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sunsburns · 1 month

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four or five moments (ii.)

pairing: wade wilson/deadpool x fem!assassin!reader

summary: you're literally just trying to do your job, and it's going great so far, you've killed trask, all you have left is to stop that truck from leaving new york. few problems: deadpool can't stay dead, you're having a moral dilemma and why is that car getting closer? oh shit-!

—or: deadpool literally hits you with a car

word count: 4k+

warnings: fem reader, wade being nasty, flirting, sex jokes, canon violence, there isn't too much plot, blood, strange conversations about morality, wade being annoying, he also breaks the fourth wall a few times, i did not pre-read this pls bare with spelling mistakes

notes: i was peer pressured to write this. it literally strays off from the og plot so bad you get whiplash!!

part one

All you really need is four or five moments.

Four or five moments to prove that you're better than them, that you wouldn't stoop as low, to prove that an eye for an eye will only leave two people blind. No blood will bring mercy. No. But it might get you some peace of mind knowing that they can't hurt you anymore, knowing that there's one less asshole on the earth that's trying to hurt you and the people you care about. It is heartless, you're well aware, but you are not trained to have much of a heart, much less to care.

You remind yourself of that fact as lights blur into neon streaks and speeding vehicles race by. Your heart pounds in your chest, adrenaline sharpening your senses, and the stab wound on your leg becomes a distant throb.

You leap onto a motorcycle conveniently left unattended by a fleeing warehouse worker, hot-wiring it with practiced ease. The engine roars to life, and you peel out onto the road, weaving through traffic. The bike vibrates beneath you, a sleek, powerful beast responding to your every command.

Behind you, Deadpool is a persistent shadow. You catch glimpses of his red suit and mask as he commandeers a car, recklessly swerving through lanes to catch up to you. His determination is infuriating, but you can't afford to be distracted. You grit your teeth, focusing on the chase.

Your earpiece crackles to life, and a familiar voice comes through. "I've got eyes on your tracker," your handler says. "They're heading towards the docks. Be careful; we don't know if it's a set-up."

"Understood," you reply, voice steady despite the chaos.

As you near the docks, the industrial landscape looms ahead, a labyrinth of shipping containers and cranes casting long shadows in the dim light. The truck is just ahead, its taillights glowing like beacons.

You accelerate closer, and with one hand, you grab an energy gun, in a quick movement, you shoot at the truck doors, immediately regaining your grip on the handle afterwards. The doors fly open, revealing giant metal scraps and wooden crates.

You nearly curse, swerving out of the way when a pipe tumbles out from the back of the truck, crashing onto the road. The clang of metal on asphalt echoes in your ears. You slow down by the truck's blind spot, knowing you'd have to stop it, especially now that the cargo was confirmed to be in it.

You stay ready with your gun, pulling it from the holster on your thigh. You wait a beat, then another, and as the truck starts to pick up speed, you make your move and roll up to the driver's window, shooting through the glass. The bullet flies through the driver's head, causing him to slump forward, pressing on the horn. The blaring sound drowns out your second shot, which takes down the man in the passenger seat before he can shoot you.

The truck starts to slow, veering erratically before it crashes into a building with a deafening crunch of metal and shattering glass. The impact takes down a few light posts and parked cars, sending debris flying. Broken electrical wires dance and crackle around the wreck, their sparks reflected in the spray of a burst fire hydrant.

"Great job," your handler's voice crackles through your comms. "Dispose of the truck. No witnesses—"

The connection cuts off as you are violently hit from the side by a black car. The force of the impact sends you flying off your bike, tumbling across the rough asphalt. Your suit and helmet take most of the fall, tearing and cracking under the friction. Your visor shatters, the protective plastic lining breaking at the base.

You feel the sting and burn of broken skin on your arms and legs, grime and dirt mixing with the blood seeping from your cuts. Your vision is blurred, and a high-pitched ringing fills your ears. Every breath you take is shallow and painful, your ribs protesting with each inhale. Biting the inside of your cheek, you push yourself to pull off your broken helmet, tossing it aside. You blink hard, trying to focus your vision and spot a figure approaching.

Through the haze of pain and confusion, you recognize the distinctive red and black suit. Deadpool. He strides towards you with casual confidence, katana in hand, his eyes hidden behind the mask but undoubtedly filled with a mix of amusement and determination. The streetlights cast eerie shadows on his suit, highlighting the dried blood and grime.

"Please, don't be mad, honeybuns." Deadpool's irritating voice is the first thing you can hear when the ringing stops. He's standing before you, gloved hands out for you to take.

You don't move, heaving, "What the fuck, Wade?"

"Oh, are we on a first-name basis now? I think I like it." Wade Wilson hums, and when you still don't take his hands, he kneels before you. The smell of sweat and gunpowder wafts off him, mingling with the metallic scent of blood. "I know this all seems a little confusing—"

"You hit me with a fucking car, you dick!" you belt out, eyes wide with rage. The pain and exhaustion make your voice hoarse, every word a struggle.

"Well, yes. But it's only fair—"

"Fuck you."

"Listen to me." He says a little desperately, and you're glaring at him through your tears. Wade doesn't let it get to him, instead, he calls out your name, barely above a whisper as he looks at you. "You are getting innocent people killed." He tells you. "Look around. This might not be a cul-de-sac, but there are civilians, and they're hurt. We need to leave. You need to call it."

You glance over his shoulder, tired eyes scanning the area. He was right. Dock workers are running around, shouting and helping people out of the old building the truck had crashed into. It's late at night, but not late enough for the place to be deserted; people are still at work, still trying to get by.

You wince as you watch a pregnant woman being led out of a crashed car by her husband, a gash on her head. The smell of gasoline and burning rubber fills the air, mixing with the acrid scent of smoke from the crashed truck.

"Killing shitty people is one thing," Deadpool tells you, and you hate the way his voice is almost earnest. His tone is different, more serious, a stark contrast to his usual unserious demeanour. "But I'm familiar with your no-witnesses rule. This would just be mass murder if I let you keep going. Not exactly my piece of cake. Just..."

He stops, letting his head hang for a moment as if he were too repulsed to say it. You can see his shoulders slump slightly, a rare show of genuine emotion. "Oh god, I can't believe I'm about to say this," he grumbles, "Four or five moments. That's all it takes. Just stop and think. It's all it takes to be a hero."

You grit your teeth, hating that Wade Wilson is your voice of reason. The biggest asshole in New York, and here he is lecturing you on morality.

Hairs are falling out of your braid and sticking to your forehead, yet you don't care. Sweat mixes with blood, creating a sticky mess on your skin. You can only glare at him. "You're the last fucking person who should be telling me how to be a hero."

Wade sighs, loud and obnoxious, his mask wrinkling around his eyes as he scrunches up his face. "I'm sorry I hit you with a car. You kinda deserved it after killing Trask. He was my last chance at becoming pretty again. Now I have to stalk another crazy scientist." He taps his chin thoughtfully, "I always figured I'd end up chasing a mad scientist again, but not under these circumstances."

It's when you can no longer hold yourself up with your arms that Wade takes in the gravity of your injuries. He winces, watching you crumble to the ground before him. "Oh, wow, that's a lot of blood," he notes, his voice suddenly devoid of humour. The sight of your blood pooling on the asphalt seems to pull him back to reality. "Should I take you to a hospital? How many fingers am I holding up?"

He doesn't give you a chance to answer.

