#timeless ff

[chiefnooniensingh]

one more chance to say what really mattered

A/N: I’ve been caught in a Timeless spiral this last week, and the amazing Titanic episode of @timeless-season-four plus this (completely canon) add-on by @qqueenofhades has finally inspired me to write. I have to wake up in 4 hours to go to Berlin but fuck it. Enjoy some Garcy post-Unsinkable/pre-Aloha ‘Oe fluff. The title is a quote from The Matrix Revolutions because I’m watching that in the background. Sorry, neighbor.

Rating: M for mature. No smut but a looooot of kissing and some suggestiveness and nakedness.

Summary: It’s freezing worse than Lucy has ever experienced, her clothes are soaked through and stiff with frost, yet the physical cold is nothing compared to the cold fear that strikes her heart when she and Wyatt board the Carpathia and there is no Flynn anywhere in sight. The chaos on deck makes it hard to search, but Garcia Flynn is built like a slightly enthusiastic tree and should be able to stand out like one. The fact that he isn’t…the thought is too horrible to entertain.

on AO3 here

It’s freezing worse than Lucy has ever experienced, her clothes are soaked through and stiff with frost, yet the physical cold is nothing compared to the cold fear that strikes her heart when she and Wyatt board the Carpathia and there is no Flynn anywhere in sight. The chaos on deck makes it hard to search, but Garcia Flynn is built like a slightly enthusiastic tree and should be able to stand out like one. The fact that he isn’t…the thought is too horrible to entertain.

And there’s more people than expected. Lucy remembered only a little over 700 people making it alive to the Carpathia, yet she’s pretty sure the ship is already loaded with more than that. And there are still lifeboats being hauled onto the deck. She has flashes of her and Wyatt warning people, forcing the crew to led third-class passengers board, and under different circumstances she would feel some form of relief. There’s only ice-cold terror. Lucy, I’ll see you soon. I swear. Was Garcia’s last promise to her a lie?

They were prepared. They knew beforehand where and when things would go south. This mission, this one mission, had the highest probability of them making it back alive. And yet, here they are, freezing, soaking wet, and sans a Croatian.

“Lucy…” Wyatt says, reaching for her helplessly, trying to offer her some form of comfort. Soup and dry blankets are shoved at them, Wyatt taking one, Lucy still frozen in place, her eyes scanning the despairing, half-drowned Titanic-survivors. Tears slowly blur her vision as the realization that Garcia probably didn’t make it hits her like a…well, like an iceberg, she supposes.

At that moment, behind her, there is some commotion as a collapsible lifeboat is being hoisted to the top. Another heart-breaking, horrifying view as it reaches the deck and a whole wave of dead and dying people spill onto it. Others, however, are staggering, half-frozen and dazed. Among them…

Lucy’s heart lurches, hardly daring to believe, and she takes a single step. “G-Garcia?” she stammers, her voice weak with cold, pain and emotion.

The figure straightens up, whirls around, and stares straight at her. Lucy lets out a sob of relief, as the whole world falls away and her sole focus becomes him. It’s him, it’s Flynn, miraculously standing right there, alive. Half-frozen, shell-shocked, but very much alive. His mouth falls open slightly as he clocks her and then he’s moving. It looks painful, but he’s moving faster than he has any right to move. She’s crying, and either there’s ice melting on his face, or he is too, and then he reaches her. Grabs her around the waist, lifts her up with a strength neither of them knew he still possessed and kisses her.

Weeks, months, perhaps years of tension and emotion breaks open over them like a tidal wave, culminating in this one single moment of relief, hope, despair, love. They could be anywhere. The Carpathia could blow up around them and they would probably not notice. Lucy wraps her arms around his neck, and lays kiss after kiss on him, barely noticing how soaked and freezing they both are. She wraps one hand into his hair, holding on, making sure, because he’s here and she’s never letting go if she can help it.

Vaguely, she’s aware that he’s moving, shifting his grip on her so he can grab a blanket, which he wraps around her shoulders. She does not stop kissing him, and he lets her, sometimes managing to mumble her name between kisses. Then he’s moving down, through a door, into the slightly warmer, drier interior of the ship. His back hits a wall in a hidden corner and he sinks down with her in his arms. It’s dark, cold, and quiet, and not even a little comfortable, but this is not the time for physical comfort.

They break apart for a moment to look at each other. His dark eyes gleam in the darkness as he takes her in. His hand comes up to stroke her hair, her cheek and finally comes to rest in her neck, like he’s checking her pulse. She, likewise, moves her hands from his hair to his face, all the way down to his chest, where she can feel his heart beating. She lets out a small sob, then moves in to kiss him again. And again.

Vaguely, she hears more bodies hitting the deck above them, more desperate cries and shouted commands. If she had any energy left, she might wonder what Wyatt was doing, but all her remaining energy is focused on Garcia. He’s alive, he’s alive, they’re both alive, miraculously. The chances of making it off the Titanic were astronomical, and somehow, they’d all managed to.

“Lucy…” Garcia mumbles, his hands coming up to frame her face, and that’s how she realizes she’s been staring blindly at him for several moments. “We’re here, Lucy. I’ve got you, I’m here, draga.” She wants to ask what it means, but finds she doesn’t really care at the moment. She moves in again, capturing his mouth in another desperate kiss. She shifts position, placing her knees firmly on either side of his legs, pushing her body forward to get even closer. His arms wrap around her waist, and he pulls her against him. They’re basically one, unable to tell where one ends and the other begins.

The Carpathia finally starts to move, Lucy notices distantly. Relieved and anguished cries fill the early morning air, and she pulls away from Garcia to look at him again. Her eyes have adjusted to the dark some more, and she can see more of his face now. He looks at her in awe and wonder, as if he can’t believe he’s holding her, kissing her. “You-you saved more,” Garcia mutters, moving a hand to touch her cheek again. “You changed history.”

Lucy shakes her head, fingers tangling in his hair. “We did that. We saved more. Those passengers from third-class…that was you, wasn’t it?”

Garcia shrugs one shoulder. “I might have killed a steward and destroyed some White Star Line property.”

Lucy lets out a laugh, because of course he did. Chaos incarnate, always looking to do the right thing in the most dramatic way possible. “I adore you,” she says, breathlessly, before moving back in. Garcia is caught off guard this time, and he lets out a small noise of surprise. But he’s not fazed for long, and reels her back in. The kiss turns hungrier this time, the first desperation of their reunion finally fading and the relief of their survival, their…success, in a morbid way, washing over them. She has no intention nor desire to take this any further than what it is, but the swooping feeling in her stomach is building, and if they don’t stop soon, a slightly more animalistic side might take over. But, as ever with Garcia Flynn, rationality is simply thrown out the window, because this wonderful, frustrating man is holding her like she’s the most precious thing in the universe to him, and she’s not immune to that kind of attention.

In the end, it’s a sharp turn of the ship that jostles them enough, Lucy nearly keeling over at the sudden movement. Garcia holds her tightly, pulling her back, and despite everything, they giggle. It’s a wonderful sound, and slightly weird to hear from the mouth of a man that usually growls or sasses. She settles more comfortably against him, pulling the blanket over them both, and puts her head on his chest. His heart beats strongly, comfortingly, against her ear, and she sighs. Now that they’ve finally settled down, she notices again how cold she is, and she shivers. His arms tighten around her and he rubs her arms to give them some warmth. She closes her eyes, counts his heartbeats, reminding her with every beat that he’s alive. Alive alive alive.

“You checking my pulse, Lucy?” Garcia asks, a slight tease in his voice, even as his hand wraps around her wrist to do the same. Lucy can only nod. “I’m alive, Lucy, I’m here.”

Lucy nods, doesn’t move. “I keep thinking that this is a dream. That I’ve slipped into unconsciousness from the cold. Or maybe never left the Titanic at all and these are just my dying moments.” She shakes her head to clear her mind before the fear takes control of her and sends her into a panicking spiral.

