#picking one out for my dad is like. extreme sports

[pancakehouse]

going to the bookstore tonight to pick out all the little books im gifting my friends and family my absolute favorite part of christmas shopping im soooo excited teehee

[idiopathicsmile]

School Gymnastics: A Tragicomedy

So one day when we were in third grade, our P.E. teacher divided us into girls and boys. (I don’t remember what the boys had to do. Wrestling? Tackle football? I don’t know, probably not at age nine, but that’s not the point. Gladiatorial combat? I still don’t really understand kids’ sports.)

What matters for this story is that all the girls had to do gymnastics. Now—and I suspect this won’t surprise you if you know literally anything about me—I was always terrible at any form of school athletics. I am intensely, almost impressively uncoordinated. This doesn’t affect my life much at 36, but it was often a miserable way to be a kid. The only playground game I liked was playing pretend, because when you are playing pretend, you don’t have a bunch of people ostensibly on your side screaming in your ear, “Pretend faster! Pretend over there! Pretend with greater accuracy!”

Anyway, gymnastics and my clumsy, doughy little body. I couldn’t do a cartwheel. I couldn’t do a backwards somersault. I couldn't do any of it. We had an entire unit on this business and I literally did not learn how to even safely attempt a single move besides the log roll (lie flat and roll sideways on your belly). In retrospect, this seems like maybe it was in part a teaching problem, not a me problem, but that’s actually not the point either.

The point is, at the end of the unit, we were told to divide ourselves into little teams and choreograph a group gymnastics routine. My group, faced with my long list of limitations (more limitation than girl, really) decide my role will be to just forwards-somersault around the rest of the group as they do their moves. (This is itself kind of embarrassing but trust me, it is but the appetizer.) My friend Ashley has the Lion King soundtrack and we all agree that it is a great choice. The movie has only come out a couple of years earlier, and it of course features some funny, peppy options. 'Hakuna Matata'? 'I Just Can't Wait to Be King'? It's all coming together.

Carried on a wave of youthful enthusiasm, none of us even think to double-check which track Ashley has picked. Foreshadowing!

So the day of the performance comes. Another group goes right before us. They had picked “Wannabe” by the Spice Girls, which was a huge hit at the time. I mean, it still is because it’s a classic, but then it was big and new. They step onto the mat and immediately begin to do choreographed dance moves, which they have worked into their routine. We had not thought of this. Oops. Dance moves, of course! So they incorporate the necessary gymnastics, it goes over really well, the energy is high, and now it’s my group’s turn.

I take my place at the edge of the mat, the mat we are required to stay on for the length of the piece. Ashley cues up the track she’d chosen.

A song starts up. Instantly, I recognize it from the movie. It is the very slow instrumental music that plays when Simba realizes his dad is dead.

‘Well, this is not optimal,’ I think. I've been on this planet for nine years; I can see that much. But it’s too late to change the track, and so I tell myself, ‘It’s okay. I’m a performer. I can sell this.’ I put on an extremely solemn face and begin to execute a series of the world’s saddest somersaults.

Friends, when I say “sad” I mean it, in every possible sense of the word. Picture a nine year old with the gravest possible affect, determinedly doing somersaults to the slowest, most serious music she can imagine, in a careful ring around her friends who have actually learned any gymnastics whatsoever. Okay, now as the music starts to pick up and get more hopeful, imagine she gets real dizzy and in front of everyone, she rolls all the way directly off the mat, careening dangerously towards the assembled students.

Somehow, I roll myself back onto the mat, we survive what feels like hours of humiliation, we stagger away, and I blessedly avoid adding “puking my guts out in front of all of my peers” to my very short list of gymnastics tricks.

Later, I asked Ashley what in the world possessed her to choose that song.

“It didn’t have any words,” she said.

(There was absolutely no rule against using songs that had lyrics.)

Anyway, that’s why being an adult is better than being a kid.

I may have to do laundry and make my own dinner and wrestle with more complex existential angst, but you know what I haven’t been asked to do in like 26 years? Somersault for three minutes straight to the musical shorthand for “this cartoon lion cub has no choice but to process the weight of unimaginable grief for his dead dad.” And you know what? If I live another 50 years, I can be pretty confident nobody will ask me to do it then, either.

[changetyre]

Grid Uncles Ⓢ

SUMMARY: Max brings his first daughter to the grid for the first time and it doesn't go exactly as he imagined. Part of the Verstappen Family Verse

WARNINGS: None? Too much fluff.

A/N: This was requested over to me on Wattpad and it's a series I've expanded on over there which I thought to bring over to tumblr since I love it so much ;)

"But what about this one? You love wearing this one because it looks like Papa right?" Max held up the tiny Red Bull shirt in his hands. 

You laughed watching your daughter giggle laughing at her dad too adamant about wearing her orange McLaren shirt gifted to her by her uncle Wando as she called him still having trouble pronouncing her Ls. 

"What even is this? My own daughter cheering for the rival team?" Max turned to you. 

You shrugged. "You made her a fan, she picked a team, now deal with the consequences." 

"Papa up." Your daughter giggled making grabby hands at her dad too oblivious to how offended he was with her choice of attire. 

Max had been waiting for this day for the longest time, the day he'd finally be able to take his first daughter to work with him. When Lea was born you'd agreed that you would wait until she was at least 2 to take her to a race and since she turned 2 just before the Monaco GP Max thought it was the best race to take her being home. If she got too overwhelmed you'd agreed that you'd walk her back home and have her watch the race from your balcony like you'd done the year before. 

Cherishing every moment Max had with her Lea hadn't yet met the other drivers except for Daniel (Lea's godfather), Lando, and Checo who had been amazing at helping Max navigate the nerves of being a first-time parent. 

But practically from the day Lea was born, Max had put on races for her, despite the fact she couldn't physically watch them yet he put them on and you'd noticed that when Max was away for races Lea would find comfort in watching races stopping her from crying when she was having rough days. 

So Lea was beyond excited even though you were almost sure she hadn't quite grasped this sport's magnitude. Yes, Lea would watch Max on TV putting on his helmet and driving around and shouting Papa whenever he or his car would appear on screen but besides that, she truly had no idea about the other aspects of it, the loud noises and the crowds you were extremely nervous about. 

"Ready to go, love?" Max walked to you holding your daughter in his arms. 

"Ye-" 

"Yes, papa go." Lea interrupted answering the question as if it was meant for her. 

"I'm papa's love Lea." You spoke to your daughter. 

"No mama! My papa." Lea furrowed her brows wrapping her tiny arms around Max's neck possesively. 

Max laughed and your jaw dropped 'offended' at your daughter's attitude. This had been a problem for the last couple of weeks Lea suddenly became incredibly possessive of Max, not liking when you would hug or kiss and she would get jealous and upset when she caught you doing anything of the sort. 

"She's a daddy's girl just like her mom." Max joked. 

"MAX!" you slapped his shoulder gasping loudly. 

"NO MAMA!" Lea shouted at you upset for hurting her papa. "No hit papa." She started sniffling. 

"Lea I'm sorry Papa said something naughty but I shouldn't have hit him." You tried to comfort your daughter. 

"Papa okay?" Lea cupped Max's cheeks in her tiny hands. 

Max faked a pout. "Papa's okay baby," Max reassured his daughter who turned to glare at you with a pout just like her dad's. 

"Okay, big babies why don't we go before I make anyone else upset." You rolled your eyes at the antics. 

____________

"You ready?" Max asked you, looking back at you sitting at the back with Lea through the rearview mirror. 

You sighed. "Ready as I'll ever be." despite it being a short way for your and Lea's protection Max had decided to drive into the track. You unstrapped Lea from her seat and waited for Max to come around and open the door for you. 

As soon as he walked out there were already multiple screams and camera flashes calling for his attention. Max opened the car door and took Lea into his arms extending his other arm to help you out and shut the door behind you. 

Max kept a tight grip on you and Lea as you walked into the paddock, luckily Max had asked for extra security and they were closely around you preventing fans and cameramen from getting close to your family. 

"Papa." Lea got upset at all the camera flashes and screams for her dad's name burying her face into her dad's neck. 

"It's okay baby we're almost there." Max started questioning himself, was it a bad idea to bring Lea into a race already? 

You made it into the paddock fairly quickly and you could see Lea's head perk up. "PAPA Unco WANDO!" Lea screamed in joy recognizing the logo from the McLaren building further ahead. 

"We'll see him later Lea." Max laughed cheering up at his daughter's joy. 

She was about to get upset again as you walked into the Redbull motorhome but lucky for you someone came to save the day before Lea could start throwing a tantrum. 

"Oh my god!" Even if he wasn't right around the corner that loud laughter could be heard from a mile away. "Is that my favorite goddaughter?" Daniel asked loudly getting Lea's attention. 

"DANNNYYY!" Lea screamed squirming in her dad's arms as she tugged to get down. 

Max winced at the sharp scream in his ear before placing her down and letting her wobble the rest of the way to her godfather. 

"She's your only goddaughter Daniel." Max reminded his best friend. 

"That's why she's my favorite." Dani's smile looked wider than usual as Lea wrapped her arms around his neck tightly. 

"Yeah well, you're not her favorite." Max was still offended by her choice of attire. 

"Uh, Lea what's this?" Daniel took in her attire. 

"Unco Wando." She clapped excitedly. 

Daniel turned to look at you both disappointed. "You guys obviously didn't meet her expectations she had to be a fan of someone else." You joked. 

"AHHHH PAPA CAR!" Lea screamed excitedly once more as she noticed the 2 cars sitting in the garage. 

"Hello, princess." Checo walked over after hearing Lea's loud personality. 

"Unco Cheto!" Lea smiled high-fiving Checo who held his hand up high for her, he then greeted you and Max. 

"Has she had the tour yet?" Checo asked. 

"Not quite yet, just got her but am planning to do so now." Max smiled excitedly. 

"Lea why don't we go explore?" You asked your daughter still in Dani's arms looking around at everything, her mind must have been working overtime trying to make sense of all the screens, people, and noises. 

She nodded extending her arms and letting herself fall forward into your arms. "We'll see you guys later." You waved goodbye to Dani and Checo for now as you stepped into pitlane to walk along the garages which were still closed for fans and there were only a few cameramen around. 

You started walking down and Charles was the first to spot you. "Oh hello!" Charles walked over greeting Max before greeting you with a kiss on each cheek and finally pinching Lea's cheeks who suddenly got all shy and flustered, her face growing red. 

"Lea say hi." you laughed at her shy personality coming out which was rare in her. 

"hi." She giggled before burying herself in your neck. I guess she wasn't immune to Charles Leclerc's charm either. 

"Lea this is Charles." Max tried to get his daughter to interact. 

"I'm Wea." She finally pried herself away from your body but still avoided Charles's eyes. 

"Wow, what a beautiful name." Charles complimented her which caused her to go into another fit of giggles, you thought it was hilarious but you could see Max didn't find it quite as amusing. Before he could say anything Carlos had appeared. 

"Is this Lea?" Carlos asked excitedly. 

"Yes, it is." You smiled proudly. 

"Wow, hi darling I'm Carlos." He extended his hand.

"Hello." She extended her tiny hand letting him shake it. 

Carlos wasn't able to say much else before her absolute favorite person appeared a few seconds later. 

Everyone was startled covering their ears as Lea let out yet another even louder screech at watching Lando come out of his garage. "UNCO WANDOOOOO" She squirmed in your arms. 

You couldn't let go of her here because of all the cables and machinery around but as soon as Lando heard her yells he didn't hesitate to run over. 

"Wow, that explains the shirt." Carlos laughed. 

As soon as Lando was closer you finally put Lea down who ran with all her might up to her uncle. "My baby." Lando scooped Lea up into his arms. 

"Unco wando," Lea said in the most love-filled tone hugging Lando before laying her head down over his shoulder making everyone aww at the action. 

"I missed you so much." He whispered to her as he walked closer to the group that had formed. 

"wook!" Lea showed him her shirt proudly. 

"Wow, who got you that?" He gasped surprised. 

"You." She laughed at her uncle's antics. 

"Lea, do you want one like this?" Charles asked her pointing at his own shirt. 

"Lea's face went red again this time she hid in Lando's neck. She still nodded fiddling with her shirt nervously. 

"What's this about?" Lando asked unamused too. 

"I think someone has a little crush on Charles." You laughed. 

"No one's allowed to give Lea their team shirt, she won't even wear mine." Max crossed his arms annoyed. "And you stay away from my daughter." Max pointed at Charles who put his hands up in surrender laughing as he walked back into his garage with Carlos.

Lea wouldn't leave Lando's arms now so you continued touring the garage with him, Lea met a few more drivers who all were happy to meet her, Lea especially liked meeting George and Alex but not for them but for their girlfriends who happily played with Lea. Alex and George knew they were in trouble as now their girlfriend's baby fever was high. 

"You have a beautiful family." Daniel patted Max on the back as they watched you placing Lea inside Max's car. 

Max nodded proudly, looking at his wife and daughter with so much love. "Might get a little bigger in a few months." Max broke the news. 

Daniel's head snapped over to his best friend.  "No way," Daniel whispered excitedly. 