"Three? No. Two? Yikes. It's worse than I thought." Wade stands, and the worry in his voice is poorly masked by his usual sarcasm. "Here we go. Up, up!" When he moves to pick you up, you start turning away, your body protesting every movement.

"Wade, wait—" you rasp, trying to stop him from touching you. Your voice is weak, barely above a whisper.

But it's too late. When he reaches for you, your body phases, a faint white glow surrounding you as his hands and arms fall through your body as if you're a ghost. He recoils, jumping back while a squeamish sound escapes his lips. He stares at you, then his hands, then back at you on the ground as you try to sit up again, confusion and amazement written all over his masked face.

"Oh. My. Motherfucking. Fuckballs." Wade gasped, eyes wide behind his mask. "Did my hand just go through you or is all that cocaine finally kicking in?"

You ignore him, holding onto your side as it throbs with pain. Every movement sends sharp, agonizing waves through your body. "Fuck."

"No way, you're a fucking mutant?" His tone is a mix of awe and excitement, like a kid discovering a new toy.

It's not like you kept it a secret. You used your abilities whenever you needed to, and sure, it was useful at times, especially in your line of work when you needed to get through locked doors and hidden rooms or just for the element of surprise. But it's draining. Leaves you winded after only a matter of seconds. You've always had a hard time controlling it when you're slightly delusional though. You must've hit your head really hard. Maybe that's why you haven't shot Deadpool, yet.

"Shut up, Wade."

"Hey, no need to be ashamed of it." He reassures you while trying to pick you up again. This time, he is more cautious, his movements slower and more deliberate. When he succeeds, you can tell he's grinning like a child underneath the mask.

He carries you back to the same fuckass car he hit you with, holding you with one arm under your knees, the other supporting your back. There's a faint skip to his step as if you're not on the verge of losing consciousness. While kicking open the back door, Wade continues his chatter, and you really wish he'd killed you on impact.

"Being a mutant is great! Plus, it's not the early two thousands anymore, or whatever timeline Stewart was in. Man, they sure did hate mutants in that trilogy."

He sets you down in the back seat gently, his hands surprisingly delicate. "You know, I always knew you were different. You hit me harder than regular people. I just figured you really hated me."

"I do." you mutter.

"Oh, my little sweet buns, I'm sure you do." To your annoyance, he pokes your nose playfully. "But you can't hate me too much right now, I'm literally your knight in shining armor. See, I can be nice, especially to my fellow mercs. You'd bleed to death if I left you there."

"Only because you hit me with a fucking car," you snap, the pain and frustration boiling over.

"Good to know you're still harboring great anger towards that. Means you're still conscious. Keep being mean to me, baby, that's how I'll know you're okay." He pauses before shutting the door, looking at you lying on the backseat, bleeding and all the glory that comes from it. "And it also turns me on a little bit. God, I can't believe your suit is torn and not one bit of extra cleavage is exposed. What will it take for a guy to get some rated R nudity over here?"

And with that, he slams the door shut, the car shaking with the force of it. The sound makes the ringing return to your ears, and you bite back the urge to curse him. He takes a seat in the driver's seat, starting the engine and rushing out of the scene before first responders arrive. The car roars to life, and as he speeds away, you feel your consciousness slipping, the pain and exhaustion overwhelming you.

The two of you sit in silence for the most part, only the sounds of the engine running and Wade humming the tune of a song you think is from The Greatest Showman soundtrack. You force yourself to stay awake. Mostly because you don't trust him, but it's also because you fear that if you let your eyes close you won't wake up again. Yeah, it's mostly because you don't trust Wade Wilson.

"Where are you taking me?" you finally ask, and you hate the way your voice sounds weak, barely above a whisper.

"Just a little safe house I know." He tells you, glancing back at you for a quick moment. "Very homey, trust me."

"What about the shipment?" you murmur, your mind struggling to stay focused.

"What?"

"The truck," you repeat, fighting to keep your eyes open.

"Oh, don't worry. That's no longer our problem." He says, "We're about to enter a whole new setting. That truck is forgotten plot."

Wade takes a sharp turn, and you wince as your body shifts uncomfortably in the back seat. The pain is getting worse, each bump in the road sending jolts of agony through your body. You grit your teeth, trying to stay conscious, but it's a losing battle.

After what feels like an eternity, the car finally comes to a stop. Wade gets out and you hear his footsteps crunching on gravel as he walks around to your door. He opens it carefully this time, his usual wiseass demeanour replaced by a rare show of genuine concern. He scoops you up gently, and you're too weak to protest.

The last thing you remember, before everything goes black, is the sight of a grand mansion looming ahead, its imposing silhouette framed by the moonlight. The large iron gates creak open as Wade carries you through them, the gravel path crunching under his boots. The mansion, with its towering spires and Gothic architecture, looks like something out of a fairy tale, a stark contrast to the violence and chaos you just escaped from.

When you wake up, the first thing you notice is the softness of the bed beneath you. The second thing you notice is the smell of lavender and the faint hum of medical equipment. You try to sit up, but a sharp pain in your side makes you gasp.

"Whoa, easy there," a deep, accented voice says from beside you. You turn your head slowly, the motion making your vision swim. A towering, metal-skinned mutant sits by your bed, his imposing figure softened by a look of genuine concern. "You need to rest. You are badly injured."

Your throat feels like sandpaper as you rasp, "Where am I?"

"The X-Mansion," he replies in a soothing tone, the accent heavy but comforting. "Wade brought you here. You’re safe now. I am Colossus."

You try to take in your surroundings, your head feeling heavy as you look around. The room is vast and elegant, with high ceilings that seem to reach the heavens. The walls are adorned with rich tapestries and framed paintings, depicting serene landscapes and grand historical scenes.

Large windows let in the soft, golden glow of morning light, casting gentle shadows that dance across the floor. It’s a far cry from the dingy, rundown places you’re used to, especially that old apartment with its creaky floors and peeling wallpaper.

Your eyes finally land on Wade, who is slouched in a chair in the corner. He’s flipping through a Playboy magazine with exaggerated interest, still in his dirty suit from the night before.

When he sees you stir, he grins and waves a hand in your direction. "Morning, sunshine," he says cheerfully, his voice carrying an unnerving mix of sincerity and teasing. "You gave us quite a scare. But, I've got to say, that hospital gown is doing wonders for your figure. I love the blue. Great contrast to that black you're always wearing."

You roll your eyes, too exhausted to respond properly. The gown feels scratchy against your skin, and every movement sends sharp pangs of pain through your body.

Colossus, noticing your discomfort, shifts slightly. "How are you feeling?" he asks, his voice deep and steady.

"Like I got hit by a truck," you mutter, sending a glare in Wade's direction.

Colossus chuckles, the sound deep and resonant, like rolling thunder. "Do not worry about him. We will take care of you."

Despite the throbbing pain and overwhelming fatigue, a wave of relief washes over you. For the first time in a long while, you're surrounded by people who genuinely want to help. You close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the softness of the bed. "Thank you," you whisper, the words feeling strangely comforting. For once, you don’t feel the need to be constantly on guard.

Wade's grin widens as he leans back in his chair, stretching his legs out and adjusting his mask. "Anytime, honeybuns. Anytime."

As you drift in and out of consciousness, you feel the cool, soothing touch of a wet cloth on your forehead. The gentle pressure is a welcome contrast to the persistent throbbing pain.

The sound of soft murmurs and quiet footsteps fills the room, creating a cocoon of calm around you. At some point, you notice Colossus's massive hands, surprisingly gentle, as he carefully tends to your wounds, applying bandages with precision.

