ya personally insulting me y’know?” He grunted over the sound of his belt clinking. His hand was back on your side now, nails digging into the meat of the exposed skin until drawing a wince.
Dabi shuffled forward until your hands were pressed against the wall of the train, steadying yourself. His other made quick work of yanking down your jeans until they rested around your thighs, panties on display before his hungry gaze.
“D-don’t. I’ll scream.” By now, you’d been reduced to a whimpering, teary-eyed mess, your frantic gaze shifting through the other riders for a witness to what was going on.
But they were all too preoccupied to care.
“Yeah, for who?” The passengers that did notice were the wrong ones.
You met the greedy eyes of the man closest to you and the way his own dropped down to your connected bodies. Dabi was quick to notice that and chuckled before leaning down toward your ear.
“Still your idol, doll? This is his society, you know? The one on your ridiculously, ugly top,” He snickered, his fingers hooking into the side of your panties.
Before you could cry out, his scarred hand clamped over your mouth at the same time as his cock breached your cunt. You tensed, nothing escaping you but a muffled gasp as he shoved himself past your tight ring of resistance. Your eyes were wide, peering back at you in the glass, reflecting off of the pain and horror present.
“Mm, so tight.” He licked the shell of your ear and you release a shuddering sob. He began a snappy, brutal pace, the thick cock dragging heavily through your dry walls. Every time he pulled away, you felt every vein, every metallic orb scraping against gummy insides.
He slammed back into you at the same time the train screeched over rusted tracks, grunting with every stroke, his thin hip bones snapping against your ass.
His grip was bruising as he held onto your waist, his wrist only flicking to push and pull you back onto his dick. His other hand remained pressed against your mouth to muffle your cries and moans. You reached behind to at least try and push him away, alleviate the grating pain he was causing but your attempts were laughable as he only slapped away your efforts.
Dabi sped up, stumbling forward until your front was pressed against the metal interior, body squished between hot and cool. The hand over your mouth dropped to hang loosely around your neck, tilting your head back to meet his. The hood over his head only served to make him all the more menacing with the shadow that casted over his grotesque features.
“What do you think Mr. Endeavor would say if he saw his biggest fan being defiled like this? Probably be disgusted huh? I mean, allowing a complete stranger to fuck you on public transportation.” Your eyes closed as you imagined the twisted look of repulsion on your favorite hero and the image brought you to more tears.
You hiccupped as he trailed fingers down in between your legs to brush against your clit, missing the way his grin widened at the way you suddenly tense up. You released a pained moan at the way your pussy clamped down on him.
“So sensitive,” He chuckled at the way you try and bite down your orgasm. He could feel you start to relax, your cunt pulsating around him as your juices started to slick him up.
Overhead, the sound of the loudspeaker crackling at the next stop had Dabi’s eyes glancing up, as if now aware of the time. Releasing you, his hand fell to your other hip where his blunt nails dug as his pace quickened.
“Stop’s coming up,” He mumbled. You didn’t really hear him though. You were busy trying not to give in to the way his cock was filling you up, the pain parting into pleasure, your juices beginning to fall and squish around his dick.
Your head hung low; you couldn’t even look at your reflection in the glass anymore, at the way your brows furrowed over glossy, blown eyes. The way your wet lips part to release silent moans. You were despicable. You couldn’t call yourself a fan of the great Endeavor anymore, not after this.
Not after him.
Dabi’s feet planted firmly, his hips suddenly stuttering to a halt. He was quick to conceal your squeal with his hand again as his dick twitched in your cunt. Your teary eyes widened as you felt warmth flooding you, too horrified to even move save for your trembles.
He was still going, slowly rutting his nut back into you with shallow strokes. It was only until you heard a chime overhead that he pulled away with a content sigh.
Dabi eyed the way his cum was beginning to seep down your thighs, dripping into your bunched up jeans and an idea formed in his head, one that had him grinning sadistically.
A moment later your trembling legs finally gave way allowing you to sink onto the floor.
He began to fix himself, adjusting the hood on his head. He threw a cocky salute to the man eyeballing him earlier and a final disgusted look down at those eyes on your shirt. He then shook his head with a forming smile, walking away and leaving you on the floor of the cold train. The whooshing of the doors were deafening in your ears as you looked up to greedy eyes.
Back at the hero agency, Endeavor’s phone lit up and a notification from an unknown number had his brows furrowed in confusion at the link. His scowl only deepened after further investigation.
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DILFOS. do not plagiarize my content—current or archival.
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wingedtrash · 8 months
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Rick Grimes x Reader
Rick gets busy and accidentally starts neglecting your relationship.
||CW|| None really, just fluff, a little angst mention of cheating (it doesn’t actually happen Ricks a loyal lover)
AFAB/GN reader, reader has no mentioned gender
Rick had been really busy, going on runs, making plans, running Alexandria. Just doing typical leader stuff.
Him doing all of that left barely any time for your relationship, and that was starting to upset you.
At first you tried ignoring it. You understood that he had important things to do, especially to keep everything going and keep everyone alive.
But it was getting to the point that you saw him for (if you were lucky) maximum 30 minutes a day.
He had stopped coming to bed even when he was in Alexandria, always opting to sleep where the planning was going on, or the jobs were located so he was closer and able to be alert.
This started worrying you, the ideas of him cheating started crossing your mind. It was stupid to even think that he would do such a thing, you knew that. Rick was a loyal, trustworthy man, but he still wasn’t putting very much into your relationship at the moment.
You were angry, but you knew you needed to talk to him. You didn’t know when you would be able to do that, or how you would do it without letting your emotions get the best of you.
A couple of days later, you heard the front door open and close, and heavy footsteps walk in. At first you thought it was Daryl who had been in and out of the house for the last couple of days, getting his gear ready for a run, but you soon recognized them to be Ricks.
You were standing at the kitchen island cutting vegetables for a stew Carol was planning on making for dinner.
Rick saw you as soon as he walked in, walking over to you to greet you. “Hey, darlin’.” He mumbled, moving behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.
“You sound tired.” You said plainly, continuing to cut the vegetables.
“You mad at me?” He asked, loosening his arms around you.
“No-” you paused. Your whole body tensing up beneath his arms.
“Really?” He questioned, and it felt like he knew you were, and why you were.
This made you feel like you had to tell him now. So you did.
“Maybe.” You continued your movements of chopping the vegetables.
“Why darlin’?” He asked calmly, reaching up to rub at your shoulders.
“You’ve been gone for weeks. You haven’t been to bed in what’s felt like forever and you’ve barely spoken to me Rick! I don’t know where you’ve been or what you’ve been doing!” You shout the last sentence out of frustration, dropping the knife onto the cutting board.
"I'm sorry darlin'. I know I've been all over the place recently. Everyone’s always needin’ somethin’ and you know how that goes.” He says, squeezing his arms tighter around you again.
“You could’ve at least came by and updated me on whatever was going on.” You replied, unraveling his arms from you and turning to look at him.
He could see how much it bothered you. Your eyes conveying your emotions more than you would’ve liked them to.
“C‘mere.” He said, grabbing your wrists and guiding you away from the kitchen island. He guided you up the stairs and to your shared bedroom.
“What Rick?” You asked, not knowing exactly what he was getting at. He had turned away from you digging in his side of the dresser.
“Put this on.” He said, suddenly throwing one of his shirts at you.
“Why?” You asked, looking at him confused.
“Just do it.” He responded, pulling out a pair of his sweats.
So you did, when you finished putting on his shirt, you realized he had changed out of his day clothes and into something he would normally sleep in, that being just a pair of sweats and no shirt.
He climbed into the bed, and motioned for you to come over.
“Rick what’re you doing?” You asked again.
“What does it look like sweetheart? I’m tryin’ to make up for missed time.” He responded. “I’m exhausted from the last few weeks, I just wanna hold you.” He added, now doing grabby hands towards you since you hadn’t come over when he motioned.
You finally walked over and joined him, climbing into the bed beside him.
When you did he quickly wrapped his arms around your figure and pulled you into his arms.
You immediately loosened up at the contact, melting into it.
“I missed you, missed this.” He mumbled, nuzzling his face into your neck.
“I did too, but you realize I’m supposed to be getting to veggies ready for Carol right now, right?” You responded pulling away to look at his face.
“They looked ready to me.” He responded with a shrug.
“Well they weren’t, so if she yells at me you’re going to have to save me.” You laugh.
“I will don’t worry.” He responds closing his eyes.
You watched him doze off, he was always handsome in this peaceful state. As time went on you fell asleep shortly after.
This apology still wasn’t exactly enough and he knew that. He was just saving the rest of his apology for when he wasn’t as tired wink wink.
(Part 2 perhaps for the rest of the apology?)
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pinkandpurple360 · 4 months
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And now, by literally no one's demand, Another Reason Why Crimson Doesn't Quite Work!
So you know the song and dance about Moxxie always being called fat, but did you know what Crim looked like in the beat boards?
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A hairy, hulking brute with a more modern fashion sense. This design makes him feel powerful, an active and competent threat. Also notice that Alessio, his bodyguard, seemingly didn't exist yet and weapons were a more prominent motif in his house at this point in production.
But Spindlehorse didn't go with this design, they made him a slightly taller version of his son, who is constantly mocked for his "weight", might I ad, with thicker legs and gave him a bodyguard. They made him a "fatter" pretentious blowhard who needs his cronies to do everything for him.
Maybe this is more weird fatphobia from Spindlehorse, or maybe this was just done to justify him hiring Striker in Oops. Hell, maybe the Crim and Chaz stories were originally 2 different episodes, that would actually explain a lot about the final product. Either way, I we confident that the original version of Crimson Knolastname would have been a much stronger villain, both figuratively and literally.
Look at Blitz smiling obliviously, he’s so cute and silly as always. It’s kinda weird in hindsight that they didn’t just have Loona call in sick or something her absence wasn’t really explained. I know the VA was on break but the writers didnt come up with anything for it.
Ughh it bothers me so much to hear all the potential creativity and original ideas/stories we could’ve had. So many creative minds on the team and it all gets drafted to be a sausage party episode with funnee fuck jokes~
He’s way better there. Sans stache because everyone seems to have the same stache as Striker and he’s better original. I still feel like he’s unnecessary. Moxie was born in wrath grew up in wrath and both his parents were still alive originally, so rewriting his story is really stupid. I actually don’t even know why Crimson couldn’t be a wrath ring imp mafia. Why greed?
The concept probably didn’t have the creepy and ridiculous ‘forced gay marriage’ plot either. That was so incredibly stupid and senseless. That said I really enjoyed most of the episode, the setting was really cool, the green saturated colors and dark lighting were really threatening. But it had to go and make this all about penises…I’m embarrassed that I watch this show sometimes.
I honestly cant comment on the weight thing, I don’t really see the point being made there.