Max's eyes beamed proudly just about making out the bump you hid with your puffy dress, watching as you subconsciously placed a hand on your stomach as you leaned down to your daughter's eye level. "Lea's gonna be a big sister," Max confirmed. 

"Congratulations man, you both are amazing parents." Daniel hugged his friend tightly. 

Once Max turned his attention back to you he saw your gaze was meeting his again. You blinked 3 times shutting your eyes a little tighter, a little sign you and Max had made years ago, a way to say I love you when he couldn't hear you over all the noise. Max repeated the action to you, but mouthing those three words to you anyway. 

Everyone might have thought winning a championship was the best feeling in the world for a man so dedicated to motorsports but being able to watch his daughter grow up with the love of his life...he'd give up his entire career just to see that every day. 

[dcxdpdabbles]

Freelance Inventor Part 2

Dedicated to @jimmysorsprinkles Thank you for enjoying my random dabbles. I saw that you wanted more Dads, Danny/Bruce, who are unknowingly co-parenting, so here it is! (set during the first prompt through the years of Danny just being a dad whenever he's home)

"I just don't know what to do," Bruce admits, watching Dick stomp about in tiny angry circles, muttering in his native tongue under his breath. He's been out there for about a half hour, doing laps in the yard. Danny knows he deliberately chose to do so under the window leading to Bruce's office.

The kid definitely wanted his guardian to know he was mad at him .

It was the fact Dick was unconsciously hunching his shoulders, curling his fist, and even raising his knee slightly higher than he needed for his stomps that were a nod to Bruce whenever the man was upset.

It seemed like Dick had picked up habits from Bruce during his short time here. If anything, Danny thought it rather cute if it weren't for the fact Dick was so upset.

"What happened?" He asked, standing beside Bruce, overlooking the pre-teen throwing a fit.

Bruce's frown is sharp and hinted with just the edge of uncertainty that anyone who didn't know him well would have dismissed. "He was being reckless in one of our extreme sports, and when I rightfully scolded him for it, he took it as me not trusting him."

Danny tilts his head, considering. It's been over three years since he became acquainted with the Waynes, and in that time- between his travels, his inventing, and his general desire to learn all he could in any way he could- he noticed that Dick was very quick to anger as a defensive mechanism.

This clashed horribly with Bruce's own mechanism- which was shutting down or at least emotionally wise. While Dick sneered and raged against the world, Bruce tried his best to forget he was human and detached himself from the situation.

Which wouldn't be so bad if it didn't feed into Dick's insecurities or Bruce's anxiety when they both reacted to adverse situations.

He has spoken to Jazz about it, and his sister has given him some advice that has helped him smooth things over with the young boy. Empathizing and paraphrasing the boy's issues was a big step in letting him feel heard and his feelings acknowledged.

For Bruce, he treated him like a ghost who had never seen a human. Plenty of ghosts were never human, were born in the ghost zone, or had been there for so long that they had forgotten what humans were like. Danny took time to explain why someone reacted the way they did- at least, why he thought so- and never made Bruce feel less for needing the help.

It was fun, in a way, to see Bruce's eyes lighten up with understanding and get him to talk about his rooted issues, but having to do so on carefully balanced tones and word choice. Phantom had so much practice de-escalating ghosts that it was a walk in the park with Bruce.

"I'll talk to him," Danny promised, leaning over to rest his hand on Bruce's shoulder and not batting an eye when the taller man landed down to rest his forehead on Danny's shoulder.

Where Bruce couldn't say in words, he yelled in his actions. It reminded him a bit of Wulf.

Bruce took a deep breath before nodding. "Thank you."

Danny hummed, reaching up to pet Bruce's hair like he would soothe Wulf, on days the werewolf would twitch too much at the door slamming, and suddenly his friend was mentally back in Walker's prison. "No problem. But, I will also be speaking to you later, and you are going to listen to Dick's side of the story without interrupting at dinner."

"Yes, Danny"

Alfred threw him an approving smile as he marched outside to meet Dick's rage-filled eyes and nervous hand twitching. He could catch the ending bits of whatever rant the boy was muttering.

"You're right. Bruce is an idiot sometimes." He starts grinning as the boy's eyes narrow further.

"You don't speak Romani."

"I may not understand what you're saying, but trust me, I feel it." Danny chirps, watching Dick's shoulder relax a little. " What did he do this time?"

"You won't even believe it!" Dick snaps, and then he's off, Danny keeping pace with him step by step as the boy works himself into another frenzy.

Later that night, Dick explained that he hated how Bruce made him feel so belittled and unimportant, his voice tight with a itch to fight, and Bruce carefully- with significant prompting from Danny- explained how he didn't mean it that way. He was only worried that he was about to watch Dick die in front of him, and he couldn't live through losing his family again.

Dick looked shocked to be considered family, and Danny swore he helped the boy sneak into Bruce's office, which so happened to have the adoption papers Bruce was hiding. Alfred gave him a large sample of pudding for dessert.

______________________________________________

"Hey, kid," Danny whispered, watching Jason tense up momentarily. It's not overly noticeable, but Danny has grown used to seeing little ghost blobs show emotions by how they twisted and twirled over the years, so he could tell what the slight tightening of the fingers around the book meant.

Anxious.

It would be understandable if Jason had been present for another one of Dick's and Bruce's explosive arguments. He came from a household that had an older male figure beat him whenever Willis got in a mood, so while he knew that Bruce or Dick would never hit him, Jason still tried to make himself scarce.

Jazz was the one to point out Jason's usage of escapism in the form of books to comfort himself, and so Danny took whatever time he could manage to read the same books as Jason while on his travels.

"What?" The boy grunted, voice soft but weary.

Danny sits across from him, making sure to stay in Jason's eyesight at all times. He had realized in only his second visit after meeting Jason that the boy did not like having someone too close in his space.

He grew up on the streets where being weary of older men kept him alive- Danny would never fault him for what he had to do to survive.

Unlike Dick, who was always down to talk about why he was upset if only to rant, Jason preferred to have a distraction. So he offers him a smile that he hopes projects You're safe with me and pulls out a book from his bag.

Jason's eyes light up at the cover. "I had some theories on Mr. Darcy being in love with Mr.Bingley before he met Elizabeth, and Bruce won't agree with me. Help me find citations as proof?"

"It's so obvious that he was, how can the old man not see that!" Jason snorts, tilting his head in a cute habit that he picked up from Dick. He really looks up to his big brother no matter how tense things can get.

Danny is glad he's gotten Dick to explain to Jason that he didn't hate him, but he was going through a lot, and Jason as a street kid, understood on some level.

"The old just hate listening to other people's suggestions even when we're right!." Jason leans over to read the book Danny places between them, considering Jane Austin's work while Danny files away the real reason he's upset with Bruce.

Later, after Jason and he present a bemused Bruce with a report on why Mr.Darcy is bi and had feelings for his best friend before meeting his wife, he tells Bruce to explain why he didn't consider Jason's suggestion in their extreme sport.

Jason goes to bed that night with a better answer than "because I said so," and Danny forces Bruce to go up to his room and re-read Pride and Prejudice to connect with his youngest.

Alfred offers them extra blankets and pillows since the two get so caught up reading to each other that Danny just decides sleeping in Bruce's bed is easier than walking down two wings to the guest rooms.

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

"I'm not going to bed," Tim snapped when Danny knocked on his door. His fingers are flying over the keyboard of his computer, his little face glowing from the computer screen, and Danny is almost reminded of himself whenever he gets caught up in his work.

It may worry Bruce and Alfred, but Danny is a Fenton. He knows what it's like to have his brain run over time and sacrifice sleep or meals to get his ideas into the world.

His mother is the same, his father is the same, his sister is the same, and even Danny's clone is the same. It's fitting that the little boy he caught following Batmam around with a camera is the same since he all but forced Bruce to adopt him.

He hadn't meant to.

He had been testing an air purifier when he returned to Gotham since Bruce and the kids were out of state, and his ghost hearing picked up the sound of a camera click.

Imagine his surprise that when he turned to the roof opposite him, he found the tiny little face of an eleven-year-old staring back, holding a camera, and Batman swinging away in the distance. Danny became attached to Tim that night, even after he chased the boy down to ask if he was safe.

He did not like the implications of his parents always "working" while Tim ran amok in Gotham.

It took almost two weeks of following Tim around Gotham to help him with his photos before the boy allowed him to take him to Wayne Manor. It took three more before Bruce realized that Danny wouldn't allow Tim's parents to win him back, and together, they took the Drakes to court.

Danny has never been more grateful that Bruce was loaded with money and that his inventions gained him contacts in high places that wouldn't mind taking the Drakes down.

Tim was a lot like Bruce- where he shut down- but he needed people to be around him more. Sometimes just sitting in the same room- where Tim could glance up and see him- was enough for the boy to be at ease.

This was great for Bruce, who thought he didn't need to do much to make Tim happy- until Danny reminded him that Tim was a poor boy who was gutted for any form of parental approval.

He had to almost punch Bruce after overhearing him tell Tim he was proud of him, but there was room for improvement. Bruce meant it as helpful, constructive criticism, but Tim- whose parents all but drilled how useless he was- only heard criticism.

Only heard, he was not enough.

So now Tim was going, who knew how many hours without sleep, trying to fix whatever issue he thought he had caused. How a fourteen-year-old could have caused issues at his adoptive dad's multimillion-dollar company was beyond Danny, but it meant a lot to Tim, so he didn't need to understand it.

He just needed to respect it.

"Don't want you to," Danny grunts, throwing himself on Tim's queen-sized bed. "I just wanted to know if I could crash here. Bruce pissed me off."

Tim's fingers pause. "What did he do?"

"He tried to tell me how to handle my inventions' payment. I'm a freelancer! I know how to do that." Danny complains while twisting under the covers. Tim slowly turns around to look at him, but he acts like he doesn't notice. "I know he'll try to talk to me in the guest rooms, but he won't find me here. I just don't want to listen to another "I can do it better" lecture."

After a moment's pause, Tim admits. "He did the same to me and my team."

He means Cassie, Bart, and Conner. The little team of photography buddies Bruce introduced Tim back when they started homeschooling him. Dani suggested pulling Tim out of school is one of the best advice his clone ever gave him.

Tim took the pictures, Cassie and Conner modeled, and Bart made the clothes. Their work was slowly gaining traction online, and Tim seemed to glow whenever the Team was mentioned.

"Course he did." Danny sigh. He leans back into the pillow. "Know why he did it, too. Bruce doesn't want me to be taken advantage of, but it's hard not to hear him think I can't keep up, especially when my family is doing the same thing."

"Yeah," Tim's voice is soft. "It's frustrating that all your hard work is overshadowed or that everything you've done so far doesn't prove that you know you can."

Bingo. Danny discovered Tim's issue; now he just needs to bring it home.

"I know I'm great at what I do. You said so yourself- my past proves I am crazy good at work. I leave other people breathless in awe all the time. I can adapt and overcome so much faster than others. Bruce can see that, but he forgets to praise it." Danny huffs like he's trying not to be forgiving, and it causes a smile to unwillingly appear on Tim's face.

"I'll talk to him tomorrow but today I'm being petty and hiding. Thanks for letting me sleep here"

"You're welcome, Danny." Tim goes back to his typing, but only after a minute or two of Danny asking if he can turn off the light does the boy save his work and shut his computer down.

The room is plunged into darkness but Danny doesn't need the light to see how Tim sinks into his mattress. Tim is smart- crazy smart that every part of him that's Fenton crows with pride- and he can easily see through Danny.

"Thank you Danny" He doesn't say what for but he doesn't need to.

Danny reaches over, grabs the blankets, and makes sure they cover the small shoulder, tucking Tim in properly. "Any time kid"

The next morning, Bruce wakes them up with a powerpoint of all the things he thought were impressive about Tim and his team's last photo session. A powerpoint for Pete's sake.

But it makes Tim smile so much that Danny lets it slide. At least he listened when Danny chewed him out for forgetting to praise Tim.

Alfred offers Danny some of his private tea jars, which according to Dick, means Danny is in for life as Tim, Jason, and Bruce go over the PowerPoint again. Jason has begone to heal for his bitch of a mother's betrayal a few months ago.

Thankfully, Danny was in the area when he called and reminded the lady why she should not mess with Bruce's kids. Dani paying her a visit in her jail cell was just the Fentons' sending their regards.

(His dad gave Dani the ani-creep stick, and his mom hacked the cameras to loop. Jazz just watched hours of her to realize what made the woman scream and cry before sending the clone on her way. It was a good family bonding moment)

No one believed the woman claiming to be haunted that her son was Robin. Honestly, where on earth she got that idea Danny would never know.

His Jason, the sweet school-loving boy who graduated as valedictorian, running around punching criminals? Honestly, what was she going to claim next?

Bruce being Batman?!

Please.