Garcia takes her hand, pulls it up to his mouth and kisses every digit individually, his warm breath washing over her freezing skin, sending pins and needles through each digit. “I know the feeling.”

They sit in silence some more, the hold around them slowly filling up with shivering and frightened people. It feels unreal, having read about the most famous shipwreck in history, having watched the movie, having known about this part of history for most of her life, and she’s living it. “The RMS Carpathia takes three days to get to New York, dodging icebergs for most of the journey. We’ll be slowed down by thunderstorms and fog, so it won’t be a pleasant journey.” She can feel her historian side beginning to kick in, take over, take control. Teaching is good. Teaching is not crippling fear. “I hope you’re not seasick.”

Garcia lets out a breath. “Three days. That’s going to be rough.” Lucy nods, linking her fingers with his. It will be rough, but at least they’ll be together. “Rufus is going to be waiting for us at the harbour, on the 18th.”

At hearing Rufus’s name, she looks up hopefully. “Rufus made it out?”

Garcia glances down, and Lucy can see he’s uncertain. “I told him to go straight to the Lifeboat. He promised he would. I hope to God he made it out.”

Lucy feels the fear creep into her heart, but then thinks of Rufus’s brilliance and resilience, and her she looks Garcia straight in the eyes. “He made it out. There’s no other option.” He nods, pulls her close again, kisses the top of her head.

“Lucy? Flynn! Did you guys die of hypothermia or what?” Lucy and Garcia are startled from their little cocoon when a nearby voice starts calling their names. “Guys!”

“Over here, soldier boy,” Garcia calls, half-sarcastic, half-relieved. Lucy feels a little guilty. She’s pretty sure they’ve been down here for at least 2 hours, and not once have they given a thought to Wyatt. From the shadowy darkness, Wyatt stumbles towards them, relief written clear on his face as he drops to his knees next to them and, to everyone’s surprise, wraps them in his arms. Lucy wraps her own arm around his shoulders, too. She feels Garcia, frozen in shock, slowly move to pat Wyatt on the back. Flynn and Wyatt aren’t usually on the same page, and even less physically affectionate, but they seem to be equal parts relieved and embarrassed to be relieved in this situation.

“Look, I know you needed your alone time, but I’ve been getting really worried. I’m sorry if I interrupted…you know…”

Garcia rolls his eyes and pulls Lucy into his lap so as to make room for Wyatt to sit. “We’re slowly contracting hypothermia after just having survived one of the most horrible disasters in recent history, in the hold of an over-crowded early 20th-century steam ship. But yeah, we were humping like bunnies.” Lucy hits him in the chest at that, and he takes it with a wry chuckle. Even Wyatt manages to chuckle at that.

Wyatt settles in next to them, wrapping himself tightly in his own blanket and produces another he managed to snag. He drapes it over the three of them, and the huddle together for warmth, settling in for the gruelling three days yet to come. Ridiculous, Lucy feels a sense of calm. The three of them are together, and Rufus is waiting for them three days from now, as they’ll arrive. They’re going to be fine.

The three of them stumble off the RMS Carpathia in the early hours of the evening on 18 April 1912. Their clothes are stiff from the cold, still slightly damp, and all of them must look ridiculous. It doesn’t stop a lone figure from barrelling towards them and wrapping the three of them in a bone crushing hug. A huge wave of relief washes over Lucy, and fresh tears threaten to spill over. With one hand tightly holding on to Garcia’s, she wraps her other arm around Rufus’ shoulders. Rufus buries his face in her shoulder, and she feels more than hears his sob. “Thank God, thank God, you guys made it,” he mutters.

Garcia wraps him in a gigantic hug, too, the first time Lucy sees true affection between the pair of them. “I was worried you hadn’t made it to the Lifeboat,” he said, his voice breaking a little.

“How long has it been for you,” Wyatt asks, giving Rufus another hug of his own.

Rufus laughs a little maniacally. “Only a couple of minutes. I went back, had to change clothes, because I was soaked to the skin. Had to wade through waist deep ice water to get to…” He clocks their soaked and dirty clothes, realises they’ve been through worse, and stops talking. “Sorry. It doesn’t matter. I changed clothes and jumped straight here.” He takes a step back, looks at them all with tears in his eyes. “You all look like crap, you know.”

And despite everything they’ve just been through, despite all of them being colder than they’ve ever been in their entire life, they burst into laughter. The euphoria of having the Team back together, of being alive, finally settling in, as Flynn, Lucy and Wyatt realise that they’re safe and going home, to functional plumbing and hot water. They hug again and Lucy lets tears fall, and she’s laughing and crying at the same time, but it doesn’t matter, because they’ve made it and her boys are safe.

“Let’s go home,” Rufus says at last, and he links one arm with Lucy’s and wraps another around Wyatt’s shoulder. Garcia moves naturally to Lucy’s other side and slides his hand into hers. They hold each other tight as Rufus leads them towards the Lifeboat. Garcia helps all of them in before climbing in himself, and Rufus prepares to take off while the other three strap themselves in. From across each other, Lucy and Garcia take each other’s hands again, holding on tight, reluctant to even let go for a second. When Rufus turns around to check if everyone is secure, his eyes land on their hands and he raises an eyebrow. “That’s new…”

“Rufus, can we do this when we’re clean, warm and dry, please?” Garcia interrupts, and Rufus turns back with a nod. Lucy locks eyes with Garcia and gives him a soft smile. He squeezes her hand and at that moment Rufus flips the switch. The Lifeboat rocks and spins and then disappears. They materialize a second later, landing roughly, and with a high whine.

“Yeah, she did not like that. Three jumps without a charge is pushing it. But we made it. Let’s go get you guys warm and dry.”

The door opens and they pile out, dazed, confused, a little seasick. “Showers,” Wyatt grunts, as he hugs them tightly once more and then moves immediately towards the company showers.

“No offense, guys, but I gotta get to Jiya. She’ll be worried sick.” Rufus hugs them once more and then hurries off, leaving Lucy and Garcia alone in the landing bay. She moves closer to him, allowing him to wrap his arm around her waist and pulling her against him. He presses his lips to her forehead, then looks down at her. Lucy asks before she can stop herself.

“Garcia, do you – do you want to come home with me?”

He rears back, stunned, and Lucy has to giggle. They kiss like the world is ending, don’t let go of each other for three full days, and the man is still surprised she might not want to leave his side now. “Lucy,” he says, voice raw with emotion, “Are you – are you sure – ?”

“Yes. Yes.” Lucy is more than sure, and is absolutely done with pretending like she doesn’t want to spend every waking moment with him, like he isn’t the reason she gets up in the morning sometimes. She’s done waiting, and when Lucy Preston sets her mind to something, she usually gets it. “If you don’t want to, of course, then you don’t have to, but – ”

“No,” Flynn says, half to himself and then louder, “No. I want to.” He breaks out into a grin and leans down to kiss her. She kisses him back fiercely, determinedly, and the kiss is full of promise, of possibility.

“Come on then,” she whispers, takes his hand, and leads him to the company garage. He follows eagerly, and they can’t help but stop a few times to make-out like teenagers against several walls. They make it back to her home slightly more dishevelled than they left MCI. And then suddenly he’s nervous, and she has to take him by the hand and lead him up the stairs and into her shower. They undress each other as the water heats up, but there’s not heat behind it. They’re gentle, kind and the warm water nearly causes them to drop to their knees with satisfaction. They help each other wash all the muck and rime off, as they slowly remember what it’s like to not feel cold anymore. Lucy fetches them towels and they dry each other off, without any meaning behind it other than taking care of each other. After they’ve both wrapped themselves in towels, Lucy takes his hand and looks up at him with bright, clear eyes. “Should we – do you want to – ”

Garcia takes her face in his hands and silences her with a heated, searing kiss that sends tingles all the way up her spine. “Yes,” he whispers. With a sly smile, she starts walking backwards, taking his hand once more to lead him towards her bedroom. Garcia follows, gripping her hand tightly. When they enter her bedroom, he doesn’t hesitate. He pulls her into him, lifting her up so she can wrap her legs around his waist, and closing the door with his foot. He presses her back against it and captures her mouth in another searing kiss. “Lucy…” he whispers, as he moves his hand down to unwrap her towel. She lets him, feels his fingers brush the side of her breast and the top of her thigh. It’s thrilling, and they’ve waited far too long. She allows the towel to fall away, and he takes a sharp breath. They’ve seen each other naked in the shower, but this is different, the air between them is charged and the promise of what’s to come pours out of every kiss.

