#mega ask thread

[agoobersretreat]

Yeah I mean he mostly does stop-motion animation these days but I'm sure he'd be down for a good kaiju fight again!

"Mmm, yeah? Is this a friendly fight or so? Or is it, like, for keeps?"

[ask-wheatley-core]

//… initiating connection…

//connected to [REDACTED]

Hey! Lab partner! I figured out how to talk to you so you’re not in the dark while I make my way over!

Just left the atmosphere, and I must say I am envious of your view from up here. I imagine it gets boring after a while though. Did you know most of the stars closest to earth are red dwarves?

Augh, getting off topic. I don’t have an estimation on getting there but standard trips to the moon take about 3 days. Also I couldn’t find my bat so I have a crowbar instead, and I brought my dude with me. Everything is also set for our Return Trip too!

(Sorry for blowing up your ask box btw, im having a lot of fun w this tho!)

Huh.

Looking out at the stars, Wheatley squints and then tilts on his axis - as if inquisitive.

They don't look very red to me... More of a... um. Blinding white, I'll say.

Anyway - that's brilliant - again, can't wait to see you. And your... your crowbar. Yes, your trusty... scientific crowbar.

... Sorry, I have to ask - who, exactly, are you, er... bringing up with you? Just curious, really - doesn't matter.

.  ⋆. *⋆ .  ⋆ ⦿

☆ OOC: omg don't apologize!! i too am having fun! my responses just might be slow because life, yanno how it be. i really appreciate your patience though and also pls keep sending in asks as long as it's still fun for you!!!

[sanctified-sanctuary]

⋆♱⋅⟡⋅♱⋆ @rcsebane ⋆♱⋅⟡⋅♱⋆ 〝You look like you could use a hand with that. 〞// for any muse you want! :) {Cain 🙴 Evangeline}

Evangeline is ever the social butterfly, frequenting large events and popular spaces to mingle and to learn. This night brings her to a casino she's had no reason to visit before now, before this client.

She's been floating between tables, chatting up the affluent and the impoverished both- all set on the same goal to hit it big but instead falling short. What some of her conversation partners don't realize is she's leaving with more than just their names and perhaps their chips, she's been pickpocketing the richest patrons dumb enough to let their guards down.

Or she was, until as she's striding away from the black jack tables where she just oh so gracefully lost a voice rings out behind her.

〝You look like you could use a hand with that. 〞

Her heeled steps pause, back to her new acquaintance as she smooths her hands over her white gown- always white. A clearing of her throat, Evangeline turns on her heel to face the unknown proprietor of the establishment she's made her playground.

〝Well hello to you too, now I don't know what you're referring to but I assure you I am perfectly capable of handling whatever it is this evening.〞

Out of a habit of making herself seem smaller and less intimidating Eve has been pulling in on herself and shrinking a few inches as she walks throughout the casino. Though faced with this new challenger-that's out the window. Her back straightening and shoulders squaring bringing Evangeline to her full height of nearly 6'2 in her chosen shoes. Her face and tone however are sickly sweet, not divulging even a hint of malice.

[iruludavare]

“ please enlighten me more about mega evolution! you’ve piqued my interest, deary.”

          "Oh, um, well..."

     Hesitation accents itself with the sound of a cup, delicate in its composition, being placed back upon its saucer. Where to begin? Where could she start? Thoughts swirl around in the depths of her mind, of so much knowledge on the subject bestowed both by personal experiences and professor Sycamore's conclusions alike. She knows both all too much, and yet not enough— never it all— on the innerworkings of Mega Evolution. One of a tiny handful of go-to people for information on the phenomenon. And yet, when asked by someone like this, it is as though the heroine has never heard of it in her life. Vanishing and yet fighting to be the first thing said.

          "I suppose the simplest way to put it is that it's one of the pinnacles of a bond between a person and an eligible pokemon. It allows them to use the power in the stone and temporarily evolve into a more powerful form."

          There is a lull in her speech, eyes flickering off to the side if only to buy herself a moment or two— to consider her next set of words with the utmost care. Goodness knows that one horrifically unethical and dangerous study has spread too much misinformation for her liking. Has the older woman heard of it, Serena wonders? Is that why she has asked someone like her to elaborate and speak on what her own eyes have witnessed and knows to be true?

          "Unfortunately, we don't know too much about how it works or why it came to be. Only that mega stones and keystones were made from the power of both Xerneas and Yveltal in the blast from the Ultimate Weapon when they were forced to power it three thousand years ago. And that a strong bond, with a shared goal in mind, is required to make it stable and beneficial for both parties."

     Hands move to rest upon the heroine's lap, fingers resting upon the fabric of a thick coat. Something grounding, but not obvious. Much like the ghost of a smile that takes to Serena's features.

          "But... I think that alone says plenty. The power of creation and destruction— life and death... the inherent beneficial nature of Mega Evolution and the risks if used improperly or without a strong bond... using their power and releasing it as Infinity Energy... in that context, it's a balanced representation of both beings."

[p1astr81]

vanilla and strawberries

synopsis: you switched your perfume, and suddenly Oscar has the sniffles.

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

not proof read! this one’s like mega short

Your day followed its usual standard routine. You showed up to the track later than he did. Found him sitting in the back of the garage, cooling down, getting his head level before qualifying.

He hugged you briefly, too conscious of the cameras pointed in your direction. But he hovered near, his face inches from your neck. And then a sniff reached your ears. When he noticed your amused and questioning look, he pulled away, resuming a normal posture beside you. “Are you coming down with a cold?” You asked.

“No.” He dismissed quickly.

You were willing to brush it off until it happened again. After qualifying, when he hugged you again, he lingered longer. And you swore you heard another sniff.

And again, when he took your hand on the way back to the hotel and kissed your palm. Your hand lingered around his mouth far longer than typical.

And again, when he kissed you later that night. He paid extra attention to your neck.

That’s when he finally spoke up. “Did you change your perfume or lotion or something?” He asked, nose nudging against your neck. Another sniff, this one more pronounced.

You nodded, fingers threading through his hair. “Yeah, why?” Your question was pushed to the back of his mind, as it was too busy being plagued by the smell of vanilla and strawberries. “Do you not like it?”

He nodded quickly. “God, no. I love it.” He sucked on your neck, drawing a gasp out of you. “You smell like a dessert.” Breath fanning over your skin, tongue laying flat on the spot he’d just sucked a hickey onto. “So sweet.”

You hummed and pulled away. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 22

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

We are wrapping up loose plot threads so: Hungary 2024, WHICH I FIXED (kinda). My questionable understanding of racing strategy? Crocheting.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Radio Transcript – Hungarian GP 2024 Driver: Lando Norris (#4, McLaren) Lap: Mid-race, after McLaren undercuts Oscar Piastri

RACE ENGINEER (Will Joseph): “Lando, box this lap. Box, box.”

Lando: “…You’re kidding. You’re actually kidding.”

Will: “Lando, we need to cover the undercut. Box now.”

Lando: “Yeah, I bet we do.”

[Lando enters the pits, swaps to fresh tires, and rejoins ahead of Oscar Piastri.]

Will: “So, uh, we’re seriously doing this? We’re actually undercutting Oscar?”

Will: “Affirm. We need to consolidate track position.”

Lando: “Oh yeah? That’s what we’re calling it? Consolidating?”

Will: “Lando, we’ll discuss later. Focus on your out-lap.”

Lando: “No. I want you to tell me right now why we did that. Because Oscar was ahead. Oscar was faster. So tell me why we just screwed him over. 

Will: “It was the best call for the team.”

Lando: “Oh, was it? Because last I checked, ‘the team’ includes Oscar, and you just threw him under the bus. And for what? Because from where I’m sitting, you just played us against each other for no reason.”

Will: “Lando, we need to manage the race. We’ll discuss later.”

Lando: “No, we’ll discuss now. Because Oscar went to bat for me when it mattered. He stood up when you lot wouldn’t. And this is how you pay him back? By screwing him on strategy?”

Will: “Lando—”

Lando: “I’m giving it back.”

Will: “Lando, we need you to maintain position.”

Lando: “Like hell I do. Tell Oscar I’m lifting into Turn 1.”

Will: “…Understood.”

Lando: Oscar— (lifts off the throttle, lets Oscar pass him back easily before Turn 1) —deserves better than whatever the hell that was.

Will: Lando, we didn’t ask you to do that.

Lando: Yeah? Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you made me the bad guy.

Will: This isn’t necessary—

Lando: No, what wasn’t necessary was playing stupid games with two drivers who actually trust each other. Fix your priorities.

***

Lando Norris – Post-Race Interview | 2024 Hungarian Grand Prix

Interviewer: Lando, P2 today after a tough fight with Lewis Hamilton. It was an intense battle right to the end—how are you feeling?

Lando: Yeah, I feel great! It was a proper race, a hard fight from start to finish, and I loved every second of it. I mean, Lewis is one of the best to ever do it, so going wheel-to-wheel with him like that, having to really work for that P2—it’s what racing is all about. I think we put on a good show today.

Interviewer: We heard some interesting radio messages during the race, especially around the swap with Oscar. Can you talk us through that situation?

Lando: Honestly, I just want to talk about how incredible Oscar was today. He’s been mega all weekend. He got pole, he had insane pace, and to take his first win—it’s so well deserved. I’ve been saying it forever: Oscar is that guy. He’s quick, he’s consistent, and I’m just really happy for him. It’s a huge moment.

Interviewer: Of course, but just to clarify on the swap—there was some tension on the radio. Did that impact your race at all?

Lando: Not really. My focus was on getting the best result for the team and making sure we maximized what we could. At the end of the day, Oscar won fair and square. I had my own battle with Lewis, and that’s where my head was. We went at it for a good chunk of the race, pushing each other to the limit, and I managed to come out on top. That’s what I care about—proper racing on track. That’s what people should be talking about.

Interviewer: Still, there were some discussions about team orders—

Lando: Listen, I’m not interested in making a big deal out of radio messages or politics. What matters is the racing. And today, we had an incredible race. Oscar got his first win, McLaren got a 1-2, I had a great fight with Lewis, and we showed what we’re capable of. That’s what people should be focusing on. That’s what matters.

Interviewer: Fair enough! A brilliant result today. Congratulations, Lando!

Lando: Cheers, mate!

Comments: 

@/F1Fanatic99: Lando just straight-up refusing to engage in drama and instead hyping up Oscar and talking about racing? That’s my driver. 🧡 @/HamiltonGOAT44: Lando vs. Lewis was the battle we all deserved! Absolute class from both of them. @/NorrisNation: Lewis made him work for it, but Lando held his own. That was racing at its finest. @/PiastriP1: Lando literally said “I’m here to race, not talk” and I respect that so much. @/WDCOscar: We should be talking about how good Oscar was today, not team orders drama. Lando gets it. @/DriveToThrive: Lando dodging those drama-baiting questions like he's defending P2 against Lewis Hamilton. @/TeamOrdersSkeptic: I mean, it’s cool that Lando’s focusing on the positives, but McLaren kinda did him dirty, no? @/NotABot23: Maybe, but Lando said he didn’t want a free pass. He’d rather earn his position. @/OscarWins: At the end of the day, Oscar won fair and square. Even Lando said it. @/F1Conspiracies: He’s dodging the team orders talk because he doesn’t want to cause problems, but let’s be real—McLaren needs to sort their priorities. @/AntiTeamOrders: Lando acting like nothing happened when McLaren literally screwed him over lol. @/JustHereForDrama: He’s so media-trained. Wish he would just say what he actually thinks. ↳ @/McLarenStan: Or maybe he actually thinks Oscar deserved the win and doesn’t care about the radio stuff? @/HungaryGP2024: The real headline should be "Lando Norris beats Lewis Hamilton in an on-track battle," not whatever drama people are trying to stir up.

@/GridGossip: “He stood up when you lot wouldn’t.” 👀 Lando, bestie, you can’t just drop that and move on like it’s nothing. ↳ @/McLarenMafia: WHO didn’t have your back, Lando? Say names. ↳ @/F1Conspiracies: I wonder what that is about…and I have the bad feeling it’s the whole Lizzie situation… @/OversteerAndTea: So we’re all just supposed to ignore that Lando basically said McLaren didn’t back him up, huh? @/FormulaWhispers: What was going on behind the scenes that made Lando say that??? ↳ @/InsideThePaddock: Oscar has more backbone than people realize. Him going to bat for Lando is NOT nothing. @/F1InsiderTea: McLaren’s PR team is SWEATING right now. ↳ @/OrangeDrama: Like, are they just hoping we all move on??? Because I have QUESTIONS. @/PitWallMess: Oscar and Lando are such ride-or-dies for each other. It’s everyone else I’m side-eyeing. ↳ @/McLarenMasterplan: We need the full story. Spill, Lando. Spill. @/TeaAndTelemetry: Lando is never that blunt unless something seriously pissed him off. ↳ @/DataDorkF1: Oscar was the only one on his side and Lando made sure we knew it. That says A LOT.

@/DTSWriters: This better be a whole episode in the next Drive to Survive season because I NEED DETAILS.

@/OscarPiastriUpdates: This is the first time in history a driver has voluntarily unfucked a team’s strategy mid-race. Historic behavior.

@/TireDegEnthusiast: McLaren really thought they could manipulate their drivers like chess pieces and Lando just said ‘no ❤️’

@/F1TeaSpiller: This isn’t just about the race. That “Oscar stood up for me this week” line? Oh, Lando’s making a STATEMENT.

@/PurpleSectorStan: The way McLaren’s radio was DEAD SILENT after Lando gave Oscar the place back. They knew they fumbled.

****

The apartment was dimly lit when Lando stepped inside, exhaustion settling deep in his bones. He set his bag down by the door, stretching out his shoulders as he made his way toward the living room. Lizzie was curled up on the couch, her laptop open in front of her, but her fingers weren’t moving across the keyboard. Instead, she was watching him.

"Hey," he said, offering a weary smile as he settled down beside her. Her gaze trailed over him from head to toe, taking in every little detail. He'd never quite appreciated how perceptive she was before.

“Hey,” she said softly.

He leaned back into the couch, closing his eyes and exhaling. For a few moments, silence filled the space between them. He could hear the hum of the laptop’s fan, the distant sound of cars from outside, the sound of their breathing.

Finally, Lizzie spoke. “You were brilliant this weekend.”

He cracked an eye open, looking over at her. She was watching him with something akin to awe, her expression almost reverent. He wasn’t quite sure what he did to warrant that look. “Was I?” he asked, trying for nonchalance but lacking even half of the energy to pull it off.

"McLaren 1-2," she told him softly, one hand reaching out to cup his jaw and he leant into her touch.

Yes. McLaren 1-2.

Not thanks to the team.

"I watched everything," Lizzie admitted quietly. "The radio. The interviews."

Lando inhaled sharply but sighed. "Figured you would," he told her.

She ran her thumb over his cheekbone, a simple touch that made his exhaustion recede just a fraction. "You were incredible," she repeated softly. "Even when you were getting screwed over on strategy and had every reason to be angry, you just..." She exhaled. "You handled it so well. You were incredible."

She hesitated for a moment. "Did...McLaren didn't have your back." It wasn't a question.

It shouldn't surprise him and it didn't. Liz was too smart for her own good. Of course, she would pick up on that. Just like the press had picked up on it, even when he hadn't outright said what it was, that had happened...people weren't dumb. They would put together the pieces into something resembling the truth.

Still.

Lando sighed, running a hand down his face. "Liz-"

She shook her head. "I thought...I don't know, that maybe they just wanted to take their time to handle things after Silverstone. But that's not what happened, is it?" she asked him softly.

Lando clenched his jaw, looking away. He didn't know how to explain it without making her feel worse.