[sunsetchicane]

i love you, i'm sorry [QH43]

quinn hughes x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k

summary: two years after breaking things off with Quinn, you find yourself going to Game 1 of Round 2 of the Playoffs, completely unprepared to see the man you still harbour feelings for.

based off of: this is loosely based off of I Love You, I'm Sorry by Gracie Abrams

warnings: aggressive amounts of pining (like, probably annoying), two swear words, a few kisses, mentions of a breakup (so like, kinda angst? idk man), copious amounts of cheesiness, probably extremely inaccurate descriptions of the game, not great writing lol. let me know if i missed anything!

author's note: okay, i haven't written anything on here yet due to a horrendous case of writer's block and many hours of working. so, this is definitely not my best work, but it was a fun way to try move past my writing slump. i really do hope that anyone who reads this does enjoy! love, addi <3

Vancouver’s streets preserve memories well. You found that out when, even two years after things had fallen to pieces, you couldn’t go anywhere without seeing the two of you holding hands, sharing quiet laughs, and stealing kisses. You’d thought that after two years you would’ve been able to shake those memories off when they plagued your mind; but it was hard when he was plastered across banners and fans sported his jersey for half the year. 

He was making his name known throughout the NHL, and you couldn’t ignore the buzz around Quinn Hughes when the Canucks made it to the Stanley Cup Playoffs. 

After you and Quinn had broken things off, you had to find separate friend groups to belong in. The two of you had shared too many mutual friends. The group of ladies you did manage to find yourself among knew nothing about your past relationship with the captain of the Canucks. When the city was gearing up for the first round of the playoffs, even your friends couldn’t stop talking about the sport. 

You were standing outside, leaning against the railing on a BC ferry, returning from visiting family on the Island, when you received a call from your friend Lydia. You picked up without hesitation. 

“Hey, what’s up?” you asked. 

She immediately giggled, which honestly had you a little scared. “I have a surprise,” she said excitedly, the last word dragged out. 

You snorted. “Am I allowed to ask what it is?” 

“It’s a really big surprise, and you have to promise not to scream when I tell you,” she laughed, acting like a teenage girl again. It was one of the things you really did love about her – her ability to bring childlike joy with her wherever she went. 

“I promise not to scream, Lyd,” you assured her, hoping she was satisfied. 

She paused for dramatic effect, and you let her. You knew she was having fun with it. 

“We’re going to the first game of round 2 of the playoffs!” she squealed. 

Your phone nearly slipped through your fingers, almost lost to the sea. You stepped away from the railing, suddenly very glad there was no one on the deck with you. Your heart clenched in your chest. The last time you had been to a game was when you and Quinn had still been together. He wouldn’t even know you were in the crowd, but you would be painfully aware of him in the centre of the arena. 

“Okay, you’re even quieter than I thought you’d be,” Lydia commented, reminding you that there was someone on the other end of the line. 

You debated for a moment what to say. Would it best to just blurt out that you had dated Quinn Hughes and you were not exactly ready to go watch him play again? Definitely not. 

“Uh, yeah, I’m just surprised!” That wasn’t a lie. “How’d you get the tickets?” 

“My dad,” she said simply. “When I told him I wanted to go see the Canucks, he was suddenly the proudest parent in the world. You know how he is – once he gets an idea in his head, whether it’s planted there by me or not, he has to do it.” 

“Wow, that’s–that’s crazy!” you said stiffly, still unsure of how to act. 

“Yeah, and it gets better! We’re sitting right behind the Canucks’ bench!” 

You nearly choked on nothing. “What?” 

“I know, right? I don’t know how my dad managed it, but he did,” she told you, completely unaware of your stuttering heart. “Who knows, maybe we’ll catch some players’ eyes,” she joked, and you tried to force a laugh out with her. 

“Yeah, maybe.” What you didn’t add out loud was your brain screaming please no. 

After a few more minutes of chatting and you pretending to be completely sound of mind, Lydia said goodbye, telling you she would send the details soon. 

You pocketed your phone and leaned against the railing once more. You watched as the sun brushed the horizon, casting a beautiful pink against the clouds. Vancouver was getting close, and for obvious reasons, you were suddenly dreading it. You wanted to sit on the ferry until it returned to Vancouver Island. 

You sighed and rested your chin on your folded arms. You heard a faint buzzing sound above you, and lifted your eyes to the sky. A plane was coming to land at the Vancouver Airport. As it approached, you let yourself imagine it was Quinn flying back from Nashville, and you felt your heart tighten in your chest once more, because you were terrified to see him again, but also because you still missed him. Maybe you were scared to see him because you missed him. 

You dropped your forehead to your arms once more and groaned loudly, the ocean and the brightening city lights your only listening companions. 

When the morning of May 8th arrived, you found yourself unable to shake the anxiety that had made a home in your chest over the last few days. There was a tenseness in your shoulders that never left, and a squeezing at your heart that seemed relentless. 

The group chat you shared with your friends had been buzzing incessantly, the girls incredibly excited. Every now and then you made your fingers put a message out there that hopefully hid your anxieties from them. 

After much procrastination, you eventually made your way to your closet. After tugging on a simple pair of blue jeans, you reached towards the back of your closet. Your fingers closed around the unmistakable, thick material of the jersey. Taking a deep breath, you pulled it out. Your only Canucks jersey of course, had to be Quinn’s home jersey from two seasons ago. No one would know it was the jersey that he had pulled over his head before every home game. However, you knew. There was no C on the left side of the chest, and your mind was pulled back to the relationship you had shared.  

You often questioned why you and Quinn had even ended things. You missed him so much still, and you were plagued by the way you knew it had been the wrong choice. You had been growing apart as he was dealing with growing attention and expectations within his career, and a promotion at your own job had stolen your energy and attention. You had both been tired and short with one another, and eventually the tension built and had blown up in a terrible way. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to force both the guilt and continued yearning out of your busy mind. 

When Lydia texted that she and the girls were on the way to your apartment, you reluctantly pulled the jersey over your head. The sleeves covered most of your hands, and the fabric fell past your hips and part way down your thighs. You pulled on a pair of shoes and left the safe space that was your apartment, locking the door behind you. 

Rogers Arena was packed and the energy in the building made you feel like you could start vibrating. You and your friends held hands so as not to get separated. You were glad when your friends made no comment on how tightly you squeezed their hands, or how sweaty your palms might have been. 

You were made significantly more nervous when you realised that Lydia had not been exaggerating about your seats. You were sitting right behind the bench. 

The arena was filling up steadily, and you sat there in between your friends, not speaking a single word. It had been a couple years since you had been here, and while you were very nervous, the familiarity came rushing back to you and it helped to slow your fast beating heart. 

If you closed your eyes, you could imagine Quinn smiling at you from the other side of the glass, and laughing when you blew him a kiss. 

You wrapped your arms gently around yourself, the once very stiff material of the jersey now very easily shifted and manipulated. You knew it didn’t smell like him anymore, but when you let yourself get lost in the feeling of his old jersey, it was like he was right there. You were wrapped in him still, and you doubted it would ever go away. 

You were shocked out of your own thoughts when your friends, along with the rest of the fans around you, started cheering. The Canucks and the Oilers were on the ice, starting to warm up. Your eyes searched the ice quickly, and gliding easily across the ice on the opposite side of rink, was the captain, the number 43 embroidered on his jersey, just like the one you adorned. 

Your own cheeks heated up when it really hit you that you were wearing his old jersey. You weren’t together anymore; what were you thinking? He could see you– what would he think when he saw you right behind his bench, wearing the jersey he had gifted you?

You suddenly wanted to throw up more than ever. He exchanged a few words with Elias, and laughed at something his buddy had said. Your heart ached in longing once more. You had missed his laugh so much. 

Quinn now had facial hair, something he hadn’t had when he was with you. His hair was longer, peeking out from beneath his helmet. He already seemed much more grown up. He looked like a captain, something who had become used to leading his team. Quinn had always been somewhat confident in his abilities as a hockey player, but it was easy to tell that he had really gotten used to his role on the team and had come into his own over the past two years. 

The girls grabbed your hands and walked into the aisle, just to get right up to the glass. Your face burned and you tried to hide behind some of your friends. You kept your heads down and your arms folded. 

Your friends held up hats and other paraphernalia that they desperately wanted signed by players. 

“Y/N!” One of your friends practically shouted. You suddenly noticed that they had all stopped cheering. You looked up to see them parted in front of you. 

Quinn was on the other side of the glass, looking right at you. 

Your friends shoved you up the glass, giggling and squealing. You nearly ran into the glass from the force of their shoves. Quinn laughed at you, his smile exactly how you remembered it. 

He pointed at the white Canucks towel in your hands and shouted, “toss it over!” The arena was so loud you were glad he had mouthed it clearly. You hesitated but threw the towel over. With one glove off and in the other hand, he caught it. He gestured to one of your friends to throw over the Sharpie she was holding. She did gladly, happy to be included. He caught it easily and started to write quickly on the white fabric. Your heart did flips while watching him, and your hands shook with nothing to hold onto. 

He finally capped the pen and threw both the towel and marker over the glass. You struggled to catch it, but thankfully, you managed to hold onto it. You held it flat before you. 

Meet me by my car after. Usual spot. Your breath stopped slightly when you saw a rushed heart drawn next to the words. You looked back up to see him putting his glove back on. He gave you a warm smile that set you on a fire from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. You took a deep breath and nodded to him. His smile widened slightly. Before he turned to skate away, you saw him mouth the words, “nice jersey.” You stuttered for a second, and he simply winked and turned. 

Your friends all screamed and crowded you, looking at the towel. 

“Usual spot? What the fuck is going on?” Lydia yelled over the noise, cackling. 

You just blushed and shook your head, returning to your seat with the towel gripped tightly in your hands. 

As the teams continued to warm up, you explained as quickly as you could that you and Quinn had once been together. Your friends, of course, were shocked but also very excited for you at the prospect of reuniting with him. You simply waved your hands in protest. 

“I don’t even know if he wants to get back together with me! He might just want to catch up or something… we’re cool now and I don’t want to mess anything up.” 

“Girl, please!” one of your friends shouted. “He drew a motherfucking heart and winked at you! Of course he wants you back.”

You all laughed and you embraced the next blush that warmed your cheeks. 

The players left the ice, and minutes later, the lights went dark. The deafening sound of nearly 19,000 people screaming almost broke your eardrums. Blue light filled the room, and you looked up to see what was playing on the large screens above you. 

You watched the intro video and let a nostalgic, giddy feeling overtake you. You couldn’t help but smile. 

The arena fell back into nearly full darkness. You heard the beginning of a familiar sound of twinkly guitar that dragged you right back to 2011. Goosebumps rose up along your skin all over your body. That was the last time the Canucks had made it to the Playoff finals, and you hoped dearly that they could get there again. The playing of Where The Streets Have No Name from their intro from 2011 made hope take hold of you.

You couldn’t help but raise your particularly special white rally towel in the air to wave alongside all of the other Canucks fans in the building. 

It had been surprisingly easy to get into the players’ parking garage. Despite it being two years since you had been in the building, you were recognized by several people, who let you walk wherever you wanted. 

Your friends had practically shoved you to go after the game, screaming after you to call them later. You had laughed and walked away, your steps lighter than they had been in a long while. 

You later found yourself standing by Quinn’s car. It was the same one he’d had when you had been together. Your hand brushed the shining hood of the car, and you could see yourself in the passenger seat, laughing at something he’d said as the two of you drove around downtown Vancouver. 

“Thank God you actually showed up.” 

You whipped around, seeing a freshly showered Quinn in sweatpants and a hoodie making his way towards you. 

You tugged on the hem of the jersey, your heart beating quicker and quicker with every step he took. 

He stopped in front of you, and when you looked up, you both spoke. 

“I love you.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head. “You-what?” 

He bit his bottom lip before repeating himself. “I love you. I know it’s been two years, but-” 

“I love you, too,” you said quickly, blood roaring in your ears. “And I am so, so sorry. I never should’ve-” 

It was his turn to cut you off. “Don’t apologise, please. It’s not your fault.”

“Can you… can you please accept my apology, at least?” 

He smiled softly. “I forgive you. I’m sorry, too.” 

“I forgive you, too,” you whispered softly, your heart swelling with affection as you looked at him. You felt an intense relief flood your body. Your shoulders finally relaxed for the first time in what felt like years. He reached out and wrapped you in a warm hug. You melted into it, returning the gesture. 

“I missed you. So much,” you mumbled into his hoodie. 

One of hands gently scratched the back of your neck like he used to do. “I missed you, too.” He pulled away just enough to lean down and kiss your lips softly. Nothing had ever felt so natural. His playoff beard scratched your face and you laughed at the sensation, pulling away. 

“Not used to the beard,” you admitted, smiling widely. 

He smiled, too. “Yeah, what do you think? Should I keep it around?” 

You shrugged, leaning back into him. “Well, you’re very handsome either way.” 

“You think?” 

“Mhm. Your hair also looks very good. I like it longer like this,” you told him, ruffling his brown hair. He swatted your hand away and kissed your cheek. 

“Noted.” He looked down at me again. “Should probably get you a new jersey.” 

“Hm, you think I need the big ole C on here, Captain?” 

He shook his head, blushing. “Don’t call me that.” 

You laughed, wrapping your arms around him, bringing his head down for you to kiss. “Couldn’t help myself.” You grabbed his hands. “Congratulations on the big win, by the way.” 

“I can’t believe you came. I thought I was hallucinating or something when I saw you,” he told you honestly. 

“Well, I’m glad I came,” you admitted, running a hand through his hair. 

“You have no idea how happy I am right now,” he said, smiling wider than you had seen all night. 

