#if people know tracy at all at this point

[idontknowreallywhy]

The Last of Them

Not quite sure what this is… it started as a little tribute to David Graham who, while maybe most famous for voicing Parker twice, also brought original Gordon to life.

Then it developed a life of its own and I’m not entirely sure what it became - by its very nature it refers to multiple major character deaths but they are all very old. So I hope it is ok. Maybe don’t read if you’re feeling fragile!

I put them in order of the VAs passing because that seemed right in the circumstances. Apologies if that means it is The Wrong Order for how you imagine it.

💛💛💛💛💛💛💙💚🧡❤️💛💛💛💛💛💛

He never expected to be The Last.

They’d all lived to a good age. They’d all achieved what they wanted to achieve.

But even Tracys didn’t live forever. And Gordon had not expected to be The Last.

Virgil had been first. He was never first at anything and this had been absolutely the last race Scott ever wanted to be beaten in. He took it as a personal affront that the universe seemed to want to run the curtain calls out of order.

Secretly, Gordon believed it had been a stroke of luck. In retrospect, he had been relieved. He knew his tender-hearted brother would have struggled the most at having to say goodbye to one of them and carry on. Gordon knew more than any of them, more than Scott, perhaps even than the man himself, how heavily Virgil carried the burden of attending Scott’s first (thankfully premature) funeral and that his darkest fears had always been centred on doing that again. Perhaps that had been why he’d refused the more experimental, increasingly desperate treatments Scott was lining up. He’d said he was happy, he was content and wanted to face the next adventure at home with his family, ALL of his family, not in a bubble in San Francisco.

Even now, when he closed his eyes, Gordon could still feel that last hand squeeze. Could still hear that rumbling voice telling him he’d done good today. He’d had his brother’s last little throwaway gift - a sketch of a grizzly bear with a squid clinging to its face - engraved at 5x scale on to a steel plate.

As time passed, the voice in his memory became younger, the eyebrows darker.

Scott himself had faltered, hard. But eventually, with the assistance of a horde of grandchildren and great grandchildren, had refocused and thrown himself into the role of patriarch that he’d been reluctant to embrace since Dad had passed. He’d lavished all his vast stores of energy on the subsequent generations as if determined they would know how much he cared before it was too late.

Scott hadn’t expected to outlive TinTin, John or Penny either. But the universe kept shuffling the deck of cards until Grandpa Scott finally gave his last cheeky salute and went to find them.

And then there were two. And Gordon was the oldest. Which had been weird, although expected.

Alan had always hated being the last.

When Gordon had poked his head around the door as the doctor left, his baby brother had been serious, staring out of the window. He’d swallowed and walked quietly over to his bedside but as soon as Gordon had been within reach Alan had turned and punched him in the shoulder and smirked that same irritating little brother smirk he’d smirked for over eight decades:

“Tag!”

Gordon had blamed the tears on tiny, weedy child-knuckles faintly bruising his broad, masculine shoulders.

Alan had just cackled.

Gordon had never expected to be The Last.

But so it had been.

Sometimes the media people dared him to reveal his secret. As if somehow he’d achieved something his brothers had not… As if they had missed a trick… he would look them dead in the eye and swear he’d spliced his DNA with a bowhead whale. At which point they’d usually smile awkwardly, check their notes for references to dementia then back away from the stupid, stupid questions.

He had never expected to be The Last, but as The Last, he had become all of them.

When four generations sat round and told stories of the Tracy family, he was the guardian of the old ones. The original ones. The ones they all knew but pretended not to notice him embellishing. How Scott was faster, Virgil stronger, John more all-knowing, Alan more daring every time the tales were retold.

To the world at large he was a kind of talisman. Whenever IR was mentioned in the media, it became Gordon’s image that was used. Despite having never been in command of either IR or TI, it was his comment people wanted. So he would give one, often irreverent or purely nonsensical and with the same wink his eldest brother had been famous for. It was genetic, after all.

He played unpredictable and eccentric old billionaire nearly as well as he played crazy sentimental Grandpa.

As long as they didn’t ask the stupid questions. He had spent a little while in the pool, gently washing off the lingering taint of today’s holo-interview appearance on some news show. He always did them when asked, the Tracys positive reputation enabled the family to do a lot of good on a global scale and cute old guy Gordon apparently helped. It wasn’t a lot to ask. Scott would have done it, so, therefore, did Gordon. And he would carry on, as long as he had all his marbles. And then maybe just a little longer… to wind them all up.

He sighed. However he might suggest that stricter pre-screening was going to be needed in future.

“So, Mr Tracy, how does it feel to be the last of the old guard?”

He’d swallowed the bitter “How do you think?” The questioner had looked about twelve, they had no idea. No idea how it stung. So he’d called it an honour. Then shifted quickly to the agreed script about their campaign to make Safety and First Aid a compulsory part of the school curriculum in many countries.

Yes, a little more consideration for the ancient squid-man’s lonely heart wouldn’t go amiss. EOS would sort it. He liked EOS. She still got his pop culture references and she hadn’t locked him out of anywhere for years.

His minder for the pool excursion - one of Scott’s great grandkids… or possibly John’s… he was beginning to lose track - patted him on the hand and left him tucked up warmly in a fluffy robe on a lounger to watch the sunset.

Goodness he was tired.

He yawned and wriggled a little, then smiled to himself at the sound of the kids coming out on to the deck arguing about something or other. Alan’s traditional shriek as Virgil yeeted him into the pool was followed swiftly by the combined laughter of the elder trio who claimed the loungers beside and behind Gordon. A count of five, then the littlest bro had his revenge by leaping atop Virgil and soaking him before stealing half of Gordon’s robe and the majority of his elbow room.

Too contented to really complain, Gordon slung an arm over the soggy teen and let his brothers’ voices surround him as he drifted off to sleep.

[gumnut-logic]

The Awards (Part 2)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Alexander Sweetapple series

This one was a challenge and being Australian and not a Kiwi, I beg forgiveness if I've messed up anything. Many, many thanks to @onereyofstarlight I owe her Haighs chocolate for consultation fees on this one (she actually wrote the intro).

Being a Sweetapple fic, this is m/m, and although they don't go beyond the occasional kiss and hug, if that isn't your thing, this isn't your fic.

I hope you enjoy it :D

-o-o-o-

“Tēnā koutou katoa.”

The room was already silent for the man’s mere presence on the stage. Scott Tracy stood tall, gazing out at the audience, and if he was honest with himself, Alex couldn’t help but feel proud to be an employee, sitting here in the audience, and represented by him.

“Ko Aerana te whakapaparanga mai. Nō Ngā Whenua Tōpū o Amerika au.” Scott straightened just a little. “My ancestry is from Ireland and I am from the United States of America.”

“Ko reo kōrero ō Tracy Industries ahau. I am the spokesperson of Tracy Industries.”

“Ko Scott Tracy tōku ingoa. My name is Scott Tracy.”

His eyes raked the room.

“It is the difficult and the horrifying that remind us of who we are. When circumstances threaten us and those we love. It is those times our hearts must be strong. To reach out and help family, friends and strangers alike.”

“You are a community which has seen terrible loss and heartache. But you are also a community of strong and defiant people who saw suffering and stepped up to help.” A pause. “I know. I was there.”

The room rumbled in acknowledgement.

“This is an opportunity to thank those who were pillars in their community, the iwi leaders who organised food and shelter, those who volunteered their time and energy to look after one another."

“Every one who saw a need and offered to help, all of you should be proud to be a part of Te Tai Rāwhiti because the sun does indeed dawn first on a very strong and caring people.”

He paused a moment and the room was full of an echoing silence as if everyone was holding their breath, simply hanging on the words of Mr Scott Tracy.

“So, it was with great honour I accepted this opportunity to open the Tairāwhiti Super Hero Awards 2065. While International Rescue might make a dramatic entrance,” the crowd murmured and Mr Tracy smiled just a little, “we should never forget the real heroes amongst us - those who step up and do what needs doing.”

For the briefest of moments that blue gaze settled on Alex before drawing the rest of the room in behind him.

“So thank you to all of you, for great service rendered.” Another small smile. “Ngā mihi nui.”

Mr Tracy stepped back from the lectern and the room erupted into applause. Alex found himself clapping like a lunatic.

But then this was Scott Tracy, Thunderbird One.

Beside Alex, Virgil was clapping just as hard, but he was grinning at Alex, not his big brother.

Scott shook the hand of the Master of Ceremonies and quietly walked off the stage as the lights shifted, heralding the opening performance of the night.

Alex’s eyes widened as students from the local high school, one of the most damaged by the quake, stepped onto the stage and into the rhythm of haka and welcome.

Knowing exactly how these people had been affected, and to see them here, proud and defiant, Alex’s heart swelled.

He lost himself in the lights and sound.

At some point, Scott slipped in on the other side of Virgil. The two brothers acknowledging each other unspoken, but throughout the ceremony Virgil held Alex’s hand.

And it was ever so warm.

At the end of the welcoming ceremony, the Prime Minister took to the podium, her stance as strong as her speech. Her acknowledgement of those lost, those who suffered, those who stepped up, and those who saved - and yes, she mentioned International Rescue particularly - Alex squeezed Virgil’s hand. It was heartwarming, politician or no.

And then came the awards.

The Prime Minister stood beside the MC and as names were announced and people stepped up from the audience, stories were told of heroic deeds.

The woman who sheltered three children with her body as a building collapsed over them. Thunderbird Two had pulled them out, finding her physically holding a slab of concrete from falling.

Her hoverchair separated from the crowd and hissed down the aisle to the stage.

A mechanic who had set up a care centre in his backyard, gathering locals who had lost their homes, finding blankets and bedding, and offering shelter from the weather in his workshop.

Amongst the recipients there were those who could not attend and those who had lost their lives helping others. Family members and friends accepted the awards from the hands of the Prime Minister.

The mood was both somber and proud.

“Alexander Sweetapple.” Alex startled and suddenly found both Virgil and his mother ushering him to his feet. “Caught in the Tairāwhiti museum collapse, Alexander was able to save the thirteen people caught with him before the building slipped into the Taruheru River.”

Alex was walking down the aisle towards the stage. He stepped up into the light, the Prime Minister’s smile all for him, and he shook her hand and accepted the trophy and tried his best to smile and not drop it.

His fingers fumbled.

Not drop it.

“Thank you for your service.” Her brown eyes were sincere and both her hands clasped his. “Thank you.”

He managed a smile and a nod, before turning back towards the audience. Somewhere out there, in that haze of bright light, was his mum, Messrs Tracy, and Virgil.