Lizzie’s voice was quieter when she spoke again. “Did they… did they try to stop you from saying anything?”

He swallowed, trying to figure out how to answer. “I-” he stopped, biting his lip. Honesty was the best option, wasn’t it? He took a deep breath.

“They tried. It was...it was a bit of a clusterfuck.”

Lizzie’s breath hitched slightly. “And Oscar?”

Lando huffed a small, almost amused breath. “He blackmailed them.”

Lizzie blinked. “What?”

"He told them that if they didn't release a statement condemning the abuse, he'd go back to tweeting like he did for Alpine," he recounted with a snort.

Lizzie stared at him before bursting into a fit of giggles. She covered her mouth, trying to keep herself from laughing. Her laugh was like music to his ears and some of the tension left him.

He grinned at her. “Yeah. And you know the funniest part?”

Lizzie shook her head, biting down on the edge of her hand to suppress a laugh. She looked adorable like that, her cheeks flushed from her little bout of giggles, and he was struck with the sudden urge to wrap her up in a tight hug. So he did.

She melted into his arms, burying her face against his shoulder, her giggles muffled. It took her a moment to regain her composure, and she gave a little sigh, pulling back just enough to look at him. “What's the funniest part?”

Lando grinned, shaking his head a little. “It worked.”

Lizzie stared at him, mouth parted.

“He actually threatened a multimillionaire team with Twitter,” Lando snickered. “He threatened to unleash an online world war and they caved like that.” He snapped his fingers, making her laugh again.

Lizzie ducked her head, her shoulders shaking with suppressed snickers. “Oh my God.”

Lando laughed helplessly, pulling her back toward him, wrapping his arms around her waist. She was warm, her body pressed flush against his. He took a deep breath, the scent of her filling his nostrils.

Lizzie grew quieter and looked at him. "Did...did they...was it because of me?"

Lando felt something twist in his chest. “What?”

She swallowed. “Did all of this—did they hesitate because of me? Because I’m the one people were targeting?”

Lando immediately reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly. “No. No, Liz, don’t do that. Don’t make this your fault.”

She looked down at their intertwined fingers. “It just… feels like I made everything harder for you.”

Lando’s grip tightened. “You didn’t. They did. The people who went after you, the ones who treated you like shit—they’re the problem. Not you. Never you.”

Lizzie let out a shaky breath. “I just… I didn’t want this to be a thing. I didn’t want you to have to put out a statement or make it worse—”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Lando interrupted, his voice firmer now. “You shouldn’t have to explain yourself, or justify your existence, or convince people that you’re worthy of basic human decency. That’s not your job.”

Lizzie bit her lip, still looking uncertain.

Lando exhaled. “Liz, Oscar didn’t do that because of you. He did it because it was the right thing to do. Just like I spoke up because it was the right thing to do. And if McLaren didn’t have our backs, then that’s on them. Not on you.”

Lizzie nodded slowly, eyes shining. “I just hate that you had to fight for it.”

Lando lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “I’d do it again if I had to.”

Lizzie let out a shaky laugh. “You’re stubborn.”

“You love it.”

She sighed. “I really, really do.”

He shifted a bit, pulling her onto his lap without thinking about it. She came without a second thought, settling on his thighs with ease. He wrapped his arms around her waist lightly, feeling the warmth of her seep into his skin.

She let out another shaky exhale, letting her head drop against his collarbone. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, wanting to soothe the worry out of her.

She felt so small in his arms. It made him want to cling to her, to shield her from the world and all of its bullshit. The urge to protect her was almost overwhelming.

"I made something while you were gone," she admitted, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

Lando quirked an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Lizzie hesitated for a second before reaching behind one of the couch cushions. When she turned back, she was holding something small in her hands—something that made Lando blink in surprise before bursting into laughter.

It was a tiny crochet version of Oscar Piastri.

Complete with a McLaren race suit and a little black and orange Pirelli cap.

Lando took the tiny Oscar from her hands, holding it up to inspect it. “No way.”

Lizzie grinned, a little sheepish. “I was stress-crocheting. And, well… given everything, I thought it was fitting.”

Lando laughed again, shaking his head as he turned the little figure in his hands. “He’s gonna lose his mind when he sees this.”

Lizzie smirked. “You think?”

“Oh, definitely,” Lando said. “He’ll pretend he doesn’t care, but he’ll be secretly obsessed with it.”

Liz looked pleased with herself. She leaned in to get a better look at the little figure in his hand. "I think it might be my best one yet," she told him with a smile.

Lando grinned, gently placing the little crochet Oscar on the coffee table before pulling her close again. Lizzie went easily. She draped her arms around his shoulders, her legs resting on either side of his. She draped herself against him like she always does, her body melting into his.

It had been a long few weeks. But somehow, sitting there with Lizzie—holding something she made with care, thinking about the people who had stood by them—it didn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

***

Lando should have realised that it was going to happen one of these days.

So he wasn't that surprised, when the door to the McLaren Sim room swung open, and Oscar stepped in with a purpose. He barely acknowledged the engineers outside, his usual easygoing demeanor absent. The door clicked shut behind him, and the air in the room felt heavier.

Lando spun around in his seat, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. Oscar’s eyes pinned him to the spot, laser-focused on his every move. Lando couldn’t quite read the expression on his face, but there was something serious in the set of his jaw and the gleam in his gaze.

“Hey,” Lando said cautiously. “What’s up?”

Oscar folded his arms, leaning against the wall. "I heard the radio."

Lando shifted in his seat, feeling the back of his neck prickle. “Yeah. That.”

Oscar didn't say anything, just watched him with a hawk-like gaze. It was making Lando’s nerves itch.

He cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice even. "So you heard all of it then, huh?"

Oscar nodded, his eyes never leaving Lando’s face. "Yeah. Every word."

Silence fell between them, thick and heavy. Lando fidgeted with the hem of his hoodie, his fingers drumming an anxious rhythm against the fabric. He knew Oscar was waiting for him to say something, but the words felt stuck in his throat.

Lando ran a hand down his face. “Look, mate—”

“I didn’t do anything special.”

Lando blinked, caught off guard by how bluntly Oscar said it. “What?”

Oscar pushed off the wall, shaking his head. “You made it sound like I did something extraordinary, like backing you and Lizzie was some massive thing. But it wasn’t, Lando. It was just the right thing to do.”

Lando didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stared at the dashboard of the sim rig, feeling the weight of the last few weeks pressing on his shoulders. “Look,” he finally said, “whether you think it was special or not, you had my back. And I need you to know that I’d do the same for you. Always.”

Oscar scoffed, almost amused. “I know that.”

“No, I mean it,” Lando insisted, standing up. “What happened in Hungary? That’s not how I want to race you. If I gain a position on you, I want it to be because I overtook you—not because the team screwed you over.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a small smirk. “Are you worried you won’t be able to overtake me without a little help?” he asked, a mocking tone in his voice.

Lando shot him a look. “You know that’s not what I mean, you muppet.”

Oscar rolled his eyes. "You know, It wasn’t exactly hard. Lizzie’s great. And you…” Oscar hesitated before adding, “You’re my teammate. That means something.”

Lando swallowed, something settling in his chest. “Yeah. It does.”

A moment passed, quiet but not tense. Then Lando leaned over, rummaging in his bag. “Anyway, I got you something.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “If this is some weird way to thank me, I swear—”

Lando pulled out a red-and-white packet and tossed it over.

Oscar caught it, glancing down. Tim Tams. His eyes immediately lit up. “No way.”

Lando grinned. “Figured your maiden win deserved a proper celebration.”

Oscar inspected the packet like it was the best gift he’d ever received. “Alright. You’re forgiven for embarrassing me on the radio.”

Lando smirked. “Knew that’d do the trick.”

Oscar was already tucking the Tim Tams under his arm when Lando pulled out something else.

“Oh, and—Lizzie made you this.”

He handed over a tiny crochet Oscar, decked out in a McLaren race suit with a perfectly detailed little Pirelli cap.

Oscar stared at it. “She made this?”

Lando nodded. “Yeah. She crochets when she’s stressed. Said she needed something to focus on.”

Oscar turned the tiny figure over in his hands, running a thumb over the stitches. It was absurdly detailed—clearly made with care.

“She really didn’t have to,” he muttered.

Lando shrugged. “You didn’t have to either. But here we are.”

Oscar glanced up, expression unreadable, before slipping the crochet figure into his pocket. “Well,” he said, smirking slightly, “at least I got Tim Tams out of it.”

Lando rolled his eyes. “Never doing anything nice for you again.”

Oscar tore open the packet, popping a biscuit into his mouth. “Sure, mate. Whatever you say.”

***

YouTube Transcript - Belgian Grand Prix Fan Stage 

Interviewer: "Lando, Oscar, after Hungary, there was a lot of speculation about your dynamic, especially with the radio messages and post-race comments. Can you clarify—was there any tension?"

Lando: [shrugging] "We talked. We’re fine."

Oscar: [grinning] "Yeah, Lando even got me Tim Tams and a tiny crochet Oscar, so I think that settles it."

Interviewer: [laughing] "A tiny crochet Oscar?"

Lando: [smirking] "Yeah. Well, technically, Liz got it for him. She crochets when she’s stressed, and I guess Hungary was stressful."

Oscar: [holding up a hand] "For the record, it’s actually very impressive craftsmanship. It even has little details on the race suit."

Lando: [mock serious] "Yeah, she put more effort into it than McLaren did into our strategy."

Oscar: [choking on a laugh] "Jesus, Lando."

Interviewer: [laughing] "Okay, so no hard feelings?"

Lando: [firmly] "Oscar deserved that win."

Oscar: [grinning] "And now I have a tiny yarn version of myself to prove it."

Interviewer: "Alright, good to know things are all settled!"

Comments: 

@/F1Fanatic99: Crochet Oscar is probably better at strategy calls than McLaren. Just saying.

@/GridGossip: Someone better crochet a tiny Lando next so they can be besties IRL and in yarn form.

@/WheelToWheel: If Oscar doesn’t start bringing Crochet Oscar to every race, we’re gonna have a problem.

@/McLarenUpdates: Crochet Oscar is just proof that Lizzie is the best thing to ever happen to the McLaren garage.

@/EpilepsyAwareness: Imagine explaining to someone in 2018 that F1 Fandom would one day be obsessed with a crocheted version of Oscar Piastri.

@/SilverstoneStan: Crochet Oscar is a cultural reset. Every driver needs a tiny yarn version of themselves.

@/SpeedDemon19: New F1 tradition: every race winner gets a crochet version of themselves. Make it happen, FIA.

@/McLarenSuperFan: The fact that Lizzie made that is so cute. She really said 'supporting my boyfriend and his bestie through yarn.

@/MaxsOrangeArmy: Oscar got a trophy AND a tiny crochet version of himself? Peak career moment.

@/PitStopChaos: Lando’s next merch drop better include tiny crochet drivers or I’m rioting.

@/ChaosInTurn1: Lizzie is out here supporting Oscar more than McLaren did. Queen behavior.

@/F1Wifey: McLaren strategists should fear the WAGs, they have more team loyalty than half the pit wall.

@/WheelToWheelGirl: The fact that Lizzie crocheted through the McLaren strategy disaster is sending me. How much yarn do you think she used during Hungary?

@/RacingLogic: Oscar acting like a proud dad over his little crochet Oscar is the most wholesome thing to come out of this entire mess.

@/ToxicMcLarenFan: I NEED TO SEE THE TINY CROCHET OSCAR, PLEASE, OSCAR, I AM BEGGING.

@/SilverstoneElite: McLaren PR scrambling to figure out how to monetize Crochet Oscar as we speak.

@/PaddockInsider: Not Lando shading McLaren’s strategy while handing out handcrafted emotional support Oscars.

@/PitLaneDrama: The way Oscar is so proud of his tiny crochet self… we need a picture IMMEDIATELY.

@/FIAConspiracyTheories: Okay but McLaren better start strategizing as well as Lizzie crochets.

@/FastAndFearless: Petition for Lizzie to start selling crochet F1 drivers because I NEED ONE. @/McLarenPanicDepartment: Lando: ‘She crochets when she’s stressed.’ How much yarn does she go through dating him???@/MaraForPresident: LIZZIE MADE OSCAR A TINY CROCHET OSCAR??? SHE’S THE REAL MVP.

[togament]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐓𝐈𝐏𝐒𝐘. ume, sakura, suo, kaji, togame.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: mentions of alcohol, drinking it, Ume’s cuteness and extreme softness, mega warning for Ume’s I kinda got ahead of myself again (it’s longer than the others ;;), AFAB!reader, NSFW FOR TOGAME AND HIS FILTHY MOUTH, small argument in Kaji's (but he makes up for it, I swear.)

𝐔𝐦𝐞.

- responsible, of course. He doesn’t drink and would most likely be the one cleaning up after everyone when they’re wasted, handing out cold bottles of electrolytes and glasses of water. Possibly the one passing around properly proportioned drinks so he could keep an eye on everyone, handing out snacks too. The absolute best Mama Hen (Papa Rooster?) you could ask for in a house party. But if you’re the only ones awake? He sneaks in a drink or two with you. An emotional drunk. Prepare to sniffle with him as he practically thanks you for being around, for being the absolute best, for being his best friend, for making him fall in love with yo—

“You’re the best, y’know that?” He sips his drink, nursing a bottle of electrolytes in his other hand. He says it so suddenly, so abruptly, you think you misheard it. You scoot closer to your best friend, arms pressed against each other as you both lean against the wall, facing your knocked out friends. With your cheek pressed onto his shoulder, you shake your head. “Should be telling you that, Ume. The party was a success because of you. Hiragi’s parent’s antiques live to see another day.” With that, he nudges you gently with a chuckle. “C’mon let me shower you with praise, alright? Listen.” Sounding a bit serious now, he has your full attention.

He threads his fingers through yours and he squeezes once. You squeeze back. Seeing his reddened knuckles from recent scuffles, you raise your intertwined fingers to your lips to press kisses onto each knuckle as he speaks. A dusting of pink ever present on his cheeks. You swear you could hear his heart beating at the same rhythm as yours is.

“I…” He pauses, tearing his eyes away from you for a moment before he looks into yours once more. Determined. Eyebrows slightly furrowed. “I think I love you—“, another pause, he shakes his head. You squeeze his hand in return to steady him and he gives you a smile you’ve never seen him give you before. Your heart’s beating double time now. “I—I know I love you. I do. More than just a friend, a companion. I know you might not feel the same way, maybe you see me as family and that’s fine but I just—“ “I love you too, idiot.” You interrupt his overthinking before continuing, “Always have. More than a friend, actually.”

If your friends weren’t a few feet from you both he’d scoop you up and twirl you around. Hell, if he had a tail he’d be wagging it nonstop by now. Your hands, now sweaty, are still intertwined. He’s practically beaming with sunlight, ready to burst. While you’re basking in it. Your sun. Your sun.

You both kissed each other that night with the taste of cheap whiskey and electrolytes on your lips.

𝐒𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐫𝐚.

- Asian glow, meet Sakura. Sakura puts the Asian glow to shame, my guy. He’s got a tomato for a head when he drinks. You’re not even touching or kissing him, he’s just… RED. Doesn’t like getting plastered but when he does get a couple of drinks in? He’s screaming for you every second, looking for you, needing you around him. (Nirei’s sprinting to look for you, Suo’s making Sakura drink enough water, Ume’s preparing a cold bottle of pocari sweat for him.) What normally would make Sakura run away screaming would now make him actually, fully accept it. You can feel him melt into you, pressing his cheek to yours. He’s a very clingy drunk. The others don’t point it out as much. They don’t want to poke the (extremely, extremely clingy) bear.

