#YOU LOST MY NEW BIRTH CERTIFICATE?????

[bepoprotectionsquad]

I enjoy the feeling of being gaslit by my case manager

[toastedkiwi]

Bastard Child Outline

Pairing: Chris Evans x Bastard Child/Daughter!Reader

A/n: this shit has been sitting in my drafts for like three years and a year in my queue so it wouldn’t get lost in my drafts. I’ve decided I’ll just post it because I honestly don’t know if I’ll ever actually write the parts. So this is for those who were holding out hope. I’m sorry to disappoint. (Also, some bits and parts might be triggering for those who’ve dealt with abuse and self harm.) it’s long too. Not at all perfect either.

Born 1999 in Hawaii.

Mom, Emily Reed, had you when she was 15 and Chris was 16. She’s a decent person and obviously got married to surgeon. They had kids. Stepdad, Dr. Issac Reed, is a decent guy but works a lot. You’d never be his kid however. He made sure you were alright but he never had the connection with you as much as that sucked. It happens.

Your grandpa was stationed in Boston when your mom and dad got together. They had a huge fight and another girl was caught with her lips on his right before she moved with her family to Hawaii.

At 11, you start a YouTube channel under the name xXBOSLEYXx (named after your grandpa’s dog) and start posting covers since you love music. (2010)

At 12, you audition for a role in Hawaii Five-O. You get it and end up being a kidnapped kid that they have to find. It leads more people to your YouTube channel. (2011)

At 13, you go to LA by yourself since your mom had just given birth. Your aunt who’s a publicist gets you signed to a record deal along with a manager by the name of Marie Trevor. It’s decided that you’ll be known as BOSLEY. (2012)

You end up moving to LA. You record some singles which is received amazingly. You easily rise to the ranks especially with the help of some modeling gigs and acting gigs.

At 14, your mom doesn’t approve anymore as you’re gaining fame and your dad is getting bigger than ever. You get into a huge argument. She pretty much drops you as her child and your aunt is responsible of you. You drop an album. (2013)

At 15, You stop smiling for pictures which becomes signature of BOSLEY. You’re offered a small role in The Bronze getting to tell Lance Tucker to fuck off in a moving car. You happily take it and managed to befriend the actor. (2014)

At 16, You’re fully doing music and touring. School is pretty much dropped. You find that your boyfriend knocked you up. You want your mom but she won’t pick up. You end up having a miscarriage while on touring. You’re given a day to grieve and the next you have to continue on. You also perform at Kylie Jenner’s birthday party. You end up becoming good friends with the Jenner sisters which gets you more fame. You got another role playing Peter Parker’s neighbor and his second best friend. (2015)

At 17, you perform on SNL with Scarlett Johansson as the host. You release another album which kicks off another tour after you finish filming Spiderman: Homecoming. Tom Holland actually invites you to the Civil War premier and you join him. Sebastian hugs you tightly when he sees you. You don’t meet your dad. (2016)

At 18, rumors spark that you’ll be taking over the mantel as Captain America as filming for Infinity War starts. You start getting compared to Chris Evans as if it’s a fair comparison. There’s also rumors that you two might be related. You also start dating this actor, Max Wess. You attend the Spiderman premier with him. (2017)

At 19, your birth certificate is leaked.

Chris freaks out over the news. He knows your mom. He remembers her and the last night they shared together before she left without another word.

Your boyfriend ends up beating the shit out of you which one of your friends finds you barely alive and calls you an ambulance. This happens in your LA home. It’s a huge story.

Chris gets in contact with your aunt Jamie Y/l/n and she happily helps him sneak into the hospital without paparazzi catching him. He ends up sitting in the chair close to your bedside waiting for you to wake up if you ever will. He expects Emily to come. She doesn’t.

You wake up in a panic and Chris’ face is what you first see. He’s the one to tell that you’re okay and you’re safe. You learn that your jaw is wired shut. Your ribs are broken. You’re missing a kidney. You had a lot of internal bleeding. Your right hand is busted and took many screws and rods to fix. You’re definitely worried about your career especially when you found out that they had to slit your throat and put a tube in it. Your dad luckily distracts you and is sure to not bring up your mother since he’s been warned by Jamie.

“I’m really wondering how you got BOSLEY from Y/n,” Chris said.

You tapped on the keyboard of his iPad using your left index finger as he holds it for you. Chris can’t help but chuckle.

“He really named all his dogs Bosley?”

You nod and your grandpa said, “it’s a strong name.”

You turned head seeing the old man and Chris hasn’t seen him in two decades. You haven’t seen him in a good 3 years. Your grandmother heads to you easily freaking out over how you look but Chris knows you looked a lot worse. He wants to so badly ask why they didn’t tell him about you. They surely should’ve known. But he doesn’t for your sake.

“You don’t have to stay, Christopher,” your grandpa said.

Chris moves to stand up but you grasp his hand. You give the nastiest glare to your grandfather.

“Is she even gonna come?” You hissed through the wires. You aren’t supposed to try and use your voice.

“Honey,” your grandmother said. “She’s gotta look after the kids.”

You rolled your eyes and Chris could see the tears start to form. Your heart is beating faster on the monitor. He’s just as mad as you. Are you really not that important to her? If you aren’t, why didn’t she just give him you? He without would’ve taken you in and loved like a parent should.

You wave off the hands and swat them away. Tears streamed down your cheeks. You yanked out the leads as the monitor started to beep louder. It ends up showing that you’ve flatlined. You try kicking off the blankets.

“Hey, Bubba,” Chris said but you aren’t listening.

He ends up wrapping his arms around you. He takes the hits you give him. It’s heartbreaking to watch especially when you give up and cry as he held you. Nurses and doctors rushed in.

“She’s okay,” your grandpa informed as Chris comforts you as a parent should.

Once you fall back asleep with the help of some sedatives, your dad pulls your grandparents outside of your room.

“Where the fuck is Emily? Why isn’t she here? It’s clear Y/n wants her,” Chris said.

“Let’s go somewhere more private,” Lucille suggested.

Chris ends up taking them to his place after running into Tom Holland and Zendaya who are obviously there to visit you. He informs them that you’re asleep but it’d be fine for them to stop by and have them watch over you.

“They got into a huge fight over Y/n becoming BOSLEY,” your grandma said before her husband could speak. “Emily couldn’t handle it. She still holds a lot against you and she didn’t want you meeting her.”

“Really?” Chris asked.

“Yeah,” your grandpa said. “Emily practically disowned her. Probably should’ve called you.”

“No fucking shit. When was the last time they talked?” Chris asked.

“3 years ago,” Lucille said.

“It’s been five since they’ve seen each other. That’s when they had their big fight,” John said.

It’s late at night when you get released from the hospital. Your dad drives you to your house. You end up getting panicky and not wanting to go in. He takes you to his place and has his assistant go tomorrow to pack some bags for you. It’s a rough night so he stays up with you watching movies together until you fall asleep.

Chris takes you to Boston the next morning on a private jet. He sets up some appointments for you with doctors in Boston to make sure you’re recovering just fine. You meet Dodger and the two of you become best friends. It’s a lot of watching movies with your dad until you ultimately crash against him due to the meds. You also can’t seem to sleep alone in the guest room due to having terrible nightmares. With the first couple, Chris didn’t want to overstep and climb into the bed to hold you and try to make it go away. But it was clear that Dodger wasn’t cutting it. Just a couple nights a week, the three of you will be together in the same bed. Chris jokingly got you one of those starry night projectors but you both love it.

“What are you doing here?” You hear you’re dad hiss.

“It’s called dropping by unannounced to annoy you and to rescue your child from you,” Scott sassed.

“You are not taking my child anywhere, Scott,” Chris said.

“You make it sound like I wouldn’t bring her back,” Scott said.

Scott ends up taking you both out of the house. You have to listen to them both sing along with the radio. You end up capturing the two brothers on your phone. You agree going over to your grandparents house and meeting them even though you’re still recovering. It distracts you for awhile.

You get some news you don’t want to hear about your hand. It’s not healing as the doctors would like. They don’t know if you’ll be able to play guitar or piano (which will be one handed) like you had before. You end up having the surgery. Sebastian Stan surprises you when you wake up.

“Fuck off,” is what Sebastian says to you. You a small smile.

“Why’d ya say that?” Chris asked.

“It’s what your child first said to me when we met,” Sebastian said.

You hummed loudly to a song in your head making them laugh.

“She acts exactly like you when you’re drunk,” Sebastian teased.

As much as Chris wants to stay with you during your recovery, he does have to film but thankfully it’s in Boston. It’ll be like he has a regular job. However, there’s not much for you to do or you can do. You can’t sing or write. You end up getting stuck in your thoughts which isn’t a great place to be in for a long period of time.

Scott and Chris can clearly tell you’re absolutely miserable. Nobody knows how to help you out and get you out of it. Your dad ends up calling whoever he can. He calls Sebastian, Tom Holland, your manager, Scarlett, his mother.

Scarlett asks him, “what does she do for a living?”

“She’s a popstar,” Chris said.

“There’s your answer.”