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thisismeracing · 1 month
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bonnington-schumi kiddos 
pls include the bono-schumi mood board i sent ya over email in your response
ok i’ve mentioned them enough, lets dig into the bonnington-schumi kiddos
history has a funny way of repeating itself and for bon and mick it manifests in their kids birth order and gender
because much like when corrina had gina and mick, bon had her daughter first and son second. and both came out looking like two more schumacher clones to add to the collection 
but bon isn't complaining because how could she be mad when her two babies share those unmistakable blue eyes 
their first born is named: Eloise “Ellie” Suzanne Bonnington-Schumacher 
and their second born is: Mike “Mikey” Sebastian Bonnington-Schumacher 
imagine bon and mick introducing little ellie to susie in the hospital and when susie asks what her name is and bon goes “eloise suzanne” susie just melts because this little bundle of joy is named after her. 
and the same goes for sebastian when mikey is born 
the f1 crew just going though the cycle of watching another kid grow up in the paddock start up again with miss ellie. but this time it’s the kid of the original kid you watched grow up, and this time around there’s two of them because mikey is born a few years after 
and everyone jokes about how “oh ellie is going to be an engineer like her mama” and “oh mikey is a future f1 champ like his papa” 
but the opposite happens where ellie is the driver, and mikey is an engineer 
And imagine the timelapse of the headphones to protect their little ears and how they look so giant on them cause they’re so small, but give it a few years and now they look proportionate to their bodies 
(i feel like that would make a lot of people just so soft and heartbroken because their favorite little kids are growing up and so fast, like pls make it stop 😢) 
[also the people who watched bon grow up just get deja vu whenever they are interacting with ellie, because wow does she act just like bon when she was this age]
and best believe these two are championship babies. you can't tell me no on this one. 
When they announced they were pregnant with ellie, people both in real life and online are so quick to do the math on when she could’ve been conceived, and they all land on the fact she was conceived around the time of abu dhabi 
and after mikey is born, toto sits the both of them down and says “i love that the team is winning championships with mick, and i love the kids. but next time you two do it after winning a championship please for the love of god put a condom on. because two little kids are going to be enough with them running around the paddock.”
and mick is just mortified, while bon is laughing her ass off and she’s the one to reassure him that they wont be having anymore kids anytime soon
[i told myself i had to finish this before showering and i did! also it breached the second page of the google doc so quickly]
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skjgksdjg OMG I LOVED LOVED IT!!! <3<3
totally agree on mikey engineer and ellie driver!!! espec bc I think ellie is more of a social butterfly while mikey is a bit shy like mick, he's funny and friendly, but usually he'll only talk if you talk to him first (the paddock experience helps it a little with this, but he keeps a bit of the shyness, its so cute and bb loves it bc he's such a momma's boy - its makes up for ellie being dada's girl)
adding more: ellie's first word will be angie while mikey's will probably be something from bb's work because she'll work with him on her hips sometimes so his big blue eyes are always watching the engineers go around and listening to everything, she'll only connect the dots bc he says it right after a meeting (to which he was silent throughout it all, only munching on a pencil and grabbing things from the table to curiously analyse)
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captain-mj · 1 year
Text
London Fog Latte
Y'all remember the Selkie coffeeshop au I promised??? First installment. I decided I'd rather get a short chapter out now than keep you guys waiting so here y'all go
Ghost let himself be dragged around by Jason into the coffee shop. It was named The Sealie Cafe. 
What a weird fucking pun. 
Ghost was an easy person. If it was up to him, he would’ve went to the same coffee shop he’s always went to and would continue going to that one until the day he died. However, it had changed… something. All of the tea and coffee, no matter what he got, tasted off. Not bad, off. Like they had changed suppliers or something. 
For some reason, changing cafes entirely was much easier for him than having to adjust to the horrible change. 
His friend, Jason, was talking to him, though it was a bit hard to make out his words. He spoke too fast and Ghost still felt really jet lagged. He had just come home for leave and this bastard had picked him up from the airport literally the night before. Before coming home, he had been in fucking Mexico and spent forever in a plane and he had woke him up at too fucking early o’clock to go to a coffee shop that would be open all day.
The inside of the coffee shop looked cozy. Rustic wood furniture, lots of windows to let in light, a menu that looked simplified but Ghost couldn’t put his thoughts together to read it. There was also a small display with little deserts and pastries and he considered eating for just a moment but nothing caught his fancy. 
“They have earl gray tea.” Jason decided to help him out, noticing the way Ghost’s eyes unfocused every time he looked at the board with everything on it.  
“Thanks.” He mumbled to Jason, not bothering to look at the menu any further. Ghost went to let Jason order for both of them before seeing the barista.
His nametag read Soap. Funny name. But that wasn’t where his focus was. 
Soap looked gorgeous. He had a mohawk and gold earrings, studs with a matching hoop. No rings, probably due to his job, but he had black painted nails. 
The gold was what got Ghost’s attention initially. They glittered gently as he moved, holding the light and almost glowing. 
But then he focused on him a little more. Soap had the most striking blue eyes. 
Ghost shoved Jason to the side. “One London Fog Latte and a White Mocha, please.” He caught Jason’s confusion before he put on a stupid smile. 
“Of course, what’s the name?” Soap had a scottish accent. It was thick and added some gravel to his voice. Standing this close, Ghost could also see their height difference a little better. Soap wasn’t a small man, but when put next to Ghost, he didn’t look very tall at all. He had to lean back and look up so they could make eye contact.
“Ghost.” 
“Just Ghost? That’s a funny name.” Soap teased him but wrote it on the cup. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but he was working food service, Ghost couldn’t blame him. “I’ll have that right out to you.”
He felt his face heat up at the teasing but luckily he was wearing his ski mask. Blushing like an idiot in front of the hot barista would be embarrassing. 
Jason tugged his sleeve and Ghost realized he needed to get out of line. 
Soap had a smile on his face, this one seeming just a tad bit more genuine like he knew Ghost had gotten distracted by him. 
Nevermind, this was already embarrassing. 
He let Jason tug him away to a table. 
“Knew you’d think he was hot.”
“And you didn’t warn me?? I would’ve tried to look nicer.” Ghost groaned and buried his face in his hands.
Jason took a moment to look at what Ghost was wearing. Dark jeans, white shirt, leather jacket, tons of rings and bracelets that glittered. Only skin showing was his hands and wrists. 
“Dude, you literally don’t have nicer clothes than this.”
“Get fucked.” Ghost scoffed at him. 
Jason laughed. “I mean I guess you could’ve taken off your mask.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Exactly! Not like you have to worry about having a bad hair day… do you even have hair under there?” Jason smiled at him, clearly teasing. 
“Yes. I have hair. I refuse to shave it.” Ghost glanced over to Soap again. Soap swayed just a little as he made the drinks. He was captivating.
“Dude, you’re staring again.” 
Ghost quickly looked back at Jason who was smiling. 
“Is he single?”
“I don’t know man. Ask him.” Jason patted him encouragingly. Ghost stared at him, thinking of nothing he wanted less than to do that. If Soap wasn’t single, he’d have to kill himself expeditiously. He didn’t want anyone to have that guilt on their hands. 
Soap actually brought their cups to the table, something that caught Ghost off guard since that wasn’t usually what baristas did. He smiled at Ghost immediately and set the cup in front of him. Jason’s drink just got set to the side. 
Ghost grabbed the cup, not wanting to take his mask off to drink it in front of him. “Thank you.”
“Not a problem Ghost! Come back some time.” Soap winked and walked away.
Jason stared at Soap’s back as he walked away before glancing at Ghost. “I’ve never seen such blatant flirting before. How does it feel to be God’s favorite?”
Ghost blushed more. “I don’t know if that was flirting.”
“He winked.”
“Well, yeah, but maybe that’s just his personality.”
Jason stared at him before reaching for his drink. 
Ghost went to take a sip of the latte before noticing the foam. It had been shaped like a heart with lavender buds on it. Lavender wasn’t unusual for Earl Grey drinks. Not unusual at all. But the piece of honey comb was, along with the way it had clearly been made to look cute. He felt himself blush more.
Before he had an opportunity to point it out, Jason had tilted his drink to him to show that he had, in fact, not gotten the special treatment.
“Dude is flirting with you so fucking hard man.”
“Okay, maybe he is.”
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seanfalco · 1 year
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Hi! You asked for requests and I’m going to request a nanthan x reader with prompt 53 “I just want to be swept off my feet…is that so bad? I’m fed up of being alone.” If that’s ok please?
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Nathan Young x Reader
Word Count: 1.1k Tags/Warnings: none Prompt: I decided to participate in @/yearoftheotpevent‘s Year of the OTP (except using reader inserts).  For February’s prompt I chose ‘Valentine's Day’, even though it's a little late;;; a/n: I had this prompt in my askbox for a while;; I hope you still enjoy it!
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“So, how’s thing’s goin’ wif you and Nathan?” Kelly asked, nudging you with her elbow as you held up the Valentine’s Day event poster for her to pin to the bulletin board in the Community Centre lobby.
Her question caught you off guard and you nearly dropped the curling paper before you shrugged.  “It’s good,” you answered, trying to think of something better to say.  You could practically read your friend’s thoughts from the skeptical look on her face.
“I mean, he’s fun, and I like snogging him,” you elaborated quickly, trying to keep your own thoughts to yourself, though Kelly heard them anyway.
“But–?” she interjected and you winced, finally letting out a sigh.
“But… he’s not exactly th’romantic type,” you admitted reluctantly.
“I coulda told yeh that,” Kelly pointed out, and you couldn’t help but sigh.
“I mean, yeah… though sometimes he’s really sweet… in between bein’ an arse.”
Kelly snorted, ambling toward the next bulletin board down the hall.  “I don’t even wanna ask what you’re doin’ for Valentine’s day.” You groaned, kicking the toe of your sneaker against the scuffed tile beneath your feet.  “I just wanna be swept off my feet for once, is that so bad?” you huffed, hanging the next poster.  “He doesn’t even hafta buy me anythin’.  I just wish he’d put a little effort in, that’s all…”
Unbeknownst to you or Kelly, Nathan had overheard your conversation from the mezzanine, your voices carrying in the empty halls.  Chewing his lip, he took your words to heart and began planning the most sickeningly sweet romantic evening he could think of, not wanting to let you down.
By the time Valentine’s day had arrived, you made your way to the Community Centre to meet Nathan for your date, not expecting much.  Opening the door he’d left unlocked for you, you were in the midst of mentally preparing yourself for disappointment when the lights suddenly flickered on and you were met with the sigh of hundreds of paper hearts hanging from the ceiling.
“What th–?” you breathed, gaping at the unexpected decor when Nathan’s voice echoed down from the balcony above you.
“Happy Valentine’s, y/n!”
“Nathan?” you called, pulling back some of the streamers and suspended hearts to look up at him, leaning against the balcony railing in an outfit you’d never seen him wear before.
“Yes?” he replied, raising a thick eyebrow at you and grinning bemusedly.
“Did you do all this?”
“Course!” he exclaimed, shrugging like it was nothing.
“All by yourself?” you asked skeptically.
It was certainly exceptional, but it had to have been a lot of work, especially for one person, and you knew how lazy Nathan could be.
“What, y’don’t think I could’ve done this?” Nathan exclaimed, clapping his hand over his heart in faux offense as he descended the stairs to join you.
“Well…” you trailed off, still doubtful, but not wanting to hurt his feelings.
“Well, I might’ve taken ‘em from th’daycare room and made Barry help me hang ‘em,” he admitted, quickly dodging your lighthearted smack at his shoulder.
“You stole kids’ crafts?” you exclaimed, trying to fight back an amused chuckle.  Also, if you had to guess, Simon did the brunt of the work, but still, you were touched.