“Where is she???” He literally screams into the crowd, getting on his tippy toes and hopping over heads just to get a glance of you hopefully walking towards him. Nirei’s already lost in the group of people, weaving through them to get to you. Thankfully, you’re just at the kitchen whipping up a couple more drinks when Nirei finally found you. “He’s at it again, huh?” You say as you take a swig from your drink, looking at a messy haired Nirei. He looks like he went through hell and back. “Y-yeah. I think you should go. He’s been groaning for you nonstop-“ Nirei then guides you through the crowd, hand on your wrist so you wouldn’t get lost.

He pulls you towards Sakura whose now lounging on the couch. You both were hoping for a relieved Sakura but instead are met with your bicolor haired lover staring daggers into Nirei and his steady grip on your wrist. Nirei immediately lets go and as he does, Sakura pulls you into his lap causing your drink to spill a little, dribbling down your cheek and your neck. “What the hell Saku—“ you’re interrupted by him licking a strip up your neck, lapping at the spilled drink. His hands grow more possessive as they hold you closer to him, kneading your flesh through your clothes.

“Missed ya,” he mutters into your neck, nuzzling his nose into it like a kitten would. “Where’d ya run off to? Been looking everywhere for you, baby.” he’s a completely different person when he’s tipsy, clingy and touchy, not really caring if your friends see him practically claiming his spot as YOUR lover. “Went to make some drinks. Don’t tell me you need me with you all the time.” You tease him. While he’d normally blush and stammer at that, he’s now pressing kisses into your cheek, smiling into each one.

“Mhm. Need ya all the damn time, angel. Don’t leave.”

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓.

𝐒𝐮𝐨.

- doesn’t drink (he doesn’t eat either so—) He really just doesn’t like drinking alcohol. He gets the appeal, sure. He could go for a couple of glasses, sure. He could maybe finish 2 bottles of whiskey by himself and not feel a thing, SURE. But he doesn’t like drinking it. He’s more of like a casual enjoyer, maybe having a finger or two of whiskey on the rocks with friends. Always the one cleaning up after them (Nirei) too. But when it’s just the both of you though, it’s a different story. Sure you can’t tell if he’s plastered or not from the get go but there’s a tell. He’s more… open with his emotions.

“You look gorgeous in that dress, my dove,” you turn slowly to your lover who’s eyeing you down from beside you. You’re both at one of the booths of the speakeasy you frequent, away from curious eyes. By the way he’s looking at you, you feel like he’s undressing you with his eyes almost. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows dryly. Is he blushing? You can’t tell under the dim lighting, “Absolutely—gorgeous,” he ghosts his fingers along your curves, his gaze following the invisible path he’s drawn out. Making sure to go extra, extra slow around your derrière before he pulls his hand away to take a swig of his drink.

“What’s gotten into you tonight? Drunk already?” You say while you reach over to straighten his suit out, trying your damndest not to let your growing arousal show. You swear you can feel the booth heating up. “Drunk off the alcohol? Oh, dearest no. Off of you, however? Well…” He’s staring at you from over his rocks glass. The ice clinks as he puts it down on the table.

“How could I not? I could drink you in all fucking night.” There’s that tell. There’s the swearing. You pause, meeting his heavily lidded gaze. You swallow. “Care to give me a taste, dove?”

You feel his fingers creep up your leg and you part them so willingly. Nobody’ll peek into your booth. Not with your lover around.

𝐊𝐚𝐣𝐢.

- Lightweight to Average drinker. He’s a sleepy drunk but he doesn’t want anyone seeing him in such a vulnerable state so he often opts to bail or not drink at all. Most of the time he bails though. Not about that social drinking life. Only you could manage to convince him to come with though. You’re always met with the tiniest amount of resistance but you can manage, right? (He’s got a soft spot for you. Of course he’d go. You don’t have to ask twice. He just likes seeing you pout when he says no the first time. It’s cute.) Still, don’t get him drunk please don’t—oh no he’s got a bottle in his hand. He’s guzzling it. Oh no. Ohhh no.

You’re in Hiragi’s bed, hidden under the covers with your lover’s arms wrapped around your waist and his face resting on your shoulder now fast asleep. How’d you both find yourselves here? Well, first, Kaji ended up breaking a couple of glasses (he swears it was an accident), then almost started a couple of fights (you know how he is with his mouth), then tried napping on the couch with you while everybody’s drinking (he was complaining about the noise but… it’s a party, Kaji.) Hiragi, thankfully, allowed you both to hole up in his room for a little while to sober up. Locked inside with a couple of bottles of pocari sweat (care of Umemiya!), you’re intertwined now.

You sigh, flicking your boyfriend’s forehead gently, “idiot,” he winces, tightening his grip around your waist to pull you closer. Thank god he’s mellower now. “Ow—shit! What’d you do that for?” He rubs his forehead on your cheek, HIS cheeks slightly blushing from the alcohol. “You shouldn’t have drunk too much-“ “Well you brought me here what was I supposed to d-“ “Oh I don’t know, not drink an entire bottle in one sit—“ You feel his lips against yours, the tiny argument now forgotten. You can taste the alcohol and some sweetness from his lollipop from earlier. Then you hear something you never thought you’d hear fall from his mouth willingly.

“…sorry.” Huh. You angle away to take a proper look at him. He only grumbles and hides deeper into your neck, using the covers as a shield against from you. He’s acting so needy and soft. If he wasn’t so tipsy you would have pounced on him to pepper kisses along his cheeks. You attempt to pull the blanket down but he’s holding it so tightly. “Say that again, baby? You’re what?” You can’t hide the smile from your lips but then he pinches your side causing you to yelp. “Y’heard me the first time.” Rolling your eyes, you nuzzle into his touch. “C’mon just a tiny one? The tiniest little sowwy? Fow me?” You whisper and you’re only met with three kisses on your forehead.

“I love you. Sorry.” You smile, bringing up Hiragi’s comfortable blanket over your sleepy bodies.

“Love you too, idiot.”

𝐓𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞.

Is an absolute lightweight so he ends up being a sleepy drunk or doesn’t drink at all. But with you around and he’s had maybe a drink and a half in his system? He’s absolutely feral. So touchy, SO so SOOOOO horny when he’s got even the slightest amount of alcohol in his system to get him tipsy. He’s touching you, caressing your face, your arms, your ass (if you’d allow him to. The man understands boundaries.) While he’s normally so soft spoken around you, teasing you in his own silly, dorky way, he’s a different man when he's tipsy. His vocabulary is a different beast. Sloppy and direct. His 6’2” frame and entire weight practically leaning onto you for support on Hiragi’s family couch — to some he looks as though he’s dozing off. It’s anything BUT that. He’s whispering the dirtiest, raunchiest things into your ear, teasing you with that deep voice of his. He knows what he’s doing. You like it, of course.

“I’m so fucking hard right now, doll—god it’s throbbing.” He whines softly into your neck, breathing so heavily you swear his body’s quivering. That voice does things to you and he KNOWS it. “Wanna fuck yet throat. Have my cum spillin’ down yer mouth, yer chest….fuck—y’put a spell on me, didn’t ya? Makin’ me wanna fuck all the damn time.” He ends it with a chuckle, peppering slow, loving kisses along your neck, clearly doesn’t care if anybody sees you both now. “Y’know, when yer not around, I fuck my fist to the thought of ya, of yer ass bouncing on me, of yer pussy dripping into my fingers. God I wanna fuck ya so badly right now—“ You can’t help it. You cross your legs to have some relief and you shift your weight slightly, feeling your throbbing clit pressed in between.

“Crossing your legs like that—yer getting off of this aren’t you? Wanna fuck me too huh?” He whispers, drawing it out slowly with a slight purr.

You nod and you can feel him perk up a little. He eases up as he stands slowly, pulling you up with him. He’s leading you down the hallway, away from the prying eyes of your peers. They’re all too busy to care where the both of you are headed.

“There’s a vacant room ‘round back. Hiragi wouldn’t mind, wouldn’t he?”

a/n: huuurrrr pulled this out of my bum I hope you like it omg I literally wrote Togame's half asleep asjdk also feeling very bad for Hiragi and his house. kaji part dedicated to @kajibunny and our late morning rambles btw ohoho i mahal na mahal u come get your man!!!!

[thefirsthogokage]

Fuck AMPTP and the bullshit going on. I'm tired, might not do this well:

(link to article in above picture) From The Article

Receiving positive feedback from Wall Street since the WGA went on strike May 2, Warner Bros Discovery, Apple, Netflix, Amazon, Disney, Paramount and others have become determined to “break the WGA,” as one studio exec blatantly put it.

To do so, the studios and the AMPTP believe that by October most writers will be running out of money after five months on the picket lines and no work.

“The endgame is to allow things to drag on until union members start losing their apartments and losing their houses,” a studio executive told Deadline. Acknowledging the cold-as-ice approach, several other sources reiterated the statement. One insider called it “a cruel but necessary evil.”

The studios and streamers’ next think financially strapped writers would go to WGA leadership and demand they restart talks before what could be a very cold Christmas. In that context, the studios and streamers feel they would be in a position to dictate most of the terms of any possible deal.

[Image IDs: Twitter thread by David Slack posted July 12th, 2023 that reads in totality:

And right on cue, here’s the inevitable Deadline article claiming that the AMPTP and their CEO bosses are ready to wait us out and let us “go broke.”

They’re not. They can’t. This studio propaganda, and here’s why.

In the increasingly mega-merged and hedgefundified Hollywood, these companies live or die on their quarterly earnings reports. It only takes one bad quarter for their stock price to plunge, putting the company and the CEO’s job in jeopardy.

But their stock prices are holding steady, right? Right. For now. Because our industry is a pipeline that starts with writers. The TV and movies they’re releasing now are shows we started making for them 4-12 quarters ago. But what happens when that pipeline runs dry?

What happens is they run out of product. No new shows in streaming to drive and sustain subscribers. No new shows in broadcast and ad-supported to bring in ad revenue.

No shows, no money.

No money, bad earnings report.

Bad earnings report, bye-bye stock price. Bye-bye CEO.

After 70+ days with no writers to create their product for them, the pipeline is running dry.

Their stock price isn’t tanking yet. But if they don’t make a deal with us, it will.

And they know it.

If they make a deal soon, they might be able to weather it. Stretch out releases. Rush some new stuff through.

But the longer they keep us out, the longer that pipeline runs dry, the more unavoidable a catastrophic dip in new high-quality shows becomes.

And they know it.

So yeah, the studios are planting articles in the trades that make it sound like they’re so determined not to pay us the 0.02% of company revenues we’re asking for that they’re willing to hold out forever.

Bullshit.

I’m sure the AMPTP bosses would love to break our union. But they love their jobs more. They love money more. They can’t make that money without us.

And they know it.

Ignore the trades, walk the line, stand together, and win. #WGAStrong

/End ID]

Bonus: John Rogers' Reaction

[Image ID: A tweet from John Rogers that he posted July 12th, 2023 that reads:

I was trying to be cool and professional about this strike, but this AMPTP “we want to drive them to homelessness” shit means I’m going to be dug in at WB Gate 4 like Hiroo Onada. They’re gonna have to send @ellenstutzman with a bullhorn to order me out of the bushes.

The second image is Ellen Stutzman's Twitter bio that says:

Cheif Negotiator for WGA MBA, Assistant Executive Director, Writers Guild of America, West; Cornell ILR and UCLA Anderson alum. Views are my own.

/End ID]

EDIT: Please see the update on this HERE

[zepskies]

Against the Wind - Epilogue

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

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

AN: Dropping this a bit early since tomorrow's a holiday!~ But here we're finally getting to the unplanned epilogue for ATW! The claim bond in this is not unlike the soulmate AU I just wrote for Beau. Guess I have a type on this stuff. 😂 Get ready for some family feels! 🥰

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Posted on Patreon: 4/13/2025

Word Count: 4.2K

Tags/Warnings: Fluff and more fluff, smidge of angst, hint of jealous alpha Dean, tinge of spice~

🧡 Series Masterlist

Epilogue: Shelter

"Someone told me there's a girl out there, with love in her eyes and flowers in her hair..."

You’ve given him a new reason to love Zeppelin IV, Dean thinks. He sneaks another glance at you. The two of you haven’t said anything for almost an hour on this two-day road trip, now almost at an end. But when you notice his gaze on you, the smile you give him is golden.

It makes him feel a little boyish and dumb, like he’s a teenager getting caught staring at his crush. His face starts to get warm, his lips curving upward, so he clears his throat and focuses back on the stretch of road ahead.

The scenery has turned rural, with stretches of wheat-yellow grass and patches of forest on either side of the gray, gravel strip. Out here in Northern California, it’s not so bad as its southern menace—cities like L.A., San Francisco, and Sacramento. Dean can roll the windows down out here and not be assaulted by the mingling scents of exhaust, vegan Tex Mex, overpriced cologne, and broken fucking dreams. 

“Almost there,” Dean says, lowering the radio a bit. He points to a big curve in the road up ahead. “If I remember right, we’ve just got this stretch to go.”

You suck in a subtle, but noticeable breath.

“Great.”

Your voice is a little high. Dean raises a brow at you. He concentrates for a moment to suss you out, and he feels a thread of your anxiety through the bond. It’s been just over two weeks since he claimed you, but in that time living such close quarters, practically breathing each other’s air day in and day out, he hasn’t just been getting to know you a hell of a lot more. He’s also starting to understand this private WIFI connection you guys have going on.

Sam tried to explain it to him once, what it feels like after the claim.

“It’s like the world just…shifts on its axis a bit,” he said. “Your awareness expands. You’re connected, in a way that’s kind of…well, it’s hard to explain.”

“Okay, Obi Wan,” Dean chortled. He eyed his brother with amusement, but also with a slight shake of his head. The guy looked fucking twitterpated.

Sam shot him a wry look. “All right, Dean. Just wait. If you ever take that step with an omega, you’ll see. It changes everything.”

Dean held in another snort of laughter. If? Fat fucking chance.

He had no illusions about his life. Not at this point. They both knew he was probably going to die in this bunker, or more likely, on one of these solo hunts he’d started pulling. Sam was busy packing, ready to move out and settle down with Eileen, his mate, his omega—ready to leave his old life behind, and his brother along with it.

Dean was happy for him though. Of fucking course, he was.

He raised the glass of cheap whiskey to his lips. 

Dean considers you with half a smile, reaching over smooth a hand along your thigh.

“You okay, ‘Mega?” he asks.

Your lower lip gets pulled between your teeth. You nibble on it, even as you slip your hand over his. You turn to him with a question in your eyes. He already knows the answer, even before you ask.

“I know this was my idea, but you still think this is… It’s not too soon?” you ask.

Dean shakes his head. “Nah. He’s gonna like you, sweetheart. They all will.”

“Oh, yeah? How do you know?”

He tosses you a grin. “Because I like you. And I’m an excellent judge of character.”

He punctuates his point with a kiss pressed to the back of your hand. Your lips tug at a smile.

Mission accomplished.

“Don’t you think you’re a little biased?” you tease.

He shrugs, but his crinkly-eyed grin says it all. You settle back in your seat and relax a little better for the rest of the ride. 

You can’t help it. Your anxiety swells back to life as the Impala pulls up the slight hill into a U-shaped driveway, rolling to a stop at a modest ranch-style house. It’s mostly made of rust-colored brick, a white roof with pale gray tiles. Even the walk-up to the porch is lined with brick and white stones. You also notice a little green toddler bike lying on its side in the front yard, where it seems to have dented a sprinkler.

You tread carefully up the pavement on your crutches.