“Take me to bed, Garcia,” Lucy whispers, as she starts frantically pulling at his own towel. He grins, kisses her hungrily, then turns around to move over to the bed.

“Yes, m’lady.”

[potterandpromises]

Coney Island Forgiveness

Set at some point after season 2, in which Flynn and Jess discuss their common ground.

Content warnings: Talking about murder. Also, premature babies (not in detail, just as backstory.)

Also on AO3

Jessica holds her sleeping baby tight to her chest and gives Garcia Flynn a sidelong look.

He eyes her up and down in return, until apparently satisfied she doesn’t have a knife or an old-timey pistol concealed in Harper’s blanket.

All things considered, the middle ground is better then she could have hoped for. When she went into labor, when she accepted both it and her situation were real, she thought either she’d give birth to a premature baby in the 18th century, or she’d go with Wyatt and the others to the 21st, which wouldn’t have guaranteed a hospital, and would have likely meant prison time. 

She might have never seen her daughter again, and bizarre as Coney Island‘s baby incubator attraction of the 1920s is, it saved Harper’s life and preserved her freedom. She’ll send Lucy a fruit basket, she decides, someday years from now.

Wyatt’s more reliable then he’s ever been. He visited every day, from her prospective. From his, it was closer to once or twice a week, because time travel.

Jiya came as well, to pilot, and to assess her then levels of evilness. What she looked for, Jess has no idea. She hopes she passed her judgement. If not, or if after they meet today, within the hour, Denise decides her knowledge of the new Rittenhouse isn’t good enough or she isn’t sincerely reformed enough or whatever, then her and Harper are staying here in the past. That’s the deal.

She doesn’t trust them, not really, but what choice does she have? If the recollection of their little girl cradled in Wyatt’s arms doesn’t stop her from slipping into the crowd then Rittenhouse’s boogeyman at her side does.

He gives her an irritated look. Her stare must be like ants on his skin.

He always came too, as far as she knows, and stayed outside with Lucy, only coming into the exhibit when she did, which wasn’t often. They seem to be a package deal these days, which Jess finds relief in as she tentatively salvages her marriage.

She’s going to raise her daughter.

Flynn doesn’t get to raise his.

“I looked into you.” He looks into her, sharp as the knife she wishes she had. “Let me start over.”

“That is the idea.” His growl does not deter her. This might be her only chance.

“Has Wyatt ever mentioned his father?”

“What does that— do we seem close to you?”

She shifts Harper in her arms. "Well, has he?”

He looks at her for a long moment. His gaze drifts to the baby and snaps away. “No.”

Jess adjusts her daughter’s bonnet, shielding her skin from the sun. “I killed him.”

He blinks, rises his eyebrows. “Because of Rittenhouse?”

“Because I had a good reason.”

Bewildered, he looks like he’d rather be anywhere other then here, with anyone else. The feeling is almost mutual, but this is important.

“Look, this story has a point,” she says. “I was 15. We have something in common.”

He gives her a sharp look, as if his service record isn’t public information, as if she couldn’t put two and together. Rip the band-aid off, get it over with, push down the guilt for Harper. “You had a daughter and from the articles about the case you were a good dad. How were you going— or did you plan to tell her about when you were a teenager?”

His jaw’s clenched like a fist and his eyes shine with rage but Jess knows the baby in her arms makes her safe. She’s never been sure of that until now.

“You have a lot of nerve asking that.” He’s barely audible above the crowd noise, despite their uncomfortable proximity. It’s meant to be a warning, she thinks, a breathy threat, but it’s nearer to panic.

“I know.”

“So fuck off.”

“But it’s not for me.” 

Harper stirs and yawns, grunts and falls back asleep. She still sleeps like a rock. The parenting book Jess read half of warned the phase wouldn’t last forever. Flynn watches her, too.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “not for asking, but for what Rittenhouse did to you and your family. I didn’t even know about it until a few mouths ago, but for whatever it’s worth, I am sorry.”

“Save it.” He shifts from foot to foot, agonized.

She learned what Rittenhouse did to that five year old child and she couldn’t justify them anymore. She tried, she really did, but with that revelation the threat to her own child become too great and she couldn’t stay.

Harper wakes up again and fusses. Her diaper is dry and it must be less then an hour since she was last fed.

“I wouldn’t,” he says finally.

Jessica bounces her. “What?”

“I wouldn’t go back because I... wouldn’t be good for her, for them.” He won’t look at her and Harper for very long, and rotates surveillance of them with  surveillance of the crowd. “But before all this,” he looks at her now, “my mistakes weren’t a part of me like they are now. I could forgive myself.”

“Are you saying I should forgive myself?”

“I’m saying I don’t have a problem with you, not really. I’m saying you were a part of something evil, almost born into it.” That’s the part Jessica can’t yet fully accept, despite her clearer eyes and the overwhelming evidence, that Rittenhouse isn’t just dangerous or misguided or flawed, it’s evil, and she never had a chance to see it until Harper. Or maybe she did, and what does that say about her? “You want my expert advice? You’ll be fine; you aren’t ashamed. They raised you, you saw them as your family. She’ll understand that, eventually.”

He looks at her, at Harper settled into her shoulder, for one moment, with an openness she never would have imagined him capable of, that she’ll no doubt never experience again.

She wants to say: are you ashamed? Instead: “You don’t have a problem with me?”

He grins wryly, with all his teeth. “Not yet.”

[qqueenofhades]

Hilary, I’m requesting 73. “You do have a stupid face” for Garcia and Wyatt because it’s perfect for them. :) Shippy or gen. But no pressure, and only if you have time and interest. 😘💙

Thank you for considering it—and thank you for your political posts, too.🤗

They've been drinking for a while, steadily, since Wyatt brought over the six-pack and they've sat in silent commiseration in Flynn's hotel room, staring over the San Francisco city lights. Normally, three beers are only enough to get Flynn to the edge of buzzed, but what with everything, his tolerance is shot and he’s approaching genuinely tipsy. They haven't said anything. There's nothing to say. Far away from the bright lights and breathless news about Connor's funeral, the question as to how Mason-Carlin Industries and Silicon Valley itself can stand to go on, all that Flynn can hear is the endless howl of rage and blame and grief in his head. He said, he swore, he was never going to let this happen again, and now it has. What the hell does that make him?

"So," Flynn says, startling both of them with the sound of his voice in the antiseptic rush of the air conditioner. He drains the last dregs of the bottle and sets it aside. "Rufus is never going to forgive me."

"Aw, come on, man." Wyatt sips meditatively, not looking around. "I don't think so. Rufus loves you, and it... it wasn't your fault."

"Valkyrie killed Connor. Iris -- " Flynn almost chokes with grief over his daughter's name, how little he has been able to utter it aloud, like something that's going to evaporate into mist and darkness yet again, and leave him to wake up with nothing. "Iris works for Valkyrie, and I didn't -- I didn't stop her, or it, or them. I just kept thinking that if -- "

"Hey, man. Hey." At that, Wyatt looks at him, his face slanted in strips of light and shadow from the venetian blinds. "You saw what was in front of you, you wanted to save your daughter, and you did whatever you had to do. I'm pretty damn sure that I'm the last, the last member of this fam -- this team -- who gets to tell you off for that. Connor knew the risks. We all did." He pauses, amends. "We all do."