“They weren’t usin’ ‘em!” Nathan cried.  “Plus, I thought it’d be romantic and shit,” he added, taking your hand.  “C’mon, there’s more!” he exclaimed, pulling you toward the stairs to the roof.
Nathan burst out onto the rooftop and spread his arms wide.  Candles flickered in a haphazard circle around what looked to be a small eclectic picnic laid out on the weathered coffee table across from the threadbare sofa where you and the others often snuck off to after and sometimes even during your community service hours.
“So, what d’yeh think?” Nathan asked hesitantly, his gaze darting between you and his little surprise.
“This is…” your words melted on your tongue as your boyfriend pulled you toward the moth eaten couch and the bottle of cheap champagne sitting between two mismatched glasses from the Community Centre’s kitchen.
“Shit, hold on,” he mumbled, hastily reaching into his pocket to grab his ipod and plug it into the little speaker on the table.  The next thing you knew Endless Love was playing softly.
“There!  Pretty impressive, huh?  Romantic as fuck, yeah?”  Nathan supplied, grinning nervously, still waiting for your approval.
“It’s lovely,” you finally murmured, lowering yourself to the seat.
Nathan’s grin grew and he scrambled to sit down next to you, grabbing the bottle of champagne and wrenching at the cork.  “Help yourself to some cheese and fruit,” he said, gritting his teeth as he struggled to open the booze.  “Watch out for bits of mold though,” he warned and you grimaced, dropping the strawberry you’d picked up.
“Uh, Nathan, this is very sweet and all, but where’d you get this stuff?” you asked.
As soon as Nathan opened his mouth to answer, the cork shot out of the bottle followed by an eruption of bubbles splattering all over the crotch of his jeans.
“Shit!” he yelped, jumping to his feet, but it was already too late, his pants were soaked, making it look like he’d just pissed himself.  “Jay-sus,” he huffed in annoyance, letting out a defeated sigh as he collapsed back into his seat.  
“Guess that’s what I get for tryin’ so hard,” he muttered in frustration, setting the half empty bottle back down and shaking the alcohol from his hand.
“Did you really do all this for me?” you asked, turning toward him.
“Well… yeah,” he replied, as if it was obvious.  “I might’ve overheard what y’said t’Kelly th’other day and I wanted t’make today special for yeh, sweep yeh off your feet like y’wanted,” he explained.  “I’m no good with th’feelin’s and th’romance and shit, y’know, all that mushy stuff,” he muttered, looking down at his hands.
Letting out a soft huff of affection, you leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek, taking him off guard.  “I dunno about all that,” you murmured as he turned to gape at you.  “I think it was sweet of you to put the effort in,” you said with a shrug, your gaze lingering on his lips.  “I think you’re pretty romantic in your own way.”
Nathan’s mouth stretched into a lopsided grin, straddling the line between cheeky and sincere.  “I can still sweep yeh off your feet if y’want,” he said, grabbing the bottle of champagne round the neck and bringing it to his lips before offering you a swig which you gratefully took.
“Oh yeah?  And how y’gunna do that?” you asked, biting your lip coyly.
“Like this,” he replied, pulling you into his lap and wrapping his arms around you, his lips descending on yours before you could reply, and you kissed him back, matching his exuberance with your own.
Your heart pounding in your chest, the alcohol on his tongue went straight to your head, making the world spin, or maybe it was just Nathan’s fervent kisses.  Either way, everything else fell away and all you could think about was how much you loved him.
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@super-unpredictable98 @salvador-daley @elliethesuperfruitlover @firstpersonnarrator
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amelia-ailema · 10 months
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Gepard Landau- Hair strokes, some things never change
When you were younger, your best friend, Serval, asked you to watch over her younger brother, two grades below you two, during her guitar lessons. “He’ll be back from playing outside in a minute,” as she rushed out the door. You went outside to wave her goodbye, and sat on the marble stairs, humming a tune. Suddenly, a boy, with the same blue eyes and blond hair as Serval, bolted at an alarming fast speed, and.. fell towards you, flat on his face. He started crying after a brief pause, and slowly lifting his body up, hugging his legs as he sat still. Uh oh, the kid was scuffed up. You snapped out of your shock and rushed over. “Gepard, right?” you said gently. “Is it okay for me to carry you into the house?” The boy nodded. You carried him swiftly, and sat him on the velvet couch. Grabbing the first aid kit, you applied 4 bandaids. On his cheek, both of his elbows, and his kneecap. “There, all better,” you said with a soft smile. “Thank you,” he replied, and threw his hands around you, hugging you. You patted his head, and at his request, stroked his hair. You and him passed the time by drawing (although Gepard was quite bad, even for a kid), watching TV, and playing board games. Before you knew it, Serval was home. “Thanks, Y/N! I owe you,” as she handed you $50. “Isn’t- isn’t this a bit much?” you stuttered. “Don’t worry about it, you free to do this again next week?” Serval replied with a grin. Gepard nodded, a bit harder than he should’ve. “Sure! Gerpard’s an amazing kid,” you smiled. Until Gepard graduated junior high, you were his weekly babysitter, and often came over to hang out or have sleepovers with Serval. Gepard would try to stay up with you two, but always fell by 10 pm. He couldn’t help it, the way he asked you to stroke his hair yet again, relaxing at the touch.
As Gepard kneeled on the ground, holding his head, with his comrades all panting on the floor. After Gepard and his guards have risen, and listened to your group’s explanation, you looked at Serval. “I wish to stay here and help explain the situation, and prevent the rest of the guards from attacking you,” you reasoned. With a knowing smile, Serval nodded, as the group and you wished each other luck. As soon as the group was out of sight, Gepard crashed to the ground. As you and the guards rushed towards him, he murmured, “Y/N, I summoned a shield on you and and my sister before the fight.. I don’t wish to see you, or Serval get hurt,” he added softly, “I’m in love with you.” He must’ve over exhausted himself, with investigating the case and an even more exhausting fight. As the Silvermane guards carried him to the medical tent, you were by his side, never taking your eyes off of him. Your heart skipped a beat, replaying his sudden confession in your head.
It’s been three days. You sit besides him, stroking his hair like you did in your childhood. As you rest your head on the side of his cot once more, you could’ve sworn his hand twitched. Not fully realizing the situation in your tired state, you clasped his hand and fell asleep. You woke up a few hours later, somebody’s hand running through your hair. Relaxed, you felt your tension leave- hold on, wait a minute- “Gepard, you’re awake,” you said softly. You rest your head against his shoulder. “And by the way, I feel the same,” you admitted. “Over the past few years, I started to see you differently, and realized it was love.” Gepard blushed, pulling you in for a hug so you wouldn’t see how red his face was. “For me, it was the day we met, I knew that you were special,” he said softly. He added, “Can I kiss you?” and nervously waited. “Of course,” you answered. He pulled you in, his lips on yours melting your brain. “They’re soft,” you thought. As he pulled away, Gepard asked you to run your fingers through his hair. Some things never change. Neither of you know what the future holds, but you would never be apart now. As you hugged each other tightly, you knew in your hearts that you were made for him, and he was made for you.
Fin.
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ghostly-penumbra · 1 year
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Happy (late) holidays, @everystarstorm! I was your secret gifter this year!
The Prompt: ALL ghosts need to honour the truce. Including those who don't know they're considered part ghost.
Could be DPxDC with Red Hood or could be with Valerie.
I decided it would be with both!
Warning: (Barely) mentioned drugs, there's a fight, lots of swearing. The Fentons' Christmas feud is mentioned, there is a small breakdown(?). But, as requested, it gets solved by the end! (So it's hurt/comfort overall). There is a scene that could be considered “suggestive” but that wasn’t my intention and this isn’t an explicit work. There is also references to dying.
Ao3
- - -
Valerie didn't hate living in Gotham. She just hated the smog, the villains, and how mean could be the people when you were just trying to go about your day.
It made life hard and fast-paced, with little breathing room between an academic crisis and a city-wide one.
What she really appreciated, though, was the lack of portals to Hell in her ex-boyfriend’s basement that constantly let out ghosts who greatly enjoyed wreaking havoc in her town. Her new city had its restless spirits, of course, but it wasn’t brimming with ambient ectoplasm enough to power up ghost royalty and Ancients, so she could easily deal with them by either helping them move along or make them.
(Her psycho-pomp side-job was not something she was Obsessed with, really, it’s just that she much preferred it when the dead didn’t mess with people trying to live their lives and had no way to defend themselves. That wasn’t fair.)
The downside of that was that she somehow managed to fall into a fake sense of security in Gotham, of all places. And so, when a convoy of half a dozen unmarked vans sped next to her as she left the library –they wouldn’t let her spend the night studying there in Christmas Eve, or the whole of Christmas day, either, the traitors–, followed by a ping from her Ghost Detector –which wasn’t a ghost sense, even if it was part of her suit, which was a part of her now, no matter what Danny said– and a man riding a motorcycle one-handed whilst he fired a gun with his other hand, she froze.
For a second, which was a small eternity on its own right, which many times meant the difference between living and dying. She froze, confused, wondering how the heck had a proper ghost –that had a high enough level of ectoplasm in itself as to be Detected by her suit– made it all the way to New Jersey? A natural portal, perhaps?
The very next second, by which point she could’ve died already, the Red Huntress sprang into action. Her suit covered her body like a second skin, lifting her from the round as her hover-board materialized and she began her chase.
“Stop right there, ectoplasmic scum!” She yelled at the ghost overshadowing what was probably some thug or crime lord, even. If her luck was really rotten, it probably was one of the more gun-oriented vigilantes.
The ghost turned the guy’s head towards her and quickly fired two shots at her hover-board. Valerie activated the suit’s intangibility with a thought and felt the bullets pass right through her unimpeded.
Annoyed, she growled under her breath, “You’ll regret that,” and pointed her wrist-gun at it; focused as she was on where it would be next, she didn’t wonder why it had used an actual, real gun rather than an ecto-beam.
The ecto-net flew from her wrist and Red Huntress hurried to secure down her end to her board, feeling it dip from the added weight as she fished the guy up from his bike, leaving it to careener off the road.
“Fucking shit! What the fuck is this?” Raged the ghost as it tried to cut the net with a hella-big knife. It probably had already figured phasing through it was not an option.
Well, neither was cutting it.
“Pff, don’t try it, big boy.” Red Huntress told it whilst she pulled up her GPS. “Skulker himself almost cried when none of his blades worked either.” She sing-sang in a mocking tone. That was a much cherished memory of hers.
After a moment of silence, the host spoke again, “I don’t even know who the fuck are you, but as soon as I’m outta here, I’ll fuck you up.”
Valerie rolled her eyes under her helmet, and set course to a dilapidated zone with many abandoned buildings that would serve to minimize potential collateral damage.
“That, you can try, ghost, once you release this… thug? Violent vigilante?” Red Huntress shrugged. Too busy with school to keep up with the gothamite night life, she was lagging a lot in her knowledge of who was who in the Hero/Vigilante vs. Villain/Criminal scene.
“For your information, jerk, I prefer the term zombie, since I’m up and about in my own body.” The ghost said.
“That’s what you all say, ‘this is my bo-’ what are you doing?!”