The thought of his smile…and what happened after saving those thirteen people…

Alex really didn’t need the piece of plastic in his hands.

So, of course, that was when he dropped it.

The thud as it hit the wooden stage floor was loud, the echo bouncing around the theatre.

A rumble of amusement from the crowd swelled as he stumbled to pick it up.

Grab the piece of plastic and get off the stage.

He managed it with as much decorum as he had left, only tripping on the stairs once in his haste. Walking up the aisle again, however, all he could see was fond amusement in the eyes that caught his and it mollified him a little. That feeling of just ‘being in it together’ reassured his thudding heart.

His mum and Virgil welcomed him back to his seat, both hugging him, one after the other.

The gentle kiss to his ear as heavy lifting arms wrapped around him was enough to slow his heart rate down a notch…okay, not slow, really, but more redirect its passion from terror to…other things.

The rest of the ceremony was a blur. Panic was exhausting and he found himself resting his head on Virgil’s shoulder as hero after hero accepted their award.

At some point Scott climbed out of his seat and walked back down to the stage to accept a thank you to International Rescue from the Prime Minister - everyone knew IR didn’t accept awards, but Aotearoa had every right to say thank you.

Mr Scott’s smile and Erica’s favourite dimples charmed the audience and the Prime Minister…who, come to think of it, was single…

But the thank you was the last speech of the night. Scott returned to his seat again and the final performance roared onto the stage. Alex was quite comfortable with his head on Virgil’s shoulder, almost snuggled up beside him.

Sure, someone could photograph them, but at this point Alex didn’t care. Besides, it wasn’t like they were trying to hide anything. A good percentage of the world had already seen them playing tonsil hockey on social media, this was small time in comparison.

Virgil turning and kissing him gently on the forehead just sealed the deal.

But eventually the ceremony came to an end and the audience took to their feet. Alex straightened up, but his hand did not leave Virgil’s, even as they filed out with the crowd.

Iz, of course, appeared from nowhere, she and Kayo bracketing their party as they moved into the foyer where a buffet had been set up.

Alex brightened. A little kai and definitely some coffee would help.

Well, it would have if some of it hadn’t been thrown at them.

-o-o-o-

TBC

[cantsayidont]

September 1932. BLESSED EVENT — directed by Roy Del Ruth and obviously inspired by real-life newspaper columnist Walter Winchell — is a screamingly funny pre-Code comedy featuring Lee Tracy at his cynical, frenetic best as Alvin Roberts, a Winchell-like gossip columnist who finds his niche with scandalous birth announcements of the "married late this summer, anticipate a blessed event in October" variety, captivating and outraging half of New York and making Roberts a celebrity. Naturally, this also makes him many enemies, from Bunny Harmon (a young Dick Powell), an unctuous radio crooner Roberts loathes (and vice versa), to gangster Sam Gobel (Edwin Maxwell), who sends a tough Chicago hood named Frankie Wells (Allen Jenkins) to rub Roberts out. In the film's most memorable scene, Frankie is scared straight by Roberts' vividly horrific description of being put to death in the electric chair, a spiel Tracy delivers at a breathless, rapid-fire pace that would make even a vintage Robin Williams standup routine seem comparatively sedate. BLESSED EVENT also has a great supporting role for regular Warner Bros. character player Ruth Donnelly as Roberts' long-suffering secretary. ("You want to see Mr. Roberts? Oh, you want to sue Mr. Roberts. The line forms on the left.")

[capricornsicle]

5x04 "Condition Terminal" + Cody Christian's acting skills

[bwlkins]

I feel like the fandom is overlooking this Aziraphale's line. He perfectly knows that Heaven is no better than Hell.

And I know TV Aziraphale is slightly different from Book Aziraphale, but he is not totally different character. Do you remember this amazing bit from the GO book? I think we'll get something like that in S3.

It's while he's discorporated and he goes through a couple of different spiritualists in different countries before he gets back to London and Tracy; he stops off in an American TV evangelist and points out everything wrong with the guy's sermon…

"He (the preacher) stopped, suddenly. “Well, nice try,” he said, in a completely different voice, “only it won’t be like that at all. Not really. “I mean, you’re right about the fire and war, all that. But that Rapture stuff—well, if you could see them all in Heaven—serried ranks of them as far as the mind can follow and beyond, league after league of us, flaming swords, all that, well, what I’m trying to say is who has time to go round picking people out and popping them up in the air to sneer at the people dying of radiation sickness on the parched and burning earth below them? If that’s your idea of a morally acceptable time, I might add.

“And as for that stuff about Heaven inevitably winning . . . Well, to be honest, if it were that cut and dried, there wouldn’t be a Celestial War in the first place, would there? It’s propaganda. Pure and simple. We’ve got no more than a fifty percent chance of coming out on top. You might just as well send money to a Satanist hotline to cover your bets, although to be frank when the fire falls and the seas of blood rise you lot are all going to be civilian casualties either way. Between our war and your war, they’re going to kill everyone and let God sort it out—right?

“Anyway, sorry to stand here wittering, I’ve just a quick question—where am I?”

[lordofdestructionm]

Reading Mordecai Heller as a repressed gay man

The tragic attraction

This is a full post based on my response to a great analysis by @sedgewick-gayble

Let me start by saying that if you read Mordecai as being totally asexual/aromantic and any affection he has for other characters to be entirely platonic that is entirely valid and I respect that

However as this response by Tracy makes clear on the topic of fans reading Mordecai as gay there is an intentional ambiguity about it. Being 28 at the time of the main story his "lifestyle is certainly asexual" up to this point, yet "being ace and being gay are not mutually exclusive things" and people sometimes "don't know themselves or understand their own motivations all that well"

This leaves the possibility open that Mordecai is actively repressing his natural desires and feelings

Mordecai's early life didn't exactly provide much time or opportunity for "self discovery", even by the usual standards of the less than tolerant and understanding world of the early 20th century

Being born into an impoverished family and having his father die very early in his life leaving him and his Mother and two younger sisters in dire straits, Mordecai had to get to work and assume adult responsibilities pretty damn early.

As Tracy says "selling newspapers wasn't going to cut it" and so using his natural talent with numbers Mordecai starts bookkeeping for the mob. Is it any wonder someone with that background would develop such a serious and rigidly buttoned up demeanour?

Since being forced to abandon his mother and two sisters at the start of the 1920s and flee New York, being picked up by Atlas's due to his habit of collecting useful strays, Mordecai had very few people he was close to in St Louis. With his generally anti-social personality and not only lack of interest but discomfort with any sort of flirting or romantic entanglements, that would be unlikely to change

Side note: Probaby coincidence but

There are only two people who seem to make it onto that exclusive list of people that "count" for Mordecai, who he cares about and are able to bring things to the surface he would normally keep hidden

Atlas to Mordecai is not just an employer, he is the man who saved his life, the man who moulded a desperate fearful shabby young stray into the sharp professional he is today, who took him under his wing and made him his protege. Filling the empty space his father left in his life. His grief and desperate hunt for those responsible for his death are his big motivation (the strain of which is slowly tearing him apart)

That connection is undertsandable

Much more surprising on the surface is the bond with the partner Atlas teamed him up with soon after his arrival, Viktor Vasko.

The assumption at the start would have been that while their skill sets might compliment each other in the field there would have been no warmth in their dynamic.

Certainly not on Mordecai's part as Viktor appears to be a sum total of many things Mordecai hates. Viktor is unshaven, relatively casual in his attire, speaks a broken English, and hates people chattering or “noise, noise, noise” as he calls it. Clashing hard with his obsession with good grooming, high quality tailoring, correct grammar etc. Indeed Mordecai doesn't hesitate to nag/criticize Viktor for these things

Yet at the same time Mordecai has far better chemistry with Viktor than with anyone else, able to banter and bicker with him in a way you rarely if ever see with others

Its why when he gets tailored clothes for the first time Viktor is the first person he wants to show off too. Its why the one time he is intoxicated Viktor (and his large physique) are his chosen topic of converation. Its why at Christmas/Hanuhhah he gives him the gift of a tie while claiming its just because of the big guys poor fashion sense and that its "embarassing to be seen with him" (even that justification makes him sound like a nagging girlfriend)

A smaller detail is that during their iconic chess playing in the side content, set during their days staking out the remote town of Defiance, Viktor is shown very casually winning the game much to Mordecai's visible distress

This is hilarious but could also be taken as a metaphor for Viktor (possibly without even realizing it) breaking through his defensive emotional barriers

Something Mordecai doesn't know how to handle or respond to

The animated short only adds fuel to the fire

During their dispute over strategy Mordecai moves his face so close to Viktors that he almost knocks his cap off his head. His eyes at one point even dart down towards his mouth

Sharp eyed Vikdecai fans have also noted that Mordecai seems on some level to want the two of them to match

The tie being the same colour could simpy be Mordecai giving Viktor one of his own ties because its a joke gift and he just grabbed it on a whim to tease Viktor about his poor fashion choices

But think about the matching suits at the New Years party for 1926

I mean, seriously, not only is it the exact same style of suit in the same blue-grey colour distinct from everyone else, but they are standing in the perfect spots to be symmetrical to each other. Something that we all know means a lot to this compulsive man

Mordecai must have known there was going to be a big group photo ahead of time and then carefully planned this

Got matching suits made to his and Viktors measurements

Then most impressively convinced/nagged Viktor into cooperating (he may have taken off the tie and rolled up the sleeves but hey him playing along at all is quite a compromise from Viktor "I hate dressing up" Vasko)

Mordecai is intent on making Viktor retire and get out of danger, and avoid a situation where he gets sent to kill him by Marigold because he knows he could NOT do it, and his cover and investigation into Atlas's death would be over

He is horrified that Viktor is still working at Lackadaisy (though he again has to hide how much he cares) and that he has gotten not only hurt again but hurt by Mordecai again (albeit this time indirectly by stealing the guns)

Can this be read as simply platonic comradere? Absolutely

But there is something so *intense* in the fact he was willing to resort to kneecapping him. Its an extreme and desperate act that could only result from intense emotions, seemingly out of character for someone who tries very hard to appear logical and controlled.

While Vikdecai is a very fun ship when imagining them as an actual bickering married couple, I have often said that a tragic one-sided on Mordecai's part version of Vikdecai is the one that fits closest and surprisingly well into the canon.