He ends up getting a grand piano and putting it in the living room where the dining room table is. The table ends up in the garage with the chairs. It takes Chris playing a song poorly on it for you to come over and smack his left hand off the keys. It makes him smile as you play the song with your left hand and he plays with his right.

“Sit down next to me,” Chris said.

You sit next to him on the bench. He puts his left arm around your shoulders pulling you closer.

“Play me something,” he requested.

You give him a look that he’s been known to give people. He smiles. You let out a sigh- it’s more like a slight hiss. You play him a song. It turns into two and then into more.

You and your dad fly to LA as he’s got meetings and your ex has finally been arrested for what he did to you. You definitely built some walls up and retract from your dad as much as that sucks. Chris just knows he’s gotta be patient because he can’t force you to open up to him or you’ll probably push him so far away to the point of no return. Besides it’s only been 7 weeks since you first met each other.

“Hey, Y/n. I’m gonna watch The Muppets, you should join me,” Chris said after knocking on the bathroom door. “I’ll be in the living room.”

You stared at the door and listened to him walk away. You look back at the OxyContin in your hand. The pill bottle has your name on it. It was prescribed and filled once you were released from the hospital. There’s five pills left. You unscrew the top with some difficultly. You dump the little pills in the toilet and flush them. You drop the pill bottle in the trash and turned on the faucet. You let your left hand go under the water and you see the faint lines on your wrist. You’d let a blade run over them again but The Muppets will have to do.

“You’re just in time,” Chris smiled seeing that you took him up on his offer.

You sit right next to him. You both end up sharing a blanket as he noticed you getting cold.

You get your wires out in LA making it much easier to hold a conversation with people. You also get spotted out with your dad to dinner to celebrate that you can finally eat soft foods which blows up everywhere. You easily get backlash and told that you’re using him as a publicity stunt. Both his team and your own team finally meet on how to deal with the situation.

You finally speak up in the meeting. “I’m not doing fucking GMA or Ellen to talk about my sad little life and how it’s all good now ‘cause Captain America’s my dad. Are you insane? Have you not seen the shit I get from everyone? How everyone believes that everything that has happened— my boyfriend beating shit out of me because I told him to ‘fuck off’ to a leaked birth certificate revealing that fucking Chris Evans is my dad is just for publicity. It will not go over well especially with that fucking asshole out on bail talking shit because he can.”

You leave after snapping at everyone. Chris tries to talk to you but you snap at him telling him that he doesn’t know you and he’s not your dad. It definitely hurts to hear.

You don’t go back to his place which has him worried. He checks your home. You aren’t there.

You end up going to Hawaii to see your mom. It leads to a huge blow out. You’re screaming at her and she’s screaming at you. You’re told that she never wanted you and you were a mistake that she was saving Chris from. It truly destroys you.

Chris doesn’t see you again until he gets a call from your assistant in the middle of the night after she found you unconscious in the pool of your own blood. He of course comes even if you don’t want him there. He’ll sit at your bedside or the waiting room. He has to know that you’ll be okay.

“I’m gonna state this once and for all,” Chris said to you. “You’re stuck with me and I’m sorry that I’m your dad. I don’t know how to be one but I’ll figure it out.”

You cried which makes him climb into the hospital bed. He holds you tightly as you cry. He can tell you’ve gone through so much and you haven’t really had anyone. They’ve always left.

Chris takes you back to Boston once you get your cast off and sadly you’ll need another surgery but it thankfully can wait a bit. You start seeing a therapist that he helped find. You don’t talk about what was said in the room but he can you’re coming out of shell a bit.

You and Chris are seen again going to a courtroom in LA with Scott coming along. You even have some friends come in support. There’s tons of paparazzi and gossip sites covering it. It’s not a very fun experience especially with you having to take the stand and Chris learning some very heartbreaking things that you went through. Your ex tries to spew more lies about you and drag your dad into it. It’s thankfully over after three days and your ex is found guilty.

A celebratory dinner takes place at your favorite restaurant in LA. Chris gets to see you let loose a bit and smile more. He knows as BOSLEY that you don’t smile especially not in pictures. It’s your whole image that has been created and with everything that has happened, it hasn’t been a happy experience.

“Get next to her,” Chris is told.

You both grin widely with cheeks pressed together for one of your friends to take a picture. It gets posted on your dad’s twitter with a caption “there’s no denying it, I have a mini-me.” You retweet it.

[livwritesstuff]

‘tis my birthday today (it’s gotta be one of the worst birthdays to have, we don’t need to talk about it) anyways that’s where this is coming from

(also i’m not trying to imply that jan 1 is eddie’s bday. i wouldn’t wish that on anybody. besides, he is def a weirdo february aquarius)

The second half of the calendar year is nothing short of pandemonium for Eddie and Steve and their three daughters.

Moe’s birthday in late July kicks it off, almost immediately followed by Steve’s birthday in early August, then Hazel’s in September. Robbie’s birthday comes mere days after Halloween, and from there they dive headfirst into the bedlam of the holiday season.

Much to Eddie's relief, they all made it to yet another New Year's Day, and while the girls are definitely feeling the end-of-winter-break blues, Eddie welcomes the reprieve in festivities, brief as it may be.

His own birthday is up next – though not for another month.

He’s really not a birthday kind of guy. Never had been.

He loves making birthdays exciting for Steve and their daughters (they have a whole slew of traditions and everything – there’s names spelled out in pancakes involved; it's a very big deal), but his own…not so much.

It managed to fly under the radar for the past few years, but since this year is the big Five-Oh, he knows Steve won’t let him get away with that again.

Eddie has a complicated relationship with his birthday. When he was younger and the weight of Birthday Importance was at its peak, he never really celebrated the way other kids got to, and now, as an adult, he doesn’t know how to feel the things you’re supposed to feel about your birthday. 

Steve does a good job, despite Eddie’s weirdness. 

His favorite, Eddie thinks, was the year Moe was born, when Steve had managed to catch him off guard by renting a tiny cottage up in Maine for a few days.

“Moe or no Moe,” Steve had asked, “I’ve got Rob and Nance on standby.”

(They’d taken Moe. She saw snow for the first time. It was amazing, and people who don't want to involve their kids in stuff are a bunch of fucking weirdos).

Steve gives him a letter every year – handwritten on notebook paper and folded into whatever cheesy card he picks out.

Eddie keeps most of the letters in a fireproof lockbox along with all their passports and social security cards and birth certificates (look – Eddie doesn’t fuck around with priceless shit), but he keeps the most recent one – the one Steve gave him for his forty-ninth birthday nearly a year ago – in the top drawer of his bedside table.

He has it pretty much memorized at this point.

It says:

Ed! (with an exclamation point and everything – god, does Eddie love him)

49.

Holy shit we’re getting old.

Writing this is making me think about all the ones from the beginning, when I’d write about our future together even though we didn’t have a damn clue what we were working towards for a while.

I think we’re in it, man. Crazy, right?

(The ink color suddenly switches from blue to purple)

Sorry for the color change. Hazy decided she needed a blue pen immediately. Hope your vision hasn’t gone totally to shit and you can still read the purple.

Anyways, since I have you hostage reading this, I’m gonna take the opportunity to discuss you, because you don’t let me in real life most of the time.

You are gorgeous. Best looking face I’ve ever seen. I wonder how much time I’ve lost off my day just staring at you (actually, not a loss. I take that back)

You suck at puzzles – I know that sounds bad, but it’s great for me. I need that to rub off on Moe because she’s getting pretty good and that’s gonna be a problem for me.

You make me laugh so fucking hard every day. I’m praying the girls get your sense of “elevated” humor or whatever you like to call it

You’re so fucking smart, Eddie. I count myself lucky for it endlessly

You are completely 100% you all the time. I’m still working on that I think but I’m getting there because of you. I’m glad all that shit we went through didn’t take that away from you.

the BEST dad. Can’t believe I didn’t say that sooner. Not to brag but our kids are turning out pretty awesome (can’t go around saying that too much though it’ll go right to their heads and then any power we have left goes out the window)

You’re probably the best person I’ve ever known. Don’t think I’ll be forgetting what a catch you are any time soon, because I won't.

Thank you for loving me even all these years later. My life is better every day that I’m with you.

We’ll keep things quiet this year. Don’t get used to it though. Next year’s gonna be a rager.

Love you always!

- Steve :) ♡ ☆

[trollprincess]

Eighteen years ago, my great-grandpa George passed away.

Grandpa was a badass. One day, he meets this woman whose husband left her and their four kids and they hook up. In fact, they hook up so quickly that the first of their two kids has the previous guy on the birth certificate as the dad by accident. (They get it changed later.) Not long after, Grandpa joins up for WWII. He looks good in a uniform - my dad says he looks like Errol Flynn, I say Clark Gable. Grandpa storms the beaches at Normandy, but never mentions it. He comes back home, works construction, even helps build the Twin Towers. In the 70s, he and my great-grandma finally get around to getting married just for the Social Security. Six kids, and you would never be able to tell which ones were and weren’t his. He treated them all the same.

Anyway, every time my mom would get a new kitten, Grandpa would always say, “You should name him after me!” She liked people names for cats, and he kept asking, and she kept putting it off. And then he passed away.

A few months later, she got George the kitten.