You laughed, feeling pure joy in your heart. “I think I might have an idea.” 

[loveindefinitely]

02 — 𝘞𝘏𝘈𝘛 𝘐'𝘔 𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘕𝘒𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘈𝘉𝘖𝘜𝘛

༊*·˚ LUST FOR LIFE — task force 141 x reader

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, legal age-gaps, inexperienced reader, angst, graphic violence, slight power imbalance, enemies to lovers, slow burn, betrayal

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

// NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT //

"You assaulted two Special Forces Operators, kid," Price says, a barely veiled grimace contorting his features. "That's not a good look."

You tug against where your hands are cuffed to the metal bars, your brows furrowing. "Kidnapping the girl -- whose dad you killed after taking her virginity -- isn't a good look either."

...Alright.

So, if you could go back in time, and never eavesdrop on the four men who have completely ruined your life, you would take up the offer in a heartbeat.

Between landing your fist to Gaz's jaw, and where you are now, your life has become a total shit show.

Like, complete, this might just be a fever dream level of crazy.

It started from the moment you saw blood trickling from your now late father's forehead, and in the glint of the moonlight, seeing Ghost holding the gun.

Then, you'd turned, without another thought, and landed a punch right to Gaz's jaw. The man who had taken your first kiss no more than two hours ago.

You can relive the moment even now, under the harsh neon lights of an interrogation room, as if you're experiencing everything for the first time once more.

༊*·˚

Gaz hisses, wincing as he brings a hand up to the aching pain radiating from the bone that'd taken the brunt of your punch.

"You guys -- what the fuck --" You stammer out, eyes wide and borderline manic as you gape at the man before you. "You guys just killed my dad!"

"Yeah, but," Gaz starts, before backtracking. You figure he has enough braincells to realise that 'rationality and reason' isn't going to work with you, not in this state, and especially not after you just witnessed the murder of your only living family member. "Ah. Well. He wasn't a good guy."

You really, truly, cannot believe the audacity of this man.

Your mouth opens.

Gaz grimaces.

Your mouth closes.

He takes a step closer, hands raised in a placating gesture.

"Take another step near me and I'll punch you again!" You threaten, with an aggressive point of your finger.

You're extremely aware that your punch had done next to nothing, and Gaz's reaction to it was more one of sympathy, but the threat lands nonetheless.

"Alright, alright, we're not gonna hurt you," he raises his hands further, eyes bouncing between your own. You're not sure what he sees -- maybe resentment, or horror, or fear.

Whatever it is, it makes his frown deepen.

He goes to say something else, when your bedroom door opens with a soft click. "Finishin' up, ya read--"

Soap pauses his whisper, ice-blue eyes meeting yours. His grimace isn't unlike the one Gaz is sporting, and it only worsens your mood. If looks could kill, he would be lying on the grass beside --

Oh god. Your dead dad.

"Steamin' Jesus," Soap mutters under his breath, looking up to the roof in some semblance of a last minute prayer.

There's a moment, then, for a decision to be made. It's as if your brain can only come up with two options, and one of them will lead to your untimely death.

So, really, it's not entirely your fault when you pick up the salt lamp sitting on your bedside table and throw it right into the arrogant Scot's face.

"Holy shit," Gaz's eyes are comically wide as Soap cries out, the heavy pink rock slamming into his nose. He stumbles back, and the sound of your lamp hitting cartilage even has you wincing, panicked state or not. "How the fuck have you survived this long with those kinda reflexes, Soap?"

Soap drops into a squat, cradling his nose in his hand as he tilts his head back, squeezing the ridge between two calloused fingers. His voice comes out nasally as he mumbles, "Mighta' broke 'gain."

Your entire body is trembling, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you creep to the window with soft, quiet steps.

Maybe, you think, in the back of your mind, I can make the jump into the garden.

It's not to be, however.

"You're smarter than that," Gaz directs an unamused glare your way, before grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you towards your door.

Digging your heels into the carpet, you attempt to wrestle out of his grip -- but a trained military expert and you are no match, not even with the energy overtaking your body.

"Let go of me!" You grit out, tugging and displaying your weight in the opposite way to his goal. He doesn't even turn around as he drags you out of your room, slamming your door shut behind you.

"What the fuck is goin' on," Ghost's growl comes from the stairs, heavy bootfalls following until he's standing, gaze drifting from you, to Gaz, to Soap, back to you again.

"Fuck, man," Soap whines, squeezing his eyes shut as he keeps his head tilted back, blood running down his lips and chin. You somehow find it in yourself to feel slightly bad. Not enough to apologise, and certainly not enough to stop fighting back.

They were going to kill you. Probably. Or, like, what's the skin trade like in your area? Oh god. Fuck. Shit.

"She saw," Gaz mutters to Ghost, and his eyes narrow, black face paint crinkling where it's been put on the upper half of his face, skin not covered by the balaclava.

There aren't any lights on, and it's the lights on downstairs that cast shadows and highlights over the men's' faces.

"Fuckin' christ," Ghost groans, before turning and walking back downstairs without another word.

You continue to struggle against Gaz's hold, but both of your wrists have been collected in his hand, and he's pulled you so your back is to his chest. If it were any other circumstance, you'd be blushing, most likely turned on from such an embrace.

Right now, however, you're questioning every possible decision you've ever made.

"Ye Dad treated ya like shit 'nyways," Soap says, too loud to be under his breath, but too quiet for it to be conversational. "Dinnae why yer freakin''."

"You're murderers!" You hiss back, lips pulled back into a snarl. Your muscles ache from the punch, the hefty throw, and now from struggling against Gaz. "And I don't exactly have any other family, do I?!"

Gaz makes a sound of agreement, before shaking his head and countering. "We're not murderers, not really."

You choke a laugh, but it's entirely too wet and sad for it to be threatening or cruel. "So you guys didn't just shoot my father?"

"Si pulled th' trigger," Soap pouts, almost like a child would over a lack of candy.

"Soap," Gaz exasperates, and although you can't see his face, you're sure it's dismayed and annoyed. "Seriously?"

"What?!" Soap counters, and when it comes out high-pitched, he squeezes his eyes shut and holds his nose tighter. "Jus' tha truth, dinnae why yer so shitty. Yer not tha one bleedin'."

Speechless.

You are fully, unbelievably, speechless.

What the actual fuck was wrong with these... men? And what was wrong with you for being more than ready to spread your legs for them not too long ago?

You needed therapy. And coffee.

And a time machine, preferably. If one was made available at this given moment.

"Get down here," the final man of the hour shouts up the stairs, and your blood runs cold. There's something about him that's not quite as threatening as Ghost, but somehow makes you even more fearful.

Gaz, with surprisingly careful and gentle movements, guides you down the stairs. The parallel of how Ghost's hand had been at your lower back as he invited you to the lounge room, mere hours ago, isn't lost on you.

His hand doesn't move from the tense grip it has on your wrists. You can't help but feel like it's a completely unnecessary gesture, considering the fact that any of them could take you down within seconds if they really needed to. Hell, they all had actual, military-grade weapons.

"Seriously, Gaz?" Price huffs, looking entirely like a disappointed dad in this moment as he stands, leaning against your kitchen counter, arms folded over his chest, ankles crossed over. "One job, mate."

"You lot weren't exactly quiet," he retorts, but he slowly releases your wrists.

At this point, you know it's a lost cause to try and escape this situation, so you just ball your hands into wrists at your sides. You can't imagine it's an overly threatening position, considering how your entire frame trembles, and your lips wobble.

Your father was dead.

And the men that had made you feel so comfortable, so cared for, are the culprits.

Stupid, stupid girl.

They are dangerous men who do dangerous things.

"Peas," Soap's voice is practically a beg as he stumbles into the kitchen, opening the freezer door with no preamble as he scours it for... peas.

They're in the far right of the bottom shelf.

You don't tell him that.

"Have some water," Price encourages, holding out a glass cup full of chilled water.

Your eyes narrow, standing your ground. "Not accepting drinks from murderers. Dad taught me that, y'know?"

Gaz chokes a laugh, before covering it up with a fist to his mouth and a clearing of his throat. It fools no one, and you allow yourself the tiny bit of pride that fills your chest at the reaction to your taunt.

"Ghost," Price mutters, resigned and almost frustrated as he looks at you.

You understand why, as soon as the feeling of a needle imbedding into your neck has you flinching, pain prickling at the intrusion in your muscle.

"What --" you begin, before your legs fall out beneath you, your eyes falling to half mast as Price hefts you up, beefy arms holding you beneath your armpits as your body becomes dead weight.

"Sorry, kid," are the last words you hear, before black overrides all of your senses as drugged sleep takes you.

༊*·˚

Sometime between then, and now, you've found yourself in a white-walled room, blinding lights turning the throbbing in your head from a low pound to an echoing boom of a drum.

"We didn't plan for... any of it to happen the way it did. This was our only choice." Price shakes his head, hands resting at the top of his vest as he studies you.

Right. The virginity, kidnapping and assault thing.

...Great.

"I must've forgot the part where I resisted arrest," you retort, forcing your eyes to remain open, despite the heaviness to them. It's as if a weight has been hung from your eyelids, and every blink drags them down more and more each time.

"Jesus -- you're not under arrest," Price rubs at his eyes, head dipped down as if he's recollecting his thoughts. You're not sure if he's had any sleep, although your sense of time has been completely thrown out of the window.

"Then release me," you say, voice softer than you'd intended, more pleading -- a truer reflection of your current state of mind.

The air is crisp, cool, like that of a hospital. Chemicals and bleach are a potent undertone to the clean scent, and it makes you question what could've previously been done in this room to warrant them.

Your heart pounds almost weakly, and you know if there's any more heartbreaks to come, it might just give out.

How you've resisted a complete mental breakdown is beyond you, and frankly, you'd give yourself a pat on the back if you could. Although, that act might in itself be a sign of insanity.

"Not until we can be assured you're safe," Price insists. "And not until we can clear your name from the books. We have enemies, sweetheart, and those enemies were also your father's. They are not above punishing you for your father's sins."

Your heart is lodged in your throat, and it takes everything in you not to just burst into tears and pray. Pray that this is all some sick joke, some terrifying nightmare that you haven't woken from yet.

But you know it's a baseless hope. You know that this is real.

You're in a military base, somewhere, surrounded by the country's most dangerous men. The most dangerous men on their side, at least.

"So I'm not getting charged for assault?" Your voice is entirely too small for the situation, not for someone who's still cuffed to a bed, going through grief in the most ruthless type of way.

The worst part is that you don't entirely miss your father. You miss the comfort of having a family member, that's true, but he wasn't a good parental figure, and his treatment of you could be classed as abuse to most people.

And from what these four are saying, he wasn't a good man either.

People didn't often talk about how separate the two things were. It was possible to be a great man, but the worst of fathers, and the opposite could be true, too.

Fate had dealt you a bad hand, in giving you one who was terrible on both sides of the coin.

"Technically," Price leans back into his chair, his voice littered with exhaustion, "We... should report it."

Your stomach drops.

Price's eyes meet yours, and somehow, he must see the turmoil battling inside of your head, because he lets out a deep breath, deflating just a bit.

"No. You're not getting charged for assault, sweetheart."

"Don't call me that," you reply, too quick for your brain to catch up. The endearment is entirely too wrong, smarting on a chafing wound, a reminder of the mistakes you'd made, and the deception these men had pulled on you. "...Please."

You refuse to meet his eyes as he nods, slowly, as if in understanding.

"What did he do?" You don't mean to utter those words, to ask that question, but after you do, you can't find it in yourself to regret it. "What made him worthy of death?"

Price rubs a hand over his face, and for the first time, you register the lines of his face. Lines of a story having been told, proof of a life lived. It makes you want to learn, to find the origins of the small scars you can see, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

"He broke many promises. Betrayed his team," Price states, and you can tell the millions of words he leaves out, the context better off left unsaid. "He did terrible things. Killed people who had made no faults."

Oh.

For some reason, it hadn't truly hit you, not before now, the truth behind his death. What hadn't you been told?

How hadn't you been made aware that he was -- he was part of the special forces. He was a dangerous man -- he was one of the men he'd warned you about. How blind had you been? For so long? Those business trips, when he'd come with bruises, brushing them off whenever you gained the courage to make attempts of caring, of forming a relationship with the man who raised you.

They weren't business trips. They were missions -- ones with impossibly high death rates.

And he just.

Hadn't said a word. Just continued to treat you like you were worthless, a nuisance, a pain in his ass. Something worth protecting, if only so your weight in gold wasn't minimised.

What were you to do, if he just. Didn't come home after a mission gone awry? If he died on the field. If you woke up one day without a single living family member left.

You only realise that tears have fallen down your cheeks when Price's thumb brushes them away, your nose scrunching with a sniffle.

Jerking back, as if electrocuted, it takes everything in you to glare at the man whose gentle hands had led you to this position in the first place. "Don't touch me."

He backs away. Doesn't argue.

It hurts your heart in a way you don't want to touch with a ten foot pole. Not right now. Not ever, maybe. Preferably.

You let out a deep, stabilising exhale, before weakly meeting Price's gaze. "Can I sleep? Feeling kinda shit after the drugs," you mumble.

Price's lips twist into a grim line, but he nods curtly. "'Course, kid. Call out if you need 'nything."