His nagging and complaining about Viktor in that context take on a Tsundere aspect, both to protect himself from being found out and maybe even try and convince himself the uncomfortable alien feelings aren't there. He not only doesn't want others looking too hard at his feeling he doesn't want to examine them himself all that much

There is a heartbreaking but appealing angst to the idea of this extremely repressed man having such feelings for the first time in his life for his straight best friend and NOT knowing how to handle that. Having to perform the balancing act of being around him so much as his partner but being painfully aware that he can't let anyone catch on, especially not Viktor himself, as it would likely destroy his bond with the only person in town other than Atlas he is close to.

Though tragically he did that anyway later via the kneecapping, which while about trying to keep Viktor safe, he may now looking back try and tell himself its actually somehow "better" for Viktor to hate him for that

Because the big guy now wrongly thinks the feeling is mutual and that Mordecai never really cared about him, which may be better than (what Mordecai assumes would be) disgust at his partners doomed more than platonic feelings

Because he sees those feelings and his situation as a sad perfectly structured joke life has played on him

[barbwritesstuff]

Thicker Than - Monthly Update

Hello everyone! Happy full moon! I hope you’ve had a great month.

Here's the link to the Thicker Than Demo!

I didn’t get as much done as I’d hoped this month (I think I got a little burnt out and took a week off), but I’m really proud of what I have put together. Both Nathan and Tracy’s intimate scenes are finished and I’ve got some good ideas about what I want to do with some of the other characters. My plan is to work on the no-romance route and Ravima’s route this coming month. However, I do have some editing to do on another project, so that’ll probably slow me down a wee bit.

Someone very kindly emailed me a list of small coding errors/typos/grammar mistakes which I’ve been slowly working my way through. I haven’t fixed all of those yet, but I’m hoping to finish going through the list this weekend. That feedback is hugely helpful. Sometimes it’s really hard to spot all those silly little mistakes, especially now that the word count is starting to get kind of high. It’s great knowing other people are taking the time to help me whip this game into shape.

Speaking of word count: OVER 300k! 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳

It feels really good hitting this milestone. I was so unsure about making a sequel to Blood Moon for a long time because I was worried I wouldn’t be able to do the vampires justice. Getting to this point is so incredible.

I really hope you like it. As always, thanks so much for all your encouragement and support. If you spot any errors, mistakes, or weirdness, please let me know. 

Update Details:

As of the 23rd of May 2024

Continued to work on Chapter Ten

Finished Tracy and Nathan’s intimate scenes

Spelling/Grammar fixes

Minor bug fixes

Additional Words: 24,282 (excluding commands)

Total Word Count: 318,292 (excluding commands)

💙

[thedeviltohisangel]

For A Fortnight There We Were (One Shot): It Fit Too Right

a/n: welcome to my all the things i did metaverse. please meet evelyn, a hollywood a-lister who falls in love with her co-star callum turner while filming masters of the air. this will most likely be a request based series so send them all in! would also love to flush out this relationship more with you guys through asks and chats. let me know what you think!!

He stood in the doorway of their hotel suite with a smile as he watched one person tug the corset of her gown tighter, another brush powder across her cheeks and a third place her hair over her shoulder in a meticulous manner. 

“I promise we’re almost done, baby.” 

“Don’t rush perfection on my account,” he said with a smile as he took a few steps into the room. “Let me help, love.” Callum grabbed the pair of heels from her stylist and dropped to one knee, Evelyn steadying herself on his shoulder as he slipped on one shoe and then the other. He kissed up her leg for good measure as she giggled, standing with a matching smile as she pulled him in for a kiss.

“People might get the wrong idea. You being on one knee like that.” In reality, he was just waiting for her to say she was ready and he’d be on one knee with a ring in hand in an instant. 

“The right idea you mean.” Evelyn blushed as her team began to filter out of the room. There was always a moment before every event that the two of them wanted time to themselves. They had gotten used to picking up the tempo for when it was arriving. “One day,” he followed up with a whisper. 

“One day. Soon.” He felt something blossom in his chest at her words. “Help me with my necklace?” The gold chain held a dainty C charm and fit perfectly snug around her neck as he clasped it securely.

“Gave you this necklace almost two years ago. So much has changed since then.” Yet so much had also stayed the same. They were still in each other’s orbit, circling the sun together and happy to live in this pattern for the rest of eternity. 

“And we finally get to show the world our love story.” Callum wrapped his arms around her from behind and they swayed gently to the song playing in his head. “Tracy told me there’s already stories lined up about the timeline of it all. About the overlap of still being legally married and filming the show and meeting you.” Her publicist warned her as soon as the premiere was scheduled that all the questions were going to get dragged up again. The accusations and the whispers of infidelity.

“I know the truth and you know the truth, Ev. That’s all that fucking matters.” The truth was that her marriage was a disaster the entire last year. The fights about his job and her job and fertility issues and the occasional bump of coke all mixing into a toxic sludge she was still working her way through years later.

“You’ll punch anyone who asks on the carpet or on the press tour?” She looked at him over her shoulder. 

“With a smile on my face,” Callum answered with a pucker of his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Begrudgingly, she untangled herself from his arms and interlocked their fingers together in its place. He squeezed tight as they took the elevator down to the lobby with their security, her other hand wrapping around his wrist for two anchor points at the sight of the paparazzi waiting for them on the sidewalk. 

“Evelyn! Callum! Look to the left!

“To the right, guys, come on a little smile please!”

“Callum, how about a kiss?”

His hand landed on the small of her back as he helped her into the waiting SUV before sliding in next to her. Evelyn collapsed as the door shut. “Fucking brutal,” she muttered.

“I’m hoping they get what they want at the carpet and they can leave us alone when we get back tonight.” He reached for her hand and held it in his lap. “What are my lanes in the road for touching you tonight?” 

“Are you feeling particularly handsy tonight, Mr. Turner?” she asked with a smirk as he brought her hand to his lips and kissed across each knuckle. 

“That dress is an inspiration.” She leaned in with a giggle and kissed him square on the mouth. 

“Then make sure everyone there tonight knows that.” His eyebrows raised on their own accord. 

“Yeah? You mean that?” Normally, she was much more reserved. Making him settle for longing stares and soft, hidden smiles and subtle allusions to each other. She hid from all the attention and let her work speak for itself. 

“Maybe…maybe the part of me that always wants to hide should work on healing herself tonight.” It also had been a piece of homework from her therapist this week. 

“Okay. Okay, yeah, we’ll work on it tonight. Together.” 

“Together,” she reiterated as he kissed her hand again and then her lips. 

“You make me so happy. No matter what.” 

“You make me happiest,” she laughed as he buried his face in the crook of her neck and left a few kisses there. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

----

The ride was over all too quickly, the SUV idling at the start of the carpet and the sounds of muffled screaming and yelling reaching their ears instantly. Ever since their relationship had been made public, there had been attention on them like neither had ever experienced. 

She had been called a cheater, he had been called a social climber. Accusations of adultery and a months-long affair behind her husband’s back and questions on how valid Callum’s feelings could be as a less well-known star than her. Hell, Howard Stern had straight up asked her on his radio show how it felt to have power over the person she was in a relationship with when she had been so powerless previously. Callum certainly hadn’t taken kindly to the implication. 

Quarantine had been the perfect bubble for their love to take root and flourish. Had insulated them from the outside world as long as possible and allowed her walls to come down. They were built up so high after her failed marriage. Reinforced as her mind worked through the mental fuckery of falling in love with your co-star. Evelyn hadn’t known where she began and the character ended for the longest time but she knew in her heart she wanted to figure it out with him. 

The roar reached a fever pitch as Callum stepped out of the car, buttoned his jacket and waved to a group of fans on the side. He waited for her, watched her take a deep breath and square her shoulders before she took his outstretched hand and stepped out of the vehicle. 

Her movie star smiled flitted across her face easily as their fingers interlocked and her own hand raised in a wave before letting her boyfriend slot his lips against hers to the delight of the camera flashes. 

“Let’s do a couple autographs before interviews.” Her publicist gently pressed on the small of her back to guide in the direction of glossy photographs and posters and an endless sea of markers.

Evelyn smiled warmly as she let go of his hand and began to scrawl her name across various posters of her in Targaryen garb or an old military uniform or the occasional photo she had taken with a fan previously that they were now adding her penmanship to.

“Can I get a selfie?”

“Yeah of course!” She smiled with as many fans as she could and let them take a few photos to choose from before she was getting the signal it was time to keep it moving. “Thanks for coming!” Evelyn blew a few kisses to the crowd before Callum had her hand right back in his for the ensuing carpet walk. 

“Ev, you want to go first?” Tracy asked as she was beginning to urge her to the first photomark. She hit the X and did her best to look at the cameras like she wanted to fuck them. Those were normally the only shots that kept their hunger sated and kept from yelling too explicitly at her the rest of the night. 

She looked over her shoulder and watched Callum smile and show off his suit like it was second nature and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t excited to look at the photos later to see just how in love she was in this moment. He took her extended hand with a mischievous smile, falling in love all over again with this side of her that he knew well but she kept hidden from the outside world. 

“Let me get the two of you looking to the right!”

“Put your hands on her, mate!” “Look right at the camera with a smile, Evelyn!”

Callum furrowed his brow and wrapped his arm around her waist a little tighter as they kept fighting for a piece of them. They had both worked so hard to keep this one corner of their lives sacred and private but they couldn’t stay that way forever. Especially when they were trying to promote the show that brought them together in the first place. 

“You good?” he asked, leaning in to whisper in her ear.

“Hold my hand the rest of the carpet?”

“Of course, love.” Their eyes stayed locked together as he kissed the back of her hand and they made their way towards the first interviewer. 

“It’s so good to see you guys again!”

“It’s good to see you too! It’s been a minute,” Evelyn replied.

“Last time I saw you, Callum, you were with George Clooney which is a hard interview companion to top-”

“Oh, I’ve done it. This one’s my companion for life.” She couldn’t help but blush at his forwardness. “This show brought so many beautiful people to my life and introduced me to this incredible story of these men and the sacrifices they made for us but I’ll never be able to articulate what meeting this woman and falling in love with her has done for me and the honor that has truly been.” 

“This is why my team is always trying to keep us separate in front of a microphone because we always get a little in our feels about each other.” Evelyn rested her cheek against his chest.

“Tell me about that. You guys film this show and feel some vibes and then the premiere gets delayed for two years. Does this add to the nervousness or does it add to the excitement?”

“Definitely both,” Evelyn teases, “the characters are real people, real heroes, so there is such a desire to make sure the story is told in the most accurate, thankful way. Part of making sure that happened was fully devoting ourselves to the relationship between these two and to discover something real in the process was a really happy accident.” Her hand rested on his cheek and he kissed her palm, looking at her like she was the only girl in the entire world. For him she was.