Eventually, a teenager with short hair and a no-nonsense expression enters the room. You learn her name is Negasonic Teenage Warhead. She carries a phone in one hand, handing Colossus a stack of clean bandages with the other. The faint scent of antiseptic and medicinal herbs fills the air, mixing with the crispness of the freshly laundered bed linens.

Hours pass, or maybe it's days—it's difficult to gauge. When you next wake, the room is dimly lit, the golden light replaced by the softer hues of early evening. The pain has dulled to a manageable throb, and the heaviness in your limbs is slightly alleviated. Wade is still there, his previous outfit swapped for sweatpants and a dark green sweater, though he keeps his red and black mask on. He lounges in the chair beside your bed, now engrossed in an iPad, giggling softly to himself.

"Oh, man. Instagram reels are crazy," he snorts, shaking his head as he scrolls through the screen.

He looks up and hums when he sees you're awake again. "You're tougher than you look," he comments, turning off the iPad with a flick of his wrist. "Most people would have keeled over by now."

"You wish."

"Oh, trust me, I do." Wade nods vigorously, his mask bobbing with the motion. "I tried injecting poison into your IV, but your body rejected it."

"Don't worry. My handler will kill me for you."

Wade groans, dramatically rolling his eyes as he gets up from the chair. "You’re still worried about that? I already told you, the truck and all that shit is past plot. We’re in the sequel now, babe. There are new rules. Who knows, maybe this is your redemption arc where you join the X-Men. Though, I will miss your assassin era. You were so sexy in that suit."

You make a face, "Fuck off."

Just then, the door opens with a soft creak, and Colossus enters with a tray in hand. He’s followed closely by Negasonic, who carries a stack of fresh bandages. Colossus places the tray on a small table beside your bed with practiced ease. The tray is filled with a bowl of steaming soup and a couple of slices of crusty bread, the aroma wafting up and making your stomach rumble.

"How are you feeling?" Colossus asks, his voice calm and reassuring as he sets the tray down.

"Better," you admit, managing a small smile. "Thanks to you guys."

Negasonic shrugs nonchalantly, a small smile tugging at her lips despite her usual scowl. "Don’t mention it. Just doing our job."

Wade groans, clearly troubled by the kindness. "Oh great, now you’re all buddy-buddy. What am I, chopped liver?"

Colossus chuckles, the sound of a comforting rumble. "You must eat something. It will help you regain your strength."

You nod gratefully, and with Colossus’s help, you manage to sit up enough to sip the warm, comforting soup. The broth is rich and flavorful, and the bread is soft and fresh. As you eat, you can’t help but feel a strange sense of belonging. Despite the pain and the chaos, you’re surrounded by people who care, and for now, that’s enough.

Wade, not one to be left out, scoots his chair closer, setting it right next to your bed. He stretches out, propping his elbows on his knees as he leans in. "So, what do you think of the X-Mansion? Pretty swanky, right? Lots of rooms, big kitchen, danger room for training... and other things."

Negasonic scoffs, her eyes narrowing. "Gross."

You finish your meal, feeling a bit stronger. As Colossus helps you settle back into the bed, you glance at Wade. "Why did you bring me here?"

Wade’s expression shifts, becoming uncharacteristically serious. He looks at you with sincerity. "Because you’re one of us. And because... well, everyone deserves a second chance."

You blink, surprised by the depth of his words. Before you can respond, he’s back to his usual self, grinning and turning on his iPad. "Plus, it’s not every day I get to play hero. I gotta milk it for all it’s worth. And no, Colossus, I will not join your boy band, thank you very much."

The metal man grunts, waving a hand dismissively before walking out, Negasonic following right behind him. Wade stays seated next to you, his lips curled into a wide, amused grin that seems to stretch just a bit too far was he watches you.

"You're never gonna take that off?" you ask him.

Wade's laughter is a low, rumbling sound that feels almost too bright for the quiet room. "Oh, no fucking way," he says, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. "I wasn’t kidding when I said I’m ugly under this. Trust me. You’d be repulsed. Like, horror movie-level repulsed."

You give him a look, your eyebrow arched in disbelief. "I doubt it."

Wade leans in closer, the grin on his face widening. He taps his chin thoughtfully with a gloved finger, the gesture oddly contemplative. "Maybe next time I’ll take it off for you," he says, a taunting tone in his voice as he raises his brows. "Maybe that and a little more."

"There's a next time?"

"I mean, as the famous words of Natasha Bedingfield say: the rest is still underwritten."

"God, you’re fucking ridiculous," you mutter, the words coming out with a mix of exasperation and reluctant amusement. "I can’t wait to get out of here and never see you again."

Wade's shoulders slump, the white eyes of his mask narrow at you, "What, that's it? No steamy sex? No heavy petting? Is this how it ends? Not even a kiss?"

"Fuck no. Get out."

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miss-floral-thief · 1 year

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after 6, prolly could/should take a walk tho it got even hotter

#even if i don't need to reapply sunscreen it always feels like i need to #tho also want to take a nap too #personalice #lol #if only we had a built in exercise bike attached to our electricity def be in better shape then

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elixirfromthestars · 1 month

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Usual

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Florist!Reader

Summary: Bucky keeps to his usual routine every week. On Mondays, it includes you.

Word Count: ~700

Warning(s): none. fluffy goodness <3 established nickname ⟶ tulip

a/n: This Bucky has been swimming in my head for a while, so this little drabble came out as a result. Hope you enjoyed reading! Feedback is always appreciated 🤍 Also I'm hosting a little writing challenge if you want to check it out. 🤍

The bells above your shop door chimed a short melody as it opened. The steady thud of heavy boots followed suit. You turn to face the entrance with your usual welcoming demeanor.

It was Monday. He always comes on Monday.

“ Hey, Bucky. Here for the usual?” You ask like clockwork, already knowing the answer.

“ ‘Course, Tulip,” he replies, smiling at you with that usual twinkle in his eyes. The one that only shows up when he talks to you. You can’t help the way your heart skips a beat when he uses that nickname he gave you months ago.

“ Coming right up,” you respond, turning to the small shelves behind the counter. The ones lined up with your homemade jams and honeys. Every Monday he buys three of each to serve at his bar in a mix of different snack dishes.

His favorite happens to be the one he named after you—Tulip’s Sweet Special.

Bucky strolls over to the flowers that align the walls adjacent to the front counter. Rows upon rows of an array of colors and different-sized petals. A rainbow of the prettiest blooms nature has to offer.

Meanwhile, you’re putting the mason jars of sweet spreads in a small wicker basket. Glancing at him briefly to stare at his side profile and the way he looks at the flowers intently. Almost as if waiting for them to speak to him.

You wonder what flowers he’ll choose today.

You don’t have to wonder for long as he walks over to the counter with a bouquet of white and pink daises, adorned with a touch of lavender. You look at them with a knowing smile on your face. The rugged biker almost looks comical—in the sweetest way—with the bouquet in hand.

“ Will that be all?” You ask him, motioning to the flowers and the goods in the basket. Bucky nods, lightly scratching at the stubble on his face,“ That’s all, Tulip. And I’ll get ya that basket of yours later. Forgot it back at the bar,” he mentions the basket he borrowed a week ago to transport last week’s items on his bike.

Of course, he forgot it. He always does.

“ No need. I’ll just come by the bar later and get it,” you say to him—this little forgetful exchange an excuse to see each other again. It's about the fifth time you’ve done this little rendezvous in the last two months.