You just lay back, turning on your side, facing the white wall as the lights turn off, leaving pitch black in its wake. Your wrist smarts where the handcuff has left a red mark, your free hand rubbing at the small patch of visible skin.

If you were more aware, more... ready for the conversations you needed to have, you would've demanded all four of them speak to you right this moment.

But your head is heavy, and thoughts are few and far between.

Grief and confusion cement in your brain like a thick fog, your emotions like cars without lights in the thick mist.

No directions, no ability to brake before crashing into one another.

You're an absolute mess, and you have no one to blame but you and your sick curiosity, your reckless decision making.

But, you realise, this was a long time coming.

Because there's one thing Price -- nor the other three men -- don't know.

Your father wasn't the only one who held secrets.

And it was you who held the key to this force's undoing.

a/n. lol so like. who's ready for some enemies to lovers? sorry to everyone who wanted immediate hurt/comfort!! for some reason plot lines and depth hit me and i was like. i need to do it justice. so here we are!!!

thank you all SOSOSO much for the reception of the first part. it genuinely means a lot to have people excited about my stories??? like omg youre all SO kind. comments and reblogs make my absolute week!! mwah mwah mwah

taglist comment/msg to be added. @captainjamster @alfa-jor @simp4miguell @yaboibauldano @dreamaboutpinkk @guyser @lovewithasideoflust @redz0mbie @ghost-is-my-bbg @astro-ghoul99 @the-faceless-bride @casterousaudrey @cutiecusp @kit-williams @lilpothoscuttings @florabelll

[luna-andra]

StepDad!König Headcanons (SFW & Wholesome) ✨

Image @cozyhuii (@miss_bozo on Twitter)

Headcanons I thought up of König being a step daddy to reader's kid

A/N: Y'all got my very first König headcanon list to 600+ notes earlier today and I had to pump this one out. I had been in a writing rut for a while (still kind of am? But I'm finding my way back) and this is my way of showing my gratitude. StepDad!König originally was something I did for me (König being step daddy to my kid? YES PLEASE) but I made this gender neutral (& gn kid) like the other ones 🖤

Domesticated!König Series: Part 1 Part 2

I write other stuff too! Masterlist here 🖤

👑 His reaction was the better outcome you had thought up when König found out you had a kid from a previous relationship. Why would that deter him from continuing to date you? He was a man that didn’t view single parents as “spoiled goods”, and would quite frankly curb stomp someone if they heard them refer to you as such.

👑 He was aware of the possibility of you postponing and rescheduling dates, and unfortunately they did happen. “Sitter canceled? No problem.” “Mom/Dad bailed on their weekend? I get it.” You were so relieved by his patience and empathy for the times plans would fall through.

👑 It was clear to König that you were going to hold off on introducing him to your child. He had great respect for that rule, it meant you were very keen on not having a revolving door of people coming in and out of that kid’s life.

👑 As time went on, he would always show an active interest in your child by asking how they are doing in school? Did they still like [insert movie/TV show here]? He hoped they liked the treats he had bought at the PX on base.

👑 But the one time you seemed extremely defeated and bummed out about another postponed date, he took his chance and threw out the idea of hanging out - the three of you - at your house. You hesitated, but it had been nearly long enough for you to be okay with it. The guilt weighed on you considering it had been a hot minute since the two of you had any time for each other. König was such a sweetheart, reassuring you that this is how he wanted to spend his time, with you and your kiddo.

👑 Almost every date after that became an outing with the three of you. He was referred to as Onkel König by your child, a title that warmed his gigantic heart.

👑 Came to every sports game/martial arts competition/band or orchestra event/etc. Became as active as the bio mom/dad (if they were still around) in their extra-curricular activities. He didn’t want to miss a single thing.

👑 Speaking of bio mom/dad/ex-spouse, he made the conscious effort to be acquainted with them if they were still present in Kiddo’s life. As long as they were cordial, so was König.

👑 Spoiled the hell out of Kiddo for Christmas and birthdays. They wanted for nothing and sometimes you hated it but were also thankful that he has come to love a child that originally wasn’t his.

👑 We all know König is of older age given his rank of Colonel. It’s so funny when he has to ask you about lingo the younger kids use. “What is bussies and why do they want to go there so much?” That was fun explaining it to König as his face grew intensely pink at his ignorance. It’s best if he comes to you every time he hears something new fly out of that kid’s mouth.

👑 He always used German terms of endearment for the both of you, and Kiddo picked up German the more time they spent with König. It forced you to learn too (you were already learning but you were putting in extra hours after bedtime to stay ahead of them).

👑 100% a prankster. And oh god… did it get out of hand quickly. You had to sit both of them down to scold them about putting soy sauce in your coffee when you weren’t looking; that was the final straw. No one messes with the morning coffee. 

👑 Came home with a puppy from the animal shelter because Kiddo got an A on their test (failed to mention to König that it was a test they had already got rewarded for).

👑 The only time you ever saw this man cry was at Kiddo’s graduation. They said to their friends “Can you take a picture of me with my Dad? He showed up in uniform for this.” He held it together for the event, but let the tear loose on the way home.

Likes & reblogs are always appreciated! Asks are opened for requests & ideas for others. Might do some for Ghost in the future ✨

[malk1ns]

A prompt if this sings to you... established relationship mid-30s sidgeno taking in a rookie to live with them? Maybe a Russian? Maybe not! Maybe it's ABO and the baby alpha is overwhelmed by milfy Sid/baby omega is overwhelmed by dilfy Geno? Maybe not! IDK I just want to see an awkward 18 year old being completely rabbit in the headlights witnessing these two icons and heroes being dorky and frisky and middle-aged at home.

Ooooh I love this!

This isn't my best work, but I haven't written in ages and I'm rusty, so—you get what you get, haha. But this is such a fun concept and I had a lot of fun thinking about it!!! That's part of why it's so disjointed I think, I had so many ideas about how this could look and what it could involve and I wanted to cram everything in. Maybe I'll revisit this when I can actually properly use the English language again and clean it up!

--

Mack doesn't get a choice about where he lives his rookie year.

Not a lot of guys do, really—if they're bouncing between the A and the big club, they get real familiar with a few specific hotels, and if they make the show right away the team usually encourages them to look for something in a particular neighborhood—but Mack, after the excitement of the draft was over and the contract negotiations began in earnest, didn't even get that much leeway.

He's a first overall pick. He's an omega. He was drafted by the Pittsburgh Penguins. Of course he'll be living with Sidney Crosby and his mate.

Crosby—call me Sid he'd said, backstage after Mack stumbled his way onstage and held up his jersey and smiled so hard his face hurt—sends him and his parents an email in late summer, offering up a suite in his house in one of Pittsburgh's suburbs. He'll have a bedroom, a bathroom, and a living area to himself, along with a small fridge, and Sid says he'll help Mack get a car, too, if he doesn't already have one.

Mack's agent is copied on the email, along with four names from the Penguins organization that Mack doesn't recognize. It's not really an offer, after all.

Mack's parents are overjoyed. They're both betas, and when Mack presented his mom had practically lost her mind trying to figure out how to parent him appropriately, and they'd both been desperately worried about him living on his own. As if that had been an option; every interview at the combine included some discussion about where he'd stay, and it seemed like every team had a plan, no input from Mack required.

His dad's more focused on what he'll get out of living with Hall of Famers. "Watch how they spend their time off," he says to Mack as they're standing at Pittsburgh International. They'd all driven down in Mack's new car together, and spent the last two days getting him settled in and seeing the sights, and now his parents are flying back to Vancouver. "You're never going to have a better example than Malkin and Crosby. Pay attention to them, and you'll be fine."

Mack's not sure that this is quite what his parents had in mind.

Sid's amazing, of course. He knows what it's like to be an omega in the league—for all there are more now than when Sid was drafted, they're still an extreme minority, and going first overall, over all the alphas eligible, has only happened twice. Well, three times now. He walks Mack through the accommodations at the rink, connects him with the dynamics counselors and heat coordinators, and he spends a lot of time just listening to Mack, sharing his own experiences and talking him through his panic and nerves. Mack's lucky, and all the guys from BU are jealous as hell, constantly blowing up the GC with questions that Mack's not gonna answer in a million years.

Geno, though?

Mack's been around alphas his whole life. Sports at a higher level are riddled with them, obviously, and omegas aren't cloistered away anymore—he's not required to cross the street if he approaches an alpha, and North America has been totally integrated for decades.

There's getting in board battles with alphas his own age, though, or interacting with random people out in the world, and living with an alpha in his 30s, in the space he's marked as his.

Geno's not nervous around him. Which, obviously, why would he be, but Mack's used to the guys his age being a little on edge, a little anxious, a little fumbling in the presence of Mack's pheromones. Geno's a whole-ass adult, though, and he's been mated to Sid for as long as Mack can remember, so of course he wouldn't give a shit about some 18-year-old kid.

The whole house smells like Geno, a mix of coconut and snow and citrus. It's comforting; Mack's never slept so well in his life, and it just feels safe, knowing that there's an alpha around all the time. Sid's left his mark too, of course, but there's no escaping that an alpha lives in this house, an alpha who's strong, and confident, and sure of himself.

It takes Mack two whole weeks before he can talk to Geno without turning bright red and stuttering. He'd feel more embarrassed by his behavior, the way he reacts to Geno's scent, if he thought Geno noticed for one single second.

Because the thing is, what Sidney Crosby and Evgeni Malkin seem to spend most of their off-hours doing is...each other.

Mack's never walked in on them—they're too thoughtful, and he's seen the way Geno stares down other alphas who look a little too closely at Sid, he's not interested in anyone seeing Sid that way—but he can smell them, all over the house. Geno's got a hand on Sid constantly; at his waist as they move around each other in the kitchen, on his legs when they sit on the couch, cupping the bond-bite on Sid's neck when they think they're alone. He smells like he wants Sid all the time.

And Sid absolutely reciprocates.

Mack can't blame him. If he had an alpha like that— He doesn't let himself go too far down that path, because he has to live with them, and he's too young anyway, he wants to focus on his career for a while, but there's something about how happy Sid looks, the way he teases Geno until they're both pink and smiling, the way he gets this look in his eye when he watches Geno putter around in the kitchen, that makes something in Mack's gut twinge with longing. He wants this, someday—a mate, a home, someone who makes him that happy.

He just wishes they'd do a bit more to hide when they're going off to fuck, though. Mack's cycle is still irregular, and being this close to a mated pair who are having sex practically every night—Mack is shocked they can still do it that much at their age—is gonna push him into early heat one of these days, and then he'll have to ask for a ride to the facilities, and Geno will know, Geno will smell it on him, and they'll both be so nice and understanding and go out of their way to assure him it's normal and make sure he has what he needs, and it will just be the worst, most mortifying thing that's ever happened to him.

Anyway, yeah. Mack's pretty sure his dad had something else in mind, when he was talking about what Mack could pick up from living with Crosby and Malkin.

It's going to be a long year.

[letsgetrowdy43]

Soft dad!Quinn thoughts ☆—

Au Masterlist!!

Quinn reads his kid's bedtime stories every night, even on roadies! if he's at home he'll press a kiss on Honey's head and wrangle his kids into Warren's room, each kid gets to pick out their favourite book (as they get older the books become novels and he reads a chapter each night). He spends at least half an hour in bed with them, doing the fun voices as he lulls his kids to sleep, Honey comes in after and tucks them in, most nights Quinn has to carry Hayden back to her bed after she falls asleep, but sometimes she and Warren are snuggled up to one another and he can't find it in himself to separate them.

It's nearing the end of Hayden's kindergarten year there is a daddy-daughter dance for all the girls in her grade. Most of the dads wore dress shirts and khakis, not Quinn though, he goes all out. Quinn whips out Hayd’s favourite game day suit of his, a plum-coloured set with a pinstripe design, to match her cream-coloured dress and purple accessories. She feels like the prettiest girl alive as Honey puts her hair in heated curlers and does her makeup, loving for the photo shoot they do before Quinn snatches her up and chauffeurs her all the way to the school. The dance is definitely one of her core memories. You’d expect Quinn to be shy and reserved, a little embarrassed to be so outwardly having fun, but his baby girl deserves the best, so he dances the night away. Slow dances, silly dances, Quinn is literally making a fool of himself, but the smile hasn’t left his daughter's lips once so he is having the best night ever.

Teaching Warren to skate was a struggle, at this point, he was a stage one clinger, and Honey happened to be his target for snuggling. Honey was also just about to have their second baby so she was extremely emotional about everything and anything. Quinn finally got him on the ice, Warren was doing pretty good, listening to his fathers his instructions as Quinn helped him glide across the ice, and then he fell. Warren tripped as he looked up at his mother for a photo and he landed right on his back, screaming crying as Quinn whisked him up into his arms. A short "you’re okay" left his mouth, as he looked up to see Honey in full-blown tears at her son's cries, “he’s okay,” he soothed as he skated over to his emotional wife who opened her arms for her son. “It was his first fall, it happens,” he goes to kiss her head to help with the tears but she pulls away, “you and that death sport just injured my baby,” she said lifting Warren up to place kisses all over his face, “evil daddy,” she shoots daggers at her husband as Quinn put his hands up in surrender.