“We had the opportunity to meet their children and grandchildren which was such a blessing because on paper I was skeptical, it seemed written for the movies, but they had letters and pictures and stories that really showed these two loved each other in a magical way their entire lives.”

“And what’s next for you two? I hear rumors we may see you, Ms. Shaw, in a movie about sand and worms…” Evelyn laughed. 

“I hear Austin Butler loves worms so you should ask him. I know nothing about a movie with those themes.” She mimed sealing her lips and throwing away the key. The interviewer looked to Callum for help.

“Hey, I know even less than you do. This one’s a steel trap.” 

“Alright, I’m getting the signal that the most in demand people on this carpet tonight are needing to move along. Have the best night ever you two!” They both offered their thanks before a team of security and assistants collapsed ranks around them as they moved down the carpet. 

“How’d we do, Trace?” Callum asked as he swung their interlocked hands back and forth. 

“You were on your best behavior. Thank you.” Evelyn was a typical client for a publicist. Did good work and got high profile projects, never caused controversy in an interview but had some skeletons in her closet. Evelyn always did exactly as she asked and took her advice as gospel. Her boyfriend on the other hand was all boisterous and laughed and sang and had not a care in the world. He wanted to hold her and kiss and let the whole world know he was in love with her and scream it from the rooftops. 

“I see Mr. Butler!” Evelyn pointed directly ahead to the tall blonde man taking photos with Barry. “Oh, and Barry! I haven’t seen him recently enough to ask about bathwater.”

“Look who it is! My first and second wheel!” Austin lifted her up and spun her around before greeting Callum. “You two walking together?” While he was very familiar with their PDA behind closed doors, it was rare to see it out in the open. 

“This is as close to her accepting a proposal as I’m gonna get, mate.” Ev rolled her eyes and turned to get in between them for the row of photographers currently screaming at them. She is safe in between the two of them. Had needed every ounce of it when she had arrived on set all those years ago. 

She knew Callum had a ring tucked away somewhere safe. Knew he was dying with every passing day to make things between them official forever. She meant soon when she had said it earlier. 

Evelyn looked up at him as the camera continued to blind her and she tuned them out. She smiled and he smiled right back. “I love you,” he whispered so it existed just between the two of them. 

“I love you, too. So much.” 

Yes. Soon indeed.

[wntrs0ldier]

AN OFFER II · 05

pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 3,3k warnings: mafia, language, violence (graphic descriptions), minor character death, mature themes, dark themes, angst, smut, toxic behavior, blood and injury, abuse and sexual abuse, hurt/comfort,

Taking his eyes off you, Bucky turned to Sam. “Go get Clint,” he ordered, his voice — just like his stare — lacking a particular tone; it was emotionless, perhaps with a hint of cooling anger, the seed of which got there completely naturally. Then he looked at Steve, his jaw clenched again. “Get her out of here.”

series masterlist

The exhibition, crowning the last few months of your work, was going surprisingly well for something you had initially occupied yourself with just to pass the time.

It all started with Bucky’s absence and now he was there — keeping his hand on your lower back, stroking it in a comforting manner, he made you forget about all the things that could go wrong. You watched some people admiring the artwork you’ve collected, exchanged some words, shook some hands, and Bucky didn't leave your side for a second. 

At some point, Tracy appeared right next to you, touching your shoulder to get your attention. “There’s a call from Connie. She couldn’t reach your phone, so she called the gallery. I put her through to your office.”

Your friend, whom you had fortunately dissuaded from the idea of using her leave to attend the exhibition, was currently enjoying her free time on a real vacation. It certainly would have been nice to have her around, but it wasn't worth it; besides, you had solid support coming from not only your husband, but also Steve, Sam and Clint.

“Thanks,” you said, and when Tracy left, you turned to Bucky to hand him your glass with the wine you haven’t had the chance to finish. “I'll be back in a few minutes. An hour tops,” you informed, smirking. 

The corner of Bucky’s mouth quirked up. “Sure. Got any knives I could juggle?” He raised his eyebrows. “You know, to entertain your guests.”

You sized him up, your eyes narrowed. “Do you really know how to juggle..?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged casually. “I can show you somewhere a little more private.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you laughed, smacking his shoulder. 

Bucky’s mouth stretched into a much wider smile as your laugh reached his ears. “I’ll be waiting here,” he promised. Still grinning, you cupped his face and kissed him, then went to the stairs. 

Having hurried into your office, you got to the phone. “Connie?” you spoke with undisguised excitement. 

“Hi, babe,” Connie giggled. “How’s the exhibition? How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, the exhibition is fine…” you sighed, resting your free hand on the desktop. “I have a lot of buyers, actually. It's better than I thought.” 

“Is one of those buyers your filthy rich husband?” she asked, and if she was here, right beside you, she would probably pinch you teasingly. 

A bright smile came to your lips. “He’s banned from doing that, and is here only for support.”

“That’s really great,” when you heard that, you also heard her smile fade away. “I'm sorry I can't be there for you.”

“Oh, come on, Connie. We talked about this. You deserve a rest, especially from those uptight bankers.” 

Connie said something else, but you got distracted by the sound of the door opening. You looked over your shoulder, and to your surprise, saw Adrian. 

“Y/N? Can you hear me?”

“Uh, Connie? I’ll call you back, okay?” Without waiting for your friend's answer, you hung up the phone. “Can I help you..?” you asked flatly, turning to Adrian. 

“Have you made a decision? About Paris?”

Your eyebrows rose; you secretly hoped that Adrian would eventually use his common sense, and as a result, realize how ridiculous the idea was. “I told you already. I can’t come to Paris with you.”

In a moment of weakness it crossed your mind that, perhaps, you should agree for the sake of the gallery. But Bucky was right — you couldn't sell Adrian your time; not when he was pushing the limits that way, treating you like an object he could do whatever he liked with.

“You are making a mistake. Big mistake,” he stated slowly, and just as slowly covered the space between the door and the desk.

You understood that you were just a woman — a fragile, weak woman, left alone with an offended man; the only thing in that room more fragile than you was only Adrian's pride. And yet, when he approached you, you didn't even flinch, didn’t take your stern gaze off him. 

“Are you sure, Y/N?” he questioned, giving you the last chance to change your mind. “Are you sure what you are doing? You are rejecting the opportunity of a lifetime. And it will cost you a lot. Can you afford it?”

He grabbed your forearm rapidly. Twisting it, turning your body, stiff and paralyzed with sudden panic, he pushed you, then pressed against the desk. The moment you collided with the hard surface, the air abruptly spilled out of your lungs, leaving you breathless, and the hit your chin took from crashing onto the desktop cut your bottom lip open; the rusty taste of blood settled on your tongue. 

One of Adrian's hands, which had wrapped around your forearm earlier, moved to the nape of your neck and pressed your torso down to the glass surface; his legs pinned your thighs to the edge, at the same time opening them for easier access. His other hand struggled with the fabric of your dress until it finally gave in and chose to betray you with a deep rip on the side.

“Adrian,” you grated, your breath heavy as you unsuccessfully tried to fight back, “get the fuck off me.” 

“Stand still, bitch,” he hissed, pressing your body even harder. You were losing your breath again, since your chest didn't have enough room. “And shut up.”

Struck by the sudden return of panic spreading at an alarming speed, you became numb when Adrian lifted your dress. His sickeningly cold and wet hands, touching your skin directly, without any additional layers protecting your body, turned your stomach sick. 

Until that moment, you were clinging to the hope that you could get out of it, or that Adrian would come to his senses. But now, it didn't appear that either of those things were going to happen; Adrian was going to get his way, he was going to take something from you, to break you.

Despite the shock of realizing what your fate would be, you swept your hand over the desktop to scan the area. In the process, you knocked down the phone, which Adrian considered to be continued attempts to fight, and eventually found something that, judging by its shape, was a stapler — an useless tool. A moment later, your hand felt something thin and oblong. A pen. Without much thought, you clenched it tightly in your palm and, pushed by adrenaline, blindly slammed your weapon into whatever happened to be behind you. All you knew was that it went in deep.

Adrian let out a loud, inhuman noise. The pressure of his hold loosened enough that you were able to break free. You darted to the door, and when you opened it, you ran into Bucky standing on the other side, clashing with his body. With your heart beating painfully fast, you lifted your gaze to him — your eyes still carried terror and distress, but there was a little room for relief as well.

In Bucky's case, it was different. With his forehead creased and his lips parted in devastation at what he had in front of him, he examined you closely — the ripped dress, the broken shoulder strap, the cut lip. His mouth snapped shut in a hard line, his jaw clenched so tightly that you could easily see that familiar twitch below his cheekbone, his nostrils flared. And although just a moment ago his eyes expressed so much — helplessness, fear, disbelief, disappointment — in a split second they became cold, dead. They passed you, as if you weren’t there anymore, and switched to Adrian.

Adrian looked around in a frantic search for an escape route, but the only exit from the office was blocked by you and Bucky. 

Having placed his hands on your arms, Bucky moved you carefully to the side, then made his way to Adrian. You immediately looked over your shoulder, and the rest of your body followed. 

“Hey, man, let’s talk-”

Bucky rammed into Adrian, and the kick that reached his stomach was charged with force so powerful that the man crashed into the cabinet standing against the wall. There was glass splattered everywhere — it came from the cabinet door, and from broken bottles; a few pieces cut Adrian's skin harmlessly, although it would have been better for him if one had killed him instantly. Bucky didn't wait for his target's reaction; he got on top of him, and, heedless of protests, pleas or pathetic screams, punched him in his face. Again, and again, and again.

“Stop. Please, don’t-” Adrian managed to choke out. He tried to defend himself, but was unable to block Bucky's blows, driven by tremendous power and speed. “I can pay you! I can pay you a-” 

To Bucky, his words meant nothing, his money worth nothing. What really mattered to him — what kept replaying in his head, boiling the blood in his veins, steering him to the only possible ending — was the fact that some man, no matter who he was or how much he had to offer, hurt his wife. He touched her. He touched in a way that made her too terrified to even cry. 

With each repeated punch, a little blood sprinkled out — Lancy spit and choked with it, coughing and screaming, but Bucky still didn't pay the slightest attention to it; he stopped feeling his own hand — the pain spread through his metacarpus at first, but that soon went numb — instead, he felt Adrian's bones break and crumble under his fist; he felt his nose snapping, his jaw cracking, his cheekbones collapsing. He felt only that; no shame, no regret, no remorse. Why should he, when none of these things were shown to you?