Grandpa was one of those stocky guys who walked a little like he couldn’t put his arms all the way down. He was gray for as long as any of us could remember, and he had asthma. George the kitten was a gray seal point who soon turned into a weird stocky-looking thing. Not long after we got him, he started to wheeze every so often. Turns out, he had asthma.

The reincarnation jokes started pretty quickly.

For eighteen years, George was a big blocky lump of a cat, stocky but not fat, who could yowl with the best of them. He loved a good snuggle, and expected a pet as soon as you walked in the door. He got a little grumpy when suddenly there was a dog in the house, and then another one, but he got over it. Last photo I saw my mom post of him, my dad was on the couch covered in him and two boxers. The only reason more animals weren’t on him is because after those three, there was no room.

A year or so ago, he started losing weight. It’s strange, seeing a cat who’s always been built like a tiger drop to skin and bones. We have another cat who’s up there in years too and probably not much longer for this world who’s dropped weight as well, but the difference between big blocky George and old skinny George is startling. It’s like we lost half a cat somewhere.

Tonight, he goes to the vet to cross the rainbow bridge.

It’s okay, though. Grandpa will be absolutely giddy to finally meet his small furry namesake. Or will he just go back to where he came from, content he found another way to hang out with us for twenty more years?

Anyway, a toast to George. May you all unsettle your families into believing in reincarnation and demand attention by loudly yelling at everyone in his honor today.

[wyn-n-tonic]

That's A Real Fucking Legacy: All of You, All of Me

Word Count: 968 Warnings: Uh.... death talk? Author's Note: SHE'S BACK ON HER BULLSHIT, BESTIES.

TARFL Masterlist | Author Blog

It’s been years in the making at this point.

You, Joel. Baby. Except her name isn’t Baby anymore and it’s not Thomasin either.

There was a lot of discussion, a lot of broken hearts and tears from all parties involved. Tommy was touched but he ached. Even when he got over it, found somebody else, he ached so deep in his being that there were nights he thought he’d split himself in two.

Because at the end of the day, he still believes—with all his heart—that your little girl should be his, too. He believes that when you took the last name Miller, it should’ve been gifted over from him.

“I’ll hold onto this hurt for the rest of my life, sweetheart,” he’d said.

Said he’d accepted that he’d caused it but that didn’t make the pain go away. Didn’t soothe that raw, bruised part of his heart—his soul.

There was no begging, Joel was on board from the beginning. Joel was on board before anybody else. Change her name, something more appropriate for who she is to you and Joel and this world. A gift.

A second chance.

Or third. Fourth. Fifth.

One hundredth and many more than you deserve after years and year over this life; this way of living. 

Especially for Joel, your strong, broad mountain of a man who believed himself irredeemable in the eyes of everybody but especially yours. He cradled her with such gentleness, even as she grew, that it was hard to believe he was capable of any kind of violence.

So, after a year of late night and early morning talks whispered across the pillows, decisions had been made. A lot of them, actually.

Joel admitted that he felt his humanity pouring back into him with every breath he took beside you; every moment he held your daughter in his arms. He bloomed as father, color darkening his cheeks with emotion every time he looked at her. He felt like before in some sense of the word, like he was being given the gift of fulfilling the only thing he ever felt he was good at. 

Beyond a shadow of a doubt, you know where that thought would often go. Silent promises to himself that he wouldn’t fail this time. Or, God help him, he hoped his failure was no longer being in this world to protect her when it came down to it.

In the registry office of town, where all the records of who was who and where they were were kept, you both signed as a new birth certificate was made. 

Clara Miriam Miller. No Thomasin, no Baby. No placeholder for who she was or name to carry as if she were some memorial, just Clara. 

It means bright. Clear. Joel joked that she was the only light in the darkness he’d ever seen or needed.

It was good, beautiful even. As you finished your signature on the page detailing everything you could remember about her birth—bloody, loud, an early morning surprise that still exhausted you to this day—Joel cleared his throat.

Trying his best to tuck an unruly piece of hair behind your ear and failing, he took a deep breath and finally said, “will you marry me while we’re here?”

That’s the last piece to his puzzle, always has been. The thing he always wanted before—-companionship. Love in such an intimate way. Not that your relationship lacks that as it is but there’s something about being official.

There’s possession to it and there’s this bit of submission as you vow to give all your life and love and hurt and pain and, even, your death to one person. 

No. No doubts in your minds about this one either. He loved so fiercely, so deeply, and he’d whispered all his insecurities and broken parts in all the nights you’ve lived together. He didn’t have it before, not when it happened. Selfishly, you’re glad that he didn’t, that his wife had walked away from him years and years before that. If he’d lost her the way he’d lost the others, the way he fears losing you or losing Clara…

But if that had been the case, there would be no you. Not for him. There wouldn’t even be a Clara, there would be somebody else with somebody else.

Or maybe nobody at all. 

Your vows are even more selfish as you tell him how grateful you are that you found one another through all this and the more that life tried to throw at you; that you went to him the way Tommy had said to when there was trouble even though it scared you so much to knock on his door.

It scared you to tell him the things you told him, to make the decisions for yourself and decide you were tired of pretending it wasn’t love that you felt for him. 

In the end, with Clara’s small face tucked neatly into the crook of his neck, he took your hand, looked at his brother and apologized with gratitude tacked onto the end. 

Looking back at you, he smiles and you reach out to touch your thumb into the hidden dimple as it wells deep into his cheek.

“When I go, I hope it’s peaceful,” he says. “I hope it’s beside you, Mrs. Miller, and I hope it’s only after years. And, selfishly, I hope it’s not a pain or absence you have to feel for long because I am going to be mighty pissed off if you make me wait for as long as I did to have you in my bed in the first place.” 

Going back to your signature on Clara’s paperwork, you pick up the pen and add -Miller to the end of your name. 

[neon-kazoo]

I humbly request to see hero and villain going to build a bear 🥸

(Anything for my bestest beta-reader o7)

Hero and Villain Go To Build-a-Bear

When Hero entered the mall, they could never have imagined Villain’s affinity for stuffed animals, and the chaos it would cause.

The first red flag should have been the look of glee in their eyes when they spotted the “Build-a-Bear Workshop” sign.

Before Hero could blink, about a dozen children were running out of the store, screaming at the villain’s spontaneous arrival. Frantic parents followed, and soon Villain had the store all to themselves.

By the time Hero entered, there was already a deflated animal in their hands. A worker reached for it to begin filling it with stuffing, only for Villain to snatch their hand back and gesture for her to leave. Hero shrugged helplessly.

Who was she to argue with the notorious villain taking over the store?

The employee stepped back as Villain commandeered the stuffing machine, retreating to behind the counter.

Villain completed and repeated the process by heart, filling the animals to their preferred firmness, kissing a small silk heart, and retying the stitching in the back.

After the sixth stuffing, Hero let out a long sigh.

“Are you done, yet?”

Hero certainly was.

“Of course I’m not done!”

Hero sat in the corner, head in their hands as Villain stuffed yet another bear.

This time, when Villain came to present their new child to the hero, there was something suspicious in their smile. As Hero lowered their gaze from their face to their hands, they quickly understood why.

“IS THAT ME?!”

Sure enough, Villain held the Hero-branded teddy in their arms, only its signature suit was swapped for none other than a striped prison jumpsuit.

Why Build-a-Bear even carried jail-themed attire for plushies, Hero had no idea.

Just when Hero thought that was the cherry on top, Villain squeezed the look-a-like bear right in the center.

A creepily accurate voice spoke the words, “I surrender.”

Hero blinked, equal parts impressed and creeped out.

Satisfied by their reaction, Villain turned their sights to the accessories section.

The criminal gasped as they laid eyes on a standing red sign. At the same time, Hero groaned. The sign said ‘buy-four-get-one-outfit-item-free’, and Villain certainly took that to heart.

A purple skirt, a doctor’s outfit, flip flops, red rain boots, two pairs of roller skates, a bucket hat, carrying bag, and so many shirts Hero lost count. The floor was littered in forgotten items, looking like a tornado had hit the store. Hero doubted Villain could see past the items stacked in their arms to even pick up anything they dropped.

Villain heaped their haul on to the countertop in front of the poor employee who definitely did not get paid enough to scan all of that.

The pile contained a pink frog, a green frog, a tie-dye frog (Villain insisted they were a family, and therefore could not be separated), a Darth Vader, a Marvel WandaVision pair, and some kind of fluffy cow with horns.

Oh, and of course the imprisoned Hero bear, complete with sparkly pink sneakers.

Finally, this ordeal was coming to an end.

“Excuse me,” Villain asked, “where do you keep the Villain bears?”

Oh no.

“The…Villain bears?” The confused employee parroted.

“Yes. My bears,” Villain confirmed with confidence.

“Right. Erm…,” she looked around in a show of contemplation, scanning the bins of plushie skins against the wall.

“We seem to be…out of those.”

She typed some probable nonsense into the screen in front of her before putting on a low-effort disappointed face.

“They were limited edition, I’m afraid. Sold out at every store.”

Hero was impressed by the lie. Maybe they needed to speak to the manager about a raise.