Bucky grins in a way that would make any woman swoon,“ I’ll be waitin’ on ya then.” You can’t help the warmth that finds its way to your face.

You ring him up, and as you’re getting his change ready he places the flowers in the empty vase on the counter. The one you leave for whatever flowers he buys for you that week. You look at them and the way he delicately places them inside, with a tender care you were one of a handful of people who’s ever seen him dawn. The action envelopes you with a doting affection.

“ Thank you for the flowers, Bucky,” you say with a soft sincerity. No matter how many times he buys you flowers the action still causes your heart to flutter.

“ No need for the thanks—or the change,” he says, lightly closing your fingers around the change in your hand with his calloused one. The slight touch is electric and it makes you both yearn for more.

You give him that look. That usual look that says you’re doing this again and he replies with a look that conveys hell yeah I am.

You know better than to argue with that look.

“ Come spend it at my bar later instead,” he suggests shrugging nonchalantly—but his eyes and grin reflect everything but nonchalance. There’s a deep rooted sentiment there that is desperate to be freed and brought to the surface.

You hum, pretending to think about it,“ Alright, deal.” Bucky responds to your agreement by giving you a pleased nod.

Bucky grabs the basket of goods. The rough exterior of his hands contrasted with the gentle almost tender way he held the basket. He was always delicate and careful with anything that belonged to you.

The basket looked so much smaller when he held it.

Bucky sends you a farewell wink,“ See ya later, Tulip,” and then he turns to leave with a small wave of his hand.

“ See you later, Bucky,” you reply before leaning on the counter, hands resting in your palms. You watch him walk back out to his motorcycle with a longing stare.

When he was out of sight, you listened intently to the revving of his engine bike, anticipating the day you two would go past the usual.

Until then you’d cherish this routine affair.

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qqueenofhades · 2 months

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I am FULLY ONBOARD the Harris/Waltz train, tho before this i was leaning towards Mark Kelly (AZ is a swing state! He's an ASTRONAUT!) If you want or have time, no pressure, but any thoughts on what makes Waltz a better pick?

I like Mark Kelly too, and since he's married to Gabby Giffords (having run for public office after she got shot and could no longer do so) he would have been an amazing pick in terms of supporting the first female POTUS. But he is a less charismatic public speaker than Walz (for whatever that's worth, but politics is a mess of Aesthetics and Vibes that matter as much and/or more than actual facts) and more moderate/conservative. He's been a great senator and picking him would defuse some of the BORDER IMMIGRATION BLAH BLAH!!! scaremongering that Republicans love to run on, but it would also leave open the possibility of losing a special election and other dangers with the Democratic senate that we really need to minimize. So Walz is a better choice for that alone, but also:

He really has serious progressive credentials as governor, even if he was a fairly mainstream Democrat (who flipped a rural red House district in Minnesota that Democrats have not been able to win again after he left) during his 12 years in the House. This is an INCOMPLETE LIST of what he was able to do in two years with a one-seat Democratic majority in Minnesota:

A Climate Action Plan that included:

Investing in energy infrastructure

100% carbon-free electricity by 2040 goal

Transition off of fossil fuels and onto clean energy resources

Building more electric vehicle charging stations

Providing funding to help workers acquire new skills through apprenticeship programs in clean energy fields

Direct state funding for transit

Money for rail

Tax credit for e-bikes

Permitting form to fast-track clean energy projects

And that was in addition to:

Codified abortion access in Minnesota

Guaranteed paid sick time and paid family and medical leave

Funded replacing ALL LEAD PIPES IN THE STATE

Free school breakfasts and lunches for all

Made public college free

Stronger labor protections

Drivers’ Licenses for All

Voting Rights Act to reverse recent court rulings that make voting harder, including restored voting rights to convicted felons

Banning medical debt from credit bureaus

The "Taylor Swift Bill" requiring all ticket "junk fees" be shown up front

Banning most "junk fees"

No book bans

Protection for tipped workers

Banned non-competes

Legalized recreational cannabis

Gun control, including increased penalties for straw purchases of firearms, expanded background checks and enacted red-flag laws, passing gun safety measures that the GOP has thwarted for years

Made MN a Trans Refuge State, and required health plans to cover “medically necessary gender-affirming care.”

Pay increase for Uber and Lyft drivers

Elimination of the so-called “gay panic defense”

A ban on “doxxing” election workers

A prohibition on “swatting” elected officials

In March, during the height of the Gaza/uncommitted primary protests against Biden, Walz said that young people should be listened to and they had a right to be speaking up and the situation in Gaza was horrible and intolerable, without directly slamming Biden or getting involved in the issue in a way to draw negative headlines. Regardless of what you think about any of it, that is a very deft way to handle it and pairs well with Kamala's better responsiveness on the Gaza issue overall. That was a big part of the reason why Gen Z/younger voters were very excited about Walz despite him being an "old" (actually the same age as Kamala but he has joked that teaching high school for 20 years will do that to a guy) white guy. If half the battle in politics is making the right pick to excite your core voters and reach out to new ones, then Harris nailed it. As I have said in earlier posts, there was just too much energy with young voters FINALLY checking in when Harris became the candidate, to risk introducing a big ideological split with Shapiro.

Aside from that: the most insufferable Smart White-Bro Political Pundits (TM) are big mad about Walz, many Never Trumper Republicans thought they were entitled to a "moderate" in exchange for oh-so-generously lending us their vote against Trump and not run the risk that we might end up with someone *gasp* progressive, and the regular MAGA Republicans are hysterical, which means they're terrified. It's also incredibly hard to paint Literal Midwestern Stereotype Dad (football coach, social studies high school teacher, military veteran, etc) as THE EVIL END OF AMERICA in the way they desperately want to do, though the fact that they're trying shows that they've got literally nothing. The fact that Kamala picked Walz against the PREVAILING WISDOM!!! that she had to take Shapiro (for whatever reason that might have been) is also a good sign, because by far the most genuine and extensive enthusiasm that I have seen from Democratic voters, especially those feeling burned out or disillusioned or angry with specific policy choices of the current administration, was for Walz. Having everyone excited for the pick beforehand, effectively using the "weird" line, and rallying behind the guy, only for her to actually go for him, is inspiring. It makes people feel like they're being heard and the Democrats have decided to win by being progressive, and not just endlessly Catering To The (Imaginary) Middle as they have always been told to do (and often done). That alone is MASSIVE.

Walz is tremendously funny, personable, has Democrats from AOC to Joe Manchin praising it (again, shocking), was right out the gate supporting Kamala, has already been majorly successful on TV, was by far the most progressive-on-policy picks of the VP finalists, is incredibly, hilariously wholesome and small-town Midwestern (he's the JD Vance that they wish JD Vance was), and is already sending ActBlue gangbusters with donations again. And when you're getting this kind of response on the Cursed Bird Hellsite, just:

Just. I don't know what's happening either. But let's enjoy it, and then work hard, because we gotta fucking do this and for possibly the first time this entire year, I really think we might. Heck yeah.

#post-it-free #ask #politics for ts #kamala harris 2024 #harris walz 2024

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mokulule · 3 months

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The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached - Part 14

Let's just ignore I've updated this story three days in a row, @ailithnight asked me to make them cry, so we're giving the challenge a shot. This was written today and may very well have typos. Also it literally can't go on like this, I have work tomorrow.

First | Masterlist

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Fandom: DP x DC Summary:

Danny is just trying to build a portal home, becoming a thief was just an unfortunate side effect of that goal. Now if only this vigilante family would just leave him alone. Especially Red Hood - the semi retired crime lord whose ghost-like presence keeps drawing Danny to him.