"Maybe." This doesn't soothe the fevered part of Flynn that's still desperate to blame himself, to take away the pain from everyone else, to at least give them the satisfaction of throwing the guilt at a familiar enemy. He's not, not anymore, but sometimes he thinks that it would be easier for all of them if he was. "So what does that make us, then? A couple of total idiots who keep being selfishly willing to burn down the whole world, if it gets our dead kids back?"

"The idiot part definitely isn't in question, huh?" Wyatt's mouth quirks, very dry. "Look, I don't know what's going to happen with Iris, and I don't know what's going to happen with S-Sarah." He stumbles a little himself. "But at least we know that they're together, right? When we went to Macau and met Ching Shih, when Iris was trying to save her. So whatever we screwed up, at least they met each other in Valkyrie's future. Maybe that's worth something. They were there for each other, even if we couldn't be there for them."

"Yes, I suppose, but -- " At that, Flynn stops, looking at Wyatt in astonishment. "Wait a minute, did you just say something helpful?"

Wyatt shrugs. "It's been known to happen. But honestly, don't be too hard on yourself. Fatherhood is hard, man. Fatherhood with fuckin' time travel? Even worse."

"You're not wrong." Flynn is forced into a reluctant chuckle. "I -- thanks, Logan. Truly. For the beers, and your stupid face."

"Oh?" Wyatt arches an eyebrow. "That's the thanks I get?"

"Well, you do have a stupid face." Flynn feels a little better on this familiar territory of sharp-edged bickering, and knows that Wyatt has steered it here on purpose, to give that comfort and take his good-natured lumps, the way they don't actually want to hurt each other anymore, not really, not now. "But I appreciate it."

"You're welcome." Wyatt says it simply, without pretension, then gets to his feet. "I'm going to take off now. Don't get into too much trouble. I'll see you at work tomorrow."

Right, Flynn thinks. Work. As if anything can be the same without Connor, but they're going to have to carry on. See the fight through to the end. Stop Valkyrie, and save Iris and Sarah. If it's possible. If they still can. Garcia Flynn has never particularly been an optimist, or seen the best in people, or any of that cheery stuff, but the one thing he does know is how to fight past all human understanding, for what he believes to be good and right and true. He can't stop now. None of them can. In that, Wyatt's right. All of them, Connor included, knew what this was going to cost. The only way to honor him is to pay.

"Are you driving?" Flynn asks. "You've had three beers too, so -- "

"I'll get an Uber." Wyatt smiles crookedly. "Don't worry about me, buddy. Get some sleep."

When he's gone, and Flynn is alone again in the vastness of the silence, looking at his suitcases and his scattered things and everything else that he hasn't dared to unpack out of fear that he's just going to have to run again, he lets out a long breath, shucks off his crumpled funeral suit, puts on his pajamas, and settles on the bed. He didn't think he was going to sleep at all tonight, but maybe he will. And for that, he's grateful to, of all people, Wyatt Logan and his undoubtedly very stupid face. What was it he said, or started to say, before catching himself? This fam -- this team.

Well, Flynn thinks. Well then. How about that, indeed.

And at last, for now, he rests.

[fic prompts]

[oldshrewsburyian]

2 or 13 for Timeless, please?

...I appreciate the prompt, I really do, but the prompt on Anon leaves me to take the sole responsibility for inflicting what might be Richard Siken's angstiest poem on my best-known Timeless ship.

All right then.

*

Lucy has known, since before she loved him, that it could end as it has ended. Their shared work has taught her that loss can be just this sudden. She still feels as though it is she who has plunged into nothingness. Time, at least, has not erased him. She is left with tangible reminders. Her favorite mug on the shelf in the kitchen that only he can reach. The black turtleneck she’d stolen so long ago that it no longer bears traces of his scent. Unexpectedly, his voice on tape. His name on the envelope holding the government apology.

[itscooltoskate]

That's the stance of a man who casually DESTROYED so many top players on his international comeback

[dellalyra]

What do you think Y/N and Satoru’s wedding was like from ur ff series??

send in questions or headcanons for the family formations series <3

masterlist

so I feel like it was a small enough wedding (30 people or so), but just so stunningly beautiful. Reader wore a simple, heavy satin, Bardot neck A-line skirt dress with a corset type bodice, Satoru in a simple black and white tux, Yaga married them. Megumi was groomsmen and Tsumiki was flowergirl. Reader walked herself down the aisle bc she’s NOBODIES to give away. Reader made her own bouquet (see the cursed technique question), peonies and babies breath. They had a beautiful dinner and after party in a luxury rooftop botanic garden and champagne was FLOWING. Music played all night.

They didn’t have a bachelor/bachelorette party as such. Gojo, Megumi, Nanami, Yaga and Ijichi went to get a nice steak dinner and you picked up Megumi so they could go to a whiskey tasting bar and then you had to pick up your lightweight fiancé.

You, Shoko, Tsumiki, Utahime and Mei Mei went to the salon together and then for dinner, Tsumiki then went back home to Gojo and you and your girls picked up many bottles of wine and went for a spa retreat for the night.

The issue of best man caused some sadness, because years ago the role had been promised to Suguru. One late night, all of you 18, passing around a lit joint as you all lay on the roof of the dorms, stargazing and chatting shit before the talk moved to the future and Satoru and you had admitted you hoped to get married some day and suguru decided he would best man, shoko claimed maid of honour.

It was decided that there was really only one suitable candidate now, being Nanami, he was Satoru’s best friend - no matter how much he denied it.

Shoko was still your maid of honour. That much would never change.

You didn’t have a wedding cake, just a huge table full of mochi that you had ordered as a surprise for Satoru.

The vows brought everyone to tears, and the wedding rings were your family heirlooms.

Megumi refused to be ringbearer so it was decided it would be his shikigami, then each taking a ring to the alter - much to the delight of the roof full of sorcerers.

The reception was the party of the century, cocktails in abundance and a constant supply or food and live music, all aided by the late summer air.

All in all a stunning wedding, classic, timeless and elegant- beautiful in its intimacy.

[cieloclercs]

𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐞 | 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫 #𝟏

2h ago | 2 December 2020 by Amelia Marchetti (editor & creator)

IT’S OFFICIAL! Newly rebranded Aston Martin Aramco Cognizant Formula 1 Team have today announced the signing of Formula 2 Champion Noêmia Senna Borges — sound familiar? Yes, the daughter of four-time World Champion Gabriel Carvalho Borges, and niece of the late great Ayrton Senna will be racing in Formula 1 next season. Here’s everything you need to know about this record-breaking contract deal!

(… Sebastian Vettel & Noêmia Senna Borges pair up )

(… Ferrari sign Carlos Sainz from McLaren )

Early this morning, Aston Martin Team Principal Otmar Szafnauer officially announced the signing of Senna Borges as the team’s second driver on a year-long contract, joining Sebastian Vettel in an all-new line up for the rebranded team. Now why exactly is this such a historic moment?

Well, apart from the legacy her last name carries, Senna Borges will also become one of only five women ever to race in Formula 1, and the youngest to do so by a considerable amount — eleven years! Not since 1992, when Giovanna Amati signed for Brabham, have we seen a woman even considered for a first driver position in a Formula 1 team. It’s safe to say, this is a pioneering step towards greater inclusivity in motorsports, brought about by a young driver who has spoken out passionately about the considerable gender divide in Formula 1. Well, if there’s anyone capable of bringing about change in this timeless sport, a Senna and a Borges is as safe a bet as any!

Let us know your thoughts on this historic signing in the comments below!

READ MORE!

Who is Noêmia Senna Borges? The talented legacy set to make waves in the Formula 1 world

Charles Leclerc & Noêmia Senna Borges: The paddock’s favourite friendship turned sour?