The news barely put a damper on the villain’s excitement, they were still vibrating with joy as they put in their email and printed out eight birth certificates.

Once the total rang up, Villain turned to face the hero expectantly.

“Oh no,” Hero stepped back in realization, “The deal was I accompany you peacefully to the mall and you don’t destroy the city. You said nothing about me footing the bill.”

The Villain simply smiled.

“Surely villainy pays enough for this,” Hero questioned, eyeing the amount on the screen with wide eyes.

Shouldn’t a villain just steal it all?

“You do like this city, right?” Villain questioned back, raising an eyebrow.

Ah, the cost of heroics: several hundred dollars.

[queerweewoo]

my hand slipped and i wrote 2K of About To Be Cheating Cheaters buddie (sorry tommy!). here's one half of what i've gotten down so far.

.

“That's why I'm here, hermano. To make your drunk ass drink lots of water, and to stop all that spiralling shit in its detrimental tracks. If you haven't figured it out by now, I don't much like things that hurt my family.”

Eddie's head is still spinning. 

“Hermano? Really Buck? I've only ever been a brother, never had one. But I'm pretty sure any brother of mine wouldn't look a lick like you.”

Dios, Eddie is so, so drunk, and such a horrible person for being so, so glad that Buck is here, with Eddie, instead of someplace with his boyfriend that Eddie definitely does not want to be thinking about.

Eddie needs Buck like oxygen right now because Eddie is a pathetic mess. What the fuck would some perfect pilot that's built like a brick shithouse know about being a pathetic mess? Screw you, Iceman—Buck and Eddie are the Maverick and Goose of this movie, fuck you very much. Always have been. Always will be. 

Buck's eyebrows are trying to migrate and join up with his hairline. “Oh, really? What, I'm not good-looking enough to be a Diaz? Is that it?” 

That is very much not it. 

Eddie teases, “Aw, guapo, you worried you're not pretty enough for me?” because he clearly left his last bit of sanity in the hook and ladder down on Main. He feels like he's having an out of body experience, looking down on himself from up on the ceiling and can practically see his blood fizzing beneath his skin like someone injected popping candy into his veins while he wasn't looking.

What the fuck is he doing? 

Buck isn't as drunk as Eddie, but he suddenly looks stone cold sober, blinking furiously through whatever emotions are gripping him right now. Eddie can usually tell what Buck is feeling without having to so much as look at him, but there's currently so much candied rum in his system that it's numbing his higher brain function.

“Uh, that's, uh—it's—that's not exactly what I was getting at, Eddie,” Buck stumbles, trying to right himself from the suckerpunch. 

“So what exactly are you getting at, Evan.”

Eddie never uses that name. Not once before telling Buck about changing his will, and never since. He'd only opted back in that hospital room to call Buck by what is printed on his birth certificate to get his full attention, so he understood that what Eddie was telling him was really fucking important. Back when Eddie had very almost told Buck how he feels about him, before bailing on the notion at the last millisecond like the chicken-shit he is and always has been. 

Tommy calls Buck Evan. Only ever calls him Evan. As if he knows the first fucking thing about Eddie's best friend! Eddie thinks that at this exact moment in time, regardless of how the guy is supposed to be his shiny new pal, he might just despise Tommy Kinard with every fibre of his being. Who the hell does he think he is, flying in on his helicopter like every day is leg day, with his stupid, funny fake-mouth-static and those stupid, handsome cheekbones, pissing all over Eddie's territory with his probably Incredible Hulk sized dick and trying to take Eddie's Buck away from him?

You're mine, he thinks. Almost says it, too. And he might say it yet, if Buck keeps on squirming as beautifully as he is right now, the raging heat of his twitchy body searing into Eddie's side like a branding iron that states If Lost Return To Evan Buckley. 

And I'm yours, he thinks, and knows it to be true. Knows he could make it true, that it could maybe be everything, potentially, if only Eddie stopped being such a yellow-belly. 

Fuck Kinard. Fuck all of them that have come before and after Eddie. None of them have loved, or love Buck the way he does. None of them. Eddie knows this because he loves Buck so much it somehow fortifies his heart to make it able to force its way through the spaces between his cracked rib cage and break free to beat wildly in double-time, bleeding, bleeding, bleeding. 

Eddie, feeling drunker by the second, hasn't looked away from Buck in a hot minute—Buck who now looks like he might be having a minor stroke. Stretching across to plop his glass clumsily onto the coffee table and missing the coaster by a Texas mile, Eddie then dries any possibility of lingering water droplets from his moustache with a clunky swipe of his thumb and forefinger, before turning to face Buck with a lot more cock-surety than sense. 

Buck is Eddie's best friend. His partner. The man who loves his kid. The man who Eddie gave his kid to because they both love his kid that much. He's the lunatic who has unofficially moved in with Eddie—because Eddie has driven their kid away with his epic levels of bullshit—even though he currently has a boyfriend.

Buck, Buck, Buck, who Eddie is now positive should be his boyfriend. 

Licking his lips, he feels like he's forgetting something. Like maybe all of the reasons he's steered himself clear of this iceberg for so long—only he's far too drunk, and far too selfish, to try to remember that or care. 

Buck swallows, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, and Eddie wants fervently to get his teeth and tongue around it. Then he's muttering, “Eddie, I just meant—” 

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, begs, demands. 

His fingertips have found the soft fabric of Buck's deep blue waffle-weave shirt, where it's covering the expanse of his chest. He's trying to get to his heart, he realises, feeling blindly for any sign of double-time, wanting to taste the blood in its chambers the way Buck has tasted Eddie's.

“Yeah,” Buck breathes, mirroring Eddie which doesn't make a lick of sense apart from the fact that it makes perfect sense, to Eddie. 

Eddie's cheeks are burning but he thinks fuck it, throwing the both the extinguisher and life ring overboard and going full steam ahead. 

.

[dooralight]

staring at the shattered reflection

Stephanie held back a chuckle as Damian and Bruce continued their, quite frankly, idiotic argument.

“I said no, damian. My word is final.” Bruce stated with his ‘no nonsense’ tone. ‘Honestly’, Stephanie thought, ‘he ought to know by now that this tone will always lead to nonsense.’

“I must wear a tuxedo to the gala to let the gothamites know I am my father’s true daughter!’’ yep, more nonsense.

Bruce sighed. “Damian, I am flattered that you want to dress like me to the gala, but trust me, there are other- more reasonable ways to prove to Gotham that you’re my daughter.”

“Yeah, like the birth certificate your old man published.” Stephanie chimed in. Damian's head snapped to her direction, her expression laced with absolute betrayal, her mouth opening to to make another point. Bruce quickly stopped her. “Damian, when you grow older,  you’ll get to wear whatever you choose. But right now I need you to trust me when I say that if the press will see an eleven year old wearing something that is considered to be grown man’s wear, they will not let you live it down. I will not have you harassed by the press if I can prevent it. Understood?” 

Ooh, he used the Batman voice this time. Stephanie watched Damian as the young girl’s composure slowly broke down and her face lost its scowl to welcome a new, sad expression. wise choice.

“Good. Stephanie here kindly agreed to take you to dress shopping. I trust you'll have a lot of fun.” at that new piece of information, Damian sulked further. bruce looked like he wanted to say something, but after a moment, he sighed and turned to speak to stephanie. "here's my credit card," he handed her a golden plastic card, "buy yourself something nice to wear to the gala, too." 

stephanie couldn't help but get defensive. "I have a job, bruce. i don't need your money."

bruce rubbed his forhead at the familliar arguement as he led the girls out the room. 

"where do you all get your stubborness from?" she heard him mutter under his breath. if alfred was in the room, he'd probably raise a pointed eyebrow at the man.

“Let's get this over with as soon as possible, brown.” damian commanded as she left the room, fists clenched at her side and the knife in her bag clattering softly everytime she bounced.

‘...this is going to be fun.’

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

Despite her asking for the shopping trip to be fast, Damian sure took her time choosing a dress.

“How ‘bout this one, dames?’’ Stephanie held up a red dress with fake, pink roses sewn on the bottom of it. The younger took one glance at the dress before rejecting it with a single shake of her head. 

“Oh, c’mon damian! This is the fifth store we’ve been to! You have to like something!” Damian crossed her hands. “It’s not my fault all of the dresses here are ugly.” Stephanie was about to respond, probably something about Damian being a spoiled brat, before her eyes caught on something; Damian had her hand folded tightly inside her bag- probably around the knife hidden there. 

she must've caught on a potential threat.

Stephanie's instincs kicked in; she immediately took Damian's arm and threw her into a changing room (which gained her an outraged shriek from the younger)  before closing the veil behind her and searched around the room for a possible threat Damian might have caught on before her. After a good minute of finding none, stephanie felt a hand pulling her into the changing room.

 “What are you doing?” Damian asked, baffled. She didn’t look alarmed, or exited for a good fight; just… stiff. Stephanie responded, just as confused, “what are you doing? Why are you holding a knife in the middle of a clothing shop? Didn’t you see something suspicious?’’ Damian stared at her for a split second before recovering. “I- Yes, yes indeed. The cashier seemed-” 

“Damian.” A split second is like an hour when you learn body language from the Cassandra cain. 