Brock and Elias are like baby magnets, the littlest Hughes loves them. Any Canucks event they attend the two babies ditch their own parents and hang out with their uncles for the entirety of the event. Most media will walk up to the two men and want to talk about their babies or ask them to take photos for the media platforms and both have to be like “Ummm these are the spawns of the Hughes’.” It became a run of joke in the locker room, guys on the team started to refer to the men as Mama Brock and Daddy Elias for a portion of the year, and even the media team got in on the joke and posted some photos over the year of the guys with the babies.

[stephofromcabin12]

🤫

Ahem:

Dionysus hid in his own home during that time between HOO and TOA 5 like the dad in arrested development until Zeus spotted him out and about and sent him back.

Hera has a swear jar on Olympus. It’s most frequently brought out during game nights.

Hermes has the loudest, most obnoxious ring tones. Several because he has multiple phones.

Ares is directly responsible for reddit’s existence. He’s not aware of this. He’s also banned from 9897996 subreddits. He’s started double that amount.

Apollo’s main strategy of getting out of conversations with people is to pretend to text and go “uuuhhhhmm” *taptaptaptaptaptap* “weeeellll, hmmm, uuhhhhhhhh” *taptaptaptaptap* until they get angry and give up trying to talk to him.

You’re most likely to run into Hermes, Apollo and Artemis at a gym (Artemis is just there looking for potential hunters)

You might assume Ares would be there but he’s not. He’s casually dropping into arenas and hotels that athletes stay at while playing for tournaments. And sports bars. So many sports bars.

He used to go to the olympic village but he got too distracted by the games to even bother picking up potential mortal partners.

Apollo had a plant phase (“nymphs dig plants, right?”) didn’t last long.

Artemis attracts cats and does not understand why, considering she’s hanging out with wolves all the time.

Hecate likes to send her unclaimed kids those tarot “this was meant to find you” readings everywhere with specific hints that she’s connected to them, to see if they figure it out. She also will only communicate through scrying and magic rather than IM’s, and gets very offended when her children don’t pick up on it at all. Her version of “cause you’re always on that damn phone” is “You never use your intuition!!”

Hypnos has shown up in his kids’ dreams multiple times, in various forms. Hey, gotta take advantage of unseen ways of checking in on ‘em right. He’ll visit other’s children if he’s asked nicely and you catch him in the right mood. More gods have asked him to do this than they’d care to admit.

Dionysus can identify the year and grape of a wine just by hearing it poured.

Aphrodite is unapologetically on all dating apps, and is unafraid to message any of her kids she sees, as well as demigods in general, just to say hi. She’ll sometimes say something ominous as if she’s seen their interests and is making ~plans~ for their future in love. She knows they’re mortified, that’s why she does it.

I see trash canon Ares and raise you: Coach dad Ares. Your classic coach dad. He’s arguing with their actual football coaches, he’s grilling after a victory, he’s putting kids in headlocks and ruffling their hair. His leather jacket may or not crinkle due to the Werther’s originals he carries around. He does the reach around snack hand on the solstices during the presentations.

At those solstice meetings every year, the gods have a nymph secretary to whisper their kids’ names in their ear in case they forget.

Ares has had the same dog for 4000 years. Its unclear if its really the same dog he’s kept around or if he simply gets the same kind of dog every-time the last one dies and names it the same name. It’s called Thyella or “Ty” for short.

This is just like— headcanon but I like the idea of the gods not only being distant and emotionally unavailable bc they’re bad parents but also bc they’re just: extremely confused by humans. Especially modern humans. They can’t keep up. They’re perplexed at the speed at which their demigod kids pick up, and leave behind, things, phrases and trends. And they hate not knowing things, and even worse, not being considered cool by their kids (where’s the honor in that?). So they feign disinterest but the easiest way to piss them off is to make something up and go “oh you don’t know about that? Mom/Dad that’s ancient news!” When they ask what you’re talking about.

Similarly my favorite headcanon for them is that they’re deities, as in, they’re not human. They’re unquantifiable. They’re at times almost creature like? Like, they’re confusing and everchanging and Other. There’s something distinctly Not Human about them, even when they’re trying to come across as one. A mortal might find it alluring, a demigod will probably find it slightly disturbing, especially when they occasionally catch a glimpse of it in themselves.

Demigods, because of this, also come across as almost not human to others at times. There’s something off about them. Its not the ADHD, it’s not the way they never use technology. Its the way they nod sagely in class when discussing ancient myths, like they’ve met the gods themselves or quietly add “psh, yeah they wish” under their breath while watching a documentary.

Its in the way their eyes look purple if the sun hits them just right, before you blink and they go back to their usual blue.

Their reflexes that, despite being so clumsy, are freakishly good under pressure. The sheer strength they have when you know they’ve never set foot in a gym.

Its the way you remember that one time in the second grade when your buddy took a baseball to the face and still to this day you could’ve sworn there was the tiniest swirling of something shimmery reflecting in the blood dripping down over their fingers; microscopic golden specks reflecting in the fluorescent lights on the way to the nurse’s office. You never mentioned it at the time, much too caught up in the drama and excuse to leave P.E early. But you still look at them now, years later, stretching out in the sun like a plant; trying to absorb as much light as possible, scars that they never mention and never acknowledge crossing their abdomen and arms, and you wonder what that’s all about.

In the case of adults, mortals don’t necessarily know that they’re speaking to a god, but there’s something about them that just— feels off. Not bad, not always. Just something in the way they know things that doesn’t make sense. How they seem to appear out of nowhere, appearance always perfect without them even trying. They don’t sweat. They don’t blush. They never run out of things to say. They never lose their way. People seem to just bend around them, like the time the restaurant they took you to was closed early and after a short conversation, the chef reappeared to open the kitchen just for you. Or the time they scored tickets to that sold out concert, or wrestling match. It’s so odd looking back on that fling all those years ago and realising that you dont think they ever showered. Or shaved. Not that it showed on them but that’s still odd right? Or the time they chatted with someone on the phone in a language you didn’t recognize.

“What was that language?” An innocent question, this was before you thought to be suspicious of these things.

“Greek.” They answer, not meeting your eyes.

“I didn’t know your family is from Greece,” you reply, trying to think if they ever mentioned it.

“Oh, we go way back,” they say, changing the subject before you think to ask more questions.

[babybatz414]

TROLLS 3 BROZONE TICKLE HEADCANONS

Since no one wanted to do it. I'll do it my damn myself.

-John Dory was the tickle monster growing up.

-John Dory has a few tickle spots of his own but he's not as sensitive as his siblings.

-Since he had to be like a Dad to his siblings growing up. He did dad things so he picked this up. He wanted to make his siblings happy and wanted to see them smile. So this was the best idea for him.

-Bruce was always terrified for his younger siblings. He knew what being tickled by John was like.

-Bruce had highly sensitive abs. John would sneak up and tickle him while he was working out but in a safe place. John would excuse it by saying "Tickling can help you lose weight." Bruce was not happy but kind of enjoyed it.

-John remembers all of his siblings tickle spots.

-Clay was somewhat ticklish but not as bad as say Branch, Floyd, or even Poppy.

-Clay was trying to practice his dance moves and John randomly started tickling him from behind. Clay fell on his face and John walked out of the room didn't help his brother up at all.

-Clay fought back. He forced a few secrets out. John was scared of tickling Clay again after he wrecked his shit. Clay still teases him about to this day.

-Floyd was a bit target to John at times. He enjoyed watching his little brother giggle. Floyd was sensitive everywhere so it was very easy to tickle him. He used to tease him a lot while tickling him. Baby talk is John's specialty. Floyd was a good sport about it.

-Floyd is extremely sensitive John knows this. He respects his brother enough to stop whenever he's about to die from laughter. They always set boundaries when it comes to this.

-Since Branch was a baby at the time. John went very easy him. He used to pick him up and blow raspberries into his tummy. He also pretended like he was gonna eat him. Branch loved this cause he was a baby.

-Branch was an adorably ticklish baby. John was always careful when it came to tickling Branch.

ONE TIME

The bros got tired of the disrespect by tickles. They ganged up on John and tickled the shit out of him. John laughed and giggled like a little girl. Bruce was teasing him while holding him down. Clay and Floyd were tickling his entire body. They didn't let up either. They were at this for a solid 10 minutes. Worst 10 minutes of John's life. Clay was having fun tormenting his older brother. Floyd was just teaching John a lesson in a nice way. Branch was a baby and just heard his brother laughing down the hall. After they were done Clay mocked John by asking "What did he learn?". John responded with a middle finger and him heavy breathing.

[otakubimbo]

Weakness

Hawks x F!Reader

It was your first event as a new hero in Japan after coming here from America. You knew you had to put your best foot forward, you just didn't expect someone to try and step on that foot.

Content: Cussing. No other warnings just a small rival type dynamic.

Sticky Note: I don't think there will be a continuation but you can ask <3

masterlist

You were nervous now. It was the night of the gala, and you weren’t the most sociable person due to your upbringing. You came from a very strict household and as the daughter of one of the top heroes of the southern region of America, your father took training and being a hero above anything else in life. Of course, you were perfectly media trained but your social battery ran short, and even shorter was your patience. Before you knew it there was a knock at your door, opening it to reveal a nicely dressed Aizawa. He was sporting a simple black suit, his hair pulled back out of his face for once but neatly in a bun at the nape of his neck.

“Well, don’t you clean up nice” You mention letting him in so you can get your purse and shoes.

“I can say the same about you. Expect it seems you’re always half naked” He comments looking at your dress, causing you to roll your eyes. The dress was a bit risky, but you needed it to be just in case you needed to be in combat. It was a beautiful dress; he did have to admit though. Sage green, backless exposing the wings that could protrude out of your skin at any moment, the slit coming up dangerously high on the floor-length gown with the neckline going dangerously low. Your quirk altered your body and the last thing you wanted was to ruin clothing due to it. (an: it is like Mira Jane's ability in fairy tail)

“You gonna pay to get me new outfits that get destroyed by my quirk?” You question as you make sure to slick down your edges perfectly, your hair was down for once in a twist out but with one side braided back, you wanted to make sure your edges were laid properly. He just scoffs at you.

You turn to him once you finish applying your lipstick, “I do look good though, yes? Cause I know the press is going to be there. And my dad would be pissed at any bad publicity.” You ask nervously trying to make sure you look your best; your image is extremely important to him.

“Yes, you look really pretty.” He says a hint of sympathy in his voice, you’ve told him stories about your father, he’s heard how your father talks to you.

“Okay. Good, good. Let’s go.” You exhale, grab your purse, and head to the door.

When you arrived at the gala, you were correct about the press being there. You groaned, you knew it was time to turn it up for the cameras and you hated this so badly.  Aizawa gently squeezed your shoulder reassuringly before he got out of the car to give his keys to the valet and help you out. As soon as you stepped out, the flashing of cameras was automatically blinding. Your biggest fakest smile was plastered on your face as you grasped Aizawa's bicep gently. Your superhero name is being called from all sides as you walk towards the entrance of the gala hall.

“Eraser head! Vixen! This way!” Several photographers shouted at the two of you, you stopped Aizawa for a few pictures and he allowed you to take a few by yourself, not leaving you alone to face the press. Eventually found your way inside away from most of the press and photographers. The smile almost immediately disappears from your face.  

“You are really a professional” Aizawa comments looking at your dropped face.

“Shout out to my dad for that.” You say with a shrug, scanning the room filled with Heroes, Sidekicks, and investors. “I need a drink, immediately.” Luckily for you, there wasn’t a waiter too far away carrying champagne. You glide over stealing one for yourself, immediately downing it, and picking up another.

“Okay. I’m ready to mingle” you say as you put your camera smile back on. The night was going well for you despite how much you really hated people. Aizawa’s bored and annoyed expressions kept most people away luckily for you. Everyone wanted to get to know more about the rising American hero working at UA.

“Everyone likes a new face and possible controversy.” You speak as you take down your fifth glass of champagne. “I have to find a bathroom in here, I’ll be back, and you better not dare leave with me!” You say as you hand him your glass. Knowing yourself, you should have asked someone where the bathrooms were located due to your terrible sense of direction. Now you were lost. When you turn the corner, you see a pair of red wings and, finally, a person! You recognized who it was due to Midoriya telling you all about the top heroes, he was a well of knowledge about almost every single one.

“Oh hi, uhm? Quick question” You call as you walk up to him and smirks at you, eyeing you up and down.

“Hmmn, I didn’t know I had fans as pretty as you.” He comments smugly and it takes everything in you not to grimace and roll your eyes. What an asshole.

“Actually, I’m” You start, and he cuts you off before you can even finish your statement.

“Oh, a journalist then? I’m sure you’re gorgeous on camera.” He states cockily and this time you couldn’t hold your facial expressions, your scowl, and disgust takes him aback. What the fuck was with this guy?

“AYE!” A voice calls behind you, Aizawa. Wonderful. You don’t even acknowledge Hawks anymore, turning on your heels. Once you turned, Hawks noticed your back and his eyes widened at the sight. The wings embroidered into your back, it hit him.  You weren’t a fan or a journalist, you were that new American hero everyone had been talking about. He watched as you walked away with the older hero, as he guided you to wherever you were trying to go in the first place.