74k COMMENTS!

view all…

user1 Omg Charles and Noa reunion when?

user2 Wonder if she’s still bitter about Leclerc stealing her Ferrari seat…

user3 Now THIS is the duo I want to see

user4 Ferrari should’ve signed her when they had the chance!

user5 I don’t get the hype tbh. She’s just another nepo baby 🤷‍♀️

user6 Just another nepo baby? She’s the 2019 F2 Champion ffs 😭

Want to keep updated with all things Formula 1? Make sure to subscribe to the Paddock Pass newsletter for the latest news and gossip directly from the grid!

taglist: @ricciardosheart

author’s note

just a quick sneak peek of what’s to come in the summer 🥰

[justanotherblonde]

it's sasodei week 2024!

i have precisely one thing to contribute, but ffs it's not done yet grr!! maybe we can blame my dog... she demanded i come play with her no less than nine times (i kept track) as i wrote this post (she does this by shouting at me then humping my leg to show me who's boss, sometimes pulling on my sweater sleeve with her sharp li'l teefs, beagles, man, i tell ya...) 🐶

anyway!! here's a TEASER of my Day 3 Band/Rockstar/Idol AU story ahhhhh!!! it's not even titled yet!!!!! i don't even really know what the tags will be! and i haven't had time to make a header image!! 😫

but this i know, oh this i know:

Sasori is first chair cello of the Sunagakure Philharmonic

He has a dirty little secret hobby: listening to metal (among other genres that are definitely not classical)

One of the bands he listens to is called C4

Guess who's the lead singer???

Yes, you guessed it, it's Deidara, singer/song-writer, perhaps much more...

In this AU, everybody lives!! Well... okay fine, Sasori's parents still didn't make it, i'm sorry

But that means two important things: Third Kazekage is alive! And there are a LOT of Uchiha running around.

There's more, a lot more, but you'll have to wait until i steal more minutes and hours from my dog and my work! but i'll give it to ya, come hell or high water! or wildfires, earthquakes, debilitating PM 2.5 ratings, or uh... dare i say... another pandemic??? FEAR NOT!

if you want to wait for the full thing to drop to read, i've left the teaser excerpt below the cut.

a million thanks to @sasodeiweek for hosting this event and encouraging us SasoDei creators to flex our creative muscles! loving all the contributions so far!

and without further ado...

Rehearsal ran circles round Sasori’s ears. The music followed him always, all hours.

Chapter 1

Rehearsal ran circles round Sasori’s ears. The music followed him always, all hours.

The fine, agile fingers of his left hand twitched; his right hand swayed side to side, marking the strokes of his bow. Eyes half-closed, his feet kept time on the pavement as he walked. It was Haydn this week, Cello Concerto No. 1 in C major. A weighty yet familiar responsibility for Sasori, first chair cello of the Sunagakure Philharmonic.

He sighed. Rehearsal had wrapped half an hour ago. He was on his way home, and tomorrow was a rest day. He didn’t need to torture himself like this. 

The headphones around his neck were a comforting weight, as friendly and intimate as the straps of his cello case on his shoulders. He flipped them over his ears and dug in his coat pocket for his phone. Scrolling through the saved playlists on his music app, he skipped all of the classical “homework” and went straight for his guilty pleasures: dance-pop, glam-rock, musicals… and heavy metal. 

No one at work knew about his low, low tastes.

Well, the Third had known. 

Sasori gritted his teeth, biting back unbidden memories. Now he definitely needed to blast his brain clean with some noise. 

Something heavy.

Something loud.

Something to transport him far away from the sand-scraped streets of Sunagakure.

His thumb landed on the album he was looking for.

Art is an EXPLOSION by C4. Track 1: “Light It Up.”

From that first haunting guitar chord, the tension Sasori held in his chest and face dispersed. He rode that twisting whine down, down… someplace dark and cool, far beneath the earth. As the barreling drums built to a crescendo, he held his breath—wait for it!—

A million years, through timeless stone I’m damned to walk this path alone This darkness, all I’ve ever known…

The lead singer had a deep, melodic voice. He molded each word of the verse carefully, tenderly, as if he were embarking on a ballad… then WHAM!

Cymbals crashed; the roaring chorus caught the last two notes of an electrifying riff like a surfer hopping a wave:

Light it up! Hey, light it up! Strike a match and light it up! My fuse is short, ’m ready to blow, Crush the ceiling down to the floor!

Not in a million years would Sasori admit out loud to anyone that he listened to C4, especially not now that the public were actually aware of their existence. The metal band had catapulted to fame last year with their single “Burn Down All the Discos,” but Sasori had been listening to them well before that. Three years ago, his music app had recommended him a track from Art is an EXPLOSION—C4’s debut album—based on his eclectic streaming history. 

If the first song Sasori had heard by C4 had been anything but “Artist,” he’d probably never have given them a chance: their usual sound was, on the surface, sloppy, and most of the lyrics were childish boasts. “Look at me!” their vocalist seemed to say in every song. 

But “Artist” was different. It was, inexplicably, an up-tempo perversion of Vivaldi’s Winter Largo in F Minor, lamenting how hard it was to live for art’s sake when the world ran on money and heroic virtue. Listeners without classical training would be unable to appreciate or likely even identify the subtleties of what had been done with the classical score, but the first time he heard it, Sasori had been riveted. Vivaldi’s rhythmic harpsichord had been replaced with a softly tapped snare drum; a mournful electric guitar carried the melody when it wasn’t sung. 

Curiosity piqued, Sasori had investigated the rest of the album, and found similar nods to classical music throughout the tracks, much harder to notice than the adapted Vivaldi, drowned as they were in a thunderstorm of electric guitar and percussion. C4 were more than just a metal band: they experimented with typical traits of the genre and also drew from pop rock, classical music, even musical theatre to create a sound unlike anything Sasori had ever heard. They broke all the rules and they did it with glee.

One day—a rest day—home alone and bored, Sasori had looked up the band online. It surprised him to learn that the lead singer had been only sixteen when the band was formed. That powerful voice certainly didn’t sound like it belonged to a teenager. But the band’s website was light on biographical information, and Sasori hadn’t felt like digging deeper. An overwhelming amount of fan sites and social media accounts had sprung up since “Burn Down All the Discos” and C4’s world tour. Bored as he was that day, Sasori wasn’t about to use his precious free time to obsess over some flash-in-the-pan rock band, especially one fronted by a kid.

And yet, he still listened to them.

“Artist” often competed for the position of most frequently-played song on his app, but only when he was feeling particularly moody. 

It crossed his mind that he ought to check if C4 had come out with anything new lately—the app usually sent a message when artists he’d followed released new music. Pausing to wait for a traffic light, he dug for his phone again.

Lo and behold, a new album had dropped not three days ago.

Beauty of a Moment, it was called. The cover art featured the Venus de Milo... mid-explosion.

Sasori chuckled under his breath. “He really does fancy himself an artist, doesn’t he…” 

What a fool. Popular music was not art. Rock music was not art. It came and went, but the classics stayed. For centuries. Forever.

It was the one thing Sasori and the Third had always agreed on, despite all of their differences. 

Speaking of which… 

...

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

I realize on some level, every comic is a snapshot of its era, but some are better snapshots than others. Like Acts of Vengeance here.

Magneto and Doom are, of course, absolutely timeless villains. Fisk was at the time a major player with both DD and the Punisher. The Red Skull was THE Captain America villain during this period, responsible for or involved with a majority of his plots. And even the Mandarin was a big presence as an Iron Man villain, and would get heavily involved with the X-Men for this event.

And (spoilers) Loki was behind it all, in his scheming, murderous villain days.

All big names. There’s a couple other villains of significance around then, but they either declined to join or were dead at the time.

These days, Doom remains Doom, eternal.

Magneto is currently dead, scheduled to return, but has pretty much been some kind of face for a good ten years.