Yeah, your ankle is unfortunately still busted; fractured, to be exact. You’ll be wearing this big ol’ boot on your right foot for two more months at least, but Dean has a hand resting comfortably on the small of your back, a support you appreciate. He gives you one last knowing smile, his thumb brushing your spine.

Then he knocks on the door. His brother and his wife know you and Dean are coming, but it’s still a little nerve-wracking, now knowing what you know about your mate and his family. You know about monsters and terrible, evil things mostly put to rest. You know that Sam and Dean Winchester have quite literally saved the world, more than once.

But it’s not just that. You’re about to meet the only family Dean has left in this world. What if they take one look at you and know you’re not like them? What if they think you’re not enough for someone like Dean?

“Hey,” he says, his deep voice washing over you.

You glance up at your mate, biting the inside of your cheek. Can he feel your nervousness through the bond? You try to bottle it all back up where it belongs, but you’re not really sure how to do that yet. You don’t know if that will change the longer you get used to the soul bond thrumming in your chest, but right now, it feels impossible to hide anything from this green-eyed mountain of an alpha.

Dean shoots you a wink.

The door opens. An even taller lumberjack takes up the entire doorway with his broad shoulders, a light beard down to his neck, and longer, darker hair almost brushing his shoulders. He brightens with a smile when he takes in you and Dean, especially his brother.

He chuckles and pulls Dean into a grappling hug. Dean’s smile is ear-to-ear as he wraps his arms tight around his little brother’s frame, thumping his back with a widespread hand.

“There he is,” Dean says. “But what’d I tell you about that shag carpet on your face? You look like a fucking hippie.”

Sam rolls his eyes. Just as he’s about to answer, no doubt with a dry retort, the patter of little feet come sprinting over, and something knocks heavy into Dean’s bowlegged knees. He looks down and breaks into a new smile, even warmer than the last.

“Hey, little man,” Dean says, bending low to scoop the two-year-old into his arms. The toddler giggles at being raised as high up as his dad carries him.

“Unc!” Dean Jr. exclaims, raising small hands to Dean Sr.’s prickly cheeks. Dean grins and settles the boy on his side.

“You remember me?” he asks.

“‘Course he does,” Sam says, rubbing his son’s back. “He’s always hearing stories of his Uncle Dean. I show him the old pictures too.”

The brothers share a look, one that communicates without speaking. Dean’s is bittersweet and sorry. Sorry it took so long for him to get back here. Sorry for what he’s probably missed. But Sam’s smile isn’t judging, just happy to see him. He turns to you though, apologetically.

“I’m sorry, getting carried away here. Hi, how are you?” he asks.

Dean finally notices you keeping to the side, watching them with a soft smile of your own. You step forward to shake Sam’s hand, carefully taking yours off your right crutch. Dean clears his throat and moves to slip his arm back around your waist, not just for the physical support, but for solidarity.

After you introduce yourselves, Dean finally chimes in.

“Sammy, this is my mate,” he says. The pride and warmth in his eyes are evident as he squeezes your shoulder. Your face heats in a blush, but when you look over at Sam, all you see is a sincere welcome.

“Yeah, I was glad to hear someone finally tied him down,” he says. But then, his good humor sobers, becoming more earnest. “I also heard about your dad. I’m really sorry.”

You shutter up at that one. You’re both surprised and unsurprised, knowing Dean must’ve told him the full story of how you two met, but the mention of your father still makes your lungs tighten. You manage to smile a little.

“Thank you,” you reply. Dean squeezes your shoulder again, his thumb brushing your neck. You lean into him a little, bringing you face to face with Sam’s mini-me, who still hangs on Dean’s shoulder while he stares at you. “Mini Dean” has those big brown eyes that you saw in all the pictures on Dean’s phone, now with shaggier hair and a sweet-as-pie grin.

“Hi,” Mini Dean says shyly.

“Hey, buddy! You’ve almost got your whole fist in your mouth, huh?” you tease, stroking the toddler’s wrist. He looks a little unsure of you, but he reaches out and grabs at a piece of your hair. You let him do it.

“Ooh, you caught me, huh?”

He giggles, especially when you playfully poke your tongue out at him.

Dean’s smirking hard enough to make his cheeks hurt. His gaze lifts from watching you with his nephew and lands on Sam’s softer smile.

Sam welcomes you all into the house, where Eileen finally comes to meet you all. She looks a little frazzled, but still beautiful. Her dark brown eyes take you in before she greets you kindly. She and Sam look just as casual as you and Dean, jeans and flannels or comfortable sweaters.

Lots of flannel, you notice, with your mate and his brother.

“Sorry, was working on dinner,” she says, with an embarrassed smile. “Hope you guys like burnt chili.”

“Honestly I don’t think you can burn chili,” you say, as she leads you all further into the house. “It just enhances the smokiness.”

“Smells good to me,” Dean says. “And right on time, too.” The mention of food is already making his stomach rumble to life. You toss him a look over your shoulder, smiling in amusement. You reach back at pat your man’s stomach.

“You’re always ready to go,” you tease. He grabs onto your hand. It makes you stop for a moment, since you kind of need that hand for your crutch.

“Got that right, baby. Locked and loaded,” he whispers suggestively near your ear. Your eyes widen. You shush him with a laugh, covering his nephew’s ears. He’s incorrigible.

“Already corrupting my son, huh?” Sam says. His tone is censuring, but still amused when he takes Dean Jr. off his brother’s hands.

“Aw, who else is gonna educate the kid?” Dean jokes.

“He’s two,” Sam says dryly. “Maybe wait until he’s in preschool, at least.”

Eileen had nothing to worry about, and not only because your mate always inhales his food (and seconds and thirds) like it’s his last meal. She even made cornbread to go along with the chili.

“From a box,” she’d said demurely.

Regardless, there’s nothing quite like a good hearty bowl of the stuff with a beer and nice, warm, buttery cornbread. Sam even bought a Dutch apple pie for dessert, sending his brother a knowing look when he brings it out.

You all talk and laugh and share stories throughout dinner, even after the conversation moves from the dining table to the living room, where Dean Jr. takes turns getting doted on. He starts out in Eileen’s lap with one of his toys, but then he goes to his name’s sake, even giving Dean an action figure to engage him in battle.

After a while though, the boy starts to get sleepy. He tuckers out on the couch between you and Dean, half splayed in your lap with his head resting in the crook of your arm, while Dean has his sock-covered feet.

“Okay, we should probably get that one officially to bed,” Sam says, jutting a chin over at his son in amusement.

You feel special that the toddler already felt comfortable enough with you to literally fall asleep in your arms, but you glance down at his head with a smile.

“Aw, I’m okay being his body pillow. I’ll just sleep sitting up,” you say, laughing.

Eileen smiles and shakes her head. She signs as she says, “He’s already got you wrapped around his finger.”

“One hundred percent,” you giggle. You grab at his little feet, gently so he doesn’t wake up. “I mean, look at these! I just wanna eat ‘em.”

You look up and happen to meet Dean’s gaze. He hides a grin behind his right hand from where he’s reclined in his corner of the couch. His left hand holds a beer perched on his jean-clad thigh. His eyes, however, roam over you and his nephew with a certain gleam. A blush warms your cheeks.

Eileen eventually takes the little one off your hands. You playfully pout as he leaves you, but it gives you the chance to get up and stretch—and find the bathroom. Sam and Dean are left to sit in a comfortable silence that lingers, just until Dean inhales a deep breath.

“Gotta hand it to you, Sammy. You ain’t done half bad,” he says.

Sam quirks a brow, beginning to smile. “I could say the same to you.”

Dean’s lips twitch, but he stares down at his beer. Something uncertain passes through his eyes.

“How much have you told her?” Sam asks.

“Enough,” Dean replies, after a pause. “More than I fucking wanted to, really. It all just kind of…happened.”

Sam’s mouth quirks at the corners. “Stuck in a cabin for two weeks. Hell of a way to get through the get to know you, phase.”

At that, Dean smirks. “Yeah well, after the heavy shit, we weren’t doing all that much talking.”

Sam sighs, rolling his eyes. But he’s happy for his brother—happy and relieved. Dean’s wellbeing has been a weight on Sam’s mind ever since he left the bunker. No matter how many phone calls and texts, some going unanswered for longer stretches than Sam would like, part of him has felt the familiar guilt of starting over, even though he logically knew he wasn’t doing anything wrong. He just underestimated, again, how hard it would be for Dean.  

Hell, he felt he had to hike up to a cabin in the damn mountains just for something different, a change of pace from drinking alone in the bunker. Sam wonders if Dean was embracing the solitude at that point, or if he was even planning to come back down the mountain.

And despite Jack’s promise to be “hands off,” Sam also wonders if their friend Upstairs had a hand in how you fell while hiking that day. Injuring your ankle. The blizzard. Had it all literally been the perfect storm?

Sam will never voice the thought out loud though. He’s just grateful…even if it is strange as hell to see Dean this way. All night, the man had never strayed very far from your side. He’s been there to reach out a helping hand to you whenever you needed to get up from your seat, raising yourself on your crutches.

And the way you two look at each other. Sometimes it’s just a check-in, a brief touch, and a confirmation. Sometimes it looks like an inside joke, with Dean’s suggestively waggling brows and signature smirk. (You usually look away first, as if fighting a blush.) But sometimes, it’s like a whole conversation passes between you and Dean in just that one moment.

Is that what Sam’s own bond looks like with his mate?

Probably, he thinks with a smile.

“It changed everything, right?” Sam asks.

Finding her. Claiming her. Dean understands what his brother’s getting at with those unspoken words. His gaze rises from his beer. He stares back at Sam and shakes his head.

“Yeah,” he agrees, however reluctantly.

It’s a heavy fucking weight of responsibility, with the lives they’ve led and the enemies they’ve made along the way, but Dean can’t bring himself to regret it. There’s too much of you in his heart already, filling those jagged, frayed, broken parts with smooth muscle and sinew, and new red life blood pumping again.

What he said to you that night still rings true.

It’s too damn late to let go.

That night, Dean falls asleep before you. His light snorts fill the guest room, and after almost a whole day on the road, you’d love nothing more than to join him in dreamland. You’re not sure what’s stopping you. It could be that it usually takes you a while to fall asleep in a new place and an unfamiliar bed, but it could also be your overactive mind still racing with today, and possibilities of tomorrow.

Sam and Eileen had offered for you and Dean to stay for a few days before you continued on your way, or even a week if you wanted. After that, Dean had agreed to take you home and meet your mom. After that though, what? Your job hadn’t been so understanding when you called and told them you’d gotten snowed in a cabin in Montana of all places, with no access to cell service or internet for almost a month.

So yeah, they let you go. It wasn’t a job you were in love with, and of course, meeting Dean is worth more to you than any job…but it had been paying your bills, even while living at your mother's house to help her after your dad's death.

I’ll figure it out…we’ll figure it out, you remind yourself. You’re eventually planning to go back with Dean to that bunker he’s been talking about. At least it’s in Kansas, somewhat close to your sister. From there, you’ll both have figure out the job thing, and potentially the house thing. You’re not totally sure about living in a bunker. 

These thoughts keep you up long enough that you heave a sigh and slip out of bed. A drink of water (and a few minutes of mindless pacing) might settle you a little. Somehow, the last thing you expected upon entering the kitchen was to run into Sam boiling water on the stove. He looks over his shoulder at you in surprise.

“Uh, hey,” he says.

“Heyyy,” you give an awkward wave. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Haven’t tried yet,” he admits. “Dean woke up about an hour after we set him down. He’s been finnicky, but finally got him to lay back down.”

At first you’re confused, until it hits you.

“Ah, you mean Mini Dean,” you say, smiling. “Aw, poor baby. He’s at that stage, huh?”

He chuckles wryly. “It’s called Terrible Twos for a reason. Want some tea?” He gestures at the mug he has waiting on the counter.

You agree, thanking him before you sit down at the two-seater breakfast nook in the kitchen. He pours you a mug as well and sits across from you. Silence threatens to reign between you, but you eventually break it.

“Thank you, by the way. For having me here too,” you say. “I know you weren’t exactly expecting me.”

Sam breaks into a smile. “Honestly, I’m the one who should probably be thanking you.”

You blink in surprise.

“Me? I haven’t done anything.” Your lips pull at a smile though, your fingertip tracing the rim of your mug. “Dean’s the one who took care of me. Still is, really. He’s the one who saved me, more than once.”

Sam tilts his head in acknowledgement. “Yeah, I don’t doubt that. But, uh, something tells me you saved him a little too.”

You look up at that, mostly in disbelief. You gave Dean a headache from the beginning. You’d needed his help all the time with your damn ankle. You poked your nose into his business, invaded his privacy, almost got him killed hunting that monster. What was it? Ah, right. A fucking Wendigo.

After all of it, he came back to you. He brought you closure for your father’s death, and held you when you fell apart. And when you kissed him, asked him with your whole heart to let you in, he broke through his own reservations to do it.

“Even if I did, it probably doesn’t even put a dent in what I owe him,” you say after a moment. Tears sting in your eyes, though you try to blink them away, taking in a subtle breath to try and steady yourself.

Sam’s eyes soften. He reaches across the small table and lays a hand on your arm.

“Trust me. I think he’d say you don’t owe him a damn thing,” he says.

You utter a laugh, though you try to keep it quiet. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

You’re about to thank him for real when a low, gravel-filled growl echoes through the kitchen. You and Sam raise your heads to the doorway, where Dean stands in a plain shirt and a pair of sweatpants. His hair is mussed in sleep, but his face is firm with a tired frown. His gaze is homed in on Sam’s hand resting on your arm.

Sam slowly takes his hand back, quirking a brow at his brother.

“Alpha?” you carefully ask your mate.

Dean blinks a few times once your voice registers in his mind. He seems to come back to himself, shaking his head a bit. He clears his throat and pads over to you guys on bare feet. He drops a hand across your shoulder and down your back. You’re not sure if it’s meant to be possessive or not, but it almost makes you laugh. You manage to hold it in though.

“Hey,” Dean says.

Sam lets out an incredulous chuckle. You understand why. Was Dean really just going to try and pretend nothing just happened?

“Did you just growl at me?” Sam says.

Dean’s lips purse, but he doesn’t answer right away.

Yeah, he was totally going to try and pretend nothing just happened. You bite your lip against a smile.

“Sorry,” Dean says, scratching at the back of his neck. “Uh…so what’s up? You guys having some sort of insomnia party out here?”

Sam snorts. “No. I’m heading to bed actually. Good night, guys.”

“Good night, Sam,” you say. The two of you share an amused look before he leaves. It’s quick, but it’s enough to make Dean roll his eyes as he fights his embarrassment.

You begin to stand up from the table, reaching for your crutch. Dean helps you instead and settles both hands on your waist. You slip your hands up his forearms and curl them around his biceps.

“We were just talking,” you say knowingly. Then, a teasing smile plays on your lips. “About you actually.”

Dean raises a brow. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips. “All good things. So you can relax.”

His green eyes are a shade or two darker, his inner alpha having risen to the surface. Half-asleep as he’d been when he walked into the kitchen, his instincts were more dominant than his brain in that moment, especially at seeing you and his brother looking a little too chummy.

Dean wraps his arms around your waist and gathers you to his chest.

You can’t help purring in response. He grins, his eyes half-lidded as his gaze roams over you.

“What if I don’t wanna relax?” he says. The depths in his voice make you shiver, and even smile, but you give him a warning look.

“You’re shameless, you know that? We’re in your brother’s house.”

“Aw, he won’t mind.”

You scoff in disbelief. Dean tilts his head with half a smile. He knew you wouldn’t buy that one.

“Eh, it’s all right. He knows how I am,” he says, right before he bows his head for a nipping kiss along your neck. A breathless squeal escapes you, even though you try to contain it. You swat his shoulder.