You told Aizawa what happened as he guided you back from the actual bathroom.

“Yeah, I heard that he was like that. He is just a kid.” He says with a shrug as if it was expected.

“We are literally the same age, I think.” You scoff at him.

“And you’re just a kid” He comments making you roll your eyes at him. Once back in the event hall, you continue to mingle and drink. Eventually, Aizawa is taken about by Mic leaving you standing there alone. How awkward. From the corner of your eye, you see that arrogant man approaching you. Everything in you doesn’t want to acknowledge him but since you’re at an event you put your fake smile on when he walks up saying hello.

“What could you possibly fucking want?” You speak with a smile still on your face that doesn’t match your words.

He was taken a bit back by how harsh you sounded yet still smiling at him, “I actually came to apologize to you.” The sincerity in his voice takes you aback, making you drop the fake smile.

“Whatever. Thanks, I guess.” You reply taking a sip of your drink, attempting to scan the room for Aizawa. Hawks could tell what you were doing, looking for an out to stop speaking to him. For some reason, he didn’t like that.

“You looking for Eraserhead?” He asks a bit annoyed by your lack of caring and your gaze falls back onto him.

“I am. It looks like the event is ending soon, so.” You say trying to give him the hint to leave you alone. This was awkward. Hawks was nervous, why was he nervous? You looked so disinterested in him and he wasn’t used to that, he didn’t like it. Luckily for you, you see a reporter walking up now hopefully Hawks will leave.

“Hello, you’re Vixen, right? I’m from the Daily Hero and just wanted to know if we could ask you a few questions.”

The camera-ready smile came right back on your face, “Oh absolutely you can.”

“Wonderful, wonderful. So, the first question, it appears that you came here today with pro-hero Eraserhead. Are the two of you an item? I know there’s a bit of an age gap there but as they say, age isn’t but a number.”

You giggly as fake shyly as you could at the question, you expected it as much, people love that kind of gossip, “Oh no. He’s a dear mentor of mine. Since I work under him at UA, he decided he would accompany me here. It was nice to be escorted by a familiar face.”

“I don’t know I did see a little blush on your face. How kind of him, he’s not really known for his sensitive side.” The reporter jokes. “I would understand if he thought otherwise, you are absolutely gorgeous. Have you seen any heroes who have caught your eye then? Civilians?”

You giggle again before answering, “I’ve barely met anyone since I’ve been here. Between being a hero and a teacher, I’m pretty busy. The only thing that has my attention is helping aspiring heroes and making sure citizens are safe.” Oh, that was a great answer, you thought. Hopefully, your dad would like these interviews.

“You really are the definition of being a hero. The rumors of your charm are true it seems. Even though you may not have an eye on anyone it does look like you may have caught the eye of pro hero Hawks over here.” She comments, having them turn the camera to him. Fuck. You would have thought he would have left. You keep forcing the smile on your face as the interviewer moves the two of you into one frame.

“So, Hawks, what do you think of Vixen?” The reporter turns her attention to him, you pray he doesn’t ruin this interview for you especially since you’ve been rude to him.

“She sure is something, beautiful. I do think she isn’t quite fond of me though” He says with a sly smile toward you and it takes all your professionalism to bite back a scowl. This makes the reporter raise a brow towards you and if on cue you hide your face in your hands feigning embarrassment. You giggle hitting him on the shoulder gently but digging your claws into his skin as a warning.

“That’s not even close to the truth.” You say take your other hand to shade your mouth from his view “ya know, even pro heroes get nervous when they meet someone like him. He’s a big hit with all the students talking him up, anyone would be a bit uneasy at first meeting the top 2 hero of Japan.”

Your eyes flick to Hawks for a second, taking in the slightly shocked expression on his face at your reply. Oh, you were better than he expected you to be in the media, especially being the same age as him. He could feel the smugness radiating from you as you deflected his response turning it back on him.

“Well Hawks it seems you may be too intimidating for the up-and-coming foreign hero. It was nice speaking with the both of you.” The reporter finishes up before thanking you both for your time.

Immediately after they leave your smile drops and you turn to scowl at him.

“It was cute how you tried to ruin my interview.”  You say in a huff, taking another sip of your drink.

“You think I’m cute?” He asks with a sly smile but when you look at him, it’s like you can see through him. You flustered him with what he thought was a bit of praise. A small shade of pink was starting to come across his cheeks. Okay, you could admit he was kind of cute.

“I think you’re something for sure.” You say before turning hearing your name being called, it was Aizawa. Great, time to go home. “Well, it was definitely not a pleasure meeting you. Bye Hawks” You saunter away towards Aizawa, grabbing onto his arm looking back at him one last time before leaving. Hawks watched you leave, his heart racing. That small interaction with you has his knees weak.  Hawks didn’t have many weaknesses, but you might be a new one.

[braveclementine]

Chapter 7

Warnings: None. (Will however be a 18+ reader book)

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own a few OCs like Elizabeth, Katherine, Stacy, and Jessie. I do not condone any copying of this.

You drove in the car along the highway, making your way towards your H/T. You weren't entirely sure why you were going back home, but that was the direction that you were finding yourself driving in.

Your life hadn't been entirely difficult. Your mother and father had always been busy so you rarely saw them. You were mostly raised by teachers, your sports coach, and several summer camp counselors. And of course, they were all doing those jobs for the money.

You and your sister were used to having a rather uncaring life. It wasn't that your parents were directly mean to you. In fact, the few times that you guys actually did something as a family, it was quite fun. But your parents had never really wanted kids, just going along with Government rules.

Things only escalated once you'd entered junior year of High School. Your mother had passed away, which left your dad in a right state of devastation. You hoped you never found out how it felt for your soulmate to die. It was apparently the most painful thing you could ever feel. The only thing that could numb it was if you got lucky enough to have another soulmate.

Still, that was when your dad was around most, but also when you didn't want him to be around. That was when he started the drinking and the hitting. You were lucky, you were almost out of the house. You applied for college in New York and you moved.

Your sister on the other hand had only started High school, which would leave her in your father's care for four more years. That was how you'd ended up being her guardian now.

And now you were going back home with no idea as to why. Maybe to lay some flowers on your mother's grave. Maybe to just get away from this crazy world. You lived in a rather small, isolated town, a place that none of the superheroes had probably ever stepped foot into. Tony could probably buy up the town if he wanted to.

[If you don't live in America, you can use 'West Chester' as your H/T (home town)]

Your phone started to ring. You glanced over at it. It was Y/S/N.

You sighed. What were the possible chances that they already knew you were gone and were waiting for you to pick up the phone?

Probably high.

You pushed the button anyways. "Y/S/N, isn't it past your bed time?"

"Funny. Come home." Y/S/N said.

"I will." You said. "Just. . . went for a drive."

"How much longer do you think you'll be out?" Y/S/N asked with a sigh. You couldn't hear anyone else on the other side of the phone. Maybe you were wrong about the others listening in. Or maybe they didn't know you were gone yet and only she did.

"I don't know. I kind've need a break."

"If it makes you feel better, you misunderstood the conversation between Steve, Bucky, and Natasha. They were talking about a training incident and how everything was disastrous afterwards. When they said just the three of them, they were talking about them being the only trainers since they wouldn't get hurt easily if there was another incident."

You were silent for a moment. You knew your sister would never lie to you, so you really wanted to believe her.

"Thanks. It just. . . sometimes my head. . . I just jump to the worst case scenario, you know? Especially since. . ."

"Especially since they're all extremely famous superheroes that the world either absolutely loves or completely hates and we're just a couple of nobodies from a small town?" Y/S/N finished for you.

"Exactly. God, I don't. . . I don't know how to be worthy of them." You said, feelings crashing down on you. "I mean, I love all of them so much but. . . how do I. . ."

"You just be you sister." Y/S/N said encouragingly. "You're holding back your personality when you're with them. Just be yourself. You don't have to change yourself. Just be the one."

"Why can't you be the bigger sister?" You asked with a laugh.

"Because now I can gloat the fact that I'm smarter than you even though I'm younger." She laughed on the other side of the phone. "But please come home soon, okay? I really don't like the idea of you being out there by yourself again."

"Yeah, stupid me. I don't know what I'm doing anymore." You laughed. "I'll be home soon. Maybe bring donuts or something back. I'm craving sugar."

"You're always craving sugar, that's nothing new." Y/S/N said and you could practically picture her rolling her eyes. "See you soon."

"See you soon." You said, taking the off ramp so that you could turn around and head back to Avengers tower.

You sighed, going through a Dunkin' Donuts, before heading back to the Avengers Tower. You sat in the parking lot with the rest of Tony's fancy cars, tapping your fingers on the donut box. Finally, with another sigh, you climbed out of the car and headed up to the main part of the tower.

"Y/N!" Clint shouted, throwing his arms around you before you'd even gotten into the tower.

You hugged him back with one arm to keep from dropping the donut box. "Hey Clint."

"Maybe some warning next time before you leave." Loki said, stalking over to kiss the side of your head.

"Sorry. I just needed a breather." You said.

"Understandable. But try not doing the experiment of whether or not a God can have a heart attack." Loki continued.

You blushed a little his words.

"Hey." Steve said, looking slightly awkward, "Can I talk to you in private?"

You blushed, "Er- yeah." Clint snatched the box of donuts, "DONUTS!" He shouted, running for the vents like a little kid. Sam went running after him while you followed Steve into another room where Bucky was already waiting.

Bucky scooped you up into his arms, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. "Sorry doll."

"When we were talking in the hall-" Steve started but you shook your head.

"It's fine. I overreacted. It's not your fault or anything. Besides, my sister already filled me in about everything." You said. "I shouldn't have just left. It's. . . just a bit of a reflex. When things get tough I choose flight as my natural response. Sorry for worrying you guys."

Without putting you back down on the floor, Bucky passed you like a little kid to Steve who held you in his arms, his lips resting on the top of your head. "I love you Y/N." Steve said quietly.

"I love you too Stevie." You mumbled, before pressing your lips to his.

It was the first kiss you'd had with any of your soulmates and it was Earth-shattering. His lips were full, with force behind them as he kissed back with zero hesitation. His arms tightened on your body and you wrapped your arms around his neck to kiss him back.

Bucky cleared his throat jokingly behind you two. You pulled away first, gasping for air quietly while Steve chuckled, passing you back to Bucky.

"You alright doll?" Bucky asked, sounding amused.

"A little dizzy. Can I kiss you?" You mumbled.

Bucky pressed his lips to yours sweetly, though not as long as Steve did, but just as passionate.

"Am I missing something?" Sam's voice asked behind us as Bucky put you back on your feet. You turned to see Sam was holding your favorite flavor donut. He raised an eyebrow, a smirk curling on his face. "Want this? Come get it."

You stalked over to him, moving to grab the donut before he raised his hand way above your head. He smirked.

You reached up, grabbing his face to bring him down and kissed him. His entire body relaxed before he lowered both hands, one coming to rest in your hair. Then your hand snatched the donut out of his hand before you spun away, dancing away from him, biting into the donut.

"Delicious." You teased.

"You're a terrible tease." Sam pouted as you finished off the donut. "Alright, now you're getting tickles."

You squealed as he darted towards you. "Bucky!"

Bucky laughed. "You're on your own. I don't want to get on Sam's bad side."

You ran out the door, "Loki!"

Loki looked up as you raced out of the room. "Save me!" You squealed with Sam hot on your heels.

Before you could even reach Loki though, you found yourself falling through an orange portal and then landing in a pair of arms.

Stephen pulled you to his chest on his lap. Every time Sam tried getting close, he kept getting pushed back with a portal.

"Oh come on man!" Sam complained after the fourth time.

Stephen chuckled. You looked up at him. He looked a little tired. You snuggled into his shoulder as things started to calm down and everyone started to talk.

Eventually, Stephen rearranged your body so that your feet and legs were in Tony's lap. Tony's hands rubbed calming circles on your knees.

"I'm sorry for leaving." You mumbled so that only Stephen and Tony could hear you. "It was just. . . a bit much with the kidnapping and then the misunderstanding. It just got to my head. But I shouldn't have acted the way I did. Sorry."

"It's alright sweetheart." Tony said, half asleep on Stephen's shoulder. "We all react in ways we wish we didn't. We just move forward. Just make sure to text or let one of us know. Just want you to be sleep. I mean safe."

You giggled quietly as Stephen chuckled, putting an arm around Tony's shoulder to pull him closer to himself. "You can both go to sleep now."

You closed your eyes, resting your head on Stephen's shoulder again. You felt warmth settle around your shoulders and found that he'd gotten a blanket from somewhere to keep you warm. You smiled before you fell fast asleep.

⬅️➡️

[sarahsmi13s]

Meet The Kids

!! before continuing !! 

i highly highly highly suggest you read through the orginal story before reading this as it contains spoilers for the end of that!!

you can find the orignal story here --> Tell Them Universe Masterlist

thank you!!

Grayson Dallas Seresin

Birthday: May 28, 2006

Physical Description: brown hair, green eyes, ~6′1″-6′2″

Grayson was born after Jake and Y/N graduated high school. Like a week and a half later.

Jake is not Grayson biological father, but once Grayson bio-dad signed away his parental rights -- Jake adopted him. 