Red Skull still shows up to trouble Captain America, was THE villain of Uncanny Avengers, the principle mover of the aXis crossover, but isn’t quite the presence he was.

The Mandarin has been dead for a while, left in the problematic past, his rings more important than he himself is.

Fisk became a mayor of NYC and trouble to all its heroes for several years, staying plot relevant, and has recently jumped into the X-verse as a pseudo ally.

Loki has more or less completed a face turn on account of Hiddleston’s charism and synergy.

And the Wizard?

He was never important, then or now. He’s the Doctor Zoidberg of this group. A man whose greatest accomplishment is convincing two other people to team up with him and Paste Pot Pete to try and kill the FF.

[awellreadmannequin]

A favourite bit of mine is matching a person with a car that fits their overall vibe. Back when I was on twitter I did this with historical philosophers, but now it is finally time to bring this bit to homestuck characters. As an aside, I put a shocking amount of work into making this post for how shitty it is.

John Egbert - Base model C4 Corvette

Some quick googling revealed that Con Air has not one but TWO Chevrolet Corvettes in it. The first is a C2 from the 1960s but, as a millennial, John will never be able to afford a classic American sports car. So he’d wind up with a base model C4, the other generation featured in the film. But why a Corvette? John is absolutely the kind of guy to see a car he half remembers from a film and go, “oh sweet! I always thought these were sick!” So that’s how he winds up with the most 1980s looking sports car a person can buy, complete with the shittiest malaise era small block Chevy had to offer.

June Egbert - 2000 V6 SN95 Mustang

Yeah, June gets a different entry because estrogen changes your taste in things. Unfortunately, June is still an Egbert and thus has terrible taste, which is how she winds up with this heavily used hunk of junk. Frankly, this choice is mostly down to how easily I can picture her big stupid grin as it wobbles down the highway with the top down. The interior is falling apart, but that’s just part of the charm. So is June’s complete inability to drive a rear-wheel drive sports car. Do not let her drive you somewhere.

Rose Lalonde - Mercedes 500e

In contrast to the Egberts, Rose actually has taste. Excellent taste. And nothing says taste like a Mercedes designed by the Maestro himself, Bruno Sacco. Just look at it. The subtle tear drop shape, the timeless styling, the brutal 5 litre V8. Wait, what? That’s right, this beautiful piece of German muscle is the Mercedes 500e. Rose can’t drive stick, which is perfect because this DOESN’T HAVE ONE. Unfortunately, she is like the Egberts in that she also shouldn’t be driving a rear drive car and, unlike June, this one actually has enough grunt to get the her sideways if it loses the rear. Good thing it has state of the art (for 1990) stability control.

Dave Strider - EG Civic

Nothing says “I created SBaHJ” like a clapped out EG Civic. Enough said, really. The FF drive train says “I know how to have fun on the cheap" while the bullet proof reliability says “I was raised in an unstable environment where I was responsible for meeting all of my own needs.” Also it looks cool. There are more ironic choices out there (PT Cruiser, looking at you), but even a shoddy craftsman needs dependable tools.

Jade Harley - 2002 Subaru Outback

Look, we all know that Subarus of this era are lesbian cars. But that’s purely incidental to this choice. Jade picked the Outback for its spacious cargo area and all-wheel drive capability. It’s the perfect car for the girl who wants to go anywhere and still have space to get laid. Sure it smells like dog, but it was like that when Jade bought the thing. Plus, she’s easily the most responsible driver out of the gang, so you’re gonna want her behind the wheel on any and all road trips.

Karkat Vantas - Shotgun in Dave’s clapped out EG Civic

Frankly, I don’t even know if Karkat’s legs are long enough to reach the pedals. Even if they are, he’s definitely never passing a driving test if he keeps swearing at the car, the other drivers on the road, the test administrator, and himself. He’ll never admit it, but he also just likes being a passenger. It’s nice not having the responsibility of keeping everyone in the car and around the car alive.

Terezi Pyrope - VW Polo Harlequin

Hey Claire, what the actual fuck am I looking it here? That, ladies and gentlemen, is a VW Polo. It’s like a Golf but smaller. Oh, you meant the colour scheme? What can I say, Germans are fucking weird. Just like Terezi Pyrope.

Kanaya Maryam - NA Mazda Miata

Look at it. Tell me that Kanaya would drive literally anything but this. You can’t. Everything about the original Miata perfectly compliments her. It’s elegant, light on its feet, and achingly beautiful. Like, picture it: Kanaya with her hair tied back with a kerchief, driving beside the ocean at sunset. It’s sophisticated in ways that the imposing 500e never could be. Rose would die to see her wife behind the wheel of one these things. Honestly, I might too.

Vriska Serket - Porsche 911 930 Turbo (Stolen)

To understand why Vriska drives a 930 Turbo, you first need to understand what a 930 is. The 911 is, in many ways, an anachronism. It traces its origin to the Porsche 356, itself a sports car built out of VW Beetle parts. As such, the 911 has its engine mounted behind the rear axle, which is also its only driven axle. This leads to unique handling dynamics. In corners, the weight of the engine initially pushes the 911 to understeer until it begins to pivot whereupon it will rapidly begin to oversteer. At this point, an inexperienced driver will lift off of the throttle. This is a mistake. The 911 has liftoff oversteer, meaning that it needs power to keep itself steady. Without power (i.e. lifting off the throttle) will cause it to spin. Now this is what 911s were like before Porsche strapped a big ol’ turbocharger to the engine. A turbocharger pushes more air into an engine which allows it to create more power. However, it cannot do this until the engine reaches a certain RPM. In older turbo engines, this power came on very suddenly. This characteristic of turbochargers combined with the already skittish nature of the 911 earned the 930 an infamous moniker: the Widow Maker. Liftoff oversteer + a sudden wallop of power a few seconds after you press the accelerator = a lot of dead yuppies. There’s no way in hell that Vriska fucking Serket isn’t going to be behind the wheel of the most dangerous car she can steal. It goes without saying, she drives exactly how you’d imagine Vriska fucking Serket would drive. Is she a good driver? Well, she’s not widowed Terezi yet, so…

Jane Crocker - Aston Martin V12 Vantage

For those who don’t know, the automotive prestige hierarchy looks like this: America (shitty quality, poorly engineered) < Korea (getting appreciably better lately!) < France + Nissan (respectable but weird) < Japan (legendary reliability at a budget price) < Italian (beautiful, vascular, so unreliable that it wraps around to being charming) < Germany (cutting edge engineering and reliable so long as you are meticulous with maintenance) < Britain (aristocratic class, respectable power, truly terrible build quality and worse reliability). Yeah, I know, it’s weird. But among those legendary British luxury brands is Aston Martin, notable for being the signature automotive marque for Agent 007. But that’s not why Jane drives a V12 Vantage. No, this car was her Dad’s dream car and he pulled some strings to get one for her for her sweet 16. She doesn’t really get why it makes him so happy, but it does. And it’s not like she’s complaining about how easy it is to overtake people on the highway with twelve cylinders of pure British gumption at your disposal.

Jake English - Jeep Wrangler YJ

Yeah. It’s the Jeep from Jurassic Park. And also Clueless. Come on, this is Jake English we’re talking about. Vriska? Vriska’s ride needs a whole history and vehicle dynamics lecture to appreciate. Not Jake. Not our man English. He drives a car from a movie. A car from TWO movies. *le sign*

Roxy Lalonde - Citroën DS

Look at it. This one is pure vibes. Roxy drives this weird, frog looking thing because she’s the kinda girlie who looks at a weird, frog looking car and thinks to herself, “ong look at this little guy this funky lil fella i gotta own em!” Fun Fact: people used to rally these things. Like. Off road. And they were pretty good too. Food for thought, I guess.