“Alpha,” you warn. Once again, you try to temper your smile. Dean is only encouraged. His lips and warm breath tease along the edge of your mating gland on purpose, buckling your knees a little. A short whine escapes your lips, and a tremble of arousal pools slick between your legs. You don’t want to let him win on this one, but damn him, he’s playing dirty.

You grab his head, tangling your fingers in his hair, and pull him to your lips for a proper kiss. There he licks into your mouth and pulls a soft moan from deep inside you.

“Okay,” you give up. “But we have to be—”

Dean hooks his arms around your shoulders and under your knees and swiftly carries you up, forgetting your crutches behind. You have to smother your giggles with both hands while he takes you back to bed.

AN: lol Dean's insatiable, but we all knew that. 😆 I know it's been a while, but I hope you guys enjoy this little epilogue for ATW! In my head, she and Dean go on to have little adventures together after he meets her family. Like little dates and road trips to all the places Dean has enjoyed the most on his cross-country travels.

(And then maybe a couple of kids once they get settled in their own little cabin.) 🧡

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[velvetsainz]

summary: [ cl16 x fem!reader ] charles is away in baku and you remind him of what he's missing. part two.

word count: 1.3k

content warnings: smut under the cut (minors dni pls!), pwp, use of explicit language, phone sex, masturbation, google-translated french (lmao), a dash of fluff, i like em dashes too much

a/n: baby's first smutlet! i've been writing for like twelve years but i've never posted to tumblr, so here's to first times! there'll def be at least a part ii to this, but i'm also hoping to write for other drivers soon(ish). also giant mega thank you to @multiseb21 + @lecrep for your support—y'all have been so incredibly sweet & i am so thankful for you!! anyways, i hope y'all like this! enjoy, loves! xx

“Chérie,” his voice crooned over the line, a soft laugh leaving your lips. “Don’t tease, mon ange—it’s already hard enough being away from you for so long.”

“Weren’t you the one who said he’d be fine just a month ago?,” you retorted, voice low.  The cards were in your hands now, and Charles was desperate.  He was a nomad lost in the desert and you were his oasis on the horizon, just the sound of your voice enough to slake his thirst.

“Yes, but then you sent me that picture and—” You hear him curse again under his breath, his fist acting as a poor substitute for the velvet heat of your walls. He swore he wasn’t going to let you leave that bed once he got his hands on you again.

Charles wasn’t entirely wrong: you were the biggest fucking tease known to mankind.  Earlier that evening you sent him a semi-absentminded photo of you fresh from the shower, steam still obscuring the best parts of the photo with a fresh white towel around your hips and one gathering your hair on top of your head.  He’d always had something about you fresh from the shower—every time he’d nearly pounce as soon as you’d pad back into the bedroom from the steamy confines of the bathroom, hair wrapped on top of your head just as it was now.  (Part of you thought it was something primal in him: you’d washed away his scent on your skin and he needed to make his territory known again, that horn dog.)  Still, he was ever the gentleman and would make the endeavor more than worth your while.

“Yeah, that was pretty bad of me, wasn’t it?,” you ceded with a knowing smirk on your lips as you sat back from your desk, closing your laptop slowly.  You’d wanted to get a little more work done after your shower, but the Monégasque wasn’t keen to let sleeping dogs lie and needed to hear your voice for himself.

“So bad, chérie,” he agreed with tone of exasperation, a heavy sigh passing through the phone, “And you’re not even here to help a–”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t help in other ways,” you were quick to remind him, the words coming from your mouth quicker than your shame would force you to bottle them up.  Heat was creeping to your cheeks, and you could feel the familiar coil of desire tightening deep in the pit of your belly.

“Are you—?”

“That’s why you called, isn’t it, baby?,” you asked only to get a stifled groan from the other side. “You wanted me to tell you how I’ve been thinking about you all day,” you continued, “how I miss your hands on my hips, your cock so deep—”

“Fucking hell,” Charles practically whines as you push yourself away from the desk now, allowing yourself to relax into the seat of the chair and your hips to ease apart despite every part of you wanting to grind them together to relieve the dull ache that rested between them.

“What would you do if I was there now, Cha?,” you asked softly, hand splayed out over the plush of your thigh, eyes glazing over as you pictured him there with you.  You wanted his hands everywhere; you couldn’t decide where you truly needed him most. Fingers curling against that hidden spot in your tight cunt, threaded through your hair and pulling your head back to rest on his shoulder, gripping your thighs so tight they’d leave bruises that he’d fuss over later—it all sounded like heaven compared to the lonely hell of your shared Monte Carlo flat.

“I want to taste you, mon cœur,” he replied shakily as his breath came faster, the sound of him fisting his cock becoming more and more prominent as time passed; he wasn’t going to last long like this, but you both already knew that—it wasn’t the point of this exercise.  “I’d have you coming on my tongue, let you taste yourself when I kiss you—putain,” the driver cursed once more as his brow furrowed.  He was leaking precum over his ironclad grip and all he wanted was to slide his fingers past your plump lips to feel the wet heat of your tongue take care of the mess.

You let out a tremulous breath over the line, one you hadn’t known you’d been holding onto so tightly until your head started swimming with need.  Your hand had drifted from its origin, rubbing lazy circles over the cotton of the panties you’d slipped into after the inciting picture.  On your top half was a worn, faded shirt of Charles that you’d taken a liking to as a nightshirt—especially when you were missing him as you were so desperately now.

“Need you in me,” you begged, the emptiness you felt so acutely coming to the forefront of your senses, “You always do such a good job filling me—my fingers don’t do you justice.”

You hear a groan on the other side of the line, the man now sitting on the edge of the bed as he tries to keep himself in check.  He wasn’t ready for this to be over so soon; you had him feeling like a teenager again, ready to spill at a moment’s notice. Granted, this wasn't anything new: there's something so intoxicating about you that destroyed whatever semblance of restraint, of control he had over his lust.

“Want you in my mouth, give me something better to do than tease you like this,” to which you received a choked merde, the man hanging on your every word as the hand between your legs abandoned its objective—you could take care of that later.  You were too caught in every little sound that passed his plush lips, listening for every little cue his body so willingly gave you.

“Want your hands in my hair, guiding me up and down your cock,” you keened for him on a whine, his breathing heavy and labored.  He was running at full speed to the cliff's edge, and you were there watching, waiting in the grass. “Want your cum on my tongue, baby,” you whined.

“Promise not to waste any, minette?,” he grunted, gritting his teeth as you hummed your assurances.  “Such a good girl f’me, yes–”

With a strained hiss and a groan he came sloppily over his hand, thankful enough that he wasn’t home in Monaco so he didn’t have to worry about cleaning up the mess he’d made. “Fuck,” he croaked, breathing heavy as he came down from the blinding high your words had catapulted him through.  It wasn’t like he hadn’t been taking care of business when duty called, but something about your voice, the thought of you there…it clutched everything into a higher gear.

“Better?,” you asked, sly smile audible to the Ferrari driver; he didn’t need to see you to know the shit-eating, satisfied smile that took over your lips.

With a tired laugh he nodded, slumping back onto the cool rumpled sheets of the hotel bed as he stared absently at the dark ceiling.  It was three in the morning in Baku, and he couldn’t sleep—the thoughts your cheeky picture had invited wouldn’t let him.

“Get some rest, tiger,” you teased him, knowing he’d have to be awake in a few short hours. You debated sending him another picture in the morning as motivation, tiding him over until you’d join him later that weekend.

“Que ferais-je sans toi, mon amour?,” he asked, sleep heavy in his voice as he rolled the right way onto the bed and running a hand through his hair.  He’d deal with the mess he’d made in the morning along with the flowers he’d send you—he really didn’t know what he’d do without you.

“I guess we’ll never know, hm?,” you replied gently, smile melting into something softer as you fiddled with the gleaming ring on your left hand.

[agoobersretreat]

It'd definitely be a friendly fight. We stopped being supervillains when we decided to be Let's Players, after all.

"Oh, I see. Well, maaaaaaaybe then? I just don't get the need for a Kaiju fight still, I guess? Especially with me involved, more so."

[theresattrpgforthat]

@martianworder asked me about this on my Forged in the Dark post, so here we go!

Clocks

So Clocks have been a tool that have been used before and outside of Blades in the Dark, but BitD was where I think they were made really popular.

Golem Clocks designed by cmartins on Itch.io

For all intents and purposes, a Clock is just a track that you fill, but in some cases it's preferred over a track because it fills less space, and it's easy to just draw a clock on a piece of paper to help you keep track of something as you play.

A Clock can be more than just a track. It can be a countdown, a timer, or a representation of a person or faction's goals. The larger the Clock, the bigger task it is. Here are some examples of how you could use them.

A Healing project clock from Blades in the Dark.

A player could have a project Clock that they fill over the course of many sessions. Perhaps they want to research a cure for a vampire virus that is threatening a loved one. The GM would ask them to make a research roll every downtime, and how successful they are indicates how many slices they fill - effectively, how much progress they make towards finding a cure.

Rebellion and Sedition Clocks for Brinkwood: Blood of Tyrants.

A play group might use a Clock to track a common goal, such as winning over a number of anarchists to help take down a mega-corporation. If this is a campaign-long goal, you might use a series of linked clocks to represent the jailbreak you need to assist before you can win over a computer hacker, and then the massive hacking project you need to support before you can overwhelm the corpo servers.

Faction Clocks from Scum & Villainy.

A GM might use a Clock to track the work a Faction makes towards their goal. Every downtime section, they GM might roll to see how successful the Faction is, or simply tick one slice of the clock if the Faction has no reason not to be able to do what they want. If the Faction is allowed to work unimpeded by the PC's, they might eventually do something that changes the world around them, for better or worse.

Mission Clock from External Containment Bureau and Doomsday Clock from Apocalypse Keys.

Clocks might also be used as a timer, to indicate when something terrible might happen, or when the group's time is up. This might be the amount of time before a murderer next strikes, before the haunted house claims another victim, or before the world begins to end. In some games, specific points in the clock (such as halfway, or a quarter of the way through) may trigger special events that give the PC's more information, or remind the group that the pressure is really on.

Clocks for Protect the Child.

All in all, Clocks are a great visual tool to help you and your game group keep track of what's going on in the fiction, and it can also help you keep track of a number of narrative threads in a fairly condensed space. Even if they're not built into the game you're currently running or playing, I think they're a fairly easy addition, and can certainly help with bookkeeping!

[nihilnovisubsole]

hello! i'm asking on hehalf of a friend who wants to get into narrative design (specifically a position at IOI) but has no clue where to start, how to apply, what to include in his portfolio and CV (as he hasn't worked for someone before in that field) and i was wondering if you had any advice? pointers or what he could include to get potentially under their radar. thank you in advance!

hey! thanks for writing in!

it brings me no pleasure to say this, but if your friend has never had a gamedev job before, i'd tell him not to apply to that IOI opening. spare himself the heartache and save the effort for getting experience elsewhere. believe me, i used to hear the kind of advice i'm relaying now, and it made me furious. i hoped i'd never have to be the one giving it.

it may help to have context. any big-deal studio who posts a narrative job is going to get a minimum of several hundred applicants. if they have a reputation for being good at narrative, it could be as high as a thousand. larian (the bg3 people) probably did numbers like that with their recent opening. they tend to ask for three to five years of relevant gamedev experience, unless it's for a senior job. then it could be seven or more. wherever your friend applies, he'll be competing with hungry aspirants like him, veterans whose game got canceled, veterans who want a change of pace, devs who already live in that country and don't need a work visa, devs who are friends with the team because they worked together eight years ago, and, unfortunately, the way the industry's been these days, people who worked on Mega Unicorn All The Awards and got laid off. gross.

should studios take more chances on promising juniors? yeah, they should, but they often don't, and the reasons can be more complicated than "we're evil for the sake of it." sometimes they ask for a lot of experience because a project has hit the skids, so they need someone who can run in and put out fires with no training. sometimes they would love to promote someone internally, but some corporate who-knows-what is preventing them from doing it. (standard disclaimer that i'm not subtweeting anything. these are stories i've heard tons of times from many different devs.) the court intrigue matters, but it doesn't feel like it on the other side, where a rejection is a rejection and no job is no job. it's a shame.

i'm not saying any of that because i want your friend to give up. i'm saying it because i want him to succeed eventually. if he's really starting from nothing, punching in IOI's weight class could take a while, so i encourage him to dig in and get comfortable. he could start by looking into a narrative mentorship or groups that run workshops. i did a pixelles portfolio workshop, and it was great. it couldn't hurt to learn some tools. twine is the standard rec, though i've heard unreal looks great on a resume because many studios use it and writers who can wrestle with it are rare. but in the end, even if your friend snags a rec on the inside, it'll hinge on that portfolio. that means projects, projects, and more projects, and smaller gigs until something clicks.

i applied to obsidian in 2021, so i can't promise any of my portfolio advice is still relevant. the goalposts move from year to year and studio to studio. samples that are crucial for call of duty would be irrelevant to a dating sim. this is why i'm pointing your friend toward workshops and mentorship: they stay up-to-date on this stuff and can give more tailored help. in the meantime, a good friend of mine made a video about how to make a game writing portfolio if he'd like to check it out.

as a parting shot, i'll also link this bluesky thread where my other friend addresses a lot of the anxieties i've brought up here. she's not afraid to be frank, but remains optimistic that your friend should keep his options open and keep trying. i hope he smashes through that ceiling one day!

[arabianbaby53]

TEAM DELUSIONAL MASTER POST

I've noticed that a lot of information about Bethyl has been lost over time, so I’ve decided to gather everything I could find and compile it into one comprehensive mega dump of content.

We’re diving deep into fan theories, lost footage, rare screenshots, behind-the-scenes interviews the whole nine yards. So grab a seat, because this is gonna be one long-ass post.

MAIN POINTS ================================

was Beth and Daryl’s relationship romantic?

Beth is alive and how we know (cut footage ect.)

17 days theory

How Beth could've survived the gunshot wound

parallels and references.

CREDIT'S ===============================

Note: Some sources I won’t be able to link directly since a lot of this comes from deep dives into the Wayback Machine, but I’ll credit where I can. I’ll also keep updating and editing this as I uncover more info. If you'd prefer your info not be included in this post, just send me a DM—I'm happy to take your part down! Also one more thing a ton of this information has been stored on the youtube channel @TWDMusicBoxMystery so please check out her videos whenever you get the chance

Most of this information was originally gathered by @bethgreeneishopeunseen. Their account is currently locked, and I’m only sharing this to preserve the content in case they don’t return. Once the account is public again, I’ll take this thread down—I just don’t want to risk losing any of this valuable info in the meantime. P.S. @bethgreeneishopeunseen — KWEEN, PLEASE COME BACK!! We miss you and love you <3 You’ve gathered so much more than this thread could ever hope to cover. But if you’re not planning to return… bb please DM me the password so I can help archive everything properly. </3

================ Let’s start simple: was Beth and Daryl’s relationship romantic from the beginning? The short answer is yes. ================

the oringal episode summary for Alone, before it was changed due to backlash

Daryl and Beth's character bio's before they were changed

Norman responding to reddit post's two weeks after Coda aired

Cast and crew

Emily’s thoughts on Beth and Daryl’s changing relationship after Still (March 2014) “I do feel like now, after [Still], that Beth and Daryl know each other on a much deeper level, in an intimate way. I don’t think they feel alone the way they did before.”

Emily agrees with an interviewer at WSC on romantic feelings (March 2014): “So in this last episode, you were asking Daryl ‘how do you know there’s— you still think there’s good people out there? Why?’ And then you had a realization. Was it that he knew because of Beth? Do you know what I’m saying?” Emily Kinney: Yeah, I think she realized how much he cares about her.