But Jake has raised Grayson to be the man he is, he is Gray’s dad.

While he has his moments like every teenager, Grayson is very respectful and tries to hold himself to a behavioral standard.

Grayson is a mama’s boy, there is no denying it and he has no shame in it. This boy loves his mama.

He’s protective of his family; especially his mom and little sister. He won’t hesitate to go toe-to-toe with a man that’s bigger than him to protect his family. 

He’ll even get between his parents if Jake is stepping out of line or there’s a tone in his voice Grayson doesn’t appreciate being directed at his mother.

Sports he plays include: baseball, basketball, and football

He wears the number 23, very proudly as that was the number his mom wore in high school.

He is a catcher and/or centerfielder in baseball, might play the occassional first base.

He’s a reciever on the football team.

In Texas, he was a point guard or a foward in basketball, but in California they have him as post or a forward.

Kennedy Hazel Seresin

Birthday: April 13, 2017

Physical Description: blonde hair, (e/c) eyes

Kennedy was acutally born while Jake was in the hospital because of a harsh landing after an ejection during training.

Jake was there for Y/N though, he was in a wheelchair at her bedside. He would be damned if he missed the birth of his little girl. 

Kennedy might be one of the sweetest little girls you’ll ever meet. She loves everyone. And while she is shy when it comes to meeting new adults, she will never hesitate to talk to another child. 

She’s a daddy’s girl, for sure. Her daddy is a superhero in her eyes.

She ADORES her big brother. Her big brother is the coolest guy there is. He also makes time for her and let’s her hang out with him -- even if his buddies are over. 

Despite the 10/11 year age gap, they’re extremely close.

Kennedy loves loves loves animals. She’s not afraid of them and will pick up any animal she can catch. Which is one of the reasons Jake calls her ‘Princess’, he swears she can talk to the animals and that’s why she’s so comfortable around them and vise versa.

Kennedy loves Marvel. Her favorite characters are Black Widow and Captain America. She loves Yelena Belova because she looks like her. Scarlet Witch is also on the list of favorites.

Kennedy and Grayson

these two may have a 10/11 year age gap, but they are as close as twins.

when grayson was 9, for Christmas he asked for a little brother or sister. he was really leaning towards a little brother so he could teach him how to play ball

and if we’re honest, when he found out the next Christmas that he was getting a little sister, he wasn’t too thrilled. 

but the moment kennedy was born, grayson was wrapped around her finger.

and as they got older, their relationship only got stronger.

grayson never tries to exclude her or leave her out just because his friends are over. and that helped to create an army that would protect kennedy with their life

kennedy and grayson watch movies, color, play games, go to the park; they pretty much do anything together

*******

i hope you enjoyed this little info piece

i just thought that it would be nice to have a little reference post for the kids and what they’re like and their relationship.

i do plan to write more fics for this universe, i have plans for a grayson piece so if you want know more about that my inbox is open for questions!!

tags <33: @roosterscockpit @luckyladycreator2 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @sebsxphia @wkndwlff @emma8895eb @blackwidownat2814 @ireadthensuetheauthors @adaydreamaway08 @starkleila @mallerz @bananas1234 @mattheoschik @fogle97 @malindacath @pono-pura-vida @jstarr86 @djs8891​ 

thank you all for being here and i hope i didn’t miss anyone, i’m sorry if i did

[cody-paranatural]

I am afraid that Coby is setting himself up to be severely and devastatingly disappointed with his conclusions about his mom.

THAT BOY IS SETTING HIMSELF UP FOR SOOOOOO MUCH DISAPPOINTMENT <3 

I love Cody’s in-universe theory crafting So Much. I love how much he was able to piece together (he’s a clever little guy :] and a schemer. i say that with all the love in my heart btw) and also in the spirit of actual real life theory making how he completely missed the mark on some of his guesses. And it’s understandable!!!! It’s not like he knows his mom is a weird special werewolf that never changes back into a human. Because that’s straight up not how being a werewolf normally works and why would he assume his mom is an exception he doesn’t even know is possible. 

Something going wrong with Cody’s plan was pretty much inevitable the moment we found out about it, and I for one can’t wait to see how things turn out thanks to Cody’s several incorrect assumptions. And I LOVE how extremely confident he sounds about all of it. “The uncertainty was theater; he’d decided he was right.”; “Cody had no doubt in his deductions.”

Cody my boy, some doubt and uncertainty would do you good in the long run I think. It’s not very surprising though, since we see him make the exact same mistake before! Cody is a pretty capable 12 year old and he knows it, and that’s good! It’s good that he knows what his strengths are. The problem is that he gets so sure of himself that he ends up being overconfident and underestimating those around him. Like with hitball for example! 

Cody knows he’s good at this, he’s quite literally supernaturally good at sports. He’s so sure of his abilities that he told Hijeff that he has to go carry the team. And that overconfidence is how Dimitri, Max, RJ and Ollie got him in the end. Because if you look at Dimitri’s plan, how complicated that whole thing is, it becomes clear that Dimitri used Cody’s confidence against him. Like Dimitri was So Sure that Cody would easily dodge all the other throws (and he was right) and that Cody would get so caught up in the fact that he didn’t have much trouble with dodging them, including the one they made to look like their final one, that he would stop paying as much attention to his surroundings (and again. he was right). Which goes to show that this is a quite noticeable quality about Cody (though to be fair, Dimitri is very clever and seems to be quite good at picking up on these things (at least when he’s able to look at things somewhat objectively, Dimitri tends to let his feelings cloud his judgment.)). 

And that’s not even counting his thoughts “I’ll just slip through the cracks” and his little mind monologue from when he was about to get hit with the golden switch. It also ties into something else I really like about Cody, which is how similar he is to his dad and his absolute lack of self-reflection about any of it <3 Cody is obviously nowhere near as bad as Davy, but the similarities are there! And it makes sense since that’s just how kids work, they get influenced by the people around them. Like, Davy’s absolute trust in himself, his extreme confidence, those are things I’ve just discussed about Cody taken to their extremes. And the list goes on! Just look at Cody’s extreme protectiveness over his friends and his tendency to keep them in the dark. Or the fact that both Cody and Davy do the thing where they carefully control conversation in a way that lets them learn as much information as they can (we can see Davy do this on page 1 with Peter Puckett, and Cody mentions doing the same with LB and RB on page 47, Zack even used similar wording to describe what they did). Or their shared love for theatrics. I just find that so interesting and fun to think about! It’s great :] 

Also I am going to change the topic and talk about how EXCITED this update made me about future interactions between Jean and Cody. I had a mighty need to see these two interact ever since I subscribed to the “Shrike is Cody’s mom theory” and seeing that theory confirmed already made that excitement grow tenfold. But now? Now that we know that Shrike was faking her death for like 3-ish years (Zack confirmed on twitter that they were around the same age as in the first chapter 7 flashback, and based on Cody’s age I’m assuming that Jean, Rick and Mina were 13-ish when Shrike faked her death), and was watching him from the shadows. Now that we know that Jean was wrong in chapter 7 when he said “She would have come back for me, she would have!” (I love Paranatural mentor-mentee/parental figure-child relationships I love how adults never fail to let down the kids they’re supposed to be looking after I love how it all either stems from them prioritizing their own problems or pushing everyone away, thinking that keeping them in the dark is the best way to protect them I love how that secrecy just keeps causing problems for everybody. It's so good.), because she left, thinking she was doing the right thing. Like Jean thinks that the only reason she wasn’t with him is because she was stuck as a werewolf ever since whatever accident he was talking about in chapter 7. And we know that’s not true! And talking to Cody would make that Very Clear, since Cody more or less knows the date Shrike actually disappeared for good. Do you all see the vision. It’s gonna be GREAT.

[new-berry]

A getting to know you meme? Quiz? Interview?

I’ve smooshed a few together. Mostly from memory so I might have mis remembered.

Sweet/salty/sour /spicy:

Not sour. Not spicy. I don’t mind food with flavour I just don’t want eating to be an endurance event.

Go to snack. Cheese and crackers If I ever say “I don’t like cheese” I have been kidnapped and it is a cry for help. Call the police.

Next celebration:

it’s been nearly a year since pixel the wonder dog came into our lives so we are having an anniversary party this weekend.

Favourite holiday:

I like Christmas. It’s sunny and since I often cook it I get all my favourite foods. If I’m catering I do not give a fuck.

Last year we had lasagne and a roast meal because I wanted lasagne but not to eat it for a week.

The year before that we had all different kinds of meat balls (including spicy Asian for my sister in law that were very spicy and Asian inspired and not made from an Asian person. ) we had turkey and pork and falafels purely because it is what I wanted.

My dad had his nose out of a joint a bit but genuinely that makes it more fun.

Christmas is great. We have a sensible tree and a reasonable number of gifts and a week off work.

Favourite movie: I love Fantasia. I am a bad movie watcher. I have to go to the cinema or I will think of something else to do.

Favourite sport: I do equally love netball, football, pro wrestling and ice hockey.

Last thing you cooked:

We had minestrone soup (homemade!) garlic bread (shop made) with bacon (home… fried?) . And I made cupcakes because the oven was on. I made 11 cupcakes. There are four cupcakes left. On the one hand aww they were good! On the other hand I have yet to have one and there are only four people in the house.

Last thing you wore. Jeans and a Winnie the Pooh t-shirt. (It’s pink! ) right now I have pj’s on. They have spoons and tiny love hearts on them I don’t know why. They are from one of those fly by night shops at the mall and are soooooo soft. Lucky they don’t have random swear words.

(An aside I don’t remember reading Winnie the Pooh as a kid but my partner insisted we needed a copy when we had kids so I’ve read it but as an adult. I like it. I approve.)

Last song listened to: And she was (talking heads) it’s my Iris Law song. I listen to it when I’m writing glitter because it puts me in the right head space for that fic. Then I just let Apple pick similar music and every three or four songs I listen to And she was again.

Dumb thing that makes me laugh. When writing is just like not happening I’ll play it a lot because I get annoyed look at my music list. When it’s going well it’s like“and she was” was six songs again and I have no recollection of what I was listening to. I’ll like look up blinking and release for some reason it playing like Seafret and I’ll have no idea how I got there.

Not that anyway asked but the Ivan /Thomas song is in fact Guns of Brixton. Gonna think it every time I write Ivan’s name anyway. The Clash and then Jimmy Cliff for my favourite versions. There are a surprisingly large number of covers. Arcade Fire excellent. Nouvelle Vague doesn’t do it for me.

Might call the fic “the money seems good”.

Star sign Aquarius. (Not adjusted) am I an Aquarius? It’s summer in January here :).

Favourite colour: pink with a side of purple. But really pink.

Tea /coffee. Yea please. Too much of it in lieu of water. I have my tea stewed and cold or hot and too weak. I have coffee with fluffy milk. No sugar.

Quirk. Ummm I have trained myself out of saying “bless you” when people sneeze.

One thing you would change (about you) I am an extremely impatient driver. Sometime I pretend to be singing along with music and start chair dancing when I realise I have been non stop swearing and maybe people can see I’m me in their rear vision mirror. If you mean like a physical thing? I would like to be taller. Or to not need glasses.

One thing you’re proud of? I don’t look externally for validation. I’m happy. I love those things.

Next plans (these were the writing ones I just did a WIP so..)

Going to finish Ivan/Thomas, then either going to finish glitter or re do the one I started with Jude as not a demon making (maybe) Trent not a demon because I have a different Jude one and I don’t want to write him that much. Or getting to the point of ever again.

I want to finish the last part of tidal. Which is stubbornly half / a third done because I have not added words to it. Which seems vastly unfair.

The last thing I wrote lol if you could see me I’d be laughing. I literally wrote Virgil going down on Iris while Trent holds her up. It’s like a lot of athletic flexible rich people sex. You can wait for the fic. It would sound bizzare out of context.

Pondering /fic adjacent something like that: Having an Ivan/Thomas hmmmmm. Have a tricky moment I’m trying to navigate. And also trying to thinking I tag age gap? There are 22 years between them but Ivan is 28.

What won’t you write: hahahahahhahhaa. Friends I wrote royal family incest porn. I wrote Orlando Bloom with a little person as a birthday present. I have written non con domestic violence and I’m actually really pleased with Ivan/Thomas I think some of the lines are beautiful and it’s interesting and meaty and no one will read it lol.

And I don’t care! I love getting older. I’ll cater what I want to eat and if you don’t want it you can have potatoes with my dad.

Not even being aggressive! I also make excellent roast potatoes! Just I don’t have much time to write (she says writing a bloody essay here) so I have to write what grabs me.

“What do you want, Thomas?” Ivan asks. The air con is blasting in the car but the sun still forcing itself on them. A dazzle off the outward facing windows, a raw flinch every few metres.

What is something no one else will notice but it’s important to you. I can’t remember exactly how this was phrased! I have written coach/player fic before and normally I make a point of mentioning that power imbalance by having the player refer to them as the boss or the gaffer or the mister. But in this Ivan always calls Thomas by his name.

Share a recently enjoyed fic: oh I have so many tabs open. I caught up. Nearly.

Trent is a vampire.

Joe Willock /Alex Isak. The wanting man. The wanting gets you.