Dirk Strider - 1986 Toyota Pickup (yes it’s called that in the NA market)

On one hand, it’s ironic for philosopher rap prince to drive a pickup. On the other, the bed is really useful for hauling around robot parts, carrying dj equipment, and helping your friends move. Plus, the towing capacity means that when Jake’s stupid Jeep breaks down (again), he’s not stuck on the side of the road forever. He feels like a Japanese pickup is on brand for himself. Which is sort of ironic since a real ironic rap ninja eschews brand integrity. Idk, my brain doesn’t operate on irony levels high enough to comprehend this bullshit.

Callie - Shotgun in Roxy's DS

Unlike Karkat, Callie probably can drive. It's just that she likes it when Roxy drives her places. It basically takes two to figure out how to make this damn thing work anyway. The French were really on something when they designed this thing. Callie doesn't know what the French are, but if the DS is any indication, she's pretty sure they were a nation of madmen and possibly perverts.

[qqueenofhades]

"Oops, too late." (28)

And can it be a Titanic era Garcy (bc omg that other Titanic/Carpathia drabble is so good, and I'm a sucker for Garcy/Titanic) 😊 Thank you

28. "Oops, too late."

Lucy can barely focus for the rest of the Carpathia's voyage to New York. Once they get there, and thank God Rufus is there too, with the Lifeboat and a terrified expression that doesn't ease until he has all three of them in sight, in a bear hug, and then another hug just in case, they climb in and head home to 2020, back to Mason-Carlin Industries and Denise and Jiya. Then they have to explain that yes, they did survive the goddamn Titanic, but it was terrifyingly close for a while there, and they're still not entirely sure what happened with Iris and Valkyrie. Jiya is clinging to Rufus like she isn't planning on letting him out of her sight for a good long time. All things considered, Lucy can't blame her. Especially after Connor.

And yet, the usual logistical and technical details of the mission fade into white noise. Lucy knows that it's important, that this might be a turning point of unparalleled scale, but her attention remains decidedly elsewhere. Once Denise finally lets them go, with the admonition to get some rest and please will they try not to do that again, Lucy hardly waits until the others are out of sight before she runs up to Flynn. "Garcia, do you -- do you want to come home with me?"

It's clear in an instant what she's asking, and Flynn stares at her, gobsmacked. God bless his stupid heart -- they kiss like the world is ending, have barely let each other out of sight for the last week, and yet he's still surprised that she might want to go all the way. "Lucy," he says, blinking. "Are you -- are you sure -- ?"

"Yes. Yes." Lucy has thought this over a thousand times, all her doubts and fears and hesitations, her determination not to get romantically mixed up with another member of the team, her insistence that she can't let herself be distracted before the job is done -- but she has done her waiting, and she can't do it anymore. "If you don't want to, of course, then you don't have to, but -- "

"No," Flynn says, half to himself and then louder. "No. I want to."

They drive across San Francisco to Lucy's house, pull up in the driveway, and barely make it inside before they're kissing, in frantic, ferocious gulps like the icy water might still be able to steal the other away from them. Flynn lifts her up effortlessly, and Lucy wraps her legs around his waist, fisting his hair in both hands, dragging his head down to hers with wild, unrelenting strength. They stagger up the stairs toward her bedroom, shedding clothes as they go, until Flynn looks down at himself and realizes in apparent horror that he is only wearing a pair of old-time undergarments. "Lucy," he starts, breathless and heaving, lips wet and bruised with her teeth. "Lucy, I don't know if this is entirely -- shouldn't we -- I don't -- think?"

"Oops. Too late." Lucy toes off her socks, one and then the other, and feels a shiver of gooseflesh travel down her body, cold and shivering as she stands there, fully undressed, under his eyes. He looks like a man in a dream, in a spell, in a depthless enchantment, a worshiper in the temple of the goddess, staring at her silent and unbelievingly. "Come on, Garcia," she whispers. "I need you."

A shudder travels down Flynn's body, from his head to his toes. (Because this man is so obnoxiously tall, it has a long way to go.) For a final instant he stands there, paralyzed, not sure whether he can finally take what he has wanted for so long. But then at last, the thrall breaks. He crosses the bedroom floor in two strides, lifts her up as if she is made of glass, and sets her down atop the covers with utmost care. "All right, Lucy," he whispers back to her, and Lucy arches toward him, desperate, at so long last, to make their two halves, their two pieces of Plato's torn-apart soul, into one. "All right."

[fic prompts]

[doomrichards]

A DoomReed Recommended Reading List posted for Jan. 2023 and not exhaustive!

full text list below the cut!

DOOMREED Recommended Reading List

Doctor Doom/Mister Fantastic, Victor von Doom/Reed Richards by @doomrichards​ on tumblr, twitter, and archive of our own Updated 01/2023, originally compiled by @foeyeahboi

1960s Stan Lee & Jack Kirby: Fantastic Four #5, #10, Annual #2 1970s Marv Wolfman & Keith Pollard: Fantastic Four #196-200 1980s John Byrne: Fantastic Four #236, #260 & #288 1990s Walt Simonson: Fantastic Four #350 & #352

Tom DeFalco & Paul Ryan, et. al.: Fantastic Four #381 & Fantastic Four Unlimited #12 & Fantastic Four Unplugged #2 Jim Lee, Heroes Reborn/Return Era: Fantastic Four v2 (1997) #5-6 Captain America v2 (1997) #12 Chris Claremont, Larroca & Bogdanove: Fantastic Four vs. the X-Men #1-4 (1987) Fantastic Four v3 (1998) #25, #29-31

Mark Waid, Mike Wieringo, et. al.: Fantastic Four v3 (1998) #70 & Fantastic Four #500, #503, #507 Dwayne McDuffie, Pelletier & Jones: Fantastic Four #551-553 Fantastic Four Special, "My Dinner with Doom" Mark Millar & Bryan Hitch: Fantastic Four #558, #562

Jonathan Hickman Secret Wars Era with Epting, Deodata, Ribic, et. al.: Fantastic Four #581 - #582 FF (2010) #1-14 (omit 6, 7, 10, 11); concluding in Fantastic Four #611 New Avengers v3 (2013) #6, #7, #14 Secret Wars (2015) #2-4, #9 & Marvel 2-In-One (2017) Annual #1 for conclusion

Post-Secret Wars Era: Brian M. Bendis & Alex Maleev: Infamous Iron Man (2016) #6, #8 Chip Zdarsky, Cheung, Schiti, Dodson, et. al.: Marvel 2-In-One (2017) #4-6, Annual #1 & #11 X-Men/Fantastic Four (2020) #2-3 Dan Slott, R.B. Silva & Javier Rodriguez: Fantastic Four (2018) #25, #32 (B Story) "Duel Intentions" & #33 Christopher Cantwell & Salvador Larocca: Doctor Doom (2019) #9-10 Ryan North & Iban Coello: Fantastic Four (2022) #2

Origin Re-tellings & Variations: Books of Doom #2 Before The Fantastic Four: Reed Richards #1-3 Fantastic Four #416 (B Story) "Roads Not Taken!" Shame Itself (B story) (satire) Ultimates (Earth-1610) AU: Ultimate Fantastic Four #2, #7, #9-12, & #31-32

AU Versions / Other: Warlock (1972) #6-7 What If? (1977) #6, "What if the F.F. had different Super-Powers?" What If? (1977) #22, "What if Dr. Doom had become a Hero?" Marvel Adventures Fantastic Four #42 100th Anniversary Special: Fantastic Four GeNext United #2 Marc Spector: Moon Knight (1989) #39-40 Spider-Man & The Secret Wars #2, #4 Doctor Doom and the Masters of Evil #4 Marvel 1602 #4 Big Town #2 Earth X #2 & Universe X Special: 4 #1 Exiles (2001) #95-98 Fantastic Four: 1 2 3 4 #4 Fantastic Four: The Movie (2005) (comic adaptation) Fantastic Five (2007) #1-5 Fantastic Four 2099 (1996) #6-8 DOOM 2099 (2019) Timeless #1 (2021)

Multimedia: Fantastic Four (1994) (film) Doomgate by Jeffrey Lang (novel) Fantastic Four: World's Greatest Heroes ep. 1, 4, 17, 25 Marvel’s Wastelanders: Doom by Mark Waid et. al. (podcast) & Marvel’s Wastelanders Marvels Chapter 4 (podcast) Avengers Ultimate Alliance (video game) Marvel Superheroes Official Game Adventure: Gates of What If? by Roger Moore (RPG manual)

[dadddybangtan]

My Boy (m)

Huening Kai x Trans FTM (pre-t, pre surg) Reader

Synopsis: Kai’s boyfriend (reader) is experiencing some dysphoria and he wants to do his best to help.