“I don’t know, my theory is— I definitely think Beth was having a ro— felt romantically inclined towards Daryl. That’s the way it came across to me, at least.”  Emily Kinney: Yeah, I think there’s realizing that there’s something else there.”

Greg Nicotero’s thoughts on Alone at SDCC 2014: When they pitched Season 4, they were talking about when the prison goes down and having Daryl and Beth be bunkered together. And it’s interesting because I get to see all the cuts and I see all the edits from the director’s cuts onward. And I loved the scene in the kitchen when they’re talking, and I got the sense that Daryl was starting to kind of fall in love with Beth a little.”

Emily’s thoughts on Bethyl for Insider October 2014: “Last year, I definitely felt like there was a really special connection between Daryl and Beth that happened. My take on it was that there was a very deep growing connection that could become something more romantic or could become just … you know that was my personal understanding of it. I do feel like Beth has opened up to Daryl in a way that she hasn’t with other people and I do feel like Beth has never been really in love even though you’ve seen her with the two different boyfriends. I don’t think she’s ever been like, ‘grownup in love’ in the way that you feel like someone actually understands you and in sort of that special intimate way. And I do feel like she’s been closer to that with Daryl then with anyone else.”

Emily wrote a song from Beth’s POV for alone called Last Chance, and it’s a love song with sexual overtones. lyrics

You've got bad dreams from the broken wedding rings That you keep under your pillow while you sleep And there's open spaces, blank faces When you search for answers on the street

[Pre-Chorus] Oh, there's no one left to call Nothin' much to say Pretty sure the world is gonna end today Drink up one last whiskey, head to the dance Baby, this is our last chance Baby, this is our last chance

[Chorus] So gimme whatcha, gimme whatcha got tonight Packin' cigarettes Baby, I'm your light Gimme whatcha, gimme whatcha, gimme whatcha can I'm the last pretty girl You're the last decent man

[Verse 2] I've got broken heart pieces swimming in my bed Broken conversations floatin' in my head A let down little mermaid trying to find air at the top Pretty sure this spinning world's about to stop So I cover up in glitter, head to the dance Baby, this is our last chance Baby, this is our last chance

[Chorus] So gimme whatcha, gimme whatcha got tonight Packin' cigarettes Baby, I'm your light Gimme whatcha, gimme whatcha, gimme whatcha can I'm the last pretty girl You're the last decent man

[Verse 3] When the world is on fire But your heart is on ice It's hard to know what's wrong and what's right But if you wanna feel your blood burn, get to the floor Scream to God, "I want it more!" More hurricanes, snow storm, rain in my face More midnights drunk and dizzy dancin' at your place A life of fame and fortune and the star of some show Now it's almost over, almost time to go, oh, go, oh, go oh, go, oh oh, oh…

[Chorus] So gimme whatcha, gimme whatcha got tonight Packin' cigarettes Baby, I'm your light Gimme whatcha, gimme whatcha, gimme whatcha can Baby, this is our last chance Baby, this is our last chance

[Verse 3] When the world is on fire But your heart is on ice It's hard to know what's wrong and what's right But if you wanna feel your blood burn, get to the floor Scream to God, "I want it more!" More hurricanes, snow storm, rain in my face More midnights drunk and dizzy dancin' at your place A life of fame and fortune and the star of some show Now it's almost over, almost time to go, oh, go, oh, go oh, go, oh oh, oh…

[Chorus] So gimme whatcha, gimme whatcha got tonight Packin' cigarettes Baby, I'm your light Gimme whatcha, gimme whatcha, gimme whatcha can Baby, this is our last chance Baby, this is our last chance

While filming Still, Norman listened to Very Nervous and Love by J. Mascis for Daryl’s character and even pitched for the episode’s closing song.

“Beth realizes Daryl has feelings for her.” - AMC

“Okay, so they’re kind of together.” - Emily Kinney

“I’m enjoying, as an audience member, watching this..happen. - Lauren Cohan “I got the sense that Daryl was starting to fall in love with Beth a little bit.” - Greg N.

“I would say that Daryl has already found familial love. If you’re talking romantic love, I’m going to say, ‘I think so.’” - Scott Gimple

“Daryl implies that he has feelings for her.” - AMC

Media

credit to @emsee22 link to post x

30 Days Without An Accident 4x1, Daryl's "It's a damn romance novel" comment. Sure, can be played off like teasing, a little bit of jealousy. But the point is, he notices Beth's relationship with Zach. And for some reason cares enough to comment on it.

30 Days Without An Accident 4x1, the hug. Not just that there was a hug, but that they didn't end the scene with the hug. They ended the scene with Beth's sleeve falling off her shoulder and show her putting it back on, and end with their eye contact after that. If this was meant to be brother/sister, or platonic, vibes then why emphasize an erogenous zone like that? That would be creepy. The writers intended it to be romantic.

I don't find Still 4x12 to be a romantic episode, necessarily. I think that one is just building on their intimacy as friends. I do appreciate their openness with each other on the porch and there are elements of that conversation that I view as romantic (namely, Daryl's expression and nervous fiddling with the knife). However, I can understand how people view their pairing as platonic if they only base that view on this episode.

Alone 4x13 is where they really start hammering in the romance. For starters, Daryl's reaction to Beth stepping in the bear trap. Yes, of course you can say he just didn't want her to get eaten by the walker, but compare how he gets down to the ground with her, rubs her foot, and gives her his body for support - even giving her a piggyback ride - to Carol's foot cramp in 10x18 Find Me. He first eliminates the threat, then he checks on her and shows genuine concern for her injury, and offers her physical support. Daryl loves Carol, she's his best friend, but in Find Me, he just teases her and tells her that she shouldn't have come along.

Alone 4x13 when Beth stops to look at the "Beloved Father" grave, Daryl compassionately picks some flowers and lays it on top of the grave for her, to commemorate Herschel. That is not inherently romantic. He also compassionately gave Carol a Cherokee Rose when she lost Sophia. I just think it is sweet. In the same scene, Beth and Daryl hold hands (admittedly, a little awkwardly, but that is primarily on Daryl) and Beth puts her head on his shoulder.

Alone 4x13 when they are looking at the bodies that are made to look very human (although they're walkers) and Beth argues back at Daryl's joke about dolls with why it's beautiful. She looks at him and asks "Don't you think that's beautiful" and all he does is pensively stare back at her. It's a romantic cliche and the pause with the intense eye contact seems to imply that his thoughts are that she is beautiful. At the very least, he sees something in the way she thinks about the world that is beautiful.

Alone 4x13 Daryl breaks his silence thinking about telling Beth that she's beautiful with the shiptease after action patch-up tv trope with "C'mon, let's get you patched up." She sits on the table and he wraps her foot up from the bear trap.

Alone 4x13 how he watches her sing in the doorway, and then how he pushes her buttons about the music "Well there ain't no jukebox, so... keep singing"

Alone 4x13 the bridal carry romance trope into the kitchen for the cute little redneck dinner Daryl set up for Beth. Plus his excitement to show it to her, hence the "I'm going as fast as I can" before he picks up her heard outside the doorway.

Alone 4x13 dinner conversation about what changed Daryl's mind about there still being good people. Beth changed his mind. If it wasn't romantic, why couldn't he just say "you're gave me hope / you showed me there are still good people." But the teasing, the repeated asking, the smile and eye contact, the nervousness from Daryl and then the self-realizing "oh" that is more like a romantic confession than anything else. Plus the fact that the confession is interrupted, another TV trope in romance. Plus the fact that in Alone, Daryl & Beth are foils to Sasha & Bob - who we know for a fact were canon. Difference is Sasha & Bob are reunited by the end of Alone, while Beth & Daryl are separated.

Alone 4x13 he chased after her for hours, from night to day.

Alone 4x13 he was ready to kill Len for disrespecting her "Some bitch must have got you all worked up" "You lost yourself a piece of tail" "I bet it was a little one too, they don't last long out here." If Joe didn't stop the knife, I bet Daryl would have ended Len a whole lot sooner.

In 5x8 Coda, when she starts rushing back to Dawn, to say goodbye to Noah, Daryl tries to stop her.

Coda 5x8 he cries over her body

Coda 5x8 he bridal carries her body out of the hospital, sobbing

Them 5x10 he shuts down with the group. Carol knows there is more to his sadness and she is trying to understand it. She assumes Beth saved him (she did, in a way). Rick knows that Daryl lost something deeper than a friend, hence "I know you lost something back there"

================ Beth is alive, cut footage ect. ================

most of this information was posted by a locked account. i've gathered this from the wayback machine and copy and pasted it credit: @bethgreeneishopeunseen

Emily filmed throughout all of season 5, and almost none of that footage was shown onscreen or put on the DVDs as deleted scenes. In season 5, she was in 5x04, 5x07 (barely), 5x08, and 5x09 (minimally). Those episodes were filmed in early June, mid to late July, early August, and late August. She should have been finished with filming on August 29th, as that is when the bedroom scenes with TY were finished. Yet she was confirmed to have been filming from September into October.

And it isn't a few scenes. Depending how much was exactly filmed, that could be at least an episode or two worth of footage. As in bottle episodes that would explain Beth’s backstory. Here is a breakdown of the known missing spoilers:

the Rottweiler and white houses scenes (late May 2014)

included heavy security for “critical scenes”i

Included several actors, the show’s costume designer, and two major producers on the show

There were two white houses used during filming, located side by side. One was smaller, with visible burn marks on the door, while the other was a larger, plantation-style home. Both had “Do Not Mow” signs posted out front—an indicator they were active filming locations. At this point, The Spoiling Dead was highly active and well-informed, often tracking filming schedules and locations in real time. They filmed at the two properties throughout the day and that evening a white van was seen pulling right up to the steps, and Emily dressed as Beth was seen being rushed inside with two security guards. Lennie James dressed as season 5 Morgan was also photographed on set that night.

The van came to the house a second time, and afterwards Emily conveniently tweeted that she was at the movies, even though at least 15 different people saw her on set.

Now, the Rottweiler. The owner tweeted that his dog—a professionally trained acting dog—was scheduled to film soon. A few days later, he confirmed that the dog had filmed two scenes.

This is referring to the filming that took place from May 23rd to May 24th. The Walking Dead Women, a TWD Facebook page, posted a picture on May 14th, and it first surfaced via Spoil the Dead on May 12th. The walking dead rarely features animals, especially dogs the dogs used in the episodes Them, were reportedly pets of the cast, not trained animal actors. So when a Rottweiler was brought in for filming, it signaled a scene that was more intense, complex, and expensive something that required extra time and budget.

It indicates that more was being filmed at the white houses than we saw; Emily could have filmed a few scenes throughout the week. The Rottweiler 100% filmed two scenes, that we haven't seen

“More News… This House been rented again as a filming location... North Hill Street 441, Griffin/Georgia. As rumors have it… Beth was seen around that location… also the house next to it… get used often for inside filming.” In March, Google Maps updated its view of Griffin Street, providing more detail on both properties.

Emily might have spent the first few weeks of filming working at the white houses/in studio of the white houses. That would be at least an episode or two of footage then unaccounted for, and that also does not include the rest of the missing unseen spoilers related to Emily/Beth. No TV show would cut more than a day’s worth of work and not even put it on the DVD. the next instance of cut footage was another filming location not far away where the spoiling dead said they had spotted Beth for a second.

Traffic was blocked off, and security was noted as being heavy. People who came to the site reported that Steven, Lauren, and Alanna were all filming there, and all three actors were photographed at the site. Alanna was even photographed in costume as Tara from 5x01/5x02 and mentioned in a tweet still being covered in dirt and sweat. More than one walker was also seen done up.

Steven, Lauren, and Alanna all came out to take pictures with fans, as well as the producers Denise Huth and Gale Anne Hurd. It takes about eight days to film one episode, so why would the show just scrap an entire day’s worth of work?

Especially since it contained very important scenes that were being filmed out of order, hence the costume designer (for costume continuity) and producers being on set.

Those filming instances are suspect alone. Yet we also have more throughout the whole season, that were consistent. Emily was shuttled in a white van through extreme measures and security was heavy.

Through The Walking Dead Women, I also discovered two more pictures of the Pritchard property tara was spotted at:

The second picture depicts a gate says ‘Beware of the Dog’ sign.

and the weirdness continues

Chase Vasser is a former college football player who became an actor a few years ago. According to his LinkedIn, he is still based in Georgia. In the month leading up to filming at the white houses, he tweeted about being on the show. When word spread, he later recanted and clarified that he was working on another show. Then, on May 17th, a week before filming, Gale Anne Hurd tweeted, “@NeverStop_CV: I will not be on the Walking Dead! #sorryfans" He was never cast on the show.

Beth in the backseat of a Grady car (early July 2014; 5x06 filming)

Beth driving a car out of the Grady hospital/Bethfoot 1 (mid July 2014)

included gunfire and heavy security

Explosions at Grady (late July 2014)

800 walkers for the MSF and the white church (early August 2014) i will go deeper into this when i breakdown the 17 days theory article here x

Don’t f**k with me zombies (August 28th, 2014; tweet implied she would be fighting with zombies. The picture she posted also appeared to have her in make-up with faded scars) Twice Emily referred to her stitches as scars: the Inside 5x04 video and on Slabtown’s TTD. By the time Slabtown’s TTD aired, Emily had known for months about Beth’s “death” as she filmed her death scene early in August and after the filming break, filmed her scenes for 5x09 on August 28th. bethgreenewarriorprincess and I have been discussing the unseen season 5 filming spoilers for a while now. Had she filmed her scenes ahead of time, she would have filmed with scars and not just stitches, which explains why Emily likely referred to them as such instead of cuts. In one of my filming spoilers post, fabledfangirl noticed that Emily appeared to have a faded version of her cheek scar Emily posted this picture on August 28th, 2014 (X) and captioned it, “Don’t f*ck with me today. #diezombies,” and many fans at the time believed it meant she was filming. While she did film the bedroom scenes at the that time, it would not explain the #diezombies because she was not involved with any. It suggests that she filmed more scenes than we saw that day.

if you flip the picture, the mark on her face is a perfect match for Beth’s stitching placement The tilt of the hat would also hide her two forehead scars, as the gash above her eyebrow is bigger and would need more coverage. The presence of scars also help to explain why no almost pictures of Emily surfaced during season 5 filming, especially at the easily-accesible make-up trailer. Faded scars proved scenes were filmed of her surviving.

Bethfoot 1 and 2 (November 17th/18th 2014) picture of Emily in costume taken outside Grady. The picture was taken early in the morning on July 15th, 2014, and it showed Beth in clothes that weren’t her hospital scrubs. (It’s debated whether her shirt is plaid or her season 4 sweater) @sparks-of-greene a long time ago noticed the audio cart that @circled in red, pointing out that such equipment wouldn’t be moved around much, indicating that Emily was outside filming. Now, spoilers prove that Coda was filmed in early August, and that the devastating courtyard scene was filmed on August 6th. That was the only time we saw Emily outside in Beth’s season 4 costume. Whatever this picture is, it’s for something else, as in more filming.

I went back through the comments on the Facebook post with the Bethfoot picture. The woman who took the picture noticed that security was very heavy at the time:

now were at the famous sighting of Beth being spotted in Alexandria or Bethfoot 2 Emily had no reason to be at Alexandria dressed as Beth, WHEN SHE NEVER MADE IT TO THE SAFE ZONE. It was also during filming for the season finale. Emily would have been finished filming for months by that point.

instagram post Emily made and the photo of her on set we had pictures of her in normans trailer, we also had one after she was done filing with a white van outside second picture has been lost. if anyone has it please send it to me

To assume that Emily isn’t filming because she hasn’t been seen on set is a poor assumption to make. The show can hide people if it wants to, such as the actors present in Tyreese’s hallucination never being known, or Lennie James in season 5. Emily could easily have filmed in a studio or remote woodsy location during seasons 5 and 6. Season 7 filming will always be under heavy security until after the premiere, because of the finale death being a secret. There are reports already of people being arrested and filming in the studio. It would not be that difficult to sneak Emily in as well, since she’d be hidden anyway.