Jason had called ahead to let them know he was coming to the cave and then promptly turned off his comms again. He didn’t need to hear their questions. Not on comms. It was bad enough he had to face them.

He drove into the cave, his resolve the only thing keeping him from turning right around. Everyone but Bruce were in their civvies at this point. Jason shouldn’t be so surprised Bruce had called it a night. Not after ghost jumping off a roof in front of them.

Bruce did care, and Jason could tell himself that now without poison dripping into his ear about how it was only to keep his little soldiers at the top of their game. He was too exhausted to appreciate the missing put at the moment, he just wanted to go home and try to forget for a moment that Ghost had left again, but he had to do this.

Dick was sitting with an arm around Tim on the meeting table. Tim looked wrecked - good, he thought grimly and immediately felt guilty. He didn’t even have the pit to blame and yes Jason was angry about what had happened tonight, but really he was just as angry at himself. Jason might have tried to make them understand that Ghost needed help, but he’d done a poor job of it and they didn’t hear his grief for themselves.

They hadn’t felt Ghost’s terror in their electricity trap, his desperate fight to control his panic, they hadn’t felt it as he fell or the shock of pain as he landed. They hadn’t felt the panic reach a fever pitch and then utter silence.

They hadn’t been 50 yards away on another building, running, because they knew something terrible was about to happen. They weren’t the ones who thought they might have already been too late even as they caught him out of the air.

But Ghost had been alive. He’d been breathing. Panicked, but breathing, yet still utter silence.

Jason had been terrified.

And yes he was angry. He should have never let it get so far even in his desperation. They needed to stop chasing him. It wasn’t working.

It had nearly cost him his life.

He was a fucking burglar, not a rogue! He wasn’t a murderer who would kill someone if he wasn’t stopped. They should have never used this level of force. They never would have used this level of force if it wasn’t for Jason and his erratic behavior. It was on Jason, not Tim who was a seventeen year old kid just trying to keep this cursed family together.

Damian was sitting at the meeting table a few seats away from where Tim and Dick were sitting on the table and for him to willingly be that close to Tim without any needle-ing commentary it was practically the equivalent of a hug.

Jason sighed, then pulled off his helmet and left it on the bike. He couldn’t hide behind the safety of its smooth surface, not for this. He walked over to the meeting table, knowing it would draw the rest over there.

Damian took one look at him, with that sharp judgment that was always in his eyes. “You let him get away.” Jason grit his teeth, refusing to rise to what was just an observation, but it had been a trying night and it was tempting to snap, that he didn’t let him do anything.

“His powers returned,” he said finally, carefully even-toned.

Tim looked up shortly at that and Dick squeezed his shoulder. Normally, Tim would have been on that detail like a hawk. How long did it last? Did the powers return gradually or all at once? Were there other adverse effects? And probably more questions Jason had not even thought to consider because that was just Tim. Now, Tim was silent.

“Jason?” Bruce asked carefully from somewhere to Jason’s left. Jason couldn’t look at him. Last time they’d been this close Jason had almost shot him.

Stephanie and Cass joined Tim and Dick to sit on the table, and Damian allowed Cass’ hand in his hair only because she could kick his ass six ways ’til Sunday. Duke was the last to join their loose circle standing to Jason’s right.

Jason didn’t have any excuses left. He even saw Alfred standing a ways further by the wall. Everyone was here. Babs was definitely still on comms with Bruce, even if the cowl was pulled back.

He tried to take a steadying breath without being too obvious about it. He probably failed, horribly.

“You have to leave Ghost to me.”

“Jay… you’ve not exactly…” Dick said carefully, the only one willing to even go near the fact that Jason should be the last person to go after Ghost. That he had been far from rational about the whole thing. That he was invested, personally more than they could even guess.

“I need-“ Jason looked to the ceiling, breathing for just a moment, before looking down again. “I need you to trust me on this, to let me handle it. What happened tonight… it cannot happen again.”

He clenched his hands, gathered every shred of courage, then looked to Bruce.

“Dad, please…” He ignored the gasps from his siblings, from shock or outrage that he of all people pulled this card, maybe both, it didn’t matter. Jason only had eyes for Bruce’s stunned face, for the way his jaw tightened and his eyes were moist under pained brows. He only had ears for the way Bruce’s voice broke partway as he said: “Of course, Jaylad.”

“Thank you,” Jason whispered, afraid his voice would fail him if he spoke any louder. He held Bruce’s gaze with his as he said it, because he deserved to know how much that meant to him. The urge to go over to Bruce was strong, to see if his dad would hug him if given the chance - he thought he would, but that, that would be too much, and the pit would be back in a couple of days.

Jason couldn’t handle any more tonight.

He gave Bruce a tight nod and turned to leave, avoiding looking at the reactions of his siblings.

Out the corner of his eyes as he left, he absently noted the purple backpack he’d stolen from Ghost sitting by the evidence board and that metal cylinder, Ghost had left behind the night Jason had met him, sitting on a shelf amongst other knickknacks.

In the back of his mind an idea was taking shape, but he'd only realize that the next day.

I made myself cry writing this, that happens very rarely. Jason has had a really bad day, but it was the father-son feelings that did me in.

I do not know when I will update next time, the chapter this part belongs to is like 2/3rds done now, but it's the middle I need to fill out. Oh well, I'm enjoying the writing bug while it lasts. Update: Next

#dp x dc #dead on main #Jason is catnip to Danny #missed connections #Next part is Danny pov

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vaspider · 3 months

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Any advice for someone thinking about moving to the Pacific Northwest?

That kinda depends on where you are moving to! Here are the things I've found useful to know about moving to Portland:

I moved from Philly, where people tend to be more kind than nice, and here, people are more nice than kind. What I mean by this is that people in Philly will call you a jagoff while pulling over to change your tire in the rain, while people in Portland will smile while they keep driving. (This isn't universal, but it's real.)

Oregon has no sales tax. You'll pay a bunch of different income taxes in April, though, so make sure you pay attention to your mail in the beginning of the year so you get all your local taxes done.

Locals tend not to use umbrellas much. I tend to not just bc the rain is rarely hard enough to require one. Get a good raincoat.

Portland was one of the first places in the US to be wired for home electricity. Therefore, the grid needs upgrades, and a lot of the big lines are not buried as they are in other places and are vulnerable to ice. Make sure you have good home batteries for when we have ice storms.

Ditto, the streets don't get treated for ice. Make sure you have good boots and YakTrax or similar.

Pedestrians don't fucking look before they step out into the street. If people acted in Philly like they act in PDX, they'd get hit. If you're driving in the PNW, act like every pedestrian is about to do the most foolish thing ever.

Ditto PNW drivers. I'd rather drive to EWR on a Friday at 5 pm than try to cross the Willamette at rush hour.

TriMet still has a lot of room for improvement, but it's a lot better than any other city I've lived in. Get your Hop set up when you get here so you know you have money on it and all, even if you don't ride often, just in case.

The Oregon Zoo membership has an exchange thing where every month there are different local places you get free admission to. Getting a membership is generally less expensive than going twice in a year, and also, there's a bunch of other stuff you can do with that membership.

Choose where you wanna live as the place you're gonna do pretty much everything. Portland is largely set up so you can do everything you need within your neighborhood, which is nice. Pretty much the only time that I leave my neighborhood is when I have to go to a specialist doctor or to hang out with my cousins who live in SW or go to a special event.