The ghost had shot a grappling hook at a nearby water tower, securing it firmly, and having Red Huntress’ momentum make her lose her balance and be pulled back by force, dislodging the net from where Valerie had clipped it to her board, and both of them tumbled down the couple of metres left between the ground and them.
Red Huntress retracted her board back into her suit the moment it hit the ground, falling on her feet and running out what was left of her momentum to reduce the impact damage.
She turned around and didn’t hesitate in shooting an ecto-blast from her other wrist as she saw the ghost pointing its gun at her (low, aimed at her thigh to impede, not kill). His gun clattered to the ground and he cursed, holding his injured hand close to his chest whilst he reached for his belt with the other one.
Red Huntress didn’t give him a chance. She stretched her arm and the ecto-net –which the ghost hadn’t managed to completely take off yet, and he had just started fighting whilst still entangled– launched itself back towards her, sweeping the ghost from its feet.
“Fuck this thing!” It swore again, and Red Huntress quickly straddled its abdomen and pointed her ecto-gun under its chin.
“I don’t want to hurt whoever it is you’re overshadowing, but I will if I have to. So come out of that body and fight me like a real ghost if it’s a brawl what you want!”
The ghost growled at her, mindful of the wrist-ray. “I told you I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. I may have died but I am alive now, I’m not a ghost, and this is my body!” It lurched up and flipped them over, pinning Red Huntress’ wrists to the ground next to her head and away from him. “So you better leave me alone or we’re really gonna have a problem.” It reared back and then head-butted her, making their red helmets clash. “Are we clear?”
“Then tell me something, big boy,” Red Huntress spat venomously, “if you’re not a ghost possessing some random hunk, then why do ecto-weapons work on you? Shield up!”
A surge of red power lurched from Valerie’s suit and materialized around her, pushing the ghost away with a grunt of pain.
They stood up quickly, both taking fighting stances. Neither waited for the other one to find a good opening, and launched themselves at their adversary–
–and stopped dead in their tracks just as their fists were about to connect with the other one’s face.
“What are you doing to me?” The ghost demanded in a growl; his fear would have been well-hidden if not for the small cracking of his voice.
“I didn’t do shit, ghost.” She spat back. She moved back to an upright stance, but the moment she tried to attack her body froze again.
Red Huntress looked back at the ghost, who seemed to have reached the same conclusion as she, if his hand opening and closing as a claw whilst it hovered next to his holsters was a reliable sign.
“No violence, it seems.” It said, frustrated.
“That doesn’t sound like Gotham.” Red Huntress mumbled to herself but got a snort from the ghost all the same.
There was still tension running high between them, and Val was thinking fast on how to get the ghost out of that body and into her thermos without kicking its ass, and the ghost was obviously just as eager to resume their brawl.
Psychological warfare it would be.
Just as Valerie was about to say the meanest, most awful, confidence-shattering insult that would make Regina George proud and leave her former A-lister social group back home gaping at her… there was a shift in the air.
You know that feeling you get when you find out someone died? When it finally dawns on you that they are no more, will never be again, and nothing will change that.
Well, to that feeling, add the fact that said dead person is looking at you, and maybe you will get what they felt in that moment.
A bright, toxic green spiral appeared above the space between them, spreading out and opening up to a visage of floating purple islands and doors of all colours.
“By decree of the King of the Ghost Zone, any ecto-entity or spirit that breaks the [insert religious festivity here] will have to personally fight—” The glowing figure wrapped in royal regalia stopped as he took in what he was seeing, “-me. Uh, Red, what’s going on? Who’s your new friend?”
Valerie’s cheeks flushed with rage as Danny looked at her foe up and down with a furrowed brow.
“He’s not my friend! This ghost is overshadowing some hunk and it doesn’t want to let him go!” She said, pointing her finger at said ghost.
“I’ve already told you, I’m not a fucking ghost! This is my own fucking body and I’m not in the fucking mood to deal with this shit!”
“Then why does my ghost detector ping you as one?”
“Because your shit is broken, I don’t care!”
“And I should just take your word for it? You shot me!”
“And you fished me out of a car chase! Who the fuck does that?!”
“A ghost hunter to a ghost!”
“I’m getting fucking tired of you Ghost Buster shtick-”
“And I’m already freaking tired of you ‘not a ghost’ thing!”
“Oh, you can’t even swear.” The ghost mocked. “Shit fucking lame.”
“Get fucked, you ectoplasmic piece of shit.”
“Get out of my turf, Ghost Facer wannabe.”
“Shut up!”
Their mouths clamped shut against their will before they could throw any more vitriol at each other. They turned and found the young king hunched over on the floor, cradling his –now crown-less – head in his hands and with his eyes closed tight. His regalia was all gone, and instead he now wore a white hoodie fashioned after his regular suit. The hood was wide and covered a good half of his face, but his mouth still showed in a pained grimace.
“One year, that’s all I ask. One year without having to be in the middle of a stupid fight between believer and non-believer on fuckin’ Christmas. Is that too much to ask? I can’t lash out, I can’t stay out of it, am I just supposed to be unhappy?”
Val flinched, and her posture shifted so that she was turned towards Danny, ignoring the angry ghost next to her.
“Phantom?” She asked, approaching slowly, one step at a time. “Can I sit here?”
Phantom shrugged his shoulders and snorted. Not a ‘no’, so Valerie took a seat on the sidewalk with him, close enough to touch him if he allowed it.
The unknown ghost looked between one and the other, obviously confused, but Val wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. For one, she no longer could kick his ass, and most importantly, her friend needed her.
“Your parents are still holding onto their feud?” She asked gently.
“Pff, as if either of them was mature enough to accept defeat just for the sake of peace.” He spat, pulling his hoodie lower.
Valerie pursed her lips under her helmet. Danny’s relationship with his parents was good, especially since he revealed his half-ghost status to them. (Valerie’s acceptance had been… slower; to reconcile the fact that the sweet, shy boy she had dated and the annoying ghost she hunted were one and the same took her time, and now she regretted it had been so long); so for him to express himself like that about them… it must still be bad.
“I’m sorry.” She said, because even if it did nothing for him, she was. “I would’ve thought you would stay away for Christmas.”
“I wanted to, but there was an issue with a natural portal.” Danny explained to her, turning his head just the smallest bit toward her. His freckles glowed green just like his eyes, so she could see the bags under them. “I fixed it alright, just not in time to avoid their spat.”
Val put a hand on his shoulder and when he leaned into her touch she went for it and wrapped him in a one-armed hug.
“Well, you’re here and not there right now. Want me to show you around?” She offered him.
“What the absolute fuck is going on anymore?” Both Amity Parkers looked back up to the gothamite still standing there. “Who the fuck are you people?”
“Right, duty first.” Danny said and stood up, dusting off his clothes. “As the King of the Ghost Zone, it is my duty to make sure all ghosts, spirits, shadows, and ecto-entities abide by the Truce. Ecto-contamination makes you both ecto-entities.” He said as he gestured at Red Huntress with a hand, who took it to help herself up from the ground. “I assume you are dead-adjacent.” He asked in a tone too monotonous for such a question.
“… you could say that.” Was the clipped answer.
“There you have it. I’m not gonna delve into it right now, we can talk at length later, suffice to say, you count as an ecto-entity, so you are subject to the Truce, and that means no fighting in Christmas Day.”
“I have fought every Christmas ever since I was resurrected.” The dead-adjacent-but-apparently-not-a-ghost guy said.
“Fighting living, non-contaminated humans without a trace of ectoplasm in them. Which, and you’ll hate this, you won’t be able to do anymore, either.”
“What?!” The vigilante(?) roared, advancing menacingly just to stop one step in. “The fuck does that mean?!”
Phantom sighed and rubbed at his temples. “It means the Truce hadn’t taken effect on you because your ecto-signature is weak, and you hadn’t fought any other ecto-entity before, but now you have,” he pointed with his head at Red Huntress, who was paying as much attention at these news, “so now you can’t fight in this day anymore.”
“What about self-defence?” He asked quickly. Smart.
“That’s where I come in. I get the call, check out what’s up, and if a fight is needed, I have it.” He turned to his ex, sheepishly. “I just added that bit myself, y’know, to release some misplaced anger.”
“Understandable.” She said, patting him on the back. She turned to the vigilante. “I guess that means you’re not a ghost, after all.”
“As I kept saying.” He growled at her, but she ignored him.
“Well, there is nothing to it now.” She summoned her board and offered her ex a hand. “Let’s sight-see.”
Danny smiled, with his freckles shining bright green. “Yeah, okay.”
“So that’s it? You interrupt me in the middle of chasing down drug dealers, you tell me I’m some… pseudo ghost, you forbid me from fighting just ‘cause it’s fuckin’ Christmas day, and now you just leave.” He was clenching his fists hard, and Valerie could picture clearly the snarl on his face under the red helmet.
“It do be like that sometimes.” She told him unkindly, rolling her eyes. She wasn’t having an existential crisis over her nature, even if she had just as much right as him.
“We are going to have a talk, later.” Phantom told him, ignoring Red Huntress’ mean remark and sitting down on the board with his feet dangling. “There’s more stuff you need to know, and I would like you to go see my doctors for a full check-up.” The boy King said with an intense look. “And you’re welcome to join us, by the way.”
“Oh, I am?”
“He is?”
Danny sent a look at Valerie and she just inclined her head to convey her skepticism.
“Yes, you are.” He told the vigilante. “It’s part of the Truce; no hard feelings, regardless of circumstances or allegiances.”
“Pff, sure, I’ll think about it.” He said, turning his back, on them and walking away. He didn’t sound like he would think about it.
“Let’s go, ghostly boy.”
- - -
Hovering barely above Wayne Tower –but a considerable distance away anyways– Valerie and Danny sat watching the sunrise with a tray of jokerized fries between them (and several other wrappings stored away). Apparently, the batburger opened 24/7, every day of the year.
They saw the grapple land on the boar and hook itself to the conveniently placed anchor, making the board dip with the added weight.
They watched in unperturbed silence as the line retracted itself and bought along the vigilante they had found out to be Red Hood after a google search. Crime-Lord-slash-Vigilante, the Truce didn’t care.
“Took ya long enough.” Danny told him as he heaved himself up and then sat next to them.
“Ugh, shut up.” Red Hood answered, but there was barely any heat to his words. “Not much else to do today, apparently.” He glanced at the batburger bags that sat next to Red Huntress and asked, “Got any chili dogs on that?” The paper bag passed hands and soon Red Hood was rummaging through its contents. “Bingo.” He took off his helmet –under which he had a domino mask– and dug in.
Valerie just took another fry to her mouth.
“So,” the gothamite said after being handed a can of pop, “any plans for the day?” He was looking at them, and his face as much more expressive without the helmet; he was genuinely curious, probably wondering what would two vigilantes do on a day without fights and when barely any business was open.
“I was thinking of sneaking into the planetarium later at night.” Danny said. “As long as there’s no property damage, no one gets hurt, and I don’t have ill intentions, the Truce remains intact.” He explained.
“I had thought of going to Robinson Park and have a picnic or something.” Val commented. “Here’s to hoping Poison Ivy isn’t there today, though.”