================

17 DAYS THEORY

================

credit @dynamicsymmetry link to post x

Here’s what we know: Beth was shot in the head. Daryl carried her outside. The last time we see her (in non-hallucination form) is in that final iconic shot of Coda.

Then in 5x09, it’s a good while later and they’re in Virginia.

The first important thing to note is that we don’t know what happened right after Coda. In 5x10 it’s established that roughly three weeks have passed since the group left Atlanta, and we know almost nothing about what happened during those three weeks. We don’t know what led to them leaving Atlanta.

We also never actually see a funeral for Beth - which is significant, because on this show pretty much everyone who’s at all a major character gets some kind of funeral/farewell. More often than not you see a cross. It’s not something that holds true in every case, there are exceptions, but those exceptions are highly situational (see: Hershel, who still got a memorial when Daryl placed the flowers on the tombstone), and in those cases we still get at least some sense of what happened to their bodies. There is - because of those things - a sense of narrative closure. It’s how this show says goodbye to people who matter. Because this show believes that goodbyes themselves matter.

We never actually saw Beth’s funeral. We have no idea what form it took, where it was, whether or not she got a cross, how people said their farewells - we got none of that. Plenty of people insist that it doesn’t matter, and there’s certainly a possibility that they’re right, just like there’s certainly a possibility that TD is wrong, but I look at the writing on the show as a whole, and what I see is that funerals are a major thematic element and have been from the very beginning, where Glenn insists that they bury their dead instead of burning them.

We saw a huge amount of Tyreese’s funeral. We never saw one second of Beth’s. Not one second. Plus if you look closely there is only one grave so it wasn't a joint funeral like some believe.

This is all to say that the lack of any on-screen funeral, while not conclusive of anything, is very strange. It is not at all in line with how this show handles death, especially not death as narratively important as Beth’s was.

The fact that we saw no funeral at all is enough - in my mind, in conjunction with a number of other things - to cast doubt on whether she had one. Because in writing like this, when something that’s almost always shown is not shown, that often (not always) indicates that it’s being purposefully obscured. Which… Why? Why would they do that?

Okay, so if she never got a funeral, what happened to her body?

This is where we grab a lot of hinty bits from a lot of places and piece them all together into something that’s admittedly messy but to my mind holds up well enough given what we have to work with. I certainly think it’s defensible as a plausibility, though obviously it’s nothing anyone can prove and I don’t think anyone would claim to be able to do so.

Beth was taken from the funeral home (probably) in the trunk of a car. Prior to that - in “Still”, the episode that really kicks off her and Daryl’s relationship (whatever you believe the nature of that relationship to be) - she shelters with Daryl in the trunk of a car in a very tense and meaningful cold open. So we already have something of an established Car Thing with this girl.

In the final shot of Coda, there’s a black car with a white cross on it in the lower left foreground - not the center of the shot, but quite noticeable, the only vehicle nearby aside from the fire engine, and we’ve been told repeatedly that nothing onscreen in this show is wasted (likely hyperbole but I’ll assume that it’s at least mostly true).

In 5x09, we see two strange and potentially very suggestive things. We see multiple shots of a (probably) female walker in a car - a walker whose face is obscured and who appears to possibly have a ponytail or something along those lines. Tyreese sees this and appears moved by it - even disturbed. The fact that we’re shown it more than once tells me that we’re meant to notice it; it’s not there for no reason. Secondly, we’re shown multiple shaky, blurry shots of the group sprinting for the vehicles we see them in later, waving guns around; they’re clearly in a state of distress, running from something. Which indicates that however they left Atlanta, it’s entirely possible that they had to leave very quickly.

Then in 5x10, the group comes upon the cars abandoned in the middle of the road.

Two things happen here that are big for me. First, there’s the (blond, blue-eyed) walker that Maggie finds locked in the trunk of the car. This appears to disturb her deeply - far more than I would expect even for something so awful, because remember that these are hardened people who have been through some real shit, and I think it’s strange that she would have such a strong reaction if there wasn’t something else going on. Plus her discomfort with the car doesn’t begin with her seeing the walker. She doesn’t even want to open the trunk at all. She’s reluctant. Then she sees the walker and she almost falls apart. Glenn has to take care of it for her.

Then there’s Daryl.

Watch Daryl when they first see the cars. There’s a tight close-up of his face, which you don’t have unless a character is feeling something significant. And in his way, Daryl appears to be just as disturbed as Maggie - if not more. He immediately announces that he’ll head off into the woods and circle round, and he doesn’t offer a reason. He just goes. At a point at which there’s every possibility that they might be about to find some life-saving supplies.

No one in the group finds either of these reactions odd. Glenn seems to implicitly understand what’s going on. He never asks Maggie what’s wrong. He just does what he has to do. Carol offers to go with Daryl; earlier in the episode he leaves the group and she says she’s going along, and when he balks she insists on coming with him. This time she offers and he says no, and she backs off immediately and never questions his reasoning. She never asks him for a reason at all.

All of this suggests that between the end of 5x08 and the beginning of 5x09, something upsetting happened that had to do with cars. And whatever it was, it seems to be primarily upsetting to the three people who had the most reason to be upset about Beth’s death: Daryl (obviously), Maggie (obviously), and Tyreese, who was feeling profoundly guilty about his plan working out the way it did when all he ever wanted to do was keep people from getting hurt.

Then we get to the infamous 800 walker extras that both the showrunner and the makeup director talked about for Season 5. That footage? Never saw the light of day. Which is extremely weird. The amount of money, time, and coordination it would’ve taken to pull that off means there’s no way it just got casually scrapped. Especially when you consider they included one- and two-minute throwaway dialogue scenes in Coda on the dvd. If something that massive was filmed, it would’ve absolutely shown up in the deleted scenes or bonus features—unless it was being hidden for a reason.

And that leads us into another case of vanished footage. The Spoiling Dead Fans discovered another filming location—a white church—but they couldn’t get a good look because the entire area was blocked off, with walls put up to hide everything going on inside. That kind of secrecy means whatever they were filming there was important. Even more suspicious? Glenn and Daryl’s actors once posted a photo on Instagram in front of a white church. That post has since disappeared.

And now here’s where things get really strange: in the TAPP trading cards for The Walking Dead, Daryl’s Season 5 card actually mentions Beth getting a proper burial… at a church. I mean—what?! When the hell did that happen? We never saw a burial. We never even got a proper scene acknowledging it. But now we’ve got leaks and official merchandise suggesting they did film it… and then poof gone.

Taken all together, here’s the very rough theory: After the group flees from Grady and Atlanta, they try to find a place to bury Beth. Along the road to Virginia, they come across a small white church and decide it’s the perfect spot for a burial. But something goes wrong A massive herd aka the 800 walker extras we were told were filmed for Season 5—shows up, forcing the group to abandon the church before they can bury her.

In the chaos, they place Beth’s body in a vacant vehicle, using it as a kind of temporary mausoleum with the intent to return and bury her properly. Since she was shot in the head, no one checks for a pulse. They assume she’s dead and has no risk of turning. But when they eventually return… the car is empty.

This would explain the moment where we see Maggie sobbing in front of an open car door, It also gives new weight to the recurring vehicle symbolism around Beth—why cars seem to trigger such intense reactions in certain characters.

We don’t know if Beth turned, or if she was saved. Personally, I like the idea that Morgan found her. There are photos of him and Emily Kinney (Beth) filming together at the two small white houses— that supports this theory.

And if this theory is true, it also explains why Maggie and Daryl didn’t go with Rick, Glenn, Michonne, and Tyreese to Noah’s community. They were out searching for Beth’s body. Offscreen. there's a scene later next season, that supports this when Daryl and Aaron are out scouting for new people. They come across a blonde female walker tied to a tree, and for some reason, Daryl checks her face. Why? Maybe he thought—just maybe—it was Beth. because they never got to actually bury her.

============== how Beth could've survived the gunshot wound ==============

credit: @v0id-bellarke link to post x

 this isn’t a theory really, but this is a post using medical knowledge proving that Beth can survive her head shot. I’m in college at the moment to get my pre recs done for EMT/Paramedic. And I’m in a program where we have free Paramedic training that the Paramedic company offers, and I’ve been with the program going on a year this coming summer. So I’ve retained a lot of knowledge the past year.

Remember when Dr.Edwards told Beth when she woke up from her coma ” You fractured your wrist, and sustained a superficial head wound" 

For those who don’t know what a superficial head wound is, its a survivable injury located in your skull  or the brain. And it can vary in any kind of injury. I think that was the biggest foreshadowing that Beth survives her head shot. I’ve seen other amazing theories getting into awesome detail, but we just gotta look at the obvious sometimes to see what’s going on. I analyzed her head shot, and it is survivable. 

^^^First lets look at her entry and exit wound. By the looks of it she was shot by a 9mm pistol. Her entry wound in located off center to left and is probably the size of a nickle. And then her exit wound is probably the width of two quarters. That’s not big at. It does look bigger than it actually is because the blood around wound in her hair. And there is barely any brain matter coming out. Mostly blood.

Ok, so I had a use a different picture of her getting shot so I could get a better view of it. Her entry wound starts in the frontal lobe, and follows through in the parietal lobe and exits there. Yes, this is survivable. The thing that kill us if we get shot is if the bullet penetrates the brain stem. Which controls all your vitals, swallowing, sleep, nervous system, temperature, sense of balance. Many people who attempted suicide and shot themselves in the head have survived, because the bullet did not penetrate their brain stem. I will get into how her head wound will effect her in a minute.

I drew you guys a chart to show you the general idea where her brain parts are located. Sorry for the crappy drawing, and its more than likely a little off. But this is just for you get an understanding I want you to feel the back of your head. Do you feel that little dip on the nape of your head? That’s the area where your brain stem is. Now look at the picture of Beth. There is no way that it is possible that the bullet penetrated her brain stem, it is physically impossible by the looks of it. The bullet exit wound is even right above where her pony tail hair tie is. Your brain stem in not located that high up.

So you see where she was shot was in the Frontal Lobe and Parietal Lobe. Based on where she was shot, is survivable but she will have some brain damage. Usually after getting shot in this area you will be a temporary coma, how long it is depends on how bad the shot was, the person, etc. But if she wakes up, it looks like she’s going to have speech problems, lacking sensation in touch so she will have trouble identifying different textures, minor blindness ( won’t be able to see long distances ), emotional issues, and academic problems. So she’ll probably have problems reading, speaking articulately, basic math skills. 

Side Note: This would make sense with Beth’s possible speech impairment, on Morgan’s wall No Killed.In.Action on BEF. Beth and BEF do sound similar. So this may be the way she pronounces her name and makes sense of it.  

My mother is also a Nurse and she has said based on where she was shot, it is survivable. And I hate how I couldn’t find a picture of gif of Beth’s arm shot when she dies and she has a pool of blood around her arm. Ya’ll know what I’m talking about. But anyways, based on memory, her bleeding was very slow, trickling and dark. If her wound was fatal is would be an artery bleed. Which is large amounts of bright red blood bleeding out of you so fast it looks like a sprinkler. Also, I noticed when Daryl was carrying her outside to Maggie, he blood stopped. This is a good sign. Because that means her body functions are still working and her blood clotted to stop the bleeding. If she was really dead, the blood would still be pouring out, drenching her hair, getting all over Daryl’s arms.

So a medical perspective her head shot is survivable. Unfortunately we don’t know how long she’ll be unconscious, and she’ll have brain damage.

credit @twdmusicboxmystery link to post x

gunshot wounds: ear to ear - FATAL. Upwards through chin - 95% FATAL.  Directly between eyes: FATAL. 

He also said the most survivable gunshot wounds were those high up on the forehead, because often they did not even enter the brain at all. 

Also, I am a resident of Tucson, AZ, where Congress woman Gabrielle Giffords was shot on January 8, 2011 while speaking to a group of her constituents in a grocery store parking lot - this happened about 2 miles from my home. “Gabby” Giffords was shot from approx 3 ft away in the back of the head and the bullet exited out the front of her forehead, the opposite of Beth’s gunshot wound.  Gabby Giffords is still very much alive today and still an active political lobbyist. I will include two links - the first is to a YouTube interview from about 3 years after the accident. At about 3:50, her husband, astronaut  Mark Kelly, explains that Gabby has aphasia, which is a difficulty at times processing language and thoughts into words and is very common in brain injuries to the upper left side. another really good post by @apocalypse-married link x

parallels and references I cannot add anymore images to this thread, so i will be making a second post here in a few days and ill add the link here so its easy to find :) credit's

@twdmusicboxmystery link to post x link to youtube x

@v0id-bellarke link to post x

credit @dynamicsymmetry link to post x

wayback machine copy and pasted credit: @bethgreeneishopeunseen

@emsee22 link to post x

@apocalypse-married link x

If anyone would like their content or information removed, please don’t hesitate to let me know. My goal with this compilation is simply to archive everything in one place so it can be easily accessed by fellow Bethyl shippers—and maybe even help others understand where Team Delusional was really coming from.

That said, the last thing I want to do is upset or take away from any of the original creators. PLEASE go like and support the original posts—everyone involved is incredibly talented and deserves full credit for their work.

If you have anything you'd like added to the archive, feel free to message me! I'd love to include it.

[solidaritygaming-fanblog]

So. Toy Jimmy. When ever he gets injured, he gets a rip that needs to be manually stitched up. He doesn't know how to sew. God Joel. He made all the stupid toys by hand. He is VERY good at sewing.

The first thing Jim does after they make up is go "also. Um. I know you do a lot of sewing... and you're probably really good at it.. and I don't know how to sew..." this drags on for a bit because he doesnt know how to ask for help and the whole while Joel can just feel he's about to see the most disgusting shitty fucked stitching he's ever seen (he's completely right). Anyway he sees Jimmy's awful job of fixing a cut on his arm and goes "hmm okay I'll have to seam rip it but I can fix this up easy! You don't have any others that need immediate attention though right?" And Jimmy is quiet for a few seconds until he goes, "... I need to take my shirt off. Don't be weird, okay?" Bro has a BUNCH of these fucked up stitches over rips on his chest and arms. Joel is crashing out and it all seems like there's a shred of "okay this is still kinda fine" left here until Jimmy goes weakly "you should see my back". Joel walks around him. THERE ARE THESE FUCKING MASSIVE TEARS ARE SAFTEY PINNED TOGETHER BECAUSE HE CANT REACH THEM TO STICH THEM UP EVEN THE SLIGHTEST BIT. Joel crashes out even harder and immediately is like "right I am fixing this RIGHT NOW and you are getting sewing lessons afterwards because what the fuck". And then gay shit (wound tending) happens bleehhhh :P probably getting all these stitches pulled out is very uncomfortable for Jim so he's trying not to cry or move the whole time. And Joel is very locked in and eventually (after a botched seam rip stretches one of the tears a bit more) decides to distract Jimmy by explaining different types of thread, needles, stitches, and knots to him. He also gives him something to bite down with the added benefit of Jimmy not being able to complain about this sewing info dump.