“Brown.” Damian challenged, the bat’s glare clear on her features. 

Stephanie considered glaring back, before realizing she was picking a fight with a ten years old in a clothing shop. The older made sure to soften her tone before tucking a stray dark curl behind her pseudo sister’s ear and asking the question she’s been dying to ask all day:

“Why don’t you want to wear a dress?”

Damian puffed her chest defensively. “My father is going to wear a tuxedo.”

Stephanie barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “So?” she asked. “Tt, so I need to dress like him!”

That gave Stephanie nothing to work with. “why, though? You think people will underestimate you if you dress… girly?”

Damian looked upfronted at the idea. “Underestimate? Me?! My mother wears dresses all the time and she still defeats all of her enemies. I will cut the tongue of whoever dares suggest I can't easily do the same.”

Stephanie sighed and began opening the veil of the changing room. “Y’know what? I did what I could. It’s B’s problem now. I just don-” Stephanie froze, letting the newfound information Damian provided her sink in. 

“Tt, let’s just leave this cursed sh-” Damian jumped back when Stephanie twirled around,grabbing the younger’s wrist as she crouched to meet her eyes. “Gotcha!” she said in a not-quite hushed tone.

Damian asked. “If that’s what you call a whisper, brown, then maybe you are unfit to the vigilante life after all.” 

Stephanie ignored the jab at her skills like she did for the last four hours. “Is that why you hate dresses? They remind you of your mom?” 

Damian bristled. “I don’t hate dresses!” then, in a softer tone, “and i do not hate my mother.”

Stephanie shifted her weight to the balls of her feet. “Okay… but, im going the right direction, aren’t i?”

Damian looked down. ”I suppose your detective skills aren't as bad as your-”

“Damian.”

The little one sighed in a rather childish way. “I…i just… everyone keeps telling me i look like her. Act like her. Even roll my eyes like she does. And I know I should be taking it as a compliment. I know it; my mother is a beautiful, graceful woman with perfect mannerism.”

Damian added the next part in a nearly mute voice, and Stephanie had to read her lips to make out what she was saying.

“I don't want to be like her, stephanie. I want to be- I want to be good. Like my father. I want people to look at me and see a kind, empathic person. Not… not mother.”

Stephanie’s heart broke for her pseudo sister. Now all the times Stephanie remembered seeing Damian in front of the mirror, trying to narrow her eyes to hide the green in them made sense to her.  Damian trying to mimic Bruce's real, rare smile only for it to look strained and shaky made her heart clench painfully for the younger. 

“Damian. You are a beautiful girl. from the outside, sure; you’ve inherited the best features of both your talia and bruce- you’ll grow to be a real supermodel.”

As Stephanie talked, her fingers traced Damian's puffy curls, to her eyebrows, to her thick lashes, that fluttered when the blond’s index fingers brushed them. Stephanie lowered her fingers to pat her chubby cheeks. Damian’s eyes didn’t re-open.

“But you’re beautiful from the inside, too. And I'm not talking about Bruce's beauty, nor Talia's. I’m talking about your own beauty.”

Damian’s eyes stayed shut as her eyebrows dug into her face. “I’m not beautiful from the inside. I'm -bad.”

“No.”  Stephanie stated firmly. “Bad people don’t risk their life every night to protect the innocent. Bad people don’t save animals from abusive owners or from starving on the street just because they know no one else will stand up for them. Bad people don’t regret bad things they’ve done in the past and spend everyday in their life trying to make up for that. You are not a bad person, damian wayne.”

If Damian's eyes were open, Stephanie was sure that they’d be rolled at her for that claim. Dick and her have been saying that to her for two years, and she wasn’t anywhere close to believing it.

 But Stephanie was persistent; she’s never had anyone who’d comfort her when she felt trapped by heavy, demanding emotions, silently  begging to be held, loved, cared for. When she saw the tired but angry, adult-like look in Damian's young features, she promised she would not let this little girl end up like her, a girl who was so desperate for recognition that it got her killed. 

(but she did; she would never forget how it felt, hearing about Damian's death, by the hands of her own mother, the woman who was supposed to love her. Hearing about another girl who got killed trying to prove she is something. )

“Damian.” never again, she swore. “You and I are going to find the clothes you would feel the most comfortable with. Screw bruce.”

Damian’s eyes finally opened. “While it's appreciated, brown, going against father’s direct orders for such an unimportant reason would be wasteful. I’d much rather satisfy him now so I could get off defying his underestimating orders on the field. “

Stephanie, despite herself, felt pride blooming in her chest. “you brat.” She ruffled Damian's curls as they exited the dressing room, or at least attempted to before Damian swiftly slapped her hand away. “Maybe you should just find a different angle to look at the situation, dami.”

“What do you mean ,brown?”

“Well, Talia is not the only woman in the world who wears dresses, right? You just need to find someone you consider good, and think about dressing like them- then you’ll feel better about the whole dress thing. Maybe cass? Or your friend, maya? Does she wear dresses?”

Damian seemed to think about it. Then, in flushed cheeks and a scowl, she took a stride to a row of hanged dresses and took out a dress.

A bright, decorated, purple dress. 

Stephanie felt a grin splitting her face as her view became blurry. 

“You brat!”

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

“They’re late.” 

Dick sipped on his champagne, watching with Tim as Bruce sent Stephanie another text before politely joining a bunch of men in a conversation about the last big sale another centerpiece made. 

“I bet you 50 bucks she’s late on purpose,” Tim offered, fingers drumming on his lap subconsciously. 

Dick snorted. “I’m not dumb enough to bet against that, timbo.” he slid off his chair and took out his phone, already ready on camera mode. 

“Hey, what’re you-”

“What I am willing to bet, though, is that they’re going to make one hell of an entrance.”

Like practiced, as the band started playing a jazz version of “devil woman”, stephanie and damian emerged from behind the large, wooden door, sporting the same hairstyle, matching sunglasses that looked cartoonishly large on damian’s face, and similar dresses.

Purple dresses.

Dick caught Stephanie's peace sign on camera before focusing it on Bruce, who locked eyes with Stephanie before shaking his head and face-palming with a tiny, barely noticeable smile. 

“We should totally do that too sometime.” dick told his brother as he pocketed his phone.

“...sure.” Tim muttered, his eyes locked on the blond, admiring her from afar, unaware of how creepy he looked. Dick smirked before walking up to the two girls, high-fiving steph. Now that he got closer, he could see that Stephanie's dress looked much cheaper than Damian's fancy one. Dick couldn’t help but admire Stephanie's independence and refusal to use Bruce's unending resources, choosing to fend for herself, much like he did all these years ago.

“You two look great.” he smiled. Stephanie rolled her eyes, smiling to herself, and winked at damian. “I’m not the one who chose the dresses.” 

Damian puffed proudly. “I suppose we do look great.” she admitted, slightly twirling before realizing what she was doing and stopped.

Neither of them commented on the action, though dick felt like trying his luck:

“Whatcha say, dami? Next time you’ll match with me? You’ll rock a blue dress.”

Damian tsked. “Are you planning to ‘rock’ a blue dress with me?” 

Dick slumped. Stephanie laughed.

[khaire-traveler]

How are ya doing mate?

This ended up being kind of venty, so I put it behind a read more. The long and short of it is that I'm doing terribly and do not feel well. Thank you for caring to ask; it does mean a lot and makes me feel a little less alone. Take care, Nonny. 🧡

In all honesty, Nonny, I'm not doing well at all. I've had an incredibly hard week. I found out that I can't get any financial aid for college (I'm ineligible, apparently), I've been struggling immensely in finding a job, I'm trying to get a replacement for my birth certificate that USPS lost in the mail, I'm trying to prevent identity theft for my social security number that USPS also lost in the mail, and now I've found out that my dog is struggling with some pretty intense health issues and apparently all the responsibility for booking his appointments and giving him his eye drops falls on me I guess. Oh, and on top of my dog's health issues, I am also having issues that I haven't been able to address throughout any of this because I don't have a doctor and can't find one. I'm doing terribly. What's worse is that it feels like I'm mostly alone in this. I don't blame my friends for this, obviously, but all of them are too busy to talk these days, and my online friends are the only ones I'm close enough with to talk about these kinds of issues. The few friends I've made in this new state (US) aren't close enough for me to be able to talk about this stuff without it being super weird. The whole friend things has also been a huge issue: I am crushingly alone right now. I haven't gotten the chance to hang out with anyone one on one, and not having a job means in basically spending the entire day with only seeing my pets and my parents. Walking to see people isn't an option here, and driving to see people is also not an option due to gas prices. Idk, there's a lot to it.

Anyway, yeah, I'm doing pretty bad. I feel like shit, and I also feel entirely alone and a little bit like no one cares, although I logically know that people do care and are just busy with their own lives (which is obviously completely ok). I feel exhausted. I even got woken up by a call from the vet, asking if I was going to cancel some appointment they had me schedule for my dog. I have to schedule something else for him later as well. Life is hell, and I am burning in the lake of fire. ✨

[britt-kageryuu]

The audience of the stream is watching Leo move about the set checking a laptop, tablet, and his phone all sitting on a desk with a blue gaming chair. He was also swapping his models outfit, not sure which would fit with whatever he was about to talk about.