“She’s in Arkham right now, don’t worry.” Red Hood told her. “The day is long, though; wanna get lost in the woods for a few hours?” He offered them. At both incredulous stared –though Red Huntress’ was hidden by her mask, which had retracted just enough to allow her to eat– he continued, “It’s a cool place to go for a hike if you know which parts to avoid, which I do. There’s also a good hidden bookstore and library that’s open all year ‘round and I have a card, if either of you cares, and there’s also a great Chinese place downtown, also.” He crumbled his trash in his hands and stood up to throw it with a baseball player’s skill at Wayne Tower, managing to make it enter an open window. “Suck it!”
Valerie and Danny looked at each other and shrugged.
“Sounds good to me.”
Val stood up, dusting off crumbs from her suit. “Alright then, big boy. Guide us to that secondary location in the middle of the woods.”
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andreal831 · 3 months
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The pacing for season 4 and especially season 5 seemed extremely rushed to me. I’ve always thought the show could’ve used a season in between season 3 and season 4 to pace it better.
What are your thoughts about this? What do you think would’ve and/or should’ve occured had this of happened?
I couldn't agree more.
In fact, all of the fics I've written in the TVD universe have been fixing that period, (subtle plug for my fics) so I can tell you exactly what I would have done. This will have spoilers for my fics so feel free to go over to AO3 or Wattpad and read there first!
They could have done something so amazing. As someone who watched the shows from a young age, it almost felt like we grew up with the TVD gang, and then were watching Hope grow up which would have made Legacies so special to watch her come into her own. But we didn't get that. Instead, Hope grew up in the blink of an eye off screen. For a show about family, it seemed to constantly put the family aspects on the back burner.
They did all of these major time jumps simply because Julie Plec wanted to move on to Legacies. She liked the idea of what I just described but didn't have the patience to actually do it effectively. From what I've heard, The Originals was supposed to be like 6 or 7 seasons. Instead, we essentially got 4.
If they wanted to shorten the seasons, I would have scrapped season 5 completely. It was honestly a mess and didn't add much to the overall story. If you want to read how I would do that, I've written a story called The Last Sacrifice which shows season 4 as the series finale. SPOILERS for my story. Essentially, instead of splitting the Hollow in four, Elijah takes it all and sacrifices himself. To me, this gives Elijah a kind of redemption arc while allowing his family a chance at happiness.
Now my current work in progress, The Great War, starts in the beginning of season 3. I love season 3, but I think this is where things start to get messy. We see these constant character arcs and then destructions throughout this season. Deep traumas are brought to light and then quickly moved on from. The characters are all going through massive trauma but as an audience, we don't have a second to truly feel the impact because the next thing is already happening.
Then the show does a 5 year time jump and we don't even get flashbacks of Hayley trying to save the family or raising Hope on her own? It wasn't just the Mikaelsons missing out on Hope's life, but the audience as well. We finally get them reunited for about a week and then they are all forced to go their separate ways. And they cave in so easily. The Mikaelsons I know, especially after being separated for so long, wouldn't have gone down without a fight. Hayley sending Hope off to boarding school makes no sense. She fought so hard to keep her child with her only to send her off? Also, why couldn't Rebekah and Marcel have stayed in New Orleans than since Hope would never be there? Or Klaus for that matter? Elijah erasing his memories made no sense. Freya not working endlessly to destroy the Hollow and reunite her family for 5 years made no sense.
Then finally we get the mess of Season 5 and they all just give up. There's nearly no fight in them. Why can't they all just split up again? Why can't they send the Hollow to another realm? If you want to see how I would have written season 5, check out Don't It Just Break Your Heart. Essentially, how did Klaus not just force Elijah's memories back when everything started falling apart?
The last few seasons were rushed and poorly written because the writers were done, the actors were done, and Julie Plec didn't care.
But if you're interested, The Great War is planning to follow a lot of the cannon events but slowing things down a lot. I do have an added character to try and control the Mikaelsons slightly, but I'm trying to keep it true to how I see the events actually taking place if the characters are staying true to their character arcs.
As for the season between season 3 and 4, this is a little bit of spoilers for TGW, but yes, there definitely needs to be a season there. The time jump is ridiculous and we miss so much good character development.
Thanks for the ask! Sorry some of this is vague but I don't want to spoil TGW too much!
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was going to ask about Xiomara and Kasumi’s relationship, which i would love to hear about, but also… who on the SR-2 is Xo closest to? does she have any designated gossip buddies, rivals, really close friends, etc…? 👀
Oohh this is such a fun question!!
In general, Xiomara is a curious coworker to have because she’s an extrovert with a strong self-preservation instinct: she tends to get along easily with people on a surface level, but develops few meaningful relationships. More on her various dynamics with the SR2 crew below!
Miranda is the intellectual rival with sexual tension. Xiomara often takes her along for missions because she’s undoubtedly capable and easy to annoy once Xo figures out her red buttons, so she gets to channel her distaste for Cerberus while getting stuff done. The more rogue Miranda goes, the more they come to like each other.
Garrus is another frequent companion because they have a friendly competition and the same aversion to talking about feelings, so it’s a nice bro relationship. I would say he also makes her laugh, but I think it’s more that she laughs at him often and appreciates that he provides that relief just by existing.
Kasumi is an unexpected friend. She frankly seems to have no agenda to influence Shep, she’s just there to get her credits and be hilarious. 10/10 they become gossip buddies, exchange stories about stealing from rich people, and she might even be the only person that Xo ever mentions Kaidan to. Kasumi knows what it’s like to lose your person.
She finds Mordin unnerving because she doesn’t like scientists in general, especially those of the medical kind, being a biotic who often got treated like a lab rat early in her career. The thing is that Mordin’s cold calculation often makes perfect sense to her. So she listens to his professional advice and keeps a safe distance. When he goes through his moral crisis, she lowkey goes through her own as a result, but she keeps it to herself.
Thane, Grunt, Samara, and Jack are all fine by her, they’re also just so intense that she spends less time around them. Samara and Thane also happen to be at a different, later stage in their lives, where Xo doesn’t quite relate to them. In contrast, Grunt and Jack at least share Xo’s penchant for chaos. They’re high maintenance, but what they ask of her is not emotional support or even a listening ear; just blowing stuff up with them, which is the mark of camaraderie in her book.
Jacob is a good, reliable person to have on board, just too serious to pique her interest.
Joker is the one she goes to when she needs to make inappropriate jokes in a safe environment. She definitely doesn’t trust EDI at first, but later becomes quite fond of her.
She recruits Tali last and it’s not until she’s on the Normandy that Xo realizes how fucking much she missed her. Ultimate babygirl that brings the best out of Xo while also being a supportive, unjudgmental ride or die, which means the world to her.
I haven’t gotten to Legion yet so I’m not sure what to describe there, but I can update with thoughts later. 👀
Edit: I forgot about Zaeed lmao!! Considering Xo could’ve easily become a mercenary in a different timeline I feel like they communicate easily. She calls him “old man” when he starts trying to tell her old stories. He feels a bit like a cautionary tale. @urzfanclub Adding this here whoops <3
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fordarkisthesuede · 6 months
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Fangs of Ouroboros - Chapter 2 - Digging Down to the Nitty-Gritty
Bet you didn't expect an update so soon, huh? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Before we begin, please remember that the Ao3 version is available for Ao3 members only. So please circulate the links!
Last time...
After "visiting" Penguin in prison to find out why he wanted to destroy a P.I.'s office, Bruce discovers that Oswald has been corresponding with a assumed-to-be-deceased Lady Arkham. With more questions than answers, and another mystery on top of the ones he's already saddled with, Bruce tentatively leaves Tiffany and John to solve at least one - who created the bomb in the first place?
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It only took two seconds from Bruce making his leave for John to try and sit in his chair. 
One second too late.
“Hey, I wanted to sit this time!” he pouted, hands on his hips like a teenage girl.
“Too bad,” Tiffany shot back gloatingly, “You gotta be fast if you want to take the captain’s seat.” 
John glowered, crossed his arms, and defiantly situated himself partway onto the left armrest. If he moved too much, he’d definitely elbow her in the face. And most likely wouldn’t feel bad about it. “So, how’s it lookin’, Captain Robin?”
The list of matches to the partial fingerprint was long. Waaay too long. “Bad.” 
She attempted to filter out anyone arrested for previous explosive-related crimes, but there were still quite a few. Even when filtering out the dead ones. “Wow. Just life in Gotham, huh?”
John gave a derisive hee. “Tiff’, I’m a good juggler, but I didn’t get arrested for juggling crimes.”
He had a point, but she didn’t like the smug little smile he was looking down at her with. She wordlessly reset the filter for anyone with a background in firefighting, military, special effects, SWAT… Fifty-two potential suspects. Yikes.
“Of course, we’re just assuming they were ever arrested,” John commented.
“Are you kidding? Whoever they are, they definitely made this kind of stuff before.” She brought the 3D-image of the bomb over to the largest screen. She remembered what his homemade explosives were - essentially blocks of C4 with primitive (but accurate) timers attached to styrofoam heads. It was easier to show the example. “Look, the casing on this thing was custom-made. The timer was kind of cobbled-together, but the guy knew how to weld and solder right. See, the wires would have been really tight together. Like, practically perfect. The print was left in this tight area where he had to pick the explosive material up and connect it.”
John laughed - the kind where he actually found something funny. “You’ve been holding out on me! You’ve made one of these puppies?”
He reminded her of how one of her more distant relations would talk to her at the family barbeque when they found out what she did for a living. She wasn’t about to lie and tell him yes, even though she was sure she could make a duplicate any time she wanted. It would only give him ideas. “Not…exact-ly? But I know enough.”
“I don’t doubt it,” he added, looking strangely proud. “So why did it go kablooey early, then?”
Honestly, she wasn’t sure. The schematics Bruce and the AI pulled together looked almost perfect. Going by the remains of the board from the timer still attached to the very burnt-out wire, it likely wasn’t put in upside-down… But there was a gap above where the timer would have been. “Maybe it wasn’t,” she answered, “The timer might have had a shell cover.”
John hummed, pursing his lips and sitting back, but being mindful of her head. “So it could’ve been passed along with little Rocky none the wiser…”
“But it doesn’t make sense. Mr. Hartright is apparently just on vacation, and even if he goes into a coma, he could have cloud backups for his case files. Why destroy the office?”
“Well, either the bomb-maker hoped to kill whoever picked it up, or… Whoever ordered it specified the ‘wrong’ time.”
“I dunno, killing off his own men doesn’t sound like The Penguin…”
“No, it doesn’t…” John muttered, staring up at the list of suspects. “Any of our little rogue gallery in that list?” he asked, gesturing back to the glass cases of Batman’s foe-related memorabilia in the distance.
“‘Rouge gallery’?”
“What else do you call it? The Baddie Exhibit? The Scoundrel Repository? Villains on Display? Ha ha ha!”
“I dunno, I thought ‘Bruce’s weird trophy case’ was pretty on point,” she said with a shrug, filtering the search further for any major-player ‘rogues’. “And - doeeesn’t look like it.” A beat of silence between them, and she let herself ask what was practically dangling there:  “You really think one of them could be doing this?”
John leaned his head back with an annoyed sigh. “At this point, everybody’s a suspect. I wouldn’t put it past any of ‘em…”
Tiffany looked back at the list. There was a section she had ignored, being so focused on the people who could match the partial fingerprint:  recorded crimes where it was entered in as evidence. There might be something.