Portland has a lot of cool shit you can do in your neighborhood - honestly more than I've seen anyplace else I've lived. There are hiking groups and bike rides and soap box derbies and all kinds of shit. Join local FB groups, look for posters... you'll see 'em.

If you consume weed regularly & qualify for a medical card, get one. The taxes on marijuana add up a lot faster than you think.

Some of the best food in Portland is at the strip clubs. No, I'm not joking. There's a law in PDX that if you serve alcohol, you have to serve Real Food, which has led to bars and clubs competing over how good their food is.

Food cart pods are the shit. Research your local food cart pods. You'll get some of the best food you've ever eaten and can take a huge group of people with different food needs to a local food cart pod and just have everyone go to different carts and get their own shit.

Look into who owns your local weed store. There are good Black-owned stores, and one of the most popular "chains" is/was owned by some deeply shady people who essentially bribed one of our Secretaries of State. So it does matter.

Be nice to the crows. There is a huge huge huge local murder & crows tell other crows if you're an asshole or you're cool.

I'm sure there's more stuff, but that's what I can think of while I'm listening to a podcast and my wife is driving us home.

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noneorother · 11 months

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All the music you didn’t hear: The Good Omens soundtrack is lying to you. *Part 1*

The Bonkers Meta Series part 2: Electric Boogaloo.

I so rarely get a chance to misuse my experience in classical music, but here we are. When I realized on my most recent watch-through of the series that the David Arnold score was brilliant, but also really wonky in some parts and I couldn’t put my finger on why, @embracing-the-ineffable suggested I listen to the album soundtrack to compare.

And when I tell you what I found hidden in there, you’re going to need Eccles cakes...

1) The Song is the Clue

So right up top we have this banger. The 12th track on the album is the orchestral backdrop to the scene in the Job minisode where Aziraphale reveals Crowley’s crow/goats. The duration is 2:22 (the only track with multiples on the album), and if you look at the track by itself it doesn’t mean much. But the song just before it is actually from this fucking scene:

You know, the one where there’s a song that’s a clue to a mystery. Except Clue is capitalised, and Aziraphale pronounces it. I’ve seen guesses that this is a reference to the movie Clue, but I would put a lot of money on the fact that we are supposed to read the title of the song currently playing at that moment in the show *as a Clue*, which is super convenient, because the word Clue is capitalized in the track listing.

Seems like the overlords of Good Omens have a message for us : The song is the Clue. It’s what God wants. Cool cool cool. WHAT SONG?

2) Symmetry in all things

Before I straight up tell you, we have to go back and look at season 1.

Now I’m far from the first to notice tons of parallels between the story, details and even lines in both seasons. It got me thinking that maybe there are some fun synch-up parallels between the two season’s soundtracks, seeing as they are both 6 episodes long. Here’s the end of S1 and then S2

Oh that’s a bummer, I thought to myself.

They don’t even add up to the same number, or playtime, and neither of them is exactly 60 tracks. But do you want to hear a secret? S2 is actually missing 3 tracks on the album. And because there are 2 discs in S2 (cute), the numbers of the tracks start over again from 1. Remember how much God likes sevens? Check out where all the weirdness is happening in disc 2 (I’ve added the missing track listings in red to add context):

After checking each track with the show and listening side by side (for reasons that will become clear in another post) I can definitively say that there is something *very weird* going on at the end of episode 4.

First is track 7, Zombie dressing room, which seems to actually reach over two distinct scenes of the photo evidence in the dressing room and then Shax in hell even though it only has one title.

But *between* these two scenes we get an eerily silent wine date with Aziraphale & Crowley.

There’s really no music or even sound here besides the dialogue and room tone (until after the cheers), and it seems like a very intentionally silent version of a ritz date from season 1.

My best guess is that we are supposed to divide that track into two tracks of 7, before and after the date to get a second track 7. Or maybe the silent one is missing music? The third track number 7 is the weirdest one. It’s this scene here, when Nina parks her bike, and Aziraphale parks the car at the end of S2E4.

If you take a close listen to the music, it’s a jaunty little piece, with an oom-pah base in 3 ⁄ 4 time. The thing is, this music does not exist in any Good Omens album. Please feel free to correct me, but I’ve tried to find any part of any song that this could even be a reprise of, and I Shazammed it to be sure it wasn’t anything else. This song does not exist anywhere except in this scene. (It quickly morphs into a reprise of the original theme once Nina leaves Aziraphale). It’s an invisible song.

So we have 3 tracks at the end of S2E4: a long one, a silent one and an invisible one. Only one of which is numbered 7, but that all fit into that place in the track listing.

Which, when we add the two extras to the original total of fifty-nine we get... sixty-one! Hey wait a minute.

How are we going to get to 62?

3) The real missing track.

So the real reason we had to go back to the S1 album was because it contains the missing track that God is talking about. Let’s compare the last tracks on each album.

I’ve highlighted the mismatch between the in-show music and the album in S2, which means I had to add A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square back into the S2 album because guess what, it’s not in the S2 album. Even though it plays in the show.

You want to know how not in the album it is? Amazon had to track it in the show as a season 1 song. They had to give Tori Amos credit for her song on Good Omens in the X-ray bonus features because that’s how not in the album this song is.

So my fellow beings, if the song is the Clue, then It’s what God Wants.

And if God wants a happily ever after with Aziraphale and Crowley on their own side, then by Job, I think Neil is going to give it to her.

-----------

And there's more where that came from! Part 2 coming shortly.

#good omens meta #art director talks good omens #go season 2 #good omens 2 #go2 #good omens prime #good omens season two #go meta #good omens season 2 #go3 #good omens 2 meta #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale #anthony j crowley #good omens spoilers

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simonsrosebud · 3 months

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my aftg fox children headcannons (guys be nice to them okay)

Dan & Matt:

They have two boys, Jace and Abram Boyd, one year apart (Abram wasn’t planned hehe) by the time Dan is 32.

Dan/Matt aren’t religious, but they still assign godparents to their kids. Jace’s godparents are Wymack and Abby, Abram’s are Neil and Renee.

At first Neil said no. He didn’t think that responsibility was something he could handle until he eventually got a call from Renee. “I know why you’re calling me” “I figured you would. I warned Matt and Dan that you may not respond in the way they wish, they don’t take it personally,” she’d said. Neil knew it wasn’t personal, but he admitted he also didn’t see the point and couldn’t be cut out for that. “I think you may misunderstand their intentions, may I try to clear it up?” Renee explained that, really, it was only a title, a glorified uncle of sorts, since the boys weren’t getting baptized and they weren’t putting their godparents in their will’s like old tradition did. “It’s a way to showcase the love and trust they have in others; you, me, Coach Wymack and Abby”. “It is an excuse to spoil them rotten,” Andrew had added when he talked to Neil. Renee told Matt to wait a bit, not to push, and a week later when Neil was randomly on the phone w Matt he said “I’ll do it, by the way. The kid thing- The godfather thing.”

Naming Abram was a struggle. They wanted something meaningful since Jace’s middle name was David. It wasn’t until Dan asked Matt what Neil’s middle name was that they got cookin. Neil was in the off season when he was born, so he drove out (accompanied by Andrew) to Atlanta from Columbia and they asked Neil when he got there.

Their backup name was Joshua (aka Josten) in case Neil wasn’t comfortable with Abram. Luckily it only took a few minutes of blue-screening for Neil to shake it off and allow it. Abram was Neil’s one real name, the one thing he’d kept all those years, the thing that made him feel grounded and safe. But Neil was 27. He hadn’t needed the name since he first moved away from PSU at 23 and was alone again. The kid deserved something safe.