Bucky did what he had to do — he beat the life out of Adrian Lancy with his bare hands. But to Bucky, he was no Adrian, no young investor with a bright future. He was a scumbag that attacked his wife and before that, put her on a short leash. 

Breathing hard and slowly, Bucky stood up. For another brief moment he stared at the lifeless body, feeling a little less disgust. Despite the fact that instead of his face, Adrian now had a bloody, still steaming hole, he no longer evoked such disgust in Bucky.

He turned around. Blood covered his hands, especially the right one; crimson specks now decorated his face and his white shirt. You didn't feel the slightest need to run away, and if any shiver ran through your body, it was a shiver of admiration, of delight. 

You didn't know when exactly, but at some point Steve and Sam showed up; Steve stood right next to you, Sam stayed somewhere behind your back. 

Taking his eyes off you, Bucky turned to Sam. “Go get Clint,” he ordered, his voice — just like his stare — lacking a particular tone; it was emotionless, perhaps with a hint of cooling anger, the seed of which got there completely naturally. Then he looked at Steve, his jaw clenched again. “Get her out of here.”

You've lost track of time; you haven't checked it once since you and Bucky separated. Staring stubbornly, and without any purpose, at the darkness outside the bedroom window, you stood frozen, numb, wearing his t-shirt, that wrapped around you like a safe embrace.

Your skin was still aching from the almost burning water and excessive rubbing — you tried to deeply wash off Adrian’s scent and touch, but you could’ve sworn you still felt him. His smell — unpleasantly strong, hitting your nostrils aggressively — lingered in the air, and his hands, cold, sweaty, driven by evil intentions, remained on your body. A repulsive tingling plagued the places where he touched you, making you sick.

The door opened carefully, letting in some warm light from the corridor. You turned away from the window; Bucky entered the room, and then, keeping his eyes on you, came closer with a cautious step. And this time he scrutinized your figure intently.

In contrast to his shirt, there was no trace of blood on his face or hands. He washed it away along with the memory of that man, so it wouldn't clutter his mind. Instead, he knew that he would never forget that he had failed you; that he should have protected you better.

Without any words, you started unbuttoning his shirt; your fingers worked quickly and smoothly — you, too, wanted as soon as possible to get away from everything that reminded you of the events of a few hours earlier. When you were done, and the shirt tails opened, showing Bucky's tensed stomach muscles, you cupped his face and pulled him in for a kiss. By instinct, he placed his hands on your hips and pressed his body against yours, his tongue slid into your mouth, and despite your lip stinging, you eagerly accepted it, meeting it with yours. You already knew the way you could wash Adrian off you.

Bucky bent his knees to lower himself a bit; he moved his hands under your ass to lift you, causing you to wrap your legs around his waist. He walked to the bed and sat down; Bucky, as well, was fully aware of what you needed. 

He laid down, pulling you with him — without breaking away from his lips, relishing the taste of the man who had done something so thrilling for you, to the point of intoxication, you began rubbing against his crotch. Both of you breathed heavily into each other's mouths as your core, now wet and throbbing with desire, grinded on Bucky's bulge. But it wasn't enough — you needed him inside you, immediately.

You backed away just enough to be able to unzip his pants. He raised his hips, lifting you along with them, in order to slip his pants lower. At that moment, neither of you thought about taking the time to remove all your clothes; it was only about gratification, about forgetting, about pleasure.

You rose, wrapped your hand around his engorged cock and guided it to your entrance, then sank down on it slowly, a quiet, breathy moan leaving your lips. At first, Bucky looked at you with concentration, as if making sure you could handle it without his help, and when he got the proof, he relaxed slightly. Feeling your pussy swallow more and more of his cock, he groaned, tilting his head back and closing his eyes, but soon returned his gaze to you. He had to — there was nothing that could draw him away from the pleasure of watching you. 

You grabbed the ends of the t-shirt you were wearing and stripped it off. Seeing your body almost in all its glory, feeling it on his own, Bucky pressed his lips together, the devotion and worship visible in his stare only deepened.

Now, it was you who had the control you so badly needed to regain; you needed to regain yourself, and that's what seemed to be the best way to do it. Bucky's dick was plunging into you with your every move, penetrating you, hitting that sweet spot just right, but it was you who was fucking him. The bliss overpowered you enough that, forgetting the previous damage, you sank your teeth into your bottom lip. Bucky kept looking at you — your face overtaken by delight, your body moving up and down, the way you were riding him flawlessly — and the view alone would have been enough to make him cum.

Lifting his torso off the mattress, Bucky sat up. Your back arched as you propped your hands somewhere behind, your hips rolling in circles. Bucky slid his tongue between your breasts up to your neck, leaving a wet trail on your skin. With his hand supporting the back of your head, his mouth traveled all over your face and jaw, dropping sloppy kisses. 

Sensing some weakness creeping into the dynamic you had set up, Bucky returned on the mattress, taking you with him. And you let him, knowing it would be worth it. 

“Take my hand,” he whispered between heavy gasps. You followed his request without a second thought; the hand that only a few hours before had brought death was now holding yours. His fingers, intertwined with yours, reminded you that he was here for you; fully consciously, voluntarily, not just to satisfy some animal needs.

Bucky's spare arm embraced your back, pressing you as tightly as possible to his body. His hips began to move fast but not violently, he was moaning softly, pumping his cock into your cunt. It was hard for you to concentrate on anything other than that delicious sensation of being filled like that — your brain was melting, making you nothing more than a body to fuck, but the same brain told you to look at Bucky. So you looked at his lips, parted, swollen, in that familiar deep shade of pink they had turned from biting, and finally decided to occupy them with yours, devouring his warm, plush mouth.

The space between you, if such a thing had any right to exist, was filled with Bucky's loud breaths and grunts, your soft whines and his name — the sweet promise that you belonged to him only.

Bucky went still, letting out an interrupted whimper. A single, strong shiver ran through his body, his seed filled you up. When his mind regained a small percentage of sobriety, he continued thrusting into you. You straightened up to the sitting position, but still held tightly to Bucky’s hand. The tension building in your stomach released — orgasm shook your body, sending it into strong spasms, throwing your head back, squeezing only a heavy exhale out of your lungs. 

Bucky looked up at you; he admired your jawline, your arched neck, the blue gemstone of the chain he gave you hanging in the middle of your collarbones, the single drop of sweat running down between your breasts. You were the most beautiful creation he had a chance to experience.

You gazed at him too, tears shimmered in your eyes, one of them dropped unexpectedly on Bucky's chest. 

He furrowed, and, gripped by a burning panic and worry looming over, sat up; one of his hands was instantly on your cheek, the other brushed a few strands of hair away from your face. “It’s okay,” Bucky said softly. Sniffling, you nodded, the tears still streaming down your cheeks. “It’s okay…” he repeated more to himself, his eyes studying your face nervously, helplessly. With his thumb, he quickly wiped off another teardrop that escaped from your eye, then leaned closer and kissed away a new one, the salty taste smeared on his lips.

“Nothing-” you sobbed, then took a deep, shuddering breath. “Nothing like this has ever happened to me,” you choke out. Bucky's jaw clenched, his eyes filled with sadness. Nothing like this has ever happened to you, and now that you were his wife, it did. On his watch. He was convinced that the blame lay with him, but he didn't admit it out loud — he wasn't going to make a victim of himself, all that mattered was you. “I shouldn't have let him-”

“No,” Bucky interrupted you strongly. He looked you in the eye. “It's not your fault, Y/N. You hear me?”

In response, you only sniffled again, dropping your gaze. “You told me something like this could happen. And I didn't listen.”

“Hey,” he said to get your attention, his voice gentle, but you didn't have the courage to bring your eyes back to his. Yet, with his hands on your cheeks, he made you look up at him. “Don’t do that. That fucker had no right to touch you even with his finger. That’s not on you.” 

You weren't sure about that — your mind wasn't in a place that would allow you to believe Bucky's assurances. The wounds were still too fresh, the memories too vivid. However, one thing you were sure of; you had washed Adrian off of you. Bucky's scent clung to your skin, but your body was also marked with his sweat, his spit, his cum.

You started crying all over again — you needed this kind of purification. Bucky got that, so he wrapped his arms around you and pressed to his chest. “You’re safe now,” he whispered, stroking your hair.

a/n: feel free to share your thoughts, they are more than welcomed 🥰

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[ebongawk]

ok ok ok ok ok HOW ABOUT a drunken kiss with hellcheer 👀 and if u make it sad so help me god i WILL fly to u and beat ur ass

4. A Drunken Kiss

They were playing fucking spin the bottle.

What kind of full-fledged high school seniors played spin the bottle? Wasn't that reserved for, like, thirteen-year-olds? But Stacie Mancini had drunkenly shouted, "Oh, my God, we should play a game!" and someone had suggested this, so now a bunch of almost-twenty-somethings were gathered in a half-assed circle as an empty bottle of vodka spun around and around.

Stacie landed on Andy Fuckface, and she looked mildly disgusted, which. Good for her. She still sucked his face for a solid five seconds. Andy landed on Tracy Mathews, Tracy landed on Jason Carver. Jason didn't even look at his fucking girlfriend before he stuck his tongue down Tracy's throat.

Chrissy, for all intents and purposes, looked like she didn't even want to be there. She flinched when Jason leaned toward the center, but otherwise made no show of being an active participant in the game.

And Eddie, with his front row seat to the action from the dealer's perch in the corner, had to wonder why no one seemed to fucking notice how uncomfortable she was.

Staying sober for these gigs was a goddamn chore. While it used to be fun to watch the chaos and debauchery unfold, being privy to the disgusting nature of inebriated human teenagers got old.

Maybe he was a little cynical. Because this shit had stopped being fun around the exact same time he caught the aforementioned Ball-Fondling Carver sneaking upstairs at a different party with Theresa Peretti.

It was the first and only time he'd ever considered getting involved.

Like, okay, so maybe sometimes he felt a little bad when he caught people who had significant others mackin' on those who were not the aforementioned significant others. But fuck it. Not his circus, not his monkeys, right?

He'd ruined that little unspoken rule of his that Monday at school. Seeking Chrissy out, small and drawn and sad as she was, and had straight up told her what he saw. No beating around the bush, no bullshitting.

Whether or not that had anything to do with the fact that Chrissy treated him like an actual human being was meaningless.