There were a few more cases than culprits. Only so many with bombs listed as evidence. 
But jugglers don’t always get arrested for juggling crimes. Tiffany warily set the filter for anything excluding the arrested suspects.
One result returned.
“I honestly didn’t expect that to work,” she commented aloud, feeling John shift on the armrest. “Looks like our print shows up in a second-degree murder case from five years ago… Mary Dahl and Waylon Jones - convicted of murder, conspiracy to cover, desecration of a corpse by CANNIBALISM?!”
“Oh-h-h, THAT’s why they’re familiar!” John clapped his hands together. “That was a great news cycle!”
“‘Suspect Waylon Jones was discovered barbequing the victim’s thigh in open air by the circus’ trailer park.’ God, that’s disgusting!”
“Well duuuh. That’s what made it such a great case! No one could hide their disgust on camera!” John laughed. “I still remember that cop in the background puking in the grass, live!”
She wasn’t feeling too good herself, now that she thought about it. John wasn’t helping, joyfully reminiscing about the news coverage of the guy’s freezer. “Apparently he hadn’t eaten any pieces yet, but of course they slapped him with the hard charges anyway. Still don’t know why he never ended up in Arkham… I knew three guys like that inside! One told me it tastes gamey.”
She couldn’t take any more. “John. Shut up.”
“...sorry.” 
Tiffany had learned enough ASL to translate his following hand gestures as “I’ll read silently”. “You better. I don’t want to get sick all over the keyboard.”
She took a deep breath, trying to focus on the background noise of rushing water behind her like Bruce had taught her as she covered her face with her hands. A deep breath in, focus fixed on the darkness of her eyelids as she dragged her fingers down the sides of her nose, and out. Another in - You can give it five minutes, and close it to pass to Bruce, she thought,You can do five minutes. - and out.
Mary Dahl, age 30, pleaded guilty to murder in the second degree. According to her statement, the victim, a local television producer by the name of Ben Uslan, came into her dressing room after following her from a magic act where she acted as the crowd participant. Ben made a pass at her (Tiffany felt a surge of sympathy with her disgust - Mary looked maybe seven), attempted to assault her, and Mary struck back (rightfully) with a glass whiskey decanter. Mary admitted to trying to cover up the crime by getting help from the circus’ sideshow-freak-slash-strongman, Waylon Jones, who dismembered and intended to eat the body.
Among the list of evidence was said decanter with the partial print found on the body of the rectangular glass, which was looked over when compared to Mary’s on the bottle neck. When the victim’s head was retrieved from the nearby wooded area (Tiffany grimaced and scrolled past the autopsy photo as fast as she could, only to have to go back up to read), Waylon took the blame for the second impact mark on the skull, claiming to have kicked it.
Tiffany leaned on the other armrest, trying to think while pushing the glimpse of the disgusting photo out of her mind. How the hell Bruce did this every day was a mystery itself. The waterfall was both too quiet to focus on and too loud. The coroner had stitched the head and hands back on like it was a sick puzzle put back together. The marks where a saw had cut through were so noticeable -
“Okay, I can’t take it - please say something!”
“They must’ve been close,” John said softly.
Tiffany looked over at him. John was staring at the page for Waylon Jones, which he’d clearly read to the bottom, with a sort of serious, contemplative look she’d never seen on him before.
“They both tried to take the fall for each other. You don’t see many people willing to do that.” It almost sounded like…he admired them. But surely John wasn’t that off-kilter. “That kind of dedication… It’s almost nice. You know,” he shrugged, his usual humor returning in a flash with one of his wider smiles, “if it weren’t for the attempted cannibalism-barbeque thing. So what did you find?”
“Aside from more nightmare fuel?” she asked rhetorically, breaking the weird mood he had built, “The print showed up on the murder-weapon, but no one mentioned a third person hanging around the scene.”
“And of course our good ol’ morons in blue completely ignored it.”
“Eeex-actly.” Tiffany crossed her arms and looked back at the long list of potential suspects. Things were becoming a little clearer, now that she was thinking aloud. “Someone here must have followed the producer and waited until Mary Dahl struck him. That, or they found him afterward and finished him off… But it sounds really stupid now that I say it.”
“Hey, anything’s possible!” John added cheerfully. “But I think you’re onto something, mon Capitaine – stalking to kill is classic.”
“Looks like there’s three people who used to work for Gotham TV here. Writer Lahn Myne, military-veteran turned cameraman Bonnie Behti, and special effects artist Garfield Lynns. Looks like there were some layoffs that year.”
“Mm-hmm… Hey, Tiffany.” (This was going to be a favor, wasn’t it? He hardly ever used her full name nowadays.) “What would you say to a little field trip?”
She wasn’t really sure where he was going with this. Knowing John, what he was planning was probably weirdly complex. “If you’re thinking we would have the time to visit all three,” she guessed, “you’re way off….for a lot of reasons.”
“Ha ha ha! No, no - what would be the point? It’s been five years! Any evidence is kaput, and I doubt we’d get a confession. No, I was thinking we’d try and get an eyewitness account.”
Yup. She knew it. Weird and complex. “You want to…what, visit the circus murderers in BlackGate? John, that’s…” 
Crazy, she wanted to say. Completely asinine. But she stopped herself, remembering John didn’t like that particular word, and truthfully… It was crazy, but it might work. A witness who didn’t know they were one was more likely to be believed. 
“...not a bad idea. Actually.”
John’s smile stretched to show all of his teeth. “I knew you’d get it! And if it doesn’t work, we’ll at least know we tried.”
“You know we won’t be able to just walk in as ourselves, though, right?”
“A-doy. We’ll be lawyers! I’ve got enough experience with ‘em to know what to say. You have a suit, right? I mean, I figured, since you do work in a world-renowned corporation…”
“I kind of just throw a blazer on top of most of my outfits,” she said slowly, “I’m not really a fan of the whole pencil-skirt-and-heels thing.”
John practically sprang up, phone in hand. “Nooo problem, I know just the gal to call…” He took a few steps away and held his free hand out, the monitor light glinting off the emerald setting in his engagement ring. “Sheesh, I better not get her voicema- Heya, Pumpkin! I’ve got a bit of a Bat-favor to ask…”
It wasn’t so much the ride to The Redfur Theatre - Tiffany did enjoy weaving through traffic like it was nothing - but John’s reasoning for going in the first place. Apparently just meeting their one-woman costume department at her place wasn’t enough. Even though Tiffany could’ve sworn she’d heard the question ‘do you want me to meet you?’ on the other end of that call.
Nooo, John wanted options. And she wasn’t sure if she was annoyed about it because he had something of a point for the second time in a row (she certainly didn’t want to risk being recognized by anyone in BlackGate), or because this was just another diversion she had to deal with today. She was already a week behind schedule on the latest build project her engineering team had handed to them, and she got a notice about another pointless team meeting that she had to attend today. 
Tiffany parked the motorcycle in the back alley, waiting to shut off the engine until John had hopped off with his usual flamboyance, and had only turned the ignition key when the backstage door opened. 
“Jackieee!” John spread his arms wide not a moment before Jackie Lant practically slammed into him with a hug. “How’s my little slice of pumpkin pie? Look at you, going back to your roots!”
Jackie snorted into a short laugh at what Tiffany presumed was the bad joke about her hair color having returned to her natural fiery orange. “Don’t act surprised, J-man, you’ve seen my Snaps.”
“Like I’d ever miss out on a good pun,” John grinned. “Besides, you were a brunette when Robin saw you last!”
Jackie peeked around John to look at Tiffany, and her lightly-freckled face lit up with instant recognition. “Ah! Batman’s assistant!” she exclaimed with a smile, “I thought it was you in that suit… Back in the church, I mean.”
It kind of hit Tiffany that they never really met before. She saw her for the first time in the crypt-cum-abandoned-Owl-bunker as an antagonist who changed sides, and then briefly in the Court of Owl’s church basement as a well-armed ally. Everything she knew about Jackie Lant was learned vicariously through investigation notes and John.
And she had no idea what to say. It was kind of nice to see someone closer to her age in-the-know, but they were technically ‘working’. “Yeah, uh… You look good?” she settled on, hoping it didn’t sound weird.
“Thanks, things have been better since my student debt got mysteriously erased last Christmas. Kinda wish I’d known sooner than after the whole Owl fiasco, but…” she trailed into a shrug, still half-smiling. “I’m not complaining. Come on in, I’d like to get you two all dressed before everyone else decides to show up. I’m supposed to be finishing some of the background set pieces.”
“I thought you were an actress,” Tiffany pondered aloud, tailing alongside John.
“I am,” Jackie smirked over her shoulder, walking straighter. “You’re looking at this production’s Red Queen.” She showily fluffed a side of her curly orange French-style bob. “Mr. Tetch just loved my natural hair; like I knew he would. I just double as a set designer. And the occasional sound technician.”
“Small production,” Tiffany half-scoffed, hearing the exterior door squeal shut behind her.
“It’s a small theater. But it’s a good part and a director that gets you noticed. Otherwise I probably wouldn’t be renting a couch here. Well, except to see Matt cry in court.”
She assumed Jackie meant Matt ‘Clayface’ Chaney, aka her ex. Tiffany had seen part of the court proceedings for his murder charges as part of the Court of Owls back in July. He had, in fact, cried during his sentencing and proclaimed himself innocent despite everything to the contrary.
John grinned beside her. “Didn’t he also cry when you broke up with him after he was arrested?”
Jackie gave a dark sort of laugh. “Yeah, that was a good one… The press talked about that for days. He was totally messed up.”
“A thirty year life sentence will do that to you,” John said brightly, “And a couple of new scars,” he muttered with a wink over at Tiffany.
She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Even though she could label him a friend, she knew very well what it was like to get a scar from John. And from what she remembered, Matt had gotten two. 
Even if he did kind of deserve it.
Jackie made a beeline for the long plastic costume rack in what was apparently her (and two other people’s) dressing room. It was a lot better looking than Tiffany had expected - the vanities were covered in makeup bottles and brushes and a professional looking case, but were otherwise clean, and old play posters and cast pictures were scattered around on the walls, the winking red fox face practically stamped in the corners. Only a few odd props were leaning against the walls and corners, all of which looked like they belonged to an Alice in Wonderland set. “We’ve got some stuff from a few indie shows still laying around… We should have something to fit that ‘lawyer’ vibe… Ah-ha!”
Tiffany had a dull yellow-brown tartan suit thrust in front of her. To say it was boring was a compliment. “Do you have…anything else?”
“Hang onto that and let me look.”
John, of course, was sifting through the adjacent rack like he was on speed. He already had two suits thrown over his arm.
“I think you can pull off khaki,” Jackie said, giving a suit a once-over and holding it up to Tiffany. 
John made a playful noise of disgust, which Tiffany partially ignored.
“I think these pants and that patterned jacket will work,” Jackie added, “Give you that ‘I’m the junior partner in this firm’ vibe. Like you want to be your own person, but you know you have to look professional.”
“Why am I the junior partner?” Tiffany asked, shooting John a look.
“Because I’m older than you?” John offered, an eyebrow raised to match hers, “And I know more about what we’re getting into.”
Jackie rolled her eyes a little at this. “Don’t act too smart, John. Most people can smell over-acting a mile away.”