ANYWAY. Jace is a certified hetero and goes to University of Miami for college. He grew up playing exy and baseball but once he was a sophomore in high school he quit exy and stuck to baseball all through high school. He’s 5’10.

Abram plays midfielder for soccer and used to play backliner for exy. Abram goes to PSU and rooms with Elliot (Andriel’s adopted kid, just wait it’ll make sense i promise), joins a campus soccer team, then makes the PSU team his sophomore year as a walk on.

Abram is 6’1. Has massive game but doesn’t use it bc he’s kinda oblivious. Very silly and energetic and comes off flirty sometimes when he’s just being nice and goofy. He later attributes it to the fact that he didn’t know he was bisexual until senior year of high school.

Abram fucking fawns over Elliot 3 months into living together bc he realizes he’s kinda in love with him. Never lets it show bc he won’t ruin their friendship and plus they share a room tg. Def foams at the mouth when Elliot comes back sweaty and shirtless from runs. Once Elliot is eating a banana and out of nowhere says “You ever eat a banana and wonder how the fuck girls suck dicks?” in the dining hall and Abram chokes on his drink so bad it comes out of his nose. Horrified.

Neil & Andrew (ik hold on):

Blake (f) and Elliot (m) Nelson.

Andriel had no intention of ever having kids bc no.

However, when Andrew and Neil are 42/43 and living in South Carolina again, Andrew notices that there are footprints in Neil’s garden. Then he sees it again and sees that the footprints continue towards the shed in the backyard. He checks their cameras to see that it’s a young girl coming and going with Neil’s electric bike a few nights a week from 12am-4am. The third time he waits inside the shed and promptly scares the living shit out of her.

QUICK VERSION: Andrew catches Blake sneaking into their backyard shed and borrowing Neil’s electric bike at night a few times a week, lets her use Neil’s old raggedy bike that hasn’t seen the light of day in years, turns a blind eye when she returns it run over, gives her bus money instead, goes back and forth with her for like 1.5 months, points out the bruise & bandages she shows up with one night while he’s sitting outside at 12am (insomnia), doesn’t see her for 2 months, shows up at the 24 hour CVS she works at 3-4 nights a week and sees the bruises on her hand and throat through her turtleneck while she thought no one was looking, threatens to call the police post-shift at 4am and sits with her through a panic attack bc “He’ll- I’m only 15, they’ll make me quit my job and we can’t to afford- and they’ll split us up, and he- Elliot won’t- he can’t- oh my god” and then takes her to his house w consent, briefs Neil bc those kids need to get out of that house but they’re not staying here, Neil who somehow takes it all without a second thought and says “well not forever, but definitely for the night”, takes Blake and Neil (awk first meeting) to Blake’s house and gets Elliot out of the house while their dad is gone (Elliot has a black eye and bruises from rough fingers on his forearm and says dad left in a rampage when he saw u were gone, and i told you that job wasn’t fucking worth it).

Elliot doesn’t trust either of the men after what his sister protected him from and doesn’t know wtf is happening bc he thought Blake had been borrowing her friend’s bike. They stay in Andriel’s guest bedroom for the day, Abby is retired by now but only lives 45 minutes away. Neil takes charge of calling her despite Andrew thinking there’s more pressing matters like kidnapping 2 teenagers. “You didn’t kidnap us, idiot, we came with you” Blake says.

Long story short, the siblings end up staying with them longer than they thought due to lawyers and police and safety.

It becomes kind of a lost and found situation. What was once “while we get legalities figured out” became “until your father’s trial is over”, which stretched into “no way they’re getting sent to XYZ” and “until they can find someone competent enough to handle trainwreck’s, they’re stuck here” and “Dan won’t care if we bring them to Thanksgiving, right?” “Amalia’s been playing exy since she could walk, Kevin, Elliot started a year ago” “Elliot knows Santa isn’t real, right? That stops at, like, 12?” “I’m not teaching her to drive, I’ll get myself killed” “If your mouth gets you kicked out of school, don’t come crying to me” “Addie & Annie keep telling Blake to spend a weekend in Atlanta” “I’m not telling her not to date, she scares me” “Just because your mother wasn’t worse doesn’t mean she was good”

Until one day, two and a half years later, Blake hands Neil an application for adoption, who tilts it towards Andrew, who silently takes it and begins to fill it out.

Blake is 5’0, Elliot is 5’9. Blake is blonde and Elliot has light brown hair, and while they’re not ghostly pale, both of them burn in the sun in .2 seconds.

Elliot does cross country and was training for a 10k when they left their dad so Neil gladly continues that. He’s in awe when he finds out who Andrew and Neil really are, not because he knows their names but bc once he watches their old games it’s like watching gods to him. He’s a true golden retriever which isn’t helped by his ADHD, anxiety and mild dyslexia, which he doesn’t get medicated for until he’s 16.

When Elliot was 13 he almost drowned in a lake bc he was never taught how to swim. When their dad found out he took him back to the lake against his will and kept tossing him in the lake until he kept himself afloat enough to pull himself up onto the dock, nearly coughing up water. It was so traumatic to a young kid that Elliot had a problem with bodies of water after that. Instead of being fine just not going in, he avoids pools or lakes entirely. Beaches are give or take since he can sit far up on the sand.

Elliot watches exy with Neil and feels cool about it; latches onto King instantly and vice versa bc she’s an ESA and his anxiety is through the roof half the time.

Elliot gels very quickly with Jace and Abram when Andriel brings them to Thanksgiving at the Boyd’s house. Once he gets the boys’ numbers they add him and Blake to the groupchat they have with Kateaaron’s, Kevin’s, and Allison’s kids.

Later, when Elliot goes to college at PSU, he and Abram room together. They become even more attached at the hip (impossible) and Elliot becomes infatuated with Abram in a totally normal way that he eventually figures out by spring break is definitely bc he wants to fuck him. But Elliot is chaotic and too anxiety ridden to ever make a move so he bides his time being innocently flirty that comes off as being silly, and doesn’t complain when Abram wraps his arms around him or lets him sleep back to back in Abram’s bed after Elliot has a bad nightmare or can’t turn his brain off at night.

Eventually, sophomore year when they live in a house with 3 other guys, Elliot climbs into Abram’s bed face down after a night out, almost half on top of Abram. They’re literally both so drunk. “You’re in my bed,” Elliot slurs. “S’my bed, babe”. Elliot lifts himself up on his elbow over Abram’s (warm and shirtless) chest. “Who you callin babe?” Abram giggles lowly and Elliot leans down and kisses his cheek, “You can be my babe, babe” he boops Abram’s nose and giggles drunkenly, and his head is dipped low already when he lets his lips lightly press down on Abram’s chin, simply touching, before actually pressing a kiss there after a second. Abram’s hand comes up just as he presses that second kiss down, tangling into Elliot’s hair, and when Elliot pulls his head back up Abram’s grip tightens. Abram tilts his chin up and kisses just beside Elliot’s mouth, pulling him down fully and kissing him deep after the two pause against each other for less than a moment.