He finally chose a full Lou Jitsu jumpsuit, with gloves, platform shoes, and shield glasses worn over his usual mask. He plopped back into the chair and poses with his one of his ligs crossed over the other, and leaning onto his left hand.

"Sorry 'bout starting the stream while I wasn't ready. I found some amazing news, and wanted to track down as much actual facts, to make sure I had everything correct." He leans over to the laptop to set something up. Once he was satisfied he turns back to facing the camera.

"So, it's fairly obvious we're big Lou Jitsu fans here, so imagine our surprise to hear about someone attempting to claim his supposed left behind fortune. Because people for some reason think he's dead, and not just trying to live peacefully somewhere." Leo clicks on something, and a news article pops up.

"Woman claims to be Lou Jitsus 'long lost' Daughter/Granddaughter."

"Either the Lady couldn't keep her story straight, or whoever wrote this kept getting conflicting evidence. Part of why I wasn't quite ready. Had to check is with my journalist sis to see if she could help get things straight." He clicks over to something else and a different article takes the place of the previous one.

"Woman attempts to steal fortune of Lou Jitsu with faulty Scam. Surprised by the results!"

"So to set the scene better, this lady shows up out of nowhere, claiming she's, let's see by age... Daughter! Of Lou Jitsu. I don't know how she planned to have this work with modern DNA matching and everything, but she apparently refused to do a DNA test to prove this. If this was literally 30 years earlier she wouldn't have to worry, but I guess she didn't bank on people asking so many questions." He gets rid of the article, and brings up a badly edited birth certificate. "Seems she believed she could just wave around a doctored Birth Certificate, and some flimsy 'photographic evidence' that looked like they were put together in a bootleg photoshop program."

A couple of pictures appear on screen, they were obviously edited pictures of Lou Jitsu "holding" a baby, or child. Then a couple with a little girl that looked very off, the lighting didn't match between the girl, and Lou.

"Yeah, this didn't fly with the people at the banks, or whichever government offices, she had attempted go to, especially since there was a different thing blocking her from succeeding in this sham of a scam." Leo looks proud of himself for that slight word play. Something is thrown at him from off screen, and he glares at whoever threw it before continuing.

"You see, Lou Jitsu had set up an interesting set of security questions and or tests for getting access his bank accounts. He did include a DNA matching test as a last ditch security, but it never got that far. No she got caught at a slightly obscure set of security questions that required you to answer a random on set inside joke from one of Lou Jitsus first movies!" Leo laughs and spins in his chair a couple times. He stops and brings up a new document.

"Okay, so this is a copy of the security tests list we got ahold of, as you can see," He points at a spot near the top that's highlighted, "Lady didn't get very far into the security tests. Yeah there are alot of them, he apparently set this up not long before completely disappearing from the limelight. Though why there's so many tests is anyone's guess! Maybe it's just to annoy whoever attempts to fake their way into his accounts?"

Leo thinks it over a bit before muting the mic and shouting off to the side, then waiting for an answer, where he nods his head, and talks to whoever's off screen, with a couple of odd gestures and head tilts. After a couple minutes he unmutes the mic.

"So, just asked Dee a couple questions, and while we can only speculate why Lou make such a complicated set of tests, what we do know is that the tests were actually updated a few years back. So Lou is still out there, and he knows the Lady made this attempt. And has filed a lawsuit against her! That will be an interesting day in court!!" He quickly stands up and throws his arms up in the air with jazz hands.

After sitting back down he swaps out the documents still on screen with a couple of pictures of the Lady's headshots from getting arrested for attempted fraud, and scam. Her name is blurred out.

"This is the Lady, we don't want to give out her name since she either has a very unfortunate name, or she would only give them a very crude name instead of her actual name. Plus some places can't legally tell the names of people who were arrested, so let's go with that." Leo reads some notes on the laptop then added, "And she might have a record already, but we can't read or find any legal documents that confirm or deny this."

The pictures are taken off the screen, and the lighting changes.

"Well, there's not much more of that incident that's public, so let's move on to something else Lou Jitsu related! They've announced a new special anniversary movie bundle! And we have some info on the special bonus features!" Leo announces, and brings up some graphics for this movie bundle.

The stream continues from there, and even though some people in chat are still shouting questions about the scammer lady segment, they get ignored and buried under other things spammed in the chat. Especially since donation notifications were disabled for the stream.

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

Masterpost

[you-need-not-apply]

I loved freaking out adults at age like 15 with the whole “what do you wanna be when you grow up?” I either answered honestly (“statistical analysis and communication”) or I lied my ass off in a completely serious tone (“fake my death, get a new American birth certificate and become the president” once I said “hooker” coz she was creeping me out and she got lost so damn fast)

[iamleesi]

THE HUNTERS & THE SOLDIER

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x OC! Avenger Reader

Summary: You and Bucky arrive at the house in Lincoln, Nebraska, to start the mission. And you also meet some… SHIELD agents.

Warnings: Deaths, missing people, hydra.

Other: English is not my first language so I apologize in advance for eventual mistakes. -> 18+. !!

-> Masterlist

-> Part one ; Part three

-> Sam and Dean (02)

The tension in the Quinjet was thick as you and Bucky sat in silence, each of you lost in your own thoughts. Bucky had been avoiding you like the plague but that was no surprise, his jaw clenched thigh as he stared down at the clouds out of the window.

You moved uncomfortably in your seat, your eyes finding his figure. Whether you liked it or not - whether he liked it or not, you needed to break the ice. You couldn’t arrive there pretending to be a couple when it was clear from miles away he’d push you down a hill if he could.

“So,” You started. “Anything you wanna add to the plot? This shit says little about it, Fury is letting us set up a story.” You said, looking up again from your papers. Papers that needed to be burned in case anyone found them. Rules. “Like… when we met? How we met? Something like that?”

“Isn’t that enough?” He muttered, not turning his head to look at you.

“No.” You said letting out a sigh. “Listen, you need to put this one-sided fight you have with me away for a moment. We’re on a mission to save lives, not on vacation.”

He finally turned to look at you for a long moment, before crossing his arms under his chest and sink in the seat he was sitting on. “We met at a party thanks to our common friend, Steven. We immediately hit it off and I asked you out the same night, you said yes and we got together a few months after that - two months, to be exact. The tenth of march is our anniversary. We got engaged three years later the same day and got married… when’s your birthday?”

“Seventh October.” That was the day you were supposedly born. But no one was sure, since you didn’t have a birth certificate.

“Seventh October of the same year. We moved there due to my work since you’re a stay at home wife, and we have been talking about adopting a cat.” He finished. “Is that good enough?” He asked sternly.

“Perfect, actually.”

“Great.” He grunted. “Now shut it.”

“And they say I’m the rude one.” You muttered under your breath.

“I can hear you.”

“You’ll survive.”

* * * *

The taxi pulled up in front of a modest two-story house, its faded paint and overgrown lawn gave it a cozy vibe. There was even a porch. Not that you knew what to expect, you’ve never lived in a house before - and frankly, you couldn’t wait to have your own kitchen even if it was just a big play pretend for the mission.

You and Bucky got out of the car, taking your heavy bags from the trunk. The taxi driver, who was an undercover SHIELD agent, nodded at the both of you before driving away, leaving you both alone to face the mission. You weren’t nervous, and neither was he. If anything, your only complaint was the fact that he wouldn’t talk to you unless it was absolutely necessary.

The neighborhood was quiet, and you could see a few people already looking curious at the new couple in town. Little did they know how much that man hated you.

Unlike you, Bucky was looking at the house with a critical eye, his expression almost unreadable. Not that you had ever seen him without that frown.

“What’s your complain now?” Your hands found your waist, and you looked at him waiting for an answer.

“Too many windows. A kid would be able to break in any second.” He said - he wasn’t wrong but if they chose this house, they must have had a reason. He looked at you for a second before motioning you to follow him as he made his way up to the front door.

“Home sweet home.” You said, walking inside.

“Stay here. I’ll do a quick check of the house to see if everything is alright.” You two just arrived and he already started to boss you around.

“I’ll come with you.”

But this wasn’t an option for him.

“Stay here.” He repeated more firmly than before.

“Ah yeah.” You raised your hands in surrender. “You don’t trust me.” You said, clearly mocking him. “Whatever, James, just be quick.”

You stayed there for about ten minutes before he finally came back, his expression didn’t change one bit. He gave you a simple nod, took the bags - his and yours - and walked upstairs again.

The silent mission begun, apparently, as you were sure he won’t utter a word until he was forced to. Fucking great.

You walked - rushed, immediately to the kitchen. It was, honestly, everything you’ve ever dreamed of. The sunlight was coming in through the huge window that made you also see the backyard, the countertops were made of wood, dotted with small appliances and cooking utensil. A modest wooden table was in the middle of the room and you imagined yourself, perhaps in another life, sitting there with the family you never met.

You forced yourself to walk out of there to find your husband, wherever he disappeared to. You walked upstairs, your footsteps echoing in the empty staircase, and looked in each room - the bathroom, a small library room, and laundry room.

But you found him in the bedroom, pointing a gun at the window.