John gave her back a little glare, but didn’t do any more than pout. “Be right back,” he grunted.
“Don’t jinx it,” Jackie called back, shaking out the tan slacks and returning the unused pieces to the rack in one sweep. “Old horror movie rule,” she said with a slight smile. “I’m superstitious when I'm in any theater.”
She wasn’t the biggest fan, but more than once she and Barbara had a late night double-feature with the so-called classics. She knew a few ‘rules’. “I always liked ‘don’t ask who’s there’, personally.”
“Hah, I was dumb enough to ask that in Arkham once. It’s how I lost my ponytail. And speaking of hair,” Jackie began to steer her by the shoulder to the vanity, “take a seat, and I’ll get a wig fit.”
Before she could object, Tiffany found herself sitting in the old metal folding chair with a wig held up by her face.
“No, too long…” Jackie muttered, picking up another from the plastic case, “Can I ask something?”
Do I really have a choice? “…sure.”
“Are you sure you’re ready to visit BlackGate?” she asked, holding up another wig. “I know you’ve helped put away your share of criminals, but I know John is used to that kind of atmosphere. He’s…one of them, if you know what I mean.”
She knew what she meant. ��You can take the man out of Arkham, but you can’t take Arkham out of the man’, as Iman had once put it to her. And truthfully, no, she wasn’t ready, despite the fact that she was used to dealing with some of Gotham’s worst as Robin. But she imagined it hadn’t been easy for Bruce when he wound up in Arkham the first time. 
“Is anyone really ready for this?” she answered, “I’m not exactly doing it for fun.”
Jackie seemed to find that funny enough to give a little ‘hah’. “Well, you’ve got some brass, at least. What made you want to help Batman, anyway?” she asked, shaking out another wig, “I know I tried to kill someone and take their life’s work, but believe it or not, I really admire him. It’s why I didn’t put up a fight when he and ‘Joker’ found me last year. And I know why he helps him,” she added with a knowing little smile, “but I don’t know about you.”
Tiffany did not expect this today. She wasn’t sure how much she could tell her. Or if she should at all, with Jackie previously studying to be a psychologist. But she supposed that giving a simpler answer was better than none at all. “My…father worked for him. And when he died, I…wanted to find who killed him.”
Jackie draped the wig over Tiffany’s head, but she was paying close attention, her leaf-brown eyes brimming with empathy. Tiffany was reminded for a second of Bruce. His ability to multitask and scrutinize and understand. 
“After I did, I still felt…kind of empty,” she said as honestly as she could. “But after learning about my father’s connection to Batman, I wanted to… To keep going, in his place. He believed in all of this. Helping clean up the city and save people. Make a difference.” That sounded cheesy when she said it aloud. “And I get to glide around the city and punch people who deserve it.”
Jackie smiled at that, adding another bobby-pin to keep the short ponytail wig in place. “I hear that. I lost a lot of people to the city, myself… Car accidents, murders, drive-by shootings, disease caused by shitty housing. Close your eyes for me,” she instructed, holding up a brush primed with a dark brown cream. It felt weird going on; Tiffany felt she should be moving her hands instead. (When was the last time anyone else had done her makeup? Senior prom?)
“What amazed me,” Jackie continued, working quickly, “was how Batman managed to solve so many cases the cops would’ve let go unsolved. I’d like to think if he were around back then, my childhood friend’s killer would’ve been found a lot earlier.”
“I’m sorry,” Tiffany said genuinely, not knowing what else to say. She could hardly tell her she’d known about that.
“You have nothing to feel sorry for.” Jackie glanced at her with something like distaste as she picked up an eyebrow pencil. Tiffany wanted to kick herself; John’s notes in the case files had said she didn’t like to feel pitied. “Neither of us could’ve done anything. Like you, I just try to keep their memories alive the best I can. It’s one of the reasons I act; outside of getting to be anyone else for a while, I mean. I add pieces of them into every role I play. The way they talked, or moved, or pronounced certain words. Even the way they held things… But you definitely got the long end of the stick in how to keep ‘em going,” she joked, “Your dad must’ve been awesome.”
He hadn’t been perfect. He had missed more school events for work since Batman showed up, and there were times Tiffany had wanted to call Bruce herself to tell him to stop keeping him so late. And she’d learned too late that he was an expert secret-keeper as well as more selfless than she’d thought. But…
“He was,” Tiffany answered, thinking of the hologram message he’d left for her. He knew she’d want to know the truth behind everything, and that she’d want to continue Batman’s work. He knew that she would understand. “I’m guessing yours…wasn’t so much?”
“You got it in one.” Jackie began swiping a concealer stick over Tiffany’s face in clearly well-practiced strokes. “My parents tried to stamp out my inner theater-geek by pushing me to get a degree in ‘something useful’,” she snorted. “But I went along with it because I thought I could help kids who had been through what I had. I took fewer classes a semester so the loans wouldn’t be so outrageous, but my Dad skirted back on his promise to help pay for some of them after my third year anyway - because it was ‘my’ responsibility now, or some shit.” A highlighter stick swept down her cheeks. “And I powered through it so I could graduate and get a ‘good’ job. Which led to that Arkham internship I’m sure John’s told you about.”
Tiffany seemed to both know too much and too little about how that whole mess ended. But not exactly from John. Bruce’s notes on the whole affair from last October were rather thorough. “He, uh, keeps Arkham life pretty private.”
Jackie’s thick, light eyebrows rose as she primed a pink blending sponge. “Really? He’s a weird guy… Did he tell you about how he got engaged to Bruce Wayne?” she smiled, “He told me the whole thing in excruciating detail.”
“Are you kidding? He didn’t shut up about it for a week, and I keep catching him looking at his ring.”
“Yeah, that sounds right.” The blending sponge felt odd, but Jackie worked quickly. “He must not want to scare you with the grittier details of what went on in the ol’ asylum. Which I think is dumb, because from what he’s told me, you can really kick some ass. You don’t seem to scare easy.”
The knowledge that John talked about her - and positively, apparently - felt weird. Unexpectedly nice, yet kind of concerning. “I’d like to think so,” she said, not wanting to talk about the rat incident in the Batcave.
“Then you’ll do just fine.” Setting powder brushed over Tiffany’s cheeks. “Just remember, you’re not Robin in this get-up. You’re a young, upcoming lawyer who wants to prove herself; serious, but empathetic. It’s important,” she stressed, dotting her nose, “to try not to put too much of yourself in the role. Sometimes, you can find yourself lost in it. I’m a prime example.”
Before she could ask her to elaborate, Tiffany heard the click of John’s shoes before he entered the room. “Okay, lesson learned today,” he grumbled, face not quite covered in the peach-tone he used before, “I still need a little mirror to finish doing this or my brain nopes out.”
“I can finish you up,” Jackie waved, smoothing a fruity-smelling gloss over Tiffany’s lips. I could’ve done this part, Tiffany thought as she sat stock-still. “You just need mascara and you’ll be set.”
John was very pointedly not looking in the oversized mirrors, choosing to face the doorway. Then, like he suddenly remembered she was there, he cast a sheepish sort of look over at them. “Uh, I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”
“Nah,” Jackie smiled, recapping the mascara and moving so Tiffany could finally go get change, “Just girl stuff.” Tiffany picked up the outfit she had been selected to wear and went out the way John came, not feeling like ‘Robin’ at all. Had she lost herself in her suit? Or, like Batman, had Robin been there all the time, visible only when she said or did things a certain way?
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Author Notes: One of the reasons I avoided doing this story for so long was because I wanted Tiffany and John to be able to work together without it feeling too awkward. In our Season 3 replacement story (AtBoM), John considers her a rival for Bruce's attention as well as bears a grudge for Bruce letting her go (and letting her work with him!) but force him back into Arkham, while Tiffany considers him too dangerous and "crazy" be trusted. Even though they eventually reached an understanding, in Season 4 (TToJ) Tiffany is still uneasy about him and John still makes a point to rub any attention he gets from Bruce in her face, which causes a huge rift in their budding friendship until they repair it at the end. Looking back at what my ideal-but-real-Season-3 would actually be (which would be a combo of all three of these stories), I could picture Tiffany and John's awkward attempts at getting along being charming on their own, and any scene of them saving the other from some harm a bit more impactful, but it would feel too rushed to get them to any trust-fall point. Not to mention Tiffany's own current arc concerning [redacted]. And in this final story, when shit hits the fan, I feel they should be able to trust each other more than they could've originally been written to in that alternate universe where Batman the TellTale Series: Season 3 actually exists to play. (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)
But enough about that! It's time for fun facts! In-between Seasons 3 and 4, I was thinking how nice it would be to have a short story with John and Bruce visiting the circus, wherein John gets along real well with the so-called "freaks" and they sort-of team up when some crime happens or something. I was reeeal fuzzy on the plot. All I knew was "oh man, it'd be great to see TellTale's version of Killer Croc…he could be part of a circus! Ooh, and we could add Babydoll, she never gets used - a TT-spin on her would be nice". It never went anywhere, of course, but while working on The Whole Nine Yards I decided to go ahead and work them into the plot for Season 5 because I love them. And because…ah, well, to avoid spoilers, let's just say it's because of reasons. (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)
I also stuck a couple of easter eggs in this chapter! For one, did you know that same two executive producers are alllways listed on every Batman film since Burton's? Benjamin Melnicker and Michael Uslan! Michael is apparently a huge bat-fan himself, but I didn't learn about any of this until I was searching for a funny homage to other Bat-media to make in a throwaway name. The second egg is "The Redfur Theatre" - the name is taken from the real Fox Theatre and Redford Theatre in Detroit. As the logo is a fox, this is a bit of a stretched joke regarding Tiffany's surname.
Finally, my darling readers, real talk time:  this is the last time you get a weekly update. Please expect at least 2 weeks for the next one. But next time, we rejoin Bruce…and see some more of Joker's game.
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FNaF MOVIE REVIEW 🗣️‼️ 🐻🐰🐤🦊
I know I’m late to the party but I saw the movie opening weekend and I’ve already watched this movie three times through already and I thought I’d pitch in my thoughts on it :P
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For starters, spoilers. If you still haven’t seen the movie and SOMEHOW haven’t been spoiled yet, don’t read this.
The things I loved:
I think the movie made the right decisions on two occasions--
ONE, the animatronics. They look like they were ripped straight out the game, they look amazing, and I haven’t seen one complaint about them. If anything, it’d be the one thing the critics liked about the movie. TWO, and this is a controversial one, the rating. It definitely cut down on the horror, yes, but adding an R rating would cut down half its audience (including me but not bc I’m underage, bc I’m Mormon and we don’t watch rated R 💃). The movie wouldn’t have been as much of a success as it is now if not for the pg-13.
Other than those two, I loved the animatronics and the personality they brought. I loved how they advertised this as focusing on the “killer animatronic” element of FNaF, but ended up focusing on the supernatural part. And not even close to how we’d imagine, almost like a tragic and wholesome side to the kids’ possession.