Genre: fluff | lgbtq + | smut

Content Warnings: dysphoria, mlm, sexual situations, established relationship

A.N.: hi,, this is my first tumblr oneshot and my first idol x reader ff in a long time. i wrote this after crying from dysphoria and missing kai from the concert. please enjoy and lmk if i should keep writing stuff like this. fair warning i will refrain from using the term “y/n”

Kai’s POV

He said when he gets out of the shower he’ll lay with me and “see where things go.” It’s not like I asked for it, it’s just been a while since we’ve done it. But I don’t blame him. After he came home from visiting his (extremely tone deaf and transphobic) parents, he’s been so- out of it.

He said he’ll lay with me but I heard the shower water turn off a long time ago. Half an hour will pass in a few minutes and I’m worried. He doesn’t usually stay in the bathroom this long.

“Babe,” I say with a knock on the door, “Everything alright?”

He doesn’t say anything. I put my ear the door to hear a faint cry. Frankly, I don’t know what’s louder, his sobs or the sound of my heart breaking.

“Can I come in?”

“Go away.”

“Baby, please.”

“No, Kai,” His broken voice says, “I don’t want you to see me.”

I sigh as I think about what this could mean. My boy’s not feeling like himself.

“What if I come in with my eyes closed?”

“Fine.” He says weakly.

I put one hand over my eyes and use the other to open the door. As I walk in, I hold my hand out to navigate myself.

“I’m down here.” He says.

I kneel down and my free hand lands on his damp head of hair. I sit down next to him and wrap my arm around his towel covered body.

“Babe, we’ve been together for years. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

“I know I just- It’s so embarrassing.”

“What, love?”

I feel his body shudder as he sobs even more.

“It’s me. My body. It’s not right.”

“Baby.”

“When you introduce me as your boyfriend, people look at me and… and they don’t believe you. They don’t believe me. They don’t see me,” His voice cracks, “Nobody sees me.”

“Hey, hey. My eyes may be closed, but I see you. You’re my boyfriend. You’re your mother’s son. Your sister’s brother,” I say, “You’re a man. My man.”

A beat of silence passes before I feel his hand on mine. He lowers my hand from my eyes quite causiously. He’s still nervous I suppose.

“Do you really see me? Like that?”

Now that I can finally look at him, I take in everything I can in a few seconds. His sharp jawline is viciously sexy. My eyes pan down his strong neck and shoulders. The towel stops there, but I know what’s beyond it.

He hates what’s below his neck He hates it so much, and I know why. He thinks it’s not right. Maybe because we’re both men, but we look so different. I hope that one day he’ll notice that all men look different from each other and that’s okay.

“I see you.”

His eyes glow as his tears slow down.

“Thank y-.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

When he kisses me, I don’t expect it. But I accept it with loving grace. The hand that holds mine squeezes before it trails up my arm. When he reaches my neck I feel him kiss me deeper.

“That’s my boy.” I muttered against his lips.

I lied him down on the tiled floor and rested between his legs. Cradling his head in my hand, I kiss him once more and slowly grind on him. An erotic sigh escapes his mouth as I kiss down his neck.

Our make out is quite a blur. His lips and tongue tangled in mine seems messily timeless. All the blood in my body rushes to my core and he smiles on my lips when he feels it poking his inner thighs.

He reaches his hand down and guides me closer to his opening. It’s wet and throbbing for attention.

It’s a relief to feel myself inside of him after so long. His body is so blissfully compatible with mine. And his moans are deep and needy. He lightly tugs on the back of my hair and I gasp at how right it feels to make love to him.

“Baby,” I moan into his ear, “You feel so good.”

“I- I missed you so much, I,” He groans deeply and his body clenches on my cock, “I think I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum for me, prince,” I beg, “Be a good boy and cum for me.”

His voice raises in pitch as I pound into him and chase our orgasms. I love it when his voice gets weak and hiccups on every thrust. When his body reacts only to me. He is consumed by my sex and it drives me insane. It drives me to my climax.

He’s leaking with orgasmic fluid when I pull out and shoot hot cum on his bath towel. He’s gasping desperatelyfor air and that sight alone milks another round from me.

“Fuck.” He says.

“I know, right?”

“I might have to take another shower.”

[valadren]

Season 5 of my YouTube Retrospective

Gonna be going through all my videos here and on my Twitter (lol) for the end of the year! Episode 501: What There is To Say About Final Fantasy

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0VkPnjLmMDM&t=8s&ab_channel=VivianAladren

I kicked this year off with my Final Fantasy Pixel Remaster Project, where I streamed every game in the collection and made a video about each one. It was a fun, kind of low effort thing to do while in law school. I think that the move of using stream footage made the visual element worse, since it’s too busy and not in sync with my commentary.

I liked talking about the old FF games a lot, it’s obviously one of my favorite series of all time, and it’s always nice to see the beginnings of the series. It’s awkward hearing the mixing be this poor, but my mixing is still bad.

Overall though, I like Final Fantasy I. I like every game, obviously, but FFI has a timeless charm to it that persists through any effort to remaster it. The PR version isn’t my favorite for sure (shout out to Dawn of Souls GBA). There’s something interesting in the changes to PR that I don’t think I really got into in the video? The individual inventory system is (if I remember it accurately) kind of a great move for evoking a “video game rendition of a DnD campgain” if that’s the goal. The game doesn’t care so much about your party as characters interwoven into the story as much as they were your party in a campagin built to be solved like  a puzzle.

Overall this wasn’t one of my strongest videos, but it was a good time to go through, and it was useful to have going while I was finishing school.

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[dreddedwheat]

One thing that annoys me about "Historical is better" Total War fans is that they're only interested in like, three periods of history. That's Ancient Rome, the Medieval era and maybe the Colonial era (y'know, the late 1600s to late 1700s where Empire takes place in.)

Rant below the line.

Total War: Pharaoh is like Troy, but judging by the title is going to be a proper, massive game, not a spin-off like the Sagas series. But all people talk about is 'It doesn't innovate! I want more city-building! I want this! I want that!'

Like ffs, if Rome and Medieval 2 are so timeless, then why do people want sequels? Because they've played them to death so they're blind to the flaws. Hell, even Shogun 2 has aged quite badly in some areas imho, and it still uses a lot of the aspects that people complain about nowadays.

The New Kingdom and the Bronze Age Collapse are fascinating periods in Egypt, from both a warfare and cultural standpoint. But people nit-pick different aspects and downplay anything new in favour of bitching about the same fucking thing.

Yes, OG Rome had populations you saw grow in non-abstract terms. Yes it's cool you could build peasant units, then disband them in other settlements to quickly grow the populace. Does it change anything to have abstracted population values? No.

You go back to Rome and Medieval and the diplomacy is absolutely fucked. The AI is braindead and instead of looking beyond them people clamour for remakes and then complain when reworking a decades old engine isn't 100% perfect on launch.

And whenever CA does anything wrong, or there are bugs, people crow about 'Lazy devs'. Which is pretty much the Bat-signal for me to discard your opinion, because 'lazy' doesn't even come close considering everything they do right.

Also, "We want Empire 2!", is like...wasn't everybody complaining about that not too long ago?! I just see the same complaints and same things repeated over and over by people who can't get over the older titles.