And after this, whenever Jimmy gets hurt he just shoots Joel a text like "heyyyy guess who got shot by a skeleton again". And Joel has to come over and fix him up because yknow. They're friends and it's good to have healthy interactions. Plus Jimmy does need to learn to sew so it's a good learning opportunity. The first time Jimmy successfully manages to sew himself up he immediately runs to Joel and they are both very excited. Even after Jimmy becomes mostly self sufficient (except for some spots he can't reach and pain levels fucking up his motor skills) they still hang out a bunch.

Perhaps at some point Jimmy gets a massive cut over his face and barely makes it on his own to the lore and law building near spawn. It takes so long for him to type a misspelling ridden message to Joel asking him show up. Eventually the door swings open and he manages to get out some almost utter nonsense before passing out. Meanwhile Joel is incredibly confused and scared because ????? What???? The fuck???? Anyway he locks in and stitches Jimmy's face up and waits with him until he wakes up (Jimmy doesn't remember Joel showing up, or a lot from after he got the injury). Tee hee

Ultra mega fucked up mode is a few of his stitches staying in Jim's skin after esmp2 ends. So Joel and him try to figure out why this happened (spit balling stupid ideas while Joel is pulling stitches out and absent-mindedly patting gauze and sterilization stuff on the small wounds the stitching leaves behind). Just grhrvjdvrhev

[late-to-the-party-81]

Her Alpha

AN: It’s Alpha Steve time!It feels good to be updating all my series 😀 This fits in between Surprise, Surprise and Birthday Gifts

@noseyrosey1597 asked: I’m obsessed with Alpha nomad Steve and his omega. Could you possibly do a one shot where she meets the team? Maybe she doesn’t like Tony

Endless thanks to my beta,  @endlesstwanted. Likes are loved, reblogs are golden. Mood board by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Join my tag list here

Bingo and Challenge fills:

@steverogersbingo  - A1 - Alpha Steve

Master list | SRB Master list | Series Master list

Summary: It’s not even been 24 hours since you and Steve were reunited, but it’s the start of the next chapter - you’re moving in with him at the Avengers Compound, which also means it’s time to meet the team. You’ve just got to hope you can keep your pregnancy hormones under control.

Relationship: Alpha Steve x Pregnant Omega Reader

Word count: 2.8k

CW: A/B/O, Sexual content (P in V sex, pregnancy sex, knotting), Steve’s dirty talk, smidge Angst, hormonal and aggressive Omega Reader, Pet names (Omega, sweetheart, Mama).

You woke up, an almost long forgotten feeling of contentment suffusing you, and turned within the pair of thick arms that held you. With a sigh you looked up into the face of Steve, your Alpha. You lifted your hand and smoothed a lock of his hair back from his forehead, marvelling at the sheer beauty of him. It was almost criminal, the way his long eyelashes kissed his freckled skin. A happy chirp made its way out of your throat and Steve stirred, pulling you tighter to his body. 

If it weren’t for the ache on your neck, or the echoing one between your legs, you’d still believe this was a dream. Five months had gone without you seeing each other, longer than anytime before, but now the sporadic visits were finally over. The Accords were rescinded, Steve was no longer a criminal on the run and you could truly be together. Today Steve would be taking you to where he lived, the Avengers Compound in upstate New York, and you wouldn’t have to put up with this shitty, damp apartment anymore. You’d have a nice place to live, access to a state of the art medical facility for when your pup (or pups) came, and you’d get to meet all of Steve’s friends. What a difference a day made.

You sighed again and tilted your head to press your lips against Steve’s. His eyes were still closed, but you knew he wasn’t fully asleep because he deepened the kiss almost immediately and a muscular thigh, covered in coarse hair, pushed its way between your legs. You rocked against it as he kissed you, despite the fact that it increased the ache that was there. You welcomed the mild discomfort because it meant he was really here with you.

“Morning, ‘Mega,” Steve mumbled against your lips. He rolled onto his back and pulled you with him so you were straddling his hips, his morning wood slotting against your sex. Your fingers threaded into the slightly too long hair at the nap of his neck and he let out a pleasured growl.

“Morning, Alpha,” you purred as you lightly ground down onto him. You were wet already, a combination of being back in your Alpha’s arms along with being in your second trimester - your libido had picked up and Steve couldn’t have returned at a better time.

“Ready to leave this all behind?” he asked as his large hands landed on your hips and helped you move back and forth over his length, covering it in your arousal.

“Mmm-hmm,” you confirmed. “Although I’m not ready to leave this bed yet. There’s something I wanna do first.” You lifted your body, took Steve in hand and then sunk back down, a feeling of bliss suffusing your whole being. You were glad that it hadn’t been that long since he was last inside you so that you didn’t need to go through any arduous prep.

“Oh, sweetheart. Fuck.” You very rarely took the lead like this - you blamed your hormones - and Steve’s eyes rolled back in his head. “That’s it, Mama. Ride me. Take what you need. Look so god-damn sexy, carrying my pups. If I could I fuck some more into you. Jeez.”

The power trip was making you dizzy with arousal. You wanted him to lose his mind due to his want and desire for you. He was your Alpha - your mate. You were pregnant with his pups, and now you were going to start the rest of your life together this very day.

As you rocked atop him, Steve ran a hand up your body to cup one of your breasts. His thumb flicked over your engorged nipple and you gasped at the sensation as your body clenched around his length. Your whole body was much more sensitive now.

“Steve,” you keened, and sped up your movements. “So close, Alpha. Make me come, please!” You knew he was close as well because you could feel his swelling knot teasing your entrance. 

“Your wish is my command, Omega.” His other hand dropped to your clit and he drew matching circles over it, both hands working in tandem on different parts of your body to pull you over the edge. You moaned loudly as the pleasure hit, rocking back and forth on his cock as your pussy spasmed. A second dart of pleasure hit you as Steve’s knot popped and you felt his cum fill you up. Steve’s noises of ecstacy merged with yours as your movements slowed and then finally stilled. You collapsed on top of him, breathing heavily, your bodies still joined together.

“We don’t need to pack up until this afternoon, do we?” you asked. Steve chuckled, his body jiggling yours as he did.

“You don’t need to do anything, Omega. I can sort it out while you’re having a nap.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Oh, good,” you replied and then let out a yawn. “I find myself worn out for some reason.”

“I wonder why,” Steve replied with a snort. “Now relax. Let your Alpha deal with all the mundane stuff.

As the car made its way up the long drive leading to the large, white compound, you felt your stomach flutter in anticipation. You’d never met the other Avengers, having only encountered Steve by chance just before he went on the run. It had been like one of those moments from an old movie, where your eyes had met across a crowded room. You’d approached each other warily, sensing a connection but being sensibly cautious. Then you’d each caught the scent of the other, and that had been it. It was a miracle you hadn’t just started fucking in the middle of the coffeeshop, the way your body had reacted - your inner Omega would have done so, happily. Luckily, Steve was a little bit more controlled and managed to at least wait until you’d had one dinner together before agreeing to come back to your apartment with you. 

That had been just over two years ago, and given how he’d mated you and then had to disappear, only returning for your heat or his rut, your relationship could be termed a whirlwind. Now you were going to meet his friends - his family - and announce that you were going to be having his pups in a matter of months. Your hands twisted in the fabric of your coat, and you pulled your lower lip between your teeth to chew on it.

Picking up on your anxiety, Steve pulled you tighter into his embrace and used his thumb to release your lip from its torture.

“They’re gonna love you, Omega. I promise.” His deep voice soothed you and you rested your head on his chest.

“You’re sure?” you asked quietly.

“How could they not? You’re so sweet and kind. And when they know you’re carrying my pups they’re gonna be thrilled. Happy likes you already, so you have nothing to worry about.”

You flicked your eyes up to the driver’s mirror, catching the glance of the tall, broad and cheerful Beta who’d turned up to whisk you and Steve back to the compound. Apparently he was Tony Stark's Head of Security and you’d been put straight at ease when he’d greeted you with a genuine smile and a ‘Nice to meet you, ma’am.’ You hoped the rest of the introductions would go as smoothly.

The car came to a halt, and you looked out of the tinted window in awe at the enormity of the site. 

“Here we go, Mama - home sweet home.” Steve got out of the car and then held out his hand to assist you. “Let’s head on over to the common room - the others are waiting. Happy will sort out your bags for us.”

Unused to this level of attention, you spun around to face the security specialist. “Oh, you don’t have to. I’m sure we can…”

Happy held up his hand and flashed you a grin. “It’s not a problem at all, ma’am. It’s practically a holiday compared to some of the things Mr Stark asks me to do.”

You giggled back as you wondered what on earth Iron Man had his staff doing? You’d wouldn’t ask though, getting the feeling that you’d regret knowing the answer.

With your arm tucked safely in his, Steve led you into the state of the art compound and along a maze of corridors. Each one looked the same. Your confusion and apprehension must have shown on your face.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart - you’ll learn your way around in no time, and while you’re getting there, you can just ask FRIDAY for help - she’s Tony’s AI and can help with whatever you need.” Steve lifted his head and addressed the ceiling. “Isn’t that right, FRIDAY?”

“It is, Captain. I’m here to assist in any way possible.”

You jumped as the voice came out of hidden speakers, and Steve couldn’t hide his smile.

“Is she always listening?” you whispered, pulling Steve down closer to you. The thought that there would be a computer intelligence that would be able to hear you… your cheeks started to heat at the thought.

Steve shook his head. “She does continually monitor us and the surroundings as standard, but not everything is for her computer eyes, sweetheart. We can tell her when to engage the privacy protocols.” He gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger and leant closer. “Some things are just for me, Omega.” He let out a little growl and nipped at your lower lip, making you jump for the second time in as many minutes, although for totally different reasons. His eyes were dark and his expression held all sorts of promises, but you knew there was no time for that at this moment. Besides, the wait would just make it better.

Your mate obviously had the same idea, as he started walking again, keeping his stride short so he wasn’t dragging you along.

“So, Bucky, Nat, Wanda and Vision live on site. Sam splits his time between here and DC. Clint also splits his time. Thor has rooms here for when he’s visiting from Asgard - at least with his hammer he doesn’t have to worry about the commute time. Tony and Pepper obviously have their own place, but Tony spends a lot of time here, mainly because Pepper’s banned all his large tech and tinkering stuff from their house. Tony should be here, or at least on his way over. He said he was desperate to meet you.”

“Why does that worry me?” you jested.

“He’ll just flirt with you - that’s what Tony does. And he’ll mainly do it to wind me up.” He screwed up his face and you giggled. The idea that you’d even respond to the flirting of someone who wasn’t your Alpha was laughable.

Steve had done a good job of distracting to you, because you didn’t even think about the fact that you must be near your destination until Steve steered you through an open doorway and into a room that housed a large number of sofas, a massive TV, a kitchenette, a foosball table and seven other people.

“And here we are,” said Steve as he came to a halt, moving you in front of him with his arms clasped around your waist. “Everyone, this is my beautiful Omega. Sweetheart - this is everyone.”

You knew your eyes were bugging out of your head. You were in the presence of literal superheroes - your brain had long gotten over the fact that Steve was Captain America - and didn’t for the life of you know how you were going to adjust. 

One of them pushed away from the wall and walked towards you with a shy smile, long dark hair flopping over his brow. “Hey, Doll. I’m Bucky, it’s nice to meet you. Sorry I kept Stevie away from you for so long.”

You grinned back at him and shook his proffered hand. At this distance you could tell he was an Alpha, just like Steve. His scent wasn’t unpleasant - metal, sandalwood and fresh snow - but it didn’t speak to you like Steve’s did. His blend of spring sunshine, lemon thyme and honey called to your Omega in a way that no other Alpha’s ever had. “It’s good to meet you too. I’m looking forward to finding out all of Steve’s deep dark secrets from you.”

Bucky threw back his head and laughed, and you heard Steve mutter something under his breath that sounded like ‘I thought it was Tony I’d have to worry about’.

The next to step forward was a petite, but lethal looking red-head. You knew from news reports that this was the Black Widow - or Natasha. “Hi, I’m Nat. I’m glad that this idiot finally managed to find someone to put up with him.”

You sniggered behind your hand as Steve let out a cry of mock anger. Hearing all of the banter made your heart soar. It really was like meeting Steve’s family. 

He introduced you around to the others, and you subtly scented them as they got close. Nat had a strange scent - like a cross between an Alpha and a Beta, and you didn’t know what to make of it. Sam and Thor were both Alphas, Clint was a Beta, Wanda an Omega, and Vision was just Null, being an artificial construct.

Your inner Omega was slightly concerned by Wanda for a few moments, until you realised that she and Steve obviously had a big brother-little sister vibe going on and you relaxed.

“Now,” said Steve, “the only person left to meet is…”

There was a crashing and clattering noise from the hallway, and then another man appeared - there was no mistaking who it was.

“...Tony.” Steve finished.

Tony swaggered into the room, walking up to you and Steve.

“Hey Capsicle, sorry I’m late.” He clapped his hand jovially on Steve’s shoulder and grinned.

Before you even knew what you were doing, you’d pulled away from Steve, grasped Tony’s wrist, and pulled it away so he was no longer touching your Alpha. Your upper lip curled and a snarl left your mouth.

“My mate,” you spat at the surprised Omega.

The room fell silent and you felt nine pairs of eyes focussed on you, but your hindbrain was in control, protecting your growing family from this interloper.

“Umm, sweetheart?” Steve placed his hand on your back between your shoulder blades. “Are you alright?”

You growled, eyes still focussed on Tony, who had much more of your Alpha’s scent lingering to him than you were happy with.

“My Alpha,” you bit out, stepping up into Tony’s personal space. “Mine.”

“Okay…” Tony breathed out, slowly removing your hand from him and taking a few steps back, looking you up and down as if he was trying to see what was under your coat. “So, ummm, I think congratulations are in order! I’m guessing that’s what’s set you off.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Vision cock his head and heard him whisper to Wanda. “I think I’ve missed something, dearest.”

“She’s pregnant and she sees Tony as a threat,” Wanda whispered back.

Tony coughed awkwardly and drew your attention back to him.

“I can assure you that I’m not after Ste - your Alpha. I have an Alpha of my own. See.” He pulled down the collar of his shirt, showing you his mating scar.

Your eyes narrowed as you peered at him. “You smell of my Alpha.” The accusatory tone was obvious, and you could feel Steve shifting awkwardly behind you.

“Well, we do spend a lot of time together. We’re friends. I was helping him yesterday - trying to find you.”

You snarled again and Tony’s eyes went wide, as though he thought you might leap forward and try to rip his throat out with your teeth. Your inner Omega was considering it.

“B-But,” Tony continued, “I smell of my own Alpha - Pepper - more. Here…” he held his wrist out towards you, and cautiously you leant forward and sniffed. Tony smelled of oil, coffee and amber. Steve’s scent lingered on him, but it was almost drowned out by another set of notes - vanilla, jasmine and lemon.

“Hhmmph.” You grunted out a non-committal noise, but backed up towards Steve again, taking hold of his arm and aggressively scenting at his wrist - publicly claiming him -, never letting your gaze leave Tony.

“Sweetheart? Omega? Would you like to go to our apartment now and have a little rest?” Steve spoke tentatively, as though you were a bomb set on a hair trigger.

“Not rest. Knot.” you retorted before grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the room. “FRIDAY - which way to Captain Rogers’ apartment?”

The Avengers watched you go, and then looked at each other as soon as you were out of view.

“Well,” said Tony as he breathed out heavily. “I might have to keep my distance from Cap for the next few months.” 

Nat chuckled. “Might be best, especially if you want to keep your larynx intact.”

Tony brought his hand up to cup his own throat, lips twisting wryly. “Yeah. At least we know one thing - she’s not gonna let Rogers walk all over her.”

Tag list: @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989, @kombatfather1796, @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @wolfsmom1, @doasyoudesireandlive, @goldylions