Aka, they hardcore make out. We’re talking ass grabbing, lib biting, neck sucking, Elliot straddling Abram, a bit of dry humping, Abram pressing him down into the mattress and moving down to-

Anyway, when they wake up Elliot runs to the bathroom connected to Abram’s room to throw up, and when he notices Abram come to the doorway he says “Dude, you sucked my dick” into the toilet bowl “you’re, like, really good at it, too” immediately wretches again. And it’s probs the hazy hangovers, but Abram says, “Yeah, been wanting to do that for a while” “Thank god, I’ve been dreaming about you doing that since last year… Hey, B?” Abram hums and Elliot doesn’t even lift his face from his arms over the toilet seat before asking “Wanna go out with me?” cue gagging, but luckily Abram splashes his face w water and leans down to just kiss the back of Elliot’s neck “oh that was hot” Elliot mumbles. “Yes, I’ll go out with you” “Thanks… Hey B?” another hum “Can you start the shower and also kill me while you’re at it?” “Whatever you want, babe”

Junior year Abram has to live at Fox Tower but Elliot and the other 3 guys stick together. Except Abram is closer with these guys so he ends up sleeping in Elliot’s bed like 4-5 nights a week. Elliot is an absolute THEIF of clothes too, like if Abram comes over he’s going home without a hoodie.

Elliot calls him B or Bram, most recently babe. Abram calls him baby, El, and sometimes sugar when they’re alone.

Blake is queer too which Neil gets really relieved by because how tf do u give a girl the talk. Turns out Andrew had already done it bluntly and against her will when she first went on a date at 16.

Blake doesn’t go to uni but gets her associates at a community college and Allison somehow gets her an internship with a PR agency, shocking considering her no-filter and sailors mouth.

Aaron & Katelyn:

They have identical twin girls: Annalise and Addison.

The twins are… not planned… they’re 26 and Aaron’s in his last semester of med school while Katelyn is nearing the end of her first year of residency (bc exy players 5th year). Thankfully Aaron had already been matched with the hospital Katelyn was at for his residency.

Aaron gets genuinely terrified when she tells him over the phone like 3 days before he was due to visit. He calls Andrew bc it’s too soon and this isn’t supposed to happen and he doesn’t know how to be a parent when the only one he had was a piece of shit and it’s the first time Andrew hears him audibly diss Tilda without adding “but she was my mom”. Andrew doesn’t say much, but he does say “You had a terrible childhood, yes?” “I mean, yeah” “Good. Don’t replicate it, and maybe yours won’t hate you.” and it’s enough.

All of this is thrown out the window when they find out they’re having twins. Aaron almost faints.

Annalise’s nickname is Annie and sometimes Anna by school friends. She has zero preference between the three options.

Addison rarely gets called her full name other than teachers, gets called Addie.

Andrew calls them both by their full names.

Katelyn has no middle name, so when her and Aaron get married she made Mackenzie her middle name and took Aaron’s surname.

Aaron calls his girls Ad/Addie-baby and Anna-bear.

Addie’s middle name is Mackenzie, Annie’s is Nichola…. you know why🥹

When Katelyn has to full name them she’ll typically yell “Annalise Nick!” and “Mackenzie!”

Aaron didn’t like the nickname Annie bc she’s a redhead and “orphan annie” felt weird bc he and Andrew are orphans. But Katelyn loved the name and it came naturally from others so he got over it.

Addie is bisexual aromantic. Annie is straight.

Addie goes to University of Georgia, and Annie goes to PSU for their really good speech pathology program (the twins are a year older than Jace/Blake and 2 years older than Abram/Elliot so Annie was the first kid to go to PSU).

The twins grew up in Chicago until they were 11, then moved to Atlanta, Georgia. Since they’re close to U Georgia, Addie tells her parents they’re only allowed to visit when she says so she’s not suffocated. Annie is more of a homebody so she not only loves that Dan is at PSU, but would let Kateaaron visit every weekend if they wanted (daddy’s girl).

Allison:

Maybe she gets married maybe she doesn’t, regardless I like to think she doesn’t for a while and ends up adopting a 3 year old named Sabrina.

Sabrina grows up to be a natural honey blonde just like Allison and coincidentally has her same smokey grey eyes.

Queen of nicknames: Sab, Bri, Brina, Briners, Reynolds.

Sabrina never puts a label on her sexuality and is pretty fluid with it, just doesn’t rlly give a fuck.

Grows up in Miami but they go to NYC every winter break and normally 1-2 times every summer. Grew up traveling with Allison but not enough that it affects her childhood.

Goes to NYU. Eventually helps Allison run, design, model for her fashion empire.

Has like a million followers on Instagram, has modeled for Victoria Secret, has been a brand ambassador for Moschino and goes to Paris fashion week w Allison every year once she’s 16.

Since the Foxes go on vacation every summer together, Sabrina grows up very close with the twin girls since they’re the same age. Brina and Addie *experimented* together when they were younger bc they didn’t wanna go to college not knowing anything. Since then, every time they see each other they end up hooking up. They’re very touchy feely with one another, but Brina is kinda like that anyway. Addie only tolerates her and Annie being like that.

They jokingly call their situation “best friends who bone”. Realistically, they’re in a (long distance lol) queerplatonic relationship that just includes sex. Annie secretly thinks Sabrina is aro as well but keeps it to herself bc it doesn’t matter to label it.

Kevin & Thea:

Amalia Day🫶🏼

Youngest of the kids, 3 years younger than Abram/Elliot. They weren’t necessarily concerned with the prospect of kids, so she isn’t born until Kevin is 32 and Thea is 36, not even a full year after she retires due to one too many knee injuries. She goes to Kevin one day after practice and kinda straight up says, “I want a child- No” she cuts him off “I’m 36, I want to be a mother, I want to be a mother with you, and I don’t want to be seventy when she goes off to college” but Kevin just says “She?” “Yes, I’m not bringing another spitting image of Kevin Day into this world”.

Clearly, they do have a girl. Despite Thea’s blunt and sometimes abrasive approach to some things, she takes to being a mother with all the gentle-ness that Kevin remembers of his own, and it’s enough to calm him about being a father (bc we all know Kevin was shitting his pants the whole time).

Amalia is tanner than Kayleigh was, but it’s unnerving how similar she looks to Kayleigh. It makes Wymack a complete pushover for her (though he always says no at first just to say he did).

Amalia grows up playing exy, of course, but also soccer and dance which pains Kevin and Thea reminds him to stfu. Thankfully for him, she’s really fucking good at Exy and gives up dance by the time she’s 8 and soccer by 11.

Plays for the US Teen Exy All Stars team (idk made it up). She plays offensive dealer. Her playing becomes Kevin’s dare I say obsession, but he becomes good (by force of Wymack, Thea, Andrew and surprisingly Jean) at being normal about it- not forcing exy down her throat and pressuring her. It’s good that she’s not a striker living up to Kevin’s legacy.

Amalia makes a Twitter when she’s 16 and it lasts about 3 weeks until Kevin finds out and makes her give him her password to monitor the account. Smart, giving the family’s status and her age, but she acts like it’s the end of the world.

If it wasn’t for Wymack, she would probably be an entitled brat. He keeps her humble along with the other kids.

Terrible fucking driver. Like holy shit.

Thea learned French over the years, so they raise her speaking English and French. As a teen she says she wishes she spoke German instead since Andrew, Aaron, Neil, Nicky, Erik, Annie, Addie, and Blake (eventually) all speak it.

She eventually goes to play for USC Trojans, plays pro, and goes to the Olympics as a 4th year senior in college.

Ages:

Sabrina Reynolds, the twins

Blake/Jace

Elliot/Abram

Amalia

All the kids are one year apart, with Amalia the youngest at 3 years younger than the boys and 5 years younger than Sabrina.

That’s all folks holy shit this was long. Maybe I’ll expand on it soon

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