She'd just blinked at him. Then, instead of the anger or upset he'd been expecting, she let out this vague little laugh.

"Oh. Um. Thanks, Eddie, but... Could you maybe keep this between us?"

"What? Did you hear me, Cunningham? That asshole--"

"No, I know. And, truly, I appreciate you telling me. Just... Just trust me, okay? I'll handle it."

He'd wanted to scream. To rip his own hair out and throw it at her like that would lift the starry-eyed curtain she was clearly hiding behind. But that was, like, two months ago, and he still saw her tucked under Carver's arm day in and day out, so Eddie had resigned himself to bearing witness to her silent suffering on the off chance he caught a glimpse of her in the hallway or any of their shared classes.

Why the fuck anyone would stay with a whole ass cheater made no sense, so Eddie stopped trying to understand the popularity masses.

"Oh, shit, that's pointing at the freak," someone whispered, drawing Eddie's attention out of his own head and back into Chance Kinicki's hazy basement. He blinked, meeting Chrissy's gaze from the other side of the room, and put the pieces together.

It had finally been her turn to spin the bottle, and it had landed between two of the nearer bodies and was trained on him.

Which. What the fuck.

"Nah, man, let her spin again," Carver slurred, waving a loose wrist in the air. "She's not gonna lock lips with trash. Right, babe?"

Oh, he was such an asshole. Eddie wanted to knock him down a peg or five. Preferably while sober, so he wouldn't have the excuse of his intoxication to blame getting his ass handed to him by quote-end-quote trash.

Chrissy said nothing. She just stared at him, wearing something in her expression that Eddie couldn't identify. After a few tense, quiet seconds, Chrissy stood, stumbling a little through her own drunkenness, and made her way across the room. Shaking off Jason's grabby hands as she stepped around people and bottles before coming to a swaying stop directly in front of Eddie.

"Hi," she muttered, looking down at him with ruddy cheeks and glassy eyes.

Shit. Shit. What the fuck was happening? Eddie's hands twitched where they were sitting on his thighs, staring up at her like she was an angel come to deliver some new commandment.

Thou Shalt Not Lust After Unattainable Girls Who Are a Little Too Intoxicated to Make a Rational Decision. Or something.

"Uh," he managed, the word strangled up from his throat like she'd wrapped her dainty little fists around it. Like all of his oxygen already belonged to her. Fuck, all the oxygen in the room belonged to her. "Hey, Cunningham."

"'M supposed to kiss you," she continued, tilting her head to one side as her eyes wandered along the grooves of his face. Settling on his lips once she'd taken her fill. "The game says so."

"I wasn't playing the game, princess," Eddie reminded her gently, glancing around her to see the audience watching them with rapt eyes.

Chrissy just shrugged. Like that was enough of an explanation.

"That's okay," she answered. "The bottle knew, Eddie. Right? It knew that I..."

Then, before he could react or breathe or fucking think, she was petting his hair back from his face, leaning down, and pressing a slow, soft kiss right to his lips. Like a fucking deer in the middle of the road, he froze, unable to parse together half a thought that wasn't whoa.

Fucking fireworks.

He finally got enough wits about himself to pull away, because she was drunk and he wasn't and none of this was right, which wasn't fair but that was neither here nor there.

"Oh," she breathed, blinking at him, some of the haze in her eyes clearing. Her cheeks had gone even pinker, lips still half-puckered like she wanted to lean back in and taste him all over again.

"Hey!" Jason barked, struggling to stand from the floor, blazing eyes staring daggers at Eddie. "Get off her, freak!"

Dude, he wasn't even touching her.

"Shove it, Jason," Chrissy responded before Eddie could ask him if he was serious. She leaned toward Eddie, half-shielding him with her body, and he really thought she was gonna fall into his lap, she was so goddamn unsteady. She managed to stay firmly planted, using a hand on his shoulder to keep herself straight, and actually stuck her tongue out at her boyfriend.

Eddie wanted to die, it was so fucking cute.

"Babe--"

"I'm dumping you."

The fucking gasps that erupted across the room were actually comical. Eddie couldn't have stopped himself from laughing if he'd tried. Which, he did not, because it was too goddamn funny. The cackle he let out drew the attention to him, but, Jesus, fucking worth it.

Before he realized what was even happening, Chrissy was taking his hand, pulling him along behind her as she escaped up the stairs. Her considerable strength barely gave him a moment to grab his box of tricks as she hauled him from his gig as the weekend fun-bringer.

Why he was part of her little storm-out, he couldn't explain. But he wasn't exactly unhappy about it, either. As it was, for effect, he raised a devil horn at Jason's flabbergasted glare on his way out.

"Wow," Chrissy said as they escaped into the chilly April night. "Wow! I just did that!"

"Yeah, uh––"

"Oh, shoot, we gotta get outta here," Chrissy stated, glancing back over her shoulder. Grimacing and rushing him toward his van just as the front door of Chance's house swung open, an absolutely irate Carver standing in the muted light.

They ran, Chrissy surprisingly steady on her feet, and laughed the whole way to his van. He unlocked the passenger seat, diving across the center console and yanking Chrissy in after him. Carver had slipped at one point, the alcohol probably rushing around painfully in his head, and was struggling back to his feet just as the rest of the laundry basket team finally came out. Chance and Patrick were both obviously trying to hold back their laughter, but Eddie didn't bother finding out what happened next.

He started the van and peeled the fuck outta there.

Chrissy was still laughing, although it was much quieter now. No longer filling the night air with little tinkling notes of her joy, it was more like the soft music of wind chimes outside. Following them as they ate a few miles of concrete in the otherwise sleepy town.

"So, uh. You want me to take you home, or––?"

"No." He kinda expected her to be staring out the windshield or her window, but instead she was looking directly at him. Not offering him a modicum of relief from the weight of her gaze. "I do not want to go home like this, Eddie."

"Uh..."

"Can we, like, go to the lake or something? Please?"

Well, how the fuck was he supposed to say no to that?

The back of the van was stuffed full of blankets, pillows, a mattress from Gareth's younger brother's bunk bed and a few couch cushions off the spare couch on the porch, because he and the guys had gone down to Indianapolis to see Metallica during the week and had slept in the van instead of coughing up the dough for a motel room.

Chrissy made herself right at home, making the bed until it was nice and soft before throwing open the back doors of the van where he'd parked at Rick's house. Staring out over the lake as it twinkled with starlight. Like a bunch of white Christmas lights were hidden beneath the lapping waves.

He sat next to her, trying to breathe around the way she cuddled into him like she fit right in the circle of his arms. Which. Yeah. She did, but if he thought about it too much, he'd drive himself crazy, so.

They talked a little bit about how she'd just publicly dumped her boyfriend. About how relieved she was, now that the farce was finally over, because she'd been wanting to do that since way before he told her about the cheating. How happy she was to be there with him.

Which. He didn't know how to comprehend that, really. So he let it sit in the air, soft and gentle as the breeze that made music of the leaves outside, and breathed it in. Pulling it into his lungs like her little admission would coast through the oxygen in his blood and make itself part of his fucking DNA.

"Hey, Eddie?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I kiss you again?"

God, how was she so cute? The sleepy cadence of her tone, still slightly slurred with alcohol.

Shit. Denying her felt stupid as fuck.

"Ask me again when you're sober, yeah?" he said, desperately playing at lighthearted. "Might change your mind in daylight."

"Mmm," she hummed, her voice so fucking adorable. "Doubt it."

Hand to God, he hadn't fucking meant to fall asleep. He didn't know where Chrissy lived, exactly, but he figured he'd let her sleep off the drunk for a little bit before he roused her awake and got her address.

Yeah. Stupid move on his part, awakening when the sun hit his eyes first thing in the morning.

Because now he knew, intimately, the way Chrissy blinked back into consciousness in the morning light. The way the sun's rays, just barely peeking up over the wooded horizon, hit her hair and made it glow like fire. The way she sniffled, looking around in confusion before her eyes landed on him.

The way she smiled, bright enough that her eyes slipped closed and her nose scrunched up.

"Morning," she breathed, rolling over from where she'd been plastered to his side so she could stretch. Said so casually, like she wasn't ruining his entire fucking life just by existing.

"Uh," he started, his voice gravelly. Half-choked and terribly embarrassing. "Morning, Cunningham. Shit. Sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep."

Chrissy hummed, finished with her stretching. Then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, she rolled right back into him. Tucking her face into his shoulder for effect.

Yeah. He was dead. He'd, at some point between school yesterday and Chance Kinicki's house, died, and now he was having those crazy imaginations where his unstated dreams were coming true.

"'S'okay," Chrissy mumbled into his chest. Prompting him to wrap his arms back around her. Because why the fuck not? "I, um. I definitely didn't mind."

Yeah. Heart attack. Stroke. Car accident. Something.

"Hey, Eddie?"

"Yep?" God, the way his voice broke, you'd think he was going through fucking puberty again.

"Can I kiss you again now?" A breath, like she heard the way his goddamn heart skipped a beat, before she added, "I promise I'm sober now."

Oh fuck him.

"You, uh––" He coughed, clearing his throat. "You actually want to?"

Shit, she giggled, and he fucking felt it against his ribs.

"Yeah," she said, easy as pie. Easy as Sunday morning. Easy as anything. "Yeah, I've, um. I've wanted to for, like, a while now."

He would've sworn he felt Cupid's arrow hit his blackened little heart.

"Chrissy, you can kiss me whenever you want," he croaked. "Like, uh. Now, later, tomorrow. Y'know. Open real estate here for you."

Christ, that giggle. He wanted to swallow her whole.

She tilted her chin back, that gorgeous grin lighting up his dingy van better than any spotlight ever could.

"That's good," she murmured, staring up at him. "'Cause I get the feeling I'll take you up on every offer."

Jesus Christ, he hoped so.

(And she did.)

kiss prompt!

(and a very happy birthday to @astorytotellyourfriends 😘🩷🖤)

[thislovintime]

Photo by Henry Diltz.