“What are you-“

Bucky didn’t turn to acknowledge your presence, his focus solely on the window before him. Without saying a word or turn to explain what the fuck he was doing, he pulled the trigger; the gunshot didn’t make you flinch but you weren’t expecting him to do that.

Your eyes widened in shock, mostly because you had just arrived and he was already acting like a fool. “Are you out of your fucking mind?!” You almost yelled, walking towards the window to close the curtains - and you saw that the bullet only left a scratch on the glass.

“Relax, it’s bulletproof as I suspected.” He said nonchalantly, shrugging.

“Suspected?!” You repeated, this man was an idiot. So much for being over a hundred years old. “For fuck’s sake, Barnes, someone could have seen it! Or heard!”

Bucky’s eyes finally flickered to hers. “If I am correct, this house is also soundproof. Stark’s technology is hard to miss.” He said with complete indifference, putting the gun down.

You just sighed in frustration, knowing full well that arguing with him was like arguing with a wall. As you shook your head, you walked out of the room and went downstairs again. You irritation was palpable even for Bucky that was following you with what you swore was a grin. That asshole.

You, once back in the kitchen, stood in front of the coffe maker. The familiar hum of the machine filling the quiet room as you prepared yourself a well-deserved cup of coffee. Not even half an hour and he managed to piss you off.

“What do you know about those SHIELD agents we were supposed to meet today?” You tried to keep your tone casual as you turned to face him.

Bucky watched her from his seat at the kitchen table. “Not much.” He replied curtly, his arms crossed over his chest in a defensive stance. Stuck with the person he trusted less in the entire State, he felt alone in that mission.

Maybe he was being stupid, but he couldn’t look past the way you served Hydra for all those years without ever questioning a damn thing.

You raised an eyebrow, your irritation raising at his dismissive attitude. “Helpful.” You remarked dryly, taking a sip of coffee.

His jaw clenched at your sarcasm. “I know as much as you do, Emma.” He retorted, his tone full of annoyance. “If I’m not helpful then neither are you.”

“Then let’s just hope they’re better than you.” You couldn’t help but say. “Wouldn’t want to work with reckless assholes for God knows how long.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed with anger after hearing your remark. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

“Or what, Barnes?” Your own temper was rising to match his.

He was about to answer before the doorbell rang and his words died in his mouth. The bell rang in a distinct pattern - three times with quick breaks. It was a code that both you and Bucky recognized instantly.

The agents had arrived.

That also meant the mission had officially begun, and you both had to put and end to the reckless behavior and start being professional. That probably was going to be the hardest part of the whole ordeal.

Without uttering another word Bucky rose from his seat, the tension on his shoulders was visible. He made his way to the front door with you trailing just a few steps behind. The asshole didn’t even spare you a glance before opening the door.

As it swung open, you were greeted by the sight of two men standing on the doorstep, they were both dressed formally and you noticed that one of them had a small cut on the lower lip.

One of the two men was tall, even taller than Bucky, and he was very well built. His brown hair was tied in a neat man bun, and he was looking back at the grumpy Super Soldier with a small, amicable smile.

You edged closer to the doorframe trying to get a better look at the other man since Bucky had moved just enough to block your view.

He was definitely shorter than his companion, but there was something about him that seemed far more intimidating. Perhaps it was due to the fact that his piercing green eyes were locked on yours and, for a short moment, you thought you saw a small smirk playing on his lips before it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

Clearing his throat, the shorter man broke the silence. “Barnes and Dayne?” He asked just to make sure, his voice was barely above a whisper to prevent anyone to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“Mh.” Bucky responded, nodding in affirmation to the man’s words as he moved aside to let the strangers inside the house.

“What he meant to say,” You glared at your partner for the mission before continuing. “was yes, we are and you’re welcome.”

“Thank you.” The taller man shared a glance with the other one. “My name is Sam Winchester. This is my brother Dean.” He pointed to the shorter guy, who was scanning the surroundings.

Before you could introduce yourself too, even if it was clear that the two men already knew who you and Bucky were, Dean spoke first.

“There are too many window in this house. Even a kid would be able to break in.” He said. “Is this supposed to be your base?”

How ironic.

“Yes. And the windows are bulletproof and locked, though. Already tested it.” Bucky answered. “No one can break in.”

“The doors?” Sam asked.

“They can’t be opened in anyway from the outside and there’s a passcode to lock them for more safety.” You answered. “We’re good.”

“Great.” Dean spoke, walking past the both of you to go sit on the couch. “You guys don’t mind if I make myself at home? It’s been a long day.” He said, sending his brother a glare. That sounded quite personal.

Sam shot his brother a warning glance back, clearly trying to dissolve the growing tension. “Dean’s right.” He interjected smoothly, his voice calm as he went to sit on the armchair - purposely away from his brother.

Weird.

“Are you two gonna stay in here with us for the entire duration of the mission?” You asked.

“No, we momentarily live in the house next to this one.” Sam informed you.

“We’ve been following a series of disappearances in the area.” Dean begun, getting down to business immediately, as you and Bucky took a seat as well. “We were given fake identities and went undercover as FBI agents, most of the cases led to dead ends…” He made a pause, taking a stack of papers from his bag and tossing it on the coffee table so everyone could have a clear view of it. “Except this.”

You looked closer. There were some pictures of a woman, not much older than you probably, alongside some of her personal data. Cassandra Miller.

“This says she was a nurse.” Bucky spoke. “Hydra is after people that nobody would look for.”

Sam nodded, agreeing to that. “True.” He said. “But after talking with some of her colleagues, we found out she was the assigned nurse to treat a patient that was found dying near a river. The man had no documents on him and he was barely recognizable but still alive.”

As Sam spoke, Dean retrieved another set of documents from his bag and spread them out on the table. Amongst them were medical records, lab reports and handwritten notes.

“She found out some anomalies in his DNA and begun to dig deeper - apparently went a bit too far because she completely disappeared five days ago.” Dean finished Sam’s speech, looking at both Avengers.

Your heart sank as the weight of the whole situation settled on your shoulders - if what you were thinking was right, Hydra was probably looking for another you. Another person who could survive all the shit they injected and comply, instead they were just leaving a trace of bodies behind - and you only had found two for now. Who knows how many there where out there.

You knew all too well the fear and helplessness that those poor people must have felt - must be feeling now as you spoke. Being assigned on this case was already bringing your mind back to memories you wanted to forget but couldn’t even if you tried. That was a burden you’d carry all your life.

Memories of your own captivity - that you didn’t even know was one. The experiments, the torture, the constant struggle to hold onto your humanity- everything came back in an instant and you felt like suffocating. Innocent people were going through that and you were there, trying to make light of it all without even knowing where to begin.

Your eyes fell on the photographs and documents spread out once again, and you felt a surge of rage and sorrow wash over you. But then, you frowned.

You were kept a secret for fifteen years inside Hydra’s facility, no medial records of what they did to you existed to your knowledge. You, growing up in there, often saw other ‘patients’. You had seen things that probably not even Bucky had seen, and you knew Hydra never left pieces behind.

“Why,” You started, clearing your throat as you tried to ignore the fact that you felt like someone was squeezing it. “Why are they leaving the bodies out in the nature? Why aren’t they burning them like they used to?”

Bucky turned to look at you, a frown on his face. “What makes you think it was them? One of them was found still alive, maybe he escaped?” He didn’t believe his own words for a second - no one escaped Hydra. But he also knew it was unlikely for them to purposely leave a trace to follow now that the Avengers were looking for them.

You shook your head, dragging the picture of the man in front of him. “Look at his feet.”

Bucky did as you said and he let out a breath. “Found without shoes and no scratches on his feet.” He noticed. “He was left there on purpose.”

You nodded. “And they wanted us to know.”

As you stared into Bucky’s eyes for a moment, you missed the glance the two brothers gave to each other. As if they knew something more about this whole situation than you and Bucky could ever imagine.

[beardedmrbean]

A Florida family is no longer sending their teen to a California college after their car was "bipped" when they moved their son into his dorm on Saturday, costing them thousands of dollars in lost belongings and important personal documents.

Rhomel Crossman had just graduated from a Florida high school and was slated to attend Lincoln University in downtown Oakland this fall — but after his family was robbed, they told KTVU FOX 2 San Francisco they intend to rescind his enrollment.

"In Oakland, California, you just gotta be careful," Crossman's mother, Nerissa Murray Watson, told the outlet. "Everything is totally gone."

Crossman's family flew to Oakland on Saturday and rented a car with Thrifty, the mother said. After registering their son, the family left their rental car parked a block away from Lincoln University on the corner of 15th and Franklin Street to pick up food at a Jamaican restaurant nearby.

When they returned 15 minutes later, the windows of the rented white Nissan Rogue were broken and their five suitcases stolen.

Among their contents were "three thousand dollars in a bag my husband put under the seat with three passports, social security cards, and my son’s high school diploma and birth certificate," Watson said.

The family also lost a sleep apnea machine that they said they'd left in the car, per KTVU.

"Bipping" is a slang term that comes from the police language "burglary in progress" and refers to smash-and-grab robberies from unattended cars, according to the San Francisco Standard. Thieves commonly use a "bipping hammer," a small, easily concealed tool used to easily and quietly break car windows without much force.