Another controversial point, I’m glad they changed up the lore a bit. It has the key points in the games to keep fans satisfied, but it changes it up just a wee bit to keep them theorizing and catch them off guard with the Vanessa twist at the end. Speaking of Vanessa--
The things I had mixed feelings on:
Vanessa. Her character is so strange. Sure, it was explained at the very end why she is the way that she is. But she still feels off. The fort scene is a good example. She was on board with Abby building the fort, but once Mike said “they seem to like her”, Vanessa snapped. Then threatened to shoot him if he ever came back with Abby. 😐
I also felt mediocre about the pacing of the movie. I liked the mystery element of Mike trying to unravel what happened with the kids and his brother. But I would also like me some scary animatronic screen time if you know what I mean. It even got boring at some parts.
The last thing. The spring-lock scene. That entire ending sequence made up for the middle of the movie, in my opinion. But it felt too rushed. Something they could’ve added is some more time with Freddy and Bonnie instead of Mike just taking them out right then and there. It just felt anticlimactic. And then the spring-lock scene was, well. I think it was good. It was realistic, and it was still considered gruesome to some. You still get to see the guy getting impaled. But I can get behind fans that say it was somewhat disappointing.
But I do think this movie shows just how much our expectations are thrown off by the VHS tapes. We should all know by now the fan-made stuff is way scarier than the canon.
Things I didn’t like:
Well, not things I didn’t like, no. Just things we could improve on.
I know plot holes are FNaF’s whole thing, but can we explain what happened with Aunt Jane, or the difference between Golden Freddy and Freddy, and what happened to the brother? I suppose the fans would be able to figure two of those things out, but still.
The writing could be improved as well. The film has a tone problem where it’s foreboding and fits the games fairly well. But then it turns all cheesy and campy during that middle part, which is fine, but sits weird and almost out of place when we go back to “killer animatronics”.
I also wish we would incorporate more of the game into the movie. I know we already went through the process of making the animatronics, but I feel like we could’ve had a legit horror movie if the atmosphere and tension from FNaF 1 was replicated here. I also would love to see more of the gameplay in there. The doors, I understand. But the security cameras were so UNDERUTILIZED.
Then the one that everyone’s complaining about, more violence. Not the rated R stuff, but just more of seeing the animatronics in action.
What I wanna see in the sequel:
Cus we’re no doubt getting a sequel. After those interviews? The Puppet teased in the credits?? The box office scores???
-MORE HORROR. I think this is on everyone’s minds right now. We need more horror or violence, more kills. More action.
-Plot. This has gotta be the toughest thing about adapting FNaF of all things into a movie, but the lore can be altered and even the pacing of the story can be fixed. Also pls fill in those plot holes.
-More of the animatronics. I was surprised they didn’t get MORE screen time in this movie. They did get a decent amount and were hinted at by the ghost kids who also got a decent amount in. But I need to see more of them. They’re who everyone’s coming out to see after all.
-MORE GOOD JUMP SCARES. Typically, horror movies that rely on jump scares are just cheap and trash. But FNaF is the king of jump scares and is probably the only exception. Also those jump scares need to be GOOD. UNPREDICTABLE. The movie did have jump scares, but because they were predictable, they weren’t scary.
-DESIGNS. I want them to mix up the designs a tiny bit like they did Balloon Boy. He already looks so much creepier than his og counterpart. I wonder what they could do with the Withered Animatronics…
I’ll go more into detail about hopes for the sequel as more comes out over time, but for now, let’s enjoy what we have.
Thank you, Scott.
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lostdreamr-blog1 · 2 years
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A Ghost Playing Hangman {J.Seresin} Part 8
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Word Count: 1.9k
Warning: mild swearing, mentions of death, lots of fluff ahead
A/N: So sorry for the delay!! Just graduated from college, took my state boards for nursing, and am now a whole registered nurse!!! These last few weeks have been hectic, but I’m glad to be back writing again. Here is part 8! Hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it!
-Chelsea
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9
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Confusion and betrayal were the two emotions that you were met with this morning. Admiral Simpson had taken over the training and changed two of the biggest parameters. The group now had to fly at a slower pace and a higher altitude. The two things that were supposed to give you all the edge and bring you home safely.
A glance around the room showed you that everyone was in agreeance to these new rules. That it was complete and utter bullshit. It didn’t take long for the questions to start, but the Admiral was prepared for them. According to him, we had a better chance at a dogfight than running our plane into the side of the mountain.
But you all had come so far from day one. Sure, there were still a few things that needed to be worked out but slowing everyone down wasn’t going to fix that. This seemed like a slap in the face from the higher ups. Maverick may have been a bit unorthodox with his teaching, but it worked.
Thinking back on your conversation this morning with Jake, if one of you were selected for this mission, there was a good chance you weren’t coming back. You looked over to him and saw his jaw clenched and hands balled up into fists. He seemed to be just as upset as you were, but you wanted to know why. Was it because he knew he was better than this? That he wasn’t getting to prove that he could do the mission the way it was intended? Or because he knew the promise he made to you this morning was about to be broken?
Before your mind was able to start spiraling, the screen behind Admiral Simpson lit up. Someone was on the course and by the looks of it, it wasn’t planned. Maverick’s voice came over the speakers and you couldn’t help but smile at the recklessness of your Captain. It wasn’t lost on you all that he was fired from his position, most likely due to the passing of his long time Wingman, Iceman. Which just added more fuel to the fire. Who fires someone after a major loss like that? Probably the same person who is willing to sign the death sentence of the four pilots and two WSO’s being sent out on this mission.
The atmosphere in the room seemed lighten up some with signs of hope as Maverick easily made his way through the course. You sat up straighter as he reached phase two and hit the target seconds later without a laser guiding him. Cheers erupted when the time of 2 minutes and 15 seconds were plastered on the screen, proving to everyone that this mission can be flown. You glanced over to Admiral Simpson and couldn’t read his face. It was like he wanted to be upset at the blatant disrespect of his orders but couldn’t because of the impressive flying that was just displayed in front of him.
“The group of you are dismissed for the day. Be prepared to depart at 0600 hours tomorrow.” And that was that. Phoenix grabbed your arm and led you to the locker room, away from everyone else. You gave her a questioning look, but she shook her head, not giving you any indication to what was happening.
The second the door was shut she turned to you and said, “I have so many questions, but first are you okay after the flight yesterday?” It was the first time you had seen her since the training flight from hell and were thankful the two of you were even having this conversation. So many things could’ve gone wrong yesterday.
“It was a very long day, but I’m fine now. How about you and Bob?” She sat down on the bench in front of the lockers, and you joined her. Something told you this conversation was going to be a long one.
“It didn’t look good for a moment. I thought I could restart the engine but didn’t realize it was already on fire. I think the worst feeling was putting Bob in danger. He said he’s fine, but I think he’s a bit shaken from it.” You nodded your head understanding exactly how she felt.
“There were so many times I felt like I took unnecessary risks that put my WSO and I in danger. And after those flights I would always go home feeling like complete shit and apologizing the next day for it. He would always tell me that he knew the risks stepping into the plane, but he didn’t trust anyone else to be flying.” You heard Phoenix sigh and looked over to her. She was fiddling with her hands, making you realize she was nervous about something.
“I should’ve been up front with you on day one. Your old WSO, the one who died on that mission, he flew with me for a year before you.” You froze at her admission and didn’t know what to say to that. Part of you wanted to be mad about keeping something like that from you, but if she brought it up before now, how would that have changed things? Her voice cut through your thoughts. “He was a good friend of mine, and I didn’t know how to tell you. By no means do I blame you for what happened. Missions just go that way sometimes. But he did talk about you. Told me that you were one of the best pilots he’s ever flown with and that you weren’t like the rest of us. You didn’t have the chip on your shoulder that we all seem to be engraved with. But he considered you family, and I figured you should know that.”
The first day of training she gave you a surprised look that you never thought too much about. The names of pilots always get thrown around and you figured she had heard yours from somewhere. But the last place you thought she would hear it from was the one person you would always keep close to your heart.
All you could do was nod your head and take a few breaths. “Does anyone else know about him?” You thought about her question for a second and nodded your head. “Bradley knows he died but no details. Jake on the other hand knows pretty much everything that happened.” You watched as she tried to suppress a smile.
“So, it’s Jake now, huh?” It was your turn to sigh. Bradley knew something was going on between the two of you, but he left it alone for the most part. You knew Phoenix wasn’t going to be that forgiving.
“Yeah, it kind of just happened. He’s not who I thought he was and surprisingly has been pretty helpful these last few weeks.” You waited for the jab at falling for the notorious Bagman, but it never came.
“He’s different with you. Fanboy visited me yesterday and told me what happened. Said Hangman lost his mind when you went into G-LOC. Took him and two others to stop him from going up there. I think everyone realized that he is in fact human, and you are his one weak spot. I want to say I’m surprised, but if anyone could give him a run for his money it’s you.” You couldn’t help but smile at the situation. The two of you were gossiping like old friends, you only wished it would’ve happened sooner. Who knew it would take a suicide detachment for you to slowly become your old self again.
When the conversations stopped between the two of you, you knew it was time to go. Every moment seemed like it was moving too fast with the inevitable happening tomorrow. Phoenix said she was off to find herself a hot date for the night, not wanting to spend it alone. You knew you were spending yours with Jake, you just didn’t know what exactly he had planned. A text popped up from him saying he went back to his place to change and that he would meet you at your place in a bit. It gave you time to change out of your flight suit and into something a bit more flattering.
An hour later, a knock on your door had you running around trying to put something on to not answer it in your towel. You settled for a simple red sundress with your wet hair still a mess from the shower. Jake had seen you with sweat dripping down your face after a flight and hair tangled like a bird’s nest. And because of that, you weren’t concerned with how he was going to see you now.
You opened the door to be met with your handsome pilot holding a bouquet of sunflowers. “I don’t know how you knew I wasn’t a roses type girl, but these are beautiful. Thank you.” He gave you a quick kiss on the cheek and walked inside after you.
“I’ve come to realize that you aren’t like most girls, so I took a chance on picking these.” The smile he gave you was a shy one. One that you hadn’t seen before, and you loved every bit of it. The ever so cocky pilot was finally unsure about something, and it warmed your heart to know it was because he wanted to impress you.
“I wasn’t sure if we were doing anything today, but it felt good to get out of that flight suit.” You looked him over and saw he was in casual shorts and a t shirt. Something you wished you saw him in more often.
“You look gorgeous, Darlin. Never thought I’d get the chance of seeing you in a dress.” Your cheeks warmed at the complement, not knowing what to say back. You never were good at receiving them.
“I just didn’t want to have to match two pairs of clothing.” Partially the truth, but you wanted to show him you were more than an aviator. “Let me braid my hair real fast and then we can get going.”
The next few seconds surprised you. Jake came up behind you and said that he had it. What “it” was, you had no idea. Until you felt your hair being divided into three pieces.
“You know how to braid hair?” He gave you a hum in response, focusing on twisting your hair into a neat braid.
“When I was younger my Ma told me that I would need to learn how to win over a girl’s heart. She taught me how to braid hair because most guys didn’t know how to do that, and it would give me a leg up. For the longest time I thought she was crazy, but I did it to please her any way.” His fingers were gentle as he skillfully made his way through your hair.
“Did it win over a bunch of girls?” you had a playful tone to your voice, but his answer was serious.
“I don’t know, this is the first time I’m trying it.”
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A/N: Thoughts? Comments? I love to hear what you all think if their story so far! Thank you so, so much for reading!!!
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