“[H]e’s very cheerful and friendly and kind and courteous. He has this magnificently low voice and sounds about ten years older than any of the others. But sometimes, he acts about ten years younger than any of the others. He is not ‘zany’ however. Just kind of childish at times. He forgets that he is an ‘adult.’ I think that all adults do occasionally, because of the tension, and he certainly is under stress as much or more than other people. On the other hand, he is very aware of his responsibility as a ‘teen idol.’ As he told me once, ‘When you realize that several million young people are watching everything you do, you become very careful about what they see.’ […] He lives for other people, [to] talk with them and to be with them. He knows everyone in the world. […] He has the proverbial shoulder to cry on. I don’t know why, but you just feel like pouring your heart out to him. Maybe it’s that warm smile. […] He loves to tell jokes. And he’s very unhappy when you don’t get the point. His mouth does this great reverse smile, like a clown’s frown. He’s very serious about music, however. […] He’s the ‘flower child’ of the quartet — hip to love, peace, beauty and all that (not that the others are in favor of hate, war and ugliness, but you see what I mean). This ties in with his complete trust in his fellow man. He says, ‘If everyone trusted everyone else, then 99% of the people would live up to that trust. All kinds of crime and cruelty would be eliminated. No one would be saying, Well I always knew he was a bad sort. Everyone would just expect you to do the right thing and you would.’ […] You know how knowledgeable I am about politics (who’s President anyway?) so all I know about his is that he’s anti-War-in-Viet-Nam, but aren’t we all? He is restless, physically and mentally. He can’t keep still at all. His mind speeds from one subject to another and he paces the floor, but it’s not nervousness, but restlessness.” - Tracy Thomas, Flip, September 1967

[therealcocoshady]

Marshall + Lily HCs

Note : to anyone who enjoys the Marshall + Lily series… here are a few HCs. Things that are canon to the series, even though I might not put it in an actual chapter 👀. I hope you enjoy it ❤️. Also, happy first day of summer ! It means we’re close to finally getting the album 💿

Meeting Reader & Relationship with her

* He proposed on the very day he met you. It was a joke, of course, but he couldn’t help it. At first, when Paul mentioned hiring someone and having a new member on the Shady Records Team, he wasn’t a big fan of the idea (he’s such a creature of habit). But when he met you, it was a done deal : you were gorgeous but, most of all, you were the first woman he met who had a hip-hop culture to rival his own. According to him, you’re the perfect woman.

* He met Lily (who was four months old then) a couple of weeks later and he was gutted when he learned you had a child. He almost felt cheated on, imagining that you hadn’t mentioned you were married. But when you told him that you had her on your own and she didn’t have a dad, it made him even more impressed with you.

* You actually bonded over your experiences as single parents and you were grateful for everything he shared, since Lily was your first child and you were still learning how to navigate things.

* Since you moved to Detroit alone with Lily and didn’t really know people outside of work, he showed up when he thought you needed it. You mentioned you had trouble putting an IKEA bookshelf together ? Car troubles ? He was there with a smile and his toolbox.

* Attraction was immediate on both sides and evident to everyone. He was actually quick to ask you on a date but you turned him down. Partly because you weren’t too sure about dating your boss but also because Lily was so young and your ultimate priority.

* You stayed friends for a couple of months until you actually made the move.

* Lily had health issues that led to her having to undergo pediatric surgery and Marshall showed up in the waiting room to make sure you were ok. He brought you coffee and basically just tried to ease your nerves. As soon as the surgeon came to tell you that everything was fine and Lily would be more than ok, you cried tears of relief in Marshall’s arms and kissed him.

* You were mortified about it (even if he kissed you back) and didn’t really talk to him for days after.

* When you finally talked about it and you profusely apologized, he assured you that it was fine and you half-expected him to ask you out again but he didn’t. He made you ask him out (because he got turned down once and he wanted to get back at you a little).

* You were nervous about dating while Lily was so young but he consistently proved you that he was willing to adapt to your schedule and needs.

* After a while, most dates came to include Lily. He’s the one who brought the idea of taking her with you because he always wanted to see more of you and knew you wouldn’t realistically let her with a babysitter that often.

* Lily did ruin a few dates though.

* Just imagine having a romantic dinner with Marshall at your place, past her bedtime and planning everything to seal the deal. Sexy dress, amazing lingerie, hot make out session on the couch… only to keep on being interrupted by a bawling baby (you definitely didn’t get any that night).

* It actually took you a WHILE in your relationship to actually sleep together. Not because you didn’t want to (because, again, chemistry) but because of logistics. At some point you thought he would get sick of it and break up but he was in too deep already.

* He never really told you but he fell in love much faster than you did.

* The fact that you had a daughter he was often around also pushed him to be a better version of himself in your relationship and behave very well.

* You tried to hide your relationship at first (from Paul, Tracy, the team) but Marshall’s relationship with Lily was the biggest telltale sign that you were together. The whole team loved her and she was Shady Record’s unofficial mascot but, even if she had always been obsessed with Marshall, it became clear that they spent a LOT of time around each other 👀

Lily as the official Mascot of Shady Records

* You often brought Lily to work, for things like getting a little bit more work done after picking her up at daycare. It wasn’t rare seeing you around the office, working with Lily in a baby carrier.

* The whole team was very supporting of your mothering and, since she wasn’t much of a disturbance and a peaceful baby, they didn’t mind you bringing her.

* She quickly became the mascot and everyone sort of became aunts and uncles to her.

* As she grew up, though, she became more distracting to everyone and it was harder to get work done. I can absolutely see Marshall getting bored in a meeting you had to take her to (because it was late) and spending more time making faces at her than listening to Paul.

* But no one ever had the heart to tell you not to bring Lily because they like her and you actually happen to be efficient. They’re just so easily distracted.

* By the time she is two or three, she is absolutely running her world. She has toys over the place, there’s juice pouches in the fridge for her, she knows she can disturb her uncle Paul and sit in his office chair, she enjoys messing around with the buttons on the mixing board… she also meets a couple of artists on the roster (her favorite is Boogie). Basically, it’s Lily’s world and everyone just happens to be living in it.

* Everyone always jokes that she’ll inherit the label when she grows up.

Lily’s relationship with Marshall

* Marshall happens to be very good with children and he was always great with her, even when you were just friends.

* While you were dating, they quickly formed a bond, to a point where he was able to anticipate her needs and they didn’t need much words.

* Sometimes it made you scared and you asked yourself questions like “what happens if we break up ? Lily will be crushed” but Marshall put them to rest. Because he did not plan on leaving anyway, and if you ever broke up with him didn’t mean he would ignore Lily if she was around the studio.

* Marshall referred to baby Lily as the most efficient sleeping pill on earth. If she sleeps in his arms, he nods off super easily. So seeing them napping on the couch was never a rare sight.

* She’s also a very efficient alarm so it’s a two-way street, really…

* When she was a toddler, they had chaotic raccoon duo energy. She brought his inner child out. Thank God, it got calmer after a while.

* Marshall’s shoulders and arms are Lily’s favorite mode of transportation. He is always carrying her everywhere.

* He is also virtually unable to say no to her. Always was.

* At the time you got together, Stevie was fifteen and she was jealous of Lily for a while. Because Lily required a lot of attention and she was also a bit weirded out by the fact that her dad was dating someone other than her mom.

* With time, Lily developed a great relationship with Stevie, Hailie and Alaina. As Marshall’s girlfriend daughter and then their adoptive sister.

* She was obsessed with Stevie since she’s the youngest one, following her like a puppy.

* She has a different relationship with every one of Marshall’s daughters but it’s equally good.

* Overall, Marshall’s eldest daughters agree that Lily has it much better than them. Because Marshall is at a point in his career where he has a bit more time and is more secure. So he’s around a lot and he isn’t as strict as he used to be. They don’t mind though, they love their little sister.

* Marshall always says that Lily got the best version of him : sober, healthy, peaceful & with much more free time.

* Their favorite thing to do together is drawing and playing video games.

* After he adopted her he had a Lily flower tattooed on this inside of his arm

* « Daddy » is Lily’s magic word. She says it and all her wishes come true, because Marshall is too proud of that title. (He had to earn it !)

* You never lied to Lily about how you had her (IVF, donor) and that she was adopted by Marshall. She doesn’t really care about not being biologically his, since Alaina and Stevie aren’t either.

* However, once the twins are born, she’s a bit angsty about it. Everyone is pointing out how much they take after him and she’s scared that he won’t love her as much.

[connorsjorts]

beloved connorsjorts, I am new to the fandom! I was here in 2018 when the game came out, but I was also a kid. Grew up and have now realized how romantic the Hank and Connor route was.

Do you think it was on purpose?? Or did they accidentally insert incredibly gay vibes bc the buddy cop genre is inherently homoerotic or something??? I mean they had the Tracis so they aren’t against gay couples or something, but there’s a world of difference between gay side characters and gay main characters in gaming, if you know what I mean??? What does it all mean???

Anyways, love your fics!!! You slay every day.

Hi and welcome to the fandom!! I hope you’re having a great time, and thank you so much for your kind words about my fics 🥹💖💖

I really wanted to write an in-depth response to this, I wrote out bullet points and everything! But feeding my baby is literally a full-time job rn and it would have taken an embarrassingly long time to turn those bullet points into something coherent considering that this ask has already been sitting in my inbox for a week 🫠

So, in the interest of ensuring that I actually answer your question: The short version is that while David Cage is unfortunately homophobic, imo that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t use a queer narrative for his own gain 🤷🏻‍♀️ He already did something similar by making the game an allegory for race—he uses social issues to make his stories seem Important. So I think it’s plausible that Connor’s story revolves around intentional queer subtext, and that yes, Hank plays a “love interest” role on some level. But because gay men make Cage uncomfortable and he didn’t actually want his Cool(?) White Man character to be queer, we’re left with remnants of this idea on the thematic and structural level only. Which like, thank god, in terms of the story—the man is not subtle, can you IMAGINE how over the top it would be if he had followed through.

Fig 1: Dramatic reenactment of the Eden Club in a version of the game where Connor Detroit is allowed to be gay

I feel like this is an unpopular opinion (I think most people think it’s just 100% accidental) but if anyone wants me to plead my case in Old Man Yaoi v. That Coward David Cage lmk. Otherwise I’ll be busy plunking out my next Human Disaster Connor fic 😌 Thanks for your question!!!

[chaifootsteps]

I think a big reason why Vivziepop's popularity in general is on the decline (besides her usual controversies) is that more and more people are realizing that she is creatively bankrupt. What I mean by that is that all she has is Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss, which have lackluster writing and honestly the worst version of hell ever created so far, after she just up and decided to drop Zoophobia. And the idea of all these spin off shows alone doesn't help either.

Meanwhile you have Tracy's Lackadaisy which is just cats being mobsters during prohibition era St. Louise, nothing more, nothing less and it is honestly one of its biggest benefits.

You also have artist like Fearcrowz and their works. Look at Fear's Knell, it's a horror/drama story taking place in a some sort of hospital that might be purgatory, then there's Nightlight which is a story about a town full of monsters and In-Between which is about angels and demons after a girl for some reason. Even when she recycles the same character, they at least look different enough to fit in the respective world they are in.