Witnesses told the family they saw masked men driving in a car without a license plate in broad daylight, KTVU reported. "I didn't know that these things happen in America, so it's really strange to me," the Florida mother said. "To me, it's lawless because we even called the police station three times and they said they can't come," she said, telling the outlet that their family was told to file a police report at the station. "I have to bring my son to Florida because it's not safe here," Watson told KTVU.

KTVU and Fox News Digital did not hear back from Lincoln University at press time. UC Berkley told the California outlet that they warn students not to leave belongings in their cars and educate them about safety practices during orientation.

The city of Oakland has recently reported lower crime rates, KTVU reported, touting a violent crime rate that is 30% lower than in 2023 and a burglary rate reduced by 60%.

[demigodsanswer]

So, because you brought him up. Is their, someone in the world, a man named Poseidon who seems weirdly invested in the career of a seemingly random NYCB member? Just, reads the news, goes to his shows. A couple of times Sally Jackson has seen him in the audience and just kind of shakes her head?

Before I get into the details, some bonus percabeth goofiness.

"Do you know your mom's name?" Percy asked her. Estelle had asked about Percy's dad, and Percy had responded he didn't know anything about him. Whatever his mom knew, Percy had never cared to ask about. If he wasn't going to be there for him, Percy could care less what he was called.

"My birth mom?" Annabeth asked.

"Well, I'd hope you'd know your stepmom's name," he said.

Annabeth scrunched up her face at him and his comment. Then she said simply, "It's Minerva. Why?"

"Just wondering. I've never known my dad's name. You said she left you when you were a baby, so I wasn't sure if you knew," he said.

"Well, I've seen my birth certificate before," Annabeth said, as if it was obvious.

"Oh, well, I didn't want to assume. My dad's name isn't on my birth certificate," Percy said in his defense.

"Right, but ... my mom was there when I was born," she said.

Percy looked at her, then looked away as Annabeth started to giggle. "Right," he said, fighting his own laughter, "no because that would make sense --" He couldn't help himself; he gave into his own laughter.

Annabeth had lost herself to her fit of laughter at his expense, leaning forward to catch her breath, her laughter shrill. Soon there were tears in both of their eyes.

"But you can see how I'd mess that up --" he tried to say, wiping his eyes as she just kept laughing.

So funny you should ask, because yes and no. There's no Poseidon, but there is a Minerva. This is actually one of the bonus story ideas I have kicking around in my head.

Minerva left Fred and Annabeth when Annabeth was three months old, and she moved to New York where she started her life over to great success. For a few years, she keeps in touch with Fred, sends him some money, but is very clear that she's never coming back, and that she cannot be a mother to that girl.

Twenty years later, her boss gives her tickets to the NYCB Nutcracker, and Minerva is looking at the cast list for that night and goes "I know that name. I gave that girl that name." Sure enough, she recognizes Annabeth (I hc that she takes after her dad in facial features). Minerva doesn't do anything about it though. She assumes Annabeth won't have any interest in her, and anyway, she still doesn't want to be a mom. Minerva doesn't actually know that woman on stage any more than the woman knows her. So she keeps her distance.

But she does become something of a ritual attendee of the ballet, and she follows Annabeth on Instagram. There's something very surreal for Minerva about seeing her, this girl she carried and birthed, but who she (Minerva) has never regretted leaving behind.

One day, maybe a few years after TUAP ends, but before Annabeth and Percy have children, they run into her at a bar. It's pretty empty. Percy and Annabeth get a table and Percy goes up to order. Minerva recognizes them, asks Percy if they are ballet dancers, and when Percy says yes, Minerva describes herself as "just a fan" of Annabeth. Percy offers to introduce her, but Minerva says no, but insists she pays for the drinks. There's something so odd about this to Percy, and he can't figure out what it is. Minerva's hair is all gray at this point, and her face, besides her eyes, looks nothing like Annabeth's really. But as she's leaving, Percy puts it together.

He gives her name to Annabeth, who runs out after her, not really sure what she'll say.

But the thing is, ever since Luke, Annabeth has understood her mother and her decisions. She knows what it's like to need to escape a situation you feel trapped in. Annabeth also knows what it's like to feel anxious and depressed. And she's grateful her mother didn't stick around only to make Annabeth's life worse. Sure Annabeth's father and step-mother didn't do right by her, but it wasn't on Annabeth's mom to swoop in and fix it.

Finding out she's been in New York the whole time, watching Annabeth at the ballet is a bit of a blow to Annabeth's barely healed abandonment issues. There's some old feelings of "You could have helped me. You were here while I was being harmed. I needed my mom." But ultimately, Annabeth is looking at a stranger, and she knows it wasn't on this stranger to protect her; it was on her dad. (She's had several therapeutic break throughs re: her abandonment issues to get her to this point)

They end up having a pretty simple but important conversation, and they agree to get lunch.

"Minerva, wait --"

"Annabeth."

"Are you my mother?"

"I gave birth to you, yes."

"You're in New York?"

"I've been here since I left you."

"You've been to the ballet?"

"I'm a fan. But I should get going."

"I'm not mad at you. I would have done the same thing."

"How can you know that?"

"I've had to make similar choices before."

"..."

"Please, I would love to get lunch or something."

"I can't be your mother, Annabeth."

"I'm not asking you to be. I'm asking to gt to know you. I don't need a mother."

"Alright."

[aheathen-conceivably]

Antoine ran back into the room, quickly followed by Josephine and his Aunt Marguerite. The older woman took one look at Zelda and asked Florence how far apart her contractions were.

“They’re almost simultaneous now. Less than a minute between each one.”

Antoine's panicked eyes grew even wider and he couldn't hide the raw rage in his voice, “What does that mean? Tante I swear to God if anything happens to her…”

“Josephine, take your brother downstairs, now. Stay with him. Keep him calm, and keep him there.”

Jo pulled a reluctant Antoine to the club below, his protests growing louder with each step.

Antoine paced the parquet floorboards of the club for almost two hours, his embossed velvet shoes making a continuous, anxious song as the sun rose outside the double doors. Jo offered him one cup of coffee after another. “Whiskey, Jo. I want whiskey damnit.”

Over and over again she told him no, no whiskey. So they smoked an endless chain of cigarettes, occasionally hearing a scream reverberate down the stairs from above. Each time Antoine would throw his lit cigarette onto the ground, dashing for the door, and Jo would stomp it out only to grab him by the wrist, calming him with promises that their aunt and Florence knew how to help Zelda better than they could.

Finally their aunt appeared in the doorway, her face immediately putting Antoine at ease.

“You may come upstairs now; both mother and child are resting and healthy. Antoine, my dear, you have a little girl.”

Antoine rushed past them all, straight into the room where Zelda lay. She was holding a tiny baby, wrapped neatly in a white sheet so that you could barely see the tuft of black hair at the top. Florence was speaking quietly to her, offering words of reassurance and pride that Antoine could barely make out.

Zelda looked up at the new visitors entering the room, her exhausted eyes brightening as soon as she saw Antoine. With a small smile, she beckoned him over onto the bed.

Josephine looked at them, so lost in their own little world, fawning over the tiniest baby she had ever seen. She stood on her tiptoes and leaned in to get a glimpse of the child without disturbing Antoine and Zelda. Even from a distance it was clear that the child’s eyes were a deep olive green, just like her own and her mother’s had once been.

On the bed, the new parents seemed to lose sight of anyone in the room other than their newborn. They just sat in happy silence, stealing glances at one another, simply thankful that the three of them were together. As Antoine gazed down at his daughter with happiness in his eyes, his aunt signed the birth certificate: Violette Darlington, born August 1924, paternity unknown.

Part 2/2

[newtonsheffield]

I'm really interested in seeing the Bridgerton's reaction to Anthony dating Kate in this new au . I know they won't be jerks about it obviously, but it is a complicated situation to be sure

It’s a complicated situation for sure. There’s a lot to consider and a lot that could go wrong. Let’s say in a year they break up, and Anthony’s already in love with this baby and now he’s lost his partner and a baby he thought of as his? They have their reservations.

But at the end of the day, they’ve never seen as Anthony as happy as he is with Kate. Not since his father died.

And Violet saw it coming honestly, by the time Kate was eight months pregnant, Anthony was sitting across from her in the kitchen.

“Mum, I wanted to talk to you about the baby.”

Violet nodded slowly, “Not long now.”

“Not long now.” Anthony smiled, running his hand through his hair, “I um- Kate and I have spoken about this and… I… am going to be… This baby’s my daughter.”

She wasn’t surprised, not with the way Anthony had thrown himself into this. Not with the way he sat with his hand pressed against his girlfriend’s stomach and cooed delightedly when he felt the baby kick.

Anthony took a deep breath, “I know this is pretty unconventional, but I love Kate, and I love this baby, and I want to be a Dad. This might not be the way I expected it to happen but I’m ready for this, I’ll be a good Dad. I’m… putting my name on the birth certificate and nothing you say is going to change my mind.”

Violet raised her eyebrow at her son. “The only thing I have to say is Congratulations, Papa.”