Meanwhile Kedi has Afterlife which is about witches and fate and the idea that what separates life and death and heaven and hell is all bureaucracy and that horror thing that is hard to pronounce, hell, and even back when AoM was still being worked on, the idea of a school for monsters and a boy who gets his entire world flipped upside down because of this revelation was very creative.

Then there's Idolo with their Bugtopia and Monsters and Girls series both of which are very creative and unique.

The point I'm trying to make is that what separates Tracy, Fear, and Kedi, and Idolo from Vivziepop is that the former are creative and have created different worlds and different stories that end and of themselves are very creative even if they use concepts and ideas that have been done before but are tried and true meanwhile you have Vivziepop recycling the same world that you honestly wouldn't know is hell unless it's spelled out to you because it looks like it could be any city in the US, the same characters being recycled for spin offs that no one asked for, not improving on her writing, and just outright stealing ideas and characters from other people and claiming them as her own.

That's another reason why her popularity is in the decline and her creativity is very stagnated. Sorry for the long rant but this is something I wanted to bring up.

Nah, no apologies needed, it's a good rant! It's true. The unfortunate fact of the matter is that even aside from the controversies, aside from literally everything else there is to not like about Viv, there's very little to appeal to anyone that isn't already madly in love with her shows.

Viv's shows exist for herself first, her existing fanbase second, and she's having a harder and harder time holding onto them.

[veryace-ficrecs]

Batman Outsider POV Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

Wait... you're backup? by Ceciliedr - Rated T

When her team is captured by Lex Luther, Traci can do little more than cross her fingers for a rescue. When someone does crash the party, it isn't anyone she knows. Traci sincerely hopes the guy in the red helmet is on their side.

library card by mikkal - Rated T

Jason Todd, Red Hood, and the Park Row Public Library (and her librarians).

Finding a New Perspective by njw - Rated T

“I got this, Hood.” Red Robin sounds annoyed as he arcs and twists through the air, kicking one henchman into another and wrenching the gun away from a third while simultaneously retracting his grappling line and then launching it to catch another unwary henchman. Just, how?

“I can see you do,” Red Hood says, and wait. Was his voice always that deep? Is he… Maya squints. Is he staring at Red Robin’s ass?

She blinks, then studies the line of sight more closely. Maybe he’s just checking out Red Robin’s kneecaps, in preparation for shooting at them? That seems more his style. Sexual attraction is kind of confusing and she still doesn’t totally believe Tosh that it’s actually as big a thing as people make it out to be—seriously, do other people really spend that much time thinking about it? Sounds fake but okay.

But no, Red Hood’s helmet is totally pointed at Red Robin’s ass. Huh. That’s new.

Captain Marvel's Adopted? by Len_suilon_mellon - Rated T

When Captain Marvel sends out a distress call, the only League member available is Batman. Bruce comes to his aid, but he finds out that Billy is a 10-year-old homeless orphan with black hair and blue eyes. Obviously, he makes the only logical decision and adopts Billy. Because it's Bruce—who's allergic to revealing life-changing information—the League is left in the dark. This story is written as 5+1 story from the Justice League's POV as they attempt to define the weird relationship between Batman and Captain Marvel. 5 times they didn't realize Batman had adopted Captain Marvel, and the 1 time they did.

The Startling Secret Identity of The Batman by Nokomis - Rated T

Good evening, super-sleuths! Boy, do we have a treat for you today. We’re delving into one of the biggest unsolved mysteries of the modern era. The million-dollar question. The billion-dollar question, if one of these theories holds water. That’s right. We’re gonna risk life, limb and sanity by asking the question… who is The Batman? [In-universe Buzzfeed Unsolved accidentally stumbles on Batman’s secret identity. The Batfam reacts.]

playacting by nex_et_nox - Rated G

“So,” Jim said, “are you one of Wayne’s new kids?” Because only siblings acted that way toward each other, and it seemed like every time Gotham turned around, Bruce Wayne was adopting more kids. It was a reasonable question. “What?” Jay asked. “No, I’m—” He paused. Very slowly, his head tilted as he looked over Jim’s shoulder in the most obvious way he possibly could. Jim Gordon accidentally meets the "newest" member of the Wayne family.

5 times the Justice League catch Bruce acting domestically by TimesBeingWhatTheyAre - Rated G

...and the one time he lets them see it aka 5 times the kids torment Bruce, and the time that he actually arranges a meet-up and minds are blown

the politics of dancing by TheResurrectionist - Not Rated

After months of silence following his mysterious resurrection from the dead, the prodigal Wayne heir shows up at an unlikely meeting. “Where is Mr. Wayne?” Jason crossed his legs, cracking his neck. “He’s not coming.” “I was assured Mr. Wayne would be here.” “Tough. Looks like you’ll have to settle for me, huh?”

I Love My Gay Son(s) by reeby10 - Rated G

But the part that had everyone’s attention was the shirt, a plain white t-shirt with “I LOVE MY GAY SON” emblazoned across the chest in bold, rainbow letters.

Bat Out Of Hell by arguablysomaya - Rated G

Five times the Bats are weird, and one time that weirdness saves the world Or, the Bats are weird, everyone that’s even remotely aware of the superhero game knows this. But, odd as they are, they’re still humans. Which is why it should probably be impossible that they’re such forces of chaos. And when they’re all together? Well, most people are just glad they’re on the good side. And they are. Mostly.

The five times Flash came to Gotham for help and the one time he didn't need to (5+1) by Silver_Athena - Not Rated

Barry needs help solving a murder, he goes to Gotham for help. Though he's looking for Batman he seems to constantly run into new heroes. Why do they all seem connected to Batman? --- “You know where he lives?” “I practically live there myself, why is this so surprising to you? You’ve worked with him for- Oh… oh my God, you guys don’t know!"

A Break in Tradition by incogneat_oh - Not Rated

Gordon had seen something when he caught the canary yellow cape out the corner of his eye– something in the way the kid had moved. So he figures he should ask, “You doing okay up there, son?” AKA: The one where Jim Gordon minds a tiny vigilante until his bigger, scarier partner can collect him.

gotham aviary by pepperfield - Rated G

“I see you have a new addition to the family,” Bella says, smiling at the group pushing their father along toward the plaza stairs. “Yeah, we stole him from his backyard,” Jason tells her brightly.

“average billionaire adopts 1000 children a year” factoid actualy just statistical error. average billionaire adopts 0 children per year. Orphans Bruc, who lives in cave & adopts over 1 child each month, is an outlier adn should not have been counted.

what goes around by Goldmonger - Rated G

A civilian accidentally kills the Joker. It’s a confusing time for everybody.

artemis crock coming to the wrong conclusions by impravidus - Rated G

Nightwing has his hands outstretched, his palms opening and closing exaggeratedly. Red Hood shakes his head. “I am not gonna—” “Just one?” Nightwing interjects sweetly. “Please please please?” “You are such an idiot—” “Just ooone. C’mon, Hood. Don’t these arms look so warm and inviting?” “Inviting for a stab, yeah.” Artemis sees Nightwing being his affectionate (or as Red Hood would put it, extremely annoying) self and comes to the wrong conclusions.

[otto-serena]

Back from the Dead {𝒮𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓃𝒶}

AU Verse

@butibite

It had been two years since Serena had seen her family. After trying to help people at an abandoned mall and getting attacked, Serena had nearly died, she had been shot in the torso and barely made it out alive. She had tried to get back to Troy, back to Tracy, but her radio was dead and she was bleeding too heavily to make any real progress in getting anywhere. She had tried walking away from the mall but in her decision had gone in the wrong direction of their camp and passed out from blood loss. The next time she woke up, she was being treated for the wound in the back of an odd van. A few people had come across her before she could die and had chosen to help her. Her wound was infected and Serena was in and out of consciousness for several days until she finally came to. Although by that point she was several states away from Troy and their daughter, and in no shape to travel, and without a long-distance radio she couldn't get back in touch with them. Serena had been looking for her family for two years now, and she now had found them for the first time in all those years. After picking up a radio transmitter, and checking the stations, she came across a voice she recognized on the radio, Troy. Although the radio couldn't transmit back to him, but she had an idea of the location and left for it as soon as she could.

Now Serena had found them, found her husband, her child, her group in the middle of what she could only be described as an all-out war against Troy and Madison.

Madison fucking Clark. Serena hated her with a passion, despite never actually meeting the woman. But Troy had told her what Madison had done to him, at the ranch and at the Dam. Serena had seen the aftermath of Madison's violence on Troy when she saved him from the Dam years ago. Serena had caught on to the fact that her husband was fighting Madison Clark through the radio chatter. After what Madison had done to Troy on the ranch with her manipulation and turning everyone against him, and then at the Dam. Serena wanted to see her on the ground.

For the moment Serena kept herself hidden, she didn't know the extent of the mess Troy was in and she didn't want to make things worse. She had caught up to the group on the side of a lake, with people there from Madison's group and Troy's, with a scattered heard. Serena watched from the cover of the tree line as Madison approached Troy. Something didn't feel right.

Madison was standing close to Troy, holding his arm in one of her hands, while holding Alicia's makeshift arm in her other. Serena watched, raising her gun to train at the Clark. Then she saw it, the change in Madison's demeanor, her expression, and how she tried to stab Troy with Alicia's arm. However, before she could actually plunge the sharp metal into Troy's torso her hand holding the arm was shot.

Madison let out a soft cry as she was shot in the hand, dropping the metal arm she had planned to kill Troy with and she stumbled back in pain, "What the hell?!" She exclaimed looking around in confusion.

"Have every one of your people put their weapons down, and step away from him." Serena said through the walkie, still hiding in the trees, "or the next bullet goes in your head."

Madison looked around in confusion and looked at Troy before picking up her walkie, "who the hell are you?" She demanded, although was quickly shot in the arm.

"I'm not someone you want to mess with," Serena said putting her walkie back in her belt before stepping out of the treeline and walking over to the group, she could see Troy out of the side of her vision. She wanted to run to him, to hug him and be held by him again, but right she couldn't. Instead, Serena kept her eyes and gun trained on Madison. Although she looked around at the group, the people who were apparently on Madison's side.

"I said put your weapons down or I kill her!" Serena snapped staring at them before looking back at Madison. The blonde woman was holding her arm, flinching in pain from the bullets, and stared at the woman who had walked out of the treeline in confusion and anger.

"Who the hell are you?!" Madison demanded again.